Author: Vicky Ocean
Pairing: Sam and Jack
Setting: An AU in which the Goa'uld invade Earth In the late 1800s. (Oldwest!gate)
Summary: Sam and Jack struggle to survive together in the 'Old West' hiding from the otherworldly Invaders.
Samantha had never been one for ladylike domestic skills
Samantha had never been one for ladylike domestic skills. The broken needle and half repaired hole in Jack's trousers were proof of that. Not that there was much call for fancy embroidering or painting china these days. Since the Invaders had arrived, she was much better off with the masculine skills of shooting and riding that her father had taught her than most of those delicate ladies of her former acquaintance and their fine needlepoint skills. Even knowing her mannish skills had allowed her to survive this long in a changed world, she still she had to fight back the almost overwhelming frustrated urge to toss both the trousers and the sewing kit in the fire.
Of course, that would solve nothing. Jack only had two pairs of trousers as it was.
The sad, faded, and patched cavalry pants in her hands were yet another reason to hate the otherworldly Invaders that had conquered the entire world and had slaughtered or enslaved most of the population. Cloth was a rare commodity these days. Pre-Invasion machine loomed cloth was more precious than gold. She and Jack would in all probability be in buckskin like the Indians before long.
Fabric wasn't the only issue. She didn't know what they would do for needles once she's managed to break all of them. Carve them out of bone she imagined. That was what ancient peoples did after all.
She took a deep breath and forced her frustration back down. It wasn't just her ineptitude with a needle that had her so out of sorts. Jack had been gone for more than a week and she was getting more worried with each passing hour. They hadn't been apart for so long since the day the Invasion had begun and Jack had saved her life.
Unfortunately, she had sprained her ankle on the climb up to the old trapper's cabin they were planning to hole up in this winter. They were running low on provisions and had to stock up while they could if they wanted to survive the winter hiding out in the mountains. She knew she would only be a hindrance as Jack scouted the area and foraged for supplies. She threaded a new needle and picked up the trousers again, determined to contribute to their survival at least in some small way, no matter how she detested it.
That night, she lay wide awake on the pile of pelts in front of the fire that served as their bed. She kept going over and over in her mind all the things that could have happened to Jack. At some point she must have dosed only to be awakened by the sound of the door creaking open. She lay very still, grasping her revolver in her hand and quietly easing the hammer back.
"Don't shoot. It's me."
Samantha was relieved beyond words. She carefully lowered the hammer on the Colt and set the gun on the floor. She sat up, but Jack waved her back down, "Stay."
She lay back down and watched as his shadowed form disarmed and set down the bags he was carrying. "Are you hungry?" she asked.
"No. Just tired." He quickly stripped down to his union suit and crawled into their makeshift bed. She slid close to him and laid her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm tightly around her. He stank, smelling of horses, sweat, and the trail, but she needed the close contact after he'd been away. She felt him relax in increments, but never totally relaxing, always keeping one ear open for the sound of the Invaders approaching.
A button was missing on the placket of his long underwear and she stuck her hand through the hole so she could feel the warm flesh of his chest. He sighed tiredly and she felt his arm tighten around her. "Missed you," he whispered into her hair.
"Me too. I was worried…"
"I was too."
"What did you find?"
"The town's abandoned, but it's still standing. I expect all the people have fled or been taken to work in the quarry. The dry good's store was still mostly stocked. I brought back all I could."
"We'll go back soon. My ankle's pretty much healed."
They lay in silence for a while, their breathing and the crackling of the fire the only sounds in the tiny cabin.
"Did you see any people at all?"
They had spent the initial months after the Invasion searching for signs of a resistance and found nothing but death and enslavement. After that they had gone to ground and hid in the isolated areas of the West. It had been several months since she'd seen another person other than Jack, but at least they hadn't seen any of the Invaders. Sometimes it felt like they were the only two people left in the world.
"I mended your cavalry trousers."
"Thanks." Jack paused for a moment before saying, "You didn't sew the legs closed did you? 'Cause those holes are useful for sticking your feet through."
She choked back a laugh and slapped his chest in indignation, a little harder than was actually playful.
"Ow!" he cried in exaggerated pain.
"Oh, stop it. I didn't hit you that hard. Quit being a sissy."
"I'm not a sissy." He grumbled
"Really? You do sew better than I do," she teased.
"Well, I didn't exactly have my own personal tailor following me around in the war, Sam. I had to learn."
" Of course."
He gave an exaggerated sigh, "Am I going to have to prove exactly how manly I am?"
A mischievous smile tugged at her mouth. "You might."
"You asked for it," he said as he rolled them over suddenly, switching their positions.
She let out a startled laugh and reached her arms around him to pull him closer still. He buried his face in her neck, his beard scratching her skin as he placed a soft kiss there. Jack pulled back for a moment as he studied her face from the light of the fire. His face was serious as he told her, "I really did miss you. I don't know what I would do if-"
Samantha cut him off by pulling his head down for a searing kiss. She couldn't bear to think about that now.