We Love as One – Chapter 1

Disclaimer in Index

Sam opened the door to her house quietly, hefting the paper grocery bag in her arms. Crossing the threshold into her house, she kicked the door shut and continued toward the kitchen, forgoing switching on any of the lights in her house.

It was midnight and luckily, Sam had the foresight to stop off at a 24-hour supermarket, remembering that she virtually had no food, at least edible food, in her house. She placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and as an afterthought, pressed the button on her answering machine.

“No new messages.” Was what answered her back. Sam sighed and shrugged off her black three-quarter length wool coat, tossing it carelessly over the ottoman in her living room. What was she expecting? Someone to actually call her? The chances of that were remote.

Sam emptied the grocery bag, using the pale moonlight shining through her windows as a guide. She shoved the bottle of vodka she had bought right next to the two chilling bottles of champagne she had bought earlier that week.

There, Sam thought. At least it looks as if someone still lives here. She surveyed the well-stocked fridge and then reached out to take one of the bottles of champagne. Sam turned and opened a cupboard to swipe a champagne glass out; she let the fridge door shut by itself.

Taking the champagne and the glass, Sam strolled over to her couch and set them down, before getting up and starting a fire in her fireplace.

After doing so, she resumed her place sitting on her sofa, opening the bottle, and pouring herself a generous amount. Curling her legs under her, Sam stared silently into the fire and let her thoughts wander.

Unsurprisingly, Sam’s thoughts led her to recall the events that happened earlier in the week. The Tok’ra, mainly her father, had paid a visit to the SGC to share the current news of what was happening amongst the Goa’uld system lords and then left immediately afterwards.

It had been a period of seven months since the day when Sam had fired the trigger on Martouf, effectively ending his life. Seven months of being stonewalled by the High Council with her requests to see Martouf’s body. Seven months of no word on his condition.

When asked, her father only shook his head and told her that though the body was in stasis, there had been no change. Sam had stalked off angrily, wondering if any of the Tok’ra were even working on bringing Martouf back. If they even cared about the life of one host.

Sam sipped her champagne as her mind unwillingly brought a picture of Martouf’s pleading face as he stared at her and choked out her name. Her heart constricted. Even after seven months, Sam reacted as if it had only happened yesterday.

Saying goodbye to her father and the Tok’ra guard that had accompanied him, Sam wondered if she would ever see Martouf walking through the wormhole and down the ramp, smile on his face and the joy in his eyes at seeing her waiting for him at the bottom, her expression identical to his in each and every way.

Unbidden, tears began to gather in Sam’s eyes as she relived every moment she had with Martouf, both as Samantha Carter and as Jolinar. She curled deeper into a ball, burrowing into her couch.

Her phone rang. Sam made no move to answer it or even a sign that she heard it, so lost in her memories of a man that she had only recently acknowledged she loved and a man that she, as Jolinar, had loved for well over a century.

The answering machine clicked on. “Sam?” It was Daniel. “Ah…Sam, are you there?” He, as usual, sounded concerned. He paused. “I guess not. Um…well, I just wanted to call and see how you were doing. You left in a rush and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you.” Daniel paused again. “I…ah…I overheard what you were talking to Jacob about and his answer a few days ago and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, Sam. Really. And that I’m here for you, whenever you need me. I’m here. Call me at home when you get this, okay? Okay then, bye Sam.”

The champagne glass trembled in Sam’s hand as she overwhelmed herself with memories, feelings, and words exchanged in love and with passion. Tears rolled silently down Sam’s cheeks as she wrapped her arms around a sofa pillow, wordlessly letting the champagne glass drop from her hand, spilling its contents on her rug.

She stared into the fire through moist eyes before closing them in despair and burying her head into the pillow. Sam rocked herself gently as the pillow muffled her agonizing sobs.

And all around her, the darkness grew.