Leave behind

Episode tag to "Gemini"

It's been five days since the replicator version of herself has escaped through the Stargate. Five nights in which Sam woke up drenched in sweat haunted by a nightmare, she has tried to not put in words or thoughts. She is panting, her heart pounding in her chest like she's just sprinted to the gate with a hundred jaffa on her heels. A nightmare in itself, only one that would be easier to deal with.

Up until now, she's never been a person who's tormented in her dreams. Usually, they are empty voids, her sleep a black whole that soaks up every memory and emotion. She knows how lucky that makes her. How much easier this skill makes her job. Her father had never been able to drift into sleep feeling free. Countless nights she woke up from his screams and her mother's soft, comforting murmur. Just like her father, General O'Neill goes through torture when the night set in. Black-ops, Iraqi-prison, his son's tragic death, and Ba'al stealing the innocence of his slumber. More than once during an off-world night in a two-person tent, she woke up from her tossing and turning CO. No word or ever escaped his lips, but in the dim light of the tent, his face was pale and full of panic. They had never talked about it. Words would have brought the ghosts of his dream world into reality. So she had comforted him the only way he allowed: holding his glance until he drifted back into sleep, her hand on his arm as anchor to reality. It's ironic almost that he's her incubus now.

Sam takes a deep breath and slowly lifts her hand, afraid to see the blood on it that covered it in her dream. It's not there, of course.

A sob escapes Sam's lips, and she is about to push herself up when arms wrap around her. Pete pulls her back against his chest and burrows his nose in the crook of her neck. He kisses her softly and whispers, "It was just a dream. It was just a dream."

Sam relaxes in his arms. His heartbeat a reminder of what is real just that her dreams are more than dreams. Or no dreams at all but something the replicator has left in her mind when she let Sam feel how Fifth had tortured her. It's something real and living and disturbingly revealing.

Eventually, Sam is back in the gateroom. Daniel and Teal'c are lying dead on the floor, but Sam has no eyes for them and only for him. Jack squints at her, his eyes challenging as much as scared. His gun is pointed at her, but then he must see something in her eyes, and he drops it. No, she thinks and wants to scream; instead, she steps closer. She yells: Kill me. Please shoot me! But the words stay trapped inside of her. They are only inches apart from each other, his breath warm on her face, his smell so good in her nose. He's surprised by this closeness and against everything he's trained for, against every rule engraved in his mind, he doesn't take her down. Even though she just killed his best friends right in front of her eyes. Instead, he leans forward—just a tad. There's a crackle in the air between his lips and her. Her chest threatens to burst—not from happiness but from pain. Jack swallows. He is so open and vulnerable and there for her, revealing everything in just a glance. She's the one that closes the last distance and pushes her lips onto his. Sam's body is overwhelmed by the sensation of this kiss, yet her hand moves as if guided by a different brain and heart thrusting a knife into Jack's chest. He gasps for air. Surprise and shock and you-would-never fill his eyes while the warmth of his blood spills onto her hands and soaks into her shirt. And then life leaves his body, she can see it, feel it, and something in her dies as well.

"Sam!" Pete's voice rips her out of this agony.

Sam shoots up and stares at her hand. No blood, no knife, and when she looks up, no General O'Neill. Her heart is racing, aching, and the cold sweat sends a chill over her body.

"Sam?" Pete sounds worried. Of course, who wouldn't after walking up night after night from your fiancé crying in her dreams, saying things like 'I could never kill him.'

"I'm okay," Sam manages to say, but when she feels his hand on her arm, she knows this night she won't get away that easy.

"I know you can't tell me what happened on your mission. And I guess you can't tell me what you are dreaming either," Pete murmurs. He slips behind her so that she's sitting between his legs. His arms wrap around her as if he could protect her from whatever is happening. "But I promise you I'll try my best so that you never have to kill me."

Another kind of shock rips through her body. She's been talking. Hopefully, not mentioning any names, her commanding officer's name to be precise. Sam turns around to meet Pete's worried eyes. He smiles softly and kisses her forehead.

"I hate that I can't protect you out there, but I'm gonna be here," he pats on the bed, "to protect you every night from whatever is haunting you. Even if that means I won't ever sleep again."

Oh god, she thinks. He is so perfect, and she is so fucked up. Nevertheless, she lets him pull herself closer and curls into his embrace. Sam sends a little thank you for not putting the burden of protecting her from Replicators, Goa'Ulds, and other alien threats on Pete but on a man that has taken up that challenge over the one of loving her. Eventually finds sleep again—this time without Jack O'Neill in it.

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