DROP TO ZERO
By Jennghis Kahn
Pairing- Sam/Jack, slightly smarmy Sam/Daniel friendship
Rating- Eh, PG-13 ought to cover it. Language.
Genre- Angst all the way
Spoilers- Red Sky
Summary- What if Red Sky had ended differently? Sam said she couldn't live with herself. Jack's not doing so well either. S/J. Short angst.
Title is from my favorite Trust Company song, "Drop to Zero", but this is NOT a songfic. Not even a little. Thanks to Desert Fox for the proof and beta. She's new to SG-1 so the mistakes are all mine.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed my story, Jack and the Chair. You really made my day! Sequel is planned.
Sorry about the horizontal rules. is stupid.
The first time she calls, he thinks it's a joke and hangs up before the caller can get their shit together and ask him if his refrigerator is running. He doesn't stop to wonder how anyone has gotten his private number. People at the SGC have kids, after all.
The second time she calls, he thinks it must be Daniel because it is such a Daniel-thing to do, calling and then not saying anything. Just waiting. But when he asks the next day, Daniel, who swears he isn't angry but doesn't talk to him much anymore anyway, only answers coldly that it wasn't him and goes back to searching state newspapers on the internet.
The third time she calls, he thinks that maybe it could be Maybourne and he swears a blue streak into the phone, trying to coax a reaction. But the person on the other end gives a small exhalation and he can almost hear them shaking their head in disbelief.
And he knows that it's her.
The fourth time she calls, he says her name.
"Carter?"
There's a hitch in the breathing, and his chest tightens with all the things he's imagined saying to her if he ever sees her again. Instead, he can only ask one thing.
"Where are you?"
There's no answer, just the light breathing. He lets his chest stay tight because it keeps a rein on all the impulsive words that are bursting to get out. When he asks again, she quietly hangs up on him. He barely hears the click before the dial-tone sounds almost painfully in his ear.
He should go straight to Hammond, or at least Daniel, so they can set up all the equipment, trace her calls and find her. Instead, he keeps it to himself and isn't sure why.
Guilt! His conscience screams at him.
Well, we're not 100 positive it was her, his logical mind replies. He tries not to think of the shitstorm that will befall him if Daniel ever finds out he's talking to Sam and keeping quiet about it.
The fifth time she calls, he gets mad. He berates her for leaving them like this and tries to order her back. Her silence pisses him off, but nothing he does can antagonize her into arguing. Not even the dire warning that Hammond can't avoid the words "AWOL" forever. He hangs up on her with a curse and has a fifth of cheap brandy before collapsing into bed and sleeping dreamlessly.
The sixth time she calls, he stays silent. He thinks maybe he can wait her out. After 15 minutes, he gets bored and watches The Simpsons while the receiver rests in the crook between his shoulder and neck. She stays on the line for two whole episodes before quietly hanging up again.
The seventh time she calls, he gives up and simply tells her about his day. He calls her 'Sam' and talks for an hour, listening to the changes in her breathing. He hears Middle Eastern music in the background and wonders if she's even in the United States anymore.
The eighth time she calls, he cheats and tries for her soft spot.
"You know, Daniel wants to take a leave of absence to search for you. He's worried sick."
He hears her swallow hard and doesn't tell her that if Daniel does just that and finds her, he's afraid their mutual hatred of him would cement them together and they might never come back at all. If that happened, he'd never be able to look into another pair of blue eyes again without being haunted.
The ninth time she calls, he falls asleep while listening to it rain and thunder through the phone. He awakens to a dead line and the echo of a whispered, "I'm sorry, Jack," in his ear. He isn't sure if it's real or a dream so he stays awake the rest of the night remembering it... just in case.
The tenth time she calls, he breaks down.
"Damn it, Sam. I can't keep doing this. Do you really hate me this much?"
There's a heavy tension on the line and he thinks she might speak... but instead that soft click comes again. He closes his eyes and holds the receiver against his lips silently while rocking in place a little, because his other option is ripping the cord from the wall and destroying the phone in a haze of frustrated agony.
The eleventh time she calls, he doesn't answer it. Finally he pulls the cord out of the phone so the ringing stops. When he has a change of heart half-an-hour later, he hurries to plug it back in, but it's too late and the phone remains silent.
He spends the next week worrying that she's done with him and angry that there's no way to tell her that he wants to talk to her again. Even if it's him talking and her listening silently.
Daniel notices the change in him, and even though Daniel has long since stopped asking or seemingly caring how he is, Jack notices a look of concern in his eyes. Jack thinks that's a good sign. He doesn't tell Daniel about Sam though.
The twelfth time she calls, he's so relieved that he reads a fishing magazine aloud to her to keep her on the line. He suspects by then that she calls just to hear his voice, and he feels guilty that it makes him glad she calls him and not Daniel. He doesn't ask her to come back this time. He asks her to come home.
He's not sleeping well now. His dreams are filled with the screams of dying people and sometimes he sees and hears Sam or Daniel among them. He stays up late into the night, stargazing, because he can't imagine her on Earth anymore. He's sure she must be out in the stars somewhere, maybe looking back at him with her own telescope.
He knows if he goes looking for her, he'll never find her.
The thirteenth time she calls, he explains.
"I won't apologize for it, Sam. I'd rather have you alive and hating me than dead along with them."
She makes a sound that's either a laugh or a sob. He doesn't know which. Either way it sends a dagger thrusting through his gut and lungs and he holds his breath painfully.
"Do you hear their voices?" Her voice is hoarse and makes him wonder if she's used it at all in the months since she's walked away from them. He's so happy that she's finally spoken that he has trouble finding his voice again. He fights back the sudden burn of tears in his eyes.
"Yes," he whispers. "Yes. Come home."
"I can't." She whispers back.
He hears it in her voice then and realizes that it's not him she hates at all.
"Don't do anything stupid." He says, and thinks about how many types of wrong it is to say something like that to her.
She lets out a hard, voiceless laugh that says it all. Too late...
The fourteenth time she calls, he tells her something he's never told another living soul. Something about his time in Iraq. There's nobody else on the planet that knows except him and her. Everybody else who was involved is dead. He tells her to make a point. To remind her that bad things sometimes happen to good people and neither of them is evil.
"Blame me." He says. "I gave the order and wouldn't let you try. It's my fault." Even though they both know that's a crock, and he wouldn't have had to give the order at all if she hadn't fucked up and bypassed gate safety procedures in the first place. The guilt lays with all of them.
"How's Daniel?" She asks, ignoring the "get out of jail free" card he's just offered. He knew she would.
"He thinks I'm an asshole." Jack mutters.
The fifteenth time she calls, he hears a TV program in the background and flips through his channels until he finds the same one. It makes him happy because it means she's in the same timezone again.
"Come home." He tells her again. "It's the only way Daniel will ever forgive me."
She's silent on the line. Waiting.
"It's the only way I'll ever forgive myself." He adds quietly. "I'm sorry."
The sixteenth time... she rings his doorbell..
END