Title: The End 
Author: A.j. 
Rating: PG 
Fandom: "Stargate: SG-1", Sam/Pete, very slight S/J. 
Spoilers: Season 7, and my earlier story "Litmus Test". Technically set in 
Season 8. 
 
Note: This is totally a dark piece Little Red kinda dared me to do. She 
pointed out that maybe we should look at things from Pete's end of the 
spectrum. And bam. I got this. 
 
Summary: You knew it was temporary.

***

It ends on a Tuesday.

You've been expecting it for a while, but even in your head, it never shook 
out like this.  Somehow, you expected an amicable break up.  Tears and fond 
hand-holding, a six month silence, and them maybe the occasional dinner to 
catch up.

You never pictured this.

You are crying on your living room floor, a single sock, forgotten, in your 
left hand.  You are crying and trying to put yourself back together into 
something that can function because you have a briefing in three hours time.  
You are not crying because your relationship with Pete is over.

You are crying because what you've done to him is unforgivable.

You love Pete.  Have loved him.  He's made you happy this last year.  Been a 
reason to come home, and a reason to protect the world.  Not that you really 
needed another one of those reasons, but he was a good one.  He makes you 
happy.  Made you happy.

Even after a year, you still smiled when you thought about him.  Got that 
goofy look that Daniel mocks you for, and that makes the Colonel do his half-
smirk.  

But somewhere along the line, you forgot about him.  Pete.  Just a little 
bit.  Not enough to cause problems or throw up red flags.  Not beyond the 
bright orange cones separating the Colonel from the rest of your headspace.

Because that really doesn't have anything to do with this.  Not directly.  
And that isn't even a huge lie.
 
This was about you and Pete and everything you couldn't give him.

He needed more.  Needed you.  And you were perfectly aware that you wouldn't 
be giving him that.  You weren't willing to take the chance.  Worse, you 
never tried.

This thing was real for him.  More so than for you.  Pete was there and 
bright and interested in your life.  Made plans in his head that went past 
daydreams, and fell into hopes.  He needed you.  Loved you.  Felt you in his 
life, and this morning, told you about a transfer he'd been offered to the 
Colorado Springs Police department.

And all you could do was stare.

Because as much a part of your life as he's become in this last year, he 
hasn't become integral.  You think about him when he is gone but not in a 
crippling way.  Not in a way that pushes you into sadness.  You know that 
type of obsessionlovedevotion shouldn't be necessary.  But you *know* this 
was isn't serious.  Not in your head.

Watching him scream at you, you realized how unfair that was.  To him.  You 
consciously made him less important.  Made him a boyfriend rather than a boy 
friend.  And as he stood there in your kitchen, demanding to know if what you 
had was just a passing, temporary, *unimportant* thing... you couldn't answer 
him.  Couldn't make your mouth open or let the words come out.

He knows you well enough to understand what you're not saying.

And the very worst thing?

Sitting on your living-room floor, holding one sock and sobbing to the 
heavens, you aren't sad because he's *gone*.  You're sad because you've done 
something horrible to someone else.  And you can't fix it.