***** Unspoken Promises *****
It had gnawed at him all afternoon.
He shouldn't have sent her the flowers.
So, having already sent flowers he shouldn't have, Jack O'Neill wondered what the hell he was doing standing on her front porch with two bags of takeaway Chinese.
In the meantime his stomach was training for the circus, and his memory was reminding him that the last time he'd shown up on Carter's doorstep with food and something to do for the night, she'd already had a date. With an alien. Who fell in love with her, stayed in her house for nine days, and made her a Stargate...well, made a Stargate in her basement.
*Oh, for crying out loud! Just knock on the door!*
He knocked, and had the uneasy feeling that every curtain in the neighbourhood twitched aside to see the Air Force officer stupid enough to bring dinner around to his 2IC's house on Valentine's Day. A little voice in his head hissed that spending even one minute alone in the company of an attractive subordinate on Valentine's Day was grounds for a court-martial.
The door opened. "Sir?" She stared at him, astonished by his presence at her door.
"I...uh...I brought Chinese." He lifted one bag. "Sweet and sour pork, lemon chicken, and cashew nut vegetables." He glanced from her to the hallway behind, then back to her, "Unless, of course, you've already got company..."
Colour stained her cheekbones. She evidently remembered the last time he stood on her porch with food, too. "I don't have company, Colonel." There was a momentary hesitation before her admission of: "And I haven't had dinner yet - I was just contemplating whether to bother heating something up or just call out." Her smile was quiet and a little uncomfortable, but at least it was there.
He came in and deposited his offerings on the table - next to the glass with his rosebuds in. In spite of not having company and not expecting company, her house was way too neat. The house of someone who didn't really live there. A bit like Jack's own place. They *so* needed to get lives.
A glance towards the lounge and television set showed the three bears proudly displaying their hearts and medal on the ledge above the TV alcove.
"Sir?"
"Carter?" Jack turned to look at her, their gazes clashing.
Her gaze dropped to the rosebuds then back up to him. "Thank-you."
A curve touched his lips and a little of the tension in him eased. At least she wasn't running scared by his flowers. It was a start. "You're welcome."
She blushed and stared at her hands. "I didn't get you anything, sir."
"I didn't expect anything," he told her. Sure, he'd *hoped*, but certainly not expected. Had he *expected* a gift from his 2IC, he also probably could' ve expected a court-martial shortly after. A wry grin crossed his face, "Your company for dinner will be fine. Although the bears on the mantelpiece are a little disconcerting." He'd never realised how observant toys could be.
It felt almost like Daniel and Teal'c were watching his every move. And the expression of the bear in the Air Force uniform was suggested that having dinner in this house on Valentine's Day was one of the biggest mistakes in a career whose highlights featured some fairly spectacular ones - and some equally spectacular successes.
*Don't screw this one up, Jack!*
Her tone of voice was laughing amidst the rustle of plastic. "Try working while they're sitting watching you all day!" She began pulling out the takeaway containers, opening the boxes and inspecting the contents. "It was Daniel's idea, wasn't it?"
"Can you see me or Teal'c thinking this kinda thing up?" Without being instructed, he went to the kitchen to get forks and spoons. He'd never quite got the hang of chopsticks and there was no way he'd eat dinner one rice grain at a time. Not even to make her laugh.
"No, not really." Bending over the dining table, she had her back to him, and he stopped and watched her movements - imbued with the neat economical grace he knew so well. "Where'd you find a bear in Air Force uniform?"
Jack grimaced, "Academy Hospital has them in the gift shop." Coming back around the table, he put the utensils down. "Although, personally, I wouldn' t want an officer staring at me while I recovered from whatever situation another officer put me into." He indicated the dinner. "We gonna eat?"
She pulled out a chair and sat down and he did the same. They ate.
There were no candles, no red roses, no violins playing.
Just takeaway Chinese and her company.
Less than he wanted, more than he hoped for.
Just enough.
Conversation was light and inevitably related to work. It verged on the personal once or twice, but they carefully steered it back to the professional. Even some lines had to be maintained on Valentine's Day. All the more on Valentine's Day.
He didn't mention the rosebuds that sat between the white takeaway containers, magenta-tipped edges fading to creamy pink at the base of the petals. She didn't mention the card with the scrawled verses on it which summed up their situation so appropriately.
Jack didn't remember where he found the poetry, only that it was true. This thing between them stole up on them so gradually, they never saw it coming until it was too late to do anything but ask for a transfer. And to ask for that would be to admit that they had somehow failed - failed in their duty to each other, their team, their commander, and the people who counted on them.
Afterwards, she washed up, he dried. Very domestic.
There had been moments like this from his marriage to Sara. The quiet moments when there was nothing more than the clink of glassware and cutlery and the peace of the house around them. But that was a long time ago. And usually, once their chores were finished, he'd drape an arm over her shoulders and they'd make their way out to the TV or to the bedroom, depending on how they were feeling.
The bedroom - attractive as the thought was - was definitely not an option here.
Putting the memories away, he hung the towel on the oven handle while she wiped down the benches.
Watching the curve of her slender neck as she bent over her task, comfortably silent in his presence, he wondered if the Jack O'Neill married to Dr. Samantha Carter had ever stood and looked his wife like this.
*We were celebrating our first anniversary... You blew out the candles, I turned off the oven and we just left...*
At least they'd had an anniversary to celebrate.
Sometimes he envied those other Jack O'Neills. Stupid as the sentiment was, they might have lost their world and their lives, but they'd had *her*. Even for a little while. Fighting this war - or any war for that matter - drained you, sucked your soul out of you faster than you could piece it back together. Every man or woman lost in the war was one more person you had on your conscience. Every move you made had to be contemplated in the light of victory or failure. God alone knew how Hammond managed to stay sane in his job. Jack didn't envy him one bit.
It'd be so pleasant just to throw it all away, and to hell with saving the world. Retire and ask Carter out to dinner - ask *Sam* out to dinner, and laugh and tease and flirt without caring that people were watching them. Take her fishing and listen to her happily ramble on about her science stuff while lying with his arms around her. Watch her without furtiveness, and revel in the delight in her eyes when she got something working or solved a tricky problem.
It'd be so pleasant, and so false. False to himself, false to her. As Teal'c would say, they were warriors: born to the fight and ready for it. To give up would leave them with a bitter sense of dissatisfaction, as if they'd failed in their duty. Daniel would probably insert some comment about being true to yourself and not being false to anyone...but that was Daniel.
For him and Carter to be true to themselves and each other, things would have to remain the way they were. Because they might be able to live without each other, but they couldn't live without their consciences, and the responsibilities their natures dictated they take up.
A bitter pill, a two-edged sword...call it what you will...it sucked. Big time.
"Thanks for dinner and the help, sir." With surprise, Jack realised Carter was watching him. She'd dumped the cloth in the sink and had turned to face him, leaning against the bench top.
"It wouldn't have been very gentlemanly to leave you with the washing up, Major."
"And you're an officer and a gentleman?"
He shrugged and gave her his best 'little boy' grin. "*I* didn't say it!"
Carter's lips curved in amusement.
He should leave. He really should.
He didn't want to.
"I still haven't seen the Star Wars Trilogy," he said hopefully.
She smiled, "You're not going to get through them all in one night, sir. Maybe just 'Star Wars' for tonight."
"And the second and third ones on the weekend?"
"If you can persuade Daniel and Teal'c along, yes."
Jack understood. They could deal with one night of carefully-managed closeness, but too many and they would find themselves crossing lines they didn't want to. Or was it lines they did want to cross, but couldn't? Lines they could cross, but didn't?
*Okay, now I'm thinking way too much about this...*
Sweeping one arm out, to indicate she should precede him, he added. "You do the video, Carter, I'll get the snacks."
"Second top shelf in the pantry, sir."
With the chocolate and chips collected, he settled himself on the couch with the cushions carefully piled between them as a barricade. As she pulled the tape out he inquired, "So, how many times have *you* seen Star Wars, Carter?"
"More times than Teal'c, sir." She grinned at him over her shoulder as she put the tape into the video player. "Certainly more times than you."
"Part of the astrophysics and space thing?"
"Something like that."
She took her seat on the couch, curling her feet under her, like a cat curling up in a sunny spot. The whimsy of the thought amused him: if he reached out and tickled her under her chin, would she purr?
*Don't think such things, Jack!*
Carefully, he dragged his attention from her, regarding the TV with, if not active interest, at least stubborn determination.
"And Teal'c's watched this nine times?" he asked as a guy dressed a bit like a Tok'ra whined about going to some town - Anchorage? - on a dust ball that looked suspiciously like Vorash.
"There are people who've watched it hundreds of times."
He studied her suspiciously, "Are you one of them?"
Her open grin gave her away, and he shook his head. Scary people.
It wasn't that bad, he decided as the movie went on, although perhaps a little dated. And he rather liked Han Solo now he actually saw the film. His kind of guy. Coming back to rescue his friend - yeah, Jack could definitely relate to Han Solo.
"So?" Carter regarded him challengingly as the credits rolled and she turned the volume on the TV down.
"So it's old and dated, and full of some of the worst clichés in the book," he grumbled, hiding his enjoyment of the film. "And I don't get why Teal'c would watch this nine times! Besides...sci-fi stuff gives me the creeps...yeesh!"
She just laughed, "Sir, our work *is* the stuff of sci-fi."
"It's different when you're living it, Carter! This is just...George Lucas' over-active imagination." He leaned back and stretched out his legs, bumping the coffee table slightly. Something jingled softly, and a couple of silver rings clattered softly to the tabletop from the cloth bag they were sitting on.
He leaned forward to put them back, and found himself staring at an odd assortment of items amidst the half-eaten chocolate and the empty chip packet. A large green paperweight, an old ratty bible, three silver rings, and a blocky silver thing with coloured buttons.
Odd. He was pretty sure these weren't Carter's usual centrepieces. Sure, he didn't spend so much time around here, he knew everything she owned, but he was certain he'd never seen these before.
"What's this?" he asked, picking up the silvery thing. "How'd you get it?"
She reached for it, but he held it away, arching his brows and waiting for her answer. It came reluctantly. "Narim gave it to me."
"Tollan technology?" Jack eyed her carefully, "Isn't that against those rules of theirs?"
The hesitation was marked this time. "Yes."
"So what is it?"
She bit her lip. "It's an emotions device."
"A what?"
"It records and replays emotions."
His eyebrows rose. "Narim's emotions?"
She flushed. "Yes."
"For you." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. May I have it back?"
For a moment, he was tempted to ask how to turn it on. To know how the Tollan man had really felt about Carter. But her eyes pleaded with him, and he acknowledged the privacy of those emotions and deposited the device in her outstretched hand.
Jack heard her sigh as he leaned back over the table.
The bible was recognisable. Jack didn't hang out in circles where bibles were common property. Jonas Hanson, SG-team leader and mad-man extraordinaire. One-time fiancé of Carter. A keepsake? A reminder? A warning?
Only Carter knew.
Narim. Hanson.
Jack was beginning to see a trend as he picked up one of the rings and studied it. The joined hands and snakes were almost certainly supposed to signify the Tok'ra; which meant Marty.
But what was with the green paperweight?
Intuition gave him the answer. Intuition and the memory of a snide voice declaring: *"One hundred pounds of raw titanium, two hundred feet of fibre optic cable, seven one-hundred-thousand watt industrial-strength capacitors..."*
Jack knew Carter's birthstone was emerald. He'd briefly considered something small and trinket-like as a gift, but Carter wasn't one for jewellery - and neither was he. It was too far beyond their comfort zones.
The alien - whose name he couldn't remember - had created a Stargate; what was an emerald to that? A mere rearrangement of matter, a bit of pressure - something science-y like that; as compared to anchoring wormholes which Jack knew took *huge* amounts of energy. Exactly how much, he had no idea - but a lot.
So the line-up was Narim, Hanson, Marty, and the alien.
Four men who had meant something to her.
Four dead guys.
And his card, perching precariously at the end of the table.
He picked it up, and looked at her. She stared at the Tollan doohickie. "I'm not dead, Carter." His words were gentle.
So were hers as she raised her gaze to meet his. "Neither is Orlin, sir."
Orlin. *That* was the name of the glowy alien of the Oma Desala kind.
Okay, maybe not four dead guys, but certainly four guys who were out of her reach.
Jack felt a pang of sadness.
Maybe coming here was a bad idea after all. To taunt them both with what wasn't going to happen barring a miracle virus among the Goa'uld, or some serious bending of regulations.
But surely, this one day of the year he didn't have to hide behind the regulations, their responsibilities, and all the other baggage they had between them? Just one day wasn't too much to ask: to be allowed her company for more than work or social purposes. To wonder and wish, and hope and dream...
And with that, he made up his mind. Jack O'Neill wasn't going to keep company with a bunch of dead guys. Even if one of them was a glowy kind of dead.
He put the card up on the mantelpiece next to his bear, and adjusted the officer's cap so it was again tilted at an angle over the bear's head. Carter had straightened it when she put 'Colonel Bear' up and the bear looked way too serious. The medal gleamed dully in the light, while the hearts flashed their red-and-silver messages in open affection.
Open affection was denied to Jack, so the medal had been his 'appropriate gesture'.
The rosebuds were from the heart.
With the bear re-arranged, he turned to face her, and the silence lengthened.
"Guess I'd better go." Jack made his way to the front door, collecting his jacket along the way and shrugging into it in the hallway. "See you tomorrow then?"
"Yes." Turning to leave, he was not a little surprised when her voice came from just behind him as he reached for the doorknob: "Sir?"
She caught his arm as it stretched out, and as he turned towards her, she brushed her lips by his cheek. The only present she could give him - the only thing she was ready to give. For a moment, his hand rested on her forearm, a connection between them as necessary as that between an off-world Stargate and it's DHD. Large, pale eyes looked up at him solemnly, almost daring him to say something that would break the silence between them.
Then, very gently, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her into his arms, unresisting.
There were no kisses and no caresses. Only their breathing, twinned and steady, and the gentle thunder of blood in his ears. Only a few seconds of peace and quiet in the circle of her arms - their jobs forgotten, their ranks discarded, the things that stood between them no longer there.
They stood there in silent acceptance of each other and the emotions between them. Perhaps this was the only way they would ever manage their relationship: in unspoken promises, but those promises were precious to both of them, and they would never willingly give that up.
At last, she shifted, wanting to be released, and he let her go.
But before he relinquished her touch fully, he leaned down and his lips brushed past her cheek - soft flesh under his mouth and the unperfumed scent of her skin. "Happy Valentine's Day, Carter."
"H...Happy Valentine's Day, sir." The words trembled and he acknowledged the tremble.
Even this much came with a price.
They'd go on paying that price, day in day out, mission after mission. Perhaps someday they'd find they had nothing left to give, having stretched themselves too thinly to recuperate. Perhaps someday they would discover what they'd paid would be returned to them with interest.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Life should never be lived in tomorrows.
He touched her face, brushing fingers across cheekbone, and she reached up to him to do the same.
For one second, they were just Jack and Sam.
Then a car drove down the street, breaking the silence; and their hands fell, and so did the masks they wore to each other and the world. They were once again Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter. Proper and correct officers of the United States Air Force and nothing more between them than the professional concern of a commanding officer and his second-in-command.
*Yeah, right.*
"I'll see you at work tomorrow, sir."
"Yeah, Carter." He glanced back at her. "Sleep well."
"You too, sir."
And he left her at the door and went out into the night, once again leaving the things between them unspoken.
*
Feed me! Oh Feeeeeeeed me!
Story Notes: Valentines Day 2002: SPOILERS: Primarily references to 'Ascension', although minor ones for 'The First Commandment', 'Enigma', 'Point of View', 'D&C', 'Between Two Fires', 'Last Stand'...like I said in the spoiler space for "In Memoriam", basically any ep where Sam has a guy who kicks the bucket.
SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: Season 5
SERIES: Valentine's Day 2002
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The long-awaited (okay, two days...that's a long time in fandom, right?) part 3 of "Valentine's Day 2002". Recommended reading: "In Memoriam", and "A Trio of Teddies". This fic series was a response to Alli Snow's challenge on the Sam and Jack list: Is Valentine's Day hard for Sam and Jack to get through? Must feature a stuffed toy and flowers. The stuffed toy(s) and flowers arrived last section, and this is the tie-up. Sam got the POV for the last two parts, I figure it's Jack's turn.
SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: Season 5
SERIES: Valentine's Day 2002
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The long-awaited (okay, two days...that's a long time in fandom, right?) part 3 of "Valentine's Day 2002". Recommended reading: "In Memoriam", and "A Trio of Teddies". This fic series was a response to Alli Snow's challenge on the Sam and Jack list: Is Valentine's Day hard for Sam and Jack to get through? Must feature a stuffed toy and flowers. The stuffed toy(s) and flowers arrived last section, and this is the tie-up. Sam got the POV for the last two parts, I figure it's Jack's turn.
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 ]