Metaphors
Summary: It's strange, the things you think of while you're running for your life. Completely unrelated things start to become connected. SJ. Episode Death Knell tie-in. Sam's stream of consciousness.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: If I owned this, there would be no Pete/Supersoldier metaphor. But then again, if there wasn't one of those, what reason would I have to write this? Sigh. It's an ongoing dilemma. If that didn't make sense, read this, and maybe it will when you're done.
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It was ironic, really. On the verge of death, all I could think about was the odd similarity between my life in general, and this silly game of cat-and-mouse I was playing with the Supersoldier.
It was like the Supersoldier was Pete, in some vulgar, "I'd rather not think about it too hard" way. It was like the little prototype I was carrying was my conscience, my need to be "in control." In other words, my love. All he wanted was that love, and I was refusing to give it up. Well, completely, at least.
I did like Pete well enough (though I can't believe I slept with him after only a few weeks of knowing him), but I just felt like was lying to myself, using him to try to keep myself from unmasking the truth, again.
Well, anyway, I ran around, trying to elude this "Frankenstein's Monster"-type thing, hoping that he would come to rescue me. All I thought about was him. Please come for me! I would think. I knew he wouldn't just leave me here, and I knew he would come for me himself, but I was running both away from this monster, and out of time. The wound in my leg was far from clean, and getting dirtier and more painful by the second.
But when I hid behind that pile of rocks, and he just showed up behind me, all I could think of was a moment of rest, and having someone there to hold me. This thought horrified me. I wanted him to hold me. In that way, when he asked for the prototype weapon and I handed it over readily, it was deeply symbolic, at least for me. It was like I'd just handed over my love, no questions asked, no strings attached, and when he allowed me my wish of just a moment of rest, he'd gone the whole way. He'd been that someone there to hold me, no questions asked, no strings attached. It was an unspoken agreement, it seemed.
And nothing else mattered. The Supersoldier—AKA Pete—hadn't gotten my love in the end. Hehad, and now looking back on it, one year later, I can see why.
As I sit on his dock, throwing the line out into the lake once more, I know why that Supersoldier died. I think I finally know why my marriage would have been a bust, why all my past boyfriends are dead. It's because of the man sitting next to me, enjoying the same sensation. It's because of Jack, and I'm glad my prototype has been perfected to the point where it's flexible enough to work at any time.
I'm glad it's still his.
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Yeah, that was just a little drabble I thought up while I was watching Death Knell the other night. It got a little warped past my original thought, but I think this is better. Tell me what you think.
KT
PS, it wasn't supposed to be really long. Currently, I'm having issues writing longer stuff. I hope this little disease passes…