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Sam looks at herself in the little mirror that’s hung in her quarters inside the mountain. Compared to most people her age, both men and women, she’s in excellent shape, and she knows she’s attractive. Heads turn her way more often than not and she’s not stupid enough to think it’s her recent thesis on Einstein Rosen Bridges that’s got their curiosity piqued.
Still, as she’s staring in the mirror this morning, it’s hard to see anything else beyond the angry, red ridges of new scar tissue that criss-cross her torso. Sam’s no stranger to scars and she’s got just as many as anyone else on base, but this is different.
She almost died out there, not that she hasn’t been in that situation before. The difference, and it feels so stupid, is that it didn’t mean anything. No one was trying to ward off intruders. There were no Jaffa or Goa’uld after them. This was an animal attack, plain and simple. There was no purpose to what happened beyond instincts. Her death would have been meaningless and somehow that scares her most of all.
She closes her eyes, hands braced on the dresser, and tries to forget. But the fear still grips her, the animal’s deep growls and sharp claws remind her that she’s no more protected than anyone else. She’s mortal and as for as much as she’s been lucky as hell, not every loss has a deeper meaning. It’s a helpless, hopeless feeling, so stupid after she’s been through so much.
Opening her eyes she looks down, avoiding the mirror altogether, and picks up her shirt, quickly pulling it on over her head. Her skin is still sensitive despite weeks of healing, but Sam can’t stand the thought of being on leave one more day. Janet won’t clear her for field duty for at least another two weeks, but at least Sam doesn’t have to sit around reliving everything over and over again.
She leaves her quarters and takes the long way around to her lab, enjoying the walk and change of scenery. People smile and greet her, being off duty so long means that everyone knows more or less what happened, but despite the lack of privacy, it’s nice that people care so much.
Her lab is dark and empty, untouched except for a few minor things that needed attention in her absence. Her work space is soothing in its familiarity and she settles into her work, picking up on her calculations where she left off nearly three weeks ago.
Like so many times before, Sam loses herself in her work and misses lunch entirely. Oblivious to the world, it’s Jack that finds her, a tray from the mess hall in hand.
“Knock, knock,” Jack calls from the doorway.
Sam jumps, her scars twinging in remembered pain, and it takes her a moment to settle enough to welcome him in.
“Figured you’d lose track of time,” Jack says knowingly. “Also figured you probably would want to eat at some point.”
Sam smiles despite the way her heart is still hammering in her chest from the adrenaline of Jack’s sudden appearance. “Thanks, Colonel.”
He smiles softly, sets the tray down on the workbench, and then pulls up a stool to join her. “So, how’s it going?” he asks, stealing a fry from her plate and eating it.
“Pretty good. I think another couple of trials will give me the data I need to finish calculating-”
“Carter, I don’t care about the damn device. I asked how it’s going.”
Sam looks away. She knows what he’s asking and it’s not the first time he’s asked it either. The other times he’s asked, she’s done well enough avoiding answering the question, deflecting and changing the subject. But here in her lab when she’s clearly feeling well enough to at least be up and about, she doesn’t think Jack’s going to let it slide so easily.
“Still a little off balance, if I’m being honest. The whole thing was..”
Terrifying. Agonizing. One of the worst experiences of her life, including being attacked by the ashrak and tortured by Apophis.
“Scary?” Jack posits, stopping Sam’s mental spiral.
Sam chuckles at Jack’s understatement. “Yeah, yeah, it was.”
Jack nods. “Yeah, I was scared, too.
Sam remembers the look in eyes when he killed the animal, the way he tenderly lifted her head. She remembers the hurt on his face as he cut her shirt and bra away to get to the injuries, the devastation as he sprinkled the lacerations with quikclot and held her wrists to stop her from trying to wipe it away. Sam knows he was hurting right there with her, there’s no pretending that it wasn’t traumatic for them both.
Sam blinks and the lab comes back into view. Jack’s just sitting there with her, waiting in case she has something to say.
“I just can’t stop seeing it over and over again. We’ve been through so much, hurt so many more times than I can even remember, I don’t know why this is what I’m hung up on.”
Jack nods again, like he understands the mysteries of trauma and mental health. Maybe he does, not in the way a shrink would, but Jack’s been through more than any of them, except maybe Teal’c. He’s got a different outlook on pain, one that Sam often reflects that she doesn’t remotely understand.
“I think that we’re used to the idea of dying, but when it happens to us, we’re less ready for it than we like to pretend. It’s scary, but you’re tough and in time, you’ll be fine.”
Sam knows that Jack’s probably right, but she marvels at how simple he makes it all sound.
“I hope you’re right,” she says.
Jack shrugs. “I could be wrong. It’s been known to happen. But it’s also hard to feel fine when you’re still hurting. Just a thought.”
And yeah, despite what she’s been telling Janet, the scars really do still hurt. Sam rubs her hand over the most painful of them, a particularly nasty line that runs from above her left breast down across her sternum. The scar feels tight and sore, it pinches and pulls at the skin around it and the flesh underneath. Janet had told her that she would need special therapy to break up the adhesions that were forming, and Sam can feel it.
She realizes that Jack’s right. Nothing feels right because nothing is right. Sam might be up and around, getting back to some of her light duties, but she’s far from healed and it’s ridiculous to expect her mind to be ahead of her body, especially when her body keeps reminding her of what happened everytime she so much as turns the wrong way.
Jack reaches over to snatch another fry from her plate and Sam picks it out of his fingers before he can get it to his mouth. He stares in mild shock, eyebrows raised as she eats the fry.
“I think you’re right, Jack. I’m probably just rushing it.”
Jack nods and snatches another fry, this time managing to eat it before she could stop him. “Good, now make sure that you tell Daniel and the General that I was right about something the next time you see them. Neither one of them hears it enough.”
Sam laughs. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
They talk about hockey for a few minutes, or mostly Sam listens to Jack talk about hockey, before he leaves her to it. Sam thoughtfully touches a few of her newer scars, and then turns her attention to a couple of older ones. One on her thigh, from a knife wound two years ago, doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s a bit numb. And the other on her right side, just below her ribs, barely seems like anything at all. The incidents that put those there are just bad memories now, nothing more. Sam figures that in a couple months or so these scars will be just the same.
She pops another fry in her mouth and goes back to work. There’s no rush to be better and Janet wouldn’t let her if she tried, so Sam does her best to let it go knowing that one day the memories will let her go, too.