The NotSoSimple Decision
Based just before Beachhead. I've been meaning to come back to these little ditties for some time, but only now does my muse provide me with inspiration enough to do it justice. I also thought this issue needed to be dealt with, even it's been done a million times before.
I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing...
SJSJS
They're sitting in her living room eating her home-made stir-fry on the couch, a repeat of E.R on the television, when he mentions it again.
"It's a no-brainer, really"
"Mmmhmm"
"I mean, Hank's right. You are kinda the expert"
"Along with everyone else on my team that helped me build it"
"Yeah... but, I don't think I need to tell you that you're special"
She smiles at him over her dinner bowl, his meaning ringing loud and clear.
He's been spending every possible weekend in Nevada since their transfers, and though it's a far cry from the few gloriously peaceful weeks after the defeat of the goa'uld, it's been the easiest relationship she's ever been in. The week-long absences only make the weekends all that more special, and the frequent outings with Cassie make the whole arrangement positively domestic. If it weren't for the highly classified material they both work on, they could be any other service family, stretched a little thin, but managing.
"Are you really that eager to see me back there?" she asks, and they know each other well enough now for her to add slight accusation to her tone.
"Hey, you love the SGC"
"Yes. And I've loved Nevada. And I love that I get to see you almost every weekend. And I love that I don't have to hide it anymore"
"No-one's saying we have to hide anything, who's saying that?" he asks, wondering where this sudden personal note has come from. Since he first mentioned his phone-call to Landry, she's been coming up with excuse after excuse to not go. Projects, research, Cassie, her house, which still isn't quite unpacked from the first move. Every excuse but him.
"Nobody" she says with a sigh, standing with her empty bowl in hand. She holds her hand out to him, gesturing to his own empty bowl. "You want me to take that?"
"Sure"
He hands her the bowl and watches her walk back into the kitchen with a frown. Hearing the water running into the sink, he gets up and follows, approaching with slight caution. There's a tension in her shoulders, and she's focussed solely on the difficult task of hand-washing two dinner bowls and a handful of cutlery. Slowly and softly, he places his hands on top of her shoulders, unmoving, and she lets out a huff as she sags a little, her head falling to an angle as she looks down at the water in the sink.
"What's up?" he half whispers, tenderly.
"I..."
She huffs again and works the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth.
"I'm scared"
He gently turns her to face him his brow furrowed, his hands reclaiming their place upon her shoulders.
"What?"
"I know, I know, it's silly, just..."
"No. No, I know, it's okay to be a little scared. No. Just... what?"
His answer seems to drag her out of her thoughts and she grins at the truly confuzzled look on his face, his hands unconsciously making movements across the top of her arms.
"Not of what's out there" she elaborates, and his face relaxes a little. "Not so much. A little, but... No, I'm scared that..."
"Sam. What's up?" he asks again, seeking her gaze and holding it. She looks at him for a moment, long and hard, and it's truly disarming the way he occasionally feels like she's looking right through him. Straight to his core.
"I don't want to lose this" she finally admits, and the vulnerability that suddenly appears on her face is so far removed from the Sam he knows that he steps the slightest bit closer. So close he's breathing the same air, her body almost touching.
"Lose this? I don't understand"
"Us, Jack. This. The way we are here. If I go back-"
"Sam, nothing has to change"
"You and I both know that's not true"
"It's only for this one thing" he reminds her gently, a small reassuring smile flitting across his features. "Go in, blow something up, then come back. Simple"
"Is it?" she asks, stepping away to collect the forgotten mugs on the kitchen table.
"What'd'ya mean?"
"I mean..." she starts, placing the mugs in the sink and picking up the sponge. He takes the tea towel and starts drying the dishes already on the drying rack.
"If I go back, will I ever leave?"
"Nobody will make you stay if you don't want to. I can make sure of that if need be"
"It's not everyone else I'm worried about" she says quietly, muttering just loud enough for him to hear.
He takes a moment to let that sink in.
"Are you saying that you're afraid to go back because... you might actually like it? Because you'll wanna stay?"
"Yeah... yeah, I guess I am" she replies, sighing as she places the last mug on the rack for him.
"So what if you do?"
"What?"
He places the tea towel on the counter and turns to face her, both of them leaning with one hip against the edge.
"What if you do enjoy it?"
"I don't understand" she says, and judging by the look on his face, she really doesn't.
"So what if you want to stay?"
"Jack, I can't just up and move half-way across the country again"
"Why not?"
"Well, because, I moved here for a reason"
"For a change"
"Right. And Cassie..."
"Cassie's doing fine. Her grades are up, she's eating three meals a day, she's in that club thing at school"
"Yeah, but, you know, it's only been a few months-"
"Sam" he says, no real meaning intended behind the words other than to cut off her excuse. The both of them know that Cassie was back on the straight and narrow weeks ago, her imminent decent suddenly interrupted and rapidly reversed by some much-needed family time and a few heart-to-hearts. Cassie, though much loved, is not the reason Sam needs to stay in Nevada anymore, and hasn't been since around the time Mitchell asked Sam back. Her excuses since then have, she realises, finally been all about herself.
"And, I'm not sure I want to go back. It's nice having regular hours" she says, truthful though not thoroughly convincing.
"Sam"
"What?" she says a little impatiently.
He can't help but grin a little. Her monologues in the past had always been in her head, he's sure. The few times he sat and watched her mind work, he had seen the thought progression as clear as if she had voiced it. Now, in the privacy of her kitchen, he's being afforded the rare and prestigious honour of hearing it out loud. Of listening to her voice while she grasps at straws.
"What is the worst that could happen if you go back? More to the point, what the worst that'll happen if you stay?"
She fixes him with another meaningful stare before answering. "Things go back to the way they were the last time I was there"
The confession- because it truly is a confession- hits him hard. He reels a little, his brow furrowing again as he analyses what she means. At his questioning look she elaborates, her tone heavy and mournful, so different from the Sam who would proclaim 'I'm fine' before ever admitting defeat.
"You, me- we go back to how things were before. I get caught up in my work again. I don't get a life, I don't leave the mountain. And what if I rejoin SG-1? Forget about ever seeing me, even if I don't get killed on some mission"
He winces at her frankness, and thinks for the first time that, if she does go back, he won't be there with her. Won't get to see her step back through the gate, battered but alive, after every missed call.
"That mountain is worse than Heathrow, with the hours we come and go, and you know it- you were there"
"I know" he says, recognising that she had been thinking something similar to him, though she hadn't been obvious.
"And there's still the fact that people will talk"
"Nobody needs to talk about anything" he says, trying for casual, though he can't keep the look of confusion and slight irritation off his face.
"You expect to keep it a secret? That a General is in town every other weekend?"
"No. I expect that nobody needs to know when a guy comes over to his girlfriend's house on a weekend to visit her. I expect that, given the circumstances, our friends will be more than happy to keep their traps shut. I expect that nobody needs to know anything"
She sighs and moves back to the living room, sitting on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table, her expression nothing short of sulky.
"Sam" he says gently, sitting next to her, and the way his arm automatically moves over her head and around her shoulders makes her instantly sorry that she got mad. "You and I are well versed in discretion. So are the guys. As for seeing you- yeah, it probably won't be as regular as here, and yeah, that sucks. Your hours will probably be longer, you'll probably go back on a team, you won't be kicked out of the office at five o'clock every afternoon..."
She sighs again and shifts into his side, her head on his shoulder, her hand coming up to clasp the one around her neck.
"But you know what?"
"What?"
"We'll make it work. You and me. We'll figure something out"
He places a kiss to the top of her head and whispers softly into her hair. "I'm not going anywhere, not for anyone or anything"
His words warm her from the inside- his solid promise as real and dear to her as any sappy declaration of undying love. That he is willing to watch her go back to the mountain is overwhelming. That he is willing to work around it all makes her want to lock the doors, seal the windows and stay in the house with him forever.
"I haven't decided I'm going back"
"We both know you're going back, at least for this Mark 9 thing"
"Well, I haven't decided to stay there, have I?"
"No" he says with a smile, kissing her hair again, marvelling not for the first time that, in the years since they first met, she has become more and more like him in the most subtle of ways. "But when you do, I'll be there, cheering you on from the sidelines"
"Flags? Streamers?"
"For you, I'd do the full cheerleader's getup- miniskirt, pom-poms and everything"
She laughs out loud at that and turns to face him, pulling herself up to his level, her grin widening when she sees his own smile. Kissing him soundly, she holds the side of his neck, and the hand that was around her shoulders moves to thread through her hair. It's slow and languid and, like so many times before, purely indulgent. Why rush, thinks Jack.
"I guess we'd better let Landry know he's expecting me" she says lowly, her lips still so close to his he feels her breathe against them.
"Oh, I've got a special little prank for Hank"
"Oh really? And just what might this prank require from me?"
"Just a well-timed entrance, I promise"
"You're going to tell him I'm not coming, aren't you?"
"You know me so well" he replies, holding a hand to his chest as though flattered.
"Truthfully, that's pretty tame for you"
"Oh, it's just to remind him of a favour he owes me, that's all. Nothing too serious"
"Well in that case, I'll try not to give you away"
"Likewise"
She studies him a moment, her eyes going small as she gets lost in her thoughts.
"What?"
"I love you, you know that?"
And like every other time she says it, his throat gets a little tight and he gets a little more serious.
"I know" he says, pulling her back into his side and turning up the television volume. For a moment they are both distracted by the crime show on the screen, before he kisses her head again.
"I love you too, Sam"
He feels her smile against his chest as he squeezes her arm just a little.
"So it's all going to be okay?"
"We'll be fine. You just need to worry about these new Ori guys. From what Hank's been telling me, they're not very nice"
"And we've dealt with 'not very nice' before"
"Exactly"
"So... what you're saying is..."
"It'll be fine"
"Okay"
"And don't die"
"Okay" she repeats, this time with a half chuckle.
"And don't forget to time your entrance just right"
"Jack"
"Okay. Sorry"
"No you're not"
But she doesn't really mind because, after all, she knew what she was getting into, and now that she's sure she isn't going to lose it, it's was okay to joke about some things. Even pranking unsuspecting senior officers.