Chapter Text
Introduction
Throughout the United States there were numerous VA hospitals, but Stargate Command liked to have their own, highly classified, facility for its forces to recover in, for very understandable reasons of course. Treatment and recovery could not properly occur if bound by the non-disclosure agreements signed by Stargate personnel, nor was it easy to keep to the cover stories peddled by the government when in one of these said facilities. It made sense, instead of having to do damage control and construct more coverups, why not simply have a private facility where all staff already knew about the worlds outside our own? Despite being granted the ability to speak freely about everything that had happened during my capture, it didn’t make it any easier, or any more likely. No, there were just some things I liked to keep to myself. After all, how could I torture myself thoroughly and indefinitely if a problem shared is a problem halved? Speak long enough about my issues and I’d have none to cling to. By speaking about what had happened, I ran the very real possibility of it all being real, having to admit to myself what I’d been through, and then having to get over it.
Reaching out for a black bishop, I moved it across the board to take another white pawn from my partner. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at the game in front of him. Chess was a nice distraction from all the things that made me angry, it gave me a lot to concentrate on, and strategy was one of my strong points. Or, ordinarily it would be, but Mitchell was terrible at chess, and in the year we’d been playing together, he didn’t show any signs of getting better.
‘I guess this means I lost again, huh?’ Mitchell said, trying to see if there were any moves left for him to make. Eyeing his very few white pieces left with a wry smile, I shook my head.
‘Actually, you lost quite a while ago but I was hoping to draw this one out,’ I admitted, reaching my hand out to wipe all remaining pieces off the board. The pieces were cold in my already numb fingers as I picked up each individual one and loaded them back into the velvet lined box.
‘Oh?’ he asked, raising an amused brow.
‘You’re checking out today, right?’ I asked casually, already knowing the answer. He nodded, gazing at me empathetically from across the beige laminate table. He drummed his fingers awkwardly on the surface as I let out another shiver. I could never understand why this place was always so cold.
‘You know, you’ll be out of here soon enough, it won’t be so bad,’ he assured me and I sighed, shaking my head, leaning back in the terracotta brown plastic chairs.
‘It’s not the prison sentence I’m worried about, Mitchell,’ I replied, screwing up my face with disdain and shaking my head. I hated this place, down to the barred windows and the clinical smell, but I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t be discharged until my psychs were happy with me. Of course I could leave AMA but if I did, I’d never have the chance to serve again. Although I wasn’t so sure I wanted to.
‘You know, you’d be out of here a lot sooner if you stopped treating this place like you’re trapped here,’ he commented and I made a face. He seemed amused, initially, at my distaste. It was one of my more regular emotions at this place, at least since meeting him.
‘It’s just another place I’ve had my autonomy taken from me, Mitchell, what makes here so different from the last one? What, you think it’s better because I traded in the Goa’uld for the US Government? They took my fucking shoelaces,’ I said exasperatedly. He shot me that look, that pitiful, overly empathetic look again and I pressed my lips together into a thin line, shaking my head at the man. ‘I can appreciate the concern on the doc’s part, but this doesn’t feel like I’m getting help, this just feels like I am being forced to comply again. I didn’t hold on as long as I did, fight as hard as I did, just to end up with no rights.’
‘You want me to talk to…’ he said and I let out a groan, dropping my head into my hands. ‘Alright, I’m sorry. But I’m starting to think you just have a problem with people, not accepting help.’
‘You do understand I hate this, right? Course, the special ward, the locked doors at night, the no shoelaces, the roll call, and the carefully monitored art supplies aren’t ideal, no, but the worst part of being stuck in here? You,’ I said and he looked a little taken aback. He was so shocked he stopped piling up all the chess pieces near the box for me to carefully slot into place. I adjusted my sleeves on my arms, pulling them down to my wrists. Now the game was over, I didn’t have to worry about the wide ends knocking over the pieces on the board.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, sounding a little hurt. I hadn’t meant that, no, quite the opposite, I had intended to deliver a compliment. I guess all my time on that Ha’tak had lost me my tact.
‘I spent my whole life up unto this point being expected to depend on men, told I needed them, they were stronger than me, better, smarter, more capable,’ I explained, going back to slotting the wooden figures into the surprisingly ornate, carved container. This was too nice to be the donated VA stuff we usually had, and I distinctly remembered playing with a crappier set when we first started playing. Somewhere along the line, when Mitchell first started setting the board up himself and waiting for me in the rec room it had shown up, and we’d always played with it. ‘I fought hard to beat that, to overcome it. I proved myself, I got a good job, top of my career, so much so I was headhunted by the SGC and for what? To end up here and develop a dependency on not only some guy, but you? I need you and I fucking hate it. I… I’m going to miss having you around all the time, Mitchell, so I’m not disappointed I’m not getting out, I’m disappointed you are. Even though it makes me feel incredibly selfish and guilty for having any sort of negative reaction to you literally learning to fucking walk again.’
‘I wanna say I get it, but I… Me? What do you mean, me?’ he asked, frowning at the now empty table. I slid the chess set towards him, shaking my head. ‘If you hate me so much, kinda feels like you oughta be glad I’m going.’
‘I don’t hate you, Mitchell, you’re just… You know, maybe it’s just the accent but..you’re the kind of guy exactly like the one I was told I would need. You’re the typical Midwestern cowboy type, real man's man, and you’re a good man, damn it, a good man and brave and tough and ugh.. I’m not a damsel in distress, I don’t need rescuing,’ I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and he laughed, shaking his head.
‘So you’re upset with me, because I’m a good guy?’ he scoffed. ‘Well that’s a new one.’
‘Of course that’s what you took from that,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘You do understand I’m being vulnerable with you here, and that’s difficult in itself. I just.. It doesn’t feel fair. Why work so hard towards a goal, to have it taken from you? I can never say now, when I recover, that I was able to do it on my own. I’m not opposed to asking for or receiving help when necessary, I’d just have preferred it to be on my terms. I’ll never be able to say that I, and I alone, was enough.’
‘Okay, your problem, I see it now,’ he nodded to himself, pointing animatedly at me. ‘You think you’ve got something to prove.’
‘Wow, that’s very astute of you, Colonel, you learn that at flight school? I see our tax dollars have been well spent,’ I grumbled, standing and pushing my chair back with an audible squeak. He winced at the noise and slowly got up out of his own chair, walking purposefully around the table to stand in front of me. ‘Go on, get out of here. Go run across the grass and frolic or whatever it is cowboys do out there in nature.’
Reaching out with a slow, exaggerated movement so as not to startle me, he gently tucked a muddy brown lock of hair behind my ear and looked at me with a very warm smile. He cupped my jaw with his large palm, his blue eyes crinkling when I pouted at him and he sighed, eventually shaking his head at me.
‘Yeah, I’m gonna miss ya too, Andi,’ he said, winking for added effect.
‘Don’t call me that,’ I huffed, shifting out of his hold.
‘You know, you can call me Cam,’ he offered and I made a gagging noise. ‘What, a year of being friends and I can’t get you to use my first name?’
‘Just be grateful I stopped calling you Colonel all the time,’ I said, shoving his chest. He let out a bark of laughter, looking like he had something more to say when someone cleared their throat beside us. Looking up I saw the orderly in charge of finalising his discharge and I sighed. Mitchell looked sheepishly at me, and I stepped back, giving him the non verbal go ahead he could leave. Adjusting my bathrobe around myself tighter, I watched him walk towards the orderly after he grabbed his leather bomber jacket off the back of his chair. It was odd seeing him in jeans, compared to his normal sweatpants and tee, but I supposed, he no longer needed to wander around in his pyjamas. He was free to the outside world, and to wear clothing that required a belt. Though, that was mostly because he was not red flagged and on a high alert protocol with the nursing staff.
‘Sandra,’ Mitchell called, turning around in the doorway. ‘I’m gonna come visit, you know that, right? This isn’t for good.’
‘Hurry up and get out of here,’ I said, turning around and walking back to the table, noticing the chess set was gone. Looking up at the doorway, having my theory finally confirmed I saw both he and the orderly were gone. And now it was just me… It had been a while since the world had felt this cold.