"In the shadow of a lonely man, I can see myself."
–The Alan Parsons Project
There are days when he wonders if it might be easier if she was dead.
The thought always chills him because he's always maintained he'd rather die himself than lose Carter...
.... but still, on dark occasions that normally occur halfway down his third or fourth bottle of Guinness, there are times when it crosses his mind.
If she was dead then he could grieve for her.
Get over it.
She wouldn't be there, as a constant reminder of his loss. It might be less torturous to know he had lost her to a force as powerful as the Goa'uld rather than a police officer from Denver.
He's never shared the thought with anyone; it's too macabre.
He lay awake, staring at his darkened ceiling.
Beside him she turned over in her sleep, snuggling into his shoulder instinctively. He touched a lock of her dark hair and for a moment found himself wishing it was short and blonde.
What kind of a man did that make him?
Not a very good one, he had to admit.
Because lying in his bed was a woman who was far too young, intelligent and attractive for him... and he was unhappy.
Her fingers brushed his bare shoulder. "Jack?" she asked, her voice cracked with sleep.
He turned his head towards hers. "What?"
"Go to sleep."
He made no reply, let her kiss him instead, wishing he could lose the treacherous thoughts in the taste of her lips, the feel of her smooth skin under his hand. Anything to allow him to feel less like a traitor... to both of them; the women he didn't deserve.
He folded his fingers around her own, playing the part, trying to be the caring man Kerry thought he was.
But the gesture felt as empty as his life did at the moment; his body radiated a cold chill and an unnatural stillness.
The world moved on, towards morning.
Samantha Carter is crying.
She's not the kind of woman who cries an awful lot. Tears don't solve many things so she prefers not to waste her time on them. But there are times when her wrought iron self-control slips and she finds herself elbow deep in soggy tissues, her eyes puffy and face red as she sobs quite uncontrollably.
What's worse is she can't even define what she's crying about.
Her fiancé has left her.
That could be the reason.
Or... not. She suspects it has an awful lot more to do with the barbeque she interrupted as she prepared to divulge her most intimate secret, and the brunette woman who appeared just as she was about to confess it all.
For the first time in her life she's considering 'phoning in sick to work and spending the day in doleful self-indulgence.
"Hey Sam."
She looked up and managed a half smile.
Daniel dropped into the chair next to her, wincing at the smell of her coffee. "I didn't think you liked it black?"
"Bad night," she said by way of explanation.
"Guess you weren't the only one," he says, pouring himself a cup of scalding liquid from the jug she has at her table, "Jack's wandering around like a bear with a sore head."
She sighed, but inwardly. "Mmm. You had much luck with those translations?"
"Oh, I think I should have finished them by this afternoon. What about you?"
"I've just got to type up my report. Shouldn't take too long."
She yawned.
"You sure everything's okay?" Daniel asked, frowning in concern. "You look ill."
She sighed audibly this time. But why bother lying? The truth would come out sooner rather than later and she might as well start by being honest with Daniel. He wouldn't judge her. "If you must know, I split up with Pete."
Ouch. That hurt more than I thought it would.
Daniel's eyes widened in shock behind his glasses. "I'm really sorry Sam. Do you want to talk about it—?"
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Not really. I mean, I'm fine. It was a... a mutual thing I think. I just... realised that he was putting everything into something I wasn't fully invested in and so we decided to cool things."
Daniel blinked. "Well... that didn't sound too rehearsed..."
Her shoulders slumped. "That bad?"
He made a 'so-so' gesture and her head dropped into her hands. "I've really made a mess, haven't I?"
Daniel touched her shoulder lightly, making her look up. "Hey," he said softly, realising he might have been a little blunt. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Things change, people move on. Everyone understands that. No one's going to blame you for anything."
"I just... feel like such a bitch..." she confessed, meeting his eyes miserably. "I really thought it over. I thought I was really sure..."
Daniel pursed his lips for a moment. "Uh... do you mind me asking... what actually happened to cause all this?"
"Pete... He bought a house."
"A house?"
"Uh-huh."
"Without asking you?"
She shook her head, eyes dropping to the coffee stained table-top. "Without asking me."
Daniel was quiet. "Well that's..." He paused, searching for a polite adjective to finish his sentence with. "That's... unusual," he settled for.
"I mean, we could have at least talked about it. I hate it when he does... did things like that. Like the whole move to Colorado Springs. I mean, I was happy but... I did think maybe we should have talked about it first. I mean, he moved here for me. No other reason." She sighed, her feeling of guilt worsening. "Oh God. Everything's such a mess."
Daniel squeezed her shoulder, as Teal'c entered the commissary. He crossed to their table, sitting beside Daniel. "Is everything alright, Colonel Carter?"
She gave him a weak smile. "Everything's fine Teal'c. I... I just split up with Pete." She frowned. "You know, maybe I should make myself a little badge. I don't think I can bear having to tell everyone why I look ill."
Daniel chuckled. "Well, as long as you've still got that dry sense of humour, I know everything's fine. You know, someone should really tell Jack he's not got the monopoly on cranky sarcasm."
She made no comment, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either of her companions. They exchanged a look.
"Guys, I really hate it when you do that."
"Do what?"
"To what do you refer, Colonel Carter?"
"That... telepathic knowing look thing. It's just..." She trailed off. "Sorry. Taking out my bad mood on you now. And you're being good friends. I better go and finish that report. If the General's in a bad mood I don't want him looking for me, demanding to know why it's late."
Would he come looking for me? Would he care enough, anymore?
She drained the rest of her foul coffee and retreated back to her lab.