fic: Cold Comfort
Aug. 6th, 2006 05:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seldearMy present to my f-list. *g*
TITLE: Cold Comfort
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seldear
SUMMARY: She'd done it for her team-mates. In the end, the knowledge was still cold comfort.
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: This was written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femgenficathon prompt #108. People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone. --Audrey Hepburn.
It's not a happy, clappy, cheerful fic at all, but I'm hoping I balanced the story between Sam's situation and her feelings. True is not easy.
Cold Comfort
The teltak had arrived. Sam heard the faint whine of its engines over the soft noises of the Ventra evening.
She'd been waiting for full dark to cover her tracks and give her a bit of time to release her team-mates and get them away. But what breathing space she thought she'd have was gone.
Showtime.
As the clank of Jaffa footsteps died away, she eased herself along the ledge where she'd been plastered for the last ten minutes and slipped in the window, landing quietly on her feet and moving quickly in the direction from which the Jaffa had came.
The next patrol wouldn't be passing this way for another half-hour, at least.
She had time.
In the hours before the sun set, she'd spent her time moving from hiding place to hiding place, well aware that the Jaffa were searching for the 'missing' fourth member of the fabled SG-1. Somehow, Sam had managed to keep herself from discovery - no small thing when her senses tingled every time she was within six feet of a Jaffa.
She'd also managed to get a reasonably good idea of the Jaffa routines. Combined with the knowledge SG-1 had started out with, plus Teal'c's observations when they first arrived on this planet, Sam knew where she was and where she was headed.
It was what she might encounter on the way that worried her most.
The way to the cells was through a door at the back of the antechamber. There were other ways out of the cells, but they all led outside, and the Colonel had picked the inside route for a reason.
Sam saw no reason to change the plan - the guys had been caught by an unexpected patrol outside the complex, and claimed that they'd left Sam flying the teltak in orbit - a lie which the Jaffa refused to accept. Understandably so.
Two rooms and a corridor were passed through without trouble.
She was four steps into the empty antechamber when she saw the shadows move.
"Major Carter, I presume?"
She whirled at the light voice, husky with the weird modulation of the Goa'uld overtones. Her P-90 lifted without thought to chatter off a spate of bullets directly at the Goa'uld. The coruscating gold of a personal shield flared up and she reached for her knife on instinct.
She aimed for the torso, training dictating her throw.
The Goa'uld was somewhat shorter than expected. Younger, too.
Sam watched, slow horror uncurling in her breast as stainless steel gleamed in the candlelight, end over end, black hilt over bright blade, finding its rest in the eye socket of the host.
As he slumped to the ground, Sam felt revulsion slice through her gut. She'd killed Goa'uld and their hosts before, but this host was hardly more than a boy. Fourteen at most, with a youth's mobile expression and the blade buried in his eye, sunk all the way to the hilt.
No time for regret; Jaffa footsteps were already pounding through the corridors in response to the sound of her weapon. Sam's trigger instincts pulped the symbiote as it came barrelling out, seeking a new host, then she was past the bloody ruin of boy and symbiote, heading for the passage that led to the prison cells.
There was no-one to know of the uneasy breath she drew in as she slipped down the passageway, moving towards the door at the end.
It opened as she was halfway there, throwing torchlight across Jaffa skullcaps.
She didn't feel any guilt at gunning the Jaffa down, at least.
Four strides took her into the corridor, two of them over the bodies of the dead guards.
"Carter!" There would be no mistaking that voice, ever.
Sam headed for the cell in question, pressing the 'open' combination on the keypad. There were a limited number of combinations and, according to Teal'c, they were rarely varied. Once a prisoner was in a Goa'uld cell, it seemed it was rare for them to be able to break out.
In that, at least, she and her team-mates seemed to be giving the Goa'uld a run for their money.
All three were in the cell, awake and unhurt. "Took you long enough," said the Colonel, but not harshly.
Sam handed him her sidearm as Teal'c strode up the passageway to retrieve zats from the fallen Jaffa. "You're okay?" She meant all of them, of course, not just the Colonel, but her gaze rested on him a moment before it moved to Daniel who was just rolling his shoulder, loosening up stiff muscles.
"Peachy," the Colonel said as he followed after Teal'c. "Right, kids, playtime's over, let's get out of here."
Sam took the lead without asking permission - she had the P-90 - but the Colonel was never more than a step behind her. When the Jaffa appeared at the end of the corridor, she fired on them, still moving, and watched them fall. Behind, she could hear the Colonel yelling at her, something about being crazy and insane, but the passageway to the antechamber was the only way out of the prison cells and if they couldn't hold the end, the corridor would act like a funnel, channeling staff weapons fire along its length.
Sam burst out of the corridor, firing in a circle, the Jaffa went down like felled trees, and only one staff weapon bolt was shot off - and she saw that one coming before it hit.
"A little enthusiastic, don't you think, Carter?" said the Colonel, a little grumpily.
She crossed the room to the window, pushing back the drapes. "A teltak landed a few minutes ago. If we move fast we should be able to take it..." The silence behind caught her attention, and she turned.
The Colonel had stopped at the sight of the Goa'uld, his gun held slightly out from his body. Teal'c had given both man and dead boy a cursory glance before moving to take up position at the door, and Daniel was even now emerging from the corridor, holding his own zat.
Daniel winced - an instinctive expression, Sam was sure - then glanced from her to the Colonel. "Jack."
He lifted his head, but not to look at Daniel.
Sam willed herself not to flinch at the anger in that gaze. And tamped down on the sudden clutch of fear that gripped her. "Sir?"
It was nothing more than the faintest of grimaces. A twitch of his lips and a stiffening of his features, but even from this distance, she could see his tension, even as he said, "Nothing." But there was a flat, hard glitter in his eyes directed at her before he looked beyond her, out the window. "A teltak, you said?"
--
Resistance collapsed as they moved through the complex towards the landing site. Sam held lead position until her ammunition ran out and she had to change cartridges; then Teal'c took the lead while the Colonel and Daniel held off the resistance in the rear.
Whoever had been in the teltak wasn't there any more, and the two Jaffa who'd been guarding it were summarily dealt with.
Less than a minute later, they were airborne, Teal'c's piloting skills maneuvring them out of the way of the firing that followed them into the sky.
As Daniel began quizzing Teal'c on how long it would take before they got to the nearest planet with a Stargate, Sam forced herself to walk into the cargo bay where the Colonel was crouched down on the floor, going through the equipment left on the teltak.
She didn't know what she'd done, but she could sense his disapproval of it.
There were no proper channels through which to take her concerns. None that she'd use right now anyway. The memory of how close he'd come to an effective lobotomy in order to protect her and himself - 'them' was a forbidden word - still hung in the air between them.
In the room, but not forgotten.
Sam set her back against the wall and slid down until she was on the floor, then unclipped her P-90 and began checking the weapon over, pulling a cloth from one of her pockets to wipe down the gun as she took the necessary bits apart for cleaning. She didn't say anything to him, although she caught the glances he gave her.
"Sir?"
"Carter?" He knew what Sam was asking. She could hear it in his voice. He just wasn't willing to play.
Fine. "Nothing, sir."
The dark eyes narrowed, but after a moment, she saw him move to the next box of equipment.
Was it the fact that she'd killed the host? That had never been a sticking point with any of the Goa'uld they'd killed before. Even Daniel had forgiven Teal'c for Sha're's death in the end. Was it the fact that she'd killed a teenaged host? They'd never come across an adolescent host until now - most Goa'uld preferred their hosts mature. Either way, she would have killed the Goa'uld - he'd stood between her and her teammates.
The memory of the Goa'uld's astonished expression flashed before her eyes, and she winced.
"He was just a kid." Her ear barely picked out the gruff syllables, even in the quiet.
She'd known that. "He was a Goa'uld." Arguing was the wrong thing to do. Sam knew that even as the words left her lips. He was stubborn enough to dig in his heels on this matter, and so was she. There wasn't any 'right' answer - she'd done what she'd had to do.
"A Goa'uld with a fourteen year-old kid host!"
She pressed her lips shut about her retort. I did the necessary thing, she reminded herself.
Cold comfort, maybe, but the only thing she had in the face of his clear disappointment with her.
His disapproval hurt. Sam looked away, resenting both the sense that she'd failed him, and the implication that she'd done something wrong in trying to rescue her team.
Maybe there had been another way to deal with the host. Maybe.
And maybe not.
They'd never know, and she'd gotten her team out. That was what counted. That was what she repeated silently to herself as she began fitting the P-90 back together again.
Daniel came in at that moment, breaking the tension without any sign that he was aware of what he'd interrupted. "Teal'c said the nearest planet with a Stargate is two days away. He thinks we can make it there at full power."
"Okay. Any chance of getting a message out to someone we know?"
Sam knew the answer before Daniel gave it, glancing at her as though expecting her to interrupt him. "Not without giving away our position to any Goa'uld looking out for us."
The Colonel shrugged and began checking out the next box of Jaffa equipment. "Hammond'll just have to tear a few more hairs out."
Daniel glanced at Sam again, this time with a touch of amusement. He was expecting her to react to the Colonel's humour with the familiar exchange of glances between them. She smiled briefly, but the smile faded as she caught the Colonel's hard look at her.
Anger sparked within her at the look. She kept it carefully behind her mask, and put the P-90 aside. It was mostly cleaned anyway, and now probably wasn't the time to confront the Colonel.
She wondered if there'd ever be a time to confront him.
"I think I'll go keep Teal'c company," she said, standing up.
As she closed the cargo bay door behind her, she heard Daniel's impatient question. "Jack? What's going on?"
Out in the cabin of the teltak, she slipped quietly into the passenger seat and settled back with a sigh. "Two days, Teal'c?"
"Indeed, Major Carter." If he'd heard or sensed any of the tension in the cargo bay, he said nothing of it, and Sam was relieved.
And a little startled when he said, "Thank you."
She almost asked 'What for?' before her brain caught up. "You're welcome, Teal'c."
He just bowed his head to her and returned his gaze to the shifting blue blur of hyperspace, leaving her to her doubts and fears.
--
"Sir."
"Carter?"
Is anything wrong? Not a question she was going to ask. Not one she wanted to know the answer to. Some things were better left unsaid.
Still, it gnawed at her.
"Teal's says we'll be within ring distance of the planet in an hour."
They'd leave the teltak on the planet - it was deserted - and come back for it later. Home and debriefing first, then worry about the tech.
"Good timing," he said, lightly. But the tone didn't fool her. There was still a shadow in his face when he looked at her.
"Sir."
"Carter?"
What is it? Tell me what I did that's got you mad and...I'll change it. I'll apologise. I'll do what I must to get your approval.
Something in Sam cringed at the thought. There were easier ways to debase herself - walk into his stateroom and strip naked for one. And she hated the thought that...that caring about this man made her weak. Weak for wanting his approval, pitiful for admiring him in the first place - a man she had to obey by the rules of her job.
She was Sam Carter, she was no man's doormat, and Jack O'Neill's approval or disapproval was past the point. She'd live without his approval if she had to; better that than living without her teammates.
Her smile was fixed, and they both knew it. "Never mind."
--
Once upon a time, she'd have sat in the commissary with her reports and the Colonel would have come to join her, bringing a glass of jello, or just some wry conversation and the skritch-scratch of his pen.
Those days were gone.
Sam sipped her cold coffee, ignoring the fact that a pot chugged merrily away on one of the sideboards, and blocking out the memory of the quick nod the Colonel had given her at midmorning as he came in for a snack but didn't come over and speak to her.
Two days before the Ventra mission, he'd brought her Jell-O.
Today, she hadn't even merited a greeting.
Sam focused carefully on her report - an update on some recent technological finds that she'd studied while SG-1 was waiting for their next mission.
First they'd been waiting for her psych profile to come back from MacKenzie. Although killing Goa'uld was all in a day's work, killing a child wasn't. General Hammond had advocated the psych eval after the Colonel pointed out that the host was 'younger than they were used to seeing.'
The adolescent host's face swam before her - a wiry boy, young and innocent. She'd seen it in her sleep several nights running. Sam thought it unnecessary to reveal this, but had dutifully answered the psychologist when he asked about her sleeping patterns during their sessions.
Privately, she thought she could have coped with it if she'd had to. At any rate, she thought she'd have coped better than she managed to deal with MacKenzie.
Daniel slid into the seat opposite her. "Getting anywhere?"
"Not really." And she wasn't going to get much further with Daniel looking over her shoulder.
Her teammate either didn't notice her terseness or chose not to notice it.
"So...is everything okay? After Ventra, I mean."
"Everything's fine," Sam said and kept writing. She wondered if he would take the hint and go. Then again, Daniel tended to be cluey when he chose to be.
"Well, it's just that you and Jack seem to have stopped speaking to each other, and I thought..." Daniel trailed off, a little awkwardly.
He wasn't the only awkward one.
Things had changed in the months since the armband incident and the follow-up with the za'tarc detector. Sam still wasn't sure how much Daniel knew about it, but the less said, the better. As it was, she'd learned to be more careful around the Colonel.
The easy camaraderie that they'd been developing was too dangerous to continue - especially when their commanding officer was aware of the degree of inappropriate feeling and that it had nearly interfered with duty once before.
Just one more reason why they'd stopped meeting in the commissary to write reports together.
"I'm fine, Daniel," Sam repeated, this time making the statement specific to her. "MacKenzie cleared me for the psych check."
Daniel's expression spoke his thoughts on MacKenzie even before he said, "So...you're not, I don't know, flagellating yourself that there was something else you could have done?"
Flagellation was pointless. What was done was done. "No. Should I be?"
His eyes had narrowed. "I'm not Jack, you know." Sam bit back the retort that sprang to her lips, I know that! But Daniel was already continuing on. "You know why he's all closed up on us, don't you?"
Because he disapproved of me killing a young host. Pride and resentment kept her lips firmly closed about those words. "He has a soft spot for children." Cassie, Ree-tou Charlie, Merrin...
Sam could understand his initial horror. What she couldn't understand was the degree of it. Yes, she'd had to kill an adolescent boy along with the Goa'uld, but if she hadn't...
If she hadn't she'd have lost her team. And that was unacceptable.
"Daniel, regrets come with the job," she began.
"And the Goa'uld host looked like his son." He held her gaze.
Sam held it back as she tried to conjure up the vague memory of the two times she'd seen Charlie O'Neill. Maybe there was a resemblance, but if so, it couldn't be that much more than the frame, or the shape of the head...
For years after her mom died, she'd seen her mother in women who looked nothing like Thea Carter. A tilt of the head, the tone of the voice, a certain stride, or a woman with similar colouring...
She looked back at her report, anger tinging like a flush in her cheeks, her chest, her palms.
Was she supposed to just forgive him? Forgive him for making her feel like she'd done something criminally wrong, instead of just rescuing her team and going through anyone who stood in her way? We don't leave our people behind...unless the path to them is blocked by acts that might upset the people we'd otherwise be leaving behind.
It explained the overreaction, but didn't change that he had overreacted, and that she was getting the cold shoulder because he had issues.
"Look, he's being..." Daniel paused, looking for an adjective out of the many that could be used to describe Jack O'Neill. "Well, I think he's letting this get to him more than he should." A shrug. "But I might have reacted the same way if the host looked like...well...one of my parents."
"So cut him some slack?" Sam asked, keeping the ice out of her voice.
Daniel heard it anyway. "So understand the reasons."
"I understand the reason he's...upset." Sam poked at the report with her pen. "But there were no other options. It was the child or you guys." Maybe he or you or Teal'c would have chosen differently. But I had to choose. And I chose you guys. And she resented that the choice had landed her in this situation.
"Sam, I'd have done the same thing." Daniel paused a moment. "Except for throwing the knife." He regarded her for a moment longer. Sam began tracing letters on the paper with the tip of the pen. "Okay," he said as he stood up, exasperated. "Forget I said anything."
"Did you mention any of this to him?"
"Not yet."
Sam looked up. "Don't."
Daniel paused, staring at her in disbelief. "Don't?"
"If he's dealing with his son's death, just leave it alone." She wouldn't say anything - but then she wouldn't have said anything anyway. And she didn't want Daniel plunging in where angels feared to tread - either between the Colonel and the memory of his son, or the Colonel and her.
Sam would fight her own battles.
He still seemed hesitant. "Are you sure?"
"Will I have to make it an order?"
He snorted at that. Orders were generally taken as optional when it came to Daniel. "Okay."
She let him go and fixed her eyes back on the report.
Needs must as the devil drives.
Whatever Daniel might think, she understood. It didn't make her less angry, but she understood.
In the end, understanding was cold comfort.
- fin -
TITLE: Cold Comfort
AUTHOR:
seldearSUMMARY: She'd done it for her team-mates. In the end, the knowledge was still cold comfort.
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: This was written for the
femgenficathon prompt #108. People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone. --Audrey Hepburn.It's not a happy, clappy, cheerful fic at all, but I'm hoping I balanced the story between Sam's situation and her feelings. True is not easy.
Cold Comfort
The teltak had arrived. Sam heard the faint whine of its engines over the soft noises of the Ventra evening.
She'd been waiting for full dark to cover her tracks and give her a bit of time to release her team-mates and get them away. But what breathing space she thought she'd have was gone.
Showtime.
As the clank of Jaffa footsteps died away, she eased herself along the ledge where she'd been plastered for the last ten minutes and slipped in the window, landing quietly on her feet and moving quickly in the direction from which the Jaffa had came.
The next patrol wouldn't be passing this way for another half-hour, at least.
She had time.
In the hours before the sun set, she'd spent her time moving from hiding place to hiding place, well aware that the Jaffa were searching for the 'missing' fourth member of the fabled SG-1. Somehow, Sam had managed to keep herself from discovery - no small thing when her senses tingled every time she was within six feet of a Jaffa.
She'd also managed to get a reasonably good idea of the Jaffa routines. Combined with the knowledge SG-1 had started out with, plus Teal'c's observations when they first arrived on this planet, Sam knew where she was and where she was headed.
It was what she might encounter on the way that worried her most.
The way to the cells was through a door at the back of the antechamber. There were other ways out of the cells, but they all led outside, and the Colonel had picked the inside route for a reason.
Sam saw no reason to change the plan - the guys had been caught by an unexpected patrol outside the complex, and claimed that they'd left Sam flying the teltak in orbit - a lie which the Jaffa refused to accept. Understandably so.
Two rooms and a corridor were passed through without trouble.
She was four steps into the empty antechamber when she saw the shadows move.
"Major Carter, I presume?"
She whirled at the light voice, husky with the weird modulation of the Goa'uld overtones. Her P-90 lifted without thought to chatter off a spate of bullets directly at the Goa'uld. The coruscating gold of a personal shield flared up and she reached for her knife on instinct.
She aimed for the torso, training dictating her throw.
The Goa'uld was somewhat shorter than expected. Younger, too.
Sam watched, slow horror uncurling in her breast as stainless steel gleamed in the candlelight, end over end, black hilt over bright blade, finding its rest in the eye socket of the host.
As he slumped to the ground, Sam felt revulsion slice through her gut. She'd killed Goa'uld and their hosts before, but this host was hardly more than a boy. Fourteen at most, with a youth's mobile expression and the blade buried in his eye, sunk all the way to the hilt.
No time for regret; Jaffa footsteps were already pounding through the corridors in response to the sound of her weapon. Sam's trigger instincts pulped the symbiote as it came barrelling out, seeking a new host, then she was past the bloody ruin of boy and symbiote, heading for the passage that led to the prison cells.
There was no-one to know of the uneasy breath she drew in as she slipped down the passageway, moving towards the door at the end.
It opened as she was halfway there, throwing torchlight across Jaffa skullcaps.
She didn't feel any guilt at gunning the Jaffa down, at least.
Four strides took her into the corridor, two of them over the bodies of the dead guards.
"Carter!" There would be no mistaking that voice, ever.
Sam headed for the cell in question, pressing the 'open' combination on the keypad. There were a limited number of combinations and, according to Teal'c, they were rarely varied. Once a prisoner was in a Goa'uld cell, it seemed it was rare for them to be able to break out.
In that, at least, she and her team-mates seemed to be giving the Goa'uld a run for their money.
All three were in the cell, awake and unhurt. "Took you long enough," said the Colonel, but not harshly.
Sam handed him her sidearm as Teal'c strode up the passageway to retrieve zats from the fallen Jaffa. "You're okay?" She meant all of them, of course, not just the Colonel, but her gaze rested on him a moment before it moved to Daniel who was just rolling his shoulder, loosening up stiff muscles.
"Peachy," the Colonel said as he followed after Teal'c. "Right, kids, playtime's over, let's get out of here."
Sam took the lead without asking permission - she had the P-90 - but the Colonel was never more than a step behind her. When the Jaffa appeared at the end of the corridor, she fired on them, still moving, and watched them fall. Behind, she could hear the Colonel yelling at her, something about being crazy and insane, but the passageway to the antechamber was the only way out of the prison cells and if they couldn't hold the end, the corridor would act like a funnel, channeling staff weapons fire along its length.
Sam burst out of the corridor, firing in a circle, the Jaffa went down like felled trees, and only one staff weapon bolt was shot off - and she saw that one coming before it hit.
"A little enthusiastic, don't you think, Carter?" said the Colonel, a little grumpily.
She crossed the room to the window, pushing back the drapes. "A teltak landed a few minutes ago. If we move fast we should be able to take it..." The silence behind caught her attention, and she turned.
The Colonel had stopped at the sight of the Goa'uld, his gun held slightly out from his body. Teal'c had given both man and dead boy a cursory glance before moving to take up position at the door, and Daniel was even now emerging from the corridor, holding his own zat.
Daniel winced - an instinctive expression, Sam was sure - then glanced from her to the Colonel. "Jack."
He lifted his head, but not to look at Daniel.
Sam willed herself not to flinch at the anger in that gaze. And tamped down on the sudden clutch of fear that gripped her. "Sir?"
It was nothing more than the faintest of grimaces. A twitch of his lips and a stiffening of his features, but even from this distance, she could see his tension, even as he said, "Nothing." But there was a flat, hard glitter in his eyes directed at her before he looked beyond her, out the window. "A teltak, you said?"
--
Resistance collapsed as they moved through the complex towards the landing site. Sam held lead position until her ammunition ran out and she had to change cartridges; then Teal'c took the lead while the Colonel and Daniel held off the resistance in the rear.
Whoever had been in the teltak wasn't there any more, and the two Jaffa who'd been guarding it were summarily dealt with.
Less than a minute later, they were airborne, Teal'c's piloting skills maneuvring them out of the way of the firing that followed them into the sky.
As Daniel began quizzing Teal'c on how long it would take before they got to the nearest planet with a Stargate, Sam forced herself to walk into the cargo bay where the Colonel was crouched down on the floor, going through the equipment left on the teltak.
She didn't know what she'd done, but she could sense his disapproval of it.
There were no proper channels through which to take her concerns. None that she'd use right now anyway. The memory of how close he'd come to an effective lobotomy in order to protect her and himself - 'them' was a forbidden word - still hung in the air between them.
In the room, but not forgotten.
Sam set her back against the wall and slid down until she was on the floor, then unclipped her P-90 and began checking the weapon over, pulling a cloth from one of her pockets to wipe down the gun as she took the necessary bits apart for cleaning. She didn't say anything to him, although she caught the glances he gave her.
"Sir?"
"Carter?" He knew what Sam was asking. She could hear it in his voice. He just wasn't willing to play.
Fine. "Nothing, sir."
The dark eyes narrowed, but after a moment, she saw him move to the next box of equipment.
Was it the fact that she'd killed the host? That had never been a sticking point with any of the Goa'uld they'd killed before. Even Daniel had forgiven Teal'c for Sha're's death in the end. Was it the fact that she'd killed a teenaged host? They'd never come across an adolescent host until now - most Goa'uld preferred their hosts mature. Either way, she would have killed the Goa'uld - he'd stood between her and her teammates.
The memory of the Goa'uld's astonished expression flashed before her eyes, and she winced.
"He was just a kid." Her ear barely picked out the gruff syllables, even in the quiet.
She'd known that. "He was a Goa'uld." Arguing was the wrong thing to do. Sam knew that even as the words left her lips. He was stubborn enough to dig in his heels on this matter, and so was she. There wasn't any 'right' answer - she'd done what she'd had to do.
"A Goa'uld with a fourteen year-old kid host!"
She pressed her lips shut about her retort. I did the necessary thing, she reminded herself.
Cold comfort, maybe, but the only thing she had in the face of his clear disappointment with her.
His disapproval hurt. Sam looked away, resenting both the sense that she'd failed him, and the implication that she'd done something wrong in trying to rescue her team.
Maybe there had been another way to deal with the host. Maybe.
And maybe not.
They'd never know, and she'd gotten her team out. That was what counted. That was what she repeated silently to herself as she began fitting the P-90 back together again.
Daniel came in at that moment, breaking the tension without any sign that he was aware of what he'd interrupted. "Teal'c said the nearest planet with a Stargate is two days away. He thinks we can make it there at full power."
"Okay. Any chance of getting a message out to someone we know?"
Sam knew the answer before Daniel gave it, glancing at her as though expecting her to interrupt him. "Not without giving away our position to any Goa'uld looking out for us."
The Colonel shrugged and began checking out the next box of Jaffa equipment. "Hammond'll just have to tear a few more hairs out."
Daniel glanced at Sam again, this time with a touch of amusement. He was expecting her to react to the Colonel's humour with the familiar exchange of glances between them. She smiled briefly, but the smile faded as she caught the Colonel's hard look at her.
Anger sparked within her at the look. She kept it carefully behind her mask, and put the P-90 aside. It was mostly cleaned anyway, and now probably wasn't the time to confront the Colonel.
She wondered if there'd ever be a time to confront him.
"I think I'll go keep Teal'c company," she said, standing up.
As she closed the cargo bay door behind her, she heard Daniel's impatient question. "Jack? What's going on?"
Out in the cabin of the teltak, she slipped quietly into the passenger seat and settled back with a sigh. "Two days, Teal'c?"
"Indeed, Major Carter." If he'd heard or sensed any of the tension in the cargo bay, he said nothing of it, and Sam was relieved.
And a little startled when he said, "Thank you."
She almost asked 'What for?' before her brain caught up. "You're welcome, Teal'c."
He just bowed his head to her and returned his gaze to the shifting blue blur of hyperspace, leaving her to her doubts and fears.
--
"Sir."
"Carter?"
Is anything wrong? Not a question she was going to ask. Not one she wanted to know the answer to. Some things were better left unsaid.
Still, it gnawed at her.
"Teal's says we'll be within ring distance of the planet in an hour."
They'd leave the teltak on the planet - it was deserted - and come back for it later. Home and debriefing first, then worry about the tech.
"Good timing," he said, lightly. But the tone didn't fool her. There was still a shadow in his face when he looked at her.
"Sir."
"Carter?"
What is it? Tell me what I did that's got you mad and...I'll change it. I'll apologise. I'll do what I must to get your approval.
Something in Sam cringed at the thought. There were easier ways to debase herself - walk into his stateroom and strip naked for one. And she hated the thought that...that caring about this man made her weak. Weak for wanting his approval, pitiful for admiring him in the first place - a man she had to obey by the rules of her job.
She was Sam Carter, she was no man's doormat, and Jack O'Neill's approval or disapproval was past the point. She'd live without his approval if she had to; better that than living without her teammates.
Her smile was fixed, and they both knew it. "Never mind."
--
Once upon a time, she'd have sat in the commissary with her reports and the Colonel would have come to join her, bringing a glass of jello, or just some wry conversation and the skritch-scratch of his pen.
Those days were gone.
Sam sipped her cold coffee, ignoring the fact that a pot chugged merrily away on one of the sideboards, and blocking out the memory of the quick nod the Colonel had given her at midmorning as he came in for a snack but didn't come over and speak to her.
Two days before the Ventra mission, he'd brought her Jell-O.
Today, she hadn't even merited a greeting.
Sam focused carefully on her report - an update on some recent technological finds that she'd studied while SG-1 was waiting for their next mission.
First they'd been waiting for her psych profile to come back from MacKenzie. Although killing Goa'uld was all in a day's work, killing a child wasn't. General Hammond had advocated the psych eval after the Colonel pointed out that the host was 'younger than they were used to seeing.'
The adolescent host's face swam before her - a wiry boy, young and innocent. She'd seen it in her sleep several nights running. Sam thought it unnecessary to reveal this, but had dutifully answered the psychologist when he asked about her sleeping patterns during their sessions.
Privately, she thought she could have coped with it if she'd had to. At any rate, she thought she'd have coped better than she managed to deal with MacKenzie.
Daniel slid into the seat opposite her. "Getting anywhere?"
"Not really." And she wasn't going to get much further with Daniel looking over her shoulder.
Her teammate either didn't notice her terseness or chose not to notice it.
"So...is everything okay? After Ventra, I mean."
"Everything's fine," Sam said and kept writing. She wondered if he would take the hint and go. Then again, Daniel tended to be cluey when he chose to be.
"Well, it's just that you and Jack seem to have stopped speaking to each other, and I thought..." Daniel trailed off, a little awkwardly.
He wasn't the only awkward one.
Things had changed in the months since the armband incident and the follow-up with the za'tarc detector. Sam still wasn't sure how much Daniel knew about it, but the less said, the better. As it was, she'd learned to be more careful around the Colonel.
The easy camaraderie that they'd been developing was too dangerous to continue - especially when their commanding officer was aware of the degree of inappropriate feeling and that it had nearly interfered with duty once before.
Just one more reason why they'd stopped meeting in the commissary to write reports together.
"I'm fine, Daniel," Sam repeated, this time making the statement specific to her. "MacKenzie cleared me for the psych check."
Daniel's expression spoke his thoughts on MacKenzie even before he said, "So...you're not, I don't know, flagellating yourself that there was something else you could have done?"
Flagellation was pointless. What was done was done. "No. Should I be?"
His eyes had narrowed. "I'm not Jack, you know." Sam bit back the retort that sprang to her lips, I know that! But Daniel was already continuing on. "You know why he's all closed up on us, don't you?"
Because he disapproved of me killing a young host. Pride and resentment kept her lips firmly closed about those words. "He has a soft spot for children." Cassie, Ree-tou Charlie, Merrin...
Sam could understand his initial horror. What she couldn't understand was the degree of it. Yes, she'd had to kill an adolescent boy along with the Goa'uld, but if she hadn't...
If she hadn't she'd have lost her team. And that was unacceptable.
"Daniel, regrets come with the job," she began.
"And the Goa'uld host looked like his son." He held her gaze.
Sam held it back as she tried to conjure up the vague memory of the two times she'd seen Charlie O'Neill. Maybe there was a resemblance, but if so, it couldn't be that much more than the frame, or the shape of the head...
For years after her mom died, she'd seen her mother in women who looked nothing like Thea Carter. A tilt of the head, the tone of the voice, a certain stride, or a woman with similar colouring...
She looked back at her report, anger tinging like a flush in her cheeks, her chest, her palms.
Was she supposed to just forgive him? Forgive him for making her feel like she'd done something criminally wrong, instead of just rescuing her team and going through anyone who stood in her way? We don't leave our people behind...unless the path to them is blocked by acts that might upset the people we'd otherwise be leaving behind.
It explained the overreaction, but didn't change that he had overreacted, and that she was getting the cold shoulder because he had issues.
"Look, he's being..." Daniel paused, looking for an adjective out of the many that could be used to describe Jack O'Neill. "Well, I think he's letting this get to him more than he should." A shrug. "But I might have reacted the same way if the host looked like...well...one of my parents."
"So cut him some slack?" Sam asked, keeping the ice out of her voice.
Daniel heard it anyway. "So understand the reasons."
"I understand the reason he's...upset." Sam poked at the report with her pen. "But there were no other options. It was the child or you guys." Maybe he or you or Teal'c would have chosen differently. But I had to choose. And I chose you guys. And she resented that the choice had landed her in this situation.
"Sam, I'd have done the same thing." Daniel paused a moment. "Except for throwing the knife." He regarded her for a moment longer. Sam began tracing letters on the paper with the tip of the pen. "Okay," he said as he stood up, exasperated. "Forget I said anything."
"Did you mention any of this to him?"
"Not yet."
Sam looked up. "Don't."
Daniel paused, staring at her in disbelief. "Don't?"
"If he's dealing with his son's death, just leave it alone." She wouldn't say anything - but then she wouldn't have said anything anyway. And she didn't want Daniel plunging in where angels feared to tread - either between the Colonel and the memory of his son, or the Colonel and her.
Sam would fight her own battles.
He still seemed hesitant. "Are you sure?"
"Will I have to make it an order?"
He snorted at that. Orders were generally taken as optional when it came to Daniel. "Okay."
She let him go and fixed her eyes back on the report.
Needs must as the devil drives.
Whatever Daniel might think, she understood. It didn't make her less angry, but she understood.
In the end, understanding was cold comfort.
- fin -
