Stargate SG1; Sam & Jack; Stages of Day
Title: Afternoon
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme: Stages of Day: Afternoon
Rating: Older teen
AFTERNOON
Jack picks a fight with her after lunch.
It starts to rain while he’s in the shed, cleaning and stowing his fishing gear. He carefully sorts lures; cleans and dismantles rods and reels; storing and protecting them until next time. Next time…he’s not sure when they’ll get to the cabin again and while normally he doesn’t get all broody when its time to leave, this time is different. And he feels something very akin to regret start to filter into his consciousness.
It starts to rain before he finishes, the bright day turning dark and dreary-coinciding quite nicely with his developing mood, when eventually all his tackle and gear is neatly put away and he locks up, jogging through the rain to the back door of the cabin.
“Sam?”
She’s not in the kitchen, the lunch dishes all washed and put away. He checks the living room next; her suitcase stands by the door. He frowns, feeling his mood take another dip at the silent reminder that their hours together are inexorably counting down.
“Sam?” he calls a little louder.
“In here.” Her voice floats up from the back of the house and he follows it to the bedroom.
He stops in the door and stares at the sight before him, and when he speaks, the words come out harsher than he intends. “I thought I told you Mrs. Kendall would take care of this.”
She pauses in stripping the bottom sheet off the bed and gives him a curious look before continuing on as if he hadn’t even spoken. The dark mood inside him lurches to the surface and he’s across the room in two steps, snatching the sheet out of her hands and tossing it back onto the bed. “I told you that you didn’t have to do this.” His voice turns deadly and he’s not sure why he’s so mad at her.
“I’m just taking the sheets off the bed, Jack.” Her tone is mild but he can see the faintest hint of reproach in her eyes when she adds, “Not putting Mrs. Kendall out of work.”
In what seems to Jack to be an act of open defiance, she picks the pile of sheets back off the bed and dumps them into the clothes basket at her feet. His jaw is clenched so tight it’s aching and his hands are tightened into fists and part of him realizes it’s certainly not rational to get mad at her over dirty sheets-
“What’s wrong, Jack?” Her annoyingly mild voice interrupts his confusion and she hands him an armful of heavy material that he realizes is the bedspread. When she steps away, still holding onto part of it, he realizes her intent and automatically follows her lead as she unfolds the covering and places it on the bed. “We are spending the night in Minneapolis,” she reminds him.
It made sense, a week ago, when they’d decided to drive down the night before their early morning flights. But now it just seems like one more way that the outside world is eating away at their time together. In a sobering-and rather uncharacteristic-flash of insight, his irritation with her becomes crystal clear. All the cleaning and tidying and packing leaves him feeling like they’re carefully packing away their time together and the part of him that still finds it hard to accept that this is all real can’t help but wonder if she’ll pack him away just as carefully when they’re twenty-five hundred miles apart.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he blurts out.
She stops still and looks at him, the edge of the bedspread still in her hands. He’s rather shocked as well, he’s not sure what he meant to say but he doesn’t think it was that.
“You’re not losing me,” she replies, still calm. She hands him a pillow and he automatically puts it on the bed, folding the spread carefully over it. Her hand brushes against his as they smooth out the material. “I’m just going to Area 51.”
“Like I’ll just be at the Pentagon?” He doesn’t think he means it to sound like an accusation, but it does, and it hangs in the air between them.
Sam picks up the laundry basket and walks to the door; her voice is angry when she stops and finally answers him. “I’m not having this discussion with you again, Jack. I shouldn’t have to remind you that we both knew exactly what we were getting into when we agreed to these assignments-and your promotion.”
And with that, she leaves the room. Jack figures he’s lucky that her arms are full, otherwise he’s sure the door would have slammed soundly in his face. It doesn’t help his mood that she’s right, they both knew what their new assignments meant to their careers-and to each other. And even while his momentary flash of anger fades, he’s still left with the sinking feeling that their life together is being carefully sorted, folded and packed away.
THE END
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme: Stages of Day: Afternoon
Rating: Older teen
AFTERNOON
Jack picks a fight with her after lunch.
It starts to rain while he’s in the shed, cleaning and stowing his fishing gear. He carefully sorts lures; cleans and dismantles rods and reels; storing and protecting them until next time. Next time…he’s not sure when they’ll get to the cabin again and while normally he doesn’t get all broody when its time to leave, this time is different. And he feels something very akin to regret start to filter into his consciousness.
It starts to rain before he finishes, the bright day turning dark and dreary-coinciding quite nicely with his developing mood, when eventually all his tackle and gear is neatly put away and he locks up, jogging through the rain to the back door of the cabin.
“Sam?”
She’s not in the kitchen, the lunch dishes all washed and put away. He checks the living room next; her suitcase stands by the door. He frowns, feeling his mood take another dip at the silent reminder that their hours together are inexorably counting down.
“Sam?” he calls a little louder.
“In here.” Her voice floats up from the back of the house and he follows it to the bedroom.
He stops in the door and stares at the sight before him, and when he speaks, the words come out harsher than he intends. “I thought I told you Mrs. Kendall would take care of this.”
She pauses in stripping the bottom sheet off the bed and gives him a curious look before continuing on as if he hadn’t even spoken. The dark mood inside him lurches to the surface and he’s across the room in two steps, snatching the sheet out of her hands and tossing it back onto the bed. “I told you that you didn’t have to do this.” His voice turns deadly and he’s not sure why he’s so mad at her.
“I’m just taking the sheets off the bed, Jack.” Her tone is mild but he can see the faintest hint of reproach in her eyes when she adds, “Not putting Mrs. Kendall out of work.”
In what seems to Jack to be an act of open defiance, she picks the pile of sheets back off the bed and dumps them into the clothes basket at her feet. His jaw is clenched so tight it’s aching and his hands are tightened into fists and part of him realizes it’s certainly not rational to get mad at her over dirty sheets-
“What’s wrong, Jack?” Her annoyingly mild voice interrupts his confusion and she hands him an armful of heavy material that he realizes is the bedspread. When she steps away, still holding onto part of it, he realizes her intent and automatically follows her lead as she unfolds the covering and places it on the bed. “We are spending the night in Minneapolis,” she reminds him.
It made sense, a week ago, when they’d decided to drive down the night before their early morning flights. But now it just seems like one more way that the outside world is eating away at their time together. In a sobering-and rather uncharacteristic-flash of insight, his irritation with her becomes crystal clear. All the cleaning and tidying and packing leaves him feeling like they’re carefully packing away their time together and the part of him that still finds it hard to accept that this is all real can’t help but wonder if she’ll pack him away just as carefully when they’re twenty-five hundred miles apart.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he blurts out.
She stops still and looks at him, the edge of the bedspread still in her hands. He’s rather shocked as well, he’s not sure what he meant to say but he doesn’t think it was that.
“You’re not losing me,” she replies, still calm. She hands him a pillow and he automatically puts it on the bed, folding the spread carefully over it. Her hand brushes against his as they smooth out the material. “I’m just going to Area 51.”
“Like I’ll just be at the Pentagon?” He doesn’t think he means it to sound like an accusation, but it does, and it hangs in the air between them.
Sam picks up the laundry basket and walks to the door; her voice is angry when she stops and finally answers him. “I’m not having this discussion with you again, Jack. I shouldn’t have to remind you that we both knew exactly what we were getting into when we agreed to these assignments-and your promotion.”
And with that, she leaves the room. Jack figures he’s lucky that her arms are full, otherwise he’s sure the door would have slammed soundly in his face. It doesn’t help his mood that she’s right, they both knew what their new assignments meant to their careers-and to each other. And even while his momentary flash of anger fades, he’s still left with the sinking feeling that their life together is being carefully sorted, folded and packed away.
THE END