Room 239/240 - ridiculously early Sunday morning
He was physically tired. His muscles ached, and the shower had done nothing to ease the sore feeling right down deep between his shoulderblades. His right shoulder hurt the most. Between hauling Tex and her heavy armor in the morning, and catching Earl the miniature giraffe in the evening, Kawalsky's body had had a work out.
But the shoulder was bothering him the most.. physically, at least.
He'd heard some things about his life said out loud yesterday. Deep down, and even just below the surface, he knew them already. He knew he was walking a fine line between who he was and who he was pretending to be. He knew that he couldn't keep doing it forever. He knew that this, trying to make a brand new life here, was the hardest challenge he had ever come up against. Boot camp, jump school, spec ops training, officer training, overseas service - none of it compared to this.
His life was gone. This was his life now. Could he come to terms with that? Yes. No. Maybe. He didn't know. Sometimes it was easy to play along. Sometimes it was fun to play along. Then there were times, like the other night at Caritas, when it was too hard, when he felt sick to his stomach knowing what he knew, living with what he had to live with.
Charlie had been told what he already knew from experience the first time around, that committing himself to a cause involved a sacrifice that would not only eventually kill him, but would leave him to die cold and alone. He had a chance now to step away and live his own life. But could he really do that? Could he walk away, knowing what he knew? If the Goa'uld didn't get them first, John Connor's future in which humanity terminates itself would get them all. How could he do anything with his life, knowing that that was just around the corner?
But that was just the problem. What if it never happened? There were people, other capable people handling the Goa'uld situation. Connor's future was only one possibility. Countless other apocalypses could have occurred, but they hadn't yet, and they likely never would, and yet he held back. What ifs. Maybes. Too hards. He was in the same cycle that had kept him in place in his old life, putting things off, trying to keep all of his options open and never taking any of the options in the end.
Charlie didn't know how to deal with this. He wasn't ready to deal with this.
He looked over at the digital clock on top of one of the fridges, then leaned back against his pillow and covered his eyes with his hand. The sensation of tears pricked his eyes, but he didn't pay attention. He kept his eyes closed and calmed his breathing until the sensation went away. Charlie flung the covers back, sat up and quietly got out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and shoes. For now, he just needed to be gone before Liz and Janet woke up. He couldn't handle being with them right now. They never asked him for his support, but he cared about them both too much and couldn't help but want to give it, and now just wasn't a good time.
He grabbed his bag and jacket and headed for the sixth floor to check on Earl the miniature giraffe. Then, when it was a more decent hour, he would go and look in on Tex. If his shoulder was bothering him later, he'd go and get it checked at the clinic. Catching Earl had yanked it good and proper. But most of all, he just needed to be doing something, anything to distract him from his own thoughts, anything to make sure he wasn't dwelling on some major issues that he simply didn't want to deal with.
But the shoulder was bothering him the most.. physically, at least.
He'd heard some things about his life said out loud yesterday. Deep down, and even just below the surface, he knew them already. He knew he was walking a fine line between who he was and who he was pretending to be. He knew that he couldn't keep doing it forever. He knew that this, trying to make a brand new life here, was the hardest challenge he had ever come up against. Boot camp, jump school, spec ops training, officer training, overseas service - none of it compared to this.
His life was gone. This was his life now. Could he come to terms with that? Yes. No. Maybe. He didn't know. Sometimes it was easy to play along. Sometimes it was fun to play along. Then there were times, like the other night at Caritas, when it was too hard, when he felt sick to his stomach knowing what he knew, living with what he had to live with.
Charlie had been told what he already knew from experience the first time around, that committing himself to a cause involved a sacrifice that would not only eventually kill him, but would leave him to die cold and alone. He had a chance now to step away and live his own life. But could he really do that? Could he walk away, knowing what he knew? If the Goa'uld didn't get them first, John Connor's future in which humanity terminates itself would get them all. How could he do anything with his life, knowing that that was just around the corner?
But that was just the problem. What if it never happened? There were people, other capable people handling the Goa'uld situation. Connor's future was only one possibility. Countless other apocalypses could have occurred, but they hadn't yet, and they likely never would, and yet he held back. What ifs. Maybes. Too hards. He was in the same cycle that had kept him in place in his old life, putting things off, trying to keep all of his options open and never taking any of the options in the end.
Charlie didn't know how to deal with this. He wasn't ready to deal with this.
He looked over at the digital clock on top of one of the fridges, then leaned back against his pillow and covered his eyes with his hand. The sensation of tears pricked his eyes, but he didn't pay attention. He kept his eyes closed and calmed his breathing until the sensation went away. Charlie flung the covers back, sat up and quietly got out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and shoes. For now, he just needed to be gone before Liz and Janet woke up. He couldn't handle being with them right now. They never asked him for his support, but he cared about them both too much and couldn't help but want to give it, and now just wasn't a good time.
He grabbed his bag and jacket and headed for the sixth floor to check on Earl the miniature giraffe. Then, when it was a more decent hour, he would go and look in on Tex. If his shoulder was bothering him later, he'd go and get it checked at the clinic. Catching Earl had yanked it good and proper. But most of all, he just needed to be doing something, anything to distract him from his own thoughts, anything to make sure he wasn't dwelling on some major issues that he simply didn't want to deal with.