"Seasons 2: The Coming Of Spring" by Carol S Comer

Title: The Coming of Spring

Author: Carol S. Comer

Status: complete

Category: SJR, angst

Spoilers: 100 Days

Season/Sequel info: 3rd Season prior to Shades of Grey sequel to "Through the Bitter, Bitter Cold."

Rating: PG

Content Warnings: Pretty tame stuff here. Maybe some slight language problems.

Summary: Sam tries to deal with Jack's return from Edora

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em still. No copyright infringement was intended (I don't know HOW those characters got into my story - it must have been an accident). Okay, so maybe some LITTLE infringement was intended, but this bit of fluff was written for entertainment purposes only and no money changed hands. Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions DO own them. No characters were injured in the making of this fanfic.

Author's Notes: Once again, I am shamelessly pilfering lyrics from Tara MacLean (**"Silence," (c) 1996, Nettwerk Records, Inc.). I used the same song again as I used in "Through the Bitter, Bitter Cold" called "In the Wings" which inspired the title of that earlier piece. Song lyrics are the functional equivalent of poetry for those of us among the less literate. Ruth - before you ask - yes there will be a sequel. Look for "All Things New" coming to an email box near you.

THE COMING OF SPRING

And like the moon upon the water
Gives diamonds to the sea
I pray that when the snow is gone
You'll return to me.**

Major Samantha Carter woke in her own bed in a tangle of blankets. Trapped like a mummy under a down duvet and awaking to a room that was not military gray for the first time in almost four months left her momentarily disoriented. Sam furrowed her brows in confusion until she recalled the events of the prior evening - Daniel had brought her back to her apartment. She should be relieved to be home after the end of her ordeal trying to reach the Colonel on Edora, but her bed felt empty and strange to her.

She thought back over the events of the winter and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She had given everything she had - body and soul - to the quest to bring back Colonel O'Neill and he had brushed by her and her exuberance to tell Lara how sorry he was not to be able to stay with her.

She had nothing left to give, but still she couldn't cry. It could be shock or it could be the numbness borne of over-exhaustion.

The Colonel was back - SHE had brought him home, but nothing was the same. He didn't want to be home with Sam, or SG1 or anybody. 'He wants to be back on Edora with Lara.' Sam thought miserably. Her chest tighten with grief, but still the release of emotion wouldn't come.

Sam stretched stiffly and glanced out the window. The sun was high indicating that she had slept well past morning. The wind was calm and the snow lay deep and white in the courtyard below. She sighed deeply and furrowed farther under the covers. Sam felt feverish - tired, achy, on the edge of a headache, like the beginnings of the flu or the last remnants of a hangover.

She heard movement in the kitchen and assumed Daniel was still hovering around her like a mother hen. She silently wished he would come check on her now so that she could get an aspirin from him. Sam closed her eyes and buried her face back in her pillow as the waves of pounding increasingly rolled across her forehead. Minutes later, she heard the soft squeak of her bedroom door being opened.

"Daniel, will you get me an aspirin." She said flatly as she rolled over carefully to face the door. "I have a pounding headache." Sam gasped as she was the Colonel standing in the doorway. "Colonel." She said as she struggled to sit up. A wave of pain conspired to limit her movement and she sunk back down into her pillow. "Where's Daniel?" She asked as she threw an arm across her eyes. The darkness and the weight of her limb helped ease the pounding headache.

"He left when I came in last night." The Colonel said as he moved across the room and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Why?" She asked coldly peeking out over the crook of her arm.

"I asked him to." Jack said as he laid the back of his hand across her forehead to check the Sam for the signs of a fever. The major waved him away impatiently and dropped her arm across her eyes again.

"I'll get you an aspirin." He said when she didn't respond to him.

Colonel O'Neill returned with two pills and a glass of water. He helped Sam sit up and she washed the aspirin down with a healthy swallow of water. Sam handed the glass back to Jack and laid back down, rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face into her pillows.

Jack sat the glass on her bedside table and leaned over to lightly rub her back. "Sam, I..." he started to explain himself to her. Sam reached around behind her and pushed his hand off her back.

She lifted her head long enough to tell him "I don't want to talk about this now." Sam snuggled back down into her pillow. "I have a headache." She said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Jack sat on the edge of her bed for a few minutes longer. When Sam remained silent, he sighed with frustration and stood back up. When she heard the door to her bedroom close again Sam rolled over and looked at the bedside table. Jack had left her the glass of water and the bottle of aspirins.

Sam frowned and her chest constricted painfully making it hard for her to breathe, but relief escaped her. 'If I could just cry,' she thought to herself miserably, 'I'd feel a whole hell of a lot better.' Instead, her grief manifested itself like the flu - headache, tiredness, malaise, vague body aches like the tightness in her chest. She simply did not have the will or the means to confront the source of her anguish. So, she curled up into a ball and tried to sleep it off, like she would a fever or a hangover.

Later that afternoon, Jack brought a tray with soup and toast in and sat it next to the bed. Sam woke up, but didn't turn over to look at the Colonel or his proffered dinner. Instead she opted to watch the shadows of the trees in the courtyard.

Jack could see her eyes were open and she was staring out the window at the snow, graying in the waning light of afternoon. "You have to eat something." He told her patiently. When she still didn't turn around and sit up, he crossed his arms over his chest and stubbornly decided to wait her out.

Sam continued to stare unseeingly into the world beyond her pain. An occasional sad sigh would escape from her depths - the release of air was as close as the Major could come to the setting free the well- spring of tears that would ease the pressure around her heart.

After several minutes had passed in silence, Sam assumed the Colonel had simply left the tray. Sam grew uncomfortable confined to her side and rolled over onto her back to relieve a pinched nerve in her arm. She yelped in surprise when she turned to see what he had left for her and found him leaning defiantly against her chest of drawers.

"You're still here." Sam said hostilely, stating the obvious.

"Yes." He agreed. Once again they reached a stalemate and sat in an uncomfortable silence. Finally Jack gave in and with frustration pleaded, "would you at least eat something?"

Sam looked at the tray of food with trepidation. She still didn't have an appetite. The growing knot of depression filled her stomach like chicken noodle soup and buttered toast never would.

"Please." Jack said softly.

"I can't." She said - the words stuck in her throat blocked by the thick layer of sorrow that occupied her chest. Sam rolled back over to her side away from the Colonel, the food, and anything that might remind her of the last four months. 'Why can't I just cry?' she asked herself shutting her eyes in frustration.

Jack crossed to the side of the bed and sat down. Sam opened her eyes when she felt his weight next to her. It felt vaguely familiar to her. She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling in the growing darkness. She couldn't meet his eyes, but at least she had him in her peripheral vision.

'Well, it's a start.' Jack thought to himself.

"How's your headache?" He asked. Sam just shrugged in response. "Can we talk now?" Sam didn't respond so Jack took it as a grudging invitation to explain himself. "I know what you're thinking." He said and saw her eyes flash in anger as if she were saying 'how could you possibly understand.' "You think that I'm not happy that you were able to reach me on Edora." When she didn't protest, Jack continued. "But you're wrong, Sam." He told her. "You're wrong." Jack moved deeper onto the bed and sat against the indent of her waste. The colonel leaned over Sam tried to catch her eyes but she turned her head away to avoid him. She was almost choking on the knot in her chest now and the aspirins no longer took the edge off of her headache.

"Please, not now." She told him haltingly. Sam felt Jack reach for her chin to turn her to face him and she waved him off without turning to look at him. Jack sighed in resignation and the movement of the bed signaled his retreat. Sam laid on the bed watching shadows in the dark and tried to remember how to breathe. 'Just cry, just cry,' she chanted but still the blessed relief of emotional release escaped her. Giving in, Sam reached over for the aspirins and downed a couple of pills before seeking the comfort of numbness that slumber brings.

Waking again to a deep darkness, Sam laid in bed listening for evidence of company until a growing restlessness encouraged her to get up. She finished the last gulp of water, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, and went to refill her glass. Stopping to frown at the cold soup and soggy toast that laid untouched on her bedside table, Sam picked up the tray to take it into the kitchen as long as she was making the trip.

Sam shuffled listlessly down the hallway in her stocking feet, her head beating in time to her footsteps. She found Jack asleep on her couch with his head on the arm of the sofa and his arms crossed protectively over his chest. His eyes sprung open when a floor board beneath Sam squeaked and he sat abruptly rubbing his eyes.

"Sam." He said startled and stood to help her.

"Aren't you EVER going home?" Sam asked as Jack took the tray from her hands and sat it on the coffee table.

"I AM home." Jack told Sam as he pulled her into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Sam stiffened momentarily - the reality of the moment struck her full force in the face like the icy shards of the snow.

"No." She whimpered pulling away. "I can't do this." The pitch of her voice raised on the edge of hysteria and Jack's instinct was to hold her tighter, but when she began struggling to escape his arms, Jack freed the Major.

Sam fled back to her bedroom and flopped down across the bed. There the tears finally came. Great shuddering sobs wracked her small body and she rolled into a sorrowful ball as if she were small enough, she could simply disappear. Jack found her crying on her bed curled into the fetal position and holding her waist as if she were in pain.

"Oh Sam," he said as he crawled across the bed and wrapped her in his arms. This time she did not pull away. Sam laid her head against his forearm and allowed him to stroke her hair. "Please." He said softly as her tears soaked his forearm. "Shhh. Its over now. Let it go." He cooed soothingly, rocking her as she cried.

And with Sam's acceptance of comfort from him, Jack could hear the crack of the ice that signaled the coming of the spring.

The End.