Well. This was…nice. Warm, sunny day, peaceful pond, rod dangling. Heaven was Minnesota in June. Well, nearly Heaven. His idea of Heaven: Minnesota – check, warm – check, rod dangling – check, Carter here – check. Unfortunately, his idea of Heaven didn't include Carter's *Dad*, currently sitting five feet away from him on the dock. Also with a rod. And five fish in his keepnet. Yup. The current tally: Jacob Carter – five fish. Jack O'Neill – none. No pesky fish were nibbling on *his* line.
He sighed and shifted his weight to the other butt cheek.
"You okay, Jack?" Jacob's voice sounded perky. It would.
"Yup." Nonchalant, he could do that.
When he invited Carter to his cabin, he hoped against hope that she would say yes. She did, at last. What he didn't reckon was that Carter, senior, would invite himself along for the ride. With a G Loomis rod and a $200 custom Shimono reel. Damn. How the hell was Jack supposed to know that Jacob used to fish in the amateur leagues in his youth? So here Jack was, sitting on the dock with his – friend's – Dad and not even a black crappie to call his own.
Ah-ha. Salvation. He turned his head to see Carter walking towards them bearing gifts: an ice bucket and a plate piled high with sandwiches. She grinned at him as she neared the dock, a cheeky dimpled grin. He was *so* gonna get her back. Twice over.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she replied.
Jack nodded to the sandwiches. "Looks good, thanks."
She smiled again and snagged a couple of beers from the cooler. "You're welcome." Hooking the lids off, she handed a beer to her father and then one to him. "How's it going?" Her eyes were, in fact, *sparkling*.
Bitch. He cleared his throat. "Fine."
Jacob began to reel his line in. So help me…
"Relax, Jack, I just want to lubricate the reel, " Jacob said without looking around. Okay. Carter was *sniggering* now. It wasn't often he heard her snigger, and with everything that had gone on in the past few months he was actually glad to hear that girly little chuckle. He turned on his butt to fully appraise her. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was reasonably fit, considering. Alright, she was still way too thin, but her hair had grown back, cropped short like it was a couple of years back. It suited her. Janet said it would take a couple of months before she was ready for active duty again, but Carter was cooperating and making excellent progress. This trip to Minnesota was just what she needed.
At last, he was right about something.
Sam handed him the plate and as he picked off a ham-on-rye, she winked at him. She *winked* at him. *EVIL* bitch. Now she was grinning. He smiled back, but was struck by the image of her teeth being too big for her head. It must have showed on his face, because her grin faded to a small understanding smile. Holding her gaze, the Earth continued to spin on her endless journey.
A cough from Jacob broke the moment.
She dipped her eyelashes onto slightly blushed cheeks, and leaving the sandwiches, she retreated to her blanket and her Scientific American.
He wanted to go after her. He wanted to say something clever. He wanted to make it all better.
"She's fine, Jack, just leave her."
Jesus! Did being a Tok'ra include psychic abilities now? He turned to fiddle with his line. He was aware he was being watched. "I know that." Oh! Way to go, Jack! Hire yourself out for after-dinner speeches, why don't you?
Jacob re-cast his line and sat for a moment as the rippling water lapped gently against the dock. "You know it wasn't your fault, what happened, don't you?"
Hmm. Jack guessed this *chat* was coming.
"Stop making yourself a whipping boy for everything that goes wrong on SG-1." Jacob reached with his right hand to adjust his ball cap. Well, actually, it was *Jack's* ball cap; Jacob adopted it on the first day to cover his thinning pate.
"I don't do that." He may be her Dad, but-
"Yes, you do." Jacob was sporting that I-know-more-than-you-dude look, even sideways from under the cap.
"No, I-" Oh, no way was he finishing this. He grimaced, and then decided that he may as well as do something productive if he was going to grind his teeth. He bit savagely into his sandwich and chewed grumpily.
Jacob cleared his throat. "Actually, if anyone is to blame, it's me."
Huh?
"I could have saved her all of this," Jacob stated, matter-of- factly.
This was odd. "Jacob, you weren't anywhere near that planet when Sam and the kids were trapped."
Jacob shook his head, causing his line to move, sending out fresh ripples across the murky water. "That's not what I mean, Jack. I mean I could have stopped it when she was eighteen."
Jack pulled his head back slightly, not understanding. Jacob turned to look at him for the first time. "I mean, she would have failed the AF psych. screen if I hadn't pulled in a favor."
Huh?
"Jacob?" he asked.
Jacob Carter paused before answering. "After Mary died, we had a few… problems as a family. Sam had a lot put on her - she kinda took on the role of `mom'. It was too much for her; she was too young. She wanted to be perfect at everything and she wanted everyone to like her. Of course, it don't work that way. Kids can be cruel. She stuck out: so smart, taller than most of the boys, no mom. She worked *so* hard, never showed it, I was *so* proud. Jesus, what a shit-ass father I've been."
Jack could see Jacob's whitened knuckles gripped around his rod. He checked to see if Carter was hearing this. Her nose was still buried in her magazine.
"Jacob, for crying out loud, from what Carter says, you did the best you could. Yeah, sure she moans about you, but in a sorta friendly, harmless, dad-kid sorta way, kinda." Jack was feeling out of his depth. "What do you mean by: `would have failed the psych. screen'? You mean for the Academy?" he asked, more deliberately. He began to reel his line in.
Jacob nodded. "The Thanksgiving the first year she was at college, I caught her making herself sick in the bathroom, and then it all came out. I thought if that went in her notes, the Academy would never take her; she would never get through to NASA. So, I took her to a private clinic and got a couple of friends to cover up the paper trail."
Jack was thunderstruck. He stared at Jacob's stoic profile and then turned to appraise the skinny recumbent figure sunbathing contentedly on his grandmother's blanket. "Jacob, you know the teams practically sleep together – in a non-sexual way, of course – when off-world. I would have noticed if she'd been barfing up. Has she still got this… anorexia?" he hesitantly asked.
"It's called `bulimia', and no, she doesn't suffer from it anymore," said Jacob quietly.
This was new. "This wasn't in her records. At least, the ones that I've seen." Jack declared, thinking about a certain five-foot-two Napoleonic power monger. He had known Janet Fraiser since before, well, *before*, and she had said nothing. Not even when Sam was effectively starving herself to death after Pavan died.
Jacob sucked in his cheeks. "No, I told you. I pulled a few strings."
"I don't believe this. She never said a thing." Jack shook his head and pulled his line out of the water.
"Well, she wouldn't, would she? Not to you. Sam is one of the most single-minded people I'll bet you have ever met. When she sets her mind to something, well, no one's gonna stop her, no way, no how. She *wanted* to be a part of this, she *wants* to be at the SGC, she wants to be the best second-in-command for you." Jacob finally turned to look at Jack and pulled off his cap.
The two men silently regarded each other across the wooden decking.
Jack *had* to ask. "Why are you telling me this now?"
Jacob made a deep sigh, stuffed the cap in his pocket and reeled in his line quickly. He caught the hook and stood up, sprightly and fresh. Sometimes, Jack envied Selmak her knees.
"Because it's time, Jack." Jacob's gaze was uncompromising in its intenseness; he seemed to be sizing him up. Sweat was pricking at the back of Jack's neck.
Jacob spoke again; "It was a long time ago, and we all do things we regret. Sam got over it because she's strong. She'll get over this as well; she's just going to need some time. And support from the AF. And friends. And love." He bent down and stowed his gear. "You just need to decide which one you are going to give." He shouldered the tackle box and slapped the cap off his thigh, shaking out the dust. "Can I borrow your truck?"
"Huh?" Oh yeah. Jack O'Neill, available for hosting {don't ever use that word, O'Neill} and Bar Mitzvahs. "Sure. Why?"
Jacob gave out a small chuckle. "I'm gonna drive into town and pick up Chinese food for supper." He stared pointedly in Sam's direction. "See ya."
Jack stood up, stiff-legged, as he handed Jacob the keys for the truck. "It's a two hour round trip."
Jacob looked over his shoulder as he moved off. "I know; see you later."
With that, he strode away, pausing to bend down and kiss his surprised daughter, and was driving off before Jack could say `Tok'ra, kree!'
Right. Okay. Jacob Carter had just given him permission to do…to do... *something*. Right, Jack. You can move now. *To* Carter. In *that* direction. Sometime this year would be good. Sam raised herself up on her elbow and was staring at him with a befuddled expression.
He began to walk, sauntering coolly across to where she was lying. Don't screw this up, O'Neill.
"Hi," he said as he hunkered down.
"Hi," she replied uncertainly. Sam's brow creased and she sat all the way up, wrapping her skinny arms around her folded jeans-clad legs. Jack noticed that Pavan's bracelet was actually becoming quite snug around her wrist.
"Your Dad's gone to get Chinese food for dinner – is that okay with you?" He plunked his butt on the edge of the blanket, taking the pressure off his aching knees.
Sam rested her chin on top of her own knees and smiled. "Sure, except I've asked for no bean sprouts, if that's okay with *you*." The afternoon sun glinted on her hair in a most fetching way. He recalled that Janet had highlighted it for her before Sam made the journey. Yup, very fetching.
The comment registered. "Why no bean sprouts?"
Again, that smile. "They remind me of something, and it puts me off."
Should he pursue this? "Remind you of something?" Dear God, was he going to repeat *everything* she said?
"Yeah. Little heads, long tails, that *swim*." Sam raised one hand and made small undulating movements in the warm air.
Little heads, long tails, swimming.
"Goa'uld?" His eyebrows raised.
"No." She smirked. "Think smaller." A cute finger was wiggled in front of him.
She couldn't mean? "Oh." The eyebrows dropped along with the penny.
Sam was sniggering again. Cute. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. Now was the time?
"Why didn't you tell me about the bulimia?"
Her grin was completely wiped away and she straightened her back, her arms wrapping further around her legs. "He told you!"
Jack nodded. He stretched out his left leg and started to untwist the cord of his sunglasses slung around his neck. "Yes, he did. He said he thought it was time."
"Oh." Heck, she was doing it now. With one look in the field he could command her to set camp, negotiate a trade treaty, fieldstrip her P-90 and throw in a 50 sit ups for good measure. Put the same two adults together, engage them in a personal conversation, and it would consist of monosyllabic grunts. She dropped her gaze, her lip twisted under her top teeth.
He was going for this. "You should have told me-"
Sam snapped her head up, her eyes indignant. "Why? It was private! My medical history is practically required reading at the SGC. There are some things I would prefer to remain personal." She shook her head and screwed her eyes closed.
Jack grimaced as he considered her words. She was right. The SG missions were written in triplicate, backed up by hard data and practically slavered over by TPTB. There had been numerous instances of intensely private medical information being submitted in field reports, albeit highly classified ones. Jolinar, Hathor, the entity thing, Nirrti. He shuddered slightly. "I would have liked you to have told me as a friend. You know I wouldn't have taken it further if you would've asked me not to."
Sam bit her lip and rested her head on her knees again. "I thought about telling you. About telling you all. Not at first, but later. I dunno. It was twenty years ago; I was a different person then. It doesn't seem so important now." She raised her head to look him in the eye. "Do you know what I mean?"
Oh yeah. He nodded and reached up to adjust the bracelet encircling her pale wrist. "This is getting too small for you."
She smiled and hitched the simple circlet around. "I know; I'll get it restrung when we get back."
He held his fingers there and mentally pushed himself toward the next question. "Tell me about it?"
Sam sighed and looked out over the lake, slowly becoming shadowed as the sun slanted through the surrounding trees. She shrugged. "A typical story-"
"I doubt that," he broke in and leaned back, but kept his hand on her knee.
She paused to smile slightly before continuing. "It was, really. I was my own worst critic. Low, make that *no*, self-esteem. Wanted everything 110%. I was working on a major," she smiled, "physics project at school. Dad was on an unaccompanied tour and Mark was hardly at home, so I never bothered to cook. I was losing weight and I didn't even realize it. Then I started getting compliments about how good I was looking. *ME*. Tall, gawky, nerdy me. Compliments! It was wonderful; I was suddenly popular."
"So you continued to diet to reinforce the nice comments?" Jack was suddenly seeing the whole picture laid out before him.
"Oh, yeah. Got obsessed; weighed myself three or four times a day. But I was hungry. I used to eat everything I could manage then purge it. Laxatives when I could get them, salt water and mustard when I couldn't – the pharmacies got wise to me, so I had to go to different ones." Her voice was quiet and calm; she had lived this, in all its misguided misery.
Jack focused on the bracelet and all that it meant. Sacrifice. Hope. "What was the lowest point?"
Sam raised her eyebrows and took a breath as she steadily stared at him. "The day I ate Kleenex."
He let that one sink in. "You *ate* Kleenex?!" He couldn't help it; he spluttered out a snicker, but immediately sobered when he saw her serious face. Jesus. She *ate* Kleenex.
"One of the girls at the eating disorders clinic told me that it fills you up, but it doesn't." She drew her mouth down and swallowed slowly as she pulled her gaze away.
He followed her stare out over the lake. "What made you turn the corner?" he asked quietly, increasing the pressure around her fingers just ever-so-slightly. When she didn't answer immediately, he turned to watch her face as she considered her answer. Her eyes were wide and cheerless with the memory. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
"My friend, the one that told me about the Kleenex, Alison her name was, died." Her sentence came out staccato, but her eyes remained dry. Had he done such a good job with toughening her up over the years that she had forgotten how to cry? "She had abused her body too much and when she developed pneumonia, her physiology couldn't handle it. Dead so young, at seventeen. What a waste."
"Yes, it was," Jack agreed, with more force than he intended.
Sam turned to look at him, now. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories." She bit her lip again, the pink tinge whitening under her teeth.
He shook his head. "*I* asked you. And for crying out loud, willya call me `Jack'? You're on vacation."
Hey. A smile back. And a beautiful blush, all the way down her neck and past her neckline to her- "It would feel strange calling you that. I've never called you Jack to your face, at least when I've been *fully* conscious."
He grinned. "Not to my *face*? Just to my ass, eh? What else have you not said to my face?"
"That I love you."
The Minnesotan landscape swirled about and for a moment, Jack thought that they were experiencing a twister. He suddenly became aware of Sam's anxious stare that had `I've shot my mouth off' stamped all over it. He opened his mouth to say something, but since he couldn't think of anything clever, he shut it again. He watched her swallow.
"I love you, Jack. And not just because you saved my life again. I… I," her voice faltered and she reached out and covered Jack's hand that was still on her knee with her own. Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it. "I know that's too much, that it's wrong to love you, and I shouldn't say it, but I realize that now after all this time, and I can't hold it in anymore, and-"
"Ack!" he interrupted and raised his free hand. Her eyes closed and her head drooped. Damn, she got the wrong idea. He touched her pale cheek. "No, you're wrong, er…Sam." He could see her eyes open and smiled down at the blonde head angled towards his groin. {Oh, don't think about that now}
Silence. Damn! He should be speaking. He made his mouth flap up and down. "No ..um ..you saved *my* life. Sam." Sam, Sam, Sam.
Her gaze was still groin-ward. A loon was calling over the water. "How?" she asked.
Jack dropped his hand from her cheek and wriggled his way closer. "Are ya looking for a list here? For the times *you* personally *saved* my life, not to mention all the times you pulled SGC asses out of the fire, and so on, and so forth."
A slight breeze eddied about them, rustling the grasses encircling the lake.
"Hello, Carter, you in there?" he ruffled Sam's blonde locks with his hand. It was getting cooler now and they ought to go in; Sam was easily chilled. He saw her swallow. She took another breath and looked straight into his eyes, they were so close, just a bit further and-
They had never been this close, not in this way. They had never spoken like this. This was honesty. This was emotion. It actually felt good. Release. Catharsis. Jack smiled at her again. "Don't you see Sam?" he said quietly, "You saved my soul from a hell on earth a long time ago." His words hung in the air between them.
Finally, Sam whispered, "How long?"
He continued his direct appraisal of her searching face.
"How long, Jack?"
He broke his gaze and clasped both her hands in his, smiling a little at the `Jack'.
"Sam, over the past six years I've watched you grow and develop as an soldier and a person. I've seen you pull some amazing scientific stunts, you've saved the world, kicked Goa'uld ass, God, you're amazing!" he paused, grinning at a fresh red flush that had started below her jaw line. "But the first time I knew I loved you? I think maybe stuck in Antarctica, but I knew for sure after Jolinar."
Sam straightened fully upright. "That was the first year! Are you telling me that you've loved me from the first year?"
"No, actually it was the first day," Jack smirked.
"The first day?!" The words echoed and redoubled across the water. "But I was such a schmuck! I even challenged you to arm wrestle!" Her mouth was making a little `ooh'.
"I thought you were cute." Jack paused. "In fact, if we'd had more time, I would have probably suggested the conference table, but Hammond would've sulked if the scratches wouldn't have come out; you know how he loves that table."
Sam started to giggle, but then sobered as the mention of the General's name and the implications of their new relationship in relation to their military lives became clearer. "What are we going to tell the General?"
Jack smiled, suddenly raised his arms and brought them down around her back. He gently tightened them and sighed. "Sam, he knows."
"He does?" she asked, incredulously, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Jack laughed. "What I mean is, he knows we have strong feelings for each other. He's known since our Za'tarc shambles, although he probably guessed before then. After… recent events, he's been… pulling some strings."
"Strings?" Sam pulled back a little and he could feel the bones in her back.
This was gonna be good. "Meet *General* Jack O'Neill, Alpha site commander, as of-" he twisted his wrist and checked his Omega behind her head, "twelve hours ago."
He saw her take a deep breath. She knew what it meant just as much as he did; no frat regs. He raised himself awkwardly onto his knees and stood up slowly, keeping hold of her hands and pulling her up with him.
"Come down to the lake, it's lovely there in the evening," he tugged gently on her arm.
"No way, I'll get bitten to death!" she grinned and started to pull back.
"Hey! I never bite on the first date, " he waggled his eyebrows for good measure. If she could tease him about…bean sprouts, he could waggle his eyebrows.
She allowed herself to be led to the lake, hand in hand. Jack had forgotten how good that felt; to have a woman's hand in his. Hell, to have a woman. He would have to take it easy; Sam was still recovering, quite weak, and would need space, and-
-and her lips were on his, her hands were around his waist, then in his hair, oh god, that felt nice, her lips were warm and soft, his arm was up the back of her T-shirt, her thumb was under his ear, oh, that was-
"JACK! What the hell are you doing with my daughter?"
He broke away hurriedly, quickly removing his hands from... places where perhaps they shouldn't be. Yet.
Jacob Carter. Check.
Two bags of take-out. Check.
And he was sporting a smirk. One that was matching his daughter's. Check.
Now was the time; he wasn't waiting any longer. "Give us a shout when it's on the table, Jacob. I've just got to finish up here."
Jacob Carter, open mouth. Check.
Samantha Carter, open mouth. Check.
Jack O'Neill. Big shit-eating grin. Check.
********
Story Notes: Enough Is Enough 03: SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers
UTHOR'S NOTES: This is a sequel to `Enough is Enough' and `Best Laid Plans of Mice and Colonels', message numbers 435 and 636 on this list, respectively.
MANY thanks to my betas, Lyta, Rosemary, Sarae and Tammy. *smooches*
This story is dedicated to the `Alison' mentioned in the story, who will never read this and never know that I think of her nearly every day, even though it's been twenty years.
1st - 7th February is `Eating Disorders Awareness Week' in the UK.
UTHOR'S NOTES: This is a sequel to `Enough is Enough' and `Best Laid Plans of Mice and Colonels', message numbers 435 and 636 on this list, respectively.
MANY thanks to my betas, Lyta, Rosemary, Sarae and Tammy. *smooches*
This story is dedicated to the `Alison' mentioned in the story, who will never read this and never know that I think of her nearly every day, even though it's been twenty years.
1st - 7th February is `Eating Disorders Awareness Week' in the UK.
End Notes: "Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero)
If the issues raised in this fanfiction have affected you, you may find these websites helpful:
UK: www.edauk.com
US: www.something-fishy.org
If the issues raised in this fanfiction have affected you, you may find these websites helpful:
UK: www.edauk.com
US: www.something-fishy.org
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]