TITLE: The Busy and the Tired
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes to Scientific Minds, others, please ask.
CATEGORY: Romance, humor
PAIRING: Sam/Daniel
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: "Wonderful. She was freezing, exhausted, bruised, and bored out of her mind, and somebody was telling jokes."
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I'm making absolutely no money from this.
NOTES: This fic was written for Amy (aka dragonsinger) as part of the 2003 Ink and Quill Holiday Fic Exchange. Oh, the title is taken from a line in The Great Gatsby: "There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired."
* * * * *
Sam stumbled through the Stargate with much less than her usual aplomb, wincing as she nearly tripped over her feet like a newbie. Daniel caught her elbow, forehead furrowed, and she shook her head.
"I'm fine, Daniel, just tired."
"If you say so. That was a pretty hard punch."
Even after nearly a year of wedded something-or-other, she was still amused by how fragile he considered her. She suspected she should probably be annoyed by it, but somehow on Daniel it was just plain cute. "I was ducking. Don't worry."
Jack and Teal'c came through the Gate behind them, just before it whooshed and turned back to an empty circle.
"Ducking. Right." Jack scowled at Sam. "We'll see what the doc has to say about that."
* * * * *
Seated on an examination table, Sam stared blankly at the walls, trying vainly to count the number of times she'd done this before. She tried counting missions, but realized that she'd been here several times on some missions. Then she tried counting by team member injuries, but there were so many it was confusing. Finally, she settled for a general number: several thousand.
Janet seemed to be taking an unusually long time with the others, Sam thought when her brain finally unstuck from its random thoughts. Was there something wrong? She could hear voices, but not words.
But surely if they'd picked up some infection or something, someone would have bustled over here to check her over.
Swinging her feet, banging them against the bed's supports, Sam wondered what they were doing. Laughter drifted through the curtain.
Wonderful. She was freezing, exhausted, bruised, and bored out of her mind, and somebody was telling jokes. Usually she had something to concentrate on--some new discovery, a scientific problem--but this mission had brought her nothing new, just the same old, same old.
They came, they saw, they got their asses kicked. Well, okay, it wasn't that bad. But there was something about an unexpected punch to the side of the head that made her feel gloomy, depressed about the whole thing.
Somebody else was in a disgustingly cheerful mood, she thought, glaring at the curtain. Finally, she'd had enough and hopped off the table, pulling aside the curtain to find Jack and Janet reclining in chairs and apparently relaxing.
"Any chance I can get out of here *today*? If it's even the same day."
"Oh, Sam, I'm sorry. I thought I'd already examined you."
Shaking her head in astonishment, she turned to go back to the examination table and saw Jack and Janet exchange glances. Great, Jack was probably going to make some idiotic comment about PMS as soon as she was gone. Fine. Let him. As long as she got to go home and curl up in her own bed for a few hours, he could say whatever he wanted.
* * * * *
Jack left, muttering something about "places to do and things to go", leaving Janet to fuss over her. The whole ordeal seemed much longer than normal, with Janet expressing concerns about the bruise on her head. When she heard mumbling about a CAT scan, Sam had had enough. Pushing Janet's hand away, she jumped off the bed. "That's it. Unless you've got a legitimate reason to keep me here, I'm rounding up Daniel and going home for some well-deserved R&R."
She only made it half way to the door before Sgt. Siler appeared, freezing in place like a deer in headlights. He swallowed twice. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, but I need your help with the dialing computer."
"Can't it wait?"
"I'm afraid it can't. SG-7 is due back in an hour and I'm concerned."
The man had the gall to actually shuffle his feet. Unbelievable.
For a moment, she toyed with a most un-military desire to shriek like a banshee--fortunately, good nature and years of conditioning prevented it. "Lead the way, Sergeant."
* * * * *
Head down over a keyboard in the control room, typing away madly, she only vaguely registered footsteps behind her. There was something strange about this glitch. It looked very much as if--
"Major Carter?"
Her head shot up and she jumped out of the padded chair, which flew back on squeaky wheels. "Gen. Hammond. Sir."
"At ease, Major. I need you to go over a few reports with me before I transmit them to the Pentagon. I'm sure Sgt. Siler can finish whatever you were doing."
"But he..."
"Major?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Good. Then let's go to my office and take a look at those reports." He turned and marched down the spiral steps. When she shot a questioning look at Siler, he just shrugged his confusion.
What was wrong with everyone today? Their behavior was certainly odd. Was it another alien invasion? That would make what...the third one this year?
If it *was* aliens, then their diabolical plot apparently involved working her to death. Which bore a close resemblance to her normal state of being, making it hard to tell for certain.
Sam stared down the steps at the general's retreating back and considered the possibility she was losing her mind.
"Is everything all right?" Gen. Hammond turned, brow furrowed.
"Fine, sir."
* * * * *
Hammond looked at his watch several times, and she wondered, somewhat caustically, if she was keeping him from a hot date. Finally, after slogging through and explaining--again--how she'd nearly ended up in the harem of the hereditary rule of P3X4962, the general shook his head.
"I think we need Col. O'Neill. I saw him heading toward the mess. Why don't you go check if he's still there?"
"Yes, sir." She nearly staggered out the door, expecting any moment for Hammond to change his mind and send her home. But he didn't.
Scrubbing at her face to try and wake up, she pushed through the mess hall doors into a crowd of people and balloons and streamers.
Sam blinked.
"Happy anniversary, Sam." Daniel stepped forward, looking a bit apprehensive.
As well he should. "Daniel..."
The crowd held its breath. "I'm sorry, I hadn't planned it this way, but we came back too early and nothing was done yet and I didn't know you'd--"
It went against all her principles to do it in public, but she shut him up the only way she knew: a kiss. Startled, his arms went around her.
"Way to go, Carter!" Jack yelled. The rest of the crowd whistled and cheered and stamped its feet. "Okay, folks," Jack went on, "let's give 'em a minute. Meanwhile, there's cake. And pie. Can't lose with a good pie."
When Sam finally broke the kiss, Daniel had that dazed look she'd always liked, the one that said his train of thought had not only derailed, but it had also crashed and burned.
"So, it's been a year," she said. "I'm sorry I forgot."
"That's okay. We've been busy." He slid an arm around her shoulders, warm and comforting, and they looked around them at red and white balloons and streamers, a cobbled together sign saying 'Congratulations' and their friends, ready to celebrate. "This started out as a small party, you know. Then Jack found out what I was planning, word got out, and next thing I knew, half the base is here."
She smiled, then blinked as a thought hit her. Damn, she was more tired than she thought. "Wait, if everyone was in on it..."
"That's why you didn't get to go home. While a bunch of us were in here decorating, I got Sgt. Siler, Janet, and--"
"General Hammond?"
"Yes," Hammond said behind her.
She spun around, gobsmacked. "You..."
"Kept you busy, yes." His smile nearly split his round face in two. "Although I *did* need to go over those reports with you."
"Thank you," Daniel said.
"My pleasure and congratulations to both of you. I'm pleased you've justified my willingness to allow you to remain on the same team." He nodded back and went to get a piece of cake.
Sam just shook her head in amazement. "I'm impressed. This is quite an operation you set up here. And on short notice as well."
"Jack helped. He loves this stuff, the old softie."
"Just don't say that where he can hear it."
"Of course not." Daniel grinned at her and she blinked back tears, exhaustion blending with love until she felt a bit dizzy.
"Happy anniversary, Daniel."
"Happy anniversary, Sam."
Jack stalked over and growled at them. "Okay, kids, that's enough of the mushy stuff. Eat some cake."
--end--
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes to Scientific Minds, others, please ask.
CATEGORY: Romance, humor
PAIRING: Sam/Daniel
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: "Wonderful. She was freezing, exhausted, bruised, and bored out of her mind, and somebody was telling jokes."
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I'm making absolutely no money from this.
NOTES: This fic was written for Amy (aka dragonsinger) as part of the 2003 Ink and Quill Holiday Fic Exchange. Oh, the title is taken from a line in The Great Gatsby: "There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired."
* * * * *
Sam stumbled through the Stargate with much less than her usual aplomb, wincing as she nearly tripped over her feet like a newbie. Daniel caught her elbow, forehead furrowed, and she shook her head.
"I'm fine, Daniel, just tired."
"If you say so. That was a pretty hard punch."
Even after nearly a year of wedded something-or-other, she was still amused by how fragile he considered her. She suspected she should probably be annoyed by it, but somehow on Daniel it was just plain cute. "I was ducking. Don't worry."
Jack and Teal'c came through the Gate behind them, just before it whooshed and turned back to an empty circle.
"Ducking. Right." Jack scowled at Sam. "We'll see what the doc has to say about that."
* * * * *
Seated on an examination table, Sam stared blankly at the walls, trying vainly to count the number of times she'd done this before. She tried counting missions, but realized that she'd been here several times on some missions. Then she tried counting by team member injuries, but there were so many it was confusing. Finally, she settled for a general number: several thousand.
Janet seemed to be taking an unusually long time with the others, Sam thought when her brain finally unstuck from its random thoughts. Was there something wrong? She could hear voices, but not words.
But surely if they'd picked up some infection or something, someone would have bustled over here to check her over.
Swinging her feet, banging them against the bed's supports, Sam wondered what they were doing. Laughter drifted through the curtain.
Wonderful. She was freezing, exhausted, bruised, and bored out of her mind, and somebody was telling jokes. Usually she had something to concentrate on--some new discovery, a scientific problem--but this mission had brought her nothing new, just the same old, same old.
They came, they saw, they got their asses kicked. Well, okay, it wasn't that bad. But there was something about an unexpected punch to the side of the head that made her feel gloomy, depressed about the whole thing.
Somebody else was in a disgustingly cheerful mood, she thought, glaring at the curtain. Finally, she'd had enough and hopped off the table, pulling aside the curtain to find Jack and Janet reclining in chairs and apparently relaxing.
"Any chance I can get out of here *today*? If it's even the same day."
"Oh, Sam, I'm sorry. I thought I'd already examined you."
Shaking her head in astonishment, she turned to go back to the examination table and saw Jack and Janet exchange glances. Great, Jack was probably going to make some idiotic comment about PMS as soon as she was gone. Fine. Let him. As long as she got to go home and curl up in her own bed for a few hours, he could say whatever he wanted.
* * * * *
Jack left, muttering something about "places to do and things to go", leaving Janet to fuss over her. The whole ordeal seemed much longer than normal, with Janet expressing concerns about the bruise on her head. When she heard mumbling about a CAT scan, Sam had had enough. Pushing Janet's hand away, she jumped off the bed. "That's it. Unless you've got a legitimate reason to keep me here, I'm rounding up Daniel and going home for some well-deserved R&R."
She only made it half way to the door before Sgt. Siler appeared, freezing in place like a deer in headlights. He swallowed twice. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, but I need your help with the dialing computer."
"Can't it wait?"
"I'm afraid it can't. SG-7 is due back in an hour and I'm concerned."
The man had the gall to actually shuffle his feet. Unbelievable.
For a moment, she toyed with a most un-military desire to shriek like a banshee--fortunately, good nature and years of conditioning prevented it. "Lead the way, Sergeant."
* * * * *
Head down over a keyboard in the control room, typing away madly, she only vaguely registered footsteps behind her. There was something strange about this glitch. It looked very much as if--
"Major Carter?"
Her head shot up and she jumped out of the padded chair, which flew back on squeaky wheels. "Gen. Hammond. Sir."
"At ease, Major. I need you to go over a few reports with me before I transmit them to the Pentagon. I'm sure Sgt. Siler can finish whatever you were doing."
"But he..."
"Major?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Good. Then let's go to my office and take a look at those reports." He turned and marched down the spiral steps. When she shot a questioning look at Siler, he just shrugged his confusion.
What was wrong with everyone today? Their behavior was certainly odd. Was it another alien invasion? That would make what...the third one this year?
If it *was* aliens, then their diabolical plot apparently involved working her to death. Which bore a close resemblance to her normal state of being, making it hard to tell for certain.
Sam stared down the steps at the general's retreating back and considered the possibility she was losing her mind.
"Is everything all right?" Gen. Hammond turned, brow furrowed.
"Fine, sir."
* * * * *
Hammond looked at his watch several times, and she wondered, somewhat caustically, if she was keeping him from a hot date. Finally, after slogging through and explaining--again--how she'd nearly ended up in the harem of the hereditary rule of P3X4962, the general shook his head.
"I think we need Col. O'Neill. I saw him heading toward the mess. Why don't you go check if he's still there?"
"Yes, sir." She nearly staggered out the door, expecting any moment for Hammond to change his mind and send her home. But he didn't.
Scrubbing at her face to try and wake up, she pushed through the mess hall doors into a crowd of people and balloons and streamers.
Sam blinked.
"Happy anniversary, Sam." Daniel stepped forward, looking a bit apprehensive.
As well he should. "Daniel..."
The crowd held its breath. "I'm sorry, I hadn't planned it this way, but we came back too early and nothing was done yet and I didn't know you'd--"
It went against all her principles to do it in public, but she shut him up the only way she knew: a kiss. Startled, his arms went around her.
"Way to go, Carter!" Jack yelled. The rest of the crowd whistled and cheered and stamped its feet. "Okay, folks," Jack went on, "let's give 'em a minute. Meanwhile, there's cake. And pie. Can't lose with a good pie."
When Sam finally broke the kiss, Daniel had that dazed look she'd always liked, the one that said his train of thought had not only derailed, but it had also crashed and burned.
"So, it's been a year," she said. "I'm sorry I forgot."
"That's okay. We've been busy." He slid an arm around her shoulders, warm and comforting, and they looked around them at red and white balloons and streamers, a cobbled together sign saying 'Congratulations' and their friends, ready to celebrate. "This started out as a small party, you know. Then Jack found out what I was planning, word got out, and next thing I knew, half the base is here."
She smiled, then blinked as a thought hit her. Damn, she was more tired than she thought. "Wait, if everyone was in on it..."
"That's why you didn't get to go home. While a bunch of us were in here decorating, I got Sgt. Siler, Janet, and--"
"General Hammond?"
"Yes," Hammond said behind her.
She spun around, gobsmacked. "You..."
"Kept you busy, yes." His smile nearly split his round face in two. "Although I *did* need to go over those reports with you."
"Thank you," Daniel said.
"My pleasure and congratulations to both of you. I'm pleased you've justified my willingness to allow you to remain on the same team." He nodded back and went to get a piece of cake.
Sam just shook her head in amazement. "I'm impressed. This is quite an operation you set up here. And on short notice as well."
"Jack helped. He loves this stuff, the old softie."
"Just don't say that where he can hear it."
"Of course not." Daniel grinned at her and she blinked back tears, exhaustion blending with love until she felt a bit dizzy.
"Happy anniversary, Daniel."
"Happy anniversary, Sam."
Jack stalked over and growled at them. "Okay, kids, that's enough of the mushy stuff. Eat some cake."
--end--