Kimberley Jackson - Moments Like This (Stargate SG-1)

What if? It was moments like this, where the thought occurred to her: What if I allowed him to come first in my heart? What if I agreed to stay? What if we both compromised and started building a life together? A little one-shot about Sam leaving for Atlantis, and Sam and Jack’s last night before her departure.

Rating: PG-13

Contains mildly sexual situations, as well as indirect references.

Ich möchte diese Geschichte auf Deutsch lesen.

This story was nominated in the 2014 Sam/Jack Multimedia Awards:
Sam/Jack Multimedia Awards 2014 - Nominee
Kimberley Jackson - 2015_Award_NominationsV1a-blue

in the category Angst

Find out more about the Sam and Jack Multimedia Awards.

There was no talking. There hardly ever was in those moments where they dared to steal a little taste of happiness; a little taste of ‘could-have-been’s and ‘might-be’s; that little taste of a chance that neither of them ever dared to take.

It was in those moments that Einstein’s laws of relativity appeared to be true as time slowed down to what seemed to be infinity ahead of them, and yet at the same time moved so fast that it was hardly ever enough to fulfill their longing as lips explored each other in tempting, tauntingly slow caresses. Fingers traced skin and scars while they listened to the other’s breathing, the rhythm of the other’s heart seemingly so in sync with the own.

Was this right? That had never been a question between them since they stopped working in each other’s chain of command. The issue of right and wrong seemed so benign anyway after all they had seen, and all they had done to survive; after all the shades of gray they had experienced in the field over the years.

It was rarely ever about their ranks, or the military, or the possible consequences of their actions. These nights when their bodies collided in an explosion of feelings and need were only about longing, and happened arbitrarily. Sometimes they didn’t see each other for weeks, sometimes it was but mere days, but whenever they met, their entire beings were drawn to the other as if responding to some unwritten and unknown law of physics that inevitably demanded their two bodies to fuse into one.

There was no talking – because talking wasn’t necessary. Not after nine years. Not after everything they had been through together. Talking was past, and they had moved to a stage that was beyond words; deeper than that and a lot more intense.

He knew what she needed, how to touch her and where to touch her by the way she moaned, her breath hitched in her throat, and her body arched into him; and he was more than willing to give her all and then ask everything from her in return.

Simply because it was her.

It had always been, and would always be her. It was not a notion that he dwelled on, or became overly romantic about. It was something he had come to accept as an undeniable fact, plain and simple.

When he slipped into her soft, welcoming heat, she opened her eyes and for a moment, just the fraction of a second, her eyes showed something beyond care, beyond lust; an amount of affection that opened a door both of them had decided to keep closed so long ago.

What if?

It was moments like this, where the thought occurred to her: What if I allowed him to come first in my heart? What if I agreed to stay? What if we both compromised and started building a life together? The idea was as frightening as it was alluring, but the moment his body became one with hers, his dark eyes melting with hers, while both of them allowed their innermost feelings to surge out into the openness of the room, she wanted to succumb to it. Just for the fraction of a second. Just for an eternity.

Universes are created by ideas. In the beginning there is always the thought; that first tiny spark of life that is necessary to eventually give birth to a notion in the form of the word.

She had started carrying that tiny spark in her heart quite a while back already. A spark, a thought with the potential power to turn ‘could-be’s into ‘will-be’s. All it needed to become reality was a voice; one moment of courage. It was like a sacred formula, an age-old secret code, that held all power of their universe and beyond; so sacred in its meaning that even the consideration of uttering it had mind-changing effects.

I want you.

She opened her lips, her eyes never losing his, as their bodies writhed skin against skin in the intense rhythm that created the illusion of unison they were striving for.

I want you.

The thought, once nothing more than a mere flicker, had long grown, matured, reached its full potential and was ready to become truth. Reality. A new beginning.

He saw it in her eyes, felt it in every fiber of her body, and his own mind responded in kind. Just the fraction of a second did he allow himself to revel in the dream, the possibility of letting her do it; the option of allowing her to slip to turn her unspoken words into a new reality that they would share together.

Just for the fraction of a second, before he moved his head down to close her lips with his in a deep, heart-felt endearment; before she was able to do it; before her voice could give birth to the spark.

The new reality was never born, as words were never spoken, and thoughts began to vanish in the heat of rising passion. The spark remained, and it would resurface again and again, just as it had in the past. Until maybe, someday, he would allow her to turn it into reality. Someday, he would allow himself to hear it, and then say it in return.

Not today.

Not when everything she had strived for was at stake.

His touch was gentle, soft and yet with an edge of roughness to it that spun her out of control fast, and he was more than willing to follow.

Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. They always did if the situation permitted for such luxury; if he didn’t have an early meeting in Washington in the morning and she didn’t have to prepare for a mission.

Today she had to prepare, but it didn’t matter to either of them. This moment belonged to them, and neither of them was willing to let it go.

In the morning, after they had showered and gotten dressed, the atmosphere of the night was gone. Their world was moving in tune with the rest of the universe again. Time returned to normal.

They were back to colonel and general. There were no more ‘could-be’s, and there was no romantic conversation. It was too risky, for both of them, to indulge in such longingly daring dreams when they might never see each other again; when one of them might have to wake up to face the cruel reality that the time to turn ‘could-be’s into a future within their grasp was gone for good.

He opened the door leading outside of the room that had been their home for the night – a universe of its very own, created by their will and left behind by the very same. Before he parted with her, he pulled her against him, and gave her a last, searing kiss that almost broke her heart.

“Take care.”

Her fingers clasped his arm, when he turned to leave, the trace of tears sparkling in her eyes as they met his. She pulled him into a close hug, wishing for a moment things were different; wishing she could take him with her; wishing she could stay.

“You could always ask me not to go,” she offered, her voice a soft, almost pleading whisper against his ear, and when they parted, his expression had become just a hint softer – a change that only she could pick up on, because she knew him by heart.

He couldn’t. Not without losing her, and they both knew that.

In an almost atypically romantic gesture of affection, his hand went up to rest against her cheek and she leaned into the touch slightly. “Not without sacrificing what we have.”

It was maybe the greatest paradox in their relationship, and they both accepted it. In order to be together, they had to let each other go. She couldn’t agree to stay. And he couldn’t ask her to stay, because the moment he did, she would agree to do so and sacrifice all that she had dreamed of, all that she had worked for, all that made her who she was.

Had he loved her just a little less, he might have just been able to. Had he loved her just a little less, he might just have been selfish enough to ask her to stay for his sake. But she was his world, and therefore he couldn’t.

It was why their relationship worked. It was why they were so good together. She had her work and he had his. Neither of them allowed their feelings to interfere with their careers, nor did they allow their careers to be an issue that had the potential to separate them in the future.

They were who they were. And they belonged to each other – a fact that no amount of distance would be able to change.

“I will miss you, you know.” Her voice was weak, and he could see that she was trying to bring order to the conflicting emotions inside of her, desperately trying not to cry. For him. For them. For what they might never have. “If I don’t come back…”

His index finger against her lips stopped her from finishing what she planned to say, and his lips tugged into a sad smirk. “Don’t.”

He knew what she had wanted to say. And she knew that her feelings were returned with equal, if not stronger intensity. But he didn’t want to hear it from her in the context of a last goodbye with the subliminal notion that she might not return. He would not allow her to create that kind of reality with her thoughts.

“Okay…” she whispered, and then pulled his head down to claim his mouth in one last kiss that expressed all that she was feeling inside, and all that she was hoping for them to have sometime in the future. Someday. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Have fun.” He loosened himself from her, letting her go. Just as he always did, and just as she always did for him.

She watched him, as he walked down the corridor without looking back, her head leaning against the doorframe of the hotel room. It would be goodbye for a long time – possibly forever. But it was the way it had to be.

They were like stars, burning with intensity and a passion that created a light that had the power to spawn life – given a certain distance. And they knew that if they allowed gravity and the strong forces that drew them together to become overwhelming, just like stars they would collide in a flare of passion, burn out, and create a black hole that would destroy their universe forever.

This was how it had to be.

And still, there were moments…

Someday, she thought, and smiled somewhat sadly as she gathered her clothes and got dressed to prepare for leaving for Atlantis to become commander of the base.



The End (August 18, 2013)

Author’s Notes

This was a story written in about 2 hours, and it started out with only one sentence that suddenly occurred to me, while I was driving on my bike, and a breeze of summer wind hit my face: “It was moments like this where she wondered…” Just one unfinished little sentence that inspired so many images to flood my mind. As soon as I was home I sat down on my desk and the words just poured onto the page, all inspired by that little unfinished sentence that a muse whispered to me on the wind.