Title: Understanding SamTitle: Understanding Sam
Series: Silent Comfort 1/4
Author: Saramund
E-mail: Saramund@hotmail.com
Season: 7
Spoilers: Death Knell, Chimera
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and its characters are property of Stargate (II)
productions,
Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.
This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only and absolutely no money
exchanged hands as a result of this story. No copyright infringement is
intended. The
original characters, situations and story are property of the author. This story
may not
be posted anywhere else without the consent of the author.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam watched her father leave the Infirmary through tear-filled eyes. She bit
her lip and turned her face away as he turned the corner, feeling her heart slowly
crumble beneath the weight of grief and pain.
Just days ago, she had witnessed the massacre of more of her friends than she
cared to remember. Captains Johnson and Rowen, Lieutenant Glenn - cut down right in
front of her, the other 10 lieutenants on rotation to the Beta site, along with
numerous NCO's, Jaffa and Tok'ra. All friends of hers, some of them good friends, all of
them good work-mates. Now they were gone, their memorial service held just the day
before. Janet had denied her permission to attend, denied her the opportunity to
say good-bye to all those with whom she'd worked and laughed and joked.
And now her father had left her. He said he'd see her again, but in their line
of work, there were no guarantees. He worked for a rebel force, whose mode of operation
was to infiltrate the enemy. He worked undercover. The chances of discovery and
death were high. And now he was leaving, with no definite promise of returning.
Yet this grief wasn't what hurt the most. Yes, it hurt, that was nothing to be
dismissed. She ached within her very heart for all the people who had died. For
the families who had lost their loved ones and would never know the reason why. She
hurt for the ones who survived. The ones who - like herself - were now suffering
survivor's guilt. But mostly, she hurt for herself.
Sam was never one to indulge in self-pity. Occasionally yes, she had moments of
selfishness, who didn't? But the majority of her personality was reflected
outwards, towards helping others. It was what made her such a good officer, and she knew
it. But right now, the last thing she cared about, was being a good officer.
Right now, what she wanted most of all was to curl up into a tiny ball and sob
herself to sleep. The desire, the need to do so, was almost overwhelming. The only
thing preventing her from succumbing was the knowledge that she was in a very public
infirmary where anyone could walk in, at any time, without announcement. It was
that alone which kept her composed.
It's not your fault. The memory of his voice came back to haunt her as she lay
there holding back her tears, his tone soft and gentle. Don't blame yourself. There
was nothing else you could have done. He'd continued in this manner, constantly
talking to her, trying to comfort her. His hand wrapped around hers, holding it gently,
his hazel-brown eyes pale with worry. But it didn't help. His voice didn't help.
His attempt to comfort, did not bring comfort. Eventually she had asked to be left
alone, wishing desperately for silence. And he'd complied. Without question, without
complaint. As he left, she'd stifled a small sob, realising now what her heart
had known for several weeks.
He didn't understand her. He never would.
It was this realisation that cracked her heart. She'd finally opened herself up
to another. Finally allowed her heart to feel something other than dread and fear
of harm, at the thought of sharing her inner-most self with another. Yet still, for
all of her openness and honesty, he'd never truly come to realise exactly who she
really was. He didn't understand what she needed. He never would.
Shutting off the memory of his departure, she closed her eyes in defeat and
turned on her side to curl into the hard mattress, snuffling her face into the pillow.
She blinked a few times, then opened her eyes in amazement.
He was sitting there, silently watching over her. She was unsure just how long
he'd been there, but it didn't matter. He said nothing, did nothing. Just continued
to watch her with unblinking brown eyes. Sitting upright on a hard infirmary chair, his
fingers played with a pen probably lifted from someone else's desk, slowly tumbling it
over and between his fingers. He watched over her, allowing her to deal with her
grief and despair in her own time. Refraining from offering empty platitudes or hollow
comforts, which echoed insincerely in her ears.
He sat there, as he'd done after she killed the drone, offering her a shoulder
to lean on - both figuratively and literally - and an ear to listen, should she need it.
But most comforting of all, he offered her that which she craved the most - his silent
support, his wordless comfort. Giving her the quiet - the peace - she so desperately
needed.
She raised a small smile in thank you, still not speaking. He nodded silently
in return. She knew he'd understand. He always had.
He always would.
-fin-
Series: Silent Comfort 1/4
Author: Saramund
E-mail: Saramund@hotmail.com
Season: 7
Spoilers: Death Knell, Chimera
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and its characters are property of Stargate (II)
productions,
Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.
This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only and absolutely no money
exchanged hands as a result of this story. No copyright infringement is
intended. The
original characters, situations and story are property of the author. This story
may not
be posted anywhere else without the consent of the author.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam watched her father leave the Infirmary through tear-filled eyes. She bit
her lip and turned her face away as he turned the corner, feeling her heart slowly
crumble beneath the weight of grief and pain.
Just days ago, she had witnessed the massacre of more of her friends than she
cared to remember. Captains Johnson and Rowen, Lieutenant Glenn - cut down right in
front of her, the other 10 lieutenants on rotation to the Beta site, along with
numerous NCO's, Jaffa and Tok'ra. All friends of hers, some of them good friends, all of
them good work-mates. Now they were gone, their memorial service held just the day
before. Janet had denied her permission to attend, denied her the opportunity to
say good-bye to all those with whom she'd worked and laughed and joked.
And now her father had left her. He said he'd see her again, but in their line
of work, there were no guarantees. He worked for a rebel force, whose mode of operation
was to infiltrate the enemy. He worked undercover. The chances of discovery and
death were high. And now he was leaving, with no definite promise of returning.
Yet this grief wasn't what hurt the most. Yes, it hurt, that was nothing to be
dismissed. She ached within her very heart for all the people who had died. For
the families who had lost their loved ones and would never know the reason why. She
hurt for the ones who survived. The ones who - like herself - were now suffering
survivor's guilt. But mostly, she hurt for herself.
Sam was never one to indulge in self-pity. Occasionally yes, she had moments of
selfishness, who didn't? But the majority of her personality was reflected
outwards, towards helping others. It was what made her such a good officer, and she knew
it. But right now, the last thing she cared about, was being a good officer.
Right now, what she wanted most of all was to curl up into a tiny ball and sob
herself to sleep. The desire, the need to do so, was almost overwhelming. The only
thing preventing her from succumbing was the knowledge that she was in a very public
infirmary where anyone could walk in, at any time, without announcement. It was
that alone which kept her composed.
It's not your fault. The memory of his voice came back to haunt her as she lay
there holding back her tears, his tone soft and gentle. Don't blame yourself. There
was nothing else you could have done. He'd continued in this manner, constantly
talking to her, trying to comfort her. His hand wrapped around hers, holding it gently,
his hazel-brown eyes pale with worry. But it didn't help. His voice didn't help.
His attempt to comfort, did not bring comfort. Eventually she had asked to be left
alone, wishing desperately for silence. And he'd complied. Without question, without
complaint. As he left, she'd stifled a small sob, realising now what her heart
had known for several weeks.
He didn't understand her. He never would.
It was this realisation that cracked her heart. She'd finally opened herself up
to another. Finally allowed her heart to feel something other than dread and fear
of harm, at the thought of sharing her inner-most self with another. Yet still, for
all of her openness and honesty, he'd never truly come to realise exactly who she
really was. He didn't understand what she needed. He never would.
Shutting off the memory of his departure, she closed her eyes in defeat and
turned on her side to curl into the hard mattress, snuffling her face into the pillow.
She blinked a few times, then opened her eyes in amazement.
He was sitting there, silently watching over her. She was unsure just how long
he'd been there, but it didn't matter. He said nothing, did nothing. Just continued
to watch her with unblinking brown eyes. Sitting upright on a hard infirmary chair, his
fingers played with a pen probably lifted from someone else's desk, slowly tumbling it
over and between his fingers. He watched over her, allowing her to deal with her
grief and despair in her own time. Refraining from offering empty platitudes or hollow
comforts, which echoed insincerely in her ears.
He sat there, as he'd done after she killed the drone, offering her a shoulder
to lean on - both figuratively and literally - and an ear to listen, should she need it.
But most comforting of all, he offered her that which she craved the most - his silent
support, his wordless comfort. Giving her the quiet - the peace - she so desperately
needed.
She raised a small smile in thank you, still not speaking. He nodded silently
in return. She knew he'd understand. He always had.
He always would.
-fin-