Threads, Integrated
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate and I unfortunately never will.
Summary: Amidst the confusion of Threads, Sam finds answers in a very unexpected place. S/J. Missing scenes from Threads
A/N: This story is a companion piece to Grace, Interrupted. If you have not yet read Grace, Interrupted, I strongly suggest you do so. It's only a short story and should just take a few minutes. You can find it be clicking on my bio. Threads, Integrated is not A/U...enjoy!
Threads, Integrated
Sam turned over, groaning slightly with discomfort. Her body ached and her eyes were sore from over-use, but for some reason she couldn't sleep. Pete had dozed off over an hour ago and as much as Sam felt the need to stretch her legs or bash the pillow or at least do something, she didn't want to wake him. Instead, she had spent the last twenty minutes rearranging herself on her side of the bed, tossing and turning with little success. Tonight was just one of those nights.
As a matter of fact, the whole day had been what normal people would call catastrophic. In Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter's terms however, the day was plainly lousy. Her best friend was missing in action and presumed dead, which her co refused to believe, leaving her torn between needing closure and needing to believe he was still alive. To make matters worse, her fiancée had his first meeting with his future father-in-law, and as much as Sam was sure he would make a good first impression, he didn't seem to please Jacob Carter as much as she would have liked. In fact, her father appeared to be damn right miserable, if she didn't say so herself. "He sounds nice"? What kind of encouragement was that anyway?
Oh, and the fact that the galaxy could be facing destruction at any minute.
Unfortunately, Sam had to admit that she had experienced worse days. So today only made the 'lousy' level on Sam Carter's grading system of shocking days. Lousy was a good word to describe the day, really. Lousy made her think of misery and the pointlessness of proceeding with life, which is how many of her days seemed to progress of late. She loved her job more than anything else in life, but she was beginning to find the endless battle tedious, wearisome and poisoning to her eager mind and heart-as well as her intensely over-worked body.
After opening and closing her eyes several times, Sam realised that obsessing over the events of the last few days were not in any way, shape or form going to help her find the bliss of slumber. She started to slide her way out of the bed to get some overdue work done (in Sam Carter's life there was always something to research) however the thought of what her co would say at this present moment entered her mind, and with a roll of her eyes she resumed her uncomfortable position in the bed. As much as it disconcerted her -hearing an imaginary Jack O'Neill in her head- she had to admit that what she had been imagining was correct. It was far too late to be studying the intricacies of astrophysics and she would indeed be deemed an obsessive-compulsive, workaholic-cross-insomniac case if she continued to consume herself with work for the entirety of her down time.
Perhaps counting sheep would do the trick…
Shaking her head at her own obvious delirium, she settled back into the covers and closed her eyes…before opening them once more…and then a second time..followed by a third, fourth and fifth. She clenched her teeth and squinted her eyes closed. 'Sleep, sleep, sleep' she told herself, until her thoughts picked up a slight rhythm, lulling her off into unconsciousness, where sheep proceeded to prance over the Stargate.
"Hey!" Came a loud and abrasive voice from the corner of the room. Opening her eyes, Sam realised she was no longer in the comfort of her bed, but sitting on the floor of a metal chamber, which after careful deduction appeared to be a room onboard the Prometheus. Sam furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She certainly hadn't been sitting here a few seconds ago. She thought hard; what had she just done and how could it have transported her onto the Prometheus? She remembered sheep. Quite a few dozen sheep. But that was all.
"Hey!" The voice sounded again, this time louder and brasher. Sam looked around the room again, searching for the source of the voice. She noticed briefly that her eyes no longer hurt and her body no longer felt like it was between a rock and an anvil, but as though on a cloud; weightless even.
This was getting more perplexing by the minute.
"Yoo-hoo!" came the voice once more, this time with a slight echo to it. The atmosphere was so peculiar, almost dream-like. Nodding, Sam finally realised that she must indeed be dreaming, the memories of sheep only figments of her currently dominant subconscious. The fact that she could recognise that she was sleeping without accidentally waking herself up was a testament to the immense brain power of the Air Force Colonel.
Just at that instant a figure sprang from the ceiling, landing comfortably on two Doc-Martin covered feet. Stretching back to her full height, the girl flicked her black hair behind her ears and gave an expectant grin to Sam. Sam took several moments to take in the girl's features; black hair hiding mousy regrowth that she was sure she had noted before, and startlingly blue eyes that stared at her in jest and contempt. And that annoyingly familiar posture and particular facial expression. With a jolt, Sam finally realised just who she was looking at.
And in her shock and surprise, she almost woke up.
Almost.
