Title: Falling
Author: Dr Sarah
Rating: PG-13 just in case (some bad words)
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and its Characters are owned by MGM, Gekko and all the rest…I'm just letting my muse run wild.
Author's notes: SA, I promised you fic so here you go. Angsty fic dedicated to SA who told me I had to write if she was going to write, I blame my sugar high for leaving me high and dry…this is the result.
Feedback: Is essential! Compulsory even…if I find you've read this without feeding back I will hunt you down and tickle you with a feather!
x
There was an ever-present feel of falling.
That sensation in the pit of your stomach telling you that, even though you wouldn't know it, you were actually falling at an alarming rate on a never-ending journey towards oblivion.
She hated it; the lack of self-control sent shivers down her spine.
Did she believe in fate? Was life already predetermined waiting for you to follow the path laid out for you? Could you stray from the path and make your own endings? God, she hoped so.
Yet the falling continued. However hard she tried to make a life, get past being engaged, having a meaningful relationship outside of work, Fate would reach out with its long, cold fingers and pull her back on track. Maybe it was her destiny to become an old spinster, living in a house that smelt of old cabbages with lots of cats getting her enjoyment out of scaring the local children. Then again, she'd probably be dead before she reached forty.
Nothing like a mental, motivational speech before drowning your sorrows in a bottle of whatever the hell you find in your cupboard.
Questions floated around in the void between Lt Colonel Carter and Dr Samantha Carter PhD, it was as if nothing existed outside of those two personas. Sure when Janet was around they'd do the girly thing, shop, talk about boys, films and boys…well men to be precise, four certain men, all of whom have had a number 1 on their BDU's over the last eight years.
God, she missed Janet. Yet another falling moment in her life, the death of her best friend.
So she sat in the semi darkness of her living room at o one hundred hours, reminiscing and pondering the meaning of life. Getting lost in the swirling emotions and feelings that in no way were being helped by the state of inebriated-ness of Samantha Jean Carter.
And she was falling again.
She jolted awake, sitting up on the couch.
O two hundred hours.
She hadn't slept this badly since her mother had died, she didn't react this badly in her sleep to Janet's death.
His death was different though. She was there to see him fall, to see his limp body hit the ground covered in blood.
She could have saved him.
She could have told him.
But Fate was a bastard and had it in for Little Sammy Jean since the day she was born. Maybe he was a Goa'uld.
Finis