Choices

Author: Geonn

Email: neil_j_miser@yahoo.com

Pairing: Sam/Erin Gant

Category: Drama, Missing Scene

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Stargate and characters are the property of MGM, Gekko, etc. Mainly you need to know no one with the name of Geonn owns the deed to these people.

Archive: Yes, just let me know where it's gonna be.

Notes: Some liberties were taken with Erin Gant's position/responsibilities on the "Prometheus." While she's not the navigator, as implied in this story, there's no reason her abilities wouldn't have helped her as first officer (which is what I think she really is).

Spoilers: "Prometheus," "Memento," "Heroes"

Summary: Sam opens a door to her past to make someone an offer.


The yellow crop duster parked itself just inside the barn doors, the wings almost touching the walls on either side. The pilot, a lithe blonde in a white jumpsuit, stood and pulled her goggles off before climbing from the plane. As she descended, she heard the sound of someone advancing through the barn, moving closer but stopping just beyond the tail. "You know," Erin said, without turning, "There is only one person in my life who drives a Volvo like that. And she would sooner die than come to see me." She turned and frowned at the blonde standing a few yards away. "Uncanny," she said softly. "You look just like her."

"Erin," Samantha Carter said. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough," Erin Gant said, unzipping her jumpsuit to her stomach and walking away from Sam. "I thought you washed your hands of me a long time ago, Captain."

"Major, actually."

Erin turned, pausing in her tracks. "Major. When?"

"About four years back."

"Why?"

"Classified."

"Of course," Erin said. She shrugged out of her jumpsuit and headed into the office. Sam followed but stayed a good distance back. A radio on the back shelf was playing a Randy Travis CD. Sam recognized the song as 'The Truth is Lying Next To You.' It had always been one of her favorites... Erin recorded something in a log for her business, then looked up at Sam. "So. You're just here to catch up on old times?"

"Not exactly," Sam said, finally breaching the space of the office. "An opportunity has come up. We need a pilot, someone who can handle tricky navigation."

Erin shrugged. "You were always pretty capable."

"It's long-term."

The Randy Travis CD changed to 'Tonight We're Gonna Tear Down the Walls' as Erin stared at Sam. Finally, she said, "Long-term. Which means..."

"You'd be welcomed back, Erin. Promoted to Major."

"Promoted," Erin scoffed. "I guess that would mean something to some people..."

Sam ignored the jab. "Erin... I won't ignore the history you and I have. I know how much you hate me and I would turn my back, too, in your position. But if you would take a moment to look past your animosity for me, you would realize what I'm offering you."

"Two years ago, I lost my lover to cancer," Erin said suddenly. She turned to Sam. "We lived here, ran the business together. We knew she was sick, but we didn't let that stop us from loving each other. When she died, I attended her funeral as her partner. If I had stayed in the military, I wouldn't have had that luxury. I would've had to live a lie every damn day of my life." She looked at Sam with tears in her eyes and shrugged. "I guess some people find that easier than others."

Sam turned away and brushed her cheek. "Erin, this isn't about you and me."

"There never was a you and me," Erin snapped. "Not really."

"Consider the offer, Erin. You're a fantastic navigator and you know your way around weapon systems."

Erin blinked. "Weapons? Jesus, Sam, what are you offering me?"

"It's classified."

"God," Erin sighed.

"I wish I could tell you more, but I... I can't. Not until you agree to take the position."

Erin rolled her eyes and Sam tapped her fingers on the edge of her desk. "Just think about it. I'll be in town until tomorrow."

"No," Erin sighed. "No, you... don't have to stay in town." She rolled her eyes, as if hating herself for what she was saying. "This... the house is plenty big enough for two people to avoid each other for one night."

Sam nodded. "I'd appreciate that."

"I'll give you an answer tomorrow, but I highly doubt it will be any different than the one I just gave you." She looked at the desk and shook her head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."

"Right. And Erin... thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Erin muttered, dropping into her seat.

---

Yellowed photographs hung on the faded wallpaper in the farmhouse, apparently the former owners of the property. Sam was scanning at the cluster of pictures by the staircase when Erin came in from the barn. She dumped her bag next to the back door, looking at Sam for a long moment before she said, "The Collins. The wife lived here up until five years ago. She stayed downstairs, Courtney and I lived upstairs. We did her chores for her, worked the plane and fed the animals when there were animals... When she died, she left us the place in her will." She smiled at the memory, walking up to Sam and tapping one of the frames. "That's her. Leona."

Sam nodded. "She didn't mind that you and Courtney were..."

"Honey," Erin said, acquiring a rasp and a higher pitch to her voice. "So long as you kin do what I need done 'round heah, I don't much give two licks whatchoo do in yer bedroom." She grinned.

Sam smiled.

Erin looked at Sam for a moment, then quickly looked away. She hid her smile and hurried into the kitchen.

"What's the matter," Sam asked, following her. "You forget you were supposed to hate me?"

"Shut up, Sam."

Sam sat at the dining room table, clasping her hands in front of her. "Erin, please. The only reason I am here is because I know you. I thought it would mean more coming from me rather than from some nameless, faceless officers in Air Force blues. You need to know that what I am asking you to do... will change your life forever."

"I don't want to change my life forever," Erin said, turning and leaning against the sink. "I like my life. I love this farmhouse. Every shadow and every cobweb reminds me of Courtney. Sometimes on Saturday nights, I put on a robe and curl up on the couch in front of the fireplace and I can almost feel her rubbing my shoulders. The bathroom still smells like her. I... turning you down isn't about the Air Force, Sam. Not entirely. I couldn't leave her."

Sam nodded.

"Would you like mashed potatoes or green beans with your chicken?"

"You don't have to cook for me," Sam protested.

"I'm not," Erin sighed, waving the cell phone at her. "I have a new Colonel now. Colonel Sanders. And he delivers breasts and thighs to me whenever I want."

Sam couldn't help herself, and ended up laughing with Erin.

---

"You can sleep in Leona's room," Erin said, leaving a pillow and folded blanket on the floor next to the bedroom. Sam was in the living room, sitting in the armchair and staring at the fire. "I get up early around here... about five."

"That's okay," Sam said softly.

Erin took a seat on the couch, loosening the braid she'd had in all day. Sam watched as her blonde hair fell to her shoulders, shadowing her face. Erin ran her fingers through the loose strands, staring into the fire and pulling her knees against her chest. After a while, Sam said, "When did you meet Courtney?"

"A few months after I left the Air Force."

Sam stared at Erin for a while. "You look beautiful with long hair."

"Don't."

"I was..."

"Just don't, Sam. Okay?"

Sam fell silent and turned her attention to the flames. When she turned to look back at Erin, she saw that she was crying silently, a hand on her cheek as if to catch the tears. Sam stood, moving towards the door to the living room. She stopped in the dark hallway, staring at the folded blanket on the floor and walked back into the room. Erin was covering her face, resting her head on her knees. Sam gently lifted Erin's hair, holding it out of the way and gently lowering her lips to the soft flesh of the other woman's neck. Erin shuddered violently, her body going rigid as Sam placed another kiss lower.

Erin turned to face Sam, her eyes wet with tears, and pulled the long-lost lover into a deep kiss. Sam moaned quietly, pressing against the back of the couch and unable to bring herself to touch Erin's body. After a long kiss, neither crossing the border with their hands, Erin pulled back and looked into the fire again. Sam touched Erin's shoulders, rubbing slowly. Erin closed her eyes, rolling her head forward and letting Sam massage her.

"Courtney..." Erin whispered.

"No," Sam breathed, leaning down and kissing the outer shell of Erin's ear. "It's Sam. It's Sam." She turned Erin's face towards her and they kissed again. Sam skirted the side of the couch and gently prompted Erin to lay down. "It's Sam," she repeated, before covering Erin with her body.

---

Sam stared out the window at the field, sipping the exceptionally strong coffee Erin had made. The shower was still running upstairs, the sound of the pipes carrying through the entire lower level of the house. A few minutes after the water shut off, Erin appeared in the kitchen wearing a cotton robe, her hair plastered to her skull and her face devoid of make-up. She walked to the fridge and began to remove the makings of breakfast.

"The sunrise was beautiful," Sam said.

"Yes, it was," Erin smiled.

Sam nursed her coffee as Erin started the eggs. Soon, the smells wafting through the old farmhouse were putting a growl in Sam's stomach. She stood and went to Erin, asking if there was anything she could do. Erin said no, but kissed Sam long, slow and passionately before turning her away. "I'm glad we had last night."

"Me too," Sam said, touching the edge of Erin's robe.

"I hope it's sufficient enough to explain why I'm still saying no to your offer."

Sam closed her eyes. "Erin..."

"Nothing has changed, Sam. Not unless the Air Force will acknowledge--"

"You know that's impossible."

"Right!" Erin snapped. "And I'd prefer to love someone rather than hide it just to keep my job."

Sam flashed back to a bright, scorching day inside a shadowed tent, an ocean away and a lifetime ago...

"It's just work, Sam."

"It's not just work, Erin, it's MY work. Why can't you understand that?"

"Given the choice between love and work, you choose this?"

"It's not a choice, Erin," Sam pleaded. "I can't just turn my back on the Air Force. This is what I was meant to do."

"Right. Well, I guess we just see things differently. Living a lie in exchange for shiny badges on my uniform, or even wearing the uniform, just isn't worth it."

"Erin, what are you saying?"

"I'm going to retire. I'd like to retire with you," she took Sam's hands in her own. "I'd really like that."

Sam pulled her hands away. She stared at Erin for a long moment, forcing herself not to blink, forcing herself not to cry. When Erin refused to look at her, she stood and left the tent without another word.

"This isn't just about a job," Sam said softly.

"It never was with you."

"Listen to me, Erin. I was stupid back then. But it worked in my favor because now... now, I'm doing something so amazing, and so important that I couldn't leave. I could never turn my back on what I'm doing because it would be wrong. And you, turning your back on this offer when you are the absolute best person for the job... that's wrong, too."

Erin slammed her fist into the counter, shaking the plates and salt shaker. "What is this job?!" Erin demanded, turning and staring at Sam. "What the hell could be so important as what you're talking about?"

"A ship," Sam said, breaking pretty much every confidentiality rule there was. "There is a ship. Called the X-303, codenamed Prometheus. It's the third in a series of designs that incorporate both human and... and alien designs."

Erin turned, scoffing.

"Hear me out, Erin, please. In 1928, a device was found that enabled us to cross the galaxy with a single step. For the past six years, I've been going through the 'Stargate,' as we call it, on missions to alien worlds. We've taken what we've found out there, and we've taken from our enemies, and we managed to create the most potent weapon in our fight against the Goa'uld."

"Goa'uld."

"The... aliens I was talking about."

Erin picked up the phone and began dialing. "I think I better call someone."

"Who?" Sam said, taking the phone from Erin.

"The chief of staff. Someone who would know what asylum you should be in."

Sam scoffed.

"I am dead serious, Sam. You've cracked."

"This is the absolute truth, Erin. I swear to you. I'm a member of a team called SG-1, we go through the Stargate..."

"For Christ's sake, Sam, that's the plot for a TV show! 'Wormhole X-Treme!' You're certifiable."

"I swear to you." Sam said, pulling something from her pocket and dropping it on the counter between them. "I'm not insane. I'm not delusional. I'm dead serious." She turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs for her own shower.

Erin picked up what Sam had dropped on the counter. It was a cloth patch, round, like the unit patch on almost every uniform she'd ever worn in combat. She ran her finger over the design; Earth, over a black starfield. A triangle topped by a thin circle stood in front of the planet. Erin frowned. If Sam was delusional... what the hell was this patch supposed to mean?

---

Sam used the upstairs bathroom for her shower. As she stepped out of the stall, she heard the rough drone of Erin's crop duster, the engine whine sounding like it was just outside the bathroom. Sam stood on the toilet, peering out the narrow glass and watching as the yellow plane rolled forward to gain speed for take off. She dried her hair with the towel, watching until the wheels actually left the ground, then dropped back to the floor.

Padding barefoot into the small dressing room/closet that butted up against the bathroom, Sam wrapped a towel around herself and eyed Erin's clothes. She dreaded wearing the same clothes she'd arrived in, but didn't want to borrow anything if Erin ultimately turned down her offer. So instead, she dried herself and slipped back into her jeans and blouse from the day before. As she dressed, she noticed something peculiar on the floor of the closet.

Sand.

A small pile had built up on the counter, a narrow trail that couldn't be make-up... could it? Sam ran her fingers through it, feeling the texture. It was definitely sand. She looked at the cabinet doors over the sand, momentarily questioning whether she should snoop in Erin's privacy like this. She finally pulled the doors open and looked for the source of the mystery. It rested on the bottom shelf, next to a loofah and several folded hand towels.

Sam gasped at the sight, tenderly lifting the obviously leaking gift and caressing it's weathered face as the memories returned.

---

The temperature had to be close to 120, but no one had the guts to check a thermometer for confirmation. Captain Erin Gant sat in the barracks, her back to the door, mopping her face with her t-shirt. She was still wearing her tank top, the brown material soaked with sweat and clinging to her skin in every available place. She groaned and pulled her t-shirt back on, wishing she was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Knee-deep in snow, for instance.

She turned when the door opened, smiling at Captain Carter. "Hey."

"Hey, Erin," Sam said. She sat on the cot next to Erin, lightly touching the other woman's hand. Erin returned the touch, barely a gesture, and smiled. "What're you doing?" Sam asked, keeping everything casual.

"Pretending I'm knee-deep in snow," Erin smiled.

"Is it working?"

Erin ran two fingers across her forehead and flicked the sweat off. "Nope."

Sam dug into the pocket of her jacket, fishing around and eventually retrieving what she sought. She handed it to Erin and nervously said, "Uh, here."

"What is it?" Erin asked, picking up the peculiar object. It looked like a sock filled with sand, a squiggle drawn with a Sharpie at the toe-end. Two rubber bands separated it into three segments and the hole was sewn shut. "What is this?" Erin repeated with a chuckle.

"A sock boy," Sam said. She wasn't looking at Erin, keeping her eyes on her boots. "I, uh... it's one of my socks. I filled it with sand and made a... well, tried to make a face on it. Menoz sewed it shut for me. He thought I was completely insane." She brushed her cheek and said, "You don't have to keep it."

Erin stroked the sock boy's face. "What's it for? Are you giving one of these to everyone?"

"No," Sam said, confused. "It's... I... I might have been misinformed. Isn't it your birthday?"

"No, I..." Erin's eyes widened. "My God. What day is it?"

"March 17," Sam said.

Erin looked down at the sock in surprise. "It is my birthday. Oh, my God. Oh, my GOD." She touched the doll's face. "It's... just that in March, my hometown is always freezing. Usually raining. The sun, it's too sunny here for me to..." She began to cry silently, squeezing the doll and stroking it's face.

"Hey," Sam whispered, touching Erin's shoulder. "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"No, Sam, it's wonderful," Erin said. "I love this. I love this, Sam, I do. Thank you." Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed Sam. It was their first kiss and was over by the time either of them realized what was happening. Erin looked nervously down at the sock doll and softly said, "You remembered my birthday."

On the small, staticy radio next to the cot, Randy Travis sang the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

Two days later, just after three in the morning, Sam slipped out of the cot and padded barefoot to Erin's. She climbed under the blankets. Silently, they made love to each other. When dawn broke in the barracks, Sam was back in her appropriate cot and Erin was hard-pressed to stop smiling.

---

She returned the sock doll to the cabinet, shocked that Erin still had it. She finished dressing, found her shoes and headed downstairs to wait for Erin to finish her duty.

---

Erin buzzed a particularly tall tree, watching as three birds took flight at the intrusion. She wondered what birds thought of planes. Did they know they were mechanical, driven by humans, piloted and maintained by meticulous mechanics? Or did the birds think they were beseiged by a modern-day rebirth of the pterydactyl? She wondered at the birds, then wondered about humanity. She'd never known Sam to be delusional in the slightest. She was the most practical person Erin had ever met. Which meant... what? That a race of intensely hostile aliens were itching to destroy Earth? That Sam and a handful of units had stood between Earth and total annihilation countless times?

'We're birds,' Erin mused. 'Being divebombed by something we can't possibly comprehend.'

Below her, Alfred Pohl's only concern was making sure his crops weren't destroyed before they could produce. All he cared about was whether or not the pesticide was dumped in a timely fashion. He didn't know, care or think about aliens.

No one on Earth could possibly think they were under a constant threat.

'And I'm being given the opportunity to help. To join the fight.'

She banked the plane, heading for the Fischer's place.

---

When she landed, Sam was waiting in the barn. She was wearing the clothes she'd worn the day before, her leather jacket present again. She was leaning against her car, apparently ready to leave. Erin climbed out of the plane, the two women standing off on opposite sides of the universe, separated by hay. After a long moment, Erin said, "I asked you to come with me."

"You met Courtney," Sam argued. "You were happier than you ever would've been with me."

"You don't know that," Erin said.

"I would've been stir-crazy, Erin. I wouldn't have lasted in this environment. I would've made you miserable."

Erin paced towards the office, then came back. "I... hated you. For so long. Hated you for choosing your career. Hated you for making it look like there was no contest between love and work. I met Courtney. Courtney who loved me. Courtney who got down on her knees and asked me to be her partner forever." She wiped her eyes. "Courtney who held me when I cried about the woman who had rejected me."

She took two angry steps towards Sam. "Have you ever held a woman you loved while she cried about someone else? Do you know how fucking strong Courtney was to accept me?" She balled her hands into fists. "I held her on her death bed. Maybe... maybe what she and I had wasn't the same as what you and I had. But I loved Courtney. And now you're back. Offering me, what? The world? Another chance to pick work over love?"

Sam looked down at her boots.

"Well, I have an offer for you, Samantha. Quit. Resign. I'm giving *you* a second chance to pick love over career. Come live on the farm with me. I'll fly, you run the books. Or we can alternate. And at night, we'll sit on the back porch and watch the sunset and we'll make love in our bed..." She smiled. "But we already know your answer, so why bother."

Sam looked up, with tears in her eyes. "Before, the first time... yes. I was too pig-headed. But now that I know what is going on, why I'm needed, I cannot turn my back on the people who need me. It sounds egotistical and I'm sorry, but I am far too important to turn my back now. It just can't be done without catastrophic consequences."

Erin wiped her eyes and went towards the office.

"Erin... please. I am begging you. I need you. The Air Force needs you. No one can hold a candle to you, not even me." Erin paused at the door to the office, resting her head on her fist. "Please, Erin. Don't forgive me. Forget what we shared last night. I'm not Samantha Carter, I am Air Force Major Samantha Carter asking the best pilot I know to take the assignment she was born for."

Erin turned and saw Sam was weeping openly.

"I'd need someone to run the business," Erin said flatly.

"Is that a yes?"

Erin turned and disappeared into the office.

---

*18 Months Later,*

Erin knocked quietly on the door to Sam's quarters, resting her head against the wall. "Sam?" she said softly. "Please answer me." When no answer was forthcoming, she tried the knob and found it unlocked. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, one lamp on the far end of the room lit and casting shadows on the blonde's face. Her hands were palm-up on her thighs, her body wracked with silent sobs.

"For God's sake, close the door," Sam whispered.

The lack of light from the hallway deepened the shadows and Erin moved towards the light. She waited for Sam to break the silence.

"I did it again. I'm fucking sick of myself, but I did it again. I loved her, Erin. The way she'd look at me, the way she'd touch me, I knew she felt it too. Why didn't I ever make a move? Why was I so goddamned scared of what might happen?" She stood and leaned against the dresser. "What might have happened was I might've been happy. I might've been loved. I might've... I might've..." She hung her head and began crying harder.

Sam?" Erin ventured.

The blonde turned, sniffling. Finally, it dawned on her. "What are you doing on Earth?"

It still sounded strange, even after a year. "The ship isn't patrolling. I had some free time. I... there was no doubt where I should spend it." She held her arms out and Sam went to her. They embraced, Erin stroking the taller woman's hair and whispering quietly in her ear. "Sam, I held my love on her deathbed. Fast deaths, slow deaths, it doesn't matter. There's always something that went unsaid. Something we miss until it's too late."

"She didn't know that I loved her. How much I loved her."

Erin kissed Sam's forehead.

"How long are you on Earth?" Sam asked, sniffling and pulling back from Erin's embrace.

"Another two days."

Sam pulled Erin's head forward, kissing her softly. When they parted, Erin brushed her lips over Sam's cheek and closed her eyes. "I'm not Janet."

"No," Sam agreed. "You are Erin Michelle Gant. I am Samantha Grace Carter. And I want to prove to you I finally have my priorities straight." She kissed Erin again, directing her towards the bed.


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