A Dream Of Past Reality
I should not be doing this. Normally the night before a mission I am going over every minute detail or preferably sleeping, not driving through a veritable ghost town at 5 o'clock in the morning. As I drive through the rain the image of her face, spectre like, floats in front of my eyes. I could not help myself, I had to see her. I had to let her know that I was not going to be coming back, that she should forget me.
I almost pleaded with General West to let me out of the mountain, I couldn't risk ringing her, not from there. I spun him some story about wanting to see Sara before I left. Sara, once that name would have provoked deep feelings of love within me, now it just reminds me why I decided to take this mission on. General West didn't know that of course, and had released me.
The instant that I was out of the vicinity of the mountain I had pulled over and called her. She sounded surprised to hear from me, and sounded a little different. However, being the selfish bastard that I am did not question her about it. I ignored all her protests, and questions as to where the hell I had been. I just kept saying, "I need to see you. I need to speak to you face to face. Please come". Halfway through the conversation her mindset seemed to change, and she agreed to meet.
We had arranged to meet at the bar where this all began. It still makes me smile a little, our first meeting. I had behaved like such an idiot that night, but through some weird miracle, we had created some form of relationship. Since the first time, we had got ridiculously tangled up in each other, meeting again and again. Are we in love? I don't know. I feel something for her, a depth of emotion that has no rival within me. Our relationship seems to be based around trying to absolve the pain we both feel, it can't be healthy. We had both had our moments of doubt and guilt, but had always talked ourselves out of it.
During the time we had been together, her relationship with her husband had spun into total decline. He did not know about us, she was sure about that. She should have left him, but something bound her to him. She never said much about it. I'm sure that initially they had felt something for each other, but now for both of them it was just a marriage of convenience.
She wasn't there when I reached the bar, and I spent a good half an hour pacing outside waiting for her to arrive. Eventually she had appeared, and at that moment, I really began to regret ever hearing of the Stargate. I had only really accepted it because of the very exact military timing, which led to those officers coming to my house on the anniversary of Charlie's death. Anniversary makes it sound like a happy occasion, it's not. I do not know what I would have done with that gun, if the air force hadn't come and offered me a more 'honourable' way out. On that day, at that moment, I had been looking for a way out, and they gave it to me. Now I wish I hadn't taken it.
It didn't register straightaway; the dim outside lighting of the bar hid most of her face in shadows. I had reached out to take her in my arms, so happy that she had come; I had seen her properly then and my greeting had died on my lips. Her face, her beautiful face, was marred by a patchwork of fading bruises, and butterfly stitches. I didn't know what to say to her. I hadn't seen her for two weeks. What had happened to her in the only time in over eight months where she would not have been able to contact me?
"Janet...god.... I'm sorry"
"Where were you?" Her voice sounded very hollow, like she had lost a part of herself.
"That's what I'm here to tell you..."
She let me lead her into the motel, our motel. She did not protest when I led her to our room, or when I locked the door. I sat her down on the bed and said, "Tell me what happened."
I should not be doing this. Normally the night before a mission I am going over every minute detail or preferably sleeping, not driving through a veritable ghost town at 5 o'clock in the morning. As I drive through the rain the image of her face, spectre like, floats in front of my eyes. I could not help myself, I had to see her. I had to let her know that I was not going to be coming back, that she should forget me.
I almost pleaded with General West to let me out of the mountain, I couldn't risk ringing her, not from there. I spun him some story about wanting to see Sara before I left. Sara, once that name would have provoked deep feelings of love within me, now it just reminds me why I decided to take this mission on. General West didn't know that of course, and had released me.
The instant that I was out of the vicinity of the mountain I had pulled over and called her. She sounded surprised to hear from me, and sounded a little different. However, being the selfish bastard that I am did not question her about it. I ignored all her protests, and questions as to where the hell I had been. I just kept saying, "I need to see you. I need to speak to you face to face. Please come". Halfway through the conversation her mindset seemed to change, and she agreed to meet.
We had arranged to meet at the bar where this all began. It still makes me smile a little, our first meeting. I had behaved like such an idiot that night, but through some weird miracle, we had created some form of relationship. Since the first time, we had got ridiculously tangled up in each other, meeting again and again. Are we in love? I don't know. I feel something for her, a depth of emotion that has no rival within me. Our relationship seems to be based around trying to absolve the pain we both feel, it can't be healthy. We had both had our moments of doubt and guilt, but had always talked ourselves out of it.
During the time we had been together, her relationship with her husband had spun into total decline. He did not know about us, she was sure about that. She should have left him, but something bound her to him. She never said much about it. I'm sure that initially they had felt something for each other, but now for both of them it was just a marriage of convenience.
She wasn't there when I reached the bar, and I spent a good half an hour pacing outside waiting for her to arrive. Eventually she had appeared, and at that moment, I really began to regret ever hearing of the Stargate. I had only really accepted it because of the very exact military timing, which led to those officers coming to my house on the anniversary of Charlie's death. Anniversary makes it sound like a happy occasion, it's not. I do not know what I would have done with that gun, if the air force hadn't come and offered me a more 'honourable' way out. On that day, at that moment, I had been looking for a way out, and they gave it to me. Now I wish I hadn't taken it.
It didn't register straightaway; the dim outside lighting of the bar hid most of her face in shadows. I had reached out to take her in my arms, so happy that she had come; I had seen her properly then and my greeting had died on my lips. Her face, her beautiful face, was marred by a patchwork of fading bruises, and butterfly stitches. I didn't know what to say to her. I hadn't seen her for two weeks. What had happened to her in the only time in over eight months where she would not have been able to contact me?
"Janet...god.... I'm sorry"
"Where were you?" Her voice sounded very hollow, like she had lost a part of herself.
"That's what I'm here to tell you..."
She let me lead her into the motel, our motel. She did not protest when I led her to our room, or when I locked the door. I sat her down on the bed and said, "Tell me what happened."