FF: Tumble and Fall [7]
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author’s Notes: Apologies to those who have been reading. The wait has been long, but I hope it’s been worth it. RL has zapped me of all energy lately and with NaNo in its second day, I’ll be finding even less time for fanfic. I’ll do my best to keep working on this little series for those who are still interested. Thanks to all who have commented, left feedback, corrected canon errors, etc, etc. I really appreciate it. Keep the comments coming.
Summary: For when she’s this vulnerable and this open, I see her for who she really is and I sympathize. I sympathize and hate myself for liking her as much as I do. [Sam/Vala friendship; eventual Sam/Vala; spoilers for all of season 10]
Tumble and Fall
by e-dog
7. Counterstrike: Responsibility
Vala is parked near the elevators.
I’m not completely surprised. Wishing us a goodnight combined with insistent begging to be allowed off base has become routine with Vala, but I am mildly curious to her behavior this evening. She’s not facing me, as I would expect. She’s facing the wall, studying what appears to be nothing.
When I reach her, I notice her meditative expression and after following her gaze, I fail to see what the grey concrete wall could be offering her. It’s just a wall with its yellow/black border and a huge number prescribing the level we’re on. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“Uh, Vala?”
I wonder if I even have to ask.
“Sam.”
She doesn’t bother to make eye contact.
Awkward pause. Damn it. I’m curious enough to ask.
“Okay. What are you looking at?”
“Well, I’m looking out the window, silly.”
My eyes widen at the nonchalance in her answer. I smile, though I’m not sure if I find this funny or psychotic. “Uh, what window?”
“Exactly!” Vala shouts at me, finally breaking her gaze and grabbing my shoulders. My normal defenses to push her away don’t work. Instead, I’m just taken aback by her outburst. She rants, “Samantha, I am so bored. It’s bad enough I have to be stuck down here with nothing fun to do, but no windows? Absolutely no access to the outside world? Everyone (including Muscles) has a place to escape to, but not Vala. Vala Mal Doran is stuck like a prisoner in her cell, the irony being I’m not actually shackled to a wall and being forced fed worm meal!”
“Worm meal?” I repeat somewhat queasily, certain I don’t want to know what part of her life consisted of being shackled to a wall and eating worm meal. Gently shrugging out of Vala’s grasp, I say sympathetically, “Vala, you’re not a prisoner and I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m guessing our last mission is taking a toll on you.”
“Taking a toll? Please,” Vala laughs. She shakes her head, those pigtails swinging from side to side. “I only thought my galaxy dominating daughter was left for dead, then come to find out she’s actually quite alive and well, destroying major Jaffa outposts and still on that mass killing of innocent millions kick! Nothing I can control, nothing I should worry my little head about.”
Yeah. She’s like a steamroller, isn’t she?
I sigh inwardly. “Vala, it’s okay. She’s your daughter and I understand if you feel. . .”
“Responsible?” Vala tries. The helplessness in her voice is mildly dismaying. When Vala Mal Doran loses all confidence in herself, loses that spunky quality that is inevitably her, the universe just feels slightly off kilter.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” I say, wincing visibly. “I was going to say ‘attached’. You feel this bond with her through obvious biological means and maybe she feels it too, but there’s this . . .”
“Emotional disconnect?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean,” I agree. I steal a glance at my watch. I had planned on heading home, curling up to sleep and just forgetting the day. I think my plans have changed. “Listen, Vala. Why don’t . . .“
“Yes, I’ll go with you!”
I look at her, moderately disturbed by her clairvoyance. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“You were going to invite me off the base, were you not?” Vala says expectantly.
“Well, yeah, I was going to suggest that maybe you’d like to look out a real window,” I say, my smile hinted with bewilderment at her perceptiveness. Or maybe I’m smiling because I know she just manipulated me into taking her off the base. Either way, we’re both leaving together and now I wrack my brain for ideas on how to entertain her. My little home isn’t exactly party central, not with the dust bunnies taking up residence nearly everywhere.
I press the button to request the elevator, talk just to fill time. “I know Daniel can’t really approve your authorization to roam about the surface till next week, but if you leave with me. . .”
“You’ll be responsible for me?” Vala says. Her expression drops, becomes almost solemn. “Are you sure you want to undergo such a task? Babysitting the mother of the Orici?”
The elevator arrives and we both step on. I place a hand on her forearm, grasp it gently. “Everyone deserves a chance to escape.”
After I manage to convince the guard that Vala is allowed to leave with me, I lead her to the locker room first. As I’m sorting out my personal belongings, Vala is lying out on the bench behind me. She’s babbling on, topics including: Seeing the surface of my planet again. Hopes that I don’t live in a wooded area like O’Neill’s cabin. (The mosquitos ruined her otherwise flawless skin.) She wants to play poker again, this time with real currency on the table. The babbling goes on and on and on. . .
“Vala!” I say, maybe too loudly. It shuts her up at least. Handing her a helmet, I grin proudly, “You’ll need this. Wear it on your head.”
Vala does as she is told, her pigtails poking out on either side. She lifts the visor, her eyes the only thing I see now. They shine, eager to learn what the contraption on her head is for. Anxious to see more of my home. Damn it, she’s adorable right now.
Cheerily, she asks, “Now what?” The visor, unexpectedly, falls shut again. Vala huffs. The cute is very overwhelming.
I decide it’s best I get this show on the road before I start thinking things that aren’t quite as innocent.
I grab her hand to lead her toward the garage while she messes with the visor on the helmet. We reach the garage and I point toward my motorcycle. “Now this. That’s what I usually drive to work.”
Vala pushes the visor up on her helmet again, reveals uncertain eyes this time. She says meekly, “We’ll both fit on that thing?”
“Yep,” I reply, now adjusting my own helmet.
“It only has two wheels, you know.”
“I know.”
She seems to quiver in fear. Her unease is somewhat amusing considering this is the same woman who flew an Al’kesh into a developing singularity, ruptured the connection and nearly got herself killed.
I remove my leather jacket, hand it over to her. I promise, “You’ll need that too. It’ll get cold.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve survived through worse,” I shrug it off. I hop on the bike and encourage, “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
Vala climbs on behind me and I instruct her to wrap her arms around my waist. I stress the importance of holding on, leaning against my back for full support. When she mimics the actions I describe, I try to ignore the tingles of warmth going up my spine.
I describe what taking corners will be like, how fast we’ll be going, etc. I implore heavily that we’ll be okay, but I feel my reassurances are falling on deaf ears.
“You have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” I say seriously.
“Sure,” Vala replies casually.
“I mean it, Vala. You’re a first time passenger and it’s totally up to you if you want to slow down or stop,” I reiterate. “I want this to be fun, you know? I don’t want to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” Vala insists, although her tone is rather weak, uncertain.
“Ready?” I ask. I feel Vala slip her arms around me, her chin rests on my shoulder as she presses herself against my back. I assume her death grip around my waist means ‘yes, let’s go’.
The bike roars to life and Vala tenses. With one of the smoothest take-offs I can muster, we leave Stargate Command behind.
I decide to avoid the highway. Too many cars. The more scenic route, however, proves to be too short. By the time we reach my home, Vala is laughing and begging that we ride around the bend one last time. It’s actually rare to hear a first time passenger enjoy a motorcycle ride this much, so I’m glad I was able to share this with Vala. To share a thrill that not many people understand nor get to experience. Sure beats the time I offered to take Daniel home. He threw up on his front porch.
“Please, Sam. Once more,” she pleads again. I almost cave to those long, batting eye lashes.
I try a compromise. “It’s getting late, but we’ll be riding the bike back to work in the morning, okay?”
Her grin at the prospect is absolutely cherubic.
“Housing is quite lavish on your planet,” Vala comments. To say I’m amused by her remark is an understatement. I consider my home modest at best, but once I consider the hundreds of planets I’ve visited in the last ten years, I understand her awe. Most of the societies we meet are pre-Industrial revolution, their housing constructed from unmodified raw materials and constantly needing maintenance.
“What was your home like?” I can’t help but ask.
“Cold in winter, hot in summer,” she describes, her tone surprisingly wistful. “The floors were dirt and the ceilings leaked. It had it’s imperfections, but it was shelter.”
“Well, don’t be fooled by the paint,” I smile. “My home only looks grand. My roof needs repair, the basement collects water when it rains and the heater likes to go on the fritz in the winter.”
“Well, let’s be honest, Sam,” Vala says, winking at me. “The bedroom is the true domain of any home. A nice comfortable bed and a warm body to cuddle with is all anyone really needs.”
I half-smile and inform her, “I do have a guest bed.”
Vala continues to grin. “How unfortunate.”
“Yeah,” I say uneasily, gesturing toward the couch. “You sit. I’ll be right back.”
She consents, sits down and begins examining the room with her eyes. I can almost hear her calculating what she believes to be the true value of my belongings and what she might get for them out there in the ‘space black market’. I try to remind myself that I trusted her enough to bring her here, I can trust she won’t touch my things. Maybe.
I retreat to my bedroom, quickly throw off my black t-shirt and don a more comfortable tee. I decide that maybe we can share a tub of ice cream, talk more about the last mission. An attempt at some spiritual healing, a bit of therapy for the soul. The kind of stuff that I know I’m no good at.
It all seems like a great plan in my head, but I soon discover it won’t be necessary. When I return to my family room, Vala is lying on my couch, wrapped in my leather jacket and fast asleep.
“Vala?” I try. I know she’s dead to the world.
I find a blanket in the closet, lay that over her lower half. I cut off the lamps, light a few candles to dim the room.
I take a seat in a nearby armchair, curl my legs under me. Vala’s restful state is an amusing mix of childlike peace and well-worn adversity, candlelight accentuating every nuance of her face. Highlights on cheekbones, tiny flecks on eyelashes. It’s as if her mind is flipping from memory to memory, flash to flash of all that she’s seen, the people she has met, the things she was forced to become. Her exuberant youth wanes, the longer I sit and watch.
I’m captivated by her sleeping form.
I shove myself into the corner of my armchair, my back protesting immediately to the awkward position, but I ignore it. I’ll suffer a little physical pain, if only to make sure Vala can wake up from whatever nightmare she might have and know she’s not alone. After a day like today, I know sleep will be restless, intermittent at best.
She seems alright, though. Still, calm. When I hear her snore softly, the sound makes me smile and that’s when I know I’m in trouble.
“Damn it, Sam,” I mutter into the back of the chair, force my eyes shut to keep from gawking at her.
Vala was right. She said I would like her. I thought she would pull some crazy stunt in an attempt to win my affection over, but she merely behaved as she normally would. No extra bells and whistles, no forced intimacy beyond what she normally imposes on any one of us. She was just being herself and damn it, I can’t see her any other way.
I like her and I think she’s known it all along.
Previous chapters:
( 6. 200: Believe )
( 5. Uninvited: Cuddle )
( 4. Insiders: Battle Makes The Heart Grow Fonder )
( 3. The Pegasus Project: Sleepover )
( 2. Morpheus: Lunch and Loot )
( 1. Flesh and Blood: Trust is a Two Way Street )