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beth writing 30 days without

FIC: The Man Behind the Gun (1/1)

Title: The Man Behind the Gun
Author: maddie_amber
Rating:  PG
Genre: Drama
Warnings: Character death as already established on screen.  We’ve all seen it already.
Season:  First/series pilot and scene from Siege
Summary
: Sumner’s POV - his encounter with the red-haired Wraith
Disclaimer: The characters belong to someone else, but the plot belongs to me. (Okay, It sorta belongs to them too)

Author's Notes: This is my first SGA  fic,  written at the end of the first season.

The Man Behind the Gun

 

The Man Behind the Gun

By, maddie_amber

Major, I think I should tell you that Colonel Marshal Sumner was a very good friend of mine. We served together for a lot of years and you know, I can not for the life of me figure how it is that you could go as far as you did and not save him. How could you get that close. "

By the time I reached Colonel Sumner—“

"Worse, you admit to firing the shot that killed him."

Because I believed that’s what he wanted me to do.”

* * *

Searing pain, flesh melding to flesh, life being drawn through the bond like water through a siphon, he forced himself to resist though he knew his efforts were purely mental. He would not divulge the information they sought, never reveal Earth’s location. A lifetime of training and discipline battled the urge to say what he might to stop that inexorable draining of life even as he knew he would never succumb to that temptation. Every fiber of his being rebelled at the thought of betraying his home world and yet some distant mental imp continued to wonder how far this enemy would go? Would he end up a lifeless husk, or would they leave him just enough life to wish he had?

Marshal Sumner had faced death, in combat situations across the globe, and now, ironically, across galaxies as well. Over the years and through experience he had learned not to fear death itself. He had often wondered how he would finally meet his end, and he had often hoped he would end his sojourn on Earth fighting; fighting for a cause, fighting for another, fighting for his life, but fighting, not on his knees at the mercy of a life-sucking alien.

He would never know what sixth sense cut through the haze of pain that clouded his mind alerting him to a new presence. With great effort he focused his eyes upward. Although dim, there was enough light in the upper corridors to reveal the outline of a fatigue clad soldier, crouched behind the balcony, weapon ready. Struggling against the pain, part of him wanted to believe his hand-picked patrol had come to rescue him, but instinct told him this was not one of his ‘regulars’. Only one man on Atlantis would delve this deeply into a wraith stronghold, without specific orders.

You are not here by my choice.”

He had tried to dismiss Major John Sheppard with those simple words, yet he had found the younger man was not so easily forgotten. And now with his situation desperate, he found himself hoping the man behind the gun was John Sheppard, because despite orders, SOP’s and protocol, he knew Sheppard would do the right thing.

The dull thud of bullets impacting on flesh sounded like an ice pick being buried deeply and forcibly into raw meat. It was a liquid, sucking sound. Through the hand gripping his chest Sumner felt the first three penetrate her body. The hardened steel projectiles blossomed outward from her chest wall, passing within inches of his face. A whisper of air brushed his cheek, and her blood, tainted with the smell of must and age, splattered his skin.

That should kill you, he thought vehemently, waiting for her to drop.

Instead the fingers clenched, adhering to his own wasted flesh, and pain, shot through him, doubling and tripling the level of agony he had experienced before. Yet, he had no voice left to scream. As he stared, the holes marring her blue grey skin healed seamlessly. He felt all avenues of hope close with them. Her healing had drawn out what little life remained in his body. He understood now, how they used the life they devoured.

He watched the Major’s head bob up again from his hiding place. Saw the ‘guard’ to his left explode outward as multiple bullets chewed up his muscle and bone. And still she would not release him.

Sumner was dying. He was certain of that. Not how he had imagined he would die. He never had qualms about sacrificing his life for his country, in the line of duty, but to die giving sustenance to this red-haired alien bitch was not an acceptable scenario. At least, he consoled himself feebly; he had not revealed Earth’s location. Of that he was certain. Only one thing was left for him.

Tottering, he was barely able to stay upright on his knees, held in place by her insatiable grip. Blindly, his cataract clouded eyes sought the place he knew Sheppard had taken cover. The Major was a shadowy outline against the glow from the corridor behind him. He saw the faintest glint of light on gun metal. He could not discern the P90 but he knew it was there. He willed the Major to do what needed to be done. He was finished. He wanted her finished too. He did not want his last strength to go to her life. His lips half formed the words his mind screamed. He willed his eyes to communicate his last wish, his last command. If you never follow another order, Sheppard, follow this one, he thought fiercely. He imagined the gun aimed directly at the back of the red-haired skull, A little to the right, he thought. Do it, Major, do it now, before I’m completely gone. Finish it. Finish me!

Did he see the slightest shift in the level of the weapon, or was it his imagination? Time drew into a thin attenuated moment as he hoped for a merciful ending. Then he saw the barrel flash, felt the dull painless thud as the bullet slammed into his chest, and in that micro-second before he died he thought, Thank you.

(The End)

 

 

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