My Own Personal Venice

[fizzawrites]

“It would be like us to get stuck on an alien version of Venice.”

Shirley already doubts that moment of pure love she felt when she realized that Miles would be coming with her on the expedition. She had images, images of both of them dying lovely in a fire, dropping off the face of an ice cliff, or ascending as soon as they hit the other side of the Stargate. They would have adventures in another galaxy and then die, their story reaching down through the ages as the star crossed lovers of this expedition.

But now, they were sitting on the side of the city, looking out over the ocean, and while, yes, it was pretty, and a nice shade of aquamarine blue, it was too much like real life. It was too… ordinary. It didn’t seem very alien now, and the only excitement they ever got was if somebody activated the Stargate. It was usually some little kid on another other planet, who would throw little pieces of wood and rocks through the event horizon. They had enough by now to make a small bonfire.

It was clear the relationship was in trouble. And she hated Venice.

“Venice has water going through it, not around it.” He points out. “This is more like a cruise ship.”

She hates when he corrects her, especially when it’s petty. “I’m sorry skipper, but it’s still a city on water, like Venice.”

Charlie goes to put his arms around her, bring her in close, “Ah, whatever you say, my sea bunny.” She pushes him away, growling, and walking closer to the edge. Thank god there’s a railing here, or she would be very tempted to jump.

Or throw him over the edge. Dr. Weir, I don’t know what happened, he must have been real desperate to throw himself into the ocean… no I didn’t see what happened… I mean we don’t know what kind of sea creatures are down there.

“Is something wrong, honey?” his voice is saturated with sticky lovey dovey stuff.

“I’m homesick.” She lies.

“But I’m here. I’m home.” He looks wistfully over the edge of the railing. Who knew an archeologist boyfriend would be such a wuss. Oh right, she knew, the one would she thought would save the indigenous people from the evils of space monsters in that epic she made up in her head the night before they left. She’s really close to siding with the space monsters on this one.

“Remember when we went to Venice?” he continues without letting her think. “Remember all the fun we had there? Think of this as your own personal city by the sea.” He extends his arm out for dramatic effect to the non-existent movie audience. Her nausea finally overtakes her.

“It rained all the time in Venice, our room was the size of a broom closet, and the gondola guy pinched my ass.” She says. “You’re right, this is my own personal hell.”

She tosses her hair and leaves him.