The Prophet
by Nike
EMAIL: nikejohnston@hotmail.com
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Cassie's thoughts...
CATEGORY: Daniel&Janet, UST, Cassandra's POV
SPOILERS: 'Singularity'
SEASON/SEQUEL: About Season 4
STATUS: Complete
DISCLAIMER: "All publicly recognisable characters and places are the
property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece
of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no
infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously
unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the
author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks, Kat, for beta reading this for me :)
Bryn, I believe we had a deal? ;)
They think I don't see it. They think I'm too young.
I'm always 'too young'. Too young to 'do this', too young to 'go there',
too young to understand.
They're wrong. I understand enough. Enough to know that adults, however
wise they may claim to be, don't see the world as I do. They can be blind,
with their eyes wide open.
***
Cassandra.
I once asked my mother, a long time ago, what my name meant. She told me:
'The Prophet.' A woman who, in ancient Greece, was given the gift to look
into the future. A seer.
Somehow, it seems appropriate. I *can* see the things they can't. The
things they *won't*. At first, I didn't notice. My family was torn from me
- my world and my life were destroyed before my very eyes - and I had been
brought here, alone and afraid. A world I had no place in, one that I did
not understand. I had clung to Sam, the only one I trusted, narrowly
escaping my own death. I had been caught up in the terror of being forced
into a new life, a new identity. But Janet had taken me in, gently coaxing
me into experiencing this unfamiliar world, protecting me in a way that no
one but a mother could. And she *has* become my mother, I love her as much
as I did the woman I lost on Hanka. And slowly I began to emerge from my
protective shell; I became more active, more alive.
More aware.
***
She thinks I don't see the changes in her, whenever he's nearby. At first,
it was subtle. A smile, a glance, a touch. I never thought anything of it.
Daniel was... Daniel. The intelligent but ultimately flaky archaeologist,
part of SG-1, another member of my extended family. Whenever I saw him, it
was in a group, with the rest of his team. She would light up when they
were with us, and I always assumed it was because she enjoyed being with
her friends. Janet doesn't go out a lot... less than I do, in fact. When I
asked why, she told me it was her job: the busy lifestyle, always being on
call. It doesn't allow for much socialising outside the base. But,
gradually, I noticed a difference. Maybe she'd pay him a little more
attention than the others, or stand a little closer to him, or even just
let her gaze wander over to him when she thought he wasn't looking. She'd
flirt gently with him, grinning when he spoke to her, quietly disappointed
when he couldn't make a party or a simple get-together. When he left,
she'd sigh, and busy herself clearing up or preparing for work the next
day. She wouldn't stand gazing mournfully at the closed door, like a
tragic heroine in some old romance novel, but somehow her brisk actions
and cheerfulness would convey just as well to me her emotions, her
loneliness. At times, though, I wonder if she even realises; if she's
aware of her own feelings. I know how downcast she can be, I can see it in
her eyes when her mind is elsewhere and her carefully built walls vanish,
if only for a few moments. I know she loves me, the bond we've formed is
now unbreakable, but sometimes... sometimes I think she needs more.
And I watch him, carefully, for any sign that he feels the same way. I
catch him watching her, always glancing quickly away if she becomes aware
of his gaze. He stands beside her, never intrusive, but close enough to
reach out and touch her. Jack laughs often, calls him accident-prone, and
I wonder if the amount of time he spends in the infirmary means that her
protectiveness comforts him as much it does me, that he feels somehow safe
when she's near. He doesn't seem aware of his actions, either; it's
subconscious... instinctive, perhaps. I see it though, each time he's with
us.
***
Cassandra. The Prophet. But Cassandra was burdened with a curse; her gift
of prophecy rendered useless by Apollo, who proclaimed that no one would
ever believe her visions, and she would be scorned as a liar and a
madwoman.
When I mentioned to Janet a few of my observations, she laughed. She told
me I was a hopeless romantic, like most young girls, and that I was seeing
things that weren't there. When I was older, she said, I'd understand. For
now, I was still too young.
I know that they've both suffered before, been hurt by the one they love
or by powers out of their control. And so they deny their feelings, ignore
them, fearful of getting hurt again.
They are the ones who do not see... do not understand... love is a natural
progression, and sooner or later circumstances will change, pain will
subside, and the pull will become too strong to resist. For now, I am
content to wait, until the day their fears are conquered and the truth
awakens in them both. I can see to the future, and while now I am
dismissed as the ancient Cassandra was, I know my prophecy will, like
hers, invariably come true.
~Fin~
Copyright (c) March 2001 Nike A. Johnston
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