Disclaimer: The Unit and its characters belong to CBS or someone else. No infringement intended.
Summary: Sam McBride's thoughts on his mission.
My life is just really jacked up.
Sam McBride shoved the key into the lock of his meager apartment in the NCO barracks at Fort Griffith. He walked into the room and threw his bag on the floor. Stumbling into the kitchen, he pulled the door to the fridge open and reached inside a cardboard box, pulling out an aluminum can. He kicked the door closed and shuffled through the darkened living area. The hiss of the broken seal filled the room as Sam slumped onto the couch.
He tasted the foam before the liquid hit his tongue. The fluid slid easily down his throat and caused him to grimace slightly. There was something to be said about a can of cheap beer. The vile, skunky potion that took away the pain and deposited a short-lived euphoria it is place was a mainstay in society as a quick fix to reality. Short lived was the operative word and in Sam McBride's case it probably didn't even begin describe or cover up the heartache that was burning inside of his chest. Sam drained the can and crumpled the tin in his fist. He tossed the metal across the room and listened to the hollow sound as it made contact with the wall and bounced haphazardly to the floor. He leaned his head against the cushion and closed his keys.
Loner, self-centered, arrogant, over-confident, the words taunted him like a bad dream. Words thrown in his face today by Major General Heath and Colonel Ryan during the course of their meeting. Evil, sadistic words that tore at his heart and took his mind to a place where he needed to stay for a while … a place where he would betray any trust that he had earned from people he would someday call his friends. Executing orders that he would follow to the letter to achieve some gain in this fight on terrorism, tasks that he would complete that violated his personal oath of ethics, yet needed to be enacted in a certain order to set himself up for this mission.
This mission. Sam ran his hands over his face and rested his forearms on the back of the couch. I have been assigned a mission by the Colonel that commands The Unit. A rogue assignment under the guise of their everyday operation that, if successful, will remove one of the most hearts-less terroristic bastards from the face of the earth. Sam stood up from the couch and shuffled into the kitchen again as he thought about the task in front of him.
I don't know these people, I should remain detached from these people, he reminded himself as he thought through his plan. It in his heart he knew it was going to be impossible. He was already connecting with the team, understanding their quirks and personalities. He felt himself started to bond with these men and he liked it. It had been a long time since he felt like he belonged somewhere. That's why Major General Heath picked me, he thought as he flicked open a fresh can of beer.
"I just hope I don't end up with the same fate as the terrorist."