FIC: 1991 (08/11)
TITLE: 1991: Chapter 08
AUTHOR: Starbuck92
CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Other (in the past)
SPOILERS: Nemesis, Small Victories
SEASON: 4
RATING: R
CONTENT WARNING: Language, minor character death, sexual situations
SUMMARY: Flying and friendship, love and loss - what was Sam Carter’s life like during the Persian Gulf War?
DISCLAIMER: The lovely characters of Stargate SG-1 do not belong to me, and I am making no money off this story. Please do not archive without permission.
Sunshine warmed Carter as she snuggled against her pillow, sighing contently with her blanket settled cozily around her. The earthy, fragrant odor of the outdoors filled her nose, mixing in with another familiar scent. She frowned slightly as she breathed it in, trying to place a name to it.
Having spent much of the last three years utilizing camping gear during SG-1’s excursions offworld, she was certain that this was not what the standard Air Force issued sleeping bag was supposed to smell like. Nor did they come equipped with hands that gently weaved through your hair.
Opening her eyes fractionally, she realized her ‘pillow’ was Colonel O’Neill’s chest and her ‘blanket’ was his arms wrapped around her.
Carter was surprised at how well she’d slept beside him and more than a little unnerved by how natural it felt to wake up in his arms. She was nestled deep in his embrace, and even though she was aware that the military would frown upon their somewhat compromising position, she couldn’t bring herself to move out of the security of his arms just yet.
Needless to say, these weren’t the kind of thoughts she should be having about her commanding officer.
Closing her eyes, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching the undergrowth around the camp. The recognizable low tones of Teal’c’s voice called out from nearby. She listened to the ensuing exchange, feigning sleep.
“O’Neill. Is Major Carter unwell?”
Almost imperceptibly, the colonel’s arms tightened around her, his hand still tangled in her tresses.
“She’ll be fine, Teal’c. She just had a rough night.”
The Jaffa seemed to consider that for a moment before replying.
“I see.”
Silence draped over the campsite.
Carter knew how awkward things must look, but Teal’c was observant enough to realize nothing had happened between herself and the colonel. She was fairly confident in trusting that Teal’c would exercise discretion and not make mention of what he had seen.
“If you will permit me, O’Neill, I shall attempt to dial Earth once again to determine if the secondary Stargate is now operational.”
The colonel nodded his assent, and the fading footsteps signified their companion’s departure from the campsite.
“Okay, Dorothy, time to stop faking. Teal’c’s gone to click his ruby red heels to try to get us back to Kansas.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she was sitting up and moving a safe distance away before O’Neill could register what was happening.
“How did you know?”
A tiny, cunning smile crossed his face, and instead of answering, he simply tossed her a fruit from last night’s meal. After several beats of silence, it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, and the smug expression on his face annoyed her. After finishing her breakfast in silence, she excused herself and retreated to the small stream near the camp to be alone.
The gentle current pulsated downstream, gliding over the smooth rocks as Carter approached. Kneeling at the bank, she cupped some cool water in her hands, using it to wash her face and scrub away the final vestiges of sleep. The fresh water cleansed the dirt from her skin, but it did little to dispel the stirrings of long-buried feelings deep inside.
After Thompson’s death, she had found it within herself to move on gradually, continuing her life’s pursuits until she finally found a sense of true belonging and fulfillment as a member of SG-1. Her friendships with her teammates had solidified throughout the past three years, running as deeply as her friendships with her former squadron had been.
The colonel’s disclosure of Thompson’s final words the night before had been a catharsis of sorts, but although time was said to heal all wounds, this one ran far too deep to ever completely go away. The questions had always remained in the back of her mind…
What would have happened between herself and Thompson?
Would fate have still brought her into the Stargate program?
“Carter?”
Startled, she whipped her head around, finding Colonel O’Neill standing a few feet behind her. Damn it, that was the second time he’d done that in as many days!
Walking over, he took a seat by her side, glancing at her before focusing his attention on the running water in front of them.
“You okay?”
Carter gave him a small smile, quickly pushing the thoughts of Thompson and what might have been from her mind. She had shared so much with O’Neill, but there were certain things she would never reveal to anyone, ever. Memories belonging solely to herself and to Thompson.
Trying to keep her voice sounding nonchalant, she answered, “Yes, sir. I was just washing up.”
“You find a bathtub out here or something? ‘Cause if you did, I sure hope you plan to share. I could use a good, long bubble bath right about now.”
Frowning slightly at the sarcasm in his voice, she gave him a questioning glance, noting his cool demeanor. His neutral face may have concealed the emotions he hid beneath the surface, but his rigid posture indicated his apparent unease.
“You’ve been gone forty-five minutes, Major.”
Carter looked at her wristwatch, blinking in surprise.
He was right.
Usually, she dived into various projects, picking over every detail until she could solve the problem at hand or comprehend how something new worked, completely disregarding the amount of time that passed by. In this instance, she had lost herself in her thoughts, something that hadn’t happened in quite some time. Not since… Carter closed her eyes, sighing quietly.
Not since she’d learned how Thompson’s fatal crash had ultimately saved her life.
“What’s on your mind, Carter?”
Picking up a small pebble, she turned it over between her fingers, avoiding the colonel’s eyes. Already, she had divulged so many details of that one fateful year that had changed her life: finding love in a time of war, sharing a strong camaraderie with her fellow pilots, her struggle to find common ground with her commanding officer, and the tragedy of losing a loved one. All of those experiences had helped shape her into the person she was today. Of that, she was certain.
Then again, they almost hadn’t.
Tossing the pebble into the current, Carter inhaled deeply.
For a long period of time following Thompson’s death, she had lost sight of herself, rapidly sinking into depression. Her happiness and enthusiasm for life hit rock bottom as quickly as the pebble had plummeted to the bottom of the stream.
Turning to O’Neill, she regarded him silently.
He was no stranger to loss; the colonel had seen both comrades and friends fall in combat during his time in Special Ops. And he had struggled with the tragedy of his only child’s death not long before he’d been assigned to the first Stargate mission. No one, perhaps, would better understand what it was like to lose someone than O’Neill. This man would be familiar with the turmoil she had found herself in for so many months.
Quietly, she began telling him.
“I was just thinking how much I isolated myself from everyone and everything that reminded me of Josh. The remainder of the time I tried to bury my feelings where no one would find them. Not even myself.”
* * *
Wednesday, February 13, 1991
Carter sat on the bench opposite Major Wells’s office, uneasily eyeing the gleaming brass nameplate adhered to the frosted glass window. Resting her head against the wall, she considered the apology she had worked on during the short trip from her quarters to the command building.
Years in the military had taught her that detachment was a prized virtue in her line of work, a quality that enabled officers and enlisted personnel alike to close themselves off from emotions that may interfere with duty. Being emotionally uninvolved guaranteed that a soldier could do his or her job without having to think of the consequences, especially in battle.
But Carter couldn’t do that with Thompson.
In her eyes, he wasn’t just another casualty of war. He was her best friend, the man she had fallen in love with, and the person who taught her that despite their military training and responsibilities, they shouldn’t always be asked to keep their true feelings shrouded in the shadows.
Love wasn’t a mistake. It was what made them human, and Carter would never believe loving Thompson had been a mistake.
On the contrary, she felt her only error had resulted from directing her grief and pain at the wrong person - Major Wells. The words she’d angrily spouted at her commanding officer earlier this morning had been delivered in poor taste, wrought from an overwhelming sense of anguish she couldn’t contain.
Their working relationship had never been easy. Wells was a demanding, hard-assed superior while she was a brainy, impetuous, up-and-coming junior officer, but nonetheless, Carter respected him and had every intention of rectifying her mistake. Above all else, Major Wells was her commanding officer, and she valued his opinion, wishing he would see her as the esteemed officer and pilot she was working so hard to be.
The sound of a pair of fighter jets flying overhead gave her the boost she needed. It was time to get this over with. Taking a deep breath, she stood and raised a hand to rap on the door. After a short pause, a curt response was issued from within.
“Enter!”
Major Wells sat at his desk working on his laptop computer as she walked in. Stopping in front of him, she snapped off a crisp salute.
“Lieutenant Samantha Carter reporting, sir!”
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Wells asked absently, his utmost concentration remaining on the computer screen, his fingers quietly tapping on the keyboard.
Unperturbed by his indifference, Carter remained standing stiffly at attention, staring at a point on the far wall as she continued.
“Sir, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier this morning. My words were rude, disrespectful, and completely uncalled for. I am truly sorry, sir, and I am prepared for whatever reprimand you choose to invoke on my record, even if it means removal from your squadron.”
Major Wells continued typing, not even bothering to spare her a glance.
Unwilling to allow his disinterest to faze her, the lieutenant held her ground, sustaining her perfect posture even as her aching back and feet began to protest earnestly. She listened to the sounds around her, using the subtle noises to distract herself from the discomfort.
The distinct whine of an F-16 powering up, the rhythmic thump of marching feet walking in a seamless formation somewhere outside, the rustle of papers being shifted in Lieutenant Colonel Anderson’s office next door, the creak of Major Wells’s chair as he rose to his feet…
Immediately, Carter refocused her attention on her commanding officer, watching out of the corner of her eye as he slowly walked around the desk. Casually propping himself on the edge, he crossed his arms at his chest, studying her face.
“You and I have never seen eye to eye on much of anything, Lieutenant.”
“No, sir,” Carter agreed honestly.
“I don’t always appreciate that, and I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to know it.”
She wisely chose not to reply to that remark, waiting instead for him to continue.
“Despite your inclination for aggravating the hell out of me, I respect you, Lieutenant. I know you’ve never had it easy, trying to make people forget you’re Jake Carter’s kid and fighting twice as hard to make them see past the fact that you’re a woman in a boys’ club. But you have the potential for a brilliant career, and I don’t want you to throw that opportunity away.”
Carter couldn’t help but blink in surprise at the unexpected disclosure, shooting a quizzical glance at her commanding officer. The corners of the major’s mouth tugged upwards at the look on her face, sending a ripple of shock coursing through her.
Had Wells actually smiled at her?
“At ease, Lieutenant,” he finally instructed her.
She relaxed marginally, clasping her hands behind her back and wondering what had caused the shift in his attitude. Major Wells was notorious for being strict and focused, his poker face almost never revealing his true emotions. In all the time she’d known him, he had never cracked a smile.
“I’ve said it time and again, Carter. You’re a skilled pilot and an excellent officer. But up until this morning I never knew how brave you really were.”
Her eyebrows lifted fractionally, confusion replacing the surprise.
“Sir?”
Pushing himself away from the desk, Wells mirrored her stance, staring directly into her eyes.
“You needed more time to absorb everything that had just happened, and I didn’t give you that luxury. It took a lot of guts to stand up and tell me what was on your mind.”
Carter frowned, growing more baffled by the second.
“But, sir, the things I said --”
“Are excusable, given the situation I put you in,” he cut in, shaking his head. “However, I don’t approve being shouted at by an officer under my command. I never will. Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?”
“Yes, sir. It’ll never happen again, sir.”
The major nodded and stepped away, moving to stand by the window overlooking the taxiway. She watched him closely, waiting expectantly for his next remark. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet she nearly missed the words.
“A good officer learns from his or her mistakes.”
Just as softly, Carter automatically replied, “The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing, sir.”
Glancing over his shoulder at her, Wells raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“You still remember that.”
Straightening her posture, she solemnly replied, “I will never forget it, sir.”
Another ghost of a smile graced his face before he turned around to look out the window again, focusing on the passage of an F-16 as it taxied toward the runway, leaving Carter a moment to reflect back to the day she had first heard those words.
Two weeks following her graduation from flight school, her first orders had arrived with instructions to report to Hill AFB and her immediate assignment to the 421st Fighter Squadron. Packing her possessions, she had journeyed from her post at Laughlin AFB in Texas to Utah, anxious to settle into her new role as a bonafide fighter pilot.
The ambitious young lieutenant had been quick to impress Colonel Snedden and the rest of the brass of the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing during her initial evaluations, swiftly securing her place as the best among the new recruits. A brief smile touched her lips as she remembered how insane the night of their official welcome ceremony had become.
Thompson, O’Malley, Hickam, and Bennett had been particularly proud of the honor she was to receive, making sure her glass was never empty and straightening the brand-new silver bars on her shoulders, tending to her every need throughout the evening much to her mortification. But with time, their ulterior motives soon became clear.
As the evening progressed, a blanket of light wooziness began creeping into her awareness, muddling her thoughts. Thinking she just needed some fresh air to clear her head, Carter retreated outdoors, breathing a sigh of relief as she found an empty bench to sit on. The rest of the world seemed to disappear as she closed her eyes, the sounds from the party fading into the back of her mind.
The echo of approaching footsteps breached her tranquil hideaway all too soon.
Opening her eyes, she poised to climb to her feet, pausing when the unidentified folks stopped just around the corner from her bench, the side of the building concealing her from their view.
Carter idly sipped her punch, scantly paying attention to the faint murmurs of the group of men until a familiar chorus of chuckles and the clink of glass caught her attention. Rising from her seat, she edged closer to the corner of the building for a peek, listening more attentively.
“You think it’s working?” Hickam questioned.
“Oh, yeah,” O’Malley answered, his speech slightly slurred, passing a small bottle to Bennett. “She definitely seems more relaxed than when we first got here. Finally loosening up for a change!”
Bennett shook his head and snickered, clumsily pouring a dollop of the bottle’s contents into his punch. “She is so gonna kick our asses, Rupe!”
Frowning, Carter peered down into her own drink, tracing the rim of the glass with her forefinger. The mysteries of the evening suddenly became crystal clear: the boys indulging her with an endless stream of drinks, the slight kick of the beverage, her growing lethargic state of mind… The bastards had spiked her drinks, intent on getting her drunk during an official Air Force ceremony!
A burst of anger and incredulity drove her to instant sobriety as she rounded the corner, startling the group of men. Grabbing the bottle out of the frozen Bennett’s hand, Carter read the label and glared at each of them in turn.
“You’re damn right I’m going to kick your asses! Of all the stupid, idiotic things you guys have done, this has to rank near the top of the list! What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Guilty looks were exchanged, and the four pilots shifted uncomfortably under her piercing gaze. O’Malley was the first to break.
“It was Jon’s idea!” he admitted, ignoring the daggers Bennett sent in his direction.
“He’s the one who bought the Jack Daniels!” Hickam quickly added.
“Hey, you guys didn’t have to go along with it,” the resident prankster protested, scuffing a dress shoe against the pavement, avoiding looking at any of them. “We just wanted you to have a little fun, Sam!”
Shoving the bottle back to Bennett, she sighed irritably and turned to Thompson, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.
“And you went along with this?”
Casting his gaze downward, her best friend seemed to shrink beneath her disapproving eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, swallowing involuntarily.
“Well,” he mumbled, “not at first…”
Carter snorted in disbelief, rolling her eyes and running a hand across her forehead.
“We just received our promotions to first lieutenant,” she stated, glancing down at her wristwatch. “And we’re less than fifteen minutes from our official acceptance into the 421st. Do you have any idea how serious the repercussions of your bright ideas would be if anyone finds out what you did?”
With a flick of his wrist, Thompson emptied his glass over the sidewalk, grimacing as the truth of her words sunk in.
“We would be in a shit load of trouble.”
Hickam’s pale blue eyes widened abruptly, looking like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights. Noticing his alarmed expression, the others turned around to see their commanding officer headed their way. In a well-practiced motion, all five lieutenants effortlessly stood at precise attention together, keeping their eyes trained forward as Major Wells reached them.
“Have you people been out here all this time? The ceremony is about to begin,” he informed them.
“Sorry, sir. We just stepped outside for some fresh air,” Thompson apologized.
Wells nodded in understanding.
“Nothing wrong with that, Lieutenant Thompson, but I suggest you all head back inside. Everyone is waiting.”
“Yes, sir!” O’Malley exclaimed, quickly taking point and leading his fellow pilots back to the building.
Carter lingered behind, a small, tight smile gracing her lips. All her earlier thoughts of vindictive payback dissolved as she watched the boys struggling to maintain their dignity as they stumbled along. Their hangovers tomorrow morning would be enough sweet revenge.
“You kids were born with exceptional ability and extraordinary intelligence, Lieutenant Carter,” Wells commented, falling into step beside his subordinate. “Those traits have carried you throughout your instruction at the Academy and flight school, and I hope they’ll continue to serve you well while you’re under my command.”
She acknowledged him with a half-smile, averting her eyes as her cheeks colored with embarrassment.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I do want to make one thing clear, Lieutenant,” he continued.
She gave him a sidelong glance as they walked up the steps to the entrance of the building.
“What’s that, Major?”
“I’ve seen what you and the rest of the new recruits can do, and there is no doubt in my mind that you’ve all got talent. But you are still far from perfect, and mistakes are inevitable, even in a wing that holds such high standards like Snedden’s.”
Wells halted briefly at the door, considering his next words as he observed the inquisitiveness brimming in his brightest pilot's eyes.
“What I’m trying to say, Carter, is that a good officer learns from his or her mistakes. The only real mistake is the one from which you learn nothing.”
The young lieutenant’s forehead crinkled with puzzlement for a moment before she followed her commanding officer indoors.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, sir,” she responded quietly, trying to work out why she had been on the receiving end of such an intriguing statement.
The roar of a fighter plane climbing into the afternoon sky brought Carter back to the present, and she returned her gaze to Major Wells, who still had his back to her. Even after all this time, she still hadn’t figured out where his cryptic assertion had come from.
As if reading her thoughts, he asked, “You never did understand why I told you that in the first place, did you?”
“No, sir,” Carter admitted.
Half turning, he smiled wryly, shaking his head slightly as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“I’m no fool, Lieutenant. I always keep an eye on the people under my command, whether they are aware of it or not. Your companions’ intoxication did not escape my notice.”
She blanched at the revelation, her stomach dropping to the ground.
‘Holy Hannah, he KNEW!’ Carter thought, wondering what had given them away.
Wells moved to stand before her, leaning back against his desk, his mouth setting in a firm line.
“After my divorce, Jack Daniels became my constant companion during my downtime. It’s not something I’m proud to say, but I developed a bit of a sixth sense for it. There was no question you people had been drinking, and I could have ended your careers that night.”
Blinking in surprise, she swallowed involuntarily, the implications of his words slowly sinking in. The power to terminate their promising careers before they even truly began had been in his hands, but for some reason…
“You didn’t do it,” Carter uttered softly. “You would have been obligated as our commanding officer to suspend our duties and refer all of us to court-martial, but you didn’t.”
“You wouldn’t be standing here if I had, Lieutenant,” he retorted. “And you have only yourself to thank for that.”
Her brow creasing in confusion, she asked, “Sir?”
“I was about to confront Lieutenants Thompson, Bennett, O’Malley, and Hickam about their irresponsible behavior when you showed up. I saw how well you handled the situation, and I backed off, deciding I’d take a chance on the five of you. Quite frankly, those boys owe their careers to you.”
Shaken by yet another disclosure, she mumbled under her breath, “And the surprises just keep on coming.”
Either Wells did not hear her nearly inaudible words, or he chose to disregard them. Instead, he returned to his seat behind his desk, gathering up some paperwork.
“I want you to take the next patrol off,” he ordered.
Opening her mouth to protest, Carter fell silent as the major raised a hand to cut her off.
“No arguments! I want you rested and ready for Sunday’s mission. I’ll need you up there, Lieutenant.”
She sighed softly, deciding her disagreement wasn’t worth expressing this time around. She had finally made some progress with her commanding officer, and she wasn’t about to disrupt the newfound peace this tragedy had brought between them.
“Understood, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Carter clicked her heels together, standing at attention once again.
“Thank you, sir.”
Swiveling around, she made her way to the door, but only managed to walk a couple of steps before the sound of her commanding officer’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Carter.”
Turning to face him, she found the major observing her carefully, his eyes immediately meeting hers.
“I am sorry about Lieutenant Thompson. He was a fine officer, and a good man,” he said sincerely.
The lieutenant closed her eyes briefly, ducking her head as a fresh wave of grief clenched her heart. She fought the emotion, suppressing it until she reined in the tears that threatened to fall and felt the tightness in her throat disappear. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and raised her head, her piercing blue eyes crystal clear.
“Yes, sir.”
With one final salute, Carter exited the office, anxious to return to the privacy of her quarters. Taking the shortest route she knew of, she deftly avoided the squadron’s usual haunts, blending in anonymously among the other base personnel.
As she rounded the corner of the last hallway inside the barracks, she breathed a sigh of relief. Deeply preoccupied with the thought of eluding anyone who would want to talk about Thompson, she didn’t see Rupert O’Malley leaving his room until she collided into him.
“Whoa, sorry, Wizard! Didn’t see you there!”
Carter backpedaled from the burly young man, muttering her own apologies as she tried to squeeze her way past him, but he wasn’t about to let her go that easily. O’Malley reached out, gently squeezing her shoulders in a comforting gesture.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about Josh. He was one of the best. A real ace.”
Nodding, she continued taking measured steps until she arrived at the threshold of her quarters, ready to slip into the safety of the small, empty room until O’Malley’s next comment caught her by surprise.
“We think he’s a hero, you know.”
Slowly, she turned around, frowning in confusion.
“Why do you say that?”
An equally puzzled expression appeared on his face.
“You didn’t see what happened?”
Carter shook her head, unsure of what he was referring to.
Her friend suddenly became uncomfortable, shifting restlessly on his feet and stuffing his hands in his flight jacket pockets. Tilting her head to the side, she crossed her arms at her chest, regarding him with weary, but demanding eyes.
“What are you talking about, Rupert?”
O’Malley hung his head, his eyes focusing on his boots. Reluctantly, he began explaining.
“When Major Wells ordered us to engage the Iraqis back there… You were under fire, and…”
Shrugging his shoulders, he looked up at her, shaking his head in wonder.
“Josh just dove right in, taking the hit…”
His words thrust the scattered recollections and images of the incident upon her all over again, the pieces beginning to fall into place. The outright fear in Thompson’s voice, the sound of anti-aircraft fire all around, the flash of light from an explosion somewhere beneath her plane…
Her eyes widened in shock as she presumed what Thompson had done.
“He saved my life…”
Seeing O’Malley’s answering nod, she quickly excused herself, all thoughts of sitting alone and shutting the rest of the world out vanishing in an instant. Sprinting down the hall, her focused narrowed to a determined desire to see Thompson. Within minutes, the lieutenant had reached the base hospital, slipping into the silence of the pristine, sterile corridors.
The sound of her footfalls echoed loudly on the polished floors as she wandered aimlessly about, trying to figure out where she was. Her visits to this building had been limited to post-mission check-ups in the west wing; the rest of the facility remained a mystery. Apparently, the uncertainty was evident on her face as a woman in a white medical coat approached her.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Nodding, Carter glanced down at the blue plastic nametag and addressed the petite, brown-eyed doctor.
“Yes, Doctor…Fraiser. I, um, was wondering if I could be allowed to see Lieutenant Joshua Thompson? He was, ah, brought in this morning.”
Her brow creased in contemplation, Fraiser began searching through the armload of charts she had been carrying, searching for the name. Pulling his folder to the top, she quickly read through the details, the expression on her face slowly turning into one of regret. Raising her eyes, Fraiser briefly glanced at the insignia and name patch on the younger woman’s top before guiding her toward a row of chairs positioned next to the wall.
“Lieutenant Carter, I think you should have a seat,” Fraiser told her softly, gently clasping her upper arm.
She pulled away from the doctor’s grasp, immediately distancing herself. Shaking her head, Carter raised a hand to stop the other woman from continuing.
“Doctor Fraiser, I’m already aware of what happened to Lieutenant Thompson. He is, was, a member of my squadron. I want to see him. I just…want to see him,” she pleaded.
Fraiser observed the lanky, blonde-haired woman standing in front of her for a moment, taking in her unkempt appearance. The wrinkled fighter pilot fatigues, loosely laced combat boots, and tangled tresses were proof that Carter had slept very little in the past twenty-four hours.
But despite the obvious exhaustion, determination burned brightly in those intense eyes. An order for her to rest would fall on deaf ears until her wish was fulfilled. Sighing, Fraiser motioned Carter to follow her.
She trailed closely behind the doctor, easily keeping up with the shorter woman’s stride. As they walked through the quiet corridors, the lieutenant couldn’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in her belly.
The last image of Thompson’s pallid, bloodied face had been etched into her memory, haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She did not want that image to be the last way she remembered him.
After strolling through a couple of hallways, the pair stopped before a plain, white door. Carter nervously glimpsed at the single word engraved on the small, wooden plaque mounted at eye-level, swallowing hard.
‘Morgue.’
Taking a deep breath, she followed Doctor Fraiser inside. The airman on duty looked up from his paperwork, quickly standing to attention in the presence of the two officers.
“Doctor. Ma’am.”
Nodding in acknowledgement, Fraiser spoke quietly to the young man, just out of Carter’s earshot. Their muted conversation was over in less than a minute. The airman respectfully saluted the two women on his way out the door, and Fraiser turned to Carter.
“Airman Rodriguez has informed me that the honor guard is scheduled to fly in within the hour to transport Lieutenant Thompson’s body back to the States. If you’d like to sit with him until they arrive, I can take you to him.”
Carter nodded and followed the doctor to a back room, her heart pounding. The room was dimly lit and smelled strongly of antiseptic, the odor making her stomach churn uncomfortably. Her eyes fell upon the sheet-covered form lying on one of the tables at the center of the room. Fighting the urge to turn around, she slowly marched forward, coming to a stop at the edge of the table.
A small hand squeezed her shoulder.
“I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
Her eyes still fixed on the motionless figure in front of her, Carter faintly mumbled, “Thank you, Doctor Fraiser.”
The doctor gave her a tiny, sympathetic smile.
“My name is Janet, Lieutenant Carter. And you’re welcome.”
Carter found herself completely alone as the click of Fraiser’s heels on the tiled floor faded away. Taking a few calming breaths, she hesitantly reached out and carefully pulled the sheet down from Thompson’s face. The view was not what she had expected.
Someone had washed the blood and sand from his face since he had been brought in. Her eyes roved over his features, noticing that even though the blood was gone, the bruises remained, their purplish tinge a stark distinction from his pale skin. Numbly, she settled herself onto the stool by the side of the table, tentatively reaching out with trembling fingers to caress his cheek. Her lip quivered as their skin made contact.
He was so very cold.
Shutting her eyes against the sting of tears, Carter bowed her head, wishing with all her might to wake from this horrible, unreal nightmare. The fear of losing him had always been present, lying beneath the surface of her subconscious. Reckless and daring, Thompson had thrived on adrenaline, eager to use his talent and abilities for his country, never batting an eye in the face of peril.
She remembered how willing had had been to come to the Middle East, ready to put his mettle to the test in actual combat. Even though she had not shared his enthusiasm, Carter realized to deny him the chance would have been to suppress a part of who he was.
A brave man she’d grown to admire and respect, who was up to any challenge, no matter how dangerous it might be.
A courageous man who had sacrificed himself to save the woman he loved.
Swallowing back her tears, she bent forward, resting her head against his shoulder. Her mind, so keen to analyzing information of astronomical proportions, could not wrap around the fact that this man had loved her so much he’d given his life for her.
Right now, she would give anything to see his twinkling brown eyes and sheepish smile, to feel the warmth of his lips against hers, to tell him how much he meant to her. But the fact of the reality was she’d never get the chance.
Thompson was gone, and this was goodbye.
A single teardrop trickled down her cheek, sliding over the contours of her cheek and cascading onto his before rolling out of sight. Sniffling, Carter slid her fingers through his dark, soft hair, closing her eyes as she pressed her lips to his forehead.
Only the sound of the approaching honor guard ended the silent vigil nearly an hour later.
* * *
Thursday, February 28, 1991
Gentle footfalls.
Quiet rustling.
The creak of someone sitting on her bunk.
In her light doze, Sam Carter’s senses were on a moderate sense of alert. She felt rather than heard the hushed voice that whispered in her ear, calling her name. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply, bolting into a sitting position and nearly knocking over the person who had roused her.
“Sammy, it’s me!”
The breath she’d been holding was expelled in a rush of air.
“Matt?”
In the shadows of the room, she could just discern the features of Matt Lovell’s face.
The wrinkled brow and dark circles that lined the skin below his dreary eyes gave him the appearance of a man who had slept very little in the past few weeks. It was the face of a man who confronted the reality of a lost friend every time he walked into this room, the bunk above his own now empty.
“Yeah,” he responded wearily, scrubbing a hand across his cheek. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to wake you, but you’re scheduled for watch detail.”
Damn it, she had completely forgotten she’d signed up for tonight’s patrol!
Kicking away her blanket, she blindly reached for the boots beneath her bunk, glancing up at him.
“It’s okay. I’m up.”
The concerned look on his face did not escape her.
“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted.
Nothing could be further from the truth, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
Every day, her game face went up like armor, guarding her against any emotion that might betray how she actually felt. She reported for duty, generally keeping to herself, mentally repeating the mantra that had become her lifeline over the last two weeks.
The mission always comes first, the mission always comes first.
Those words had never been more significant than a little over a week ago when the 421st had contributed to successfully executing one of the most important air attacks in the entire war.
Intelligence reports obtained from Special Forces had alerted American officials of a well-organized Iraqi camp situated only sixty miles from the Saudi Arabian border. A task force had been quickly assembled, and approximately three hundred enemy vehicles had been destroyed in a mission that lasted several hours without a single American casualty.
For the first time her life, military detachment had swiftly settled into her perception, completely shoving away her emotional state of mind. It had been frighteningly easy for her to carry out her orders without her intellect and compassion prodding her conscience about the how and why of what she was doing. Instead, Carter simply did as she was told without question.
The mission had paved the way for the beginning of the second phase of the war when the ground assault commenced. Armored tanks and specially trained infantry troops replaced the daily aerial bombing and flybys, cutting the exhausted air crews a break.
Major Wells broke the news on the eve of the ground war, reporting that even though their job as pilots was completed, the squadron would remain in Saudi Arabia on standby. Activity across base diminished bit by bit as the days passed, leaving the occupants restless. In an effort to remain useful, each member of the two F-16 squadrons stationed on base had volunteered for patrols, keeping watch over their quiet home.
Carter was quick to sign up, spending every other night walking the ridge along the western perimeter of the base, monitoring the area through the green glow of night vision goggles. Deep down, she knew the real reason she had volunteered for the job. Alone under a blanket of stars, the mundane task managed to keep her alert and focused, temporarily quelling the heartache of Thompson’s death.
Out on the ridge, if only for a few hours, Sam Carter allowed herself to forget, but unfortunately, the escape was always short-lived.
As the brightness of morning arrived, she would retire to her quarters, exhausted. Sleep came quickly, but the memories she fought to suppress during her waking hours soon invaded her dreams. There had been one too many times when she had woken from a restless slumber, bathed in a cold sweat and breathing hard as the haunting images of tousled hair and warm brown eyes faded away.
Sighing, she tightly laced her boots, risking a glance at Lovell.
Even with tired eyes, he watched her like a hawk. For days, he had tried to get her to talk, trailing her when she was off-duty and awake. It reminded her of the children’s tale Mary and the Little Lamb, for everywhere that Carter went, Lovell was sure to go.
A year ago, she would have been pleasantly annoyed, teasing him that it was usually curious little sisters who wanted to follow their big brothers around. Eventually, she would have relented to his persistence, talking to him about what was going on and trusting that her confidante would never tell a soul.
But this felt so different.
Carter had kept her blossoming relationship with Thompson secret, knowing the romance would not bode well with her fellow squad members. The boys of the 421st were a tough, tight-knit group who expected the very best of their teammates, and she had worked hard to earn their respect. If any of them discovered the feelings she’d harbored for Thompson, she could easily imagine what they would think of her.
Shaking her head, she gathered her gear and fled outside, trying to lose Lovell.
Not a chance.
With his longer legs, he easily kept up, walking beside her as she maintained a brisk pace toward the command building.
“Sam, please! Talk to me for just one minute!”
If only he knew how much she wanted to do just that.
The experiences shared by the two lieutenants had served to strengthen the friendship that had been borne of countless training missions and vigilant mentoring. The more time they spent together, the more Carter found herself relying on Lovell, instinctively seeking him in those rare moments when she needed someone to talk to.
Those same instincts were screaming for attention, but she fought to ignore them. No one could know the real reason why she was having such a hard time dealing with Thompson’s death.
No one could know just how responsible she felt.
“Come on, Sammy. You don’t need to put up this brave soldier front with me. I know that Josh’s death is --”
“Dammit, Lovell, I said I was fine. Just leave me the hell alone,” she growled, blinking back the rebellious tears prickling her eyes.
Now was certainly not the time to cry!
“Why?” he shouted in reply, racing to grab her wrist. “Why do you want me to leave you alone?”
She struggled to free herself from his firm grip, throwing a desperate glance over her shoulder at the command building, less than one hundred yards away. Within those walls she would find sanctuary from Lovell’s dogged determination, gaining another chance to escape his prying questions.
If she could only get there.
“Matt, this is ridiculous! Let me go, I have to report for duty,” she objected, gritting her teeth as she tried to tug loose.
Shaking his head, he captured her other wrist and pulled her close, unwilling to let her slip away. She was swaying close to her breaking point, and he knew it.
“No! You’ve always felt safe coming to me when something was upsetting you. Why are you backing away now?”
Ducking his head, Lovell tried to meet her eyes, but she flinched, averting his inquisitive gaze. Past experience had taught her that given her current emotional state, one look into those eyes would crumble her resolve, giving him all the power to extract any information he wanted from her.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she stated, squeezing her eyes shut the moment the words left her mouth.
It was not the wisest thing to say, particularly to a Matthew Lovell who’s overprotective radar was already on full alert. He was privy to all sorts of details about her life, from a good number of her most embarrassing childhood moments to the deepest, intimate secrets she dared not reveal to anyone else.
Sometimes she wondered if Lovell understood her better than she understood herself.
Carter winced as she felt his fingers marginally tighten around her wrists and chanced a glance at him. As she studied the features of his face, she realized he wasn’t pissed. Lovell was slow to anger, one of those rare people who could hold his temper in check even through the shittiest of conditions.
No, this was all-out frustration from the lack of her responsiveness to his inquiries.
“You haven’t even given me a chance, Sam. I know you cared about Josh. For God’s sake, he was your best friend,” he softly said, his face mere inches from her own.
Setting her jaw, her hands unconsciously clenched into fists as an unconstrained streak of anger ran through her.
“You don’t know anything about my relationship with Josh,” Carter whispered furiously.
He laughed humorlessly at her remark, releasing one of her wrists to run his hand across his eyes.
“Of course I don’t know anything! You’ve been as distant as Saddam is from the front lines. What exactly are you trying to hide?”
Narrowing her eyes, she abruptly pulled away, finally jerking free of his grasp.
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’ve deemed that information as classified?”
He watched silently as she rubbed the inflamed skin of her wrists, shifting uncomfortably as he considered what to say. Peeking from beneath the bill of her baseball cap, she glared at him resentfully, speaking before he could utter another word.
“Josh would never have kept badgering me like this. He would have respected my space and left me alone until I was ready to talk,” she pronounced, her voice dangerously low.
Lovell sighed heavily, jamming his hands in his pockets as he studiously stared at the ground.
“I’ve got news for you, Sammy,” he mumbled. “I’m NOT Josh.”
“No, you’re not,” Carter agreed. “And you never will be. You can NEVER live up to be the kind of man Josh Thompson was.”
Whether by the cold tone of her voice or the choice of her words, he froze immediately, stunned. His teeth tugged on his lower lip as he stared at her in disbelief, his large, dark blue eyes blinking owlishly at her, absolute hurt burning in their depths.
Carter turned away, a stab of regret piercing her heart as she hurried on to the command building, but Lovell still would not give up.
He trailed after her once again, jogging by her side. Reaching out, he settled his hand on the nape of her neck as he had done on several other occasions, knowing the gesture comforted her during trying times, but it was the last straw for Carter.
Her body tensed at his touch, and before she was even aware of what she was doing, she roughly shoved him away. Her impulsive reaction caught him completely by surprise, and he stumbled backwards, landing on the ground with a painful grunt. Grimacing, he sluggishly sat up, staring at her in shock as he massaged the back of his head.
“Sammy?”
Unchecked tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, glistening in the pale light of the moon shining high above. Her voice trembled with grief when she spoke.
“I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need you…”
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart weighing heavily in her chest, the thoughts in her mind a mass combination of mixed emotions. Guilt from subjecting Lovell to her bitter behavior compounded with the incalculable anguish she’d felt since losing Thompson.
Arriving outside the command building, she leaned against the wall for a moment, disgusted by how easily she had lost control. She felt sick to her stomach for treating Lovell so badly. As her mentor, all he ever wanted to do was make certain she was prepared for anything that came her way, hoping his knowledge would benefit her. As a friend, he wanted her to remain safe and loved, ensuring that she knew he would always be there for her.
Making her decision, she swiped at the moisture on her cheeks and looked back at the walkway that connected the command building and the hangar bays, ready to run after him to apologize, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Lieutenant Carter? Are you all right?”
Whirling around, she found Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Anderson, the commander of the 4th Fighter Squadron, standing outside the doorway, watching her with some concern. Clearing her throat, Carter squared her shoulders and nodded, hoping he hadn’t overheard her quarrel with Lovell.
“Yes, sir. I was on my way to report for patrol duty.”
Anderson smiled wryly, taking a quick glance at his wristwatch.
“Better get to it, Lieutenant. Major Wells was expecting you five minutes ago, and you know how he starts climbing up the walls when he’s made to wait.”
“Yes, sir!” she exclaimed.
Picking up her pace, she marched inside the building, weaving her way through the corridors until she arrived outside the ready room where all of the patrol gear was issued. As her hand reached to turn the knob, the door was yanked open from the other side, revealing a surprised Major Wells.
“Carter! Where the hell have you been?”
Startled, she took a step back, stammering an apology.
“I… I’m sorry, sir, I --”
He shook his head, opening the door wider to allow her entrance.
“I don’t want to hear it, Lieutenant. Just go sign the forms for your gear and get out there.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied without missing a beat, hurrying into the room.
As the airman at the desk handed over a small stack of requisition papers, Carter looked over her shoulder at her commanding officer. Observant, concerned eyes met puzzled blue ones. Their gazes locked only a moment before both hastily turned away, neither accustomed to the cautious, new tranquility between them.
Thirty minutes later, Carter was dressed in a pair of desert cammies, strolling on top of the ridge. She tucked her fully loaded M-16 against her body, turning her head slowly from side to side and trying to keep a vigilant watch, but the thoughts swirling in her mind made the task nearly impossible.
She had fought long and hard to prove herself to Major Wells, enduring his lectures and admonishments for months, striving to earn his complete acceptance. In the end, it had taken her unexpected reaction to Thompson’s sudden, tragic death to shift the working relationship into what she had struggled for so long to attain.
It was certainly not the way she had envisioned warranting the accomplishment. She had always pictured celebrating the achievement over a beer with her two closest friends at her side.
Closing her eyes, Carter sighed unhappily.
One of those friends was gone, and she was on the verge of losing the other. The snappish manner she’d treated Lovell with prodded her conscience. It wasn’t like her to deliberately behave so callously, but ever since Thompson’s crash, she had contended with the overwhelming feeling that she was losing sight of herself.
Everything was so fucked up right now, and she couldn’t imagine things possibly getting any worse.
Sudden movement to the northwest caught her eye.
Carter swung around, immediately regretting the quick motion when the landscape became a green blur through the night vision goggles secured on her helmet. Blinking to clear her eyesight, she hoisted her weapon, straining to see who was approaching.
“Hold it right there!” she ordered. “Identify yourselves!”
The three silhouetted figures stopped, the faint moonlight illuminating their faces as they raised their hands in the air. One of them cocked his head to the side at the sound of her voice and carefully stepped forward.
“Lieutenant Carter? I am Abdullah! No shoot!”
Recognizing the man as one of the Bedouins that helped around the base, she relaxed her guard. He and his companions tended to work the night shifts, caring for the camels and transporting goods from Khamis Mushayt. Eyeing the satchels on their backs, she assumed they had returned from the city and lowered her weapon.
“It’s okay, Abdullah. You can go on through.”
Turning around, she looked down on the lights of the base below.
Ever since the ground war began, the number of personnel walking around this time of night had declined rapidly. She was certain the situation was similar at other posts scattered across the Middle East. If things continued as they were, the war would be over soon and the wait for transfer back to the States would begin. Carter eagerly looked forward to leaving this place and all it’s bad memories behind.
After readjusting the clarity of the goggles, she pushed her sleeve up from her wrist and frowned at the numbers displayed on her wristwatch. Just past 0130. Another three and a half hours of boredom left in her patrol. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she turned on her heel and prepared to retrace her previous path.
All of a sudden, a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, causing her to lose her footing.
The world bobbled in a green haze through the goggles as she swung her arms around, fighting to maintain her precarious balance on the rocky ridge. Carter reached out blindly, desperately searching for anything to grab on to, when a set of hands planted themselves on her shoulders, shoving her off her feet.
Falling back, she hit the ground hard, grunting as the sharp edges of the rocks sliced her skin as she rolled down the steep incline. Her fingers clawed at the terrain, straining to slow her rapid descent, to no avail. Tumbling further down, Carter gasped as she felt her head slam into a rock. A bright light flashed before her eyes at the impact before a wave of darkness engulfed her.
Continued in Chapter 9.
AUTHOR: Starbuck92
CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Other (in the past)
SPOILERS: Nemesis, Small Victories
SEASON: 4
RATING: R
CONTENT WARNING: Language, minor character death, sexual situations
SUMMARY: Flying and friendship, love and loss - what was Sam Carter’s life like during the Persian Gulf War?
DISCLAIMER: The lovely characters of Stargate SG-1 do not belong to me, and I am making no money off this story. Please do not archive without permission.
Sunshine warmed Carter as she snuggled against her pillow, sighing contently with her blanket settled cozily around her. The earthy, fragrant odor of the outdoors filled her nose, mixing in with another familiar scent. She frowned slightly as she breathed it in, trying to place a name to it.
Having spent much of the last three years utilizing camping gear during SG-1’s excursions offworld, she was certain that this was not what the standard Air Force issued sleeping bag was supposed to smell like. Nor did they come equipped with hands that gently weaved through your hair.
Opening her eyes fractionally, she realized her ‘pillow’ was Colonel O’Neill’s chest and her ‘blanket’ was his arms wrapped around her.
Carter was surprised at how well she’d slept beside him and more than a little unnerved by how natural it felt to wake up in his arms. She was nestled deep in his embrace, and even though she was aware that the military would frown upon their somewhat compromising position, she couldn’t bring herself to move out of the security of his arms just yet.
Needless to say, these weren’t the kind of thoughts she should be having about her commanding officer.
Closing her eyes, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching the undergrowth around the camp. The recognizable low tones of Teal’c’s voice called out from nearby. She listened to the ensuing exchange, feigning sleep.
“O’Neill. Is Major Carter unwell?”
Almost imperceptibly, the colonel’s arms tightened around her, his hand still tangled in her tresses.
“She’ll be fine, Teal’c. She just had a rough night.”
The Jaffa seemed to consider that for a moment before replying.
“I see.”
Silence draped over the campsite.
Carter knew how awkward things must look, but Teal’c was observant enough to realize nothing had happened between herself and the colonel. She was fairly confident in trusting that Teal’c would exercise discretion and not make mention of what he had seen.
“If you will permit me, O’Neill, I shall attempt to dial Earth once again to determine if the secondary Stargate is now operational.”
The colonel nodded his assent, and the fading footsteps signified their companion’s departure from the campsite.
“Okay, Dorothy, time to stop faking. Teal’c’s gone to click his ruby red heels to try to get us back to Kansas.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she was sitting up and moving a safe distance away before O’Neill could register what was happening.
“How did you know?”
A tiny, cunning smile crossed his face, and instead of answering, he simply tossed her a fruit from last night’s meal. After several beats of silence, it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, and the smug expression on his face annoyed her. After finishing her breakfast in silence, she excused herself and retreated to the small stream near the camp to be alone.
The gentle current pulsated downstream, gliding over the smooth rocks as Carter approached. Kneeling at the bank, she cupped some cool water in her hands, using it to wash her face and scrub away the final vestiges of sleep. The fresh water cleansed the dirt from her skin, but it did little to dispel the stirrings of long-buried feelings deep inside.
After Thompson’s death, she had found it within herself to move on gradually, continuing her life’s pursuits until she finally found a sense of true belonging and fulfillment as a member of SG-1. Her friendships with her teammates had solidified throughout the past three years, running as deeply as her friendships with her former squadron had been.
The colonel’s disclosure of Thompson’s final words the night before had been a catharsis of sorts, but although time was said to heal all wounds, this one ran far too deep to ever completely go away. The questions had always remained in the back of her mind…
What would have happened between herself and Thompson?
Would fate have still brought her into the Stargate program?
“Carter?”
Startled, she whipped her head around, finding Colonel O’Neill standing a few feet behind her. Damn it, that was the second time he’d done that in as many days!
Walking over, he took a seat by her side, glancing at her before focusing his attention on the running water in front of them.
“You okay?”
Carter gave him a small smile, quickly pushing the thoughts of Thompson and what might have been from her mind. She had shared so much with O’Neill, but there were certain things she would never reveal to anyone, ever. Memories belonging solely to herself and to Thompson.
Trying to keep her voice sounding nonchalant, she answered, “Yes, sir. I was just washing up.”
“You find a bathtub out here or something? ‘Cause if you did, I sure hope you plan to share. I could use a good, long bubble bath right about now.”
Frowning slightly at the sarcasm in his voice, she gave him a questioning glance, noting his cool demeanor. His neutral face may have concealed the emotions he hid beneath the surface, but his rigid posture indicated his apparent unease.
“You’ve been gone forty-five minutes, Major.”
Carter looked at her wristwatch, blinking in surprise.
He was right.
Usually, she dived into various projects, picking over every detail until she could solve the problem at hand or comprehend how something new worked, completely disregarding the amount of time that passed by. In this instance, she had lost herself in her thoughts, something that hadn’t happened in quite some time. Not since… Carter closed her eyes, sighing quietly.
Not since she’d learned how Thompson’s fatal crash had ultimately saved her life.
“What’s on your mind, Carter?”
Picking up a small pebble, she turned it over between her fingers, avoiding the colonel’s eyes. Already, she had divulged so many details of that one fateful year that had changed her life: finding love in a time of war, sharing a strong camaraderie with her fellow pilots, her struggle to find common ground with her commanding officer, and the tragedy of losing a loved one. All of those experiences had helped shape her into the person she was today. Of that, she was certain.
Then again, they almost hadn’t.
Tossing the pebble into the current, Carter inhaled deeply.
For a long period of time following Thompson’s death, she had lost sight of herself, rapidly sinking into depression. Her happiness and enthusiasm for life hit rock bottom as quickly as the pebble had plummeted to the bottom of the stream.
Turning to O’Neill, she regarded him silently.
He was no stranger to loss; the colonel had seen both comrades and friends fall in combat during his time in Special Ops. And he had struggled with the tragedy of his only child’s death not long before he’d been assigned to the first Stargate mission. No one, perhaps, would better understand what it was like to lose someone than O’Neill. This man would be familiar with the turmoil she had found herself in for so many months.
Quietly, she began telling him.
“I was just thinking how much I isolated myself from everyone and everything that reminded me of Josh. The remainder of the time I tried to bury my feelings where no one would find them. Not even myself.”
* * *
Wednesday, February 13, 1991
Carter sat on the bench opposite Major Wells’s office, uneasily eyeing the gleaming brass nameplate adhered to the frosted glass window. Resting her head against the wall, she considered the apology she had worked on during the short trip from her quarters to the command building.
Years in the military had taught her that detachment was a prized virtue in her line of work, a quality that enabled officers and enlisted personnel alike to close themselves off from emotions that may interfere with duty. Being emotionally uninvolved guaranteed that a soldier could do his or her job without having to think of the consequences, especially in battle.
But Carter couldn’t do that with Thompson.
In her eyes, he wasn’t just another casualty of war. He was her best friend, the man she had fallen in love with, and the person who taught her that despite their military training and responsibilities, they shouldn’t always be asked to keep their true feelings shrouded in the shadows.
Love wasn’t a mistake. It was what made them human, and Carter would never believe loving Thompson had been a mistake.
On the contrary, she felt her only error had resulted from directing her grief and pain at the wrong person - Major Wells. The words she’d angrily spouted at her commanding officer earlier this morning had been delivered in poor taste, wrought from an overwhelming sense of anguish she couldn’t contain.
Their working relationship had never been easy. Wells was a demanding, hard-assed superior while she was a brainy, impetuous, up-and-coming junior officer, but nonetheless, Carter respected him and had every intention of rectifying her mistake. Above all else, Major Wells was her commanding officer, and she valued his opinion, wishing he would see her as the esteemed officer and pilot she was working so hard to be.
The sound of a pair of fighter jets flying overhead gave her the boost she needed. It was time to get this over with. Taking a deep breath, she stood and raised a hand to rap on the door. After a short pause, a curt response was issued from within.
“Enter!”
Major Wells sat at his desk working on his laptop computer as she walked in. Stopping in front of him, she snapped off a crisp salute.
“Lieutenant Samantha Carter reporting, sir!”
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Wells asked absently, his utmost concentration remaining on the computer screen, his fingers quietly tapping on the keyboard.
Unperturbed by his indifference, Carter remained standing stiffly at attention, staring at a point on the far wall as she continued.
“Sir, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier this morning. My words were rude, disrespectful, and completely uncalled for. I am truly sorry, sir, and I am prepared for whatever reprimand you choose to invoke on my record, even if it means removal from your squadron.”
Major Wells continued typing, not even bothering to spare her a glance.
Unwilling to allow his disinterest to faze her, the lieutenant held her ground, sustaining her perfect posture even as her aching back and feet began to protest earnestly. She listened to the sounds around her, using the subtle noises to distract herself from the discomfort.
The distinct whine of an F-16 powering up, the rhythmic thump of marching feet walking in a seamless formation somewhere outside, the rustle of papers being shifted in Lieutenant Colonel Anderson’s office next door, the creak of Major Wells’s chair as he rose to his feet…
Immediately, Carter refocused her attention on her commanding officer, watching out of the corner of her eye as he slowly walked around the desk. Casually propping himself on the edge, he crossed his arms at his chest, studying her face.
“You and I have never seen eye to eye on much of anything, Lieutenant.”
“No, sir,” Carter agreed honestly.
“I don’t always appreciate that, and I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to know it.”
She wisely chose not to reply to that remark, waiting instead for him to continue.
“Despite your inclination for aggravating the hell out of me, I respect you, Lieutenant. I know you’ve never had it easy, trying to make people forget you’re Jake Carter’s kid and fighting twice as hard to make them see past the fact that you’re a woman in a boys’ club. But you have the potential for a brilliant career, and I don’t want you to throw that opportunity away.”
Carter couldn’t help but blink in surprise at the unexpected disclosure, shooting a quizzical glance at her commanding officer. The corners of the major’s mouth tugged upwards at the look on her face, sending a ripple of shock coursing through her.
Had Wells actually smiled at her?
“At ease, Lieutenant,” he finally instructed her.
She relaxed marginally, clasping her hands behind her back and wondering what had caused the shift in his attitude. Major Wells was notorious for being strict and focused, his poker face almost never revealing his true emotions. In all the time she’d known him, he had never cracked a smile.
“I’ve said it time and again, Carter. You’re a skilled pilot and an excellent officer. But up until this morning I never knew how brave you really were.”
Her eyebrows lifted fractionally, confusion replacing the surprise.
“Sir?”
Pushing himself away from the desk, Wells mirrored her stance, staring directly into her eyes.
“You needed more time to absorb everything that had just happened, and I didn’t give you that luxury. It took a lot of guts to stand up and tell me what was on your mind.”
Carter frowned, growing more baffled by the second.
“But, sir, the things I said --”
“Are excusable, given the situation I put you in,” he cut in, shaking his head. “However, I don’t approve being shouted at by an officer under my command. I never will. Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?”
“Yes, sir. It’ll never happen again, sir.”
The major nodded and stepped away, moving to stand by the window overlooking the taxiway. She watched him closely, waiting expectantly for his next remark. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet she nearly missed the words.
“A good officer learns from his or her mistakes.”
Just as softly, Carter automatically replied, “The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing, sir.”
Glancing over his shoulder at her, Wells raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“You still remember that.”
Straightening her posture, she solemnly replied, “I will never forget it, sir.”
Another ghost of a smile graced his face before he turned around to look out the window again, focusing on the passage of an F-16 as it taxied toward the runway, leaving Carter a moment to reflect back to the day she had first heard those words.
Two weeks following her graduation from flight school, her first orders had arrived with instructions to report to Hill AFB and her immediate assignment to the 421st Fighter Squadron. Packing her possessions, she had journeyed from her post at Laughlin AFB in Texas to Utah, anxious to settle into her new role as a bonafide fighter pilot.
The ambitious young lieutenant had been quick to impress Colonel Snedden and the rest of the brass of the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing during her initial evaluations, swiftly securing her place as the best among the new recruits. A brief smile touched her lips as she remembered how insane the night of their official welcome ceremony had become.
Thompson, O’Malley, Hickam, and Bennett had been particularly proud of the honor she was to receive, making sure her glass was never empty and straightening the brand-new silver bars on her shoulders, tending to her every need throughout the evening much to her mortification. But with time, their ulterior motives soon became clear.
As the evening progressed, a blanket of light wooziness began creeping into her awareness, muddling her thoughts. Thinking she just needed some fresh air to clear her head, Carter retreated outdoors, breathing a sigh of relief as she found an empty bench to sit on. The rest of the world seemed to disappear as she closed her eyes, the sounds from the party fading into the back of her mind.
The echo of approaching footsteps breached her tranquil hideaway all too soon.
Opening her eyes, she poised to climb to her feet, pausing when the unidentified folks stopped just around the corner from her bench, the side of the building concealing her from their view.
Carter idly sipped her punch, scantly paying attention to the faint murmurs of the group of men until a familiar chorus of chuckles and the clink of glass caught her attention. Rising from her seat, she edged closer to the corner of the building for a peek, listening more attentively.
“You think it’s working?” Hickam questioned.
“Oh, yeah,” O’Malley answered, his speech slightly slurred, passing a small bottle to Bennett. “She definitely seems more relaxed than when we first got here. Finally loosening up for a change!”
Bennett shook his head and snickered, clumsily pouring a dollop of the bottle’s contents into his punch. “She is so gonna kick our asses, Rupe!”
Frowning, Carter peered down into her own drink, tracing the rim of the glass with her forefinger. The mysteries of the evening suddenly became crystal clear: the boys indulging her with an endless stream of drinks, the slight kick of the beverage, her growing lethargic state of mind… The bastards had spiked her drinks, intent on getting her drunk during an official Air Force ceremony!
A burst of anger and incredulity drove her to instant sobriety as she rounded the corner, startling the group of men. Grabbing the bottle out of the frozen Bennett’s hand, Carter read the label and glared at each of them in turn.
“You’re damn right I’m going to kick your asses! Of all the stupid, idiotic things you guys have done, this has to rank near the top of the list! What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Guilty looks were exchanged, and the four pilots shifted uncomfortably under her piercing gaze. O’Malley was the first to break.
“It was Jon’s idea!” he admitted, ignoring the daggers Bennett sent in his direction.
“He’s the one who bought the Jack Daniels!” Hickam quickly added.
“Hey, you guys didn’t have to go along with it,” the resident prankster protested, scuffing a dress shoe against the pavement, avoiding looking at any of them. “We just wanted you to have a little fun, Sam!”
Shoving the bottle back to Bennett, she sighed irritably and turned to Thompson, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.
“And you went along with this?”
Casting his gaze downward, her best friend seemed to shrink beneath her disapproving eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, swallowing involuntarily.
“Well,” he mumbled, “not at first…”
Carter snorted in disbelief, rolling her eyes and running a hand across her forehead.
“We just received our promotions to first lieutenant,” she stated, glancing down at her wristwatch. “And we’re less than fifteen minutes from our official acceptance into the 421st. Do you have any idea how serious the repercussions of your bright ideas would be if anyone finds out what you did?”
With a flick of his wrist, Thompson emptied his glass over the sidewalk, grimacing as the truth of her words sunk in.
“We would be in a shit load of trouble.”
Hickam’s pale blue eyes widened abruptly, looking like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights. Noticing his alarmed expression, the others turned around to see their commanding officer headed their way. In a well-practiced motion, all five lieutenants effortlessly stood at precise attention together, keeping their eyes trained forward as Major Wells reached them.
“Have you people been out here all this time? The ceremony is about to begin,” he informed them.
“Sorry, sir. We just stepped outside for some fresh air,” Thompson apologized.
Wells nodded in understanding.
“Nothing wrong with that, Lieutenant Thompson, but I suggest you all head back inside. Everyone is waiting.”
“Yes, sir!” O’Malley exclaimed, quickly taking point and leading his fellow pilots back to the building.
Carter lingered behind, a small, tight smile gracing her lips. All her earlier thoughts of vindictive payback dissolved as she watched the boys struggling to maintain their dignity as they stumbled along. Their hangovers tomorrow morning would be enough sweet revenge.
“You kids were born with exceptional ability and extraordinary intelligence, Lieutenant Carter,” Wells commented, falling into step beside his subordinate. “Those traits have carried you throughout your instruction at the Academy and flight school, and I hope they’ll continue to serve you well while you’re under my command.”
She acknowledged him with a half-smile, averting her eyes as her cheeks colored with embarrassment.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I do want to make one thing clear, Lieutenant,” he continued.
She gave him a sidelong glance as they walked up the steps to the entrance of the building.
“What’s that, Major?”
“I’ve seen what you and the rest of the new recruits can do, and there is no doubt in my mind that you’ve all got talent. But you are still far from perfect, and mistakes are inevitable, even in a wing that holds such high standards like Snedden’s.”
Wells halted briefly at the door, considering his next words as he observed the inquisitiveness brimming in his brightest pilot's eyes.
“What I’m trying to say, Carter, is that a good officer learns from his or her mistakes. The only real mistake is the one from which you learn nothing.”
The young lieutenant’s forehead crinkled with puzzlement for a moment before she followed her commanding officer indoors.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, sir,” she responded quietly, trying to work out why she had been on the receiving end of such an intriguing statement.
The roar of a fighter plane climbing into the afternoon sky brought Carter back to the present, and she returned her gaze to Major Wells, who still had his back to her. Even after all this time, she still hadn’t figured out where his cryptic assertion had come from.
As if reading her thoughts, he asked, “You never did understand why I told you that in the first place, did you?”
“No, sir,” Carter admitted.
Half turning, he smiled wryly, shaking his head slightly as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“I’m no fool, Lieutenant. I always keep an eye on the people under my command, whether they are aware of it or not. Your companions’ intoxication did not escape my notice.”
She blanched at the revelation, her stomach dropping to the ground.
‘Holy Hannah, he KNEW!’ Carter thought, wondering what had given them away.
Wells moved to stand before her, leaning back against his desk, his mouth setting in a firm line.
“After my divorce, Jack Daniels became my constant companion during my downtime. It’s not something I’m proud to say, but I developed a bit of a sixth sense for it. There was no question you people had been drinking, and I could have ended your careers that night.”
Blinking in surprise, she swallowed involuntarily, the implications of his words slowly sinking in. The power to terminate their promising careers before they even truly began had been in his hands, but for some reason…
“You didn’t do it,” Carter uttered softly. “You would have been obligated as our commanding officer to suspend our duties and refer all of us to court-martial, but you didn’t.”
“You wouldn’t be standing here if I had, Lieutenant,” he retorted. “And you have only yourself to thank for that.”
Her brow creasing in confusion, she asked, “Sir?”
“I was about to confront Lieutenants Thompson, Bennett, O’Malley, and Hickam about their irresponsible behavior when you showed up. I saw how well you handled the situation, and I backed off, deciding I’d take a chance on the five of you. Quite frankly, those boys owe their careers to you.”
Shaken by yet another disclosure, she mumbled under her breath, “And the surprises just keep on coming.”
Either Wells did not hear her nearly inaudible words, or he chose to disregard them. Instead, he returned to his seat behind his desk, gathering up some paperwork.
“I want you to take the next patrol off,” he ordered.
Opening her mouth to protest, Carter fell silent as the major raised a hand to cut her off.
“No arguments! I want you rested and ready for Sunday’s mission. I’ll need you up there, Lieutenant.”
She sighed softly, deciding her disagreement wasn’t worth expressing this time around. She had finally made some progress with her commanding officer, and she wasn’t about to disrupt the newfound peace this tragedy had brought between them.
“Understood, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Carter clicked her heels together, standing at attention once again.
“Thank you, sir.”
Swiveling around, she made her way to the door, but only managed to walk a couple of steps before the sound of her commanding officer’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Carter.”
Turning to face him, she found the major observing her carefully, his eyes immediately meeting hers.
“I am sorry about Lieutenant Thompson. He was a fine officer, and a good man,” he said sincerely.
The lieutenant closed her eyes briefly, ducking her head as a fresh wave of grief clenched her heart. She fought the emotion, suppressing it until she reined in the tears that threatened to fall and felt the tightness in her throat disappear. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and raised her head, her piercing blue eyes crystal clear.
“Yes, sir.”
With one final salute, Carter exited the office, anxious to return to the privacy of her quarters. Taking the shortest route she knew of, she deftly avoided the squadron’s usual haunts, blending in anonymously among the other base personnel.
As she rounded the corner of the last hallway inside the barracks, she breathed a sigh of relief. Deeply preoccupied with the thought of eluding anyone who would want to talk about Thompson, she didn’t see Rupert O’Malley leaving his room until she collided into him.
“Whoa, sorry, Wizard! Didn’t see you there!”
Carter backpedaled from the burly young man, muttering her own apologies as she tried to squeeze her way past him, but he wasn’t about to let her go that easily. O’Malley reached out, gently squeezing her shoulders in a comforting gesture.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about Josh. He was one of the best. A real ace.”
Nodding, she continued taking measured steps until she arrived at the threshold of her quarters, ready to slip into the safety of the small, empty room until O’Malley’s next comment caught her by surprise.
“We think he’s a hero, you know.”
Slowly, she turned around, frowning in confusion.
“Why do you say that?”
An equally puzzled expression appeared on his face.
“You didn’t see what happened?”
Carter shook her head, unsure of what he was referring to.
Her friend suddenly became uncomfortable, shifting restlessly on his feet and stuffing his hands in his flight jacket pockets. Tilting her head to the side, she crossed her arms at her chest, regarding him with weary, but demanding eyes.
“What are you talking about, Rupert?”
O’Malley hung his head, his eyes focusing on his boots. Reluctantly, he began explaining.
“When Major Wells ordered us to engage the Iraqis back there… You were under fire, and…”
Shrugging his shoulders, he looked up at her, shaking his head in wonder.
“Josh just dove right in, taking the hit…”
His words thrust the scattered recollections and images of the incident upon her all over again, the pieces beginning to fall into place. The outright fear in Thompson’s voice, the sound of anti-aircraft fire all around, the flash of light from an explosion somewhere beneath her plane…
Her eyes widened in shock as she presumed what Thompson had done.
“He saved my life…”
Seeing O’Malley’s answering nod, she quickly excused herself, all thoughts of sitting alone and shutting the rest of the world out vanishing in an instant. Sprinting down the hall, her focused narrowed to a determined desire to see Thompson. Within minutes, the lieutenant had reached the base hospital, slipping into the silence of the pristine, sterile corridors.
The sound of her footfalls echoed loudly on the polished floors as she wandered aimlessly about, trying to figure out where she was. Her visits to this building had been limited to post-mission check-ups in the west wing; the rest of the facility remained a mystery. Apparently, the uncertainty was evident on her face as a woman in a white medical coat approached her.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Nodding, Carter glanced down at the blue plastic nametag and addressed the petite, brown-eyed doctor.
“Yes, Doctor…Fraiser. I, um, was wondering if I could be allowed to see Lieutenant Joshua Thompson? He was, ah, brought in this morning.”
Her brow creased in contemplation, Fraiser began searching through the armload of charts she had been carrying, searching for the name. Pulling his folder to the top, she quickly read through the details, the expression on her face slowly turning into one of regret. Raising her eyes, Fraiser briefly glanced at the insignia and name patch on the younger woman’s top before guiding her toward a row of chairs positioned next to the wall.
“Lieutenant Carter, I think you should have a seat,” Fraiser told her softly, gently clasping her upper arm.
She pulled away from the doctor’s grasp, immediately distancing herself. Shaking her head, Carter raised a hand to stop the other woman from continuing.
“Doctor Fraiser, I’m already aware of what happened to Lieutenant Thompson. He is, was, a member of my squadron. I want to see him. I just…want to see him,” she pleaded.
Fraiser observed the lanky, blonde-haired woman standing in front of her for a moment, taking in her unkempt appearance. The wrinkled fighter pilot fatigues, loosely laced combat boots, and tangled tresses were proof that Carter had slept very little in the past twenty-four hours.
But despite the obvious exhaustion, determination burned brightly in those intense eyes. An order for her to rest would fall on deaf ears until her wish was fulfilled. Sighing, Fraiser motioned Carter to follow her.
She trailed closely behind the doctor, easily keeping up with the shorter woman’s stride. As they walked through the quiet corridors, the lieutenant couldn’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in her belly.
The last image of Thompson’s pallid, bloodied face had been etched into her memory, haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She did not want that image to be the last way she remembered him.
After strolling through a couple of hallways, the pair stopped before a plain, white door. Carter nervously glimpsed at the single word engraved on the small, wooden plaque mounted at eye-level, swallowing hard.
‘Morgue.’
Taking a deep breath, she followed Doctor Fraiser inside. The airman on duty looked up from his paperwork, quickly standing to attention in the presence of the two officers.
“Doctor. Ma’am.”
Nodding in acknowledgement, Fraiser spoke quietly to the young man, just out of Carter’s earshot. Their muted conversation was over in less than a minute. The airman respectfully saluted the two women on his way out the door, and Fraiser turned to Carter.
“Airman Rodriguez has informed me that the honor guard is scheduled to fly in within the hour to transport Lieutenant Thompson’s body back to the States. If you’d like to sit with him until they arrive, I can take you to him.”
Carter nodded and followed the doctor to a back room, her heart pounding. The room was dimly lit and smelled strongly of antiseptic, the odor making her stomach churn uncomfortably. Her eyes fell upon the sheet-covered form lying on one of the tables at the center of the room. Fighting the urge to turn around, she slowly marched forward, coming to a stop at the edge of the table.
A small hand squeezed her shoulder.
“I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
Her eyes still fixed on the motionless figure in front of her, Carter faintly mumbled, “Thank you, Doctor Fraiser.”
The doctor gave her a tiny, sympathetic smile.
“My name is Janet, Lieutenant Carter. And you’re welcome.”
Carter found herself completely alone as the click of Fraiser’s heels on the tiled floor faded away. Taking a few calming breaths, she hesitantly reached out and carefully pulled the sheet down from Thompson’s face. The view was not what she had expected.
Someone had washed the blood and sand from his face since he had been brought in. Her eyes roved over his features, noticing that even though the blood was gone, the bruises remained, their purplish tinge a stark distinction from his pale skin. Numbly, she settled herself onto the stool by the side of the table, tentatively reaching out with trembling fingers to caress his cheek. Her lip quivered as their skin made contact.
He was so very cold.
Shutting her eyes against the sting of tears, Carter bowed her head, wishing with all her might to wake from this horrible, unreal nightmare. The fear of losing him had always been present, lying beneath the surface of her subconscious. Reckless and daring, Thompson had thrived on adrenaline, eager to use his talent and abilities for his country, never batting an eye in the face of peril.
She remembered how willing had had been to come to the Middle East, ready to put his mettle to the test in actual combat. Even though she had not shared his enthusiasm, Carter realized to deny him the chance would have been to suppress a part of who he was.
A brave man she’d grown to admire and respect, who was up to any challenge, no matter how dangerous it might be.
A courageous man who had sacrificed himself to save the woman he loved.
Swallowing back her tears, she bent forward, resting her head against his shoulder. Her mind, so keen to analyzing information of astronomical proportions, could not wrap around the fact that this man had loved her so much he’d given his life for her.
Right now, she would give anything to see his twinkling brown eyes and sheepish smile, to feel the warmth of his lips against hers, to tell him how much he meant to her. But the fact of the reality was she’d never get the chance.
Thompson was gone, and this was goodbye.
A single teardrop trickled down her cheek, sliding over the contours of her cheek and cascading onto his before rolling out of sight. Sniffling, Carter slid her fingers through his dark, soft hair, closing her eyes as she pressed her lips to his forehead.
Only the sound of the approaching honor guard ended the silent vigil nearly an hour later.
* * *
Thursday, February 28, 1991
Gentle footfalls.
Quiet rustling.
The creak of someone sitting on her bunk.
In her light doze, Sam Carter’s senses were on a moderate sense of alert. She felt rather than heard the hushed voice that whispered in her ear, calling her name. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply, bolting into a sitting position and nearly knocking over the person who had roused her.
“Sammy, it’s me!”
The breath she’d been holding was expelled in a rush of air.
“Matt?”
In the shadows of the room, she could just discern the features of Matt Lovell’s face.
The wrinkled brow and dark circles that lined the skin below his dreary eyes gave him the appearance of a man who had slept very little in the past few weeks. It was the face of a man who confronted the reality of a lost friend every time he walked into this room, the bunk above his own now empty.
“Yeah,” he responded wearily, scrubbing a hand across his cheek. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to wake you, but you’re scheduled for watch detail.”
Damn it, she had completely forgotten she’d signed up for tonight’s patrol!
Kicking away her blanket, she blindly reached for the boots beneath her bunk, glancing up at him.
“It’s okay. I’m up.”
The concerned look on his face did not escape her.
“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted.
Nothing could be further from the truth, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
Every day, her game face went up like armor, guarding her against any emotion that might betray how she actually felt. She reported for duty, generally keeping to herself, mentally repeating the mantra that had become her lifeline over the last two weeks.
The mission always comes first, the mission always comes first.
Those words had never been more significant than a little over a week ago when the 421st had contributed to successfully executing one of the most important air attacks in the entire war.
Intelligence reports obtained from Special Forces had alerted American officials of a well-organized Iraqi camp situated only sixty miles from the Saudi Arabian border. A task force had been quickly assembled, and approximately three hundred enemy vehicles had been destroyed in a mission that lasted several hours without a single American casualty.
For the first time her life, military detachment had swiftly settled into her perception, completely shoving away her emotional state of mind. It had been frighteningly easy for her to carry out her orders without her intellect and compassion prodding her conscience about the how and why of what she was doing. Instead, Carter simply did as she was told without question.
The mission had paved the way for the beginning of the second phase of the war when the ground assault commenced. Armored tanks and specially trained infantry troops replaced the daily aerial bombing and flybys, cutting the exhausted air crews a break.
Major Wells broke the news on the eve of the ground war, reporting that even though their job as pilots was completed, the squadron would remain in Saudi Arabia on standby. Activity across base diminished bit by bit as the days passed, leaving the occupants restless. In an effort to remain useful, each member of the two F-16 squadrons stationed on base had volunteered for patrols, keeping watch over their quiet home.
Carter was quick to sign up, spending every other night walking the ridge along the western perimeter of the base, monitoring the area through the green glow of night vision goggles. Deep down, she knew the real reason she had volunteered for the job. Alone under a blanket of stars, the mundane task managed to keep her alert and focused, temporarily quelling the heartache of Thompson’s death.
Out on the ridge, if only for a few hours, Sam Carter allowed herself to forget, but unfortunately, the escape was always short-lived.
As the brightness of morning arrived, she would retire to her quarters, exhausted. Sleep came quickly, but the memories she fought to suppress during her waking hours soon invaded her dreams. There had been one too many times when she had woken from a restless slumber, bathed in a cold sweat and breathing hard as the haunting images of tousled hair and warm brown eyes faded away.
Sighing, she tightly laced her boots, risking a glance at Lovell.
Even with tired eyes, he watched her like a hawk. For days, he had tried to get her to talk, trailing her when she was off-duty and awake. It reminded her of the children’s tale Mary and the Little Lamb, for everywhere that Carter went, Lovell was sure to go.
A year ago, she would have been pleasantly annoyed, teasing him that it was usually curious little sisters who wanted to follow their big brothers around. Eventually, she would have relented to his persistence, talking to him about what was going on and trusting that her confidante would never tell a soul.
But this felt so different.
Carter had kept her blossoming relationship with Thompson secret, knowing the romance would not bode well with her fellow squad members. The boys of the 421st were a tough, tight-knit group who expected the very best of their teammates, and she had worked hard to earn their respect. If any of them discovered the feelings she’d harbored for Thompson, she could easily imagine what they would think of her.
Shaking her head, she gathered her gear and fled outside, trying to lose Lovell.
Not a chance.
With his longer legs, he easily kept up, walking beside her as she maintained a brisk pace toward the command building.
“Sam, please! Talk to me for just one minute!”
If only he knew how much she wanted to do just that.
The experiences shared by the two lieutenants had served to strengthen the friendship that had been borne of countless training missions and vigilant mentoring. The more time they spent together, the more Carter found herself relying on Lovell, instinctively seeking him in those rare moments when she needed someone to talk to.
Those same instincts were screaming for attention, but she fought to ignore them. No one could know the real reason why she was having such a hard time dealing with Thompson’s death.
No one could know just how responsible she felt.
“Come on, Sammy. You don’t need to put up this brave soldier front with me. I know that Josh’s death is --”
“Dammit, Lovell, I said I was fine. Just leave me the hell alone,” she growled, blinking back the rebellious tears prickling her eyes.
Now was certainly not the time to cry!
“Why?” he shouted in reply, racing to grab her wrist. “Why do you want me to leave you alone?”
She struggled to free herself from his firm grip, throwing a desperate glance over her shoulder at the command building, less than one hundred yards away. Within those walls she would find sanctuary from Lovell’s dogged determination, gaining another chance to escape his prying questions.
If she could only get there.
“Matt, this is ridiculous! Let me go, I have to report for duty,” she objected, gritting her teeth as she tried to tug loose.
Shaking his head, he captured her other wrist and pulled her close, unwilling to let her slip away. She was swaying close to her breaking point, and he knew it.
“No! You’ve always felt safe coming to me when something was upsetting you. Why are you backing away now?”
Ducking his head, Lovell tried to meet her eyes, but she flinched, averting his inquisitive gaze. Past experience had taught her that given her current emotional state, one look into those eyes would crumble her resolve, giving him all the power to extract any information he wanted from her.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she stated, squeezing her eyes shut the moment the words left her mouth.
It was not the wisest thing to say, particularly to a Matthew Lovell who’s overprotective radar was already on full alert. He was privy to all sorts of details about her life, from a good number of her most embarrassing childhood moments to the deepest, intimate secrets she dared not reveal to anyone else.
Sometimes she wondered if Lovell understood her better than she understood herself.
Carter winced as she felt his fingers marginally tighten around her wrists and chanced a glance at him. As she studied the features of his face, she realized he wasn’t pissed. Lovell was slow to anger, one of those rare people who could hold his temper in check even through the shittiest of conditions.
No, this was all-out frustration from the lack of her responsiveness to his inquiries.
“You haven’t even given me a chance, Sam. I know you cared about Josh. For God’s sake, he was your best friend,” he softly said, his face mere inches from her own.
Setting her jaw, her hands unconsciously clenched into fists as an unconstrained streak of anger ran through her.
“You don’t know anything about my relationship with Josh,” Carter whispered furiously.
He laughed humorlessly at her remark, releasing one of her wrists to run his hand across his eyes.
“Of course I don’t know anything! You’ve been as distant as Saddam is from the front lines. What exactly are you trying to hide?”
Narrowing her eyes, she abruptly pulled away, finally jerking free of his grasp.
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’ve deemed that information as classified?”
He watched silently as she rubbed the inflamed skin of her wrists, shifting uncomfortably as he considered what to say. Peeking from beneath the bill of her baseball cap, she glared at him resentfully, speaking before he could utter another word.
“Josh would never have kept badgering me like this. He would have respected my space and left me alone until I was ready to talk,” she pronounced, her voice dangerously low.
Lovell sighed heavily, jamming his hands in his pockets as he studiously stared at the ground.
“I’ve got news for you, Sammy,” he mumbled. “I’m NOT Josh.”
“No, you’re not,” Carter agreed. “And you never will be. You can NEVER live up to be the kind of man Josh Thompson was.”
Whether by the cold tone of her voice or the choice of her words, he froze immediately, stunned. His teeth tugged on his lower lip as he stared at her in disbelief, his large, dark blue eyes blinking owlishly at her, absolute hurt burning in their depths.
Carter turned away, a stab of regret piercing her heart as she hurried on to the command building, but Lovell still would not give up.
He trailed after her once again, jogging by her side. Reaching out, he settled his hand on the nape of her neck as he had done on several other occasions, knowing the gesture comforted her during trying times, but it was the last straw for Carter.
Her body tensed at his touch, and before she was even aware of what she was doing, she roughly shoved him away. Her impulsive reaction caught him completely by surprise, and he stumbled backwards, landing on the ground with a painful grunt. Grimacing, he sluggishly sat up, staring at her in shock as he massaged the back of his head.
“Sammy?”
Unchecked tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, glistening in the pale light of the moon shining high above. Her voice trembled with grief when she spoke.
“I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need you…”
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart weighing heavily in her chest, the thoughts in her mind a mass combination of mixed emotions. Guilt from subjecting Lovell to her bitter behavior compounded with the incalculable anguish she’d felt since losing Thompson.
Arriving outside the command building, she leaned against the wall for a moment, disgusted by how easily she had lost control. She felt sick to her stomach for treating Lovell so badly. As her mentor, all he ever wanted to do was make certain she was prepared for anything that came her way, hoping his knowledge would benefit her. As a friend, he wanted her to remain safe and loved, ensuring that she knew he would always be there for her.
Making her decision, she swiped at the moisture on her cheeks and looked back at the walkway that connected the command building and the hangar bays, ready to run after him to apologize, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Lieutenant Carter? Are you all right?”
Whirling around, she found Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Anderson, the commander of the 4th Fighter Squadron, standing outside the doorway, watching her with some concern. Clearing her throat, Carter squared her shoulders and nodded, hoping he hadn’t overheard her quarrel with Lovell.
“Yes, sir. I was on my way to report for patrol duty.”
Anderson smiled wryly, taking a quick glance at his wristwatch.
“Better get to it, Lieutenant. Major Wells was expecting you five minutes ago, and you know how he starts climbing up the walls when he’s made to wait.”
“Yes, sir!” she exclaimed.
Picking up her pace, she marched inside the building, weaving her way through the corridors until she arrived outside the ready room where all of the patrol gear was issued. As her hand reached to turn the knob, the door was yanked open from the other side, revealing a surprised Major Wells.
“Carter! Where the hell have you been?”
Startled, she took a step back, stammering an apology.
“I… I’m sorry, sir, I --”
He shook his head, opening the door wider to allow her entrance.
“I don’t want to hear it, Lieutenant. Just go sign the forms for your gear and get out there.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied without missing a beat, hurrying into the room.
As the airman at the desk handed over a small stack of requisition papers, Carter looked over her shoulder at her commanding officer. Observant, concerned eyes met puzzled blue ones. Their gazes locked only a moment before both hastily turned away, neither accustomed to the cautious, new tranquility between them.
Thirty minutes later, Carter was dressed in a pair of desert cammies, strolling on top of the ridge. She tucked her fully loaded M-16 against her body, turning her head slowly from side to side and trying to keep a vigilant watch, but the thoughts swirling in her mind made the task nearly impossible.
She had fought long and hard to prove herself to Major Wells, enduring his lectures and admonishments for months, striving to earn his complete acceptance. In the end, it had taken her unexpected reaction to Thompson’s sudden, tragic death to shift the working relationship into what she had struggled for so long to attain.
It was certainly not the way she had envisioned warranting the accomplishment. She had always pictured celebrating the achievement over a beer with her two closest friends at her side.
Closing her eyes, Carter sighed unhappily.
One of those friends was gone, and she was on the verge of losing the other. The snappish manner she’d treated Lovell with prodded her conscience. It wasn’t like her to deliberately behave so callously, but ever since Thompson’s crash, she had contended with the overwhelming feeling that she was losing sight of herself.
Everything was so fucked up right now, and she couldn’t imagine things possibly getting any worse.
Sudden movement to the northwest caught her eye.
Carter swung around, immediately regretting the quick motion when the landscape became a green blur through the night vision goggles secured on her helmet. Blinking to clear her eyesight, she hoisted her weapon, straining to see who was approaching.
“Hold it right there!” she ordered. “Identify yourselves!”
The three silhouetted figures stopped, the faint moonlight illuminating their faces as they raised their hands in the air. One of them cocked his head to the side at the sound of her voice and carefully stepped forward.
“Lieutenant Carter? I am Abdullah! No shoot!”
Recognizing the man as one of the Bedouins that helped around the base, she relaxed her guard. He and his companions tended to work the night shifts, caring for the camels and transporting goods from Khamis Mushayt. Eyeing the satchels on their backs, she assumed they had returned from the city and lowered her weapon.
“It’s okay, Abdullah. You can go on through.”
Turning around, she looked down on the lights of the base below.
Ever since the ground war began, the number of personnel walking around this time of night had declined rapidly. She was certain the situation was similar at other posts scattered across the Middle East. If things continued as they were, the war would be over soon and the wait for transfer back to the States would begin. Carter eagerly looked forward to leaving this place and all it’s bad memories behind.
After readjusting the clarity of the goggles, she pushed her sleeve up from her wrist and frowned at the numbers displayed on her wristwatch. Just past 0130. Another three and a half hours of boredom left in her patrol. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she turned on her heel and prepared to retrace her previous path.
All of a sudden, a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, causing her to lose her footing.
The world bobbled in a green haze through the goggles as she swung her arms around, fighting to maintain her precarious balance on the rocky ridge. Carter reached out blindly, desperately searching for anything to grab on to, when a set of hands planted themselves on her shoulders, shoving her off her feet.
Falling back, she hit the ground hard, grunting as the sharp edges of the rocks sliced her skin as she rolled down the steep incline. Her fingers clawed at the terrain, straining to slow her rapid descent, to no avail. Tumbling further down, Carter gasped as she felt her head slam into a rock. A bright light flashed before her eyes at the impact before a wave of darkness engulfed her.
Continued in Chapter 9.