Title: Personal Touches
Author: Jo. R
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Jack, hints of John/Elizabeth
Category: Post-ep/Missing Scene. Sam/John friendship, mild angst.
Spoilers: SGA: up to and including 4x03 "Reunion". SG1: brief mention of "Singularity", "A Hundred Days", end of season eight.
Summary: Sam tries to settle in Atlantis.
AN: Inspired by a certain scene/item in "Reunion" and also by a Behind the Scenes pic of Sam's office.
She thought packing up her life and moving places was over. She thought she'd done it one final time transferring back to the SGC from Area 51, thought that - finally - she'd found her place in the world.
Though after years of moving from place to place as a child and then as an officer, Sam figured she should be used to it.
She wasn't.
Every time she moved, the box of personal affects got a little bigger. Mementos of the life she'd known before, little reminders of the people she'd known and loved; the ones she'd left behind.
A picture of Cassandra and her beloved dog was near the top, one of the first items she unpacked. She stared at it fondly before placing it on the small cabinet next to her bed; next came a picture of SG-1, both past and present members. It'd been taken at the party to celebrate Mitchell's 200th trip through the 'Gate and was one of the few times all of them had been together. She stared at it thoughtfully before putting it to the side; it would look right in her office, she thought with a sigh, a reminder of what Teal'c had told her - that no matter where she went, SG-1 wouldn't be too far behind.
Another picture of Cassandra, the young girl now a young woman, followed it. She smiled at the beaming image, taken just weeks before her assignment to Atlantis. The memory attached to it wasn't as deep but it would be a welcome reminder during the long hours ahead she was sure to spend in her office of one of the reasons she was there, still fighting the good fight though in an entirely different way to usual.
Another photo, another frozen memory. SG-1 - the original SG-1 - on a rare night out at O'Malleys - taken, obviously, before the incident with the armbands. The waitress wouldn't stop to take a picture after that; Sam suspected the entire staff had been warned not to indulge in anything that could keep the team there longer, just serve them food and drink and hope they left quietly.
Smiling, deciding to keep that moment to herself, Sam set it next to the picture of Cassandra and her dog.
The next two items made the smile on her face falter. She clutched them in hands that were far from steady and sat down on the only part of her bed that was clear. The familiar and much loved face of Jack O'Neill gazed up at her from beneath his baseball cap in one hand, while a couple gazed at each other with matching goofy grins in the other.
Both pictures tugged at her heart, both reminding her of what she'd left behind.
The picture of Jack, the smug, almost cocky grin on his face in contrast to the coyness of his gaze almost covered completely by the cap. She remembered the day it was taken, the moment in fact; he'd just announced that every Earth child needed a dog, bestowing the gift on Cassandra before looking to her with that grin on his face. That impossible-not-to-return grin that had made her stomach flip, even then.
As for the other...
Fishing. A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips in contrast to the dull ache in her chest. Who knew she'd miss it so much?
One would stay in her quarters, the other in her office. Which would go where, Sam couldn't decide.
She set them both to the side, taking care to place them somewhere they wouldn't run the risk of being damaged by the mass of boxes and suitcases still cluttering the small room.
It wasn't an accident that she put them both face down, unable to stare into those happy faces for a minute longer.
Not while the grief was still so fresh.
Setting the small box of personal possessions aside, she got to her feet and set about busying herself with the rest of her unpacking. There was work to be done here, she told herself firmly. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of moping when there were more important things her time should be spent on.
Her quarters were still a mess, but Sam had decided to focus on her office instead. The office she'd walked into felt cold and empty, all personal touches of Doctor Weir's having been moved to a secure place.
It saddened her a little that they'd removed the personality stamped on the office so quickly – from what she remembered of it the few times she'd been there before, Elizabeth had always successfully maintained a warm and welcoming though entirely professional environment. It was sad to find that trait had been so readily removed and she found herself wondering, just for a moment, if her lab at the SGC had already suffered the same treatment.
Sighing to herself, she ignored the looks she knew she was getting from the operations room – maybe she'd put up curtains or something to cover the glass walls – and started unpacking the small box of belongings she'd brought with her from her quarters.
The books and little bits and pieces fit nicely on the shelves behind her desk and she was able to place them without too much thought, which was good as her mind was still on Ronon, still on his thwarted decision to leave and the knowledge that the balance of things in Atlantis was still too fragile; her arrival had upset it enough, and the slightest little thing could cause the whole thing to collapse like a house of cards.
Had Elizabeth known how important she was to the expedition? It was clear to her that the IOA really had no idea just how loved and respected the former leader was, or how deep loyalties ran in the city.
"For most of us, this thing with Elizabeth isn't over yet. She's still out there."
The conversation she'd had with John came back to her and Sam bit back another sigh. She shook her head slightly and sat down in her chair when only a few items were left in the box.
She'd given him the opportunity to come up with a plan and she hoped desperately that he took it. She herself had been thinking overtime, trying to come up with something the IOA wouldn't reject outright – something she wouldn't have to object to.
After all the near misses of SG-1's colourful past, Sam understood that the desire to launch a rescue attempt was still strong. Hell, it'd only been a matter of weeks since Elizabeth had been lost to them – she'd kept going, kept fighting, kept working for over three months when Jack...
Her eyes slid closed and she willed the memories away.
She couldn't let her past blind her to what needed to be done in the future. She couldn't let her feelings as a soldier, as a member of SG-1, colour her judgement as a leader.
The people of Atlantis, whether they liked it or not, were depending on her to make the right decisions now. Decisions made on logic and fact, not on emotions and memories of a time long gone.
The knock at the door startled her and Sam looked up to find John lounging casually in the doorway. She smiled a greeting and got to her feet. She motioned for him to come in and busied herself with picking the last few items out of the box on the table.
"Putting a few personal touches on the place, I see?" There was a note to his voice, an edge she suspected he wasn't even aware of.
Sam turned away from him, using the time to inhale deeply before answering. "Just a few reminders of home," she said softly.
She heard him walk further into the office and wasn't at all surprised when she glanced at him to find he was studying the personal affects scattered over the surfaces of the office furniture. When he said nothing else, she set about arranging the photographs in her hand. Cassandra smiled up at her encouragingly from the frame and Sam found herself smiling in return.
"Ronon moved his stuff back in," John told her, leaning against her desk when she turned to face him, the last photograph still clutched in her hand. The look on his face was appraising but there was a hint of approval in his features. "He told me you didn't hesitate in coming to find us. Thank you."
Sam shrugged and unconsciously cradled the photograph closer. "I told you I don't like leaving people behind."
John studied her for several, long moments, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked away before he spoke, his eyes lowered so she couldn't read the feelings in them. "Did you mean it, before? About Elizabeth...?"
A sigh caught in her throat and Sam turned away from him again, releasing the last photograph from her near-desperate grip so it stood proudly on the bookshelf. She stared at the image of the two happy people and found a lump rose unexpectedly in her throat. "I meant it. Think of a plan the IOA can't object to and I'll authorise it. I'll even go with you."
The picture looked wrong somehow. Sam frowned and nudged it with a fingertip, not really noticing that her hand lingered in the vicinity of the frame.
"I appreciate that. Thank you." John's voice was a low rumble from somewhere close by but Sam didn't turn to acknowledge him. She tilted her head to the side, studying the picture again.
It looked out of place, somehow. Maybe because she'd always been so guarded about her personal life in the past, so careful to keep her thoughts and feelings hidden that now, having something so close to her heart on display for all to see and draw their own conclusions about just felt... raw.
"Nice picture," John commented, his voice surprising in its closeness. Sam turned her head slightly and saw him standing beside her, his gaze fixed on the couple fishing by the lake that was really no more than a glorified pond.
There was no surprise on his face, no rancour in his eyes. No accusation, no 'so that's why you're here'.
None of the things she'd feared would be there.
With a deliberate and slow care, John reached out and nudged the picture, straightening the frame so it was in perfect alignment with the others on display. His brow furrowed for a moment before he stepped back to survey the change.
Sam did the same, her arms crossed almost protectively across her chest as her fingers dug into her flesh.
They stared at the photographs in a long, drawn-out silence. Sam only glanced away when her eyes began to sting and John, seeing the gesture, straightened to take his leave.
"I'll get back to you on that plan," he murmured, his words a promise.
Sam smiled in spite of herself, eyes straying to the photograph once more as the Lt. Colonel prepared to leave her alone in the office. "I'm counting on it," she whispered, not sure if he heard but not really caring either way.
The thought of leaving someone behind was an unpleasant one, a sickening weight in the pit of her stomach that just wouldn't ease no matter how much time passed.
Glancing at Cassandra, then back to the couple on the dock... She wondered if it'd ever stop feeling as though she'd been left behind, too.
Finis.