Title: Our Hero
Author: Jemma
Story Status: Complete
Series/Sequel Info: None
Season: Seven
Spoilers: Heroes Part 1 & 2
Categories: UST, hint at romance, H/C
Pairings: Sam/Jack
Rating: T
Content Warnings: None
Summary: Sam is trying to figure out what to say at Janet's memorial.
Archive Permissions: Please ask.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters relating to Stargate. They belong to MGM and any of their associates. I'm just playing around with them for a little while!
File Size: 1,572 words
Authors Note: Thanks to everyone that has sent me feedback for my fics in the past couple of weeks – it has all been very much appreciated! Hope you all enjoy this one!
Date: 5th February, 2008
SGSGSGSGSGSGSG
Sam had been wandering the halls for at least 15 minutes, without purpose or direction. She had left her 'interrogation' with Woolsey
and was still fuming, but she couldn't think about that now; she had to push it all to the back of her mind. She needed to find
inspiration of what she should say, or how she should say it, at Janet's memorial service. How the hell were you supposed to say the
right thing? Was there a right thing?
Without even thinking it, she has wandered back to her lab. For a moment, she wondered when the phone call would come to let her
know that the Colonel was up and around – she had asked the Doctor to notify her of this so she could see him. He had known Janet
as long as her and had experience of writing memorial speeches; she needed his advice.
As if fate was unfolding before her, the phone rang. Sam had only just taken a seat at her workstation; she had felt the immediate
relief from the simple act of sitting and now wished that she didn't have to bear her own weight once again, to walk over and life the
receiver and then have to find words to give the person on the other end.
The last telephone conversation that she had, had been with Cassie. She had called Sam again, in tears, and who could blame her.
Sam harbored her own guilt, having cried many more times in the past few hours than she would have cared to admit. She had tried to
reassure Cassie that she was always there for her, as were the rest of SG-1, no matter what she needed. But how do you reassure a
teenage girl who has just lost her second mother, that everything is going to be alright?
Sam pushed herself off the stool and walked slowly to the phone on the wall. Lifting the receiver was like lifting the weight of a staff
weapon.
"Carter."
"Major Carter? This is Nurse Potts down in the infirmary; we just wanted to let you know, as requested Major, that Colonel O'Neill
is up and around and is preparing to discharge."
She had also forgotten that it wouldn't be Janet's voice on the end of the phone, as it had been so many times in the past. Sam's brain
seemed to be working at about a quarter of it's normal functioning speed and the Nurse even had to ask if she was still on the line, as
she hadn't responded within a normal conversational time lapse.
"Yes, I'm here. Thank you."
She hung up the receiver slowly. She felt emotionless; drained; devoid of all ability to even feel.
How was she supposed to go there and stand in front of him…and not completely lose it?
SGSGSGSGSGSGSG
She made the journey to the infirmary in a similar fashion to all her movements of the past few hours – without any recollection of it
once she had reached her destination.
She had entered the infirmary and a Nurse, she assumed Nurse Potts, had pointed her in the direction of a private room where she
assumed the Colonel was. Walking over to the door, she paused for just a second before pushing the handle down and the door
open.
"Sir, I heard you were up and around," she said as she walked in, closing the door behind her.
He winced in pain as he pulled down his shirt and she felt the pain with him. Even though she was here now, she wondered if she had
done the right thing by coming.
"Yeah ... still a little tender but they said I could go home."
She attempted to smile but soon gave it up.
"We're lucky that staff blast hit you where it did. That new vest inserts works well."
He then looked almost angry. "Didn't help Fraiser much."
"No."
He was angry; and feeling the loss just as much of the rest of us. But we all know that he will show it in his own way – in this case,
defence.
He stood up from the bed. "How's Cassie?"
"She's a strong kid, she survives ... you know," I reply, following his movements with my eyes.
"Yeah. You speaking at the memorial?"
I just nod; I can't bring myself to say 'yes sir, I am speaking at the memorial service for my newly dead best friend'. My nod turns to
a shake and then a quick breath out as I realise that there is only one reason that I wanted to see him before he left the mountain.
"Sir ... I ... I just wanted to say…"
Oh my god, am I seriously going to say this? I can feel my voice breaking even before I have opened my mouth to speak again.
"When you were lying there I ..."
Oh my god I can't finish. I cannot finish this sentence. My body and mind won't allow me to. My body is going to force me to burst
into tears any second and my mind is screaming at me to keep my mouth shut because I can't push the boundaries of this line. I look
at everything but him until I can do so no longer; then I look to him for help. Help to finish this. He doesn't give it; he can't. I look at
the ceiling but even now I can feel my eyes becoming even more moist. I have to say it now; I have to or I never will.
"I'm really glad you're okay."
He still continues to just look at me, calmly, as if none of this were happening.
When I can't bear him eyes looking into mine anymore, I breathe out quickly again and look away. The floor takes on a whole new
appeal to me and then the wall behind him.
As I am looking in his direction, I can't miss that he is now moving towards me. Holy crap what have I done? What did I have to
open my mouth in the first place? Or why couldn't I have just gone in, asked for memorial speech advice and got out? Jesus…I try to
smile but it lasts barely a second and is gone again.
I can't exactly ignore him, so I re-adjust my vision to once again meet his eyes. A shiver runs down me as he stands close to me; his
eyes flit down my face but quickly back up again.
"C'mere," he says gently, and I get that feeling I got earlier from simply sitting on my lab chair; relief.
He is all around me; his arms, his smell, his clothes. In that moment I can almost forget that she is gone and that I will never see her
again.
I put my arms around him and hold on; like a child holds onto their parent when they've hurt themselves. Breathing out again I close
my eyes, knowing that in this moment, he is going to make my hurt go away, if only for a moment. He squeezes me a little tighter and
puts his face to my neck; feeling his warmth there is the best comfort I could have asked for.
I push my eyes shut as the moisture becomes fully fledged tears; I can't stop them. He still says nothing, just continues to hold me.
After what can only be a minute, my composure begins to return and I loosen my hold on him slightly, preparing to pull away. He
does not.
"Sir," I say quietly, into his ear.
"I'm sorry Carter. I'm sorry for your loss," he whispers back.
With his words I finally feel the feeling of a genuine smile on my lips.
I re-tighten my hold on him and feel his lips press themselves just behind my ear. I am in no doubt of the action and I welcome it.
Despite deciding only weeks ago that I couldn't put my life on hold any longer, using my feelings for him as an excuse not to live, I feel
more alive now than I have done in the last few hours. He's given that feeling to me.
After half a minute, we both loosen our holds on each other and pull back, those our hands remain on each others arms.
He half smiles at me; it's all he can manage. After all, he is grieving too.
"I should go," I say quietly. "I need to get working on what I'm going to say at the memorial…"
He nods and releases my arms; I do the same.
I smile and turn away from him, heading for the door.
"Carter," he calls as my hand reaches for the door handle.
"Yes Sir?" I ask, turning my head back to him.
He pauses, as if contemplating his words.
"She's our hero, always remember that. Remember her as the person that saved our lives more times than I can count. Don't ever
remember her as that person you used to know. Promise me that." His words come from the heart, but he says them with a steady
resolve.
"Always," I reply quietly.
I turn and leave; he's going to want to get home soon and get cleaned up after all.
All I know is one thing; that no matter what happens to me, or him, or any one of us, we are al heroes to each other.
FIN