Forsaken

Jack

O'Neill looked at the picture he found. He used to keep a photo like that in his wallet, a photo of Sara and his boy, Charlie. Never on a mission – no, you never exposed a weakness, never exposed anything to the enemy. This fellow, whoever this woman was special to, wasn't expecting disaster. When he found the tags carefully saved, so like the dog tags he wore, Jack knew this person cared for his men.

Jack knew disaster was always hovering just out of sight, ready to pounce. No, he didn't carry any photos anymore, not on him and certainly not anything recent in his locker. That old cigar box was ancient history. It didn't mean he didn't have any mementos, didn't hold anyone dear. In cashes, cashes he had stowed on Earth and around the gate system in case of emergency. He let Teal'c know, Jack thought one of Teal'c's strengths was as a survivor. Among the supplies, MRE's and weapons there were photos of SG-1, Daniel, Teal'c and Sam, of Cassie and the doc. He supposed he was there in some of the pictures too. They were there in case it all went to hell and he could get them out to safety – they would remember him, remember he cared. If it didn't go as planned, if he found himself without them he would die with the photos clutched in his hand. Die with them.

Sam

He was jealous, why would he be jealous? Wasn't he the one who encouraged me to help them out. He asked me about what happened when I was alone with Corso on the ship. I wondered at first if he was concerned about my well-being but no, he was jealous. Jealous that someone else might find me interesting or, god forbid, attractive.

I swear sometimes I feel like his fucking yo-yo. To and fro, pushed and pulled, back and forth. Flirting then distant. Loves me, loves me not. I'm so sick of being pulled apart like the petals of a goddamn daisy. Yet I keep doing it to myself. I should get my head examined.

I know why I'm so angry. He was missing, twice, and imprisoned and it hurt. And I missed him and was afraid. I let my guard down. I let him creep into my heart, under my skin, again. And I'm angry at myself for letting that happen again and again. And angry because it's hopeless.

Daniel moved on to a 'life' or an existence that was more fulfilling.

Jonas Quinn came to us for a more meaningful life.

Teal'c was working on that for his people, himself and his son.

Shouldn't I do some serious thinking about what the colonel keeps saying, shouldn't I think more seriously about 'getting a life". With a job like this what prospect do I have? Aliens? And even though Corso was quite sleazy it felt good to be desired. Even if the creep was intent on using me.

Jack

That creep Corso flirted with Carter then used her in a trap to lure them into range of their weapons. She lay bound in front of their ship. Could Corso easily see what O'Neill tried to hide.

She was alright now and that creep was on his way to prison. But Jack had a problem and it wasn't a new one. It kept smacking him in the face. He had tried not to think about it too much. He knew all the arguments why he shouldn't pursue a relationship - chain of command, senior officer in authority over her, jeopardy to their careers, her superior intellect, the age difference. And at this point of time they both had a shit load of baggage.

He thought about the Ice Planet where they were virtual slaves with no memory of their real lives. Yet he gravitated to her and she to him. It wasn't one sided. This was something they, as officers, weren't supposed to even talk about never mind act upon. How could they know where they stood with one another. He knew he loved her. Did she know or remember or care? If you didn't feed a flame it sputtered and went out. And he had no right.

There was no solution. But too much pondering on this sticky situation led to wanting, which led to desire which led to… damn his wasn't that old. It led to seeking relief from all that damn thinking and feeling and frustration.