Part 107
Website dedicated to Lieutenant Graham Simmons
NB: The discussion about religion in the following part is not intended to slur anyone's privately held beliefs. Nor is it intended to reflect the private belief of the Author. Please avoid reading if you are over-sensitive about Religion/ religious beliefs.
*
Tristan pushed his empty breakfast bowl aside as he leaned back in his seat, smoothed one hand down the back of his short blond hair and leaned his other hand, slightly curled into a fist, onto the pock-marked tabletop. "So, what else can we argue about?" He jibed his companion good-naturedly, who grinned back at him.
"We've done politics, so we've got religion and sex to go," Philip said as he added his empty bowl to the neat stack of crockery between them.
"Well, I'm a devout Catholic, how about you?" Tristan leaned forward onto his folded arms in interest.
"I'm an atheist."
There was a pause for a heartbeat until Tristan processed that declaration and came to realize that, like everything he seemed to say, Philip thoroughly believed this to be true.
Nonetheless he scoffed recklessly, "Surely you can't believe in Nothing?" His own strict devout upbringing and teachings made him skeptical enough to still be bemused by such an announcement - like the notion was absurd and that the announcer was purely misguided.
The dark eyes fixed onto him intently and the lashes that fluttered over the orbs in quick flashes never disrupted the connection between them. Resolutely, the atheist announced, "I believe that, for me, there isn't enough evidence to convince me either way."
"Good Lord! But you're an erudite, a Learned Man, Philip-" Small veins popped under the flushed but pale forehead then, at a run, Tristan argued sententiously- "Surely there has been something, somewhere in some book that has swayed you, even the slightest?"
Philip remained calm as he responded with, "Nothing in the Bible, and I've read that a few times through now. In fact, I've investigated a few different religions and nothing has grabbed me."
"So, you're an agnostic?"
"No," Philip corrected him, "I'm an atheist."
"But-" The other man laughed in puzzled disbelief. "There has to be something? How can we possibly exist if not for a Divine Being?" He threw his arms wide and leaned back against the puffed red seat.
Philip gave him a mordant smile. "I live with an astronomer and would-be astronaut-" He inhaled a deep breath loudly, shuffled forward in his seat and leaned into the argument more. In a stage whisper he stated, "So you're asking *way* the wrong man!"
With a satisfied grin the other debater said, "I'm asking way the right man! I've not had a tousle like this in months!" He laughed gleefully as he sat towards Philip once again, their faces very close now. "You're a tonic, my boy! A real tonic!"
Philip laughed at his enthusiasm for the argument. "I'm renown for my tousling ability! Just ask my partner!"
Tristan laughed lightly then he lowered his voice as his eyes scanned the handsome face. "I've no doubt." He grinned when Philip blushed at that comment. "And that might have led us into our very next topic ..." He broke his words when he saw Philip flush more and lower his chin as he chuckled softly. With mirth bubbling beneath his words he stated, "So it's the Big-Bang theory for the both of you?"
Phil lifted his florid face, his mouth slightly open in surprise as he stumbled on his response, "Exactly." They remained in an intense stare then the artist sat back, threw his hand over his head and indicated that he required more coffee.
Diving headfirst into the fray again, Tristan gathered forward on his tightly folded arms and jutted his pointed chin as he debated enthusiastically, "Yet who created the stars for the Big Bang to occur?" He grinned when he saw the way Philip merely met his eyes and made no comment.
Liz came over and refilled both coffees. Tristan tilted his head and smiled up at her as she filled his cup. "Thank you."
"You're welcomed. And, for the record, I'm the Agnostic here."
Both Philip and Tristan exchanged glances then laughed as they realized their zealous debate had also been a loud one. Liz winked at them then turned on her heels and limped back over to the counter to return to the entertainment magazine she'd been attempting to read despite their argument.
Grinning still, Philip shook his head and leaned onto his folded arms. "You're really passionate about this, aren't you?"
With a luxuriate smile the Englishman settled back, laid an arm along the back of the red booth seat and laughed softly. "Wait until we discuss Sex next!"
Philip laughed now that the hot debate had been assuaged somewhat. "God help me if I survive that one!"
"See!" Tristan pointed at him. "You do believe in God."
Philip chuckled. "Tenacious to the end, aren't you? It was a saying, not a prayer, my friend!"
"So you believe in Nothing? No One?" The Englishman scooped two sugars into his coffee then added the milk. Philip took his the same as Jack did- black, no sugar.
"I wouldn't say that," he said as he watched the spoon swirl the milky liquid.
Tristan tapped the spoon on the lip of the cup then placed it onto a paper napkin from the small silver canister at the end of the table. "You do have some creed in which you live by then?"
Philip lifted his gaze and met the hazel-green eyes; they looked paler in the brighter light in the diner than they had in the gym. "Doesn't everybody?"
"I never thought atheists did, I'm afraid." He arched his brow and sipped his drink.
After some thought Philip told him, "Fate. I thoroughly believe in Fate."
Tristan nodded like he understood, then suddenly he shrugged and asked, "Why Fate?"
"Why not? She's about as reliable as any God."
"I beg to differ," the sandy-blond haired man said politely as he shifted in his seat, a little offended by the flippancy. "Fate is a concoction.."
"And Jesus isn't?"
"Jesus gave his life for us.."
"On a cross, I know. Like I told you - I read the bible a few times."
Tristan stared at him a moment then lowered his chin as he said, "I find that fascinating that you do not follow any religion."
"Who said Fate isn't a religion?"
"Surely you can't mean that?" He scoffed.
"Why not?" The younger man shrugged defiantly. "All I have to do is write a book about it, hire a ramshackle store front and set up the business.."
Tristan's face contorted with a sly smile. "You are so cynical for one so young!"
"I could say you are so gullible for one so... world traveled." Both men smiled now and Tristan conceded that with a bow of his head. "But I think debating about Religion is fascinating."
"Do you debate like this with Graham?" He asked casually as he lifted his cup to his mouth once more.
"I argue with Grae all the time." He chuckled. "But we don't discuss religion." Philip circled his hand around his cup of coffee. "He would tell me that there is only one God."
"Oh? Which faith is he?"
Philip smiled at that question. Which faith? Clearly that argued his point for him that there was no concrete proof of a God.
"He doesn't have a Faith, as such. There is only one Apotheosis in his life - a man by the name of Daniel."
"Daniel?"
The look that crossed the handsome Englishman's face was either pain at discovering that the object of his affections was already answered for or.. something else entirely.
Philip immediately regretted not guarding his words more. "That's his boyfriend's name."
After a moment Tristan stammered quietly, as if realizing his mistake and was now embarrassed by it; "I thought Graham was your partner?"
Phil choked on his coffee and then grinned. "You didn't?"
The blond nodded. "I'm afraid I did."
Heartily Philip laughed and sat back, laying both arms along the top of his cracked booth seat. "You ... did?"
Flustered but good-naturedly, Tristan told him, "You both stood so close together in the Gym. You touched a .. lot.. You.. laughed so much with each other..." He smiled through his embarrassment then joined Philip in the jovial laugh. "What a classic mistake. I'm ever so sorry."
"No.. No." Philip calmed his laughter and held his hand out. "Honest mistake.."
His shoulders shook as he lifted his cup to his lips and attempted to take a drink.
"You both have similar looks as well. That's usually a good indicator of a relationship. At least, it is in England."
"Gay men look alike in England?"
"Well, you know, not *identical* but it's been my experience that partners are quite similar in looks.. in stature..."
"Really?" Philip thought that comment was fascinating, especially considering Jack. He lowered his cup to the pockmarked table and folded his arms to lean on them. "The reason we look alike is because we are brothers."
"Oh! OH!" Tristan grew florid quickly. "I just assumed that.. I suppose.. Yes, I can see that, quite easily now."
Philip grinned, revealing his white teeth and pink tongue. "And you call me a tonic!"
Tristan grimaced and lifted his coffee to his lips. "How excruciatingly embarrassing," he muttered against the white china cup.
"I thought you kept asking me about him because you were interested in him yourself."
"Me?" Tristan almost choked now. "Oh, no, no, no.." He chortled and shook his head.
"Well, I think it's fantastic, but you know that I'll *have* to tell Jack."
"Jack?" He frowned then pointed over his shoulder towards Liz as he said, "Oh, Jack!"
Philip nodded. "Jack's my man," he said with so much pride and emotion that his voice thickened. Both noticed it and the emotive slip made Philip flush and lower his face.
"Someone is rather smitten!" Tristan teased him gently.
Philip threw his head back and his love had created a mask over his face of sheer contentedness.
"Good heavens!" Tristan said with pure delight. "More than smitten, I'd say."
"Much more," Philip agreed heartily then chuckled at himself before he lowered his chin again. "Much, much more."
The alarm on Philip's watch beeped softly and the younger man moved to turn it off. He looked across at his companion and said, "I have to love and leave you, I'm afraid. I have an appointment that I must not break." He said all this as he pushed himself out of the booth and stood up.
"Oh?" Tristan said, surprised by the abrupt ending to their morning and watched as the standing man tugged a wallet from the back pocket of his tight black jeans.
"Do you need me to walk you back to the gym?" the artist asked as he tossed more than enough money onto the table to cover both meals then he reached down for his cell phone.
"No, I'll be fine. I might stay and finish off my coffee first."
Philip smiled then said, "Look if you give me your number, maybe we could catch up later today, if you don't have anything planned?"
"May I have yours as well?"
Philip nodded, pulled out an old receipt from his front pocket and leaned onto the table to write his cell number down.
As Tristan watched him write he said, "I'm off to the Cheyenne Mountain later for a spot of sight-seeing."
Philip did a visible double take at the mention of that name.
Tristan noted the reaction but pressed on, nonetheless with, "I'm not actually going inside, of course, just around the perimeter of it.."
The artist straightened up and, as he passed over his number, the look on his face was almost unreadable. Tristan frowned slightly at the sudden change in mood as he took the crinkled piece of paper.
"Your number?" Phil asked quietly and Tristan immediately told him the phone number of the hotel he was staying at, and his room number for the extension. Deft fingers added the information to the electric blue phone.
"I was rather hoping you could be my tour-guide out there today," Tristan concluded after he'd given him the phone number.
Philip stared at him again, still mute, then he seemed to shiver as he clipped the phone onto the holder on his belt. With a shake of his head, to get the curls from his eyes, he looked back at the Englishman.
"That's a no, I take it?" Tristan tried to understand the change in the otherwise amiable man.
Philip shook his head more adamantly and said, politely, "No, not me. I don't know much about the Mountain, really."
"Good sight more than I do, I'd wager!" He tried to make that a light point.
Philip scratched his ebony brow with his thumbnail as he carefully chose his next words. "I wouldn't be any good. I .. I have this 'thing' against the mountain.."
"What is it?" Tristan's eyes grew larger with interest but the artist shook his head and said, "I'm sorry. I really do have to go now."
"I'd rather hear what it is you have against that mountain!" Tristan joshed, with more than a hint of truth behind his words.
With an apologetic smile Philip promised to call him later then he bade him farewell, went over and kissed Liz on the cheek and promised to call in more often, then he left the diner, hitching the collar of his jacket up against the cold late-morning air.
*
"Why did you say that?" asked Dr. Kirraway, Philip's Psychologist who he'd been seeing ever since the healing. Jennifer Kirraway was a personal friend of Janet Frasier's, the two women having met up on the Base some time ago when Jennifer spent time filling in for Dr McKenzie whilst he took long service leave. She knew about the healing and she was particularly sympathetic to the relationship between Philip and Colonel O'Neill. When Janet first broached her about taking on this case - as a personal favor - Jennifer didn't bat an eyelash over the relationship angle of the case.
Philip stood by the tall window on the other side of the office and watched the snowflakes pass his view. He was hugging himself as he trailed one particular flake with his eyes. "I don't know."
"Are you sure?" Jennifer was a short, curly red-haired woman with a soft Scottish accent, watered down by a generation spent in America. She was a Kirraway by marriage and a McKeckneshin by birth. The accent only came out occasionally these days in some of her speech. "It's unlike you to not know why y'said something, Philip."
He sighed loudly and turned from the window to look at her. Despite her age her upper cheeks were sprinkled with freckles like a schoolchild’s and her small round-lens glasses were constantly perched partway down her nose, resting above the bulbous tip. She always looked at him over the top rim of her glasses then tilted her head back to peer through the lenses as she wrote on the tablet of paper on the desk before her.
"It.. just came out."
"Do y'feel that way, then? Or was it just something that popped from your lips?"
He cast his eyes to the floor, aware of the small ball of dust by the air vent down there. "I think I really mean it, though I have no idea why I said it - to him - or when I decided that I had this ‘thing’ against the mountain. Like I said, it popped out... I.. I don't think I made it up."
"You may well be suppressing your inner feelings about the place."
"Ya think?" He asked sarcastically then gave her an apologetic shrug when he saw her glare slightly.
"You've been with that man too long!" she playfully teased him. Jennifer and Jack instantly hit it off when she filled in at the mountain. He told her too many Irish versus Scottish jokes for her to not have built an easy rapport with him, her own sense of humor firing back quips as quickly as he dealt them out. Truth be known had she not been married or had he given her more than a hint of interest - she would have seriously fantasized about him more than she did, despite the ten year gap in their age, in his favor. She was married though and he didn't give her any come-on so she only had the usually kinds of fantasy's about him. The kinds that kept her 'healthy' - in her books.
"Maybe I haven't been with him enough," Phil's voice was low and serious. "I mean, I've been healed for a few weeks now, and we've been together for five days. Now he's gone again, I don't know where the hell he is and I'm.." He caught his breath, glanced at her quickly then looked down at the scuffmark on the tip of his black boot.
She smiled gently at him. Of course he was scared and frustrated. As she laid her pen onto the yellow tablet of paper she said, "It hasn't been easy for either of you, I know that."
"I just wish I knew why he kept disappearing."
"Why do you think he does?"
"Work, of course." He sighed again then rubbed his shaven face with both hands as he growled, "But that doesn't make it any easier to cope with." He blew out his breath in a loud puff and allowed his hands to drop and slap against his thighs. She thought he was going to say something further, but he turned from the view and came back to the high-backed, deep mahogany red leather upholstered chair that was waiting for him on the other side of her desk.
"So tell me about this Englishman you met today."
"What's to tell?" He asked as he sat down.
"Is he good looking?" She probed. He lifted his head.
"Are you going to ask me for his phone number next?" He teased softly.
She arched her brow. "Do y'have it?"
That question caught him slightly off guard. "Yes," he admitted, "I do."
She wrote something onto the pad before her then looked up with a well-used smile. "And what did ye talk about?"
"Um, Religion and Politics."
"Oh, I see you omitted the best Dinner-Topic.." She scratched another note.
He watched her write then he said, "We didn't talk about 'it' because it wasn't a pickup."
She lifted her head and met his eyes with a non-judgmental gaze. "Did I say it was a pickup?"
He snorted and turned his face away as he brought his hand to his lips.
"But it was a good distraction, was it not, Philip?" She asked after a moment. Slowly he turned his face towards her and met her gaze unblinkingly. "He let you forget - for a little while - what you were trying to escape from."
With a soft groan he leaned forward onto his knees and brought his hands together. The thumbnail of one hand grinded into the palm of his other as he spoke. "I don't want to escape from Jack."
"But you'd like to escape from the feelings his disappearances give you. Feelings of abandonment, of loneliness."
"You make me sound dependant!" He argued. "I've never been dependant in my life!"
"Things have changed dramatically for you, though Philip. You have entered a phase of life that you have never had a precedent for. You need to give yourself time to adjust to all this newness."
"I'll never adjust to being dependant!" He bristled.
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you have to give yourself time to adjust to the changes in your life." She arched her brow then added, "Tis you who keeps bringing up the feelings of dependency."
He stared at her as his thumbnail worried a raw patch onto his palm.
"Is that how you feel?" She asked after a short silence between them. "That you will now become dependant on him?"
"No!"
"Are ye sure, Philip?"
He leapt from the seat and flung his arms wide. "Of course I'm sure. Christ!" He pushed his long hair back with both hands and arched himself to stare up at the ceiling while he paced over a small spot on the carpet. "He's my partner.. not my.." He stopped himself from saying the next word - 'father'. She inhaled a deep breath through her nose and waited for his cimmerian eyes to turn towards her once again.
When they did his face was flushed with determination. "Jack is my partner. I love him. I don't anticipate that he's going to alleviate all my boredom or any feelings of inadequacies I may grow to have. I'm with him because I *want* to be with him, not because I *need* him."
"We all need our partners to some extent, Philip," she told him calmly.
"Yeah, sure. I know that," he said, biting his bottom lip then deciding to say exactly what was on his mind. "I’m gonna be frank with you here and I hope you don’t mind that..?”
“You can be frank, though I might have to bill you for a double appointment if I’m consulting two people.”
He grinned at the feeble attempt at humor, his mind too pre-occupied with the whirling thoughts in his head right now.
“Look, I'm with Jack because he stimulates me. Mentally *and* physically.” He waited for her reaction, but none came so he pressed on. “I love talking with him. I love sitting down and sharing the paper with him or watching a television program with him. I just want him *home* to be with.”
“You miss him.”
“Desperately!” He sighed forlornly. In a small voice he said, “I can't wait to see him again. To touch him, to- ” He coughed and said quickly– “to make love to him. Oh God!” He groaned and covered his face, a soft voice somewhere in his head reminded him of all the arguments he and Graham used to have about his ‘waiting for Jack like a puppy-dog’. How bitterly he’d argued against him back then, but how painfully obvious it was becoming that perhaps the bigger brother did know best!
“I want him *here* - with *me*.. What's so wrong with that, forcryingoutloud!" He threw his arms wide and stared at her. She calmly arched her brow then wrote onto the paper. He stepped over to the desk, slammed his hands down and tried to read what she'd written.
"Natural needs?" He read her note then looked up. "What's that mean?"
She smiled. "That you have natural needs as far as your relationship with the Colonel goes."
He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the desk. "Great! That's going on my record - that I'm a horny gay guy who can't wait for his lover to come home and relieve his 'natural needs'."
She laughed gently as she sat back in her chair. "Philip, this is not about your natural needs..."
"That’s what you wrote!" He pointed at her then the paper.
Kindly she shook her head. "I suppose I did." She sat forward and clasped her stubbly short fingers together. "But this is about so much more. I don’t think you’re even aware of the bigger picture that all of that, what you just said to me, means to you – a patient of mine. It's about you adjusting; first to the healing and the fact that you are now one hundred percent healthy, and second to the life you are about to embark on with the Colonel.” She tapped a short, clipped nail against the yellow paper and said, “And natural needs is a good step in your recovery process.”
His eyes grew wide. “It is?”
She nodded and looked at him with gentleness. “It is.” After a pause she said, “There was always concern that you might have some issues allowing Jack close – because of the AIDS..” She let that word hang, then rolled her shoulders back as she said, with a growing smile, “But I’m pleased to see you are feeling all these-” She tapped the page again- “thoughts about him. It’s very healthy..”
He snorted in derisive humor. “For a gay guy.”
“For a good-looking, young, healthy male – who happens to be in love with a good-looking, older man..”
“Hey, that’s my partner you’re calling good-looking!” He laughed now; somewhat relieved to hear she thought he was ‘normal’.
She removed her glasses and laid them on the paper. “Go home to him… Love him.”
“I would – if he were at home to love..” Philip rose from his chair, knowing that the session was about to end. He gathered the leather coat he’d left folded on the back of his chair into his arms now.
Jennifer wet her lips and clasped her hands together. "D'you not think he'll be back this evening either?"
He pursed his lips together and crinkled his face as he shrugged. "Who the hell knows?"
"I bet," she said as she watched him slip on the worn, black coat. "That the ‘mountain’ knows the answer to that question."
He paused in his actions to meet her stare once again. Slowly he continued to pull on the coat, and then he buttoned it up carefully. She rose from her chair, reached a hand across the desk and said; "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, at eleven. We can discuss those dreams you’ve been having."
With a nod he said, “The ones about Greece?” She responded with a nod herself. “All I know is that they are a damn sight better than the other ones I used to have!” He was referring to the nightmares about falling and dying he started to have after the healing. He hadn’t had one in the whole time Jack had been at home with him last week.
“That’s another healthy sign. The changes in your dreams. We can discuss that at our next meeting.”
He clasped her hand in his, pumped it once then released it. "Thanks."
As she settled into her chair once more she glanced up at the figure slipping through her door and out into the corridor of the bustling Health Center.
<End of Part 107>
Stories on this page are the property of Nessessitee and Slida. Please do not copy these without the written permission of the Author. All Rights are acknowledged for MGM, Gekko and Stargate Productions as to the Copyrights of the characters within this story and no infringement on the copyrights are intended. For the Bombshells Series the character of Philip Simmons is entirely the creation and intellectual property of Nessessitee and Slida.
While the performances given by RDA and MS help to fuel the author's desire to write for their characters in a niche that she feels is present on the actual show, the portrayal of their characters in loving relationships in no way reflects the Author's opinion of the men's private life, nor should it be construed in that manner.