Sam struggled to make
sense of the bewildering cacophony of colors and briefly glimpsed images
that swirled through her muddled mind. The images coalesced into
cherished faces that were etched with concern and worry. Jack's gaunt
features pinched with fatigue and a guarded grief that knew no bounds
segued into an arrogant and unyielding Baal who overshadowed him and
threatened to do irreparable harm to them both.
The Goa'uld was replaced
by a younger face, one which had survived despite treatment that was
meant to break an indomitable spirit. The childish features gazed raptly
at her with a trust that grew by the hour. The small body of a girl
snuggled into Sam's lap with a sigh of contentment as she stole a
moment's rest and showed by this action that, despite the odds against
it, Sam had won the trust of one who did not bestow it lightly. Sam
smiled as she relived the moment, all the more treasured because of its
brevity.
As if this brief thought
triggered the dire events that followed, the youthful face grew slack
and unmoving, struck down by a powerful blast that stole the light from
her brown eyes, so like those of her sire. Cradled in her arms, the body
of the child of her heart stilled, never to awaken again.
A sob tore through Sam's
very being - soul deep - and left a gaping hole in her heart that seemed
impossible to mend. Now she knew something of the grievous hurt that
lurked deep within the brown eyes of the man she loved.
Jack, she cried, how is
it possible to bear such loss and go on living? How do you do it?
Tears leaked from beneath
her closed eyelids as she fought to win clear of such restless sleep.
Anything was better than this morass of horrors that threatened to
dissolve her will to fight.
Perversely, Sam's
determined efforts to focus on something less menacing was thwarted,
being unable to bring forth her vaunted powers of concentration, the
predictable laws of physics did not serve her now. Her tried and true
refuge was beyond her ability to reach, and that fact frightened her.
As she cast about in the
whirling maelstrom of despair for a lifeline, her mind latched upon a
phrase that her father, Jacob, had used when they had faced the death of
her mother - his wife - so many years ago. She could still see him as he
sat hunched next to her on her bed, his reddened eyes searching hers for
understanding and forgiveness for inadvertently causing the death of her
mother.
"Sammie, there will come
a time in your life when all the book-learning and friends in the world
will not be enough. And if you're smart, you'll turn to the one thing
that will get you through it."
Sam blinked back tears
that lately, always seemed to be there. "What's that, Dad?"
Jacob's arm rested on her
shoulder in a fatherly hug and then he continued. "Your faith in a power
greater than yourself, and all those books you love. I'm talking about
God, Sammie - the same one that your Mom taught you about."
Sam had clasped Jacob's
hands and squeezed them with hers as together they recited the words
that had resounded inside her head throughout the interminable funeral
service. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie
down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my
soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake."
As if her tormented soul
had found a safe haven, these words filled her with a lightness of
spirit that eased her mind and caused the desolation that had sapped her
strength to abate. Automatically, her mind supplied the next lines to
the oft-repeated psalm and without realizing it; her lips murmured the
words to an audience that hovered above her half-conscious body.
"Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you
are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."
As if her words were a
signal, the clouds of dark despair vanished and her eyes snapped open to
the blindingly harsh world of reality.
A feathery light touch on
her shoulder and the sound of her name told her she wasn't alone. "What
are you talking about, Sam? You are nowhere near the valley of death. I
won't let you go there for one thing. And what's this about rods and
staffs?"
The voice sounded
tantalizingly familiar, but her mind seemed to be unable to concentrate
as well as usual.
"What . . .?"
At first the only thing
she saw were two blurry black globes that glistened in the reflected
light. She blinked and squinted, and they resolved into a pair of
obsidian black eyes that regarded her with worry.
"It's me, Ernie. You can wake up now."
"Ernie? What happened?"
She shook her head from side-to-side and tried to raise her hand to
brush away an errant lock of hair that tickled her forehead. When she
couldn't move, she frowned.
"Why can't I move?"
Ernie blinked and shook
his head in seeming sorrow. "I'm sorry, but precautions had to be taken
as you were acting in a dangerous manner."
She turned her head to
look at the Asgard physician more closely, at least she could do that
much, but the rest of her body seemed immobile.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Don't you remember?"
Sam's eyes narrowed and
she wondered why she felt suspicious of his answer. "What should I
remember?"
Ernie blinked again and
drummed his fingers nervously on the pod beside her. "You were upset
about the child, do you remember that?"
"Yes, I . . . " she
paused as that tenuous feeling of suspicion gave way, replaced with
grief, full and heavy, and no longer forgotten. "Jackie was severely
injured and you . . ." She bit her lip and swallowed the sob that
threatened to erupt. "You said she couldn't be saved." Her eyes welled
up with tears. "Why couldn't you save her, Ernie? Why?"
"Do you also remember
what I told you about her genetic structure - that it was unstable and
that she was already dying?"
Her voice monotone flat,
Sam nodded and relived the feeling of frenzy, of time running short and
she felt - abject panic. "And I wanted to take her down to Tartarus to
use a sarcophagus to revive her, yes I remember that."
"What do you remember after that?" Ernie prodded gently.
"You stopped me," she
paused and then her voice climbed a few octaves and projected the
emotion that was trying to overwhelm her, the panic still too close to
ignore. She teetered on the brink, but Sam pulled herself back with an
effort. The previous feeling of lightness of spirit calmed her when she
called upon it.
"Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you
are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." With closed
eyes, she chanted the mantra that kept her from toppling over into a
frenzied panic.
Before opening her eyes,
Sam took a steadying breath before speaking. If she lost control of her
emotions, she knew her erratic behavior would do no one - including her
- any good. There were ways to express her feelings of betrayal without
losing control; she'd learned that in the Air Force - the hard way.
Being a woman in the military did that to you.
Resolutely, she forced
her mind back to the present, back to Ernie. "You stopped me," she
repeated, but this time her voice was lower, and all the more effective
for it. "You injected me with something and stopped me from saving her."
Her voice reeked with indignation, accusation plain on her face. "How
dare you do that, Ernie? And you call yourself a doctor," she hissed out
allowing him to hear the grief and anger she battled. Letting him know
just how much of a betrayal his action felt like.
"The sarcophagus would
not have saved the child, Samantha, even if it had been available. She
would have died - again - in excruciating pain. As it was, we discovered
later that the sarcophagus had been destroyed."
Sam's blue eyes spat fire
as she glared up at him. "So what? You didn't want to bother with her?
Was that it?"
"That is not true, Sam,"
Ernie denied and stepped back as if to avoid the sparks that fairly flew
from her incensed glare. "I truly wish I could have done more to save
her life, but I was unable to do so. You must believe me."
Sam watched as Ernie's
attention was claimed by something out of her line of sight. Her heart
thudded loudly in her ears, a reminder that she was losing control of
her emotions. She closed her eyes for a moment and reached for the calm
that she'd known before. But it seemed to be out of her reach.
"It's hard to believe
anyone that ties you down." Sam's head jerked up and down in her efforts
to move the rest of her body. "That's what this is, isn't it?"
Ernie seemed worried and
stepped over to the controls and hovered over them. He looked harried as
his fingers flew over the keys.
"I am sorry, Samantha.
You are 'tied down' but only to prevent harm to you. I would never . .
." He paused, seeming more concerned about the controls than what she
wanted to say to him. That slight fueled her anger as her heartbeat
soared and pounded in her ears, threatening to drown out everything
else.
You motherless son of a .
. ." Sam growled at him in anger as she lost the fight to keep her
emotions at bay.
Ernie belatedly finished
his sentence, ". . . do so except out of necessity."
"Release me!" Sam yelled,
as she twisted and thrashed her head around as much as her restraints
allowed. "Do it now!"
"Please, I don't want to
sedate you again. All that could be done was done." Ernie's voice raised
an octave as he pleaded with her in desperation.
"Yeah, like I . . ."
Carter was yanked away from what she was going to accuse her Asgard
physician of by a moan. Whipping her head away from the naked gray
alien, she could just make out the third pod and the figure in it. To
her horror alarms yammered for attention and the lights across its
control panel flashed faster and faster.
"Ernie!"
Sam watched as the small
Asgard ran-bounced to O'Neill's pod and neatly silenced the alarm, his
long leathery fingers touched what needed to be touched to slow the
lights and no other sound of distress was heard from the pod. Done, he
swung back toward his conscious patient, only to nearly stumble at the
sight of the figure that stood on the other side of Sam's pod. Ernie
stopped in mid-bounce.
"Ernie," Carter demanded.
"What's wrong with Jack?" She felt calmer, more focused, but completely
worried.
Ernie wasn't given the chance to reply.
"Nothing is wrong with
O'Neill." The words were stated with absolute certainty.
Sam's head swung around
to see Thor, who glared at the other Asgard so intently that she was
forced to look at him again. Through years of experience, she had
learned that there were some emotions that did show when an Asgard
experienced them deeply enough and she saw shame in this otherwise
happy-go-lucky alien.
"Colonel Carter, I
apologize. You have been deceived and this is something that I will
discuss with Eir at length." Thor reached out and touched one control,
dropping the force field that imprisoned her.
"Thor . . ." Ernie began.
"I do not believe there will be further histrionics."
Sam, who had been busy
mulling over what had happened while watching what had to be the
equivalent of an Asgard hissy fit, blushed bright red at Thor's words.
She must have scared the dickens out of them. And with good reason, if
she could have gotten her hands on any of them, she . . . Sam shook the
thought from her head as she tested her new freedom to move.
"You're right. I've . . .
I've allowed my emotions to get the better of me." She pushed herself
into a sitting position. Ernie hovered anxiously, oblivious to his
superior's unrelenting stare. "Aspirin. Got any aspirin?" Sam muttered
sharply, as she ran a hand over her eyes. They felt like they were about
to pop out of her head.
"Please . . ." pleaded
Ernie, as his hands signaled her to lie back down.
And she did. A few deft
touches of her pod's controls and her headache, cobwebs, and tiredness
washed away. And for the first time, she realized how unreasonable she'd
been. Just as unreasonable as any caring mother would have been.
She had seen the world as
hostile toward her and her child, now she stood on the other side of the
situation and saw it as caring and supportive. Sam's eyes were drawn
inexorably to the most distant pod - and the body concealed inside it.
Slowly, carefully she eased out of her pod and stood. Now not only
Ernie, but Thor, hovered around her too.
The angry mother in her
headed directly for it, the small occupant just a shadow of the vibrant
youngster she had fallen in love with. Her hand lingered, fingertips
lightly gliding across its surface as she traced the dim outline of the
body residing within.
Jack. What would this do
to him? Sam shuddered, which caused her vigilant escorts to crowd
closer. Sam grimaced at the horrible taste of the grievous hurt that
Charlie's death had branded him with. From Daniel she knew something of
how close to suicide that pain had driven him. What would this do to
him?
After all, look what it
had done to her. She had only known Jackie for a handful of days, and
the grief of the girl's death had driven her beyond all reason.
Sam loved Jack deeply, as
he did her. That deep and abiding love allowed her to see the depth to
which he was capable of devoting himself to another. Once his heart was
opened he gave all of himself, even his very existence.
Had Jack allowed Jackie
in? And would his love for Sam be enough to hold him from the high price
he would demand of himself?
"Ernie?"
"Yes, Sam."
"Thank you."
"For what?" Ernie sounded truly puzzled. Sam smiled ruefully.
"For giving me the Asgard equivalent of a bucket of cold water in the face."
***
There was very little
transition from being dead to the world and total awareness. One second
he was totally oblivious to anything, the next a harsh and overwhelming
world beat down upon him as he opened bleary eyes and then slammed them
shut again to protect his eyesight from the glare of overhead lights.
He smacked his lips with
distaste and gagged. His tongue felt furry, and as for the taste in his
mouth, well let's just say he'd shoot whoever let the skunk into his
bedroom in the first place. That same danged four-legged stink bomb must
have crawled belly first through a sewer, then took up digs inside his
mouth where it went tits up, probably from its own smell. Gack!
As for the particulars of
how he knew what sewer sludge tasted like, well let's just say that if
he told you, he'd have to shoot you afterwards. You could take his word
for it though - he knew.
"Jack, wake up!"
This plea was accompanied
by a touch on his shoulder. Funny - the voice sounded familiar but what
was an Asgard doing in his bedroom? The last time he'd checked, he
hadn't gotten that kinky. Even though the Air Force frat regs said
nothing whatsoever about relationships with aliens - appropriate or
otherwise - he was so not going there. Nope, no way on God's green
earth, or anywhere else for that matter.
He took a chance and
cranked open one eye a smidgeon. In front of him was the face of Ernie,
the Asgard. So he'd guessed right about the identity of the speaker, but
it still didn't explain why or how the little guy had gotten into his
bedroom.
Jack licked dry lips and
tried out his voice, "What cha doin'?" His voice cracked and he coughed
to clear it of the aforementioned skunk leavings. It didn't help.
"I've been waiting for
you to wake up. And it's about time you did," remonstrated Ernie with a
bounce for emphasis. Jack winced away from the Asgard physician's
obscene amount of enthusiastic energy.
"Go away," Jack muttered
and waved bye-bye with the fingers of one hand.
Maybe if he ignored him
he'd leave. Though it hadn't worked in the past with this particular
alien, there was always the first time. Yepper, there was that he
reminded himself sarcastically. And Vidrine would develop a sense of
humor too.
"No, I will not go away, Jack. You need to wake up."
Damn.
"I don't wanna," Jack whined.
"O'Neill, you must awaken."
Crap, another one? What
was going on? Did he miss the memo about the coffee klatch for naked
little aliens in his bedroom?
He peeked from under half-closed eyes, "Give me one good reason."
"Because I said so," Ernie chirped with dogged determination.
The little guy should be
shot for being unduly perky at a god-awful time in the morning. He'd do
it himself if it didn't mean getting out of bed to shoot the
aforementioned skinny-assed pain in the mik'ta.
He'd killed for less. More than once too.
Without warning, tears
spilled from his eyes and tracked down his cheeks to puddle in his ears
and around his neck. Great, now he'd have soggy sheets, and for no
apparent reason that he could think of. This was so not going to do
anything for his hard-ass special ops killer image.
"Crap," Jack sniffed as
he tried unsuccessfully to halt the deluge that streamed from his eyes.
"Just leave me alone. Why don't ya?"
"Jack, talk to me.
Please." Sam's voice sounded worried. Now Sam in his bedroom he could
understand, but Ernie, and Thor? 'Give me a frickin' break!' he thought
with disbelief. This was his bedroom for crying out loud, not Area
51.
Jack's eyes snapped open
and he flinched when Sam's fingertips dabbed unsuccessfully at the wet
trails around his eyes. "Would someone please explain what two
flat-assed Roswell-gray aliens are doing in my bedroom?"
His voice trailed off as
he took in his surroundings. Unless Marty from 'Wormhole X-Treme' had
done a number on his house, he was not in his bedroom. "I don’t think
we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."
"Who is Toto?" Ernie asked.
Jack rolled his eyes; he
was not in the mood for a culture lesson. "Okay, now I'm really mad.
What the hell is going on here?"
'And how in blue blazes
did I wind up on an Asgard ship?' Jack thought. 'What have I done
now?'
He knew this was not going to be good, nope, not good at all.
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