Army Brat, first halfish
Title: Army Brat (At least until I come up with something better.)
Author: Shara
Rating: Pg-13 - there's some swearing but nothing graphic
Pairings: Sam/Janet
Category: Pre-slash I guess. Maybe angst.
Date: 04 August 2008
Series: SG1
Disclaimer: A Horse With No Name Written by Dewey Bunnell and Nobody
Knows it but me by Tony Rich Project are used without permission as
are any and all other lyrics and SG1 characters. I just borrowed them for a little while.
Summary: Sam's having a little trouble dealing with her mother's
death and finds help in unexpected places.
Notes: This idea was partially inspired by Han's
"Complicated" though it has mutated rather a lot from there. I don't
know where Janet is actually from but I'm using Texas for the story,
or at the very least having her family stationed there. I also don't
know what rank Jacob and George would have been at this time so I'm
going to go with 'colonel/almost general'. And, yeah, I don't know if
Hammond is actually Sam's godfather or not but it's important for this
story that he is, soooo. In fact, I may have made quite a few little
mistakes and assumptions that I don't know about, hee. :) Anyway, this
is my first fanfic pretty much ever and definitely my first Sam/Jan
(As it will be, eventually.) so any and all feedback is very much
appreciated.
"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la ... "
Samantha Carter gave the radio a vicious kick, not particularly caring when it hit the wall and spluttered pathetically before dying. She'd spent the last ten minutes scanning through the stations and found nothing but tune after tune of twangy country music that made her head hurt. Did they have nothing better to do than whine about their dogs and their tractors?
The disgusted teenager flopped down on her bed with a self pitying sigh of frustration. Another day, another base. Another first day of school in a town she'd never heard of before in the middle-of-no-where back side of Texas. It wasn't just any other first day either, it was the first year of her senior year, the year that was supposed to be the best of her high school career. Things were already looking pretty bleek. Gone where the days when she and her brother could live at a central family home with their mother. It was just Samantha and her father now and she had no choice but to tag along. He was a slave to the air force and she was his less than willing baggage.
Sam's room was commandeered by a stack of boxes she still couldn't decide if she wanted to unpack or not. It seemed like such a wasted effort. As soon as she finally had everything settled in the way she liked them they'd be off again to lord only knew where. The stacks of cardboard were labeled in big, blocky black letters- "Clothes", "books", and one slightly oblong "telescope". The tops of a few were popped open where she had rifled through to find something she needed, as she did now, diving through the box at the foot of her bed to find a clean pair of socks and the matching converse to go with the black, partially unlaced one already resting beside her on the mattress.
Thus fully dressed Sam took a moment to look over her reflection in the mirror over the counter in the still alien feeling bathroom, ruffling her too short blonde hair with a slight growl twisting her lips in a frown. She'd sheered it off not long after her mother died for reasons she still couldn't completely articulate. A need for rebellion, maybe, or to be rid of biggest similarity mother and daughter had shared. At least now she knew when her father looked at her he wasn't seeing someone else. The down side was it had a tendency to spike in every direction and refuse any coaxing to get it to conform to styling. The over all effect was reminiscent of a scarecrow.
"Ohh, if I only had a brain." Sam smirked. "Well, that's as good as it gets."
Her father's car was already gone, but that was to be expected, her little old motorbike the only occupant of a garage that hadn't had time to collect any clutter. Jacob Carter hated the cycle with a passion but Sam had worked hard for it, taking on an after school and summer job and he hadn't been able gain the ground required to protest. He had, after all, told her that she could have a vehicle when she could afford to pay for it. Boy had that come back to bite him in the ass.
Her mother probably wouldn't have approved either but she wasn't around to care and Sam loved the taste of freedom it gave her too much to waste time worrying about her parents' disapproval. She was turning eighteen in a few short months anyway and then it wouldn't matter.
The engine sputtered a bit before roaring to life and she adjusted her helmet, rebellious but not stupid, before pulling out. The heat of the day crashed down on her as soon as she hit the street and Sam couldn't stifle a groan.
"It's not even eight o'clock yet! Holy Hannah, this place really is Hell."
****************************
'I've died... and this is my eternal torment. Forgive me lord, I'll never sin again if you just give me a breeze. Come on, just a little one... I'm not above begging...' Samantha thought miserably as another bead of sweat meandered its way down from her forehead and along her nose.
It turned out that her new school had no central air. Something about lack of funding. The few vents she'd noticed in the class rooms and hallways were spitting out hot air. Apparently they were the worlds most confused venting system- in summer, they produced hot air, in winter cold. She quickly discovered it was nicer outside than in.
It was so hard to be excited about her advanced calculus class when the window next to her desk was open and taunting her.
She would never complain about getting too much snow during winter again.
Worse, the students were all terribly cliche-y. It was a small town- everybody knew everybody else and had known everybody else since before they could walk and the gossiped like fiends. Sam was sure that by the end of the day everyone within a ten mile radius would know about the 'new kid'. They giggled behind their hands as she passed them in hallways and stared at her with unabashed curiosity as she sat in class and every damned teacher she had was determined to have her stand up and introduce herself, a tradition she thought they should have done away with in elementary school. it probably didn't help that she'd taken every advanced course they offered. Smart little children were the worst when it came to being elitist. Whether it was because everyone else thought they were geeks or because they thought they were better than lesser minds, she couldn't tell for sure. Ever shy and awkward, Sam had yet to try and mingle with either or any group. She wasn't honestly sure she wanted to. It all seemed so petty. They were all just people, right?
Meeting her locker had perhaps been the highlight of her morning. The lock was broken but she had discovered the miraculous art of "popping". Hit it once and pull the latch and the stubborn beast swung right open.
When Sam finally stumbled into the cafeteria at lunchtime, hunched under the weight of a backpack stuffed full of new (old) books, she was wishing the clock would move just a little bit faster. She had a deep longing to run her head under a cold shower and sprawl out on her bed.
Sam sat alone at a table towards the back and pressed the little carton of milk against her forehead. She wasn't going to touch the unidentifiable slop on her tray with a twenty foot pole but the chill of the carton was a welcome relief.
"He-ey."
The blonde looked up and found herself confronted with the largest pair of brown eyes she had ever seen. It took her a moment to associate the eyes with the little slip of a girl behind them and then she couldn't muster the energy required for any sort of proper greeting. " 'ello, Bambi."
The girls lips quirked in a half smile, eyebrow shooting up. "You're that new girl, right? Samantha or something? I think you're in my gym class."
"Samantha Carter. And yeah, maybe." Sam had only the vaguest memory of being led through the girl's locker room. She hadn't really payed attention. "I, uh, you can call me Sam. If you like, I mean. Sit?"
The brown eyed girl obliged, sliding gracefully into the seat across from Sam. "Sam. I'm Janet." She said, flashing the blonde a big toothy grin that would have made her heart melt if she wasn't certain it had already been turned to mush by the heat.
"Uh, nice to meet you." Was Sam's shy smiled response.
"Where'd you move from?"
They hit off from there. It turned out Janet was a genuine Army brat, her father a decorated Colonel in the army. She'd seemed very proud of her father's accomplishments and if she resented his career as much as Sam did her own father's it didn't show. She was a young woman of many aspirations and already had her heart set on being a doctor and Sam had to admire her certainty. Sam wasn't entirely sure of her own goals, only that she had a deep seeded longing to go to space that had become some what desolate and fragmented since her mothers death.
When Janet mentioned her two brothers and asked if Sam had any siblings, the blonde had gone wide eyed and eventually mutely shook her head. She didn't want to talk about Mark. She didn't even want to think about Mark. She could understand his anger at their father but she would have thought he'd at least still call to talk to her, his only sister. She didn't like to admit how deeply it hurt that he didn't.
By the end of lunch they'd exchanged phone numbers though, not being a phone person, Sam knew she'd never use it. It was nice to have made a friend though, she had to admit. The rest of her day seemed a little brighter afterwards, physics homework, heat and all.
**********************
Jacob Carter was on the porch when his daughter got home, chatting amiably with a large, balding man with smiling eyes and a sharp blue dress uniform. Jacob turned an unreadable expression on her as she lugged her backpack up the steps, saying, "Samantha, you remember George don't you?"
Sam took the hand that was offered to her a little uncertainly, allowing herself to be pulled into a bear hug. "Uncle George! Of course I remember."
Truthfully, Sam had only a vague recollection of her God father, George Hammond. Five years old at a family barbecue, giggling like mad as the big man held her upside down and tickled her, trading salutes through out the evening with a proud little grin on her face. Him asking her what she was going to be when she grew up and declaring with puffed out chest that she was going to be the worlds bestest Astronaut. Later, sitting on the ground beside his lawn chair and looking up at the stars.
"Uncle George, do you think there's other people out there?"
"I don't know, sweet heart. Maybe someday you'll find them."
If she'd seen him much after that, she didn't recall, though her father spoke of his best friend often. She knew they kept in touch with each other, at the very least.
"You're almost as tall as I am! Why, I remember when you were only this high." George indicated a height somewhere under the level of his knee and Sam couldn't help the small smile that broke through.
"Yeah, long time no see, huh?"
Later, Sam lay on her stomach sprawled across her bed, listening through the open window as the two old friends sitting on the porch talked quietly, unaware of their eaves dropper.
"She's grown into a beautiful young woman, Jake, just like her mother. You should be proud."
"I'm worried about her, George. She's been a lose cannon ever since her mother died... And now that Mark's gone she won't talk to anyone. Hell, she can barely stand to look at me! They blame me. I know they do and I can't... I just..."
"Maybe what she needs is for you to talk to her."
"Don't you think I've tried that? We always end up arguing. Nothing I say is right! This isn't the sort of thing I'm good at..."
Sam pursed her lips at the note of defeat she'd never before heard in her father's voice, not believing it for a second.
"What she needs is her father." George was saying. "She's hurting and lonely..."
"That's the thing. You know she didn't cry at the funeral? She hasn't talked about it since..." He stopped, but Sam knew which argument he was talking about. "It's not healthy, keeping all that bottled up and she's reckless enough as it is. She's gotta talk to someone and it sure as hell isn't going to be me. Maybe you can..."
Sam tuned the rest out, rolling over and slipping onto the floor. She didn't need to talk. She didn't need a councilor or a shrink or a God damned journal or any of the other crap people had tried to tell her would make her feel better. What she needed was the space and freedom to grieve in her own way in her own time. If everyone would just leave her alone she'd be fine.
She slipped her small leather wallet out of her pocket and flipped through the pictures until she found the one of the familiar blue eyed blonde woman, tracing her fingers over the worn edges. The deep, bitter part of Sam's soul was screaming that if not for him, she'd still be here. She'd understand what Sam was going through, she always had. Anytime she'd ever needed advice her mother was always there, wise and understanding and oh so gentle. She'd never been judgemental, never been anything other than caring. It was ironic, really. The one person who could make her feel better was the person behind the reason she was feeling badly.
"And I'm cryin' inside
And nobody knows it but me..."'
"So what's this piece called?"
"That would be a knight."
"What? Why? It's a horse. Why call it a knight if it's just a horse? I could see maybe if there was a little knight-guy on there or something, but..."
"Samantha, I have no idea why they call it a knight. I didn't invent the game, I just play it."
Sam scoffed, slumping in her seat as she reached out to move one of her pawns with no real care for strategy.
It was Saturday and she was playing chess with her "Uncle" George. Un-cool didn't even begin to cover it but he had sounded so enthusiastic when he'd asked and honestly she didn't have anything better to do. There was homework sitting on the bottom of her backpack at home that she never intended to do and her dad had asked her to mow the lawn but she didn't intend to do that either. At the very least this way she had an alibi. Sam could see it now -
"Samantha Grace Carter where have you been?"
"Playing chess with a respected, trusted adult. Do you really have a problem with that daddy?"
What could he possibly say? This whole idea was partially his fault anyway.
"So, Samantha, how's school? Have you made any new friends?"
"One." Sam was unaware of the small, satisfied smile that graced her features.
George's eyebrows rose slightly. "I see."
"Yeah. She's great."
Sam lapsed into silence as she watched him make his next move and contemplated her own. Was it the rook that moved diagonally? "Uh, I really like my calc. class." She said after a moment. "The teacher's great. And it's not dumbed down at all. Physics is alright too but I wish we'd do more of the space related stuff. Gotta start somewhere, I suppose."
It was the most Sam had said to him since arriving and Hammond counted it a small victory. "You know, the air force academy has physics. Astronautics. Astronomy. They have very good programs, one of the best in the country in fact."
Sam raised an eyebrow, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Yeah?"
"Many a young cadet has gone on to work for NASA. Good education, good experience..."
"Why are you telling me this?" Sam set down the knight she'd been considering with carefully controlled movements, the faintest spark of anger simmering in her belly.
"It's just a thought. Something for you to think about. I know for a fact you haven't looked into any colleges, Samantha. Now is the time. You're so brilliant, you can do anything you want to. I just want what's best for you. We all do."
The look in his eyes told her "we all" was made up of himself and her father. Sam felt ambushed in the worst possible way. She didn't want to join the air force. At least, she didn't think she wanted to join the air force. She'd honestly never given it much thought. The air force was the big bad blue monster that had stomped all over her family, taken her father from her and, by default, her mother.
"Look, Uncle George, I don't need your advice. I don't know what I'm going to do but I am going to figure it out. On my own. And I certainly don't want to follow in 'dear ol' dad's' footsteps."
"Samantha I was just trying t-"
"Well don't! I'm out of here. See you later."
Sam put a little extra stomp into her step as she hopped down the steps and climbed on to her bike. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, rumbling their anger at the world.
"Samantha!"
She looked up from strapping on her helmet to see George had moved to the edge of the porch, watching her with sad eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Drive safe."
*************************
The rain started to poor down on her way back and Sam cursed the state's fickle weather as her tee-shirt soaked through and clung to damp skin. If it wasn't heat stroke worthy god-awful sunny-ness it was damned tornadoes. Thankfully the little drops of rain dripped down her helmet without getting into her eyes. She slowed as she reached her turn and broke out in a large grin as she spotted a familiar little figure walking along the sidewalk.
Janet was wrapped in a too big faded green army jacket that had faint marks on the sleeves where once upon a time it had been emblazoned with rank insignia, her hands shoved into her pockets and her hair already almost completely soaked through and slicked to her skull. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder and a determined scowl on her face.
Sam slowed as she reached her, leaning forward and calling out, "Hey! Look what the cat dragged in! A drowned rat!"
Janet started and looked about ready to jump out of her own skin until she realized who it was. She cackled, saying loud enough to be heard over the rumbling thunder, "Oh pot? Hey, yeah, name's kettle. How yah' doing?"
Sam laughed, coming to a complete stop and bracing her feet on the ground. "Seriously half-pint, what are you doing out here? Need a ride somewhere?"
She bristled at the nickname but made no comment. "I was walking to the library. Then it started raining." Janet pulled her hands out of her pockets and gestured helplessly. "I figured I was already wet, might as well keep going. Can't get much worse."
Sam snorted. "There's a library?"
"Yeah. Down-town. Wanna come?"
Sam sank back in her seat, mulling it over. Giving Janet a ride was one thing. Going with her... Sam didn't do the social thing. Or, rather, she didn't do it well. She could solve complex equations without breaking a sweat but make her sit and talk to a person for more than ten minutes and she was a mess. A babbling, blushing, awkward mess. It was so much easier to keep herself to herself.
"Sure, why not? Hop on."
Janet looked uncertain, eyeing the motor cycle. "I don't know..."
"Come on. I'm a careful driver, I promise. Besides, the sooner we get there the sooner we can get dry." Sam wiggled her eyebrows and offered her small companion a hand. "Pwwweeease?"
Laughing, Janet accepted the offered hand and let Sam help her settle on the seat behind her before taking off.
Sam suddenly felt subconscious with Janet's slim arms wrapped around her waist, holding on for dear life. She tried to focus on the rumbling purr of the engine as they rounded the corner into town, completely unable to stop the small smile that slid on to her face and refused to leave. There was something comfortable about her new friend, something she'd never had before. "Hey, Jan- Can't breath. Relax." She called over her shoulder.
"Ooh. Sorry."
The library was a faded brick building with twin columns on either side of the entry way and a horse statue at the front striking its hooves angrily at the sky. There was a dedication carved into the base but squinting through the rain Sam couldn't make out what it said.
Sam parked the bike in the small five car lot on the side and they slipped in through the library's large double doors, giggling and dripping water everywhere. The stern faced middle aged woman behind the reference desk gave them a frosty glare and Janet took Sam's hand and dragged her to the back of a row of shelves where several wooden tables were set up. As near as Sam could tell they were the only people there, but it was larger than she had expected and rows of tall, dust laden shelves blocked their view of he rest of the room.
"Well this is... Nice." Sam unbuckled her helmet and set it on the table, turning a chair around backwards and flopping down on it. She watched as Janet swung her backpack up onto the table and hung her sodden jacket on the back of a chair, dimly mesmerised by the drop of rain tracing its way down her friends slender neck. "Homework?"
"Trig. Miss Kilpatrick is the worst."
"Oh no! Not Patrick!"
Janet giggled. "Sa-am."
"Sorry. Wait, so, Trig? You're a senior, why trig? Shouldn't you at least be at pre-calc by now?"
A faint blush tinged Janet's cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'm not so good at math. Biology, great. History, great. Hell, art great. I even did pretty well with that two years of Spanish. Math, not so much. I'd rather beat my head against a wall than take calculus."
Sam leaned forward in her chair, wrapping her arms around the back. "Well it just so happens I'm a math whiz."
"Oh really?"
"I only turn in half my homework and I'm already doing better than most of my class. Do you need help with something? 'Cause I..." Sam paused, suddenly shy. "Well, uh, I'd love to help."
Janet grinned that big, heart wrenching grin. Puppies had nothing on that girl. "I would love a little help. I knew there was a reason I let you stick around."
"Hey!"
Sam quickly discovered that Janet was more than intelligent enough to do the work. Hell, she was brilliant and not just brilliant in that 'book smart' way that so many intelligent people were. She had a flexible, witty mind that was more than capable of grasping the basic concepts of trigonometry. She just really didn't want to. Sam would have been surprised that someone found mathematics so boring but experience had already taught her that her love for the subject was a tad unusual.
"So anyway, that's the law of sin. It's really easy once you get used to it, I promise."
Janet smiled, taking the pause in work flow to glance at her watch. "Yeah. Wow, it's getting late... I should get back, Momma will be getting worried..."
Sam quirked an eyebrow, finding the endearment extremely adorable. "You want a ride?"
"No, I think the rain's stopped. I can make it on my own." She was tying her jacket around her waist, bag already slung over her shoulders. "Hey, thanks for everything. You really did make it easier to understand."
"No problem."
"See you Monday?"
"Yeah. Yeah, Monday."
Helmet cradled in the crook of her arm Sam followed her friend to the door, watching her slip out into the humid but no longer rainy evening.
The sound of a throat being violently cleared got her attention and Sam turned to find the librarian glaring at her pointedly.
"Alright, I'm going, I'm going! Geeze."
"We've got to hold on to what we've got
'Cause it doesn't make a difference
If we make it or not
We've got each other and that's a lot
For love - we'll give it a shot
We're half way there
Livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear
Livin' on a prayer..."
Sam hummed along with the radio, moving her knight and then drawing back. "Ha! Got ya'."
"No, no. The knight can't move like that."
"Oh." Sam deflated and returned the piece to its previous spot. "Whupps."
"Quite alright."
Another Saturday, another chess game. Since that first time George had strayed away from topics likely to set the teen off and things ran more smoothly. It was surprisingly easy to chat and enjoy each other's company. She was so very different from the little girl he had known and yet there were similarities he caught in flashes. That big, happy grin she got when she captured one of his pieces, her laugh, that look of wonder in her eyes when she was learning something new. He wanted so badly for things to go well for her.
"So, Star Trek huh?"
"Yes! It's so incredibly unrealistic but everybody's talking about it like it's the next big thing. What IS a 'resonating polarizing regulator' anyway? It makes no sense."
"Yes, well Samantha, we can't all be experts on quantum physics. It's just a television show."
Sam grinned, moving another piece. What she didn't admit was that she'd actually caught a few episodes and enjoyed them. Mostly because Janet found the show hilarious and it was adorable but that was beside the point. "You can call me Sam, you know. Dad's the only one that calls me Samantha anymore."
"Sam it is then. Check mate."
"Awww, damn."
"Sam! Language."
"Sorry."
**********************
"Whatcha' doing?"
"Working on the engine."
"Why? Is it broken? I keep telling you these things are dangerous."
"No, I'm just making sure everything's running good. Basic maintenance. Nothing serious."
Sam's responses were short and clipped, her entire attention focused on the parts spread out on the garage floor. Her father was going to be working late and it was the perfect time to work on her bike without getting griped at for making a mess and getting oil everywhere. Janet was perched on the steps that led into the house, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched her friend work with a mild cross between fascination and boredom. Fascination because she was amazed Sam seemed to know so much about what she was doing and boredom because she herself had no clue what was going on.
The garage still didn't really look lived in but Sam had broken out the tools and they were spread out on the make shift table she had set up the previous weekend. It was really nothing more than a sliding closet door, taken from the closet in her room after she got tired of trying to keep it on the track, laid on top of two carefully spaced boxes, both of which were labeled 'BOOKS'. She hadn't bothered to open either box before putting them to use but she'd decided whatever was in there was obviously not something she missed very much if she couldn't even remember what it was.
She was down to a tee-shirt with the sleeves cut off and shorts and still she had sweat pouring from what felt like every pore in her body, sticking in her hair and rolling down her back in streams. The air was so dry Sam was almost tempted to try and see if she really could cook an egg on the sidewalk. Even in the relative shade of the garage it was almost unbearable.
"How do you stand this? Isn't it almost fall? It should be cooling off by now." Sam wiped her fingers across her forehead to scrub away a trickle of sweat before it dripped into her eyes, leaving a trail of black finger prints in their wake.
"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Janet replied, snickering and gesturing at the grease smeared across Sam's face. "You get used to it. The good news is the winters are usually pretty mild. Usually. More ice than snow."
"Oh goody." Sam remarked dryly, absently scrubbing at the marks on her face with the back of her hand. Her efforts only made the situation worse.
"You never actually told me what you're doing all of this for."
"I just want to make sure everything is running okay." Sam crouched down to get back to work, fitting pieces back together. "It's just a routine thing, honest."
"Mmmhmm. You're strange, Sammy."
Sam stiffened, a line of tension running down her spine. "Please don't call me that."
"Why?"
Because once upon a time there was a comforting, blue eyed woman who whispered the endearment to her before tucking her in at night. "Nighty night, Sammy." "I love you, Sammy.". She would kiss her forehead and smooth her hair back and some nights, when she had nightmares, sing a little lullaby. Always, always, it made her feel warm and safe. No one else ever called her Sammy.
"Just... Please, don't."
"Alright. I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
They lapsed into silence, the clicking of Sam's tools too loud in the stifling heat of the garage.
"If you must know, there's this thing I want to go to. I have to make sure the bike is in tip top shape." Sam finally said in a rush, unable to stand the smothering weight of their mutual silence anymore.
Janet's eyebrows shot skyward. "Thing? What thing?"
"Just a biker thing. Some guys getting together to ride." Sam's tone was light but it was impossible to tell what her mood really was without being able to see her eyes. "It's a fun thing. An extracurricular activity, if you will. People are always saying I don't get out enough."
Janet was skeptical. "A safe fun thing right? We're not talking about some wreckless going-to-kill-you thing are we?"
"No, of course not. You've got nothing to worry about." Sam flashed one of her trademark goofy grins, scrubbing at the beads of sweat running down her forhead again. "I promise. Don't you have some trig homework we should get cracking on?"
"Yeah." Janet adopted a grin of her own. "Just as soon as you wash your face."
*************************************
"Who's this?"
Sam looked up from the text book to find Janet holding the framed photograph she had propped up on one of the boxes next to her bed, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips. "That's you, isn't it? Aww."
"Yeah. And... My mother."
"She's beautiful." Unspoken was the thought, 'Kinda like you.'.
"Yeah. Yeah she was."
Janet wanted to ask what had happened but a part of her was almost afraid to. She never got the opportunity.
"She died. About a year ago. Car accident."
"Oh." She didn't no what else to say and anything she could say would just sound cheap. Janet had never felt that kind of loss, she couldn't easily relate. The stern set of her friend's shoulders prompted her to abandon the old photograph, reaching out to gently massage the tense flesh.
"You know, if you ever need someone to talk to... I'm a really good listener."
"I know." I'm fine, she wanted to say. I don't need you, or anyone else. I don't need the proverbial shoulder to cry on.
But just a little, teeny tiny part of her wanted it.
"Anyway, tangent goes something like..."
************************************************
Sam limped up the steps, a carefully composed stoic scowl in place. The porch light was on, swarmed with moths and other creepy crawlies she didn't want to think about, meaning her father was home. Great. She was just thankful he wasn't waiting up for her on the porch.
When she crept into the hallway and the expected ambush still didn't come the teenager allowed herself a small flicker of concern. Sam slipped off her tennis shoes and did her best "tip-toe" into the living room, still hobbling along and favoring her left leg.
"Dad?"
He was sound asleep on the couch, which they still hadn't settled on a good location for, the most relaxed she'd seen him in a long time. It was amazing what sleep could do to erase the frown lines around his eyes and on his brow. He'd obviously fallen asleep waiting for her to get home and she wasn't about to tempt fate by waking him. Instead she found an extra quilt in one of the boxes strewn around the room and pulled it snugly up around his shoulders.
Sam stood there for a moment, watching her father sleep and wishing he was so cuddly and approachable when he was awake. Some emotion she couldn't quite identify tugged at her heart strings and she found a tired sigh dragged from her lips. Finally after what felt like hours she tore herself away and trudged to her room. She set her alarm clock for a little earlier than usual, thinking if she was out of the house before he got up she could continue to avoid confrontation for at least a little while longer.
***
"You're getting better."
"Eh, well, I have a good teacher."
George chuckled. "You do at that."
Sam kicked her heels against the bottom rung of her chair as she considered her next couple of moves. She had finally figured out that the key to winning was to have a good strategy. She had yet to win but the last couple of times it had been close. She would have worried that he might be going easy on her but her pride refused to accept any explanation other than that she was simply improving as a player.
Fall had finally descended upon the land and those leaves that hadn't already been burned alive were turning colors and drifting lazily to earth, almost obscuring the crispy well-done quality of the scorched ground. Looking out over her Uncle George's front lawn Sam had to admire the way the overcast sky made the shades of vibrant red and gold stand out. The occasional well timed breeze did a lot for improving her mood. She could almost think her new home was pretty. Almost.
"Uncle George, can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Do you ever hear from Mark?"
Hammond peered up at his god daughter with mild surprise. This was the first time she had broached a semi serious subject all on her own. He sensed he was still walking on toothpicks when it came to the teenager and tried to keep his tone neutral. "No, I haven't. Not in a very long time."
"Oh. I just thought... Maybe..."
"I am reasonably certain he paints me with the same brush as your father, Sam. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Sam raked her fingers through her hair, the blonde quills sticking up in ten different directions. "I miss him. We were close, you know? Now it's like... Like I don't even have a brother."
"He just needs time. He'll come around eventually."
Watching the dejected frown that seemed permanently fixed to Sam's face, George hoped to God that he was right.
*******************************
Sam hissed between her teeth as she poured the peroxide over the road burn running from knee to calf, foot resting on the toilette seat. She still hadn't told anyone about her little accident, horror filling her every time she imagined Janet's disappointment or her father's yelling if she admitted to either one of them that she'd been racing. George would have been compassionate but he also would have told her dad.
It'd been a stupid, stupid thing and she knew it. The arrogant little speed junkie inside of her just didn't want to fess up.
Sam sighed and sank back to sit on the edge of the tub, rolling down the leg of her jeans. After her Saturday chess game with Uncle George she'd had a flash of clarity and she knew what she wanted, what she had to do. Visit Mark. Confront him. Hear his explanation for not being around when she so obviously needed him. It was a crazy idea. He was at least eight hundred miles away. And she couldn't ask her father. He had refused to even talk about Mark ever since he had walked out.
It was crazy.
Yet there was her backpack on the counter stuffed with a change of clothes and various snack items and her helmet propped on top of it waiting for her to strap it on.
Sam slipped her arms into the sleeves of her leather jacket and tucked the helmet into the crook of her elbow. For a moment she considered leaving a note but eventually abandoned the thought. Either way he was going to be furious.
Besides, she thought as she heeled back her kickstand and pulled out of the drive way, he was gone so much he probably wouldn't notice anyway.
****************************
The next afternoon Sam left her gas tank to fill up and popped a few quarters into a pay phone, dialing the number her flexible mind had easily committed to memory. It rang a few times before finally picking up.
"Hello?"
The voice was distorted but comfortingly familiar. "Hey Jan."
"Sam! Where the hell are you?"
Sam couldn't help a snicker. It was the first time she had ever heard the other girl swear. "I'm... Safe."
"Your dad came over here looking for you when you didn't come home this morning. He was madder than a hornet's nest. And worried, Sam. I am too. I thought something awful had happened to you... What were you thinking?"
"I'm fine, I promise. I just called to let you know I was alright." And to hear her voice.
"Sa-am. Aren't you at least going to tell me where you are?"
"Think of it this way. If you don' know, you don't have to lie."
"Sam, I-"
There was nothing but a click and a dial tone.
***********************************
The apartment wasn't too shabby for a college student. Sam stood staring at the building for a good ten minutes before mustering up the courage to leave the parking lot and approach the door. Then she stood there some more, fingers in her pocket curled around the little slip of paper the address was scrawled on. It was late evening and the sun was already sinking behind her, casting an orange-golden glow over everything. Sam watched the light play in the glass reflection of the door, willing her feet to move.
There was a chill bite to the air but Sam didn't feel it, even as her exposed ears and the tip of her nose grew numb. He was in there somewhere. Her brother. Someone she had always thought of as a constant in her life. Almost close enough to call out to.
She couldn't decide if she was angry or hurt or just plain over joyed to finally be within proximity again.
Finally she pulled in a deep breath and reached out to push the buzzer with the tip of her forefinger.
"Um, hi..."
****************************
"What the hell are you doing here Sam? Does Dad know you're hear?"
"No. I didn't' tell him. I just wanted to... I just wanted... You never call! It's been almost a year and haven't seen you, not once. I just... I missed you, that's all. I thought you would be happy to see me."
"God Sam, I didn't call because I knew Dad wouldn't answer. He doesn't want anything to do with me and I sure as hell don't want anything to do with him! How can you stand it, Sam, knowing what he did?"
Sam bristled, the hands in the pockets of her jackets clenching in to fists. The one roomed apartment was nice, clean and tastefully decorated. She'd been going to say so when he turned on her, red faced and angry. Where did he get off being mad? She was the one who had been slighted in all of this.
"How can you possibly still blame him? It wasn't his fault! He wasn't the one driving that cab." Sam surprised herself. It was true, though, she realized.
"Don't defend him. Don't you dare. If he had been there when he was supposed to..."
"He might be dead too! Maybe they would have both crashed! You don't know!" It wasn't a thought Sam had ever seriously focused on before but now that she said it she realized it was a conclusion she had come to a long time ago. If her father had been where he was supposed to be, they could very well have lost both parents in that accident. There was no way to know for sure. She didn't believe in fate, but... "He's our dad! You should be thankful we still have him. Things could be so much worse..."
"If it wasn't for him, mom would still be alive. I can't forgive him for that. I can't believe you can!"
Sam wondered if Mark knew how much he looked like the man he so despised when he was angry. "Some things are more important. Look, I didn't come here to argue. I came here to see my big brother."
"Well, now you've seen me."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
******************************
Sam couldn't remember ever being so frustrated with her brother, including that one time when he stole all her barbies and decided they needed haircuts. He was just so pig headed! Had he always been like that and she had just hero worshipped him too much to see it?
She drove like a demon, only paying attention to the speed limit when in vicinity of civilization. The cold wind in her face helped her clear her head and sooth the raging blood coursing through her veins. Of all the nerve!
Sam was just pulling into a gas station when her bike's engine started to splutter, coughing like a cat with a hairball. It finally died out and rolled to a stop a few feet away from the pump. She gripped the key and turned it, gritting her teeth. Lots of chugging and not much else.
"Fuck."
*****************************
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sam held the phone between her ear and shoulder, drumming her fingers on the counter top. The long haired man behind the register watched her with blunt curiosity, having no other customers and nothing more exciting to do. He had large, round glasses that magnified his eyes and made them glitter like an insects and an unruly beard that begged to be cut. The silver pin on his apron declared that he was 'Earl S.'. Sam imagined that a couple of decades before the man had been a raging hippie.
If he called her 'Dude!' one more time she was going to punch him.
Unable to find a payphone Sam had been forced to enter the gas station and beg the use of their phone. Now faced with ring after unanswered ring she was starting to panic.
"Come on, come on..."
"Problem, dudette?"
Sam growled. Not much of an improvement. "No! It's...Wha... Could you just..." She made a shewing motion with her hand.
"Oh! Right, sure thing."
Earl turned and pretended to be watching something across the room for a moment before resuming his unabashed staring.
Finally, just when Sam was on the verge of snapping, someone picked up and the ringing stopped.
"Hello?"
"Dad?"
************************************
Jacob Carter was silent for most of the trip home. When he finally pulled up with the truck he had borrowed from George to transport her cycle she had expected him to yell and scream and gripe her ears off. She'd been missing for the better part of three days. Any ordinary dad would have at least given her a hug or something. He'd just been unusually calm, helping her load the bike in complete and utter silence. If it wasn't for the white knuckled hands now gripping the steering wheel, she could have almost imagined he wasn't angry.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, she said softly, "Dad?"
No response.
"I'm sorry."
In the rear-view mirror she saw his eyes flicker in her direction.
"For everything. I know I'm not perfect. But I'm going to try. I promise I'm going to try."
Finally, after several seconds had ticked by, he breathed out with a sigh, "You're grounded, of course."
"Of course."
"No running around after school, no phone, no bike..."
"I can walk to school."
"No friends over, whatever that girl's name is..."
"Janet."
He looked over at her and for a moment, just a moment, she thought his eyes looked a little watery. "Don't ever do this to me again, kiddo. Next time, just ask."
Sam nodded, slumping down lower against her seat-belt. She felt like the worst person in the world.
"Alright." Jacob watched his daughter out of the corner of his eyes, not for the first time cursing the fact that he had been left alone to deal with a teenaged girl. He had no idea what he was doing and he just knew he was doing it all wrong. "Radio?"
She nodded and he flicked it on, spinning the dial through several stations of nothing but static.
"Give it to me straight from the heart
Tell me we can make another start
You know I'll never go - as long as I know
It's comin' straight from the heart..."
************************************
Sam stood on George Hammond's front step, fidgeting before drawing in a deep, mind clearing breath and knocking lightly. Waiting, she clasped her hands behind her back in a pose unconsciously similar to the classic "at ease".
"Sam! What are you doing here?"
"I was doing some thinking. About what you said. About college. And I was wondering... If maybe... I could ask you for advice."
"Of course! Any time. Any time."
Author: Shara
Rating: Pg-13 - there's some swearing but nothing graphic
Pairings: Sam/Janet
Category: Pre-slash I guess. Maybe angst.
Date: 04 August 2008
Series: SG1
Disclaimer: A Horse With No Name Written by Dewey Bunnell and Nobody
Knows it but me by Tony Rich Project are used without permission as
are any and all other lyrics and SG1 characters. I just borrowed them for a little while.
Summary: Sam's having a little trouble dealing with her mother's
death and finds help in unexpected places.
Notes: This idea was partially inspired by Han's
"Complicated" though it has mutated rather a lot from there. I don't
know where Janet is actually from but I'm using Texas for the story,
or at the very least having her family stationed there. I also don't
know what rank Jacob and George would have been at this time so I'm
going to go with 'colonel/almost general'. And, yeah, I don't know if
Hammond is actually Sam's godfather or not but it's important for this
story that he is, soooo. In fact, I may have made quite a few little
mistakes and assumptions that I don't know about, hee. :) Anyway, this
is my first fanfic pretty much ever and definitely my first Sam/Jan
(As it will be, eventually.) so any and all feedback is very much
appreciated.
"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la ... "
Samantha Carter gave the radio a vicious kick, not particularly caring when it hit the wall and spluttered pathetically before dying. She'd spent the last ten minutes scanning through the stations and found nothing but tune after tune of twangy country music that made her head hurt. Did they have nothing better to do than whine about their dogs and their tractors?
The disgusted teenager flopped down on her bed with a self pitying sigh of frustration. Another day, another base. Another first day of school in a town she'd never heard of before in the middle-of-no-where back side of Texas. It wasn't just any other first day either, it was the first year of her senior year, the year that was supposed to be the best of her high school career. Things were already looking pretty bleek. Gone where the days when she and her brother could live at a central family home with their mother. It was just Samantha and her father now and she had no choice but to tag along. He was a slave to the air force and she was his less than willing baggage.
Sam's room was commandeered by a stack of boxes she still couldn't decide if she wanted to unpack or not. It seemed like such a wasted effort. As soon as she finally had everything settled in the way she liked them they'd be off again to lord only knew where. The stacks of cardboard were labeled in big, blocky black letters- "Clothes", "books", and one slightly oblong "telescope". The tops of a few were popped open where she had rifled through to find something she needed, as she did now, diving through the box at the foot of her bed to find a clean pair of socks and the matching converse to go with the black, partially unlaced one already resting beside her on the mattress.
Thus fully dressed Sam took a moment to look over her reflection in the mirror over the counter in the still alien feeling bathroom, ruffling her too short blonde hair with a slight growl twisting her lips in a frown. She'd sheered it off not long after her mother died for reasons she still couldn't completely articulate. A need for rebellion, maybe, or to be rid of biggest similarity mother and daughter had shared. At least now she knew when her father looked at her he wasn't seeing someone else. The down side was it had a tendency to spike in every direction and refuse any coaxing to get it to conform to styling. The over all effect was reminiscent of a scarecrow.
"Ohh, if I only had a brain." Sam smirked. "Well, that's as good as it gets."
Her father's car was already gone, but that was to be expected, her little old motorbike the only occupant of a garage that hadn't had time to collect any clutter. Jacob Carter hated the cycle with a passion but Sam had worked hard for it, taking on an after school and summer job and he hadn't been able gain the ground required to protest. He had, after all, told her that she could have a vehicle when she could afford to pay for it. Boy had that come back to bite him in the ass.
Her mother probably wouldn't have approved either but she wasn't around to care and Sam loved the taste of freedom it gave her too much to waste time worrying about her parents' disapproval. She was turning eighteen in a few short months anyway and then it wouldn't matter.
The engine sputtered a bit before roaring to life and she adjusted her helmet, rebellious but not stupid, before pulling out. The heat of the day crashed down on her as soon as she hit the street and Sam couldn't stifle a groan.
"It's not even eight o'clock yet! Holy Hannah, this place really is Hell."
****************************
'I've died... and this is my eternal torment. Forgive me lord, I'll never sin again if you just give me a breeze. Come on, just a little one... I'm not above begging...' Samantha thought miserably as another bead of sweat meandered its way down from her forehead and along her nose.
It turned out that her new school had no central air. Something about lack of funding. The few vents she'd noticed in the class rooms and hallways were spitting out hot air. Apparently they were the worlds most confused venting system- in summer, they produced hot air, in winter cold. She quickly discovered it was nicer outside than in.
It was so hard to be excited about her advanced calculus class when the window next to her desk was open and taunting her.
She would never complain about getting too much snow during winter again.
Worse, the students were all terribly cliche-y. It was a small town- everybody knew everybody else and had known everybody else since before they could walk and the gossiped like fiends. Sam was sure that by the end of the day everyone within a ten mile radius would know about the 'new kid'. They giggled behind their hands as she passed them in hallways and stared at her with unabashed curiosity as she sat in class and every damned teacher she had was determined to have her stand up and introduce herself, a tradition she thought they should have done away with in elementary school. it probably didn't help that she'd taken every advanced course they offered. Smart little children were the worst when it came to being elitist. Whether it was because everyone else thought they were geeks or because they thought they were better than lesser minds, she couldn't tell for sure. Ever shy and awkward, Sam had yet to try and mingle with either or any group. She wasn't honestly sure she wanted to. It all seemed so petty. They were all just people, right?
Meeting her locker had perhaps been the highlight of her morning. The lock was broken but she had discovered the miraculous art of "popping". Hit it once and pull the latch and the stubborn beast swung right open.
When Sam finally stumbled into the cafeteria at lunchtime, hunched under the weight of a backpack stuffed full of new (old) books, she was wishing the clock would move just a little bit faster. She had a deep longing to run her head under a cold shower and sprawl out on her bed.
Sam sat alone at a table towards the back and pressed the little carton of milk against her forehead. She wasn't going to touch the unidentifiable slop on her tray with a twenty foot pole but the chill of the carton was a welcome relief.
"He-ey."
The blonde looked up and found herself confronted with the largest pair of brown eyes she had ever seen. It took her a moment to associate the eyes with the little slip of a girl behind them and then she couldn't muster the energy required for any sort of proper greeting. " 'ello, Bambi."
The girls lips quirked in a half smile, eyebrow shooting up. "You're that new girl, right? Samantha or something? I think you're in my gym class."
"Samantha Carter. And yeah, maybe." Sam had only the vaguest memory of being led through the girl's locker room. She hadn't really payed attention. "I, uh, you can call me Sam. If you like, I mean. Sit?"
The brown eyed girl obliged, sliding gracefully into the seat across from Sam. "Sam. I'm Janet." She said, flashing the blonde a big toothy grin that would have made her heart melt if she wasn't certain it had already been turned to mush by the heat.
"Uh, nice to meet you." Was Sam's shy smiled response.
"Where'd you move from?"
They hit off from there. It turned out Janet was a genuine Army brat, her father a decorated Colonel in the army. She'd seemed very proud of her father's accomplishments and if she resented his career as much as Sam did her own father's it didn't show. She was a young woman of many aspirations and already had her heart set on being a doctor and Sam had to admire her certainty. Sam wasn't entirely sure of her own goals, only that she had a deep seeded longing to go to space that had become some what desolate and fragmented since her mothers death.
When Janet mentioned her two brothers and asked if Sam had any siblings, the blonde had gone wide eyed and eventually mutely shook her head. She didn't want to talk about Mark. She didn't even want to think about Mark. She could understand his anger at their father but she would have thought he'd at least still call to talk to her, his only sister. She didn't like to admit how deeply it hurt that he didn't.
By the end of lunch they'd exchanged phone numbers though, not being a phone person, Sam knew she'd never use it. It was nice to have made a friend though, she had to admit. The rest of her day seemed a little brighter afterwards, physics homework, heat and all.
**********************
Jacob Carter was on the porch when his daughter got home, chatting amiably with a large, balding man with smiling eyes and a sharp blue dress uniform. Jacob turned an unreadable expression on her as she lugged her backpack up the steps, saying, "Samantha, you remember George don't you?"
Sam took the hand that was offered to her a little uncertainly, allowing herself to be pulled into a bear hug. "Uncle George! Of course I remember."
Truthfully, Sam had only a vague recollection of her God father, George Hammond. Five years old at a family barbecue, giggling like mad as the big man held her upside down and tickled her, trading salutes through out the evening with a proud little grin on her face. Him asking her what she was going to be when she grew up and declaring with puffed out chest that she was going to be the worlds bestest Astronaut. Later, sitting on the ground beside his lawn chair and looking up at the stars.
"Uncle George, do you think there's other people out there?"
"I don't know, sweet heart. Maybe someday you'll find them."
If she'd seen him much after that, she didn't recall, though her father spoke of his best friend often. She knew they kept in touch with each other, at the very least.
"You're almost as tall as I am! Why, I remember when you were only this high." George indicated a height somewhere under the level of his knee and Sam couldn't help the small smile that broke through.
"Yeah, long time no see, huh?"
Later, Sam lay on her stomach sprawled across her bed, listening through the open window as the two old friends sitting on the porch talked quietly, unaware of their eaves dropper.
"She's grown into a beautiful young woman, Jake, just like her mother. You should be proud."
"I'm worried about her, George. She's been a lose cannon ever since her mother died... And now that Mark's gone she won't talk to anyone. Hell, she can barely stand to look at me! They blame me. I know they do and I can't... I just..."
"Maybe what she needs is for you to talk to her."
"Don't you think I've tried that? We always end up arguing. Nothing I say is right! This isn't the sort of thing I'm good at..."
Sam pursed her lips at the note of defeat she'd never before heard in her father's voice, not believing it for a second.
"What she needs is her father." George was saying. "She's hurting and lonely..."
"That's the thing. You know she didn't cry at the funeral? She hasn't talked about it since..." He stopped, but Sam knew which argument he was talking about. "It's not healthy, keeping all that bottled up and she's reckless enough as it is. She's gotta talk to someone and it sure as hell isn't going to be me. Maybe you can..."
Sam tuned the rest out, rolling over and slipping onto the floor. She didn't need to talk. She didn't need a councilor or a shrink or a God damned journal or any of the other crap people had tried to tell her would make her feel better. What she needed was the space and freedom to grieve in her own way in her own time. If everyone would just leave her alone she'd be fine.
She slipped her small leather wallet out of her pocket and flipped through the pictures until she found the one of the familiar blue eyed blonde woman, tracing her fingers over the worn edges. The deep, bitter part of Sam's soul was screaming that if not for him, she'd still be here. She'd understand what Sam was going through, she always had. Anytime she'd ever needed advice her mother was always there, wise and understanding and oh so gentle. She'd never been judgemental, never been anything other than caring. It was ironic, really. The one person who could make her feel better was the person behind the reason she was feeling badly.
"And I'm cryin' inside
And nobody knows it but me..."'
"So what's this piece called?"
"That would be a knight."
"What? Why? It's a horse. Why call it a knight if it's just a horse? I could see maybe if there was a little knight-guy on there or something, but..."
"Samantha, I have no idea why they call it a knight. I didn't invent the game, I just play it."
Sam scoffed, slumping in her seat as she reached out to move one of her pawns with no real care for strategy.
It was Saturday and she was playing chess with her "Uncle" George. Un-cool didn't even begin to cover it but he had sounded so enthusiastic when he'd asked and honestly she didn't have anything better to do. There was homework sitting on the bottom of her backpack at home that she never intended to do and her dad had asked her to mow the lawn but she didn't intend to do that either. At the very least this way she had an alibi. Sam could see it now -
"Samantha Grace Carter where have you been?"
"Playing chess with a respected, trusted adult. Do you really have a problem with that daddy?"
What could he possibly say? This whole idea was partially his fault anyway.
"So, Samantha, how's school? Have you made any new friends?"
"One." Sam was unaware of the small, satisfied smile that graced her features.
George's eyebrows rose slightly. "I see."
"Yeah. She's great."
Sam lapsed into silence as she watched him make his next move and contemplated her own. Was it the rook that moved diagonally? "Uh, I really like my calc. class." She said after a moment. "The teacher's great. And it's not dumbed down at all. Physics is alright too but I wish we'd do more of the space related stuff. Gotta start somewhere, I suppose."
It was the most Sam had said to him since arriving and Hammond counted it a small victory. "You know, the air force academy has physics. Astronautics. Astronomy. They have very good programs, one of the best in the country in fact."
Sam raised an eyebrow, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Yeah?"
"Many a young cadet has gone on to work for NASA. Good education, good experience..."
"Why are you telling me this?" Sam set down the knight she'd been considering with carefully controlled movements, the faintest spark of anger simmering in her belly.
"It's just a thought. Something for you to think about. I know for a fact you haven't looked into any colleges, Samantha. Now is the time. You're so brilliant, you can do anything you want to. I just want what's best for you. We all do."
The look in his eyes told her "we all" was made up of himself and her father. Sam felt ambushed in the worst possible way. She didn't want to join the air force. At least, she didn't think she wanted to join the air force. She'd honestly never given it much thought. The air force was the big bad blue monster that had stomped all over her family, taken her father from her and, by default, her mother.
"Look, Uncle George, I don't need your advice. I don't know what I'm going to do but I am going to figure it out. On my own. And I certainly don't want to follow in 'dear ol' dad's' footsteps."
"Samantha I was just trying t-"
"Well don't! I'm out of here. See you later."
Sam put a little extra stomp into her step as she hopped down the steps and climbed on to her bike. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, rumbling their anger at the world.
"Samantha!"
She looked up from strapping on her helmet to see George had moved to the edge of the porch, watching her with sad eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Drive safe."
*************************
The rain started to poor down on her way back and Sam cursed the state's fickle weather as her tee-shirt soaked through and clung to damp skin. If it wasn't heat stroke worthy god-awful sunny-ness it was damned tornadoes. Thankfully the little drops of rain dripped down her helmet without getting into her eyes. She slowed as she reached her turn and broke out in a large grin as she spotted a familiar little figure walking along the sidewalk.
Janet was wrapped in a too big faded green army jacket that had faint marks on the sleeves where once upon a time it had been emblazoned with rank insignia, her hands shoved into her pockets and her hair already almost completely soaked through and slicked to her skull. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder and a determined scowl on her face.
Sam slowed as she reached her, leaning forward and calling out, "Hey! Look what the cat dragged in! A drowned rat!"
Janet started and looked about ready to jump out of her own skin until she realized who it was. She cackled, saying loud enough to be heard over the rumbling thunder, "Oh pot? Hey, yeah, name's kettle. How yah' doing?"
Sam laughed, coming to a complete stop and bracing her feet on the ground. "Seriously half-pint, what are you doing out here? Need a ride somewhere?"
She bristled at the nickname but made no comment. "I was walking to the library. Then it started raining." Janet pulled her hands out of her pockets and gestured helplessly. "I figured I was already wet, might as well keep going. Can't get much worse."
Sam snorted. "There's a library?"
"Yeah. Down-town. Wanna come?"
Sam sank back in her seat, mulling it over. Giving Janet a ride was one thing. Going with her... Sam didn't do the social thing. Or, rather, she didn't do it well. She could solve complex equations without breaking a sweat but make her sit and talk to a person for more than ten minutes and she was a mess. A babbling, blushing, awkward mess. It was so much easier to keep herself to herself.
"Sure, why not? Hop on."
Janet looked uncertain, eyeing the motor cycle. "I don't know..."
"Come on. I'm a careful driver, I promise. Besides, the sooner we get there the sooner we can get dry." Sam wiggled her eyebrows and offered her small companion a hand. "Pwwweeease?"
Laughing, Janet accepted the offered hand and let Sam help her settle on the seat behind her before taking off.
Sam suddenly felt subconscious with Janet's slim arms wrapped around her waist, holding on for dear life. She tried to focus on the rumbling purr of the engine as they rounded the corner into town, completely unable to stop the small smile that slid on to her face and refused to leave. There was something comfortable about her new friend, something she'd never had before. "Hey, Jan- Can't breath. Relax." She called over her shoulder.
"Ooh. Sorry."
The library was a faded brick building with twin columns on either side of the entry way and a horse statue at the front striking its hooves angrily at the sky. There was a dedication carved into the base but squinting through the rain Sam couldn't make out what it said.
Sam parked the bike in the small five car lot on the side and they slipped in through the library's large double doors, giggling and dripping water everywhere. The stern faced middle aged woman behind the reference desk gave them a frosty glare and Janet took Sam's hand and dragged her to the back of a row of shelves where several wooden tables were set up. As near as Sam could tell they were the only people there, but it was larger than she had expected and rows of tall, dust laden shelves blocked their view of he rest of the room.
"Well this is... Nice." Sam unbuckled her helmet and set it on the table, turning a chair around backwards and flopping down on it. She watched as Janet swung her backpack up onto the table and hung her sodden jacket on the back of a chair, dimly mesmerised by the drop of rain tracing its way down her friends slender neck. "Homework?"
"Trig. Miss Kilpatrick is the worst."
"Oh no! Not Patrick!"
Janet giggled. "Sa-am."
"Sorry. Wait, so, Trig? You're a senior, why trig? Shouldn't you at least be at pre-calc by now?"
A faint blush tinged Janet's cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'm not so good at math. Biology, great. History, great. Hell, art great. I even did pretty well with that two years of Spanish. Math, not so much. I'd rather beat my head against a wall than take calculus."
Sam leaned forward in her chair, wrapping her arms around the back. "Well it just so happens I'm a math whiz."
"Oh really?"
"I only turn in half my homework and I'm already doing better than most of my class. Do you need help with something? 'Cause I..." Sam paused, suddenly shy. "Well, uh, I'd love to help."
Janet grinned that big, heart wrenching grin. Puppies had nothing on that girl. "I would love a little help. I knew there was a reason I let you stick around."
"Hey!"
Sam quickly discovered that Janet was more than intelligent enough to do the work. Hell, she was brilliant and not just brilliant in that 'book smart' way that so many intelligent people were. She had a flexible, witty mind that was more than capable of grasping the basic concepts of trigonometry. She just really didn't want to. Sam would have been surprised that someone found mathematics so boring but experience had already taught her that her love for the subject was a tad unusual.
"So anyway, that's the law of sin. It's really easy once you get used to it, I promise."
Janet smiled, taking the pause in work flow to glance at her watch. "Yeah. Wow, it's getting late... I should get back, Momma will be getting worried..."
Sam quirked an eyebrow, finding the endearment extremely adorable. "You want a ride?"
"No, I think the rain's stopped. I can make it on my own." She was tying her jacket around her waist, bag already slung over her shoulders. "Hey, thanks for everything. You really did make it easier to understand."
"No problem."
"See you Monday?"
"Yeah. Yeah, Monday."
Helmet cradled in the crook of her arm Sam followed her friend to the door, watching her slip out into the humid but no longer rainy evening.
The sound of a throat being violently cleared got her attention and Sam turned to find the librarian glaring at her pointedly.
"Alright, I'm going, I'm going! Geeze."
"We've got to hold on to what we've got
'Cause it doesn't make a difference
If we make it or not
We've got each other and that's a lot
For love - we'll give it a shot
We're half way there
Livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear
Livin' on a prayer..."
Sam hummed along with the radio, moving her knight and then drawing back. "Ha! Got ya'."
"No, no. The knight can't move like that."
"Oh." Sam deflated and returned the piece to its previous spot. "Whupps."
"Quite alright."
Another Saturday, another chess game. Since that first time George had strayed away from topics likely to set the teen off and things ran more smoothly. It was surprisingly easy to chat and enjoy each other's company. She was so very different from the little girl he had known and yet there were similarities he caught in flashes. That big, happy grin she got when she captured one of his pieces, her laugh, that look of wonder in her eyes when she was learning something new. He wanted so badly for things to go well for her.
"So, Star Trek huh?"
"Yes! It's so incredibly unrealistic but everybody's talking about it like it's the next big thing. What IS a 'resonating polarizing regulator' anyway? It makes no sense."
"Yes, well Samantha, we can't all be experts on quantum physics. It's just a television show."
Sam grinned, moving another piece. What she didn't admit was that she'd actually caught a few episodes and enjoyed them. Mostly because Janet found the show hilarious and it was adorable but that was beside the point. "You can call me Sam, you know. Dad's the only one that calls me Samantha anymore."
"Sam it is then. Check mate."
"Awww, damn."
"Sam! Language."
"Sorry."
**********************
"Whatcha' doing?"
"Working on the engine."
"Why? Is it broken? I keep telling you these things are dangerous."
"No, I'm just making sure everything's running good. Basic maintenance. Nothing serious."
Sam's responses were short and clipped, her entire attention focused on the parts spread out on the garage floor. Her father was going to be working late and it was the perfect time to work on her bike without getting griped at for making a mess and getting oil everywhere. Janet was perched on the steps that led into the house, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched her friend work with a mild cross between fascination and boredom. Fascination because she was amazed Sam seemed to know so much about what she was doing and boredom because she herself had no clue what was going on.
The garage still didn't really look lived in but Sam had broken out the tools and they were spread out on the make shift table she had set up the previous weekend. It was really nothing more than a sliding closet door, taken from the closet in her room after she got tired of trying to keep it on the track, laid on top of two carefully spaced boxes, both of which were labeled 'BOOKS'. She hadn't bothered to open either box before putting them to use but she'd decided whatever was in there was obviously not something she missed very much if she couldn't even remember what it was.
She was down to a tee-shirt with the sleeves cut off and shorts and still she had sweat pouring from what felt like every pore in her body, sticking in her hair and rolling down her back in streams. The air was so dry Sam was almost tempted to try and see if she really could cook an egg on the sidewalk. Even in the relative shade of the garage it was almost unbearable.
"How do you stand this? Isn't it almost fall? It should be cooling off by now." Sam wiped her fingers across her forehead to scrub away a trickle of sweat before it dripped into her eyes, leaving a trail of black finger prints in their wake.
"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Janet replied, snickering and gesturing at the grease smeared across Sam's face. "You get used to it. The good news is the winters are usually pretty mild. Usually. More ice than snow."
"Oh goody." Sam remarked dryly, absently scrubbing at the marks on her face with the back of her hand. Her efforts only made the situation worse.
"You never actually told me what you're doing all of this for."
"I just want to make sure everything is running okay." Sam crouched down to get back to work, fitting pieces back together. "It's just a routine thing, honest."
"Mmmhmm. You're strange, Sammy."
Sam stiffened, a line of tension running down her spine. "Please don't call me that."
"Why?"
Because once upon a time there was a comforting, blue eyed woman who whispered the endearment to her before tucking her in at night. "Nighty night, Sammy." "I love you, Sammy.". She would kiss her forehead and smooth her hair back and some nights, when she had nightmares, sing a little lullaby. Always, always, it made her feel warm and safe. No one else ever called her Sammy.
"Just... Please, don't."
"Alright. I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
They lapsed into silence, the clicking of Sam's tools too loud in the stifling heat of the garage.
"If you must know, there's this thing I want to go to. I have to make sure the bike is in tip top shape." Sam finally said in a rush, unable to stand the smothering weight of their mutual silence anymore.
Janet's eyebrows shot skyward. "Thing? What thing?"
"Just a biker thing. Some guys getting together to ride." Sam's tone was light but it was impossible to tell what her mood really was without being able to see her eyes. "It's a fun thing. An extracurricular activity, if you will. People are always saying I don't get out enough."
Janet was skeptical. "A safe fun thing right? We're not talking about some wreckless going-to-kill-you thing are we?"
"No, of course not. You've got nothing to worry about." Sam flashed one of her trademark goofy grins, scrubbing at the beads of sweat running down her forhead again. "I promise. Don't you have some trig homework we should get cracking on?"
"Yeah." Janet adopted a grin of her own. "Just as soon as you wash your face."
*************************************
"Who's this?"
Sam looked up from the text book to find Janet holding the framed photograph she had propped up on one of the boxes next to her bed, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips. "That's you, isn't it? Aww."
"Yeah. And... My mother."
"She's beautiful." Unspoken was the thought, 'Kinda like you.'.
"Yeah. Yeah she was."
Janet wanted to ask what had happened but a part of her was almost afraid to. She never got the opportunity.
"She died. About a year ago. Car accident."
"Oh." She didn't no what else to say and anything she could say would just sound cheap. Janet had never felt that kind of loss, she couldn't easily relate. The stern set of her friend's shoulders prompted her to abandon the old photograph, reaching out to gently massage the tense flesh.
"You know, if you ever need someone to talk to... I'm a really good listener."
"I know." I'm fine, she wanted to say. I don't need you, or anyone else. I don't need the proverbial shoulder to cry on.
But just a little, teeny tiny part of her wanted it.
"Anyway, tangent goes something like..."
************************************************
Sam limped up the steps, a carefully composed stoic scowl in place. The porch light was on, swarmed with moths and other creepy crawlies she didn't want to think about, meaning her father was home. Great. She was just thankful he wasn't waiting up for her on the porch.
When she crept into the hallway and the expected ambush still didn't come the teenager allowed herself a small flicker of concern. Sam slipped off her tennis shoes and did her best "tip-toe" into the living room, still hobbling along and favoring her left leg.
"Dad?"
He was sound asleep on the couch, which they still hadn't settled on a good location for, the most relaxed she'd seen him in a long time. It was amazing what sleep could do to erase the frown lines around his eyes and on his brow. He'd obviously fallen asleep waiting for her to get home and she wasn't about to tempt fate by waking him. Instead she found an extra quilt in one of the boxes strewn around the room and pulled it snugly up around his shoulders.
Sam stood there for a moment, watching her father sleep and wishing he was so cuddly and approachable when he was awake. Some emotion she couldn't quite identify tugged at her heart strings and she found a tired sigh dragged from her lips. Finally after what felt like hours she tore herself away and trudged to her room. She set her alarm clock for a little earlier than usual, thinking if she was out of the house before he got up she could continue to avoid confrontation for at least a little while longer.
***
"You're getting better."
"Eh, well, I have a good teacher."
George chuckled. "You do at that."
Sam kicked her heels against the bottom rung of her chair as she considered her next couple of moves. She had finally figured out that the key to winning was to have a good strategy. She had yet to win but the last couple of times it had been close. She would have worried that he might be going easy on her but her pride refused to accept any explanation other than that she was simply improving as a player.
Fall had finally descended upon the land and those leaves that hadn't already been burned alive were turning colors and drifting lazily to earth, almost obscuring the crispy well-done quality of the scorched ground. Looking out over her Uncle George's front lawn Sam had to admire the way the overcast sky made the shades of vibrant red and gold stand out. The occasional well timed breeze did a lot for improving her mood. She could almost think her new home was pretty. Almost.
"Uncle George, can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Do you ever hear from Mark?"
Hammond peered up at his god daughter with mild surprise. This was the first time she had broached a semi serious subject all on her own. He sensed he was still walking on toothpicks when it came to the teenager and tried to keep his tone neutral. "No, I haven't. Not in a very long time."
"Oh. I just thought... Maybe..."
"I am reasonably certain he paints me with the same brush as your father, Sam. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Sam raked her fingers through her hair, the blonde quills sticking up in ten different directions. "I miss him. We were close, you know? Now it's like... Like I don't even have a brother."
"He just needs time. He'll come around eventually."
Watching the dejected frown that seemed permanently fixed to Sam's face, George hoped to God that he was right.
*******************************
Sam hissed between her teeth as she poured the peroxide over the road burn running from knee to calf, foot resting on the toilette seat. She still hadn't told anyone about her little accident, horror filling her every time she imagined Janet's disappointment or her father's yelling if she admitted to either one of them that she'd been racing. George would have been compassionate but he also would have told her dad.
It'd been a stupid, stupid thing and she knew it. The arrogant little speed junkie inside of her just didn't want to fess up.
Sam sighed and sank back to sit on the edge of the tub, rolling down the leg of her jeans. After her Saturday chess game with Uncle George she'd had a flash of clarity and she knew what she wanted, what she had to do. Visit Mark. Confront him. Hear his explanation for not being around when she so obviously needed him. It was a crazy idea. He was at least eight hundred miles away. And she couldn't ask her father. He had refused to even talk about Mark ever since he had walked out.
It was crazy.
Yet there was her backpack on the counter stuffed with a change of clothes and various snack items and her helmet propped on top of it waiting for her to strap it on.
Sam slipped her arms into the sleeves of her leather jacket and tucked the helmet into the crook of her elbow. For a moment she considered leaving a note but eventually abandoned the thought. Either way he was going to be furious.
Besides, she thought as she heeled back her kickstand and pulled out of the drive way, he was gone so much he probably wouldn't notice anyway.
****************************
The next afternoon Sam left her gas tank to fill up and popped a few quarters into a pay phone, dialing the number her flexible mind had easily committed to memory. It rang a few times before finally picking up.
"Hello?"
The voice was distorted but comfortingly familiar. "Hey Jan."
"Sam! Where the hell are you?"
Sam couldn't help a snicker. It was the first time she had ever heard the other girl swear. "I'm... Safe."
"Your dad came over here looking for you when you didn't come home this morning. He was madder than a hornet's nest. And worried, Sam. I am too. I thought something awful had happened to you... What were you thinking?"
"I'm fine, I promise. I just called to let you know I was alright." And to hear her voice.
"Sa-am. Aren't you at least going to tell me where you are?"
"Think of it this way. If you don' know, you don't have to lie."
"Sam, I-"
There was nothing but a click and a dial tone.
***********************************
The apartment wasn't too shabby for a college student. Sam stood staring at the building for a good ten minutes before mustering up the courage to leave the parking lot and approach the door. Then she stood there some more, fingers in her pocket curled around the little slip of paper the address was scrawled on. It was late evening and the sun was already sinking behind her, casting an orange-golden glow over everything. Sam watched the light play in the glass reflection of the door, willing her feet to move.
There was a chill bite to the air but Sam didn't feel it, even as her exposed ears and the tip of her nose grew numb. He was in there somewhere. Her brother. Someone she had always thought of as a constant in her life. Almost close enough to call out to.
She couldn't decide if she was angry or hurt or just plain over joyed to finally be within proximity again.
Finally she pulled in a deep breath and reached out to push the buzzer with the tip of her forefinger.
"Um, hi..."
****************************
"What the hell are you doing here Sam? Does Dad know you're hear?"
"No. I didn't' tell him. I just wanted to... I just wanted... You never call! It's been almost a year and haven't seen you, not once. I just... I missed you, that's all. I thought you would be happy to see me."
"God Sam, I didn't call because I knew Dad wouldn't answer. He doesn't want anything to do with me and I sure as hell don't want anything to do with him! How can you stand it, Sam, knowing what he did?"
Sam bristled, the hands in the pockets of her jackets clenching in to fists. The one roomed apartment was nice, clean and tastefully decorated. She'd been going to say so when he turned on her, red faced and angry. Where did he get off being mad? She was the one who had been slighted in all of this.
"How can you possibly still blame him? It wasn't his fault! He wasn't the one driving that cab." Sam surprised herself. It was true, though, she realized.
"Don't defend him. Don't you dare. If he had been there when he was supposed to..."
"He might be dead too! Maybe they would have both crashed! You don't know!" It wasn't a thought Sam had ever seriously focused on before but now that she said it she realized it was a conclusion she had come to a long time ago. If her father had been where he was supposed to be, they could very well have lost both parents in that accident. There was no way to know for sure. She didn't believe in fate, but... "He's our dad! You should be thankful we still have him. Things could be so much worse..."
"If it wasn't for him, mom would still be alive. I can't forgive him for that. I can't believe you can!"
Sam wondered if Mark knew how much he looked like the man he so despised when he was angry. "Some things are more important. Look, I didn't come here to argue. I came here to see my big brother."
"Well, now you've seen me."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
******************************
Sam couldn't remember ever being so frustrated with her brother, including that one time when he stole all her barbies and decided they needed haircuts. He was just so pig headed! Had he always been like that and she had just hero worshipped him too much to see it?
She drove like a demon, only paying attention to the speed limit when in vicinity of civilization. The cold wind in her face helped her clear her head and sooth the raging blood coursing through her veins. Of all the nerve!
Sam was just pulling into a gas station when her bike's engine started to splutter, coughing like a cat with a hairball. It finally died out and rolled to a stop a few feet away from the pump. She gripped the key and turned it, gritting her teeth. Lots of chugging and not much else.
"Fuck."
*****************************
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sam held the phone between her ear and shoulder, drumming her fingers on the counter top. The long haired man behind the register watched her with blunt curiosity, having no other customers and nothing more exciting to do. He had large, round glasses that magnified his eyes and made them glitter like an insects and an unruly beard that begged to be cut. The silver pin on his apron declared that he was 'Earl S.'. Sam imagined that a couple of decades before the man had been a raging hippie.
If he called her 'Dude!' one more time she was going to punch him.
Unable to find a payphone Sam had been forced to enter the gas station and beg the use of their phone. Now faced with ring after unanswered ring she was starting to panic.
"Come on, come on..."
"Problem, dudette?"
Sam growled. Not much of an improvement. "No! It's...Wha... Could you just..." She made a shewing motion with her hand.
"Oh! Right, sure thing."
Earl turned and pretended to be watching something across the room for a moment before resuming his unabashed staring.
Finally, just when Sam was on the verge of snapping, someone picked up and the ringing stopped.
"Hello?"
"Dad?"
************************************
Jacob Carter was silent for most of the trip home. When he finally pulled up with the truck he had borrowed from George to transport her cycle she had expected him to yell and scream and gripe her ears off. She'd been missing for the better part of three days. Any ordinary dad would have at least given her a hug or something. He'd just been unusually calm, helping her load the bike in complete and utter silence. If it wasn't for the white knuckled hands now gripping the steering wheel, she could have almost imagined he wasn't angry.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, she said softly, "Dad?"
No response.
"I'm sorry."
In the rear-view mirror she saw his eyes flicker in her direction.
"For everything. I know I'm not perfect. But I'm going to try. I promise I'm going to try."
Finally, after several seconds had ticked by, he breathed out with a sigh, "You're grounded, of course."
"Of course."
"No running around after school, no phone, no bike..."
"I can walk to school."
"No friends over, whatever that girl's name is..."
"Janet."
He looked over at her and for a moment, just a moment, she thought his eyes looked a little watery. "Don't ever do this to me again, kiddo. Next time, just ask."
Sam nodded, slumping down lower against her seat-belt. She felt like the worst person in the world.
"Alright." Jacob watched his daughter out of the corner of his eyes, not for the first time cursing the fact that he had been left alone to deal with a teenaged girl. He had no idea what he was doing and he just knew he was doing it all wrong. "Radio?"
She nodded and he flicked it on, spinning the dial through several stations of nothing but static.
"Give it to me straight from the heart
Tell me we can make another start
You know I'll never go - as long as I know
It's comin' straight from the heart..."
************************************
Sam stood on George Hammond's front step, fidgeting before drawing in a deep, mind clearing breath and knocking lightly. Waiting, she clasped her hands behind her back in a pose unconsciously similar to the classic "at ease".
"Sam! What are you doing here?"
"I was doing some thinking. About what you said. About college. And I was wondering... If maybe... I could ask you for advice."
"Of course! Any time. Any time."