Angel Standing By
By: the female apophis
Disclaimer: Define owns...
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Do you really have to ask me that?
Spoilers: Let me know if you see some.
Summary: Two women, complete strangers, become closer after the death of one man.
Archive: Sure, just let me know ahead of time.
A/N: I really don't know how this idea came to me. I was a bit depressed and all this other crap, so this story was written. So, I hope you like it. Let me know.
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She sat there at the foot of his grave crying. They had just started dating, had spent one glorious night together, and then he died on a mission. It was a freak accident; no one was blaming her except herself.
She could have shoved him out of the way and taken the bolt herself, but she was only able to stand there and watch as he took the shot. She remembered with crystal clarity the way he had sunk to the ground, blood streaming from his chest. She had crouched by his side, wanting him to fight it, knowing that he couldn't. She had stolen his last breath by kissing him. It was the last kiss, and the most cherished of them all.
"I miss you, and I'll always love you Jack."
Sam rose to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes. She heard someone approaching, and turned to face them. She wasn't prepared for what she saw.
The girl was around sixteen years of age. Her hair, which was colored somewhere between auburn and brunette, fell just past her shoulders and was done in messy curls. She stood about five foot five, and of a medium build. Her face was a gentle one, and while in no way was she the most beautiful thing in the world, she was the type that could catch your eye, but was probably soon forgotten in the crowd. The square frames that covered her eyes fit her face, and set off her dark chestnut eyes. Her nose was just that; a nose. There was nothing that really made it different. Her lips were naturally pink, and there appeared to be no sign of lipstick on them.
Her shoulders were squarely set, and her back was straight, giving her a very determined and powerful stance. Hands were loosely clasped in front of her chest, giving her a look of child like of innocence. Her standing position was uneven, due to her hips, common in the girls of her age group. Feet were placed shoulder length apart, again giving her that powerful stance.
She was wearing a simple khaki shirt, with a black T-shirt. A small silver chain lay around her neck, matching the silver rings around her fingers. Her watch was different, being wide, and appeared to be made of leather, two long strips weaving through to make the straps.
The girl crossed to Sam and extended her hand in greeting.
"Hi. I'm Tracy. You must be Carter."
"Yeah, I am. How did you know my name?"
"He talked about you a lot. It's been hard the past few days without him around."
"Yes it has."
"Why do I get the impression that you think you're the only one who's lost a loved one?"
"What? You're saying that you have as well?"
"You're not the only one Major. I lost my father!" the girl was practically yelling at this point.
"What? That's impossible. He didn't have any children except for Charlie."
"That's where you're wrong. He had me."
"How? He never talked about you."
"Well, my birth was kind of an accident."
"You know, maybe this isn't the best place in the world to be talking about this. What do you say you come back with me, and we can talk in peace over some Chinese."
"Sounds like a plan. What did you say you wanted me to call you again?"
"Call me Sam. Is it alright if I call you Tracy?"
"That's fine Sam. Come on, let's get out of here."
Tracy dropped a quick kiss on her dad's headstone before linking arms with Sam and walking off.
The two women were very much alike, and became friends even as they drove to the restaurant.
After picking up their food, they headed back to Sam's house.
They'd eaten their meals in silence before either spoke again. Sam was the first to speak up.
"So, you gonna tell me a bit more about yourself?"
"Sure. Be ready for a long tale."
"Trust me, I am."
"I'm sure you know that my father was a POW in Iraq. Well, he was engaged to Sarah at the time, and had every intention of getting back to her as soon as humanly possible. Something went horribly wrong though. During his second month there, a female prisoner was thrown into the cell with him. She showed signs of having been severely beaten, but not a single one of having been raped. The two hit it off quite well, and were soon friends."
She paused here for a moment to take a breath. A few moments later she began again.
"During their third month together, the nights became cold. They soon began to sleep curled up together, sharing body heat. But it wasn't enough. There was really only one way to keep themselves warm, and so, it happened. They were busted out about three weeks later, and no hard feelings were passed between them. They were just doing what they had to do to survive. They still kept in contact for a little while after they got back to the states, but about a month after returning, my mother mysteriously quit writing to him. By this time, he and Sarah were already married. He had told Sarah about mom, and Sarah said that she understood. About eight months later, Charlie was born, and there still had been no word from mom. Then, one day, about five years after they had gotten out, dad got a bit of an unexpected visit. Mom decided that it was time that he knew why she had stopped writing. I was the reason. She didn't want to spoil his happiness by telling him about me, but figured that he still had to know. He was stunned to say the least. Mom and I moved into the area. Charlie and I started playing together, and made fast friends; neither of us knew at the time that we were brother and sister. I didn't know until after he died; that being one of the hardest times of my life."
Again, she paused to take a breath, and to take a sip of her coke, hoping to banish some of the dryness in her mouth.
"About a year and a half after Charlie died, my mom passed on as well. She had cancer, and at the time, there was nothing the doctor's could do for her. I was sent to my Uncle's house, and never really spoke to dad again. I mean, we still talked on the phone about once every two months, but it wasn't really enough. Then, when I was twelve, I started saving up my money. I made this plan to run away when I was fourteen. I hated my uncle and his family. They didn't really treat me bad, they just pretended I didn't exist. They gave me twenty bucks for my birthday, and fifty for Christmas. That was as far as they were willing to go for me. I was forced to buy my own clothes, my own food, everything. If I wanted something, I had to buy it for myself. I started working as soon as I turned thirteen, doing whatever I was told to do by my bosses. I was soon a regular in bars, that being the only place that I could get some decent food for a cheap price. Everyone knew me by name, and no one really had a problem with me being there. I was one of their best customers."
"By my fourteenth birthday, I had everything ready. I just had to wait for the right time. It came about five months later, three weeks before Christmas. Everyone in the house was always in bed and snoring away by eleven. Everyone except me that is. I've always been a bit of a night owl, being more content to go to bed at three in the morning, and not getting up until closer to ten. That was the situation that night. About midnight, I packed everything I could into two suitcases, and a backpack. I had all my clothes and my most important stuffed animals in the biggest case, while everything but my electronics in the other one. The electronic stuff went into my backpack, along with my few cosmetic essentials, and a spare change of clothes. I had given my two weeks notice already, and my last day of work had been that day. My boss knew how crappy my home life was, and while reluctant to let me go, agreed. He gave me two thousand dollars to help me get started again once I got to wherever it was I was going. The manager, who I had become close friends with, agreed to give me a ride to the airport. He pulled up outside the house twenty after twelve, and then we were off. They had had this party for me the day before I left, all wishing me well, and giving me either a gift, or some money to help me out. They were so good to me at that movie theater. I still keep in touch with them now."
"Anyway, I took the red-eye out from Atlanta, straight to Colorado Springs. From there, I took a cab to dad's house, and gave him the shock of his life. Lucky for me he was home that night. After he gave me a stern lecture we caught up, talking until almost ten that morning. Apparently he had the day off from work. He helped me look for a place of my own, and we kept in touch, talking at least once a week. One day, he called me up, as always, and told me that he had met someone. That's when I first really heard about you. I wanted to meet you, but he wanted to give it a bit more time. We had agreed that he was going to introduce the two of us at the Bar-B-Q that he had planned that Saturday, but that didn't exactly work out as planned, as you very well know. And that's how it happened. You know the rest."
Sam had tears streaming down her face at the tale this girl had told her. Tracy knew about pain, that much was obvious from the moment they had met, but she had never expected it to be this much.
Without a moment's delay, she grabbed the girl to her in a tight hug. The two cried together over the lost of a loved one, drawing strength from each other.
Sam signed the papers, and hugged Tracy. She had just adopted Tracy, strengthening the mother-daughter like bond that they already shared. It was a day that neither would forget, and would always treasure.
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All through the night I'll be watching over you
And all through the night I'll be standing over you
All through bad dreams I'll be right there, baby
Holding your hand, telling you everything is all right
And when you cry I'll be right there
Telling you you were never anything less than beautiful
So don't you worry
I'm your Angel standing by
-Angel Standing By (words by Jewel on her album Pieces of You)
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~fin~
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"Lousy son of a bitch ß Death shall come to him by speeding buckets of flour."-Jennifer Cook (crazy/insane/much loved friend of mine)