What sort of Man?
by Laura H
TITLE: What sort of Man?
AUTHOR: Laura H
EMAIL: BobaFxxx@aol.com
CATEGORY: S/J UST, angst.
PAIRING: Sam/Jack
SPOILERS: Upgrades, Entity, Divide & Conquer
SEASON / SEQUEL: During Entity
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNINGS: Some bad language.
SUMMARY: Jack replays the events of Entity and questions his own accountability
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: SJA, Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them and I'm making no money from this, blah blah blah.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My response to one of the best episodes yet. Thanks to everyone over at the S/J mailing list. This ones dedicated to you guys for making watching the show all the more enjoyable and for supporting the ship that we KNOW is just meant to be. Thanks to everyone who's sent me feedback for this one and all the other fics I've posted.
I pulled the trigger. What sort of man am I? All the vows, all the promises I made to myself; no one gets left behind and all that bullshit. Yet when it comes down to the wire, I'm the one who pulls the trigger. I killed my own. I killed her. What sort of man does that?
I even said it out loud. I'd rather die than lose Carter. I meant it. Sitting in that room, the same room where our souls had been laid bare, I was faced with the reality that I was going to lose her. And it scared the shit out of me. Actually no, strike that. This wasn't some cheap horror flick on HBO. It didn't just scare me. It ripped the breath from my throat. It reached way down into my gut, grabbed my stomach and twisted until I thought I was going to pass out.
This time it was real. She wasn't even breathing. Even during the incident on Apophis's ship I didn't realise how scary it could get. The stark truth of respirators and EKG's was a whole lot more terrifying than some electrical force shield. And it all came about by my hand.
What sort of man am I?
But I know that if given the chance, I'd do it exactly the same way. If our backs were to the wall like that again I know I'd pull the trigger. Whatever was inside her was a threat and there was more at stake this time than one life. I had no choice. Maybe that's the difference between now and Apophis's ship. Then I was risking no more than my own life. There was nothing I could do to help Carter, but I was damned if I was going to let her die alone.
This time though I had a duty of care. The whole base was at stake. Maybe the whole world and so I did my job; fulfilled my role. It's what makes me a good soldier. A damn fine soldier - but what sort of man does that make me?
Even the General tried to hand me a lifeline.
"I know that Major Carter means a great deal to you."
Did I use that? He was handing it to me on a plate, giving me the chance to tell him everything with no repercussions. An amnesty where I could put into words what he must've suspected for a long time. But did I take that chance? Hell, no. I did what I always do and toed the line, held my cards close to my chest and recited the standard military script.
"She's an important part of my team, sir." She's an important part of me, sir, but don't think I'm going to admit that. Do you wanna know what I'm going to do instead? I'm going to shoot her first chance I get. I'm going to stand there and watch as this thing tries to erase her existence, but I'm not going to budge an inch. Because I have a file that says I'm a hard ass. One step outta line and I'm gonna show no mercy. So yeah, George, she means a great deal to me but y'know what? It won't stop me killing her.
"YOU WILL NOT TERMINATE THIS ONE."
Don't count on it, buddy.
All the time she was lying on that bed, talking to us with that cold, synthetic voice, all I could see was Sam. It was her face, her mouth, her eyes. I looked for her in them. I searched, looking for a glimmer of the woman inside, hoping that she could see me, hoping that she wasn't too scared, but all the time wondering whether there was any of her left at all.
Then, in the hall, when I looked in her eyes''..even now the memory of the hatred that seethed out of them chills me. I knew that it wasn't her, but still, seeing that expression on Sam's face, directed at me''''.
That's when I shot her. I knew it wasn't her. Her mind, her beautiful mind was gone and so I killed her body. A memory crept upon me slowly. As they wheeled her back into the observation room, I began to recall the feeling of utter desperation and emptiness that had almost drowned me when Charlie had died.
I waited. For what I wasn't sure. Did I think she'd wake up simply because I was in the room? I don't know. No one tried to move me or tell me it was hopeless. They left me to grieve.
When Janet came back to the room I knew what the next step was. Her living will. No machines, no tubes. I remember the day Sam told me what her wishes were. We'd come back from a planet where we'd all had a pretty close shave and ended up in the infirmary for a couple of days. It must've got her thinking and she came to my office not long afterwards. She had started to tell me that she didn't want to be kept alive artificially. I could tell it was difficult for her, but I had shushed her. I didn't want to think about it. I told her it would never happen and she had asked me to guarantee that, knowing that I couldn't. I wished that I could. So she had made me promise that I would flip the switch, pull the plug, whatever off-hand euphemism you want to use. She made me promise to end her life.
I promised.
I just wanted another minute. Just a little longer, knowing that there was still breath in her lungs, knowing that her heart still beat. If someone were to ask me now did I know that somewhere she was still alive what would I say? I'd probably say, 'Yeah, I had an instinct that something was wrong, that we shouldn't let her go just yet' and maybe I'd be telling the truth. But maybe I was just selfish. I didn't want her to go. I wanted her near me. I wanted her warm. I wanted her alive for me. I wanted her here.
I AM HERE
It was too much to hope for. It couldn't be Sam. As I watched the life convulse back into her body I fought with myself against the overwhelming desire to reach out and hold her, to reassure myself that it was really her. Then she spoke and told me how she shouted for us to hear. We heard, I told her.
I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve her back. But she came back. For me? I don't know. I do know that maybe it's time to get over myself. I'm asking for too much. I play it straight with Air Force rules, refusing to cross the line, but die inside every time I nearly lose her. I expect her unquestioning loyalty, emotionally as well as professionally, but still I refuse to place my bet and take my chances with her.
I want more, but a career spent in self-denial won't let me ask for it. She needs more, but I'm too selfish and stubborn to give it. Even when I know that I can. And now I've got to ask myself - what sort of man does that make me?
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