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mogwai_doBored, should probably get to bed, but I can't be bothered so... From the depths of the hard drive - Stargate SG1...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts from Stargate - I find this most distressing. No harm is intended by this little piece of fiction and no money is made.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst. Slashy subject matter.
Pairing: None
Notes: First SG fic, 1st person pov which is not my norm either. Thanks to Barb for the unsolicited rainbow beta, the title and various technical details. Thanks also to Kai and Apocrypha for the encouragement :-) Set during Enemy Within.
Summary: When you look back on your life, what do you regret most - the things you did or the things you didn't?
Sins of Omission
Copyright Margaret Turner
20th November 2002
He's finally fallen asleep and I'm free to look. Not that I couldn't look before, but there's a freedom in it now that he's not aware of it. It can't be comfortable there, twisted in the seat so his folded arms can rest on the bedside cabinet, his head nestled against them. He should have just used the next bed over, it's not like anyone else is going to be sharing a room with a Goa'uld. I'd move him there myself if I weren't strapped down. Shit. This should so not be happening, just when everything looks like it might turn out right. Should have known with my luck. Think positive, that's what Jack always says, so I'll try, even though I know that half the time Mr Positive here doesn't buy his own bullshit. So what's the plus side of having a snake in my head? We know next to nothing about them, maybe there's some way to get it out, but if it were that simple I don't think they'd be the threat that they seem to be. Up side, come on, there has to be one, just one. I look for inspiration and surprisingly enough I find it, right next to me. My one and only plus side - I've got Jack sleeping not three feet away from me, if nothing else that should take my mind off it.
He looks tired, exhausted in fact, more from worry than anything else I think. He's just been dropped in the deep end and I know he's a strong swimmer, but even so... He *was* retired; now he's 2IC of a frontline operation and he's got a new team that has to be about as mismatched as they come. I don't think he's worried about Captain Carter, if nothing else she's military through and through, but Dr Jackson... man, there's some heavy grief there. He took the guy home with him that first night and I suspect he'll be staying with Jack until he finds his feet again. It's not totally unexpected, given what I can remember of the first Abydos mission. It's not easy having the life you thought you'd lead ripped away from you, I should know. Jack knows it too, better than me even, but I'm still jealous of the consideration he's giving Jackson. It's stupid because, knowing Jack, I *know* he couldn't ignore the guy and I wouldn't want him to. Whatever connection they made when they killed Ra, it's still there and still solid. I doubt Jackson knows all the implications of it yet, but I'll bet anything I have that he'll be grateful for it before long. He's Jack's now, part of Jack's world, Jack will step up to bat for him every time. Sure, he'll tease him like hell and give him shit, but when it counts Jack will be there for him. Just like he was for me.
Who'd have thought the country bumpkin would or could teach me how to live with myself? There was me, Chicago born and bred, Air Force sponsored, hockey-playing, smart guy roomed with some backwater farmboy just because he was Air Force sponsored and a hockey player too. Don't people know anything about people? An interest and an ambition in common are no guarantee of a friendship. I was too young and too stupid then to understand that where you're from isn't half as important as who you are, in my defence though it didn't take me long to learn.
We did the compare and contrast thing that all new roomies do and I laughed at the fact that it was his first time in a big city, despite the fact he was actually born here. No matter what he says, Minneapolis doesn't count. He took most of it without complaint; I gave him shit about his accent and he'd counter by trying to imitate mine and he *cannot* do accents. I have to admit some of my barbs were meant to hurt, but if they did I never saw it - he never seemed to take them that way. He was quiet and polite and earnest enough at first that he was pegged as a naive dumbass by most; he didn't have the interests to be a geek. It took me about a week, maybe two, to discover that he was actually an okay guy and he may have been a backwater farmboy, but he was *smart*. If he put his mind to it he could do anything he wanted, the trick was getting him to want it.
I guess what really changed my mind about him was the first USAF weekend where they took us out to the middle of nowhere and left us to fend or ourselves. If I'd thought about it, I would have realised, but it didn't take me long to figure out that the countryboy was a hell of a lot better at the field stuff than a citykid like myself. After that the relationship changed, he wasn't the roomie with whom I had a few things in common, but who basically wasn't worth my time. He was a good guy and he was a friend. We balanced each other out nicely, made up for each other's shortcomings, temporary as they were, until we were both up to speed in everything we needed. Air Force, hockey and my friend Jack, parties and girls and occasionally even classes, because that was what you *did*. I should have known then that something was wrong with that picture. Just my dumb luck I was too stupid to see it until I got to the Academy and there was no turning back.
Me and my best friend Jack, roomies again, different classes, not so many parties and girls... well. Three months in and our first weekend break, went into town, got shitfaced, wove into a gay bar by mistake - only us. We were so drunk it took us best part of half an hour to even register that it was guys kissing *guys* in the dark corners of the bar - we beat a hasty retreat. Halfway back to base we were over the embarrassment enough that Jack found the whole thing hilarious - of course he was still pretty drunk at the time so he might well have found everything hilarious at that point. Me though, I felt like I was in shock, more sober than I ever wished to be and desperately wishing my hard-on away. Jack passed out when we got back to our room and I spent the night staring at the ceiling trying to will myself not to get hard as images of guys kissing and groping replayed themselves in my head. No wonder none of the girls at college had ever really done much for me.
I think that was probably the worst week of my life. A fine time to realise you're gay, when you're surrounded by fit men you're expected to take communal showers with and getting hard will get you out on your ass at best. And it sucked because the Air Force was what I had always wanted, I couldn't imagine myself ever doing anything else and I didn't want to.
I started fantasising about one of the Majors at the Academy, a tall, green-eyed man that I didn't even like much, but I wanted to fuck him so badly. Three nights later I made some excuse to Jack and snuck off base back to that bar. I got hit on by one of the bar staff and after his shift was over we did it in the alley out back - I never bothered to get his name. I didn't get back till it was nearly time for breakfast; it took me that long to stop crying and hide the evidence that I ever had been. I don't think I fooled Jack, but he didn't say anything. Not until the next time I did it and I woke him up trying to sneak back into our room. He didn't yell, but he did want to know what the hell I was doing. I could have been kicked out for breaking curfew; we'd already seen one guy go for that. Apparently there had been a surprise inspection about two hours after I'd left, Jack had covered for me, but he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to do it again. I owed him and I knew it.
I was still a bit drunk and I blame that for my breaking down, but I still get embarrassed at the memory of it. I'd known I was gay for over a month and it was killing me. I don't know what possessed me to spill to Jack, except maybe at that point in my life he was the person closest to me. If I'd thought twice I wouldn't have done it, telling your straight, military, best friend and roommate you're gay is not exactly going to be the best move for a friendship. But I did tell him and he didn't freak, or if he did, he did it very quickly and quietly. I remember finishing my drunken confession and waiting for him to hit me or something. I could *see* him thinking in those dark eyes of his, but I didn't know what - he can be pretty damn unreadable when he wants to be. I'm not sure how much time we spent sitting on our separate beds staring at each other in silence; I must have passed out or fallen asleep still sitting up because the next thing I knew he was gently pushing me under the covers. He'd have made someone a wonderful mother. I nearly started bawling all over again just because I realised he'd touched me, that if he'd done that he couldn't be as disgusted with me as I was with myself. That maybe our friendship was salvageable.
It took a day or so before that thinking look was gone from Jack's eyes, but he never treated me differently. We didn't mention my confession again until our next weekend leave and we hung back a little from the other guys once we got off base. It was so obvious Jack didn't know what to say, but he managed it eventually, offered to cover for me if I wanted to go do my own thing. He wasn't the only one having difficulty speaking then; I didn't know how to tell him how grateful I was, but I took him up on his offer and hoped he understood.
I didn't see him again until we were all back at the Academy and he smirked and asked me if I'd had a good time. From the catcalls of the guys who overheard, I gathered Jack had spun them some story about the love of my life, the very female love of my life, demanding some romance. I assured everyone I'd had a very good time and though the smirk stayed, the dark eyes softened just a little in understanding. I had exaggerated about what a good time I'd had and I think he knew that. Macho posturing aside, meaningless sex with strangers wasn't really his thing either, but I really did feel better than I had since I'd first discovered this part of myself. I could cope with this, I could deal; it wasn't fair to rely on Jack so much, but it was... manageable. No more sneaking out, it was too easy to get caught, but if Jack could deal with having me as his friend then I could at least minimise the risks. I owed him big and I knew it, if he ever needed me for anything I'd be there, I swore. Of course reality doesn't usually bother to conform to honourable ideals or even basic fairness.
We got a full month's leave eventually and everyone went their separate ways. Jack went home to Minnesota and I went back to Chicago, but we travelled together for most of the journey - it wasn't odd, everyone thought Jack was from Chicago too. Somewhere along the way he'd lost most of the accent and I guess maybe some of my early jibes had struck home because when anyone asked, that's where he said he was from. Or maybe it was just the result of having to fill in so many forms when we signed up, because technically it was true. He *was* born in Chicago, but I think his parents must have moved when he was still a baby because he doesn't remember it. Minnesota was 'home' to him and I think it always will be.
A whole month's leave far from the Academy and anyone that knew me there - I took the opportunity it presented and did more than my furtive back alley fumblings had allowed. I was stupid. My parents were American-born, but they were still strongly Polish-Catholic with all the prejudices that entailed. I was never particularly religious even though it had been drummed into me from an early age. I knew the words and the trappings, but it never really meant anything to me personally, which I guess was actually something of a good thing. I don't think I could have coped with religious guilt as well when I realised I was gay.
My parents were a whole different matter, they found out and I had to repent of my unnatural perversions - except I couldn't. This was me. I refused to beg forgiveness from a god I wasn't convinced existed for something that I could do nothing about. There was a week of constant fighting, my sister got caught in the middle of it, which is probably the thing I regret most. I was disowned, disinherited, damned to hell and, right then, I was actually glad of it - I wanted nothing more to do with them. I went back to the Academy a week early; I could have taken the farmboy's standing invitation to his place, but it had been made way back in college, long before either of us had known I was gay. I didn't know if it still stood and I wasn't about to push my luck. Plus, after the disaster with my parents I didn't trust myself not to ruin my friendship with Jack as well.
The week by myself gave me time to cool my temper and time enough to realise I'd burned my bridges pretty thoroughly. The support structure that had been my family was no more, they wouldn't answer my calls and news had spread quickly. Maybe there was a distant cousin three times removed back in Poland who hadn't heard, but I doubted it. I thought my sister would still speak to me, we'd always been pretty close, but I couldn't get through to her with my parents screening calls.
Jack turned up a few days before everyone was due back, it surprised me until we got his bags back up to our room and he asked me what had happened. I should have known - he'd called my parents' house to talk to me about travelling back, I'm not sure what they'd told him, but I think he got the basic idea. He told me that next extended leave I should go home with him if I had nowhere else to go. I think he was kind of pissed at my parents, which oddly enough made it easier for me, knowing I wasn't being completely unreasonable. Of course from their point of view neither were they. He did call my sister for me though, my parents didn't approve of it really, but they had no grounds to refuse Jack. He kept that line of communication open for me until eventually my sister moved out of the family home and I could talk to her myself - the one family member who hadn't decided to pretend I'd never existed.
Life was relatively stable after that, Jack covered for me when I needed him to and when the next extended leave came around I finally visited the back of beyond that he calls home. It was a little strange for a citykid like me, particularly when his grandmother visited. She spoke what I later learned was Norwegian and Jack translated for me without breaking a sweat. Now I know where the accent comes from. I tried not to test my friend's good will, so most leaves I actually spent travelling the US, visiting the major cities, and sometimes Jack would come with me. I only stayed in his home for the whole leave once, but a couple of times I spent a few days there. I think I needed the sense of family even if it wasn't my own.
Eventually graduation came around, a part of me was a bit surprised I'd managed it without getting kicked out, but I knew the main reason for that was graduating top of the class. I was beyond grateful to Jack for not letting me fuck up my life any more than I already had. I only managed about fifth or sixth ranking, I can't remember now, it was never that important, but I'd always known Jack would ace the class. It had actually been quite funny watching the faces of some of the others when the announcement was made, surprising everyone but me.
Jack was sneaky, something I'd realised in college. Once he'd found his confidence in the new environment, he'd become something of a smartmouth, moreso than even I had been. He was a popular guy too, a real charmer and totally incorrigible, he could have been in real trouble if the instructors hadn't been just as charmed as the rest of us. It helped that as much as he smarted off and acted dumb, he passed every course with flying colours and no fanfare, proving my early assessment that he could do anything he put his mind to, he just didn't advertise it. And there we were, two green Lieutenants out in the world and we didn't do too badly. I'm not sure how we managed to stay together for so long, maybe it was simply because we were so green it made no difference, we weren't in charge of anything.
Then Special Ops turned up with Jack's promotion to Captain and it took me about six months to follow him. There are a lot of memories there that really don't bear repeating, but we managed and he still covered for me when it was necessary. We met Louis Ferretti on a mission in North Africa and became a trio, even as we discovered that some people didn't react well to Jack.
Major Wallace, our CO of the time, hated Jack's guts, though we never quite understood why. I'm betting at least some of it was envy, I don't think anyone really liked Wallace and he knew it. When Jack doesn't like someone it's pretty damn obvious and he has a tendency to acquire popular support without even knowing it. I hadn't been tarred with the same brush, but dammit the least I could do was keep him company as Jack got stuck with every miserable duty there was. Ferretti did too and I think that was probably what cemented our friendship.
Then Lt Colonel Frank Cromwell came on the scene and the difference was immediately apparent; I think he thought of Jack as his protégé. Jack got another promotion for what he claimed was stupidity in the field and became Major O'Neill, 2IC of the unit. I know Jack was just about alone in that opinion, but we couldn't change his mind, he wasn't stupid enough to turn down the promotion though. Cromwell started to introduce Jack to the politics of the military.
The rank of Major is usually the cut off point, a lot of people never go further, Cromwell was obviously expecting or hoping that Jack would. It started to split us, not the friendship, that was still solid, but we saw each other less. I don't think it was intentional, but I know Cromwell could be a bastard at times and sometimes I wonder if it wasn't a deliberate move on his part so his protégé wouldn't be held back by his less than brilliant friends. Lou and I were still Captains, but Jack was destined for greater things. Cromwell started dragging him to political functions and introducing him to people. Not that Cromwell was a political officer, he was better than that, but he knew the importance of connections. Jack whined a lot to us; he hated playing dress up and politics, but he could hardly refuse his CO. He met Cromwell's wife, and then the wife's best friend Sara as a blind date for some official function or other.
I guess knowing Jack as well as I did, I should have realised it was inevitable, but we'd made it that far as an unbreakable unit and I guess in retrospect I didn't *want* to see that possibility. He was completely gone on her, truly madly deeply and all that. Jack's always been very quiet about his personal feelings, despite the image he likes to project, but I could see it and I think Lou could as well or at least he saw enough to know it was serious. With Jack being dragged all over by Cromwell and Sara taking up a lot of his leave time, he couldn't cover for me as often as he used to, so we told Ferretti. It took him a little while to get his head around the concept, but since Jack knew and was okay with it, Lou reckoned it couldn't be so bad. So when Jack wasn't able to, Lou covered for me. And there was a lot of covering in those days because my life had just been turned upside down.
I didn't hate Sara, but I hated what she had made me realise. For years I'd coped with my sexuality through casual sex and relying on my best friend Jack for everything else I needed. It was only when she appeared and I saw how much Jack loved her that I knew why I had been able to survive in the military. Somewhere along the way I'd fallen in love with Jack and I knew, without a doubt, that it had been there for a long time. You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone is a cliché, but unfortunately very true. I hate clichés.
He asked me to be his Best Man. I didn't want to be, I didn't want anything to do with it, but I couldn't refuse Jack either. I was determined to do my best for him and I did, I think we got thrown out of just about every bar in town that night, but it was good. Jack's Bachelor Party was a night to remember for all involved, though for different reasons for some of us. The reason I remember it was because I got even more shitfaced than the Groom-to-be, which is not the way a Bachelor Party is supposed to go. Sometimes I wish I'd had alcohol-induced amnesia that night and sometimes I'm glad I didn't.
It was after 3am and we were propping the bar up; I remember trying to make a speech and I can't remember what it was I said, but I do remember Jack laughing so hard he was crying while Lou tried to stop him sliding right off his stool and onto the floor. I don't even remember what made me do it at the time - was I trying to make him change his mind or was I taking some kind of memento of the unattainable? I do remember the taste of the scotch he'd had last, the firm silk of his lips, the surprised gasp that let me slip my tongue into his mouth and take what I could. I remember the startled look in his dark eyes and the icy chill of the water when I stuck my head under the faucet after bolting from the bar. I snuck out the back, too much of a coward to go back and face his reaction, trusting that Lou would get him home alright.
Fortunately we had another day before the wedding and I forced myself to stay sober for that. I was still Best Man, which surprised me a little, but I guess it was too close to make that kind of switch. Jack said nothing about the kiss before the wedding, but I knew Lou at least remembered, if the looks he gave me were anything to go by. I didn't have the nerve to bring up the subject myself and see if Jack did actually remember or not. After the wedding he was thoroughly distracted by his new bride and I'm not so small that I couldn't see how happy he was. He was happy and married and we all actually liked Sara, which in some ways made it harder. I think if I'd been able to hate her it might have been easier.
Jack was still on his honeymoon when I requested reassignment, Cromwell was surprised, but he granted it anyway. I'm not sure what Jack thought when he got back to find me gone, at the time I wasn't even sure if he knew why I had gone. He didn't try to find me though, which I took to mean that he did remember the Bachelor Party. I managed to keep in touch a bit, though I couldn't bring myself to speak to him directly. Lou told me when Jack had that parachute accident and was MIA for nine days. I'd been in Central America, so by the time the message got through, Jack had already been shipped home. I took leave to visit him in hospital, but when I got there he was sleeping, Sara at his bedside. Jack had been pumped full of drugs for the pain and wouldn't wake for hours according to the nurse, but Sara was there for him, had been for some time from the look of her. I couldn't stay, but there weren't any drugs I could take for the pain I felt when I left.
I heard about Iraq through the grapevine, I'd been in the Gulf as well, hadn't everyone? I had nightmares for weeks thinking I could have done something if we'd still been in the same unit. I think I felt worse when I heard he was a POW, I just couldn't bring myself to go see him after that. I'd seen the state of the men dragged out of the prisons, I knew what the Iraqis did to them. I didn't want to see him broken - I guess I should have known better there too, the only person who could ever break Jack, is Jack.
I didn't know when he got promoted to Colonel. I didn't know he had a son, I swear to God, I didn't know they named him Charlie. I didn't know he died. Shit. When we got the Abydos mission I thought it was me, I had no idea. I didn't know how badly he was hurting, I didn't see and I should have. So many fucking 'didn't know's and 'should have's. I thought he was still married after that mission, he *was* still married after that mission, but I thought he couldn't wait to get back to Sara. I could have tried to make things right then, even though it seems now that there was nothing wrong between us, it was the rest of his life that was fucked. Unlike Jack, I was still on active duty and I got called away before I found out he'd retired, or divorced for that matter. It's a lousy excuse.
It took a courts-martialable offence to get us back in the same state. I remember seeing him in the General's office and I knew something had changed. It seems stupid that it was only then that I paid attention to his body language. He and Sara had been a pair, even when the other wasn't around you could still see it, that aura was gone now and it gave me the courage to actually try to talk to him, that and being confined to quarters with him. Why the *fuck* didn't I try sooner? I was too fucking self-absorbed to see that Jack had more in his life than just me, that his relationship with me wasn't the be-all and end-all. Maybe it's because for me it was.
If I'd tried to talk, not at the wedding, but if I'd stuck around till he got back from his honeymoon, I would have known he wasn't angry with me - surprised yes, but not angry, not hurt. We could have stayed in the same unit; I might have been able to spare him those four months in Iraq. I might have known the kid that was named for me and apparently for Sara's grandfather. I might have been able to help hold him together after Charlie's death... Even if I hadn't spoken then, if I'd just tried after Abydos - he spent a year retired and single, no Air Force rules, no Sara. I know Jack's not gay, but I might have had a chance, I might have been able to persuade him to maybe... try it. Maybe some of the stuff that happened in Iraq might have made that difficult for him, but I know now that he's always been my friend, he wouldn't have turned me down out of hand. He gave me my first command. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He's twisted in his seat, his sleeping face is so close and I'm strapped to this fucking bed and I can't... touch. Fuck! I want to scream, but that'll only cause chaos. I finally worked it out. I'm finally back more or less where I've wanted to be for years, where I could have been all along if not for my own stupidity, and it's all shot to hell by some fucking alien worm.
I've seen them in my dreams, I know what they can do, I can't... I won't let them use me the way they've used Skaara and Jackson's wife and probably far too many other poor saps out there. I've got Jack's promise and I know he keeps them. It's all of him that I do have, will ever have now. I should probably be grateful for that, for gaining back the friendship that I never really lost. I should be grateful that it's Jack here right now, that he will do this for me if the worst happens. I wouldn't want anyone else to know and I sure as hell wouldn't trust anyone else to do it. But dammit! I was so close - so close. Fucking snakes! I could have had everything I wanted, or at least the chance for it, and they've taken that away as surely as they took Dr Jackson's wife. I want them dead - I don't think I've ever hated anything as much as I hate the Goa'uld. Genocide's an ugly word, but right now it's the one that fits.
So much for thinking positive, all I can see is the many ways in which I've fucked up and the fact that I'm not going to be able to try to make any of it right again. I should apologise to him, tell him I love him, that I always have and fuck if it sounds like some godawful romance novel. But if he does have to kill me, if the operation doesn't, will that make it worse or will he be relieved? No, not relief, it'll hurt him, I know him well enough to know that. What do I do? How do I not screw up any further?
"Ow."
Fuck, time's up. I wouldn't have thought he could look any better than he did ten years ago, but he does. The dark lashes flutter, hiding the exhaustion in his eyes only briefly as he runs his long fingers through his hair, making it even more unruly than it already was. Even working the cricks out of his back he looks insanely fuckable and I should not be having these thoughts. Not here, not now.
"How're you feelin'?"
"Like I've got a fucking alien worm in my head, how else?" Shit, shit, shit! I think what we have there is categorical proof that I'm a total bastard when I'm hurt and I'm not talking about physical pain. He just raises an eyebrow at me, he knows me too well. Why don't I ever remember that he knows me better than anyone else?
"I have to go," he says, "They're trying to ship Teal'c out to Nellis for experimentation - he deserves better than that." I agree, but right now I kind of wish he didn't, then Jack wouldn't have to run himself ragged, splitting his time between morale support for the dead-but-still-breathing and trying to protect a team-mate. Even if we've only known Teal'c a few days, I know that's where he's been slotted into Jack's worldview. I'm so fucking selfish, but I need Jack here; I want him here no matter how much more it might hurt him later when he does what he has to. I try to wave a negligent hand, but the straps stop me. He catches the gesture anyway and nods in understanding before heading for the door.
I close my eyes and try not to sigh out loud, that's just too pathetic. It takes me a minute to realise that I haven't heard the door and I open my eyes again to see Jack a lot closer than he was, right next to my bed in fact, blocking my view of the door. Shit. What did he see, because I know he saw something. He's got that thinking look in his eyes and they're black with whatever it is. I never fell for the dumbass act, but why do I keep forgetting just how quick he is? I see a decision made even though I have no idea what it is. His eyes are so sad.
"I'm sorry, Charlie," his voice is so quiet. Jack doesn't do quiet, he does loud, often. A quiet Jack is a terribly compelling Jack, the feelings expressed gaining in intensity what they lost in volume. I don't know what he's apologising for, it wasn't his fault I got snaked, even though I know he'll still probably blame himself. He leans closer, though I can hear him well enough. "You deserve a lot better." What?
Fuck! He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't. And the snake can fucking have me if he'll do it again before I go. His lips are as firm and silky as I remember them, his mouth as warm, but shit what a difference active participation makes. Sara had this for over a decade and she still divorced him?! I always thought women were strange, but I think that's more proof than I ever needed. Fuck. I close my eyes and just let it go on forever, warm and soft, more tender than even my stranger dreams have managed.
I want to put my hands in his hair, drag him closer, stop him from pulling away, but I can't. I open my eyes as we finally part to see him drawing back and for once I can read the unreadable. I close my eyes in acceptance and moments later I hear the door. I can still taste him on my lips and in my mouth.
He knew, he's always known, maybe before the kiss in that bar, maybe even before *I* knew I loved him. That 'sorry' had nothing to do with the snake and everything to do with us, the 'better' he thinks I deserve is a friend who loves me back. I knew he never loved me that way, that however much I wanted him, he didn't want me as anything more than the best of friends. But I never knew he regretted it, I never knew he would have given me my chance if I'd asked. If I'd only asked.
I can feel hot tears leaking from the corners of my eyes; I can't wipe them away even if I wanted to. Take a deep breath; think positive. Right now I have the best reason I will ever have for surviving this. I don't think it's going to be enough, I'm sure Jack knows it too, but he'll do what he has to, he always does. I'll put my faith in that. If I die it's not going to be the Goa'uld winning, it's going to be Jack doing the best he can for me, only for me, just as he's always done. That's something the Goa'uld can never take away from me.
FIN
22nd November 2002
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts from Stargate - I find this most distressing. No harm is intended by this little piece of fiction and no money is made.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst. Slashy subject matter.
Pairing: None
Notes: First SG fic, 1st person pov which is not my norm either. Thanks to Barb for the unsolicited rainbow beta, the title and various technical details. Thanks also to Kai and Apocrypha for the encouragement :-) Set during Enemy Within.
Summary: When you look back on your life, what do you regret most - the things you did or the things you didn't?
Sins of Omission
Copyright Margaret Turner
20th November 2002
He's finally fallen asleep and I'm free to look. Not that I couldn't look before, but there's a freedom in it now that he's not aware of it. It can't be comfortable there, twisted in the seat so his folded arms can rest on the bedside cabinet, his head nestled against them. He should have just used the next bed over, it's not like anyone else is going to be sharing a room with a Goa'uld. I'd move him there myself if I weren't strapped down. Shit. This should so not be happening, just when everything looks like it might turn out right. Should have known with my luck. Think positive, that's what Jack always says, so I'll try, even though I know that half the time Mr Positive here doesn't buy his own bullshit. So what's the plus side of having a snake in my head? We know next to nothing about them, maybe there's some way to get it out, but if it were that simple I don't think they'd be the threat that they seem to be. Up side, come on, there has to be one, just one. I look for inspiration and surprisingly enough I find it, right next to me. My one and only plus side - I've got Jack sleeping not three feet away from me, if nothing else that should take my mind off it.
He looks tired, exhausted in fact, more from worry than anything else I think. He's just been dropped in the deep end and I know he's a strong swimmer, but even so... He *was* retired; now he's 2IC of a frontline operation and he's got a new team that has to be about as mismatched as they come. I don't think he's worried about Captain Carter, if nothing else she's military through and through, but Dr Jackson... man, there's some heavy grief there. He took the guy home with him that first night and I suspect he'll be staying with Jack until he finds his feet again. It's not totally unexpected, given what I can remember of the first Abydos mission. It's not easy having the life you thought you'd lead ripped away from you, I should know. Jack knows it too, better than me even, but I'm still jealous of the consideration he's giving Jackson. It's stupid because, knowing Jack, I *know* he couldn't ignore the guy and I wouldn't want him to. Whatever connection they made when they killed Ra, it's still there and still solid. I doubt Jackson knows all the implications of it yet, but I'll bet anything I have that he'll be grateful for it before long. He's Jack's now, part of Jack's world, Jack will step up to bat for him every time. Sure, he'll tease him like hell and give him shit, but when it counts Jack will be there for him. Just like he was for me.
Who'd have thought the country bumpkin would or could teach me how to live with myself? There was me, Chicago born and bred, Air Force sponsored, hockey-playing, smart guy roomed with some backwater farmboy just because he was Air Force sponsored and a hockey player too. Don't people know anything about people? An interest and an ambition in common are no guarantee of a friendship. I was too young and too stupid then to understand that where you're from isn't half as important as who you are, in my defence though it didn't take me long to learn.
We did the compare and contrast thing that all new roomies do and I laughed at the fact that it was his first time in a big city, despite the fact he was actually born here. No matter what he says, Minneapolis doesn't count. He took most of it without complaint; I gave him shit about his accent and he'd counter by trying to imitate mine and he *cannot* do accents. I have to admit some of my barbs were meant to hurt, but if they did I never saw it - he never seemed to take them that way. He was quiet and polite and earnest enough at first that he was pegged as a naive dumbass by most; he didn't have the interests to be a geek. It took me about a week, maybe two, to discover that he was actually an okay guy and he may have been a backwater farmboy, but he was *smart*. If he put his mind to it he could do anything he wanted, the trick was getting him to want it.
I guess what really changed my mind about him was the first USAF weekend where they took us out to the middle of nowhere and left us to fend or ourselves. If I'd thought about it, I would have realised, but it didn't take me long to figure out that the countryboy was a hell of a lot better at the field stuff than a citykid like myself. After that the relationship changed, he wasn't the roomie with whom I had a few things in common, but who basically wasn't worth my time. He was a good guy and he was a friend. We balanced each other out nicely, made up for each other's shortcomings, temporary as they were, until we were both up to speed in everything we needed. Air Force, hockey and my friend Jack, parties and girls and occasionally even classes, because that was what you *did*. I should have known then that something was wrong with that picture. Just my dumb luck I was too stupid to see it until I got to the Academy and there was no turning back.
Me and my best friend Jack, roomies again, different classes, not so many parties and girls... well. Three months in and our first weekend break, went into town, got shitfaced, wove into a gay bar by mistake - only us. We were so drunk it took us best part of half an hour to even register that it was guys kissing *guys* in the dark corners of the bar - we beat a hasty retreat. Halfway back to base we were over the embarrassment enough that Jack found the whole thing hilarious - of course he was still pretty drunk at the time so he might well have found everything hilarious at that point. Me though, I felt like I was in shock, more sober than I ever wished to be and desperately wishing my hard-on away. Jack passed out when we got back to our room and I spent the night staring at the ceiling trying to will myself not to get hard as images of guys kissing and groping replayed themselves in my head. No wonder none of the girls at college had ever really done much for me.
I think that was probably the worst week of my life. A fine time to realise you're gay, when you're surrounded by fit men you're expected to take communal showers with and getting hard will get you out on your ass at best. And it sucked because the Air Force was what I had always wanted, I couldn't imagine myself ever doing anything else and I didn't want to.
I started fantasising about one of the Majors at the Academy, a tall, green-eyed man that I didn't even like much, but I wanted to fuck him so badly. Three nights later I made some excuse to Jack and snuck off base back to that bar. I got hit on by one of the bar staff and after his shift was over we did it in the alley out back - I never bothered to get his name. I didn't get back till it was nearly time for breakfast; it took me that long to stop crying and hide the evidence that I ever had been. I don't think I fooled Jack, but he didn't say anything. Not until the next time I did it and I woke him up trying to sneak back into our room. He didn't yell, but he did want to know what the hell I was doing. I could have been kicked out for breaking curfew; we'd already seen one guy go for that. Apparently there had been a surprise inspection about two hours after I'd left, Jack had covered for me, but he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to do it again. I owed him and I knew it.
I was still a bit drunk and I blame that for my breaking down, but I still get embarrassed at the memory of it. I'd known I was gay for over a month and it was killing me. I don't know what possessed me to spill to Jack, except maybe at that point in my life he was the person closest to me. If I'd thought twice I wouldn't have done it, telling your straight, military, best friend and roommate you're gay is not exactly going to be the best move for a friendship. But I did tell him and he didn't freak, or if he did, he did it very quickly and quietly. I remember finishing my drunken confession and waiting for him to hit me or something. I could *see* him thinking in those dark eyes of his, but I didn't know what - he can be pretty damn unreadable when he wants to be. I'm not sure how much time we spent sitting on our separate beds staring at each other in silence; I must have passed out or fallen asleep still sitting up because the next thing I knew he was gently pushing me under the covers. He'd have made someone a wonderful mother. I nearly started bawling all over again just because I realised he'd touched me, that if he'd done that he couldn't be as disgusted with me as I was with myself. That maybe our friendship was salvageable.
It took a day or so before that thinking look was gone from Jack's eyes, but he never treated me differently. We didn't mention my confession again until our next weekend leave and we hung back a little from the other guys once we got off base. It was so obvious Jack didn't know what to say, but he managed it eventually, offered to cover for me if I wanted to go do my own thing. He wasn't the only one having difficulty speaking then; I didn't know how to tell him how grateful I was, but I took him up on his offer and hoped he understood.
I didn't see him again until we were all back at the Academy and he smirked and asked me if I'd had a good time. From the catcalls of the guys who overheard, I gathered Jack had spun them some story about the love of my life, the very female love of my life, demanding some romance. I assured everyone I'd had a very good time and though the smirk stayed, the dark eyes softened just a little in understanding. I had exaggerated about what a good time I'd had and I think he knew that. Macho posturing aside, meaningless sex with strangers wasn't really his thing either, but I really did feel better than I had since I'd first discovered this part of myself. I could cope with this, I could deal; it wasn't fair to rely on Jack so much, but it was... manageable. No more sneaking out, it was too easy to get caught, but if Jack could deal with having me as his friend then I could at least minimise the risks. I owed him big and I knew it, if he ever needed me for anything I'd be there, I swore. Of course reality doesn't usually bother to conform to honourable ideals or even basic fairness.
We got a full month's leave eventually and everyone went their separate ways. Jack went home to Minnesota and I went back to Chicago, but we travelled together for most of the journey - it wasn't odd, everyone thought Jack was from Chicago too. Somewhere along the way he'd lost most of the accent and I guess maybe some of my early jibes had struck home because when anyone asked, that's where he said he was from. Or maybe it was just the result of having to fill in so many forms when we signed up, because technically it was true. He *was* born in Chicago, but I think his parents must have moved when he was still a baby because he doesn't remember it. Minnesota was 'home' to him and I think it always will be.
A whole month's leave far from the Academy and anyone that knew me there - I took the opportunity it presented and did more than my furtive back alley fumblings had allowed. I was stupid. My parents were American-born, but they were still strongly Polish-Catholic with all the prejudices that entailed. I was never particularly religious even though it had been drummed into me from an early age. I knew the words and the trappings, but it never really meant anything to me personally, which I guess was actually something of a good thing. I don't think I could have coped with religious guilt as well when I realised I was gay.
My parents were a whole different matter, they found out and I had to repent of my unnatural perversions - except I couldn't. This was me. I refused to beg forgiveness from a god I wasn't convinced existed for something that I could do nothing about. There was a week of constant fighting, my sister got caught in the middle of it, which is probably the thing I regret most. I was disowned, disinherited, damned to hell and, right then, I was actually glad of it - I wanted nothing more to do with them. I went back to the Academy a week early; I could have taken the farmboy's standing invitation to his place, but it had been made way back in college, long before either of us had known I was gay. I didn't know if it still stood and I wasn't about to push my luck. Plus, after the disaster with my parents I didn't trust myself not to ruin my friendship with Jack as well.
The week by myself gave me time to cool my temper and time enough to realise I'd burned my bridges pretty thoroughly. The support structure that had been my family was no more, they wouldn't answer my calls and news had spread quickly. Maybe there was a distant cousin three times removed back in Poland who hadn't heard, but I doubted it. I thought my sister would still speak to me, we'd always been pretty close, but I couldn't get through to her with my parents screening calls.
Jack turned up a few days before everyone was due back, it surprised me until we got his bags back up to our room and he asked me what had happened. I should have known - he'd called my parents' house to talk to me about travelling back, I'm not sure what they'd told him, but I think he got the basic idea. He told me that next extended leave I should go home with him if I had nowhere else to go. I think he was kind of pissed at my parents, which oddly enough made it easier for me, knowing I wasn't being completely unreasonable. Of course from their point of view neither were they. He did call my sister for me though, my parents didn't approve of it really, but they had no grounds to refuse Jack. He kept that line of communication open for me until eventually my sister moved out of the family home and I could talk to her myself - the one family member who hadn't decided to pretend I'd never existed.
Life was relatively stable after that, Jack covered for me when I needed him to and when the next extended leave came around I finally visited the back of beyond that he calls home. It was a little strange for a citykid like me, particularly when his grandmother visited. She spoke what I later learned was Norwegian and Jack translated for me without breaking a sweat. Now I know where the accent comes from. I tried not to test my friend's good will, so most leaves I actually spent travelling the US, visiting the major cities, and sometimes Jack would come with me. I only stayed in his home for the whole leave once, but a couple of times I spent a few days there. I think I needed the sense of family even if it wasn't my own.
Eventually graduation came around, a part of me was a bit surprised I'd managed it without getting kicked out, but I knew the main reason for that was graduating top of the class. I was beyond grateful to Jack for not letting me fuck up my life any more than I already had. I only managed about fifth or sixth ranking, I can't remember now, it was never that important, but I'd always known Jack would ace the class. It had actually been quite funny watching the faces of some of the others when the announcement was made, surprising everyone but me.
Jack was sneaky, something I'd realised in college. Once he'd found his confidence in the new environment, he'd become something of a smartmouth, moreso than even I had been. He was a popular guy too, a real charmer and totally incorrigible, he could have been in real trouble if the instructors hadn't been just as charmed as the rest of us. It helped that as much as he smarted off and acted dumb, he passed every course with flying colours and no fanfare, proving my early assessment that he could do anything he put his mind to, he just didn't advertise it. And there we were, two green Lieutenants out in the world and we didn't do too badly. I'm not sure how we managed to stay together for so long, maybe it was simply because we were so green it made no difference, we weren't in charge of anything.
Then Special Ops turned up with Jack's promotion to Captain and it took me about six months to follow him. There are a lot of memories there that really don't bear repeating, but we managed and he still covered for me when it was necessary. We met Louis Ferretti on a mission in North Africa and became a trio, even as we discovered that some people didn't react well to Jack.
Major Wallace, our CO of the time, hated Jack's guts, though we never quite understood why. I'm betting at least some of it was envy, I don't think anyone really liked Wallace and he knew it. When Jack doesn't like someone it's pretty damn obvious and he has a tendency to acquire popular support without even knowing it. I hadn't been tarred with the same brush, but dammit the least I could do was keep him company as Jack got stuck with every miserable duty there was. Ferretti did too and I think that was probably what cemented our friendship.
Then Lt Colonel Frank Cromwell came on the scene and the difference was immediately apparent; I think he thought of Jack as his protégé. Jack got another promotion for what he claimed was stupidity in the field and became Major O'Neill, 2IC of the unit. I know Jack was just about alone in that opinion, but we couldn't change his mind, he wasn't stupid enough to turn down the promotion though. Cromwell started to introduce Jack to the politics of the military.
The rank of Major is usually the cut off point, a lot of people never go further, Cromwell was obviously expecting or hoping that Jack would. It started to split us, not the friendship, that was still solid, but we saw each other less. I don't think it was intentional, but I know Cromwell could be a bastard at times and sometimes I wonder if it wasn't a deliberate move on his part so his protégé wouldn't be held back by his less than brilliant friends. Lou and I were still Captains, but Jack was destined for greater things. Cromwell started dragging him to political functions and introducing him to people. Not that Cromwell was a political officer, he was better than that, but he knew the importance of connections. Jack whined a lot to us; he hated playing dress up and politics, but he could hardly refuse his CO. He met Cromwell's wife, and then the wife's best friend Sara as a blind date for some official function or other.
I guess knowing Jack as well as I did, I should have realised it was inevitable, but we'd made it that far as an unbreakable unit and I guess in retrospect I didn't *want* to see that possibility. He was completely gone on her, truly madly deeply and all that. Jack's always been very quiet about his personal feelings, despite the image he likes to project, but I could see it and I think Lou could as well or at least he saw enough to know it was serious. With Jack being dragged all over by Cromwell and Sara taking up a lot of his leave time, he couldn't cover for me as often as he used to, so we told Ferretti. It took him a little while to get his head around the concept, but since Jack knew and was okay with it, Lou reckoned it couldn't be so bad. So when Jack wasn't able to, Lou covered for me. And there was a lot of covering in those days because my life had just been turned upside down.
I didn't hate Sara, but I hated what she had made me realise. For years I'd coped with my sexuality through casual sex and relying on my best friend Jack for everything else I needed. It was only when she appeared and I saw how much Jack loved her that I knew why I had been able to survive in the military. Somewhere along the way I'd fallen in love with Jack and I knew, without a doubt, that it had been there for a long time. You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone is a cliché, but unfortunately very true. I hate clichés.
He asked me to be his Best Man. I didn't want to be, I didn't want anything to do with it, but I couldn't refuse Jack either. I was determined to do my best for him and I did, I think we got thrown out of just about every bar in town that night, but it was good. Jack's Bachelor Party was a night to remember for all involved, though for different reasons for some of us. The reason I remember it was because I got even more shitfaced than the Groom-to-be, which is not the way a Bachelor Party is supposed to go. Sometimes I wish I'd had alcohol-induced amnesia that night and sometimes I'm glad I didn't.
It was after 3am and we were propping the bar up; I remember trying to make a speech and I can't remember what it was I said, but I do remember Jack laughing so hard he was crying while Lou tried to stop him sliding right off his stool and onto the floor. I don't even remember what made me do it at the time - was I trying to make him change his mind or was I taking some kind of memento of the unattainable? I do remember the taste of the scotch he'd had last, the firm silk of his lips, the surprised gasp that let me slip my tongue into his mouth and take what I could. I remember the startled look in his dark eyes and the icy chill of the water when I stuck my head under the faucet after bolting from the bar. I snuck out the back, too much of a coward to go back and face his reaction, trusting that Lou would get him home alright.
Fortunately we had another day before the wedding and I forced myself to stay sober for that. I was still Best Man, which surprised me a little, but I guess it was too close to make that kind of switch. Jack said nothing about the kiss before the wedding, but I knew Lou at least remembered, if the looks he gave me were anything to go by. I didn't have the nerve to bring up the subject myself and see if Jack did actually remember or not. After the wedding he was thoroughly distracted by his new bride and I'm not so small that I couldn't see how happy he was. He was happy and married and we all actually liked Sara, which in some ways made it harder. I think if I'd been able to hate her it might have been easier.
Jack was still on his honeymoon when I requested reassignment, Cromwell was surprised, but he granted it anyway. I'm not sure what Jack thought when he got back to find me gone, at the time I wasn't even sure if he knew why I had gone. He didn't try to find me though, which I took to mean that he did remember the Bachelor Party. I managed to keep in touch a bit, though I couldn't bring myself to speak to him directly. Lou told me when Jack had that parachute accident and was MIA for nine days. I'd been in Central America, so by the time the message got through, Jack had already been shipped home. I took leave to visit him in hospital, but when I got there he was sleeping, Sara at his bedside. Jack had been pumped full of drugs for the pain and wouldn't wake for hours according to the nurse, but Sara was there for him, had been for some time from the look of her. I couldn't stay, but there weren't any drugs I could take for the pain I felt when I left.
I heard about Iraq through the grapevine, I'd been in the Gulf as well, hadn't everyone? I had nightmares for weeks thinking I could have done something if we'd still been in the same unit. I think I felt worse when I heard he was a POW, I just couldn't bring myself to go see him after that. I'd seen the state of the men dragged out of the prisons, I knew what the Iraqis did to them. I didn't want to see him broken - I guess I should have known better there too, the only person who could ever break Jack, is Jack.
I didn't know when he got promoted to Colonel. I didn't know he had a son, I swear to God, I didn't know they named him Charlie. I didn't know he died. Shit. When we got the Abydos mission I thought it was me, I had no idea. I didn't know how badly he was hurting, I didn't see and I should have. So many fucking 'didn't know's and 'should have's. I thought he was still married after that mission, he *was* still married after that mission, but I thought he couldn't wait to get back to Sara. I could have tried to make things right then, even though it seems now that there was nothing wrong between us, it was the rest of his life that was fucked. Unlike Jack, I was still on active duty and I got called away before I found out he'd retired, or divorced for that matter. It's a lousy excuse.
It took a courts-martialable offence to get us back in the same state. I remember seeing him in the General's office and I knew something had changed. It seems stupid that it was only then that I paid attention to his body language. He and Sara had been a pair, even when the other wasn't around you could still see it, that aura was gone now and it gave me the courage to actually try to talk to him, that and being confined to quarters with him. Why the *fuck* didn't I try sooner? I was too fucking self-absorbed to see that Jack had more in his life than just me, that his relationship with me wasn't the be-all and end-all. Maybe it's because for me it was.
If I'd tried to talk, not at the wedding, but if I'd stuck around till he got back from his honeymoon, I would have known he wasn't angry with me - surprised yes, but not angry, not hurt. We could have stayed in the same unit; I might have been able to spare him those four months in Iraq. I might have known the kid that was named for me and apparently for Sara's grandfather. I might have been able to help hold him together after Charlie's death... Even if I hadn't spoken then, if I'd just tried after Abydos - he spent a year retired and single, no Air Force rules, no Sara. I know Jack's not gay, but I might have had a chance, I might have been able to persuade him to maybe... try it. Maybe some of the stuff that happened in Iraq might have made that difficult for him, but I know now that he's always been my friend, he wouldn't have turned me down out of hand. He gave me my first command. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He's twisted in his seat, his sleeping face is so close and I'm strapped to this fucking bed and I can't... touch. Fuck! I want to scream, but that'll only cause chaos. I finally worked it out. I'm finally back more or less where I've wanted to be for years, where I could have been all along if not for my own stupidity, and it's all shot to hell by some fucking alien worm.
I've seen them in my dreams, I know what they can do, I can't... I won't let them use me the way they've used Skaara and Jackson's wife and probably far too many other poor saps out there. I've got Jack's promise and I know he keeps them. It's all of him that I do have, will ever have now. I should probably be grateful for that, for gaining back the friendship that I never really lost. I should be grateful that it's Jack here right now, that he will do this for me if the worst happens. I wouldn't want anyone else to know and I sure as hell wouldn't trust anyone else to do it. But dammit! I was so close - so close. Fucking snakes! I could have had everything I wanted, or at least the chance for it, and they've taken that away as surely as they took Dr Jackson's wife. I want them dead - I don't think I've ever hated anything as much as I hate the Goa'uld. Genocide's an ugly word, but right now it's the one that fits.
So much for thinking positive, all I can see is the many ways in which I've fucked up and the fact that I'm not going to be able to try to make any of it right again. I should apologise to him, tell him I love him, that I always have and fuck if it sounds like some godawful romance novel. But if he does have to kill me, if the operation doesn't, will that make it worse or will he be relieved? No, not relief, it'll hurt him, I know him well enough to know that. What do I do? How do I not screw up any further?
"Ow."
Fuck, time's up. I wouldn't have thought he could look any better than he did ten years ago, but he does. The dark lashes flutter, hiding the exhaustion in his eyes only briefly as he runs his long fingers through his hair, making it even more unruly than it already was. Even working the cricks out of his back he looks insanely fuckable and I should not be having these thoughts. Not here, not now.
"How're you feelin'?"
"Like I've got a fucking alien worm in my head, how else?" Shit, shit, shit! I think what we have there is categorical proof that I'm a total bastard when I'm hurt and I'm not talking about physical pain. He just raises an eyebrow at me, he knows me too well. Why don't I ever remember that he knows me better than anyone else?
"I have to go," he says, "They're trying to ship Teal'c out to Nellis for experimentation - he deserves better than that." I agree, but right now I kind of wish he didn't, then Jack wouldn't have to run himself ragged, splitting his time between morale support for the dead-but-still-breathing and trying to protect a team-mate. Even if we've only known Teal'c a few days, I know that's where he's been slotted into Jack's worldview. I'm so fucking selfish, but I need Jack here; I want him here no matter how much more it might hurt him later when he does what he has to. I try to wave a negligent hand, but the straps stop me. He catches the gesture anyway and nods in understanding before heading for the door.
I close my eyes and try not to sigh out loud, that's just too pathetic. It takes me a minute to realise that I haven't heard the door and I open my eyes again to see Jack a lot closer than he was, right next to my bed in fact, blocking my view of the door. Shit. What did he see, because I know he saw something. He's got that thinking look in his eyes and they're black with whatever it is. I never fell for the dumbass act, but why do I keep forgetting just how quick he is? I see a decision made even though I have no idea what it is. His eyes are so sad.
"I'm sorry, Charlie," his voice is so quiet. Jack doesn't do quiet, he does loud, often. A quiet Jack is a terribly compelling Jack, the feelings expressed gaining in intensity what they lost in volume. I don't know what he's apologising for, it wasn't his fault I got snaked, even though I know he'll still probably blame himself. He leans closer, though I can hear him well enough. "You deserve a lot better." What?
Fuck! He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't. And the snake can fucking have me if he'll do it again before I go. His lips are as firm and silky as I remember them, his mouth as warm, but shit what a difference active participation makes. Sara had this for over a decade and she still divorced him?! I always thought women were strange, but I think that's more proof than I ever needed. Fuck. I close my eyes and just let it go on forever, warm and soft, more tender than even my stranger dreams have managed.
I want to put my hands in his hair, drag him closer, stop him from pulling away, but I can't. I open my eyes as we finally part to see him drawing back and for once I can read the unreadable. I close my eyes in acceptance and moments later I hear the door. I can still taste him on my lips and in my mouth.
He knew, he's always known, maybe before the kiss in that bar, maybe even before *I* knew I loved him. That 'sorry' had nothing to do with the snake and everything to do with us, the 'better' he thinks I deserve is a friend who loves me back. I knew he never loved me that way, that however much I wanted him, he didn't want me as anything more than the best of friends. But I never knew he regretted it, I never knew he would have given me my chance if I'd asked. If I'd only asked.
I can feel hot tears leaking from the corners of my eyes; I can't wipe them away even if I wanted to. Take a deep breath; think positive. Right now I have the best reason I will ever have for surviving this. I don't think it's going to be enough, I'm sure Jack knows it too, but he'll do what he has to, he always does. I'll put my faith in that. If I die it's not going to be the Goa'uld winning, it's going to be Jack doing the best he can for me, only for me, just as he's always done. That's something the Goa'uld can never take away from me.
FIN
22nd November 2002
