Just let me add once again that if you ever find yourself in this kind of situation, be that yourself or someone you know, do search for help. Do not fall on this 'blind leading a blind' version of healing. Mental health it's important and shouldn't be dismissed so easily.
Enjoy!
M.
Chapter 90
Sunday, December 30, 2012
She was the first to wake up. She closed the hand that was clutching his shirt into an even tighter fist and grimaced. Sam felt the pain of the cuts for the first time since they'd happened. Opening her hand, she raised it high enough to see the carefully placed bandage. A testament of just how damn caring the man half under her was.
He was still fast asleep. For some reason, she felt this time there wasn't a need to rush out of there. That it was safe. That she was safe beside him.
Instead of running away, she propped her head on her good hand and observed him. He looked tired, restless even. She wondered how much of that was her fault and how much it was just the fucked-up life that was dealt them.
Sucking on her lower lip, she traced a line from his forehead to his nose and down to his chin. Slowly caressing his lips as she went by them. Her soft caress with the tip of her finger had at least erased the frown on his forehead. He let out a contented sigh, 'is he dreaming of me?' she thought. She shook her head at the silliness that crossed her mind.
She took a deep breath. Wondering if she should just slide away. Get up from his bed, now that he was asleep and unknowing. He was just so damn comfy and warm. Somehow, he'd managed to make her feel renewed. As if she really had a chance to get herself together just by being beside him.
She contemplated her bandaged hand again, trying to remember exactly how she'd ended up like that. She turned around to find his broken mirror and memories unlocked. She glared at her hand and then observed him again.
Gulping, she wondered how much of it all he'd seen. Had he found her so enthralled by his gun and the chance of freedom that it offered? Had she hurt him again just by being there, holding a gun… His gun…. To her head? She realized that at some level, she knew the gun was empty. She knew him well enough to understand, deep down, he wouldn't ever risk keeping a loaded gun ever again. Not after Charlie.
God… Did she see her? If he did, did he realize there was no bullet there?
What had she done? How could she be so damn cruel to him? As to sit on his bed and point a gun against her head. While he was watching her, unable to move? Why hadn't he moved? She wondered. Was he even there? She shook her head.
There was too damn much going on in her head. Sometimes she wondered just how it was not to think. She'd tried. She really had. She tried meditating, but her mind wouldn't give her a rest. So, back then, she'd focused on other things. Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she should stop, that she was changing. Until it was replaced by the other one. A coldish one, she remembered from growing up. The one that told her she wouldn't ever be a boy. The harsher one, that said that even if she achieved her dreams, she wouldn't ever be enough.
She wanted to continue pressed against him. To see if just by being held in his arms, her mind would shut up for once. Like it did when he'd fucked her. When she'd fucked him…. She wanted to let out a pained whimper at her own definition of what they'd done. There was a time where she would've called it making love. Now it seemed she didn't know anymore what that was and was constantly breaking whenever he was near.
Sliding away from the bed. She figured out that he had to have locked the gun up again. Or at least hidden it from her. Since it wasn't anywhere to be seen. Did he see her using it? Or did he just found the gun on his bed? Did he know? She stood up.
The door of his closet was still open. The bigger pieces of the broken mirror -the mirror she'd broken- were still hanging from the frame. Hundreds of smaller pieces were scattered around the floor. Some even had some dried blood over them.
She looked down and her reflection parted in many weird fragments. It was so close to how she really felt. Fragmented from who she was, because of who she had to be. Broken beyond repair, with only a few pieces of herself barely hanging on inside from a thread that could just give up at any moment.
Just like the piece that had given up that morning when her hand grabbed the gun.
Her eyes traveled upwards until the broken reflection showed her the bed. Was he this broken too? Were they, their relationship, fragmented between the what-ifs and what were? Was their love severed into million pieces? Pieces so tiny that even if they picked up the biggest ones and placed where they left them… There would still be a hole -an eleven-year hole- missing?
Jack sighed on the bed, and her heart skipped a beat. As she remembered, albeit faintly, what it felt like to wake up in his arms, to be loved by him. The way he'd managed to make her feel like she mattered. That it wasn't just her brain or her looks but all of her what was amazing. That she was worthy of love and a family as big as his. She'd hung up onto those feelings even if she wasn't sure if they came from her memories, or from her own stupid hope.
Her eyes watered, and she gulped down the tears that were threatening to escape. Should she just leave? Disappear into the night. Just grab Parker and go AWOL to the USAF. That was so cruel to order her out and then back to a place that was once so familiar -home, even- and strangely unfamiliar to her now. Would he forgive her if she did? Would he keep on living?
Deciding she was ashamed enough by her stupidity. Breaking his mirror of all the things she could've had broken during the years. She walked away from his room, not even bothering to find her pants. She just wanted a way to dispose of all the glass on his floor. Hide it all away, as she was going to hide this entire event out of prying eyes. As she hoped he would. To keep her lowest point a secret. She had read it in his eyes when he danced with him. That he, too, was acquainted with the weight of his gun and the feeling of the cold barrel against his head. How many times had he tried? How many times had he done the same actions she'd done earlier?
She shook her head. Not quite knowing how she would've reacted to find him in that same stance. All she knew was that she would find a way to replace the mirror. To erase the memories of what had happened.
Maybe even send a cleaning service to his room to see if they could get rid of the blood spots on the carpet. She'd bled on his carpet… She shook her head.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" She asked to herself.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Jack woke up feeling his lips curving a little in a lazy smile, but there was no weight over him. He couldn't figure out where the noise was coming from. For a second, he panicked. Rubbing his eyes, he raised his frame slightly on the bed and followed the noise.
Sam was on the floor next to his now non-existent mirror. The noise was the tiny fragments colliding with more tiny fragments inside a box. Where did she get that from? Why wasn't she on the bed, warming his body and his soul just by being beside him?
"Sam? Come back to bed…" He said. His voice still raspy from sleep. She hadn't turned. He wondered for a second if she'd heard him at all. She had. She stopped her picking halfway through and was now still. Shoulder squared while kneeled on his floor. "Sam… It's…" he checked his watch. 1400. He sighed. He stood up and dragged himself to her.
It was amazing how he had felt that surge of energy before. Now he felt all the weight of the world on his shoulders. He walked to her. His knees cracked as he sat behind her and pulled her back to his chest.
"It's just a mirror, you know…" He whispered as he felt her tense against him. "Just… Come back to bed."
"We need to talk… At some point, we need to talk."
"Yes, but you're half-naked, I'm half-naked. We didn't turn the heater on. Let's talk under the damn cover?" He stood up and offered her his hand. She took it.
Pulling her up ended up with her too damn close to him. Instinct surged again as he pulled her closer and she let him. This time, he tugged the sweatshirt up and she raised her arms as the bigger piece of clothes made its way away from her body.
She looked down. It wasn't that she was unaware of her body or how it had changed since the last time he'd seen her fully naked. It was that she didn't know how he would react to it. For some reason, now it mattered. So, she had stopped him from getting her blouse off.
"Sam, I know things have changed in your body. I know you've been training… I couldn't care less how it looks, really. You can have hundreds of scars and that won't make you less beautiful under my eyes." She chewed her lower lip for a second, feeling a bit unsure. "I just want to hold you, Sam. That's all. I want to hold you close and breathe you in if you'll let me," He said. She looked at him as if the whole concept was a new one. "Will you show me yours, if I show you mine?" he asked then with a childish tone and she giggled. He got rid of his t-shirt then, and she held her breath.
He was still as sculpted as he was before, if not more. Were before was a trail of dark hair, now it was mostly gray. Her eyes drank in that image of him. He gave her a half deprecative smile, and she pulled her blouse away. His breath hitched as her hand slid her bra away too. He licked his lips and his hands found her face.
"You're gorgeous. You're all I need to live." He mumbled before he kissed her. She kissed him back, colliding her body with his. Searching for a warmth she had almost forgotten. His hands-on her back burned her skin and his lips on hers gave her new breath. It was as if he wanted to mold her anew just by standing naked with her.
She shivered. Jack smiled against her lips. It was cold inside, so he linked their hands and helped her to his bed. "I love you, Samantha Carter, no matter how much you think you changed."
"I've changed too much, Jack." She whispered.
"I don't care. I'll just learn you again…" he said. He kissed her softly, and soon he found himself kissing his way down. Learning her, again, as her hand guided his head when her body had finally given up. She panted a soft Jack as she quivered, and her skin got covered in a mix of goosebumps and flush. When he reached her side again. She looked at him and left out a small smile.
"I love you, Jack."
He propped himself up on his arm and looked at her. After taking a deep breath, he gulped. "I know you overthink things, Sam. I know you'll find it difficult to stop your mind from going thousands of miles per second. I know I can manage to make you stop, albeit only for a while. So, even if you don't want to fulfill those promises we made. Or if you think we can't... I want you to call me whenever you need to stop thinking. I don't care if it's to talk yourself out of," he gulped, "something. Or to help you stop thinking altogether. I just don't want you to go through it alone. Not again, not when you had to do it for too damn many years."
She looked at him. He was right. He could always render her thoughtless. Especially when he concentrated on making her scream and whimper under his touch.
"What about you, Jack? Would you call me if you needed me? Would you open up to me?" She asked suckling her lower lip.
"I promise." He nodded.
"And you won't be angry, or scared if this is all we do?" She wondered.
"When I came back from my MIA stint… All I wanted was someone who understood my darkness, Sam. I've searched for help before, but I couldn't open up fully to them. I always thought they never would understand what it was like…. I know you understand. I know you'll care. I care too, I just hope I can understand what you're going through. I know pretty well that sometimes you just need it all to stop. To disappear, and for your mind to shut up for a second. I know this, Sam. I think I can help you with it. I need to help you."
"Then make it stop… I really need you to make it stop…" It was a whimper. A plea to free her from her most obscure side. He understood her need.
"Good… Because I need that from you too."
They barely spoke at all. Minds blank as their bodies took control. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't at all what anyone would've recommended them to do… But for now… It worked for them.
It was late that night when she finally returned home. She felt gloriously sore and utterly spent. She might even manage to fall asleep the moment her head touched her pillow. Parker tackled her the moment she spotted her.
"Mom!" She said, clinging from Sam's waist. "Are you okay? You left your phone home." She said. Sam patted her head lovingly.
"Yes, P. Sorry if that scared you. I just needed to speak with General O'Neill. I fell asleep as I waited for him."
"He said you did," Parker said, taking a step away from her mom and following her to her room.
"He did?"
"Yeah." Parker blushed. "I asked him to."
"You asked him?"
"I called his number from your cellphone when I found it. I just wanted to know if you were all right. I'm sorry, mommy." Sam gulped. On that cellphone, she listed him only as Jack O'Neill, in case they ever needed to contact him to have him learn about Parker.
"It's okay. Where's Jessica?"
"She was just arranging the guest room."
"Mommy?"
"Yes, P?"
"Are you really all right?" Parker asked.
Sam glanced at her reflection in the window. Was she really all right? No. Was she thoroughly spent? Yes. Had she solved anything with Jack? Nope… but at least now she knew her husband was willing to become her fuck buddy. If she was willing to become his… All in the name of stop thinking, some mental clarity, and maybe even some well-deserved sleep.
"Yes, P." Parker squinted at her.
"And you hand?" Parker asked, noticing the bandage.
"I held a glass too tightly, and it broke. Nothing for you to worry about, P." She dismissed.
"Hm, Okay…. Mommy? Did you fix what I screwed up?"
"You screwed up nothing, Parker," Sam said and turned around to look at her daughter. She caressed her cheek once and brought her close. "You couldn't screw anything P. You broke a vase, that's all. Don't blame yourself for something you had not a say in. Okay?"
"But mommy…" Parker said, taking a step away. Sam could recognize herself in her daughter.
"No, P. Listen to me… Jack, General O'Neill, and I, we go way back. Our thing has always been beyond complicated. Now we need to figure out how we fit. There's a difference between what we knew of each other and what we now know. This is not your doing, it's ours. You can't fix it. Maybe we can't fix it ourselves…"
"But you'll try?"
"Why are you so interested in it?" Sam frowned. Parker didn't know that Jack was her dad after all.
"You know how your eyes supposedly sparkle when you're in love?" Sam nodded once. "Yours do… When he is nearby. I've seen him look at you like that too, mommy."
"Oh, honey," Sam said, caressing her face once again. "Sometimes the world of the adults is far more complicated than books and movies. Sometimes we're just too human and complex to make it work… No matter how much you can love someone."
"So… You love him?" Sam took a deep breath. Should she lie to her? Parker blinked. Sam closed her eyes and shook her head before she opened her eyes again. She gave Parker a sad smile.
"I do. Very much." She confessed.
"Does he know?" Parker frowned.
"He does." She agreed.
"I don't understand, mommy. Why aren't you together then?" Sam sighed.
"You know how people say time could heal any wound?" Parker nodded. "Sometimes time can help them make them bigger too."
"Can you fix it?"
"We can try, P, but it will take time. Now, go. I need a quick shower. I have some work to do that I've neglected today."
Parker rushed out of her room. Grabbing a towel, Sam walked to her bathroom. She undressed quickly and stood in front of her mirror. She was covered in a mix of bite and love marks. Just as she knew Jack was. Her nails had dug into his skin too. She'd stopped thinking… For a while, it was just them and the frantic search for release, over and over again.
She smiled… It wasn't the best solution but at least, for now… It would do. She could now hang in there. Until his return from the cabin. She could hope that the new year would bring them some changes. That even if the USAF denied her request for retirement, things would be different. They would have peace and somehow everything would fall in place.
