Photographs
by Erykah
Date: July 1, AC 204

~In Memory of the fallen comrades of September 11, This One is for you~

Disclaimer: The Standard Applies, void where Prohibited.

// - Denotes Thoughts
** - Denotes Poetry (written by me)
------------------------------------------------------------------------

All the cares of the day seemed to just disappear when one walked into the 
officers lounge area. Maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere, a place where 
anyone of rank could chat casually and enjoy each others  company. Trinity 
leaned back against the couch, with a glass of fresh iced tea with lemon in 
her hand. After two long shifts in the hanger, this was paradise. A time to 
relax tense muscles and to just let everything in mind float away. She 
smiled to herself, it was great, almost like coming home from a long day of 
tests at school and being rewarded with cookies or something along those 
lines.

The lounge was richly decorated with paintings, drawings, photographs, 
memorabilia and other oddities. Small, two-seater tables were scatter 
throughout it, as well as games and a dynamite sound system. Finishing up 
her tea and putting the glass back onto the bartop, Trinity looked around, 
taking in the sights. She hadn't really looked that closely at all of the art 
since she arrived. The Senior Ensign's paintings were expressive, deep in 
meaning, that much Trinity knew. Just by the brush strokes she could tell 
how he was feeling when he did it. There were a few rough sketches of the 
Yggdrasilian flora, and then there were the photographs.

Trapped in black and white were the solemn faces, covered in soot and 
blood. Soldiers, police, and firemen, all together in a circle of brotherhood 
around an American flag. It never ceased to amaze Trinity how events so 
tragic and devasatating could bring everyone together. Taking the photo 
from off the wall she looked at it more closely. These men, men who had 
families, men who had braved death to save strangers who would later 
become close friends. It was the true meaning of friendship.

/Strange.../ She thought, tracing a finger on the soot covered face of a man, 
no older than thirty she assumed. /Such events normally cause war...which 
tears people apart. But this..it brought them closer together. Why cant things 
be like that now?/

Placing the photo back on the wall, Trinity shouldered her backpack and 
headed back to her room.

----------------------

War had changed so many things in history, and sometimes, Trinity would 
wonder how things would've been if certain things hadn't taken place. Her 
journal had been a testament to the things she saw while growing up. War 
nowadays was an everyday sight. Hell, more than 75% of the history books 
printed today covered the most recent wars. The rest of the books covered 
political intrigue and assassination attempts. Nothing that would really 
"inspire" children to do the opposite. Everything today seemed to be 
propaganda advertising a new war. It only seemed half true, however. A 
War had to be on the way if she was back in the military again.

Taking out the worn, navy blue journal, Trinity opened it up to a empty 
page and began to write about the different photos and how they did mean 
something eventually. Back home, antiqued photographs of family 
members covered an entire wall in the gallery, each one had meant 
something to the generation before. Most of them held no meaning to her, 
except for the one of her grandmother as a young woman, her real one that 
was; not Sophia.

Again, her thoughts went back to the one that she gazed at in the lounge. It 
had no author's name on it, so she couldn't ask the artist about how it meant 
to him. Pausing in her writing, she turned to another page and began anew, 
this time, writing something a bit different.

Lifting the pen up from the paper, Trinity read it over. It'd been along time 
since she had written anything like this, but she knew, felt and saw that it 
conveyed the feelings correctly. Ripping the page out, she got up from her 
bed on which she sat and wandered down to the lounge again. The halls 
were empty, only the occasional potted plant filled its expanse, the lounge 
was equally empty and silent, save for the few beeps from a few of the 
pinball machines.

With reverence, she walked to the photo and removed the piece of paper 
from her pants pocket and rigged it up against the picture for all to see. 
Satisfied, she returned back to her room and slept.

The next morning, the conversations seemed to revolved around a 
mysterious poem left in the lounge. Sipping on her coffee, Trinity stayed 
quiet, and focused on the day ahead. But all who passed by the photo and 
read the poem next to it read these exact words:

*Warrior's Song*

*To fight;
for that one cause.
To defend;
for those you love

A purpose;
the reason to fight.
A flame;
the will
to go on
to live
to give life
and to give hope to the hopeless

To survive;
To succeed;
Regardless of the price.

Not for fame
Nor for recognition
but because that our freedom;
worth more than diamonds
honored more than the wisest kings
is the only thing
worth fighting for.*