Title: Toasting the Plant
Author: Kathleen Anderson
Email: sam_loves_jack@yahoo.ca
Status: Complete
Pairings: Sam/Jack, Sam/many others
Spoilers: any episode in which Sam's boyfriend dies! The First Commandment, Enigma, Divide and Conquer, Ascension, 2001, Between Two Fires, Last Stand, Meridian
Season: set sometime after Meridian
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam does some drinkin' and some thinkin'
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.

Jonas. Martouf. Narim. Orlin. Joe. Lantesh. Daniel.

The list had to end sometime, it just obviously wasn't going to be anytime soon. Major Samantha Carter, USAF, picked up her glass of wine and toasted her spider plant. She decided that she was going to swear off men. No more of this dying stuff. No more black widow's curse.

Daniel had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Not that she loved him like a boyfriend or anything, but it still tore her up inside. She knew that she was in no way responsible for Daniel's untimely death, or ascension, whatever the case may be, but it still weighed heavily upon her heart.

The plant that Sam had toasted gazed innocently at her. Sam snarled at it, cursing it for the carefree life it had. The plant, for its part, didn't even raise an eyebrow, or leaf. Sam downed the glass of wine and reached for the bottle again.

The time Sam toasted the lamp on her end table. It really was absurd and Sam giggled.

Lantesh, as ugly and parasitic as he may have been was really a sweet guy. Sam knew how Jolinar had felt and she felt his loss keenly. Her heart ached for the young, eager Lieutenant Elliott as well.

Sam smiled shyly at her lamp and decided more wine was definitely the order of the night.

Joe, she decided, might not even be dead. Even so, he'd been so kind to her and saved her life to boot. She liked that in a man. Wherever Joe might be, dead or alive, she hoped that he was happy.

Sam poured her third glass of wine and the spider plant waved cheerfully at her. Sam smiled at it and raised her glass again.

Orlin had been so sweet, and slightly creepy. He'd sacrificed himself to prevent that weapon from detonating, another quality that Sam found to be curiously endearing. She could almost forgive him for the enormous credit card bill he had racked up. Almost.

Narim had been infatuated with Sam, she could describe his devotion no other way. From the moment he had told her that he'd thought she was an angel, Sam had been drawn to him. So much so, she even parted with her dear Shroedinger. Sam raised an eyebrow as the plant gestured suggestively at her. Narim had even gone so far as to program her voice into his home computer. Sam decided that Narim was more like infatuation bordering on obsessive.

Martouf's loss was probably the one she felt hardest of all. After all, she was the one that pulled the trigger. Sam poured a forth glass of wine and mouthed "later" to the plant. Martouf's death had occurred at an unfortunate time. Not only did she have to confess her innermost feelings for one Jack O'Neill, she also learned just how much he cared for her.

Jonas Hansen's death had been hard for her to deal with at the time, but now after several years had passed, it was just another memory. She had loved him, once upon a time. Sam thanked her lucky stars that she'd had enough sense to break off that engagement before he forced her to worship him.

Sam finished off the wine that was in her glass and picked the bottle up and looked at it with disdain. How dare it be almost empty. Sam decided that she should have bought a bigger bottle and wondered if she any tequila in her liquor cabinet.

The spider plant waved its long leaves at her and Sam stared at it. "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila... floor!" Sam said out loud and giggled.

Jack O'Neill wasn't dead, yet. Sam kept waiting for that one mission, that mission that he wouldn't return from. Maybe chaining herself to him was the answer. At least that way if anything happened to him, she'd be in the same boat. Of course he might object to that rather unusual course of action.

Sam flopped her head down on a cushion. "Why me?" she said out loud. "What have I done to deserve this?"

In her inebriated state, Sam wouldn't have been surprised if a booming voice from the sky answered her. Instead the telephone rang. Sam groaned and reached for the phone on the end table.

"Hello?" she said, trying to sound as sober as possible, just in case it was the general or something.

"Hey Sam!" Oh good, Sam thought it, it was just Janet.

"Hi Janet. What's up?" Sam said, hoping she hadn't slurred her words too much.

"Not much. You okay Sam? You sound a little out of it."

"Oh um, I just had some wine."

"And you didn't invite me over?" Janet asked, sounding almost whiny.

"Sorry, it was just a pity party for one." Sam replied. "Just me and my plant."

"Your plant? Sam, are you sure you're okay? I can come over and take a look at you."

The plant shook its leaves vehemently. "I'm fine Janet, besides my plant doesn't want to see you right now. It never forgave you for dropping that book on it."

"That book? Geez Sam, that was months ago and I said I was sorry. Look, Cassie's sleeping over at her friend's place tonight. I can come over if you want."

"No really Janet, I'd rather be alone."

"Well okay, it's your choice. Try not to drink too much more Sam." Janet said, the doctor in her making another brief appearance. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah tomorrow." Sam said dully and hung the phone up.

The plant waved at Sam, thanking her for not inviting Janet over. Sam put her feet up on the coffee table, knocking over the empty wine bottle. It clattered on the table and rolled onto the floor. A small amount of wine drained out of it and onto the carpet.

Jack was definitely a problem, Sam thought, a definite problem. A problem that was definite. The chain idea was out and so was tying him to his office chair, although that had definite possibilities of another kind. Maybe she'd just tape a sign to his back that read: "Knock Knock! Who's there? Jack O'Neill. Jack O'Neill who? Jack O'Neill, please don't kill me, okay?"

Sam sighed and closed her eyes. All that wine had made its way to her head and her living room had turned into a bad version of the Tilt-a-Whirl. The spider plant turned up a leaf at Sam and began to silently make a date with the philodendron in the next pot over. Sam sighed again and snuggled down into the couch to fall asleep.