I knew her voice. I knew her.
He never talked about her; initially I couldn't even remember her name, but I remembered HER. I remembered her hair, brilliant as the fire rain, and her eyes, deeper and more vivid than the sky on the clearest day. I remembered my foolish mistake of assuming she was Jack's wife.. and my elation when this proved untrue.
It was not an unreasonable assumption, however.
Several minutes ago, he snubbed her, walking away even as she spoke to him, coming to me, saying goodbye, asking me to go with him. My main focus - my entire world for the last hundred days - was Jack, but I was hard-pressed to ignore the expression upon her face. She may come from a world unimaginable distances away, but she is human, and she is a woman. She was hurt.
I had mourned my husband's death a hundred days. I'll mourn Jack's leaving for just as long. The others will say that this is foolish. They hate him already, for leaving us, for leaving me. They will tell me that he is not worthy to live among us, to live with me, to ever return to discover if I am with child. They will say that he is alive, and that is no cause for grief.
But it is. It is. I know this because I knew him.
I let him mourn a hundred days... or nearly so. For as long as I could stand. As long as I deemed he would hold out. He mourned a hundred days for them all... but especially her. It was different with her than any of the rest. The two men... he was the best of friends with them. He'd had many good times with them. He had been everything he could be to them. But with Sam... there was the definite sense that there had been things left unsaid, undone... unrealized.
Sam. I know her name now. I remember her name now. How could I not? How could I forget that simple syllable, that mild, gentle sound that rolled effortlessly off his tongue more than once during that night we spent together?
That night, confused, drunk, and in the throes of passion...
He called me Sam.
Not once did he use MY name.
He never apologized; I never said anything. Maybe he didn't realize that he had called out the name of another woman, a woman he was not and had never been connected to in such a way. Maybe he simply didn't want to bring it up. I was glad he didn't. I didn't want to hear his reasons, his excuses. I didn't want to hear him say that he was sorry, and that it would never happen again, because it would be a lie. I didn't want to hear him lie to me.
Oh, he walked away from her several minutes ago, but now it is me that he's walking away from, walking with her, walking back home to a place he stopped calling home not long ago. Though the rest of the crowd melts away, I remain, watching him go, watching her go, watching them go. The one he called Daniel pats him on the shoulder several times... the friend. The one called Teal'c stands close by, as though prepared to jump into action at the slightest threat... the protector.
Sam stands on the other side of Daniel, her steps small and stumbling, her arms crossed, her head down. She's exhausted. She doesn't look at him... he doesn't even look at her... but then again, he doesn't look back at me, either. As I watch them vanish towards the Stargate, the fact that he never once looks back at me is painfully obvious. As is the fact that he didn't scorn Sam by coming over to me... he came over to say goodbye, to make his exit, to cut off ties quickly, so that he could leave. So he wants me to come with him? So he doesn't want to go home?
I have the distinct feeling I've been lied to.
After all, he's known this planet for only a hundred days. He's known his Earth for much longer. He's known HER for much longer. And though things are strained between them now, I know him, and I know women. It will change. And if he does remember that night, remember what he said... and if he finds the strength to tell her...
Perhaps he will not return after all.
I knew her voice. Knew her. Remembered her. Almost didn't tell him. But then what kind of life would I be reduced to leading? What kind of person would I be? Not the kind of person he expects me to be. Not the kind of person she is.
That's why I'll mourn Jack O'Neill for a hundred days. Not because he is dead, but because he is gone. Because he left this home for another, left ME for another. I mourn for the loss of the man I loved who I know will find bliss in the arms of another woman. I mourn that my love loved another... and that I knew this all along.
I knew her.
I knew him.
She knows him better.
ppllleeaassee send feedback to my starving Muse... and me too, while yer at it.
Oh, rank is good, and gold is fair
And high and low mate ill
But love has never known a law
Beyond its own sweet will!
A man said to the universe "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe, "That fact has no created in me A sense of obligation."
-- Shephen Crane
Welcome to my Insanity: http://www.geocities.com/rainrobinson/
AIM: UST calliope