Meeting of Chance

Rest is for the Weak

Rest is for the Weak.

Those words swam through Meghan's mind like she was swimming around the pool at her local gym. She was training to become an Olympic swimmer. It had been her dream for years, ten in fact. She had trained for those ten years as well, just to be featured in the Olympics under the American flag, the flag of her country. It was her life goal to go into the Olympic games under that flag and win a bronze, sliver or gold medal. Just being there would be an achievement for the blonde, to be in an event which brought together multiple country's together for a good event of sports, but winning a medal whilst there? To her, there was no greater honour than that.

After another eighty laps added on to the two hundred and twenty which she had already done, she got out of the pool and into the changing rooms, taking a short shower before taking her navy blue and white swimming suit and goggles off, drying herself with a cream coloured towel.

"Finally out I see." Miranda, an African America girl who had black hair and blue eyes and shared Meghan's love for sports, joked whilst putting their shirt on. "Training hard for the Olympics?"

"What else do I do at the pool?" Meghan chuckled, putting on her underwear.

"I worry that you push yourself to far Meghan." The ravenette put her boots on, tying the laces as she gave Meghan a concerned look.

"I don't. I eat healthy, go to the gym and pool, bike with you, go home and watch Doctor Who. Guys do the same, so why can't I?" Meghan was now almost fully dressed, a thin blue tank top and leather jacket all that was left to be put on.

"Yeah, but. . .what about your parents, huh? And Sam? Don't deny it, it's obvious you like him." Miranda smirked when she saw the slight blush on Meghan's cheeks. "I just think you need some rest."

"I don't like him. And besides. . .Rest is for the weak."

Meghan groaned as she finished her eightieth push up in the wet, soggy mud, her normally pretty face covered in mud as well as her muscular and tattooed arms, chest, legs and feet. Luckily she was wearing training gear, or she'd be frozen.

"Move your asses! Keep going! If you are our countries next in line for it's defence against our enemies, then we might as well surrender!!" The drill instructor had been like this all day, shouting at them for hours. Meghan had learnt to drain him out and go at her own pace, but recently it had gotten way harder.

"As I have said before, and I'll say it again, rest is for the weak!" He kept saying that, over and over. Meghan needed a rest, not because she was tired, but because her right arm, the one she had broken a few months before, was still hurting her now. She needed to rest, but her mind wouldn't let her, not matter how loud her body screamed.

"Come on Meg! Let's race!" Miranda smirked, stopping her bike for Meghan to get beside her and for them to race.

"Are you sure? Not to brag, but I am faster than you, and stronger, otherwise I wouldn't be taking part in this years Olympics." Meghan returned the smirk, getting her bike beside her and mounting it.

"Congrats on that. And yeah, I am!" The ravenette looked and sounded completely confident in her words and herself, boasting a wide smile on her face.

"Alright then, on three, two, one, GO!"
And they were off, racing down the mountain track to get to the end of that certain course, and winning their own personal little race.

Miranda was in the lead for a bit, speeding ahead of her friend, but Meghan wasn't too far behind, determined to win. She was extremely competitive like that, which was one reason she'd been selected to go to this years Olympic games.

Then, with a sudden and unexpected burst of strength and speed, Meghan took lead, her bike flying over a small jump with ease as Miranda was left to cough on the dust which her bike had thrown backwards and up from the dry mud laying on the ground.

"Try to catch me now!!" Meghan looked behind at her friend with a smirk which Miranda returned before her expression changed to a worried one.

"Meghan look out!" The blonde did this too slow, colliding her tire with a tree stump, knocking her off the bike, rolling down a hill until she stopped as she fell into an oak.

"Oh my God, are you OK?" Miranda asked seconds later, Meghan's wreaked bike beside her whilst Miranda stood steps away.

"Agh my arm. . .call an ambulance." She then passed out from pain.

When Meghan learnt her arm was broke and she couldn't compete in the Olympics, her heart was torn. Military life seemed to her like a safe haven, so she enlisted and rose high through the ranks above her peers. Meghan knew that intel on enemy whereabouts, positions and movements was crucial, so she decided to perfect small camera devices capable of such things easy. This is what brought her into the attention of the Navy SEALS. But training still had to be passed.

"Worthless maggots! You are the lowest possible form of life to come to my attention, it is an INSULT to me and my training career to teach such things as yourselves!" She already hated her instructor, from the moment she heard his name up until the very last time they'd met.

"Maybe a bit of fighting will spice things up! Get into a line, front and centre!" The fifteen people lined up in their wet, muddy uniforms from training, wanting nothing more than to lay down for a minute.

"One of you will be fighting me! And I will show you how it is done with ease and precision! Valkyrie!" The man shouted Meghan's codename, one she'd earned from her cameras, like the ancient Nordic legends, the Valkyrie's were warriors who looked over the battlefield, and were females with bright blonde hair, just like her.

"Sir." She answered him lazily, looking towards him with a bored expression.

"Don't you give me that look! You will be fighting ME, do you understand?!"

"Yes sir."

The recruits had formed a circle around the two who were now in clean training gear for their one on one hand to hand combat session. It started off horribly for Meghan, getting put into multiple fatale positions.

"Is that all you've got you cocksucking pussy?! My grandma could do better, and she's dead!" Meghan had finally cracked, getting enough torture verbally and physically from him.

"So you killed your own grandma, you sick bastard? And for the record, I'm not a cocksucker." She tried to come back with a few insults to counter his own, just fueling his rage.

Meghan took three more punches before grabbing his fist, punching him in the nose, sending him backwards. He came at her with a left hook, Meghan dodged by kicking him the side, putting him on one knee for Meghan to kick him in the face. The drill instructor got up, punching her gut whilst getting tripped up by her. Meghan went to punch him, but he dodged, her weak arm hitting the hard ground, displacing her already fragile bone.

"Don't worry, you should be out in a week. Luckily your arm didn't hit something harder." And with that the doctor left, leaving Meghan in the plain white room with the gentle and subtle 'beep' of the heartbeat monitor as her only source of sound, apart from the gentle pounding of the rain on the windows which came from outside.

This time alone gave the blonde to reflect upon her life, more specifically, her time in Brazil with that wonderful girl, who Meghan had nearly almost completely forgot about.

It was only seeing a pair of earrings shaped like a skull in a shop a few weeks back she'd remembered them, and how delicate and warm their touch was, how soothing and calming their voice, how precise and cool that her accent had been, how amazingly bright her smile was, her scent, her finely braided hair and how soft and lovely her lips had tasted against her own. It was something Meghan never forgot, and always regretted.

She regretted not staying longer, not talking more, not kissing longer or trying to stay in her embrace. She was like something out of a romance novel for the blonde, a wonderful and amazing person whom she loved fully but had gotten away at the last moment, without every saying goodbye.

Not that Meghan could ever go back there to see them. Most of her leave was often spent at her patents.

But Meghan knew, she told them her name, but didn't know their own. . .