The Beautifully Clueless
The Beautifully Clueless
by Lynniebear27
Summary: Sam's in trouble.can she be helped before she destroys herself?
Category: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Episode Related: 105 First Commandment, 106 Cold Lazarus, 521 Meridian, 603 Descent
Season: any Season
Pairing: Jack/Sam, Sam/other
Rating: 13+
Warnings: adult themes, minor language, violence
Author's Notes: My first story!!!
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 05/31/06
Sam Carter lay in a heap on the cold, hard floor of her kitchen contemplating what had become of her life. She slowly raised herself using the corner of the table as leverage. Her ribs protested profusely at the action.
A million thoughts came rushing through her head all at once. "Why couldn't I just tell the Colonel I had personal matters to attend to? He literally gave me a way out and I didn't take it."
Another voice popped into her head. "How could I? Ever since I've married the team's atmosphere has been tense."
"You know it's been going on longer than that. It just wasn't as apparent until a few months ago." Her internal argument raged on a few more minutes until the terse ringing of a phone brought her out of her reverie.
She fumbled to reach the cordless at the end of the counter. "Hello?"
"Sam, it's Daniel. I've been trying to reach you on your cell for the last half hour. That annoying voice kept telling me your phone was `out of service', and you didn't answer when I called your house. I thought you might like to know where your coat went. You left it in my car, so I brought it home with me. Where've you been?"
Sam suddenly glanced across the room at the forgotten device that now lay in pieces from where it had rebounded off the wall. "Oh, I was working on a new astrophysics book I'm writing. I have this theory about how the wormhole may be able to remain stabilized for longer periods of time...well I'll tell you about it when I get back to the base. You know how I get when I'm working... I must have turned my cell off. I'm sorry to have worried you Daniel and I'll pick up my coat tomorrow."
Daniel sighed in relief. He had started to get very worried about Sam and had been about to call for help if she hadn't answered soon, but it wasn't exactly a secret about how intense Sam could get with her work. "I can come over now and drop it off if you like."
"No! I mean, uh, now isn't really a good time. I'll just pick it up tomorrow."
"I just thought you might like to sleep in on your day off. You can just let yourself into the apartment if you want. I'll leave it in the front hallway closet for you. If you can spare a minute of your downtime with Brock, that is. Don't work too hard; it is called DOWNTIME for a reason you know."
"I won't and I suppose I could spare a minute if it's to get my jacket, but other than that don't expect to see me for the next two weeks." She jested.
"OK Sam, just don't have too much fun while I'm off on P3X-297 with SG-6 deciphering the ancient ruin's text they discovered."
"I can't promise anything, but I'll try," she allowed a devilish grin to cross her face, "See you in a couple weeks Daniel."
"Bye, Sam." Carter set down the phone and got a broom out of the closet. All she honestly felt like doing was plopping down in her bed and sleeping for the next fourteen hours, but she knew Brock would have a fit if the glass wasn't swept up by the time he got home.
When that task was completed, she picked up her irreparably damaged cell phone and furniture. It was nine o'clock by the time she finished. Sam crawled in bed, but surprisingly, the relief she sought was not forthcoming. The last few hours' events poured through her head.
CHAPTER 2
~ "Hey Carter, The team's going to O'Malley's for a few drinks. Wanna come?" then, at her hesitant look, "I mean, we'll understand if you wanna get home to Brice or already have plans..." Colonel O'Neill offered.
SG-1 had just gotten back from a particularly hard mission on P3X-346. Let's just say the natives weren't exactly welcoming. Teal'c had been shot with an arrow in the leg and Colonel O'Neill was sporting a similar wound to his shoulder. Both injuries were taken care of upon arrival through the StarGate, and were expected to heal in the next few weeks. Teal'c's limb was anticipated to heal even sooner due to `Junior'. It was only six o'clock and Sam figured she had some time. The team's dynamic hadn't been the best lately (most of the tension, admittedly, could be attributed to both Sam and Jack) and Sam thought she might be able to repair some of the damage tonight.
"Brock's working late tonight at the station and I've finished most of the work in my lab so I'm free. Sounds great I'll be there just let me get washed up first."
"Okay-dokay we'll meet you there whenever you're done."
Sam mentally went through her check list on the way to O'Malley's Bar & Grill.
1. get groceries 2. make dinner 3. tidy house 4. change and shower before Brock gets home 5. call Cassie The list continued as she pulled up to the restaurant. "Hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting. Did you already order?"
"We have indeed communicated your regularly desired sustenance to our server, Major Carter."
"Oh, good, thanks Teal'c." Sam conveyed her appreciation while taking her place at the table.
"You are most welcome, Major Carter. Would it not pleasure you to indulge in a game of pool? Was not O'Neill recently informing us of his extraordinary propensity in matters relating to this game, DanielJackson?" Daniel signaled with his free hand that he was out of this one while slurping down the drink resting in his other hand.
"I'm up for it Teal'c, that is, if the Colonel thinks he can present some kind of a challenge for me this time."
"Oh, it's on now Carter."
CHAPTER 3
The evening progressed in this light-hearted fashion and liquor was consumed by all. Well, all except Daniel who was the designated driver. It was nine o'clock when Daniel pulled into the Bradshaw driveway. Sam was more than a little tipsy at this point. That night had been one of the best SG-1 had had in a long while, so it was not shocking when they lost track of time.
"Are you sure you'll be able to get in okay, Sam? I could walk you to the door at least."
"I'll be fine Daniel. I mean, Holy Hannah, I'm not five. Besides, I don't think the Colonel will last much longer. "
"Yeah, listen to the lady Space Monkey, she's not f-f-fi-oh hell she isn't a little girl. Hey! That's not funny!" The Colonel complained as the car's remaining occupants started laughing hysterically. He had also consumed his fair share that night and was quite heavily slurring his words. Jack O'Neill looked as if he might pass out at any moment, or break out in song, depending on which second you saw him. After farewells were said, and Daniel's car had pulled out of the driveway, Sam made a valiant effort to get her key into the lock before giving up entirely and slumping to the ground. Sam fleetingly registered a shiver passing over her body, but her inebriated mind would not present a reasonable explanation for this. This was how her husband found her twenty minutes later.
"Wake up, Sam. Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the neighbors?" Brock gave Sam a not-so-gentle nudge in her side as way of rousing. She slowly started to stir and come around.
"Ugh....what time is it?" Sam's still sleep fogged mind was having a hard time processing the information being thrown at her.
"It's ten-thirty, where have you been? I was so worried!"
After the third or fourth `nudge' Sam was starting to get the picture. "Brock! Oh my gosh! I completely lost track of time. Holy Hannah, ten-thirty? I'm so sorry!"
"You should be Samantha. You were supposed to be home hours ago. I had three different units out searching for you all over the city. I even called the General! I mean what if something had happened to you? Come inside and we are going to seriously talk about this."
"Brock, I'm sorry. I didn't think you would be home this early and I didn't think I'd be out this late. I was with the team. Wait, you called the General?" Brock made Sam some coffee to help her sober up as they continued speaking.
"That isn't the point, Sam.You mean to tell me that after everything I've done to try and find you, to try to make sure you weren't lying in a ditch somewhere, you were just out safe and sound getting drunk with your `team'?" They slowly made their way to the living room as they spoke.
"Brock, please don't start something right now. I'm really not in the mood." These fights were becoming more and more frequent in the Bradshaw's six month marriage.
"Oh, you don't want me to start something, huh? I've been sitting here, worried for over an hour, and all you can do is say you're `not in the mood to talk right now'? Well, too bad Sam. How was I supposed to know you were out with your little family and not kidnapped by some psycho?" Brock asked in his patronizing voice.
"My `little family'? Are you really so insecure in our relationship that you still think they're a threat? I mean really, it's you I married, you I've chosen to spend my life with, and you're just so insistent on pouting that you can't even see that?"
"It may have been me you married, but am I still the only one you share your bed with?"
"What exactly is that supposed to mean, Brock? Getting jealous are we now?" By this time both Sam and Brock had slowly gravitated to the center of the room and were inches from each other's faces.
"Can you really blame me when it's always `Colonel O'Neill this' and `Colonel O'Neill that'? For all I know you could really be spending all those hours of `work' in O'Neill's bed. And why weren't you answering your cell phone? Were you afraid someone would break up your and O'Neill's little fiasco? Why am I paying for this idiotic thing if it won't even work properly!?" With that last comment Brock launched her cell phone to the rigid wall by the kitchen.
"Oh that was a real smart move Brock. Now not only will I have a lack of sleep tonight, because of this headache you're giving me, I'll also have to buy a new phone!"
"So you wanna talk about intelligence now? Do you really want to go there? Does that idiot stimulate you at all?"
"You honestly believe that Colonel O'Neill and I are having an affair? Not only is it against regulations, but it's against our moral codes of honor even if I am in a crummy marriage." Sam was just goading him now.
"Crummy marriage? Did you ever stop to think it's so `crummy' because O'Neill can't keep it in his pants? Or is it you who initiated it Sammy? Tell me God dammit!"
"You want me to tell you? You really want me to tell you? Okay, well he's obviously more of a man than you'll ever be! He doesn't have some obsession with making me into the perfect little wife to fit into his perfect little life."
"That's funny, Sammy. That he could ever have a `perfect life'. Oh wait, didn't he have that once and he blew it? Or should I say that his son `blew it'? Blew his own brains out with the Colonel's gun, that is." The sound of the resounding slap cut into the tension filled atmosphere and gave way to a silence broken only by the couple's heavy breathing. Brock's hand flew to his reddening cheek while Sam's came to rest on her mouth in horror of what she had done.
"Brock I..." She was never given the chance to finish as the force of the punch knocked Sam to the ground. Next thing she knew she was being hurled into a nearby wall. That wall just happened to be in the kitchen. She hit her head on the edge of the kitchen table on her attempted trip back up. The last thing she saw was her husband flinging himself at her. Feet and fists connected with her body. ~
CHAPTER 4
Sam awoke to the sound of her alarm clock beeping. It read 6:15 a.m. The place beside her remained as cold and lonely as it had been the night before. That either meant Brock had not come home last night or he had slept somewhere else in the house. Sam was willing to bet on the former being true.
The next thing she became aware of was the aching she felt everywhere. She could barely move, barely breathe. When she finally summoned up the strength to get out of bed, looking in the mirror only confirmed her suspicions. Large purple marks adorned various parts of Sam's body. Last night had not been a twisted dream or hallucination. It had been real and there was no escaping the truth of the matter. Her husband-the man she was supposed to love with all her heart-had beaten Sam to unconsciousness.
She can't help but compare her present situation to that of her engagement to Jonas Hansen. It had only taken one hit for her to realize that she had to break it off. He needed more help than she could give. She realized it then, so why was it so hard for her to put things into perspective now?
Could it be that just a few months ago her biggest problem was saving the world again and making sure no one knew of the feelings Colonel O'Neill and she shared? Colonel O'Neill...oh how she had hurt him. She had met Brock a year after the incident with the Za'tarc testing. Sam never deliberately set out to cause him pain, but she felt that she'd waited long enough and she needed a `normal' life. Brock had given that to her.
Sam was caught speeding on her way to an emergency at the Mountain one day and Officer Bradshaw was the one to issue her a fine. He asked her out and she eagerly accepted. That was a year and a half ago now. They dated eight months before he proposed. After a couple days' deliberation and an interesting conversation with O'Neill, Sam accepted an offer from him once again.
Brock had been there for Sam when Daniel had ascended and then again when he descended. Sam would have never dreamed Brock could've hurt her like this. She was suddenly glad she had two weeks off to heal and figure this mess out.
Sam figured she had driven Brock to this, to what he had become last night. Sam was always working, always taking calls from the Mountain when not working. Sam knew she did not love Brock completely when she had married him and that she didn't make the best wife. She pushed him too far. She had pushed Jonas too far once, too. We all know how that turned out...She wondered, not for the first time, if she really was cursed when it came to men. Determined to make up for her actions; Sam relaxed in the tub and got ready for the day. The bruising was extensive and cuts could be found marring her skin. She did her best to cover the damage to her face. She managed to cover the rest of her body in a turtle neck and jeans. It wasn't fantastic, but it made her look at least halfway decent. She hopped in the car and stopped by Daniel's to get her coat. The rest of the day was spent running errands and preparing things for Brock when he got home from work.
Sam was not stupid, she knew she would have to receive treatment for her wounds and make sure there wasn't any serious harm done. She bravely walked into a women's clinic a town away forty minutes later. It was mostly just bruising, a few fractured bones. Nothing that wouldn't heal in the next few weeks. Sam was questioned endlessly about the cause of her damaged body, and at one point a social worker and police officer were called in to talk with her. Sam filled out all the forms given to her as Sam O'Neill. After all, you can never be too careful what people could get a hold of when they knew where to look. There were many enemies of the SGC, and Sam needed this to be one secret kept in the dark.
CHAPTER 5
"Honey! I'm home!" yelled Brock as he walked through the front door into a tantalizing aroma filled house.
"Perfect. The roast is just coming out of the oven. How was your day at work? Busy?" Sam asked as she kissed her husband lightly on the cheek. Since the morning she had added a pink apron given to her by Brock to her attire.
"Not too busy to pick these up for my beautiful wife," replied Bradshaw as he pulled roses from behind his back.
"Oh they're lovely, sweetheart. Let me just put them in some water and then I'll get dinner on the table."
"Wait. Samantha, look, about this morning....I just wanted to apolog...." Brock began after grabbing Sam's arm to halt her retreat to the kitchen.
"It's ok." Sam firmly interrupted him. Their eyes locked in an intense gaze and held for several seconds. Brock, finding no uncertainty or deception in her eyes, let go of Carter's arm.
"So, what did you say we were having for dinner again?" Brock asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"All your favorites. We have our roast, mashed potatoes, corn....." That night at the Bradshaw's was spent as if any other normal day. Sam cleared the dishes, while Brock locked up. Both changed and went to bed. No more was said on the previous night's affair.
Two weeks passed quickly. Monday Sam went back to work and there was no more than a trace left as evidence of Sam's beating. She wore a large smile as she strolled into the morning briefing.
"Well, it looks like someone had a nice vacation," commented O'Neill upon noticing Carter's smile.
"A very nice vacation," agreed Daniel. Sam just turned a lovely shade of pink and took her seat at the briefing table.
"Good morning people. I'm sure you all enjoyed your downtime, well those of you granted leave anyway, but now it's time to get back to work. Welcome back, now let's begin. Doctor Jackson?"
"Uh, yes sir. The planet has significant..."
Knock, knock. "Come in."
"General Hammond, Major Carter's husband is on the phone. He says it's an emergency, sir."
"Thank you, Airman. Major Carter?" Hammond gave her the go ahead to take the phone call in his office for privacy.
"Brock?" Sam questioned.
"Sammy! What's goin' on?" he slurred.
"I don't know, Brock. You called me, remember?" Sam asked, frustrated.
"Just wanted to call and see how my Sammy was doin' that's all."
"Brock, you can't just call me at work like this, and drunk no less!" Sam was beginning to get very agitated as her team members started to stare at her through the glass window connecting General Hammond's office with the briefing room. "Listen, Brock. I have work to do if you have nothing important to tell me."
"I am not drunk!" He protested, although it was quite obvious that this was not the case. "I want you to came home Sammy, I miss you."
"We'll talk about this later, Brock. Don't phone me here again."
"You can't tell me what to do! You're my wife!" As Brock was getting extremely angry, Sam hung up on him.
Sam walked back into the briefing room slightly embarrassed at having taken so long. The briefing was clearly coming to a close. "Everything all right, Major?" Jack asked after having seen her agitated face while talking on the phone.
"Just fine, sir." Sam replied evenly, trying to keep her angry emotions under control. To anyone else she might have seemed fine, but Jack knew her too well. He could see how upset she was and made a mental note to ask about it later.
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