TITLE: Last Testament
AUTHOR: Jos Mous
DISCLAIMER: I donít own anything and Iím not making any money.
RATING: PG, maybe PG-13
PAIRING: Sam/Brooke - technically
NOTE: This isnít a fic. It really isnít. Itís just something that I needed to get out of my system. It happens sometimes. Iíll probably return to my more upbeat fics soon enough.
ďIt started with two planes and two skyscrapers.
Actually, it started long before that. People couldíve seen it coming, really. And some people did.
But they werenít the ones who gave the orders.
So, two buildings collapsed and the world was changed. Where we first were proud and strong and unchallenged, now we were under threat by people with no money, no hope, no advanced weaponry, with nothing but their hatred for us. And they, of course, were going to destroy us.
Unless we destroyed them first.
So we did. We drove off to some country in Europe, eradicated the fanatics who wanted to slaughter us and put someone who liked us in charge.
We could all breathe easy once again.
Hah, good old government, protecting us like they should. And they applied a careful eye to the rest of the world and discovered that there were more out there.
For some reason, there were even more people who didnít like us.
Suddenly, the terms ďBandit StateĒ and ďAxis of EvilĒ were commonplace in the streets.
But the government defended us all once again. They set out to make sure we could all sleep peacefully in our own little beds.
Of course, some sacrifices had to be made in the interests of security. We were at war, after all. People wanted to kill us. People we wouldnít see coming until it was too late.
So we gave up little bits and pieces of our own freedom because we were too terrified of other people having that same kind of freedom.
The rest of the world frowned upon us. We didnít get it. We were just protecting ourselves, looking out for our best interests. Surely we were allowed to do that, right?
Itís not like we were doing anything wrong.
To us, it was crystal clear.
We live in a kill-or-be-killed world and obviously, we didnít want to get killed.
So what was all the fuss about?
The assassination attempt on the president proved our point. We were all in danger. We had to defend ourselves.
Of course, someone had been able to get a little too close to our beloved commander-in-chief. We couldnít let that happen again, now could we? No, further security measures were clearly needed.
I agreed completely. As long as me and Sam were safe I didnít really mind.
Sam didnít agree with me. Of course, she was a reporter. She liked saying what was on her mind all the time. For some reason, she thought that she couldnít do that any more.
I said that she was exaggerating. The government just asked us to use our common sense. It wasnít like were transported to the real live version of 1984.
Boy, was I mistaken.
Sam continued to say what was on her mind. She continued to rebel against the security measures that she felt were nothing but ďrestrictionsĒ.
People started to agree with her. Once again, people started questioning the government. Something they hadnít done in years.
And then, weapons were found in our house.
Sam was a terrorist. It was crystal clear to anyone. Her long speeches in the newspapers were nothing but cunningly disguised propaganda. The evidence against her was overwhelming and she was arrested.
I didnít understand.
Sam wasnít a terrorist. She didnít believe she could change the world by force. Hell, thatís what she wrote about time and time again.
But after the trials, the protests calmed down once again. Maybe they had been right. Maybe Sam had been a terrorist and propagandist.
I couldnít believe it. Iíve known Sam for most of my life. Loved her for a large part of it too.
I think my love for her clouded my judgement. I think I knew that her beliefs were a danger to her. I think I just tried to shield her from being branded by trying to convince her she was wrong.
But my love was gone now and for the first time I could see.
It happened so, so gradual. It had been planned subtly and executed quietly. And now we do live in 1984. We made it ourselves because we were so damn terrified of the rest of the world.
Samís in Heaven now, looking down on me. Iím betting she doesnít approve of what Iím doing, of what Iíve become. But Iím not afraid of her judgement. When I die, she wonít be able to reach me, so sheíll also be unable to judge me.
But stillÖ somewhere I do hope sheíll forgive me. I hope she understands that the world cannot be changed by words or ideals. The pen isnít mightier than the sword.
Maybe Iíll succeed. Maybe I wonít. I probably wonít, come to think of it.
In fact, when you think about rationally, Iím probably only going to make things worse.
There never was a world completely out to kill us. But there is now. And we made it.
We must be so proud of ourselves.Ē
* * * * *
Brooke looked at the small tape recorder in her hand. She tried to think of some snappy last words. She couldnít think of any, so she turned it off. Then she sat back on her bed and surveyed the room. There wasnít a lot in it. Most notably there were a few charts, a couple of maps, some schedules, a rifle or two and some C-4 explosives.
For a fleeting moment she wondered if it would even make a slight dent.
She shrugged. It didnít really matter.
She got up from her bed, stretched herself and walked over to the window.
She leaned on the sill and took in the glorious view of the White House.
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