A/N ok ok, it's short. But I thought I'd better post this anyway. Besides, all my chapters are going to be pretty short, because I really don't like reading long chapters because it takes aaages. Again, ignore all spelling and grammatical errors. ; I know they're there….somewhere….
OMG! I wrote this MONTHS ago, but then my account died and it wouldn't let me update any of my stories. ( But it works no! It WORKS!
Jack sat in his office, after having escaping from the infirmary and Janet's evil glare. She was still worried about him, but since there was nothing physically wrong with him she had decided that it wouldn't do much good keeping him in there.
He looked up to see Sam walk through the wall. She sat down moodily on his desk and glared.
"This is bad." She stated.
"Tell me about it!" He grumbled back.
"There is something seriously wrong here. I'm… I'm HERE! I feel, here, yet… I'm not."
"At least people don't think you're CRAZY!"
Sam stared. "At least people don't think you're DEAD!" She retorted. They glared at each other for a few moments, before realising that it wasn't going to solve anything.
"So why aren't you playing with any of your…machines…" Jack asked.
"I tried." Sam replied mournfully. "I cant hold any of them. You're the only thing that's solid for me."
"That could be awkward." Jack said. "How do you eat?"
"Oh, I think there's something in the rules of being a ghost that involves not eating." Sam remarked dryly. Jack stared at her, disturbed by the word 'ghost.'
"You're not a ghost!" He protested.
"Well, I'm starting to feel like one." She replied. As if to prove her point, she started to sink slowly through the desk.
"Carter!" Jack cried, alarmed. Sam looked around to find that only her head was sticking out. She walked out of the desk hurriedly and glared at it.
"This isn't fair!" She wailed. "I could sit on the chair in the briefing room!"
"Try again." Jack suggested. She sighed and slowly sat back down on the desk.
"I can't actually feel it though." She said with a frown. "I think I'm just sitting on the air."
"Intriguing." Jack said with a raised eyebrow. "You know…er…" He continued, "have you actually considered the idea that you err…that I might be um… insane?"
Sam shook her head adamantly. "No sir. Never. You see, I AM me. I feel like me. Apart from floating through desks, I know that I'm real because I can think and feel and control myself. Of course," she added hastily, "that doesn't prove anything to you because if you were imagining me than I'd probably say something like that anyway."
"I see." Came the reply. He raised his other eyebrow. "So, in summary, you're you, and I'm reasonably sane. Can we all go home now?"
"That might be an issue for me." Sam sighed, wondering whether she'd be able to sit in a car seat. They both sat in silence for a few minutes and thought about how stressful their job was. Especially when everyone thought they were insane, or when nobody else could see them. It was a hard life.
"So," Jack began, "if you're not a ghost, and I'm not insane, then what do you think happened?" Sam pondered this.
"Well sir, I'm not sure if I'm physically here," she said carefully, "considering I'm not exactly physical. Yet I am here, so there must be something different about you that makes you able to see me while others can't. But so far, I don't have any theories as to why."
"Sounds like a good theory to me." Jack replied. She shrugged and stared at the floor.
"It would be really nice if we could convince everyone else that you're not grief-stricken and hallucinating."
"Oh yes. Very nice. Got any theories on that?"
"Still working on that too, sir." She grimaced.
There was nothing else to say. Sam got up slowly and walked back through the wall.