"But I was a lot older when I did it... Honey, I know you're at a time in your life when you're eager to experience new things... but this is serious. You have to be sure this is what you really want... It's not like you can take it back... Trust your auntie Sam on this, O.K.? All right... Could you put your Dad on the phone, please? Love you too... Bye!"
One. Two. Three. And... cue in freaked out Dad dealing with teenage rebellion.
"Hi, Mark! No... Before you say anything else, you should know it's settled. It's under control. For now..."
She laughed at her brother's audible sigh of relief and his subsequent "What? What do you mean 'for now?'. Sam had always known she was the only Carter sibling to inherit Jacob's particular brand of humor and it gave her the perfect excuse to mercilessly tease her brother, even in situations like this one. Especially in situations like this one.
"How can this be my fault? Come on... when did she ever see my bellybutton piercing? Oh... well, wait till I show her my bad-ass biker chick tattoo." She chuckled. "You know I can't help it."
She felt the slight hesitation in Mark's voice and she braced herself for the next issue on the agenda.
"How is he? Great... You're right, it isn't any of your business. But I want you to know I'm really grateful that you... set us up. Yes, he *is* a great guy. A guy who deserves a lot more than I have to offer. O.K... I'll remember that."
She caught her reflection in the mirror and she tentatively touched the fresh wounds on the side of her face. She could lower the level of alert, now that the conversation had moved into safer territory, she could almost switch to auto pilot. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy talking to Mark but she would inevitably end up telling him that she was fine, work was great and nothing much had happened in her life since they'd last spoken. And she suddenly realized that she was beginning to blur that tricky line between reality and fiction; she really was fine, for once, stitches notwithstanding.
Come to think of it, the stitches had been a great help when she'd broken up with Pete, like a strange visual aid, helping him understand that he might know but he'd never be able to understand. It hadn't been easy, but if felt... right. And honest.
She wasn't quite sure where this policy of truth came from and she didn't care much as long as it was working. She had to admit that she was the prime beneficiary of her new-found honesty. No one could blame her of not trying. She owed it to herself to give Sam Carter a shot at a life that didn't feel like her own, in a world where it was O.K. to admit that she could sit through a musical (most of it anyway) without being strapped to a chair and held at gunpoint. She needed a break from who she was and what she truly felt. She'd tried to tell herself that this was what she wanted, as if her own question wasn't there to sneak up on her, slowly eroding at the very foundations of her fantasy life.
//"No, I think it's great."
"It is?"
"It isn't?"//
She'd wondered about it. Oh, how she'd cringed at the thought that it had been "uncomfortable" and nothing more. Like running into an ex-husband while holding hands with your prone to public displays of affection boyfriend. A brief moment of awkwardness, maybe. But nothing more.
There was no need to wonder about it now. Her little sand castle had been blown to bits, washed away by pain and fear and exhaustion and the sickening feeling of being hunted down like an animal. The otherwise almost natural act of pretense required so much energy, and Sam had none left. She'd needed to rest. He'd pulled her into his embrace and there was simply no need to wonder anymore. Her break was over but there were no regrets.
Five days later, she was standing next to Pete, admiring the giraffes. Apparently, there *was* a zoo in Colorado Springs and it was only minutes away from Cheyenne Mountain. It was as good a place as any to start being honest, despite the occasional toddler who found her bruised face more interesting than the alligators.
Pete had been predictably disappointed but, in light of recent revelations, she suspected he'd been expecting it. As for herself... Part of her wished she could experience some sort of acute loss, instead of the mild melancholy and the overwhelming feeling of relief. But that would have clashed with the honesty policy, wouldn't it?
She did deserve more. But she didn't need it.
"Mark! No... I just... I've had a rough couple of weeks. Make that months, actually... Yeah, work's been crazy. But I'm fine now."
THE END.
Less Is More by Emma
Story Notes: SPOILERS: Chimera, Death Knell, vague ones for Grace
A/N: This wasn't meant to be posted. I wrote it for myself as a sort of closure from Chimera. So it's not particularly coherent (not to mention it's unbetaed) and tends to ramble but I decided to do something crazy today so... there you have it! Oh, and it solves at least one plot hole.
A/N: This wasn't meant to be posted. I wrote it for myself as a sort of closure from Chimera. So it's not particularly coherent (not to mention it's unbetaed) and tends to ramble but I decided to do something crazy today so... there you have it! Oh, and it solves at least one plot hole.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]