Around him his world was in shadow as he looked down on what was now the reason for his life. It was just a big black metal circle, all be it made of an alien material. He found it strange how an inanimate object could rule his life, when his driving force for years had been based on raw emotions and relying on his ability to hold on to them and keep them hidden. And now an oversized doughnut had become his very reason for living. His eyes refocused and he found that he was staring at his reflection. A wry smile passed over the familiar features as he thought of how much he had changed since first setting eyes on the fuzzy metal ring in the back ground of the image of a tired man before him.
He'd changed.
He'd changed a lot.
But you couldn't see it on the outside. His uniform sat well upon his broad shoulders, his hair was graying giving little insight to the worries over the years and his eyes where still as brown. And though they where a little wrinkled they were still bright despite the horrors he'd seen over the years, despite the number of times he'd felt all the life drain from his body.
He was still here.
That in it's self was probably a miracle.
Unconsciously he tugged on his jacket, a habit of nervousness whenever he wore this air forces version of a straight jacket. And he should know he'd worn them a couple of times. His eyes and thoughts where suddenly trained in on a small flurry of movement in the belly of the room below; technicians doing checks.
But even with the seeming normality of the movement his senses twitched, before they slowly dwindled to their usual buzz of alertness.
Today, or so he was told over and over again was supposed to feel important and somehow the entire purpose of the meeting felt dwarfed by the ominous ring that watched over the proceedings.
And, as if to highlight this importance, the clicking sound of a superior's shoes came echoing down the hall.
His mind wandered at the sound and came up with a strange observation, the higher the rank the more sound the shoes made. It rather worried him that just by the sound of the shoes he could tell he was going to have to salute and call him sir. Looking back he noticed that you could tell the difference with any ranking officer. He could tell who was lower or higher than him by the sound of their shoes. This followed on to the question to what happened when you where promoted? Did they give you different shoes? Was it the change in weight on your shoulders? But these questions slipped from his mind as he turned to his superior and saluted despite the air force stating that officers should only salute in outside; unlike those army guys who just don't get enough sunshine.
The meeting had begun.
And it was boring.
Really boring.
So much so that he had managed to think of and commit to memory his ideal letter of resignation.
And he was seriously considering it.
Seriously thinking about writing out the words, attaching his signature to the end of it and handing it over to the man sat at the head of the table.
That was until she walked in.
Now she was a reason for waiting around here.
And she had his attention from the very first moment.
She was reveled slowly, from the feet up, thanks to the dramatic lighting that shone only on the conference table.
The first thing that he could see was her glorious outline, that showed a well formed woman, curvaceous in all the right places, of height 5'9.
And so the slow love affair began as her feet where illuminated, showing petite feet framed in small healed shoes just high enough to give her an air of knowingness about her.
Next followed long and slender legs, moving purposefully and gracefully into the room; with little thought to the fact that they where the only visible legs as it was in fact filled primarily with men.
Her hips swayed alluringly towards him.
The seconds inched by until he could look deep into those eyes.
It had been around a year (1 year, 2 months, 27 days and 3 hours) since his heart had truly been in love where he felt he couldn't survive without it.
In those dark days and hours he had somehow managed to survive, thinking on those lonely nights, where his only companion was a bottle of whiskey, that he could never love again.
But there was something in those eyes.
Something he could trust.
Something he could love.
Maybe.
There was a light in her eyes that replied to a similar shine in his.
He could love, he could trust and it would be with her; only time would tell.
'…O'Neill'
It took him a while to realise that she was talking, the heavenly voice soothing to his ears.
'Yes?' he replied with a smile, suddenly aware he was in a room filled with his collogues.
'I'm Miss Johnson.'
'Of course you are.'
A tingle crept up his arm as he took her hand.
Their eyes flickered towards each other through the rest of the meeting.
There was just something.