Jack was lingering by the bar, one eye on the door and the other on the rapidly filling table. In the background a cheesy Christmas classic tinkled away, crooning about chestnuts and open fires and all the other seasonal bullshit. For the tenth time in twenty minutes he cursed himself for turning up; Jack O'Neill was not a Christmas kind of guy.
Behind him he heard a roar of laughter from his table of colleagues, and knew that the evening was going to be a long one. He scowled down into his beer and flicked another glance at the door. He just didn't understand why, if people wanted to go out and get themselves pissed and laid, they felt the need to wrap tinsel round their necks and call it a Christmas party! It was all so meaningless. He didn't even know why he'd come.
Taking a swig of his beer he revised that last thought. He *did* know why he'd come. He'd come because Carter had talked him into it. "It'll be fun, sir," she'd insisted. "We hardly ever spend time together when we're not working - think of it as team building."
Team building. Right. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Daniel and Teal'c firmly ensconced at the center of the table chatting amiably with those around them. Well, Daniel was chatting, Teal'c was...listening. But even so, he looked a hell of a lot more comfortable than Jack felt. He hated these things, the inane small talk, the forced good humor.... Damn, he should *never* have let Carter talk him into this.
Her name drew his eyes back to the door. She was late. She'd said seven-thirty and it was nearly eight. The table was almost full, but he didn't dare take a seat because if he sat down now he'd find himself stuck between God only knew who, and without Carter to talk to he'd never get through the evening. It wasn't like he could save her a seat, not with Hammond's astute eyes watching every move. But if she didn't turn up soon he'd be forced to....
The door opened. His head turned and his jaw dropped. Holy Smoke! Carter stood in the doorway, peering through the dim light, dressed from head to toe in tight-fitting leather, a helmet nestled under one arm while her free hand ran through her tousled hair. Wow. She hadn't spotted them, so Jack raised an arm and waved. Her answering smile lit the room and Jack felt his stomach tighten painfully. This was unfair. This was definitely not playing by the rules.
"Hi, sir," she called as she approached, apparently unaware of the effect she was having. "Sorry I'm late."
He managed a weak smile. "What happened?"
"The car died," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "I had to come on my bike."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Noticed that."
Sam grinned. "Don't worry, I've bought something to change into."
"Who's worried?"
Glancing over at the table, Sam frowned. "Would you save me a seat, sir?" she asked as she slipped off her jacket and handed it to him.
"Sure," he replied. Well, he could hardly say no, could he? With both their jackets looped over one arm, Jack grabbed his beer from the bar and headed towards their party. There were only three seats remaining, right at the end of the long table. Dropping her jacket over the back of one, he took the seat opposite and smiled politely at Captain Reilly who sat on his left.
Her smile was equally polite, but he could have sworn there was a hint of disappointment behind her eyes. Stuck with the grouchy Colonel all evening, they said, great. Not sure what to say, Jack opted for silence and the conversation to his left soon picked up again. Reilly was telling some work-related anecdote which had her friends in hysterics, but Jack wasn't listening. He stared unseeing at the menu in his hands and his thoughts were taken up entirely with Carter; her jacket across the table from him suddenly looked like a promise. If he got to talk to her all evening maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
Glancing up he immediately noticed her weaving her way through the crowd. Her leathers had been exchanged for jeans and a close fitting T-shirt; typical Carter. Nothing flash, nothing overt. But to his eyes, sexy as hell! He smiled slightly as her gaze met his, letting his thoughts to wander briefly along a very unprofessional path.
"Thanks, Colonel," she said as she pulled out her chair. Glancing along the table she spotted Daniel and waved before she sat down. Then her attention was his once more and she raised an eyebrow. "So?"
He frowned. "So what?"
"So, are you enjoying yourself, sir?"
Her question provoked a crooked grin. "Things are starting to look up," he told her, making her smile. Yeah, he thought, things were definitely starting to look up!
***
By the time their empty plates had been cleared away Sam had almost forgotten that the rest of the table were there. O'Neill was in an unusually talkative mood, and she found herself engrossed in conversation with him the entire time, neglecting those around her to the point of rudeness. Not that she was complaining - if she was honest with herself she was rather enjoying his undivided attention. They spent so little time together outside work that this was quite a treat. And without the guys around to play up to, his conversation lacked its normal peppering of asinine humor; the intelligence she'd always seen behind his eyes shone through and she found herself enthralled.
Yet despite her enjoyment - or maybe because of it - a little voice in the back of her mind was nagging her to be careful; they were in dangerous territory, surrounded by curious eyes, and she had to be mindful not to give away too much. She was glad that she had the excuse of driving to avoid drinking because she certainly didn't want her inhibitions loosened - it was hard enough to do the right thing sober! Jack must have had similar thoughts, she realized, because he was still on his first beer.
They'd fallen into a momentary silence as she studied the dessert menu, but when she looked up she saw that his eyes were fixed on her face with that enigmatic smile he sometimes wore. It was affectionate, but it was also something more - and it drove her crazy. "What?" she asked, laying the menu on the table.
He shook his head. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"You."
Her eyes widened and she cast a hasty look at the people sitting next to them. No one seemed to have heard him. "Me, sir?" she replied hesitantly.
"That I'm glad you persuaded me to come along," he explained, although the light in his eyes hinted that his thoughts went deeper. But if they did, he didn't elaborate. Instead he said, "I normally avoid all the Christmas crap."
Sam was shocked. "Christmas crap? No! I *love* Christmas!"
He smiled a little, but shook his head. "You don't think it's all kinda false and tacky?" he asked. "All this festive good cheer for a couple of weeks and then back to bitching like normal?"
"Well," she said slowly, "I guess I like the personal side of Christmas best - time to spend with your family and people you care about, to unwind and kick back for a couple of days."
As she spoke his face tightened a little and his eyes dropped to the menu lying in front of him. Picking it up he stared at it silently before saying, "Maybe it's a family thing."
Sam frowned, not immediately understanding. And then realization crashed in. "That was stupid of me," she said quietly, wincing slightly at the way he was refusing to look at her. "I wasn't thinking...obviously."
"It's okay," he replied, still apparently fascinated by the dessert menu.
"No," she said, "it's not."
He looked up at that, as if she'd said something profound. His expression was impassive, but there was an ache in his eyes as he said, "No. You're right, it's not. Never will be."
Sam was in an agony of indecision, not knowing whether to drop the subject or invite him to talk more. She knew she was treading on tender, personal ground and didn't want to intrude. But then she noticed a similar expression of uncertainty on his face and realized that he was struggling with the same problem. That made her decision for her. "It must have been fun at Christmas with Charlie," she said, hoping she'd made the right choice.
His surprise was evident, but his face quickly softened as he said, "Yeah, it was."
Sam smiled. "When I was a kid," she said, "I could never sleep on Christmas Eve, I was so excited!"
Jack said nothing for a moment, his eyes dropping to his hands locked together on the table top. "We had to read him about ten stories before we got him to sleep," he murmured, his eyes losing focus. "Well, I'd do the reading while Sara dashed around the house getting things ready and trimming the Christmas tree...." He smiled fondly at the memory. "I'll never forget the look on his face the first year he was old enough to really understand what was going on - he must have been about three - his eyes were like saucers when I carried him downstairs and he saw the tree and the lights and all the presents. At that age it's really magical for them...." He stopped and sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was thick. "I miss all that."
Sam closed her eyes for a moment. There wasn't anything she could say that wouldn't sound trite, so instead she just ignored the fact that General Hammond was sitting only a couple of feet away and reached out to touch Jack's hand. He glanced up and smiled. "Sorry," he said.
"For what?"
He gestured around him. "I'm not exactly in the festive spirit."
Sam shook her head. "No one could expect you to forget about him, sir," she said. "It's natural that you should think about Charlie at this time of year. And Sara," she added, feeling strange about uttering her name. "It's natural that you'd miss your family. People understand that."
Jack gave a dark laugh. "Oh, you'd be surprised," he told her.
Withdrawing her hand from his she raised an eyebrow. "I would?"
"Let's just say most people don't want anything to spoil their Christmas fun - they don't wanna hear about it. Not at Christmas."
"Well, I'm not most people," she reminded him. "And I'd love to hear more about Charlie. Anytime you want to talk."
He smiled at her, that warm ambiguous smile again. "Yeah," he agreed. "You're definitely not most people, Carter."
Feeling a little awkward under his intense gaze, Sam was relieved to notice the waitress making her way down the long table and picked up her menu again. "So," she said as she tried to decide between cheesecake and fudge-cake, "what *are* you doing for Christmas this year?"
"Oh, the usual," Jack replied.
"Which is?" she asked, glancing at him over the top of her menu.
"Hiding out until it's all over, and wallowing."
Sam frowned. "Wallowing, sir?"
His half-smile was bleak. "Whiskey and self-pity," he explained.
Oh crap, she thought, really? "Sir, you shouldn't...."
He waved away her concern. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Always am."
She was about to protest further when the waitress appeared at her side. "Can I take your order, Ma'am?" she asked brightly, the tinsel in her hair glittering in the low lights.
After they'd ordered, Jack leaned across the table. "So," he said, changing the subject, "what about you? Are you going to Mark's for the holidays?"
Ah. Good question. Sam shook her head slightly. "Actually, no. Not this year."
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. And was that a hint on apprehension she saw in his eyes? "Don't say you're off to see Dad and the Tok'ra?"
"No," she assured him. "Nothing like that."
Jack nodded and drained what remained of his beer. "So who's the lucky guy then, Carter?" His smile was decidedly nervous.
Sam smiled. Was he jealous? That odd brightness in his face was definitely false. "Actually, sir," she said, watching him intently, "I'm spending Christmas alone."
"Alone?" His eyes widened. "What happened to the whole kicking back with your family thing?"
Slumping back in her chair, Sam sighed. "You'll think I'm mean," she said, "but I just couldn't face Mark this year. Slogging all the way up there to spend three days over-eating and telling lies about my life."
"Yeah," he agreed. "I can see how that would suck." And then, very casually, he asked, "So, you're staying in town?"
Sam swallowed. "Yeah," she said, just as casually. "I am."
Jack nodded. "Huh." He said nothing more and at that moment the waitress returned with their desserts and Sam busied herself with slowly scraping all the fruit off the top of her cheesecake.
So we're both in town, both alone, over Christmas. Great. Now what? She was half afraid that he would ask her over for Christmas, or, more likely, ask her to go fishing. She'd have to say no, of course. It would be too dangerous to be alone with him like that. But when she risked a quick glance in his direction his face was thoughtful and serious. He could have been thinking about anything - about Charlie, or work, or even about her. Her gaze rested on him just long enough to attract his attention and when he looked up he smiled and gave a little shrug. In that gesture Sam realized two things: first, that he wasn't going to suggest that they spend the holidays together, and second, that she was desperately disappointed.
***
As the music grew louder it became impossible to talk and so Jack lapsed into silence, watching Sam watch the dancers. Half turned on her chair, her fingers were tapping on the table and she was smiling broadly at the sight of Teal'c being cajoled into dancing by a very determined Captain. It was late now, and the drink had been flowing long and freely. Jack almost envied his colleagues lost in their alcoholic bliss. He hadn't dared drink tonight, afraid that he'd either become maudlin or do something *very* stupid indeed. Maybe both.
Over the past year something had changed between him and Carter. He wasn't sure when it had started - maybe when he'd returned from his extended vacation on Edora? Maybe when he'd realized he couldn't abandon her to die at the hands of Apophis' Jaffa? Or maybe when he'd had to voice the feelings he'd kept hidden even from himself? But whenever it had started, ever since they'd returned from their sojourn as Jonah and Thera he'd found it harder and harder to resist his instinct to reach out and touch her. The easy intimacy they'd shared there had felt so right that it was difficult to the point of impossibility to wash the memory away. And, if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to forget. In an odd way it was comforting, especially when his whole body ached to touch her, to remember those days of fond familiarity.
No, alcohol was definitely a bad idea. Especially when she was sitting right opposite him, her short hair charmingly disheveled and begging to be straightened....
Sam turned. "Sir?"
He blinked, knowing he'd been caught staring. "Carter?"
She smiled, almost shyly. "Do you want to dance, sir?"
His eyes widened. Did she just...? Did Carter just ask...?
"Sir?" she called, leaning closer across the table. "I asked if you wanted to dance."
He nodded. "I heard." She frowned and retreated, obviously taking his words as a refusal. "Hey," he said hurriedly, "you sure you want to be seen out there with an old guy like me?"
Her answering smile turned his heart over. "Is that a 'yes', sir?"
He shrugged. "Yeah," he said, rising slowly to his feet. "Why not?" Couple of good reasons why not, he told himself. First, the fact that even the thought of getting that close to her is turning your stomach inside out. Second, the fact that what you're feeling is totally inappropriate. But despite his misgivings he walked slowly around the table towards her, and she stood up to meet him with an lively smile in her eyes. Jack's heart was thundering as he stopped in front of her, suddenly not sure what to do. His whole body screamed at him to take her in his arms, but he could see Hammond's balding head gleaming further down the table and the weight of the regulations pressed hard upon his shoulders. His need to do what was right raged against his human need to be close to her and froze him to the spot. Sam said nothing, just looked up into his eyes. And then, to his surprise, she reached out and took his hand.
"Come on," she said as her fingers laced with his. "The world won't end if we dance."
And so he let her guide him to the dance floor, deep into the crowd, as far away from their table as possible. Then she turned and he found his arm sliding carefully around her waist. God, it felt good to hold her. Her free hand came to rest on his shoulder and the weight and warmth of her touch was more intoxicating than any drink. Sam smiled and he thought he was going to melt. He hadn't been this close to her since they returned from the power plant and it felt wonderful. The music wasn't particularly slow, but they did nothing more than sway. The dance they were dancing was all internal, the intricate play of advance and retreat, of offer and withdrawal. They were dancing on the fine line between protocol and instinct, but amid the heady throb of the music and the low, romantic lighting, the line was getting harder and harder to see.
Gazing into her wide, bright eyes Jack was afraid that if he didn't speak soon he'd be lost. Forcing words onto his lips he murmured, "This is nice."
"Yeah," she replied, sounding slightly breathless. And he smiled. It was the only indication that their close contact was having as powerful an effect on her as it was on him.
"We don't do this enough," he added, shifting his arm a little and drawing her almost imperceptibly closer.
"Dance?" she asked.
"Talk," he clarified. "Spend time together."
She nodded. "Guess we don't."
"Which is odd," he carried on, "considering how much we have to talk about."
Sam smiled a tight smile. "Maybe some things are best left unsaid?"
Jack's heart sank a little. "Maybe," he agreed.
"That's not to say," she added hastily, "that you should just bottle things up."
He almost smiled - she was thinking about Charlie. "No," he agreed, noticing the way her hand on his shoulder was creeping closer to his neck. Her thumb lightly brushed his skin and he shivered at the sensation. "I, um...." he stammered, losing his train of thought completely. Recovering himself he breathed, "No. Bottling is bad. So the shrinks tell me."
She just nodded, her mind changing track. "But sometimes there's no choice, is there?" she said. And there was a sad look in her eyes that he'd never seen before, but one he felt echoing in his own heart.
Pulling her closer he whispered, "There's always a choice. You just have to be prepared to accept the consequences."
"Yeah," she sighed. "The consequences are the problem."
***
Daniel was onto his fifth, no...sixth glass of wine. And he was feeling good. Mellow. Happy. Across the table from him, General Hammond was laughing loudly at something Colonel Geary was saying, but Daniel hadn't caught the joke. Not that he cared, his face was already aching with laughter and it needed the rest.
His eyes wondered towards the dance floor where Teal'c was attempting to learn some kind of dance routine Liz Taylor was trying to teach him. Not *the* Liz Taylor, of course. He laughed out loud at the idea. Great name, though. Captain Elizabeth Taylor! She seemed to be having some success, although Teal'c's expression was doubtful. Daniel didn't blame him. It was a stupid dance, and he wouldn't have been caught dead up there. Drunk or sober. He frowned and wondered if you could be dead *and* drunk. Dead drunk, maybe?
As he was watching, the dancers parted a little and he suddenly caught a glimpse of Jack and Sam. He'd wondered where they'd gone. They were dancing slowly, oblivious to the chirping Christmas classic, close together and in quiet conversation. Very close, he noted, and a pulse of compassion penetrated his drunken glow. Even from this distance he could sense the restraint between them - the lightness of Jack's arm around her waist, the delicate way their hands were touching. There was no permanence to their embrace, it was fleeting and ephemeral.
As if to prove his point, Jack suddenly looked over at him. Their eyes met through the crowd for an instant before he whispered something to Sam and they pulled apart, heading for the bar. Daniel's heart sank. Their moment was over and he'd been the one to break the spell. He sighed, and reached for the wine. Some things in life just weren't fair, pure and simple.
***
The evening was almost over and time was crawling drunkenly towards midnight. Sam sipped at her orange juice, wishing it had something in it to dull the ache in her heart. At her side Jack stared into his own drink, silent and serious. They'd danced together for a long time, chatting quietly, close enough that their voices carried over the music. And for a brief time the constant longing that clamped around her heart had eased; the warmth of his arm around her waist and their clasped hands resting between them had leant an intimacy to their conversation that they hadn't shared since those days - weeks? - they'd spent as Thera and Jonah.
But then she'd felt him freeze and he'd whispered, "Daniel's watching."
'So what?' she'd wanted to protest. But she hadn't. Instead she'd withdrawn her hands from his and said, "Maybe we should get a drink?"
And so here they were, seeing the evening to its end in silence, propping up the bar without even an alcoholic anaesthetic. She risked another glance at the Colonel, but he was still studying the bottom of his glass. She'd enjoyed the evening, perhaps more than was entirely proper, but of all their hours of conversation the words that stuck in her mind were 'whiskey and self-pity'. The thought of him alone and miserable over the next couple of days saddened her to a degree that was disturbing. He deserved more. She frowned down at the dregs of her juice. Perhaps she should ask him over? The idea terrified her and entranced her in equal measure. Spend Christmas with Colonel O'Neill, alone? It was something akin to sitting on a box of dynamite and smoking a cigarette! And yet, how could she abandon him to his whisky and self-pity while she wiled away the days with her stash of good books and tempting chocolates? If it had been Daniel or Teal'c who were alone she wouldn't have hesitated. But the Colonel...?
"Penny for them, Carter?" His voice startled her out of her reverie, and she turned to see him watching her. "You were miles away."
Sam nodded. "Just thinking."
"I thought you quit?"
She smiled. "I'm trying to cut down," she agreed.
Turning around on his bar-stool Jack stared out at the dancers. The music had slowed now, and there were only a few couples still swaying together on the dance-floor. She followed his gaze and tried to ignore the beat of jealousy as she watched them entwined together, dancing closer and closer. It just wasn't fair. All she could think of was ...
"Whoa!" Jack's hand was suddenly on her arm. "Is that...?" he began, gesturing with the hand that held his glass.
Sam looked and her eyes widened in astonishment. "Daniel," she agreed. "Yeah, it is!" It was definitely Daniel - although she couldn't see much of him around the woman attached limpet-like to his face.
"Who the hell is she?" Jack asked.
Looking closer Sam frowned, and then smiled. "I think," she said, "it's one of the waitresses."
Jack laughed. "Go Daniel!"
Sam flung him a disapproving frown, although she suspected that her smile tamed the sting.
"What?" he protested, still grinning. "I just never pictured Daniel as the 'shoot first ask questions later' type!"
"Shoot first?" she repeated with a shake of her head at the imagery. "Is that your preferred technique then, sir?"
His smile turned speculative. "Not recently. Apparently."
She swallowed and returned her attention to Daniel. "It's good to see him relax," she decided. "I was beginning to wonder if he'd ever be able to move past Sha're."
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "This definitely looks healthy." Sam laughed at the irony. Here they were, passing judgement on the state of Daniel's emotional health while repressing the hell out of their own feelings! At her side she heard Jack chuckle and knew that the humor of the situation hadn't been lost on him. "I guess it's a case of do as I say, not do as I do," he muttered.
Sam just nodded and drained her drink. Glancing at her watch, she realized that it was after twelve. Technically it was Christmas Eve already. With a sideways glance at O'Neill, she said, "Merry Christmas, sir."
"That time already, huh?" he replied. Whiskey and self-pity - she could already hear it in his voice.
Taking a deep breath, Sam stood up. She should leave, get home before she did something she'd regret. "I should get going," she said, glancing over at the half-deserted table.
"Yeah," he sighed, climbing to his feet. "Me too." But there was a reluctance in his voice that she couldn't miss and it conjured up images of him alone with his memories; images that stabbed at her heart. She turned towards him and found herself unexpectedly close - close enough to touch - and, God, how she wanted to reach out to comfort him! Their eyes locked, full of forbidden questions and silent replies, and the tension between them flared with a sudden, intense heat. The moment was electric and the hunger and need that rose to the surface of his dark eyes was enough to undo all her resolve. She took a shallow breath as forbidden words teetered on her lips - stay with me, let me help you though this.... But before she could speak them Jack gave her a little resigned half-smile and stepped back. The spell was broken.
"You know," he sighed, "for a Christmas party, this wasn't too bad."
Sam swallowed, shaken by what she'd so nearly said and done. "Yeah," she managed to mutter, "I had fun."
"Me too," he agreed, quietly. "In fact, I might even come next year - if you'll promise to dance with me, Carter."
"Sure, sir," she replied. "I'll look forward to it."
"So will I."
Neither of them moved immediately. And then, to Sam's surprise and illicit delight, Jack leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She felt the touch of his lips like fire and the sensation rocked her to the foundations. "Merry Christmas, Sam," he murmured, turning and reaching for his jacket.
Almost before she was able to move, he'd walked passed her heading for the door and his lonely Christmas. "Sir!" she called out, stopping him.
He turned. "Carter?"
Her heart was racing nineteen to the dozen as she took a couple of steps closer. He'd kissed her. Wow! "Sir...would you...?" She swallowed and licked her lips, not quite believing what she was about to do. "Would you like to come over tomorrow - today - for Christmas?"
Jack's eyebrows shot up in astonishment and then, almost as fast, his surprise turned into a sardonic chuckle and he shook his head. "I think that goes beyond the call of duty, Major."
"Duty?" she frowned. Did he think she was doing this out of duty? "Sir - Jack - I'm asking you as a friend. That's all."
His eyes were fixed on her, dark and suddenly unsure. She'd rarely seen him at such a loss. "Carter," he began slowly, "I don't know if it's a good idea."
Her heart sank and she gave herself a sharp mental kick. One goddamn peck on the cheek and she'd thrown caution to the wind! "It's okay, sir," she assured him, feeling embarrassed and frustrated all at once.
"It's not that it wouldn't be nice...."
"It's okay!" she insisted, picking up her jacket from the chair and hugging it close to her chest. "I should get going." Way too near the line, Carter! What the hell were you thinking?! She moved to pass him, but he stopped her with a light touch on her arm.
"Sam - you know why I can't...?" he asked, sounding as frustrated as she felt.
She nodded. Yeah she knew. The same reason that she'd turned down all his invitations to go fishing; it wasn't safe, it wasn't proper. But it was so frustrating! All she wanted to do was be there for him at a difficult time. That was all. Yet even that, it seemed, was forbidden by their own rigid sense of discipline. She hated it - hated the whole damn stupid, complicated situation. "I just thought you might want some company, sir. As a friend. But even that...." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, looking at him again. "Is that too much to ask?"
His hand dropped from her arm. "Not really," he sighed. "But...."
"Yeah, I know," she said, with a shake of her head. "See you in a couple of days, sir. Enjoy the whiskey." And with that she was heading for the door.
"Carter?" he called after her, but she ignored him. There was nothing either of them could say; rules were rules, and, for better or worse, they were choosing to obey them. Whatever the consequences.
***
It was late afternoon as Jack stood on the porch of his house, gazing out through the cold air and breathing in its wintry scent. On the horizon clouds gathered, and behind them the pale sunshine faded towards dusk, casting the last of its light over the frozen landscape. The trees were already dressed in frosty shades of blue and white and the air held the promise of more snow to come. It was a perfect Christmas Eve, which just made his heart all the heavier. It was on days like this that he missed him the most. Missed both of them. Missed what they had been - a family.
His breath came out in a long, steady sigh, misting in front of him before it evaporated into the fading sunlight. Making a decision, he turned and went back into the house, to a cupboard he rarely opened, and lifted out a box he rarely touched. Carrying it into the living room he set it on the coffee table, next to the as yet unopened bottle of Bushmills, and opened the lid. His hand shook slightly as he reached inside and lifted out a photograph. It was his favorite. Charlie, the summer before he died, grinning and holding up a huge fish he'd caught, as pleased as punch. Jack stood behind him, a proud hand on his the boy's shoulder and his own smile matching his son's. Sara, of course, had taken the photo. He ran an affectionate finger over the image, and closed his eyes against the flash of renewed pain.
Then, steeling himself, he reached into the box and pulled out another picture. Their wedding. He smiled and shook his head at the young couple staring back at him. No Grey in his hair then, just smooth features and happy smiles. And Sara. God, she looked radiant, beautiful, just as he remembered her. "I miss you," he told her quietly. "I miss you both."
He felt the familiar surge of loss begin to rise in his throat and tears pricked the back of his eyes; it was hard, on days like this. Family days. He reached for the whiskey....
But then another thought intruded and he found himself smiling again. Sam. The one person who had the power to ease his sense of loss, not banish it, but mellow it, soften it. Staring at the picture of Sara he remembered how much he had loved her, how great they'd been together. But it was only a memory, he realized, a shade of the emotion he'd once felt for her. His heart beat for Sam now; she was the one who held his happiness in her hands.
He shook his head slightly, still unsure what to make of the curve ball life had thrown him. Just when he thought his days were destined to contain nothing but work and bitter, bitter regret, he had found himself struggling with feelings he'd never expected to have again. And even though the obstacles between them were almost insurmountable, just having Sam in his life made all the difference; it breathed color into his world where before it had been nothing but gray.
His musings were abruptly interrupted by the irritating ring of the telephone. Jack glanced at his watch, wondering who could be calling so late on Christmas Eve. Leaving the pictures on the coffee table he started hunting for the phone, hoping that whoever it was would hang up before he found it. But the caller was persistent, and despite having to run all the way upstairs for it, the phone was still ringing when he picked it up. "O'Niell," he answered, slightly breathless.
"Colonel?"
The voice was coming through a wall of static and other noises that sounded suspiciously like a highway. "Carter?"
"Yes, sir!"
"What's going on?" he asked, slowly walking down the stairs. "I can hardly hear you!"
"Sir - I've got a bit of a problem," she explained through the static. "My car broke down. The clutch plate's shot. A called Triple A but they said they couldn't get to me for about four hours - because of the weather and the holiday. And I remembered that you had a tow-bar, sir...."
Jack was already hunting for his car keys. "Where are you?" he asked her.
"If you're busy, sir," she said, "it's okay. I just thought that maybe...."
"Carter!" he interrupted. "Just tell me where you are! I'll come tow you home."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"That's great!" He could hear her smile over the phone and it prompted one of his own. "I'm just passed exit 13 on I-56 heading west."
He frowned. "What the hell are you doing all the way out there, Carter?" he asked.
There was silence for a moment, before she replied. "Buying a Christmas tree, sir."
He chuckled. "Okay, just stay in the car and try not to freeze to death before I get there," he suggested.
"Yes sir."
"Oh, and Carter?" he added. "I should tell you that I charge triple- time plus a call-out fee on all public holidays." She giggled and Jack grinned. "Sit tight, Major, I'm on my way."
By the time he'd made it onto the interstate the sun had sunk behind the bank of clouds and a few wispy flakes of snow had started to fall; the vanguard of more to come. The windshield wipers squeaked against the still dry glass, and the radio burbled a happy Christmas tune. For once he ignored his instinctive reaction to switch stations and let the banal music flow over him. As Christmas Eve's went, he reflected, this wasn't so bad. It wasn't often he got to play the knight in shining armor to Sam's damsel in distress - in fact, it was nearly always her pulling his butt out of the fire. And even if he was just rescuing her from the side of the road, rather than from flesh-eating techno-bugs, it still felt good.
As he cruised passed exit 13 he slowed and turned one eye towards the shoulder. Through the increasingly heavy snow he saw the slow flash of hazard lights and pulled his truck over in front of Sam's car. At least he assumed it was Sam's car, from what he could see beneath the large tree tied to the roof. As he stepped out into the cold evening he saw Sam's door open and she walked towards him with an embarrassed grin. "Thanks, sir!" she called over the wind-blown snow. "I really appreciate this!"
As he drew closer he could see a streak of grease on the sleeve of her jacket, and glanced at her slightly blue lips. "How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Couple of hours," she replied, nodding her head over her shoulder towards the car. "I thought it was just a snapped clutch cable at first, so I tried a temporary fix, but then I noticed that...."
He held up a hand to stop her. "It's too damn cold for explanations," he warned her, as he started pulling the tow bar from the back of his truck. "Give me a hand with this, will you?"
Between them it didn't take long to rig the tow-bar, but by the time they were ready to leave the snow was falling quite heavily. Squinting out at the cars racing passed them Jack frowned; this wasn't the smartest of things to be doing in the dark and the snow. Carter was obviously thinking along the same lines as she stood up from making the final adjustments to the tow-bar and came to stand at his side. "It's not gonna be easy pulling into traffic in this weather," she said, the noise and the wind forcing her to shout. "You sure you want to do it?"
"Hey, we're the guys who save the planet, remember?" he shouted back. "Can't let a little snow and ice defeat us!"
Sam nodded. She was always up for anything. Well, almost anything.... "Then let's go, sir!" she yelled. "I'm freezing my as...butt off, out here!"
The drive back to Sam's apartment was slow and difficult enough to set even O'Neill's heart racing a couple of times. The patch of black- ice at the end of her street had been a particularly interesting moment! But nonetheless, an hour or so after reaching her he found himself pulling up outside her building. The snow was falling thick and fast, and as soon as his windshield wipers ceased their frenetic activity the world outside was blotted from view. Sam was crunching through the snow towards him even before he had time to get out of the truck.
"Thank you," she said as he stepped out. "This is great."
"Okay to leave it here?" he asked, not sure he could even make out the side of the road beneath the deepening snow.
"It's fine," she assured him, turning to the tow bar and starting to undo it. They worked quickly and efficiently, with minimum fuss, as they always did. And once it was safely stowed in his truck, she turned towards him with an uncertain smile. "Come in for a drink," she offered. "It's the least I can do."
Jack hesitated. The weather was getting worse, and all the attendant dangers of being alone with Carter were still there, and yet... It was just a drink. And they were both adults. Nothing was gonna happen. He glanced over her shoulder at the large snow-covered tree still tied to the roof of her car. "You just want me to help you get that thing into your apartment," he accused her.
His words broke the subtle tension and Sam grinned. "You can see right through me, sir."
"Well, you know I'm just gonna add it to the bill," he warned her as he eyed the tree. "And my back's not insured."
Carter arched an eyebrow. "If you're not up to it, sir," she told him, "I'm sure I can manage. You wouldn't want to overdo it - at your age."
His eyes widened at her impudence. "All right Major," he grumbled, "out of the way. Let the big, strong men get to work!"
***
The scent of coffee and fresh pine mingled wonderfully in Sam's apartment as she padded back into the living room from the kitchen. Her toes were at last beginning to thaw from too many hours by the side of the road, and she could feel her face glowing with warmth now that she was in from the cold.
"I still don't think it's straight," O'Neill muttered as she handed him a mug of coffee.
Sam eyed the tree, her head on one side. "I think it's fine," she assured him. And then, taking a deep breath she sighed happily, "Doesn't it smell great?"
"Yeah," he agreed, with an edge of sadness creeping into his voice. "It's very evocative."
Watching him carefully, Sam nodded. "It reminds me of when I was a kid," she said, taking a seat cross-legged on the floor and beginning to rummage through her box of decorations. "Christmas isn't Christmas without a real tree."
Behind her on the couch Jack was silent, lost in thought. Knowing that he'd talk if he wanted to, Sam made no attempt to fill the silence and concentrated on unraveling the string of lights she'd discovered in the bottom of the box. The quiet between them was comfortable and easy, and she felt its warmth around her like a comforting blanket. From time to time she glanced over at Jack, but his eyes were misted with memory and she didn't disturb him as he slowly sipped his coffee. She was glad he was here, she realized, it felt right.
"Sara hated real trees," Jack said suddenly, surprising her. "She said the needles got everywhere and she was still finding them in June."
"Well, she has a point," Sam agreed diplomatically. "They do get everywhere!"
Jack shrugged. "I always preferred real trees."
A little pulse of shameful pleasure accompanied his words, and Sam shook her head in irritation. She wasn't in competition with his wife - his ex-wife - and she pushed the thought away. Having finally sorted out all the lights she leaned back to plug them into the wall. "Who won?" she asked as she flicked the switch. "You or Sara?"
Jack smiled slightly. "Sara." Then he shrugged. "By default really - she was there more than I was. I think I only spent four Christmases with them both."
Four? Wow. "It's difficult in the military," Sam said quietly. "My Dad was away a lot - but we understood why, we never blamed him."
"You always think you're going to make it up to them," Jack sighed. "But you never imagine that...." He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he gave a tired smile and said, "Sorry, Carter. I'm not much fun. I should probably go."
"I don't mind," she assured him, noting absently that the lights in her lap were dead. Damn.
"Well, all the same...," he muttered, rising to his feet.
"You know," Sam said hurriedly, keeping her eyes fixed on the uncooperative lights, "you'd think that with a bachelors in Physics, a Master's in Astrophysics, and a Doctorate in Theoretical Astrophysics I'd be able to get a string of lights to work!" She glanced up at him, and to her relief Jack was smiling.
"You have to jiggle them," he told her.
"Jiggle, sir?"
He crouched down in front of her and took the lights from her hands. "Like this," he said, adjusting each bulb one by one. After the third attempt the lights burst into life in his hands. "See?"
Sam nodded. "Thanks."
He stood up, and so did she. "Help me put them up, sir?" Please, she added silently. Please stay. Just a little longer.
She saw the moment of struggle in his eyes before his resolve crumbled and he said, "Sure. Why not?"
***
It was dangerous, Jack knew. Very dangerous. He would never describe himself as an emotionally vulnerable man, but on this particular day of the year he knew his resistance was low. He watched her now, cautiously, as she stretched up to hang something small and glittery from the branches of her tree. Her hair was curling slightly around her ears as it grew back some length, and the soft, cozy clothes she wore were worlds away from her utilitarian uniform. The effect was becoming distracting; he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes off her. With every minute that he stayed in her warm, inviting apartment, the harder it became to leave. If he was honest with himself, he was enjoying the fantasy. The quite pleasures of domesticity had been lost to him for too long, and these few hours with Sam were like a memory and a promise rolled into one; they reminded him of Christmases past and hinted at what the future might hold - if he was oh, so lucky!
"Not there!" Sam said suddenly, stopping him dead as he was about to hang a shiny bauble on one of the branches.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"That one always goes at the back," she explained, as if it were obvious.
Jack chuckled. "Your ornaments have set places, Carter?"
She grinned. "Sorry - guess I've been living alone for too long!" Her grin turned wry. "Hang it wherever you like, sir."
"It's your tree," he reminded her.
Her smile faded as if his words had thrown cold water on the fire. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I know."
Jack's heart constricted at the disappointment he saw in her face. Nothing like a little dose of harsh reality to spoil the fun - obviously he hadn't been the only one enjoying the fantasy. "It looks great," he offered, hoping to cheer her.
Sam smiled, turning to the tree. "Yeah," she nodded. "It does." Then her smile turned into a grin and she said, "Time for the lighting up ceremony!"
"The what?"
"Turn the lights off," she told him, dropping to the floor and reaching for the plug attached to the tree's lights.
Smiling at her enthusiasm, Jack found the light switch and plunged the room into darkness.
"Okay," Sam called from her position half-under the tree. "Ready?"
"The tension's killing me, Carter," he replied, wandering back towards her.
"Here goes!" She flipped the switch and on came the lights, casting the room in their soft glow and glittering against the ornaments on the tree. Crawling out from underneath, Sam stood up and took a step backwards to admire their work. "Perfect," she decided.
Turning to him, Sam smiled and his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes sparkled in the gentle lights, full of tinsel and warmth, and his heart ached with the sudden desire to kiss her. His hand twitched towards her but he held back at the last moment, not wanting to spoil the mood by crossing, uninvited, the invisible barrier that lay between them. Instead, he spoke. "This was fun," he said quietly. "Thanks for putting up with me."
Sam shook her head, her face more open than he'd ever seen it. "I enjoyed it too," she replied. Her gaze dropped from his for a moment, clouded by a sudden indecision, before she looked up again and said, "I meant what I said yesterday - about spending Christmas together. You could stay."
Jack found his heart racing. Stay? Carter, are you crazy? The way his stomach was tight with desire told him that the situation was already beyond dangerous. He shook his head. "Carter..." he began, but she cut him off.
"Nothing needs to happen," she said, flushing slightly as she alluded to the unspoken tension between them. "We're friends, aren't we? Nothing needs to move beyond that."
Jack's jaw tightened. "The thing is," he said quietly, forcing himself to honesty, "I don't know if I can promise that tonight, Sam." She blinked at his sudden use of her first name, her eyes darkened with a sudden flash of hunger and he knew that her resolve was no stronger than his own. He had to go. He had to go now, or leaving would be impossible.
As if answering his silent words, Sam nodded sadly. "I understand," she said, making no attempt to hide her disappointment. She was strangely unguarded; it was as if all her barriers had melted away beneath the warmth of the Christmas lights. Major Carter had gone, and all that remained was Sam, watching him with melancholy affection in her bright eyes.
Knowing his resolution was only moments from total disintegration, Jack forced himself to turn away and grab his jacket from the nearby chair. But as he shrugged it on, he knew he couldn't leave things like this between them. Her warmth and gentle patience had pulled him through one of the most difficult evenings of the year, and she deserved his thanks at least. Turning back to face her, he forced a smile onto his lips and said, "This has meant a lot to me, Carter. I hope you know that."
She nodded, her own smile returning. "I just wish I could do more," she whispered.
"Yeah," he replied, knowing exactly what she meant. "Me too."
They were silent for a long moment, each struggling with the same frustrated longing. And then, making the decision to go, Jack leaned forward to kiss her cheek in a gesture of farewell. "Good night, Carter," he murmured as he moved closer. But something went wrong. Either he misjudged or Sam moved slightly, because his lips caught the edge of her mouth and they both froze; the unexpected contact was electrifying!
They stood motionless, barely touching and unable to move forward or back as their mutual desire raged around them. And then slowly, so slowly it was almost imperceptible, Jack turned his head until their lips met fully. The kiss was hesitant and her nose brushed against his as he pulled back slightly, giving her the space to move away. But she didn't, she leaned closer instead and his heart thudded fit to burst as he felt her hand come to rest against his chest and she raised her lips to his once more. This was what he wanted, this was everything he wanted.... "Sam," he sighed, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer.
"I know," she whispered sadly, her breath brushing his face as she spoke. "I know."
The choice was before them, stark and immediate. The feelings they'd so long denied, repressed and ignored were demanding to be heard and in that moment Jack knew that his life was at a momentous crossroads. And he didn't know which path to choose.
***
They'd never gone this far, never taken the game to these limits. It was like skiing off-piste without a guide, in avalanche season. And disaster was waiting to pounce at every turn.
"We can't do this," Sam managed to whisper at last.
"I know," came Jack's breathy response. But he made no move, did nothing to ease the crisis.
His lips met hers again, the contact stronger this time and more insistent. And she knew that if she didn't act now, her world would tumble into chaos. A glorious chaos, but chaos nonetheless. So, steeling her heart against the pain, she pushed gently against his chest. "Don't," she gasped. "Please, sir...."
Jack stopped dead. And then he sucked in a deep breath and pulled abruptly away from her. "I'm sorry, Carter," he mumbled, rubbing a trembling hand over his face in a mixture of shock and remorse. Sam watched him with a sick regret rising in her throat; the last thing she'd wanted to do was hurt him, tonight of all nights!
"It's okay," she assured him, wrapping her arms tightly around herself to keep from reaching out to comfort him and making matters worse. "I'm sorry too."
But he was shaking his head. "This was unforgivable," he muttered angrily. "I'm your CO, for crying out loud! I shouldn't have even...."
"Jack!" Her use of his first name halted him. "We're both responsible - this isn't a military matter."
He gave a bitter little laugh. "Oh, so wrong, Carter. This couldn't be more of a military matter!"
Well, he was right. In a way. "What I meant," she said carefully, "was that responsibility for this - situation - hasn't got anything to do with ranks or chains of command. You're not responsible, we both are."
He didn't respond and the room fell into silence. Sam watched him thrust his hands deep into his pockets as he let out a long, slow sigh, and when he turned around his gaze was directed at the floor somewhere in front of her feet. "Either way, I'm sorry Carter," he said quietly. "This hasn't made things any easier between us."
He looked so dejected and insecure that Sam couldn't deny him a thread of comfort. So, instead of agreeing with him, a small smile touched her lips and she said, "It was nice though. While it lasted."
His dark eyes flashed to her face at last and she saw a glint of appreciative humor in their depths. "Yeah," he agreed, "it was."
"I think," she continued, taking the game in a new direction, "that one day we might do it again. Under different circumstances."
Jack was silent, watching her with the speculative smile that drove her crazy. "You know," he said at last, "I'm tempted to call Hammond right now and change the damn circumstances."
Her eyes widened. He was only half joking! "You want to tell Hammond about this?" she asked.
"Strictly speaking," he said, giving her a tight smile, "I should've spoken to him right after the whole armband thing. Or at least after the Za'tarc fiasco!"
Sam nodded, feeling a sudden beat of uneasy expectation. "It would be the proper thing to do," she agreed slowly.
"Yeah," he sighed, "it would."
"But...."
Glancing at her face, he clearly saw her reservation. "Hell of a way to screw up your career, Major."
Her eyes held his. "And yours."
"Mine?" he chuckled slightly and shook his head. "Don't see myself moving on from here, Carter. This'll see me out."
"You wouldn't turn down General if it was offered," she retorted, her own lips curling into a knowing smile.
"If it meant sitting behind a desk? Sure I would. I'm not a paper- pushing kinda guy."
Sam gave a quiet snort of laughter. "No," she agreed. "I guess not."
"But you," he said more seriously, "you're going all the way to the top. I know it."
The pride and certainty in his voice went right to her heart, and the heated look they shared almost melted her. "Maybe," was all she said, wondering if the view from the top would be worth all she was sacrificing to get there.
Jack took her reply as confirmation of her decision to leave things unaltered. "If we don't tell Hammond," he said slowly, "then I guess we have to try and live with this for a little longer."
A little longer. She wondered how long 'a little longer' would be. A year? Two? Ten? With a sigh, she said, "We'll have to be more careful in the future, sir. Avoid - dangerous situations."
Jack laughed suddenly. "Dangerous?" he chuckled. "We've destroyed two of Apophis' ships virtually single handed, but one little Christmas tree and a string of lights and we almost self-destruct!"
"Another good reason to keep this quiet," she smiled. "We wouldn't want that kind of intelligence getting into enemy hands." Her words were light, but they held a deeper meaning; she shuddered to think of the ways Apophis could use their feelings against them.
Jack's smile faded and she knew that his mind was travelling along similar paths. "I guess so," he agreed. "Don't want to show any chinks in the armor."
She nodded and silence returned. No longer tense, it was filled with regret and disappointment. The line had held, again. But as Sam looked into his dark eyes she saw the loneliness that lay beneath the surface and knew that their victory had been hard won. The personal cost of doing the right thing was high and getting higher. One day, she thought, it might prove too high to pay. And then...? She smiled. And then the circumstances would have to change - and to hell with the consequences.
Seeing her smile, Jack frowned. "What?" he asked.
Sam shrugged. "Just thinking, sir."
"About?"
"The future."
He raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?"
A self-conscious flush touched her cheeks, but she forced herself to speak. "I was hoping that one year you'll be able to stay. For Christmas."
Jack's answering smile lit his eyes. "I hope so too," he said quietly. "In fact, I'm counting on it."
"Me too." She gazed at him for a moment longer; desire, longing and regret were mingling in his dark eyes, reflecting the emotions in her heart. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "I'll be fine."
Not sure that she believed him, Sam knew that further argument was pointless. They'd been to the brink, and had turned back at the last moment. It was achingly painful, and she doubted that either of them had survived the experience unscathed. Least of all, Jack. But equally, she knew his strength. She knew that his duty was what grounded him, it gave his life structure and meaning. And she knew that within its rigid constructs he'd find his own comfort, cold and unyielding as it might be.
As if reading her thoughts Jack nodded. "I'm gonna go now," he said, the decision made with no room for argument. "But we'll do this again, some time. That's a promise."
"Yes sir," she said, watching him go with a painful mixture of pride and regret. "Merry Christmas, Colonel."
He turned and gave her a final, guarded smile. "Merry Christmas, Carter."
The End.
Well, if you didn't like that ending, try the other one! Merry Christmas!
Story Notes: Notes: I wrote this story as a big thank you to everyone who has read my fics over the past few months, and especially to those of you who've taken the time to write and let me know that you enjoyed them. My heartfelt thanks and gratitude goes to you all. Now, read on because the next bit is important...!
IMPORTANT NOTE - PLEASE READ!!! This story has a twist! Because I wanted to write something that would please everyone (as *if*!), I've given it two endings - one is keeps the UST unresolved, the other is sweeeeeeet with extra chocolate! But I'm not gonna tell you which is which, so you get to choose and see what happens.... Choose either (version A) or (version B)! Of course, you can read both endings if you like!! Whichever ending you choose, I hope you like the story, and I wish you all a festive holiday season and a wonderful start to 2001.
IMPORTANT NOTE - PLEASE READ!!! This story has a twist! Because I wanted to write something that would please everyone (as *if*!), I've given it two endings - one is keeps the UST unresolved, the other is sweeeeeeet with extra chocolate! But I'm not gonna tell you which is which, so you get to choose and see what happens.... Choose either (version A) or (version B)! Of course, you can read both endings if you like!! Whichever ending you choose, I hope you like the story, and I wish you all a festive holiday season and a wonderful start to 2001.
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 ]