Title: Those silent wordsTitle: Those silent words.
Spoilers: Chimera, Death Knell
Rating: G
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She smiled at me then closed her eyes and settled into sleep, curling up into
the hard infirmary mattress. I continued to sit beside her, rolling the pen through my
fingers as I watched over her sleep, ensuring she got some rest. She'd been to hell and
back in the last few days, and this was the least I could do for her. The absolute
least. But it was all I had.
I'd tried words on her before, but they never worked. I just wasn't good with
them. I never had been. I'd figured out after my first - and only - disastrous attempt
at giving her some pithy speech on how she would get over it, how it wasn't her fault,
that she didn't need to hear it. Especially not from me. So I'd shut the hell up and
continued to stay quiet ever since, even today. This was the way I worked best. Be there
for her - be there for all of them - but be there silently.
I think she knew why I was here - I'm pretty sure that's what the smile was for.
A kind of 'thank you for being here'. And if my presence alone would allow her to
smile, then hell, I wasn't leaving even if Napoleon herself came in and ordered me out.
Hours before I'd seen her new boyfriend walk out, shoulders hunched and head
down. I'd been sitting waiting for permission to visit, sitting with everyone
else who cared for her and wanted to support her through this. Her boyfriend had walked
past us without a word, and we watched in silence as he turned the corner towards the
elevators. Then her father had stood up from beside me and gone in to see her.
I knew the subject of that conversation, and knew without a doubt that she'd blame
herself for the fall of the alliance. Of course she was wrong - the fall of the
alliance had nothing to do with her and everything to do with mistrust - but I knew that
would make absolutely no difference to her mood.
So that, along with the other more pressing worries, was why I was sitting in
the half-light of the infirmary, watching her sleep. She looked terrible, pale and
tired. Exhausted, actually. And intolerably sad - which I understood. Over 80 of our
people had died in the explosion which destroyed our off-world base. And almost
all of those people had been known to her. Top that with the departure of her
father, and the sadness that was shadowing her face was completely understandable. But
that didn't mean I had to like it.
The exact opposite in fact. I hated that she hurt. I hated that her leg was
bandaged and immobilised. I hated the stitches in her scalp, stitches that closed the
gash which had bled so profusely over her face. I hated that she'd had to live
through the attack on the Beta Site. I hated that her father had opted out and run away
with the Tok'ra. I hated that she had only me here to help her through this, that her
family - and boyfriend - had deserted her. But mostly? I hated the fact that I couldn't
help her the way she needed, the way I wanted. Hated that I couldn't hold her,
couldn't dry her tears. That I couldn't tell her all the things that I wanted to, all the
things that I needed to say, but which never came out in the right words, when I tried.
No, they came out as 'Carter' more often than not. Or 'Major, you okay?'. And
occasionally, when pressed, I may - just may - actually call her by her first
name. But the words I wanted to say, I couldn't. Because she didn't want to hear
them. Not from me. Not now. Probably never. Those words belonged to her boyfriend now.
So now I sit here in silence, waiting for him to come back and say them to her.
Say those words that I had missed my opportunity to say.
And I hated him for it.
-fin-
Spoilers: Chimera, Death Knell
Rating: G
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She smiled at me then closed her eyes and settled into sleep, curling up into
the hard infirmary mattress. I continued to sit beside her, rolling the pen through my
fingers as I watched over her sleep, ensuring she got some rest. She'd been to hell and
back in the last few days, and this was the least I could do for her. The absolute
least. But it was all I had.
I'd tried words on her before, but they never worked. I just wasn't good with
them. I never had been. I'd figured out after my first - and only - disastrous attempt
at giving her some pithy speech on how she would get over it, how it wasn't her fault,
that she didn't need to hear it. Especially not from me. So I'd shut the hell up and
continued to stay quiet ever since, even today. This was the way I worked best. Be there
for her - be there for all of them - but be there silently.
I think she knew why I was here - I'm pretty sure that's what the smile was for.
A kind of 'thank you for being here'. And if my presence alone would allow her to
smile, then hell, I wasn't leaving even if Napoleon herself came in and ordered me out.
Hours before I'd seen her new boyfriend walk out, shoulders hunched and head
down. I'd been sitting waiting for permission to visit, sitting with everyone
else who cared for her and wanted to support her through this. Her boyfriend had walked
past us without a word, and we watched in silence as he turned the corner towards the
elevators. Then her father had stood up from beside me and gone in to see her.
I knew the subject of that conversation, and knew without a doubt that she'd blame
herself for the fall of the alliance. Of course she was wrong - the fall of the
alliance had nothing to do with her and everything to do with mistrust - but I knew that
would make absolutely no difference to her mood.
So that, along with the other more pressing worries, was why I was sitting in
the half-light of the infirmary, watching her sleep. She looked terrible, pale and
tired. Exhausted, actually. And intolerably sad - which I understood. Over 80 of our
people had died in the explosion which destroyed our off-world base. And almost
all of those people had been known to her. Top that with the departure of her
father, and the sadness that was shadowing her face was completely understandable. But
that didn't mean I had to like it.
The exact opposite in fact. I hated that she hurt. I hated that her leg was
bandaged and immobilised. I hated the stitches in her scalp, stitches that closed the
gash which had bled so profusely over her face. I hated that she'd had to live
through the attack on the Beta Site. I hated that her father had opted out and run away
with the Tok'ra. I hated that she had only me here to help her through this, that her
family - and boyfriend - had deserted her. But mostly? I hated the fact that I couldn't
help her the way she needed, the way I wanted. Hated that I couldn't hold her,
couldn't dry her tears. That I couldn't tell her all the things that I wanted to, all the
things that I needed to say, but which never came out in the right words, when I tried.
No, they came out as 'Carter' more often than not. Or 'Major, you okay?'. And
occasionally, when pressed, I may - just may - actually call her by her first
name. But the words I wanted to say, I couldn't. Because she didn't want to hear
them. Not from me. Not now. Probably never. Those words belonged to her boyfriend now.
So now I sit here in silence, waiting for him to come back and say them to her.
Say those words that I had missed my opportunity to say.
And I hated him for it.
-fin-