Identity
~Hi,
I'm Samantha Carter. Doctor Whitehall said I had to do this, but to be honest, it feels like a waste of time to me. I'm not a diary kind of person, but considering I don't have any choice in the matter, I'm doing it anyway.
Choice.
What choices do I have about anything in my life?
Here I am, stuck here and I'm still taking orders. Well, where do I start? Doctor Whitehall said to start at the beginning so ... here goes.
Hi,
I'm Samantha Carter...
... And I live in a mental hospital.
How did I get here? To tell you the truth I can't remember. They say I had a breakdown. I say different, which is probably the reason they're keeping me here. You see I say I'm Major Samantha Carter USAF ... and they tell me I'm just plain Samantha Carter, school teacher. They tell me I've been here six years, but I can only recall the last six months.
Maybe the life I think I led was some elaborate delusion. Some aspects of it certainly defy belief, but I have to wonder what reason I would have for making any of it up.
No one ever comes to visit. They say it's because I have no family. Maybe that's true but what about friends, unless they were also a figment of my delusion?
I remember Daniel. He had glasses, was addicted to caffeine.
Teal'c big guy gold tattoo on his head, snake in his stomach.
There was Janet, a doctor. Her daughter, Cassandra.
George Hammond ... Jack ... Jack O'Neill ... The colonel. Last week, they finally introduced me to Colonel Jack O'Neill. He wasn't what I expected. My Jack was a tall man. Good looking, warm brown eyes, hair that would never lie straight. This man had blue eyes, a strict military hair cut ... and no sense of humour at all. He had never heard of the Stargate ... or of me.
So I guess they were right about me. I am insane. Or I was. I see things a little more clearly now. I want to get well again. I really do. This place ... it scares me. Sometimes I don't feel human anymore.
They let me outside now. On sunny days that is. Make it seem less like a prison. Or should that be what I imagine a prison to be like?
If I look around I can see other people, just like me. We all dress the same, look the same ... or at least that's how it seems. My hair is short because I cut it myself. I stole some scissors from one of the nurses and used them to cut away my hair. All of it. I don't know why. Yes, I do. It was to make myself more like the air force officer I thought I was. Somehow it made me feel better, even if I do look ugly now.
Uglier.
I'm not like the rest of them here, I don't want to be.
I want to be free .~
Samantha Carter bit her pen as she thought about what to write next. She was sitting out in the grounds, basking in the afternoon sun. On days like this, institution life was almost bearable ... as long as she kept her back to the building and ignored the other patients.
There were walls, even if they were hidden from view. Sam knew that if she walked a hundred yards ahead she'd find her path blocked by red brick.
Sam shut her pen inside her book. She'd had enough of writing. Somehow putting her thoughts into words was harder than she expected. Did Dr. Whitehall really want to know what she really thought about this place? Or was he using it as an excuse to lock her up for longer? Forever?
She'd worked hard to make the progress she had. Six months ago she had been strapped to a bed ... But she didn't want to think about that. It was nice day. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the warmth of the sun, but she couldn't afford to stay here for long and her time was almost up.
Standing, she turned back towards the building. Several stories high, it loomed over her as she walked back into its shadow. Sam paused, looking upwards. There were figures in the windows, inmates staring out at the outside world. Three weeks ago, Sam had been one of them. Clasping her note book to her chest, she hurried inside, away from their accusing eyes.
Then she stopped.
There was someone watching her. She looked up at one window in particular, but the man quickly moved out of sight. Sam had seen him before. Was it yesterday ... or the day before?
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She's there again. Every day. Always sitting in the same place rain or shine. I like to watch her. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Her hair is the colour of ripe wheat and I like to think her eyes are blue. I've never seen her up close so I don't know for certain. I'd sure like to though.
How can something so lovely be shut up here?
Me, I deserve it. After what I did, I deserve to rot.
But her?
The way she walks intrigues me. It isn't graceful. Economical is maybe the word. I don't know. She's walking now, towards me. I draw back from the window. We've never met, never even exchanged words. We can't. You see I'm locked in here while she can walk free. I haven't left this room for eight years ... and I don't think I'm ever going to.
I return to my bed. Lying on the lumpy mattress, staring up at the ceiling. I try to think about her, but somehow I can't. As always, the memories return.
I killed my son, you see.
That's why I'm here. My wife thought it was best. Or should that be my ex-wife? I don't know. I'm assuming she got a divorce. I seem to remember some doctor talking about it. She certainly stopped coming to visit. There must have been a reason for it. I mean, why wouldn't she find someone else? Sara’s nice looking, kind, funny ... any guy would be nuts to let her go. Which kind of explains why I'm here and not still with her.
If I'd been a responsible adult I would never have left my gun out where Charlie could get his hands on it. I might as well have pulled the trigger.
There isn't a night that goes past without dreams. Time and time again, I see myself clutching his lifeless body. Holding him close as the warmth faded. Sometimes I scream. Then they come and tie me up. Somehow that makes me feel a little better. It's right I should be punished for what I did. I killed my son.
His name was Charlie.
I'm violent. I know that. But I would never have intentionally hurt my son. He was my reason for living, my reason for staying sane. Somehow Sara was never enough.
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~I'm scared.
I've done something stupid. I mean really stupid. Why? I don't know. Just as I was making some progress ... I found something. Not much. Just a hair pin one of the nurses must have let fall from her hair. I picked it up and now I don't know what to do with it. You see I think I could use it to pick locks. Which is dumb, right?
I mean who am I really? Is this me or is it the person I thought I was. You see Major Samantha Carter could pick locks, ride motorcycles ... among other things. Part of me wants to try it, just to see if I can. But then what happens? Where would I go? What would I do? There's a whole new world on the other side of that wall. A very scary one, where bad things happen ... even to nice people. I'd be totally alone out there. I don't think I've ever been alone, not really. And certainly not since I got here. I mean, how much does a loaf of bread cost? I really don't know.~
Sam went back inside with more reluctance than usual. Part of her mind was urging her to escape, but she suspected that was part of herself she was desperately trying to heal. She did want to get out, but only when she was ready to deal with the outside world.
Carefully, she slid the hairpin into the spine of her book, hiding it. She glanced around; no one had seen her ... except maybe Him.
~He's there again. Standing at the window watching me. Makes me wonder what his story is? I mean I've never seen him up close, so I can't really say what he looks like. He's tall, darkish hair, but that's about as much as I can make out. I wonder if I should wave at him or something.~
She turned to face the window and raised her hand. The man hesitated and the mirrored the gesture. Sam smiled, not sure that he could see her.
There was something almost intimate about the exchange. It was the first time Sam had really made contact with any patient here ... apart from the other women on her ward. He put his hand to the window, his palm flat against the grill.
Sam didn't know how long they stood there, just staring at each other. Eventually, one of the nurses touched Sam's arm and she was gently led inside.
She lay in bed that night unable to sleep, despite her meds. Her diary was safely under her pillow. If she slipped her hand underneath she could just about feel the hair pin sticking out. She drew it out of its hiding place. There was a lock on the door to the ward. Another one at the head of the stairs. She knew she could move silently, move quickly but if she got caught she'd never get out of here.
Taking out her pen, she scribbled a few more words.
~I have to do this. I don't know why. Maybe it's to prove to myself that I'm not who I think I am. That I really am a teacher. Though who would want a crazy woman teaching their kids? To hell with it, I have to know. And it has to be now.~
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I had a gun to my head. That's my last memory of the outside world. I was sitting on Charlie's bed, looking at all his stuff. Sara had suggested clearing it all away, but I wouldn't let her. I'd sit there day and night.
Sara didn't know I'd gotten another gun. I went out one day and just bought it ... like I was going for groceries. I don't think I'd really thought about trying to kill myself, but I guess it must have been on my mind.
So I was sitting on the bed and I heard a car pull up outside. The door slammed and there were footsteps on the path. Someone knocked on the door and Sara must have opened it. The gun was still pointed at my head when the two guys in uniform came into Charlie's room. It all gets a bit hazy after that. The gun went off, blowing a hole in the wall. I started yelling and screaming. I think I hit someone ... it could have been Sara.
She waved at me today. The girl outside. She smiled. I couldn't see it that well, but I'm sure it's a pretty smile. Just like the rest of her.
I want to meet her. I want to get out.
I get out of bed and go to the window. She won't be there, not this late, but I can look and dream. I feel a stab of pain in my knees as I stand. It happens a lot. I don't know why. My back hurts too.
The grounds look different in the moonlight. Almost like a park. I expect there to be swings, a slide and stuff. Kids running around, dogs, parents. I haven't seen a child since I got in here. I doubt I ever will again.
Sam didn't go outside. A couple of orderlies at the bottom of the stairs meant that her only path lay up and not down. So she took it, climbing the stairs with a heightening sense of nervousness. She'd managed to snag a white coat from a closet and she pulled it over her clothes.
She climbed up one flight and found another door. Another lock which she duly dealt with. It was getting easier, she realised. Her confidence was increasing as she walked down the ward. This was a carbon copy of her own floor. She walked past the dayroom noting that the TV was still on, playing quietly to itself. Over the noise, she could hear something else. A man crying. On her ward the sound of tears wasn't unusual, but this was something different. It sounded like he'd been crying for a long, long time and for some reason that disturbed her. Why wasn't someone helping him?
Maybe he'd been crying so much that no one cared anymore?
Sam knew, if she didn't investigate, she'd never forgive herself. She crept further down the corridor, towards the sound of the distressing noise. His door was the last on the right. Sam knew who it was as soon as she saw him. Although quite how she wasn't sure. He'd never been more than a shape in the window.
The light was dim, but she could just make out his hunched shape on the bed.
"Hello?" she called softly.
He didn't move.
"Are you okay?"
Very slowly, he raised his head.
"Who are you?" he asked in a voice rough with tears.
"Samantha," she replied.
"Jack."
"Hi."
Jack climbed out of bed and came to the door. She could see him a little better now. His hair was grey, not dark ... and his eyes were brown. Again, Sam felt a flash of intimacy, as if she knew this man. He placed his hand against the grill and Sam mirrored the gesture. She could only just feel the press of his flesh against hers, but it was enough.
"I have to go," she whispered, "I shouldn't be here."
"Please ..." he replied.
"Meet me outside."
He gulped and nodded. Sam had never seen him in the grounds so she wondered if he had that privilege.
"I'll try," he promised.
Sam's entire body was shaking as she crept back downstairs. She didn't know why, but she felt the meeting had been significant.
Returning to her bed proved more difficult than getting out of it. Sam had a couple of nervous moments and was incredibly glad to slip between the sheets and lie down. The first thing she did was reach for her diary. There was just enough light to write by.
~I saw him. Face to face. The guy at the window. Now I don't know what to think. He's good looking in a troubled, tortured kind of way. I guess no one looks their best when they've been crying but somehow it's worse for men. Or make that when women see men cry. We've been conditioned to expect men to be strong all of the time. The sight of him crying scared me, more than a little. Even so I want to help him.
How dumb is that? I can't even help myself.
Two days ago I spoke to Dr. Whitehall about getting released. He said I wasn't ready. Which is probably one of the reasons why I went for my little walk tonight? Why should I obey the rules? They don't work for me. You see according to the good doctor I'm telling them what they want to hear. I'm smart, apparently. Smart enough to try and fool them.
Why would I do that?
Why would I break the rules?~
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She was here. I thought it was some kind of dream, but I felt her flesh against mine, heard her voice.
Samantha.
It's a pretty name.
Samantha.
I say it over to myself when things get bad. And they do. The worst yet. You see, for the first time since I got here I have something to work towards.
I want to go outside.
I've looked for so long. Stood at my window and imagined the wind on my face, rain, sun. But I've been too scared to try. Now I know I'll have someone waiting out there for me. I still watch her every day. She waves, but I can tell she's disappointed in me. But I swear I'm going to prove myself to her.
Every day I work hard. For the first time since I got here I actually start talking to my shrink ... and listening to what he has to say. After three weeks I manage it. They let me outside.
It feels strange at first. A lot colder than I remembered. The sky is overcast and theirs a cold breeze blowing. Somehow, this would all be so much easier if the sun were shining. Despite the clouds I wish I had some shades. It would give me something to hide behind. At the moment, I feel mentally naked.
One of the nurses by my side, I start to walk around the building. I know where she's going to be. Always the same place, always the same time ... And there she is. I stop walking. Suddenly, I realise I have no idea what I should do. Is it okay to talk to her? The male and female patients are kept apart mostly, but I don't know if that rule applies out here.
"Colonel O'Neill?" my nurse questions. "Are you okay? Do you want to go back?"
"No," I tell her.
I start walking again, my mind made up. I'm going to talk to Samantha.
"Mind if I sit here?" I ask.
She looks up at me, her face breaking into a smile.
"Sure," she says.
And I sit. Beside her. We don't talk. Just sit together. I feel kind of dumb. What does this all mean anyway? A few whispered words and suddenly I think what? Like we're dating or something? I should have stayed in my room. I wasn't ready for this.
It starts to rain. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the nurse getting restless. No doubt she wants to hustle me back inside. Samantha turns her face upwards, letting the drops of water caress her cheeks. I have to fight the urge to let my fingertips rest there too.
"I love the rain," she says.
"It's wet," is my comment, "I prefer the snow myself."
"Too cold."
"Mr. O'Neill, please!" my nurse pushes.
And I know I'm going to have to go.
"That's Colonel," I snap at her.
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~Colonel Jack O'Neill. That what his name is! But He can't be! I must be imaging things ... slipping back into my delusion. What if I am? I'll never get out of here.~
Sam tore the page out of her diary, crumpling the paper in her fist. She couldn't believe this was happening, not after she'd tried so hard. Her appointment with Dr. Whitehall was looming. What the hell was she supposed to say to him?
Once she was sat in his office it all became more difficult. The doctor instinctively knew something was wrong. It took them a while to get around to the subject, but eventually Sam was forced to admit,
"I met a man yesterday, in the grounds," she whispered.
"Another patient?" Whitehall asked.
"Yes."
"Samantha, you know that's something we like to discourage."
"I know."
"Did he scare you in some way?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he said his name was Colonel Jack O'Neill."
Whitehall smiled, in that condescending way he had.
"Tall man with grey hair?" he asked.
"Yes, how ...?"
"We have a patient who thinks he's a colonel one week ... Neil Armstrong the next."
"Oh."
"If you had mentioned that particular name to him ...?"
Sam suddenly felt stupid. She didn't remember exactly what she had said. It was possible she supposed.
"Either that or you mis-heard him?" Whitehall continued.
"I suppose," Sam admitted.
"Whatever the reason, Samantha, you shouldn't further your association. You have made good progress. I'd hate to see anything get in the way of you being released."
"Released?"
"It's not as far away as you think."
All thoughts of O'Neill were driven out of her mind as Sam processed the information. Released. It was what she wanted, wasn't it?
"But where will I go?" she asked.
"A halfway house at first ... and then we'll see."
"When?"
"Let's review the situation in two weeks, and I'll see if they have a place for you."
~Dr. Whitehall wanted to see my diary, but I wouldn't let him. It's gotten a little too personal for anyone else to view. I can't believe he's set a date for me to get out of here although I'm a little scared. I mean where am I really going to go, what am I going to do?
I don't suppose I can go back to teaching. I mean who's going to let their kids in a classroom with a crazy woman?~
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She hasn't come out. I waited and waited today but she never showed. I guess whatever connection I thought we had was in my imagination after all. The crazy man thinks the pretty lady likes him. What a joke.
Part of me hopes that something's happened to stop her coming. I mean this isn't exactly the place where you can call or send a note. Still she's been here every other day, why not today?
I'm doing my best to stay positive, but it's hard.
Too damn hard.
I might as well have stayed in my room, strapped to my bed.
~He's waiting for me. I can see him sitting on the bench. God I feel like a complete cow. But if I want to get out of here I can't go to him, however much it hurts. My freedom is more important ... or so I keep telling myself. I should have found some way to let him know, to explain it wasn't him, it's me.
How bad does that sound?
I wonder if he'll ever be allowed outside again. This is all my fault. I have to see him, I have to explain~
Sam sat at the window and watched him. He sat there all day, despite the gentle prompting of his carers. Eventually, they used a little more force and Sam felt her heart break as the nurses sedated him and dragged him back inside. Despite the drugs, he fought them.
The decision to take another night time walk was not an easy one. This time she had a hell of a lot more to lose. It seemed to take an age for the ward to fall silent. One of the other women had to be taken into isolation and consequently no one got to sleep very early. When Sam finally managed to slip out, there seemed to be a lot of staff around. Even wrapped in a white coat, she felt very exposed. Once she got upstairs it was slightly easier. The nurses on the men's ward didn't know her personally. She could walk along the corridor feigning a confidence she didn't exactly feel.
Jack was in his room lying on the bed. His hands and feet were restrained. He wasn't asleep, his eyes staring up. But when Sam knocked gently on the door, he didn't respond.
"Poor guy," a voice said behind her.
"What happened?" Sam asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Had a relapse earlier. He wouldn't calm down so we had to sedate him."
"Did you really have to restrain him?"
"Haven't you read his notes? This guy is ex-special forces, he coulda killed us."
"What ... what did you say?"
"Special forces. He's an air force officer."
Dr. Whitehall had lied, but Sam couldn't fathom what reason he could possibly have.
"After tomorrow he's no longer our problem," the nurse continued.
"Why?"
"He's being transferred."
Sam knew she couldn't let that happen. It felt as if her mind was clearing and she was using her brain for the first time in years.
"Open the door," she ordered.
"I don't know..."
"If he's being moved tomorrow I need to check he wasn't hurt when you dragged him in here.”
The nurse didn't like it, but he did as she requested. Sam moved quickly to Jack's side. Just one look at him was enough to reassure her he wasn't as comatose as he pretended. Whatever drugs they had given him had to be wearing off. She took his hand, pretending to take his pulse.
"Um ... doctor?" the nurse began.
"Yes?" Sam snapped.
"I don't recall having seen you up here before."
"I started last week."
"Could I see some ID?"
He was standing right behind her, and, without even thinking about it, Sam jabbed her elbow in his face. The man yelped and staggered backwards, but she didn't give him a chance to call for help. She knocked him cold.
Trying to shake the pain out of her bruised knuckles, Sam moved back to Jack and quickly undid his restraints. She didn't know how much time she'd have to get him out of here.
"Jack ... c'mon," she whispered, lightly slapping his face.
His eyes opened and he tried to sit up.
"Samantha?" he questioned.
"Yes ... can you walk?"
"I think so."
"Take his clothes."
Sam turned her back as Jack slipped off the bed, giving him time to change. Her mind was busily working on the best way out of here. Strolling out the front door was probably out of the question. Still, if they were both in uniform...
Jack was still a little unsteady on his feet and Sam had to hold his arm as she guided him out into the corridor. She started to head towards the stairs, but he stopped her.
"Fire exit," he said, pointing towards the end of the hall.
"It'll be alarmed," she argued.
"I know, but it leads straight down into the grounds, we got more chance of getting out that way."
She hesitated, before she realised she'd have to trust his judgement. There were footsteps approaching ... another nurse coming to check the patients. They had no choice.
The exit was no more than a window leading to a metal ladder. It looked a little the worse for wear and creaked ominously as Sam stepped onto it. She was doubtful as to whether it would take her weight as well as Jack's. He must have had the same concerns because he waited until she was safely on the ground before making his descent.
"This way," she told him.
They headed across the lawn, towards the stand of trees that hid the wall. Sam didn't have much idea of how they were going to get over it, but she hoped one of the trees would prove climbable. If she had been on her own there would have been no chance. Every single trunk was smooth and devoid of low branches. Jack however, had a couple of extra inches and, with a boost, managed to haul himself up. He then reached over to grab her hand. He nearly pulled his arm out of its socket but he managed to pull her up beside him. Then it a fairly easy climb until they were level with the top of the wall. Sam stripped off her white coat, taking her diary from the pocket first, and flung it over the broken glass which covered the surface.
It was a long way down. Sam jarred herself badly as she dropped, but she quickly scrambled to her feet. Now they were the other side she had no idea what to do.
"Head for the road?" Jack suggested.
"It'll make it easier for them to find us," Sam argued.
"I have no idea where we are. If we follow the road at least we'll get somewhere."
He was making some kind of sense, which was more than she was at the moment. Sam was happy to follow his lead as he headed towards the road.
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They must have built this place in the middle of nowhere. We've been walking for hours and we don't seem to be any nearer civilisation. The sun's starting to come up. It would be beautiful if we had time or energy to appreciate it.
We can't walk on the road, that would be plain dumb, so we keep to one side of it. Hiding every time we hear a car. Sometimes they drive past fast, sometimes real slow. Sometimes there are torches. I guess it's only a matter of time before they send the dogs out after us. If we had a car ... but we don't. Of course we could steal one, but we need to get somewhere first.
I'm not setting a fast pace. We've both been institutionalised for a long time and neither of us are in the greatest physical condition. In fact we should really stop and rest soon. I don't know about Samantha, but I just want to curl up somewhere and sleep. And I'm not particularly fussy about where I do it. There's a ditch over there that looks particularly comfortable.
But we have to keep walking. We have to get somewhere.
"So who were you?" I ask, "In the outside world I mean."
"A teacher," she replies.
I can't help but notice she hesitates before she answers.
"What did you teach?" I push.
"English."
"Really? I see you as more of a science type."
"I suck at math."
For some reason I don't believe that. She'd probably be great at everything.
"So how about you?" she asked.
"Classified. If I told you I'd have to kill you."
"Why do I think you're not joking?"
Before I can answer, I hear another car approach. Grabbing her hand I drag her down into the aforementioned ditch. There's a thin layer of mud at the bottom, but we can't afford to be fastidious. I can feel it oozing into my shoes and through the thin material of my pants ... great.
Even if we reach 'civilisation', I can't help wondering what chance we'll have. As it stands now, we're going to attract a lot of attention. We need a change of clothes ... a shower would be nice. And we need money. That's the cold hard, truth. And I don't have any ideas for how we're going to get some.
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~I can't believe I'm still writing in this thing. It's not like there's anyone around to make me. I guess it's easier than talking to Jack.
We made it. As far as the nearest town anyway. This motel is a flea trap but it's good enough. It has a couple of beds and a shower. I just don't know how we're going to pay for it. Jack's gone out. I didn't want him to go but he said he had to. I know he's gone out to steal us some money. I don't know what I think about that. He has to I guess.
I wish Jack would come back. Every minute he's gone I have to wonder if he's been caught. God I hope he hasn't. I don't know if I can do this alone.~
Sam put down her pen, unsure of how to write down her feelings. She couldn't tell how much of her unease was due to Jack breaking the law, or the fact he wasn't here. If she thought about it, she realised she hadn't been alone in a long time. Not really. Even at night in the hospital, Sam had always been aware of the patients around her, the movement of the staff. Now there was nothing. Intellectually, she knew there were people in the rooms either side, cars in the street outside ... but it didn't help her sense of isolation.
The room was dark, the curtains were drawn. Sam had tried to turn on the TV but found it was broken. She thought about alerting the manager, but quickly realised she didn't want to draw attention to herself.
She returned her attention to the broken TV, wondering if she could fix it. Whatever happened, it would help to pass some time.
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The phone's ringing. I hope she's at home; she has to be at home. That's assuming she hasn't sold up and moved on.
"Hello?"
It's her voice. I don't know what to say to her.
"Hello ... anyone there?"
"Uh ... Sara?"
"Jack?"
She sounds kind of surprised, which I expected. By my calculations we haven't spoken to each other for five years.
"Yeah. I need your help," I say.
"My help ... jeeze..."
"I know. If it wasn't important I wouldn't ask."
"That would be about right."
"Sara please."
I know I'm taking advantage of her. I know I'm playing with her emotions.
"What do you want?"
"Money."
I managed to steal a guy’s wallet and took the cash, but it's not enough, not nearly enough. I managed to get us some food, a change of clothes, but that was about it.
"How much?" she asks.
"Five hundred."
"Five hundred dollars? Jack I don't have that kind of money."
"Then send as much as you can."
"I never could say no to you. Where?"
After telling her, I put the phone down. It means we'll have to stay here longer than I wanted, but at least we'll be able to afford a bus ticket. I still don't know where we're going to go. Minnesota maybe, assuming Sara didn't sell the cabin.
I head back to the motel, taking the long way around to make sure I'm not followed. There must be people looking for us. It was a risk leaving Samantha alone, but I knew I could move faster without her. She probably wouldn't want to see some of the things I might have to do. I'm not going to let us get caught and I don't particularly care what I have to do. Samantha has a conscience, something I don't think I ever had. When I look at her I see innocence.
She's waiting for me when I get back ... even thought the TV is on I don't think she was really watching.
"I thought it was broken?" I ask.
"It was," she says. "What did you get?"
I throw the clothes at her. They're nothing fancy, just jeans and a shirt. I had to guess her size. She's taller than Sara and a lot thinner ... all legs and eyes.
"I got us some breakfast," I tell her.
Bacon, sausage, pancakes ... maple syrup.
"And how do you feel about being a brunette?" I ask, throwing her a packet of hair dye.
She looks strange with dark hair. Her skin too pale, her eyes too blue. I don't think she likes it, but she doesn't complain. Me, I just get rid of the grey. I wish it made me look younger, but it doesn't.
I want to leave this place, but I know we have to wait until Sara's money come through. Lying back on one of the beds, I close my eyes. I think I would have slept if it weren't for Samantha. She's pacing the room ... very loudly for someone who's so slim.
"Relax," I tell her.
"I can't," she replies.
"You have to. If you act like you're about to fly apart you'll draw attention to us."
"How can you stay so calm?"
Somehow her words seem familiar. I open my eyes and look at her. Another place, another time, but her voice.
"Can you feel it?" she asks in a whisper.
"What?"
"I don't know ... it's like ..."
"Deja View?"
~He's asleep, his head on my shoulder ... and he's drooling. We've been on this bus for what feels like forever, even though I know it's only been a matter of hours. I don't know how he can sleep. It was the same yesterday. I can't remember the last time I closed my eyes and slept naturally. They always gave me drugs at the hospital and now I know why.
This isn't exactly the most comfortable way to travel. It's sunny outside and I'm squashed up against the window. My morning shower seems a long way away and I'm sure I don't smell too good. Not that Jack seems to mind. I'd like to be able to relax, but I can't, so I'm writing. Dr. Whitehall would be so proud of me.
I have to wonder why he lied to me about Jack. Was he lying about everything else? Did he have any intention of releasing me? I guess I found my own way out in the end, but I wonder how long this freedom is going to last? Someone will find us eventually however far we run. I wish my dreams about a Stargate were real and that Jack and I could step through a doorway to another planet.
Is he really Colonel Jack O'Neill? My Colonel.
I don't know what's real anymore. None of this seems to be. I can't help wondering if I sleep, I'll wake up in isolation with my arms tied across my front.
Jack says he has somewhere we can go, somewhere we can be safe. I have to believe in him. I have to trust him, however hard that might be.~
The man beside her stirred, his eyelashes fluttering open.
"Sorry," he apologised when he realised where his head was resting. Not that Sam actually mind. In fact she found it kind of comforting.
"How long was I asleep?" he asked.
"A couple of hours. We'll be in Minneapolis soon."
"Good. We'll grab a motel room and hold up for a while."
"Why?"
"Just in case someone finds out I spoke to Sara and works out where we might be going."
This motel room was a hell of a lot better than the first. Sam took the opportunity to take a long bath. She sank up to her neck in hot, foamy water, safe in the knowledge that no one was going to be watching her. It was pure bliss. She even borrowed Jack's razor and shaved her legs not to mention other parts. It wasn't as good as a trip to the beauty parlour and a pot of hot wax but she finally felt like a woman again. Now if she just had a change of clothes....
Sam looked at her dirty, sweat stained garments. A result of the long and hot bus journey. She really, really didn't want to put them back on again. At least not right now. So she snagged the complimentary robe off the back of the door and wrapped it around her body, before venturing back into the other room.
"About time," Jack grumbled as she appeared.
"All yours," she told him.
There was takeout on the bed and a TV that worked. Sam felt she was in hog heaven.
Jack, being male, took a purely functional five minute shower, but he smelt a whole lot nicer when he joined her to eat. It was easily the best Chinese food Sam had ever tasted.
"This was definitely worth breaking out for," Jack said, mirroring Sam's thoughts. "Wait till you see the cabin. You're going to love it."
"Am I?"
"Lake, log fire ... it's twenty miles from anywhere."
"Really?"
Sam realised she was flirting with him. It had been so long, she had forgotten how it felt. Jack grinned at her,
"Trust me," he said, "the bass in the lake grow this big."
*************************************************************************************
She's sleeping now. It's about time; I don't think she closed her eyes at all during the bus journey. Being outside makes her nervous ... hell it does the same to me, but I seem to be coping better for some reason. I guess it's all down to the military training. Still, it should be easier when we get away from civilisation. Out where my cabin is, no one's going to give a damn who she is or where she came from. They'll keep their mouths shut. We should be safe.
I dig into the remains of the Chinese. Why is it that take-out always tastes better cold? Samantha eats about as much as your average mouse so there's plenty left. I know why I'm eating; it's to put off the moment when I'll have to curl up on the bed beside her. Of course, the gentlemanly thing would be to sleep on the floor, but there isn't that much space. I mean what's wrong with us sharing a bed. We're both adults. And I'm married for cryin' out loud ...at least I think I still am. When I spoke to Sara she said nothing about getting a divorce and I'm sure she'd have mentioned it. I'm not attracted to Samantha so there shouldn't be a problem.
I'm careful not to wake her, as I slide under the quilt. She stirs in her sleep, rolling towards me. It's hard not to reach out and touch her. I know this is just an emotional reaction to what we've been through, but I could sure use someone to hold right now. Back when I was with Sara, and I'd had a bad mission, I'd get home and we'd just go to bed. Not for sex, but just to hold each other in the dark. It helped a lot.
Samantha moans in her sleep and her face creases. She's dreaming and I find myself wondering what pictures are going through her head. They can't be very pleasant ones. She tosses and turns a little. Then her arms start flailing and she hits me in the stomach. My howl of pain wakes her up.
"What ...?" she mumbles.
"It's okay, you were dreaming," I reassure her.
"I was ...”
"Where?"
"Not here. We were in a room."
"I was there too?"
"Yeah. There were other people there."
"Who?"
"I don't know. You were holding my hand."
That doesn't really count as a romantic dream, but she seems to have been greatly disturbed by it. She moves closer to me and I do my best not to scoot away. I think she wants to me to give her a hug. Without really meaning to, I open my arms and she slips into my embrace. She doesn't feel like Sara. Samantha is thinner for a start, not that she's less feminine.... it's just different.
"Jack?" she questions.
"What?"
"We're going to be okay aren't we?"
"Yeah, yeah we are."
I wish that were true, but it could be a promise I can't keep. We still have a long way to go. Samantha believes me though. She smiles and closes her eyes. Her head is on my shoulder, her arm stretched across my waist. It should be distracting, but it isn't. I feel comfortable like this.
We sleep like that and when we wake we're still wrapped around each other.
*************************************************************************************
Sam sneezed when she woke up. The smattering of hair on Jack's chest had been tickling her nose. He jerked at the sound and opened his eyes.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"0900," she replied.
She knew she should move, but was far too comfortable.
"Should we order breakfast?" she added.
"No, we'd better get movin'."
"Oh ... okay."
He rolled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. Sam lay there for a few seconds, a little disappointed. She didn't exactly know why. Jack quite clearly wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Fifteen minutes later they were standing on the sidewalk. Their pitiful collection of belonging stuffed into a back pack. A car slid up beside them, pausing for a second and then driving away.
"Cops," Jack breathed in her ear.
"You sure?"
"Let's not take the chance."
Jack hailed the next cab that went past. Speed being more important than their finances.
"Go to the bus station," he told her.
"What!"
"We're splitting up. I'll follow you in a couple of days."
"Jack, no."
"Yes. There looking for us to be together. They expect to find us together."
"But what if you get caught?"
"I won't."
He stuffed some bills into her hand and shoved her unceremoniously into the cab.
"Bus Station" he told the driver.
Sam twisted around, watching as the driver pulled into the traffic. Jack didn't even wave. Shoulders hunched, he hurried away and Sam wondered if she'd ever see him again.
There were more cops at the bus station. Sam had the driver drop her off a block away and stood by herself on the sidewalk wondering what the hell she should do. True she was a brunette now, and she didn't have Jack with her. Sam hesitated for a brief second and then slipped down a side road and started to rearrange her clothing. She removed the belt from her jeans, allowing them to sit low on her hips and tied her shirt under her breasts. If she was lucky the guys outside the bus station wouldn't even be looking at her face. Swaying her hips a little more than usual, she sauntered towards them.
She got noticed, but that had been the whole point. There were five pairs of eyes fixed on her ass. Sam even felt confident enough to flash one of the officers a grin. They didn't stop her and she could only hope that Jack would be as lucky.
When she was safely sitting on the bus, she pulled out her journal.
~Jack's gone. I hope he's going to be okay. I feel bad about leaving him behind. It's something I shouldn't have done, but he didn't give me much choice in the matter. Although it's only been a few days since we left the hospital, I feel kind of lost without him. It's like he's been at my side for a long, long time and now he's not. I miss him.
The world outside the walls is a dangerous place. I don't know if I can do this alone, but I realise that I have to try. I've gotten this far. I can do it. I know I can. For maybe the first time I no longer feel like Samantha. I'm Major Carter. Which is ironic when you think about it. If it wasn't for her I never would have been locked away and now I'm relying on her to keep me safe.~
*********************************************************************
Why is it raining? I mean the night I have to sleep on the street we have a downpour. I gave Samantha all my cash so I don't really have a choice. Still, God, or who ever, didn't have to be quite so cruel. One consolation, as far as the cops are concerned, I'm just another bum. They don't even look at me. I must admit I play the part real well. Despite taking a shower last night, I feel like there's dirt ingrained into my flesh. My hair could do with cutting and my face shaving. I decided to grow a beard, figuring it would disguise my face a little. I'd forgotten how much facial hair itches. Sara hated it. Said I gave her beard rash every time I kissed her.
Sara. I guess I could call her again and ask for some more money. Or I could call her just to hear her voice. It's lonely out here. Cold, wet, dark. I find myself wishing for a warm bed and a warm body beside me. Actually, the warm body would be enough. I don't want to seem greedy. But wishing won't help me now.
I get a few hours sleep, in a shop doorway. It could have been worse; it could have been a park bench. Eventually, a couple of cops move me on, which is ironic when you think about it. As morning comes, I'm left with the prosaic reality of my situation. How the hell am I going to meet up with Samantha? Do I steal another wallet? Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. The first one was easy. Some guy left his wallet on a counter for a few seconds too long and by the time he turned to look for it I was out the door. Of course I could hitch, but after a couple of hours standing with my thumb stuck out, I realise I'm not the most promising candidate. I wouldn't let me in my car. Truck ... I drove a truck.
There's a mall nearby and I find myself wandering up and down the rows of shops, waiting for someone to be careless. Of course I have other options open to me. I can hurt people. I know how. Will I get desperate enough, I wonder?
I'm hungry. My last meal feels like weeks ago, even though I finished all the take-out last night.
I'm tired. I want to sleep.
I'm lonely.
I'm scared.
I can't go back to that place. I won't go back.
So what choice do I have? A woman leaves her purse on a bench. Two steps, two seconds and I have it in my hands, sliding it under my jacket. Then I head for the men's room. Sitting in a stall I go through the purse. There's a hell of a lot of stuff in there. I find the wallet and take the cash. Three hundred and fifty dollars ... jackpot!! Dumping the purse in the trash, I head out.
I pass the bench where I picked up the purse. The woman is crying as she talks to the guy from security. There's a crowd around her and one of them points in my direction. I try to stay calm as a wind my way through the people on my way to the exit. As soon as someone shouts I know my time is up. I run.
People try to get out of my way, those that don't I push. Men, women, kids, I don't particularly care. I won't let them catch me; I won't let them lock me up again.
My knees hurt, my back hurts, but I don't have time to be in pain. I head out into the parking lot, darting between the cars. I'm able to put some distance between myself and the security guards. In another part of town I buy myself a new shirt, a razor and a bus ticket. With the cash left over I get some food and something for Samantha.
~It's been two days. Two days and he's not here yet. I shouldn't have left him. No one gets left behind. Somehow that phrase sticks in my mind.
I dreamt about him again last night. It was really, erotic I guess is the right word. He wasn't actually doing anything, just looking at me. Undressing me with his eyes and smiling, he was definitely smiling. I asked him what he was smiling at and he said nothing. In reality, he's never looked at me that way. ~
Sam took a sip of her coffee. She was sat in a diner with a good view of the main street. Her breakfast consisted of a single donut, which she was trying to make last as long as possible. She didn't have that much money left and she was stuck in this town until Jack turned up ... or not.
"More coffee, ma'am?"
The waitress' voice snapped Sam out of her reverie and she handed over her cup for a refill.
"New in town?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Sam replied and tried to turn back to her journal.
"Planning on staying long?"
"I don't know ...”
"Can I get you anything else?"
"No ... thank you."
Left by herself once more, Sam realised she was going to have to make some serious plans. If she couldn't afford to move on, she'd have to try to find a job in this town. Another bus came and went. After its departure she went back to the motel ... the only motel. She figured she could afford to stay one more night.
"Where are you, Jack?" she said to no one as she stood at the window watching the rain.
Despite early morning sun, it had turned into a foul day and Sam found herself wondering if there would snow later on. It was certainly cold enough. She didn't know how much snow fell here or how often. If Jack didn't turn up soon, he might be delayed for weeks. Then again if the town did get cut off, maybe the owners of the motel would take pity on Sam and let her stay a while longer.
She was cold that night and, as expected, the following morning there was a blanket of white over the world. Despite the change in the weather, Sam still made the trek over to the diner for her donut and coffee.
"Hey," the waitress smiled. "There won't be a bus through today."
"There won't?" Sam asked.
"Nope, turned back twenty miles back, but the plough'll be through later. If we don't get any more snow tonight, the bus should get through tomorrow."
Sam felt her heart sink. What the hell was she supposed to do? Then something occurred to her,
"How d'you know I was waiting for the bus?" she asked.
"Honey, you've been sitting at the same table, at the same time all week. I've got eyes. Who is he?"
"Just some guy .... But he's married. I guess he must have gone back to his wife."
"I'm sorry ... hey; we got pancakes and bacon if you want?"
"I don't have that much money."
"It's on the house."
It was the first hot meal she'd had in days, but Sam didn't really enjoy it. She had the sneaking suspicion that the lie she'd fed the waitress was true. What other reason would Jack have for staying behind? Unless he'd been caught ... she didn't know which was worse.
After eating, Sam took a long walk in the snow, trying to get her head straight. She was starting to think that turning herself in might be the only option. At least she'd have a roof over her head and food in her stomach. She was just turning towards the police station when she heard him.
"Samantha!"
She turned. He was there, stumbling through the snow towards her.
"How ....?" she questioned.
"Had to walk," he grinned.
He looked cold, he looked wet, he looked tired, but he was here. Sam felt suddenly shy. She wanted to hug him, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it.
*************************************************************************************
Samantha is definitely a sight for sore eyes. I checked the motel and when she wasn't there I started to panic. But she's here, I found her. She's looking up at me with those big blue eyes of hers and I just want to ... hug her? Kiss her? What the hell is happening here?
She tucks her arm in mine and tells me she knows this great place where they serve all-day-breakfast. I just smile and let her drag me through the snow. After French toast and sausage I feel a little more like myself. Hunger and fatigue made me want to kiss Samantha, nothing else. What else could there be?
"So he showed," the waitress says with a grin. What has Samantha been saying about me?
I offer a thin sort of smile in return, but I'm really more interested in shoving as much food into my face as possible.
"She thought you'd gone back to your wife," she goes on.
Did she? Going back to Sara had never really crossed my mind. I couldn't do that, not with Samantha out here waiting for me.
"I wouldn't leave you," I tell her.
"I know that now," she smiles, "I thought you'd been caught."
"I nearly was."
"What now?"
"The cabin."
I smile; just thinking about that place puts me in a good mood. The snow should clear by tomorrow and we'll be able to hitch a lift out of town. We'll probably have to walk the last few miles, but after what we've been through it shouldn't be a problem. I almost feel like I'm coming home.
Of course Sara may have chucked out all my stuff and turned the place into a health spa, but I don't think so. The cabin was always my place, my space. It should still be the way I left it.
*************************************************************************************
It was only five miles, but Sam felt like she'd run a marathon. She was definitely out of condition, especially when it came to hiking along a slush covered track with a pack on her back. Jack was practically sprinting; she didn't know how he could have so much energy. Sam wanted to rest but she didn't dare ask. The last thing she wanted was for Jack to see her as weak. To make things worse, he was keeping up a running monologue. At one time she might have found it interesting, but right now she was more concerned with putting one foot in front of the other. She was so tired ... so, so tired.
The short winter day was almost over when they walked into the clearing where the cabin stood. Under any other circumstance Sam would have been delighted at the picture postcard setting, but she just wanted to get inside and sit down. Luckily, Jack seemed to sense this and wasted no time in finding the spare key and letting them in.
No one had been here for a while, Sam realised. There was a thick layer of dust over everything, which was disturbed by their entrance. Sam sneezed.
"Bless you," Jack grinned, then adding, "sorry about the mess."
"It's okay," Sam reassured him.
She dumped her backpack on the floor and sank into the nearest chair, releasing another cloud of dust. Jack disappeared for a while, to do what, Sam wasn't certain, but it was long enough for her to close her eyes.
Her dreams had been becoming more vivid. She put it down to coming off her drugs. It wasn't that they were disturbing ... perhaps intriguing was a better word. More often than no she was in that featureless room with Jack. It was always the same, their hands entwined. One of the walls was see through and, when she raised her head, she could see people watching them. Just standing there, staring. Behind them she could just make out someone else. Big guy, gold tattoo on his forehead....
"Sam? Sam?"
His voice woke her. Sam sat up, rubbing her eyes. The cabin looked different somehow. The fire was lit, some preliminary dusting had been done, and Jack was holding out a bowl of soup for her.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"We've got plenty of supplies," he told her, "I always kept the place well stocked, just in case we came up here in the winter and got snowed in."
She noticed the room was illuminated with candles, so she guessed the supplies didn't run to fuel for the generator. So much for a hot shower. Still maybe they could do something about that in a few days. For now they were dry, safe and moderately comfortable.
"I made up the bed," he went on.
"Just one?" she asked.
"Um ... I didn't think you'd mind."
"I don't."
"Right. I could sleep on the couch."
"You don't have to."
"Okay."
Even after agree on the sleeping arrangements, actually making the decision to go to bed seemed to take forever. Jack was polite enough, to give Sam a certain amount of time. She was safely under the covers by the time he appeared. Despite feeling a little awkward, the night was cold and Sam really appreciated having a nice warm body sharing the bed.
"Why does this feel a little ...?" Jack questioned.
"Odd?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. I don't know it's like, we're doing something wrong."
"You are still married."
"Am I? I don't know anymore."
Sam shifted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder.
"It'll be okay," she told him.
"Yeah... yeah I know."
Despite the fact Sam was ready to drop, she found it difficult to get to sleep. Jack had succumbed some hours ago and was now snoring gently. Sam was afraid of waking him, so she crawled out of bed and went back into the main room. The fire was burning low, but if she got real close it was enough to keep her warm.
She had retrieved her diary from her pack and started to write,
~It's kind of strange being here. This is Jack's place and I feel slightly uncomfortable, as if there's a very good reason why I shouldn't have come here. But why? This place isn't exactly how I would have pictured it. Sure it's a log cabin next to a lake but ... I guess it's more comfortable than I expected. I'd pictured dead things hanging on the walls, a distinctly masculine flavour.
It's cosy, kind of homey. There are rugs and cushions and pictures on the walls. There's even a shelf of books. Maybe if I had something to read I could go to sleep.~
Sam went over to the shelves, searching for something that might interest her. There was a surprisingly eclectic collection, but her eyes immediately went to the photograph album tucked away on the top shelf. Surely it would hurt just to have a look? She was curious about not only Jack but the mysterious Sara. What kind of woman had Jack married?
The photo album was stuffed with pictures ... in no particular order. Sam quickly located Sara. There were dozens of photos of Jack with an attractive woman. Almost as many as those which showed Jack with a boy. As Sam flicked through the pages, she saw the boy grow from a baby to a child on the edge of his teenage years. Then there were no more. Since Jack had been locked away for eight years, she guessed she could understand that, but not the fact he had never mentioned that he had a son.
The final page of the book drove all the thoughts from her mind. There were two pictures... The first of four people grinning at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other. Jack, herself, a man with glasses, and a big guy with a gold tattoo on his forehead.
~I know these people; they've haunted my dreams long enough. And then there's the final photograph. It's a wedding. There's a cake, some flowers, a white dress. I'm wearing the dress and Jack has his arms about me. He's wearing his dress uniform. We have rings on our fingers and, no doubt, bells on our toes.
I sit for a long, long time, staring at the picture, wondering what the hell it means. In all my memories as Major Carter I can't recall getting married. Not at all. And it's clear that Jack doesn't either. But there's something about the image, the way his arms are wrapped about me, the expressions on our faces ... There's no doubt that these two people love each other. ~
"Hey, what you doing?"
"I ... I hope you don't mind," she stammered.
His eyes seemed to darken, but he answered lightly enough,
"I guess not," he said.
"I found this," she went on, pointing out the pictures on the final page. "Do you know who these people are?"
"Apart from the dashingly handsome air force officer?”
"Look at them Jack."
"Do you know who they are?"
"Daniel Jackson and Teal'c. The other two members of SG-1."
"SG-1?"
"They’re the military unit I thought I belonged to. The reason I was locked away."
"What about me? I mean I'm with you guys, and I don't remember anything."
"It's more than that; look closely at the last photo."
"This can't be right."
"I know."
"It's against regulations."
"I know!"
*************************************************************************************
Married to Samantha? It just doesn't seem possible. It just doesn't seem right. I love Sara ... don't I? As I look at the woman sitting across from me, I have to wonder. I mean why did she catch my eye? Sure, I've always thought her beautiful, but maybe it was more than that.
Then there's another question. If she's Major Carter, then who am I? From the uniform in the wedding photo I'm definitely a colonel, but is there something wrong with my memory of the last eight years. Instead of languishing in a mental hospital, I joined something called SG-1, met Samantha, and got married.
"I need to talk to Sara," I say. "Find out exactly when we got divorced."
"Jack ..."
"I have to."
Samantha seems to accept this, although I can tell she'd not exactly happy about it. What did she expect me to do? Sweep her up in my arms and carry her to bed? Okay, so that's not exactly an unwelcome thought...
"Where's the nearest phone?" she asked.
"About five miles back, at the gas station."
"You'd better call her tomorrow then."
She seems disappointed in me, but what I am supposed to do? What am I supposed to think?
I spend the rest of the night shivering on the couch. Just right now, sharing a bed with Samantha doesn't seem like such a great idea. Neither of us is quite sure what's real at the moment, and it would be far too easy to cling onto something which may not be part of who we are.
As soon as the sky starts to lighten, I leave. Luckily the snow has cleared and I make good time. The gas station has a small store and there's a bunch of stuff we need ... but the first thing I do is call Sara.
"We divorced four years ago," she tells me.
"Why?" I press.
"Jack..."
"Please."
"I don't know. You just called me up one day and told me you wanted to make the separation permanent. When I asked why, you said you'd met someone ... you didn't say who."
"Thanks."
There's silence on the other end of the phone and I realise I have to say something.
"I'm sorry."
"What for."
"Everything ... I'll talk to you soon."
"Sure you will, Jack."
"'bye."
So it's true then. I'm married to Samantha. Which should explain some stuff ... don’t know what exactly, but maybe she does? I get the feeling she's way smarter than I am. I wonder why we got married, I wonder when? The walk back to the cabin does little to calm my thoughts. At least I remembered to buy bread, milk and coffee.
Samantha is watching out for me. I think she's a little mad that I went off with out her. She doesn't need to worry so much, not out here. I've been coming here every since I was a kid. It's probably the one place in the world where I feel completely safe. Of course, Samantha probably doesn't see it that way. She could be a city girl for all I know.
"You spoke to Sara?" she asks immediately.
"Yeah ... and it looks like you were right."
"Oh."
This is awkward. I feel like I should say or do something. I don't think either of us is exactly happy about this.
"Want some coffee?"
"Sure."
Coffee and breakfast seemed to ease there nerves a little. Somehow relating to each other was a little bit easier when immersed in ordinary domestic chores. They went through the cabin, cleaning and tidying, making it just that little bit more liveable. They had no idea exactly how long they would be able to stay. Jack reckoned most of the winter. Once the snows set in no one would be able to get to them, although it wouldn't exactly be comfortable, they would survive.
It was quite obvious that Jack remembered one life and Sam recalled another. Yet she found it odd that neither of them recalled their wedding. Sam had been engaged, she knew that much. Some guy named Jonas... SG-9? There had been a Jonas on SG-1 but she was pretty certain they weren't the same people. So what was different about being married to Jack? How had the gotten together? The Stargate?
~I try to imagine what the ceremony would have been like. There's only one picture, which doesn't tell me much. My hair is long, so I guess it was some time before they locked me away. It probably wasn't in a church, especially since Jack had been married before. Dad probably gave me away ...or General Hammond. It could have been on a whole other planet for all I know.
At least I had a pretty dress. Simple, I like it, just what I would have chosen if ... Damn but we're both uncomfortable with this. Jack's been on edge ever since he got back and I'm not much better. Things were so much easier when we thought we were just a couple of head cases on the run from the authorities. Now we're part of something bigger ... and have this intimate relationship that neither of us can understand.
I think tomorrow I'll take a look at the generator and see if I can get it working. There's plenty of fuel and it would be nice to have hot water. It'll take my mind off ... everything. I remember someone telling me I think too much, but I don't. I work to stop myself thinking. ~
Sam looked up from her diary and glanced across to where Jack was working. He was making dinner. As he had promised, the cabin had a pretty good store of supplies, but Sam had the feeling she was going to get pretty tired of eating out of tins.
She looked down at herself. At least she was tall, so Jack's clothes more or less fitted her in one direction. Then again, he must have been bulkier at one point, because the shirt and jeans he wore were very baggy. Which was a shame because he had a really nice ... Sam stopped her train of thought and then wondered why she bothered. They were supposed to be married after all and something must have attracted him to her.
"Beer or wine?" he asked, holding a bottle of each.
"Beer," she smiled. "Pretty comprehensive supplies."
"It's out of date."
"That's okay ..."
They were being very polite ... a little too polite, in Sam's opinion. So she changed her mind,
"You know what; I think I'll take the wine."
"Sure."
Jack seemed to relax a little and poured her a glass of wine. He stuck to beer while they ate dinner, but helped her finish the bottle as the evening wore on. It was actually quite cosy; Jack was sitting on the couch, reading a book, while Sam lay with her head in his lap. Every so often he'd stroke her hair...
For some reason the dream was more intense. Back in that room. People staring at her. Teal'c behind them... for now she knew it was he ... and Daniel. This time, Daniel was there too. He was shouting something, but Sam couldn't make out the words...
"Samantha!"
She woke up, rolling away from Jack and falling off the couch.
"Sam," she corrected. "You call me Sam."
But that didn't seem quite right either.
"Sam," he repeated, "are you okay?"
"Just a dream."
A dream where she was still on SG-1.
"Are you sure?" Jack asked.
"No. Jack, this ... us ... the things we can't remember ...”
"What about this ...us ... whatever?"
"What if someone's doing this to us? Making us forget?"
"How exactly?"
"I don't know."
She hugged her knees to her chest. It had all sounded so good before she spoke the words.
"I mean, who would do something like that? What would be the point?" He added.
"To make us forget who we are. I have the feeling we made a lot of enemies in high places... and that was just on Earth."
Jack was having a difficult time getting his head around what she was saying. Hardly surprising when Sam barely understood it herself.
"It's just a feeling," she admitted.
"Feelings ...," Jack said, "I remember feeling, feelings."
He looked down at her, a picture of confusion. Sam knelt up and took his face between her hands,
"That's good enough," she smiled.
Sam didn't know why she chose that moment to brush her lips against his, but she wasn't prepared for his tender response. The man certainly knew how to kiss ... even though she didn't exactly know who she was comparing him against ... or exactly who she thought she was kissing.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she pulled away.
"What for?" he asked.
"I just don't think we should ..."
"Sam, we're married. You've seen the evidence for yourself and I think we've probably shared a little more than a kiss."
"But we don't know for sure. We could have been unhappy."
She was scared by the sudden intensity of her emotions. Sensing her unease, Jack pulled away, putting some physical distance between them.
"We should get some sleep," he said.
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I'll see you in the morning."
*************************************************************************************
I wait until I'm sure she's asleep, before I sneak into the bedroom. All I wanted was some extra blankets, but I find myself pausing on the threshold just to stare at her. The light of the fire bathes her face and I know without a doubt that I could fall for this woman ... again. Somehow she senses my presence and her eyes flutter open.
"Cold," I tell her, "Blankets."
She blinks at me sleepily as I go to the closet.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"It's okay. You're right, we shouldn't ... you know ... until we're sure."
"Right."
"Right."
The silence is awkward so I pick up my blankets and head towards the door.
"Is it really cold out there?"
"Yeah."
"I'm kind of chilly myself."
Okay, so maybe it's not that cold. I mean it's not like we're in Antarctica or anything, but I'd rather have a warm body next to me. Answering my thoughts she shifts in the bed and pulls back the covers. I drop my blankets and scramble in beside her. Not that I'm eager or anything.
Whatever Sam says, I suspect we are together and happy. The first time I got married, I made damn certain Sara was the right one. We'd still be together now if it weren't for Charlie. I can only think I made doubly sure the second time. Besides, what guy in their right mind wouldn't want to be married to Sam? Except me being in my right mind is debatable at the moment.
"What are we going to do, Jack?" she asks as she snuggles up against me.
"Find out who did this to us," I tell her.
"And then?"
"We get our lives back."
I just have to hope my life still includes her.
*************************************************************************************
It snowed again during the night, not heavily, but enough to coat the outside world with white. So the last thing Sam expected to hear was the sound of a car drawing up. Jack was out somewhere, hunting for more firewood. She thought about calling him, but something stopped her. The engine faded to silence, and Sam heard the doors slam, and footsteps crunching through the snow. She thought about running and hiding, but she quickly realised there was nowhere left to run.
"Sam! Jack!"
It was a voice she recognised.
"O'Neill, MajorCarter!"
Sam hurried to the door and flung it open.
"Daniel? Teal'c? Oh God!"
She ran towards the two men, slipping and sliding on the icy ground.
"Where's Jack?" Daniel asked.
"He's here somewhere. Jack! Jack!"
Her voice echoed around the hills. Before long she heard someone pushing their way through the trees. Jack, his cheeks red with cold, appeared on the other side of the lake. Sam ran round to meet him,
"They found us," she grinned, "I knew they would."
"Who?"
"Daniel and Teal'c. Everything will be all right now."
"Yeah?"
He didn't sound convinced, but he let her take his hand and lead him towards their visitors.
"Hello, Jack," Daniel said.
"Hi."
They stood there, in the snow, just staring at each other.
"Are you going to invite us in?" Daniel asked.
Jack didn't answer, but led the way into the cabin. Sam found herself talking too much in an effort to break the silence. It was Daniel who finally stopped her.
"Sam, you have to come back," he said.
"To the Stargate, I know," she smiled.
"No, Sam."
"What do you mean?"
"You and Jack have been sick. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Sick?"
"Can we sit down?"
"No," Jack snapped, joining in the conversation for the first time.
Sam noticed that he moved closer to her, shielding her body slightly. At any other time she would have found this annoying, but she was unnerved by Daniel's words.
"Explain, or get out of here!" Jack said.
"Okay ... I'll try," Daniel replied. "We had some bad missions. Very bad. You were both taken by the enemy and when we got you back ... let’s just say you weren't quite the same."
"Although DoctorMackenzie and DoctorFraiser tried to affect a cure eventually you had to be taken from them ..." Teal'c said.
"And locked away?" Sam snapped.
"It wasn't like that," Daniel argued.
"So what was it like?"
"Sam, you didn't seem to know who you were anymore. Mackenzie though it was schizophrenia. Jack became extremely violent ... he hurt several people, including Cassandra."
Jack's shoulders slumped as he absorbed the news, his posture no longer belligerent. Sam slipped her hand into his, trying to offer him some silent support. He didn't seem to notice.
"That's why you have to come back, before you hurt anyone again," Daniel pleaded.
"Or Major Carter," Teal'c added.
"I hurt Sam?" Jack asked.
Somehow none of this sounded quite right. From her hazy memories of Jack, Sam knew he could be a dangerous man, but she would never have thought he would harm her ... or a child. From Jack's posture she could tell that he believed it. Did he really have such a poor opinion of his ability to control himself?
"Do you not recall anything of the mission O'Neill?" Teal'c asked.
"No ... nothing," Jack answered. "Unless ... Sam, your dream?"
Oh God. Sam remembered. Her and Jack in that room. It was true. It was all true. She found herself nodding.
"So you'll come?" Daniel said.
"No," Sam replied, softly.
"What?"
"You heard her Daniel," Jack snapped.
"Whatever ... whatever's wrong with me ... whatever's wrong with Jack, we can't hurt anyone, not out here."
"I'm sorry about that, because if we don't take you back others will," Daniel said.
"Not if you don't tell them were we are."
"We cannot," Teal'c intoned. "You are or friends, we must do what we must to save you."
"Is that a threat?" Jack demanded.
"Indeed."
Before Sam knew what was happening, Teal'c had pulled a weapon ... a Zat, from his coat pocket. The action filled her with irrational anger. She was far too slight to take on Teal'c, but that didn't stop Sam stepping towards him. The Zat fired before she'd even managed a couple of steps.
*************************************************************************************
He shot her; I can't believe the bastard shot her. I should be thankful it was some kind of shock weapon. She's lying on the floor, eyes open, limbs twitching. It must hurt real bad.
Teal'c turns the weapon on me and I wonder if I can take him. I mean he's bigger but I think I'm taller ... but somehow I don't want to hurt him And it's not just because I don't want to confirm everything they think about me.
"Make it easy for yourself, Jack," Daniel says.
I can't believe this guy is supposed to be my friend! I want to hit something and hit it hard. What the hell..?
Daniel first, the guy's head snaps back and I see blood. There's a whine and I know Teal'c has shot me, but I barley feel it. I hit Daniel again and again. Then Teal'c is hauling me away. God he's strong. I get a couple of good punches in, but I don't think he feels it. What's he made of ... reinforced concrete?
I know I can't win, but that doesn't stop me.
Eventually, Teal'c gets tired of being my punching bag and pulls back his fist...
She was back in the room. Sam shook herself, trying to wake up.
"This is a dream," she muttered to herself, "it's all a dream."
Raising her head, she looked up at the window. The same figures stood there. Narrowing her eyes, Sam could just about make out Daniel and Teal'c. Was it her imagination or were they a little closer than before? She tried to get to her feet, almost collapsing with the effort. If she could just get to the window.
She took a step forward, her foot coming into contact with something that wasn't the floor. Sam looked down to see Jack sprawled in front of her. Still, so very, very still. She could barely make out the rise and fall of his chest.
"What have you done to him!" she heard herself cry out.
The people behind the window just stared. Their faces were in darkness, so she couldn't quite make out their features, but she couldn't help feeling that one of them, at least, was kind of familiar.
Why weren't they moving?
Even Teal'c and Daniel were just standing there. Daniel had his mouth open, his hand half raised.
Sam moved closer, trying to get a better view. Suddenly, the faces behind the window became clear. One of them was...
Sam sat up in bed. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to fathom the meaning of her dream. They were getting worse, more vivid.
Getting up, she moved to the window. It was high in the wall and she could only see out of it if she stood on tiptoe. The sky was grey and it was raining. Seemed like she hadn't seen the sun at all since she got back here. Sam still had trouble believing Daniel and Teal'c had betrayed them. She had no idea what had happened to Jack. No one would tell her. She had begged and begged to be allowed to see him, just for a few seconds ... but the doctor's didn't trust her any more. Not even Dr. Whitehall...
Dr. Whitehall.... what the hell had he been doing in her dream?
There was something wrong with all this. There always had been, but why couldn't she work it out? Thinking was supposed to be her speciality.
"What if this is the dream?" she whispered to herself.
If it was, what could she do? How could she tell? She needed to sleep again, she realised, but her body felt more wired than it ever had done.
Sam was on edge the whole day. Sure, she could have persuaded someone to give her a sedative, but that would have been unusual. She had always been a fairly placid patient. As night fell, she found herself lying on her bed expectantly waiting for sleep to overtake her. Although what she could do once she did she wasn't certain. What kind of physical influence could she possibly exert? Maybe she could wake Jack up?
She didn't know how long she lay there, staring at the ceiling. Closing her eyes, opening them again, counting sheep. Eventually. She felt her mind start to drift...
"Jack, Jack ... you have to wake up!"
With effort, she pulled him upright but his body was a dead weight in her hands. Damn, damn, damn. He must be awake in the other world, she reasoned. Nothing she could do here was going to raise him, so she turned her attention to the rest of the room. The walls appeared seamless; there was no break unless she counted the window. Stepping up to it, she ran her fingers over the surface. It didn't feel like glass, some kind of polymer maybe? Would it break?
Without warning she slammed her fists into the surface ... but the people standing behind it didn't even flinch. She hit out again, watching the surface shake with the force of her blows. She could see tiny cracks forming as the material whitened under the stress.
"Daniel, Teal'c help me!" she yelled, but her friends didn't move.
Her fists bruised and battered, Sam continued to rain blows on the clear plastic. The cracks were getting large. If she focused all her energy on one spot then maybe ... The polymer didn't shatter, but the cracks got large enough that she could push on them and bend them until they snapped.
There was what felt like an explosion as something seemed to rush out of the room. Suddenly the people behind the glass started moving. Sam was almost overwhelmed by the noise as Daniel and Teal'c rushed forward, with what looked like SG-3, 14 and 15 behind them ... not to mention some pretty heavy artillery.
"Sam, get down!" he yelled.
She did as he requested, using her body to shield Jack's. There was a noise more terrible than anything she had ever experienced, probably because it was so close ... To her surprise; it still wasn't enough to rouse Jack.
When she finally raised her head, it was to find herself surrounded by countless little blocks of something. She didn't try to figure it out, but let Daniel help her up.
"Sam, are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, but Jack isn't."
Daniel gave her kind of a strange look,
"We'll take him back to the SGC," he said.
Somehow, Sam knew that if they did that, Jack would never wake up.
"I think I know how I can help him," she said.
"How?"
"Zat me."
"What?"
"Just do it."
She could tell he wasn't really convinced, but he pulled his weapon and...
Sam woke up. She knew what she had to do; it was just a matter of getting out of this room, and up to the next floor.
Shaking her head, trying to clear it, she staggered to the door.
"Hey!" she yelled, hoping to attract the attention of one of the nurses.
"Quiet," one of them snapped.
"Make me!"
If she made enough noise, they'd come in and try to stop her. Sure enough, ten minutes later, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock. Sam moved back to give herself room to move. They wouldn't be expecting her to fight back. Knowing this wasn't real she didn't care how much she hurt them and didn't even look back to see how much damage she had caused.
Running down the ward towards the stairs, she realised that physically, in whatever world this was, she was very much out of shape. She could feel the strain in her muscles, the ache in her knuckles where she had hit the nurses. Could she die here? If she did, she guessed that when she got back to the real world, she would just never wake up. They'd take her body back to the SGC and Jack would be consigned to a living death. She wasn't about to let that happen.
Her leg muscles screamed as she ran up the stairs, she barrelled through the door, knocking one nurse flying down the stairs, and bruising her own shoulder in the process. The door swung shut behind her, locking itself.
Jack was in isolation and as Sam had suspected, he was awake ... although barely conscious of his surroundings. She opened the door and nearly threw up. The smell in the room was indescribable. She could see places where he had vomited and no one had even tried to clear it up ... and that was probably the best of it.
She could hear running feet and, taking a deep breath, she went into the room.
"Jack, Jack it's me," she called, not wanting to startle him.
He didn't even look at her. Sam steeled herself for what she had to do. Somehow this was going to be a whole lot more difficult than knocking out one of the nurses. If she did do any damage, how would it affect him?
"Stay right where you are!"
One of the security guards was standing in the doorway, his weapon drawn. Sam took a few steps closer to Jack, until there was no way she could possibly miss. The gun shot took her by surprise. She heard it explode behind her, but it barely registered, until she realised she'd been hit. It was point blank range and she was a pretty large target. Her body dropped to the ground, even though Sam was willing herself to stay on her feet.
She hauled herself upright again, using Jack's body as a ladder, and hit him hard enough to knock him out. The gun fired again and Sam felt blood spurt into her face. This time when she fell she didn't get up again. Sam willed herself to lose consciousness, hoping and praying that she didn't die first. Would that happen? She didn't know, even though she had 'died' at least one time before. Daniel was the real expert.
The blood was flowing freely, pooling around her body. There was so much of it. Why wasn't anyone helping her? They were all just standing and watching. What if she was wrong? What if this was real? Her vision was starting to blur and she closed her eyes, trying to ward off what seemed inevitable.
"Sam! Sam!"
"What?" she mumbled.
"Wake up; we have to get out of here."
Sam opened her eyes and saw Jack's concerned face.
"Thank God," he breathed, helping her to stand.
She winced as she felt the pain in her bloodied and bruised hands. Apart from the physical injuries which had been inflicted here, there was no other sign she had been hurt.
"We must make haste," Teal'c urged.
"He's right," Daniel agreed, "we don't know how long it'll take for the replicators to recover."
"Replicators?" Jack questioned.
"We'll explain later."
Sam's own memory was pretty hazy. She knew the word, but had no idea what it meant.
"The X-303 is waiting on the surface," Teal'c added.
"What's the X-303?" Jack asked.
**************************************************************************
It's a freakin' spaceship!
We walk out onto the surface of this planet and there it is. I stand there, my jaw on the floor. This has to be some kind of joke, right? I mean how can this be real? Somehow I'd rather believe I was chained up in a rubber room drowning in my own excrement.
There are guys waiting for us at the bottom of the ramp and they all salute me as we run past. Sam stumbles a little and I instinctively help her. She smiles at me and takes my hand. Teal'c and Daniel both look at us as if we've lost it. What is it with these guys? Part of me knows I should trust them with my life ... I'm not so sure about Sam's. But I don't have time to think about it. I have to be in command, and, thank God, I still remember how to do that.
"Chewie get us out of here!" I order as we burst onto the flight deck.
I remember a night at my house. Teal'c suggested we all watch Star Wars...
The decking beneath my feet starts to vibrate as the ship starts to lift and I know we're home free.
"So can someone tell me exactly what's been happening here?" I demand.
They explain as best they can, but with my memory still acting up I really don't get it. Sam then tries to explain it all to me, which makes it worse. I mean how could we have been trapped there for three days when it felt like three months? And these replicators, did we really manage to piss them off that much? The only part of it I can make sense of is the fact that I went in after Sam.
After she had her hands dressed, she and I retire to the crew quarters. It's going to take us a while to get back to earth and I figured we should make ourselves comfortable for the duration. When we get back to the SGC we'll have to go through medicals, psych evaluations and all that good stuff. I figure we need a little time together before the proverbial shit hits the fan.
The bunks are pretty narrow, and we find ourselves sitting side by side, not touching, not talking. Considering we've been unconscious for three days we shouldn't be tired, but we are. I guess we don't want to go to sleep just in case we wake up back in that place.
"This is hard," Sam says.
"I know."
"Do you think we'll ever remember everything?"
"You're asking me?"
She giggles and lays her head on my shoulder. The gesture is familiar and comforting. Sliding my arm about her shoulders I ease us back so we're lying on the bed.
"We're still us," I say, "We still have each other."
"Do we?"
"Sure. That picture in the cabin must have come from my memory, right?"
"I guess."
She still doesn't sound convinced and if I'm honest with myself, I'm not either. I realise I'm clinging onto the memory of that one image, but I need something to believe in. Sam gives a little sigh and relaxes against me. I start to stroke her hair.
"Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"Remember what I said, about being sure?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sure now."
I look down at her and see the certainty in her eyes. She's never looked more beautiful, but still I find myself hesitating.
"You're hurt," I tell her.
"It's not bad," she assures me.
This place, this room isn't exactly ideal and I really don't like the idea of someone walking in on us. Call me an old fashioned guy, but I'd like to take my time.
"We're bound to get some leave after all this, what do you say we go up to the cabin, take some champagne ...?"
Sam nods although I don't think she's exactly pleased by my suggestion. It's not like I don't want to ... but there's something stopping me. Some trace of a memory? For now, for me, being allowed to hold her is enough.
We sleep and when we wake up, we're still on the spaceship ... which is kind of a relief. When we venture back onto the flight deck, it's to be greeted by the sight of Earth hanging below us. I give Sam a quick hug. We made it! As the ship starts its descent Daniel draws me to one side.
"What?" I ask him.
"Jack is everything okay?" he asks me.
"Sure, why?"
"It's just you and Sam ..."
"Yeah, I know ... but we're working it out."
"Okay."
"Good, that's good."
Why do I get the feeling that I have no idea what Daniel's talking about?
"It was shock," I go on.
"What was?"
"Finding out."
"About what?"
"Sam ... and me. I thought I was still married to Sara."
"Oh."
"And of course I'm not."
"No, you're not ... Jack... uh who do you think you're married to now?"
"Uh Sam?"
I have a really bad feeling about this. Something about the way Daniel won't actually look at me.
"Daniel?"
"You and Sam aren't married Jack. I know you care about each other, but you could never... I mean ..."
"Spit it out why don't you?"
"Any relationship between the two of you would be against Air force regulations."
I feel part of my world collapse ... we had both been so sure ... or had we? There had always been that lingering doubt and it was enough to stop us taking things further than we should have. I guess my conscience is clear. Looking over at Sam, I realise she doesn't know yet, and what makes it worse, I know I'm going to be the one to tell her.
It isn't long before she returns to my side, her hand finding its way into mine. God, I wish I didn't have to do this.
"Sam ... Carter," I begin, "Daniel's just been bringing me up to speed on a couple of things."
"Jack?" she questions.
Very regretfully, I let her hand drop.
"Sir," I correct. "It's always, sir."
"Sir?"
~I don't know why I'm doing this. Writing down my feelings has become a habit I guess. So here they are the ongoing diaries of Major Samantha Carter herself at last. At least, that's what I like to believe. It makes me feel a little better. I still have trouble believing how real the entire experience felt. In my memory I can still smell the hospital ward; I can still feel Jack sleeping close to me. Which is part of my problem. Which is the reason I'm doing this totally dumb thing.
Plane flights have always bored me, which is why I'm writing all this down.
I'm going to Minnesota. The colonel's been gone a couple of days now and I figured that's where he'll be. We have some issues to work through before our leave is over. It's more than that though. I really need to know if he has that photo. Why did he keep it? I mean I know we have feelings for each other, but with Jack I have to wonder if it's more than that. If it is, I have no idea what to do.
We've always been shy of confessing our feelings. If we did we'd have to do something about them, and I'm not sure what would happen. I couldn't expect Jack to retire and I couldn't leave SG-1 and work in a lab. There would be no way out for us. ~
The PA system clicked on and Sam heard the Captain tell the cabin staff to prepare for landing. Sam snapped her seat upright, and looked about her, wondering why some people were still wandering up and down the aisle. The hazards of a commercial flight, usually involved fat men, screaming children and a stewardess who couldn't get the food order right. Still it could have been worse, she realised, just as the small child sitting behind her started to vomit. At which point Sam seriously considered using her return ticket straight away. She had to use the washroom at the airport to clean up, feeling slightly stupid as she sprayed herself liberally with deodorant. Smelling slightly sweeter, she went to pick up her luggage and find her hire car.
Driving to Jack's cabin was interesting to say the least. She wasn't even relying on her own memory to find the way. It was a memory of Jack's memory of ... whatever ...it was enough to give her a headache. Even with her slightly less than perfect navigation skills, she still managed to reach the cabin before nightfall. Sam was immediately struck by how beautiful the place was. Last time she had seen it, the trees had been bare ... except she hadn't been here before. Trying to banish her unease, Sam got out of the car.
When Sam knocked at the door, there was no answer and Jack didn't seem to be anywhere in evidence as she walked around the cabin. Sam knew he couldn't be too far away as there was another car parked up out front. She decided to wait. The door was unlocked, so she let herself in and went straight to the bookshelf. The photo album was there. Her hands were shaking as she flipped to the back of the book.
"What the ...?"
Jack's voice shocked her so much; she dropped the book, spilling photos over the wooden floor.
"Carter, what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.
"You invited me," she reminded him, which was true from a certain perspective.
"But you should have given me some kind of warning. I could have been naked or something."
That wasn't such a bad thing from where Sam stood but she quickly felt herself blushing. Trying to hide her flaming cheeks, she bent down to pick up the photos.
"I know what you're looking for," Jack said, quietly.
She looked up to see him standing in front of her holding out the photo. Sam took it from him.
"Why?" she asked.
"Sam ... the other Sam, thought we lived in a perfect world."
"But we don't."
"No."
"This was their moment of perfection."
"What?"
"Never mind."
Sam sighed; Jack's attention seemed to have wandered. She should go, she realised. There was, after all, a motel in town ... and a place just down the road that served good pancakes.
"We've had our moments, "Jack said, continuing the conversation when Sam hadn't expected him to.
"I would hardly call them perfect, sir."
"Really?"
"Alien viruses? Getting trapped on other planets? Nearly frozen to death in Antarctica? Captured by system lords..."
"Eating Jell-O in the commissary, annoying Daniel, waking up in the infirmary and yours is the first face I see, laughing so hard we can't stop ...”
"There have been some good times," Sam had to concede.
"You, Daniel, Teal'c, you save my life and if that isn't worth something I don't know what is ... now ... give me a hug."
Sam stepped willingly into his arms and he held her for what felt like an eternity.
"Um ... Carter?" he said eventually.
"Mmm?" she mumbled into his chest.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but has someone thrown up on you?"
"On the plane," she admitted, stepping away. "I'm sorry."
"Not a problem, but why don't you go and grab a shower while I fix us something to eat?"
To her surprise he bent forward and placed a, not entirely chaste, kiss on her lips. Sam knew she should have been outraged but she just smiled at him,
"If you can kiss me when I smell like vomit, it must be love," she said.
"I guess it must be," he grinned back.
Story Notes: Spoilers: Unnatural Selection, but this story is set after Season 7 so has DJ in it.
NOTES: This ones for Sally Murphy, who sent me the germ of an idea and this is what I did with it. I hope it's turned out okay!!! Please also note that comments in Sam's Diary are marked between ~ ~.
Email: ruth@snowqueen.demon.co.uk
NOTES: This ones for Sally Murphy, who sent me the germ of an idea and this is what I did with it. I hope it's turned out okay!!! Please also note that comments in Sam's Diary are marked between ~ ~.
Email: ruth@snowqueen.demon.co.uk
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]