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Disclaimer: Not mine. Set: s7, during Fragile Balance. Rating: PG.
Notes: This has... probably at least been addressed, although I don't know if these exact words have been used. This would be Nos' fault for posting a link to a rather irritating essay. And then Timey's, 'cause Timey and I were talking about how stupid it was... And, I should also write the AU bit where Sam gets to fly the X-302 in the pilot's chair. *grumble*
Punctured
by ALC Punk! Well. That had gone well. Major Samantha Carter poked her pen through the sheet of paper and into the blotter. Then did it again. There was something cleanly logical about the mathematics of the force required to perforate the paper and the sponge beneath. "Hey." The voice might be young, the body might be young, but the intelligence behind it was still Colonel Jack O'Neill. "Sir?" Extra force meant the pen didn't leave a mark on the paper. "Carter, I'm sorry. That could have gone better." "Oh, it went fine, sir." "No it didn't." Fine, if you considered having a teenage boy gain the respect of a room full of pilots a good thing. She would not think about how hard it had been to attempt to run a briefing on her own. Or about how much she'd wanted, just once, to be seen as simply a pilot. "I should have pushed more." "Huh?" Brown eyes were staring at her, then they flicked away. "When they kept telling me there wasn't time, I should have pushed more. Let you pilot." She blinked. Air Force Majors did not scream in frustration. Or cry. Or any one of a hundred little things women (and men) were normally allowed to do. "I would have liked that." Understatement of the year. She had almost craved the experiences in the X-302. To be that close to the stars that she could reach out and touch them had been phenomenal. "Yeah." "They wanted a pilot." She doodled around the holes she'd made. "Not the co-pilot." "You would have kicked their asses. If I'd pushed." "Yeah." She wanted to smile, but she couldn't. There was still some section of her brain that was completely devastated about having her authority so completely undermined. A 15 year old boy had commanded the respect of a dozen pilots when she merely garnered their derision. "Carter, if I could go back in time, I'd push. I'd also kick my ass out of here." He waggled a finger at her. "You let me take over." The obedience had been so automatic. "I know." She hated herself. And him, in that moment. "We need to break you of that habit." "Yes, sir." "But, first, I think we need cake." Cake. Like that fixed anything. She stood. "Actually, sir. I have things I need to do. Maybe General Hammond would like cake." He looked disappointed. "See you around, Carter." "Yeah." She paused in the doorway, then looked back at him. "Hope you're not so scrawny next time. Sir." "Hey!" Her smirk broke out as she left him in there. The SF in the corridor eyed her. "Colonel O'Neill will probably need to be escorted." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "General Hammond would probably prefer him confined to quarters." "Yes, ma'am." -finis- © 2005 ALC Punk! |