DISCLAIMER: Yeah, the SG-1 guys are all property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This is all in fun, no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. All other characters, ideas, etc., herein are copyrighted to the author. TITLE: Through Glass Like Ice AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar RATING: Older Kids CATEGORIES: Angst, Sam/Jack UST ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know. Many thanks to my speedy betas - tularia and TriciaByrne This story is for katcorvi. She asked me to write her Sam/Jack fluff. I discovered I can't. LOL So, hopefully a bit of angst and a glimmer of hope will suffice.:) "Through Glass Like Ice" by Rowan Darkstar Copyright (c) 2007 She loves cold nights in cars, she has since she was a child. There is something of adventure and gentle comfort in the motion and darkness. Purple sodium vapor lights and oversized coats and crisp air in her lungs. He's driving her home in his truck and she wants the road to stretch out forever. She recognizes this as one of those moments, the magical windows when something of significance happens in the stillness of her life; when she knows she will remember every texture and breath and compare moments in her future to this one, captured in a glass ball in her memory. She is oddly in touch with a forgotten under-layer of her life, tonight -- Samantha Jean dozing in her mother's lap on a late night drive from Grandpa's house; Sam the science geek riding home in the back seat of her best friend's big sister's Escort after a Friday night movie; Sam the rebel lost and feeling her way in the blackness, knowing this boy in leather beside her isn't her meant-to-be but unable to turn away from the affection she desperately craves. Samantha the Major riding home from Right-Arm night in Colorado Springs, catching a ride with her C.O.. She hardly sees where they have travelled, just the rush of the road and trees flying by. She's hyper-aware of the gentle crackle of her leather boots as she shifts position, the nylon lining of her jacket on her otherwise bare arms. His breath is so close. She knows every inflection, knows how it feels to have him breathe life-saving words into her ear and dance gooseflesh down her throat. He is comfort and home and something more she dares not speak. They never dare speak. "This is yours, right?" He is slowing the truck a few houses from her street, gazing ahead in the darkness. "Drive around the neighborhood again," she says before she can catch the words on her tongue. She feels the shift in his breath, his chocolate gaze on her hair. "Uh...dri..." "Please," she whispers, wondering what cliff she has slipped off of and when Samantha melded into Major Carter's boots. Jack nods and increases his steady pressure on the accelerator. Smooth and slick driving a truck or an alien aircraft. "Okay." "Thanks," she whispers. He won't ask. He will watch her a little more closely. Tonight...she can't seem to remember why that's a bad thing. In the end she gives a wordless nod of consent and they slow in front of her house. His dark eyes are staring a hole in her soul, she's always been weak beneath his concern; he's asking worlds that will never pass his lips. She slips her cool fingers across his warm palm. "Thank you," she says, again. She reaches for her purse on the floor of the truck. As she turns to release her seatbelt, the warm hand she has just let go settles on the back of her hair and her eyes flicker to his on impulse. She can barely breathe, caught inches from eyes that have seen hell and the path back to life again. They hold in silence for what feels like forever. His words are heavier for every moment they delay in coming. "Whenever you're ready," he says. And she closes her eyes as his voice ripples through her like warm fire in the snow. She doesn't know what to say, what she believes. In the end she gives him a nod and tries to say goodnight. He shifts his hand and squeezes the back of her neck firmly as she pushes open the door. Boots on the path to her door, and the chill night surrounds her like the glass of the ball. *** #