The rain had stopped falling half an hour before.
To those unknowing, it was a simple, uncomplex ceremony. The minister, a few people, a grieving granddaughter all around a mound of dirt and a box. But to the young woman behind the black veil, it was not so simple.
Her name was Georgina Lewis. At least that was the name she was born with. To the minister, her name was Allyana Millicent Smith, granddaughter of Michael Gardner. His wife had "died" a long time ago, but she was there. Mourning.
Georgina was close to ninety, but looked a third of that because, simply, she had stopped aging at age thirty. With the "Gathering" her kind subscibed to being temporarily halted for a mysterious reason, she'd been able to have a decade of peace with her husband.
But she still carried her sword in case it started again. Even to a graveyard. Even to holy ground. It was a large place, the old Sacramento Cemetery, and with the expansion, it had grown even larger. Now the dead shared space that had once been a restraunt, a gas station, many other things.
She'd bought the best: a comfortable coffin, a gravestone that was thick and would resist being knocked over by vandals. She was well aware of the problem, having lived in Sacramento over the last decade. She'd been a volunteer for the cemetery association for nine years, and she swore that if she ever caught the idiots that were responsible... well, she didn't care how the Watchers would class her for beheading mortals.
Michael had been active too, when he could. His heart had prevented his participation for the last few years in any activities, but he made an effort to do as much as he could. He'd loved the cemetery as much as she had.
They'd spent the last few weeks, while he was waiting for the cancer to finally claim him, discussing what had brought them together in that living room in 1988. Typical discussion between two Watchers who had eyes only for each other. And then, discussion between two ex-Watchers.
And then it had ended. He didn't wake up one morning. The officials had come. He'd been autopsied, and then made availiable for burial. They'd made arangements, buying the plot where he'd be buried.
She looked up, startled by something at the corner of her eye. Then that something had flashed out of existance. She nodded grimly. It was only appropriate that her current Watcher was able to teleport. She had probably been one of Lisa's recruits. Michael would be proud, having spotted Lisa's potential in the first place.
And soon the ceremony was over. They departed, Georgina hoping to see the new stone soon. She'd seen it after they'd carved it:
MICHAEL GARDNER October 5, 1963-June 10, 2051 Beloved One
Beloved one.
Beloved forever.
[note: This little piece just came into my head. I knew I'd be writing Michael out this way, and I'm glad I wrote him out peacefully. He still is in some stories I'm working on. I'm not finished with him, yet!
Sacramento's historic cemetery, in real life, isn't accepting any new accounts. So I expanded it so that they'd have space in there for Michael. There *was* a recent case of vandalism in the cemetery recently. While I may not feel like beheading the perpetrators, they deserve a *severe* spanking, along with a local history lesson. I volunteer to do the spanking. :( ]