by Whyagain
She's decided to stop falling. She plants her feet firmly on the ground, willing the rest of her to follow suit. She knows her duty.
The flickering rhythm of her television lulls her to sleep five nights in a row because she doesn't feel like sleeping. She feels like jumping from a building, just to see if she can fly.
She knows she can't.
Her little revelation of self came too late, or maybe too soon. She knows what she wants. She supposes she's always known, but now she feels it. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.
Except fight.
Something inside of her always knew it would come to this. She is a fighter by design more than disposition. She's trained all her life for a battle, and now she has one.
She never imagined her fight would be with gravity.
She fears she doesn't have the power anymore, not for something like this.
She feels there used to be so much more to her. Now she looks inside herself and finds things she wishes she could have.
Or have back.
She wants it back. She wants it all back.
It's muggy and her tent is cramped. She'd kill for a cold shower or a snowstorm or even a cup of ice chips. She knows this is no way to live. She knows this is how it has to be.
They almost never do this. They try to leave and come back. No one really looked forward to this diplomatic excursion, but they are twenty miles away from the gate and they all dreaded the trek more than the heat. So she dutifully pitched her tent with the others.
But now she can't sleep.
She can't tell if it's the suffocating heat or the buzzing of insects or the lack of the television's white noise, but sleep isn't an option open to her, even after a full day of negotiations and a good bout of insomnia prior to the mission. Then again, neither is wandering around on an alien planet an option.
The colonel took first watch.
He put Teal'c on second and Ellis from SG-12 on third. He still isn't speaking to her. She can't quite blame him; she knows this is how it has to be.
She feels she ought to tell him.
She tried earlier, but her eloquence failed her entirely. Jack O'Neill understands Burns as Goa'uld, but not the parallels between himself and a comic-book superhero. She doesn't entirely understand herself, but she figures that shouldn't make a difference.
The tent sways.
She needs to relieve herself, but the colonel is still on watch. She's been doing her best to avoid him, and, with him doing the same, they almost never meet alone. She doesn't admit she's missed his company. She can't do things like that anymore.
She hears Daniel's light snore coming from her right and Teal'c's stoic silence from her left. She takes comfort in the fact that some things never change.
Finally she can't take it anymore and slowly unzips the flap of her tent. The shadowy figure doesn't turn, and she sneaks off to the latrine.
“You should not go out alone, Major Carter,“ Teal'c's voice greets her as she returns. She doesn't see the colonel.
“I started my watch early so that I might speak with you. I heard your . . . sleeplessness.“
Neither statement seems to be a question, so she silently stumbles over to the seat he offers on his log. It strikes her as odd that she rests her weapon nonchalantly between her legs, feeling the strap pull at her shoulder. She can't say why.
She knows Teal'c will reveal his reasoning sooner or later, so she waits and listens to him breathe. She doesn't feel much like talking.
“Jaffa women are taught to fight.“
She half-sees where he is going and hunkers down for the long hall with a small sigh. She doesn't believe she can stop him and is too exhausted to try.
“They are trained to defend their homes and their children and their lands in the name of their god. They are indoctrinated with the same notions of honor and duty and pride as any Jaffa and believe them with the same vigor. They are not, however, allowed to join the equivalent of your military.“
“Teal'c--“
Somehow, she's heard this all before.
“Many believe it is a liability to allow women to take up arms. There are many arguments toward reasoning, the majority of which I have learned from the Tau'ri. I have been witness to many battles, a number of them brutal and bloody, and many slaughters just as gruesome.“
“And is a battlefield any less disturbing than a ransacked town? Is men lying beside men any less frightening than men lying beside women? Do women not have as much of a right and reason to fight as men?“ she demands. She's been through this conversation and she's angry she should have to prove herself to one who should think her worthy by now.
“I do not question their right or reason or ability. You yourself have taught me that, Samantha Carter.“ He smiles in the dark and she feels her ire ebb.
They sit like that for a moment. She feels the other shoe about to drop and waits.
“Do you believe that a successful team must have specific attributes?“
She pauses, unsure of the question more than her answer. “Yes. Yes, I do.“
“Do you believe that every member of a team has an obligation to see that those attributes are maintained?“
“Yes,“ she answers again.
“Samantha Carter, I joined SG-1 so that I might begin to fulfill what I see as the most paramount of all objectives. The Goa'uld must be destroyed at all costs. I left behind everyone I knew and loved so that they might one day be free from Goa'uld oppression. I feel it is my duty and my calling to defeat the Goa'uld.“
He pauses and she takes the chance to look timidly around for any sign of eavesdroppers. She feels more than foresees the chagrin that must inevitably follow Teal'c's speech.
“I feel that I must attempt to remedy an affliction which has befallen our team and poses a threat to the success of our objective. I would not mention it otherwise.“
His breathing seems to slow, as does time.
“Do you believe you are meant to fight the Goa'uld?“
“Yes, of course--“
“Then fight. This life comes with no pleasures until the Goa'uld are extinct. You cannot indulge in any sort of luxury, even so seemingly innocent as this.“
“'Luxury?'“ she shrieks, jumping from her seat. Someone turning in his tent brings her back to her surroundings. “You think this is a damn 'luxury?'“ she whispers hotly. She's not sure they're talking about the same thing, but she figures he's offered himself to it.
“Make no mistake, Samantha Carter. I do not wish for you to be unhappy. I do not wish to deny you what you seek, nor do I feel I am capable. I only wish to apprise you of our situation, and the effect it is having on our productivity.“
She gets stuck on the word “productivity” and doesn't know quite what to do. So she continues to squat on the log, mouth agape and excuse-less.
“The Tau'ri military contains much of the same culture the Jaffa have. You believe in loyalty and honor, valor and pride. You believe in self-sacrifice and justice. You fight for your country as we fight for our gods. But the Jaffa do not put the same stock in love. Filial love, maybe, but not eros.“
She sees herself through Teal'c's eyes and knows he will be her grounding rod. She knows how she must seem to him, but she can't find the words to apologize.
“Men aren't robots, Teal'c,“ she sighs. “But I know my duty. I know how to keep fighting. It's the right thing to do and I won't let something like this be my excuse.“ She smiles cruelly. “I've never quit anything in my life.“
“You have a duty to yourself, as well, Samantha Carter. The battle with the Goa'uld would be sorry to lose you.“ He stands with a secret smile. “You may take the remainder of my watch. Goodnight,“ he says abruptly and disappears into his tent.
She listens to Teal'c return to his tent, knowing exactly his purpose. Teal'c is the only one of them with a straightforward motive and she appreciates that.
She knows her duty.
She watches the woods carefully. They had decided to forego the town's offer of putting them up for the night in favor of camping out in the adjacent woods. Soft beds and warm fires would have made them complacent, or so the colonel believed. SG-12, used to taking such conveniences, protested the change in grumbles and mumbled complaints, but, in the end, caution won out. They had enough members for two-man shifts, but the colonel, aware of SG-12's attitude, decided to give them a break.
She wishes he hadn't.
Woods are always dark, unfriendly, and alien, but tonight she feels it even more. A weariness more than exhaustion or fatigue creeps into her bones and she feels like falling.
But she knows her duty.
She hears a sound behind her and finds her barrel leveled at the colonel's chest.
“Sir,“ she breathes, clicking the safety into place.
“Carter.“
“Out for a stroll?“ she asks. She knows he isn't.
“No.“
“Couldn't sleep?“ she tries again.
“I guess,“ he mutters.
She offers him Teal'c's old seat on the log. They sit and she can't help feeling more alone.
“How much of that did you hear?“ she says finally.
“Oh, pretty much all of it.“ He's noncommittal and it makes her furious.
They sit in silence for long moments, watching the darkness through the trees.
“I'm sorry, sir,“ she says finally.
“For what, Major?“
“For hurting the team,“ she answers simply. She doesn't apologize for her little luxury. She can't.
The dark doesn't change, but it shifts.
“I know,“ he says.
It's not an admission and it's not an admonition. But it's something. And she needs something.
*~*~*~*~*
whyagain
march-april 2007
*~*~*~*~*
“What kind of scale compares the weight of two beauties, the gravity of duties or the ground-speed of joy? Tell me what kind of gauge can quantify a nation? What kind of equation could I possibly employ?“ School Night, Ani Difranco