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Some days it seems like all I can think about is Jack and the way he looks at me - that peculiar mixture of affection and annoyance I see in his eyes when I've done something he considers particularly flaky. I know it means nothing more than friendship, a shared bunch of experiences that have brought us together with a common goal, but that doesn't stop me from wanting more. If only I could get rid of this bullseye that seems to be painted on my back.... Seems as though every time we run into trouble, I get to be smack bang in the middle of it, like it or not. And though I trust Jack to rescue me, trust him more than anyone else I've ever met, that doesn't stop me from becoming frustrated with the way it all works out. We seem to have fallen into roles here - idiot archaeologist and heroic soldier being the first two that leap readily to mind - and this game is growing old real fast for me. The fact that I was under Hathor's control, like every other man in the SGC, doesn't make me feel much better about my part in the whole thing. This time it was Sam who turned things around for us, but the thought that Jack knows what I did makes me cold inside. I got to be a major part of Hathor's plan to take over the world, providing her with the 'code of life' she needed to create a whole new batch of baby Goa'uld who'd take over whatever human hosts they could find. All along, even when I was under her control, I knew that what she was doing was wrong. Is this what it's like for Sha're? This sense of utter powerlessness, knowing exactly what your body is doing, and all the while your mind is screaming out its abhorrence of your actions in the echoing silence of your own head? I can remember arguing for Sam's life with the Goa'uld queen, unable to resist her with more than words, struggling as much as I could against the control she had over me. In some ways, it would have been better if I had known nothing at all, but since when have I ever been that lucky? After all the tests had finished, and Hathor had escaped to who knows where, I was left with a sick feeling in my stomach. I felt as though I should have tried harder, struggled more, resisted more. But I didn't, and I have to live with that. Jack's words of disgust over the part I played, willing or not, will live with me. So I got drunk. We got drunk. We both needed to forget what had happened to us - Jack's day had been a long and traumatic one too, after all. He'd come perilously close to becoming Hathor's First Prime, and I think that scared him more than he liked to admit. Jack isn't one to discuss his feelings openly, his background has always meant that he needs to be in control - in the same way that she used me, Hathor had taken the choice to serve or resist from Jack. And he resented that. I don't remember too much about what happened after we got drunk - just enough to know that Jack said some things drunk that I'm certain he would never have said sober. I'd never seen Jack under the influence before, so that was quite an eye-opener. I don't know if it was the fault of the sarcophagus, but the beer we drank seemed to go straight to his head. I know Jack has accused me of having no head for booze, but this time he was the one who couldn't handle his liquor. You'd think with all the stuff Jack's been through that he might turn nasty when he's had a few too many, but that was a revelation. Rather than turning morose, like you might expect, Jack turned out to be a mushy drunk, declaring for all the world how much he loved me. I have never been so glad that we decided to get drunk in the safety of Jack's house - I didn't fancy the idea of having to explain to a bar full of people what the hell Jack was on about when he starts calling me 'my little space monkey'! Of course, the question that has to be asked is this - was that just the booze talking? I'm not sure what the answer is, not yet anyway, and I'm also not sure if I want to find out... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Boy did I put it away last night.... Well, I suppose I did, though I don't remember too much about it. The last thing I recall is Daniel's face, his eyes sad with what that bitch did to him, and I knew that we had to get drunk enough to forget all about what she put us both through. And the way my head is pounding this morning, it certainly feels like I succeeded. Eww... my mouth tastes like something died in it, and I really wish that the world would stop spinning long enough for me to figure out which way is up and what happened to me. Did anyone get the number of the truck that hit me? Okay, I guess there was no truck - just a little more booze than I should have had. Strange though, because normally I can drink Daniel under the table with no problem whatsoever. Daniel... Oh shit. Did I really... No, I couldn't have, could I? What kind of look does your best friend have on their face when you've just told them you want to be more than friends? I have no idea - after all, I just don't have those sorts of conversations on a regular basis, you know? I wonder what my chances are of playing dumb, pretending that I can't remember anything about last night? The problem is, despite the effect the beer had on me, I remember everything in a scarily clear way - every word, every gesture, every action. Each moment frozen perfectly, captured for eternity by my brain when every other time it has failed to perform like that. Why now? Normally there's a little voice that stops me from dropping myself in it like that, telling me that I'm too close to the edge, that I'm in danger of letting my secret slip out if I'm not careful.... Not last night, that's for sure. Last night, I told Daniel I loved him, that he was my best friend. Hey, I wonder if maybe there's room for manoeuvre there? I wonder if I can persuade him that it was a case of 'I love you like a brother' instead? Nope. I'm not sure I'd believe that one either. Maybe dumb soldier is the way to go after all. I think I'll just wait and take my cue from him. If he mentions last night at all, that is. Then, at least, I'll know - I'll get some idea from Daniel about what he thinks I meant.... Oh boy. Why do I get the feeling I've really done it this time?
~fin~
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This page created by Graculus - last changed 30/4/2000.