Author: Rysler
Email: strmscalm@aol.com
Rating: NC17 (mild bondage at the end)
Pairings: Sam/Janet, established relationship
Category: Drama
Date: 04/04/04
Website: http://www.hnoiyika.com/SG1
Disclaimer: MGM owns them. I just have the calendar.
Archive: With author's permission.
Summary: A social worker investigates Cassandra Fraiser's home life.
Notes: My gratitude to Rocketchick and Dave, for their
encouragement and red pens, and to everyone who suggested I should try
something with a plot.
Janet Fraiser was about to plunge a gloved hand into the abdominal cavity of a Jaffa cadaver when the phone on the back wall of the examination theater rang. She quickly lifted her hand away from the incision and went to answer it.
"Fraiser."
"This is General Hammond," came the voice on the other end of the line. "You have a phone call. Please come to my office."
Dread filled Janet's stomach. Cassandra. Sam. The IRS. "Who is it, sir?" She asked, managing to keep her voice from cracking.
"The principal," Hammond sighed.
* * *
When Janet arrived at Hammond's office, he pointed to the phone and discreetly left the room, to give Janet some privacy, but not before he gave Janet a hard look that said, This better not start happening regularly.
Janet blushed and picked up the receiver."Fraiser. I mean, this is Janet Fraiser."
"Ms. Fraiser, this is Jenny Calendar, Cassandra's principal. I believe we met at a PTA meeting four months ago."
Janet was beet red. She'd heard that tone of voice before. High school science class, 1981. Dread overtook her. There was no escape. "Of course. How are you?"
"Fine. Look..."
Janet cringed preemptively.
"I'm afraid Cassandra got into a little trouble today. She's been sent to detention. There's no need for you to come pick her up, but I thought we should talk a bit."
Janet's knees went weak, and she sank into the chair in front of Hammond's desk. "Mmhm?" She mumbled into the receiver.
"Seems that Cassandra's been changing the words to the pledge of allegiance in home room."
"They still say the pledge of allegiance?" Janet was momentarily flabbergasted. Then she remembered she was in Colorado.
"This is Colorado."
"Mmhm. What's she been saying?"
"Instead of 'Under God,' it's been 'Under the Asgard.'"
Janet was rendered speechless, as she doubled over in the chair, shaking with laughter she was trying to keep silent.
The principal continued. "Look, we have no problem with teenagers experimenting with Norse pagan idols, we respect their individuality and growth, but when one of the other students decided to tease her by pledging his loyalty to another god, Cassandra, I'm afraid, slugged him. That is not acceptable."
"I understand." Janet wiped the tears off her cheeks and suppressed a giggle. "I'll talk to her tonight. Do I need to call the other student's family?"..."No, no. It wasn't a very good punch, he's already forgotten about it, I'm sure. But if things escalated--"
"I understand," Janet cut her off. Fear and hysteria had sluiced off, leaving Janet fully in mom mode. "Which god was it? Just out of curiosity."
"Um..." A shuffling of papers was heard through the phone. "Ra. Egyptian Sun God."
Ah ha. "Thank you very much, Ms. Calendar."
* * *
Back in the surgical theater, three pairs of eyes in the observation room had closed to the sight of Janet's hand descending into tissue, and didn't reopen until Janet began speaking. "Yup, there it is...I got it." She pulled out a cylindrical metal object, and dropped it sloppily in the bucket a brave Sam was holding out to her.
Sam toted it over to the scanner, trying her best not to get guts onto her lab coat. Janet continued the autopsy, but her movements were only cursory. They had the object they wanted.
"No energy signatures of any kind." Sam had calibrated the scanner, and was now peering intently at the device. "I think it's harmless."
Hammond, in the observation room, reached for the microphone. "I want you to be sure, Major. I want to know why a Jaffa is carrying that around in his belly instead of a symbiote. I can't help thinking of suicide bombers."
They'd had one before, after all, Janet thought as she heard Hammond's voice over the speaker. She whispered a silent thank you to a universe that allowed her daughter to live. Cutting up in homeroom...If that's the worst thing that happens this week, it'll be a blessing...
Sam, who never got distracted when faced with personal matters, only more determined, was busy scraping entrails off the metal. Janet could see by the line of her jaw that she had caught the comment as well, but Carter had the presence of mind to answer her superior in a gritty, quiet voice. "Yes, sir."
* * *
Much later that night, Sam stood in the small bathroom off of Janet's bedroom in the Fraiser household, brushing her teeth. She was wearing a long white shirt and nothing else. Her gun was locked in a safe in the closet, but the rest of her clothes were strewn all over the bedroom floor. The room was dark, illuminated only by the flickering blue glow of the television, and Sam couldn't see her partner very well from within the sterile, blinding illumination of the bathroom.
"Why are you doing that?" Janet called, speaking as a dark figure silhouetted against the window that faced the street.
Sam rinsed and spit into the sink, then came out, patting her face with a towel. "I want to be minty fresh when I kiss you."
"I don't need you to be minty fresh. Get over here." Janet's voice held a touch of impatience.
Sam tossed her towel over her shoulder, in the general vicinity of the bathroom. She pulled back the covers on the near side of the bed and slid in, sparing a quick glance at the TV. "Wormhole X-treme?"
"Queer Eye." Janet flicked the TV off, and turned her attention to Sam.
Sam could see that Janet was tired, and she felt guilty for coming home so late. "I'm sorr--"
Janet placed a slender finger on Sam's lips. "Uh uh."
Sam bit gently into Janet's finger, and smiled. "We didn't figure out the device yet, but General Hammond ordered me off the base. He knows I stay up all night if he just orders me to my quarters. Bastard." That earned a small chuckle from Janet, and Sam, pleased, took Janet's hand and drew it back to her face, nuzzling the palm. "How's the brat?"
Janet rolled her eyes. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States Air Force, and to the republics for which it stands, one planet, protected by the Asgard--She says that part really fast." Janet twinkled. "With liberty and justice for all aliens."
"She says that every day?" Sam's eyes widened.
"Apparently since they reinstituted the home room policy."
Sam laughed and shook her head.
Janet slid over, and wrapped her arms around Sam's waist. "Why are you wearing this?" Janet bumped Sam's shoulder with her nose, indicating the cotton shirt.
"You told me I look sexy in it."
"You do." Janet slid her hands under Sam's shirt, caressing her back and snuggling closer. Sam dipped her head down for a long, slow kiss. "Minty fresh," Janet sighed contentedly, and kissed Sam again, leisurely exploring her, trailing her tongue along Sam's lips, slipping into her mouth.
Sam slowly pushed Janet back into the pillows.
* * *
The next day, a loud pounding at the door woke Cassandra from her light dozing on the couch. The Cartoon Network was on, and as she sat up, fruit loop crumbs cascaded off her chest. She ignored the knocking for a while, until she was awake enough to sufficiently realize it might be a somber officer with an unfortunate telegram.
"Shit!" She bounded off the couch, raced to the door, and flung it open.
A prim, small woman stood at the door, with a stern but curious expression on her face. The door had vanished in mid-knock, so she lowered her left fist and looked chagrined.
Cassandra gawked at her.
"I'm Gloria Garavelli, with the social services department. Are you Cassandra..." The woman looked at the clipboard she held her right hand. "Fraiser?"
"Yeah, um..." Cassandra looked blankly at her, her mouth hanging slightly open in her best Jack O'Neill impression.
"I hear you had a little trouble at school yesterday?"
"Yeah, but... I got suspended for three days from school, but that was it, right? There wasn't going to be anymore...fallout." Cassandra peered at the woman quizzically.
"Oh, no, dear, you're not in any trouble." The woman reached out to pat Cassandra's arm, but Cassandra jumped back. The woman picked up the pen clipped to her clipboard and made a note. "Are your parents home?"
"No. Work."
"And who are your parents?"
Cassandra backed away further from the door. "Look, maybe I had better call someone."
The woman followed her inside, glancing around at the house. "Let me give you my card, dear, so you can tell whomever it is you're calling my name."
"Okay..." Cassandra took the card the woman unclipped from the clipboard and handed to her, and went to the phone in the kitchen. Gloria Garavelli continued to poke around.
After a moment, Cassandra returned to the living room and watched the woman examining her cereal bowl. "He'll be here in about 20 minutes. Do you...want anything to drink or anything?"
Garavelli smiled at Cassandra. "Coffee would be lovely, if you have it."
Cassandra disappeared into the kitchen again.
A half an hour passed in relative silence, with Cassandra glowering sullenly at the television, trying not to let on how freaked she was about whatever the hell was happening, and Garavelli smiling patiently, talking sporadically about how beautiful Colorado was and her personal history.
A knock at the door startled them both, and Cassandra went to answer it, still in pajamas. She led a clean-cut airman back into the living room, then stared at him expectantly.
"I'm Second Lieutenant Jose Cavanaugh of the United States Air Force, ma'ams." To Cassandra he added, "She is who she says she is. I'm to stay and observe as long as she is here."
Garavelli was a bit put off. "Do you have legal status here?"
"Yes ma'am, I do." Cavanaugh replied smoothly, and pulled a single folded piece of paper from his jacket. He offered it to Garavelli, and she skimmed it, raising an eyebrow. While she was reading, the lieutenant passed Cassandra a note. Gloria Garavelli does not have clearance.
Garavelli turned her attention to Cassandra again.
"I just have a few questions about yesterday, and things going on that might have led up to it. Just procedure."
Cassandra looked at her. "I understand procedure." She flopped onto the couch.
"Your mother is an Air Force officer?"
"Yes."
"Does she keep a gun in the house?"
Cassandra's head whipped around to stare at Garavelli with outrage, and replied, "She's a doctor."
"Does she work long hours?"
"Sometimes," Cassandra said, and then added defensively, "What she does is important." Her tone held an edge of anger, and she realized as soon as she had spoken that she probably sounded whiny. She clamped her jaw shut.
"More important than you?"
Cassandra just glowered at her.
Garavelli consulted her clipboard. "Who are the Asgard?"
"Norse gods."
"And what do you mean when you refer to aliens?"
"Mexicans."
Jose Cavanaugh, standing at attention in entranceway, smirked.
"Does your mother ever have boyfriends over?"
Cassandra paused, glancing at Cavanaugh, who nodded slightly at her. "No."
"Girlfriends?"
Cassandra's voice caught in her throat, and she hesitated before answering. "No."
Gloria glanced at the clipboard again, pursing her lips, and seemed to collect her thoughts before speaking again. "Why did you hit that boy, Cassandra?"
Cassandra shrugged. "I dunno. It happened so fast."
"Did punching him have something to do with Ra?"
Cassandra met Jose's eyes again. "Egyptians are...just so overrated. Book of the Dead, yadda yadda." She shrugged. "No one talks about the Asgard anymore. Thor, Odin, Loki... And they're so cool, you know, in a Douglas Adams kind of way."
"Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul," Garavelli nodded, and grinned.
Cassandra looked at her in surprise, and mentally gave her a few points.
"Where did you live before Colorado Springs?"
"Toronto."
Garavelli looked at her clipboard. "That's funny...we weren't able to find any records of you there."
Cassandra shrugged. "We moved a long time ago."
"Are you eating enough?"
"Are you kidding me?" Cassandra stared at Garavelli. "My mom's a doctor. I'm the only one in my grade who isn't anorexic."
The woman nodded, consulted her clipboard again, consulted the expression of the airman, and studied Cassandra. "Well, I'm done for now, but you have my card if you ever want to talk, okay?"
"Okay..." Cassandra looked warily at her, as if not believing she would actually go.
The woman was standing. "Sometimes, kids with similar backgrounds, it ends up that they're orphans, or separated from a parent...If you ever want to talk." She didn't look at Cassandra as she headed to the front door and let herself out.
After a beat, the lieutenant left, too, leaving Cassandra alone in the house.
* * *
"Dr. Fraiser, phone for you again."
Hammond didn't sound happy, Janet thought, as she replaced the phone on it's hook. Inhaling, she made her way to his office.
"Yes, sir?"
Hammond covered the receiver and squinted at her. "How did they get this number, anyhow? I thought all non-cleared matters went through your offices at the Academy?"
That gave Janet pause. "I don't know, sir. That's still proper procedure."
He shrugged, and handed her the phone.
"Fraiser."
"Hello, Dr. Fraiser, this is Gloria Garavelli, with Child Protective Services. I'd like to schedule an interview with you, to discuss your fitness as a legal guardian of Cassandra Fraiser."
* * *
Janet had returned to the lab where she and Sam were working on the pieces found inside the Jaffa corpse. She'd coarsely told Sam about the conversation with the social worker. When Sam had gone to hold her, she'd frozen and lifted her hand, with a "I don't want to talk about it." Now they were working in stony silence.
Sam looked at the device from one angle. Then she looked at the device from another angle. Then she went to the computer and rotated the three-dimensional model. Then she went to poke it.
"Don't."
Sam sighed, and looked over at Janet, whose presence she had been trying to avoid. "It's inert."
"You never know. It could be dangerous."
"Look," Sam said in exasperation, "The sooner we figure out whether this thing is a) going to explode, or b) useful in any way, we can go back to--"
"To Cassandra?" Janet cut her off. "Don't you think she's slightly more important than--"
"Than work?" Sam looked down at the table and gritted her teeth. "I don't know, damnit."
"You don't know? I know. My daughter is in trouble and I'm stuck here and that's not acceptable." Janet glowered at her, that cold, impenetrable glower that she cast on generals and aliens alike.
Sam opened her mouth to say, Why don't you just leave, then,, but she caught herself. She knew Janet would. After being forced to make a choice like that and defy a direct order, Janet might not come back. And that was unacceptable. She bit her lip as hard as she could to keep from crying out, and poked at the device.
Nothing happened.
Sam inhaled. "Our work is important, too," she said quietly. "We can't just stop." She reset the device to a new angle, and prepared to poke again.
"I know," Janet replied. She sounded forlorn, Sam thought, but not desperate anymore.
"Cassie'll be okay," Sam continued.
Janet exhaled. "You can count on it."
* * *
Janet, Sam, and Cassandra were all slumped in chairs at the kitchen table that night, picking glumly at Chinese food. Cassandra was the most adept at chopsticks, but she wasn't really eating, just picking up one little baby corn, staring at it, and putting it back in the box. Janet suspected that chopsticks were more similar than forks to Cassandra's utensils back on her home planet, but they had never discussed it.
Sam was not very adept with chopsticks, and was eating with her hands. Such an airman. At least she was eating, quite voraciously. She never knew when her next meal was coming, so upset or not, hungry or not, she ate when told. And all too often, when not told, she didn't eat. She was thinner than her job told her she should be, despite Jack and Daniel eating everything in sight most of the time.
Such was the state of Janet's family life. She sighed.
Cassandra and Sam immediately looked at her. Cassandra spoke quickly. "I said I was sorry--"
"I'm not mad," Janet said. "At you." She amended.
"Then why--" Cassandra tried again, only to be cut off by Janet putting her face in her hand. Like she had a migraine, Cassandra thought. Like they were tiring her out.
"I'm mad at myself," Janet said firmly.
Cassandra and Sam looked sullenly down at their food. Sam had stopped eating.
"Why did I ever think I could be a good mother?" Cassandra and Sam looked startled. Janet went on. "Why was I so arrogant to think--if I just read a few books--I could do this." Janet looked around the kitchen, desperately, a bit lost, and she couldn't seem to focus on the two other people there, who were staring into white cardboard containers and trying not to flinch.
"Let's look at this logically--" Sam offered.
"No." Janet looked down at her chopsticks, and threw them onto the table with disgust. "This was all a joke. I just got caught. Look, I can't even provide proper nutrition. And I'm a doctor. I don't belong with Cassandra."
With a cry and a sudden scraping noise, Cassandra pushed back her chair and leapt to her feet. She stared at Janet for a moment, looking like she wanted to say something, but her face was paralyzed into an anguished expression by too many words and too many emotions trying to come out of her all at once. With one wild glance at Sam, she ran from the room. A moment later, the sound of a slamming door echoed through the house.
"What did I say?" Janet blinked at Sam.
Sam's eyes had widened into saucers, but she didn't have an answer.
Janet stood up and ran after her daughter.
* * *
Sheer habit made Janet knock on Cassandra's door, rather than entering.
"Go away!"
"Cassandra..."
She tried knocking again.
Cassandra screamed.
Sensing that this could only escalate, and motivated by the headache creeping up her neck, Janet paused a moment to beg forgiveness of the teenage gods--Asgard, this week?--and flung open the door to her daughter's room.
Cassandra had flung herself onto the bed diagonally and was crying. She sprawled the same way Sam did whenever Sam slept alone, and the sight made Janet smile. She may be raising the kid, but the girl sure took after Carter. Smart, stubborn, incorrigible...Okay, perhaps she was taking after both of them.
You stupid mother,, Janet's heart told her. A step up from You bad mother, she knew. What had she said? That she was going to abandon her daughter, like 1.6 million inhabitants of her homeworld had, leave her starving and crawling in the ruins with a bomb in her belly. Stupid, stupid. She could see now that this wasn't about her, or her perception of the quality of life she could provide. Cassandra needed her, and she was going to protect Cassandra until her grave, and that's all there was to it. Wish I'd have figured that out before I made her hate me...
She knelt on the side of the bed, not touching Cassandra--not wanting another scream. "Hey, Cassie? Back on the other planet, did you use chopsticks?"
"Wha--?" The question startled Cassandra so much she dropped her defenses and she rolled over, staring at Janet. She scrunched up her head, trying to think. Just like Sam. Janet nearly giggled. "I don't know. I don't remember much of anything before SG1 found me. You said it was post-traumatic stress syndrome, and that it was all right." Cassandra peered at her quizzically, worry creeping into her tear-stained features.
Oops. "Of course it's all right, honey. I just had a random thought at dinner. Never mind." Janet reached out to smooth Cassandra's hair away from her tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry for what I said. It doesn't matter. I'm stuck with you and you're stuck with me, crappy mom or not."
Cassandra allowed herself a cautious smile. "What about Sam?"
"Sam's not going anywhere. She loves you." Janet tapped Cassandra's nose. "Even more than wormhole physics. And she invented that."
Cassandra's brow furrowed. "Because she'll never have kids of her own?"
"Kids of her own? She already has you, squirt." But both women frowned anyway, as Janet leaned down to rest her cheek against her daughter's shoulder.
* * *
When Janet came back into the kitchen, Sam was leaning heavily against the counter, facing the sink. Her eyes were closed, squeezed shut, and her skin had telltale blotches.
"Sam?"
Sam's back went rigid, and she lifted her head, but kept her eyes shut. "Hey."
"What are you doing?" Janet approached her cautiously.
"Thinking."
Janet leaned her hip against the counter, facing Sam's profile. "About what?"
"I was thinking if Gloria finds out about us, she'd have a real reason to take Cassandra away." Sam inhaled through her nose. "And maybe they're right."
Janet blinked. "Who's right?"
"The military. The social worker. The state." Sam shook her head. "Even the president. People I trust... Institutions I'd give my life to defend. Wouldn't they be right? I would kill for them in a heartbeat. I have killed for them." Sad blue eyes turned to meet Janet's. "How could it be possible that so many people could be wrong?"
Janet reached for her, but Sam turned back to the sink. "Maybe you were right. Cassandra deserves... better. Two women. Two workaholics. Doesn't she deserve a family? A white picket fence? Heck, isn't that what we're fighting for?" She inhaled. "You're a good mom, Janet, but I'm never here--"
"Stop!"
Janet's voice was so full of anguish that Sam froze, and allowed Janet to take her face in tender hands, and draw her to face the small woman again. "Just stop." Janet stroked Sam's cheek. "You are a good person, Samantha. A kind person. I've never seen you do anything that wasn't right. Including _this_." She reached up and tucked a blond lock behind Sam's ear. "Cassandra has no doubts about where she belongs. Neither should you."
Sam sighed with relief as her eyes finally found Janet's, after a day of doubting, and let her head roll forward, to press her forehead against Janet's chestnut hair. "Okay. Let's do this mathematically." She gave Janet a moment to protest before she continued. "If I'm right is our given, what statements can we make?"
Janet bit her lip. "The phone calls came to Hammond's office. The line that the president uses. Cassandra's school doesn't have that number, and it's not in any of her records. Also, I ran a background check on Gloria Garavelli. $29.95 on the net. She's only been at CPS a week. Before that, she worked at a think tank in Washington."
Sam exhaled. "Sounds like a familiar equation."
"The NID."
* * *
"I delayed this meeting," General George Hammond said to those gathered around the conference table, "So that I could make some inquiries. I spoke with a representative of the school board, and the director of CPS, and even the Secretary of State." He sighed, and looked directly at Fraiser. "NID or not, our hands are tied on this one."
Janet looked at her lap.
Carter clenched her jaw.
O'Neill threw up his hands. "General--"
"Colonel, I'm sorry. These people do not like the military, for fundamental reasons. And you're fully aware that domestic abuse cases involving soldiers are on the rise."
Sam gritted her teeth.
"General, in that case," Janet said hoarsely, "I'd like to tender--"
"Hear me out first, doctor." Hammond cut her off. "Cassandra is important to this program. The president understands this. Not only in a biological sense, but developmentally, and perhaps in the future, diplomatically. We have a vested interest in keeping her involved with Stargate."
Daniel blinked. "You mean, if we go public," he murmured, "She'd be a poster child for interspecies relations."
"Exactly." Hammond placed a file on the table. "We need to see that this happens, people. Legitimately. I expect your full cooperation to help prove to this woman that Cassandra is where she belongs."
* * *
Gloria Garavelli knocked on the door of the Fraiser household at noon. Distantly, she heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner turning off, and then silence. She knocked again. Footsteps, and then the door swung inward to reveal a large black man in a fishing hat. He smiled jovially at her. She was oddly frightened.
"I--" she squeaked. "I'm Gloria Garavelli. Cassandra Fraiser's social worker?"
"I have heard of you," the man spoke with deep, rumbling tones. "I am Murray."
"Are you another legal guardian of Cassandra Fraiser...Murray?"
"I am not," he intoned. Then he looked over his shoulder, seemingly for confirmation, before continuing. "I am a friend. I work with Dr. Fraiser and the US Government."
"What are you doing here?"
"Since Dr. Fraiser had to work, and Cassandra must stay home as punishment for her deed, I am...sitting."
Again, he twitched in response to something inaudible behind him. "I am supervising." He smiled broadly at her, and again she felt a shiver of fear. "Would you like to come in?" Murray stepped back.
Gloria entered the house cautiously. The vacuum cleaner was propped against the wall of the living room, and there was an odor of something sweet...incense. Murray grabbed a rag, and began dusting the television. "How may we help you, GloriaGaravelli?"
We? "Er... Where's Cassandra?"
"She is sleeping. Dr. Fraiser tells me teenagers need a great deal of sleep, to compensate for the energy spent in growth. And due to their rigorous training schedule."
Training? "Training?"
Murray paused in his dusting, and looked abashed. He opened his mouth, but a voice from behind Gloria interrupted him.
"He means school, of course," said a lighthearted voice. "You know those military types."
Gloria turned around to see a young man in glasses and a demure sweater approach her, carrying a laundry basket, which he settled onto the staircase before smiling at her.
"Hi, I'm Daniel Jackson." He offered his hand.
She shook it. "Military types? So, you're not one?"
"No, no." He grinned. "I'm an archeologist. I consult with Janet's department, and Murray, but I am very much a civilian." He blushed, and folded his arms, swaying from foot to foot.
Gloria tried again for composure. "And what are you doing here?"
"Laundry," Daniel smiled broadly. She assumed he was trying to be charming. Unimpressed, she stared at him until he blushed deeper. "Um, we're just helping out. You know, since this has been a difficult week." His tone was pointed.
She acknowledged his words. "I'm trying to do what's best by Cassandra. Period."
"Who's to say what's the best way to raise a child? The Spartans of Ancient Greece raised both male and female children in a strict militaristic tradition, akin to military schools of today, teaching them discipline and sword fighting long before scholarly pursuits, or love." The pitch of Daniel Jackson's voice increased as his excitement grew. "And the Ancient Sumerians firmly believed in the 'it takes a village' approach. Children were as communal, as--as cattle. Not to mention the coming of age rites of some Native American tribes, which entail..."
Gloria sighed, and settled in for a long lecture on cultural relativism. She was not disappointed.
* * *
"Come have lunch with me?"
Despite the phrasing in the form of a question, Sam knew she couldn't refuse. Janet had used the tone she used whenever she gave orders, which was rare--about as rare as them having lunch together. Janet wasn't on the base every day, and even when she was, their schedules were too divergent. Any time they worked together, it was on a project too dire for chow breaks.
Still, Sam protested, simply on principle. "I don't know, Janet. This device might blow at any minute."
"Sam, it's just lying there." Janet gazed at her sternly.
Sam sighed. "All right." She stood up and straightened her shirt. Janet caught her around the waist, and looked up, her black eyes finding Sam's. "I want you to know that whatever happens, I love you." She brushed her lips chastely against Sam's neck, then stepped back and squeezed her hand.
Carter followed her out, suddenly filled with dread.
* * *
They were across from each other at a small table in the mess. Sam had placed a tuna fish sandwich on her tray, but only perfunctorily. She stared at Janet.
"Sam, eat." Janet sighed.
"Tell me what's going on, first." Sam glowered at her.
"I..." Janet looked away. She found a picture of a fighter jet on the far wall of the mess and stared at it hard, gathering courage from it's mundane disassociativeness. "I think we should stop seeing each other." She gulped. There, it was said.
"Until this whole thing blows over," she continued, into Sam's stunned silence. She looked over at Sam. Sam's eyes were wider than she'd ever seen them, and every ounce of hurt was etched in her face.
"What?!"
Janet winced, looking around quickly. Airmen had raised their heads to glance at the pair, but quickly looked away when Janet's roving gaze landed on them. The CMO sighed. She hadn't wanted to make a scene. She thought that in a public place, she'd be able to present a calm, rational case. But there on Sam's face was open, aching heartbreak. She should have known. Sam expressed every emotion she felt for the entire world to see.
Janet looked back at Sam, hard, uncompromising. She could see Sam thinking, calculating the best tactical approach. Would she hurt Janet? Would she topple the plastic table? Would she call her stupid, or wrong, or a coward? Tears filled Janet's eyes as anger filled Sam's.
When Sam finally spoke, her voice was so low that only Janet could hear the words. "She's my daughter, too."
"Then you should think about what's best for her," Janet said coldly, and stood up, quickly exiting the mess hall.
Sam pushed her tray away. When she was sure she could move without breaking, she slowly stood. Pretending she couldn't see every airman in the room staring at her, she made her way out, and back to her lab, where she spent several long minutes screaming into the cool, gray concrete of the bunker wall.
* * *
Later that night, Samantha Carter was still in her lab, still poking at the device they had recovered from the belly of a dead Jaffa. Teal'c had joined her, and she was comforted by his presence. He stood solidly between her and the world, protecting her from harm. He could not, however, protect her from the stupid, godforsaken piece of third-rate tin foil in her lab.
"Damn, I don't understand this." Carter growled at the device, which lay tauntingly still on the metal tray.
"Have you not proven already that it is not a danger?" Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose." Carter shook her head. "But that's not good enough. I need to know what it is."
"Perhaps if you took it apart?"
"I don't know where to begin." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Teal'c. I'm more distracted than I should be about this mess with Cassie."
"I see." He paused. "When I begin to think of the danger that Rya'c is in, I am comforted by the knowledge that what I am doing here will one day free him."
"I'm not so sure I'm doing the right thing with Cassie." Sam looked down at her hands. Her thoughts wandered back to the scene in the mess hall. Had Janet cut her out, or had she let herself be removed from the situation?
"You must learn the answer to that question before you speak with Gloria Garavelli."
Carter looked at him unhappily. "You're right."
He looked around the lab, and asked curiously, "Where is Colonel O'Neill?"
"He's with Cassandra, making sure no one snatches her out from under us while Janet makes an appointment with a lawyer."
"Ah. Then she is in good hands. You have no need for distraction."
"Good point. Okay, let's take it apart." She gestured at the cylinder. "There's nothing incendiary inside. Just a bunch of wires, but they don't appear to be attached to anything."
Teal'c took it in his hands, and with a firm twist and a tear of aluminum, broke the device in two. Carter whistled at him, and he peered inside the cylinder, holding it to the light.
"It appears to have been made in Taiwan," Teal'c reported calmly.
"Fucking bastards!"
* * *
"See right there?" Jack said, waving the paper in front of the hapless social worker's face. "Legal. Guardian. It says legal guardian. Comprende?" He was bigger than the woman, and he used it to his advantage, getting in her face and waving his arms like a crazy man. He pointed at his name on the sheet. "Jack. O'Neill. Two "L"s."
The woman refused to back out of the doorway. She kept her eyes on her clipboard, to avoid looking at the man. The combination of disturbed mentality and military uniform, complete with sidearm, made an imposing figure. Better to ignore it.
"I have here... Janet Fraiser, as legal guardian." She tapped her clipboard with her pen.
"Me too!" Jack waved his papers some more.
She tapped some more, glancing at the handwritten notes at the bottom of the form. "And Samantha Carter?"
"Nope."
She looked at the man with surprise. "No?"
"Just me. And Dr. Fraiser. Me and Dr. Fraiser."
The woman squinted at him. "And do you always call your wife by her title and last name?"
His mouth opened slightly. "Out of respect."
"I see."
"Look, Mr.--"
"O'Neill."
"Two "L"s."
Jack nodded.
"I want what's best for Cassandra. I'm willing to be open-minded about it. But you have got to stop dicking around."
Jack looked chagrined. "Why?"
"Because having a child raised by--" She paused when Jack arched a quizzical eyebrow at her, and had to look at her clipboard for support, "the military--is pretty creepy."
"No creepier than having a social worker from the NID."
That froze her, and she shook her head to clear it. "I was a low-level analyst. Yes, I worked in domestic terrorism, and yes, when I said I wanted to do more good with my life, they suggested Colorado Springs. For the weather. And maybe," she glared at him, "They even had a hand in my first case. I don't know. But something's going on here. Something not normal, and perhaps not appropriate. Working for the NID may have given me the paranoia to smell a government conspiracy when I'm near one, so be it, now I want to know what's going on."
Jack looked dumbly at her for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "Dr. Fraiser is a medical doctor who works at the US Air Force Academy. She is a good doctor and a lovely woman, and a decent parent." He dared at her to challenge the statement.
"And Cassandra is well-adjusted and healthy. On the surface. Why, though, are you a legal guardian, if a Major Samantha Carter gets custody in Janet Fraiser's living will? Why, in the instance of catastrophe, does legal status revert back to the US Air Force, in care of one," she glanced at her clipboard, "General George Hammond?"
"George is a nice enough guy."
She sighed. "Why do Cassie's records begin four years ago in Colorado? Where did she come form?"
"Outer space."
Garavelli rolled her eyes. "Who are the Asgard?"
"Little gray ali--I mean, gods," he stammered. "From Holland, or something. Ancient Holland."
"Ah ha!" She looked smugly at him.
O'Neill sighed. "Would you like to come in?"
He led to the Fraiser living room, now immaculately clean, she noticed. He waved her into a chair and settled himself on the couch, settling his feet on the coffee table.
"Does Dr. Fraiser let you put your feet up there?"
"If you tell her, she'll kill me." He looked serious.
She waited. He took his feet down.
"All right." He straightened up a bit. "You don't have top secret security clearance."
"Right."
"Because you're a lesbian."
She inhaled. "Correct. You read my file?"
"Yup." He shrugged one shoulder. "I can only tell you the basics. But you have to believe it's the truth. Not the whole truth, but the honest truth. I need your trust." He looked at her with soulful brown eyes.
"I'm listening."
"We found Cassie on a mission..."
* * *
Back at her office in Colorado, Gloria sighed inwardly as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. Cassandra Fraiser's paperwork was spread out before her, and she was transcribing her handwritten notes.
"This is unacceptable, Ms. Garavelli," Senator Kinsey's gravelly voice rumbled through the phone. "Cassandra Fraiser is living in godlessness and you can do nothing?"
Gloria's patience snapped. "Don't go there, Senator. My investigation is not complete, but yes, I'm leaning toward Cassandra being in a healthy and stable home environment." She inhaled. "If you have any evidence to the contrary, perhaps you had better share it with me. Otherwise, I've got 15 other cases on my desk. Kids that actually need my help, Senator."
She heard, to her astonishment, the Senator taking the lord's name in vain quite verbosely before he hung up on her.
* * *
At 5:30 AM on a Tuesday morning, when sunlight was just beginning to penetrate gray mist, Sam opened her front door and blinked in surprise when she found a prim woman standing in front of her.
"Major Carter?" To Sam's nod, she continued, "You're a hard woman to find," Garavelli smiled, testing the waters. "I saw your light go on, so I figured...you were awake."
Sam blinked again at her, shrugged, then took the toothbrush out of her mouth. "You're Gloria Garavelli?" Garavelli nodded, and Sam went on. "I've been busy at work," she said around toothpaste coating her tongue.
"I understand."
Sam waited for her to go away.
"Can I come in?"
Carter sighed, and pushed the door open wider. "The kitchen is straight down the hall. Let me finish in the bathroom."
Garavelli made her way into the kitchen. Coffee was percolating and gave off a rich scent, but visually, the room was bare and sterile. Like Samantha Carter didn't spend any time there, like her existence was elsewhere.
Sam padded back into the kitchen, drawing her bathrobe around her. "Coffee?"
"Please."
A mug was provided from a cabinet, and Gloria noticed that the cup read Astrophysicists do it until the stars burn out. She looked quizzically at Sam.
Sam blushed. She was rubbing her fingers against each other, fidgeting, while she waited for Garavelli to do whatever it is she had come to do.
"I've been looking into Cassandra Fraiser's home situation..." Garavelli began.
Sam nodded.
"I've spoken to Jack O'Neill, and he told me everything."
Sam twitched, and looked at Garavelli with surprise.
"Well, he told me enough. I'm satisfied that, despite her oblique military connections, Cassandra is in good hands. She does not seem to be adversely affected by Janet's workload, nor does she seem to act out in inappropriate ways. At least, more than a normal teenager."
Gloria looked hard at Sam, who wasn't looking at her, but who was listening closely, she could tell. "Cassandra wants a normal life more than most young women her age would. That concerns me. But I believe that placing her in a more...traditional... home setting would only serve to point out her own differences more starkly than being surrounded by other...different... people who can provide validation and security.
"I get all that. It's fine." Gloria took a sip of her coffee. "What I don't get...is you."
"Me?" Sam looked surprised. "What do I have to do with any of this?"
"Exactly. Jack told me that you bonded with Cassandra on the 'mission,' and--"
Sam's mouth dropped open and she looked like she was going to protest, but couldn't think of anything to say.
Gloria continued. "I wonder why you didn't adopt her? Why Janet Fraiser?"
"My life is...more complicated than Janet's. She can provide a more stable home."
"And yet--"
"And yet what? I'm still involved in Cassie's life. I'm just not the primary caregiver. Neither is Jack, or Daniel, or, T--" Sam paused, her brain flipping quickly through cover stories.
"Murray," Gloria supplied helpfully.
"Murray. But that doesn't mean we love her any less."
Gloria nodded amicably. "That's what I needed to see for myself." She stood up. "I won't be bothering you all anymore."
"What about--"
"The NID?" Gloria shook her head. "Whatever strings they pulled to bring Cassandra to my attention, they have not pressured my conclusions. Perhaps they'll try harder next time." She shrugged. "But I'm satisfied with my findings, and I'll stand by them."
"No, not that." Sam said. "What about..." She took a deep breath. "Whatever you've discovered?"
Gloria lifted a hand to cut her off. "I believe there's a POTUS Executive Order covering what kind of questions I can ask, intended to protect the privacy rights of certain individuals. Especially in regards to the welfare of a child." Gloria studied her. "I believe it's important that I not let personal feelings interfere, and instead follow the letter of the law. Don't you agree?"
Sam looked blankly at her. "In theory."
Gloria nodded, and made her way out.
Sam looked around the empty kitchen, and folded her arms over her chest. "Huh."
* * *
Janet leaned against the doorjamb and watched Sam work in her lab. Why were they always having these conversations here at work? She shook her head. Those thoughts weren't for today. She had amends to make. Janet cleared her throat.
Sam looked up quickly, and couldn't stop the flash of joy that came over her features as she saw Janet. Her voice, though, was sullen. "Hi."
"Hi." Janet walked into the lab. Closer to Carter. "Can we talk?"
"I'm not so sure how many 'conversations' I can take," Sam said haltingly, running her hand through her shaggy hair. She tried to sound flippant, but she sounded angry.
"I'm sorry," Janet said. "I was stupid."
Sam snorted. "You were just acting in the best interest of the child."
Don't get defensive. This is your fault, own up to it. Janet took a deep breath. "I thought I was." She sighed. "But my initial assumption was incorrect."
Sam's head lifted, and Janet inwardly smirked at getting her attention with a smattering of the scientific method. Sam was easy. And simple. And Janet had broken her heart. She sobered. She should have really known better.
"I should have really known better," Janet said.
Sam didn't look at her.
Janet walked closer, so that they shared the same air, but she didn't touch her tall, hurting partner. "I thought that if I took away the evidence of what we--Of what I was, I could erase the intrinsic quality, too."
Sam looked at her.
"I was wrong," Janet continued. She placed her hands on Sam's arms, and stepped into her personal space. "With or without you, I'm still...a lesbian. Samantha..."
Sam wrapped her arms around Janet, and looked down at her, but said nothing.
"I need you," Janet continued, softly, throatily. The warmth in her was back; she was all tenderness, no hardness. She molded herself into Sam's lean, strong body. "I need you just as much as I need Cassandra."
It was the barest of movements, how the muscles of Sam's arms under Janet's fingers contracted, that let Janet know Sam had forgiven her. "I need you way more than I need this flyboy gig," Janet purred, finally.
Sam smiled at her, and they kissed. Carefully, Janet stretched on her toes to press her mouth softly against Sam's. When their lips parted, Janet fit herself into the crook of Sam's neck and held onto her. Finally, since the first phone call from Hammond, she felt safe.
Moments later, another throat cleared in the general vicinity of the doorjamb. Carter lifted her cheek from Janet's hair and looked over. Jack waved.
"Was thinking, now that the kid's cleared, we should celebrate our validation of parents, even Murray, by having a party. There should be beer. Responsible parents serve beer. And pizza?"
Janet laughed, and looked at the Colonel. "Sure. My house Friday night?"
Jack pouted. "Can't we do it at Carter's? I've been wanting to give that maid service of hers something to clean up for ages."
Sam glowered at him.
"Fine, fine, the doc's." He grinned and ducked out of the doorway, leaving them alone again.
* * *
"Why didn't you tell me it was sheer incompetence that got her fired from the NID?" Kinsey's face was red and he was breathless from screaming into the phone.
"I told you when this first started that they were too squeaky clean to do it by the book. How many times has it been since the SGC trumped us on 'procedure'?"
"Fine, it was the wrong approach. Next time we'll have to be a lot less subtle. We need that girl before she comes of age. God is watching us."
"What did you have in mind?"
* * *
After the party, Janet's house was returned to normal. Pizza boxes, sneakers, and plastic bags were scattered about the floor of the living room, instilling a feeling of home that left everyone content. Satisfied in their work, the guys had left, joking about which one would get to teach Cassandra how to drive. Cassandra found it unfunny, and had stomped off to the kitchen.
Sam took a final swallow from her beer bottle and settled into the overstuffed chair. The stars outside the picture window were a bit fuzzy, and she was feeling no pain. Whatever judgments the world offered, they weren't reaching her tonight. She traced the constellations she could see in the sliver of sky, amusing herself by naming them by how the nearby planets saw them. Of course, even from Abydos, the night was slightly skewed, so she had to calculate the shift in galactic perspective, which required the equation for--
"Hey, whatcha doing?" A cold hand found the back of Sam's neck, slid upwards to bury slender fingers in her blond locks, and rub her scalp. Sam moaned.
"I was naming the constellations."
"Mm, romantic." The hand slid from her skin, as Janet circled the chair and settled between Sam's legs, looking up at the stars, too. Sam giggled.
"What?" Janet looked over her shoulder, her black eyes stern on her partner. Sam's blue eyes sparkled back at her.
"You're sitting so primly. Do you keep a broomstick in your back?" Sam touched Janet's back.
Janet huffed. "Good posture is important for your health." She poked Sam's leg. "Besides, it makes me look taller."
Sam couldn't help but giggle again. "No it doesn't."
"Hush," Janet said, slapping Sam's thigh. "Tell me about the stars."
Sam scooted up and wrapped her arms around Janet, resting her cheek on Janet's shoulder. "Many of them no longer exist. By the time their light reaches us, they've burned out." She paused a moment to nuzzle Janet's ear. "We used to know that. I mean, intrinsically. Only in the last hundred years have we gazed at the stars and seen the future. Advancement, exploration. Conquest. For thousands of years before that, people knew... the Ancients knew... that we were looking backward. Whether you saw fallen heroes, or fallen gods... the sky is just a memory."
Janet craned her head to look at Sam. "Rather despondent, Sam."
"Sure makes our problems look small." Sam grinned.
Janet had to kiss her. She did, sloppily, off-balance, throwing herself onto her partner. Her lips slipped from Sam's onto her cheek, and then drew a wet trail to the smooth neck, where, infected by Sam's mood, she giggled. She felt Sam's lips bury themselves in her hair. "Let's go upstairs," she murmured, placing her hands on strong, slender shoulders to push herself up.
"No, let's stay right here." Sam responded, wrapping her arms around Janet's waist.
"The window's open."
"Isn't that what we were fighting for?" Sam dipped her head to kiss Janet, taking Janet's upper lip between her teeth. "The right to do this in front of the whole world?" She nipped at Janet. "To be ourselves. Natural. Carnal."
"I suppose..." Janet breathed against Sam's mouth. In truth, she wasn't one for flaunting it. The NID could be outside, or the FBI, or the school board. "You're so--" Reckless was the first thing that came to mind, so many examples of Sam nearly destroying the planet in her enthusiasm, but Janet knew whatever residual issues she had about her lover's personality, now wasn't the time. "Dangerous," she chose instead, purring. Maybe for once she could try it Sam's way. A few more kisses and all Janet could think about was how good Sam tasted. And Sam's breasts--Janet's hands slid down to caress them, cupping each one in a knowing hand--Sam's breasts were so soft.
Sam had cupped her face in her hands, and was kissing her face. The overstuffed chair mostly concealed them, and Janet's fingers were busy finding their way under Sam's shirt to stroke her abdomen--
"Gross!"
They simultaneously jerked away from each other, and looked in the direction of the sound.
"Gross!" Cassandra said again from the entryway. "I could have gone my whole life without seeing my parents kiss like that."
Janet and Sam looked at each other.
"My whole life!" Cassandra retreated from view, and they heard her pounding upstairs, followed moments later by a door slamming. They waited, and soon the dull thud of bass came through the ceiling.
"Let's go upstairs," Sam murmured.
"Yeah."
* * *
Upstairs, Janet took control, pushing Sam against the closed door of their bedroom, kissing her hard. Sam's mouth yielded, opened to her pressure, and she slipped her tongue inside. She was intent on possessing Sam, on touching her core. She pressed her body against Sam, feeling her lover's heat rush through her.
"Wait," Sam gasped between kisses. Her face was flushed, and she sagged against the door at the perfect height for Janet, but precariously close to toppling to the floor. "Wait."
"Sam, I don't want to wait." Janet put her hands on the door, on either side of Sam's head, leaning heavily against the wood. Panting. "We haven't touched each other since Cassandra got suspended."
"I know." Sam straightened up, taking Janet's hands from beside her head and drawing them down between their bodies, squeezing them. "I know. Janet, you're acting like you're desperate to get it done before someone takes it away from us again." Janet looked away, and Sam relinquished her hands in order to cup her face, and draw her dark eyes back into view. "Let me prove to you that this will happen. That you can trust...us."
Sam stroked Janet's cheek with a fingertip, and Janet gave Sam her best skeptical look, but she remained quiet, watching Sam. She could see the calculations flickering behind Sam's eyes. Another reckless idea.
Sam smiled lazily. She bent down and kissed Janet's cheek, then her neck, while untucking the waist of Janet's gauzy sweater from her sensible slacks. "Why do you dress like a soccer mom?" She murmured against Janet's throat.
"Trusting you here," Janet warned, leaning back from Sam. Sam ducked her head, but followed Janet a step, sliding her hands under the shirt and cross her back. Janet relented, and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace. Her head was level with Sam's chest, and she couldn't really complain. But she did anyway. "Why do you wear skirts?"
"TouchŽ." Sam brushed a kiss of apology into Janet's hair, and then tugged the sweater over Janet's head. Bra followed it to the floor without further commentary, and then Sam slid to her knees, studying the sensible slacks with consternation. They had to come off. She reached up and unfastened the button, and then placed her hand on the zipper. Janet wasn't moving, just watching her with those black eyes. She wasn't sure Janet was breathing.
Quickly, she slid the zipper down, and then yanked down the pants, catching the waistband of Janet's jockeys in one movement, pooling clothing at her ankles. Then she stood and undressed as quickly as she could without making any embarrassing stumbles, and then pushed Janet onto the bed.
Then, Janet was underneath her, looking up at her with expectation.
Janet reached out to cup Sam's face, and let the weight of her arm guide her touch to Sam's arched neck and sloping breast. She thumbed Sam's nipple, already hard. "You're beautiful," Janet murmured simply. Her hand wandered lower to caress the soft curve of Sam's belly.
Sam's expression, watching her intently, was full of wisdom, until she smiled, and then her face was full of wonder. "I'm glad you think so," she said. She ran her hands down Janet's ribs, barely tickling her.
As Janet threw her head back with laughter, Sam lowered herself to kiss Janet's newly exposed neck. Janet continued to giggle. Sam's teeth were tickling her throat. Then Sam began kissing her in earnest. Her voracious lips brought blood rushing to the surface, and Janet's laughter caught in her throat as she pulled Sam closer.
Sam's teeth found the steel chain around Janet's neck and worried it, nipping and pulling, brushing against Janet's skin in the process. With her tongue she rolled the steel balls against Janet's flesh, leaving tiny indentations on Janet's body.
When she began to nibble her way down the left length of the chain, Janet, pinned under Sam's weight and unable to get stimulation where she needed it, protested. "Sam, what are you doing--"
"Shush," Sam said, hissing the word, before going back to her task. Janet glanced at the ceiling, then closed her eyes.
The teasing nicking of Sam's teeth against her skin stimulated her nerve endings, until it felt like all of her body's energy was focused on the thin line of her body where metal touched flesh. Commanded into silence by a senior officer, however slightly, she could not help but voice growls of encouragement. Why wasn't Sam kissing her harder?
Sam's lips had moved into the valley of her breasts. Just one moment of a strong mouth a little to the right or the left, and Janet wouldn't ask for anything ever again. In her mind, she pleaded, as Sam's tongue slid down her chest, blocked by an infuriating string of beads she had never really noticed before.
Then Sam pursed her lips and blew a thin stream of air onto the chain links between Janet's breasts. The metal and the saliva cooled instantly on Janet's skin, and her nerves spasms, her muscles contracted, and her nipples hardened. She groaned.
Sam drew the chain aside, the dog tags clinking together in her fingers, and lowered her head to Janet's breast. Her mouth captured the straining peak and she suckled firmly. "More," was all Janet could manage to say, as Sam's answering teeth, tugging at her nipple, took the rest of her breath away.
The chain was moved aside, then pushed upwards, bunching at the hollow of Janet's throat. Sam's mouth moved to the other breast, and she tasted her fill, leaving the mounds swollen and sensitive as she sat up, straddling Janet's waist. She smiled.
Janet couldn't breathe, but somehow she managed to raise an eyebrow. Sam's smile grew wider. She grabbed Janet's wrists, attached to hands that had been sliding up her thighs, intent on drawing her back, and she drew her wrists above the dark head. Then, pinning Janet's wrists with one hand, she tangled the fingers of her other in the silver necklace and freed it from Janet's neck. "Hold still," she warned, blue eyes flashing with wicked intelligence.
Sam let go of Janet's hands long enough to bind the wrists with the chain. She crouched over Janet, reaching down the back of the mattress. Her own breasts fell into Janet's face, but held down as she was, Janet couldn't move her head enough to capture a nipple. When groans and sighs of frustration didn't compel Sam to free her, she surrendered to the pleasure of Sam's weight on top of her.
Sam tucked the lip of the dog tags into the rope binding of the mattress, and Janet's hands were tied above her head. She slid back down, still smiling at her lover.
"Sam, what are you doing? I can't--"
Her words were cut off when Sam kissed her. Warm lips moved against hers, as Sam's body strained against hers. Their breasts slid against each other, their abdomens touched, their legs tangled in the sheets. Sam's lips moved to Janet's ear, and she suckled on the earlobe tenderly before whispering, "You're not a doctor." Sam's tongue slid against the rim of her ear. "You're not a mother." Her hand slid up to cup Janet's breast again, holding the weight in her palm. "It's just this." She tweaked the nipple.
Janet's eyes squeezed shut. Her body was tense, rigid, arched against Sam as she strained against her bonds. She wanted to touch Sam, even more than she wanted Sam to touch her. "Sam..." she breathed.
"No." Sam's lips were against her throat, now. "You are not in control." The blond head lifted and blue eyes found black ones. "There's just me." She bent her head again, and kiss Janet's collarbone softly. Then her lips moved up, finding Janet's chin, her cheek, her forehead. "Just this."
Trusting you... Slowly, Janet's senses began placating her mind. The heat from Sam's caressing hands moved through her body, touching her core, until all she could feel was the fire. She ached. Her throat opened, releasing incoherent whimpers. Janet was begging--First for release from the bonds and the torment, then for Sam, and finally, for it all to continue endlessly. She didn't realize she was crying until Sam pulled away, finding her eyes again.
Janet smiled up at her. "Just you." And she gave herself over to the blue heat, and the hand moving swiftly between her legs. Freed, she found her release, and cried out. Sam's mouth descended onto hers, connecting them, binding her to the universe. The chain snapped, and she brought her arms around Sam's neck, and laughed.
* * *
In her room, Cassie Fraiser felt a peace descend in the house. She turned down the bass of her stereo, and stretched out on her back in her unkempt bed, looking out at the stars, dreaming about what lay beyond them.
