Titel: Small graces
Autor: Emilia
Spoiler: Company of the thieves
Kategorie: Missing Scene/ Hurt/Comfort
Pairing: Teamlove
Rating: M
Inhalt: She tries to close her eyes for a moment, to breathe, to steady herself before she will collapse on the couch, pulling the blanket over her knees, before there is no way to stop the exhaustion she fought the whole day. Before reality she's learned to master overwhelms her and she won't find the words again.
Author's note: Okay, I stole the title, but it's an homage, really, there is nothing better than Rowan's Small Graces Series
She shuts the door, loses her shoes on the way, tries to find a moment to enjoy finally being at home. She tries to close her eyes for a moment, to breathe, to steady herself before collapsing on the couch, pulling the blanket over her knees, before there is no way to stop the exhaustion she fought the whole day. Before reality she's learned to master overwhelms her and she won't find the words again.
It's not always like that, sometimes it's better, sometimes it's worse. Sometimes she isn't able to stop the tears, sometimes she doesn't succeed in avoiding Daniel, to break away from him so she doesn't have to lie. She doesn't lie. Sometimes she is calmer than usual.
She stares in the mirror, the wrinkles underneath her eyes, the make up messy around them, the week was too long. The pictures too raw, an excruciating manifestation of her reality. She lost her smile when Emerson died. Executed, who cares anyway? Just another person's life she hasn't been able to safe. It's not her fault, she is aware of it. She just doesn't know when she will begin to realize it as well. Her longing for a little justice is just an abstract desire for something that only exists within her personal perception of life and never beyond.
Just another name on a list she discarded long ago.
The cushions give in, she's drowning. Stares at the ceiling, out of the window, the dark sky, it's cold, dark and there's nothing that reminds her that this is home.
Shattered hours, a scene of a story that won't end happily. She shudders, a bloody mark on her lower lip. Wants pick up the phone and talk, she doesn't care to whom. Needing contact yet yearning for solitude, she knows she couldn't stand it now.
Not now, her skin is burning, she musters all the strength to keep her eyes open, knowing the nightmares she expects. And even if she stays awake she'll see him die over and over again. Without being able to do anything. She wants Jack, Teal'c, Daniel, Cam, Vala, she doesn't care, just wants someone to sit next to her to distract her. Simplicity, words, their presence, something that just isn't made of inert carbon. Blood that runs through arteries and veins, nerves conducting impulses. Voices, sound waves. She sighs, puts a strain of hair behind her ears.
It's late, she gets up, her feet barely above the ground, walks slowly into the bathroom, washing away the pretence, the mask she wears, rediscovering the wrinkles around her eyes, to sleep. To surrender to sweet oblivion until her mind begins to process images she doesn't remember when she's conscious. Until she lies awake and never wants to sleep again.
Her phone rings, the noise muffles and it feels shrill and piercing. She flinches, hectically searches her pockets, rises, on the sideboard in the hall. She's neat, even when everything is out of order.
„Carter" she's breathless, waiting for the next emergency call. Relaxes instantaneously as she listens to his voice.
"Sam" His voice determined, she doesn't want to know how late it is in Washington D.C. She never forgets.
"I just read your report." The one she tinkered together this afternoon, superficial at best, there might even be typing error on the second page.
It's not worth reading, she addresses nothing she hasn't experiences before
"And?" she murmurs. She doesn't want any more questions, won't give any more answers. The report is sufficient, it's over.
„It's not your fault." Clichéd expressions, he doesn't know what to say. To him words are too abstract to convey the genuine comfort he knows he can articulate with gestures and mimics.
Daniel would start to explain, would give her concrete examples, he'd elaborate with words. Daniel, Daniel who is supposed to sit beside her. Daniel.
„Maybe it is." A simple answer, her tongue paralysed, glued to her palate. She is still on the flight.
They remain silent, the darkness doesn't fade away, she smothered the light. Standing there, staring at the trees, the cold street. Waiting for the desperation to pass, for the world to move on. Normally she waits until dawn but if she's honest, it takes longer. So much longer.
Single tears, falling silently down her cheeks, doesn't bother to wipe them away, is aware that he won't hear them anyway.
"This is so fucked up"
He states after a while, she still stands in her hall, crying. The difference is that he knows now.
"Damn it, Daniel said you were fine." She swallows, he talked to Daniel. Some things never change, and their friendship is something she deeply respects, in a way she's part of it, but it just never feels right that he always speaks to him first.
"I lied." She admits frankly.
„Yeah" He doesn't judge her, knows he would have done the same thing, writhing under the surreptitious glances, avoiding the questions to tell him to mind his own business.
But the dysfunctional relations, the family doesn't work like that any more.
"You're going to make it through the night?" the question turns out to be more explicit and painful than she expected it to be.
"No." She tastes blood, her teeth biting into her lower lip. She knows that it's wrong that she hates herself for the truth. But she is like that, at least today.
"Of course I will." She contradicts herself, motionless, frozen, leaving herself behind. They don't leave people behind, their just forget about themselves.
„Yeah, just wondering how many pills you'll have to take." He answers, she listens as he's typing something, notices subdued curses. Sedatives, tranquilizers, painkillers, just numb everything. She isn't ashamed of ot any more; it's not the first time any of them abused these things to sleep, to forget, to be able to face the mirror again.
„I text messaged Teal'c, it just takes him half an hour."
She is supposed to be angry with him, disappointed that he mothers her, doesn't let her make her own decisions. She is, but yet she is grateful in a peculiar way she'll never understand.
She doesn't say anything, swallows the tears. Things happened, things she didn't put in that report. She is aware that he knows. Even he has eventually learned to read between the lines.
The silence widens, there is little left to say, she knows that she doesn't want to hear anything he has to say. Doesn't want to listen to him telling her that they all have been there, that he killed too many people and not just in self-defence, she doesn't want to hear that Teal'c raped women as Apophis' First Prime. And that Daniel still refused to believe that world actually is that evil, paradoxical and wonderful at the same time. Although he began to understand when the lines became blurred.
Doesn't want to know that it is okay to feel that way. She needs contact, needs voices and a solid presence reassuring her that she is still the person she was, or even just the person she pretends to be.
"Thanks." Ten minutes passed, he smiles, it's in his voice.
„Go get some sleep Jack, I'll make it. Teal'c will be here any minute." She adds.
„I know you'll make it." He retorts, she listens to covers pulled back.
"We all make it. Always."
A questionable statement, they sacrifice too much, they always did. And there is nothing she can do to prevent it. These are the small things, keeping the pieces together, the glue, the small graces granting their survival.
The doorbell rings, she falls into Teal'c, desperation doesn't fade though.
"Good night", she murmurs, rings off. And it's more than a declaration of love.
Her head on Teal'c's chest, she tries to breathe. Closes the door, and she's at home.
Small graces, to live within the moment, to glue the pieces back together.
To move on.