Fic - Timestamp fills: SG-1, Fringe, and BSG (all roughly PG)

[ziparumpazoo]

So, Timestamp prompt fills. Finally. Well, the first batch, anyhow. Still working on the remaining few, fear not.


SG-1, Sam/Jack - In Retrospect on the way to the ER for Roil64:

A Better Plan

Sam pulled her car door shut with a wince and let her forehead drop to the steering wheel with a groan. Her still-wet hair stuck to her neck and her collar was already damp. She ached everywhere, but no place hurt more than her pride at the moment. At least until the painkillers wore off.

To say she was embarrassed was an understatement. Humiliated would be a better word… mortified even more exact. How was she going to explain to General Landry why she wasn't fit to go offworld tomorrow?

"Carter?" Jack asks from beside her. He shifts stiffly, trying to find some way remotely not uncomfortable to angle his knee in the passenger well of her car.

"It was a stupid idea," she says without looking at him. "I don't even know what I was thinking even suggesting- "

"Carter- "

"I mean, I realize the Air Force has certain fitness requirements," she keeps talking over the top of him while she fumbles the keys into the ignition with her left hand, "but it's not like we're gymnasts. Or teenagers any more, for that matter."

"Carter," he tries again, voice sharp enough to get her attention.

She slouches back in her seat and rolls her head to look at him.

"You want to call a cab?" Jack nods toward her bruised right hand. It takes her a minute to understand. Right. Stick-shift. At least it's dark enough out that she doesn't think he can see the flush she feels heating her cheeks.

She groans again. "I want to explain this to as few people as possible." And she knows it's not just the cab drive that'll look at them funny; there's going to be questions from the admitting clerk for the paperwork, and raised eyebrows from the triage nurse. And that's before they've even run the gauntlet of x-ray technicians and orderlies.

"Okay then. Clutch on three." Jack leans over and puts the car in neutral, takes the key and looks up to make sure she's ready before he says, "One… two… three."



SG-1, Sam/Jack The Cottage AU, two years later for a_loquita:

Home, Wherever You Find Yourself

The wind off the ocean finally seemed to have lost its bite, and to Jack it felt like spring had decided she was ready to shake off her mantel of frost and usher in the warmer nights fit for stargazing again. Which was a good thing, he mused as he rounded the cabin to the nearly depleted wood pile. He had really been hoping that they wouldn't need to drag the wagon through the knee-deep snow to cut more firewood, at least not until the days warmed up enough so that his hands didn't freeze to the buck-saw.

To the side of the small yard, just past the light spilling from the cottage windows, he saw Sam's familiar shape, her shoulders hunched against the chill. Between Harlow's boisterous storytelling, and keeping track of who had refreshments, and whose drinks were running low, Jack hadn't seen her slip out of their small, and currently overcrowded cottage, but Anka had, and had come asking for her.

Jack hesitated, but then figured she must have already heard his feet on the gravel yard because she didn't startle when he stopped just behind her.

"I just needed some fresh air," she explained without turning around. "It's getting a little warm in there."

"Getting?" Jack asked. "I think it 'got' pretty much about the same time that Jaro and his family arrived. If you could capture the heat generated by that many people packed into that little place, we wouldn't need another cord of firewood until summer."

"It is a bit crowded, isn't it?" she mused.

"Indeed," Jack agreed, and slipped an arm around her shoulder. Sam tucked herself in close to him and shivered. "Forgot your coat?" he asked and pulled her in front of him so he could wrap both arms around her.

"Mmmm," Sam hummed something non-committal. "This works."

They stood together quietly and watched the starlight shimmer back at them from the ocean below. As much as Jack would've liked to stay there, enjoying the moment, they did have a house full of guests, and they'd left the party in full swing. He shifted his weight slightly.

"I'm glad that everyone could make it," Sam said finally, breaking the silence.

Jack nodded. They'd arrived here three years to the day, and this little get together was only a small token of thanks to all the people who had taken them in as strangers, given them shelter, and welcomed them into their families and community. While there were still days when Jack ached for all the people they'd left behind on Earth, Sam and the cottage were what he truly thought of as home.

"They just came for the free food," he said. He felt her turn slightly to look up at him.

"Kind of a long trip just for some mashed potatoes and gravy," she said.

"Ah, but it was good gravy. Almost no lumps this time." He easily dodged the elbow that she aimed at his mid-section. "Seriously, I would cross solar systems just so you'd cook like that for me every day."

"I do cook like that for you all the time," she protested as he pressed his mouth against her temple. "Okay, a lot of the time. Occasionally. When I'm not swamped in the shop," she amended. "You have to admit, business has been surprisingly good lately."

"It has," he agreed. "You're getting quite the reputation around here."

"It's a good thing, right?"

Jack caught the note of uncertainty in the question. "Sure. Pays the bills. I could get used to being a kept man."

"Could you now?" she asked. "You'd let your wife slave all day in the repair shop so you could laze around in the sun?"

"Sure," he teased. "This was supposed to be my retirement, remember?"

"Oh really? We both know how well that works for you." Her voice held a hint of sarcasm.

Jack tightened his arms around her. Behind them, the sounds of the party were muted by the ocean below, broken only by laughter and music spilling from the door as it opened to admit the latest pair of callers. Their guests would start noticing that they were missing soon.

"Oh, I don't know." He planted a soft kiss on her ear. "Ive got much more interesting things to distract me this time around."

"Such as?" she prompted. Though her tone was playful, Jack thought there might still be something on her mind. She seemed to be avoiding going back inside.

He played along. "Well, this farming thing seems to be a good way to pass the time. I've always been an early riser," he said and felt her shake her head. He could imagine her rolling her eyes at him in the dark. "Folks here seem nice. The life is quiet. A guy could get used to this way of living."

Sam tilted her head so she could see him. "You're only realizing this now?"

"Nah, I think I was in love the moment I stepped through the gate." And he had been, though it hadn't been with this planet.

"So you could see yourself spending the next few years here, maybe?" she asked, still tentative. Jack felt his guts tighten. He'd thought she'd settled in and was content here with him. Had he missed something?

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again if it needs saying - Sam, I don't care if we live in a hut on a beach, or cave in the mountains... though I would prefer to have at least a few amenities. I'm happy wherever you're happy." He slipped his hand over hers and tapped a finger on the ring she wore when she wasn't working in the shop or the garden.

"Okay," she said with finality, but Jack felt like she was appeasing him.

"Sam," he said, "what's going on?"

She shrugged.

"Don't say 'nothing', because you wouldn't be out here if it was nothing," he said.

She twisted her hand in his, until hers was on top, and touched her own finger against his ring. "You're really happy here?" she asked with more than a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"Really," he said. He didn't know how much more convincing he could be.

She took the hand she was holding and brought it to rest low on her stomach. "How do you feel about coming out of retirement to take up carpentry?" she asked. "Because I think this place might get a little more crowded."

"I think I could be convinced to give it a try." He kissed her again and felt the tension ease from her shoulders. "I was wondering when you were going to say something."

She turned around so quickly that he almost stumbled. "You knew?"

"I suspected," he answered. He'd actually figured it out a while ago, but since Sam hadn't said anything, he'd taken the 'wait and see' approach. It had been a long while since they'd last talked about settling in here, but those discussions had centered on not putting down stakes that they couldn't pull up at a moment's notice. She took a step back towards the cottage, but Jack caught her by the hand before she, and this conversation, could slip away.

She did stop, but her eyes remained firmly fixed on the ground beside his boot. "How?" Jack barely heard her above the sound of the ocean. "I wasn't even sure myself until last week."

Jack pulled her in towards him so they were face to face in the dark, shutting out the wind and the waves and the noise from the cottage, until all that was between them was the sound of their breathing. He understood being nervous, but it had been a long time since they'd been cut loose and sent on the run. Jack figured they deserved to finally put down those roots they'd been avoiding. This might have been unplanned, but it was not entirely unexpected, given the culture they'd made their own. It might even be the push they needed so they'd stop thinking of the stargate as a tool for invasion and defense, and start thinking of it as just another means of transportation, like the rest of the people in this galaxy did.

"Sam," he said in a low voice, "I have been covering your ass for how many years? I know how you walk when you're pissed that I ordered you and Daniel to pack away your toys and double-time it back to the gate. I know how you limp a bit on the left side when you're tired since the thing at the alpha site and you don't want to stop for a break because you don't like when you need to ask for help." Jack heard her suck in a breath, but didn't let her interrupt. "I know how you practically bounce when we'd get to a new planet and your scans ping something new and exciting. I have been watching you walk for a long, long time now. I can tell when something's different."

She leaned her forehead against his chest and Jack could feel her shoulders shake under his hands. "Hey," he said, feeling like the biggest ass. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He'd forgotten that this was completely new territory for her. He put a finger under her chin and tilted it so he could see her face, only to realize that she'd been laughing.

Sam quirked an eyebrow up at him. "So you're saying that I waddle now?"

"Not yet," he leaned in, "but you will." He touched his lips to hers. She reached up to slide a hand around his neck and deepened the kiss.

Behind them, the cottage door opened and Harlow bellowed, "There you two are, making out like the newly betrothed, while in here, the wine runs low."

He felt Sam smile against his mouth, and as much as he'd love to stay out here and kiss her under the stars, they did have company. "Just following your constant advice, Harlow," Jack shouted over his shoulder.

He turned back to Sam and took her hand again. "You will, and I'm going to love watching that too."

With that, he leaned down and kissed her quickly one more time, before pulling her back towards their cottage filled with family and friends.



Fringe, Lincoln/red!Olivia - Dance With the One Who Brought You, one year later for monanotlisa:

Stay With the One Who Wants You

Being Over There (or Over Here, as he's come to think of it now) doesn’t go quite as Lincoln'd planned.

Not that he'd actually planned on permanently relocating – it'd been more of a spontaneous leap of faith that the hole left by Captain Lee would be more or less Lincoln-shaped.

It wasn't.

Despite the shared name, the lookalike face, and the near identical job, the corners don't line up quite right. It's not that he'd expected Liv to… actually he's not sure what he'd expected. When Robert had died, Lincoln had inadvertently pulled Olivia and her odd found-family at the Harvard lab into that empty space. He recognized later that it seemed an awful lot like a rebound fling, trading one partner for another, and he'd had no intention of placing Liv in that same position, pieces slightly realigned. But as they say, the wheel keeps on turning, the circle goes unbroken, life goes on and Lincoln finds himself awkwardly stepping around half-unpacked moving boxes in another, even smaller bachelor's loft while Liv watches him from behind an uncertain smile and that trademark curtain of red hair.

"Remember when I said I'd help you unpack?" she says as she nudges the box marked 'casual clothes' with the toe of her boot.

Lincoln looks up at her over the top of his glasses. "I do, actually." He remembers very well, and maybe that's why he'd taken the chance at a new start; because for all the other versions of themselves in that bed, they'd been good together.

"The offer still stands."

He's maybe got a half-dozen boxes - a year's worth of accumulated clothes and possessions rescued from his first apartment after most of his block had been ambered. Half an hour's worth of work at the most. He doesn't need help unpacking.

But then, that's not what she's really offering.

He swallows. "I'll, uh, I'll keep that in mind," he says out of habit of maintaining that respectful distance. It's been a difficult year for everyone, and for Liv in particular. He's gone out of his way not to make it more so.

Liv kicks the box. It slides across the dusty floorboards and bumps to a stop against his shoe. "Lincoln… " She shakes her head as if she can't believe how dense he can be sometimes, then crosses the room in three quick steps to kiss him soundly.

Lincoln's not sure if the euphoric buzzing in his head is from the nearly forgotten taste of her on his lips, or the need to breathe. He leans back slightly, not enough to pull away, but enough to catch her watching him in that way she does – head canted like she's watching the scene unfold a few seconds ahead of the rest of them. He licks his lips. "Okay," he says because she's waiting for something.

The corner of her mouth twitches. She reaches up and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, erasing that last, lingering bit of doubt in his mind that he's still nothing but a stand-in.

"Okay," he says again. He taps the box between their feet with his toe. "I never could figure out where to put all this stuff. A little help would be good."



BSG, Kara, Helo (background Kara/Lee) - A Garden Planted, five years later for mrspollifax:

A Seed Sprouted

Her daughter is five years old, full of big words and even bigger ideas about how the world should work. If Kara didn't have the scars to prove it, she'd question her part in creating this magnificent little creature currently sprawled bonelessly across her lap.

"You want me to stick her in Hera's bed?" Karl offers as he drops down next to Kara on the grass. He wraps one of his big hands around the girl's ankle, but she doesn't stir. She's truly temporarily dead to the world in that way only young children and puppies are capable of sleeping.

Kara reaches around her and steals the glass from Karl's other hand and gives it a sniff; it's a far cry from the Chief's engine cleaner brew. They've been here long enough to figure out which plants and berries will ferment into something reasonably palatable, and which ones will make you go blind. This batch, in particular, is a little bit of both and judging by Karl's flushed cheeks, she's doing him a favor by liberating his glass.

"Don't want you to drop her, birthday boy," she tells him after a sip. "Besides, she's still mad at you."

Karl rolls his eyes and laughs. "The Sprout's mad because she got caught trying to run away from home. I just happened to be the one who turned her in."

"Well don't take it personally. She's mad at me too." Kara combs her fingers through her daughter's closely chopped hair, smoothing the sleep-sweaty strands away from her face and tucking them behind her ears.

"For the haircut?" Karl leans back and props himself on his elbows so he can watch the crowd of friends and extended family coming and going.

"For laughing when I caught her with a head full of tree sap. And then making her sit still so I could cut it out." She takes another sip and hands him back his now-empty glass. "Gods Karl, I turned my back for three seconds, I swear that's all it was, and she was gone." She means it to come out sounding lightly beleaguered, but her heart still races when she thinks about how easily her daughter had slipped away when she wasn't looking. Kara runs her hands down her girl's arm, smoothes her fingers through her hair again until her hand doesn't feel quite as shaky.

"And so you're going to sit over here and miss my birthday party because you're afraid to let her out of your sight again." He's teasing and he isn't. Of everybody she knows, Karl would understand.

She shrugs something non-committal.

"It's okay, she's safe. These things happen," he says and drops his voice lower. "It doesn't make you a bad mother, Kara. The Sprout thinks she's one of the big kids. Thinks she can do anything and she's got the attitude to back it up." Then he smirks. "Can't imagine where she learned it from."

"Her father?" Kara asks.

"I'll tell him you said that."

Kara shoves him with the arm not currently pinned down by sleeping child. Still, she's reluctant to accept Karl's offer of a bunk. She's discovering that five is a busy age; so much to see and touch and explore that just sitting still like this with her daughter is a rare treat. She wonders some days how Lee hasn't walked out on them both.

"Sharon made cake," Karl tells her. "You're going to miss it."

"Save me a piece. I'll have to wake her up soon anyhow, or she'll be up at the butt-crack of dawn."

Karl gets to his feet and dusts off his pants. He turns so his back is to the party and says, "She's a good kid, Kara. You're doing something right."

He's right; deep down she knows he is. After all, her daughter is five and she's thriving, impromptu haircuts, near misses, and all.