samandjack.net

Story Notes: Spoilers/Set: Missing scene to Lost City Part 1

A/N: This is what they call "the fic of hell". I wrote this not long after I saw Lost City. The fic was finished, but something wasn't right. So this fic traveled from beta to beta but just didn't want to work. Until then finally I got an epiphany and got it to work. I couldn't have done it without splash_the_cat, she helped me beat this into submission. I have a whole of list of other people to thank as well; stars_like_dust, nhawk78, lisayaeger and samkicksass. Thank you. What can I say? This fic has traveled a lot and this A/N is longer than the fic. Go read!


You should've called.

Sam stared at the telephone that was lying on the coffee table between the latest issue of the Journal of Astrophysics and last week's TV Guide.

She hadn't bothered dragging herself up to her bedroom - she wouldn't sleep. Last night it had been somewhat easier, sitting in the Colonel's armchair while he and Daniel quietly discussed the movie they were watching. Her eyes had started to droop to the comforting sounds of her team mates, and the next thing she knew, she woke up with a blanket draped over her. Teal'c lay sprawled in one chair, Daniel was softly snoring at one end of the couch, and on the other end was the Colonel, his steady gaze on her.

The telephone still remained in her sight, begging to be picked up. They never did finish their conversation. She'd been both grateful to and annoyed with Daniel for interrupting them, but now, she didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed, scared of the regrets it might leave.

You should've called.

He had meant it. And she knew how much he hated telephone calls. Probably had something to do with having to actually speak instead of relying on the silent communication which had become an integral part of SG-1.

She hated being indecisive. Hated staring at the phone and not having the nerve to pick it up and dial. After all, you couldn't just "happen to drive by" with a telephone.

The decision was made for her as the telephone started ringing. She didn't wait for a second ring, jumping up from the couch and grabbing it.

"You should've called, Carter."

She wondered if he had her house bugged. "I know."

"You couldn't sleep."

She imagined him sitting in his armchair, the bottle of Guinness in his hand. "I didn't even try." Her honesty surprised her, but then nothing she was saying today seemed to make any sense.

He didn't respond. It struck her how little they had to say to each other.

"You were looking at the stars." She guessed.

"No."

"Oh." Frowning, she turned towards the window. It felt surreal, as if the glass effectively separated her from the world behind it. "The Simpsons?"

"No."

She didn't have a clue what he might have been doing. What could you do anyway, knowing that your personality, your own mind is being overwritten?

"I was thinking..." he waited for a second as if he was giving her time to make a remark. When it didn't come, he continued. "Waiting, more like it."

"For what?" She wondered if he'd notice the catch in her voice.

"For something to feel different."

She frowned and touched the window carefully, knowing she'd be annoyed by the fingerprints she'd find on there when this was all over. "Does it?"

"No."

She sighed and rested her forehead against the cool glass.

"You?"

"Me what?" She turned her back to the window and the world beyond it.

"Not thinking too much?"

"I didn't go stick my head..."

"You know what I mean, Carter." She recognized his "don't give me any crap" voice.

"Yes, I do." She sat down on the couch again.

"Well, don't."

She laughed at the order.

"I mean it, Carter."

If only it were so simple. "How am I supposed not to?"

"Because I'm asking you and you ended with a preposition."

She rolled her eyes at his remark but didn't rise to his bait. "I'm not sure I can, sir."

He chuckled softly. "You just did, Carter. You just did."

"But I didn't do anything." She really had no clue what he was talking about, but she wasn't going to complain at the warm sound of his laughter.

"Trust me on this. You did." His tone was lighter now and she allowed herself to relax. "Want to watch some Simpsons?"

"Sir, we're talking on the telephone." She shook her head and pulled her feet under her as she sat back.

"So? You can keep me company."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Sure."

THE END




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