Avoiding the Issue
Avoiding the Issue
by Denise
Title: Avoiding the Issue
Author: Denise
Email: skydiver119@hotmail.com
Category: Angst
Episode related: 604 Frozen, 605 Nightwalkers, 606 Abyss
Season: Season 6
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: adult themes
Summary: Sometimes avoiding things just makes it worse
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Title- Avoiding the Issue
Author- Denise
E-mail - skydiver119@hotmail.com
Category- Angst
Archive Anywhere but please link to the page on my own site. http://www.geocities.com/sky_diver119/drama/avoiding.htm Season- 6
Spoilers - Nightwalkers, Frozen, Abyss Rating- PG-13
Content Warning- Couple of disturbing images Summary- Sometimes avoiding things makes them worse Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author Thanks to Adi and Sue.
Avoiding the Issue
By
Denise
Jack felt the bed shift and listened to his lover quietly slip from under the covers. Thinking that maybe she was just going to the bathroom, he remained silent, feigning sleep. He sighed when he heard her instead pad down the hall. The bad thing about cohabiting, shared insomnia.
Abandoning his charade, he rolled to his back, bringing his hands up to cushion his head. Something was wrong, really wrong. Sam was definitely avoiding him, had been all week.
At first, he'd thought she was just tired when she went to bed at 2100. And going to sleep so early explained waking up and leaving him at 0300. But it didn't explain it the next night, or the one after that. It also didn't explain the circles under her eyes, or how she'd started going to work early and staying late. A member of MENSA he'd never be, but Jack O'Neill knew when someone was avoiding him.
Something else they'd never accused him of being was timid, he thought as he pushed back the covers. He made his way down the darkened hall and into the living room. Finding it empty and the back door open, he slipped outside, seeing Sam sitting on the steps to the deck. "Can't sleep?" he asked, sitting beside her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she said softly.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just couldn't sleep."
"All week?" he challenged. She shot him a startled glance. "Something's bugging you. What is it?" She just shook her head and turned away from him, staring out into the yard. He sat there for a minute, fighting the urge to shake her. He hated it when she clammed up on him, probably as much as she hated it when he did it to her. "Sam?" he prompted.
"I was thinking of going home for a bit," she said.
"What?" he asked, more than a little alarmed. He'd started to get used to their arrangement, namely her practically moving into his place. They'd discussed spending more time at her home, but both of them felt distinctly uncomfortable there. Her house had been swept for bugs twice, but he knew that the NID's surveillance had shattered her feeling of security and the only real reason she kept the house was for appearance's sake.
"I just...I'm gonna go home for a while. I've got some things to do and ..."
"Whatever," he interrupted, getting to his feet. "You want to go, go. No need to make excuses."
"Jack..."
"Don't forget to lock the door," he tossed over his shoulder, stalking back inside, letting his anger hide the sinking feeling that was burning through his gut.
<><><><><>
"SG-1, you have a go to ship out at 0900 tomorrow," General Hammond said, getting to his feet. Jack and Sam also stood up as he left the room.
"Which means be in the gateroom, geared up and ready to go by 0845," Jack reminded tersely, picking up his folder of information and leaving the room. Sam, Teal'c and Jonas watched him go, each gathering their briefing material.
Sam followed her teammates from the room, fighting the urge to run past them and grab Jack, not letting him go until she apologized. It was for the best, she told herself, fighting the wave of self-pity.
He'd bounced back remarkably well from his capture by Ba'al, but evidentially not well enough. There was a shadow in his eyes; a weight on his shoulders that she knew was there because of her.
She'd done the one thing she'd swore she'd never do, used her relationship to influence him. And now she was paying the price for that moment of weakness.
Declining an invitation to go to lunch, she instead went to her lab, desperate for the refuge work offered her.
<><><><><>
The next morning, Jack walked up the steps to the control room, shrugging his shoulders to alleviate the bit of pressure of his pack. Unconsciously his eyes scanned the room, looking for one certain figure. It was silly, he chided himself, but it was habit.
He'd missed her presence last night and was actually looking forward to this mission. Usually he hated overnight trips, but he figured that this one was a perfect chance to spend some nice, safe neutral time with Sam. Maybe she'd gotten over whatever was bugging her lately. Maybe all she needed was some space. He needed his own space from time to time; it came from too many years of living alone and burying his feelings inside. She was probably had a solitary streak as well.
He also needed to apologize to her for the other night. He'd been totally out of line to jump on her like that. True, he always respected her wished, her need to take things slow, largely because he knew he was the same way. He just hadn't been able to keep the words from spilling out of his mouth. Of letting his insecurities take over his common sense.
Hell, the way things had been going, he'd halfway expected her to tell him she was ready for something more permanent. Which would be fine with him. He'd certainly gotten used to having her in his house and in his bed. At first it had been a little awkward, both of them were used to their separate lives and habits. He'd had to retrain himself to do the little things like putting the toilet seat down and not dead bolting the door until after she got home. And he knew she'd adjusted her grocery buying and sleeping habits, no longer staying up until the wee hours to work on something simply to avoid an empty bed.
He'd laid awake last night trying to figure out what had caused her sudden desire for time and space. They hadn't done anything; there'd been no fights or disagreements. Maybe it had all come down to needing some space.
"Morning, General," Jack said, spying the balding man standing behind one of the consoles.
"Colonel, I'm afraid your mission's been delayed," Hammond said.
"Sir? Why?"
"Doctor Fraiser just called. She's got Major Carter down in the infirmary. She won't be able to join you today. I can have a replacement ready in an hour or we can postpone the mission."
Jack struggled to focus on what the man was saying, trying to keep a professional expression on his face. "Did she say what was wrong?"
"She didn't go into details, just that it wasn't serious and that the major would probably be off duty for a few days."
"Why don't you get a replacement, sir? I'd like to check on Carter," Jack said. Hammond nodded and Jack left the room, fighting the urge to run up the stairs. What could be wrong with her? She rarely got sick, never badly enough that she couldn't go off world.
He entered the infirmary, lingering a moment in the doorway. He saw that Sergeant Barkley and Captain Grissom were still there. Both of them had been injured a couple of days ago off world. The other two beds were empty and he frowned, wondering if he'd misunderstood the General. "Doc?" Jack said, spying the petite woman. She walked towards him. "Where's Carter?"
"She's in her quarters, sir."
"I thought she wasn't feeling good?"
Janet Fraiser smiled. "She's not. But she asked to stay in her quarters instead of here."
"What's wrong with her?"
Janet hedged a bit. "That's something you should ask her, sir."
Smothering a sigh, he turned on his heel, running scenarios through his head. She was too sick to go off world, but not sick enough to stay in the infirmary? It made no sense.
Unless of course, his paranoid mind supplied, she wasn't really sick. Maybe she'd decided to carry her avoidance game a bit further. Normally he'd say it wasn't like her, but what WAS like her? He knew what normal behavior for Major Carter was; he was still a bit shaky on how Sam Carter acted.
Reaching her quarters, he knocked, and then entered. She was sitting on her bunk, her back against the wall. She was wearing her fatigues, but not her boots, which were sitting on the floor. "Colonel," she said, looking up. She had a sheaf of papers in her lap and her laptop was open beside her.
"Carter. Doc said you weren't feeling good," he said, his eyes studying her critically.
"No, sir. I'm sorry."
He shrugged skeptically, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "What's wrong?"
She looked down at her hands. "Umm...I'd really rather not say."
"Really?"
"It's personal."
He stood there for a second, feeling his irritation grow. When she stubbornly set her jaw he pushed off the wall, stalking over to the door. "Your personal problems had better not make a habit of interfering with our missions, Major," he said, again burying his feelings under a veneer of command. He left the room, denying himself the satisfaction of slamming the door.
Sam watched him go, torn between what hurt the most, her feelings or the burning sensation low in her stomach. He was hurt. And like a wounded animal, when he was hurt he struck out, trying to hide the pain by forcing others to concentrate on their own. "Sam?" Janet knocked on the open door. "Are you ready?" Sam scooted to the end of the bed, carefully bending over and reaching for her boots. "
"Yeah."
"How are you feeling?"
"Ok," she clarified. "Better than this morning."
Janet nodded. "That's good."
Sam stood up and they walked down the hall, making their way to the infirmary level. She hopped up on one of the beds as Janet readied the syringe.
"What did Colonel O'Neill want?" Janet asked casually.
"Oh. He'd just heard that I'm off for a few days."
"I take it he didn't take it well?" Janet said wryly.
"You could say that." Sam winced as Janet slid the needle into her vein.
"Have you had any more attacks?" she asked, expertly drawing a second vial of blood.
"No. Not since the first one," Sam replied as Janet slid the needle out, replacing it with a cotton ball. "I have a little bit of a headache, but that's all."
"That's good. I have a funny feeling that your migraine last night morning was, well probably a combination of things. I have no way of knowing how that serum you injected yourself with could interact with the protein and naquadah in your blood. Not to mention the fact that you've been under more than a little stress lately." She pulled off her rubber gloves. "SG-1 goes off world today, right?" the doctor asked.
"Yes. An overnight trip to P3X829."
"Then my prescription is for you to go home and relax," Janet said, washing her hands.
"Janet..."
"You're already on light duty for a couple of days. What harm is there in taking a day off?"
"I've got a ton of stuff..."
"All of which can wait for a while. Go home. Take a long bath, hop into some sweats and chill out," Janet ordered gently. "Don't make me make it an order."
Sam slumped a bit. "Ok. You win," she said, sliding off the table. She thanked Janet and made her way to the locker room. She changed into her civilian clothes, noting that the guys had already come and gone, their lockers empty of their gear. Feeling guiltily relieved at avoiding a confrontation; she left the mountain and headed home.
<><><><><>
"Let's take five," Jack said, spying a convenient bunch of rocks. He pulled out his canteen and sat down, watching Jonas and Captain Matheson follow suit. It had been a refreshingly ordinary mission so far. Matheson, on loan from SG-4, had proved himself more than worthy of his CO's praise, filling Carter's role with a quiet efficiency he was used to getting from the major.
"Major Carter's illness is not of a serious nature?" Teal'c asked, standing by Jack, his eyes scanning the horizon vigilantly.
Jack shrugged. "Hammond said it wasn't. She wouldn't tell me what was wrong," he continued in response to the Jaffa's raised eyebrow.
"It is serious enough to remove her from this mission and require Doctor Fraiser to perform a diagnostic procedure."
Jack shot him an alarmed glance. "She didn't say anything about tests," Jack blurted out.
"Major Carter rarely volunteers information about her health. Perhaps you did not inquire."
"More like I didn't sit on her and make her tell me what was wrong instead of being a royal asshole," he muttered. "Matheson," he called, startling the young man. "How ya doing on your samples?"
"Sir?"
"I think what the colonel means is if we decided to return early, do you have enough samples to meet the mission requirements?" Jonas said, giving Jack an appraising look.
"Oh, yes, sir. I've got plenty of samples," the young man answered.
"Let's bag this one," Jack said, getting to his feet, ignoring Teal'c's smirk. They started to retrace their steps and Jack struggled to keep his mind on the planet and not preoccupied with what was going on back on Earth.
Why hadn't she told him she wasn't feeling well? Or better yet, why hadn't he pushed her instead of just blowing her off? He couldn't blame her for being reticent around him, especially after his performance the other night. So she'd wanted some space. He should have respected that not thrown a temper tantrum and jumped down her throat.
Taking a peek at his watch, he picked up the pace, doing the math in his head. If he played his cards right, he could make it back to Earth in time for dinner.
<><><><><>
Sam idly scanned the channels, ending up again on the History Channel. Coming to the conclusion that the song 'Fifty Seven Channels and nothing's on' was a vast understatement, she set down the remote and sighed.
Glancing at the sunlight streaming in through the window she contemplated what to do for dinner. Her plotting was made more problematic when she remembered she'd been to more planets in the last month than grocery stores.
Just as she was summoning the energy to reach over and pick up the phone, the doorbell rang. Pushing back the quilt, she got up and padded to the door.
"Have you eaten?" Jack asked, holding up a large bag from Valentino's restaurant in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.
"No. Umm...shouldn't you be on another planet right now?" she asked, stepping aside to let him in.
Jack shrugged, walking past her. "We came, we saw, they were out of t-shirts so we came home."
She shut the door, following him into the kitchen. "What did General Hammond say about you coming back early?" she asked, reaching into the cabinet for plates while he unpacked the food.
"Actually, I think he didn't mind. I recall over hearing something about winning a bet." He let her serve up the food while he reached for the corkscrew, quickly opening the bottle of wine.
Still more than a little puzzled by his presence, she settled for picking up the plates of lasagna and Caesar salad as he poured two glasses of wine. She followed him into the living room, pushing aside the quilt so they could both sit on the couch.
They ate in companionable silence until Sam set her plate down and sat back, cradling her glass of wine.
"What kind of tests did Fraiser run?" Jack asked quietly, causing her to look up sharply.
"What?"
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking her in the eyes.
"Jack, I said..."
"Sam, please," he interrupted. "I care about you, and what happens to you. And I'd like to be able to help you, but I have to know what's wrong first," he said sincerely.
She sighed softly and looked away. "Last night, before I came home, I had a headache."
"A headache?"
"More like a really, really bad migraine," She admitted. "I couldn't even walk. I was lucky that Janet stopped by to say goodnight. She gave me some drugs and I slept it off."
"When did these start?"
"She thinks it was just a one time thing. Ever since...Steveston, things have been a bit off. Between that serum and the goa'uld...anyway, she didn't want me going off-world until she could run some tests."
"And?" he prodded.
"And...I'll live," she joked.
Jack got up and sat next to her, pulling her over to lean against him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She shrugged and leaned into his embrace. "You weren't exactly in a good mood this morning and...the topic of me getting a second snake in my head isn't exactly the best one to bring up right now," she said, relaxing against him.
"And I'm a grumpy SOB who has a tendency to shoot his mouth off," he replied, wrapping his arms around her. They both fell silent, and then fell asleep as the day quietly ended.
<><><><><>
Jack sat up, his heart pounding in his chest. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he looked over, frowning as he found the other side of the bed empty.
Struggling to banish the last memories of his nightmare, he pushed back the covers and stood up. He made his way out to the living room, hoping that a drink would help steady his nerves.
Opening the door to the liquor cabinet he stopped. "Sam?" He turned his head, his ears picking up another faint sniffle. Receiving no answer, he abandoned his quest for alcohol, instead making his was over to the curled up form on the couch. "Sam? Are you ok? Do I need to call Fraiser?" He squinted in the faint light from the small night-light in the kitchen, wishing for x-ray vision to look under her sleep pants and camisole to see if something was wrong. What if Fraiser had made a mistake? What if something was really wrong? "Sam? Hon, what's wrong?" he asked again, taking her hands in his. "Sam, talk to me."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What?"
"I promised myself that I'd never use our relationship to get what I want. But I couldn't..."
"What are you talking about?"
"I couldn't let you die, Jack. I know that you hate the Tok'ra, and you probably hate me right about now, but I would have done anything to keep you alive," she said, her eyes focused on the far wall.
"Hate you? Where do you get that from?"
She met his gaze. "You talk in your sleep," she said, her voice full of pain. She stood up, pulling her hands from his. "Living together's not working. And I don't know if we can work together. So tell me what you want me to do," she said. "Don't forget to lock the door," she tossed over her shoulder as she padded back towards her bedroom.
Jack let her go, still not believing what he'd just heard. He sat on the floor and leaned his back against the couch. Suddenly desperate for answers, he pushed himself up, staggering a bit as his knees threatened to give way. Listening to his gut feeling, he padded back to her bedroom. Sam was curled up in the bed, her back to the door. He knew she wasn't asleep; the set of her shoulders was too still and tense. "What do I say?" he asked, his voice harsh and low.
"Does it matter?" she replied bleakly.
"Yeah, I think it does." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She was silent for a moment and he wondered if he'd have to press the issue. Finally she sighed. "God, Sam. No, please no. Stop, please stop," she recited in a monotone. He reached out, laying his hand on her shoulders, trying not to admit how much it hurt when she pulled away. He stared at her shadowy form for a few more minutes then turned and picked up his clothes, quickly dressing in the hall. Not bothering to put on his shoes, he walked barefoot out of the house and to his truck, trying not to disturb the stillness of the neighborhood.
It didn't take him long to get home, the lateness of the hour making stopping at the lights more of a token gesture than a necessity. Once there, he entered the house, snapping on a lamp and making a beeline for the kitchen. Grabbing the bottle of whisky he stalked back into the living room, flopping down on the couch. Staring out the dark window, he up ended the bottle and took a drink, taking odd pleasure in how the alcohol burned its way down his throat.
He could feel the icy press of metal against his back. The iron dug into his skin and broke through, gouging him as he squirmed. Voices echoed in the hall and the Jaffa dragged in a struggling figure. His heart sank as his eyes caught a glimpse of blonde hair.
"I believe you two have met," Ba'al drawled. "I see you do not care about your life, perhaps you will be more forthcoming when your lack of cooperation harms another?"
The Jaffa dropped the woman and she struggled to catch herself with her bound hands, studiously avoiding looking at him.
"The Tok'ra seem to be making a habit of abandoning their hosts. I will have you know, the goa'uld are never so rude." Jack stared at the woman, barely noticing Ba'al as he walked over to his table. "Now...what was your mission?"
"I told you...no mission."
Ba'al stepped forward, showing his fingers through the woman's hair, pulling her head back. "Perhaps you do not believe that I am a man of my word." He pulled the knife across her throat and a warm crimson spray hit Jack in the face. Ba'al dropped her and Jack stared as she struggled to breathe, then went horribly, mercifully limp. Ba'al stepped over her body and stood before Jack, holding up the dripping knife. He ran his finger along the blade, rubbing the warm blood between two of his fingers. "Tell me what I want to know and I will let you join her," he said, licking the blood off his finger.
Jack woke with a harsh cry, pushing the empty bottle off the couch and onto the floor where it rolled across the carpet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, not surprised when his fingers encountered moisture. So that was it, why he'd woke up more than once more tired than when he'd went to bed. Why he had that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of going to sleep.
And probably why Sam hadn't been sleeping with him. How could she? Sharing a bed with someone thrashing around in a nightmare was not fun, especially when you felt responsible for why that person was having nightmares in the first place. Reaching down, he snagged his shoes and shoved his feet into them. Grabbing his keys, he headed back out the door.
The drive back to Sam's house took a bit longer, the post dawn traffic getting in his way. Arriving at his destination, he hopped out of the truck and walked up the sidewalk. Using his key, he let himself in. "Sam?" Getting no response, he searched the house, not surprised to find it empty. Running some water through the coffee maker, he sat down on the couch, promising himself that he wasn't leaving until he talked to her.
<><><><><>
"What are you doing here?" Janet demanded, standing at the threshold to Sam's lab, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Janet." Sam looked up guiltily. "How did Cassie's school trip go?"
"Fine. And stop trying to change the subject. You're supposed to be home, resting."
"Janet, I'm fine. All I'm doing is paperwork."
"Or hiding," the doctor said softly, crossing the room. Sam looked up sharply. "Why didn't you tell Colonel O'Neill you weren't feeling good?"
"He had enough on his mind. And anyway, you said it wasn't serious."
"They're getting worse, aren't they? The dreams," Janet said.
"Yeah," Sam admitted grudgingly.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Maybe I was wrong," Janet said. "Maybe you should tell him about them." Sam shook her head. "Sam, if they're not going away by now, maybe he needs to face them rather than ignoring them."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Sam said bleakly.
"Sam? What happened?" Janet asked, laying a concerned hand on the major's arm.
Sam pulled her arm away. "You're right. I should go home." She started signing off her computer and gathering her papers.
"Sam..."
"Maybe we can do dinner tomorrow night or something?" Sam ignored her friend, picking up her briefcase from the floor. She crammed the papers in and shut the laptop.
"Sam?" Janet repeated.
"Janet. Not now," Sam begged. "I'll see you later," she said, fleeing the room and the mountain.
<><><><><>
Jack heard a car pull up and got to his feet, peering out the window. He saw Sam get out of her car and look at his truck. She ran her fingers through her hair and her shoulders slumped. He saw her look around, and then toss her briefcase back into her car, apparently getting ready to leave. Panicking a bit, Jack hurried out of the house, running down the walk. "Sam!" he called as she stuck the key into the ignition. She looked up and rolled her eyes. "Sam, come inside," he said, sticking his head in the window.
"Jack. Why are you here?"
"Because we need to talk." He reached in and put his hand over hers. "Just listen to what I have to say and I'll go. I promise."
She set her jaw, then sighed, pulling the keys from the ignition. "Five minutes," she stated as he opened the car door. She grabbed her briefcase and he stepped back, closing the car door behind her. He followed her up the walk and through the open door. She set her keys on the table then walked into the living room, setting her briefcase on the sofa. She turned to face him, crossing her hands over her chest.
"You could sit down you know," he said.
She crossed to the sofa, perching herself on the edge. He sat beside her, careful to keep a bit of distance. "You know what my worst nightmare is? The one that...I think I'll sell my soul to prevent? It's not that you'll die...it's that I'm going to have to WATCH you die and not be able to do a damn thing about it." She reached over and took his left hand in her right one. "I've had a few incarnations of that dream. Ba'al is the current star. That's what I dream," he said. "I see Ba'al killing you and...all I can do is watch," he said, his voice catching.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
He shook his head. "I didn't remember it until last night. Hell, I didn't even remember having a dream, much less what it was about. I guess when you said what I said...it triggered something. That's why you left, isn't it?" He asked.
She nodded. "At first...it was just a bad dream. You never really woke up and I could usually soothe you out of it. Janet said since you never woke up, it was best not to tell you. That they'd probably just go away. Then you started to talk. I tried but...I just couldn't take it. I figured it wouldn't be long before your conscious mind figured out what your subconscious already knew and you started to hate me for real so...I thought if I went away, maybe you'd just forget."
He moved closer, pulling her closer. "There were moments when I hated Kanan. And if he were alive today I...I honest to God don't know what I'd do," he admitted, feeling her stiffen in his arms. "But I do owe the snake one thing." He kissed her on the top of her head. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be able to do this." He felt the cheek pressed against his chest fold into a smile as she sighed softly and snuggled closer. "You saved my life when you made me fight to survive. And...the next few days were no walk in the park but...they're over and I hope that we're going to have so many more good days that the bad ones just won't matter anymore. I know I'm not exactly a prize catch but..."
"It all depends on what you're fishing for, flyboy," she said. "You know, I've never been a big fan of 'catch and release'. When I get what I want, I tend to keep it." She tightened her grip on his hand.
"Really? This house is pretty small. Where did you intend to keep me?"
She pulled back, getting to her feet. "I have someplace in mind," she said, pulling him to his feet and leading him towards the bedroom.
~Fin~
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