"Memories" by Ruth M King

TITLE: Memories

RATING: PG

ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack and Heliopolis. Anyone else please ask :)

SPOILERS: Jolinar's Memories, the Devil You Know

DISCLAIMERS: Stargate SG1 is the property of MGM, Showtime, Double Secret and Gekko etc. I'm just playing for a while !

NOTES: This is my response to the 2000 Mother's Death Challenge. I think I fulfilled all of the requirements :):).

***

"Doc!"

Fraiser mentally counted to three hundred and ninety, wishing that Colonel O'Neill's leg injury had somehow affected his vocal capacity.

"I told you already, sir, if you can walk out of here, you can leave," she smiled, a little smugly.

"No problem," he asserted and swung his legs off the bed.

O'Neill tried to put his weight on his injured leg only to find that he couldn't. He ended up balancing uncertainly on his good limb.

"Hopping doesn't count," Fraiser told him.

"Come on Doc. I'm goin' nuts here," he complained.

"Even if you can hop out of here, do you really want to hop through the SGC in that hospital robe? There's a reason we make them open at the back."

"I thought it was to make it easier to jam needles into my butt."

Ignoring his remark, she headed out of the infirmary. Colonel O'Neill rated as her worst patient. At least Daniel had the good grace to be less vocal with his protests. The colonel just had to accept that he wasn't going to be running marathons anytime soon. The staff weapon burn had been nasty. It had become infected and he'd been running a fever by the time the team returned from 'hell'. O'Neill had been quite happy to lie in bed then. However, the second he had started to feel better he had started demanding to be released. Very loudly.

"Janet!"

Fraiser turned to see Major Carter jogging towards her. The doctor was pleasantly surprised to note that her friend was dressed in civvies. Sam didn't leave the base nearly enough.

"How's the patient?" Carter asked.

"Noisy. Maybe you should drop by and see him. He might listen to you."

"Yeah right!"

Both women laughed. Short of tying him to the bed, there was no way that the infirmary would detain Colonel O'Neill for long.

"Sit and hold his hand. That should keep him still," Janet suggested a little slyly.

Her remark had the desired effect. Sam immediately blushed.

"Janet!" she exclaimed.

"The lady doth protest to much," Janet quoted.

"Besides I don't have time. I'm supposed to be taking Martouf topside."

Janet felt herself frown. Martouf seemed to be a nice enough guy, but...... In all honesty she didn't quite trust the Tokr'a. She knew, better than anyone, what Jolinar had been willing to do to rescue herself. Even though the symbioant had saved Sam's life, Janet was almost certain that it had been because she had no other choice. Who on the base would have volunteered to be a new host? Or got close enough to be forcefully taken over.

"Go and see the colonel," Janet advised. "He'll really appreciate it."

"I suppose I could spare a few minutes," Sam muttered.

She passed Daniel and Teal'c on the way to the infirmary.

"What kind of mood is he in?" she asked.

"Grouchy," Daniel replied.

"He does not seem to understand the reasons why he should avail himself of the base medical facilities," Teal'c added.

"Like I said....He's grouchy."

O'Neill was sitting on the edge of his bed when Sam found him. His face was a little grey, and he didn't look like he would be going anywhere anytime soon. He grinned when he saw Sam.

"Carter, good. I can't find my clothes," he told her.

"How are you, sir? Feeling better?" Carter replied, smiling back at him.

"Fine. I'm fine. I just need to get out of here. Find my clothes....please?"

"Why do I think that Janet won't approve?"

"Please, Sam. "

He was making puppy dog eyes at her. She wished he wouldn't do that, it made her want ruffle his hair. Placing her hands firmly behind her back, Sam resolutely shook her head. O'Neill's smile quickly turned to a scowl.

"Carter, I order you to find my clothes!"

"Sir...." she started to protest, but he cut her off.

"Clothes!"

Knowing that she was truly caught between a rock and a hard place Sam did as she was bid. Janet would probably kill her. The colonel was just so determined to escape, that she had to make sure he did it without hurting himself. Besides, Sam did feel slightly guilty. O'Neill had been injured defending her, however half-assed the reasons had been. All he had achieved was to get himself hurt and she had been taken to Apophis anyway. She shivered as the memory flashed through her mind.

She now stood with her back to the colonel, waiting for him to get dressed and trying not to peek. Every so often he'd utter a small exclamation of pain, and Sam had to fight with herself to keep her eyes front and centre. She only gave into temptation once. Luckily, he didn't notice. He had his back to her and was pulling on his shirt. Sam caught a glimpse of his muscular shoulders and back, then turned away, biting her lip.

"Sam."

"Yes, sir?"

"I can't tie my shoes."

Sam sighed to herself and knelt at his feet, trying to ignore his obvious grin. He obviously liked the thought of a woman on her knees before him.

"Ready to go sir?" she asked as she got up.

"Sure."

He looked uncertainly towards the door, then back at Sam. His steps were a little uncertain and he didn't manage more than two before he needed to clutch onto the end of the bed for support.

"Give me a hand here, will ya?" he complained.

"Oh no, sir. You have to do this part by yourself."

"Right. If that's the way you and the Doc. want to play it."

Taking several deep breaths, he started towards the door again. Sam followed close behind, ready to catch him when he fell. O'Neill didn't seem to notice. He was too busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She let him get as far as the corridor before she slipped and arm about his waist. He immediately clutched onto her for support.

"Come on sir. I really think you should give this up," she said, gently.

He shook his head and gestured towards the elevator, "I want to go home, Carter. I want to lie on my couch, watch TV, drink beer and eat pizza. In case you haven't noticed I can't do any of that here. "

"Maybe if we didn't have to shoot the delivery guys every time we let them in......" Sam quipped back.

"So get me outta here and I'll buy you the most expensive pizza on the menu."

"You know how to show a girl a good time, sir."

"It's one of my many talents."

The brief rest had restored some of his humour. Sam couldn't help feeling that most of it was forced. She was just hoping to get him off base without running into Janet or.....General Hammond was coming towards them.

"Colonel.....," he nodded.

"General," O'Neill replied, trying to look as if the wall wasn't holding him upright.

He draped his arm back over Sam's shoulders the second Hammond had passed out of view. By the time they reached her car he was breathing hard and sweating profusely. He just grunted when she made a final attempt to get him back to the infirmary, so she gave in and drove him home.

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"Sammie!" O'Neill called out to her.

Sam ground her teeth, wishing that he'd stop calling her that. He seemed to think it was amusing.

"Yes, sir?" she replied, from the kitchen.

"Pizza guy's here."

"Be right there, sir."

She went back into the living room to find her wallet. O'Neill was stretched full length on the couch, beer in one hand, TV remote in the other. He looked totally pathetic. Sam shook her head and calmly went to collect the pizza. She dumped the box on the coffee table and turned back to him.

"Pizza," she pointed. "Anything else?"

He reached out towards the box only to find that it was a couple of inches out of his reach. His brown eyes met hers and Sam felt something inside of her turn to mush. How could anyone possibly resist that expression? Relenting, she moved the box to the floor beside him, then sat with her back to the couch so she could share their dinner. Pizza. She was eating takeout pizza when she should have been dining with Martouf in a decent restaurant. It was her own fault. Not that Janet had shown any signs of sympathy when they had spoke on the phone. She had basically ordered Sam to stay with the colonel. The doctor's opinion had been that, since Sam had sprung him, she should be the one to look after him. 'Then again maybe this wasn't so bad', she thought as the colonel's arm snaked over her shoulder so he could pick up a second slice. He didn't know that he was brushing against her every time he did it.

"You look nice," he said, suddenly.

Sam turned to stare at him. It had taken all this time for him to notice that she wasn't wearing fatigues.

"I was supposed to be going out, sir," she told him.

"Oh......sorry."

He didn't look particularly apologetic. In fact, he seemed very pleased with himself.

"Don't worry, it wasn't anything important."

"Betcha having more fun here with me."

"You have no idea."

He seemed to accept her lies, and she did admit there was a certain comfort factor in being here with O'Neill. She could kick back and relax, more easily than she could with anyone else. It was curious. He didn't expect her to behave differently just because she was a guest in his house.

Pizza finished, Sam lent her head back on the couch and allowed her mind to drift. O'Neill shifted onto his side and placed his head next to hers.

"Sam?"

"Mmmmmm...."

"Don't s'pose you'd mind bringing the rest of the beer through?" he asked.

Sighing, Sam pushed herself to her feet. So much for feeling comfortable. O'Neill knew how to play the 'I'm a poor sick male' routine far too well.

"Have you got anything sweet, sir?" Sam called out as she got the beer out of the fridge.

"Only myself, Major," he returned.

"Sweet and edible....and don't you dare say anything."

"There might be some cookie dough."

"Didn't know you did any baking, sir."

"I don't."

"You do realise that you're supposed to make cookies with it, and not just eat it straight from the packet."

"Knock yourself out, Sammie."

So now he was expecting cookies. How did she get herself into these situations? Swearing softly to herself Sam set to work, only pausing to take a healthy swig of the colonel's beer, which she had neglected to take out to him. She slammed the cookies in the oven and stood back, waiting for them to bake.

"Smells good," O'Neill's voice floated into the kitchen.

"Just be a couple of minutes, sir," she called back.

"You know I could use someone like you around the place."

"Is that a proposal, colonel?"

"Damn straight."

Yeah right, she could just see the General's face if he was ever presented with that piece of news. Sam found herself laughing as she took hot tray from the oven. She couldn't remember the last time she had made.....Oh God! Yes she could. She paused in the middle of transferring the cookies from the baking sheet to the plate. The spatula slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Sam backed away, burying her face in her hands. The memories seemed fresh in her mind. She could see her father standing before her, telling his daughter that Mom was never coming home again.

Then the colonel was there. She didn't know how, she didn't care. He was there, his arms about her, one hand in her hair. Sam couldn't stop herself sobbing into his chest. He didn't ask any questions, he just held her and let her cry. Eventually, she realised that he was leaning very heavily against the work surface and she drew away from him.

"You shouldn't be standing up," she admonished.

"Sam, what's wrong?" he asked, wiping her tears away with his thumb.

"Bad memories," she admitted.

"From cookies? What, you had nightmares about the Cookie Monster or something?"

She couldn't help herself, she laughed a little. He placed a finger under her chin, "C'mon, Sam. Tell me."

Sam hesitated, not quite knowing if she could explain....or even if she wanted to. The colonel's arm went about her shoulders and he led her back into the living room. Or rather, he decided on the direction and she supported him. They sat down together on the couch and O'Neill propped his bad leg up on the coffee table.

"So?" he prompted.

"It's stupid."

"You were crying, Sam. Whatever the reason it can't be 'stupid', as you put it. You can push this military detachment a little too far, you know."

She bit her lip and found herself in his arms again. His hands, unusually sensitive, were stroking her hair. He wasn't demanding the information. If she didn't feel like explaining, he would understand.

"When Martouf had the memory device on me.....I was seeing the day my mother died," she began.

"Oh God, Sam, I'm sorry."

"She'd been away, you see and Dad had gone to pick her up from the airport. I was in the kitchen baking her some cookies. They were her favourite, chocolate chip."

"Mom had good taste."

"Dad came back, he called out to me. He came into the kitchen and he was crying. I'd never seen Dad cry before. He was always the big tough military man and he'd tried to make us the same way. Him showing any emotion at all.......I asked him where Mom was and Dad couldn't even answer me. I knew, dear God I knew that she wasn't coming back."

"What happened?"

"Dad had been late so she took a cab. I guess she really wanted to get back to us. There was an accident. Head on collision, at high speed. Turned out that the guy was overtaking a line of traffic while talking on his carphone. He survived, my Mom didn't. I relived it all, sir. First Martouf, then Apophis....I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I know you've....I mean...it can't have been easy for you either.....with.......and everything."

O'Neill went a little quite. Sam thought, for a moment, that she'd offended him.

"Charlie. You can say his name, Sam," he whispered. "I'd like you too."

"I didn't mean...."

"It's me who should be apologising. I get so caught up in my own grief I forget that other people have had their own share."

He hugged her again. The colonel gave good hugs, Sam decided. Warm, solid, she always felt safe when she was in his arms. It was a damn shame that he was her commanding officer. 'Maybe one day', she thought to herself.

"Thanks for being here tonight," he told her.

"Likewise, sir."

Taking a chance, Sam reached up and kissed him on the cheek, by way of a thank you. Rather than being offended, the colonel grinned at her and returned the gesture.

"Want another beer?" he asked.

"That'd be good."

"Er....could you?"

"Yes, sir."

Sam reached out and ruffled his hair.

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The End