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Two tiny, unattached, plot-less ficlets. The first is Vala-centric. The second is Sam/Jack fluff--the cavity-causing kind. You've been warned.
Linger in Silence
She gives Daniel a sharp look. Today, she’s mostly the woman she thinks they want her to be—that is, she’s acting more like Sam than the thief who stole the Prometheus in a past life. When she interjects a sly comment, they smile a little instead of glaring or rolling their eyes, although Daniel does that, too, more for old time’s sake than out of any real annoyance.
She can practically feel herself sliding into respectability, and she’s not sure if that should frighten her or not. She’s definitely worried, because at the very least, she likes the way this easy camaraderie feels, as if she had been wet for ages and somebody finally held out a towel, wrapped her in it and in their arms, too.
They think they’re tough, and they are, but none of them (except for Daniel, maybe) have ever really known what it’s like to be absolutely alone. They mean their speeches about teamwork and “no one left behind,” but they’ve never had someone there for years and years and years, controlling their thoughts, controlling their body (except for Sam’s taste of a few hours), and then suddenly poof! Nothing, and they’ve never been asked to rebuild from a vacuum so deep not even Sam could pull out something in time to save herself from falling.
The first thing Vala had to relearn was the art of thinking.
The second art was speech, and after that, movement, and after that, survival. Then came lessons in laughter, friendship, and finally...
Well, she thinks it might be a while before she gets to love again, and all the time Adria’s existence tears up her heart along all the old, Goa-uld-worn lines—the lines of not in control, and being used, and her body damn it!
She accepts this, for now. She has to, or she cannot move forward and do what needs to be done. And maybe later she’ll forgive Daniel for seeing a little too clearly and maybe someday she’ll even forgive Sam for being able to love when she could not.
And maybe someday they’ll make their happily ever after after all.
She gives Daniel a sharp look. Today, she’s mostly the woman she thinks they want her to be—that is, she’s acting more like Sam than the thief who stole the Prometheus in a past life. When she interjects a sly comment, they smile a little instead of glaring or rolling their eyes, although Daniel does that, too, more for old time’s sake than out of any real annoyance.
She can practically feel herself sliding into respectability, and she’s not sure if that should frighten her or not. She’s definitely worried, because at the very least, she likes the way this easy camaraderie feels, as if she had been wet for ages and somebody finally held out a towel, wrapped her in it and in their arms, too.
They think they’re tough, and they are, but none of them (except for Daniel, maybe) have ever really known what it’s like to be absolutely alone. They mean their speeches about teamwork and “no one left behind,” but they’ve never had someone there for years and years and years, controlling their thoughts, controlling their body (except for Sam’s taste of a few hours), and then suddenly poof! Nothing, and they’ve never been asked to rebuild from a vacuum so deep not even Sam could pull out something in time to save herself from falling.
The first thing Vala had to relearn was the art of thinking.
The second art was speech, and after that, movement, and after that, survival. Then came lessons in laughter, friendship, and finally...
Well, she thinks it might be a while before she gets to love again, and all the time Adria’s existence tears up her heart along all the old, Goa-uld-worn lines—the lines of not in control, and being used, and her body damn it!
She accepts this, for now. She has to, or she cannot move forward and do what needs to be done. And maybe later she’ll forgive Daniel for seeing a little too clearly and maybe someday she’ll even forgive Sam for being able to love when she could not.
And maybe someday they’ll make their happily ever after after all.
8:12
She called him on Thursdays.
She called him other days, too—but Thursdays were special. Thursdays were planned, scheduled, blocked off in the same red that his assistant used to schedule Very Important People such as the President and various senators he apparently couldn’t live without seeing at least once every three weeks. (He’d tried convincing his Very Efficient Assistant—who thankfully had a sense of humor—to use pencil for these people instead, but she’d wisely ignored him and as a result, the SGC kept its funding).
The only thing that could interrupt their scheduled Thursday chats was a global emergency, and that had only happened once and had been, most definitely, Thor’s fault.
Thor now knew about Thursdays.
On Thursdays, he made sure that his Very Efficient Assistant left at a reasonable time so she wouldn’t get into trouble when the President called at 7:35 to ask if he’d like to have dinner with him sometime.
On Thursdays, he closed and locked the office door and turned off every light except the one right on his desk.
On Thursdays, he ignored every phone call that came in except the one right at 8:12.
On Thursdays at 8:12, Jack O’Neill answered his own goddam phone and had the only conversation he had all week longer than ten minutes.
She called him on Thursdays.
She called him other days, too—but Thursdays were special. Thursdays were planned, scheduled, blocked off in the same red that his assistant used to schedule Very Important People such as the President and various senators he apparently couldn’t live without seeing at least once every three weeks. (He’d tried convincing his Very Efficient Assistant—who thankfully had a sense of humor—to use pencil for these people instead, but she’d wisely ignored him and as a result, the SGC kept its funding).
The only thing that could interrupt their scheduled Thursday chats was a global emergency, and that had only happened once and had been, most definitely, Thor’s fault.
Thor now knew about Thursdays.
On Thursdays, he made sure that his Very Efficient Assistant left at a reasonable time so she wouldn’t get into trouble when the President called at 7:35 to ask if he’d like to have dinner with him sometime.
On Thursdays, he closed and locked the office door and turned off every light except the one right on his desk.
On Thursdays, he ignored every phone call that came in except the one right at 8:12.
On Thursdays at 8:12, Jack O’Neill answered his own goddam phone and had the only conversation he had all week longer than ten minutes.
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Date: 2007-02-19 04:46 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 05:08 am (UTC)From:Or I was trying to write angst.Thanks!
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Date: 2007-02-19 07:05 am (UTC)From:Vala is a character I often think about, and your little snippet is lovely and angsty :D
#2 is cute too!
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Date: 2007-02-19 07:27 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 10:27 am (UTC)From:I liked the first one lots. You know, for a character I've only watched one episode of (that being Prometheus Unbound), Vala has me strangely hooked. Poor love, feeling that she needs to be like Sam to be accepted... *sniff* You've nicely caught her toughness and vulnerability, and her layers of confusion and misdirection, and cynicism, and hope.
But the second one... *cuddles it again* I really needed some good S/J, so thank you!
('Thor now knew about Thursdays.' lol!)
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Date: 2007-02-19 11:00 am (UTC)From:The angsty Vala piece was very insightful. I wish they'd get that insightful on the show.
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Date: 2007-02-19 04:12 pm (UTC)From:And I think #2 is cute, too. ;-)
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Date: 2007-02-19 04:13 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 04:18 pm (UTC)From:And...fluff. :-D When I first wrote fanfic, I wrote angst. But then the fluffy love tribbles of doom came along and started nibbling at it. I'm glad now that my fluff brings joy.
Thanks!
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Date: 2007-02-19 04:21 pm (UTC)From:Ah, Thursdays. I like Thursdays.