Jack approached Sam's lab with trepidation. 'Why does it have to be me?' He pondered. 'Okay, so I'm her CO and, sure, I'm her friend too, but this is crap!' He guessed there was a certain irony, justice, kismet and perverse satisfaction that it was him who had to tell her, and at the news itself, but that didn't make it any the less crap!
He stood watching her for a few seconds, but she sensed his presence, as always. He never seemed to be able to get away with just watching her these days; she always appeared to know and he felt awkward when he got caught. Ever since Pete and her. He shuddered and swallowed hard, as she smiled brightly in greeting, and thought, 'Sorry Sam, I'm gonna be wiping that smile right off your face.'
"General," She greeted him, "you need to see me about something, Sir?" She started prattling on about her important experiment and she would only be a few seconds, yadda, yadda, yadda.
"Carter, stop! Please! I need to tell you something." His voice came out sounding irritable, which was so not the tone he wanted to set. "I'm sorry Carter; it's important." This last was more gentle and subdued. "Can you put that down, please?" She held some sort of doohickey in her hand. He had no idea what it was but it probably wasn't a good idea for her to be holding it when he told her this news.
She put it down as requested and he moved around to her side of the table, which surprised her. She looked at him expectantly.
"Sir?"
"I. I'm not sure how to say this Sam." His use of her first name should have alerted her to the gravity of his visit; he rarely called her Sam and normally only when it was bad, very bad or even worse. "I guess I'd better just come right out with it. I got a call from Denver PD; Pete got shot while pursuing a suspect." The expression on her face immediately changed to one of deep concern. "I'm sorry, Sam, but he. he didn't make it."
She looked at him blankly for a moment as if trying to comprehend.
"Didn't make it? Bullshit! What do you wanna go and make something like that up for?"
"Sam I would never joke about something like that." She didn't seem to want to take it in.
"No!" She cried, "It's not possible!" Her tone was vitriolic.
"Sam, I'm so sorry."
"Screw you!"
Under normal circumstances he might have retorted with "That's screw you, Sir, Carter" but refrained. It seemed she was about to hit out at him. She was going to hit him? He was shocked. His slender, but powerful, fingers stopped her, grabbing her wrists. She struggled and swore but he held on regardless, even when she kicked him in the shin in her frustration and ire. Talk about shooting the messenger; her expression was one of pure hatred and that hurt, but he pushed his own feelings to one side.
This behaviour was so unlike her. He might have been angry but knew too well that grief did terrible things; with an intimacy that he didn't even want to remember. Barely managing to contain her, he barked in General O'Neill mode.
"Stop it, Colonel, and that's an order!"
It worked because she desisted and then looked at him horror-struck in realisation of what she had just done; striking a senior officer was a serious offence. Sam turned white as a sheet and went totally quiet. She looked at the floor, unable to face him, and he loosed his grip of her. When she didn't say anything, or move, he ventured cautiously to say something, both apprehensive and concerned about her reaction.
"Carter?"
"I. sorry Sir. You could have me up on charges."
'Yeah, right!' he thought.
"I know that isn't really you Sam. It's okay."
"No it's not. I'm so sorry." Her face was a picture of misery, "General, do you think you could leave me alone for a while?" Voice quivering, she was trying to be stoic.
"I don't think so." He replied. No way was he just going to drop news like that on her and then walk away. What did she take him for?
"For God's sake just leave me alone!" She was more vehement this time.
"No." He replied simply and just stood close, waiting for a sign that she wanted his comfort. He longed for her to want that from him; it was probably all he could give, unless he counted being Sam's punch bag as one of his lifelong ambitions, which he did not.
"This is personal sir and nothing to do with you as my CO." There was bitterness in her voice that hit him like punch in the gut.
"Jesus Sam, I might have been notified because I was your CO but I'm here as your friend. Please let me help you, be here for you." Silence. "Sam?"
She could hear the note of anxiety, and he rarely called her Sam unless he was worried. She had only just noticed his use of her first name but dimly recalled that he'd referred to her as Sam what was probably a record number of times since he'd walked into her lab.
"General.I."
Her eyes were brimming with tears. Knowing that she wouldn't normally wish to show that raw emotion in front of him did not deter Jack from risking touching her arm. Whatever else might have happened between them, or not, he was her friend and her CO. He wanted to be there for her, the shoulder to cry on if needed. Always there, good old General O'Neill; it beat some of the alternatives.
She was still sitting and turned her head into his stomach, putting her arms around him and allowing the tears to fall freely at last. Taken aback, he moved his hands to lightly grasp her shoulders, and then squatted down to her, catching a quick glimpse of her distraught face before she buried it in his neck. The tears continued.
"I'm here, Sam, I'm here. It'll be okay." A little embarrassed, he whispered softly, hating that something had happened to upset her this way, but pleased he was there for her.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Jack caressing her in comfort while she continued to sob. At last she drew slightly away from him and looked into his face.
"I'm so sorry Sir. I. Oh God!" She looked down. "This is so embarrassing. I."
Although he was also discomforted by her outburst, he made no effort to loose his hold of her, but instead stroked her hair.
"Sam, you don't have to feel embarrassed. Please don't. Just let it all out." His voice was quiet and soothing.
"Is that an order Sir?" There was that bitterness again.
"Of course not." His voice continued with its reassuring tones. "Do you want me to call Daniel. or someone?"
It hurt him to think that she might want someone other than him at this moment of stark grief, but accepted this might be so. They had their moments, but he and Sam were scarcely intimate, however much he might have wished for that to be the case. He noted that she shook her head slightly and took that as a 'no'.
Jack reflected on the call he'd received earlier from Pete's Captain. Apparently Pete's partner in the Denver PD had suggested that Sam be notified as his family might not think of it and she deserved to be told quickly. Captain Walker had tracked Sam through the JAG office and, having no wish to confront a possibly hysterical woman, asked for her CO's contact details. Passing the buck seemed appropriate; her CO was a General, no less, and that's what General's got paid huge amounts of money for, wasn't it?
Jack continued to stroke her hair, and in response she clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder again, although the sobbing had stopped. It was a long while before she spoke and Jack was beginning to feel physical discomfort from his crouched position. Don't blow it Jack, he thought, willing himself to ignore it.
Poor Sam! This had to happen? His heart broke for her, although his feelings were confused. He thought it better to analyse all of that later. Right now, Sam needed him and that was enough. He could hardly admit to himself, never mind Sam, that the news had given him some perverse pleasure. He didn't like to see her hurt, let alone be the one to do the hurting; if she hurt, so did he.
"I'm so sorry Sam." He said, again, sympathetically. It seemed woefully inadequate. He was shocked when she drew back from him at his words.
"What are you sorry about? You never even liked him." The bitterness was back in her voice again: accusatory.
"Sam! Please. Does any of that matter?"
She was right, of course. Go figure! No one was good enough for 'his' Sam; no one should have taken her away from him. He'd felt bereft ever since he'd found out about them, as if he was missing a part of himself, and as time passed the feeling had worsened. He tried hard not to show it but couldn't believe she didn't realise how hurt he was.
Jack had a history of deliberately provoking Pete. His usual sarcasm in Pete's company was way above and beyond even Jack O'Neill's normal form. He knew it angered Sam but he did it anyway. Needless to say he didn't see them together very often; she kept them apart as much as possible. He could more than live with that, but hated her disapproval - and that it meant he saw her less. He couldn't bear to see her with him, so it served its purpose.
"I'm sorry." She stated simply, and he believed she meant it.
"You don't need to apologise to me. I guess I deserve it." He admitted, surprising her.
"No, you don't. Not really." She looked up into his eyes again. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"You know." He noticed that lack of the 'Sir' normally so prevalent in her words to him. She was talking to Jack, not her CO and this was unusual. He nodded to acknowledge that he did know.
"Sam. Do you want to go home? You shouldn't be here. Not when. You're too upset."
"Sure. Go home. I guess I ought to do that Sir."
Despite the addition of 'Sir' again, she sounded forlorn and heart broken. He figured that should not come as a surprise. She had, after all, just found out that her boyfriend had died. That had to hurt one heck of a lot. She was probably still suffering from shock, and would for quite a while. He remembered that feeling and it brought him no joy that she should have to suffer it.
"I'll take you." He offered.
"No, General, you can't do that."
"Would you rather I didn't?" He would understand if she didn't want him to but hoped she would say that she did.
"You have duties Sir."
In other circumstances Jack might have laughed bitterly at that. Sure. duties; they were the pesky things that had destroyed the concept that something might happen between him and Sam.
"Some things are more important than duties Carter." He replied, wishing he'd thought that years ago, as things might have been different now. "Besides, I have a duty to you too; you're my friend and I care about you. I want to help Sam, if you think I can. I'm not indispensable, you know... I'd like to take you, if you." He did not want to assume that she would and believed that she probably wouldn't.
"I'd like that." She responded. He noted the lack of 'Sir' again and knew it meant something. Nodding, he slowly eased away from his grasp of her, standing to pick up the phone and quickly making arrangements to cover his absence.
"No I don't want the car. I have my own transport." He said into the phone. "I'll keep my mobile on."
"Come." He said to Sam when he'd finished the call. He took her hand and then, realising what he'd done, quickly released it again. He could feel his face flush. Dammit! He was such an old fool.
Having left the base trying to draw as little attention as possible, a difficult thing for a General to do, he drove her home in silence.
"Thank you Sir." She said when they pulled up in front of her door.
"Do you want me to come in?" He asked and she nodded.
"I could use some company." She replied, surprising herself, as earlier she had been wishing to be alone.
Once inside the house she wondered aimlessly to the kitchen with Jack in tow.
"Can I get you something Sir?" She offered.
"For God's sake Sam, sit down," he said, "let me."
He placed his hand in the small of her back and led her out of the kitchen, sitting her on the couch.
"What can I get you Sam?" He asked.
"Ummm. large scotch, please Sir."
"Can't you drop the 'Sir'?" He asked.
Walking over to her liquor cabinet, he poured her one but did not help himself because he wanted a clear head. Instead, he passed the glass to her and disappeared to the kitchen to get a diet coke. It would suffice. When he returned he sat and put his arm around her, gently pulling her towards him. She rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing in his arms and letting him give her the comfort she needed and wanted from him. This is why he was there. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
"What is it with me and men?" She said eventually, "All the men I care about died on me." Jack was well aware of her reputed black widow curse.
"I'm still here." He ventured.
"I know. But you know what I mean."
"Yeah."
It was no comfort to be reminded of what she meant, and that exclusive list sadly seemed to exclude him. Maybe he should be relieved as he was, after all, still alive. He pushed away such thoughts.
"I really am cursed." She muttered.
"That's dumb and you know it." His tone lacked ridicule, but was sympathetic. "This thing with you and Pete lasted months." It was painful to think about that.
"All that means is that it lasted longer, not that I'm not cursed." She posited.
"Oh Sam.!" He stroked her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. "I wish I could do something." He hated to feel helpless when one of his team was in trouble. Sam wasn't merely a member of his team, she was the woman he loved and that made him doubly powerless.
"You are doing something, and God bless you for that." She replied in a whisper, making Jack smile a little.
"I did love him, you know?" She said.
Jack so did not want to hear that, but would listen to whatever she needed to say anyway. His heart wrenched at the words and he figured that, despite her relationship with Pete, he had always hoped she still loved him. Totally untrue it seems. He had been deluding himself and would have to learn to live with that, concentrating on friendship.
"I'm going to miss him so much." She added, rubbing salt into Jack's wound.
"Sam. I'm so sorry." It was all he could think of to say. "I hate seeing you hurting like this."
"I know."
She reached to touch his face, causing him to shiver with longing for her. The room was rapidly darkening but neither of them made a move to turn on lights. Jack idly wondered what time it was but decided to live in the moment. Despite her words it felt so good to hold her in his arms; to be of some use to her as a friend, if nothing more.
"This is strange," She said, "That it should be you here, now." Jack couldn't help but agree with that assessment but stayed silent, absently continuing to stroke her face. Eventually he spoke.
"Do you want me to go? Shall I call someone else?" He felt her grip him hard.
"No, Jack, please don't."
Jack! It took these circumstances for her to call him that at last? There was a lot of irony in that; the whole situation was full of it.
"It's alright Sam. I'm here as long as you need me. I'm not leaving unless you want me to."
He felt, rather than heard, her start sobbing again. Dammit! Had he started her off somehow?
"I don't deserve you to be here." Her voice was full of pain and he squeezed her gently.
"Of course you do Sam. I've always been here." That was only too true, in his heart.
"That's why I don't deserve it." She said miserably and he could think of no answer to that so said nothing.
After a long while of sitting silently in the dark holding each other, Sam pulled away from him and got up, putting on lights and closing out the world outside.
"Are you hungry?" Jack asked.
"Not really."
"You should eat Sam."
"I don't think so."
"I can't have my officers making themselves ill. Do you want me to make it an order?"
Although he hated to pull rank at a time like this, he was genuinely concerned. He knew she hadn't eaten that day. He'd heard rumours that she had been stuck in her lab for over 12 hours with no sleep and nothing to eat; the rumours had been Daniel Jackson shaped. In fact, he'd been about to go give Sam her marching orders, force her to eat and sleep, when Captain Walker called with the news.
"You're the General, General." She replied and he hoped he could persuade her back to Jack.
"Well, I'm hungry anyway." He claimed, "I'll order pizza."
He called in the order. Sam did not come back to sit down, rather she paced the room looking angry.
"Something I've said?" He asked once he'd finished the call.
"It's not you, it's him." Pete! Of course Pete, how could Jack have thought otherwise? "How could he go and get himself killed? The stupid son of a bitch!"
Boy, was she pissed. It wasn't often that you heard that sort of language from Sam's lips, despite her background with the armed forces.
"He loved you Sam. He would never have deliberately hurt you. You know that." Jack couldn't believe he was saying this. Besides, it was a dumb response to her heartfelt anger.
"Dammit Jack, just let me be angry!"
Jack again? He was surprised. He sat back and watched her pace out her anger and pain, listening to her curse Pete for leaving her. Each word felt like a stab wound to his heart as it only emphasised her love for a man other than him. She was still doing it when the pizza arrived, so he left her to it and went to answer the door, grateful for the respite. Then he went through to her kitchen, found plates and took some slices of the pizza for both of them back through to her. She'd sat back down on the couch.
"Here. Eat." He said, handing her a plate and sitting beside her once more. "And no it's not General's orders, Sam," he added when he saw her expression, "it's Jack's orders."
He hadn't really considered himself hungry until he smelled the pizza, so he tucked in with relish and eyed Sam fiddling with hers. After a while she picked up a slice and took a small bite, and then she started to eat with more enthusiasm, surprising herself.
"It's good, thanks." She told him and when she'd finished, he got more, which she also demolished. Not exactly the most nutritious food around, but it probably had all the right food values; they were just in the wrong proportions, that's all. He should have ordered salad but hadn't been thinking. A quick look in Sam's refrigerator had revealed very little. It looked a bit like his - almost empty. They obviously both put grocery shopping at the bottom of their long list of things to do.
"I guess I'm gonna have to call Denver," Sam said later, "find out what's happening. arrangements. I could drive up there."
"Can I call anyone for you?" he offered but she shook her head.
"I'll call Jim, his partner; he's a nice guy."
"You've met?" She nodded again and then fell silent.
"Call tomorrow. You need to rest. You look whacked out Sam. Go to bed; get some sleep. I'd better leave."
"Can't you stay?" She asked quickly and he was surprised at the vehemence in her voice.
"Stay? You mean stay over? Sam."
She reached over a hand and took one of his, and Jack sensed her need to have someone there. It probably didn't have to be him, he just happened to be on hand.
"Ok. I'll sleep on the couch. And all you need to do is call."
"There is a spare bedroom Sir." 'Sir'. It was probably just as well that she ensured he knew his place, he thought.
"A bed? Luxury." He joked, and smiled to cover his unease. "Come on then. Bed Sam. It's late and you need to rest."
"Yes Sir."
He stood with her hand still in his and led her to her bedroom.
"Get ready and I'll come and tuck you in?" He said. "I need to make a call."
The need to call the SGC to let them know his whereabouts allowed him to give her some privacy for a while. He pondered what to say on the phone, not thinking that 'yeah I'm at Carter's place but I'm sleeping in the spare room honest" would be appropriate. In the end he played enigmatic, merely saying he was at a friend's and could be reached through his mobile.
It was hard for a General to make himself unavailable. He'd recently spent a lot of time empathising with what George Hammond must have gone through on a daily basis. It sucked. He thought his life had never been his own when he'd been a Colonel. If only he'd known. Oy!
"Sam? You decent?"
He called to her softly and when he received no response crept quietly along the hallway to her room. She was asleep, fully clothed. Well he wasn't volunteering to take off her clothes and put her to bed. No siree! That was asking too much of a red blooded male. He crept into the room and took off her shoes and he would do no more than that.
She was on top of the covers, so he looked around for a blanket to cover her with. As he pulled one off a top shelf of a cupboard, a small box fell down and scattered its contents over the floor. Damn! He looked to see if Sam had stirred. Maybe it was just as well that she hadn't slept for so many hours before this. Daniel had said at least 12 straight so that had to make it 17 or 18 by now. He hoped that meant she'd stay out for the night.
Gently, he laid the blanket over her and leaned to kiss her cheek.
"Sweet dreams Sam." He whispered and then turned to quietly clear up the mess.
It was photographs and other memorabilia, reminding him of a certain small box he kept in his locker at the SGC. In that he had photos, of his family, his son, plus other oddments that had been important in his life. Just put it all back, don't look O'Neill, he told himself. But he couldn't help but glimpse at the odd thing as he picked it up from the floor and threw it back into the box.
One photo gave him pause and he sank to the floor and stared at it. It was him, with Sam. Where had she got a picture of the two of them together? He couldn't recall having seen one, but trying to remember where it came from dredged up nothing from his currently befuddled brain.
Jack coveted it as he had no pictures of Sam and often wished he did. She'd put this one in a box at the top of her cupboard so probably wouldn't even miss it. He pocketed it guiltily. If she ever looked at it she wouldn't have it in the top of her cupboard, he reasoned.
On her dresser stood a picture of her with Pete; she knew her priorities. It hurt like hell although he couldn't fathom why it should hurt so. You'd expect a woman to have a picture of the man she loved close to her, wouldn't you? He shouldn't be surprised.
After putting the box away he went to ensure the house was secured and sat watching TV for a while. He didn't want to think and needed something to distract him. Eventually he dragged himself towards bed, believing he was tired and ready to sleep and wanting to be closer to Sam in case she needed him. He stopped off to look in on her and make sure she was alright. Once more he leaned over, this time to kiss her hair. Her scent was intoxicating and he longed to touch her, but didn't dare do more than he already had. He thought anything further might be considered borderline perverted and, in any event, would never take advantage of such a situation.
Once in bed he was restless and couldn't sleep, wishing he'd just stayed up to watch TV and eventually fallen asleep on the couch, even if it would wreak havoc with his back.
The relationship between Sam and Pete had lasted a lot longer than he had hoped it might. Jack had thought she'd had feelings for him, knew she did, but clearly she had found someone who could make her happy and he tried to let it make him happy too. He had hoped she would turn away from Pete of her own accord, realising she loved him after all. It was a stupid dream. Now Pete was dead and Jack would never know whether she might have chosen him instead. Pete would always be there. There was nothing like a martyr; Jack knew he couldn't top that.
Jack's life had seemed pretty bleak of late. Faith and hope were the things that had kept him going through the dark periods of his life. Now he had neither. She could never choose him over Pete because that choice had been taken away from her. The thought depressed him. He'd wanted to win her on his own merits and now he never would. All he had to hang onto was friendship. It would have to do.
This was why he hadn't wanted to think. Thinking was bad and only depressed him. It pulled him down into the dark depths of his own soul and he too often hated what he saw there: loneliness; bitterness; emptiness. It was unpleasant to say the least. At times like this he tried to push away the bad things that had happened over the years and concentrate on the good. Right now he was finding it hard to think of any good. If he took Sam out of the equation there wasn't much left anymore.
Jack thought he heard a noise and strained his ears. It was Sam and she was crying again. He'd never seen her like this before; she was normally so restrained and military. Of course, he'd never seen her in a similar situation before either. He got up and wondered to her room. Her sobs tore at him and he wanted to take her in his arms and make them go away. He could try. So he sat on the side of her bed and reached out to her.
"Jack!" She cried and sat up to pull him into a hug. He clung to her tightly, rocking her gently in his arms.
"Shhhh, Sam. It's ok, I'm here." He wished he knew the magic words, but he didn't.
Sam lay down, pulling him with her and he stretched out on the bed next to her, continuing to hold her in his arms, until she fell asleep again a long time later. He could hardly sleep at all. It's a hard thing to hold the woman you love in your arms but still be so far away from her and he grieved that lack of intimacy.
Yet this was so intimate, not in any sexual sense, but more a state of mind. Her physical proximity, the tender familiarity, was so rare and stirred something inside. If he didn't keep it zipped up tight he was going to lose the self-control that he'd exercised so carefully for months. This wasn't about him, he reminded himself, it was about Sam and her loss. Knowing more than a little something about that, he hoped she didn't take this as badly as he might in similar circumstances. That could be pretty bad. If it was Sam who had died. he couldn't even bring himself to voice it in his head.
She had brought fresh air into his life when he'd needed it. Daniel and the boys from Abydos had all but raised him from the dead. Then the SGC, Carter and SG-1 had breathed life back into him. She had played a major role in helping him maintain that fiction over the years. It was only now he was beginning to realise quite how much of it had been an imaginary tale. If he thought too hard about that he realised it was all pretty pathetic, so he tried to avoid thinking, without much success.
As he lay there awake he made up his mind what he should do. Stick by Sam, support her in any way she needed until she was getting over this. Then he would resign and retire to Minnesota, dying a lonely, bitter and empty old man. It seemed a fitting end for Jack O'Neill. 'Good God, Jack, stop being so melodramatic,' he chided himself.
Thinking he was being ridiculous seemed to help him pull back from the brink. Not long after that he fell asleep, fully clothed and still wearing his boots.
Sam woke with a start next morning waking him right along with her.
"General O'Neill!" She exclaimed with shock.
"Yeah, that's me." He quickly pulled himself away from their physical proximity, sitting up quickly on the side of the bed.
"Oh Sir... I. oh God. I." As she started to recall what had happened the previous night, she couldn't manage a coherent sentence. "Did anything happen last night? Between us?" She asked and he was surprised.
"Don't you think you'd remember?" He asked.
"I don't know," was her disturbing reply. He doubted he was particularly great, if it came down to it, but was a little put out that she thought he would be so totally forgettable. Luckily nothing like that had happened.
"Do you feel like I made love to you? Women can normally tell these things you know. Besides, we're fully clothed Carter. What could have happened?" His tone was sarcastic.
Sam looked at herself, at him, and then blushed profusely. How stupid could she be? As if she couldn't tell; as if she would forget!
'It would have been that bad if something had happened?' Jack's mind questioned.
"Yes Sir. Stupid of me." She was flushed with embarrassment. "Thank you Sir, for being here."
"Anytime Carter. You know that. I guess I should get home, changed and to the SGC. How you feeling? I guess that's a dumb question?" He added, sheepishly.
"I'll be alright sir." He thought she looked pretty numb. That would be normal.
"I hope you weren't planning on coming into the SGC today."
"I. are you telling me to take the day off Sir?"
"Ummm. I think so."
"Well. ok. I guess I won't be much use there. I'll call Jim, maybe drive up Denver."
"I'm not sure you should drive up there today Sam." Knowing she was still suffering from the shock, he was worried she'd be too distracted.
"I'll be fine."
Jack sighed heavily. Short of locking her up, he could do nothing to stop her doing as she wished.
"Well. umm... just. be careful, okay?"
"I always am Sir."
Yeah, that had been part of their problem; they were both too damned careful.
"Right. I need to get to the mountain Sam. Duty calls." He admitted reluctantly. "But will you be alright alone? Do you want someone else to come over?"
"I probably need some time alone General." She shook her head to emphasise her refusal of some else's company. In truth she was thinking it was Jack she needed, or no one, and was ashamed of that thought.
"Sure."
"Wouldn't you like some coffee before you go Sir?"
"Mmm. sure, you twisted my arm." He was reluctant to leave and she was unwilling to let him. "I'll go make some."
"I'll do it." She saw his expression. "I want to do it." She added. "Do you want to take a shower here Sir?"
He looked at his watch and figured he probably wouldn't get home. He'd sort it out when he got to the SGC; get showered and changed. Once again, duty was standing in the way of what he really wanted to do; although he believed Sam when she said she needed to be alone. He'd have coffee and go, calling by later to check on her. It was a compromise he would have to live with.
"I'll wait until I get to the SGC, if you can bear the bad odour." He joked; sniffing under his arms, and was pleased to see a faint smile on Sam's lips in response.
"I think I've smelled you worse Sir." He laughed at her comment.
"No doubt you have Carter."
A lot worse, he thought. She's seen too much of me at my worst, so why wouldn't she be thrilled to have met a great, young guy who loved her? Jack didn't want to place too much emphasis on the 'young' part. He was worried he was actually beginning to feel his age at last. The life he'd led, he probably deserved to feel way older than that, if not be dead already, so he shouldn't complain.
They drank coffee without speaking very much and he decided he was way overdue to leave. He had a pre-mission briefing with SG-13 this morning. Dave Dixon was bound to be cheerfully pessimistic as usual. He liked the guy, and he was good at the job, but figured that his four children had sent him ever so slightly crazy. Or that is what you would believe if you listened to Dixon. Like Jack, he kept his real feelings close to his chest. Jack, however, knew that Dave totally adored his kids. Jack hated too much early morning chirpiness. He wondered if he had ever been that infuriating to Hammond and believed he probably had. Oh boy!
"I'd better go now Sam. I'll drop by later, if you're here, or call?" He was kind of asking her permission and she nodded agreement.
Before he got up to leave he briefly took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Call me if you need to. Anytime Sam. Ok? I mean it."
"I know. Thanks."
She returned his hand squeeze and then he let go and got up, leaving without looking back again. He couldn't bear to look back. Once he'd gone Sam thought about the previous day, and night.
Pete, dead. It seemed unbelievable, yet it had always been a possibility for either of them with their dangerous professions. Pete had been her lifeline to something normal in her otherwise unusual and startlingly hazardous existence. Now he was gone. She wasn't sure it had sunk in yet.
She remembered that getting used to the death of a loved one or friend took a while. When her mother had died it was the sight of her coffin that brought home the reality she would never see her again. Janet's death had more immediacy, but that was totally different, and Sam herself was an adult when that happened, and had encountered other deaths. Maybe kids saw things differently, she wasn't really sure. She wondered how long it would take her to get to grips with the fact that Pete was gone.
Sam felt she should kick herself for almost inadvertently 'choosing' Jack as the person to comfort her. It seemed so right yet still so wrong. She knew her relationship with Pete had hurt him, although he seemed to wish her well with it. That was despite his poor reaction to Pete's physical presence, which Sam was never sure of the reasons for: jealously or genuine dislike.
She had told Jack that she loved Pete and would miss him. She wasn't sure anymore whether that might have hurt him. Surely Jack must be over it by now. Sam believed that her relationship with Pete had probably destroyed any chance of a similar one with Jack O'Neill. It had gone too far and there was no turning back the clock to what they had shared, or had wanted to share, before she'd met Pete.
Jack's unerring support of her in her time of need was a little overwhelming and she was astounded by it. She wondered whether he still harboured feelings for her. It had been a pretty strange night. Her boyfriend is killed and she's in another man's arms? If she was honest, she still wanted and yearned for that other man.
That was disgusting; how could she even think like that when Pete had just died? She was ashamed of herself and her feelings towards Jack at such a time. It was wrong and she fought hard to suppress her thoughts. Now was not the time; she doubted it ever would be.
Having called Pete's partner in Denver she decided to drive up for the day, so called the SGC to leave a message for Jack; she'd be back home later.
When Jack got to the SGC he'd showered, changed and attended the briefing with SG-13, agreeing to the mission they outlined. He sought out Daniel and Teal'c as soon as possible to tell them the news and Daniel called her straightway, getting no reply. When Jack told him she'd probably driven to Denver, both men worried. What if she had an accident? Driving when grief stricken might not be such a hot idea, although they were aware that one could go into autopilot in such a situation; they'd been through it themselves at different times of their lives.
Jack got on with the job as best he could, feeling slightly distracted all day. Every so often he would drift off into his own thoughts, mainly of Sam and holding her close to him, being in her bed. Now was so not the right time for all of this. He had thought he was coping pretty well with the loss of his dreams about a relationship with Sam. Pete had put paid to those and Jack was getting over it; as over it as he probably ever would. These events had brought it more sharply into focus than he had allowed it to be for a considerable time. He'd been deceiving himself that he was over it. He still loved her; that was starkly apparent. It was something he'd denied for quite a while, but he could no longer do so.
This would never have happened if he hadn't been obliged to give her the fateful news. If he had found out about Pete's death in any other way he could have distanced himself from her. It was the raw power of her emotions, her misery and pain, which had drawn him in. He had allowed himself to get too close to her again. Big mistake Jack. Damn, you're a fool!
Burying himself under a heap of paperwork to take his mind off it, Jack managed to keep his emotions in check. Then he realised he was in too deep and he would find it hard to pull back now. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. Not having slept well the night before meant he was tired way too early. Before he changed his mind, he picked up the phone and called to leave a message for Sam.
When Sam got home from Denver she picked up a couple of messages, one from Daniel and one from Jack. She called Daniel to assure him she'd be alright: no she didn't need anything; no she would rather he didn't come round tonight, perhaps tomorrow - she wanted to be alone. They had a long chat and then she called Jack.
"How are you Carter?" He asked. "How was Denver?" His voice clearly spoke his concern for her.
"Oh, it was. hard."
"Do you want me to come over?" He offered immediately.
"I. yes Sir, that would be great."
As a result the call was brief. She wanted Jack's company but not Daniel's? Daniel would probably feel put out about that if he knew. But Jack had been there for her from the start of this and it felt more comfortable that it continue that way. She didn't have to start again.
When she got off the phone she pondered her trip to Denver. Meeting Pete's parents was tough. She had never met them before, had positively avoided it, much to Pete's chagrin. These were bad circumstances in which to be meeting them for the first time. They tried to talk to her about funeral arrangements, knowing that their son had loved her and might want her to have a say in the arrangements.
She thought that very generous of them but waived any 'right' she had to interfere. This was their son and they should do as they saw fit. It wasn't as if Pete and her had been married, although he had asked her on more than one occasion. Something else she avoided and which pissed him off.
In fact, Pete had seemed to spend a whole lot of time in a pissed off state with her. She wouldn't do this, or that, or commit to anything; she put the SGC first, and particularly her beloved Colonel / General O'Neill. He got fed up with Jack's name being bandied around. Sam had deliberately shrugged off the significance of that, although Pete had been more than wary of her CO and her relationship with him.
She often wondered why Pete had continued to ask her to marry him, given his general bad moods about her availability yadda, yadda, yadda. Had he somehow thought that marriage would change things? Did he believe he'd then own her ass and could insist she do things his way? It was an aspect of Pete that had worried her; she did not want a man to control her life. It was her life and she should control it, even if she knew it was all too often outside of her control. She admonished herself for thinking ill of the recently dead.
Jack arrived with bags of grocery shopping; which she thought was sweet and thoughtful of him. He'd bought a lot of healthy food, surprising her. He was obviously hinting.
"You look terrible Sam." He said as he came through the front door. She noted the reversion to 'Sam' from the 'Carter' formality of their telephone conversation.
"Gee, thanks!" She replied.
She followed him through to the kitchen where he put down the bags and started to remove things from them without looking at her.
"I'm just sayin'. I'm worried that you overdid it today. I know Denver's not far but I'm betting you're exhausted. It must have been a strain."
"It was." She agreed, starting to help him unpack and making suitable noises to accompany her surprise at what he'd bought. "Are you trying to tell me I should eat more healthily?" She asked.
"Maybe." Jack smiled. "Sam, I'm not gonna let you make yourself ill, I told you that. You won't do anything for yourself. Grief is a weird thing. I know what this is like."
She saw the shadow of his own periods of grief pass over his face and reached to lightly touch his arm, capturing his eyes in her gaze.
"I know you do."
"Yeah, well this is about you, not me." He shrugged her off.
"Jack, why are you doing all this?" She asked.
"What?"
"You know.all this." She waved her arms to indicate the groceries, and him. "Being here for me. the shopping.?"
"Because I care about you Sam. That's one thing that has never changed."
She wondered precisely what he meant by that statement, and how much he cared, but this was not a subject for now; strictly taboo.
"Okay. It's. good of you." She said.
Good of me? Jack thought. Sam seemed to realise that what she'd said was inadequate.
"More than good, so much more. I really am grateful Jack."
"Well I'm glad you appreciate it but you don't have to thank me. I just want to make sure you're alright, that's all. You're important to the SGC."
She wondered whether Jack brought it all back to that because he lacked the feeling, or because he felt too much. Jack could easily hide anything beneath that senior officer mask.
"So, where do you put potatoes Sam?" He asked quickly, changing the subject, as he was uncomfortable about what he had just said and what it might imply. Sam could read him better than almost anyone he knew so he had to be careful around her. It was hard work constantly keeping his guard up and sometimes he slipped. Yesterday he had slipped big style. Her vulnerability had exposed his own.
"Jack, you don't need to feel nervous around me." She said, and Jack was alarmed he was so transparent.
"I'm not, that's crazy." He replied, trying to bluff his way out of her accurate and far too telling observation.
"Maybe I'm imagining it."
"Yeah, I don't think now is the time to rely 100% on your judgement skills Sam. You need time."
"I just want you to feel that you can be you when you're with me, that's all." She responded. Oh boy, Jack thought, if only she knew!
"I'm not sure you've ever really seen the real me Sam." He said pointedly, and the comment felt like a slap to her face. Back off Sam, she told herself, this is not the time for such a conversation.
"You might be right about that." She agreed.
Jack was relieved that she seemed to accept that, or certainly she didn't argue. Phew! He got the feeling that he had just driven another wedge between them and it saddened him, but it was probably necessary in the end. He had to protect himself. There was already too much pain in his life.
"So, coffee?" She asked and started to make some before he even got the chance to reply.
"Sure. I guess I shouldn't stay too long. I've got stuff." He shrugged apologetically.
"I understand. You can't spend all your free time babysitting me." She said.
'You are so wrong about that Sam,' he thought, 'but I need to give you space. You have to deal with this alone sometime.' In reality he very much wanted to stay, but that would be all wrong. This was the wrong time; that had passed long ago. He was still mourning that loss, while she was newly in mourning for Pete.
Sam was disappointed, hoping he might stay like he had the previous night. He didn't have to sleep over, just be there for a while. She longed for him to hold her in his arms again, because he made her feel safe, secure and warm.
They sat together on her couch once more, sipping their coffees, but she could sense the unease in Jack that she had not felt, or maybe just hadn't noticed, the previous day.
"They got Pete's killer. The funeral will be next week. The full police, honor thing, you know?" She revealed.
"Right. That's good. That they got his killer I mean."
"Jack?" She hesitated and he looked at her curiously with eyebrows raised in query. "Would you come. with me. to the funeral?"
"What?" He was astonished.
"I know it's a lot to ask but I'm not sure I can do it on my own."
"Daniel would probably go if you asked him."
"But it isn't Daniel I want to come with me." She persisted.
"Oh." He felt vaguely flattered that she chose him to accompany her, but wasn't sure it was right. "It's just, I never liked the guy much. It's a little hypocritical."
"I want you there for me, Jack, not him."
How could he refuse that? He had promised himself he would be there, do what she needed him to do. This was clearly something she needed him to do.
"It's an Irish thing Jack; a wake on Thursday, the funeral on Friday with a reception afterwards. I guess I should go to the wake as well as the funeral."
"A wake?" He wondered how traditional it would be. The old fashioned washing the body, wailing and keening type wake was rarely practised anymore and he fervently hoped that the Shannahans weren't going to revive it for their son. "Where Sam? Pete's apartment? His parents' place?"
"They don't live in Denver. Pete's place is a bit small so it's in the home of a distant cousin."
"You want me to come with you to that too?"
"Would you? It probably means two days away from the SGC. I was planning on booking a hotel for a couple of nights. It makes more sense than coming back here. I'll pay for your room, if you can get away." She added hastily. One could not take the availability of Generals for granted.
"Hotel? Right." He paused, a bit nonplussed. "Sam you don't have to pay for my hotel, for crying out loud. I'll get away, I promise. I'll organise it tomorrow."
"Thank you."
"I told you I'll be here Sam, and I will."
After that, the silence between them stretched uncomfortably.
"I guess I'd better go." Jack rose from the couch as he spoke.
"Do. do you have too?" Sam asked in a slightly plaintive tone.
"You want me to stay a bit longer?" Sam nodded mutely in response to his question. "Ok." He paused for a while and then added. "I'll make some dinner." And waved away her objections. It would be good to have something to occupy him other than his own maudlin thoughts.
He made chicken salad, and bread, something his culinary skills could not ruin. She picked at her food and he almost forced her to eat some of it, pleased he'd stayed after all because he could ensure she ate something. After he'd nagged her for a while she confessed that she hadn't eaten all day until then. Therefore, he forced her to eat more.
Afterwards she suggested they watched some mindless TV and he decided he could stay just a while longer. They sat side by side on her couch and at one point she reached over to take his hand in hers. He let her, his heart hammering as he responded to her touch. Later she laid her head on his shoulder and dozed off. He didn't dare move, not wishing to disturb her. Sam's sleep patterns were going to be erratic for a while - he remembered it well.
What was he going to do? It was of his own making, but he wasn't sure how much of this he could handle. He hated this close and yet so far away thing that existed between them. Holding her in his arms in her bed the previous night had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. However, he had made a promise to be there for her and he kept his promises. Jack wondered whether he might live to regret this one.
/Continued in Part 2: Waking In Denver/
Story Notes: Being There 01: This was inspired, albeit inadvertently, by a mail from (Lt.Col.) Trish (Carter). It ignores canon after New Order. Special thanks, as ever to Bonnie for her beta of this fic. Her suggestions about my first draft made this version much better than it might have been. Also, many thanks are due to the wonderful Phil for agreeing to create the lovely artwork which illustrates this series. You can view his gorgeous artwork for this part on my site: http://www.ficwithfins.com/su/ship/btpt1.htm
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 ]