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Title: Shelter
Author: Rowan Darkstar (rowandarkstar@gmail.com)
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Rating: All
Character: Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/McKay friendship
Spoilers: Through "Company of Thieves"
Warnings: None
Prompt Number: List 1, Prompt 70 "Deep"
Disclaimer: Not mine, not gettin' paid.
Summary: Post-ep to "Company of Thieves"
"Shelter"
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2007
He didn't ask what happened. But he understood the gravity in the moment,
the bone-deep ache.
He had returned to the SGC much sooner than expected. Another mission that
couldn't possibly succeed without his help; he had deigned to assist.
He heard the news of SG-1's return. He told himself he hadn't lingered a
day too long in this place in hopes of seeing her. The work came first.
Expecting the usual arguments, the playful banter, he stepped into her lab
(the lab he'd been borrowing while she was away on the Daedalus) with a
jaunty step and a superior expression, launching into a criticism of her
latest side project before he even took in his surroundings.
He lost the thread when she didn't speak. She rarely let him complete a
sentence.
"McKay," she said into the silence, voice registering a wisp of surprise.
But her tone wasn't sharp, wasn't snarky.
She was pale.
"I hope you don't mind, General Landry authorized me to make use of your
lab facilities, and while I was here I took the liberty of looking over
some of your figures on your recent experiments with the artifact from--"
"McKay. What?"
"The artifact, the rate of decay test you've been running, I can't help but
notice you've calibrated the--
"Shut-up."
He blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"
"Shut-up, McKay."
He wanted this to be the cutting response he had been awaiting, the snap
and banter of their age old arguments. But it wasn't; it was wrong. She
hadn't met his eyes since he had entered the room, and he finally let himself
see she had turned on only half the lights in the lab. She stood in her
second home, looking lost and displaced and socked in the guts.
"Sam?"
She drew a soft, unsteady breath and took a step toward him, gaze still never
rising above his hips.
She looked nothing like a warrior with one thumb hooked in the back of her
trousers and only her t-shirt to protect her chest.
"Yes...umm...Colonel Carter...I...." He wanted to stop talking, wanted to ask
a thousand questions, but he couldn't do either.
She moved deliberately into his space.
The next thing he knew, she had pushed up against him, slipping a hand beneath
his arm and catching a loose grip on his shoulder, her face tucked lightly into
his neck, breath just grazing his skin, temple so close her hair brushed his.
"Sam..." It wasn't a question, anymore. Only a means of connection. He slipped
an arm around her waist like an awkward pre-teen at the dance, and she took the
cue of welcome and hooked an arm around his neck; pressed against him.
In a moment, he was holding Samantha Carter.
He couldn't distinguish if she was crying or merely trembling, but he realized
with a sensation that twisted through his gut like warm liquid -- they had never
been this real before.
They had been friends for far longer than he knew.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered, mouth pressed to her ear.
She shook her head 'no' in his arms. Then a moment later, she nodded 'yes' and
dug her fingers into his shoulder.
His stomach hurt. He nestled his fingers into her hair and couldn't let go.
****
rowandarkstar@gmail.com
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