With Tears I Mourn: Chapter Three - Beginning the Process
Disclaimer: The characters from Stargate SG-1 belong to the franchise for Stargate SG-1 ™. I do not claim possession of any copyrighted characters. Any and all other characters belong to me and may not be used without my permission.
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack and Sam
It always felt like something was missing from the story. That Sam didn't mourn Martouf enough, that the others didn't care enough when he died. Well I'm rectifying the situation. I'd always wanted to see Jack and Sam go fishing together. Here's their chance.
Chapter three. It's nice to know that people are enjoying my story. Keep the reviews coming.
>>>>>>>>
"Up and at 'em, Sam!"
For the first time in weeks, she had slept peacefully, rolled up in a humble little cot in a corner opposite from where Jack had collapsed upon his bunk. They hadn't talked much the previous evening, but simply ate quietly before retiring. He had been up later, and the last thing she remembered with any clarity was his muscled arm holding a book on solar systems against his knee with the light judiciously tilted away from her face.
But now, he was using up all the vocabulary he had spared her from last night. A hand dove through the various covers to her shoulder and gave her a vigorous shake, enough to jolt her upwards into a sitting position.
"Time and fish wait for no man, or woman, for that matter."
Bleary-eyed she blinked up at him, focusing in on that painfully cheery smile, far too bright for so early in the morning. "Why is it that when it's time to head out on a mission we can barely drag you from bed, but to go fishing, you're up before the fish themselves?"
He paused as if considering her words, a dimpled grin spread across his face, and he responded, "I don't know. Lucky, I guess! Let's go!" Her bag dropped with a leaden plop beside her on the covers and as she struggled to focus, he pressed a cup of boiling hot coffee into her hands, the steam curling between them in ribbons. And then he was gone, out the door to prepare for who knew what.
Fighting the urge to simply collapse back into bed, Sam struggled to her feet. Taking a cautious sip of the coffee, she dug through her bag for the appropriate attire. Black jeans with a blue button-up blouse and denim collar. The color was delightful for she rarely got the chance to wear civvies.
Trusting Jack's sensibilities, after all she'd known him for nearly four years, Sam swiftly changed into the clothing. A surreptitious tap sounded on the front door just as she finished the last button on her shirt. Clutching the warm cup in her hand, Sam joined him outside where he leaned against the outer wall, his eyes drawn to the gentle beauty of the rising dawn.
"No matter how often I see this view, it always amazes me. There's nothing else like it in the world."
"You love it here, don't you, Jack."
There was no question in her words, but Jack answered anyway, "Yes. When you're raised a certain way and in a certain part of the world, it blends with your soul. It becomes a part of you." She peered into the treeline, watching the green branches slowly tint themselves in orange, trying to comprehend his world. "I don't think I ever had that feeling of complete peace, Jack. My dad did the best he could after Mom died, but it was never the same. There was always a part of me missing."
Jack's piercing eyes melded with her own, understanding and kind. "Then perhaps, this is the time for you to find that peace. I didn't just bring you out here for fishing, you know. I want to help, Sam. I know how much Martouf meant to you. I saw it in your eyes whenever you were together. There was a connection." And if he were honest, a hint of jealousy snatched at his soul whenever the two walked together or spoke in soft undertones. It was something he'd fought hard, and now he was glad Sam never knew.
"Jack, whenever I think of him, I feel such pain. And I know it isn't all mine. There are still remnants of Jolinar in my mind, a connection that we have to each other and to Martouf. It feels like we're both mourning and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I don't know if I can recover." No tears glinted in her eyes, but the sorrow dwelled deep and seemed endless in their depths. Retaining eye contact, Jack smoothly lowered his hand, allowing his fingers to wrap themselves around her palm, gently encompassing the soft flesh of her hand.
"We'll take this road together, one step at a time, Sam. No matter how dark it looks, there will be light on the horizon. After my son died, I never thought my soul would recover. And in many ways it hasn't. When your heart's been shattered, it'll never be whole again. But you can patch the pieces together. And find new pieces. You're strong, Sam. You'll make it."
Before he said too much, Jack released her fingers, strode back into the cabin and called through the open door, "Now let's head out! And you'd better learn to catch something 'cause I'm not sharin' mine!" He was the old Jack again and Sam marveled at his ability to turn his emotions on and off. How she wished for such an advantage. But now wasn't the time to contemplate. Scrambling into the cabin, she ran a bristle brush swiftly through her hair, not even bothering with a mirror, and collected the necessities for a successful day of fishing.
He tossed a few granola bars in her direction which she deftly caught and stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans. Swinging a pole over one shoulder, she smiled at him, saying impishly, "Well, I'm ready. Now let's seewho has best catch of the day." She didn't know a thing about the sport, but knew Jack would prove a fine teacher. And she fully intended to put his outdoorsman abilities to the test.