New Stargate SG-1 Fic: "Like Fire On Wind"
Two fanfics posted in one day. Yes, you may faint now. I like to think I'm making up for lost time as I gradually reclaim my life.
This fic was originally begun for an Icon Meme years ago, when someone requested a fic to go with the icon on this post. I have yet not been able to track down the original meme entry, but if or when I do, I will edit this to include whom it was meant to be written for! Please forgive my Swiss Cheese memory.
It's very weird to feel almost unqualified to write in a fandom that used to be your world. How appropos for the piece.:)
DISCLAIMER: Yeah, the SG-1 guys are all property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This is all in fun, no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. All other characters, ideas, etc., herein are copyrighted to the author.
TITLE: Like Fire On Wind
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
RATING: Teen
CATEGORIES: Angst...oh, the angst... Sam/Jack UST
TIMELINE: Early to Mid Season 7
Major speed-beta thanks to lyssie and Teddy E!
For katcorvi and amilyn. Sorry it took me like...forever. :)
"Like Fire On Wind"
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2009
She wants it to be real. She wants it so badly her skin hurts. She needs the grey to shimmer into color. She needs to feel the joy in Daniel's aura of wonder, the childlike thrill in the wild rush through the universe; she wants to smell the alien blossoms and feel her blood warm at the twinkle of humor in the Colonel's eye.
But Daniel is back and he's not the same. She thinks he forgot something of her along the way. Teal'c is Teal'c but he doesn't know what to say. He stands and waits to catch her if she falls, but she stubbornly refuses to slip.
The Colonel... Things wither when hidden from the sun.
She's not the only one who can run the gate, these days. They've gathered the cream of the crop for R&D. Her father has matters more pressing than his daughter (always has). Martouf's blood lingers on her hands, though she feels his touch along her thighs in darkest night.
She has sand beneath her feet and squints in the glare of a massive alien sun.
She thinks she used to belong here.
But she can't feel.
She wants to wake.
But open her eyes and the light burns.
*****
Jack can watch it, he can see it and feel it, but he can't make it stop. It's real and it's happening, and the knowledge gnaws at his guts, shadowing every corner of his life. He found his peace, once upon a time. Carved out his safe niche in the universe. He found a way to ride with the current and just go on. Carter changed all that. Damn it to hell.
Daniel watches the slide. Teal'c, too. Jack sees it. But Carter's never really talked to them. To any of them. They don't know how to cross the lines. They don't know what the hell to do to help her.
"Carter? You all right?" It's a quick, casual check as they set up their equipment at the camp site, Daniel and Teal'c in easy earshot; but he's asked the question too many times and they both know it. She's starting to snap her replies and he feels her slipping away.
"I'm fine." Not even a 'sir.'. That scares the shit out of him. She's on her feet and walking toward the supply cart and inertia ties him to the ground.
*****
He knows she's dealt with some rounds of depression. (Hell, they all have.) No one talks about it when it comes to Carter, but they've all seen the records. Years of medical staff conferences and aliens messing with their collective brain chemistries and tests and comparisons and oh, hell, professional secrecy got lost in the crises.
They've all seen Carter work herself to a dangerously low weight, then find her way back to the surface to smile again.
They've watched her curl up and shut off when Jolinar died in her head.
They've seen her blow up a sun and ribbon a Goa'uld.
They've seen her volunteer to die with a 12-year-old girl.
What they haven't seen is her coming to them for help. Letting someone help her put all the pieces together again.
*****
They're on P3...PS4...P... They're on a planet with hostile natives and too much rain when he sees it affecting her work. Her afternoon's patrol brings almost complete radio silence. But direct questioning around the campfire proves she gathered some valuable intel on the tribes' location and hunting patterns. She relays the information with academic detachment, precise and thorough in her details. But she should have kept them posted sooner, should have reported without prompting. The lines of team communication are vital, and if she withdraws she's not part of the team, anymore.
He tries to reprimand and knock her back in line like he would any other soldier, but the haunted glaze to her eyes eats at his stomach like bad meat.
When she walks away, he feels like the air has leaked out of his lungs.
*****
Moonrise sees Daniel and Teal'c settling in their sleeping bags, and Carter in the distance beside the river. She's probably gathering samples. She's always gathering samples these days. He suspects the SGC is drowning in them.
His feet carry him to her side before he comes up with an actual plan.
He crouches in the slightly damp grass-like stuff.
"Heya, Carter," he says.
"Sir."
The clang of sample containers.
He sits back onto his heels and stares into the darkness of this world light years from Minnesota. "So...are you...ya okay?"
Carter sniffs and closes her pack. "I'm fine. I'll be done in a bit."
"Carter..." He hates the scratchy desperation bleeding into his own voice. He's supposed to be in control. He's supposed to be the leader.
She doesn't reply.
"Carter, I'm not blind. Neither are the guys. You're having a tough time, and we're just...this is a job, yeah, but...we're your friends, ya know?"
Her shoulders rise and fall, gaze tied to the sandy ground beyond her boots. A quiet sigh escapes her lips and it's the most real sound he's heard from her in weeks. "I didn't say you weren't," she says.
He unhooks his P-90 and lowers it to the ground.
"Look, Carter..." but his words die on his lips as Carter twists away from his touch. He moved a hand instinctively to rest upon her back, and she reacted to the touch like he burned her.
"Please..." Her whisper stings.
"Please what...?"
"I'm sorry."
Jack draws several long breaths before he asks, "Me or anyone?"
"What?"
His gaze settles on the same ground she's watching. There's nothing to see, but at least there is something in common ground. "Who can't touch you?"
He feels the muscles of her jaw working, hears her swallow in the quiet. He doesn't know whether to be grateful or devastated when she says softly, "Anyone I care about."
The silence stretches until she sinks onto her heels, shoulders sagging, and she looks so little like the brilliant soldier she is and so much like a broken child. "Sir, just...give me a little more time, okay? I'll work it out."
He knows this is wrong. Knows this is where he should man up and step in to help her. He swipes a hand down his face, pulls his cap from his head, roughs up his hair, then tugs the cap back on. Fuck.
"All right." He pushes to his feet and walks back to the camp, more disgusted with himself than he could ever be with her.
*****
Back on Earth and he's scrambling for ideas. They're done debriefing, they're done cataloging and labeling what they've brought from the planet. This is the part where the four of them linger and hover and say, "Want to go grab something to eat?" and he knows damned well Carter will say no. She'll go home alone, and none of them will hear from her until Monday morning.
And he can't just send her home when she hasn't made eye contact in over a day. He can't remember the last time he saw her eat a real meal.
All he can think of is Team Night. So he declares this particular night for Pretzel Poker and Chinese Food and all but orders Carter to attend. She nods her agreement to his authoritative tone, and he winces at the pangs of guilt for playing on her sense of duty.
Carter shows up at his house in a flowered skirt and sleeveless blouse. She's quiet and pale, but damned gorgeous all the same. She nibbles the Chinese food and plays a round or two of cards. She gives a few smiles that don't touch her eyes and jokes without the spark. It's hours earlier than usual when she makes her excuses and tries to leave. Daniel and Teal'c exchange glances; they know what tonight was about. But they don't know what to do any more than Jack, so they say goodnight and linger at the kitchen table. Carter snatches her jacket from the coat tree and leaves by the back door. Jack stares at the living room carpet for a long count, then turns and follows.
*****
She's crossing the back deck when she hears the screen door squawk and smack closed behind him.
"Carter?"
She closes her eyes and forces a heavy exhale. "Yes, sir?"
She feels the weight in his steps as he moves closer behind her, and she half turns and looks over her shoulder. He's still in the circle of light from the porch lamp while she has moved to the far end's shadows. The lines in his face trail a familiar warmth through her belly and she tenses against the sensation.
He stares a moment, pulling up straight and appraising her before he speaks. She's seen him assessing situations before, deciding on the best course of action. Talk to it or shoot it. "Carter, ya can't keep doin' this."
She wrinkles her nose and gives a single shake of her head. "Doing what?"
"This!" He takes a step closer and holds out a hand. "Carter...You just...ya gotta deal with this stuff, or..."
"Or what? You'll ground me from going offworld? Take me off the team?" She curses the slight tremor in her voice, the quiver in her gestures. She curses herself for what she can only see as weakness and fear. Because she wants so badly to throw this in his face, tell him to go to hell, but there's nothing in the world that scares her more than being cut off from her self-made family.
Jack's breathing has increased in pace, but he slips his hands in his pockets and stares again for a long time. She feels raw and naked and like he heard every word she didn't say. "You know I don't want to do that," he says at last, and the softness is everything she's running from.
"But you would."
"That's not what I want to talk about right now. That's not why I'm out here."
Sam shrugs, holds out her hands in surrender. "So...why are you out here?"
"Because I want you to talk to me."
"About what?"
"Dammit, Carter!"
She welcomes the anger, she can turn on anger. She gives a derisive exhale and starts to walk away. But the strings are loosening. The emotions under her skin quiver and totter between fight and flight. She whirls on the heel of her tan pump and yells back at him across the porch, "What do you want from me? I'm here. I showed up, I did what you wanted, why the hell can't you leave me alone?"
He does an admirable job of hiding his shock. He's established they are friends right now, not commanding officer and soldier, but they're always commander and soldier and she accepted this reality a long time ago.
"I want you to tell me what's ripping you up inside, Carter," he says, Colonel's voice low and unbreakable. He's lost all anger but gained a thread of steel that scares her to death.
Her tongue slides over darkly painted lips. "Nothing." Then to break the unbearable stillness, she says, "Can I go?"
"Is it your Dad?"
She steps back. "No."
"Daniel?"
Tilts her head. "No."
"Martouf?"
"No."
"Me?"
Bites her cheek. "No."
"Too many secrets? Too much lying? Too many dead bodies?"
"No!"
He moves forward. "Too many shots fired? Too many of the wrong hands on you? Too many fucked up worlds full of so-called geniuses who won't help themselves to save their lives?"
A ragged breath and another step back. "No..." But her voice shakes like the leaves surrounding them. The porch light flares in the blur of her tears and she thinks of nebulae and dreams of trips to the stars.
Jack steps into the shadows, hands pulling free of his pockets, and he says, "C'mere."
"No." His hand meets her shoulder and she sucks in a sharp breath and snaps away, stumbling toward the wall. Her heels dig in to the damp softness of the boards. "I don't want this," she whispers. But he's faster and sharper right now and before she breathes, his arms are around her.
She pushes at his flexed muscles. "I can't do this..."
His words fall hot on her throat. "That's tough, Carter."
Oh God, oh God, oh God ... "Sir, please. Please don't, please don't, please...." Whispers and prayers.
His voice is as immovable as his body. He's all around her and with every breath she pulls Jack O'Neill inside her. "Carter, you gotta feel it. Or you never make it back to the good stuff."
She's shaking so hard she can't breathe. "No...."
She gives a last forceful shove until he says simply, "I love you. And I'm gonna hold you."
Oh God....
The pain ignites in her stomach and burns out through her limbs like hot oil. And as long as he is touching her she can't keep it locked in the knot at the pit of her stomach any longer. The rush of color and texture and sickening sensation blurs her senses. She can't see, can't breathe. He is solid and real and he won't move, pressed tight against her quivering body. She can't fight the need to hold on. Her fingers grip at the cloth of Jack's shirt and she pulls his shoulder against her mouth. This is Jack. Jack. She's buried in his arms, and he's holding her so tight it hurts.
"Jack?" her voice sounds so small to her own ears.
"I'm right here. I'm right here." His face burrows into her neck, breath warm and damp on her skin, and she swears she hears a catch in his voice.
All she's wanted for weeks is for the grey to burst into color. But the re-ignition hurts like hell and the ragged sobs burn her throat. The grey walls are crashing and she's red and bloody and raw.
His arms lock around her hard and she's pinned between Jack and the wall, and all she knows is that he won't let her fall.
He won't let her fall.
She tries a last feeble attempt to push him away, but he's steadfast and unyielding. "Ssshhh...I gotcha, Carter. Let it go." The tenderness in his voice steals all she has left to give.
She holds on.
*****
This fic was originally begun for an Icon Meme years ago, when someone requested a fic to go with the icon on this post. I have yet not been able to track down the original meme entry, but if or when I do, I will edit this to include whom it was meant to be written for! Please forgive my Swiss Cheese memory.
It's very weird to feel almost unqualified to write in a fandom that used to be your world. How appropos for the piece.:)
DISCLAIMER: Yeah, the SG-1 guys are all property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This is all in fun, no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. All other characters, ideas, etc., herein are copyrighted to the author.
TITLE: Like Fire On Wind
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
RATING: Teen
CATEGORIES: Angst...oh, the angst... Sam/Jack UST
TIMELINE: Early to Mid Season 7
Major speed-beta thanks to lyssie and Teddy E!
For katcorvi and amilyn. Sorry it took me like...forever. :)
"Like Fire On Wind"
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2009
She wants it to be real. She wants it so badly her skin hurts. She needs the grey to shimmer into color. She needs to feel the joy in Daniel's aura of wonder, the childlike thrill in the wild rush through the universe; she wants to smell the alien blossoms and feel her blood warm at the twinkle of humor in the Colonel's eye.
But Daniel is back and he's not the same. She thinks he forgot something of her along the way. Teal'c is Teal'c but he doesn't know what to say. He stands and waits to catch her if she falls, but she stubbornly refuses to slip.
The Colonel... Things wither when hidden from the sun.
She's not the only one who can run the gate, these days. They've gathered the cream of the crop for R&D. Her father has matters more pressing than his daughter (always has). Martouf's blood lingers on her hands, though she feels his touch along her thighs in darkest night.
She has sand beneath her feet and squints in the glare of a massive alien sun.
She thinks she used to belong here.
But she can't feel.
She wants to wake.
But open her eyes and the light burns.
*****
Jack can watch it, he can see it and feel it, but he can't make it stop. It's real and it's happening, and the knowledge gnaws at his guts, shadowing every corner of his life. He found his peace, once upon a time. Carved out his safe niche in the universe. He found a way to ride with the current and just go on. Carter changed all that. Damn it to hell.
Daniel watches the slide. Teal'c, too. Jack sees it. But Carter's never really talked to them. To any of them. They don't know how to cross the lines. They don't know what the hell to do to help her.
"Carter? You all right?" It's a quick, casual check as they set up their equipment at the camp site, Daniel and Teal'c in easy earshot; but he's asked the question too many times and they both know it. She's starting to snap her replies and he feels her slipping away.
"I'm fine." Not even a 'sir.'. That scares the shit out of him. She's on her feet and walking toward the supply cart and inertia ties him to the ground.
*****
He knows she's dealt with some rounds of depression. (Hell, they all have.) No one talks about it when it comes to Carter, but they've all seen the records. Years of medical staff conferences and aliens messing with their collective brain chemistries and tests and comparisons and oh, hell, professional secrecy got lost in the crises.
They've all seen Carter work herself to a dangerously low weight, then find her way back to the surface to smile again.
They've watched her curl up and shut off when Jolinar died in her head.
They've seen her blow up a sun and ribbon a Goa'uld.
They've seen her volunteer to die with a 12-year-old girl.
What they haven't seen is her coming to them for help. Letting someone help her put all the pieces together again.
*****
They're on P3...PS4...P... They're on a planet with hostile natives and too much rain when he sees it affecting her work. Her afternoon's patrol brings almost complete radio silence. But direct questioning around the campfire proves she gathered some valuable intel on the tribes' location and hunting patterns. She relays the information with academic detachment, precise and thorough in her details. But she should have kept them posted sooner, should have reported without prompting. The lines of team communication are vital, and if she withdraws she's not part of the team, anymore.
He tries to reprimand and knock her back in line like he would any other soldier, but the haunted glaze to her eyes eats at his stomach like bad meat.
When she walks away, he feels like the air has leaked out of his lungs.
*****
Moonrise sees Daniel and Teal'c settling in their sleeping bags, and Carter in the distance beside the river. She's probably gathering samples. She's always gathering samples these days. He suspects the SGC is drowning in them.
His feet carry him to her side before he comes up with an actual plan.
He crouches in the slightly damp grass-like stuff.
"Heya, Carter," he says.
"Sir."
The clang of sample containers.
He sits back onto his heels and stares into the darkness of this world light years from Minnesota. "So...are you...ya okay?"
Carter sniffs and closes her pack. "I'm fine. I'll be done in a bit."
"Carter..." He hates the scratchy desperation bleeding into his own voice. He's supposed to be in control. He's supposed to be the leader.
She doesn't reply.
"Carter, I'm not blind. Neither are the guys. You're having a tough time, and we're just...this is a job, yeah, but...we're your friends, ya know?"
Her shoulders rise and fall, gaze tied to the sandy ground beyond her boots. A quiet sigh escapes her lips and it's the most real sound he's heard from her in weeks. "I didn't say you weren't," she says.
He unhooks his P-90 and lowers it to the ground.
"Look, Carter..." but his words die on his lips as Carter twists away from his touch. He moved a hand instinctively to rest upon her back, and she reacted to the touch like he burned her.
"Please..." Her whisper stings.
"Please what...?"
"I'm sorry."
Jack draws several long breaths before he asks, "Me or anyone?"
"What?"
His gaze settles on the same ground she's watching. There's nothing to see, but at least there is something in common ground. "Who can't touch you?"
He feels the muscles of her jaw working, hears her swallow in the quiet. He doesn't know whether to be grateful or devastated when she says softly, "Anyone I care about."
The silence stretches until she sinks onto her heels, shoulders sagging, and she looks so little like the brilliant soldier she is and so much like a broken child. "Sir, just...give me a little more time, okay? I'll work it out."
He knows this is wrong. Knows this is where he should man up and step in to help her. He swipes a hand down his face, pulls his cap from his head, roughs up his hair, then tugs the cap back on. Fuck.
"All right." He pushes to his feet and walks back to the camp, more disgusted with himself than he could ever be with her.
*****
Back on Earth and he's scrambling for ideas. They're done debriefing, they're done cataloging and labeling what they've brought from the planet. This is the part where the four of them linger and hover and say, "Want to go grab something to eat?" and he knows damned well Carter will say no. She'll go home alone, and none of them will hear from her until Monday morning.
And he can't just send her home when she hasn't made eye contact in over a day. He can't remember the last time he saw her eat a real meal.
All he can think of is Team Night. So he declares this particular night for Pretzel Poker and Chinese Food and all but orders Carter to attend. She nods her agreement to his authoritative tone, and he winces at the pangs of guilt for playing on her sense of duty.
Carter shows up at his house in a flowered skirt and sleeveless blouse. She's quiet and pale, but damned gorgeous all the same. She nibbles the Chinese food and plays a round or two of cards. She gives a few smiles that don't touch her eyes and jokes without the spark. It's hours earlier than usual when she makes her excuses and tries to leave. Daniel and Teal'c exchange glances; they know what tonight was about. But they don't know what to do any more than Jack, so they say goodnight and linger at the kitchen table. Carter snatches her jacket from the coat tree and leaves by the back door. Jack stares at the living room carpet for a long count, then turns and follows.
*****
She's crossing the back deck when she hears the screen door squawk and smack closed behind him.
"Carter?"
She closes her eyes and forces a heavy exhale. "Yes, sir?"
She feels the weight in his steps as he moves closer behind her, and she half turns and looks over her shoulder. He's still in the circle of light from the porch lamp while she has moved to the far end's shadows. The lines in his face trail a familiar warmth through her belly and she tenses against the sensation.
He stares a moment, pulling up straight and appraising her before he speaks. She's seen him assessing situations before, deciding on the best course of action. Talk to it or shoot it. "Carter, ya can't keep doin' this."
She wrinkles her nose and gives a single shake of her head. "Doing what?"
"This!" He takes a step closer and holds out a hand. "Carter...You just...ya gotta deal with this stuff, or..."
"Or what? You'll ground me from going offworld? Take me off the team?" She curses the slight tremor in her voice, the quiver in her gestures. She curses herself for what she can only see as weakness and fear. Because she wants so badly to throw this in his face, tell him to go to hell, but there's nothing in the world that scares her more than being cut off from her self-made family.
Jack's breathing has increased in pace, but he slips his hands in his pockets and stares again for a long time. She feels raw and naked and like he heard every word she didn't say. "You know I don't want to do that," he says at last, and the softness is everything she's running from.
"But you would."
"That's not what I want to talk about right now. That's not why I'm out here."
Sam shrugs, holds out her hands in surrender. "So...why are you out here?"
"Because I want you to talk to me."
"About what?"
"Dammit, Carter!"
She welcomes the anger, she can turn on anger. She gives a derisive exhale and starts to walk away. But the strings are loosening. The emotions under her skin quiver and totter between fight and flight. She whirls on the heel of her tan pump and yells back at him across the porch, "What do you want from me? I'm here. I showed up, I did what you wanted, why the hell can't you leave me alone?"
He does an admirable job of hiding his shock. He's established they are friends right now, not commanding officer and soldier, but they're always commander and soldier and she accepted this reality a long time ago.
"I want you to tell me what's ripping you up inside, Carter," he says, Colonel's voice low and unbreakable. He's lost all anger but gained a thread of steel that scares her to death.
Her tongue slides over darkly painted lips. "Nothing." Then to break the unbearable stillness, she says, "Can I go?"
"Is it your Dad?"
She steps back. "No."
"Daniel?"
Tilts her head. "No."
"Martouf?"
"No."
"Me?"
Bites her cheek. "No."
"Too many secrets? Too much lying? Too many dead bodies?"
"No!"
He moves forward. "Too many shots fired? Too many of the wrong hands on you? Too many fucked up worlds full of so-called geniuses who won't help themselves to save their lives?"
A ragged breath and another step back. "No..." But her voice shakes like the leaves surrounding them. The porch light flares in the blur of her tears and she thinks of nebulae and dreams of trips to the stars.
Jack steps into the shadows, hands pulling free of his pockets, and he says, "C'mere."
"No." His hand meets her shoulder and she sucks in a sharp breath and snaps away, stumbling toward the wall. Her heels dig in to the damp softness of the boards. "I don't want this," she whispers. But he's faster and sharper right now and before she breathes, his arms are around her.
She pushes at his flexed muscles. "I can't do this..."
His words fall hot on her throat. "That's tough, Carter."
Oh God, oh God, oh God ... "Sir, please. Please don't, please don't, please...." Whispers and prayers.
His voice is as immovable as his body. He's all around her and with every breath she pulls Jack O'Neill inside her. "Carter, you gotta feel it. Or you never make it back to the good stuff."
She's shaking so hard she can't breathe. "No...."
She gives a last forceful shove until he says simply, "I love you. And I'm gonna hold you."
Oh God....
The pain ignites in her stomach and burns out through her limbs like hot oil. And as long as he is touching her she can't keep it locked in the knot at the pit of her stomach any longer. The rush of color and texture and sickening sensation blurs her senses. She can't see, can't breathe. He is solid and real and he won't move, pressed tight against her quivering body. She can't fight the need to hold on. Her fingers grip at the cloth of Jack's shirt and she pulls his shoulder against her mouth. This is Jack. Jack. She's buried in his arms, and he's holding her so tight it hurts.
"Jack?" her voice sounds so small to her own ears.
"I'm right here. I'm right here." His face burrows into her neck, breath warm and damp on her skin, and she swears she hears a catch in his voice.
All she's wanted for weeks is for the grey to burst into color. But the re-ignition hurts like hell and the ragged sobs burn her throat. The grey walls are crashing and she's red and bloody and raw.
His arms lock around her hard and she's pinned between Jack and the wall, and all she knows is that he won't let her fall.
He won't let her fall.
She tries a last feeble attempt to push him away, but he's steadfast and unyielding. "Ssshhh...I gotcha, Carter. Let it go." The tenderness in his voice steals all she has left to give.
She holds on.
*****