Not Quite Regret

TITLE: Not Quite Regret
AUTHOR: Anthony Docimo
EMAIL: Keenir@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: Sam and Jack, angst
SPOILERS: Devil In The Dark, Enigma.
SEASON / SEQUEL:
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: None given
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We 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 authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:

JACK:

I look over towards the infirmary.

She'll hate me now, if she's even alive.

She told me not to do this, seniority be damned.

Maybe I am at fault. Did I want this to happen?

I shake my head, but the thought won't leave. I hated him. I hated that he took Sam from me. I guess I have only myself to blame though: I never told her how I feel about her.

But he did.

Damn you Narim!

*

ONE DAY BEFORE:

"You're sure this is such a good idea?" I ask again, swinging the TP-ER around for another sweep. Still no Reetou.

Narim nodded. "We gave them these weapons. Even the warriors of this Southern Shield will not attack us here."

"Kind of like foreign soil at an ambassadorial building?" Sam asked, which led into a quiet discussion about the similarities therein. The end result, though, was that it was the same principle.

A click and a whirr, and the circular door rolled away.

"Remember the emergency signal?" Narim asked me.

"Push the red triangle twice, then the red circle once." That would, he'd assured General Hammond before we left for here, send a distress beacon out. Help _would_ come, be it Reetou, Tollan, Asgard, or something else, it will come!

"Good," he said, not patronizingly. Actually, it was utterly without emotion. Do I ever sound like that?

It was a short walk down a gentle downward slope before the corridor - built for Reetou widths - widened further.

We were now in the Central Chamber, based on what he'd told us. As he went to one computer terminal, it's keys like a child's blocks, I stepped closer to Sam, who was starting to shiver.

"Cold?" I felt like hitting my head: what kind of a question was that? Of course she was cold. It was tempting to put my arm around her.

"A bit, sir. I'll be fine though." A shake of her own head. "Never knew Reetou liked things cold."

"There are polar Reetou," Narim commented, as he finished at the terminal, "but they've opted to remain in early bronze-age development."

"Frigid Reetou," I murmured. "Any different?" Couldn't be any worse - could they?

Sam shot me a warning look.

Narim did answer though.

"Psycologically, little different from the rest. Physically, they have the same shortening of limbs that animals on most worlds have in common."

He beckoned us towards the now opening door behind us.

"Love what they'd done with the place," I quip, not totally behind my words. We're in a cave now, sparse technology of any kind.

What _is_ here are weapons. Like the ones that shot at me and Sam - Carter - by those Reetou Rebels. They were rebels...right?

A tremor shook us.

"Large tectonic plates, he says," I quip, sarcasm dripping off my tongue.

Sir!" she says admonishingly. I don't know which she's afraid of more: me causing a diplomatic incident, or me embarassing her love - lover?

"It is all right," Narim assures, I'm pretty sure he's talking more to Sam than me. Until - "Shakes such as that do happen occasionally. It is the larger quakes and volcanic activities that will not occur in this region."

Sam volunteers to go a bit ahead, to get an idea of what else is down here in this technological depot. Narim and I, well, we just start picking up what weapons we can find lying around us.

*

It's been a few minutes.

Another tremor shook.

Narim was right, I figure: this one was smaller and shorter than the earlier one.

I hear a rumble and grinding that has nothing to do with the earthquake, directly anyway. Maybe he didn't know, maybe he figured it wouldn't happen while we were down here: he didn't mention that the minor quakes might jar loose the ceiling rocks. A few begin falling.

"Take cover," I yell, hoping that it's loud enough of a holler to reach Carter.

*

The rocks've stopped falling and the dust is starting to clear. Well, the bigger-than-a-baseball rocks stopped falling anyway.

I hear a moan and go over to check and see how Narim fared. Unconsciously, you understand, it was an instinctive duty, gut reflex.

His forehead was bleeding lightly, though it bore a long gash. "Sam?" he moaned.

I know I don't look like Sam - though to a dying man, who knows? - so I figured that he was asking me to see how she did.

"I'll go check," I assured him. He nodded as best he could. Nice to know we can agree on something, eh?

Proven right once again: a high-tech two-by-four is still a two-by-four!

Only thing was, this one was pinning Sam under it! It ran from atop her left hip to the right shoulder. I assessed the potential damages with a glance across, trying to hurry. She likely had a partially busted hip, a few rib bones, and her -

I tried not to linger too much on her upper body.

"I'll get you out," I promised, placing my hands on the end next to her head, and started to lift.

She put one of her hands on mine. "No, sir, save Narim. He's more important than me."

What, does she have a death wish all of a sudden? It's hard enough saving Jackson's hide on most missions we've taken...now Carter wants to be added to the Hazardous Person List?

"You're part of the team, Carter," I insist. Damn, this thing's heavy! "No arguments, you're getting into the SGC Infirmary.

"You want Daniel's bed there?" I joke. That guy's almost got a spot reserved for him. Dr Fraiser told me once that if they make any additions to the SGC, the new hospital wing'll be dedicated to Dr Jackson.

"Jack," she says, with surprising tenderness. "If you ever felt anything for me, then please listen to me! I'm too far gone. Save Narim. He dies, the Tollans'll withdraw their support from the SGC."

"Why's that?" So there was an ulterior motive behind Hammond's decision to let the bugger stay?

"He's their ruler. It's a sto-as-tic gover-mental sys-tem," she pulled out, her words becoming more like her breathing'd become: ragged. She was losing consiousness!

With the strength that comes from an adrenaline rush, I joined the ranks of old women who lift cars to save children. I heave the bar off to the side, uncaring what it lands on.

Easing Samantha Carter to her feet, I help support her. She'll need at least a few weeks of recovery in a hospital bed, I gauge.

So far, she's hovering. She can move her feet in time with mine - so long as I keep slow - but she can't take stock of her surroundings. Together, we walk back towards the Central Chamber.

I'm glad she's not concious. If she was, she'd see Narim's pale body, possibly dead, lying next to the path.

Once in the Chamber, I tap in the pattern Narim'd shown me: two red triangles, one red circle. Hoping that help would be on the way soon, I get Sam and myself out of here while we both still can!

BACK, PRESENT DAY, IN THE SGC:

A squad of Reetou'd found us, outside the entranceway. The passage down was clogged, they told us, and it was a good thing we'd gotten out.

They took us back to the stargate, and backed off while I dialed Earth. 'We are not allied with the Rebels,' the one with the translator'd told me, 'but we also are not under the control of the Central Authority Of Reetou.' 'Nice to know,' I told it, then assured it that that was a joke.