A/N: Okay, so I know I have absolutely no business writing a one shot when I have three stories unfinished. I'm sorry for my yearlong absence, I truly am. Life's been really crazy and really hard, and as such, my muse abandoned me entirely. I am working on finishing the three unfinished stories.
Enjoy this one-shot, and don't forget to leave me a comment at the end that lets me know what you thought.
Inspired by: missblueeyes63's stories, and her excellent characterization of Sam.
Zion dropped her duffel bag onto the ground, jerking with surprise when her phone vibrated unexpectedly. She fished it out of her jacket pocket and opened it to a text from Sam, asking to meet her in the briefing room. She frowned but complied, curious.
Zion entered the briefing room, immediately spotting Sam. He sat with a file in front of him, chair turned slightly away from the door, gazing out the windows onto the city.
"Got your text man. What's up?"
Sam sighed heavily.
"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna say it: we've been recalled back to Kandahar."
Horror rose in Zion, fast and hard.
"You're lying," she accused, heart racing in her chest.
"I'm afraid not. Wish I was," Sam wore a sorrowful expression, hating himself for having to deliver the bad news.
Zion shook her head forcefully, and began to pace.
"Fuck no. Fuck that. I'm never going back there, and they can't make me."
"They can, Zi," Sam reminded her softly. "It always was a clause in our contracts. You'll be arrested for treason otherwise."
"No. No way. I'm not doing it."
"Do you think I wanna go back there? I'd die happy if I never saw Afghanistan again. But we made a commitment, and now we must honor that."
"FUCK the commitment! I still wake up from nightmares sometimes with the grit of sand in my teeth and the sound of bombs ringing in my ears. We've come so far Sam, we can't let them take all of that away from us now," Zion pleaded.
"If I could make this go away, I would. But we don't have another choice."
"They'll never make me go back there. I'd rather decorate the wall behind me with my brain matter than ever willingly return to Hell on Earth. I can't do it. I won't."
Sam sighed.
Emotions warred within him. On one hand, he agreed with Zion- there were many, many, many things he'd rather do than ever return to Kandahar. On the other hand, the sense of duty that had been instilled in him practically from conception insisted that he do as told.
"There's no easy choice," Sam stated the obvious. A lull descended over the room, both lost in thought.
Xxxxx
Ed and Greg strolled down the hallway towards the briefing room, chatting
quietly. It was still early, and most of the team hadn't arrived yet. They were about to enter when Zion's voice erupted from the room, spilling into the hallway from the open door.
"FUCK the commitment! I still wake up from nightmares sometimes with the grit of sand in my teeth and the sound of bombs ringing in my ears. We've come so far Sam, we can't let them take all of that away from us now," Zion spoke in an imploring tone.
Ed's brow furrowed with confusion, and upon glancing at Greg, it seemed his teammate was as equally flummoxed. Zion indicated they were taking about Afghanistan, but why in present tense? What commitment?
A minute or two passed, the conversation continuing before abruptly ending. Ed glanced at Greg before stepping into the room, studying the pair of them. Sam sat in a chair, fingers steepled and head down, while Zion stood, relentlessly tapping her fingers against the table. Sam's posture read of resignation, while Zion's screamed anger.
"Is there something you two would like to share with us?" Ed inquired, leaning against the wall. Sam sighed and looked up, leaning back in his chair.
"There's a special clause in JTF2 contracts: for a certain period after you leave, you can be recalled at any time, and sent anywhere, because the skills we're trained in are so highly specialized. I got the call last night: Zion and I are being recalled. These are our official papers," Sam informed them, opening the file and showing the two older men.
"This is such bullshit," Zion emphatically stated, making her opinion of the subject loud and clear.
Then, after a pause, "I'll blow my brains out before I ever step foot on Afghanistan soil ever again." This she muttered, but meant with every fiber of her being.
Ed and Greg said nothing, absorbing and analyzing the information as it came.
"How long will you be gone?" Greg asked.
Sam shrugged.
"Anywhere from six months to two years."
Two years, Zion thought. Two years of bloodshed, gunfire, and explosions. Two fucking years of being mired in the environment she had worked so damn hard to forget. Two years of the kind of hell she only saw in her nightmares now.
Unexpectedly, one of the last conversations she'd had with Matt appeared in her mind. They'd been on patrol, two nights before his death.
"You ever get that feeling, where you just know something bad is gonna happen?" Matt had wondered.
"Sometimes," she admitted.
"I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something bad, real bad, is gonna happen real soon. And I don't think I'll survive it."
She'd laughed nervously, shoving at his arm with her hand.
"Don't be dramatic."
"Should something ever happen to me, I need you to be there for Sam. Promise me you'll watch out for him. Please, Zion," Matt had pleaded, eyes the color of moss gone soft. She'd nodded, even though she had never really expected to have to make good on her promise.
"I'll do it" she announced suddenly. "I'll go to Afghanistan with you."
"What made you change your mind?" Greg wanted to know.
"A conversation with an old friend, that I'd forgotten about till now."
Ed nodded.
"Well, we wish you the best of luck. How do you wanna tell the team?"
Sam and Zion considered this question thoughtfully, Sam tapping his fingers against the table, and Zion chewing her lip.
"During this morning's debrief" Sam offered up, glancing at Zion. Zion shrugged, then nodded.
"Sounds good to me."
The four then exited the room, each heavy with the knowledge of the coming separation.