Beta'ed by stusue
A/N : Tag to "Threads" (I know what you're thinking : another one! But this idea's been bugging me for a while, and I wanted to give it a shot.)
And this is interactive!fic! At some point, you will see the indication "Press it". Well, dear reader, thanks to the wonders of the internet, you will actually get to press it! (I warn you, it's music, so don't do it if you're in a public place.) Then, open this window again and enjoy the rest of the fic.
Ok, apparently doesn't read my html link code, well, here's the link, so if you want to hear it, just copy-paste : ) http://www.radioblogclub.fr/open/135531/natkingcole/Nat20King20Cole20-20Charles20Chaplin20-20Smile
Smile
There were days like these when you'd rather just stay in bed, thought Sam Carter with a sigh, stuck in traffic on her way to Cheyenne Mountain.
She hadn't cried yet. Not at the funeral three days ago with Mark and the kids, not since. She'd remained stoical throughout the entire ceremony, because 'Carters didn't cry' and she'd wanted to honor her father in this way one last time. And also because she most likely hadn't quite realized yet that she would never see him again.
For most of her life, her father had been a forever-busy shadow in dress blues, darkened even more by the death of her mother. But then, when she'd thought the shadow would fade forever, their relationship had been revived, her father revealing himself at last beyond the shield generated by his cold position of "General Carter". So it was hardly surprising that, after six years of sharing more with him than she had ever dreamed possible whilst growing up, it took some time for her to process the finality of his death.
General O'Neill had forbidden her to come anywhere near the base over the weekend, but today was Monday, the day she was to return to the SGC, the day she was to start getting on with her life.
General O'Neill...Jack...had been there for her, 'always'. Not only had he taken care of all the details, organizing a full military funeral for Jacob, but he had also taken care of her, driving her home, and simply being there for her, all in a supporting silence that meant everything to her.
And then, as if her life wasn't already overwhelming enough as it was, there was Pete. Sam felt disturbingly guilty for not feeling guilty after having ended things with him. Because, she figured, she should feel terrible about the situation; after all, Pete was a very nice man. But the discomfort she felt right now was nothing compared to the pain she'd felt, a dagger stabbing through her heart, when Agent Johnson's petite figure had emerged from General O'Neill's house, looking as if she belonged there.
At that very moment, she knew; it wasn't right to hide the truth from Pete, to hide the truth from herself.
Passing at last through the Mountain's various security checkpoints, Sam couldn't help but notice the plastered smile on every airman's face. Compassion was something she disliked, probably almost as much as guilt. It was synonymous with weakness, the very thing her father had taught her to despise.
Walking towards her lab, she passed by Walter and Siler, the former apparently teasing the latter about his bad luck, as the poor man seemed to be wearing a brand new bandage on his wrist. The moment they turned to her, Sam noticed both faces change abruptly, mimicking the expression on everyone else's face.
Feeling slightly nauseous, Sam rushed inside and closed the familiar, heavy door of her laboratory. She wasn't too sure if this sudden sickness was caused by the general compassion of the people around her, the guilt she still felt about Pete, or the realization that the only people who could really understand what she needed were absent.
One was on another planet, the second, she didn't even know…probably fooling around with death, as usual…and the last... The last one seemed to be hiding himself behind the same shield her father used to use, probably already regretting his unusual care for her since her father's death, as he'd left for DC knowing that she was to return to the SGC that same day. You'd think she'd be used to it, but it hurt all the same. Along with Pete, her last chance at a 'normal' life, or at least the illusion of one, despite her work, had gone. She felt loneliness slowly settling on her like a mantle.
Sam looked down at the mess on her desk; she'd been forced to leave it in a hurry because she'd forgotten her appointment with Pete and the caterer. She frowned at the crazy thought that now no one was going to get a taste of that amazing mango-chocolate "pièce montée". The frown became a wince, as her thoughts wandered again to the one person she knew would be the most disappointed to miss the gustative experience.
Approaching the desk, she noticed a small device plugged into her computer's speakers - an MP3 player. Alongside was a note, short and to the point, just like the owner of the writing Sam knew so well.
"Press it,
J."
The dark lab filled with a sweet and soothing voice,
"Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you"
Now, at last, her tears could freely fall.