Written for a challenge at livejournal's writerverse. Prompt: promise
Sam woke slowly, the smells and sounds of the infirmary filtering through the haze of medication and pain. She saw no one when she opened her eyes. A flare of panic tore through her; it couldn't be a good sign that none of her teammates were there waiting for her to wake.
She tried to speak, get someone's attention, but only managed a squeaky kind of groan. Then something... no, someone started to move into her field of vision from her right side. She turned her head slightly and saw Jack's battered face looking at her worriedly.
Her hand felt heavy as she lifted it slowly from the bed, reaching out to touch him, but holding back at the last minute, unable to see any stretch of skin not cut, bruised, or swollen. Her arm shook with the effort of holding it in midair, and she was just about to drop her hand when he gently took it in one of his. He softly kissed her palm before moving their joined hands to his cheek, cupping her hand against his skin.
This is different, she thought.
His eyes were shadowed and she flashed back briefly to the small cell, interrogations, Daniel and Teal'c shepherding them through a fog of weapons fire. She forced herself to speak.
"Daniel, Teal'c?"
"They're okay," he answered. He winced and amended his comment. "Well, they're doing better than we are, at any rate. I'm sure they'll be in here soon. As will the doc."
Sam nodded sleepily and felt her eyes begin to droop again. Jack lowered their hands to rest on the bed, still not breaking contact. She looked down at their joined hands and then back to his face.
"Sir, why are we holding hands?"
He smirked, as much as he was able to, and motioned a little behind him. "Well, here's the thing, Sam. I'm out."
Her eyes tracked over to see the handles of a wheelchair. Her heart raced.
He saw her panic and cut in. "I'll be fine, in the long-term. But this one blew both my knees. I've got a couple of surgeries and at least six months to a year physical therapy after that. So, I am retiring, for the last time."
"Retiring?" she repeated, while her muddled mind tried to grab the significance of his words.
He nodded. Using the safety bar on the side of her bed, he steadied himself as he slowly stood up. He leaned down and whispered, "Retiring," as he placed his lips upon hers. The kiss was short and chaste, given the state of their various injuries, but held within it a promise of things to come.