Posted June 2004
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: Night Voices
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com
RATING: Kids
CATEGORIES: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sam/Teal'c Friendship, implied
Sam/Jack UST
SPOILERS: "Desperate Measures"
SUMMARY: The aftershocks of Sam's abduction are hitting her, and
Teal'c gently softens the waves. Episode tag to "Desperate
Measures"

Endless thanks to my marvelous betas: Fulinn, Polly Lynn, Teddy E
and AnnaK


NIGHT VOICES
by
Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com)
Copyright (c) 2004




Home. Strange how fast the familiar could turn unfamiliar. A
two week vacation over the holidays, ten days in another solar
system, and the longed-for comforts of home took on a vaguely
foreign air. Both right and somehow wrong at once. Sam Carter
had grown accustomed to the sensation long ago.

Here she was again, returning home. After nearly a week away.
Except this time nothing had been prepared for her departure.
She hadn't watered her plants or emptied her dishwasher or
cleared out the fridge. She'd expected to be home before lunch
last Saturday.

Sam Carter moved through the rote tasks of her evening, trying to
restore normalcy, trying to behave as though she were merely
returning from an unexpected mission. In a way she was, really.
Right? This was all wrapped up with what she did everyday. She
hadn't been taken by some random Earthly criminal. Sort of. But
of all the dangers Sam Carter had faced in her life at the SGC,
she had just been taken down by the utterly terrestrial danger
she'd been training to avoid since she was a pre-teen--the man in
black with a van that grabs women from parking lots.

The thought made her want to throw-up.

She went back to cleaning out her refrigerator and dusting the
tabletops.

By 10pm, Sam had eaten a frozen dinner and cleaned up the dishes.
She had showered and changed into a tank top and yoga pants. She
had checked the locks for the night and curled up on her couch
with the remote control.

And it was then she really began to feel it. As the house fell
quiet and the headlights flickered against drawn curtains and
exhaustion softened the edges of her defenses, Sam ceased to feel
like Major Sam Carter, veteran warrior of the Tau'ri, formidable
challenge to the most powerful Goa'uld, and began to feel like
Samantha Carter, single woman in her thirties with a passion for
science and motorcycles and a secret love for antique lace who
had just wanted a quiet weekend at home and had been abducted and
beaten up and drugged and tied down and nearly murdered so they
could cut into her brain.

She was shaking. She got up and double-checked all the locks,
uncomfortably aware of every shadow. She tightened the blinds
and adjusted the drapes. Back on the couch, she curled in the
corner and tucked the heavy afghan securely around her legs.

She wanted someone with her.

The TV played softly in the background, but Sam couldn't really
focus on what they were saying. Fine shivers coursed through her
body accompanied by flashes of needles and rough hands and drug-
induced blurs. She hugged the blanket closer, rationally aware
it wasn't really cold in the room.

She pulled the phone handset from the end table and into her lap.

Gut instinct pulled her to call Colonel O'Neill. Forcing honesty
upon herself, there was nothing more she wanted right then than
to hear him attempt a lame joke to lighten her fears, to hear the
deeply intimate softness that could enter his voice when he was
worried about her. Something in those gentle tones could soothe
her nerves in a way no one had since the melodic voice of her
mother soothing her back to sleep after childhood nightmares.

But she couldn't call him. He was the one recovering from a
gunshot wound. And in the end she had to admit she couldn't
bring herself to appear so vulnerable in front of him. She felt
weakened enough at having been taken at all. She wasn't ashamed
of how she had handled the crisis while it had been ongoing. But
to admit to her CO the experience had shaken her so deeply, to
let him see not the soldier in action, but the woman who suffered
the hurts in the aftermath...that wasn't something she was ready
to do. She never wanted the Colonel to see Samantha in the
field. If he ever stopped seeing Major Carter under Zat fire,
ever stopped ordering her to take point or cover his six because
he couldn't bear to throw her in the line of fire, SG-1 would
cease to function.

So she stared down at the handset cradled in her lap. Daniel.
Daniel was always ready to be there for her. Probably the best
friend she'd ever had. But she wasn't ready for that yet,
either. Daniel might be *too* sympathetic. He never understood
her soldier's psychology. He didn't see why there was anything
wrong with being afraid, with being hurt. He couldn't help her
gently walk the line. And she didn't want to open the door, let
him know how much lay behind her strength. He knew it was there,
of course. They had been close for too long...but knowing and
seeing were two very different things.

Dad was too far away for the primitive communication device in
her lap.

Teal'c.

Teal'c.

She dialed the numbers before she could give it too much thought.

His familiar deep voice carried through the line. "Hello?"

She pulled her knee closer beneath her chin. "Hey, Teal'c, it's
Sam."

"Major Carter. Are you at home?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Janet let me go home this evening."

"Are you feeling all right?" The formality mixing with concern
made her warmer. She had always felt safe beside Teal'c.
Protected as she had been by her big brother in days long ago,
before all that had fallen apart.

"I'm fine," she said. "Tired, but fine."

"That is good to hear."

"So...what are ya doin'?"

He hesitated a moment in his reply, and she knew he was
contemplating the reason behind her call, she knew he was aware
it was more than a random social chat. He let her lead, anyway.
"I am watching Nick at Nite."

Sam couldn't stop a smile. "You like Nick at Nite?"

"I do watch these programs fairly often. I find it interesting
to watch the development of your culture's sense of humor over
time. It has taken a very different course than the
sensibilities of the Jaffa."

"I would imagine so."

"I particularly enjoy the one called 'The Dick Van Dyke Show.'"

Affection warmed her. "Yeah, I like that, too."

"Major Carter. Are you all right?"

Sam closed her eyes as the ache washed through her stomach. "I'm
fine." A quiet moment. Then, "I'm just...cold."

"It would be only natural for you to be feeling the aftereffects
of the events you experienced this week. It would, in fact, be
quite abnormal if you were not."

She let that wash over her for a long moment. "Thanks, Teal'c.
It's just...it was a long time."

"It was. I am sorry we did not find you sooner." The formidable
alien warrior's voice could hold such deep tenderness without
ever falling out of his measured tone. There was much behind his
own stoicism.

"No, no it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could. I'm
amazed you found me at all. Just..."

"Major Carter. Can you sleep?"

She gave a dry laugh. "I admit, the idea is a little unappealing
right now. I guess, I don't really trust what I'll wake up to
yet." She hadn't meant to admit that. But somehow she was able
to speak, here in the shelter of her own home, with a friend's
voice soft against her ear.

"Would you sleep better if I were to watch Nick at Nite on your
couch and perform my Kel Noreem there for the night?"

The protectiveness felt so good it hurt. "I would. Most
definitely. But you don't have to do that. And I think I need
to do this on my own."

"I understand." She could almost see him nod as he spoke.

"Thanks," she said softly. "I mean...thanks."

"You are my friend, Major Carter. You would do the same for me."

"You bet."

She heard him shift position, pictured him sitting straight
upright on the edge of his barracks room cot, remote in hand. "I
suggest you turn on Nick at Nite," he said. "There is an episode
of 'The Dick VanDyke Show' beginning which I have seen before and
believe you might enjoy."

"Okay. I'll try that." She reached for her own remote control.

"Major Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"I am glad you called. You may do so again at any time."

She closed her eyes. "I'm glad, too. Goodnight, Teal'c."

"Sleep well, Major Carter."

She hung up the phone, let the handset fall to the cushion beside
her. Snuggling deeper beneath her blankets, she switched the
channel to Nick at Nite. The images washed over her in the
dimness.

The last thing she remembered was Dick Van Dyke with a bunch of
playing cards in his kitchen sink before she woke to the first
streaks of sunlight stealing through the blinds...

*****

rowan_d1@yahoo.com