Title: Fine Line
Author: Feral Geek
Summary: Kavanagh-centric fic, bits of unrequited Kav/ Weir, contemplating past events.
Spoliers: Critical Mass, and most anything with Dr. Kavanagh in it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, Stargate owns me.
Many thanks to my Beta-Reader, Doskcil, who made me feel good about my work, and was an incredibly large help. (even came up with the title!)
Author Note: Please excuse the wonky formatting, something happened when I transferred the document into and it pulled all my paragraphs into lines, it looks much more organized while in DocWord.
Fine LineThey say there is a fine line between love and hate.
And yes, he hates her in some respects.
Envies her.
But at the back of it all, in the deepest recess of his mind,
He knew he loved her.
However, Weir holds nothing but scorn for him. If he had ever had even the barest glimmer of a chance…
There had to have been a chance…once…even for something as little as friendship, after all, he was here.
All he had wanted was to be near her.
He would never admit it, he was too proud; he didn't need her.
He didn't need anyone.
Calvin just kept telling himself that: he didn't need friends, someone to love him, people who cared.
He envied McKay as well, but he respected the man, no matter how petty and arrogant he was.
At one point in time, he knew McKay had been like him. He had seen the other scientist in the days before the Atlantis project, alone in the SGC, keeping everyone away with a sharp tongue. But McKay had changed. Probably because he had friends, people willing to give up things for him.
Yes, he disliked the man, but he respected McKay…not that he would ever admit that.
He had even respected Elizabeth…Weir…in the beginning, before he realized that she would sacrifice everything; she was too ruled by emotion.
She only thought after she acted.
But still he had loved her, despite knowing that she would never feel the same way.
He could see it in her eyes. Contempt. She never saw past everything he put up.
The walls, barriers of arrogance, hiding behind his ego.
He never saw anything when he looked into her eyes, just his mistakes.
It burned.
He wanted to scream, it hurt so much.
He tried, he honestly did. He cared about the city, even with all his nitpicking and complaining. He worried about the safety of those living and working here.
No one noticed, and no one cared.
If McKay or Zelenka so much as fixed an air vent, everyone was singing their praises.
Did anyone notice the work he did?
No…they only saw him when he messed up.
No one looked at him.
That was why he left the first time, because no one saw him, because they all looked through him.
Under the guise of disliking the chain of command.
Which he did. Weir wasn't fit to run this expedition. She was good at her job, which was being a diplomat.
But this was a military and scientific operation.
And she was neither.
There is a fine line between love and hate.
It didn't take long for him to cross that line.
And this bit was the last straw.
He knew they didn't like him, didn't trust him, and he didn't expect them too.
But that they could believe…
He wasn't an evil man.
Tortured.
Oh they had done nothing physically, they realized the true culprit just in time.
But he had been tortured.
Mentally.
The thought nagged at him.
Did they all hate him so much that it wouldn't matter if he was destroyed?
Was he that worthless?