Learning to Trust, Part Two
"Knock, knock," said a familiar voice from the door.
Sam jumped; great, so much for avoiding him. "Sir," she acknowledged with a small shake of the head, shuffling through papers to give her something to do.
"Look, about the whole…not acting like myself…thing…well, I wasn't…acting like myself," he finished awkwardly.
She took a deep breath and sorted through the papers, putting them into neat piles. "I know, sir," she said quietly.
"Am I still the black pieces?"
The question hung uneasily in the air. Sam paused. "No, sir," she said, still not looking at him, and began sorting again.
"Are we still friends?"
Friends. The word felt unwelcoming in her confused feelings. It was as though her compassion, her heart was frozen in time. She wanted to go back to the friendship she'd felt for him before, even knowing it had distinctly began to burn a little more brightly than friendship, just a smidgen. But she didn't know if she could.
"I don't know."
Silence reigned. "You don't know," he repeated.
Sam nodded, drawing in a long sniff. "Yeah," she said, trying not to cry. She'd done that a few times in the past week. Though she'd never admit it, he really hurt her. "I know you were just doing your job, but…" She leaned on the desk, her palms cupping the edge of it, staring at the wall.
Her senses were betraying her, acutely tuned to his every move; she felt, rather than saw, him come up behind her. She expected him to yell, to reprimand her, to…something, but what he did wasn't what she expected at all: his arms slid around her stomach and he tentatively pulled himself against her back. Surprised and embarrassed by his embrace, Sam tightened, not knowing what to say or do.
His breath was warm and intoxicating on her ear; she wasn't sure if it was the good intoxication or bad. "Sam," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Her voice caught in her throat but she managed to choke out, "Why?"
O'Neill's arms tightened around her. "Why am I sorry?"
"Why Edora?"
His body tensed. "It made sense."
"It made sense?" Sam snapped twisting around and abruptly pushing him away from her. The look of shock on his face almost shattered her demeanor, but it didn't.
"Why? Why did it have to be Edora?" she demanded with all the air of a woman whose heart was broken. Her chest was heaving, and she was beginning to find it hard to hold back tears. And so Sam waited, waited for him to answer her.
But all he did was stare, bewildered, as though she were a madwoman. Maybe she was; she felt like it. Wild and calm, weak and strong – emotions pulsed through her so hard and fast she could barely stand it.
"What's wrong with Edora?" he asked softly.
Sam stared at him incredulously, knowing she must look pathetic and hating herself for it. She couldn't believe it, couldn't believe he didn't know, understand. That he'd been completely blind.
Her conscience nagged, Of course, they set up that trap for the rogue agents almost immediately after Jack got back, it told her pointedly. Which was why you didn't realize the Asgard, Nox, or Tollen had stopped by.
Sam closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nothing sir," she murmured, starting to walk out of the lab. "Forget I mentioned it."
"Wait a minute!" he said, grasping her arm gently, obviously not expecting her to put up a fight.
"Leave me alone, sir!" Sam cried, ripping her arm away and sprinting away, down the hall and to the elevator in record time. She ignored his calls and demands, pressing the first button her hand got to. Tears were streaming down her face and she fought to cease them, wiping her face again and again. It was time to go home. It was time to find a way to get off SG-1. How could she face him again?