Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Camille could never say that there was a specific time when she realized that she was gay.

There was never a mind blowing realization nor could she say that 'she'd always known'.

Throughout high school and college she'd dated, just like her class mates. And they were okay. Decent enough dates with decent enough guys. The sex – the ones that made it that far – was…sex.

Unlike some lesbians she knew, she wasn't disgusted by men. If anything, she was ambivalent.

When some of her co-workers worried or fussed when they hadn't dated for a while, Camille could sympathize, but she didn't feel the same way. Sure, she got lonely, but there was just no driving need for her.

There was no one that she met that she felt a need for or that she missed desperately when they were gone.

Until one bright and beautiful Tuesday morning.

"The Pentagon just got hit!" Rachel Meadows cried, dashing into Camille's office.

"What?" Camille tore her eyes away from the live coverage of the burning towers.

"Not five minutes ago! Another plane flew right into it. My god, what's going on?"

Camille ignored her and scrambled for the phone. She punched in Sharon's number, trying to ignore how hard her hand was shaking.

"I mean, first the Towers and now this! Are we safe? Should we be evacuating?" Rachel babbled.

Getting nothing but a busy signal, Camille growled, disconnecting the call before the punched in Sharon's cell number.

"Hey, doesn't your friend work there?"

Camille slammed down the receiver, cutting off the recorded voice right in the middle of 'we're sorry, all circuits are busy'. "I’m going down there," Camille declared, pushing away from her desk. She quickly grabbed her purse and keys.

"They won't let you!" Rachel called out as Camille hurried down the hall. "The whole area will be locked down!"

Camille ignored her and ran from the building. As soon as she was outside, she could hear the distant wails of sirens. She paused, looking towards the Pentagon. A black column of smoke rose from across the way, staining an otherwise perfect clear blue sky.

Her stomach twisted and she gasped, the anxiety an almost physical pain. She got into her car, struggling a bit to get the key into the ignition. She practically threw it into gear, hitting the accelerator so hard that her tires left black streaks on the pavement.

She bullied her way through traffic, driving with uncustomary aggression even as the traffic got worse and worse. Across the median, she could see that traffic was sparse but frantic. Cars that had to be fleeing the Pentagon were interspersed with ambulances, all driving fast and all with lights and sirens blazing.

The cars in front of her stopped and Camille looked forward, moaning as she realized that it was gridlock. Even the ambulances couldn't get through, a few sitting impotently in traffic, others 'off roading' it, bouncing thorough the median, trying to get there to do their jobs.

Her fists pounded the steering wheel in frustration as her eyes caught a glimpse of people walking along the side of the road. She stared, realization dawning as she took in their blackened clothing and shocked faces.

They looked just like the people she'd seen on TV in New York. The ones fleeing the Towers, alive, even though they hadn't maybe totally realized that fact yet.

She put her car in park and got out, barely remembering to grab her purse before the abandoned the vehicle.

She struggled to climb over the median wall and dashed across the traffic, into the chaos of panicked people. She pushed through the refugees her eyes frantically scanning every shell shocked face, looking for one particular one.

As she got closer, the number of refugees increased and she started to see the walking wounded, men and women with blood stained clothing, some with visible injuries. Part of her wanted to help them, but it was overridden by the other part, the part that desperately needed to find Sharon.

She was within a hundred yards now and she could see the flames, hear the roar of the fire and the screams for assistance.

"Ma'am." An officer held up his hand. "This is a secure perimeter."

Camille fumbled for her purse, pulling out her ID. "I need in there," she said.

"What the hell is the IOA?" he asked, frowning as the squinted at the laminated card.

"MEDIC! MEDIC!"

The officer turned and Camille slipped past him, jogging towards the building. She could see the triage area, identifiable by a patch work of colored tarps. Green for those with injuries, yellow for those hurt worse. Red for the badly injured…and she refused to even look at the shrouded shapes on the black tarp.

So many. There were so many. How would she ever find—"

"Camille!" Camille turned, relief and joy flooding through her as she saw her friend walking towards her. Sharon's face was smudged with soot and her curly hair fell in tangled disarray. "My god, what are you doing here?"

Camille stepped forward and wrapped the woman in her arms, her relief silencing her voice. She simply closed her eyes and immersed herself in the feel and smell of Sharon, the beat of her heart and the softness of her body.

It was in that moment that Camille realized that she wasn't hugging her friend, but the

love of her life.

~Fin~

Feedback:sky_diver119@yahoo.com

HOME