When he's here, with me, it's easy to keep from loving him. It's not even something I do consciously. I see him, slouching around in his BDUs or bundled up in mission gear, and automatically, I go in some kind of different mode. He IS Colonel O'Neill to me: my commanding officer, a great guy, a friend and nothing more. I don't see possibilities, I don't see prospects, and I don't see love.
It's when he's NOT there... that's when it kills me. When I'm at home. When I'm alone in my lab. When I can think of him in a different context, a more familiar one, when I can remember all the reasons why he IS a great guy and one of my dearest friends, without the military reminders. The reasons why acknowledging these feelings would be nothing more than a prelude to heartbreak.
And it's when he's not there for a long time that I feel I've misplaced a part of my very soul. I feel there's something missing, and not just his jokes, not the sound of his voice or the specific sound of his boots against the concrete floor. What's missing are those possibilities, those prospects, those fugitive things don't exist at any other time. Like those three months, three months I lost with him, three months of him with another woman. With A woman. The moment it sank in that we'd abandoned him back there, everything seemed so suddenly crystal-clear, like my perceptions had been an unaligned lens that had only just popped into focus. I told myself - I all but told Janet - that if I was ever blessed with a second chance with him, I would take it. I would take it.
But then my prayers were answered. I saw that he hadn't missed me, that he obviously didn't care for me the way I thought I might care for him. I felt so stupid that I promised I'd never set myself up for that kind of fall again.
And I kept that promise to myself. For about 48 hours.
And so I'm stuck. I'm caught. I only know how I feel when I'm without him. I'm only capable of telling him when I'm with him. But in the morning, when we greet each other for the first time, or in the afternoon, when we take turns buying the other lunch, or in the evening, before we call it quits and say goodnight, that I feel utterly foolish for coming up with such romantic nonsense. My own confusion stymies me. I keep telling myself that I don't know what I want, and so obviously I'm befuddled. Flustered, irrational... because I couldn't possibly want what I think I want. I want the possibilities, the prospects, and... and the love. I want HIM.
But only when I'm alone.
***
I'm in love with her... but only sometimes.
Distance helps. When I'm alone, when her face and voice exists only within the dark depths of my obedient memory, I can actually make myself forget her. Should any stray recollection cross my mind, it's easily banished as a dream, a hope, a fantasy. The perfect woman: if only she existed somewhere.
She does, and there are times when I'm all too aware of that fact. Like when I see her, first thing in the morning, and my casual act seems not nearly casual enough and far too much like an act. A farce. When we eat lunch together, and compromise on a subject of discussion that won't bore her or send me off to the infirmary with a migraine. When I say goodnight to her, and a little part of me dies saying the words. Wishing there WAS no goodnight.
I love her when I see her talking to another man, one who I know is single and most likely interested. I love her when the prospect of losing her enters my mind. I'm in love with her when I'm with her -- how could any straight man NOT be? She's beautiful and smart, strong but feminine, feisty and yielding. That all hovers on the razor-edges of already-established facts: I'm her C.O., and I'm me. How could a woman like that even entertain the vague notion of spending a lifetime - a night? - with a Neanderthal such as myself?
A Neanderthal who can't make up his mind.
Because after I get home, and get to thinking, something changes. Maybe it's because I realize all over again that I CAN survive without her. That life will always go on with or without us, with or without us together. I weigh the risks and they seem insurmountable and innumerable in contrast with the few pluses.
Then I see her again, and I remember how spectacular those few pluses are. They ARE her. She's the biggest plus in my life.
It's an endless cycle, over and over again, day after day, like picking petals from a drooping rose. I love her... I love her not. Only it's draining, and it's wearing me down. The flower is nearing the end of its life, and I can't help but feel that my chance, my time of action...
....is over.
That the possibilities that lie between Sam and me are rapidly fading.
When I'm not with her, she doesn't exist. When I am, she surrounds me, more than making up for her absence. There's only one explanation I can give:
I love her.
But only when I let myself.
--
Story Notes: (alli@ecis.com)
Category: Vignette, Angst
Spoilers: 100 Days
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis
Category: Vignette, Angst
Spoilers: 100 Days
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis
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 ]