His lover's head snapped up, blue eyes blinking in incomprehension through wire-rimmed rectangular glasses. "What?"
"The man you love. It's not me, is it?"
Understanding dawned in Daniel Jackson's eyes, followed by sorrow and sympathy, and a deep pain quickly concealed. Cameron understood, in that moment, what Daniel felt.
Compelled to answer truthfully, Daniel whispered, "No."
The colonel didn't bother to ask why, or how, or even, "Then what am I?" He knew the answers to those questions. He forced tears back, made his breathing steady. He had known, even in the beginning, the brown-eyed ghost that haunted Daniel.
Instead, he said, "Urequited love's a bitch, huh?" His voice wavered, and Daniel's eyes darkened, saying a thousand things without a word.
I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I care. But I don't love you.
Daniel opened his mouth to say something, but Cameron shook his head sharply. He understood. It hurt, but he understood. Daniel sighed, and then murmured, "Yeah."
Cameron Mitchell nodded; his hands relaxed in resignation. He held Daniel's eyes.
I know. I love you. I'm sorry.
He left.