#becomingsea

The last thing he remembers is the alarms in the shuttlepod going haywire, Ash shouting over the comms, and the distinct impression that she and the rest of the crew were going to kill him once he got out of this-- field. That was it. An energy field he’d wanted to investigate personally, not wanting to risk the safety of the Bonaventure in case of just such an outcome. 

Asa tries to sit up, but finds himself unable to even raise his neck and shoulders, his head thudding back on the ground uselessly. He sees a smear of science division blue out of the corner of his eye moving closer to him, and he turns his head to face them.

Everything in the young captain’s mind comes screeching to a halt. 

He recognizes him instantly, of course; he’s seen him in photographs in his father’s quarters for almost as long as he can remember, and both his and his cousins’ stories painted quite a vivid picture of the man.

But now he’s here, right in front of him, close enough to touch, and alive. 

“...do you prefer George or Sam, sir?...”  his own voice is barely a murmur, and he almost immediately hopes that the older man didn’t hear. He’s not sir, Asa is, strange as it is to come to terms that he outranks his own uncle, and he surely could’ve thought of something better to say to him than that. 

         // @becomingsea​ ( janet ) sent,  ❝ when all else fails , take a nap. ❞

          Sam wants to argue, so much so that her lips part before she finds that, ultimately, she has no argument. Eyes burn, deflected at last from the screen of a computer, after hours of intense focus, and it’s gotten her no closer to answers. If anything, she feels further away from then than she did… well, she won’t tell Janet that she no longer knows even how long has passed.    

          ❛ Is that your expert medical opinion? I always heard that coffee was the solution to all problems. ❜    Then again, she had spent her years amongst the driven: amongst cadets determined to make a mark and prone to taking too much onto their plates, amongst scientists and military officers guilty of no less for all their titles and ranks.    ❛ Guess I’ve been doing it wrong all my life. ❜

          ❛ All I’m sayin’ is that if you don’t want things to go sideways, let me stick to my talents. ❜    Because that’s absolutely why things went sideways, and not at all because he got sidetracked. But all’s well that ends well, right? And they’re all still in one piece, with the job complete, and if everything didn’t go quite to plan, well really, then that’s water under the bridge.

          No. Don’t say it. 

          She bites hard on her lip, the words an internal, chastising monologue against the retort that springs far too quickly to her lips. 

          He’s trying, Jeannie. Try back. 

          And so she stows away the observation that they’ve never really talked. This isn’t talking. Talking is a conversation over dinner about mundane, inane day-to-day life. Casual, at-ease chatter, enjoying each other’s company. Not high stakes scientific puzzles that belong purely in the realm of the theoretical. She’s still not entirely sure she’s not dreaming this whole thing, because how can there be a practical application to this? All of which isn’t to say she doesn’t enjoy the conundrum before them nearly as much as he does. And really, quibbling over semantics ought to be the last thing on her mind. Above all else, she knows what he means.

a shroud of tiredness settles on her features, pale cheeks and limped eyes can barely offer a small change of expression before crashing down again as she settles on the chair.   originally, she had retreated into her office looking for solitude, how much she longed for this day to be over, to wash it all away.   all day long, as disaster piled on, as every inch of her precious med-bay became packed with more injured, the knowledge that at one point the day would be over kept her hanging on.

now it seemed like punishment.  to be able to go back to her own rooms, when so many didn’t.   “   i don’t know if i’m good company right now.... but if you wouldn’t mind,   ”   throat clenches, a sob averted.   “   i don’t want to be alone.   ”

          // @becomingsea​ sent,    ❝ why should i trust you? ❞    from sarah.

           somehow,  all that is endured by those affiliated with the stargate program does not end with inner circle.  it radiates out to friends,  and acquaintances,  and possibly far further.  cam little cares to consider how many might have been affected by goa’uld’s secret return to earth,  by jafa reconnaissance parties,  by the vast impossibilities of a universe they cannot keep at bay.  pandora’s box has been opened,  and even burying the gate would not solve their problems now.

          he’s read the reports,  after all.  he knows of osiris, knows well enough the reasons she has to distrust.  and,  frankly,  cam’s not sure he has a good answer for her.  there’s no reason she ought to trust him,  a stranger,  whatever he might claim about his friendship with daniel jackson.  truth all told,  perhaps friendship was stretching the matter,  for the man sometimes seemed scarcely to tolerate him and his ceaseless exuberance.  cameron merely shrugs,  unimpressive of a first impression though he know it makes.    ❛ see,  problem with that question is you’ve no reason to believe anything I tell you.  so,  even if I say I’m a damn poor liar — and I am — that could technically be a lie and you wouldn’t know otherwise, so... ❜

She was drowning her sorrows. Ordering another drink, seemed much easier than leaving this stupid bar after a disaster of a night. Not that it really mattered. She would really rather the world just swallow her whole. There was nothing like getting wasted with your boss to put the world into real sharp focus. Sad. Really fucking sad. God this was embarrassing. Getting stood up was bad enough, someone finding out you got stood up was even fucking worse. While Tilly didn’t expect him to tell the rest of Starfleet, she was still going to have to be aware of the fact her Captain knew it had happened in the first place.

Right now she just wished he would stop talking. “You don’t need to lie to me to make me feel better.” Tilly replied, her voice flat. She could see right through his statement. At least, that was what she thought. Why else would he say it? Why would anyone make such a statement? “You really don’t need to be here.” Sober, she would never dream of taking this kind of attitude with him, and she would regret it when she started to feel like a disaster in the morning. “I am sure I can find my way back to the ship by myself, it’s like, right over there.” Plus, it wasn’t like she was back on duty for another 36 hours anyway.