Title: Five projects Sam had to abandon

Rating: G

Spoilers: minor/basics for the show

Summary: Five projects Sam had to abandon

Author's Note: written for lj: sg1_five_things

Date: 19/11/09

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.



Downtime – at least downtime that wasn't accompanied by bandages of some description – was rare for Jacob Carter. As such, he was thoroughly enjoying his time sprawled out on the couch; it was softer bed than any he'd had over the past few months. If he listened carefully, he could her his wife helping their son with his homework in his room – something about synonyms, or homonyms, or something other –nym that he was sure he hadn't used since he himself was doing sixth grade homework.

It was because of this almost luxurious relaxation that he didn't start at the first bang – probably just the dog, he thought. The next noise, a clang this time, also got no reaction – probably one of the neighbours too close to the fence. But the third, a resounding crash, left little room for denial, rudely disturbing his reverie and demanding investigation.

He followed the series of [tinkering] noises – much quieter but far more curious – into the kitchen. Having had no idea what he would find did nothing to eliminate the complete shock at seeing his five year old daughter sitting within their dishwasher. Internal components (that he could only hope weren't literal) were scattered around the washer in a wet, messy ring. Grabbing Samantha around her soft tiny waist he pulled her out of the now useless appliance and lifted her out of reach. Removing the butter knife she had been using as a screwdriver from her pudgy little hands, he scolded her, forbidding her from ever doing such a thing ever again.

Having been forcibly removed from her project to see where the dirty dishes disappeared to, Sam pouted at her father. But not for too long; after all, the microwave looked pretty interesting.


She was going to win this year, she just knew it. Last year Billy Makins had gone home with the blue ribbon in the science fair, but though she had suspected foul play she had been unable to prove it.

She had taken up residence at the dining room table several weeks ago, it's golden wood no longer visible for all the pieces of wire and masses of screws that had been carefully selected then either used or discarded. There was to be no exploding volcanoes or experiments on fruit flies for her; no, her project was to be far more than any of the other fourth grade entrants.

Halfway through configuring a circuit her mother walked in and she looked up, eager to point out her latest developments. But the look on her mother's face caused the words to crumble in her mouth.


She simply put down her pliers and stepped back from the table. She knew that look on her mother's face, knew what it meant. They would be moving. Again. Her father ad been reassigned and they would be packed and gone before the end of the week. Before the science fair.

She hoped Billy enjoyed his ribbon.


Sam ignored her door when it opened, refusing to turn and face her visitor. Instead she focused on the screen in front of her, reading and adjusting the stream of information being forwarded by the team of scientists down the hall. Maybe if she concentrated really hard, made sure that every calculation was correct, then she would not have to acknowledge the woman leaning in her doorway staring at her through an expression Sam hadn't seen since her mother's death.

Just as she thought her plan was working well, tiny numbers flying under her fingertips as she calculated the mass of the universe of some equally impossible task, her visitor moved forward, refusing to be ignored any longer. She slipped a folder around Sam's stiffened shoulders, placing it gently over the keyboard. She said nothing but a soft "I'm sorry, Sam," before smoothing down the younger woman's hair, kissing her atop her head and leaving the tiny Pentagon office.

Alone once more Sam slumped and opened the folder to flip through personnel files she was sure she wasn't supposed to see. O'Neill – Kawalsky – Ferretti... They were all soldiers – well, barring for one glaring exception – the kind of men she had served with before. Except this wasn't her team, would never be her team. She closed the file away in a drawer, disheartened at the rejection she had received, the project abandoned before she had ever had a chance.


"Carter, are you done yet?!"

The cry was muffled, separated from her by distance, frenetic gun fire, and of course, the dense metal of the currently non-functioning device she was half-crawled under. Her CO's question had been delivered in his usual exaggerated frustration but she could hear the genuine concern colouring it's edges and she hastened, sacrificing yet another degree of finesse for speed.

"Not yet, sir, five more minutes." She told herself that his growl was directed at the Jaffa he was firing at rather than himself. She didn't really believe it.

'MajorCarter, I believe we should vacate this location." If the situation was different she would have laughed at the urgency belying her friend's calm words. Until several bullets ricocheted of the metal above her, that is.

She tried to direct her response to where he was standing in the protective ring her tem had made around her as she worked. "I understand Teal'c. I'll be done soon, five more minutes."

She was pulling a spare replacement crystal from her vest, slipping it into place when Daniel's voice reached her. "Ah, Sam, I know this was my idea and all, but are you gonna be done any time soon?"

"Yes Daniel, I promise, just five m-"

"No!" She had less than a second to register a pair of gloved hands wrapping around her ankles before they tugged, sliding her out from under the device in one swift move and thrust her gun in her hands. "No more 'five minutes', Carter, now run!"

He shoved her away from the device – decidedly Ancient but altogether too broken for the situation – and propelled her toward the gate.


All her life Sam had been told that there was nothing she couldn't do if she put her mind to it. Her parents, her teachers, instructors, commanding officers – Jack O'Neill had even spoiled her in that regard. She had always dismissed their claims, but deep down part of her had always believed it.

Until now. For the first time she was faced with a task she truly wasn't sure she would succeed in. Her attention entirely focused on the contents f her arms she paced the room, repeating instructions in the hopes of a breakthrough.

So focused was she that she completely missed the appearance of an audience and the steady gaze he hold on her – until he interrupted her movements.

"For crying out loud, Carter," he said, humour lacing his words as he rescued the baby from her arms. "She'll talk when she's ready."