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Alwaysby Night Spring I love you. I will always love you. Always. He hadn't told Sha're. How could he? Enough time to tell her when they got back to earth. If they got back to earth. Actually, it probably wouldn't have been a good idea to tell her at all until after they got the Goa'uld out of her -- what she knew, the Goa'uld knew, right? So if he'd told her, then even now, Amonet might be telling Apophis -- but no, he hadn't thought of that then, so that wasn't the reason he hadn't told her, even if in retrospect, it was the most compelling reason not to. He should have told her -- but she had so much to deal with already, throwing another wrench into the pile would have been a cruel thing to do, right? But then, she deserved to know everything pertinent in deciding whether to come with him to earth -- but then -- but then, her beautiful dark eyes would open wide in shock, and -- and what? disbelief? sorrow? anger? pain? disappointment? What if his telling her made her turn away from him, made her hate him -- would she be so disgusted as to actually pick being with the Goa'uld, would she, in a moment of irrational emotion, chose being a host over -- over -- No, better to talk her into coming back with him, even under false pretenses, better to get her free of the Goa'uld first, and deal with the fallouts later. That's why he hadn't told her, right? And after all, there hadn't been time. There was Teal'c, and Kasuf, and it was none of their business, he couldn't let them know, and... Coward. There she was, begging his forgiveness even as her body heaved with the pangs of labour. And there he was, gallantly assuring her there was nothing to forgive. Right. Nothing to forgive. Hypocrite. Spineless bastard. He couldn't ask for forgiveness, he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Night after night in another's arms, thinking of Sha're, and when he did have Sha're in his arms, holding her as she struggled to ride out the pain of the contractions, he thought of strong arms holding him, pressing him down, thrusting into him with barely restrained power, each forceful thrust striking him to the core of his being, until he was totally possessed, totally given over to the other... And he would think of Sha're, and Apophis, and Apophis thrusting into Sha're, exactly like this, Sha're crying out in pleasure, exactly like this, clinging desperately to him, like this, and he would thrust just once more, just once more, rhythm all shattered and broken, body clenching and shuddering as he shot his seed deep inside -- and it had been like this, for Sha're, to feel him come deep within her, to cradle him close and feel the harsh heaving breathes gradually lengthen, the wide fluttering heartbeats slow down beat by beat, to let nerveless legs unclench and fall as he softened and slipped out, the wet slick stickiness oozing out to run clingingly down their thighs, turning clammy and flaky as it cooled and dried. He wondered, but never asked, if Jack ever thought of Sara, because after all, that was a totally meaningless, pointless question to ask -- well, duh, of course he did. Here they were, sharing their bodies, but their minds were anywhere and everywhere; don't ask, don't tell. He'd missed earth while he was on Abydos -- a thousand things that he never gave second thoughts to while on earth that he couldn't have on Abydos, that he'd missed and craved. And now, back on earth, of course he missed Abydos -- the sand, he'd hated the sand, it got into everything, a fine smooth gritty powder permeating everywhere, sifting into every nook and corner, every orifice, every open surface always covered with a thin film of fine sand, no matter how diligent they were at sweeping and dusting and washing. And now he missed it. Missed the daily routines that were built around the sand, the clever way the tent flaps were folded just so to keep out the sand, the women wrapping and unwrapping food with that special flick of their wrist that blew the sand away from the food, the trick of picking up one's foot just so so the sand wouldn't be kicked up that he'd taken forever to get the hang of. So he thought of Sha're when he was with Jack, and felt Jack's arms around him when he held Sha're. And Sha're -- god, they'd been close, so close, to getting her back -- and if they had gotten her back... He would stay with her. Kasuf expected him to be a good husband. General Hammond would smile a benign fatherly smile as he warmly congratulated him. Sam would hug the stuffing out of him. Teal'c would look grave and gaze on the proceedings with fond satisfaction. He would stay with her. He owed her that. After everything she'd been through, after all the unimaginable horrors that had been done to her, he couldn't leave her alone. She needed all the support and love he could provide to recover, to move on. To move on. To move on. Without Jack. Jack, regarding him fondly across the campfire while he complained to Sam and Tealc about the MRE "beef stew" that tasted like chicken. Rousting him away from a translation job he'd been absorbed in for far too long. Dropping yet another irreverent quip that had him grinning in exasperated admiration. Turning to glare at him in mock annoyance as they discovered they'd yet again spoken in unison. Sipping beer in a corner of his couch with eyes dark and heavy with sorrow, passing him sliver by sliver the slices of his heart. Pulling him into a close embrace, crushing him with an assuring strength that would never let him go. One morning he'd woken to find he hadn't dreamed of Sha're during the night, gotten into bed one evening without having thought of her once during the day. Somewhere in the struggle to save earth from Apophis' attack, there'd been an entire week when he hadn't thought of her. But Jack -- Jack was always there, with him, by him, for him. Always his home and his comfort. Always loving and accepting, even when he didn't quite agree or understand. Just like Sha're... Sha're, who was light-years away, held captive by the Goa'uld within her, a prisoner in her own body. Even now, she could be in Apophis' arms, crying her pleasure, while he lay, sated and content, safe and sound in Jack's sheltering strength. And if they did get Sha're back tomorrow? If he held her in his arms, living breathing warm pliant trusting -- how could he leave her, how could he hurt her like that? No, he would take her back to Abydos, back to the unforgiving desert that was her home, to see if he could piece together what was broken, make whole what'd been torn asunder. And Jack -- Jack would understand, Jack would let him go, Jack wouldn't hold him back -- and he hated him for that. He wished Jack would beg and cling -- no, that wasn't his style, he'd demand -- yes, that was more like it, Jack would demand that he stay, command that he stay. And if Jack did, if Jack only would -- but Jack wouldn't. Jack would stand quietly aside, and no one would see the bleak hollow in his eyes, or the gaping hole in his soul where his heart used to be. Jack. I love you. I will always love you. Always.
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