The Furies Wept von Nanda

[Reviews - 1]   Printer Chapter or Story Table of Contents

- Text Size +

Story Bemerkung:

Also available on one long page on my website: The Furies Wept

NOTE: This story was originally uploaded in September, 2005. My stories were all lost when Helio switched to new software, and I'm finally re-uploading them.

Warning: there is no sex in this story. It's here because its prequels are here.

The title is from the Orpheus myth.

"We should have been there, Jack." Carter kicks off her shoes in her front hall. They thud against the door. "You know we should have."

He slides the deadbolt into place and walks past her. "Sam, c'mon. What exactly do you think we could have done that Coburn didn't?" Jack himself wonders how careful Coburn was -- he's definitely young for the job Jack should have left to Carter -- but now is not a good time to mention that.

SG-1, the new SG-1, had been cut off from the gate on P3-something, and by the time they made it back -- in the late afternoon, with Daniel concussed, unconscious, and sporting a broken arm -- Carter had worked up seven hours' worth of panic. Jack thought dinner and a couple beers would calm her down. He's trying very hard to learn the art of Calming Carter Down. It's not going well.

"We would've seen them coming," she says.

Jack sighs. He's not happy about Daniel, either, but they've been having this conversation for months. He heads for the kitchen and hears her follow. "It was an ambush, Carter. The whole point is that you don't see it coming."

"Teal'c's more observant than anyone on that team. He's a better shot, too. So are you. So am I."

"Maybe." Jack pulls two glasses from the cupboard and begins filling them from the tap in the refrigerator door. His back is to her, but he can pretty much hear her scowl.

"Maybe? Why are you arguing with me about this?"

He turns, offering her one of the glasses. She ignores it. "Hey, I am not arguing with you," he says.

Her mouth is drawn tight; she's getting pink around the ears. "No, you're just contradicting everything I say."

Jesus. He always knew she was hard on herself; he just never guessed that getting involved with her meant she'd be just as hard on him. Okay, yeah, their relationship didn't start under the best conditions, but still. "Fine," he says, hoping she'll give up when he gives in. "In a perfect universe we would have been there. And the Jaffa wouldn't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She eyes him with suspicion. It's not always an advantage that they know each other so well.

Jack puts down one glass, drinks some water from the other. "You know what it means," he says calmly. "I tell you every day."

"Indulge me."

Oh, for God's sake. "Carter, listen. I'm worried about Daniel, too, and I miss Teal'c just as much as you do. But this is our life now. We've made our choices."

"Some life," she says. "I gave up my career for this."

Damn, she knows how to get under his skin.

"Oh, here we go," he says. His glass hits the counter a little harder than he intended. The Carter he gave up his career for was smart and practically unbreakable and had enough self-confidence to fell a Jaffa at a hundred meters. He understands why her ego needs stitching up now -- he does -- but God, she lays so much guilt on herself, and, lately, on him. He's got plenty of his own to go around, thank you.

"Yes, Jack, here we go. This is our life. We can't go two days without screaming at each other." Oh, now, screaming is an exaggeration, though it's true this is their third round in a week.

"And whose fault is that?" he asks.

"You mean it's mine, of course." She crosses her arms and stares him down.

Well, hey, if the shoe fits ... "You have to admit you've been a little volatile lately."

Her nostrils flare. "Volatile? You got us caught, Jack. I wouldn't be volatile if you hadn't gotten us caught."

"Right. And whose hand was that on my dick?"

"You could have said no, Jack. You're a big boy. You said that yourself."

He really needs to stop talking now. Really. But he can't, not when she's got that look on her face. "Hand. On. My. Dick, Carter. Not a lot of opportunities to say no."

She barks out an angry laugh. "Please. You wanted it just as much as I did. You said that yourself, too."

"Yeah, well, I'm beginning to wonder why."

Her mouth opens and closes. "Get out," she says.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He steps closer, but she backs away. "Wait, Sam, I didn't --" Right, like there's any way he can take that back. "I don't --"

"Get out of my house. The last thing I want to do is sleep with you."

She's shaking, hands balled into fists. He decides that a strategic retreat is in order.

"Fine. Find somebody else to whine to." Or maybe not so strategic. God, he's an asshole.

"Get. Out."

He does.


Jack hears the sound of her engine a few minutes before he hears the doorbell. The blinking red lights by his bed tell him it's 3:23 in the morning.

"Just use your key," he says as he lets her in.

"You sure about that?" she asks dryly. She's wearing her favorite leather jacket over a white tank top and little pink pajama shorts, and she looks way cuter than she should at this hour. Especially after kicking him out of her house.

"Reasonably sure. You want some coffee?"

She thinks about that. "Um, no, actually. Thanks."

"You know, I don't want any, either. Come on." He leads her into his living room and sinks onto the couch, head in hands, elbows on knees. Carter flops down on the chair opposite. Flopping is not something she does very often. "God, I have not slept at all," he says. "You?"

"No." She gives a long sigh. He looks up at her, and her face twists up. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I said some awful things."

"Me too. Really awful. I'm sorry."

She slumps further down in the chair. "Why does this have to be so hard?"

"I didn't expect it to be easy."

"No, I didn't either," she says. She toes off her shoes and curls both legs beneath her. "I just wish it could be."

That would be pretty great. "Yeah," he says.

"It's not like I get some sick thrill out of fighting with you."

Jack can't let that one go. He should, but he can't. "Well, you do get pretty hot when you --"


He grins at her, and she hides a smile. But it sweeps away quickly. "I want this to work," she says.

Oh, Carter. "So do I."

They sit quietly. It's hard on her, he knows -- Teal'c's gone back to the Jaffa, she's not as close to Fraiser as she used to be, and now Daniel's injured. And Jack might be the one who convinced her they had to talk about stuff, but that doesn't mean he always knows what to do with the stuff.

She rolls the hem of her jacket between her fingers, staring at nothing. Her brain's hard at work, he can tell, but he has no clue what it's working on. Whether he's worth it all, maybe.

"I just," she starts. "I kind of lose it when you talk down to me."

When he what? Jack sits up and stares. "You're one of the smartest people on the planet. Me talking down to you would break the laws of physics."

"But you do," she says softly, shaking her head. "You might not mean to, but you do."

"I don't mean to." She watches him with wide, guileless eyes. "I just feel like you lose your perspective sometimes," he says.

Her brows furrow together. "Well, you're right about that."

"I'm trying to, I don't know, keep you from freaking out even more."

"I don't think it's working," she says.

"No." Clearly his Calming Carter Down method is even less effective than he thought. "No, I haven't perfected the technique yet."

That earns him a little smile. He figures he'd better take advantage of it. "None of this is your fault, Carter."

"Jack --" She shakes her head again, but she doesn't look mad.

He raises his hands in self-defense. "Not talking down! Talking up."

"That doesn't even make sense," she says. This smile is slightly bigger than the last one.

"Yeah, well." He shrugs. "I'm going to keep telling you that, by the way."

She doesn't argue, though whether it's because she's exhausted or because she concedes his point, Jack has no idea.

"Daniel's going to be fine, with or without us," he says. Jack needs to believe this, too; he's the one who entrusted Daniel to Coburn. "You know that, right? Fraiser'll kill him if he's not drooling over ruins again by tomorrow."

"I know," she says ruefully. "I do."

Jack lets his lips curl up a little. "Do you mind if we save the makeup sex for morning? I'm beat."

She tries not to laugh. It works for about two seconds.


The phone wakes Jack up. He knows that ring. He knows, for one thing, that it's not his.

Beside him, she's already stirring.

"I can't believe you brought your cell with you when you came over here in your pajamas," he says.

"You'd have done the same." She throws off the covers. Jack looks at the clock; it's just after seven. "It's the base," she says. "I have to get it."

He knows he should be careful after last night, and he knows he's asking for trouble, but ... "No, you don't."

Their first official fight was over this. She went in to work on a Sunday, he was bored and pissy, and he suggested, in his usual tactless way, that since the Air Force no longer owned her soul and she finally had a life, she might want to consider living it.

Yeah, it was stupid.

Carter finds her jacket on the trunk at the end of the bed, and reaches into the pocket. "Don't start," she says.

He holds up a hand. "I'm not starting."

But she stands by the bed, holding the phone, and doesn't flip it open. "I'll just listen to the message," she says.

Yes! Victory!

She sits on the edge, and he scoots over to pillow his head on her lap. Wow, those little pink cotton things are really short. And she has nothing on underneath them. And putting aside the disturbing thought that she drove across town like that, from this angle he can see, well, not the naughty bits, but the white skin just above the naughty bits. And it looks very, very good.

The ringing stops. Jack snaps the waistband of the pink shorts. "Makeup sex, Carter."

"Message, Jack." Okay, partial victory, then.

The phone beeps. He watches her put it to her ear, and then he feels her tense up while she listens. Shit, it can't be bad news about Daniel. It can't. He was stable last night.


"It's General Hammond," she says. "My dad's here."

Aw, crap. They haven't heard from Jacob for, what, six months? And he picks now to show up, when Carter's mojo is still MIA and they're still working out ... well, pretty much everything. He couldn't have waited another, oh, year?

She snaps the phone shut and holds it in her lap, silent.

"I'm a dead man, aren't I?" He hopes for a laugh. He doesn't get one.

"I'm not ready for this," she says.

Jack rubs the arch in her back. "Yes, you are."

"No. Jack --"

"He's your father, Sam. He might be mad," and Jack knows it won't be pretty, "but he'll get over it." Unfortunately, Jack also knows that it took Jacob and his son years to get over that.

"I just don't want to see his face when I tell him."

"Want me to come with?"

"No. Thank you, but no. He's not in Colorado yet, anyway. He landed at Area 51 half an hour ago."

"So we still have time for the makeup sex."

She swats at his head. "Jack."

Oh, well. Knowing Jacob's on the planet kind of kills the mood, anyway.

"I have to go home to change." She shifts on the bed. "Damn, I miss wearing a uniform sometimes."

Jack does, too. "Sure you don't want me tagging along?"

"No," she says. "I'm not sure. But it'll be better if you don't."

"Just as far as your place. I'll make breakfast while you get ready."

She hesitates. "Okay. Thanks."


She tries to stand, but Jack holds on, sitting up to stop her. "Does it help if I tell you I love you?" he says, feeling like an idiot. He's been trying to say it more often, partly because he thinks she needs to hear it, and partly because it earns him his favorite Carter smile.

He's probably up to five times total.

She turns to look at him, and it's not the smile he expected. Instead he thinks she might cry. She probably won't -- she hasn't cried throughout this entire mess -- but it looks like she's thinking about it. "Yes," she says. "It helps a lot."

You must login (register) to review.