Sam:
Going home, the cabin she should have gone to years ago speeding away behind her and Jack by her side, smiling…humming some tune that sounds so very familiar but she can't quite recall. She watches him, noting the way the stress lines relax into dimples when he laughs. Admiring him with a new sense of familiarity. Playing Truth to pass the time. First kiss? Kate Sharpley in second grade. Most embarrassing moment? Easy…tripping and landing on my ass at Graduation in front of Dad! Favorite mission? Sweeeet little tank top number! Marry me? Oh my God…Jack…yes.
Living the dream.
One woman, never happier.
Knocking at the General's door. The General's…not Jack's. Because Jack would never do this to her would he? He looks up at her from the files spread across his desk, sees her expression and he knows she knows. She closes the door. No symbolism, just practicality. This is an argument she wants to have in private. Which means no Walter and no grapevine. Washington D.C. Sir? He flinches and she gasps. It's true. He's leaving. Her? No. Colorado Springs? Yes. For how long? Not sure. When? Two weeks. He was going to tell her tonight at dinner. So much for always. She hides in her lab. Let down once again by the man in her life, Sam buries herself in the constant of the SGC.
Waking up to reality.
One soldier, never weaker.
Panting heavily, drawing in oxygen as the hard hot planes of his chest crush her to the cold concrete of the deserted locker room wall, constricting her movement in a wild frenzied passionate apology. He writes his dreams and his fears on the paper of her sweat slicked skin with the burning fire ink of his tongue. The material from the Dress Blues adorned with the two silver stars rough friction against her bare legs. She flinches as his grunting thrusts force the sharp edge of his belt buckle into her skin leaving a scratch that threatens to be as angry as she is, another reminder that the USAF refuses to let them forget "…a lot more than I'm supposed to."
Doubting her priorities.
Colonel Carter, never more conflicted.
Smiling at the teasing tone of her one-time would-be colleague as he refers to a superior officer as Yoko Ono…she relishes the chance to be a Lennon for once in her life, to follow her heart not her head and follow the advice of her (own subconscious) father; it IS time to let go of the things that prevent her from finding happiness. She completely revises her opinion on safe bets as she tinkers away on the new hyper drive at Area 51. Looking forward to groaning at bad jokes on The Simpsons tonight whilst cooking for a young teenager and a grown male equivalent, she has her reasons for wanting this job, and who wants to be part of a band anyway?
A fresh start.
One scientist, never looking back.
Reporting as ordered Sir. But not without some degree of reticence. Her training demands she does all she can to serve her country, her world. The new part of her life rebels and pokes her tongue out in delight as General Landry moans "You're a funny man Jack…" and blushes when questions are asked and distance forms the reply "Not exactly." Back at the SGC, part of a band in which she no longer wishes to play, she delights in seeing her friends again…battling the bad guys again. But it's just a job and she's finally got that ever elusive life outside of work.
Phoning home.
Once again and never late.
Drifting without an anchor in the dark void of endless star-spotted black, watching explosions light burning fire around her, feeling a nervous fluttering at the pit of her stomach, she recalls with some irony having felt similar sensations in a much more pleasurable fashion this morning. Then she was waking up, her hips involuntarily lifting from the warmth of the bed seeking the source of the heat building deep in her trembling body, releasing soft guttural sighs to the delight of the silver haired hero with his face buried between her thighs. Now she's witnessing the countless deaths of men and women, worlds and the galaxy, all at the hands of the Ori. Drifting mindlessly in a post-orgasmic post-apocalyptic haze, she marvels at the irony.
Calling for Plan B.
One human, never defeated.
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TBC...when the show does :D