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30 May 2010 @ 05:03 pm
Fic: ‘Always letting go.’  
Title: Always letting go.
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During season 3, episode 1.
Summary: He was always going to be letting go.

Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q. or check this post for the definition).

I saw this episode recently and this story snuck in.

Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich (original film) and Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner (TV series) and MGM; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by him.


_______________________


He knew he had fingers and toes but he couldn’t feel them. He knew he had arms because he could feel those. He had legs because Carter was sitting on them. He clung to her as though there were nothing else in this God-forsaken world except them.

There wasn’t anything in his God-forsaken world except her anyway. He held her for the warmth and the fact he was alive and there was no snake in his head although one had tried to be there. Damn Hathor; why couldn’t she just die?

It was while he held onto Carter, while he shivered, while he caught the scent of her – smoke and dirt was the best perfume in the world – and while he struggled to think of two plus two equalling a window (because that’s what you were meant to do, in his estimation, when holding a female soldier), there was a thump.

It was his heart, reacting to her closeness. It wasn’t meant to do that, he tried to tell himself, when she was so close. It wasn’t meant to give him away or even betray him in that way because it wasn’t meant to react. She was Carter. She was ...

She was Sam and all that meant – the blonde hair, being so smart it made him feel dumb and his fellow officer. But he was clinging to her as though she were a lifeline, despite the fact they had to get out of there, and in that moment he understood she was always his lifeline. She was alw—

“Colonel?”

Time and place, Carter, he told himself.

“How are you feeling?”

“Cold, Captain.” But he let go and when he stood, he realised his vision was clouded. Not with the rose-pink of those damned glasses romantics were always talking about but clouded from having just gotten out of a deep freeze. He wanted to say give me a few minutes so he had extra time to warm up – warming up sounded like something he should say – but he knew better. He knew he had to go. He knew they had to ...

Damned brain. It must be seizing, he decided. It had just fought a snake, after all, for possession of his own brain!

He let her go. He had the feeling, short and hard hitting, that he was always going to have to let her go. He had to or he’d never go through that ‘gate again.
 
 
 
Armchair DM: Igor & Carson: Waitingarmchairdm on June 3rd, 2010 03:17 pm (UTC)
Awwwwwwww... c'mon O'Neill; take the plunge...
F. J.: Lanterns: Warmmorethanacandle on June 3rd, 2010 03:19 pm (UTC)
And you know he won't ...
anranr on June 12th, 2010 12:16 am (UTC)
Very nice! I really enjoyed this glimpse at his thoughts during that moment. Lovely!
F. J.: Lantern & Candles: Warmmorethanacandle on June 12th, 2010 07:14 pm (UTC)
Very nice! I really enjoyed this glimpse at his thoughts during that moment. Lovely!
I wasn’t certain I could actually write this – the only other time Jack’s turned up in a story was something silly I wrote for the holidays last year!

Thank you.