My muse however has been rather insistent about this one, so i finally sat down and wrote it out. I don't know if i quite achieved what i was going for, but i think i got close. So tell me what ya think!
"Fancy Meeting You Here"
by Shroedinger
Disclaimer: I definitely don't own stargate. And its too big to fit on my christmas list so its on my 'miracle' wish list.
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag (Endgame)
Spoilers: Anything with 'The Trust', Pete, Jack's ex-wife. Specifically spoilers for season eight's Endgame.
Summary-- Sam comes to terms with the deaths of the Trust's 'Endgame'
Archive: (eventually) Heliopolis, Sam and Jack yes, Carter fic, Gateworld, any others please ask so i can visit!
Betaed by fallingfromelysium, so if there are mistakes blame her, not me.
"Fancy meeting you here." The General's words were in line with his characteristic sarcasm, but something in his tone was off. Tired, almost.
"I needed some space." It could have been a not-so-subtle hint for him to leave, but it wasn't. Just an affirmation that what she had been looking for couldn't be found twenty-eight floors beneath a mountain.
"Mind if I pull up some rock?" He gestured at the boulder she was leaning against, and she nodded. The view was incredible. The contrasting patches of light and dark, city and nature—all innocently unaware of the life and death decisions made daily in the mountain that overshadowed them.
They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. After a bit, both heads tilted up to take in the stars. The moon had set and the night was crisp and clear so the stars sparkled like diamonds on blue velvet. She almost laughed out loud at the analogy. It was a very artistic description for her. 'See!' she said to no one in particular. 'It isn't all about the science.' Which only made her think about how inappropriately peaceful the analogy was for something so chaotic and powerful, at every level. The universe.
He was looking at her now, his attention drawn by the laugh she hadn't quite stifled. Or so she told herself when she finally noticed his scrutiny. He called her on the laugh.
"Out with it Carter." She stared blankly for the first moment, so he elaborated. "If you've found something funny, I could use a laugh." So she told him, blushing a bit though he couldn't see it in the darkness. He listened patiently though as she explained the quirks of her train of thought, before leaning back against the boulder and returning his gaze to the sky. He didn't laugh, but he did smile.
"What are you looking for up there?" he asked, much more willing to listen to her talk than to do any explaining himself.
"Perspective," she answered after a contemplative pause. She hesitated before continuing. "A professor of mine at the academy once said something to me that I've never forgotten. He said that 'you can only kill if you are willing to be killed.' He said a lot of other stuff I didn't agree with, and have since forgotten; but that stuck with me."
She turned to face him, seeking his full attention. "Sometimes, like today, I wonder if I can do this." She sought his eyes for understanding, but he was unreadable. "The Trust are the least honorable of a group that doesn't even know what honor is. And killed with ease, in secrecy, and with a cold sense of victory. They weren't willing to be killed. And they killed millions—MILLIONS—of Jaffa. Who may be following false gods, but they are following them with honor!
He smirked, but without much humor. "Details," he lamented and she smiled in response.
"Yeah," she said nodding as her energy ebbed. "Details." Then she sobered. "And the worst part…" she broke his gaze and turned back to the sky. "It was only the Jaffa with symbiotes who died. The kids, too young for implantation, watched them die without warning. And are now left…" She let their imaginations finish the sentence.
She glanced down at her hands in her lap and at the ring she wore on her left, and he followed her gaze. Twisting it around her finger as if uncomfortable with it, and yet unwilling to take it off. He cut the metaphor off there as it didn't bear further thought. But he knew what she was thinking. Pete wouldn't understand. He'd try, but he couldn't. Just like Sarah couldn't. How could they understand something the people who had experienced it were still grappling so blindly with?
So he put his arm around her shoulder. She tensed for a moment in surprise, then leaned closer. The darkness made it easier to let something like this go unnoticed in their careful dance of avoidance. Always proper and professional and distant. Except that nothing about life was proper, professional or distant. Especially in their line of work.
"Dr. Hannafey, right?" he asked after a moment. Gesturing, "built like a stick, has about as much hair as Hammond…" She nodded in surprise and he smiled. "Are we sure there isn't some sort of alien influence, because he was positively ancient when I was there. So he should have been…one of Daniel's relics, by the time you were there." She laughed quietly and he paused. He reflected on his time at the academy, and words he hadn't understood at the time but maybe did now. They bubbled to the surface and he gathered them together before continuing.
"He said something else that should have stuck with you as well. 'Those who have killed without suffering from it shouldn't be in the business of killing at all.'" He let her ponder that for a bit, and he could see the gears turning in her head. They both suffered for the lives they had taken. In ways he didn't want to go into, and neither of them needed to verbalize. War was hell, and always would be. And no matter how impersonal it could be for the person firing the weapon, it was always very personal on the other end. But what could they do?
"So we're doing the best we can, with the best and most honorable of intentions, and millions of people still die? But we're doing all we can!" She didn't seem very happy with that answer. In truth, if he himself was happy with that answer he wouldn't have been wandering around in the dark on top of a mountain.
"You're words, not mine." Evasion was just easier.
They sat in silence for a bit longer, gazing over everything but seeing nothing. Feeling the reassuring warmth of the other's body and the rhythmic movement of their breathing. They might have sat there till sunrise if their pagers hadn't started buzzing simultaneously. Startled back to the present they stood and reluctantly turned to head back in. As they were walking towards the guard, Sam asked a nagging question.
"What were you out here looking for?"
"Perspective," he echoed, and she smiled.
"Did you find it?"
"I hope so."
A/N: The wise words of their "Dr. Hannafey" actually belong to Stanley Hauerwas, but I found them easier to slip into the fic by making him a professor of theirs. Dr. Hauerwas gave a lecture recently on the sacrifices of war at my school a little while ago, and some of his words stuck in my head. Which my muse thought needed to be turned into a fic. So here you go!
And I named their fictional professor after one of my own ethics professors. Very cool guy.
Enjoy, and please tell me what you think! About this fic or "Secrets"