It's the Little Things, by Julie Fortune (PG-13/R)
Rec Category: Samantha Carter
Pairing: none
Categories: Samantha Carter, Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, Jack and Janet friendship, team, gen, friendship, drama, angst, character study
Warnings: extreme violence; Jack and Daniel whumping, extreme Sam whumping
Author on LJ: juliefortune
Author's Website: Fanfic for the Fearless
Link: It's the Little Things, parts One and Two
Why This Must Be Read: Yet another amazing Julie Fortune fic that will blow the reader away, It's the Little Things is a story of courage, and recovery, and self-determination, and fierce loyalty, and friendship, and…
Well, lots of things, really.
The story opens somewhere towards the end, when Sam returns from what has apparently been extended leave to greet the current SG-1 on their return though the Stargate. Julie proceeds to use an excellent frame to tell the backstory, as Janet and Jack retreat to a bar so he can tell her, off the record, exactly what happened to bring Sam nearly to the point of death three months before.
From there, the story flashes back and forth between the frame of the bar (Janet's insight into Jack's "dialling home" will awe you) and the horror of the events on PX9-332, complete with violent natives, Goa'uld trickery, and near-fatal sacrifices - and yet that horror is tempered with the astonishing courage and teamy goodness that keep the three members of SG-1 (no Teal'c there, sad to say) struggling to survive in the face of nearly impossible odds.
The fic concludes with a good look at the inside of Sam's head: her stubborn determination to be at 110%, her fear of failure and isolation, her anxiety about fitting in all over again. And at last, a confrontation between Sam and Jack, where the colonel has to prove to the captain that she's truly ready to go through the Gate once again... and that she already knew.
Like any trip through the Gate with Julie, It's the Little Things is truly a keeper.
Something hit close, too close, an explosion that rippled the ground under her, slammed into her like a speeding car and rolled her over. Dirt and blood rained down.
The high, metallic screaming of Death Gliders. Their hawklike shadows drifted over the sand, coming back for another pass. She got her weight on her elbows and crawled through the smoke and chaos, heading back toward the silent promise of the Stargate.
Someone shot at her, missed. She kept crawling. “Colonel!” she yelled, or tried to. What came out was more like a whimper, a plea. “Jack ...”
The sand felt warm against her bloody face, soft as a pillow. She felt so deathly cold, and couldn’t remember when she’d stopped moving, or what she’d been moving toward in the first place.
She took a deep, gasping breath and kept crawling. Bodies in the way, blood shining like rubies in the sun. The thick, fetid smell of dying men.
She kept mindlessly crawling, through the smoke, toward the looming circle of the only way out.
“Carter!”
Arms around her, holding her close. She rolled over, coughed blood, and saw that it wasn’t Mauler Muller this time it was ... it was ...
“Sir,” she whispered, and blinked Colonel O’Neill into focus. “Sorry.”
He didn’t say anything, after her name. He just held her and scooted them back into the shadow of the steps, out of immediate danger, as Death Gliders roared by overhead and rained fire. Someone else there now, huddled with them. Daniel. You guys look terrible, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t get her breath, couldn’t stop the hot bubble of panic welling up in her chest. We’re all going to die here.
O’Neill held her. Daniel wrapped his arms around them both as gunfire raked the stone over their heads, as energy blasts melted the sand into glass two feet away.
We’re all going to die.
She felt Daniel go limp against her, but didn’t hear any shots, any energy blasts nearby.
Then the colonel slid away from her. She fell with him, gasping against the pain.
And then it was quiet.
A bird’s shadow ghosted overhead. Sunlight glittered on brass and turquoise.
A grimy female hand reached down to smooth hair away from Sam’s cheek, and she felt an overwhelming sense of peace, of silence, of safety.
“Brave,” a voice whispered. “Sleep now.”
She did.