Hi All, Here's just a little fic to keep you happy for a while. Still working on the big one(s) so don't think I've given up writing yet. Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed my last short story. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hope you like this one, too.
Implosion
By LetitiaRichards
Category: Angst. POV.
Summary: One man's look at how much betrayal hurt.
Disclaimer: I don't own SG-1 or the characters and all that stuff. Just borrowing them for a short while and I'll give them right back when I'm done.
Would she have expected me to react this way?
"Probably not," I answer in my mind.
I was sure I would have had it all, but now.... How can this be real? How could anything hurt this much?
I did my best to prove my love for her. What more could I have done?
I'm crushed and beyond help.
I honestly thought she would choose me in the end, but... it doesn't matter anyway.
"Engaged to be married," she'd said.
My heart shattered at the news, 'though I didn't let her see it. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how those four words had affected me.
I thought I had been so close to her and yet, at the last minute, she ignored what we had planned for our future and chose him.
I don't think I'll ever find love again. Certainly not the depth of love I feel for her. I'd have given up everything for Sam Carter. Even my life.
I made it home. Somehow. Finally.
* * *
So, now I'm sitting here nursing what was once a full bottle of Jack Daniel's that I'd been saving for a special occasion. This is as good a time as any, I guess. I have what I consider to be my two best friends right here in my hands. A fine bottle of whiskey and my service revolver.
I've probably had far more of the "good stuff" than I should have, but I don't give a crap.
'Cause I'm crazy. And I'm drunk, too. Good!
I lift the near-empty bottle high into the air to toast the happy couple. In a few minutes, the deed will be over and done with.
"Cheers, Sam," I yell to my empty room. "May you never have any regrets over choosing to become Mrs. Jack O'Neill instead of Mrs. Pete Shanahan."
My head is swimming. The world is spinning. I fumble clumsily with the gun as I lift it toward my mouth, but it slips from my grasp and falls to the floor.
"Damn! I can't even do this right," I cry aloud as I sink into boozed oblivion.
The End