Bring it all Back
Chapter 25
Amnesia
She goes missing and it's bad. Not like before where after twenty-four hours she crashes in a ship, or after a day comes back handcuffed and scratched up. Hasn't been like that since the time she left and didn't come back the same. Left with SG-6 almost a week ago, and when Private Du Lac called for the last check in he was cut off, panicking, they heard gun fire.
There were screams.
He's traced the topographical of the planet taken by the Prometheus once upon a time when it was just doing surveys and not exploding under Ori fire. Traced for so long he's memorized the dips and grooves perfectly, marked their last known location just outside a small wooded area, and the glossy map is smooth and cool under his fingers, and he doesn't know where she went.
The tracker in her arm is dead.
It's dead.
"Cam." Sam sits beside him at the same conference table where three years earlier he was doing the same thing because they abandoned her. Because she saved their asses and he knows that has something to do with it this time, but it's getting harder to keep a good face, to pretend that every hour she doesn't walk through the gate doesn't piss him off a bit more. "You should go home, shower, grab something to eat."
Pulls the pen end from his mouth and he's almost cracked it open with his teeth. How long is he going to wait before showing his full hand and just going after her? How much does this job matter more than her? It doesn't, figures it never did really, or he never would've started a relationship with her.
"I'll call you if she comes back."
"After almost a week, Sam, what makes you think she's going to waltz back through that gate." When he glares at her, he can see her eyes are just as tired as his. They all want to find her, find the rest of SG-6, they've all been working overtime at it, even the Jacksons have been researching the planet further trying to place any natural disasters, but it's a big planet, and despite his earlier complaints, there are only two Jacksons.
"Faith." She grins, but there are hidden tears in her eyes as she taps the top of his hand reassuringly. Doesn't say much more to comfort him, but she stops in the doorway before she leaves. "She's come out of worse."
"How long do I wait, Sam?" Asks because she's a woman, she's in SG-1, she's did the whole workplace affair thing with O'Neill before he transferred out and it became okay. Asks because Sam is smart, much smarter than him and has definitely reverse engineered his compulsive worry every time Vala disappears. Asks because he thinks his morals are starting to get a little clouded at this point, and he's still sitting in this chair.
Asks because he has no idea what to do.
"How long do I wait?"
Doesn't expect much in the way of an answer, not for her to tell him to wait one more day, just one more day. Give it a full week and then start the search and rescue. Instead she lets him answer the question himself. "I think only you can answer that question, Cam."
He's packing his bag when it happens. Rolling up the map and shoving it in. He doesn't have an off-world partner, he doesn't have any partner right now, but he does have an idea on where to find her, because they found the last ping from her transmitter four days ago.
"Cam." Sam calls into the empty locker room, it's really late at night, or really early in the morning depending on perspective. Was just gonna dial and sneak out, come back with her and hopefully still have a job.
"On my way out."
"Cam, just hold on a second—"
"It's almost been a week. I don't know why I waited this long." Honestly doesn't, maybe the blind faith that she would return unhurt and a little dirty with a good story to tell him while he held her in his lap and played with her hair.
"No, Cam, the—"
"I shouldn't have waited so long."
Sam seizes the pause in his words, blurting out, "There was an off-world activation."
He drops his bag, leaving it in the middle of the locker room, and running out into the hallway while she holds the door for him. "Is it her?"
It has to be her.
"Initial biological scans before securing the gate say it is."
"So it's her." He jogs by privates, doing clean up duty in the hallway too late realizing they're waxing the floors. He wipes out almost immediately, feet flying up from beneath him and slamming into a far wall. His thigh aches.
"Cam."
"It's fine." Scrambles to his feet as the privates and Sam stare wide-eyed at his tumble then starts to hobble forward jogging off the pain.
"Cam," Sam's voice is terser, her hands on her hips like she's going to make a play to convince him that Vala will still be in the gate room when he gets there, because he's not entirely sure of it.
"I'm fine." He shouts back, rounding the corner and bursting into the gate room. Expects to find her a little worse for wear with a bright grin plastered to her face and he's going to hug her, he's going to limp right over to her and feel the clumping of her greasy hair and the sweaty grit against her skin.
But that's not what he finds at all.
Instead he finds her off the ramp to the gate a bit, her gun drawn and aimed at one of the three guards aiming back at her. Doesn't notice her clothes, or hair, or skin, of if she still has her shoes because he's distracted by the crazy look in her eyes.
"Vala," he calls to her, but she doesn't look at him, for being on edge her arms are perfectly straight, trained and aiming at the middle guard. Keeps approaching and the gun clicks in position in front of him. His hands shoot up in the air. "Vala, hey, it's okay."
"Who are you?" Her other hand bobs above her thigh level with her pistol. "Why do you know my name?"
"It's me, Cam." When he glances back at Sam she ducks back out of the room probably going for reinforcements. "Colonel Mitchell. We work together."
"You're part of the Lucien Alliance?"
"No."
"Then we don't work together."
"What's the last thing you remember?" Steps forward, approaching the line of guards, still gun-trained, finger-ready to pull the trigger.
"How about you tell me where the hell I am?" Shakes the gun at him, and she has the twitch at her lips, her tell, for when she's going to break, when emotional turmoil takes her over. She's putting on a tough show because she's terrified.
"You're at Cheyenne Mountain, Princess." Steps through the defensive line of guards who look at him like he's a bit crazy, and he is, because that gun hasn't left sight of his forehead and he's about to cry because she's okay. A little memory lapse, but they've gotten her back this way before. "Stargate Command on Earth."
"Earth? You're Tau'ri?
"Yes, we use the gates, travel and explore other planets, help out where we can, we're trying to make a defense post and failing miserably at it." Drops his hand as he's almost right next to her. The gun is still trained on him, but her arm is wavering. "Any of this ringing a bell?"
"No. Least of all you. I know we haven't met, that I'm sure I'd remember."
It hurts, and he doesn't know what to say, but she's relaxing, eyeing the three guards with a gun still aimed at her, but she lowers hers a bit more, not letting go of the weapon, but not aiming it which is good. "What do you remember, Princess?"
Cocks her head at him, maybe the nickname, and she blinks harshly, "I remember losing a shipment of naquadah for the Lucien Alliance. They're after me for retribution."
"Sounds like you could use a safe place to bunk down."
Cocks her head again, maybe because he said the right words, because without her knowing, he knows a lot about her, things she's let whisper out after almost four years of a relationship. After they became more relaxed with each other. "I've been pilfering what I could here and there in order to sustain myself but—"
"But you're tired, maybe a little hurt. You probably don't have the Goa'uld healing device do you."
"How—" A half smirk of amusement grows on her face and she lowers her weapon entirely, holstering it at her side, and takes a step towards him. "How do you know that?"
He closes the last foot between them, and he can see the dirt dusting the lines under her eyes, and she's probably starving. In a growl, barely audible he answers her. "Because it's in the top drawer of the bedside table in your room."
And it works.
She bites her lower lip and raises her eyebrows at him and God he wishes this was just some elaborate roleplaying scheme on her part. She eyes him up and down and releases her bottom lip, humming in approval. "I definitely would remember you."
"You will." He gives her his own mischievous grin, and she gains a wicked smile. He knows her, knows how to cheer up depressed Vala, knows how to flirt with defensive Vala, knows how to get her off in the ten minutes before an off-world mission so she's more relaxed. "Now, I bet you've got the appetite of a grizzly bear. What do you say we head on down to the cafeteria and grab all the food you want."
"Colonel Mitchell," she purrs in shudder, then hooks one of her bare arms through his, and he notices for the first time that she's wearing one of those leather deals she was wearing when she first shuffled through the gate. It's tight against her skin and she must be so uncomfortable. "You definitely know your way with women."
"Nah. Just one." The armed guard line breaks for the as they walk through, and he doesn't notice if they have judging expressions over some of the information he's divulged. Well, if he can sign her out every night for half the month without anyone second guessing, then maybe they really are that in the dark.
"Darling," her voice drawls and he loves when she calls him that, in that rasp, usually to calm him or butter him up to get something. "You said you worked with Stargate?"
"Yep, so do you, I'll explain it to you over a ridiculous amount of Jello."
"I had a run in with them, well one man who stole the ship I trading for the naquada, his name was—"
"Jacksons." He greets both Jacksons as they fumble through the door followed by Sam, who noticing he's diffused the situation, simply shrugs at him.
Doesn't know what to say because he remembers how Vala was with Jackson, and her obsession in prodding and innuendos, and she might gravitate towards him. If she does, maybe one of the Jacksons can convince her to use the memory restoring device. It'll hurt him. Years with her for one encounter with Jackson on the Prometheus. He doesn't want it to hurt him, she doesn't have the memories he does, but he can't help it.
Before he can say anything, she responds. "Good Lord, there are two of you?" Hugging herself tighter against his arm and tugging him forward to the cafeteria. "Your poor mother."
"Tell me more about me." Her elbows are on the table as he sets down two trays of the things she likes to pick from in the cafeteria.
"Well, you love oranges, especially in the morning."
"I do!" She's delighted and amused a bit as she plucks the large fruit from his hand and begins to peel it. "I haven't had one of these in forever, my mother—"
"—had an orange tree in the backyard. You carved your initials into it."
"Yes—yes that's right." The amusement drains from her voice and he's starting to lose her by coming on too strong. Forgot how Vala was guarded as hell, hell, Vala is still guarded as hell, early Vala is like a brinks truck. "How well do you know me?"
"Well." He leans forward across the mountain of food that she's slowly making her way through. She crosses her half of the table to hear him. "You have a tattoo on your right hip."
"Tattoo?"
Tries to think of her word for it. A small green splotch about the size of a kidney bean. "An inking."
"Yes." Still less zeal and smile than before as she falls back on her butt.
"You call it an inking but it's more of a marking from when—"
Holds up her hand to him. "Colonel Mitchell."
"Cameron."
"How do you know such pertinent information about me."
"Because I love you." Shrugs it off and sits back on his butt too. His arms still crossed on the table and she actually stops eating which is something he's never really seen, at least not before she's full.
"You. Love me?"
"Yeah, that's another way to say it."
"I don't fully understand—"
"You didn't when I told you the first time either." Rolls a green apple away from her pile and shines it on the shoulder of his uniform before taking a large bite. "You thought it was impossible for anyone to love you."
"Colonel Mitchell," She moves to stand from the bench, her legs swiveling free from under the table. "Perhaps you could show me to my accommodations, I'm not feeling particularly hungry right now."
"Sure." He hands her a piece of cherry pie on a plate with whipped cream, her absolute favorite. "Eat it on the way."
They walk down the hallway in relative silence, except for her groans of pleasure every time she takes a bite from the pie. He scowls at every private who checks out the leather bodice against her chest, or the tight pants covering her ass.
"Do I love you?" She questions from no where when they're in the elevator.
Maybe she means for it to shock him because that's all he's done to her all night, but it doesn't. It makes him grin as he presses floor seven. "You do, you haven't said it, but you wouldn't want to steal my clothes this much if you didn't."
"Darling, maybe you don't know me at all. I love to steal."
"Not when you're safe, you really don't do it that much."
"Safe? I'm safe here?" The doors open, and the hallways are empty, everyone on the floor either asleep or at work in another sector. "Do you—do you keep me safe?"
"You're safe here because of you. The team looks out for each other, but with me I think you like having someone who just lets you be you."
"Have you ever locked me in a brig?" Her eyes are darting around looking for some place to put the used paper plate full of crumbs.
"What? No." Holds out his hand and she gives the plate back to him, the next bathroom they pass he ducks in and tosses it into the garbage. She waits patiently for him outside the door. Not running away or breaking into rooms, more enthralled with his stories than an escape. "I locked you out of the bathroom last year when I wrapped your Christmas gifts."
"You bought me gifts?" Clasps her hands back together and her eyes actually glisten with the same excitement she had when she opened them.
"Yep, a silver necklace, a purple puffy scarf and a hair clip. You started to do your hair a few months after you got here."
"Do—Do I do nice things for you?" They stop at her door and he roots around in his pocket for his pass.
"All the time." Finds it in his back pocket and slaps it to the sensor outside her room. When she doesn't say anything, he gives her some more details. "You bring coffee to me in my office even though the doctor says I shouldn't have it anymore. You clean up my house anytime you come to visit because you hate the fact that I have a cleaning lady."
They enter her room and the lights flick on automatically. There's a pile of clothes in the corner that are a mixture of his and hers, the top drawer on her dresser is his, she gravitates towards a picture on the nightstand of her and him at an amusement park. "You threw up so much that day."
"Was I pregnant?" Her eyes go wide.
"No, honey, you just had too much carnival food."
She sets the picture back and sits on the edge of her bed. "You said you think I love you."
"Nah, I know you do." He pulls up her desk chair, and sits across from her, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together.
"If I haven't said it, how do you know?"
"Because when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, you don't leave. You sit beside me and hug me and drag your fingers through my hair and tell me I'm alright." He reaches for her hand and she allows him to take it in his. "I know because it helps me, and I feel safe with you."
"I—I want your memories." His thumb rubs over her knuckles and she manages a weak grin, the same one she would give him early in their relationship when she was adjusting to his touches not immediately meaning he wanted sex. "I want our memories."
"I'll see what I can do."
He stands to move, but she tugs him back, "Cameron, do we work with the Daniels?"
"Yeah, pretty closely."
"Good, you should know that he zatted me on the Prometheus on two separate occasions, and then undressed me when I was unconscious."
Sam sets up the memory device in one of the interrogation rooms. Vala tries to turn and run as soon as she sees the room, but he hooks his arm through hers and they enter together. He sits beside her while she gets strapped in for the third time and by now she should be a pro at this, would be if she ever remembered.
It doesn't take long. Sam said it wouldn't, because the preliminary scan they did shows something like a plug blocking her memories from the last five years, basically Sam just has to find the insertion point and unplug it.
She holds his hand, her face contorts in discomfort and when he glances to Sam she nods, telling him she's almost done.
In one of her blinks it all comes back.
"Cameron."
Tugs her into a hug, his chin resting against her shoulder while he holds her, happy to have her back. "Yeah, it's me."
"I was burned alive."
"Yeah." Forgot about all the bad memories from the last five years, being broken up and sent through a supergate, and—
"Oh my God, Adria."
They're at the house. They needed to get away from the concerned Sam, the questioning Jacksons, the horndog privates still watching the sway of her hips as he walked her back to her room and whispered he'd come get her in fifteen minutes.
The coffee table is pushed out of the way, the Chinese food cartons half finished and leaking all over the wood varnish. She sits between his legs, angled sideways a bit so her legs poke out through the bend in his, her forehead tucked under his chin as they watch the Sunday night football game he recorded four nights ago and hasn't watched yet.
She hugs his arm to her, wraps it around her hip and sighs against his chest. His free hand rubs her back and her heartbeat thumps rapidly from the shock of the last five years. Of having and losing a daughter.
"You know." They show a replay of a fumble, she loves to laugh at the slow motion of the replays and usually makes him rewind it at least once to watch again. "I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life."
She doesn't say anything in response, not even a sigh or a heavy breath. Remembers last time how she took to her released memories so easily, and that was her entire life, all the childhood traumas and actions as Qetesh. Five years has left her sapped.
"And I don't think I've ever been as happy as when I saw you in the gate room." He presses his cheek to the top of her head and reaches back grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch when she starts to shake. "Your skinny ass aiming that gun directly at my head and I think I fell in love all over again."
"I love you, Cameron." Comes right at the moment of a touchdown and the part of him still in high school thinks it's really poetic. "There's nothing more I want then this right here."
"Same."
"But you're going to have to be patient with me." Doesn't look up to him, doesn't move from the cradle of his arms. Doesn't need too. He knows how to translate the tenseness of her muscles, the raspy tone of her voice.
What he doesn't know is what happened to her in the six days she was missing. What she did to survive, how she ate or barely ate, where she slept, who she trusted, where the rest of SG-6 actually went because there are still four other men MIA.
Instead of pestering her, he kisses her tender, on the lips, before cushioning her head back against his chest. "I've got nothing but time for you, princess."