SG-1 ficlets [ (Sam and Bra'tac), (Sara and Sam (and others)) ]
In celebration of gen fic day, two more ficlets for my 20 characters prompts.
splash_the_cat prompted: Sam and Bra'tac. Stumbling.
Journey of a Thousand Years (G) [621 words]
Sam leans back against the rough bark of the tree and closes her eyes before turning her face to the sun. She's come to love Atlantis, but she misses this - dirt and grass beneath her and fresh air without the tangy salt-smell.
Somewhere to her left she can hear Do'mak - Teal'c's grandson - babbling happily while banging the multi-colored wooden blocks Sam had just barely managed to run out and buy after returning to Earth before turning back around and accompanying Teal'c here. This visit with Rya'c and Kar'yn, who is expected to give birth to their second child any day now, far from the pressures of her job, has been exactly what Sam needed. And she doesn't think anyone will blow up Atlantis while she's gone.
There are footsteps behind her and at the crack of a twig Sam looks up to see Bra'tac smiling down at her. "I remember a time it was not so easy to sneak up on you," he chides, levering himself to sit at her side. "Atlantis has made you soft."
"Only because you make so much noise I knew it was you," Sam jokes, smiling back at him. "You must be getting old."
"I have seen many years," Bra'tac admits. "But not so many that I have nothing left to teach the young."
"How is the Jaffa nation? Teal'c sends me updates, but I think he leaves a lot out."
Bra'tac holds a hand out to Do'mak who squeals and tries to reach him without letting go of the log he used to pull himself up. He finally takes three, stumbling steps before falling to the dirt. Bra'tac watches patiently as he attempts to right himself, then decides to crawl the rest of the way, squealing in laughter when Bra'tac reaches out to swing him high into the air. "Teal'c is too impatient sometimes. He sees all we can be, all he wants us to be, but he misses how far we've come."
"I've never heard anyone call Teal'c impatient." Sam pulls three blades of grass and begins braiding them together.
"The Jaffa have known only enslavement for so long. They cannot build a nation in a day," Brat'ac explains, bouncing Do'mak on his knee. "Just as we cannot give this little one a staff weapon and expect him to win battle, so can we not give Jaffa freedom and expect them to unite. What Teal'c wishes would be like taking a child who is still in his first, stumbling steps and expecting him to lead armies."
Sam nods then reaches out to take Do'mak, holding his hands to balance him for a few tentative steps. "Do you think it's possible?"
"When I was his age every Jaffa was enslaved to the false gods," Bra'tac tells her solemnly. "Now this child will grow up having never known the life thousands of Jaffa died to protect him from. He will be able to choose one day whether to be a warrior, or instead an artist or a trader or a scholar. He will never bow before a false god nor do his bidding."
A butterfly - or this planet's equivalent - flutters across, landing briefly on Sam's hand before taking off and Do'mak chases after, forgetting he can't yet quite walk and managing to totter forward, arms outstretched.
"After all I have seen," Bra'tac says finally, and Sam can hear the pride in his voice, "I believe anything to be possible." He rises, straightening his back, and reaches a hand down to help Sam up. His skin is callused and worn with age, but there is still strength in his grip. "Come, let us see if there are any possibilities for lunch."
dknightshade prompted: Sara O'Neill and Sam Carter. Um, the first thing that came to mind is 'hope' the second thing that came to mind is the title '14 black paintings' (Peter Gabriel song).
A Still, Small Voice (Sara and Sam and Cam and Daniel and Teal'c) (PG) [1436 words] (and thanks to aurora_novarum for taking a look at this)
Spring had come late this year, frost hanging on to the bitter end, so Sara was determined to use this first, finally warm day to get her flower beds in order. She was out back wrestling with a particularly stubborn thistle that had taken root when a shadow blocked her light. Enough years had passed since the divorce that she no longer felt a moment of fear with every ring of the phone, so she wasn't expecting to turn around and see a woman in an Air Force dress uniform wringing her hands in front of her.
"Oh," she said, rising and wiping her hands on her jeans, ignoring the smears of dirt left in their wake and the trowel at her feet.
"Ms. O'Neill?" the woman asked. "There wasn't an answer at the door, but I thought I saw you back here."
"Yes, yes, sorry." Not that she had anything to apologize for. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see a man, also in dress blues, standing at the edge of the yard. When she met his eyes he nodded his head in that military way that told her everything and nothing.
The woman's face twisted a moment in...sorrow...uncertainty...something Sara didn't want to see. Sara quickly glanced at the uniform - colonel's birds, an impressive number of medals for someone so young, and a nameplate saying "Carter" and that was a name she remembered from the few short, cramped letters Jack had sent her over the years. "Why don't you come inside? Both of you," Sara said quickly, putting off whatever the woman had to say that she didn't want to hear yet. "I just made some iced tea."
"Thank you, ma'am." The woman flashed the briefest of uncertain smiles and beckoned to the other officer before following Sara into the house, watching as she poured three glasses of tea. She waited for Sara to sit at the kitchen table Jack had built for their second anniversary before sitting across from her. The man - his badge said Mitchell, which wasn't a name Sara recognized - took his glass but stayed standing, hip pressed against the counter. "I have..." the woman began, but any further words seem to catch in her throat.
Sara watched her voice catch on the words, a finger tracing along the loops and whorls in the grain of the table. She reached out to take the woman's hand, still the restless fingers. "It's Jack. Something's happened." Lord knows she'd expected this enough during her marriage, had enough phone calls telling her Jack wouldn't be home when expected, without telling her why or how much she should worry. The hardest part had been explaining to Charlie why daddy wouldn't make his baseball games, when she didn't have the answer herself. Or when he finally came home, tracing the new scars in his skin and not being allowed to ask how they came to be.
The woman nodded. "We think..." her voice cracked for a second, before she looked up and straightened her shoulders, as though remembering the uniform she was wearing. "The Air Force has declared him killed in action. We're holding a memorial service Friday and he still had you listed as someone to be notified..." Her voice trailed off and she finally took a sip from the glass in front of her.
"You don't believe it." Sara finally said into the silence, watching the woman's face carefully.
"Excuse me?" The woman looked up, uncertainty in her eyes.
"You don't believe he's really dead," Sara repeated. "I assume you can't tell me why."
"Sorry, ma'am, but it's classified." The man spoke up quickly, Southern accent softening his words, as though afraid if he didn't the woman would let something slip. The eyes in front of Sara only looked sorry and sad.
Sara smiled. "I understand. When I married Jack, I accepted the uncertainty that came with him. Is there anything you can tell me?" She almost kicked herself for asking, but she'd gotten good at weaving facts from the offered half-truths.
Sara listened to what they told her and read everything she could between the official words and vague stories they were allowed to give, before showing them to the door. Back in the kitchen she washed the glasses and watched them get into a black SUV, the man's hand lingering on the woman's back just a second longer than needed to help her in. Only after it had driven out of sight did she look down and notice how white her knuckles were from gripping the edge of the sink.
*****
Three days later Sara got out of a matching SUV, thanking the driver the Air Force had sent her, and walked over young grass to a crowd of people circling under a clump of trees sparsely covered in leaves. She stood to the side, near a pond she was sure Jack would appreciate, and listened to the various speeches people gave about a Jack she'd never known, but who reminded her a little of the Jack she'd married, before it all went wrong.
Afterward there was wine (Jack would have been upset by the lack of beer) and food and people she didn't know clustered together. She circled the crowd, occasionally finding faces that looked possibly familiar, and wondered if she even belonged among the remnants of this life he'd carved out without her. She was staring at the table of food, debating another small plate of cheese and crackers, when she heard a vaguely familiar voice comment on the lack of beer.
Turning she saw the female officer from earlier next to a man wearing glasses who seemed older than his years and a large black man wearing a bowler Sara never would have expected anyone to be able to pull off. They were standing as though one unit, and the mass of people swirled around them like a river over rocks. To one side, connected yet not, was the other officer and a black-haired woman who had something about her that made Sara want to keep a careful eye on her.
Before she could hesitate, Sara walked over to greet them. The woman's - Colonel Carter - eyes flicked away for just a second before she greeted her with a smile. "Ms. O'Neill. I'm glad you could make it."
"Please, call me Sara."
"Call me Sam," the woman told her. "Oh, this is Daniel Jackson and Teal'c," she said, indicating her companions. "We..."
"We worked with Jack for a long time," Daniel said, reaching forward to shake her hand.
"You were the team he spoke of?" Sara asked quietly. "The ones who came, all those years ago, when Charlie..."
"Yes," Daniel said quietly. Even after the divorce papers were signed, a small part of Sara had hoped Jack would come back to her, knowing she couldn't turn him away. It was after that strange incident with whatever it was that wasn't Jack and wasn't Charlie, when Jack promised to talk to her and never did, that she knew she'd lost him for good.
"I want to thank you then," Sara told them, watching Teal'c raise an eyebrow. "You did something for him I couldn't do. You gave him a reason to keep going." And she must be getting old, because somehow it didn't hurt to admit that.
"I want you to know...I don't think he ever really stopped thinking about you," Sam said.
Sara laughed, startling them all. "Oh, Jack and I never had a problem with loving each other. We just couldn't be what each other needed anymore. It was...too hard. But I'm glad, when I couldn't be there, he had you." And one of these days she'd stop the small part of her that wanted to hate him for what he couldn't be for her. "But, I should get going. I don't really belong here - these people aren't remembering the man I married." She'd already mourned him once.
She turned to go, because she was going to cry before the day was over and she didn't want it to be here, but a hand tapped her shoulder.
She turned to find herself looking into Teal'c's eyes. "We will bring him back," he said with complete certainty.
"I thought..." Sara swept an arm back to indicate the crowd of people now behind her. "This is a memorial service." It was so easy to fall into the old habit - the good soldier's wife, keeping up the pretense.
"It is," Daniel told her quietly. "But, let's just say we've known stranger things to happen."
Previous ficlets for this meme:
For I Have Seen The Storm (SG1, G) (Sha're, Jacob Carter/Selmak) (for rydra_wong)
The Promises We Keep (SG1, G) (Sha're, Teal'c) (for sg_fignweton)
Tartan (SG1, PG) (Teal'c, Jonas Quinn) (for beanpot)
Weep Not For The Past (SG1, PG) (Bra'tac, Daniel) (for _minxy_)
There Are No Maps (SGA, G) (Sam, Teyla) (for stargazercmc)
Substance Clad in Shadow (SG1, PG) (Sha'uri, Jack, Daniel) (for katie_m)
splash_the_cat prompted: Sam and Bra'tac. Stumbling.
Journey of a Thousand Years (G) [621 words]
Sam leans back against the rough bark of the tree and closes her eyes before turning her face to the sun. She's come to love Atlantis, but she misses this - dirt and grass beneath her and fresh air without the tangy salt-smell.
Somewhere to her left she can hear Do'mak - Teal'c's grandson - babbling happily while banging the multi-colored wooden blocks Sam had just barely managed to run out and buy after returning to Earth before turning back around and accompanying Teal'c here. This visit with Rya'c and Kar'yn, who is expected to give birth to their second child any day now, far from the pressures of her job, has been exactly what Sam needed. And she doesn't think anyone will blow up Atlantis while she's gone.
There are footsteps behind her and at the crack of a twig Sam looks up to see Bra'tac smiling down at her. "I remember a time it was not so easy to sneak up on you," he chides, levering himself to sit at her side. "Atlantis has made you soft."
"Only because you make so much noise I knew it was you," Sam jokes, smiling back at him. "You must be getting old."
"I have seen many years," Bra'tac admits. "But not so many that I have nothing left to teach the young."
"How is the Jaffa nation? Teal'c sends me updates, but I think he leaves a lot out."
Bra'tac holds a hand out to Do'mak who squeals and tries to reach him without letting go of the log he used to pull himself up. He finally takes three, stumbling steps before falling to the dirt. Bra'tac watches patiently as he attempts to right himself, then decides to crawl the rest of the way, squealing in laughter when Bra'tac reaches out to swing him high into the air. "Teal'c is too impatient sometimes. He sees all we can be, all he wants us to be, but he misses how far we've come."
"I've never heard anyone call Teal'c impatient." Sam pulls three blades of grass and begins braiding them together.
"The Jaffa have known only enslavement for so long. They cannot build a nation in a day," Brat'ac explains, bouncing Do'mak on his knee. "Just as we cannot give this little one a staff weapon and expect him to win battle, so can we not give Jaffa freedom and expect them to unite. What Teal'c wishes would be like taking a child who is still in his first, stumbling steps and expecting him to lead armies."
Sam nods then reaches out to take Do'mak, holding his hands to balance him for a few tentative steps. "Do you think it's possible?"
"When I was his age every Jaffa was enslaved to the false gods," Bra'tac tells her solemnly. "Now this child will grow up having never known the life thousands of Jaffa died to protect him from. He will be able to choose one day whether to be a warrior, or instead an artist or a trader or a scholar. He will never bow before a false god nor do his bidding."
A butterfly - or this planet's equivalent - flutters across, landing briefly on Sam's hand before taking off and Do'mak chases after, forgetting he can't yet quite walk and managing to totter forward, arms outstretched.
"After all I have seen," Bra'tac says finally, and Sam can hear the pride in his voice, "I believe anything to be possible." He rises, straightening his back, and reaches a hand down to help Sam up. His skin is callused and worn with age, but there is still strength in his grip. "Come, let us see if there are any possibilities for lunch."
dknightshade prompted: Sara O'Neill and Sam Carter. Um, the first thing that came to mind is 'hope' the second thing that came to mind is the title '14 black paintings' (Peter Gabriel song).
A Still, Small Voice (Sara and Sam and Cam and Daniel and Teal'c) (PG) [1436 words] (and thanks to aurora_novarum for taking a look at this)
Spring had come late this year, frost hanging on to the bitter end, so Sara was determined to use this first, finally warm day to get her flower beds in order. She was out back wrestling with a particularly stubborn thistle that had taken root when a shadow blocked her light. Enough years had passed since the divorce that she no longer felt a moment of fear with every ring of the phone, so she wasn't expecting to turn around and see a woman in an Air Force dress uniform wringing her hands in front of her.
"Oh," she said, rising and wiping her hands on her jeans, ignoring the smears of dirt left in their wake and the trowel at her feet.
"Ms. O'Neill?" the woman asked. "There wasn't an answer at the door, but I thought I saw you back here."
"Yes, yes, sorry." Not that she had anything to apologize for. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see a man, also in dress blues, standing at the edge of the yard. When she met his eyes he nodded his head in that military way that told her everything and nothing.
The woman's face twisted a moment in...sorrow...uncertainty...something Sara didn't want to see. Sara quickly glanced at the uniform - colonel's birds, an impressive number of medals for someone so young, and a nameplate saying "Carter" and that was a name she remembered from the few short, cramped letters Jack had sent her over the years. "Why don't you come inside? Both of you," Sara said quickly, putting off whatever the woman had to say that she didn't want to hear yet. "I just made some iced tea."
"Thank you, ma'am." The woman flashed the briefest of uncertain smiles and beckoned to the other officer before following Sara into the house, watching as she poured three glasses of tea. She waited for Sara to sit at the kitchen table Jack had built for their second anniversary before sitting across from her. The man - his badge said Mitchell, which wasn't a name Sara recognized - took his glass but stayed standing, hip pressed against the counter. "I have..." the woman began, but any further words seem to catch in her throat.
Sara watched her voice catch on the words, a finger tracing along the loops and whorls in the grain of the table. She reached out to take the woman's hand, still the restless fingers. "It's Jack. Something's happened." Lord knows she'd expected this enough during her marriage, had enough phone calls telling her Jack wouldn't be home when expected, without telling her why or how much she should worry. The hardest part had been explaining to Charlie why daddy wouldn't make his baseball games, when she didn't have the answer herself. Or when he finally came home, tracing the new scars in his skin and not being allowed to ask how they came to be.
The woman nodded. "We think..." her voice cracked for a second, before she looked up and straightened her shoulders, as though remembering the uniform she was wearing. "The Air Force has declared him killed in action. We're holding a memorial service Friday and he still had you listed as someone to be notified..." Her voice trailed off and she finally took a sip from the glass in front of her.
"You don't believe it." Sara finally said into the silence, watching the woman's face carefully.
"Excuse me?" The woman looked up, uncertainty in her eyes.
"You don't believe he's really dead," Sara repeated. "I assume you can't tell me why."
"Sorry, ma'am, but it's classified." The man spoke up quickly, Southern accent softening his words, as though afraid if he didn't the woman would let something slip. The eyes in front of Sara only looked sorry and sad.
Sara smiled. "I understand. When I married Jack, I accepted the uncertainty that came with him. Is there anything you can tell me?" She almost kicked herself for asking, but she'd gotten good at weaving facts from the offered half-truths.
Sara listened to what they told her and read everything she could between the official words and vague stories they were allowed to give, before showing them to the door. Back in the kitchen she washed the glasses and watched them get into a black SUV, the man's hand lingering on the woman's back just a second longer than needed to help her in. Only after it had driven out of sight did she look down and notice how white her knuckles were from gripping the edge of the sink.
*****
Three days later Sara got out of a matching SUV, thanking the driver the Air Force had sent her, and walked over young grass to a crowd of people circling under a clump of trees sparsely covered in leaves. She stood to the side, near a pond she was sure Jack would appreciate, and listened to the various speeches people gave about a Jack she'd never known, but who reminded her a little of the Jack she'd married, before it all went wrong.
Afterward there was wine (Jack would have been upset by the lack of beer) and food and people she didn't know clustered together. She circled the crowd, occasionally finding faces that looked possibly familiar, and wondered if she even belonged among the remnants of this life he'd carved out without her. She was staring at the table of food, debating another small plate of cheese and crackers, when she heard a vaguely familiar voice comment on the lack of beer.
Turning she saw the female officer from earlier next to a man wearing glasses who seemed older than his years and a large black man wearing a bowler Sara never would have expected anyone to be able to pull off. They were standing as though one unit, and the mass of people swirled around them like a river over rocks. To one side, connected yet not, was the other officer and a black-haired woman who had something about her that made Sara want to keep a careful eye on her.
Before she could hesitate, Sara walked over to greet them. The woman's - Colonel Carter - eyes flicked away for just a second before she greeted her with a smile. "Ms. O'Neill. I'm glad you could make it."
"Please, call me Sara."
"Call me Sam," the woman told her. "Oh, this is Daniel Jackson and Teal'c," she said, indicating her companions. "We..."
"We worked with Jack for a long time," Daniel said, reaching forward to shake her hand.
"You were the team he spoke of?" Sara asked quietly. "The ones who came, all those years ago, when Charlie..."
"Yes," Daniel said quietly. Even after the divorce papers were signed, a small part of Sara had hoped Jack would come back to her, knowing she couldn't turn him away. It was after that strange incident with whatever it was that wasn't Jack and wasn't Charlie, when Jack promised to talk to her and never did, that she knew she'd lost him for good.
"I want to thank you then," Sara told them, watching Teal'c raise an eyebrow. "You did something for him I couldn't do. You gave him a reason to keep going." And she must be getting old, because somehow it didn't hurt to admit that.
"I want you to know...I don't think he ever really stopped thinking about you," Sam said.
Sara laughed, startling them all. "Oh, Jack and I never had a problem with loving each other. We just couldn't be what each other needed anymore. It was...too hard. But I'm glad, when I couldn't be there, he had you." And one of these days she'd stop the small part of her that wanted to hate him for what he couldn't be for her. "But, I should get going. I don't really belong here - these people aren't remembering the man I married." She'd already mourned him once.
She turned to go, because she was going to cry before the day was over and she didn't want it to be here, but a hand tapped her shoulder.
She turned to find herself looking into Teal'c's eyes. "We will bring him back," he said with complete certainty.
"I thought..." Sara swept an arm back to indicate the crowd of people now behind her. "This is a memorial service." It was so easy to fall into the old habit - the good soldier's wife, keeping up the pretense.
"It is," Daniel told her quietly. "But, let's just say we've known stranger things to happen."
Previous ficlets for this meme:
For I Have Seen The Storm (SG1, G) (Sha're, Jacob Carter/Selmak) (for rydra_wong)
The Promises We Keep (SG1, G) (Sha're, Teal'c) (for sg_fignweton)
Tartan (SG1, PG) (Teal'c, Jonas Quinn) (for beanpot)
Weep Not For The Past (SG1, PG) (Bra'tac, Daniel) (for _minxy_)
There Are No Maps (SGA, G) (Sam, Teyla) (for stargazercmc)
Substance Clad in Shadow (SG1, PG) (Sha'uri, Jack, Daniel) (for katie_m)