A/N:This started as a stupid fic to get my mind off the dark unending one I'm still in the process of writing, and I really started to like it. Focuses on Vala kicking butt over the course of about a year at the SGC. Set post-continuum, I tried to keep it as true as I could.

Bring it all Back

Chapter 1

Handcuffs

She comes through the iris all grins and glowing skin despite the three day mission with Teal'c and Sam, Teal'c and Sam who returned yesterday without her and when he asked questions, because that's what he does, he's the team leader, the boss and it's definitely not because he knows how soft her skin is, or that she has a tattoo just under her hip, it's because he's the boss and he needs to know these things. Like when a team of three go on a three-day mission and then on the second day return with only two, he's a little mathematically challenged, but that's not how it's supposed to work.

"Where is she?" When he asks, he notices the cut still bleeding from Teal'c's chin, the dirt smudges in the dips of Sam's cheeks. "What happened."

Sam only shakes her head, and the usually speechless Teal'c offers a brief explanation. "We were ambushed, they appeared to be officers of the law. There was no way for all of us to return home uninjured. Before we could discuss our options, Vala Mal Doran drew them away allowing Colonel Carter and I to safely escape."

Teal'c got his chin stitched, Sam showered and the three of them dialed back into the planet, P3X-452, but the gate sort of blooped at them, and shut down. When they tried again the same thing happened and Walter concluded that the gate had been shut down from the other end.

Vala was stuck and his palms started to sweat against his P-90, he set his jaw and turned back to the conference room, intent on finding a way back. He'd even call Jackson up from his research overseas. He could do that. He was the boss.

Sat up all night at the table flicking her three-diamonded hair barrett between his fingers because she left it in his dorm the last night they spent together. He pulled it from her hair and her curls bounced around his fingers, gathered in his hands as he drew her towards him.

"Cam." Sam knocked lightly on the ajar door and then took a seat beside him. "You should get some sleep."

"Yeah, I guess she'll still be stuck tomorrow, won't she?" He rested his forehead against the heel of his hand and sighed, "I'm sorry, I know it's not your fault."

"She saved our lives, Cam." Her hand enveloped his, cool thin fingers tapping reassurance. "She didn't even blink, just fired her gun in the air and took off in the opposite direction. We'd all be dead right now."

"Yeah she usually doesn't get credit for her crazy stunts that end up saving our asses."

"I'll talk to Landry, make sure that she does."

Sam stands to leave, and he catches her by the sleeve. "She's not dead you know." She only answers with a rueful smile so he elaborates, "She's probably holed up in some prison having the time of her life seducing the guards."

When she does return her outfit is a mess. Her jacket is gone and most of her pantlegs are missing turning the BDU uniform into summer booty shorts, her black long-sleeved shirt is rolled to her elbows and her arms and legs are covered with scratches and cuts of various depth and length. Her face is sun soaked golden and a layer of mud cracks on her cheeks. She's still wearing the pigtails she left with. "Hello darling, miss me?"

It takes everything he has not to scoop her up there, breathe in the three-day wilderness perfumed on her body, pull out the pigtails and drag his fingers through her hair clearing it of dirt clods and debris.

She holds up her wrists contained in cylindric metal cuffs that crunch down onto her skin, eating away almost her entire forearm. "Would you be a gentleman and get a bolt cutter or a dermal saw." He doesn't answer her and she swings her arms back down because with that amount of metal, they're obviously heavy. "Did Samantha and Muscles make it back okay? Could you possibly call her to remove these from me?" She shifts a boney shoulder and shakes the cuffs. "They're really starting to krump my style."

"Cramp." Is the only word he exudes before his voice cracks like he's back in high school again trying to ask Amy to the dance.

He grins back at her, swallowing hard and wishing the jittery tears away from his eyes. She angles her head to the side, observing him curiously, and jabs him in the ribs with the cuffs.

Later after Sam's worked her mechanical magic and popped the cuffs off with a hiss, he watched from the door to her lab, not wanting to out them, but still needing to know her hands and arms were still in place, weren't mangled and sliced up by metal.

And later still, after Lam discharges her from the medical bay with another tetanus shot and bandages around her wrists, he waits in her dorm, on her bed, his hands on his knees.

"Colonel Mitchell," she greets, swiveling her hips coquettishly like she didn't just spend a day and a half in some foreign prison. "A personal room call, whatever did—"

"Are you okay?"

Her playful act drops, her eyes a little wide, but she approaches him sitting down in his lap and twisting his hat so the brim is at the back. "I have a clean bill of health."

"Your wrists?" The bandages are cool under his fingertips. She feels light in his lap.

Bows her head taking in the injuries. "Just a little sensitive from the cuffs is all."

He cushions his head against her chest, and hears the steady, ordinary thump of her heart and it might be his favorite sound.

"Cameron."

Wants to tell her not to risk herself anymore. But that would be hypocritical. Wants to tell her he loves her, but that would be too serious.

Her fingers rake through his hair and her chest pulses with a large sigh. "I know," she answers his unvoiced concerns.