"I take it, Colonel, that you were unable to procure any of the Eurondan technology?" The edge of resigned acceptance in General Hammond's voice came from experience.
From the top of the ramp, Colonel O'Neill made no excuses, "That's correct, sir."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Jack O'Neill, normally a master of flippancy could only gaze steadily back. He refused to meet the horrified and accusing blue of his 2IC's stare as she stood between him and the rest of the SGC.
"Don't be!" he replied gruffly.
Disappointed, Hammond turned away to follow the Marines filing out of the embarkation room; leaving SG1 to themselves. If Daniel and Teal'c felt the tension between Jack and Sam they didn't have time to muse on it long before Major Samantha Carter whirled and strode briskly off the ramp; leaving Jack alone at the top and ringed by the imposing Stargate.
~
"Wait, wait!" Alar's desperate plea rang in his head; waxen and damp with sweat, the Eurondan leader's face swam before his minds eye, "I could teach you everything I know. Just let me come with you. Please!
A muscle ticked in Jack's jaw as he scrubbed the towel over short, greying hair still damp from the shower. *Sh'yeah, teach us about genocide? Sorry pal, we got that one down already, thanks.*
SG1 had their own changing room with cubicles for himself, Carter, Daniel and Tealc. Standing before his, Jack stiffened hearing the door open from the corridor. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, since as per usual, the residual scent of sweet and fruity body wash preceded Major Samantha Carter.
A creature of habit, she used the same one over and over, and driven crazy by his inability to identify it; Jack had long ago snuck a look at the label, so he could finally know what the smell was that had the uncanny ability to make his mouth water.
Raspberry and vanilla, not so strangely it fit.
Turning his head to cast a glance back in acknowledgement seemed like asking for trouble, so Jack pretended to be engrossed in picking non-existent lint off his sweater. Tense enough to vibrate, he hoped she'd say something. Carter didn't chatter, thank God, but she was no stranger to easygoing chit chat.
Not this time. The moment stretched and ice formed. That muscle in his jaw began doing its ticking thing in concert with a growing ache in his gut. *C'mon, Major, don't freeze me out.*
Going straight home, sir, or do you have time for a cold one? was the occasional offer, sometimes food was on the agenda, too, before they all headed off to their respective abodes. Teal'c loved Mexican and could pack away enough to last a 10 man team off-world for a week.
Nothing. Not so much as a grunt passed her lips before he heard her cross over to her own cubicle. A wall of condemnation battered at Jack, and the rustle of clothing had him mindlessly twisting the tan sweater in his hands.
Murder was an ugly word. Jack's lips twisted. He preferred the term justified killing himself, but understood why others might not be comfortable with such a deep shade of grey. It wouldn't be the first time such a charge was applicable to him either. To steal a quip off Daniel; black ops wasn't called black `cause they wore the colour for cryin' out loud.
The urge to defend himself rose bitterly strong and had to be shoved back. Now wasn't the time for a rational discussion. She needed some time to square it with her view of the world and their place in it, while he needed to work on forgetting her expression when she'd looked at him.
Still…
Alar has been an evil sonfabitch. They'd known that after finding out he was part of a regime dedicated to wiping out the other inhabitants of his planet- simply for being different than they were. Breeder's they'd called them according to a sombre Daniel during the short debrief. *Sweet folks, those Eurondan's*
Years spent fighting, getting captured and escaping Iraq meant Jack was horrifically familiar with genocide on Earth. In fact, more than once he'd been within eyesight of it being perpetrated; watching helplessly, hidden among the hot grit of sand-dunes as men, screaming women and petrified childen were executed and pushed into a stinking pit.
It was a plain fact that some human's didn't need a symbiote to act like a monster, and Jack figured eliminating them when he could was an unofficial part of his job description nowadays.
How many thousands had Alar killed with his poison gas? Had they suffered first? I mean there's gas and then there's nerve gas; the kind that leaves you choking on your own dissolving organs even as your spine snaps from the brutal spasms wracking your body. Either way, Alar was still a murdering elitist bastard!
All negotiations to form an alliance were off from the moment the truth came out. Stricken with guilt that he'd refused to listen to Daniel earlier, Jack had made sure SG1 did some damage before they left; hopefully helping the `breeders' win the war. It'd got sticky there for a while, but they got free and headed back to the `gate.
Teal'c and Daniel had already stepped through when he and Carter heard Alar's desperate plea. Turning to the man who'd tried not only tried to kill a planet, but also ordered a gun be held against Carter's head, Jack had felt a wave of ice swamp him.
*No fricken way* was all he could think. Saying nothing, he'd stepped through the shimmering water of the `gate's event horizon. Carter had gone before him and was already raising her P90, expecting Alar to arrive after Jack. Except he couldn't since the second Jack had stepped through, he'd ordered the iris closed.
Knowing she realised exactly what he'd done, Jack hadn't been able to look away from her. He'd seen the dawning understanding in crystal blue eyes as the titanium iris closed and snicked into place. Followed by horror at hearing the thud of something hitting the other side.
If he never saw that look on her face it would be too soon for Jack.
Stunned into immobility, she'd been silently accusing him of murder. The hell of it was, Colonel Jack O'Neill of the United States Airforce, and decorated war hero couldn't deny it.
He'd tried and judged the man in seconds, then executed him by letting him think he was welcome to step through the gate and reach Earth. Jack hadn't issued an invitation, but his silence had been taken as agreement. Closing the iris had been the firing line.
Home and safe, it wasn't remorse that twisted Jack's guts and wrenched at his heart. It was the knowledge that today he'd destroyed some of Sam's illusions about him.
*Christ it hurt!*
Swallowing past a lump of prickly acid, Jack yanked the sweater over his head and pulled it down into place. Behind him an aerosol discharged in two short bursts. Then more clothing rustled; ruthlessly highlighting the deafening silence.
*Screw this*
Sitting to pull on his boots meant he had turn around and face the circular room. The words remained unspoken and because of that resentment flared hotly. Slicing a dark look at that ramrod spine, Jack felt anger ignite when Carter kept her back to him and her blonde head studiously down to fasten the buttons of a powder blue shirt.
Jack ground his teeth, to keep from snarling at her, what do you want from me?! Do you want me to say, I'm sorry? …Admit, I'm not as lily white as you and Daniel- is that it?
Like that was any kind of surprise to anyone. He admired them both more then either knew, and when he was alone admitted his feelings for Carter went way beyond what regulations permitted. Between Daniel's conscience and Carter's smarts, SG1 managed to do the `right thing' more often than not. Him and Teal'c just made sure everybody got out in one piece.
The thought struck Jack that maybe he'd failed this time. It sure felt like a piece was missing right now. Abruptly the surge of anger winked out. To him they were a team, a family- all the family he had left with Charlie and Sara gone. He was terrified of the possibility that he'd blown it?
Did Carter despise him enough now that she'd ask for a transfer?
Pain mushroomed in his chest and breathing didn't help. Averting his eyes from her was no longer an option. Needing any kind of reassurance, Jack scanned her stiffly held figure for clues and tried to think of something, anything to say.
His mouth opened, but words refused to form. Every drop of moisture receded leaving his tongue feeling thick and useless. Fear did that to you, among other things.
Defeated for now, Jack settled for tracing her features while she wasn't looking. Golden blonde hair was almost dry and curled up to caress a deceptively delicate jaw. While he'd been absorbed in his dark thoughts, Carter had caught him up and was pretty much finished changing into street clothes of jeans, shirt and short jacket. Her taut profile, so determinedly looking anywhere but at him, didn't give out much hope.
*Crap*
One boot laced, he attacked the next and nearly snapped the damn things. His hands were shaking and the knuckles were white. Scrubbing a palm over his face, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. *Get a grip, you ass.*
As he did, Carter grabbed her purse and with swift strides left without a word. He almost wished she'd let rip and given him something to work with, or a clue on whether he needed to steel himself for her exit from his life.
That did it. Jack had a slow temper with a long fuse usually, but the whole stinkin' mess had left him testy, too. His mood plummeted.
Dropping his hand, Jack scowled and called out sarcastically, "Yeah, you have a nice night, too, Major."
~
Sam felt like an idiot. If she'd just managed to keep it professional back there at the SGC, she wouldn't have to be here now. Here as in standing outside Colonel O'Neill's house and working up the nerve to go up the path and ring the bell.
Shock was one excuse, her favourite one actually, and the other one she preferred to forget. After a few hours spent analysing and pulling apart, Sam had come to the conclusion that coming face-to-face with Colonel O'Neill's dark side for the first time had blindsided her.
In the past four years they'd done a lot of hairy things and that included a lot of killing, but that had been against the enemy, or those that served them. Alar had been a human being, not goa'uld.
Pacing her kitchen, then her living room, Sam had agonised over what to do. Scientifically and as organised as her disordered mind could manage, she'd laid out her options and worked her way through them one-by-one.
Every one had hurt, except for one- this one. Forgiving him for disillusioning her and moving on.
Sam couldn't report the incident because it would mean the end of everything she felt to be important. It wasn't conceit that made her certain that it was SG1 that kept the Stargate program running. And, Jack O'Neill was SG1. Sarcastic, flippant, irreverent and insubordinate or not, Earth needed him, and if she was brutally honest with herself, so did Samantha Carter.
"Okay," she sighed and squared her shoulders, "let's not get side-tracked and just park that to one side for now, huh?"
*Good idea. Let's not admit you have a crush on your CO.*
Sam worked very hard to bury that pesky fact. An endeavour not helped by the fact that she actually had fond memories of some of her worst experiences, including that damned glacier they'd been stuck in.
The way she figured it, Colonel O'Neill was an alpha male of the dangerous kind. Dangerous as in- he didn't strut his stuff, or hold anyone back because he had to be the centre of everything. That kind of `hero', Sam had met in abundance in the military, first as an airforce brat and later joining it herself, and nothing would have switched her off faster.
Jack was different. He was just *there* and you knew you could trust in that absolutely. He might love to play dumb, but he had the damndest timing and the cutest smile. What a combination.
In retrospect, Sam pinpointed Simarka as the beginning of her less than professional feelings for the Colonel. Even now the memory had her pursing her lips to hide a smile. He'd been laughing his ass off at Daniel and Teal'c reaction to her `native' dress; all the while managing to eye her in such a way her body heat notched up several degrees. He'd come riding to her rescue that time, too.
It was 2 years later and after losing him on Edora for three months before the blinkers where finally yanked off, and marked the beginning of her long association with deception and keeping her feelings locked down and hidden.
Thankfully, forceful seduction aside, he didn't have a clue that she had feelings for him and Sam didn't intend for that to change. Which is why she had to be careful when attempting to explain her childish `silent' treatment in the changing room.
"Great!" Sam puffed out a breath, "So let's get to it, Major. No time like the present and nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"
Oh, she had it bad when she started outdoing him with the cliché's. "Oh, Shut-UP!"
~
Sweaty palmed, Sam pressed the bell, heard it peal and waited for an answer. It took a while and she was just beginning to accept he was out of the house, when the door opened and he stood framed in the doorway.
Both brows were lowered over cold brown eyes. In the gloom of late evening and with only a dim light coming from inside, he looked intimidating and like she'd interrupted something important.
"What do you want, Carter, its late in case you hadn't noticed?"
Uh oh, he did not look pleased to see her. He'd looked friendlier the first time she'd met him and just before he'd tried to worm his way out of having her on his team.
"Ah, sorry, Sir," feeling incredibly awkward, Sam tried a sheepish smile and a shrug, "I was hoping that…um…we could talk-"
"About?" he interrupted harshly. If anything he'd gotten colder and as she stood there the beer bottle in his hand came into play and he took a swig.
Unnerved and not liking it, Sam frowned and ploughed on anyway, "I was hoping we could talk about today, and us-" she faltered seeing the flicker of something hot and a tiny bit reckless in his dark gaze.
*Had he been drinking all night?*
"Us, Carter?!" A single brow climbed in mockery. The door swung open. "By all means, let's talk about us."
Colonel Jack O'Neill stood aside rather than backed away from the door. Flicking a glance up at his face, Sam stepped past him and inside, descending the steps into the living area ahead of him.
The awkwardness didn't ease. God! This was so much harder than she'd thought it would be. Not the Colonel was making much effort to ease things either. Equal parts annoyed and determined, Sam bit back a sigh thinking s he was here now, and if waiting until SG1 reported for duty again suddenly seemed the wiser option- it was too darned late now.
Flapping a hand in the general direction of the flickering TV showing a hockey match in progress, she tried to smooth out the rough edges she could feel in the air, "Thanks, Sir, I appreciate this and won't take up much of your time."
"Want a beer?"
"Ah, no- I'm fine, thanks."
Using the remote, he turned off the TV and dropped them in an even deeper darkness. Caught off guard, Sam blinked trying to adjust to the sudden and unexpected need for night-vision. What was with him and keeping everything dim? Yeesh, was he so wasted he was already hung-over?
Thankfully, a corner lamp was flicked, illuminating Jack as he casually folded himself into the encompassing cream cushions of the armchair next to it. Swinging the beer bottle between finger and thumb, he asked, "So, what's on your mind, Major?"
As if somebody had flicked a switch on him, too, O'Neill looked coolly composed and the steady tone belied her fleeting suspicions of excessive alcohol consumption. Whatever had caused his attitude at the door, now he was 100% professional and Sam was grateful.
Professional was a measurable, reasonable behaviour she understood and could respond to. It didn't have double meanings, twisty bends and pitfalls every other word. *Ah, focus, Carter*
Sam perched on the opposite chair grouped around a coffee table. Earnestly she returned his direct stare, "I'd like to apologise for the silent treatment back at the SGC, and explain-" Life, science and exploring the galaxy had all proven direct was best. "Sir, it's really very simple. I was shocked beyond belief by what you did to, Alar."
Jack went still, bottle half raised to his lips. Their gazes locked and she held her breath. The moment hung suspended.
In the military you don't question a senior officer's actions no matter what spiel there is about `transparency and accountability', particularly if they have friends in high places. If this was any other CO, she'd never have dreamed of turning up at his house and sitting in his living room waiting for an explanation.
Sam still half expected him to kick her out with some splinter sharp reprimand as only he, and maybe General Hammond, could deliver. Worse, he was under no obligation to answer the leading question in her tone unless she was willing to raise it formally.
"Carter,-" stopping with a sigh, Jack pushed up from his lounging position to deposit the bottle on the table. Then, spreading his hands he gave her that `help me out' expression of his and tried again, "Carter, I can't undo what happened even if I wanted to. In fact, I don't see much point to this conversation-" suddenly his eyes narrowed and one eyebrow lifted, "unless your sporting a mike somewhere…?"
It took a long second for that to sink in. Then, Sam's jaw dropped as something akin to fury erupted to boil in her veins. "Excuse me?!"
Some of that rage must have transmitted to him. Wincing, he held up a hand, "Forget I mentioned it."
*Like hell*
"Not at all," Sam disagreed with a shark's smile, pearly white teeth flashed. "If you want to search me, Colonel, you go right ahead." That said she stood up and rounding the table, did a full turn with her hands held up high. "Can't have you not trusting me now can we; what would that do to team morale?"
O'Neill's second pained wince did little to appease her, "Carter! Drop the hands and just…stop- preferably before you make me dizzy."
Said hands were planted on slim denim covered hips. "I know what happened today can't be undone, Colonel, but that doesn't mean there isn't an issue that still needs addressing."
"I care about us, all of us. I care about protecting this planet, and others, from the Gou'ald. But, I also care about how we manage that, Colonel." Pausing, Sam let that sink in, "No disrespect intended and believe me, I want to stay with SG1, Sir, but to do that I need your assurance that judging and executing other human beings isn't going to be a part of what we do."
There, it was out. Sam felt sick. She'd just given him an ultimatum which could go either way. Jack didn't take much notice of General Hammond when he gave orders the Colonel didn't agree with, which begged the question of how he'd take her giving out one- in a way.
~
Jack felt pole-axed. There was no better way to describe it. His brow furrowed as he tried to work out just how he was supposed to react. It wasn't such an easy one to work out when you figured in the complexities of desire, aggravation, pride (both his own and hers) and well, damn…he was still trying to recover from her offering to let him run his hands all over her body.
Kerrist! Was she *trying* to kill him?
The saving grace was she had no idea how often he'd imagined letting his palms slide over, contouring every gorgeous inch of her. Pretty much in the same way she caressed that old bike of hers. After a guilty few seconds of letting the images form, Jack would yank his mutinous libido back into line; accusing himself of being the worst kind of CO, man, friend, comrade…the list was endless.
And she thought he was noble. Jack's lips twisted. Sh'yeah. The split second of amusement died. At least she *had* thought he had a noble streak.
*Hey, wanna get back to the interesting titbit of Carter giving me orders?*
For some reason he decided not to analyse, Jack felt the need to stand. Rising lithely to his feet he felt a surge, or more accurately, a sliver of satisfaction when Sam took a tiny step back before recovering her poise.
It occurred to Jack that alone time with, Sam outside of the SGC and without either Daniel or Teal'c in tow was rare. Idly, he wondered if that was responsible for the irregularity of this little confrontation. I't just him, he saw it in her eyes, too. Whatever! He'd just roll with it for now.
Head tilting, he smirked, "Carter, Carter, Cater…" sighing deeply, Jack shook his head from side-to-side, "Tell me you're not giving your commanding officer- emphasise on…" he drew speech marks with his fingers, "…commanding, an ultimatum that you'll insist on a transfer if I don't agree to your demands."
Having it put like that threw her. He could have drawn her response in advance. She flushed, her mouth opened and closed twice, the head ducked and then she drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin before saying, "If you want to put it that way, then yes, I guess I am…, Sir."
The mark of respect was tacked on as if an afterthought and suddenly, out of the blue, Jack was enjoying himself. When he'd answered the door, Jack had figured `tranfer' was going to figure in the conversation somewhere and dreaded it. Now it was out there, he could relax and deal with it.
Of course she didn't know he'd spent hours plotting how to scupper any attempt to transfer. For one he'd refuse her request, forcing her to take it to Hammond. A circumstance he'd banked on being further than she was willing to take it. One day Carter would lead a team of her own and when that day came he'd be so damned proud of her he'd probably bust a gut, but until then she was SG1, and his.
He'd never touch her wrong, or compromise their positions in any way by letting her know he was in love with her, but Jack was damned if he was willing to stop *being* with her. So what if he was a crusty old solider with bad knees, and okay, he knew he'd have to stomach seeing her with any other man some time, maybe soon. When that happened, he'd force a smile and try not to imagine snapping the guy's neck. It was the best he could do.
Right now though, his supersmart, sexy as hell and not so lilywhite 2inc was waiting on tenderhooks for his response. It was time to shove the dark side back to its little pit deep down inside and let the harmless, jovial Jack back up.
"Sure, what's the big deal?" Backing off and giving her space, Jack picked up his beer again and saluted her with it, "No more Alar's. I get it and besides," he grinned, "what's the likelihood of us meeting up with another facist psycho bent on genocide?"
Sam frowned and looked like she suspected a trick, "Really?!"
God! He loved flummoxing her. "Yup, you know me. Anything for a quiet life."
"So, we're good here?" asked Sam, checking for fine print, "You're-"
Grabbing her arm, Jack started to lead her back to the front door, before he gave in to his sudden impulse to kiss her, "Happy as Larry," he quipped in place of whatever she'd been about to say. "Go get some sleep, Carter, or better yet go do something fun and I'll see you at 0800 tomorrow."
~
THE END
Story Notes: FEEDBACK: Yup, let me know what you think; good or bad. NOTES: I've been writing fanfic for a few years, but this is my first SG1 Sam/Jack fic and so fairly short. It's been posted on LJ already, so apologies if this has crossed your screen already.
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 ]