Stargate SG-1: When We Dream 4/?
Title: Don't Give Up
Author: Lhinneill
Summary: His voice was clearer this time. So clear, in fact, that he could have been standing right next to her.
Rating: PG
Length: About 1200 words.
Category: Angst/Romance/General
Pairing: Team friendship, Sam/Jack
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Spoilers: Set sometime in season 10 before The Quest, but there aren’t any real spoilers.
Author's Note: OMG, so, SO sorry it's taken me so long to finish this! You all have permission to zat me. This was the hardest chapter to write, mostly because I ran into a serious wall right after the first scene. I owe a TON of thanks (and chocolate) to so_out_of_ideas for helping me get this finished. Written for fic101, prompt #8, beach.
Got Pants? | Chapter 1/? | Chapter 2/? | Chapter 3/?
Don’t Give Up
Nothing had changed since the last time they’d been on the planet; old science equipment and stray papers still littered the floor, long forgotten by the people who’d created them. Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust that rose in a cloud around their boots as the two SG teams moved through the room. Daniel stifled a sneeze and bent to pick up one of the journals. He had been translating one similar when they’d heard the explosion.
Captain Jennifer Hailey stepped up beside him, peering at the scribbled text covering the pages. He hadn’t expected the young Captain that morning when SG-7 arrived in the ‘Gateroom. Last time he’d seen her, she was still a Lieutenant.
“What’s it say?” she asked curiously.
He pointed to a line of text, sliding his finger along beneath it as he explained, “She was working on a cure to...” his brows furrowed as he found an unfamiliar word. “I’m not sure. Something big.” He closed the book gently, laying it on a nearby desktop as he looked around the room. “She was proud to be here.”
Hailey nodded slowly, then smiled. “Cool.”
“Yep,” Daniel smiled back.
Mitchell strolled over, both hands comfortably perched on the stock of his P90. “What exactly are we looking for here, Jackson?”
“Um,” the archaeologist frowned. “Anything that might help us figure out what happened; what that device was supposed to do.”
“Great,” Mitchell sighed, rolling his head to look at SG-7’s team leader. “Harris. You take your team and check out the labs down that corridor,” he pointed to a doorway. “Sam said something about some lab notes she found back there. Think your guy can translate this stuff?”
Harris glanced at the linguist of his team, eyebrows rising.
Paul Collins, a young towhead with pimples and a nervous laugh, nodded briskly. “Yes, sir. It looks a lot like Greek, and I...” At the annoyed glare of his CO, he trailed off. Hiding his embarrassment with a cough, he answered, “Yeah, I can read it.”
“Good,” Mitchell said and turned back to Daniel. “So, we talking technical manuals here?”
Daniel nodded. “Or journals.”
“Got it, Dr. Jackson,” Paul assured.
“All right,” Mitchell said. “We’ll take Hailey with us - just in case we need her help with the device. Radio in every fifteen minutes.”
Harris dipped his head. “Yes, sir.”
The two teams moved off, each going their separate ways. Vala hung back with Daniel as Hailey and Mitchell walked ahead. Daniel ignored her, glancing in various smaller lab rooms as they passed. He hadn’t had time to count the many rooms in the complex, but from what he had seen, there had to be hundreds. Whatever these people were studying, it was obviously paramount to their survival as a race. Daniel guessed that, considering the dilapidated condition of the facility, the scientists had failed.
“So, are you going to tell me or not?”
Surprised by the question, Daniel frowned. “What?”
Vala shrugged, flipping one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “I’m not blind, Daniel. Something is going on between them.” At his confused look, she let out a dramatic sigh. “General O’Neill and Sam? Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”
“See what, Vala?” he asked absently, peering inside another lab as they walked past it.
“Come on, Daniel. There’s obviously something between them.”
Daniel sighed and tugged his glasses off, then tiredly rubbed his eyes. “Vala... It’s--it’s a long story.”
“They’re in love, aren’t they?”
“In love?” Daniel gaped. “That’s--no, Vala. They’re friends.”
“Daniel,” she sighed. “Don’t you see the way he looks at her?” Vala questioned seriously, her eyes searching his face.
He looked away, then shook his head. “Even if they are in... Even if they are, Vala, nothing could happen.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story,” he murmured.
Vala looked ready to ask more questions, but Mitchell interrupted. “Hey, you two coming?” he called.
Daniel nodded briskly, slipping his glasses on and pushing past Vala. “Yeah, Mitchell. On our way.”
---
Jack sat at his former 2IC’s bedside, the fingers of his right hand drumming out an endless rhythm on the armrest of the chair. Every few minutes, one of the nurses wandered by to check on Carter. Aside from that, no one intruded on his brooding.
Sighing, he reached for the now crumpled letter he’d brought with him from D.C. It was a letter of resignation, addressed to the president. He had started it a long time before, though it had stayed buried until just recently. And in all honesty, it had nothing to do with the current state of his former 2IC. She might play some part in his decision, but he had, so far, avoided thinking about that. If he resigned now, it would be because he wanted to. He’d already tried to retire more than once. After his years of service, he deserved a healthy pension and an uninterrupted fishing trip.
Fortunately for the fish, that had never worked out.
At the beginning, it was the threat of Goa’uld invasion that kept him wearing his uniform. Now the snakes were out of the picture, but an even bigger threat had risen to take their place. How could he retire if his planet still needed him?
His gaze moved to Carter’s still form. His expression softened and he leaned forward. No, Earth didn’t need him anymore. He was worn out, expendable. Most of his time these days was spent at a desk. Earth could live without him. They needed her, though. Carter’s mind was always worth more than his. Way more.
“Come on, Carter,” he whispered. If only he could somehow trade with her. The world wouldn’t miss Jack O’Neill if he decided to go Sleeping Beauty on them. They would, however, miss Carter. Brushing his fingertips across her brow, he leaned closer. “Don’t give up.”
---
Sam took a long, slow breath of the clean air. She closed her eyes, savoring the warm feel of the sun on her skin. The sound of waves meeting the sandy beach filled her ears while sea gulls cried overhead. She knew she was dreaming; reality could never be this tranquil. If she never woke again, she would be happy.
The thought had barely entered her mind when she heard his voice. “Come on, Carter,” he whispered gently.
She spun around at the sound, expecting to see him standing there. Nothing. She was still alone. Maybe this dream wasn’t so perfect after all. If it was, he would have been standing there when she turned.
But what could she expect? Jack O’Neill was gone. Yesterday at the memorial service, she’d thought she was finally ready to accept it.
“Don’t give up.”
His voice was clearer this time. So clear, in fact, that he could have been standing right next to her. “Sir?” she whispered, eyes searching the beach one more time. Still nothing. She felt him, though. Where are you?
---
He stroked her forehead absently, barely noticing as the nurse came back to check on her again. He did, however, notice the sudden flickering movement of his former 2IC’s eyes.
“Carter?” he pushed to his feet.
“Sir?” she mumbled, then went still.
Author: Lhinneill
Summary: His voice was clearer this time. So clear, in fact, that he could have been standing right next to her.
Rating: PG
Length: About 1200 words.
Category: Angst/Romance/General
Pairing: Team friendship, Sam/Jack
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Spoilers: Set sometime in season 10 before The Quest, but there aren’t any real spoilers.
Author's Note: OMG, so, SO sorry it's taken me so long to finish this! You all have permission to zat me. This was the hardest chapter to write, mostly because I ran into a serious wall right after the first scene. I owe a TON of thanks (and chocolate) to so_out_of_ideas for helping me get this finished. Written for fic101, prompt #8, beach.
Got Pants? | Chapter 1/? | Chapter 2/? | Chapter 3/?
Don’t Give Up
Nothing had changed since the last time they’d been on the planet; old science equipment and stray papers still littered the floor, long forgotten by the people who’d created them. Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust that rose in a cloud around their boots as the two SG teams moved through the room. Daniel stifled a sneeze and bent to pick up one of the journals. He had been translating one similar when they’d heard the explosion.
Captain Jennifer Hailey stepped up beside him, peering at the scribbled text covering the pages. He hadn’t expected the young Captain that morning when SG-7 arrived in the ‘Gateroom. Last time he’d seen her, she was still a Lieutenant.
“What’s it say?” she asked curiously.
He pointed to a line of text, sliding his finger along beneath it as he explained, “She was working on a cure to...” his brows furrowed as he found an unfamiliar word. “I’m not sure. Something big.” He closed the book gently, laying it on a nearby desktop as he looked around the room. “She was proud to be here.”
Hailey nodded slowly, then smiled. “Cool.”
“Yep,” Daniel smiled back.
Mitchell strolled over, both hands comfortably perched on the stock of his P90. “What exactly are we looking for here, Jackson?”
“Um,” the archaeologist frowned. “Anything that might help us figure out what happened; what that device was supposed to do.”
“Great,” Mitchell sighed, rolling his head to look at SG-7’s team leader. “Harris. You take your team and check out the labs down that corridor,” he pointed to a doorway. “Sam said something about some lab notes she found back there. Think your guy can translate this stuff?”
Harris glanced at the linguist of his team, eyebrows rising.
Paul Collins, a young towhead with pimples and a nervous laugh, nodded briskly. “Yes, sir. It looks a lot like Greek, and I...” At the annoyed glare of his CO, he trailed off. Hiding his embarrassment with a cough, he answered, “Yeah, I can read it.”
“Good,” Mitchell said and turned back to Daniel. “So, we talking technical manuals here?”
Daniel nodded. “Or journals.”
“Got it, Dr. Jackson,” Paul assured.
“All right,” Mitchell said. “We’ll take Hailey with us - just in case we need her help with the device. Radio in every fifteen minutes.”
Harris dipped his head. “Yes, sir.”
The two teams moved off, each going their separate ways. Vala hung back with Daniel as Hailey and Mitchell walked ahead. Daniel ignored her, glancing in various smaller lab rooms as they passed. He hadn’t had time to count the many rooms in the complex, but from what he had seen, there had to be hundreds. Whatever these people were studying, it was obviously paramount to their survival as a race. Daniel guessed that, considering the dilapidated condition of the facility, the scientists had failed.
“So, are you going to tell me or not?”
Surprised by the question, Daniel frowned. “What?”
Vala shrugged, flipping one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “I’m not blind, Daniel. Something is going on between them.” At his confused look, she let out a dramatic sigh. “General O’Neill and Sam? Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”
“See what, Vala?” he asked absently, peering inside another lab as they walked past it.
“Come on, Daniel. There’s obviously something between them.”
Daniel sighed and tugged his glasses off, then tiredly rubbed his eyes. “Vala... It’s--it’s a long story.”
“They’re in love, aren’t they?”
“In love?” Daniel gaped. “That’s--no, Vala. They’re friends.”
“Daniel,” she sighed. “Don’t you see the way he looks at her?” Vala questioned seriously, her eyes searching his face.
He looked away, then shook his head. “Even if they are in... Even if they are, Vala, nothing could happen.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story,” he murmured.
Vala looked ready to ask more questions, but Mitchell interrupted. “Hey, you two coming?” he called.
Daniel nodded briskly, slipping his glasses on and pushing past Vala. “Yeah, Mitchell. On our way.”
---
Jack sat at his former 2IC’s bedside, the fingers of his right hand drumming out an endless rhythm on the armrest of the chair. Every few minutes, one of the nurses wandered by to check on Carter. Aside from that, no one intruded on his brooding.
Sighing, he reached for the now crumpled letter he’d brought with him from D.C. It was a letter of resignation, addressed to the president. He had started it a long time before, though it had stayed buried until just recently. And in all honesty, it had nothing to do with the current state of his former 2IC. She might play some part in his decision, but he had, so far, avoided thinking about that. If he resigned now, it would be because he wanted to. He’d already tried to retire more than once. After his years of service, he deserved a healthy pension and an uninterrupted fishing trip.
Fortunately for the fish, that had never worked out.
At the beginning, it was the threat of Goa’uld invasion that kept him wearing his uniform. Now the snakes were out of the picture, but an even bigger threat had risen to take their place. How could he retire if his planet still needed him?
His gaze moved to Carter’s still form. His expression softened and he leaned forward. No, Earth didn’t need him anymore. He was worn out, expendable. Most of his time these days was spent at a desk. Earth could live without him. They needed her, though. Carter’s mind was always worth more than his. Way more.
“Come on, Carter,” he whispered. If only he could somehow trade with her. The world wouldn’t miss Jack O’Neill if he decided to go Sleeping Beauty on them. They would, however, miss Carter. Brushing his fingertips across her brow, he leaned closer. “Don’t give up.”
---
Sam took a long, slow breath of the clean air. She closed her eyes, savoring the warm feel of the sun on her skin. The sound of waves meeting the sandy beach filled her ears while sea gulls cried overhead. She knew she was dreaming; reality could never be this tranquil. If she never woke again, she would be happy.
The thought had barely entered her mind when she heard his voice. “Come on, Carter,” he whispered gently.
She spun around at the sound, expecting to see him standing there. Nothing. She was still alone. Maybe this dream wasn’t so perfect after all. If it was, he would have been standing there when she turned.
But what could she expect? Jack O’Neill was gone. Yesterday at the memorial service, she’d thought she was finally ready to accept it.
“Don’t give up.”
His voice was clearer this time. So clear, in fact, that he could have been standing right next to her. “Sir?” she whispered, eyes searching the beach one more time. Still nothing. She felt him, though. Where are you?
---
He stroked her forehead absently, barely noticing as the nurse came back to check on her again. He did, however, notice the sudden flickering movement of his former 2IC’s eyes.
“Carter?” he pushed to his feet.
“Sir?” she mumbled, then went still.