Disclaimer: I own nothing Stargate SG-1-related, except for my lovely DVD sets.
I saw you with her the other day. You looked so happy—your eyes alight, your smile wide and warm. As if all was right with the world, simply because she existed. I haven't seen you look that content for quite some time. Maybe not ever.
I used to think that it would be me, to hope that I'd be the one to bring you such joy. I came to care about you more than I ever dreamed possible on the day we first met, such a long time ago now. I thought you knew, sometimes, but you never said anything, so I'd tell myself that I was imagining things. That my secret was still safe. Or perhaps I was right, and you did see, but you had a reason for silence: the time wasn't right, or you weren't ready, or you weren't sure how deep my feelings ran. Even so, I was positive—hopeful? —that it would happen eventually. So I suppose I have only myself to blame for the shock I felt when you told me you'd met someone.
I've had some time to think it over now, and I know that none of this really matters anymore, anyway, anyhow. Any chance that we might have had has long since passed. She makes you happy, and you deserve that far more than anyone else I've ever known. Seeing you together reminded me of that fact. Still, I know it'll be a while before I can move on. That day, when I turned to go, I wasn't at all surprised to feel my heart breaking.
Because in the end, it wasn't me.
A/N: Please review! Any constructive feedback and helpful suggestions are greatly appreciated!