Fic 6: The World Spins Madly On
Sodium lights lit their path like torches in a cave. Why did it have to be so cold in March?
"Sir?"
He was quietly studying the pavement under his feet. She knew he was thinking big thoughts when he kept his head down like that. She didn't blame him; silence had a way of disturbing her equilibrium too.
"Kinda seems like we've been doing this a long time, huh?"
Sam frowned. She wasn't sure which thing they'd been doing the longest he was referring to. "What's that, sir?"
"You know, saving the world. Being heroes. That sort of thing."
Oh, that. She smirked. "Yeah, I guess it has been a while."
"Eight years, give or take…" he marveled.
"Yes, sir. Time flies." She was really just talking for the sake of talking she realized. Then silence batted around between them for a good minute or two.
"Do you think things will ever change?" she asked. She was being intentionally cryptic, and Sam knew he had trouble reading the lines, let alone in between, but she couldn't help herself. Whatever standard they'd set in the early days was too difficult for her to walk away from now, so she left it open for his interpretation. This way she couldn't give too much away.
"God, I hope so," he let out as more of a sigh. She studied him while he studied his shoes. He suddenly looked up, right at her, and told her, "I'm getting too old for this shit, Carter. And I'm tired."
She winced, dropping her eyes from his. Too intense. It suddenly occurred to her that he wasn't talking about their jobs anymore. "I'm sorry you feel that way, sir."
"Hey, wait." He touched her arm before she could escape. It rendered her mute and immobile. "I just meant if things aren't going to change on their own…maybe we could do it our selves?"
"Our selves?" she repeated.
He nodded, "Yeah, you know: 'be the change you want to see…' and all of that." He flapped his hands in front of him motioning at absolutely nothing.
"Not sure that's what he meant, sir." She was smiling again and that's all he really wanted.
He shrugged. "Maybe not. It may seem like this fight will go on forever," he nodded toward the sky, "but I think things are different here. Daniel's been dead a couple times, then alive again and I think the team is changing. We're different."
Sam stared at him. She agreed wholeheartedly-had the exact same thought once or twice-but she'd always lacked that particular articulation of the team's shifting dynamic. "So you're saying the circumstances will never change, but we're different?"
"You know, that so makes less sense when you say it. In fact, I think that's probably your greatest skill," he joked.
"Confusing you is my greatest skill?"
"Oh yeah," he confirmed as he straightened up against his truck. They'd drifted closer since their conversation began, only a couple inches of empty space separated the tips of their shoes, their noses. Both had grown accustom to ignoring the traditional rules governing personal space.
What's his is mine.
Sam shifted her weight from one foot to the other and moved imperceptibly forward. She gave him a quick smile and dropped her head to his chest.
"See, now that doesn't help," he grumbled.
"Am I really that much of a mystery after all these years?" she wanted to know.
"Hell, yes!" he returned as a rush of air against her hair.
She chuckled, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just tired, too."