Stargate SG-1 fic: Last Chance

[jennickels]

Title: Last Chance
pairing: Sam/Jack
rated: G
warnings: none
spoilers: none

Sam wasn't asleep. She had been waiting, knowing he'd give up eventually and couldn't stay outside forever. She pulled her legs tighter to her body as the door hissed open. The room was suddenly illuminated by a shaft of light from the control room but it was just as quickly darkened, the door slipping shut almost silently. The colonel moved carefully through the space somehow avoiding the scattered debris and the contents of the crate she had knocked over earlier. It had taken her five minutes of sitting on the cold floor before her butt went numb and she knew there was no way they'd survive another night as the outside temperature continued to plummet.

After knocking over the box and finally finding some recognizable tools she had disassembled the wooden crate and created a sort of pallet to lay on, giving them some insulation from the cold metal. The colonel now stood over her apparently examining her handiwork. She was sure she heard him chuckle. The sound made her blood run cold. She was surprised at her own reaction. Any other time the sound of the man showing his humorous side would cause a shiver of another kind to travel her spine. His earlier outburst seemed to be the determining factor for her current feelings toward the sound he made. Her brain was working way too hard on the topic considering the state she was in.

He had nowhere else to go and they both knew it. Even more so they needed each other, their body heat the only thing that was going to keep them warm through the long night. After a few tense moments she felt him lower to the pallet, a soft groan escaping when his knee audibly popped. But he didn't lie down. He just sat there mumbling to himself.

After a few minutes Sam just couldn't take it any more. She pulled herself to a sitting position staying as far to the opposite side of the crate as possible. He stiffened at her movement but made no move of his own. He was hunched over, his arms resting on his knees and his hands covering his face. He looked tired and... old. She hated to think of him that way. He joked about it a lot, the fact that he had a good 15 years on her and wasn't as fit as in his prime. Sam never noticed. She couldn't see it. He wasn't old, not in her mind. He was just... the colonel. Just Jack and he was fine the way he was.

He knew she was staring at him without even attempting a glance over his shoulder. He knew her that well. And she knew him well enough to know it was bugging the crap out of him. She resumed her previous position with her knees tucked under her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. She stared into the darkness of the empty hold and tried not to think of how dire their situation was and how she had failed. Failed to get them safely to the ground, failed to fix the damn ship, failed to get them out of there. That was her job after all, wasn't it? Saving their collective asses when everything went to hell.

She turned her head, resting her cheek on her knee and watched the colonel again. The defeat just rolled off of him. It was nauseating to Sam.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, surprising even herself.

He stilled, his head lifting from his hands but he didn't turn. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated, a little louder.

"For what?" She could hear the tension in his voice and it was ratcheting up with each word.

She sighed and turned away from him. "I couldn't fix the ship," she said matter-of-factly, as if he didn't already know. I failed, the voice in her head screamed. She shoved it away. "I should have been able to fix it."

"Carter," he said, the earlier tension replaced by a weary, deflated tone.

"No," she said, interrupting any further placating he might attempt, "I got us into this and I should have gotten us out." There, she said it. She all but screamed the word failure.

"It's not your fault we crashed."

"Isn't it? I was flying."

"We were under fire," he said, finally turning to face her. She couldn't read his expression in the dim lighting. "I'd say it's whoever attacked us that's at fault."

"If I had just-"

"No," he said, rather forcefully, causing Sam to jump, "you got us down in one piece. Relatively one piece." He muttered the last part as he turned away from her again.

Sam stared at his back. He leaned on his legs, his hands now dangling between his knees.

"If I had flown better we would have been in one piece," she told him quietly, not wanting to lose this argument for some unknown reason.

He reached up to rub at his forehead with his right hand but winced before cradling it to his chest and using his other to push at the bridge of his nose. Sam eyed the movement out of the corner of her vision. After a moment she finally asked, "what's wrong with your hand?"

He glanced down at the offending appendage. "Nothing," he muttered, "go back to sleep, Carter."

"Is that an order?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, regret instantly filling every corner of her being. She closed her eyes and waited for his biting response. But it didn't come. Instead he sighed.

"I could make it one."

She looked up and found him facing her again, looking sad and beyond exhausted. She studied his face, for once uncaring what he thought of the scrutiny. He had a vicious looking cut over his left eye, just under the hairline, blood caked down the side of his face and in his tussled hair. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, dark circles shadowing under them. Several days' worth of stubble covered his chin and he absently scratched at it, his eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed hard and realized he was probably taking stock of her dismal looks, too. Her eyes slowly traced down his body to his hand pressed unto his abdomen. He finally flinched away from her gaze but she grabbed at the arm.

He gritted his teeth at the movement. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." They had been through this dance already when she forced him to sit still so she could clean and bandage the burn on his other arm. "Just let me look."

"Carter, just go to sleep already." He jumped up and moved away from the pallet.

Sam watched him walk across the hold and lean his head against the far wall. He was muttering to himself again but she was too far away to hear it.

chapter 4