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It was past midnight when she finally got off the base. She was exhausted and pissed and heartbroken and was almost too tired to be as angry as she wanted to be; should be, had every god damn right to be. She had just been royally screwed over by the people she was out there protecting. She was out there abiding the restrictive rules and protocols from the very same people who were plotting her...ambush!
That's what it was, an ambush. False pretences. It was fucked up.
She walked from the surface elevator to the main gate, the chilled air whipping fallen tendrils from her braid about her face. The breeze stung at her cheeks and made her curl her sleeves around her fingers - she wasn't dressed for this weather. Nor packed. She was barely even packed, to be honest. She'd have to send for her things. Somebody else would have to pack her boxes. Touch her stuff.
She sighed into the night, her breath clouding as she approached the final gate and watchman. That was when she saw him.
Signing the proffered clipboard from the young SF, her eyes locked with Jack's practically the entire time as he stepped forward from his truck. He had parked straight across the lane, earning more than a few harsh words from the gatekeeper before he had recognised the General.
Sam stepped through the gate and tried to find the appropriate words. She finally said, through a watery voice, “I lost Atlantis.”
He heaved a breath, “I know.” And he did. The IOA had only informed him of their intentions after she had left the city; after he may have been able to get in contact with her, warn her what she was coming home to, call in chits and favours to reverse the decision or update her on squatter's rights.
She looked away, nodding her head as the tears came too close to falling.
Jack closed the final distance and took the duffel bag from her shoulder, tossing it to the back of his truck before he whispered “C'mere.”
She fisted the back of his leather jacket in her hands, burying her face in his shoulder as the tears finally betrayed her. He rocked them gently, threading one hand through her hair at the base of her neck and holding her as closely and tightly as possible. “I'm sorry, Sam.”
She turned into his neck, breathing in when the sobs subsided. “Can we get out of here?”
“Of course,” his hands fell to her hips. “Where do you want to go?”
She swiped at her cheeks, beneath her chin. “Fishing.”
His lips tilted into a smirk, “With pleasure. C'mon.”
She gave him a quick kiss, brushing her hand down his arm as he opened the passenger door for her.