Samantha Carter sat down at the monitor in one of the Odyssey's guest quarters. She was exhausted after SG-1's adventures in Camelot, but there was something she needed more than sleep. As she'd been leaving the bridge, Colonel Emerson had mentioned there was a personal email for her included in the last mail drop from Earth. He had seemed a bit surprised at her receiving mail on his ship. Usually Odyssey crew members, like those on the Daedalus, had their personal mail forwarded to them through Stargate Command via daily subspace data bursts. Emerson was clearly wondering who knew Carter would be on the ship and could have included a letter in the mail drop. Especially as it was received before she'd arrived onboard.
Samantha smiled to herself. Let him wonder.
She pulled up her temporary inbox and double clicked on the message waiting there. It read:
Well, by now you're onboard the Odyssey on your way to the Supergate. I hope you like the fleet I made you!
Did you find the Holy Grail? If so, Good Job! If not, I guess you're going to have to pull another plan out of your you-know-where. Either way, I thought you needed to get to the fleet ASAP. Who else is qualified to save our collective asses?
Speaking of which, guess what I did? Kvasir is coming to work with you on this one. Finally got the Asgard to put their little grey butts on the line. Sweet, huh? And Samantha, do try to be a little careful, just for me. I mean it. Please?
But I know you, so let's just leave it at "God speed."
Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing. The builder called. Supposedly, the house should be finally finished this weekend. I'll believe it when I see it, though.
So, see, you have to save the world and get back here right away. We still haven't decided what color to paint the living room. How 'bout peridot?
Or maybe we can save that for the bedroom. Shouldn't have mentioned the bedroom. Bad idea, Jack….. She's hundreds of light years away…
You know I love you, so just hurry up, save the universe, and get back home where you belong.
Sam's vision was a bit blurred by the time she finished reading Jack's letter. She quickly rubbed her eyes dry with the heel of her hand before opening a new window and writing in reply:
Thank you so much for the letter. I do know how much you like writing.
You should have seen Colonel Emerson's face when he told me I had a letter waiting. He was dying to ask, but just couldn't. I wish I could have told him, though. The most important thing in the world and we can't tell anybody. Well, except Daniel and Teal'c. And Mitchell. And you had to tell the President. I guess General Landry found out, too. And I'm pretty sure Walter is suspicious.
Gees, worst kept secret ever, huh, sir
There's so much I want to say. I think I've deleted more parts of this letter than I've written. Nothing seems quite right or enough.
I think I see what you mean about writing.
How about, "I wish you were here?" That sounds terrible, considering. But I do. I really don't know if I can do this without you. I know you, and you're thinking I'm crazy. You never did get it. Trust me, and I mean this in the nicest way possible: you're my best source of stupid ideas. And not bad to look at during the thinking either!
I should probably stop writing. We'll be at the Gate soon and I've been up for – I'm not sure how long! I can almost hear you ordering me to go and get some sleep. So I will.
But I do promise to be careful. Well, as careful as possible. You know me. And don't say that's the problem…
As to the living room. I'm thinking pink. Bright, shocking, neon pink. Really. Or maybe not so much. Definitely not peridot. Sorry. I love you, but I have my limits. Not in the living room. Or the bedroom.
I guess I'll just have to see it finished before making up my mind.
And, Jack, it's thousands of light years. Five thousand, 6 hundred, and thirty-nine. Give or take a hundred. But who's counting?
I love you, I miss you terribly, and I'll be home as soon as I can,
Sam addressed her letter to Jack's civilian email account and pushed the 'send' button. The email would go out with the next subspace drop, which due to circumstances would doubtless be upon reaching the Supergate. Turning off the monitor, she stood up and moved over to the bed. She took off her boots, lay down, and within minutes was asleep.
And for some reason, in her dreams, the bedroom walls really were peridot. But that's another story.