Summary: 250 word drabble from Sam's POV.
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Notes: Probably needs a better title, but then again it's only drabble.
Disclaimer: Neither Sam Carter nor Jack O'Neill belong to me. If they did, I'd stick them in a room together until they got together. As it is, I have to make do with writing these random fics.
Bubbles
Some days it's just impossible to concentrate. Some days you just stare at the computer screen, or gaze at SG-11's latest report, or watch the bubbles rise lazily in their test tube – I do, anyway. And not one word, not one calculation, not one bubble gets through.
I guess some days coffee and blue jello just aren't enough to keep your mind off things.
Holy Hannah, I never used to have problems concentrating. Sit me in front of a naquadah reactor and I'd be absorbed for hours, days… it still happens that the Colonel finds me here working during our downtime and has to order me to take a break, have some lunch, get a life. Still, this is my life and he knows that. It's not everything it could be, though; he knows that too.
On those days he finds me, those days I'm actually involved in my work, I am truly interested. I haven't lost my love, my passion for science. This isn't anything to do with science: I'm still swept away by every new discovery, every incredible revelation. I still need to learn things, still need to experiment, still need to explode theories and then put them back together again. Science isn't the problem. Maybe it would be easier if it was.
Jack O'Neill is the problem.
Holy Hannah.
Some days, like today, every stream of thought diverts to the pool of emotion I try to keep secure. Any day now this dam is going to break.
A/N: This was originally going to be from Jack's POV, but let's face it, he can't concentrate at the best of times. I'm still searching for Sam's voice so I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know how this one strikes you.