The Colour of Pain Chapter 9
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"It's a stupid idea, Janet. I don't want to discuss it any more!"
Sam tried to keep her voice low. Although the mess wasn't terribly busy, there were a few other people there and she fervently wished she could go back in time and take today's lunch back to her lab.
"Well, I do. I think you're made a wrong decision and now your pride is preventing you from correcting it."
"PRIDE?"
Everyone in the room looked up. Sam tried in vain to make herself invisible with the power of her mind, while the colour rose in her cheeks. She managed to bring her voice down again but there was no mistaking the anger in it.
"You think I'd walk around with my face like this if pride was my problem?"
"Yes. I see one of two possibilities. A, you're afraid people will think you're somehow vain if you cover up the scar or B, my personal favourite, you think it would be pointless covering it up since everyone already knows it's there and that they'll laugh if you do. But what you don't seem to get is that it's not about everyone else. It's about you and how it makes you feel."
Keeping her eyes low, Sam muttered.
"You have no idea what it's like."
"What, to be you? No, I don't, but I know what it's like to be me. You don't think I feel guilty about putting it there in the first place? Your jaw was shattered, broken in 3 places! Colonel O'Neill told me that you hit the steps with such force that he thought your neck had snapped when he heard the sound. He heard it, Sam. Over the noise of the battle, he heard it and thought you were dead. You don't think he feels guilty too? We all do."
Janet sagged in her seat with a sense of relief. She hadn't realised how badly she needed to get that off her chest. Sam looked shocked.
"Janet, I don't blame you! I'd look at lot worse if you hadn't fixed it!"
Sam shook her head.
"And the Colonel has nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his tactics, it was just bad luck. I wouldn't have made it back at all if it hadn't been for him."
"Have you told him that?"
"I don't need to tell him anything, Janet, he's probably the most experienced field commander I've ever known, ever worked with. He already knows."
"Are you kidding? Do you really have no idea of how he's still beating himself up over this? Over you? Just because he knows he couldn't have done anything different doesn't mean he doesn't blame himself. And do you know what? Now that I've started being honest, I might as well continue. Every time you've avoided him, ignored him or given him the brush off, you've really hurt him. He certainly thinks you blame him. I mean, sure, you've avoided us all and I know you've been through a Hell of a lot, but the way you've treated that poor man is appalling. He'd go to the ends of the universe for you and you won't even throw him a bone. Would a friendly "hello" kill you? Even now, you only talk to him if you have to."
"Actually, he had coffee at mine last night."
"Oh. Sorry."
Janet looked abashed.
"I'm sorry Sam, really. It's just… it's been so frustrating, not seeming to be able to help you. And I guess the guilt hasn't helped either."
"It doesn't matter, Janet. What's done is done. I don't blame anyone, I'm just stuck with this face now."
"But you're not, that's what I'm trying to tell you."
"Janet…"
Sam shook her head, in frustration, searching for the right words to explain herself.
"This scar is never going to go away, Janet. Yes, I could cover it up but it would just be a patch, a temporary thing. It's there when I get up in the morning and I feel it every night when I wash my face before bed. What am I supposed to do? Wear camouflage make-up 24/7 if I ever meet a guy I like?"
Sam snorted, with unamused laughter.
"Even if that were possible, there's no hiding the ones on my leg and let's not even start on my chest…"
"This is about guys?"
"No! Yes! Kind of!"
Sam sighed and shook her head again.
"It's like you said, how I feel about myself. It's not just about my face, it's just that that's the one everyone sees. The one everyone stares at and judges me on. But the others… I see those all the time. I don't need a mirror to tell me that short skirts and low-cut tops aren't me…"
"Short skirts and low-cut tops were never you, Sam!"
They both smiled a little.
"You know what I mean."
"You mean you don't feel attractive? Feminine?
"I guess that's part of it. I just can't seem to let go. I don't remember much about that night, just… colours… But the scars are there, all the time, and I can't stop thinking about them. Covering them up won't change that."
Janet sat back in her chair, thinking. After a few moments of thought, she sat forward and motioned Sam to lean in.
"Talk to Colonel O'Neill. I mean, aside from the fact you owe it to him, I think he might be able to help. With the scar thing, I mean."
"What do you mean? How?"
Janet looked uncomfortable.
"Just talk to him, Sam. It certainly can't hurt."
"Ok," replied Sam, uncertainly.
If Janet couldn't talk about it, it implied something medical along the lines of Doctor/Patient confidentiality. She saw the other woman's eyes light up and a wicked grin appear on her face.
"So you two had some late-night coffee, eh? I want all the gory details…"
**
End of Chapter 9
A/N – I've written pretty much the entire story out on paper (damn those gel pens don't last long!) but I have a… problem. This story could go either way at the end – shippy or realistic. Well, when I say realistic, obviously I mean that in the context of a sci-fi show where people travel through stable wormholes to other planets, galaxies even, and do battle with aliens etc… Non-shippy might be another way to put it. Do they get together? Do they not get together? Should I write a sequel instead? Review and let me know what you think, I figure either way I'm going to hack some folks off!
Also, I'm starting a new nightshift job so I won't be updating till Sunday night at the VERY earliest – death threats won't make any difference, I'll be sleeping through them all and won't be online to check emails/reviews but I will check ASAP on Sunday evening (BST).