Title: The Calling, Drabble challenge for 'Maverick'
Author: Eleri McCleod
Email: elerimc (at symbol) lycos . com
Warning: Character death, it's up to the reader to decide the POV
Series/Sequel: Three-part drabble story - "Shattered," "Duty" and "The Call."
Author's notes: I started this drabble and it multiplied on me. So I'm taking a page out of Twitchy's book and doing a trio of drabbles. Thanks Twitch!
© Eleri McCleod, November 2003
That was all it took.
In a split second, that tiny piece of lead forever altered my life.
I don't cry.
I don't even shake.
I simply let the scalding water pound over my battered body as I scrub the blood from my hands, my face. The face a gentle hand touched but for a moment before sliding away, leaving a crimson stain.
The water has flown clear for interminable minutes before I shut it off. Silence is shattered by the screaming of the klaxons, calling me back to my suddenly empty life. A call I must answer.
I open my locker, forcing my body to clothe itself, knowing that I still have the long road of duty before me. Though my world has been shattered, nothing else has changed. The Goa'uld still enslave people, hosts are still taken. The war is nowhere nearer to an end. Pulling the olive drab coat over my arms, I catch sight of a pale, wan face, familiar, but lacking its usual animation.
"SG-1 to the briefing room."
With a determined breath, I lock my armor back in place and turn to go, to continue the mission laid before me years ago.
Avoiding three pairs of eyes, I listen, numb, as each person speaks. My turn comes all too soon and suddenly those eyes are boring into me. I clear my throat and force my voice to come out tonelessly, to reveal none of the loss locked deep inside.
As always, there's no time to grieve; we're needed now. The Goa'uld are still plotting and we have to keep standing in their way.
Far too soon I find myself back in the 'Gateroom, pack bearing down on my shoulders and weapon cold against my flesh.
Shimmering blue light calls.
And I answer.