Fic: 'Falling Back to Earth' (6/7)
Falling Back to Earth
Chapter Six
Jack sits outside the door to the infirmary. This is as far as he’s been able to make it after handing Sam off to the doctors. There are probably fifty other things he should be doing, but he’s still rooted to the spot. Kawalsky and the marines have long since disappeared, Daniel off with Sha’re to help with the refugees, leaving Jack alone in the hall.
The general went inside a while ago, no doubt to get an update on Sam’s condition. When he reappears, he doesn’t look particularly surprised to find Jack still out in the hall. He takes a moment to study Jack, and for the first time, his gaze isn’t filled with disapproval.
“Good job, Colonel,” he says. “You got your team back.”
Jack wants to laugh at that, or maybe just chuck his chair into a wall, but both of those sound like they require a lot of energy he doesn’t have, so he just shakes his head.
Hammond gives him a patient look, like he’s chalking up Jack’s behavior to being overly self-critical. If only he knew.
“Sir,” Jack says, staring down at the floor. “You should know that the only reason we are all back is because I got lucky. Blind, stupid lucky. And because Kawalsky can keep his head in insane situations.”
“I’m not sure I understand you,” Hammond says.
Jack looks up at him. “You want the whole ugly truth, sir?”
Hammond looks like he might regret it later, but nods nonetheless. “Yes, let’s try the truth for once.”
Jack lets the dig slide, running his hands through his hair. “You can order us, and I can even follow that order to the damn letter, but none of that erases the fact that my judgment was shot to hell out there. Just the tiniest difference, and I would have gotten us all killed.”
Hammond doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know exactly what Jack is talking about, simply regards him for a long moment, but with none of the anger from before, or the disappointment. Instead he’s projecting a weary sort of acceptance, like he’s finally realizing what he’s in for as commander of the SGC.
“I may have…misjudged the severity of the issue,” he admits.
Jack laughs hoarsely. That’s one way to put it.
Hammond’s got a wry smile on his face, so maybe the guy has a sense of humor after all. And possibly Hammond’s disapproval and rage had really been a product of the fact that he’s in over his head here just as much as the rest of them.
“I can’t be her CO,” Jack admits bluntly, laying all his cards on the table.
“No,” Hammond says. “I think that much is clear, son.”
Jack nods, leaning back in his chair. At least they agree on that.
“Why don’t you go inside?” Hammond asks.
Jack gives him a tight smile. He’s barely holding everything together as it is. Going in there, seeing her all pale and still…he can’t promise not to completely lose it. “Probably not a good idea, sir.”
Hammond smiles. “I think that could easily be this place’s motto.” He jerks his head towards the infirmary. “Go ahead. Someone familiar should be there when she wakes up.” He eyes Jack’s crumpled and stained uniform. “Though you may want to get cleaned up first.”
Jack stares down at the cloth that is more red than green now.
“Do I need to make it an order?” Hammond says when he doesn’t move.
“No, sir,” Jack says, wearily pushing to his feet.
He’s already got more than enough orders he can’t live with. He doesn’t need any more.
* * *
Everything hurts.
Sam tries to writhe away from the source of the pain, but God, it feels like her entire body is on fire and she just can’t get away from it. Something is holding her down, and as hard as she tries she can’t get free.
It takes an incredible amount of will, but Sam somehow manages to crack open her eyes. She’s in a white room, the light way too bright. She wants to yell at someone to turn off the lights, to make the pain stop, but all that comes out is a weak moan.
There’s someone there, figures moving out of the corner of her eye. A voice is shouting something that she can’t make out. A woman leans over Sam and she tries to shift away from the stranger, but moving only brings more pain, tears pricking her eyes.
She thinks she hears her name, her eyes lifting past the woman and there is Jack, just past the woman’s shoulder. His eyes are latched onto Sam but his mouth is moving and she knows somehow that he is pissed as hell.
The woman Sam is finally realizing is a nurse is scrambling for something on a tray, grabbing for an IV line and squeezing the plunger home. Almost immediately Sam feels a vague sort of soft cotton spread down her limbs. Blessed relief.
She breathes out, her eyes fluttering shut.
The next time she wakes, the pain is softer. Still present, but muffled. Bearable.
She opens her eyes. Jack is still there, sitting just a few feet away from the edge of her bed. He pushes to his feet when he notices she’s awake.
“Doc,” he calls out.
A short woman with dark hair appears, different from the one earlier. “Captain Carter,” she says with a warm smile. “Welcome back. How is the pain?”
“Better,” Sam says, rasping the word out through the dryness in her throat.
The doctor holds out a cup with a straw for her, and Sam doesn’t even bother to protest being treated like an infant, especially since she’s not sure she could lift her arms to save her life at the moment. She takes a small sip and the doctor pulls it away before she can drink too much.
“I’m just going to do a quick examination, okay, Captain?”
Sam nods, relaxing her head back against the bed as the doctor moves around her, poking and prodding with the occasional, “Sorry about that,” when she hits a tender spot. Sam thinks she must be made up entirely of tender spots.
Jack is still standing motionless behind the doctor, watching Sam like he’s scared she’s going to disappear in a puff of smoke if he looks away. She instinctively wants to reassure him, but everything in her head is so muzzy that she wouldn’t even know where to start.
Eventually the doctor is appeased, picking up a chart and jotting down some notes. “Everything looks good, Captain. You were lucky.”
Was she?
The doctor disappears back into her office and Jack lowers himself into the chair by her bed.
Looking around, Sam tries to get her bearings. “SGC?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “Everybody made it back.”
She nods. That’s good. She’s trying her damndest to remember coming back to Earth, but she’s just got nothing after the prison cell. “What about Skaara?”
Jack’s jaw tightens. “No.”
Damn. He’d been taken, she remembers. But after that… What happened after that?
“I don’t--,” she starts to say only to stumble to a stop as the memory finally slams into place. She remembers the blast, the fire burning in her side… She’s sure she was dead. She remembers saying goodbye. Jack leaning over her…
Her forehead creases. “Was I…?”
Jack grimaces, giving himself away. “Just for a little while.”
“What?” she asks, her heart jumping in her chest.
Jack is toying with the edge of her sheet, folding it over and smoothing it just so. She recognizes this ploy, his complete absorption in a meaningless task to cover the fact that he is way more freaked out than he is letting on.
He’s not the only one.
“Your buddy Teal’c showed me where there was a sarcophagus,” he says after a moment, like it’s no big deal. His lips twist into a smile. “Nice work, by the way. Making friends in clutch situations.”
“Teal’c?” she repeats, the word making no more sense than any other part of this conversation.
Jack nods. “Big guy, gold tattoo in his forehead.”
“Right,” Sam says, the memory slipping into place. “The guard. I still can’t believe he did that, saving us.”
“You must have made some impression.”
Sam thinks Jack must have made some impression himself, but doesn’t feel up to arguing it. She closes her eyes, carefully rubbing at them with the one hand that doesn’t feel like it’s on fire. The terror of knowing she had actually died is still ebbing slowly.
“I’m sorry,” Jack says, something rough and painful in his voice.
Sam looks up at him and she knows that expression, one far too much like the man he’d once been and not the man he’s become. Haunted. It doesn’t matter anymore that she shouldn’t know that. She does.
“Why?”
“I could have gotten you killed.” He blinks, reconsidering his words. “What am I talking about, I did get you killed.”
She shakes her head, not understanding this guilt he’s radiating. “I got shot,” she reminds him. “How is that your fault?”
He levels a hard gaze on her. “You shouldn’t have even been in the temple and you know it.”
It actually takes her a moment to figure out what he means. Not Chulak, but Abydos. Apophis’s attack. They both know why he left her behind when he went to see Daniel’s discovery. But that can’t be what this is about.
“Hey,” she says. “I signed up for this just like everyone else. I don’t need to be protected or coddled. You know that.”
He shakes his head, his lips twisting like she’s missing something painfully obvious. “Not to me,” he says, and she wishes she could misunderstand that as a slight, hold fast to indignation. But all she feels is the impact of what he’s admitting.
She bites the inside of her cheek and blinks back against the tears she refuses to let fall. His fingers still haven’t stopped moving and it’s shredding her last nerves. Damn it all the hell.
She slides her hand over his, stilling the movement, allowing herself one weak moment to enjoy the warmth of his fingers under hers. “I’m okay, Jack,” she says, her voice soft.
They will be okay too. They have to be.
His jaw flexes, like he’s biting down on everything he’d really like to say. His hand twists up around hers, his grip nearly painful. “At least one of us is,” he tries to joke.
She tries to swallow against he pressure building up in her throat at the memory, because this time it isn’t anything like a start, only an ending. They stare at each other for a moment, everything rising to the surface, and God, if possible it hurts even more than the hole in her side.
She thinks he must see it, because he says, “I can quit,” the words quiet and desperate, but she knows he doesn’t believe them anymore than she does.
“No, you can’t,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Not with everything we know now. Not with Skaara still out there somewhere.”
He doesn’t deny it, just closes his eyes, one hand rubbing at his forehead.
“I know what he means to you,” she says, giving whatever absolution she can.
He stares back at her and she hears it, even if he never commits the words.
What about what you mean to me?
She swallows hard, pulling the tattered remains of her composure back together. They’ve already pushed this boundary to the breaking point. She knows danger when she sees it.
Jack’s the one to lean down, pressing a reckless kiss to the back of her hand before pushing back from the bed and disappearing out the door.
She can’t wish him back, no matter how much she wants to.
* * *
Sam shifts in the bed to relieve the pins and needles erupting in her left foot. The small movement sets off a path of fire across her back and she hisses in pain.
“Everything okay, Captain?” one of the omnipresent nurses asks, sticking her head around the curtain divider.
Sam forces herself to smile. “Fine,” she says, keeping her voice light.
The nurse gives her a pointed look, but doesn’t press. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Sam lets out a breath as the nurse disappears, pressing a hand to her side. She knows she should probably just let the nurse give her another dose of the painkiller, but she hates to ask for it. It makes her head feel fuzzy, not to mention tend to give her vivid, disturbing dreams. She’s better off without them.
She tries not to consider that maybe she just likes the proof that she’s still alive.
Jack probably would have been able to take one look at her and know what was going on, but luckily-yes, lucky, she convinces herself-he hasn’t so much as set foot in the infirmary again since the day she woke up. He’s not here to call her bluff.
“Captain Carter?” someone asks, a hand cautiously pulling back the curtain. Dr. Jackson appears. “Are you up for a little company?”
Sam smiles. “Of course, Doctor.” Anything to keep her distracted.
“Yeah?” he asks, looking around for a chair. “I just thought I would come in and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m good,” Sam says. It’s a phrase she says so often these days that it’s practically become a tic.
Dr. Jackson eyes drop to her heavily bandaged side and she wonder for a moment if he’s seeing it again, that moment in Apophis’s prison.
She clears her throat. “May I ask what you and your wife will do now?”
He leans back in his chair. “Find a way to help Skaara. Help Earth with this battle in any way we can.”
She can’t imagine what it must be like, to find yourself suddenly exiled from your planet. “Will you ever be able to return to Abydos?”
“They’ll unbury the gate one year to the day we left. But Sha’re will not return for good until her brother has been set free.”
She can still hear Jack’s voice, hoarse with pain. He’s one of them now.
“Do you think it will be possible?” she asks. “To free him?”
“We’ve talked to Teal’c. He doesn’t seem to believe anything of the host survives when the body is taken over by the Goa’uld. But either way, we can’t just leave him.”
She nods, thinking of Jack, knowing he too won’t rest until Skaara is free. One way or another. “We’ll find him,” Sam says.
Dr. Jackson smiles. “I hope so.”
They fall into silence then, Dr. Jackson giving her a penetrating look that feels somewhat like being x-rayed. She refuses to squirm under the scrutiny.
“Oh,” he says, as if suddenly remembering something. He pulls out a crystal from his pocket. “I grabbed this on the way out.”
She takes it from him, turning it over in her fingers. She recognizes it as the one she’d tried to wield as a pathetic weapon of sorts. Little good it had done her.
“I figure together we may just be able to figure it out.”
Sam forces herself to focus on Dr. Jackson and his infectious eagerness. She smiles at him. “Despite…everything, I’m glad to have gotten the chance to meet you, Dr. Jackson.”
“Daniel,” he corrects.
“Daniel,” she repeats, handing the crystal back to him.
He looks her over, something deliberate in the way he studies her, like she’s some incomprehensible language he’s still figuring out. “You gave us quite the scare,” he says, something indefinable in his voice.
Unconsciously her hand moves back to her side, the thick bandage there. “I hear I have you to thank for your quick thinking.”
“I’ve been there,” he says, his eyes slipping out of focus. “I knew nothing would get Jack to leave you there.”
Sam feels her stomach clench. “Dr. Jackson,” she warns, really not liking where this conversation seems to be heading.
“Daniel,” he absently corrects again. With alarm, she realizes that he’s clearly aware of her discomfort but not particularly bothered by it. “He tried to hide it, you know. But when you…” He shrugs. “It was pretty obvious.”
It takes everything Sam has to keep her face neutral, like hearing him talk about how hard Jack took her death isn’t affecting her.
She’s beginning to realize Dr. Jackson may have the annoying habit of seeing things no one wants him too, and even worse, has no problems verbalizing it. Was this why Jack always talked of him with exasperation reluctantly tinged with fondness? He must be a serious pain in the ass when you’re trying to keep something to yourself. But maybe that was exactly what Jack needed on that first ill-fated trip.
Dr. Jackson still seems to be waiting for some sort of response from her, but Sam just presses her lips together. This is not something she is going to talk about, friend of Jack’s or not.
He doesn’t seem offended by her reticence, rather amused as a wry smile twists his lips. “You two are a lot alike,” he observes.
She’s just beginning to resign herself to teaching him a few things about the way things work on a military base when he pulls a worn leather journal out of his pocket.
“So,” he says, flattening a page so she can see it. “I’ve been working on translating the text from the crystal hatch.”
Sam lets out a breath. Now this is something she can deal with, she thinks, gladly focusing her mind down on the concrete problem in front of her, pain temporarily forgotten.
It’s so much safer.
:: next::
Chapter Six
Jack sits outside the door to the infirmary. This is as far as he’s been able to make it after handing Sam off to the doctors. There are probably fifty other things he should be doing, but he’s still rooted to the spot. Kawalsky and the marines have long since disappeared, Daniel off with Sha’re to help with the refugees, leaving Jack alone in the hall.
The general went inside a while ago, no doubt to get an update on Sam’s condition. When he reappears, he doesn’t look particularly surprised to find Jack still out in the hall. He takes a moment to study Jack, and for the first time, his gaze isn’t filled with disapproval.
“Good job, Colonel,” he says. “You got your team back.”
Jack wants to laugh at that, or maybe just chuck his chair into a wall, but both of those sound like they require a lot of energy he doesn’t have, so he just shakes his head.
Hammond gives him a patient look, like he’s chalking up Jack’s behavior to being overly self-critical. If only he knew.
“Sir,” Jack says, staring down at the floor. “You should know that the only reason we are all back is because I got lucky. Blind, stupid lucky. And because Kawalsky can keep his head in insane situations.”
“I’m not sure I understand you,” Hammond says.
Jack looks up at him. “You want the whole ugly truth, sir?”
Hammond looks like he might regret it later, but nods nonetheless. “Yes, let’s try the truth for once.”
Jack lets the dig slide, running his hands through his hair. “You can order us, and I can even follow that order to the damn letter, but none of that erases the fact that my judgment was shot to hell out there. Just the tiniest difference, and I would have gotten us all killed.”
Hammond doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know exactly what Jack is talking about, simply regards him for a long moment, but with none of the anger from before, or the disappointment. Instead he’s projecting a weary sort of acceptance, like he’s finally realizing what he’s in for as commander of the SGC.
“I may have…misjudged the severity of the issue,” he admits.
Jack laughs hoarsely. That’s one way to put it.
Hammond’s got a wry smile on his face, so maybe the guy has a sense of humor after all. And possibly Hammond’s disapproval and rage had really been a product of the fact that he’s in over his head here just as much as the rest of them.
“I can’t be her CO,” Jack admits bluntly, laying all his cards on the table.
“No,” Hammond says. “I think that much is clear, son.”
Jack nods, leaning back in his chair. At least they agree on that.
“Why don’t you go inside?” Hammond asks.
Jack gives him a tight smile. He’s barely holding everything together as it is. Going in there, seeing her all pale and still…he can’t promise not to completely lose it. “Probably not a good idea, sir.”
Hammond smiles. “I think that could easily be this place’s motto.” He jerks his head towards the infirmary. “Go ahead. Someone familiar should be there when she wakes up.” He eyes Jack’s crumpled and stained uniform. “Though you may want to get cleaned up first.”
Jack stares down at the cloth that is more red than green now.
“Do I need to make it an order?” Hammond says when he doesn’t move.
“No, sir,” Jack says, wearily pushing to his feet.
He’s already got more than enough orders he can’t live with. He doesn’t need any more.
* * *
Everything hurts.
Sam tries to writhe away from the source of the pain, but God, it feels like her entire body is on fire and she just can’t get away from it. Something is holding her down, and as hard as she tries she can’t get free.
It takes an incredible amount of will, but Sam somehow manages to crack open her eyes. She’s in a white room, the light way too bright. She wants to yell at someone to turn off the lights, to make the pain stop, but all that comes out is a weak moan.
There’s someone there, figures moving out of the corner of her eye. A voice is shouting something that she can’t make out. A woman leans over Sam and she tries to shift away from the stranger, but moving only brings more pain, tears pricking her eyes.
She thinks she hears her name, her eyes lifting past the woman and there is Jack, just past the woman’s shoulder. His eyes are latched onto Sam but his mouth is moving and she knows somehow that he is pissed as hell.
The woman Sam is finally realizing is a nurse is scrambling for something on a tray, grabbing for an IV line and squeezing the plunger home. Almost immediately Sam feels a vague sort of soft cotton spread down her limbs. Blessed relief.
She breathes out, her eyes fluttering shut.
The next time she wakes, the pain is softer. Still present, but muffled. Bearable.
She opens her eyes. Jack is still there, sitting just a few feet away from the edge of her bed. He pushes to his feet when he notices she’s awake.
“Doc,” he calls out.
A short woman with dark hair appears, different from the one earlier. “Captain Carter,” she says with a warm smile. “Welcome back. How is the pain?”
“Better,” Sam says, rasping the word out through the dryness in her throat.
The doctor holds out a cup with a straw for her, and Sam doesn’t even bother to protest being treated like an infant, especially since she’s not sure she could lift her arms to save her life at the moment. She takes a small sip and the doctor pulls it away before she can drink too much.
“I’m just going to do a quick examination, okay, Captain?”
Sam nods, relaxing her head back against the bed as the doctor moves around her, poking and prodding with the occasional, “Sorry about that,” when she hits a tender spot. Sam thinks she must be made up entirely of tender spots.
Jack is still standing motionless behind the doctor, watching Sam like he’s scared she’s going to disappear in a puff of smoke if he looks away. She instinctively wants to reassure him, but everything in her head is so muzzy that she wouldn’t even know where to start.
Eventually the doctor is appeased, picking up a chart and jotting down some notes. “Everything looks good, Captain. You were lucky.”
Was she?
The doctor disappears back into her office and Jack lowers himself into the chair by her bed.
Looking around, Sam tries to get her bearings. “SGC?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “Everybody made it back.”
She nods. That’s good. She’s trying her damndest to remember coming back to Earth, but she’s just got nothing after the prison cell. “What about Skaara?”
Jack’s jaw tightens. “No.”
Damn. He’d been taken, she remembers. But after that… What happened after that?
“I don’t--,” she starts to say only to stumble to a stop as the memory finally slams into place. She remembers the blast, the fire burning in her side… She’s sure she was dead. She remembers saying goodbye. Jack leaning over her…
Her forehead creases. “Was I…?”
Jack grimaces, giving himself away. “Just for a little while.”
“What?” she asks, her heart jumping in her chest.
Jack is toying with the edge of her sheet, folding it over and smoothing it just so. She recognizes this ploy, his complete absorption in a meaningless task to cover the fact that he is way more freaked out than he is letting on.
He’s not the only one.
“Your buddy Teal’c showed me where there was a sarcophagus,” he says after a moment, like it’s no big deal. His lips twist into a smile. “Nice work, by the way. Making friends in clutch situations.”
“Teal’c?” she repeats, the word making no more sense than any other part of this conversation.
Jack nods. “Big guy, gold tattoo in his forehead.”
“Right,” Sam says, the memory slipping into place. “The guard. I still can’t believe he did that, saving us.”
“You must have made some impression.”
Sam thinks Jack must have made some impression himself, but doesn’t feel up to arguing it. She closes her eyes, carefully rubbing at them with the one hand that doesn’t feel like it’s on fire. The terror of knowing she had actually died is still ebbing slowly.
“I’m sorry,” Jack says, something rough and painful in his voice.
Sam looks up at him and she knows that expression, one far too much like the man he’d once been and not the man he’s become. Haunted. It doesn’t matter anymore that she shouldn’t know that. She does.
“Why?”
“I could have gotten you killed.” He blinks, reconsidering his words. “What am I talking about, I did get you killed.”
She shakes her head, not understanding this guilt he’s radiating. “I got shot,” she reminds him. “How is that your fault?”
He levels a hard gaze on her. “You shouldn’t have even been in the temple and you know it.”
It actually takes her a moment to figure out what he means. Not Chulak, but Abydos. Apophis’s attack. They both know why he left her behind when he went to see Daniel’s discovery. But that can’t be what this is about.
“Hey,” she says. “I signed up for this just like everyone else. I don’t need to be protected or coddled. You know that.”
He shakes his head, his lips twisting like she’s missing something painfully obvious. “Not to me,” he says, and she wishes she could misunderstand that as a slight, hold fast to indignation. But all she feels is the impact of what he’s admitting.
She bites the inside of her cheek and blinks back against the tears she refuses to let fall. His fingers still haven’t stopped moving and it’s shredding her last nerves. Damn it all the hell.
She slides her hand over his, stilling the movement, allowing herself one weak moment to enjoy the warmth of his fingers under hers. “I’m okay, Jack,” she says, her voice soft.
They will be okay too. They have to be.
His jaw flexes, like he’s biting down on everything he’d really like to say. His hand twists up around hers, his grip nearly painful. “At least one of us is,” he tries to joke.
She tries to swallow against he pressure building up in her throat at the memory, because this time it isn’t anything like a start, only an ending. They stare at each other for a moment, everything rising to the surface, and God, if possible it hurts even more than the hole in her side.
She thinks he must see it, because he says, “I can quit,” the words quiet and desperate, but she knows he doesn’t believe them anymore than she does.
“No, you can’t,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Not with everything we know now. Not with Skaara still out there somewhere.”
He doesn’t deny it, just closes his eyes, one hand rubbing at his forehead.
“I know what he means to you,” she says, giving whatever absolution she can.
He stares back at her and she hears it, even if he never commits the words.
What about what you mean to me?
She swallows hard, pulling the tattered remains of her composure back together. They’ve already pushed this boundary to the breaking point. She knows danger when she sees it.
Jack’s the one to lean down, pressing a reckless kiss to the back of her hand before pushing back from the bed and disappearing out the door.
She can’t wish him back, no matter how much she wants to.
* * *
Sam shifts in the bed to relieve the pins and needles erupting in her left foot. The small movement sets off a path of fire across her back and she hisses in pain.
“Everything okay, Captain?” one of the omnipresent nurses asks, sticking her head around the curtain divider.
Sam forces herself to smile. “Fine,” she says, keeping her voice light.
The nurse gives her a pointed look, but doesn’t press. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Sam lets out a breath as the nurse disappears, pressing a hand to her side. She knows she should probably just let the nurse give her another dose of the painkiller, but she hates to ask for it. It makes her head feel fuzzy, not to mention tend to give her vivid, disturbing dreams. She’s better off without them.
She tries not to consider that maybe she just likes the proof that she’s still alive.
Jack probably would have been able to take one look at her and know what was going on, but luckily-yes, lucky, she convinces herself-he hasn’t so much as set foot in the infirmary again since the day she woke up. He’s not here to call her bluff.
“Captain Carter?” someone asks, a hand cautiously pulling back the curtain. Dr. Jackson appears. “Are you up for a little company?”
Sam smiles. “Of course, Doctor.” Anything to keep her distracted.
“Yeah?” he asks, looking around for a chair. “I just thought I would come in and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m good,” Sam says. It’s a phrase she says so often these days that it’s practically become a tic.
Dr. Jackson eyes drop to her heavily bandaged side and she wonder for a moment if he’s seeing it again, that moment in Apophis’s prison.
She clears her throat. “May I ask what you and your wife will do now?”
He leans back in his chair. “Find a way to help Skaara. Help Earth with this battle in any way we can.”
She can’t imagine what it must be like, to find yourself suddenly exiled from your planet. “Will you ever be able to return to Abydos?”
“They’ll unbury the gate one year to the day we left. But Sha’re will not return for good until her brother has been set free.”
She can still hear Jack’s voice, hoarse with pain. He’s one of them now.
“Do you think it will be possible?” she asks. “To free him?”
“We’ve talked to Teal’c. He doesn’t seem to believe anything of the host survives when the body is taken over by the Goa’uld. But either way, we can’t just leave him.”
She nods, thinking of Jack, knowing he too won’t rest until Skaara is free. One way or another. “We’ll find him,” Sam says.
Dr. Jackson smiles. “I hope so.”
They fall into silence then, Dr. Jackson giving her a penetrating look that feels somewhat like being x-rayed. She refuses to squirm under the scrutiny.
“Oh,” he says, as if suddenly remembering something. He pulls out a crystal from his pocket. “I grabbed this on the way out.”
She takes it from him, turning it over in her fingers. She recognizes it as the one she’d tried to wield as a pathetic weapon of sorts. Little good it had done her.
“I figure together we may just be able to figure it out.”
Sam forces herself to focus on Dr. Jackson and his infectious eagerness. She smiles at him. “Despite…everything, I’m glad to have gotten the chance to meet you, Dr. Jackson.”
“Daniel,” he corrects.
“Daniel,” she repeats, handing the crystal back to him.
He looks her over, something deliberate in the way he studies her, like she’s some incomprehensible language he’s still figuring out. “You gave us quite the scare,” he says, something indefinable in his voice.
Unconsciously her hand moves back to her side, the thick bandage there. “I hear I have you to thank for your quick thinking.”
“I’ve been there,” he says, his eyes slipping out of focus. “I knew nothing would get Jack to leave you there.”
Sam feels her stomach clench. “Dr. Jackson,” she warns, really not liking where this conversation seems to be heading.
“Daniel,” he absently corrects again. With alarm, she realizes that he’s clearly aware of her discomfort but not particularly bothered by it. “He tried to hide it, you know. But when you…” He shrugs. “It was pretty obvious.”
It takes everything Sam has to keep her face neutral, like hearing him talk about how hard Jack took her death isn’t affecting her.
She’s beginning to realize Dr. Jackson may have the annoying habit of seeing things no one wants him too, and even worse, has no problems verbalizing it. Was this why Jack always talked of him with exasperation reluctantly tinged with fondness? He must be a serious pain in the ass when you’re trying to keep something to yourself. But maybe that was exactly what Jack needed on that first ill-fated trip.
Dr. Jackson still seems to be waiting for some sort of response from her, but Sam just presses her lips together. This is not something she is going to talk about, friend of Jack’s or not.
He doesn’t seem offended by her reticence, rather amused as a wry smile twists his lips. “You two are a lot alike,” he observes.
She’s just beginning to resign herself to teaching him a few things about the way things work on a military base when he pulls a worn leather journal out of his pocket.
“So,” he says, flattening a page so she can see it. “I’ve been working on translating the text from the crystal hatch.”
Sam lets out a breath. Now this is something she can deal with, she thinks, gladly focusing her mind down on the concrete problem in front of her, pain temporarily forgotten.
It’s so much safer.
:: next::