(no subject)
I posted these in a bit of a rush last night, I suppose I ought to add a header for fandom and stuff.
Title: 89. Through the Fire.
Fandom/Pairing: Stargate SG-1 | Sam Carter/Ba'al
Rating: G
Warnings/Notes: No warnings. Just a drabble ficlet written to a prompt over an baalsamgate.tumblr.com.
“Quickly! This way.”
“What? Are you insane?” Sam asked, aghast at her companion.
Ba’al turned to face her. One cheek was smudged with a mix of blood and dirt, his normally impeccable outfit was rumpled and showing signs of hard wear-which was no wonder, given when she found him, he was nearly being cornered by one of the groups of Ori troops unexpectedly encountered on this planet. Why she’d decided to help him, well, it didn’t matter since they were currently trapped between approaching troops and a wildfire.
“Colonel Carter, I assure you, I do not intend us to die here. We cannot return to the town. There is not enough time to repair my ship, which will be crawling with Ori forces. We must get to the gate, which is that way,” he pointed. Ba’al looked surprisingly genuine with his uses of ‘us’ and ‘we’.
“Which is also on fire,” Sam grated out, “and last I checked, not even Goa’uld are fireproof.”
His eyebrow quirked in brief acknowledgement of his species’ many boastful claims and his mouth opened, perhaps to deliver some cutting remark, before they both heard the telltale crunch of boots on the ground some distance behind them. Instinctively, they hunkered down in the hopes of delaying the inevitable.
Ba’al stared at her in earnest. “Colonel Carter-Sam-there is a way. Trust me.”
Sam couldn’t repress her snort of disbelief. “Trust you? Never. But if you’re certain-”
“I am.”
She closed her eyes as she bowed her head. Took a deep breath. Let it out. Opened her eyes and returned to looking at him. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
He pushed himself up from crouching before offering his hand to help her up. The naquadah in her blood had been tingling since moments before she’s realised her proximity to him, but it surged at contact with his hand. Sam went to pull her hand free once she had her balance, but he tightened his grip, seemingly unaware of the effect.
“When I say ‘run’, we must head directly for the gate,” he said, “run and do not stop for anything.”
Sam looked at the path ahead of them, flames licking across the ground and clinging to trees. “We’re not going to die,” she said uncertainly.
“We are not going to die,” he echoed. Sam wished she shared his confidence.
There was a shout behind them. “Run,” Ba’al ordered, and they were off like a shot, headed directly towards the flames.
Their boots pounded on the ground as they sprinted side by side. Sam felt the skin of her face flushing at the heat as they approached the trees engulfed in fire. Then they were surrounded on all sides, the path smoking beneath them, the crackle and pops of the trees overpowering any sounds of pursuit behind them.
Sam felt her eyes stinging and her airways clogging from the smoke, but she gritted her teeth and maintained her pacing next to Ba’al. She nearly gasped when there was an almighty crack and a tree fell across their path several meters ahead.
“Do. Not. Stop!” Ba’al growled.
She would not stop. She could not stop. Gathering themselves, the pair altered their steps in time to leap over the burning log, the flames swirling about their legs, the heat nearly intolerable before they were over, and carrying on down the path. The naquadah in her veins served to help her sense not only the Goa’uld beside her, but her proximity to the Stargate. It was less than 200 yards away.
It became visible at 100 yards. The flames started to die down to be replaced by smouldering stumps, opening out into the clearing where the gate stood, exposed and unguarded. They slowed to a stop at the base of the steps, next to the DHD. A quick once over to check Ba’al, Sam was astonished they’d actually made it, relatively unscathed. A slightly hysterical laugh burst out, before she was overcome by a coughing fit.
“Here,” he pressed a flask into her hands. Sam quickly unscrewed the cap, raising it to her lips, then pausing. She regarded it suspiciously, while trying to suppress the coughs. “It’s mint tea,” he clarified, rolling his eyes.
With a twinge of guilt, she quickly took a sip, and another to sooth her parched throat, before returning the flask. He slipped it back into a pocket once he’d had a sip. Refusing to apologise, Sam stepped over to the DHD, and started dialing the address to one of their “in-between” worlds. In seconds, the ring shifted, chevrons locked, and the familiar kawoosh of the wormhole engaging bathed them in rippling blue light.
Sam turned to face her unlikely ally. Taking a chance, she held out her hand to shake, the closest to a peace offering and apology she would give. “Well, not that it hasn’t been a ball of a time,” she said, smiling at his unimpressed face at a stupid pun, “but I don’t think you want to accompany me from here.”
“Indeed,” Ba’al intoned, as he took her hand, and surprising her, turned and brought it up to press his lips against her knuckles. “Until we meet again, Colonel Carter.”
She swallowed against the surge that coursed through her veins again at his touch, and the fire burning in his eyes as he looked at her. Slowly, Sam pulled back, and made her way to the event horizon. With one glance back to catch him checking out her ass, she made a rude gesture that had him laughing as she stepped through.
Until they met again, indeed.
Title: 89. Through the Fire.
Fandom/Pairing: Stargate SG-1 | Sam Carter/Ba'al
Rating: G
Warnings/Notes: No warnings. Just a drabble ficlet written to a prompt over an baalsamgate.tumblr.com.
“Quickly! This way.”
“What? Are you insane?” Sam asked, aghast at her companion.
Ba’al turned to face her. One cheek was smudged with a mix of blood and dirt, his normally impeccable outfit was rumpled and showing signs of hard wear-which was no wonder, given when she found him, he was nearly being cornered by one of the groups of Ori troops unexpectedly encountered on this planet. Why she’d decided to help him, well, it didn’t matter since they were currently trapped between approaching troops and a wildfire.
“Colonel Carter, I assure you, I do not intend us to die here. We cannot return to the town. There is not enough time to repair my ship, which will be crawling with Ori forces. We must get to the gate, which is that way,” he pointed. Ba’al looked surprisingly genuine with his uses of ‘us’ and ‘we’.
“Which is also on fire,” Sam grated out, “and last I checked, not even Goa’uld are fireproof.”
His eyebrow quirked in brief acknowledgement of his species’ many boastful claims and his mouth opened, perhaps to deliver some cutting remark, before they both heard the telltale crunch of boots on the ground some distance behind them. Instinctively, they hunkered down in the hopes of delaying the inevitable.
Ba’al stared at her in earnest. “Colonel Carter-Sam-there is a way. Trust me.”
Sam couldn’t repress her snort of disbelief. “Trust you? Never. But if you’re certain-”
“I am.”
She closed her eyes as she bowed her head. Took a deep breath. Let it out. Opened her eyes and returned to looking at him. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
He pushed himself up from crouching before offering his hand to help her up. The naquadah in her blood had been tingling since moments before she’s realised her proximity to him, but it surged at contact with his hand. Sam went to pull her hand free once she had her balance, but he tightened his grip, seemingly unaware of the effect.
“When I say ‘run’, we must head directly for the gate,” he said, “run and do not stop for anything.”
Sam looked at the path ahead of them, flames licking across the ground and clinging to trees. “We’re not going to die,” she said uncertainly.
“We are not going to die,” he echoed. Sam wished she shared his confidence.
There was a shout behind them. “Run,” Ba’al ordered, and they were off like a shot, headed directly towards the flames.
Their boots pounded on the ground as they sprinted side by side. Sam felt the skin of her face flushing at the heat as they approached the trees engulfed in fire. Then they were surrounded on all sides, the path smoking beneath them, the crackle and pops of the trees overpowering any sounds of pursuit behind them.
Sam felt her eyes stinging and her airways clogging from the smoke, but she gritted her teeth and maintained her pacing next to Ba’al. She nearly gasped when there was an almighty crack and a tree fell across their path several meters ahead.
“Do. Not. Stop!” Ba’al growled.
She would not stop. She could not stop. Gathering themselves, the pair altered their steps in time to leap over the burning log, the flames swirling about their legs, the heat nearly intolerable before they were over, and carrying on down the path. The naquadah in her veins served to help her sense not only the Goa’uld beside her, but her proximity to the Stargate. It was less than 200 yards away.
It became visible at 100 yards. The flames started to die down to be replaced by smouldering stumps, opening out into the clearing where the gate stood, exposed and unguarded. They slowed to a stop at the base of the steps, next to the DHD. A quick once over to check Ba’al, Sam was astonished they’d actually made it, relatively unscathed. A slightly hysterical laugh burst out, before she was overcome by a coughing fit.
“Here,” he pressed a flask into her hands. Sam quickly unscrewed the cap, raising it to her lips, then pausing. She regarded it suspiciously, while trying to suppress the coughs. “It’s mint tea,” he clarified, rolling his eyes.
With a twinge of guilt, she quickly took a sip, and another to sooth her parched throat, before returning the flask. He slipped it back into a pocket once he’d had a sip. Refusing to apologise, Sam stepped over to the DHD, and started dialing the address to one of their “in-between” worlds. In seconds, the ring shifted, chevrons locked, and the familiar kawoosh of the wormhole engaging bathed them in rippling blue light.
Sam turned to face her unlikely ally. Taking a chance, she held out her hand to shake, the closest to a peace offering and apology she would give. “Well, not that it hasn’t been a ball of a time,” she said, smiling at his unimpressed face at a stupid pun, “but I don’t think you want to accompany me from here.”
“Indeed,” Ba’al intoned, as he took her hand, and surprising her, turned and brought it up to press his lips against her knuckles. “Until we meet again, Colonel Carter.”
She swallowed against the surge that coursed through her veins again at his touch, and the fire burning in his eyes as he looked at her. Slowly, Sam pulled back, and made her way to the event horizon. With one glance back to catch him checking out her ass, she made a rude gesture that had him laughing as she stepped through.
Until they met again, indeed.