Spoilers: Season 2, up to Intruder.
Summary: Their friendship isn't what it was, if it's there at all anymore. Things have changed, but not for the better. McKay/Weir angst.
A/N: Thanks to Littleknux and Fanwoman for betareading this.
She comes to me with need in her eyes, stepping through the door without an invitation because I never refuse her. There are no questions asked. No doubt only I can answer, because I don't know if she ever thought this through. It doesn't seem like something she would do. I don't seem like the guy she'd do this with. But for reasons unknown, she chose me, and I could barely argue with her.
She kisses fervently, lips devouring me, always urgent and fevered in her attentions. I wonder if it even matters who I am to her. She chose me. No one else has her, but I'm not sure I do either. I'm not even sure she's quite in her right mind; I mean, I'm not the person she should have picked, not really. But I'm probably the only practical choice. No one would ever think this was going on; no one suspects. Sometimes that pleases me – that it's there under all their noses and they haven't figured it out – but I realise they won't, and there's an unflattering reason why. But then she arrives and takes away all my doubts. For a brief amount of time, I can forget she only needs this, that she doesn't really need me specifically.
It's afterwards, between the moments of odd bliss, that I wonder why it is she comes silently – why she says nothing as an excuse, no reasoned explanation, no discussion, no pleas to secrecy. And then I remember what I am. She leaves just as quietly in the morning, back to her quarters before she's off for her morning run. She runs across her city alone, like she's preparing for the rest of the day. I asked idly if I could join her once, and she spoke back flippantly, ignoring my question because after all, me, do exercise voluntarily? She was right, of course, and she never answered properly either way, but it was there, an unspoken decline of my offer. It seems like she has no room for me anymore, with the exception of the nights when she turns up on my doorstep.
It used to be that our time was the day, when she'd smile at me, maybe, or share a lunch. Times where different then, and they haven't been the same since we returned from Earth on the Daedalus. The days are hard and long, and it wasn't too soon after our return that I realised just what is missing now. Then she came to me for the first time, and it didn’t stop. She comes to me at night, and then she leaves with the dawn – and those days that meant so much more are gone, replaced with hard tasks and scheduled briefings. No longer does she smile, carefree, at me. She only shares her body, her mind constantly elsewhere. I'm just a distraction, an attempt at relaxation that doesn't even work. None of it works, not for her and not for me. I could never take second best, and yet here I am, taking whatever I can get. She needs me, and I need her, but not in the same way. Only I can't give up despite the pain of knowing everyone else gets more than me, they get her mind, her company – whilst I'm left with whatever is remains standing at the end of the day. Still, I can't let go; I wait, no questions asked, especially those I want to. Curiosity killed the cat, but sometimes waiting can kill your soul. Yet I do anyway. I'm a realist, you know; I'd rather be surprised than disappointed constantly. So I wait, but never expect something more than her body at my door and on my bed. I let her in. I let her take every part of me she desires, and I give her all she asks for, and more, all that I have. I just never ask for the same in return.