And She Sits.
And She Sits.
by JD11
Summary: All we know is gone. We've lost our homes, our job, our world. our lives. And yet she sits fiddling with something. Somewhere in her blue eyes there's hope. It shines when she smiles.
Category: Alternate Universe, Angst, Romance
Season: any Season
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: GEN
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: This is kind of a dark fic I wrote a little while ago. The breaks indicate a different person's POV- it goes Jack's, then it could be either Janet or Daniel, and then Sam.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 12/03/06
AND SHE SITS...
All we know is gone. We've lost out homes, our job, our world... our lives... And yet she sits fiddling with something. I don't always know what. I watch her- I always watch her. I don't bug her so much anymore.
We're quiet now, there's not much to say.
Somewhere in her blue eyes there's hope. It shines when she smiles- that is, if she smiles- but with every day it grow fainter and fainter.
There are days, days when I'm so tired and so drained and I'm there sitting with her and I can't begin to know why she bothers. But I never say that to her, I couldn't. I think it. But me being strong, the entire illusion that we can survive, that we can make it happen, is what keeps her going. I can't ask her, can't tell her how defeated I feel, because then she would never smile again and I couldn't live with it being my fault. I need her still believing, because that's the only thing that keeps me going every day.
I'm sitting next to her and we're talking. We don't talk about home- never about home. She's not much for sports and anything I had on that ran short a long time ago. We don't talk about the food- it would get us thinking about what we miss, about the horrible stuff we have and everything we can't have. We never talk about missions; we try not to talk about how it was before.
When we talk, it's really about nothing. About her doo-hickeys- I let her bombard me with technobabble, just to hear her voice. Sometimes we talk about the weather. It can be odd here, changing suddenly, but mostly it's mild. Not a lot of sun, but not snow, not too cold. We talked about what Sergeant Miller and Siler did last night- don't ask, I'm not too sure either. But it was a break from everything else.
We just sit and talk, usually about nothing. Sometimes we feel the looming conversation- the one about that room we left on Earth. We usually avoid it, ignore it, but sometimes it slips out. Sometimes it's mentioned. I wonder where we stand, whether or not the room followed us. I think it did; even if it didn't, neither of us has much time, much energy for it.
Sometimes we talk about Daniel, sometimes Teal'c, sometimes both of them. Sometimes they come and talk too, but not usually. They've got other things to handle. I do too, but I like to sit and talk with her. She helps me with work; there's a lot of it now. A lot more than I've ever had. I hate it, but she helps. And it's not so bad now. I help her- well maybe not so much, but I relax her, like she relaxes me. That's helping right? It helps, everyone needs a break, especially now, now that everything's gone.
We're starting all over again. No one else is helping. We're on our own. No Tok'ra. No Asguard. The Jaffa couldn't help even if they wanted. So we're on our own, helping each other- the few of us alive. That's all we have. And yet she's still right here, working, fiddling, playing with doo-hickers. She keeps working... I've never been entirely sure why. I've never ordered her to work; I've never ordered her not to, I guess. So I sit and we talk and she sits, fiddling because that's all she knows to do and because there's nothing more I can ask her to do. /-/-/
We stay distant. It's not on purpose, there's just so much to do. But we still watch, still listen, still stay in touch. We don't say anything, but we see the change in your relationship. We see how much he goes to you, we see how much you rely on him. Perhaps it has always been that way, perhaps we never noticed before, but we see it now. Oddly enough, we see it when we have so little time to notice. We all rely on each other, there are so few of us left, maybe that's why.
I know, we all know, how deep the scars go. They're not physical- they never really have been. They mare your souls with memories, with painful emotions. We saw some of them, lived through the moments with you. We knew then, to some degree, but we never thought to tell you. Never thought that we would root you on, beg you with silent unspoken words. I see you, both of you, and I see the tears on your cheeks, in your eyes. Not really there, no physical tears, but the phantoms are there.
You were never asked to obey so blindly. You never volunteered to be put into the position you ended up in. You never meant to feel the way you do, to act the way you do. You never meant to, but it happened. Your hearts betrayed you, your jobs forced you away. We saw it evolve, saw it happen, but we didn't really understand. Didn't understand how deep it went, how strong it was. We never really understood the unspoken agreement you swore to each other, never really knew there was one.
I've watched the past few days. I've seen how close the emotions are to the surface. You can't help it. Everything's different, everything's scary, it's all new, it's all hard. Every day, every one of us wants to push every one away. Every night, every one of us wants to fall into another's arm. He doesn't have time for anyone every day and she hides away from them all, all but him. I know you, I know she only cries to you, whether or not they're real tears. I know you're the only one he lets know he's not so strong. Maybe he tries to stay strong, but I know that you see through him. I think we all do, but we pretend we don't, because he's the only one that keeps us believing- somewhere- that we can still survive.
You don't tell me what's going on and I would never presume that you would tell me if I asked. Everyone now is pairing off, is looking for a quick fling, arms to hold them and warmth to protect them. I know you two have as well. I've seen you before, walk each other to one of your rooms. Other people have as well. No one thinks bad of you, no one expected it not to happen. I honestly always thought that it might have before. I know you hide in the shadows, hiding from the truth, from reality, from the light.
Tau'ri- it's this thing we live. It means nothing, it never did mean anything. It's folk lore, legends, myths. It's nothing. We were destroyed because of it. You were kept apart because of it. You said once that the Tau'ri's legendary name would flicker and die. You meant that people would forget the rebellious Egyptians, that they would start to mean us, SG-1 and the rest. But you were right, it seems. We came to our zenith before plummeting to this, this primitive existence.
I wish I didn't believe that. I wish that I still thought there was hope. I wish that I could remain the optimist that I've always been and say that I believe we'll survive this, that we'll thrive, that we'll soon beat this and rise to defeat our enemy. But I can't. I can't because I've looked into your eyes and I've seen that there's no hope, I don't think it ever was there. Your strength is fading fast, you grow more and more tired with every day. I want to say that we'll bounce back from this, but I don't think we will. I want to say that you'll make it- your relationship- but I don't think any can thrive in this atmosphere.
You go about your day and we watch from afar. You sneak in to see her, she sneaks in to see you. We watch and you pretend we don't know, like we don't notice... /-/-/
There are so many things I want to say to him. I want to tell him about my life before the stargate. I want him to know about my mother- how wonderful she was, how perfectly she could frost a cookie and how I could never mimic her no matter how hard I tried. I want to tell him about my brother- how funny he was, how close we used to be, about the time we built a treehouse in our backyard and slept up there during the summer. I want to tell him about what happened when my mother died- how horrible it was, how mad I was at my father, how fast Mark pushed away from me and him, how lonely I was for years after. I want him to know that science was my escape from the downfall of our family.
That's not all I want to say. I want to tell him how I feel about him. How I felt the first day we meet, those first weeks after, over all these years. But every time he sits in my make-shift lab with me and starts to talk, I can never bring myself to utter the correct words. He shies away from any topic that involves Earth. I don't know if it's for my benefit or his and so I don't bring it up. I don't bring any of it up, because anyway I think to say it, it never sounds right. So I don't.
It's almost comforting to know that he already understands. That he too has all these things he wants to say, wants me to know, things he wants me to understand about him. Sometimes all it takes is a word to reassure me that he does know, that he feels the same. I look at you and you know. You've always known. Just because we say we leave these things in that dreadful room, doesn't mean we don't carry it all around with us. Doesn't mean we don't know, don't think about it.
Someone- I don't think anyone knows who- said that actions are better than words. All we have are actions. A gentle brush of our hands, a look into each other's eyes, the simple way you come and sit with me. The simple fact that we talk is enough. But there are nights as well, nights that we both fall into each other's arms and comfort each other with our presence. That's action enough for me; I don't need words to tell me how you feel.
But I still want to say it, to be able to say it, but I can't. You can't either, or else you would have. Maybe you don't because you're waiting for me, waiting for me to tell you that I want to hear it. I do, I just don't know how to make that any clearer.
I wish I could form the right sentence. The perfect sentence. I wish I could sum up every feeling for you, everything I've ever wanted to say to you, everything I've needed to say for years, but there is no perfect sentence. There is no way to say so much of it. But then, I don't need to. Because I can look at you and you can crack some corny joke. Not because you feel good, and not because we're in a particularly jovial mood, but because you want to know that someone can still smile. So you'll say something that would be funny just a month ago and while I won't be as amused, I'll smile for you. You'll find my eyes, because that's what has always attracted you, and my eyes will say everything I've always wanted to say. /-/-/-/
AND SHE SITS...
All we know is gone We've lost our homes Our jobs Our world... And yet she sits Fiddling... I watch her I always watch her I don't bug her so much We're quiet Just sitting There's hope somewhere in her blue eyes It shines when she smiles-if she smiles-but it's fainter with every day Sometimes I don't know why she bothers But I never say that Couldn't say that But I think it Anyways I'm sitting next to her We're talking Not about home Not about sports or food or missions We just talk about nothing About her doo-hickeys About the room The weather What Sergeant Miller and Siler did last night Don't ask I'm not too sure either But it was a break From everything else We just sit And talk About nothing else Sometimes Daniel Sometimes Teal'c Sometimes both Come and talk too Not usually They've got other things to handle Me too But I like sitting and talking She helps me with work There's a lot now I hate it But she helps And then it's not so bad I help with her Well maybe not so much But I relax her Like she relaxes me And that's helping right? It helps Everyone needs a break Especially now Now that everything's gone And we're starting again No one else is helping We're on our own No Tok'ra No Asguard Jaffa can't help anyhow So we're on our own Helping each other That's all we have And yet she's still right here Working Fiddling Playing with doo-hickeys She keeps working... Not sure why Never ordered her to Never ordered her not to So I sit And we talk And she sits... Fiddling /-
LIKE WE DON'T NOTICE...
We watch from afar But we see the change
Deep and painful is your scar The phantom tears have yet to dry
Never volunteered, never ordered But now the unspoken agreement
Your emotions lie bordered Tilting and swaggering, you cry
I know what happens when you close the door Dark shadows playing with the light
Tau'ri, this thing we live, is merely in old lore You said this: that it would flicker and die
I can't listen to these lies Because I saw what's in your eyes
/-THINGS TO SAY
So many things to say, But nothing feels right
A word or a glance and you know right away
Actions they say are better than words It is all that we have, make do it shall
But there are things to say
I've wished I could put words to page My eyes however can say the same
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And She Sits.
by JD11Story Bemerkung:
This is kind of a dark fic I wrote a little while ago. The breaks indicate a different person's POV- it goes Jack's, then it could be either Janet or Daniel, and then Sam. Site Navigation
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