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Sam wished she could claim that walking in on Cameron cuffed to a motel bed was the first time she'd been privy to the sight. And she shouldn't have gotten such perverse pleasure out of taking him down a few pegs, especially when she knew he had severe self-esteem issues concerning SG-1. But she couldn't help it. He took himself so seriously sometimes that she just needs to cut into him, for all their sakes. He extended the same courtesy to her, and though it never felt like a favor, she knew it was.
The first time had been several years ago, back before the accident, back before Cam even knew what a Stargate was. He'd looked up at her from the dingy orange bed with sad, pitiful eyes. There were handcuffs on both wrists that time, and he was stark naked. Sam felt like she should be embarrassed, but it was, after all, only Cameron, and the expression on his face was humiliation enough for the both of them. Sam swallowed her a preemptive chuckle, and put on the most innocent face she could muster. "What do you want me to do?"
"Well, I'd suggest something, but it'd probably get me court-martialed," he said flatly, and she tried harder not to smile, even though she was reasonably sure he'd insulted her virtue. "So how about you just get me out of here?"
Sam had a dozen or so questions on the tip of her tongue. Namely: 'Who? Why? How on earth did you manage to use the phone?' Instead, she patiently undid the handcuffs.
"Where did you get a key for cuffs?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his wrists.
Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Are you really in the position to ask a question like that, Major?" she said, with as much primness and authority as she could manage. Inside, she was crumbling with hysterical laughter.
"Fine. Could you hand me my pants please? And..." he gestured feebly, "turn around."
"You're already naked, Cameron."
"Sam, just let some grand mysteries of the universe remain mysteries, will you?"
"Nothing 'grand' about it," she said, just itching to get the last word in. He glared, and finally releasing the torrent of giggles she'd pent up, she allowed him his privacy.
The members of SG-1 were at last crammed safely in the SUV, heading back to Stargate Command, exhausted and dreading another mission write-up about how much the Trust sucked.
Sam drove, and as she glanced in her rearview, she saw a still-trembling Vala crowding Daniel. He had his arm around her, and was muttering things that only she could hear, and Sam felt a rush of affection for the both of them. Sandwiching Vala in was Teal'c, who sat straight-backed and stern, a guard dog who kept his gaze focused out the window so as to give Vala and Daniel some space.
"So," Sam said, pitching her voice so only her proverbial co-pilot could hear, "how's your arm?"
"It'll be fine once we get back to the infirmary," said Cameron, a wrinkle in his forehead smoothing in obvious gratitude for her concern.
"Hmm," she said. "And your pants?"
The look Cameron gave her would have withered her from the inside out, were she not so amused. "How often are you going to mention this?"
"Until it stops being funny."
"You think just 'cause you're blond and cute, you can get away with anything."
"And you think that just 'cause you're in charge of SG-1 now, I'm going to forget that when you were a major, you called me, practically in tears, 'Oh, Sam, save me, some hussy stole my wallet,'" she taunted.
"Remind me why I'm friends with you again?" he said, and he slumped in a massive sigh.
"Good looks, boundless charm, a genius mind..." she cited.
He was wearing one of his stupider grins. "Yeah, something like that."
Sam glanced in the backseat again, and found that Vala had fallen asleep, her head on Daniel's shoulder. "Do you think she'll be okay?"
"Of course. She's Vala. She's survived the Goa'uld and the Ori. She's managed to make it this long at the SGC without General Landry or Daniel or me killing her. She's a survivor." Cameron laughed a little. "Hell, in a week or so, she'll be bragging about this."
"At least she walked out of the situation fully clothed."
"Oh, come on," he protested against her raucous laughter. "Seriously, it's not even funny anymore."
"Yes it is."
"So, how long am I gonna hear about this?" a semi-despondent Maj. Mitchell asked Sam over brunch.
"Until one or the both of us is dead," she answered. What she didn't say was that it was probably going to happen sooner than either of them would have liked. "But I'm letting you off easy. Some of your other friends wouldn't be so kind."
Cameron grinned around his fork. "Yeah, don't I know it." He dabbed his tongue at the corners of his mouth, looking for excess syrup drops. "But thanks for coming. I hope I wasn't dragging you away from something super-important."
"Nope," she said cheerfully. Truth be told, she had been working on some moderately important SGC research, but really, when wasn't she? She was more than happy to be presented with an opportunity to change out of her BDUs and see an old friend, even though she'd seen more of him than she'd really anticipated.
"You're lying," he guessed, and speared his strawberry with his fork. Cameron always got fruit topping with his pancakes, and he always shoved it aside and saved it for last.
"The world's not going to implode, if that's what you're worried about," she reassured him. As far as the Earth's fate went, there were far worse options on the horizon, but he didn't have the security clearance to know about them, and she wasn't really in the mood to have that sort of a discussion, not right then.
He bent his head, peering up at her a little bashfully between moments of systematically tearing his napkin to shreds. "I miss you, Sam."
"You have a weird way of showing it," she quipped, but knew he was utterly sincere. Cameron Mitchell was sincere about everything he did. "I miss you, too."
"My leave's ending soon," he said. "Two weeks. I'm getting transferred out to Alaska."
"Christ," she said without thinking. They rarely saw each other, even when they had the good fortune of both being in Colorado, but somehow, just knowing Cameron was in the same state gave her a bit of a safety net.
"Yeah," he agreed. "So. How's that guy?"
She had long since been accustomed to his abrupt subject changes when things got more emotional than he liked. It was the subject he'd changed to, however, that threw her for a loop. "What guy?"
"Sam."
Talking about Jack was something she didn't do. She guessed by now that everyone knew: Daniel, Teal'c, Janet, probably even General Hammond. But Sam played that card close to her chest, not so much for her job as for self-preservation. She didn't know if she'd told Cameron specifics and forgot about it, or if he was just reading her well. Why he chose to bring it up now was beyond her.
It might be nice to get an outsider's perspective. On the other hand, as much as she trusted and respected Cameron, she didn't quite think he'd understand the particular way her chest seized when she thought about Jack O'Neill. "It's complicated."
"What isn't?" he asked rhetorically, then folded his hands and leaned forward half an inch to stare at her expectantly.
"What do you want me to say, Cam? It's a bad situation. More than that, it's embarrassing."
"'Embarrassing,'" he scoffed, "from the woman who found me naked and handcuffed an hour ago."
She laughed despite herself. "Well."
"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I'm just saying, you might feel better. And you know I'm here for you." He closed her wrist in his hand.
"Thanks," she said. "But I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet. Maybe not ever."
"That bad, huh?" he said with sympathy.
Sam could only barely work up an desolate smile. The mood had sobered considerably.
Cameron sensed this and clearly harbored some guilt about it, because he straightened, and pushed his plate away from him. "This one's on me," he said.
"Cameron..."
He waved his hand at her impatiently. "No, no. You saw me naked. The least I can do is buy you breakfast."
"No arguments here, but that wasn't what I was going to say. She stole your wallet, remember?"
"Oh. Right."
By the time the team had changed and re-boarded the SUV, Cameron still in a sling and surly, Vala leaned forward from the backseat to announce with earnest, "Forget the 'rib joint,'" she said. "I know where we can eat."
Up front, Daniel and Cameron exchanged a look. Vala had left the base on only a few, heavily supervised occasions, and couldn't possibly know anyplace to eat. "Okay," said Daniel, and patiently followed her instructions. But when they'd been driving for twenty-five minutes and had been down the street three times, he complained, "Do you even have any idea where you're taking us?"
"I had my memory erased, Daniel, you would do to 'cut me some slack,' as they say." Cameron stifled his laughter with his fist to his mouth, and even Teal'c was grinning in that patently Teal'c way. Daniel sighed laboriously, and it was clear Vala had won.
Vala wiggled between the boys to mess with the buttons on the radio. "I like Tau'ri music," she informed them. "It's very... peppy." She settled back in her seat with much self-satisfied wiggling, the sounds of a Top 40 tune half-blaring at them. "On P8X-412, it was always dirges. It can make a girl very melancholy."
"Does sound dull," Cameron agreed, though he turned the volume on the radio down.
Vala paid no mind. They were approaching a karate studio on the corner, and she beat her hand against the back of Daniel's headrest excitedly. "Turn right, turn right!"
Daniel turned right, and Sam suddenly recognized what street they were on. When he slowed at Vala's prompting, a grin was blooming on Sam's face. "Sol's Diner," she said.
Vala preened. "I worked here."
"When you were missing?"
"I was a waitress."
"It surprises me greatly that you actually held an honest job," Daniel marveled, but when Vala frowned, he covered, "I'm very impressed."
"Let's go," she said, a kid in a candy store, practically pushing Teal'c out of his seat in her haste to get inside the diner.
Sam went to intercept Cameron as he got out of the car. "Look familiar?" she said with a wicked grin.
Cameron looked it over. "Oh, god." Different motel, same restaurant. He was no doubt calling up the same memory as she was.
"By the way, you're paying for my dinner. You owe me."
"You're kidding, right? That was years ago."
"You're buying," she threatened lightly, "or else I'll tell the others about the last time I saw you in handcuffs."
"Handcuffs?" Vala said, popping up behind them like a demon sprite with a sixth sense for kinky.
"Yeah," said Cameron. "I'm trying to figure out why you thought it was necessary to disrobe and handcuff me."
"I was dressing your wound, Colonel Mitchell," she said with somber formality. Cameron met her stare evenly until she caved with a bright smile. "That, and it was fun."
"Come on, Vala, let's not torture the poor colonel anymore," said Daniel, gripping her arm and leading her inside.
Cameron shot Sam a look she recognized all too well, his 'I'm going to blame you for this' look. The people that usually prompted the expression were Woolsey, Martin Lloyd, McKay, and Vala, people for whom Sam claimed no responsibility.
Inside, Vala continued to surprise them further by enveloping a short, redheaded waitress in a big hug. "Val, I'm so glad to see you," the woman said. "We were worried. You were only supposed to go give a statement. What happened?"
"It's a long story," Vala said. "Where's Sal?"
"In the back." The woman put her hands on Vala's shoulders, regarding her seriously. "You're all right?"
"Fine," Vala promised with a smile.
"Good. I'll go get Sal. You take a seat."
Vala ushered a bemused SG-1 over to an empty table. "When I lost my memory, I tried to steal a meal from here," she explained. "Sal was kind enough to hear me out, and was the only person who believed me about my amnesia. He offered me a job and a place to stay. I owe him so much." Her eyes clouded, and Daniel placed his hand over hers. Sam studied the woman intently, the alien who had bombarded their lives. She hadn't known Vala as well or for as long as the others, but she knew that Vala showing emotion to this degree was an unusual event. She offered her comfort to the other woman in the form of a smile.
"Val, is that you?" A short man, on the verge of balding, stood at the end of their table, slinging a dirty dishtowel over one shoulder. Vala rose and hugged him, not even bothered by the grease on his stained shirt. "I was worried about you," he said. "Is everything all right?"
"Sort of," she said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to quit." His eyes widened, but he said nothing. Vala gestured over her shoulder at the rest of SG-1. "I found them," she said. "My friends. My home. I got my memories back."
"That's great," the cook said sincerely.
"Sal, this is Colonel Carter, Colonel Mitchell, Daniel, and..."
Vala trailed off nervously, until Teal'c supplied, "Murray."
"Yes. Murray," Vala said easily. Teal'c nodded.
"Colonels?" said Sal.
"Yes, I'm with the Air Force." None of them were going to contest this, but if pressed, they wouldn't support it, either. "Everyone, this is my friend Sal."
"Friends of Val's are friends of mine," said Sal, almost giddily. "Dinner's on the house."
"Ha," Cameron hissed to Sam. "I'm off the hook."
"You are so not off the hook," she returned in a low voice.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sal," Vala said. "I still owe you for that first meal."
"You worked that off."
Vala put her hand on his arm. "I'm never going to be able to repay you for your kindness," she said. "Let me have this."
"All right," he said. "You just let Rena know when you're ready to order."
"Okay." When Vala sat down, she refused to look at anything but the menu for several moments. She finally acknowledged Daniel. "What?"
"I'm just... proud of you," he said. Sam hadn't seen that particular smile on his face in quite some time. It made her avert her eyes, and she landed on Cameron.
"Guess you're buying me dinner after all," she teased.
"I can't believe she stole your wallet and not your car," Sam said, pulling into the motel parking lot next to the forest green sedan Cameron had labeled as his.
"Beats me," he shrugged. "It's a rental, anyway."
"You had to rent a floozy-mobile?"
"She wasn't a... Okay, in hindsight, she sorta was." Off her silence, he added, "And yes, that was pretty much what I was looking for in the first place. Guess I got what I deserved, huh?"
"Are things that bad?" she asked quietly.
He didn't answer, which was an answer in itself. Sam could understand that. She squeezed his shoulder. "You can't let it get to you," she said.
"Trying not to," he said.
"Go home. Shut off your brain. Watch some TV. I think Wormhole X-Treme! is on."
"God save me," he laughed. "That show sucks. It'll be canned by the end of the month."
Sam scratched the back of her head, refraining from comment, though she didn't disagree. "Okay, no TV. Still, you should do something."
"Come with me?"
"I can't, Cam. I have to go back to work."
"Right. Sorry. I forgot I was dragging you away from work."
In a split second, she made her decision, the same decision he'd make for her. "Hell. The universe isn't going to fall apart in a day. You're leaving soon, we should spend some time together while we still can."
Gratitude oozed out of his smile, though it was clear he was trying to repress it. "I passed a bowling alley on the way here the first time," he said.
"You want to bowl at eleven in the morning? Do you even know how to bowl?"
"Throw ball at pins. Can't be that hard. But hey. If you don't want to bowl, we could catch a movie. Or just... drive."
"Drive."
"Whatever you feel like," he said generously.
"Bowling's fine," she said with a small smile, and started to back the car out of the parking lot. The team had gone bowling once. Teal'c had watched the proceedings with his usual mystique, unable to understand why the people of the Tau'ri ever enjoyed the things they did. Daniel had gotten a near-perfect score. The colonel had gotten drunk.
At the bowling alley, an hour had passed, with neither of them scoring above one hundred, and with Cameron still nursing the same beer. He'd been laughing, and joking, had hummed along to a song on the radio, and had even taken Sam's barbs about handcuffs and nudity. But behind all of that was a dark sadness.
After bowling two straight gutter balls, Sam went back and sat next to Cameron. "It's your turn," she said, and nudged his shoulder gently with her own. It was as though he didn't hear her. He stared sullenly into the open mouth of his bottle. "Cameron?"
"It's Fergie," he said. "A mission... I screwed up, I flew too low, I didn't see... I wasn't thinking... Fergie dove in, saved my ass, and crashed for his troubles. Shrapnel right in his head. They gave him leave immediately."
Sam sat, her fists clenched and resting tensely on her thighs, waiting.
"I went out to Iowa to see him," he said. "He's staying at his parents' place, this big blue farmhouse. He's never gonna fly again. And if he's never gonna fly again, what the hell's the point?"
Of all the flyboys she'd known, no one loved the sky as much as Cameron Mitchell. She wondered if what he was feeling was guilt about Fergie, or horror that it might someday happen to him. "It's not your fault, Cameron."
Sam knew he was hearing her, and knew she was telling the truth, but was just unable to believe it.
"The girl... I was just trying to not think for awhile. It's stupid, I know."
"Not really," she said, because while the methodology wasn't the best, the theory was pretty good.
"I'm screwed up."
"No more than the rest of us," she said, and meant it.
"I'm not actually going to Alaska," he admitted. "I'm up for a big classified mission. It was me or Fergie." He smirked mirthlessly, peeling the label from his bottle with utmost concentration. "Process of elimination."
Sam put her hand on his back, his body heat soothing her cooled fingers, as much as she hoped her touch soothed him. "Cameron. This isn't your fault. These things happen. Every soldier, every airman carries a list of the dead with them. You just have to..."
"Move on?"
"Cope." He looked at her, and his eyes were a little red-rimmed, as though he was on the verge of a large sob. Sam patted his head, smiling a little. Her job was to get him not to think. "C'mon. It's your turn, and I'm beating you by two. If I win, you have to... Actually, nothing I could say would top this morning's fiasco."
He groaned loudly.
"Hey, tell you what," she said. "If you win, I'll never mention it again."
He laughed. "Two points?"
"Just two." She held out his bowling ball enticingly.
Cameron rolled his eyes and grabbed it from her. "I should be getting this in writing," he said. But before he approached the lane, he wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her to him quickly to kiss her forehead and mutter, "Thanks, Sam. For everything."
She could think of nothing else to say but, "Of course."
Dusk had fallen, and Sam was driving again. Vala didn't have a license; Sam was vaguely scared of Teal'c's driving, though she'd never admit it; and Cameron had taken to griping loudly about his arm, which she knew didn't hurt an eighth as much as he pretended it did. Her sympathy for him had waned, and she knew he only wanted to get out of driving. Daniel just looked tired. The past few weeks had afforded him very little sleep.
They had taken their earlier positions, as if they were assigned, too tired to break routine. Cameron propped one foot up against the dash, and rubbed at his shoulder a little. "The Asgard don't wear pants," he said thoughtfully.
"Your point?"
"I'm just saying, it's not a bad thing for them. Why make a big deal out of it for me?"
"The Asgard don't find themselves in compromising situations with handcuffs and questionable women," she retorted. "Also, they're asexual."
Cameron tapped his finger against the door lock thoughtfully. "I don't think I'm ever going to be as good a friend to you as you are to me, Sam."
She knew what he meant, but didn't feel it was the time to discuss or argue it. It was time to change the mood. "If you mean that you haven't seen me naked, that's out of the question."
"I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."
"You lost the game, Mitchell. By a deplorable eight points. That's just sad."
"Hey. I shoot. I fly. I don't bowl."
"It was your idea." He punched her shoulder lightly in protest, and Sam laughed. It was apparently loud enough to stir the people in the backseat, because the shadows in her rearview mirror shifted. "Who's going back to the base?" she asked.
"I think I'm up for crashing on Jackson's couch," said Cameron.
"I'd rather like to see Jackson's bed," Vala said.
"Vala," Daniel said, with obvious dwindling patience.
"Daniel," she mocked. "I've been sleeping in a dingy closet for two weeks, the least you can do is let me sleep in a real bed."
"You have a real bed at the SGC."
"The mattress is lumpy."
"I find the beds at Stargate Command to be well suited for a restful sleep," said Teal'c.
"You're not helping, Muscles."
Sam made the next turn in the direction away from the base. "We're not going to my place, Sam," said Daniel in a near whine.
"No, you don't have any room. We're going to my house. Vala, you can have the guest room."
"Wait, wait, wait," Cameron said. "How come she gets the bed?"
"As she pointed out, she's been through a very trying ordeal."
"What about me? I got shot!"
Her voice loud and bright, Sam said, "Did I ever tell you guys about the time that I got a very interesting phone call, from a man practically in tears, who told me he—"
Cameron dove over the gear shift to clamp his hand over her mouth. "Okay, okay, Vala gets the bed."
"No, I want to know about the phone call!" Vala said eagerly. "Was it Colonel Mitchell? I'll give up the bed if you tell me!" Though she refused to divulge the information, Sam was still laughing when she pulled into her driveway.
She had almost sold the house when the transfer went through for Area 51. But she couldn't quite bear to get rid of it, even after General O'Neill had left for Washington, Teal'c for Dakara, and Daniel had announced he was going to Atlantis. The house was a relic, and while Sam had wanted to move on, she thought that getting rid of the house would be like writing off her past entirely. When she'd returned, Cameron helped her unpack.
The team lounged awkwardly in Sam's living room for a few moments, before Vala yawned widely and made a grand announcement that she was retiring to bed. Sam gave her directions to the guest room, but as Vala disappeared from sight, Sam guessed that in all likelihood, she wouldn't get to sleep in her own bed that night. In a gesture of defeat, she settled on the couch between Cameron and Teal'c and turned on the TV. The movie she landed on was about aliens and full of made-up science and bad special effects.
Daniel, crammed in the armchair that Sam never used and could not yet throw away, had fallen asleep within the hour. Sam had drooped on Cameron's shoulder, and he was spilling over the arm of the couch himself. Only Teal'c looked like he was functioning fully. "I'm out," Sam decided, making a halfhearted attempt to stretch out her limbs before she stumbled to her feet. She ruffled Cameron's hair as she passed, and cast a sleepy "Night, guys," over her shoulder.
"Night, Sam," Cameron returned.
"Goodnight, Colonel Carter," said Teal'c.
Daniel snorted, and didn't move.
Sam paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at her team, in various states of consciousness. She was lucky to have them. Vala's resourcefulness, Daniel's diplomatic nature, Cameron's enthusiasm, and Teal'c's undeniable presence — these were the things that allowed her to live, but they were also the same things that got her through the day. Judging from Vala's rescue today, she imagined it was true for the rest of them, as well. This was the support that Sam had been relying on for eight years. Cameron thought he wasn't as good a friend to her as she was to him, but by joining the team, he had integrated himself into the very essence of friendship, as far as she was concerned. Sam's home was bursting with it at that very moment. Wrapping her sleepy mind around that notion, she smiled to herself and went upstairs to bed.