Stargate SG1; Sam & Jack; Five Pieces of Furniture: Table
Title: Table for Four
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme: Pieces of Furniture: Table
Rating: Teen
Table for Four
It was tradition and the older Sam got-and the more things changed-the harder she clung to tradition. They’d had this particular custom for almost five years and it survived through illness, brainwashing and even death, the tradition incorporating Jonas when he became a member of SG1. It was one of those unspoken traditions that everyone on base knew and honored. There wasn’t a sign or anything on it, but all base personnel knew that if SG1 was home, that it was for them, no matter the time of day or night.
It was currently night. The evening kitchen staff was long gone, the cleaning crew had mopped and scrubbed, the lights were low and she was alone. A few daring souls had ventured in for coffee, or one of the other various beverages provided, and one of the packaged sandwiches or plastic-wrapped pieces of cake and pie left out for the overnight personnel. But none of them had lingered beyond a brief nod of acknowledgement before they beat a hasty retreat, leaving her to her coffee and chocolate cake.
Sam wouldn’t ever say that her team mates were psychic, so when Teal’c, and then Jonas, appeared in the dining hall, she didn’t bat an eye. She suspected Teal’c knew her habits-and her moods-far too well and Jonas, well, he was too perceptive for his own good.
“Major Carter.” Teal’c sat down at the table, laden with chocolate cake, a slice of apple pie, and a container of orange juice
“Teal’c, you’re up late.” She pushed what was left of her chocolate cake around with her fork.
“As are you,” he countered. Plastic wrap disappeared, along with half of the chocolate cake.
Jonas made two trips to table, the first to bring her a fresh cup of coffee and presumably one for himself, the second with another piece of cake for Teal’c and a slice of apple pie for himself. “Thanks, Jonas,” she said absently, wrapping fingers that couldn’t seem to warm up around the fresh mug of coffee.
“Thought you might be here,” Jonas replied amiably, taking the third seat the table and digging into his apple pie.
Her hands tightened around the mug and almost against her will, her eyes drifted to the empty place at their table. That sick feeling that had been twisting her gut for the last few weeks should be disappearing, she thought frantically. She could stop worrying, the Colonel was back, all traces of the infection gone…all traces of the symbiote gone. But the price had been more than she ever dreamed.
“He’ll be all right.”
“Hmm?” Sam murmured, pulled from her thoughts by Jonas’ voice.
“Colonel O’Neill,” he said, gesturing with his fork towards the place where Jack usually sat. “Doctor Fraiser said-”
“I know what Janet said,” she interrupted swiftly. The brief look of confusion and hurt on Jonas’ face had her forcing an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Jonas.” She shook her head, not sure why instead of diminishing with his safe return, her guilt merely seemed to increase.
“O’Neill is strong,” Teal’c stated. He looked up from his empty plates, his gaze level. “You have no cause to blame yourself for events you could not control.”
The guilt crawling in her gut swelled until she felt nauseous and she was sure what little color she had drained out of her face. He was only partially right. It wasn’t her fault Kanan had betrayed Jack…it was only her fault that he had agreed to the blending.
“Maybe,” was all she said, staring down at the crumbly remains of her cake and refusing to meet his all too perceptive eyes.
“Sam,” Jonas said urgently, “surely you don’t believe-”
“Hey!” A slightly husky voice said from across the room. “Can anyone join this party?”
Sam’s eyes flew up and hope began to mix queasily with the guilt. Jack stood in the doorway and all she could do was stare as Teal’c casually rose and crossed the room, escorting O’Neill to their table. Sam studied him surreptitiously; he was dressed in a blue robe over the white, standard issue pajamas. Against the dark color of the robe he looked pale; his skin still bearing the pallor from either his illness or his imprisonment at Ba’al’s fortress. Jack pushed his IV pole-or clung to it, Sam couldn’t really decide-his gait somewhat slow, but with Teal’c at his side, he navigated to the table under his own power and Sam wondered how he’d made it out of the infirmary.
“Colonel O’Neil!” Jonas exclaimed, a smile lighting his face. Jumping up, he went over to the counter, returning with more cake and a carton of milk, just as Jack and Teal’c completed their journey across the dining hall.
Teal’c pulled out O’Neill’s chair and he sat down with a soft sigh. “Thanks, Jonas,” he murmured, when the younger man set the cake and milk, along with a fork and napkin, down in front of him.
“Are you sure you should be out of bed, sir?” Sam asked. As good as it was to see him out of the infirmary, she couldn’t help but be concerned he was pushing himself too soon, too fast.
O’Neill shrugged, slowly unwrapping the cake, the IV running into the back of his hand a vivid reminder that he still suffered from the after-affects of his time with Ba’al. Jack didn’t answer right away and she waited until he’d taken a small bite of the cake before she asked, “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“If by anyone you mean Matthews,” Jack said, referring to the corpsman currently on the night shift, “then yeah, he knows.” He slanted her a slight smile. “He doesn’t approve, but he knows.”
Jack went back to eating his cake and Sam didn’t ask anymore questions, letting Jonas talk, carrying on a mostly one-sided conversation in that easygoing, eager way of his, relating excerpts from their recent run-in with the NID in Steveston. Teal’c tossed in the occasional comment and Sam kept quiet, after all that had transpired over the past few weeks, the enormity of Jack’s presence back with them swept over her in a wave of profound relief.
“So you’re telling me Carter actually slapped you?” Jack looked at her and she nodded, meeting his eyes briefly, confused by the warmth she saw in their dark depths. “Well,” he said, “at least she didn’t bite you.”
“Now, that sounds like an interesting story,” Jonas said.
Teal’c chose that moment to yawn-simultaneously pushing his chair back and stacking the empty plates on the table. “The soporific effects of this late night snack appear to be working.” He looked directly at Jonas and Sam wasn’t fooled for a minute. “Would you not agree, Jonas Quinn?”
“Ah, right,” Jonas replied, immediately standing up and helping Teal’c clear the table until all that remained was her cup of coffee.
They both watched as the Teal’c and Jonas finished bussing the table and then left the room. Part of her wanted to make an escape along with them; and she really couldn’t just leave Jack alone in the dining hall. But mostly she was forced to acknowledge she was hungry for the sight of him and she wouldn’t give up this time alone with him.
“Sounds like you had a fun time while I was gone.”
Her eyes flew to Jack at his comment. His tone was casual and she couldn’t tell if there was more behind his comment than just a general observation-or an attempt to fill the silence now that Teal’c and Jonas were gone. “Yeah,” she said without thinking, “nothing like getting taken over by a goa’uld.”
If she thought the silence was deafening before, it almost overwhelmed now. The brief look of disbelief that flashed across Jack’s face was quickly replaced with an almost wry half-smile. “Well, I guess that’s something else we both have in common now.”
For a moment she didn’t know what he meant and then she remembered…for him, it had been Hathor’s goa’uld and then the Tok’ra symbiote; for her, Jolinar and the cloned symbiote. She smiled weakly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
They fell quiet again, the only sounds the whir of his IV machine while it pumped fluid into his body and the occasional sound of distant footsteps from the hallway. She took a sip of her cold coffee and finally blurted out, “Sir…Jack.” She set her mug down and looked at him, her hand reaching for his, her fingers closing around his where it rested on the table, the IV tubing pressing into her palm. “I never meant-”
“Hey, Carter,” he interrupted, his voice gentle; his hand turning under hers until he could grasp her hand. “It’s okay.”
“How can it be okay?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her bewilderment. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it with surprising strength. “We almost lost you.”
Jack’s thumb rubbed softly over the back of her hand. “It was my decision.”
“Was it?” she whispered, feeling close to tears at the tender look in his eyes.
That gentle smile again. “Sam, I’m not going to blame you for what happened.” His expression grew hard for a brief moment. “That bastard Kanan is the only one I hold responsible.” His face cleared and he smiled again, squeezing her hand briefly before slowly standing and steadying himself with the IV pole. “Walk me back to my room?”
“Sure,” she agreed. The churning in her gut had subsided to a sporadic swell and when he took her arm, she felt most of it drain away. She’d been worried that the fragile threads of their relationship had been irrevocably tangled, if not severed, by what had happened. Falling into step with him, she leaned closer; it seemed she’d underestimated the strength of those threads.
The End
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme: Pieces of Furniture: Table
Rating: Teen
Table for Four
It was tradition and the older Sam got-and the more things changed-the harder she clung to tradition. They’d had this particular custom for almost five years and it survived through illness, brainwashing and even death, the tradition incorporating Jonas when he became a member of SG1. It was one of those unspoken traditions that everyone on base knew and honored. There wasn’t a sign or anything on it, but all base personnel knew that if SG1 was home, that it was for them, no matter the time of day or night.
It was currently night. The evening kitchen staff was long gone, the cleaning crew had mopped and scrubbed, the lights were low and she was alone. A few daring souls had ventured in for coffee, or one of the other various beverages provided, and one of the packaged sandwiches or plastic-wrapped pieces of cake and pie left out for the overnight personnel. But none of them had lingered beyond a brief nod of acknowledgement before they beat a hasty retreat, leaving her to her coffee and chocolate cake.
Sam wouldn’t ever say that her team mates were psychic, so when Teal’c, and then Jonas, appeared in the dining hall, she didn’t bat an eye. She suspected Teal’c knew her habits-and her moods-far too well and Jonas, well, he was too perceptive for his own good.
“Major Carter.” Teal’c sat down at the table, laden with chocolate cake, a slice of apple pie, and a container of orange juice
“Teal’c, you’re up late.” She pushed what was left of her chocolate cake around with her fork.
“As are you,” he countered. Plastic wrap disappeared, along with half of the chocolate cake.
Jonas made two trips to table, the first to bring her a fresh cup of coffee and presumably one for himself, the second with another piece of cake for Teal’c and a slice of apple pie for himself. “Thanks, Jonas,” she said absently, wrapping fingers that couldn’t seem to warm up around the fresh mug of coffee.
“Thought you might be here,” Jonas replied amiably, taking the third seat the table and digging into his apple pie.
Her hands tightened around the mug and almost against her will, her eyes drifted to the empty place at their table. That sick feeling that had been twisting her gut for the last few weeks should be disappearing, she thought frantically. She could stop worrying, the Colonel was back, all traces of the infection gone…all traces of the symbiote gone. But the price had been more than she ever dreamed.
“He’ll be all right.”
“Hmm?” Sam murmured, pulled from her thoughts by Jonas’ voice.
“Colonel O’Neill,” he said, gesturing with his fork towards the place where Jack usually sat. “Doctor Fraiser said-”
“I know what Janet said,” she interrupted swiftly. The brief look of confusion and hurt on Jonas’ face had her forcing an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Jonas.” She shook her head, not sure why instead of diminishing with his safe return, her guilt merely seemed to increase.
“O’Neill is strong,” Teal’c stated. He looked up from his empty plates, his gaze level. “You have no cause to blame yourself for events you could not control.”
The guilt crawling in her gut swelled until she felt nauseous and she was sure what little color she had drained out of her face. He was only partially right. It wasn’t her fault Kanan had betrayed Jack…it was only her fault that he had agreed to the blending.
“Maybe,” was all she said, staring down at the crumbly remains of her cake and refusing to meet his all too perceptive eyes.
“Sam,” Jonas said urgently, “surely you don’t believe-”
“Hey!” A slightly husky voice said from across the room. “Can anyone join this party?”
Sam’s eyes flew up and hope began to mix queasily with the guilt. Jack stood in the doorway and all she could do was stare as Teal’c casually rose and crossed the room, escorting O’Neill to their table. Sam studied him surreptitiously; he was dressed in a blue robe over the white, standard issue pajamas. Against the dark color of the robe he looked pale; his skin still bearing the pallor from either his illness or his imprisonment at Ba’al’s fortress. Jack pushed his IV pole-or clung to it, Sam couldn’t really decide-his gait somewhat slow, but with Teal’c at his side, he navigated to the table under his own power and Sam wondered how he’d made it out of the infirmary.
“Colonel O’Neil!” Jonas exclaimed, a smile lighting his face. Jumping up, he went over to the counter, returning with more cake and a carton of milk, just as Jack and Teal’c completed their journey across the dining hall.
Teal’c pulled out O’Neill’s chair and he sat down with a soft sigh. “Thanks, Jonas,” he murmured, when the younger man set the cake and milk, along with a fork and napkin, down in front of him.
“Are you sure you should be out of bed, sir?” Sam asked. As good as it was to see him out of the infirmary, she couldn’t help but be concerned he was pushing himself too soon, too fast.
O’Neill shrugged, slowly unwrapping the cake, the IV running into the back of his hand a vivid reminder that he still suffered from the after-affects of his time with Ba’al. Jack didn’t answer right away and she waited until he’d taken a small bite of the cake before she asked, “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“If by anyone you mean Matthews,” Jack said, referring to the corpsman currently on the night shift, “then yeah, he knows.” He slanted her a slight smile. “He doesn’t approve, but he knows.”
Jack went back to eating his cake and Sam didn’t ask anymore questions, letting Jonas talk, carrying on a mostly one-sided conversation in that easygoing, eager way of his, relating excerpts from their recent run-in with the NID in Steveston. Teal’c tossed in the occasional comment and Sam kept quiet, after all that had transpired over the past few weeks, the enormity of Jack’s presence back with them swept over her in a wave of profound relief.
“So you’re telling me Carter actually slapped you?” Jack looked at her and she nodded, meeting his eyes briefly, confused by the warmth she saw in their dark depths. “Well,” he said, “at least she didn’t bite you.”
“Now, that sounds like an interesting story,” Jonas said.
Teal’c chose that moment to yawn-simultaneously pushing his chair back and stacking the empty plates on the table. “The soporific effects of this late night snack appear to be working.” He looked directly at Jonas and Sam wasn’t fooled for a minute. “Would you not agree, Jonas Quinn?”
“Ah, right,” Jonas replied, immediately standing up and helping Teal’c clear the table until all that remained was her cup of coffee.
They both watched as the Teal’c and Jonas finished bussing the table and then left the room. Part of her wanted to make an escape along with them; and she really couldn’t just leave Jack alone in the dining hall. But mostly she was forced to acknowledge she was hungry for the sight of him and she wouldn’t give up this time alone with him.
“Sounds like you had a fun time while I was gone.”
Her eyes flew to Jack at his comment. His tone was casual and she couldn’t tell if there was more behind his comment than just a general observation-or an attempt to fill the silence now that Teal’c and Jonas were gone. “Yeah,” she said without thinking, “nothing like getting taken over by a goa’uld.”
If she thought the silence was deafening before, it almost overwhelmed now. The brief look of disbelief that flashed across Jack’s face was quickly replaced with an almost wry half-smile. “Well, I guess that’s something else we both have in common now.”
For a moment she didn’t know what he meant and then she remembered…for him, it had been Hathor’s goa’uld and then the Tok’ra symbiote; for her, Jolinar and the cloned symbiote. She smiled weakly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
They fell quiet again, the only sounds the whir of his IV machine while it pumped fluid into his body and the occasional sound of distant footsteps from the hallway. She took a sip of her cold coffee and finally blurted out, “Sir…Jack.” She set her mug down and looked at him, her hand reaching for his, her fingers closing around his where it rested on the table, the IV tubing pressing into her palm. “I never meant-”
“Hey, Carter,” he interrupted, his voice gentle; his hand turning under hers until he could grasp her hand. “It’s okay.”
“How can it be okay?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her bewilderment. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it with surprising strength. “We almost lost you.”
Jack’s thumb rubbed softly over the back of her hand. “It was my decision.”
“Was it?” she whispered, feeling close to tears at the tender look in his eyes.
That gentle smile again. “Sam, I’m not going to blame you for what happened.” His expression grew hard for a brief moment. “That bastard Kanan is the only one I hold responsible.” His face cleared and he smiled again, squeezing her hand briefly before slowly standing and steadying himself with the IV pole. “Walk me back to my room?”
“Sure,” she agreed. The churning in her gut had subsided to a sporadic swell and when he took her arm, she felt most of it drain away. She’d been worried that the fragile threads of their relationship had been irrevocably tangled, if not severed, by what had happened. Falling into step with him, she leaned closer; it seemed she’d underestimated the strength of those threads.
The End