Third in the Always set of shorts. Set pre-Heroes season 7
Always There
In the quiet, where the walls are grey stone and the sheets are as crisp white snow, there is no movement beyond the gentle rise and fall of torsos and no sound bar the soft sighing breaths of the sleeping.
From above, watching over the forms with intense eyes, two sentinels stood. Both were accustomed to having patience as a faithful companion. Both had become acquaintances of the early hours and late nights. Both had heard the scratching at the door as the wolf came to darken the night further with despair.
They knew this hour well - the Hour of the Wolf. The time in the night when sleep will not come and minds will not calm. It was that time when all worries, all concerns, all fears and all tears would swell like a tide within the soul, seeking to sweep away the rational being they knew they could be. The darkest hour. The one most enveloping in shadowed lands. The one hour for which a drink seemed the only defence yet never seemed to ward the person seeking protection. By now…they had begun to call the Wolf by name. Perhaps they had spent too many nights in the Hour of the Wolf.
One of the forms stirred. The sentinels both drew breath, waiting for some sign that their patience was rewarded. Below them a solitary figure, clad in white, her hair swept into a mahogany whorl atop her head, leant over the stirring body. Her shoulders curved in caring concern, her fingers dancing delicately over a pulse, she performed her duty. Only once did she look up toward the waiting pair, her dark eyes expressing the answer to the question in their faces: iNothing yet./i
Always left wondering whether this would be the last time – so he thought. It was his voice that would have been the last they had heard as they left. It would have been he who would have given the order that led to them being here, now, in this moment. Sighing heavily he considered those last words he had spoken to those sleeping below: God Speed. How he hoped that he would be able to say those words to them again. How he hoped he would be able to hear those words replied to again but for now left watching…the commander left aside, leaving just the man .
Would he be alone after today? He considered the fleeting thought, instantly dismissing it. They would not leave him now nor would he leave them. His loyalty was true, his heart knowing its place. As long as they breathed, as long as they fought, so he would fight and breathe with them. He watched over them always, knowing that they watched over him in return. The strong warrior who had found his place among another's people.
She was wondering whether she would once again be racing against time to save life. So many times had these forms been upon these beds. So many times had she found herself battling for them just as hard as they battled for everyone else. They made her afraid, made her worry. But ultimately the petite doctor was proud to know these people and proud to call them friends.
They were all proud. How could they not be when faced with such determination? The loyalty, faith, hope, camaraderie, care, even love – it all came together with these forms, these people. A strength and bond that was unbreakable. A family, born from adversity and strife and discord, striving for the same ideals and dreams. A family of the mind, of the heart and of the soul.
As the three human members of SG-1 recovered from their exhaustion, the two men and one woman continued to watch. Always waiting. Always watching. And always there.