Trust
Chapter Two
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me (except for the plot and the insignificant original characters that pop in from time to time... Like Demming- he's mine).
Spoilers: Basically, everything so far (But reckoning and Threads!). But, small spoilers in here for "Grace".
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When she woke up the next morning she was alone, which surprised her. Normally, Daniel would be by her bedside, sometimes Teal'c or the general, but today there was no one. Maybe it was early, she mused. With no windows due to the odd location of the SGC there wasn't a way for her to decipher the time without a clock and there only located in the infirmary, right when walking in. She was in bed; the curtain drawn around her, unless she got out of the bed she could not see it. Her leg felt numb and she was sure that if she attempted to walk on it she would collapse. Testing that theory out was not high on her list of to-dos.
It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dark completely, but when she did so she noticed a shadow behind the drawn curtain. Too tall to be a woman, at least any woman on base, broad shoulders that were slumped slightly, whoever it was they were just standing there. She pushed herself up and laid her back against the pillow so that she was sitting, the figure swayed a bit but didn't move any further. After trying again to figure out the identity of the man (or foreign woman ... her bet was on man) she gave up, it was too dark to see anything other than an outline.
She attempted to swing her legs over the side of the bed but instead the exact spot where she had been shot fell onto the edge of the bed. Crying out in pain she pulled her leg back, a string of curses escaping her lips. That hadn't been the smartest thing to do, either, because as she pulled back her right leg her left slid off the bed, the rest of her body going with it. She landed on her side, crying out again. What kind of drugs had the doctor given her anyway?
The figure behind the curtain moved, pulling it back and stepping into the makeshift room, a bemused smile on his face. Cringing she grabbed on to the side of the bed and began to pull herself up, only to find that her arms were just as weak as her legs and fall back down, this time on her rear. Laughter came from only a few feet a way and she glared at him.
"General O'Neill?" She growled, "What are you doing here, sir?"
"It looks like I'm saving you from yourself," he said as he pulled her up off of the floor and helped her back into the bed. "You know," he continued after pulling a chair up beside her bed and sitting it in, "you're not wonder woman."
"Well ... you're not exactly Clark Kent, either," she grunted. "...Sir."
"Was that a joke?" he asked with a chuckle. "Wow ... she doeshave a sense of humor. After all that laughing at my jokes stuff I was starting to get worried."
"Was there something you came for, sir?" she asked, her head starting to pound along with the stabbing pain coming from her leg.
"Just came to see how you were doing," he said with a shrug. "I just got out of a debriefing with SG-3, I needed a friendly face to talk to. Jar heads," he mumbled.
She smiled, "You've got to admit, sir, they may be cocky but they're good at what they do."
"Exactly ... and what they do consists of being a pain in my ass." Sighing aloud he leaned forward and resting his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as he did so. "How are you doing?"
"My leg hurts like hell and now my ass isn't doing that peachy, either." She growled at the smile that spread across his face, "What time is it, anyway, sir?"
"It was 0524 when I came into the infirmary ... so like half after or so." He shrugged, "You should probably get some sleep."
"I'm fine, sir." She assured him. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the infirmary, but neither one of them had the courage to break it and say what they really wanted to. After a few minutes the silence became unbearable for Sam and she spoke out, "You scared the shit out of me yesterday, Sir. I hope you know that."
Jack looked down at his hands, suddenly captivated by the dirt under his fingernails. "There was nothing else I could do, Carter. I didn't want to scare you, I wanted to save you." He glanced up at her briefly, their eyes connecting for a split-second, then looked back down at his hands. "I'm sorry."
"I thought that the Croinian's would kill you for sure, sir." She continued with her confession, "I was terrified, I thought that I would never see you again, I don't even know how many possibilities went through my mind. You would be dead, close to death, missing altogether, who knows what else. When we came back through the 'gate and they wanted me to wait before going back out there- It was my fault you were left behind in the first place, if I hadn't gotten shot ... I kind of lost control."
"Nobody blames you for the way you behaved, Sam. I certainly don't blame you for going, I ordered you to do so. It would have been ten times harder to find a hiding place with a bleeding colonel to worry about." He picked up her hand and held it in his own, not noticing when she shivered. "For what it's worth ... thank you."
A smile tugged on the corners of her mouth, though it went no further. "You're welcome sir, and it's worth a lot." Feeling the medicine that the doctor gave her the night before take effect all over again she allowed her eyes to shut sleepily, sighing in defeat. She still held on to his hand and had no intention of letting go as long as she was at least half-awake. As she slipped into oblivion she focused on his even breaths, the repetitive sound furthering her fall into sleep. Within minutes she was out cold, her hand finally loosening its grip on Jack's.
He watched her sleep for a few minutes before willing himself up, needing to get a few hours in as well. Glancing over his shoulder as he walked out of her "area" in the infirmary he smiled lightly at her sleeping form. They hadn't talked openly in years, not since the Zatarc testing where they had vowed to keep their confessions "in that room"- Something that he had regretted as soon as he said and continued to regret daily.
Maybe things were changing.
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Later that morning she was begging the doctors to let her get up and walk around, even if it was on crutches. But, all of the doctors and nurses demanded that she have at least two more days' bed rest. Even after that would been too soon for the normal person to walk after having stitches, but Sam would not even entertain the idea of staying in bed for more than 48 hours at a time. She wanted to get up for a few hours, at the very least.
Since he was technically the CO of everybody on the base he made the final decision. If she would stop complaining she would be allowed one hour of physical therapy, which probably wasn't the type of walking she had in mind.
"But, sir," she argued, "it wasn't even that bad of a wound! It barely even grazed my calf, the only thing that hurts is the stitches. I don't need physical therapy." A sigh escaped her lips, "I just want to be able to walk."
"And you will," he explained. "In physical therapy with Dr. Cunningham. After that hour he will determine if you are OK to walk, or if you need more therapy."
She scowled at him, "This is not necessary, sir. I walked on it for hours after it happened!"
"It might not be," he admitted. "But, then again, it might be. I'm not willing to take any chances here, Carter. I want you walking just as soon as you want to be walking, but I'm not going to lose my best team for months because the leader was too stubborn to follow orders."
"Sir—"
"Ah! No ifs, ands, or buts, Carter." he ordered. "That's final."
With another scowl she sat back in bed, "Fine, sir. Have it your way."
"I always do," he said in a singsong tone. "That's why I'm the General."
Rolling her eyes at him she sighed, "When do I get my hour, sir?"
He glanced at his watch; "Well ... it's just now after 1100 hours, how about at 1300 until 1400?"
"That's fine, sir." she grumbled.
"Good," he said in triumph. "I'll go talk with Cunningham."
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Hours later, after five minutes past 1400 hours, Dr. Cunningham announced to the General and her doctors that she was able to walk, with crutches. But, she was not allowed to walk around for more than an hour at a time. She would be required to take at least a fifteen minute break in-between. Sam wasn't particularly thrilled by the hour walking limit or the fact she had to use crutches for the next three days (at least) but it was better than being bed-ridden. Of course, the General had ordered her home, so it wasn't like she would be able to get any work done.
At half after 1600 Daniel helped her into his car and drove her home for the start of her three-day downtime. She didn't say more than three words to him on her own accord, not that it mattered since he was doing enough talking for the both of them.
"You know," he said, "everybody at the SGC is talking about what you did yesterday."
"Oh?" she asked, not even pretending to care. "What are they saying?"
He didn't catch on to her sarcasm, "That you've been spending too much time with Jack." he replied with a chuckle.
Sam didn't laugh, nor did she smile. She froze in her seat, what did they mean by 'spending too much time' with him? They couldn't think... No, that wasn't possible. She was with Pete- everybody knew that.
"Pretty soon," Daniel continued, "you're going to be making bad puns, too."
A sigh of relief escaped her lips, they just meant he was rubbing off on her... personality wise. "Do that already." she said with a half-smile.
Daniel nodded, "Not as often as he does though."
"Right," she agreed.
"So... has Pete gotten his transfer yet?" Daniel asked, changing the subject to something he assumed Sam would prefer to discuss.
He was wrong. Pete was actually the last person she wanted to think about, much less talk about. "No, not yet." she informed him. "He said it will probably take at least two months before there's an opening at the Colorado Springs PD, more than that, likely."
"That's too bad," Daniel told her. "When is he coming down?"
"Next weekend, if our schedules don't change." She didn't say anything else, and Daniel had no other questions to ask at that time, so until he pulled up beside the curb in front of her house they were silent. He got out first, walked around to the back of his CR-V and got her crutches out, then walked around to her side and handed them to her. She took them thankfully and used them to step onto the sidewalk.
When they got into her house she headed straight for the couch and sat down. Not that she would admit it to anybody, but walking- even just a little bit- wore her out. Daniel sat on the love-seat and there was a comfortable silence in the air for about thirty seconds before he had to go and open his big, fat mouth.
"Why don't you just tell him?" he asked her cryptically.
"Tell who, what?" she questioned, closing her eyes and stretching her legs across the sofa.
"Why don't you just tell Jack that you love him?" Daniel mused.
Her eyes snapped open and she looked over at him, "Because I would be lying."
"I'm not stupid, Sam... so don't insult my intelligence by expecting me to believe that line of bull about not having feelings for him. I know you do, you know you do, hell... even Hammond knows it. The only one who can't see the truth staring him in the face is Jack... and that's really unfortunate because if he could see it he would do something about it. Unlike you, who is willing to throw it away for second-best." He paused to allow her to defend herself, trying not to wince at the nasty look she was sending him.
"What do you expect me to do, Daniel? Walk right up to him and say 'General O'Neill, even though it's against the regulations I'm in love with you... so what are you going to do about it?'"
Daniel shook his head, "No," he informed her, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I expect you to at least call him Jack."
Her eyes narrowed on him and she grabbed the nearest object, which turned out to be a pillow, and threw it at him. She was sick and tired of hearing people (real or imagined), tell her how to live. "This is my life, damn it! Stop telling me what I should and what I shouldn't do with it!"
He dunked out of the way, "I'm your friend, Sam. I'd like to think I'm one of your best friends, if not your best. I realize that up until a while ago that role was taken by Janet... but she's gone now. And I know that if she was still around she wouldn't sit by idly and watch you screw your life up because you're scared of the truth." She furrowed her brow at him and he continued, "Yeah, I said scared. Stop pretending like you're some kind of damn superhero with no emotions, you're not fooling anybody but yourself. I know you're scared, Sam... trust me, I understand. I was scared, too... and look where I ended up."
Sam shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about, Daniel."
"Of course you don't," he said quietly. "I'm talking about Jan, Sam... I loved her and I didn't have the balls to tell her. Because I was scared- I was afraid that she didn't feel the same way so I kept my feelings to myself. Now she's gone and I'll never have a chance to know if she felt the same way or how my life could have turned out if I had told her." He got out of his seat and walked across the room, sitting next to her on the couch and snaking an arm around her shoulder. "I don't want you to end up the way that I did... you and Jack would be perfect together, if you only gave it a chance."
She looked away from him, "I can't, Daniel... you don't get it. If I tell him, everything changes. I don't want things to change, I'm happy with the way things are."
"Are you?" he asked. "Are you really happy? Or, are you just content?"
Well, that was vaugely familiar. But- if she remembered correctly, the last time somebody had thrown that argument in her face it was for the exact opposite reason... and technically, it had been her doing the arguing.
"I don't want to lose what he and I have."
"Which is what- friendship? God, Sam... when was the last time you two sat down and had an actual conversation? Not 'how's your paperwork?' or 'how's life off-world?'... a real conversation?"
"I don't know," she confessed.
"Look, Sam... I'm not trying to tell you how you should live your life. I'm just trying to be a good friend... I want you to be happy. If Pete makes you happy... well, then Pete makes you happy. But I don't think he does."
She didn't answer him.
"Talk to him, Sam. You don't have to tell him how you feel or even anything close to it... just, have an actual discussion with him." He gave her a quick hug, "Trust me, it'll do you a lot of good."
She smiled weakly and he kissed her on the forehead before walking out the front door.
Trust, she scoffed- if it was only that simple.
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A/N:
So...
what do you think? Sorry guys, I already had this chapter written
before I started the story, so I couldn't cut Pete out. It won't take
long before he's gone, I promise. I'm not a fan of Pete, although that
stupid episode (Threads) did make me feel a bit bad for him. Well, the
episode wasn't stupid, of course, but the guilt is! Don't worry though-
I am a full on Jack/Sam shipper!
