Setting: Between Moebius (8x20) and Avalon (9x01), while Sam's at Area 51 and Jack's head of Homeworld Security.
Pairing: Newly established Sam/Jack.
Summary: Songfic based on Coldplay's The Scientist. Slight fluff involving Sam reflecting on the lyrics, and on her 'new' truck.
The CD player crackled into life as Sam turned her truck's engine on, and climbed into the front seat, ready for her first weekend off since she'd started. She'd just about adjusted to the height now, although she should have been used to it years ago with all the times she'd sat in it over the years. Never driving, of course. Jack would never have let anyone drive his truck. She was surprised he'd given it up so easily, in fact, but there it was on her drive one day.
It had been the day after Jack had left for Washington. They'd said goodbye inside the house because she hadn't wanted to actually see him drive away to meet his flight. She'd assumed he'd taken his car back home on the way. Apparently not. The note tucked under one of the wipers was folded in two, 'Carter' written in Jack's hurried scrawl on one side.
Carter,
You really want to ride your motorbike in the desert? Don't even get me started on how you're buying some hybrid thing – you've saved the world enough to use a little gas!
Here's something for when you get tired of sand in your helmet. Apparently I get my own limo now, so I guess I won't be needing this for a while.
Call if you have any problems with it.
Heck, call if you don't.
Jack
She had smiled. The keys were taped to the note, so she'd taken it for a spin. It had smelt of Jack, and that stupid 'pine fresh' air freshener – as if they didn't get enough of that on missions! - and, worryingly, also faintly of beer. She'd driven it every day that week, and used it to take the guys out to dinner on her last day at the SGC. They didn't say anything.
That had been about a month ago. She'd brought her bike to Nevada on the back of the truck, but she hadn't used it yet. The truck had been more useful in the recent heatwave – even the feel of the wind chilling every inch of skin didn't make leathers any less sticky in this kind of heat – and she hadn't had any problems with it. She'd called Jack to reassure him on that point as soon as she'd arrived at her new rental place. He'd called the next day to check it was still okay and they'd descended into a sort of pattern, taking turns to call and talk about the truck. Among other things.
Except that was all they did. They'd both been too busy to hop on a plane; Jack had been drafting some kind of treaty with the IOC, and testing aircraft, and doing a billion other things, and she'd been testing aircraft, and working on new energy weapons, and trying to find a cure for Thor, and a billion other things, all different to Jack's billion things, meaning they never overlapped. Not once. Hell, you'd think that at some point the scientist in charge of developing hyperdrives would actually meet up with the guy in charge of overseeing the ships. The track on her CD changed. Coldplay's The Scientist.
I had to find you, tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart...
She let the soothing piano wash over her as she focused on the road ahead. It was one of her favourite songs, though she could never quite figure out why. Probably some psychology thing. One day Jack had turned on her stereo at home and found this in the CD slot. The look he gave her was a kind of 'Carter? Really? Coldplay?' look, which was then followed by a not-so-subtle changing of the disc. She'd made him a copy of the disc that evening and left it by his stereo at the next team night, just for fun. It was in the player for the team night after that, though he hastily blamed it on Cassie when she'd raised an eyebrow at seeing it.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be this hard...
Well, that summed things up nicely. They'd known it would be hard to stay together when they were separated by most of the country, but she figured if they could go 8 years they could go another few until Jack was allowed to retire... but that logic had come at the start of their relationship, when they'd finally been allowed to admit certain things to each other – due to a large amount of negotiating on Jack's part – and they'd both underestimated how difficult it would be.
Questions of science, science and progress,
Don't speak as loud as my heart...
As she drove past the turning that would take her to her tiny bungalow, Sam smiled. That had been her alright. Jacob had been right; she'd been so focused on science, and progress, and everything Stargate-related (except a certain CO; thoughts of whom had remained buried or superficial, for the most part), that she'd forgotten her heart. Or something. On the surface, she was a little unsure whether or not she subscribed to the whole 'listen to your heart' thing, but there was something beneath the surface telling her that if it was just hormones and neurotransmitters and pheromones doing their thing, then they were doing it very convincingly.
But tell me you love me, come back and haunt me,
Oh, and I rush to the start...
The sound of her cell phone interrupted a lengthy sigh. Keeping both eyes on the now busy road, she fumbled with one hand for her cell until she found it. "Colonel Carter speaking."
"That still sounds cool, you know."
A grin cracked across her face as she circled for a parking spot. "I know, sir."
"Jack."
"Jack." She cut off the engine.
"Was that my truck? How's it doing?"
"It's doing great, Jack. As always. I don't know how, but you've got it running like it's brand new." The door kachunked shut as she began to walk away.
"Come on, Sam. Like you couldn't make it go twice as well. You're the rocket scientist."
"True. But I'm a little rusty when it comes to trucks."
"Guess that means I'll have to come fix it for you next time it breaks." There was a hopeful note in his voice, and she let her head tip in a silent laugh as she navigated through the crowd with her bag clutched tight in one hand, and the cell held firmly to her ear in the other.
"Yes, sir."
"Speaking of, Carter, I don't suppose you'd happen to be bringing it by Colorado Springs any time this weekend? I had to come up for paperwork" His tone was casual, but her face lit up. She could picture that hopeful look in his dark brown eyes. It was the same look she'd seen every time he asked her to go fishing with him. The smartly-dressed attendant behind the counter rolled her eyes at Sam as she apologetically fished out what she needed, and handed it over.
"Actually, sir, I thought I'd leave the truck. Maybe give it a rest. - Thanks." The latter was said to the attendant, who passed her the ticket and boarding pass and gestured in the direction of her gate.
"Thanks? Who?" Jack sounded a little confused, but she couldn't answer until she'd replaced her purse in her bag by holding her passport, boarding pass, and ticket under her chin, whilst balancing the phone on her shoulder at the same time.
"The lovely woman who just sold me a ticket to Colorado Springs."
"Ah. She sounds great."
"Oh, definitely." She flashed all the paperwork at a disgruntled stewardess, who waved her through and shut the gate behind her.
"Carter?"
"Yeah?" Another stewardess was politely – if pointedly – gesturing towards the sign telling her to switch her cell off.
"Let me know when you get in? I'll meet you with a car."
"Yes sir." The stewardess was glaring now. "And Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Bring that Coldplay CD."
He chuckled, and she smiled as she switched off her cell.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard,
I'm going back to the start.