Author: Kathleen Anderson
Content Warnings: Character death
Season: Future story
Summary: They fought the good fight.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
They fought the good fight, holding out until even the faintest glimmer of hope had flickered and died. The world lay in ruins at their feet. Only ghosts remained now, a shadow of its former glory. There was nothing left to protect, nothing left to save.
They had come, bringing with them mass destruction. Leaving total chaos and catastrophe in their wake. No one was prepared, as if you could actually prepare for something like this.
The harsh reality was beginning to set in. It weighed on his heart like a block of lead. He had fought, with weapons, body and mind. It was inevitable, but he tried anyway.
A lock of blonde hair peered out from beneath the rubble. He tried to ignore it, to forget what it meant. It was just another casualty he tried to tell himself. Just another faceless, nameless victim. He stepped over the torn and twisted metal and knelt down. His hands were bloodied and torn. His clothing hung in tatters and the dust had settled in his hair.
In the distance there were screams. Not everything had perished. The sun was barely filtering through the debris that clouded the afternoon sky. The roar was gone, thought it had left a ringing in his ears.
He lifted a chunk of cement, wincing as it tore into his exposed flesh. It was tossed aside, landing on a sheet of metal. The clang echoed. A twisted hunk of steel was tossed aside, it might have been a wrench, he really didn't know.
Looking down, he now saw her. Laying there, as if she were asleep. If people fell asleep with a gash across their faces and a steel beam across their chests that is. He brushed her hair back, out of her face and ripped a strip of material from his leg. Carefully he wiped her face and threw the cloth aside.
He ignored the cries for help. It was useless anyway, there was no one to help. The force of the blast had been immense. Hundreds of ships, they'd watched them come. She had thrown her brilliant ideas out but every one of them was shot down. Many had chosen to remain on the base, foolishly believing that they would be protected. They were wrong.
A figure to his right shifted under the rubble and moaned. He looked over and chose to ignore it. He didn't want to know who it was. He laid his hand on her chest and silently ordered her breathe again. It wasn't the first time that she'd disobeyed his orders.
Shadows begin appearing behind his eyes. He rubbed at them and shook his head. What he really needed was to lie down. He cleared a space next to her and put himself down there. The figure under the rubble stopped moving. Another victim was claimed.
He took her into his arms, pushing the throbbing pain in his chest to the back of his mind. Her blonde hair, matted with blood, fell upon his face. He hugged her tight and told her that it would be okay. The screams faded and the shadows gathered.
"Good-bye Sam." he whispered and closed his eyes.