angelicalangie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelicalangie) wrote2010-04-30 08:03 pm
angelicalangie) wrote2010-04-30 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
Shattered Pt 2
Title: Shattered Pt 2
Rating: U
Character: Sam/Martouf
Category: Angsty McAngsty pants
Summary: when the only way is out for one, there is always someone left behind
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Notes: Comments are welcome, this is entirely unbeta'd
He stands there in the kitchen, he hears the car move off, its engine fading into the distance, he does not move for some time. He looks at the papers in front of him and finally opens them, she wants to end all ties to him and he just can not understand what she wants any more. This morning everything had seemed to be fine, she had seemed to be in love with him. He saw the pain in her eyes, she can not really mean this.
The house goes dark and he finally moves from the kitchen and into the living room. He does not turn on the lights, but sinks down in front of the couch in its pale blue colour, that they had both chosen in the first days of their marriage. He can not sit on it, the concept is as alien to him as her leaving, so he sits on the hard floor as the pain begins to well up within him. He feels as bad as the day she told him Jolinar had died.
The days after her departure from Vorash had been so difficult, his grief for Jolinar, and Rosha so engulfing that it had concerned the whole base for months. Jacob Carter had been someone with whom he had talked with frequently in those dark times, he too had lost a mate. Most everyone had, but it was so deep for Martouf. She had been his first mating and would always be the most revered. He had not eaten then, he had barely drunk, just enough to sustain life, but he had wasted away, the grief all too consuming. And now that pain returned, stronger than he had ever thought possible.
Night turned to day, and still he did not move, unseeing eyes sought comprehension in all the times spent with Samantha. Trying to decipher why she had left. He would prefer her dead some hours, because at least it would never have been her choice, that she was still alive and no longer loving him seemed wrong, and more painful still.
The phone rang and he eyes it with eager anticipation, diving across the room he picks it up and calls her name, but it is the base wondering why he is late. He asks to speak to General Landry and they put him through. He explains what has happened and there is great sympathy in the man's voice. Samantha reported in as normal, shadows in her eyes but no other sign that such and event had happened. Martouf is granted a week personal time. Time to adjust to the situation. Martouf is grateful.
He finally picks himself up of the floor and sheds his shoes as he walks towards the stairs and the shower. It is there that he finally allows himself to cry, denying all the while that tears are falling down his face, explaining it to himself as shower water, much as it had been rain with Jolinar. He shaves and shampoos his hair, steps out and towels himself and his hair. He moves into their room, his room he interjects, she has rejected this too, and picks out his clothes.
He sits on the bed as he gets changes, and his eyes fall on their wedding photo. He had always loved having that picture beside his bed, a reminder of the best moment of his life, and one of the prettiest pictures of his Samantha that had ever been taken. He picks it up and tears fall again, splattering against the glass of the frame, he looks up to see where the leak has come from, before realising they are his tears, sprung from his eyes.
Moments turn into hours, turn into days and a week passes, still she has not called him. He feels the loss keenly, but tries to present a façade that works for him well enough to fool his heart, it doesn't but he hopes it will fool others. He picks up the rucksack he had put down a week ago, when he thought his life was still in one piece, when half of it was not living half way across town, in somebody's rented space.
He moves to his car, something he had, had to get used to learning to use, starts the ignition and drives thoughtlessly to the bass. They wave him in and he parks his car, travels to Gate Command and picks up a clipboard which announces which team is off base and which is stationed somewhere not here.
“She is off world, son.” A gentle voice, tinged with sympathy announces gently. Something Martouf had never thought possible, but was constantly surprised by. He glances up in acknowledgement and the other man gently smiles in understanding.
Martouf moves off to his office, full of all the languages known to man, a few more recent discoveries and political treaties that need the work of a person not indigenous to Earth. He looks at everything, picks each article up and turns it over. He feels oddly detached from his surroundings, like they do not belong to him, and he to them any more. His heart is not in this any more and so he sits, still looking dazed and shocked and worn out by the emotions he is now feeling. He gave up so much to come here and now all he is left with is a house fit to be a mausoleum to the love he feels for her and papers on a desk, that mean little to him at this juncture.
He does not know how to survive without her. It sounds foolish to his ears as he is explaining it to Siler, but his gentle understanding is better than the clinical professionalism of the base's psychologist. He spends two weeks at lunch with him, trying to work it out, and the sadness in Siler's eyes slowly fades to concern at the lack of progression for the younger man.
Martouf moves through his days at the base as thoroughly as possible, he does his best with everything they pass to him, he gives them no quarter to worry about his work. It's him personally they are more concerned about. He has lost a lot of weight, he has shadows where he is not sleeping, Lantash comes out to play a lot more these days, and his patience is well known for being shorter than McKay's.
Martouf knows he is sinking into a deep depression over his loss of Samantha, he doesn't know what to do about the house, about divorce in general. All he knows is that everything that helped make up their physical life will be as split as their emotional life. He can't bear the thought. Each night he returns to the house hoping to see the lights on, her work things on the couch and her berating the television over some badly explained scientific process. Each night he returns to a dark, empty and quiet shell, and he thinks that maybe it is a physical expression of his inner emotions. He throws that thought away though as maudlin, before returning to it later in the night, as take out Chinese slowly congeals into a substance to be looked into as a scientific curiosity.
He goes into work one day, a month away from their fateful day. For him nothing in those intervening days has changed, his heart is still broken, and he perhaps has less understanding than he did before. He is in one of the numerous corridors that make a maze of the mountain, he is distractedly reading and when he glances up he sees her. His heart stops painfully, she too is thinner and he wants to reach out and ask if she is doing okay. She glances up from her data pad and catches him. There is concern in her eyes as he walks past, Lantash having taken over once more. She moves to try and stop him, but he is past her when she tries.
Rating: U
Character: Sam/Martouf
Category: Angsty McAngsty pants
Summary: when the only way is out for one, there is always someone left behind
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Notes: Comments are welcome, this is entirely unbeta'd
He stands there in the kitchen, he hears the car move off, its engine fading into the distance, he does not move for some time. He looks at the papers in front of him and finally opens them, she wants to end all ties to him and he just can not understand what she wants any more. This morning everything had seemed to be fine, she had seemed to be in love with him. He saw the pain in her eyes, she can not really mean this.
The house goes dark and he finally moves from the kitchen and into the living room. He does not turn on the lights, but sinks down in front of the couch in its pale blue colour, that they had both chosen in the first days of their marriage. He can not sit on it, the concept is as alien to him as her leaving, so he sits on the hard floor as the pain begins to well up within him. He feels as bad as the day she told him Jolinar had died.
The days after her departure from Vorash had been so difficult, his grief for Jolinar, and Rosha so engulfing that it had concerned the whole base for months. Jacob Carter had been someone with whom he had talked with frequently in those dark times, he too had lost a mate. Most everyone had, but it was so deep for Martouf. She had been his first mating and would always be the most revered. He had not eaten then, he had barely drunk, just enough to sustain life, but he had wasted away, the grief all too consuming. And now that pain returned, stronger than he had ever thought possible.
Night turned to day, and still he did not move, unseeing eyes sought comprehension in all the times spent with Samantha. Trying to decipher why she had left. He would prefer her dead some hours, because at least it would never have been her choice, that she was still alive and no longer loving him seemed wrong, and more painful still.
The phone rang and he eyes it with eager anticipation, diving across the room he picks it up and calls her name, but it is the base wondering why he is late. He asks to speak to General Landry and they put him through. He explains what has happened and there is great sympathy in the man's voice. Samantha reported in as normal, shadows in her eyes but no other sign that such and event had happened. Martouf is granted a week personal time. Time to adjust to the situation. Martouf is grateful.
He finally picks himself up of the floor and sheds his shoes as he walks towards the stairs and the shower. It is there that he finally allows himself to cry, denying all the while that tears are falling down his face, explaining it to himself as shower water, much as it had been rain with Jolinar. He shaves and shampoos his hair, steps out and towels himself and his hair. He moves into their room, his room he interjects, she has rejected this too, and picks out his clothes.
He sits on the bed as he gets changes, and his eyes fall on their wedding photo. He had always loved having that picture beside his bed, a reminder of the best moment of his life, and one of the prettiest pictures of his Samantha that had ever been taken. He picks it up and tears fall again, splattering against the glass of the frame, he looks up to see where the leak has come from, before realising they are his tears, sprung from his eyes.
Moments turn into hours, turn into days and a week passes, still she has not called him. He feels the loss keenly, but tries to present a façade that works for him well enough to fool his heart, it doesn't but he hopes it will fool others. He picks up the rucksack he had put down a week ago, when he thought his life was still in one piece, when half of it was not living half way across town, in somebody's rented space.
He moves to his car, something he had, had to get used to learning to use, starts the ignition and drives thoughtlessly to the bass. They wave him in and he parks his car, travels to Gate Command and picks up a clipboard which announces which team is off base and which is stationed somewhere not here.
“She is off world, son.” A gentle voice, tinged with sympathy announces gently. Something Martouf had never thought possible, but was constantly surprised by. He glances up in acknowledgement and the other man gently smiles in understanding.
Martouf moves off to his office, full of all the languages known to man, a few more recent discoveries and political treaties that need the work of a person not indigenous to Earth. He looks at everything, picks each article up and turns it over. He feels oddly detached from his surroundings, like they do not belong to him, and he to them any more. His heart is not in this any more and so he sits, still looking dazed and shocked and worn out by the emotions he is now feeling. He gave up so much to come here and now all he is left with is a house fit to be a mausoleum to the love he feels for her and papers on a desk, that mean little to him at this juncture.
He does not know how to survive without her. It sounds foolish to his ears as he is explaining it to Siler, but his gentle understanding is better than the clinical professionalism of the base's psychologist. He spends two weeks at lunch with him, trying to work it out, and the sadness in Siler's eyes slowly fades to concern at the lack of progression for the younger man.
Martouf moves through his days at the base as thoroughly as possible, he does his best with everything they pass to him, he gives them no quarter to worry about his work. It's him personally they are more concerned about. He has lost a lot of weight, he has shadows where he is not sleeping, Lantash comes out to play a lot more these days, and his patience is well known for being shorter than McKay's.
Martouf knows he is sinking into a deep depression over his loss of Samantha, he doesn't know what to do about the house, about divorce in general. All he knows is that everything that helped make up their physical life will be as split as their emotional life. He can't bear the thought. Each night he returns to the house hoping to see the lights on, her work things on the couch and her berating the television over some badly explained scientific process. Each night he returns to a dark, empty and quiet shell, and he thinks that maybe it is a physical expression of his inner emotions. He throws that thought away though as maudlin, before returning to it later in the night, as take out Chinese slowly congeals into a substance to be looked into as a scientific curiosity.
He goes into work one day, a month away from their fateful day. For him nothing in those intervening days has changed, his heart is still broken, and he perhaps has less understanding than he did before. He is in one of the numerous corridors that make a maze of the mountain, he is distractedly reading and when he glances up he sees her. His heart stops painfully, she too is thinner and he wants to reach out and ask if she is doing okay. She glances up from her data pad and catches him. There is concern in her eyes as he walks past, Lantash having taken over once more. She moves to try and stop him, but he is past her when she tries.
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(Anonymous) 2010-04-30 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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