AU story that takes place after "Frozen" in season six.
Things in bold are Jack's memories/dreams.
Things in italics are Sam's memories/dreams.
Bold and italics are when they are thinking the same thoughts together.
He pulls her tighter to him in his sleep. Every inch of her pressed against every inch of him, arms entwined. They are fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The motion causes her to wake up. Her eyes flutter open, and she sees his face, so close to hers she can't focus on it, but she knows it is his. Comforted she lets her eyes shut again and leans against his muscular body. She can hear him breathing, and that gives her great comfort. She's surprised to hear him breathing. Surprised and relieved. She puts her head against his chest, and his breathing lulls her back to sleep.
A breeze hits the bare flesh of his back. He shivers. Why is it cold? He peals and eye open. He sees the trees swaying in the breeze. He hates trees. Where is he? He feels like he should be doing something, but what? She shifts beside him. She's moving? She's alive? Why does it surprise him that she's alive? Hasn't she always been alive?
God she's beautiful. Short blond hair. Legs that go on forever. And the naked in between is pretty amazing too.
Her eyes flutter open. She smiles at him. She opens her mouth to say his name. But she doesn't know it. Why is she laying next to a (gorgeous) naked man whose name escapes her? And why is she outside?
She sits up. She pulls away from him. She draws her knees up in front of her to cover as much as possible, "I'm sorry…this is quite strange…but who are you?" she asks.
He turns his head toward her. He opens his mouth to answer, but finds he doesn't know. He shrugs. "I don't suppose you know your own name?" he asks.
She shakes her head. Something tells her she should be more worried about her lack of memory than she is. Somehow the only thing she can manage to worry about is him. "Are you ok?" she asks.
A grin crosses his face, "I'm better than ok, I'm with you" he says. Then his face becomes worried, "I…I think I had a dream that you died."
"I…think I had the same dream about you," she says. She wonders if she should maintain her distance. But his man is just as confused as she is, and she did just wake up naked next to him. She feels like they belong together, belong to one another. She reaches out, and touches his chest. The firm muscles grow taunt beneath her fingers, but that isn't what she's feeling for. She has to feel his heartbeat. She has to convince herself that he is alive.
"That isn't fair," he says leveling his eyes on her. Those deep brown eyes feel like they are melting her soul, "I can't feel your heartbeat."
"Oh, can't you?" she asks playfully.
His eyes suddenly smolder with fire and passion, "You giving me permission to touch your chest?" he asks.
"Why are we out in the open?" she asks concerned.
"Why don't we have any clothes?" he asks equally concerned.
"Oh, I think you can figured that one out," she says standing up, and helping him to his feet.
"Don't know why you'd want ME," he says. She remembers he has a self-defeating sense of humor.
She considers him carefully before she says, "Because I'm in love with you, you idiot." She is certain of it. She doesn't know much right now, but she does know that.
Did he know that before? He must have. It feels very familiar, but also very new. I grins from ear to ear, "Well, there is that," he replies. He knows he loves her too. But he isn't going to say it quite yet. He's saving it.
He has a strange sense of humor. She thinks he likes it.
They scan the surroundings. The area is forested with many trees, they almost, but not quite recognize. They are only about ten feet from a river which flows at a medium to slow current with clear water which would reach no farther than their shoulders if they stood in the deepest part. They don't know what they are looking for, but they seem to know when they find it. He starts gathering fire wood and dry leaves for kindling. She finds some flint. She starts working on a fire. He finds large logs that he sets on one of their ends. They are going to make them into large bowls to boil water in.
"What happened to us?" she asks.
"It wasn't a head injury," he says.
"How do you know that?" she asks thought she isn't for a minute doubting him.
"I think I've had a lot of head injuries," he says puzzled.
"Clearly," she says dryly. But none the less she moves toward him. She fingers his skull. She finds an old wound, traces it with her fingertip. Her focus is only on the wound.
His is not. She is standing and he is sitting which leaves him eyes level with her chest. He pulls away. "We'd better make clothes," he says clearing his throat gruffly.
"Water, food, shelter and weapons, first," she says.
He knows it makes sense, but it is going to make things harder for him. He puts his hand to her chest above the area he wants to place it on, to feel her heartbeat. To assure himself she's alive. He wonders why they are both so obsessed with the life of the other.
"Sunscreen…" she says carefully, "Mud," they are near a river at least, and the banks are covered in a thick claylike mud. Perfect for a survival layer of sunscreen. He looks away as she layers it on herself, and adds a layer to himself.
It's good she thought of it, the days are warm on this planet. As soon as he thinks that phrase it pulls him up short and makes him wonder at why he said it. Is there more than one planet? He doesn't know the answer. But there must be, because there doesn't seem to be anyone around but them, and there must be other people. Besides he seems to remember a yellow sun close. Not this more distant orangish one of this world.
He scraps a knock into a piece of wood they've designated as calendar. He pulls her close to him for warmth. "Good thing you got that fire going," he says. It took her most of the day. She had to used two pieces of flint. Not an ideal method, but they hadn't had access to any of the three or four better ways. He'd made a straw for each of them to blow coals with. Then he'd collected willow bark that would make good string for snares and fishing lines once it was boiled. They'd started burning the tree trunks into wooden bowls with fire. They paused to scrape the ashes out every now and again. When the wooden tubs are finished they can boil water. Already there throats were so dry they were tempted to drink out of the river. They knew unboiled water was dangerous, but three days was all the time they had before they died of dehydration.
Now they are laying beneath the stars, and two full moons. He laces his fingers through the fingers of her hand, and looks at it. Her ring finger is as naked as the rest of her. "Do you think we are married?" he asks.
She thinks about it. She knows that she loves him. She knows he loves her, but she doesn't know if she is married. She shrugs.
"If we aren't we should be," he says, and she is warmed by his absolute conviction.
She smiles, "Is that a proposal?"
"I guess that depends if I proposed before," he says, "I hope I did."
"Well, if that is a proposal I'll accept. If we're not married we'll get married as soon as…" she stops furrowing her brow. She knows then that ever since she's arrived on this planet she's been waiting for something, but she doesn't know what that something is.
"As soon as what?" he asks concerned. He feels the same unnamed anticipation as she does. Only to him it seems more like a threat. As if something was waiting to steal her away from him.
"I don't know, as soon as we can," she says.
"You cold?" he asks rubbing the goose bumps off her arms.
"No," she lies, snuggling closer to him.