Chapter Two – Awkward Visits
Sam woke with a start, covered in sweat. She had dreamed that dream far too many times now, and every time she found herself falling off her bed and guards banging on her door asking her why she was screaming. Every time she had to assure them pitifully that it was just another nightmare and that she was fine. This time was no different.
"Yes, I'm OKAY!" Sam yelled to the guards on the other side of the metal door. Then a voice that she really didn't want to hear came through amongst the din of the other guards. "SAMANTHA CARTER, LET ME IN OR…"
Sam rushed to the door, trying to push her hair into a somewhat decent-looking style while thanking god that she wore nice looking pajamas to bed last night. Then, hoping to herself that it wouldn't be horribly important, she opened the door and hid her body behind it so that only her face would show and looked into the face of her superior, General Jack O'Neill of the SGC. She wished she hadn't, because her insides had suddenly seemed to become that of jelly rather than what they were originally.
"Sir…?" She asked tentatively.
Jack looked at her quizzically as if no normal person would hide behind their doors on any occasion and strode into the room with uneven steps like he was prone to doing whenever he was in one of those moods. Those "moods" were categorized by Sam and they consisted of amusement, when cynical or skeptic thought ruled over any other thought, or when Jack just didn't feel like doing anything better than walking in his mismatched huge leaps of steps.
It was with this type of step that Jack entered Sam's room. As she closed the door on the guards, Jack turned to her and looked at her with a questioning face. She opted to ignore this as she walked over to her bed and sat down, and then when she couldn't ignore his stare anymore she looked up, which she realized was probably a bad idea because it prompted Jack to speak.
"Want to tell me what's up?" he asked, although Sam knew full well he figured the answer was going to be 'no.'
"There isn't anything going on, Sir" she heard herself say, although she knew that was a lie. He knew that was a lie too, and verified that by scoffing at her comment.
"Carter, as a general and the leader of Stargate Command I need to know how my personnel are doing. That includes you."
"Really sir, I'm fine." Sam tried to tell him, but she knew that her lies were starting to sound worse; her voice was starting to falter as she was trying to find words that would help her point. Realizing there were no words that would help her "Unless I want to lose my job" she thought bitterly, she sighed.
"So screaming out 'I don't want to marry Pete' means nothing, right?" Jack asked and Sam gasped. She didn't realize she had spoken in her sleep.
"What else have I said!" Sam exclaimed.
And Jack then did something that she thought was unexpected for the situation; he laughed.
"Sir?" Sam asked, feeling heat creeping down her neck to above her collarbone. She knew that if she looked down, she'd be blushing.
"Nothing that the betting pools would've loved to hear, Carter," Jack responded.
"Uh… betting pools? Sir, I'm sorry, but it was just a nightmare. I do want to marry Pete, and I've just been under a lot of stress with work and commanding SG-1," she added, putting stress on 'commanding' as if to show to Jack that she wished he hadn't left. Noting this, Jack's eyes—which had been looking around the room before—snapped to Sam with some unknown harshness.
"Right, Carter. I'm expecting you to be in the briefing room at 1100 hours. Is that clear?"
She sighed. "Yes Sir."
"Right then. I'm going to go to resume my paperwork." Sam half-grinned at him.
"You mean your Gameboy, Sir?" He glared at her, something that she wasn't expecting. He then turned and walked out with the same stride that he came in with, and after hearing the door close, Sam sighed.
It was going to be a long day.
A/N: I am not going to be updating until I get more reviews. Yes, I have chapters that I can put up. But in the great word-speak of Teal'c, I require reviews, O'Neill. So feed me, and you'll be rewarded. I also really appreciate constructive criticism.
Oh, and SG-1 still isn't mine. pouts