"Have to let it go, It's time to let it go, Now I can't
believe took so long to leave, Perhaps one day I'll grieve,
or I never will"
~ Barenaked Ladies, "Told You So"
Time's funny. I'm not talking about the Stargate. And I'm not talking about ha-ha funny, either. I'm talking about weird, soul-crushing funny and I'm talking about the last six months.
Yes, it was six months ago that Rick asked Sam to marry him, six months since Sam asked me to be the best man, six months since I went home and banged my head against the wall for a half hour. I had fun explaining that bruise, believe me.
We've gone through all the triple-damned wedding stuff. I've done it all before. Not from this perspective, of course, but it's old news. So while Rick's worrying about tuxedos and flowers and invitations and gifts, I'm wondering if there's anything I can do to avert this impending tragedy.
So far, nothing. I called in some favors from people who owe them, people who don't ask, people who probably forget who I am. And I did a little more digging around. AND I'm starting to wonder if Richard Pike wonder boy is a Gou'ald. He just doesn't seem human. No human I know has a COMPLETELY clear record. No arrests, no warnings, not even a freaking parking ticket! What's up with that? I've seen newborns with a longer rap sheet.
So he's not a violent criminal. That's all right, I can deal. Next step.
He's a doctor. No, he's not a doctor. He's a psychologist. Or a psychiatrist. Whatever one requires less training. Same bucket as chiropractors. I did some discreet - and by discreet I mean 'in disguise'- questioning around his office, and everyone loves him. He listens blah blah cares blah blah very sincere and oh Samantha's such a lucky woman he's such a catch and hey, your moustache just fell off blah blah blah. Same old, same old.
So I'm quickly running out of options that don't include laying my heart out on the floor, well aware that Sam could tap-dance all over it. I've even been watching soap operas. Fine, okay, you might laugh, but I swear, it's the best resource when dealing with people. It was Days of Our Lives that helped ME get through that whole two-Sams-and-one's-married-to-me thing. At least Carter doesn't believe her name is Princess Gina. Anyway, I'm desperate again, and have returned to my afternoon alter. "How to break up a couple", by NBC. Well, I made a list.
1. START RUMORS.
Not that anyone would believe them. I don't think the rest of the SG-1, including my FRIENDS Teal'c and Danny, would be surprised if Rick got up and walked on water. Scratch that one.
2. KILL ONE OF THEM.
Always an option... but messy. And I do enough of that kind of... thing... on duty. Killing humans - wormless humans - isn't really my bag.
3. UNEARTH A DEEP AND HORRIBLE SECRET.
As I said, no such luck. I'm considering browsing through the 'adult' section of the video store to see if I can find Ricky in any staring roles, but I'm just afraid I might see someone there that I know. Like Mayborne.
4. PROVE THAT THE CHILD THE COUPLE SUPPOSABLY HAD ISN"T REALLY THEIR CHILD AFTER ALL.
Well, if Sam's pregnant, I'm going to have to revert to Option number 2.
5. COMMIT SUICIDE.
6. STOP THE WEDDING BY ADMITTING YOUR FEELINGS.
Ditto. In fact, I think I'd rather kill myself and get it over with.
And, last but not least, the old fallback, plan B for every plan A:
7. SLEEP WITH HER.
It's certainly the most attractive of all the options, with the possible exception of "Horrible Secret". But it's stupid. It's impossible. It's just plain wrong.
So I'm getting a tinny bit desperate. Okay, frantic. Fine. I'm panicking here. And I'm really, really wishing that I hadn't said yes to Sam. I'm thinking I'd like to spend the 20th curled up in the fetal position under my living room table.
I can't believe it. The 20th. Just two weeks away. Two weeks.