Title: Silence
Author: Hope
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Everything up too and including "100 Days"
Category: Angst
Summary: Sometimes you look at her and wonder how your life got to be like
this.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money.
Sometimes you look at her and wonder how your life got to be like this. You stand here in the kitchen, relishing the bite of the counter against your back, and try to rap your mind around it all.
You know there was a time- you remember it with bittersweet longing- when things were normal, or as normal as things can be when your life revolves around travel to other planets. A time when things made sense, when they followed a certain order, when two plus two always gave you four. A time when you weren't fucking your best friend's brains out, trying not to cry as the pleasure washed through you.
There was even a time where you thought you could fall in love with this woman. You imagined candle lit diners and rose covered beds, long hours of slow lovemaking and whispered words of adoration against soft skin. You imagined waking up in her arms and sharing fuzzy kisses. But you've never even experienced the pain of her rolling over and leaving in silence, never felt the double assault of twisted sheets and silky skin as her body presses you into the mattress, because doing it in a bed would mean that this was real.
And you know in your heart that's it's not. You're not sure what exactly it is, or more importantly, what it means, but you know that it's nothing that could stand up in the light of day.
You know how it all started- the first time you touched her was when O'Neill got himself stuck on Edora- but you're not sure how it became what it is. Why you find yourself staring at her bent head, wishing for words to break the silence.
That first night Sam came to you with a broken heart and you couldn't help but do everything you could to make it better. So when her tear stained lips brushed yours you let the soothing movement of your hands turn into a caress and made yourself forget everything but the woman in your arms.
You covered the nagging inner voice that raged against pity fucks with the sound of Sam's shallow breaths. Ignored the heavy clink your stars made as your shirt was torn off and thrown away by eager hands, instead focusing on the weight of her breasts against yours. Forgot the wrongness of it all in favor of relishing how right it felt inside her.
And it worked; until you buried your face in what you thought was a pillow and breathed in the sweet twang of leather mixed with the scent of Jack O'Neill. You had to bite your lip to hold back the sudden tears that threatened to rip through you.
In the silence afterward you knew you had a choice; either roll over and walk away- pretend that it had never happened and go on with life- or mold your body around hers and face it in the morning. But Sam took it away from you, curling against your side and quickly falling asleep. And you were forced to lie there, waiting for sleep to claim you, beating back tears with images of romance and love that would never come. You knew, no matter how much you wanted to forget, that things were screwed up and you should run away as fast as you could, but the soft sighs Sam made as she snuggled deeper into the couch kept you there.
The next morning was awkward and stilted- filled with half spoken sentences and heavy silences. The next few days were a blur as the entire base worked to get the Colonel back and you were glad for the distraction, but told yourself that you would talk to her once everything calmed down. But then Jack had been back for a week and being in the same room with her hadn't gotten any easier and you started to worry you'd lost your best friend. So you were happy, if a bit scared, when she showed up at your door one night. You invited her in, preparing for the long conversation you knew would come.
Looking back, it scares you how little you protested when she pushed you against the door, stopping your words with a rough kiss. How easily you got lost in the feel of her. How fast you forgot all your carefully formulated words.
You lost yourself that night, got caught up in her touch, her smell, her sound and now you can't find your way back. No matter how hard you try to stop, to run away, you always end up back here, wishing for something different. For a time when things weren't so royally fucked up. But even as these useless dreams swim through your head you are surrounded by glaring proof of all that it has become.
It's in the air, a reminder of how screwed up everything is, of how far gone you are. It's the unmistakable scent of sex, that of sweat and musk, of hard fucking against the kitchen floor. And it burns your heart as you breathe it in. Makes you want to say things you know you'll always regret. So you think it. Scream, "I hate you" inside your head.
When Sam pauses her trek towards the door you worry that you've actually spoken. But after a few seconds of indecision her shoulders slump in defeat and she continues on. Silence reigns as she leaves and you wonder if it will always be this way. The answer scares you into action, so you whisper the words and let the tears fall.
Sometimes you look at her and wonder how your life got to be like this. You stand here in the kitchen, relishing the bite of the counter against your back, and try to rap your mind around it all.
You know there was a time- you remember it with bittersweet longing- when things were normal, or as normal as things can be when your life revolves around travel to other planets. A time when things made sense, when they followed a certain order, when two plus two always gave you four. A time when you weren't fucking your best friend's brains out, trying not to cry as the pleasure washed through you.
There was even a time where you thought you could fall in love with this woman. You imagined candle lit diners and rose covered beds, long hours of slow lovemaking and whispered words of adoration against soft skin. You imagined waking up in her arms and sharing fuzzy kisses. But you've never even experienced the pain of her rolling over and leaving in silence, never felt the double assault of twisted sheets and silky skin as her body presses you into the mattress, because doing it in a bed would mean that this was real.
And you know in your heart that's it's not. You're not sure what exactly it is, or more importantly, what it means, but you know that it's nothing that could stand up in the light of day.
You know how it all started- the first time you touched her was when O'Neill got himself stuck on Edora- but you're not sure how it became what it is. Why you find yourself staring at her bent head, wishing for words to break the silence.
That first night Sam came to you with a broken heart and you couldn't help but do everything you could to make it better. So when her tear stained lips brushed yours you let the soothing movement of your hands turn into a caress and made yourself forget everything but the woman in your arms.
You covered the nagging inner voice that raged against pity fucks with the sound of Sam's shallow breaths. Ignored the heavy clink your stars made as your shirt was torn off and thrown away by eager hands, instead focusing on the weight of her breasts against yours. Forgot the wrongness of it all in favor of relishing how right it felt inside her.
And it worked; until you buried your face in what you thought was a pillow and breathed in the sweet twang of leather mixed with the scent of Jack O'Neill. You had to bite your lip to hold back the sudden tears that threatened to rip through you.
In the silence afterward you knew you had a choice; either roll over and walk away- pretend that it had never happened and go on with life- or mold your body around hers and face it in the morning. But Sam took it away from you, curling against your side and quickly falling asleep. And you were forced to lie there, waiting for sleep to claim you, beating back tears with images of romance and love that would never come. You knew, no matter how much you wanted to forget, that things were screwed up and you should run away as fast as you could, but the soft sighs Sam made as she snuggled deeper into the couch kept you there.
The next morning was awkward and stilted- filled with half spoken sentences and heavy silences. The next few days were a blur as the entire base worked to get the Colonel back and you were glad for the distraction, but told yourself that you would talk to her once everything calmed down. But then Jack had been back for a week and being in the same room with her hadn't gotten any easier and you started to worry you'd lost your best friend. So you were happy, if a bit scared, when she showed up at your door one night. You invited her in, preparing for the long conversation you knew would come.
Looking back, it scares you how little you protested when she pushed you against the door, stopping your words with a rough kiss. How easily you got lost in the feel of her. How fast you forgot all your carefully formulated words.
You lost yourself that night, got caught up in her touch, her smell, her sound and now you can't find your way back. No matter how hard you try to stop, to run away, you always end up back here, wishing for something different. For a time when things weren't so royally fucked up. But even as these useless dreams swim through your head you are surrounded by glaring proof of all that it has become.
It's in the air, a reminder of how screwed up everything is, of how far gone you are. It's the unmistakable scent of sex, that of sweat and musk, of hard fucking against the kitchen floor. And it burns your heart as you breathe it in. Makes you want to say things you know you'll always regret. So you think it. Scream, "I hate you" inside your head.
When Sam pauses her trek towards the door you worry that you've actually spoken. But after a few seconds of indecision her shoulders slump in defeat and she continues on. Silence reigns as she leaves and you wonder if it will always be this way. The answer scares you into action, so you whisper the words and let the tears fall.