The doctor was slightly too rough as she wrapped Major Marks' hand. He winced when one of the fresh stiches pulled, but he didn't say anything. He knew they didn't have time for perfection right now. Once they took the ship back from the Lucian Alliance, the medical staff would be able to properly stitch and heal everyone instead of rationing the two very limited first aid kits kept in the cargo hold.
He mumbled his thanks to the doctor just as the doors hissed open. Colonel Carter stumbled in ungracefully after one of their captor's unnecessarily shoved her through the threshold.
Marks immediately got to his feet, ignoring the throbbing in his palm when he pushed himself off the floor, and rushed to Carter's side. "Colonel, what happened? You've been gone for hours."
She staggered forward, as though she were in a daze, and leaned against a crate, her eyes tightly shut.
He looked toward the door, expecting to see Colonel Emerson pushed in with the same force. But they shut the door, sealing them in once again.
"Where's Colonel Emerson?" Marks asked.
Tears welled up and gathered in her eyelashes. She could only meet his eyes for a split second before shaking her head.
No.
Not again.
They wouldn't kill him. They couldn't kill him. He was the commanding officer — they at the very least needed his codes and authorization to successfully take over the ship.
She had to be mistaken.
"They shot him," she said, pressing her palms to her face, trying to steady her breathing. "He's dead."
It wasn't often that Marks saw her lose control like this. In fact, he's never seen her lose control at all. While Marks hasn't had as much contact with SG-1 as some of the others at Stargate Command, he still worked with them enough to get a temperature of their command styles and personalities. Even in the face of danger Carter was always collected and level headed. Far more than he'd ever been or will be. He cringed at the memory of the time he tried to take the elevator when the Prometheus was under attack.
Carter wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform and took in a shaky breath as though she just issued a silent order to herself to regain composure.
"Sorry," she said, still unable to meet his eyes.
Marks nodded, and tried to smile to reassure her, but he couldn't. He found that he couldn't bring himself to do much more than stare at his wrapped hand that was the only thing steadying himself against the cargo container.
"Major," Carter said.
Emerson was in here with them just a few hours ago. Telling them they'd be okay, that they'd get out of this alive.
"Major," Carter repeated. "Are you okay?" Typical of her to ask about his wellbeing when she was the one who just watched someone get murdered.
"Yeah. I'm fine," he lied and somehow managed a weak smile before sinking down to the floor, his back now against the cargo container.
Carter wordlessly sat down next to him and rested her head against the container as well. She didn't say anything for several minutes.
"I didn't know him well," she said, finally breaking the silence. Marks glanced at her. Her eyes were now dry, albeit a bit red.
"Neither did I."
She didn't say anything in reply, but her presence was comforting in itself.
"It's been less than a year since Pendergast died," he said. "And now it's the same thing all over again with Colonel Emerson."
She exhaled a bit too hard at his remark, and he was immediately sorry he brought it up. Pendergast's death probably still felt a bit too raw for her too and those painful memories probably resurfaced when she watched his successor die moments earlier.
"How do you do it?" Marks asked, breaking the silence again. Then, seeing Carter's furrowed brows, added, "I mean, the constant the peril. How do you get used to all this death?"
"It's comes with the job."
"Of course."
Perhaps she said it a bit more harshly than she intended because she apologized, and then added, "The truth? You don't get used it to. You shouldn't get used to it."
Marks nodded. Despite her words, he wished he could at the very least cope half as well she was right now.
"And I'm not okay," she admitted with a small humourless smile.
He couldn't help but notice that right now, sitting next to him, was not Colonel Carter, but Samantha Carter. Not an officer, not his commanding officer. Just a person.
"But, I can't think about that right now," she said, a bit louder with a bit more confidence. "That block – that barrier – needs to stay up. At least until this is over. So it can be over. So it can end with us taking the ship back and getting out of this without any more deaths. I can let myself deal with the pain once I'm back on Earth."
She stood up, slightly too abruptly. And, almost with a flick of a switch, she went back to being Colonel Carter.
"We will get out of this, Major. And I need you to be thinking clearly when we do," Carter said, then added, "That's an order."
She clapped him on the shoulder, letting her hand linger for a couple extra seconds.
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
End Notes:
I had a very strong urge to write something about Major Marks. So I did!
I doubt there's much demand for Marks-centric fics, but I've actually got something else with Marks as the focus that I'm in the process of writing. So if you are one of the few who would like to see that, stay tuned!