Champagne High by Ginamarie

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Story Notes: Spoilers: 2010

Thanks to Alli for the beta.

Feedback appreciated.

On a champagne high, I'd toast to the future but that'd be a lie
-Sister Hazel, Champagne high

*

I take one step forward. The ground beneath me slides away, bringing her closer, yet farther away.

Another step and I see her smile. That radiance of energy that's always rendered me hopeless and hopeful, once and again.

One more step and I look away to the people that surround me. Senators, congressmen, ambassadors, a medical doctor, an archaeologist, and a Jaffa warrior. And me. A sea of people in blacks and whites, in silk and satin, velvet and velour, diamonds and pearls as brilliantly white as the dress of the woman before me.

I return my attention to her -- to both of them. She's happy, just as I should be happy, with a big grin plastered on my face. I am afterall losing what I've always wanted, to a person who's had no shame in ridiculing me to all the world. But I don't care about what others think of me, I only care what she thinks.

I take one step forward. It's just about time now. I can feel the expectant stares. I'm here to carry out my duty. Everyone expects it. And why shouldn't they?

They see only what I exhibit They hear only what I allow to pass through my lips. They understand only what I let them. Now it's time for another exhibition, another performance. Only one person exists that sees beyond what others see. That's why I'm here.

My name is Jack O'Neill, Colonel, retired, commanding officer of the most wonderful women I've ever known. That's what I'm supposed to say, right? I'm Jack O'Neill, and I'm here because I knew her, but not anymore. Because the woman I knew would never make me do what I'm about to do. She'd KNOW me.

There once was a time when she would have given up the world for me. All I had to do is ask, but I never did. I let her have her choice. I gave her freedom and she repays with betrayal.

It's time.

I take the final step forward.

I grab the microphone, as the sound of my breathing becomes unduly projected in a torrent of air. The glass of champagne suddenly weighing a thousand pounds as I struggle to raise it above the crowd.

Time for my speech... no, not my speech, the speech of the Best Man, the Best Friend.

Not Jack O'Neill.

I look around nervously. My speech, my speech, my speech, what the hell was my speech?

I've forgotten what I was going to say, so I look at the only person in this whole goddamn room worth any inspiration. I look at her.

I realize only then that I've been fooling myself to think I could actually do this, because what I want to say can never be said. This speech is an act she doesn't deserve. She wanted a Best Man I couldn't be.

I turn to the familiar man beside me, furrowing his eyebrows in expectation, staring at me through this metal rimmed glasses.

I hand him the microphone.

There's only one place left to go.

I can't go forward, so I turn back. One step. Two steps, three steps, four steps, a hundred steps backward, letting the champagne flute fall to the ground and crash under my feet.

I can't go forward. Not ever. It's easier this way. It's easier for her, for me, to just walk away without another word. I will cease to exist. She can carry on with her prince, and her fairytale, but I can't be in this story. There isn't room for two.

I'm sorry Sam, I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you wanted. I'm sorry I couldn't live up to your expectations. I'm sorry I couldn't offer you what he offered you. I'm sorry for all the stupid things I always said just to make you smile. As a matter of fact, I'm sorry I ever met you at all.

She calls my name, but I ignore her and drown out the murmuring questions that I don't have answers to.

I walk away forever, retreating into the past. I cease to exist in her future, but take solace in the time before I ever heard her utter my name. Before I ever knew who Samantha Carter was.

My only solace, my only hope is that the past can somehow remedy the future.

*

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