Hands

By

Denise

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

I look at his hands lying on the bed and fight the urge to squeeze them tight. They’re so frail now, not at all like I remember. When did this happen? Why didn’t I notice?

His hands used to be so broad and warm when they’d pick me up after I’d fallen. I remember them stroking my head that winter when I got pneumonia and was so sick. They were hard and heavy when he’d delivered the dreaded spankings. Those strong fingers gently gripping the delicate blown glass Christmas ornaments mom loved so much.

They were feather light and trembling when they brushed her cold, still face and laid that single red rose on top of her coffin, the only sign of emotion I saw that horrible day.

I remember them brushing my back as he zipped up my prom dress one Saturday night in May.

They trembled, with pride I hope, the day he pinned my newly earned rank insignia on my shoulders, his calluses rough against the durable material of my dress uniform.

He’s always had calluses; their rough texture was one of the first things I recognized when I’d woken up in the sickbay in Iraq, sick and delirious from a scorpion sting.

I saw those same hands tighten into fists the day I told him the wedding was off and Jonus and I were through. To this day I don’t know if dad was angry with Jonus or me.

I remember those same hands grinding into my shoulders in frustration after I turned down his gift of NASA.

His hands have always been a barometer of his feelings, the emotions his military training won’t let him show on his face.

But they’re so weak now, lying placidly atop the regulation cotton blanket. I can see how thin and delicate the skin is, seeming barely to cover the bones and blood vessels. I think if I stare hard enough I can see the blood moving.

I take his hand, ignoring the fact that he doesn’t want me here. It is so cold and smooth, like a doll’s.

I look up and see the stubborn set of his face. Oh he so doesn’t want me here. Dad, why won’t you let me in? I want to care and help, why won’t you let me? What did I do to make you shut me out?

General Hammond speaks up and I shoot him a look. I wonder if he knows how grateful I am that he’s here? I guess I’m a coward but I need someone to back me up. How exactly do you tell your father that you’re exploring the universe through a big metal ring? Without him telling me I’m totally cracked that is. Better yet, how do I tell him I want him to share his body with an alien so he won’t die? It took me two weeks to work up the courage to tell him about Jonus…and I don’t have that much time, he doesn’t have that much time.

<><><><><>

I’m holding his hand again as we walk into the gateroom, Colonel O’Neill on his other side. The colonel makes it look like an escort but I can see it in his eyes, he’s ready to catch dad in case his stubbornness isn’t enough to keep his body going. His steps are timid and unsure. Where did that famed Carter confidence go? Did the cancer take that away too?

I’m amazed that he took it so well, maybe he’s just humoring me? Or maybe he’s loopy on painkillers. I can’t believe he agreed to go with us. Then again dad has always been one of those ‘I’ll believe it when I see it’ folks.

He jumps back a bit as the wormhole opens and I have to bite back a grin. See dad, I wasn’t lying. It is real, I’m not a total geek.

We make our way up the ramp and I feel the colonel helping more and more. All we’ve done is come from the hospital to the SGC. When did he get so weak? He used to run five miles every morning.

"What’s it feel like?" he asks me, pausing before the shimmering event horizon. I see the fear he’s trying to hide.

"You’ve handled worse dad," I try to reassure him, flashing back to my first trip through the gate, how I nearly passed out and lost my lunch all at the same time. He can’t back out, not now. Not when we’re this close.

"It’s a piece of cake sir," the colonel says, picking up on dad’s mood. He’s eager to get back too. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want dad dying on him or to get Daniel and Teal’c back, and right now I don’t really care. He’s already put his neck on the line just getting us this mission.

<><><><><>

I sit on the ledge and hold his hand again. It’s even colder than it was last time. And still, so very, very still. Oh God, please let me be doing the right thing. Please, please let him be ok. What if they’re lying to me? What if Jolinar’s behavior was more the norm than the exception? What if dad ends up living, but as a prisoner in his own body? I can’t do that to him. I know he’d rather die…I don’t want him to die. But I can’t let him live like that either. Oh God dad, please wake up and let me know it’s going to be ok.

I rub gently and feel his wedding band roll loosely. I look down and realize that it’s only the swollen state of his knuckles that are keeping the ring on his finger. I’d forgotten that he still wore the ring; it’d become such a part of him that I’d ceased to notice it.

The gold band is worn smooth now. It used to have a pattern on it but, like human flesh, gold will succumb to the ravages of time.

<><><><><>

He opens his eyes and sits up; or rather Selmac opens his eyes.

"Dad?"

"Martouf?"

"I am here."

"Should we not make our escape?" He…she…they ask.

"Yes, we should," Martouf says. I can hear the relief in his voice. So it worked?

"Umm…is my dad in there somewhere?" I have to know. Let him be there, please, please, please let him be in there.

He lowers his head and shakes it slightly. "I’m here Sam," he tells me meeting my eyes. "Oh man. Talk about your hangovers. Awful headache, the size of Kuwait…there’s too much stuff in here." I see him holding his head in pain. Shrugging it off he hops off the ledge. "Whoa!" he cries out and my heart jumps into my throat.

"What?" Is something wrong?

"No more arthritis. Holy Hannah! No more arthritis!" he exclaims, flexing his hands like a masseuse warming up. I can’t help but grin.

The room shakes and debris rains from the ceiling. We are out of time. We’ve got to get out of here. I’ll be damned before I’ll let him be saved just to die at the hands of some damn goa’uld.

<><><><><>

I roll down the ramp barely hearing the sounds of dad and Martouf beside me. I know it’s irrational but I always feel this sense of relief when I know my companions have made it to the same destination I have, a throwback to the colonel’s and my little side trip to the Antarctic I guess.

Someone helps me up and I bite back a groan. I need to talk to the general; we need mats on this ramp, nice thick mats. As often as we come rolling through I swear one day I’m going to wake up and find the impression of the metal grates permanently pressed into my backside.

I walk down the ramp and see that the rest made it back as well. That’s good. With the level of bombardment no one would have survived on the planet much longer.

I listen as dad talks to General Hammond, Selmac too. I’m content to just stand there and watch. Just a few hours ago I thought I’d never see him like this again. He’s lively and animated, nothing like the frail, resigned man I’d taken through the gate. I feel like I’ve went back in time several years and retrieved the man I remember from my childhood.

The gate has given me so much, that chance to explore space, friends I never dreamed I’d have…and now my dad back. This moment makes all I went through with Jolinar worthwhile somehow.

Garshaw goes up to input their new planet. So soon? I guess I thought he’d hang around. So I get him back to lose him again. Martouf promises to take care of him, and I trust him somehow. I don’t quite know why, not just yet.

"Do you have to go so soon?" I beg, I don’t mean to but…I just got him back I don’t want to let him go…not yet.

"Yeah. Apparently I’m the oldest and wisest among us," he says, a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh geez," is all I can say, at least in front of witnesses. And I thought his ego was big before. I grab his hand reveling in its warmth. It’s soft and strong as it grips mine, telling me without words how much he loves me, how much he’ll miss me. Selmac may be in there but those hands are my dad’s and she can’t change that.

Dad gives me a strong hug, pulling me tightly to him. I’m surprised for a moment then I hug him back. He hasn’t done that for years

Garshaw walks into the room and he reluctantly lets go. I watch them walk up the ramp, going off into the wild blue yonder as he used to say. I should miss him, I think I will, eventually. But not right now. Right now I’m thrilled to have my dad back.

~fin~

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