((Thank you all for the reviews I get a kick out of seeing them in my email after I post an update to my WIP. My first attempt at a Highlander-esque flashback, hence the length; this chapter I hope is up to par and gives a decent background into Kallisto's attitudes.))
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Denver
Palace Hotel Room # 317 – 11:04am
She awoke with a start and it took several moments before reality set in and she remembered that she wasn't late for work or that Cassie would be late for school.
Yawning as she rolls into a sitting position, her legs tucked close to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees; it's now 24-hours later that the maudlin finally sets in. She had known this day would come eventually but even that knowledge does little to diminish the lump in her chest.
She silently allows herself this small private moment of grief for those she leaves behind, she hoped that O'Neill somehow survived. She had forced herself to not search the Morgue at the Academy for fear she would find him.
There is one person that comes to the forefront of her mind as she sits there, allowing the tears to flow for Cassandra, she had been through so much and now this.
The child had reminded her so much of herself, basically they had shared the same type of upbringing given the state that most Go'a'uld kept there planets. Primitive, barely above the Bronze Age technically and agriculturally... living in constant fear that one misstep would bring down the wrath of the Gods and the destruction of that which was your whole world.
Only in Cassandra's case her Gods where walking embodiments of evil, more cruel and merciless then the invisible ones that Kallisto and her father prayed to for a good harvest or sacrificed a newborn lamb to for more rain.
But she had done her best, which is all any parent can do truly. She gave Cassie all her love, guidance and a home in which to grow and realize her full potential. And Cassie truly wasn't alone, like any good parent she had made sure that the Last Will of Janet Frasier made provisions for her care and the trust fund that she had set aside would assure that she would go to any University she desired.
This knowledge lessened the dull ache some but she knew it would be some time before she truly healed, it was always the case when she became a mother even though because she was Immortal and could never bare a child of her own she still loved the children she helped raised.
Standing she walks slowly across the room to pull aside the curtains and banish the darkness that dominated not only the room but her mind currently. As the sun fills the room she pauses to just stand a watch the ebb and flow of the city streets below.
Tilting her head slightly, eyes closed she soaks up the sun letting its embrace warm her nude body and help keep the grief at bay. She was alive and free; if she wished to remain the latter she had to move forward. Movingon was never easy...
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Greece,
Athens - 433 B.C.
As she sat there before the dying embers of the funeral pyre she could do little to stop the guilt that assailed her senses. They where gone, all of them. Her Husband Hesiod and his eldest son Diokles, whom she had helped to raise with his youngest brother Callias since their mother fell ill and died of fever, had gone to fight the Spartans as they marched on an unrelenting path towards Athens. It was a blow when they had both returned astride there shields carried by those that had survived the ill-fated battle.
The city was crowded with the people from the countryside seeking shelter behind its massive walls, on the other side sat the formative might of Sparta. As the funeral pyres burnt into the night her, her eldest son's wife Eirene and Callias clung to each other. She had hoped and prayed that the Gods would spare her anymore torment, but sadly it was not to be.
Plague; the city crowded to almost overflowing numbers had been a welcome breeding ground for the silent death of plague. When her remaining adopted son had fallen ill she had gone out found herbs and made poultices, but she was helpless as he slowly slipped farther and farther away from her. And when her first daughter fell ill as well, she spent every waking moment nursing them. But it was all for naught, for their bodies where too weak from fever and sickness to go on and both slipped away just moments apart.
She was alone; utterly alone, and the crushing reality of this revealed itself as she stood there before the funeral pyre and watched it consume the final traces of her life. As her legs gave out under her weight and she slipped into a numb trance.
She remained like this for she knew not how long. With each snap and hiss of the pyre she shrank more and more within herself. It was of little concern when she felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal; she made no move to try to defend herself, in a way she hoped whoever it was would take her head and free her from what she saw as a cruel fate.
The footsteps where softly approaching her from behind, but she still made no move for the dagger she kept in the folds of her green chiton. As she felt the cold kiss of a blade rest upon her neck she closed her eyes "Take my head if you will, I will not fight you," she spoke in a soft weary voice.
For several tense moments the unseen opponent made no move to strike her down "If you wish it I will take your head dear one, but I pray it is only your grief that speaks those words," said the soft voice of her friend and teacher Rebekah.
Not turning to look at her teacher she is still lost in the embers that had consumed the last of what she had come to love... her family.
There was a rustle from behind her and the sound of a sword being sheathed, then she felt Rebekah gently sit upon the cold earth next to her neither spoke for ages till finally her teacher finally spoke "I will always remember the first time I laid rest those that I had called mine," she said softly.
"One by one, no matter what I did I couldn't stop them from leaving me. And it hurt... I will die a thousand times and still never experience pain such as that," she spoke softly as the embers floated gently in the early evening breeze.
"How did you go on?" She asked finally having found her voice.
"It was not easy, it never will be but the only other choice is that you lock yourself away from the world on holy ground and let time pass you by," she said in a soft voice as she moved closer to her student her arm wrapping around Kallisto's shoulder in a warm hug.
"We are but supporting characters in the play of life dear one; all we can do is cherish every moment." Her hand cups Kallisto's chin and she tilts her head so that they're eyes meet, the younger Immortals soft brown eyes bright with tears. Seeing that her words where not penetrating the haze of mourning she tries another approach, she moves to kneel in front of Kallisto.
"Did you love them?" Asked Rebekah, those four simple words slowly seeped through her grief addled mind and slowly ignited a white hot rage within her breast.
She rolled to her knee facing her teacher, her tear streaked face flushed in anger. "Who are you question my love for them?" She growled out in near feral voice. She clenched her hands into tightly balled fists as she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet; the logical part of her mind being overridden by her emotional turmoil.
Rebekah looked at her young student's posture and continued "Did you love them. It is a simple enough question. Do you think your self-pity honors them or that they would seek to watch you destroy yourself?" She speaks in a firm cold voice.
With more speed then she would have thought possible Rebekah watched her student coil back slightly then pounce forward with a strangled cry, as they struggled she quickly gained the upper hand for Kallisto's grief made her actions wild and reckless. Pinning her student to the ground she reached into the folds of the others chiton and pulled out her hidden dagger, pressing the blade to her throat.
"I say again, it will wound me greatly but I would rather see you dead by my hand then watch you channel your anger into destruction. I will not see you become something akin to the Horsemen." She whispered into Kallisto's ear. As both women's labored breathing returned to normal Rebekah feels her students body start to tremble, putting the dagger aside she moves off of Kallisto's chest and gathers her into her arms holding her close; grief overwhelms her and she sobs into the breast of her teachers violet chiton garment.
As dusk descended upon them her sobs slowed and finally stilled but they stayed in each others embrace; whispering softly "It hurts so much, I don't know if can go on." Kallisto says.
"It always will and you will go on but not for yourself, you'll go on for them because that is what they would have wanted for you dear one. And loving them... remembering them is all we can truly do... for they are mortal," she says in response. "But that should never lessen them in our eyes."
"You will learn with time when the moment to let them go presents itself and when that time comes you must take your leave with no regrets." She says as she strokes the back of Kallisto's hair...
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Coming out of her reflection she walks across the room towards the bathroom; she enters and picked up what was her only set of clothing. The first order of business she thought as she carried the small wrinkled bundle towards the couch was that she needed to go shopping for enough clothing to last her for her travels.
Tossing the sweatshirt and scrub-top onto the couch she slowly slips one, then her other leg into her jeans fastening the button and giving the zipper a quick tug upward.
As she picked up the flimsy pale green linen top she frowns muttering "Yes, a little shopping is most definitely in order." Smoothing out the top she moves to sit on the plush burgundy couch; leaning over she arranges the attaché before her and clicks it open.
Reaching into the file folder compartment she removes a sealed manila envelope and leaning back into the soft caress of the couch she opens it and pulls out several papers.
Shuffling through the various documents – diplomas, social security card, and college transcripts she re-familiarizes herself with the identity she had created for herself almost 14-years ago... Diana Wolff was about to make her appearance in the world.
Rising from the couch she moves across the room to the small desk the hotel provides for its guests. Pulling the chair out she sits down and opening the middle drawer and taking out the pad of paper and pen she sets about practicing signing her new name.
Time passes as she loses herself in the simple rote motion of signature practice and it is finally the rumbling from her stomach that forces her to stop. Glancing at the several pages of signatures she is pleased with the final page having finally gotten the style down.
Picking up the small blue and white social security card she signs her new name to it, standing back up she takes the card and notepad then walks across the room stretching out the stiffness of her muscles. Reaching her open attaché she slips the card back into a side pocket and the notepad into the folder compartment.
Looking across the room to the nightstand she glances at the alarm clock and realizes that it has been more then one day since she last ate. Moving towards the bed she picks up the Hi-Power from under the pillow and thumbs the magazine release, catching the falling metal clip in the palm of her left hand.
Moving to the attaché she secures her protection safely then draws out some more money for the items she would need to purchase for her trip, before closing the case she takes out the key for the storage locker where her sword was waiting for her. With a soft click she shuts the case and picks up her bags and moves towards the door to head out.
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U S Air Force Academy Hospital
Basement Level -- Morgue – 1:00pm
Walking through the twin swinging doors, Captain Michelle Wilkinson walked across the quiet expanse of the room towards the little office. Setting down her purse and shrugging out of her coat which she hangs on the coat rack behind the door.
Moving to the desk she opens the bottom right drawer and drops her purse inside and shuts the drawer. She goes about her pre-autopsy ritual silently, changing out of her dress blues and into a pair of scrubs and old combat boots covered in paper booties the same color as the scrubs.
Looking at the stack of folders sitting in her in-box she grimaces. She had been at work since 0500 hrs and had been able to reduce the pile to half its original size. The Academy was not normally the morgue for the SCG but with the events of the last 24 hours the need for space had forced General Hammond to call the head administrator of the Hospital and request use of the facilities for the next 72 hours along with her services since she was already cleared.
As she picked up the next folder she became sadden as the name of the SGCs' Chief Medical Officer greeted her. Walking across the room to locker #3 she glances at her reflection in the brushed steel surface a soft warm heart shaped face stares back at her, with deep brown eyes and a light caramel complexion, she braces herself and with a click opens the door and pulls the tray out.
She was not prepared for what greeted her... an empty slab.
Opening the folder she flips quickly through the pages and at the bottom of the admitting paperwork she reads the notation regarding shipment to Peterson for autopsy.
This didn't make sense; the General would have told her that the body was being sent elsewhere for autopsy. The sense of grief she was feeling at having to do the autopsy on someone she had known and served under at the SGC becomes replaced with an ice cold dread.
She'd been at the Mountain for too long to just let something like this pass as a clerical error on the part of some night duty nurse. Walking over to the phone in the small office she picks up the receiver and quickly dials a number.
Waiting for a moment the operator picks up, before the airmen on the other end can speak "This is Captain Wilkinson, I need you to patch me through to the General this is urgent."
As the airmen placed her on hold, she wrapped her arm around her chest hugging herself and chanting in her mind silently 'Please be a mistake' over and over again.
As the line clicked and she heard the soft authoritative voice of her commander "General Hammond here, what is it Dr. Wilkinson?"
Steeling her nerves and telling herself it was better to be guilty of a minor error then ignore what could become a major disaster she speaks "Sir, I believe we have a Foothold situation."
((More to come))