Stargate SG-1 Fanfiction
Episode: Season 4 Episode 10 “Beneath the Surface“
Summary: This is a missing scene from the episode “Beneath the Surface”. In the audio commentary for the episode on the DVD it was made clear that Sam and Jack were meant to have a relationship as Jonah and Thera, the personalities they were mindstamped with on the ice planet. We don’t see much of that relationship on the show, but the very last scene of the episode suggests that they might have been rather close. So I decided to explore that aspect in a little one-shot…
Happy Sam/Jack Shipday 2014!!!
Something makes her shoot awake. A hand at her shoulder… in the middle of the night…
Her head turns.
He hushes whatever she wants to say by placing his index finger against her lips and the other one against his own, motioning for her to be quiet. She nods, her mind still dazed from sleep.
He urges her to get up and follow him, and she does as quietly as possible to avoid waking somebody else. As soon as they’re away from the beds, he puts his hand over one of the fires to warm them and looks at her over it. His eyes are unnaturally dark in the dim, flickering light of the flames.
“I hear the back corridor of sector 3 is deserted tonight…” he opens in a casual whisper, and it takes a moment until his words register.
She beams at him, and tries not to become giddy. They have to be careful not to wake up the others after all. “Really?”
“Yeah… so… somebody should make sure that everything’s alright there.” His face is blank as always, but there’s that sparkle in his eyes… the kind of sparkle that she only ever sees in them when he’s looking at her.
“Probably…” She tries to sound as casual as possible, just in case somebody happens to be awake and listening to their hushed conversation.
With a cautious look back at the mass of people sleeping in the huge room behind them, she follows him through the small corridor.
It’s dangerous. If they are caught, they will be in serious trouble. Every coupling needs to be signed off by the administration to avoid overpopulation of the limited space they have in the underground facilities. However, according to her calculation, she is save tonight. Their last time together was about a month ago, and the female cycle and, resulting thereof, the risk of pregnancy are all about math after all.
All precaution aside, they will still be punished if they are ever caught doing this. She’s willing to take the risk.
Maybe that’s the thrill for her… and that being with him always has an underlying feel of breaking a rule beyond the one set by the administration… She has no idea why, or where it’s coming from. Their superiors are aware of their relationship and so far, none of them showed any displeasure with it. Not that she had cared if they did… it would have just forced them to be even more careful.
She slows as they approach the corridor behind sector 3. It’s dim… and dirty… and as her eyes grow accustomed to the new lighting conditions, the masses of pipes against the wall look even rustier than those in the sector she was working in today. This section was definitely due for some maintenance work soon…
Jonah finds the only spot that looks even remotely comfortable, and she can’t help but smile… through all of this, he always thinks of her comfort first, even if the circumstances are less than ideal. Even back in the mines, where they had nothing but filthy mattresses blackened by coal at the end of the day…
The thought just fades into darkness for some reason, moving beyond her grasp, and becoming another vague recollection of a past that seems more uncertain than their future at times. As his lips crook into a little smile, she makes no effort to try to remember what their first time was like.
They don’t have much time. People might notice they are missing and start looking for them.
When he pushes her up against the dirty wall, it lacks finesse but he makes sure not to be rough.
I love him…
The thought pops suddenly into her head as their lips lock in a frantic kiss, which, oddly enough, still feels new and exciting… as though they haven’t been doing this secretly for months.
Maybe it’s the scarcity of these encounters… or it is having to work together without being able to touch. Touching is frowned upon.
She gasps when they break apart and his hands move under the garment she wears as a shirt, touching bare skin. So new… so exciting… so forbidden… Every fiber of her body hums with growing passion as his sure fingers seek out every sensitive spot of her body.
Her head falls back against the wall, as she revels in the warmth of his touch. She likes his rough, calloused hands on her skin, and she thinks she knows that he always needs to touch her first, always makes sure to rediscover her body.
Suddenly she isn’t even sure of that anymore… Have they done this before?
The thought, a mere flicker of enlightenment in the darkness of her conscious mind, vanishes as his lips lock on her neck, nipping, teasing in a perfect combination of rough and tender.
Certainty about anything but him being here is unnecessary, especially after weeks of waiting for the right moment.
Her fingers dig into the thick material of his overcoat, and almost impatiently, she works to zip it open and remove the boundary of clothing that stands in her way of feeling more of him. It is risky for them to undress. If somebody sees them, they will be compromised.
Then again, in their current position the absence of clothing really doesn’t make any difference. There’s no way that anybody could misinterpret what they are engaged in, clothing or not…
If he has similar concerns, he comes to the same conclusion… at least if the urgency with which he shrugs the jacket off is an indicator. Another effortless move pulling his undershirt over his head and he is standing in front of her bare-chested.
She catches her breath at the sight of him. The distant fire at the end of the corridor creates an entrancing shadow play on the glistening skin of his shoulders, and she can’t resist reaching out to touch him. His skin under her fingers is rough and moist… undoubtedly a result of what they are doing combined with the heated temperature from the steam tubes in this corridor.
She sighs as her fingers play through his damp chest hair…
When he starts opening her jacket, she leans back and closes her eyes as her name washes in a warm whisper over the skin of her neck right under her ear like a longing caress. “Thera…”
It doesn’t take long until they are pressed against each other skin on skin, their bodies demanding for the sweet release their touches and whispered words are promising. When, eventually, her naked leg moves to circle his hips and draw him closer against her, he glides into her warm, welcoming body with an elegant move.
She fists her hands and moves them up against the wall behind her to press against it in an effort to keep herself quiet.
Silence is a requirement in a nightly encounter like this… and it’s becoming increasingly hard to maintain…
She bites her lower lip and stifles a little whimper as he thrusts all of his length into her, his head moving forward to rest his forehead against the dirty wall next to her head.
She turns, her fingers running through his coarse, unruly hair while she can feel her own, hot breath being directed back at her as it puffs against the skin of his cheek.
He waits a moment until she has calmed down… or maybe it is because he doesn’t trust himself to remain quiet yet… she doesn’t care and in the end it doesn’t matter, because when he finally picks up a slow rhythm against her, the sweetness of the friction becomes a torment.
He is so good, even with the restrictions put on them, and the rush with which they have to perform.
She has memories of doing this with him… sometimes against a wall in a dim corner… other times in the sanitary installation if they managed to enter together without anybody noticing… and once they used an old barrack room where they had a filthy mattress… but not a single one of those memories compares to the present.
How can it be so different now when they have done it dozens of times before? Why does it invoke the sense of finally fulfilling a forbidden fantasy – when said fantasy has been fulfilled countless times before?
He starts hitting the right spot inside of her, and suddenly her thoughts revolve less around why she feels what she feels and more around how to keep herself from expressing her pleasure vocally… She is left to burying her face in his neck, her mouth pressing against his skin in an attempt to stifle her soft squeals of delight.
When she comes, her mind blacks out. Suddenly his strong, musky scent invokes all kinds of pictures that flash before her eyes at a speed that prevents her from consciously grasping any of them. They show him in a greenish-black uniform-type clothing…
Smirking at her.
Talking to her.
Fighting next to her.
Then they are gone again, and she is panting against his neck. His thrusts speed up and then he goes rigid against her, his one hand steadying him against the wall and the other one supporting her thigh around his hips.
She loves him, she loves feeling him against her, inside her as he comes. If only they could do this more often, relish in each other’s sounds and touches without keeping quiet or having to hurry through it for fear of being caught. Here, lost in his embrace, she can briefly entertain the illusion that they have a future.
When he lifts his head, she turns hers to seek out his mouth. There are no boundaries between them for once. These are the moments that she lives for, the moments that get her through the endless days.
They don’t have a lot in this world – their days are filled with hard labor and grim perspectives of a future with no hope – but here, in the shadows of their crumbling existence, among the pieces of a shattered world in the deep of the night when everyone else is asleep, they have each other…
—The End (July 25, 2014)
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