Me? I'm just an author who swore she wouldn't pick up another ship until she started watching Stargate Universe. I don't own the show, never will, but I love it just the same. I'm making this a series of vignettes and will add to them from time to time. This is not betaed and mistakes are therefore mine.
Rating : T, for future additions.
Timeline/Setting : Post 1x10 -- Justice.
Pairing : TJ/Young, because they are two beautiful, scarred, flawed human characters and I love them.
1.
"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
No place on Earth can compare to the beauty of the universe as seen from the observation deck of the Destiny. The spectacle of entire star systems, galaxies, and immense portions of the universe being crossed in the blink of an eye is as daunting as it is fascinating.
They're nearing a star cluster that he's sure looks spectacular, but it's mostly a blur in the oddity of FTL travel and all he can make out are rough contours and points of discolored light that merge behind the thick glass panels. The material, more precisely, isn't 'glass' but a creation far more resistant and valuable than its human counterpart, yet tonight all that matters is that it appears in good enough shape that they won't have to worry about replacing it for the next couple of thousand years.
He misses Earth. He misses the constant agitation and the noise and bustle of an airbase or city. He misses the freshness of dawn, the warm afternoons and the peaceful sunsets; and though he's never liked it much the cold rain is starting to feel like a vague memory as well.
It's late and most of the crew is asleep in their quarters, which is partly why he was surprised to find TJ awake at 0100 ship's time. Respecting her silence and deep contemplation, he's entered quietly and has walked to stand beside her as she stares into space, and hasn't spoken since.
He wonders whether she's thinking, like him, about the darkness outside and the infinite amount of time it will take to cross the billions of light years that separate them from home. He wonders whether she misses the rain, whether she can still hear the sound of crashing droplets against the incessant hum of the FTL drives and whether she cares to remember it.
She finally acknowledges his presence, almost resignedly. "Sir."
Some part of him knows Lieutenant Tamara Johansen has tried to quit her job because of him, for him, and now they're trapped on the Destiny together until what could be the end of time. Endlessness is a scary notion and he thinks sometimes—in his darkest moments—that death would be a far preferable outcome than being stuck on this ship forever.
"I asked you to run psych evaluations on the crew, but I just realized I haven't asked you once you how you were doing."
"You had other things on your mind," she says fairly.
"That's not an excuse."
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking." She's silent for a moment before she reports, "I still have four stubborn civilians to convince of the importance of the psych evals. I also have Camille and Greer to work on… and I never got around to Spencer or Rush."
He tenses imperceptibly at the name, and is glad when she doesn't notice. Or maybe she's simply decided to let it go for now.
"There's someone else, sir."
He's almost afraid to ask. "Who?"
She finally turns her head, and meets his eyes. "You."
He knows it's been a long time coming, has known for the past few days and has kept avoiding the moment. It's easier to run. Easier to pretend he doesn't need this, can sum up his state of mind in bad days, petty frustrations and a headache as big as the Milky Way.
"Sir?"
Her voice breaks a little, perhaps because it's all she can ever call him.
It would have been so much easier never to have started. It would have been simpler never having met her, never having seen her smile, never having smiled back. To live life as it was supposed to be lived, in flashes of duties, responsibilities, and enough distance to be apart forever.
The Destiny is rapidly getting closer to the star cluster, so close they can now observe the vast distances between the stars and the darkness of space beyond reinforces his impression of solitude. In the immensity of space, loneliness has to be redefined. They're travelling fast on the road to nowhere and all he can say with certainty is that Earth will not be their next stop.
He looks at her and declares, "We're never going home."
It's the truth, but the enormity of it all had never felt so real.
He thinks she's going to protest, tell him he's wrong, they will make it and he shouldn't lose hope. But her simple, honest reply takes him by surprise. "I guess not."
He misses home, and the long-gone simplicity of his life.
"Good night, TJ."
She watches his face for a moment as if expecting him to say something else, and goes back to staring at the emptiness of space when he doesn't.
"Good night, sir."