~ 2 ~
It only takes four days for me to get back into my skates. Dr. Beckett's checking on the I-zoola's as part of the trade agreement and Dr. Weir offered me a chance to redeem my self-esteem. She's even gone to the trouble of getting the ice cleaned up. So, it's not like I can tell her 'thanks but no thanks' because John tried killing me with sex earlier this week. Somehow, I doubt that would make her day.
So even though I'm stiff and sore—and not just from the night of lusty activity—I'm lacing up my skates by the lake. But hey, I've got a high pain threshold and this is skating. Nothing gets between me and my blades now that I have them back. Not even naughty thoughts about a certain sexually talented man.
Gawd, if they made that an Olympic sport…
Besides, everyone knows sex is great for muscle tone, so I just consider it an extended workout… with an extreme endorphin rush.
There's no audience today save the two soldiers on Major Lorne's team standing guard by the jumper. The others, including Lorne, went with Dr. Beckett. So instead of Zelenka's amazing sound system, I have my I-pod strapped to my arm, blasting into my ears as I slowly make my way around the ice. It's silky smooth now. I have to wonder how Dr. Weir managed to pull this off. I must remember to thank her.
Even though the tiny music box's weight doesn't register, having the phones in my ears might throw off my balance, so it's another excuse for taking it easy and not trying any jumps or severe twists. Spins are out as well, considering how I don't want the earplugs whipping out and smacking into my face. But it's still a good deal. I've been restless and needed to get out of the city.
My new found ability to remember physical pleasure in excruciating detail is kind of hard to deal with at times, especially if I think too much about what's-his-name. I blame the Ancients and their 'honeymoon' device…even as I bless them for giving me the opportunity to take a stab at the man. He is so out of my league it's laughable.
Good thing I have Jax as my wing-man, because man-o-man, Johnny boy would be a toughy to get over, that's for sure. But since the whole thing with Ryan got totally screwed with a shot in the head, I'm not looking for that kind of hurt again. It's not healthy.
Besides, everyone knows that Sheppard's head-over-heels in-love with Dr. Weir, so there's no chance, Jax reminds me. Several times a day, in fact.
He left sometime after I passed out from bliss, not that I mind. I was never good at cuddling even before my life turned upside-down. And I don't like exposing someone to my nightmares if I can avoid it. I've been known to be…violent, in my sleep. That's one of the embarrassing moments I'd prefer not to relive in Sheppard's company. I've seen the Colonel in the corridors or in the mess as recently as this morning, but not Johnny—civvies John, that is—which is probably a good thing, considering how easily he gets me flustered.
There is a distinction between the two for me. Just as I distinguish Jax from Angela, there is a difference between the Colonel and the man who tried put me into a sex coma. They are two different souls in the same gorgeous body. When he's Col. Sheppard, I doubt he sees me; he's on the job, his troubles and worries etched in his face and eyes. He has the whole world—galaxy—on his shoulders, a burden he carries very well. I think it's mostly the eyes that are different. Where Johnny gets a playful gleam, the Colonel has a hardness. Johnny's a boy at heart, but the Colonel is a tired man and the darkness he carries in those eyes haunts me.
Because I've seen it in the mirror.
There are times, though, when the distinction is fuzzied up. I've seen him stalking the corridors late at night, wearing a tight black shirt and military pants, his handgun strapped to his leg, flashing the dimples of utter destruction.
That is a dangerous combination.
Ronon seems to know something's happened. He came for a visit two nights ago and simply watched me the whole time he was supposed to be watching Friends. He usually gets a kick out of Joey and Chandler—swears they behave like a married couple—and he's got the hots for Rachel, of course. But like the annoying brother he is, he kept pushing, wanting to know what's different about me. And though I've got a great poker face, he reads me too well and knows when I'm lying.
He's the only one who's ever been able to do that. Well…aside from my mom. She could always tell too. Not dad, though. Dad was putty…the big goofball. God I miss them.
Stop feeling sorry!
Anyway. I didn't break under pressure, but I'm sure he knows something. And he keeps watching me. His attention is kind of claustrophobic, which I'm not good with, so I need space. Lots of space.
And so I skate.
~ 2.5 ~
Something's different, Dr. Kate Heightmeyer thinks as Angela bursts into the office fifteen minutes late for her weekly session. Dr. Weir called earlier to inform Kate that Angela had gone off-world to skate, so the doctor wasn't concerned about the tardiness. Angela's flushed from exercise, and possibly the puddle jumper travel considering her claustrophobia, but there's still something else on her mind. "Good workout?" Kate asks.
Angela drops lazily into the chair, tossing a leg over the side. "Yep." She's wearing sweatpants and a bright yellow T-shirt. Her spiraled, black hair is in a wind blown ponytail and some of it's matted to her sweat stained face. She must have just gotten back and raced up here.
"So, how are you feeling?"
She shrugs. "Good." There it is again, a flash of something in her eyes. Something…
"Any nightmares?" Kate asks, watching her client carefully.
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together in a smug line. "Nope."
Kate knows she's lying, but lets it pass for the moment. There isn't a day that goes by that Angela doesn't have nightmares. She's admitted as much before. "How's work?"
She nods. "Fine."
Kate tilts her head. "You're exceptionally mono-syllabic today. What's wrong?"
Angela's brown eyes lock onto the doctor's and a chill fills the room. Kate shivers involuntarily. But as a doctor, she recognizes the signal that Angela is using Jax to cover something. It's a simple act of putting up a wall to keep others out. It's just that this particular wall has an actual name. In the persona of Jax, Angela has cultivated a security system that permits no entrance, basically like when the city lock-down occurred…Jax is extremely tough to get passed, but not impossible.
Considering how emotionally traumatized Angela has been over the years, it's no wonder she found a way to shut down her emotions. But in the end, the identity of Jax has done damage by not allowing the woman to trust and care about others or even herself for that matter. She's put herself in dangerous situations more times than necessary and doesn't seem to care if she gets physically injured or even killed. It's a coping mechanism that makes her feel in command. One that Kate is hoping over time, Angela will realize she doesn't need.
"Have you thought more about what we discussed?" Kate asks, trying to open a line of dialogue.
"Sure."
"And?"
Angela shrugs. "I though about it."
Kate leans forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees. Angela has to be her toughest patient. The woman spent too many years shielded from the world, forced into hiding by no fault of her own. The deaths of her parents right before her eyes shattered something within her, and she lost the rest of herself years later when the man she love died in her arms. Kate is amazed by this woman's will to survive. She's known others who would never have made it out alive, usually due to their own hand.
"A journal is a good way to sort through thoughts and emotions," Kate says.
"Yeah, you mentioned that," she smiles lightly. "I sort of started…I guess."
"That's good. When?"
She bites her lip, holding in another smile. "Couple nights ago. Just…happened. It's more like I'm writing a story though." Her brows wrinkle. "Is that weird?"
Kate shakes her head. "No. Whatever works best for you. Is it in third person?"
"First."
Kate nods, that's a good sign. "Anything you want to discuss in here? Not that you have to. As I said, the journal is strictly for your eyes alone. I will never ask to read it."
"That's good." A slight blush creeps into her cheeks and that flash in her eyes returns. Happiness maybe, it's too brief to be certain. Angela shudders slightly and closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around her.
"Are you cold, I can adjust-"
Her eyes snap open and she blushes again. "No…I'm fine, thanks." She drops her gaze to her lap. "Just…need a shower." They sit in silence for a while and Kate simply watches her. Finally Angela looks up. "What?"
Kate smiles. "Something is different about you." Her patient's eyes widen and she catches her bottom lip with her teeth. "Angela?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"What!" She huffs and her mouth twists into a scowl. "No, of course not."
"Things between you and Ronon haven't-"
"Ewww!"
Kate chuckles softly. "Yes, I'm sorry." She pauses only a moment. "But there is someone." Another shudder and Angela hugs herself even tighter as the blush deepens. "You had sex," Kate says suddenly and Angela's brows shoot up.
"How do you do that?"
"Body language…and…I have been there."
"Right," she blushes again, dropping her gaze.
"So…how was it?"
"Doc!"
Kate raises her hands. "It's not something to be embarrassed about. It's actually very healthy. Your years of celibacy weren't exactly part of your life plan, as you said. This new… development… is a good thing. Right?"
She sighs and rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. "It was a one-time thing."
"Why's that?"
She looks directly at Kate. "Because he said so."
"He did? And you agreed."
Her smile's luminous and her voice husky. "Oh yeah."
"So, you're all right with it being…casual." Angela shrugs. "You're sure you don't want there to be more."
"More?" She chuckles softly. "I could always use that-"
"No," Kate says. "I mean…more of a connection. Emotionally."
Angela shoots out of the chair and stomps to the window. "You know I don't…do that." Her arms tighten around her waist. "Not anymore."
"Do what? Love a man?"
"Exactly."
"What about Ronon?"
She rolls her eyes back to the window. "What about him?"
"You told him you love him, didn't you?"
"That's different," she snaps.
"Why? Were you lying?"
Angela shakes her head. "He's…family."
"Like Jack."
"Yeah."
Kate makes a note to follow up on that tangent. Seems Angela is drawn to strong, protective men, in a non-romantic way, who may or may not be emotionally available of their own accord. Kate has spoken casually to Ronon, he's not exactly open with his feelings. And then there's Jack O'Neill. According to Samantha Carter—Kate's long-time friend at the SGC—it took the man nearly nine years to admit his feelings.
This association with the strong, silent types is considerably atypical for someone raised like Angela. Her relationship with her father, who she rarely mentions but clearly misses, was apparently very close. He openly showed his affection, even in public. He was a regular blue collar guy who worked hard for his family and made sure she and her mom had everything they could need. Especially love.
There's always a sparkle in her eyes on the rare occasions she mentions her parents. She loved them dearly and their loss did more damage than Angela chooses to acknowledge. She was definitely daddy's little girl. He was her hero. But she also adored her mother. The three of them had a very close connection that was stripped away in one violent moment…because of Angela's boyfriend.
So this draw towards men almost exactly the opposite of her father probably stems from Jax. If they don't open up to her, she can hold back as well. It's another way to remain in the power seat and not be vulnerable to someone, just as it was with her and Ryan. She never admitted her feelings to the agent assigned to protect her for all those years and therefore never risked rejection. Then his death, which she blames herself for, sealed in her mind that romantic love is deadly.
Thankfully she is open to familial ties…even those not truly by blood. It was her connection to Jack that saved her two months ago. She doesn't speak of it, but the one time Kate mentioned Jack's visit, tears formed for a brief time in Angela's eyes and she admitted missing him.
Kate leans back in her chair. "How's your friendship with Lt. Cadman?"
She shrugs. "She's all right." Her answer is unenthusiastic, not unexpected considering how closed off she is.
"Have you spoken to her about the…event?"
"No, of course not!"
Kate nods. That would be a ludicrous thought for Angela…or more accurately, Jax. Sharing such intimate information could open her up to real conversation…real emotion, which terrifies her more than anything.
Angela's quiet, staring out the window at the deepening dusk. Kate decides to go back. "This man you were with. How do you feel about him?"
Though she keeps her face turned to the window, Kate can see her in the reflection. Another shudder is followed by a silly grin capturing her lips. "He's all right."
"Can you tell me his name?"
"Sure." She turns and smirks at the doctor. "But I'm not gonna."