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Aberrant: Stargate Universe - Reliving the Past [Fin]


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Vinny walked down the corridors of the base wearing his usual workout outfit of sweats and a t-shirt, his black speedo peeking out from the slightly saggy wet sweatpants.

Can't fuckin' go and not know what the fuck is wrong.

He had passed her door three times already in his indecision.

She's already fuckin' pissed at me, wakin' her won't make no difference. Beast and Major PITA won't be watchdoggin'.

Finally having come to a decision, he quietly padded over to her door and knocked, first lightly and then once harder when he realized she wouldn't hear it.

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Olivia woke slowly, trying to figure out what had woken her. A quick glance at her clock told her it wasn't her alarm; then the knock came again. "Oh, what now?" she muttered, getting up and pulling on her robe. She didn't close it. It was more to cover the spaghetti straps that left her shoulders nearly bare. "Knocking on my door at three in the morning before mission? Someone better be dead."

She opened the door and saw Vinny. Her sleepy irritation became fiery agitation and she slammed the door on him. Unfortunately, he'd anticipated this move and the door caught on his stocking foot.

"Captain, get your god-damned foot out of my door or I'm calling the MPs," she threatened. They both knew she didn't have to do more than will that to come about.

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"No, we don't," Olivia barked, her eyes nearly glowing with rage. "You might feel the need to wag y- to yammer at me, but I have no such compunction. Now, please, leave me alone. You've done enough damage already."

She shouldn't have said that. She'd been determined to pretend that his actions so long ago no longer mattered, but the pain in that statement undermined that determination. It made her feel weak.

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"Whatever I fuckin' said at the party, I'm sorry. Didn't realize askin' you to dress nice was so goddamn offensive."

He was clearly confused and his own anger was simply in response to her own. He didn't budge as he continued, the MP's could drag him away for all he cared.

"Why are ya so fuckin' hot? You've been avoiding me for the past week, what damage did I wreak so terribly upon you in two little sentences?"

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She stared at him, and he saw her get more angry. That didn't seem possible, but there was the proof, right in front of him. "You don't remember. You don't even remember! That's why I'm mad. I bet I could drop hints, like Vegas and... and... Fuzz and you still won't have a clue. That's why I'm mad at you," she said, "because you don't care that much, and apparently, you never did. You played with me and my emotions, and you abandoned me.

"I'm not giving you another chance to hurt me, Asshole."

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Then it all clicked, like he was remembering his favorite childhood story.

"Granola...?" he whispered, his voice going quiet and withdrawn in the face of her seething anger.

"...wait, Vegas? What do you mean Vegas...and how fuckin' dare you mention that asshole. He was the whole damn problem, not me," Vinny said, his eyes focused far off as he tried to recall some vague memories, "At least if I remember right..." he mumbled.

"You need to let me explain. I do care, or did, or whatthefuck...just let me explain." he said, his eyes tormented by past decisions.

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Hearing her old nickname hurt more than it should have. "Don't you fucking call me that!" she seethed. "You lost the right to that a long time ago.

"I dare! I dare?" Olivia was approaching dangerous levels of anger. Vinny wouldn't recognize the warning signs, but they were there. "I wasn't the one who-"

She stopped with effort, pulling in the anger and pain. "Your statement is very convincing, Vinny. Clearly, you didn't give a... crap about that, about me. You played me well and any affection was one-sided," she said. "Otherwise, you never would have abandoned us." The second she said 'us' she realized what she'd said, but that was a private pain. Vinny didn't deserve to know about that, about the decision that still, in dark moments, haunted her.

"I don't want your apology, I don't want an explanation," she said, tears rising. They weren't for him, they were for what had almost been. He wouldn't know that and he'd assumed he'd gotten to her again, but she didn't care. He won. He played her well, from the first offer of cold beer to this final ploy. "I just want you to leave me alone."

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"I did care, I loved you." I think. The 'us' was lost on him as he thought it referred to the relationship, "You were the one that ran back to Fuzz when I took too long."

Her volcanic anger must mean there was more to the story than he knew. He felt like he should feel more, but it wasn't there. He wanted to feel more, to empathize with her, to understand what was going on, but all the emotional attachment he had to her was from the last few weeks.

"I saw you on the balcony..." he said, hanging his head, even remembering the story of it was bitter.

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"Balcony?" Seven years was a long time, and it took her a moment to realize what he must mean. When she did, she started to laugh, a bitter, despairing noise. "All of that... pain," she giggled. "All of that agony, because Bill had to wish us happiness, and I had to hug him for it, and you had to see that, just that moment."

She finally released her death grip on the door, dropping into a crouch so that she could hug her knees and keep up the hard, angry laughter. "Everything I lost, because you saw a hug. Because for once in your life, you didn't barrel in and defend what was yours. You let it go, just like I asked you to do with Collin."

Tears were racing down her face now, too. There was nothing else she could do; there was no going back from this, no way to recover. "And you have no idea what you did. I set it up and fate knocked it down." Snot choked her, and her laughs became coughing. Turning, she went to her table and dug out a tissue. She blew her nose, then glanced at him. "Are you going now? Please?"

She needed to break down, and she wouldn't do that in front of him.

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Vinny's face was washed in agony as he watched her from the door, his stomach turning knots a sailor would be hard pressed to figure out.

"I'm sorry..." he said quietly before turning to go, closing the door behind him.

It was all your fuckin' fault asshole, you let her go without a fight and it cost you...big time.

There was no sleep that night, much like any other, though the soul-searching agony and regret for bargaining his dead teammates' freedom made it particularly long and painful. By morning, there were small bloody dents in the cement of his quarters that matched up nicely to his sliced knuckles.

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Bitter laughter and choking tears were the rest of Olivia’s night. She tried to calm herself at several times, but failed. Each time she managed, she found herself remembering something else. Worse, everything dredged up was brutally catalogued and filed in her mind, along with its commiserate pain and heartache.

At five in the morning, she gave up on sleep altogether and just took her shower. She had to get control of herself. She had a mission, and she couldn’t ask them to postpone it because she’d had personal trauma inflicted on her. As she wiped steam off her mirror, she told herself, You survived Hatchins and his friends. You survived Bill abandoning you. You’ve survived the pentagon, 1975 and losing so many things. You can handle having the ex who left you alone and pregnant and holding a giant bag of ‘foolish girl’ here in your workplace. And you can handle it being a giant, cosmic mistake, propogated on you by a universe that doesn’t care.

“Yeah, this qualifies as proof of the lack of a loving God, I think,” Olivia told her anguished reflection. Who was she kidding? She’d had that proof for a long time, since the day she’d lost her niece.

She took a deep breath and began to bury the pain. She had a half-hour before she had to be at breakfast, before she had to act normal for her team and get their briefing. It took most of the time, but by the time she went to breakfast, she was herself again.

Or what passed for herself these days.

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