AN: Er…I blame isabellesmuse for using the words “storage” and “closet”. She has written part one of this story (well...sort of):
Spoilers: Ripple Effect, including the deleted scenes (yeah, it’s depressing).
Rating: M
Summary: She was glad that it was dark.
------
Dark
She was glad that it was dark. This way, she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see the animal concentration she’s always imagined would be in his eyes or the way his mouth fell slightly open to gather in more air. And he couldn’t see the need, the self-loathing…the betrayal she knew haunted her own face.
Space was at a bit of a premium in the SGC right now. For the most part, the alternate teams were staying in their allotted (and colour coded) rooms as per Landry’s polite request. Getting away had been the easy part: finding a place had been hard. But as they were ousted from the fourth not-so-secluded room, she had pulled him into the empty elevator, kissed him furiously and suggested that they go where ever it was he used to take her.
She was glad that it was dark. This way, she was extra-sensitive to his touch. Or so she could try to tell herself. His hands were just like she’d imagined his would be, gentle from years of handling the priceless and the fragile, and sure from the practice and the knowledge of her body. He had touched the other her, the dead her, in this way, in this room, but as his mouth traced the line of her neck and his hands moved across her breasts and stomach, she realized she really didn’t care.
The room he led her to also existed in her SGC. It was a storage closet where they kept mops and other supplies for the head janitor. In her universe, the janitor was a pleasant old man who took great amusement in knowing that he had a higher security clearance than most of the US Congress right up until his aged immune system gave in to the Prior plague and he died beneath her hands in the infirmary. There was a spot at the back of the room just big enough for two people and the door locked from the inside.
She was glad that it was dark. This way, he wouldn’t see how much she was enjoying this. How much the feel of him inside her, the rhythm of his thrusts, made her want him more. He could hear her though, as well as she could hear him. Gasps as his movements threatened to overcome her and moans of sounds that weren’t words in any language and certainly not her name.
Her world was dying and she couldn’t save it. His world was alive but a part of him was dead. She wasn’t resurrecting him. When this was done and she had come she would still be dead and he would still be out of her reach. But so help her this felt good. She knew it wasn’t, but as he moved faster and she called out to him and it was over, she reveled in the feeling of surrounding him. He was still breathing hard when he unlocked the door and she wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t crying. When he opened the door, some light from the corridor streamed in and she turned her face away.
She was glad that it was dark. This way, if they ever made it home, she would be able to look at them again.
------
fin