Title: Death Defy
Author: cgb (luberluber@yahoo.com.au)
Category: f/f, Sam/Janet, AU ("2010" universe)
Archive: Yes
Rating: PG - 13 (allusions to sex)
Summary: "Crazy disappearing stunts are best left to
people like Jack O'Neill; people who do a little death
defying every time they voice an opinion."

"And I'd death defy to make you mine" - Motor Ace.

For Julian Lee who is death defying and who writes
when I ask her to.

*

She's champagne dizzy, having trouble focusing. Her

body is telling her to shut down before it does so

automatically. 

She blinks the room into focus. Three glasses of

champagne? Four maybe. You're a cheap drunk Janet, she

tells herself, and she is but she always has been. 

Sam is on stage singing karaoke. She really is. She's

not sure how it happened but Sam is singing "For All

We Know" in front of a bar full of strangers and she

sounds terrible but she's laughing and the crowd is

laughing with her. 

Champagne dizzy, she thinks. It makes you do strange

things. If she were a good doctor she would insist

they call a cab and go home before they did something

stupid (stupider).  At this moment, she reasons, she

is not a good doctor. She is a very drunk doctor. 

Sam finishes the song and the crowd applauds. They

probably liked her because she was loud enough to be

heard over the drunken football team at the back of

the bar. She joins Janet at their table. 

"We should go," Janet yells over the noise. 

Sam swills from her champagne glass. "You haven't sung

yet." 

"Swear to God..." Janet says. She shakes her head. Swear

to God, she's going to fall over any minute. "Swear to

God, Sam, I can't even make it to the stage." 

"Okay," Sam says, and she shrugs. She throws her

jacket over her shoulders and they leave, trying not

to stagger as they make their way through the crowd.

*

They take a cab to Janet's house. She's had a home in

the capital ever since her posting at the Pentagon.

She always thought of Colorado Springs as her

temporary home but she can't get used to living in

Washington again. And they've been here five years. 

Sam insists on watching Aliens and Janet makes them

drink water. She flops onto the couch next to Sam. As

far as bachelorette parties go this one was not bad if

ill attended. As it turns out, Sam's female friends

are few and Daniel and Teal'c were seconded into Joe's

party. She knew strippers weren't considered for the

guys but the thought of Teal'c, or even Daniel,

stuffing notes into a pole dancer's thong causes her

to chuckle to herself.

"Too bad Cassie couldn't make it," Sam says. 

"You mean 'thank god'. All my lectures on the dangers

of alcohol would look pretty stupid now." 

But there's something right about just the two of

them. Something right enough to eschew the offer from

Joe's sister to tag along.

"We should have asked the Colonel," Sam says, and she

laughs. It's a hollow laugh and completely

transparent. The Colonel's rejection is killing them. 

They watch Aliens and Sam says it's her favourite

movie, which it probably is tonight. She inclines her

head toward the screen. "Do you think I could take

Ripley?"

"Hell, yeah," Janet says. Sometimes she believes Sam

could take anyone.

Ripley is tough and sexy in her grey tank top and

Janet idly thinks about women and men and the

differences between male and female bodies. She thinks

of the regal definition of tone in Ripley's body

compared to the hard and rough surfaces of her

companions. Peel away the skin and the muscles of a

woman's body and you'll see the bone structure,

angling in ways somehow noble and prideful. A man's

frame sits squarely beneath his skin, seemingly

uncaring, as if it has just fallen into place. 

She thinks that it's been a long time since she's been

intimately acquainted with a man's body. She's not

sure how she feels about that, whether it should

bother her, whether it means something. 

Sam grows restless and fixes them more drinks. There's

wine in a rack in the kitchen and Sam selects a red.

It's warm and it tastes like caramel apples. 

"I really shouldn't drink anymore," she tells Sam. 

"Neither should I." Sam rubs her temple with one hand.

The other hand holds onto her wine glass, precariously

balancing it between thumb and forefinger. 

"I can't believe you're getting married." 

"Neither can I." 

"You hurt him, you know." 

Sam doesn't ask who "him" is. "He wanted to be hurt,"

She says. "He wanted to feel justified in hating us

for not begging him not to leave." 

"He doesn't hate us."  

Sam leans back into the couch and tips her head back

so that it angles over the top. "I know," she says.

"But sometimes I think he was too reluctant to let it

end - like he'd only be happy if we'd all stayed

together, started a resistance cell or something." 

None of them are married. None of them have children

(herself excepted and Cassie is a special case).  None

of them see each other as much as they'd like but it's

Sam's marriage that feels like the death knell.  

And Janet's turning into a Doctor without patients.

She's trying to be happy for Sam but there's a part of

her that wants to hide in a log cabin in Minnesota

with nothing but her hurt feelings for company. Maybe

it's the wine but there's a part of her that thinks

she should have been enough for Sam too. 

"Wanna do something crazy?" Sam says. 

"Karaoke not enough for you?" 

"Come on." Sam takes her by the hand and drags her

outside. Janet follows, negotiating the two steps

leading from the back porch to the ground with mild

trepidation. She begins to question the wisdom of

standing at such a time, let alone descending stairs. 

She is even more sceptical of her agility when she

sees Sam bracing a ladder against the wall of the

laundry. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Janet says. 

Sam starts to climb. She gets to the top of the

laundry and turns around. "What's wrong?" 

"Sam, this comes under the heading of things you

shouldn't do when you've been drinking. It's right up

there with driving and operating heavy machinery." 

Sam steps up onto the roof of the laundry and looks

around. "There was a group of students at the Academy

who climbed up to the dormitory roof after a night off

campus. I always wanted to try it." 

"What happened to them?"

"The warden found them and they were reprimanded.

Three were expelled." 

The wind is cool and Janet instinctively thrusts her

hands into her jeans' pockets. "Good thing you didn't

try it then." 

"Huh," Sam says, smiling. "I guess so." 

She eyes the ladder and thinks about broken bones and

head injuries. In between alien possession and memory

wipes her work at the SGC was mostly fractures and

abrasions. 

"If I fall, remind me tell myself 'I told you so'." 

She climbs up to where Sam is. Sam is on her feet

again, negotiating the three feet gap between the main

house and the laundry roof. She climbs with her long

legs and moves like a cat burglar. She looks like she

does this all the time.

Janet shakes her head and mentally recites a litany of

reasons why this is a bad idea, the first of which

being is that she doesn't have Sam's long legs and

it's going to be hell trying to climb over the awning

without a foothold.

She remembers Cassie was scared of escalators when she

first arrived. She still has a thing about heights. 

She reminds herself that she's drunk. 

"I climbed onto the roof once," Sam says, as Janet

manoeuvres herself onto the main roof. "I was eight. I

wanted to see if I could fly." 

"Kids do that," Janet says.  

Sam holds her arms out to the side and takes a deep

breath. She closes her eyes and stands like that for a

while, her body swaying slightly. Janet wonders what

she's thinking, whether she sees herself flying across

a sea of cloud.

She shakes her head, trying to dispel the murk. Sam is

making her nervous. "You really shouldn't do that,"

she says.

Sam drops her hands to her sides. She stares ahead,

eyes unblinking and fixed on a distant point. "I used

to think I was so brave," she says. 

"You were brave. You still are." 

Sam shakes her head. "No, the Colonel's the hero.

Always was."

It doesn't make sense. She thinks they should be on

the ground, somewhere safe. "Sam?" 

"Just a little longer, Janet." 

She understands - that feeling of danger, that

constant dance on the edge - it's hard to forget. She

looks down at the ground. There are over two hundred

bones in the human body that could be broken if you

fell the right way. She's mended Sam's bones before -

mended her bones, her body and her mind. She's

achieved miracles with this woman. Joe should thank

her.

"I can't believe you're getting married," she says

again. 

 

Sam turns toward her and smiles. She takes Sam's hand

and pulls her close, wrapping her arms around her

waist. She leans her head against Sam's chest,

listening to the heartbeat. It's a little fast,

fuelled by alcohol and adrenalins. 

Sam smooths a hand down Janet's hair and Janet feels

her lips press against the top of her head. Janet

closes her eyes and feels brave enough to stand there

forever. 

Eventually she feels Sam lift her head. She loosens

her hold on Janet, without really letting her go. She

leaves one hand on her shoulder and frames Janet's

face with the other and Janet knows that she won't say

it but this is goodbye.

"It feels so final," Sam says. 

She wants to say, "No, it isn't" but if feels like it

is. She wants to tell Sam that it's just another a

diversion and they'll find their way back here again

because that's what people who love each other do, but

she know that Jack's in a cabin in Minnesota and Sam

knows that people who love each other leave.

And because she doesn't know what to say to that, she

whispers, "Kiss me." 

Her voice is low and husky. It doesn't sound like her

at all and she wonders whether it was really her who

said it. But then Sam kisses her and all doubts are

forgotten. 

*

Later, some time tomorrow, she'll wonder what she was

thinking because she's only ever bold when she's

saving lives. She's told Cassie that actions have

consequences and she's amazed at how she can dispense

with this advice when it so obviously applies. 

They kiss on the roof until Sam gives in to Janet's

insistence that they kiss somewhere less precarious.

Then they kiss on the back porch, in the kitchen and

finally in the bedroom. 

She watches Sam take off her clothes and says, "guess

we didn't need that stripper after all," because

there's nothing else to say when confronted with a

naked Sam. She's bewildered by the immensity of the

attraction, the way this turns her on in a manner

quite alien to her despite the fact that she's being

confronted by sameness. 

Sam laughs and helps Janet out of her blouse. They

fall on to the bed before she can lose her underwear

and her bra strap gets caught on Sam's fingernail.

They laugh and kiss and soon there is less laughing

and more quick breaths and sighs. 

She is reminded of broken bones as she notes that

Sam's body is not as fragile as medicine would have

her believe. 

A low flying aircraft lands at the air strip nearby

shaking the house as it flies over.  

*

In the morning, Sam is gone. It doesn't surprise her.

The cold light of day is shining through the window,

harsh and merciless. No doubt it similarly woke Sam

earlier.

She gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom. The

Aschen are good with toxic removal despite their

unwillingness to imbibe. The Aschen are good at

everything, which is why she can still be in bed at

ten in the morning. 

She takes a detoxicant, has a shower and calls Cassie.

The wedding is in two days. 

*

In the space of six months Kinsey is elected for a

second term, Cassie breezes in and out of home between

diplomatic assignments, the Aschen cure the latest flu

virus mutation and the Summer Olympics are finally

held in Beijing. Time marches on at its usual pace but

still too slow for a gradually being made redundant

Doctor. Sam and Joe return from an extended working

honeymoon on Chulak but a full four weeks go by before

she hears from her one time best friend. 

Sam's apologetic. "We really need to talk," she says. 

It's stating the obvious and she cuts Sam a break when

she chooses not to admonish her for it. They're both

direct, comfortably so. She lets Sam comes to her, and

meets her out the front of her home in the capital. 

Sam arrives looking exactly the same - short, spiked

blonde hair and blue, blue eyes. She's carrying wine

and cheese which she hands over to Janet on the porch.

She can't help smiling. "This is your idea of an

apology?" 

Sam smiles too. "Is it working?" 

"Ask me in about two hours." 

Inside they find themselves edging around each other,

finding space within and without their personal space.

It's a complex dance and yet instinctual, something

they do without thinking. 

Sam seats on one of the stools by the kitchen bench.

"I thought I'd lost you," she says. She takes an olive

from a jar, pops it into her mouth and discards the

pit. 

"I'm not leaving quite that easily." 

Sam shakes her head. "I've never..."

"No neither have I." 

"I mean..." Sam looks at the ceiling. "I've never done

anything quite so reckless." 

"You mean besides walk through a wormhole?"

"I was wearing a helmet and carrying a gun - and I was

surrounded by GIs. It didn't feel as unsafe as it

looked."   

"You wanted to do something dangerous." 

Sam takes her glass and holds onto it with both hands.

A tone sounds in the next room signalling an incoming

communication. They ignore it and Sam sets her drink

back on the coffee table. 

"That's not what I meant -  you understand that don't

you?" 

She catches Janet's eyes, fills her look with meaning

and holds her in it while she intimates what she can't

say out loud. She wasn't an experiment. 

Janet looks away, looks outside where the paint on the

fence is peeling from neglect. She painted that fence

with her husband in another lifetime. 

"God Sam..." She says. "When did this happen?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugs. Her voice shakes a little.

"I've always thought there was something, some kind of

attraction - you didn't feel it too?" 

"It's difficult to say." 

All those times she steeled herself for their loss,

all those times she expected their bodies recovered

from battle torn planets, and other times she expected

fates worse than death because she knew such things

existed. Each time their life signs disappeared from

the SGC's radar, she felt a regret unimaginable. It's

a connection she can't express. 

She felt for all of them but it was Sam's hand on her

shoulder as they shared data on Janet's monitor, Sam's

arms around her when she broke down as Cassie

transformed in front of her, Sam's head against her

shoulder wet with tears when they found out about

General Hammond. 

Sam gives a short laugh, runs a hand across the back

of her neck and leans her head back. She lets out a

sigh.

"Everything was so crazy then. All those secrets

hidden beneath a mountain in Colarado - it's hard to

believe we lived like that." 

They had so much to lose, she thinks. Secrets bind

people, keep the most unlikely brethren together. They

blamed Jack for his inability to let go of those ties,

but she sometimes wonders if that hadn't been the more

sensible reaction to the loss rather than trying to

pretend it wasn't lost in the first place. 

"I'm not sorry," Sam says, and Janet realises she

isn't either. 

When Sam leaves she watches her car until the lights

disappear around a corner. She stands on the verge by

the road, her eyes focused on a distant point,

somewhere beyond the place where Sam's car was last

distinguishable. 

She goes back inside, heads into the study and opens a

drawer long left closed. No one uses paper anymore,

she thinks as she pulls a notepad from its contents. 

She opens the notepad and studies the writing on the

first page. It's an address - directions really.

Daniel left it with her many years ago. 

"Someone might need to check on him," he told her. 

She stares at the address for a while, thinks about

driving on an open road, going somewhere with no plan

of return. 

But crazy disappearing stunts are best left to people

like Jack O'Neill; people who do a little death

defying every time they voice an opinion. She's just a

Doctor, and a redundant one at that. She does what's

necessary when it's needed. 

She puts the notepad back in the top drawer. She's not

ready to join him there yet.

Fin

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