Little Red (mylittleredgirl) wrote,
Little Red
mylittleredgirl

happy happy birthday besyd!!!

besyd, to whom I owe many things, including but not limited to:

Extensive knowledge of commas and how to occasionally use them properly (with supervision),
Continued sanity during a period of ridiculous insomnia (it helps that she was working the night shift, but I pretend she would have stayed up feeding me squeee on the internet anyway),
Pretty much all my Sam/Jack fic (I think I only wrote Daniel/Janet until I met her),
Pretty much all... well, most of my other fic (she can't be blamed for some things, since she only politely tolerated my omgwtflaaaaaantis!!1! and my need to write fanfic where everyone gets drunk and cuts each other's hair),

and finally:

My real, true appreciation of gun porn.

This fanfic doesn't have anything to do with the above and no doubt has unsupervised commas everywhere, but it is Sam/Jack, and it has Jacob, and it is all for you. :)

Also? I have this weird recollection that once upon a time you asked me to knit you gloves, and I said yes, and... did I make this up? Was that five years ago? Please tell me, because I will gladly knit you things (if you will gladly send me reminders so I don't forget for six months).

Title: "Something Old"
Author: Little Red
Rating: G
Spoilers: Jacob & Selmak general stuff.
Pairing: Sam/Jack. It's sort of a Jacob story in my head, though.
Summary: Sam moves a lot, but some things stay the same.


After all the times Samantha Carter had moved in her life, from state to state, house to house, she remembered most the few things that stayed the same.

Her mother had a wedding shelf; she always set it up in every house they moved to. It had a small photo album, a copy of the invitation and the program, and a decorative box filled with letters written back and forth overseas to Sam's father before her parents were married.

Sam loved the letters most of all, even though, as a child, she couldn't read her father's choppy writing or her mother's elegant cursive very well. It didn't really matter what they said -- it was the foreign post-stamps and the postcards with pictures of deserts and strange cities and wonders of the world that kept her interest, kept her going back and forth to her children's encyclopedia to learn more about the places she someday wanted to go.

Her mother's favorite part of the display, though, was the wedding photograph. It made Sam laugh because her dad had a mustache and her mom looked so different in makeup and curls instead of ponytails and engine grease (their car, she recalls, was forever breaking down), but her mother always got misty when she looked at it.

She told Sam once, "I gave this frame to your dad... oh, only a week or two after we met. It was his birthday, and I didn't even know him well enough yet to know what to buy him, but we happened to be near an antique store."

"You could have bought him a tie," Sam suggested, because that was what her mom usually bought for him whenever a gift was called for.

Her mother smiled. "He didn't wear ties as much then. The next time I was in his apartment, I saw that he hadn't put anything in the frame yet, and I was so worried he didn't like it."

"What was he doing with it?"

"He kept it empty," she said, running a thumb around the ornate metal filigree on the corner. "He said he was waiting for the right picture."

Years later, when Sam's father left Earth for another planet, he gave it to her.

Sam had forgotten about the framed photograph, but once she saw it again, it didn't surprise her at all that her father still had it or, of all the things he owned that he'd consigned to storage bins to one day be divided between Sam and her brother and Goodwill, this was the one item he wanted to hand-deliver.

"I don't want to lose it out there," he said with a sad smile, a little different than his usual smile, now that Selmak was sharing his every thought. Although that subtle change scared and disturbed her, it strangely reminded her of her childhood, of the way he was when her mother was still alive and he didn't look quite so tired all the time.

Sam put the picture on her bookshelf, then on her wall, then on her nighttable by her bed where her father always kept it, but it never quite found its place.

In the end, it took a whole different house. Like her mother had done all the times her father was transferred and their lives were uprooted and replanted, it was one of the first things she unpacked upon officially moving in.

It looked good there, on his mantle next to the memories most important in his life -- his son, his medals for service, his friends. Their picture, fresh from Cassandra Fraiser's digital camera. (Her wedding had been much less of a traditional affair than her mother's, and without an official photographer; it was more of let's do this before the universe implodes again rescheduled-twice-by-galactic-emergency affair.)

When Jack came in, she was still staring, touching the edges of the frame the way her mother used to do.

"What's that?"

She stepped back to let him see her parents' wedding photo. "I hope you don't mind I put it up here."

She knew he wouldn't mind, but she wondered what he would think. In the space of the few seconds Jack spent looking at the picture, she had three or four potential conversations with him in her head -- how she looked almost exactly like her mother, how no, she really didn't mind that she'd gotten married in jeans instead of a wedding gown like the one in the picture, how she missed her father but didn't want to talk about it, how she worried that Jack would find the story of the perfect photo for the perfect frame a little silly.

"So," Jack said. "Jacob really had a mustache?"

Sam laughed. "Yes. He shaved it off before I was old enough to remember, though."

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as he examined their new mantle display. Theirs. She shivered a little, because even a long, hard decade in the making, she wasn't used to this.

"That might be a scary first memory."

"It's not that bad." It always made her want to giggle, though, even as an adult. "I think I got used to it. My mom always used to put this picture up whenever we moved somewhere new."

Jack nudged her head with his chin. "Does that mean you're planning to stay a while?"

Her heart skipped a beat, just looking at him. "I'll think about it."

"Good."

She looked back at their picture, jeans and t-shirts, smiling at something Cassie said behind the camera. She was sure this wouldn't be the last house she lived in, because she couldn't really imagine staying permanently still, but she wanted to put that picture up wherever else she went. "Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"We should get a nice frame."

*end*
Tags: fic, peeps: yay fellow humans!, sgwun
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