Disclaimers: I own no part of the Stargate world, I make no money from this endeavour. I only love this world so much I wish to play in it gleefully.
Note: Part of the fic tag with Gater101. My response to her lovely torturous fic: 'Breathing through Death'. From her fic I picked up a line or two that inspires this story (in italics)...
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He will not ever say the words she realises.
He would not make that move that would be both a beginning and an end.
She's been waiting for so long for the words to be said but she no longer believes that he knows any different. He will never say them.
He is a man of many words, yet most are delivered with flippancy, joking for the benefit of others and himself. He creates the distance he feels he needs. And she realises he is set in that role and that he would never break out of it.
They faced death and destruction almost daily, and even with that heavy burden of the finality of life; he still can not be pushed to the words. She does not want him to be pushed there, wants him to want to say them so much so that they burst from within him, begging to be heard. She so wants to hear them, not their faint echo in his eyes as he pulls back from her.
If the chaos and danger of their lives can not push him to reveal his heart, what would?
Then one day she realises that perhaps words are in fact the problem. Many words are spoken on Atlantis; words on all matters science and military. In the Mess Hall there is a cacophony of sound. She stands now listening to the noise; various languages and tones all mixing to create music around her. It is beautiful, but it is all pervading and she has never heard the words she wants to hear among its melody.
If she were to speak her words, she knew he may still pull back as they had done so subtly before. Their dance a melody of evasion, yet hopefully love. She had waited long enough; it was their time when they chose it to be.
She searched for him and discovered him out on the end of a pier observing the new building work repairing damage from the asteroid belt all those many months ago. He is standing by himself, one booted foot up on a railing that lines the pier, his eyes following the movements of the work crews above him.
She moves towards him silently, but he turns his head acknowledging that someone has arrived. His eyes meet hers with a smile and he turns back up to his observation.
In the distance she can hear the calls of the work crew; shouts through the breeze as they arrange the new struts of the building. Words were even heard out here on the edge of an ancient pier overlooking an ocean, but she has no plans to add to its melody now.
With great courage she moves towards him, not to stand at his side as usual, but she moves to stand behind him and leans forward resting her cheek against his upper back.
He tenses in surprise but makes no immediate attempt to move away. So she rests her body further against his back, lays her hand on one of his shoulder blades and closes her eyes.
Fearing this maybe her only chance, she slides her other hand around his side, pressing her palm against his chest. His hand covers hers in silent greeting and his forearm settles over hers, the thick muscle and hair protecting her arm from the sea breeze. His fingers stir; gently sliding between her own, interlinking their fingers and he holds her hand over his heart.
His warmth pervades her body, his scent and the movement of his breathing filling her senses. The sounds around them of the ocean crashing along the piers, the work crews above and the sounds of their own stressed minds all quiet and what is left is the two of them pressed together and silently breathing together.
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THE END