Characters merely borrowed and taken out for some fresh air.

Thanks to Sentinel Betas for the beta and advice. Thanks to WoD in particular, for kindly posting this for me. All remaining errors are mine.

Memories.
Warning: Previous death of subsidiary character.

It was still dark when they drew up in the small parking lot. They sat in the truck, drinking coffee from a flask, waiting for that small shift in the quality of darkness that signalled dawn. Jim was the first to stir, "C'mon," he said, reaching for his coat and swinging open the door.

Blair jumped down and shivered as the warmth of the truck was replaced by sharp cold. He fumbled in his pockets for gloves, hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and walked over to join Jim. He felt his hand being taken in a firm grasp, solid heat driving out the chill.

They moved towards the trees and the path leading down to the beach. For a while, the loudest sound was their boots crunching over the stony ground against the backdrop of waves washing onto the beach. The path was steep and longer than Blair remembered; by the time the trees thinned and they were on level ground, the first faint streaks of pink were stretching across the sky. They picked their way through the gigantic sea-bleached logs thrown up by the now receding tide and walked out onto the grey sand.

They stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of massive sea stacks licked by iron blue waves. There wasn't much breeze and the sea was calm for the time of year.

"This way," murmured Blair, pointing towards the rock outcropping. They set off, their boots leaving deep imprints in the pristine sand.

The miniature spaceman moved ponderously, careful to retain his balance in the reduced gravity. One more st ...

"Blair, honey," came a faint voice, crackling over the radio in his helmet, "don't go so far. Wait for me."

Reined in by the vigilance of mission control, the spaceman turned to a scientific examination of the depth and texture of footprints. The way of the intrepid explorer was filled with nameless hazards and it paid to be adaptable. He compared his toes with their imprint. Accuracy was vital.

Colonel Naomi flopped down in the sand just behind him, the tiny bells attached to her velvet patchwork skirt tinkling as she shifted position. She rummaged in her backpack, scattering sunglasses, tissues, small shoes. She finally gave a triumphant squeak, pulling out a brown paper bag containing green apples. She held one out to her son, who just gazed at her. "Aaah, Captain Blair - it's the last of the fresh supplies. From now on it's ship's biscuits and dehydrated water for us!"

"Aye sir!" shouted the spaceman who sank down beside her and bit into the apple with a loud, crisp crunch. Naomi bit hers even louder and they launched into a crunching contest, which Blair lost in dismal fashion when he broke into giggles a mere five bites in.

"Green apples," whispered Blair, smiling.

"Yeah?"

"That was the first time. It was in the summer - think there'd been a moon landing about then. Naomi was wearing a long purple skirt with tiny bells on..."

"And a cheesecloth blouse?"

"Well duh. Of course. This was Naomi."

"Let's see, a long floral scarf tied around her hair?"

"Nope, a big straw hat."

"Ah."

"She wore the scarf around her neck. It kept falling off. I think that had bells on, too."

"So you had a picnic."

"Just the apples. Naomi loved the idea of picnics but the food organisation was always a bit... um ... free flowing."

Jim smiled. Of course. "How long did you stay round here?"

"It was just the summer, but it seemed longer, you know? Cy was a driftwood sculptor so we spent hours on this beach just collecting the raw materials for him. He was a great guy; Naomi was so happy with him."

"What happened?"

"He went to a Bible study meeting and saw the light. Went off to South America to save the tribal peoples from sin and Catholicism."

They walked on towards the rocks.

"Stevie - get that spade!"

"Yessir!" Stevie scuttled over towards Mom's bag and fished it out, careful not to disturb her as she dozed.

"We'll build it here. Jimmy - remember this: you need to construct sandcastles in the slightly damp sand. That way you can build bigger."

"Yes sir."

"Now, mark out the moat. And make it big! No - make it enormous!"

"Yessir!"

There was flurry of activity and barked commands. Sand flew; pits were dug, towers raised and battlements erected. A veritable La Rochelle emerged from the beach. Finally, Jimmy completed the crenellations and Stevie toddled up from the waterline with the final bucketful for the moat. They stood back, a little breathless, to admire the edifice.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Shouldn't we have a flag?"

"Yes, son. We certainly should." And they all looked about them for something appropriate. As one man, they all fixed upon the only possible fabric.

A silent guerrilla operation began. They crept up on her from three different directions, Stevie squeaking occasionally as the laughter threatened to escape. Delicately, Jimmy reached forward to hold the straw hat steady as his father gently untied the blue chiffon scarf wound around the crown. They all froze as Mom's nose twitched and she seemed about to sneeze. Then the danger passed and they retreated with their booty.

At last, a proud blue pennant flew above the fortress.

They all saluted.

"Do you remember Roxanne?"

"Long red hair, played the harmonica, made toxic chilli and built sand sculptures. After the performance art got her arrested." Sandburg grinned reminiscently.

"Didn't she do some round here?"

"Next beach up, I think."

"Didn't she build fish?"

"Dolphins. Leaping out of the sand. They were beautiful."

"Only to be washed away by the tide."

"That's kind of the point, Jim."

"I know."

They climbed up onto the rocks, almost to the water's edge and sat for a while, watching the waves. Eventually, Jim squeezed Blair's hand, "Is the sky the right shade of pink yet?" he murmured.

Blair looked up for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He turned and fumbled in his backpack for the canister. He handed the bag to Jim and started to climb a little further along the outcropping. He stopped when he was directly over the water and seemed to take a deep breath.

Finally, he unscrewed the cap and poured the ashes into the sea.

He watched silently for a few moments, and then climbed back down.

Jim gave him a tissue and took his hand again.

They walked back.

End Green Apples by Alice: Alice3pl@aol.com

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