Sam's eyes were open. She was wide awake, and she was watching the gray utilitarian ceiling of her quarters with a heavy heart. Today was going to be a bad day, and she really didn't want to start it. Not at all.
Bleep-bleep.
Without looking she reached out and slapped the alarm back to snooze. She had time, another ten minutes wouldn't kill her. She let her eyes drift down from the ceiling towards the neat pile of envelopes stacked on the little table by her bed. Must be about five altogether, a brightly colored assortment of shapes and sizes. She sighed and sat up, arranging the pillows behind her, cushioning her back against the uncomfortable metal headboard. Reluctantly, she took the first envelope and tore it open.
Happy Birthday! A couple of fluffy bunnies cavorted on the cover, atop a rather sickly looking cake, and inside a flowery poem made her cringe. But she smiled anyway, at the scrawled message in the shaking hand of her great-aunt Kathy. She was almost ninety. Good of her to remember, bless her. She moved on to the next, from her brother and his family. The home-made card from his kids, tucked inside, broadened her smile. She couldn't believe how fast they were growing, and she had a horrible feeling that she would turn around one day and find herself invited to one of their weddings. Before her own, no doubt.
She turned to the next card, from Janet, and then, to her surprise, to one from General Hammond. Must have been his secretary's idea, she figured.
And then, finally, she moved on to the last one. The one she dreaded every year. She recognized it immediately from the Austin, Texas post- mark. Louise. It was from her twin. Well not exactly a twin, but they had shared the same birthday at high-school, and still exchanged a card and a letter, outlining all the little details of their lives over the past year. Nice, really. At least it had been. Sam had enjoyed writing the letters when she'd been full of enthusiasm as a new recruit, relishing every challenge, dropping place-names liberally throughout the letter - "When I was in Saudi," or "Really enjoyed the trip to Okinawa."
But as the years went on, and Lou's letters started filling with news of her engagement, her marriage and honeymoon, then her pregnancy and the birth of her first child, Sam found her friend's letters harder and harder to read, and her own letters harder and harder to write. This year she'd got as far as "Still in the military" and given up. She fingered the birthday card guiltily, knowing that Lou wouldn't have one to open. But what could she say? Work, of course, couldn't be discussed. And as she'd sat there, pen in hand, struggling to think of something, anything, to write, she'd realized that she had nothing else in her life. Not one thing. Nothing.
It had been a depressing thought, and cast a shadow over her still. It wasn't that she was unhappy. She had a job she couldn't have even dreamed of as a child, exploring the galaxy, testing her mental and physical resources to the limit. And she had friends, real, solid friends she trusted with her life. And she loved them. She loved them all.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. She woke up too often in her cramped quarters, instead of at home. And she always woke up alone. For over three years now, she'd been single. It was definitely starting to turn from a phase into a dogged constant. Sam Carter. Single, career woman. Almost everyone she knew 'outside' - admittedly, not many - were settled in nice houses, with pools and kids and husbands. Nothing fancy, just the usual stuff. And it wasn't that she didn't enjoy saving the planet and exploring the galaxy, it was just that sometimes she wished she had someone to come home to afterwards.
With a sigh, she returned Lou's card to the table, unopened, and swung her legs out of bed, wincing a little as the cold floor touched her toes. Turning off the alarm she headed to the small bathroom.
"You just want too much, Sam," she told herself, sighing as the hot water blasted away the last vestiges of sleep. "You have a great life! Anyone would envy you. But you can't have everything."
She was great at talking sense to herself. Shame she wasn't better at listening to it. Can't have everything? Why not? Why couldn't she? It wasn't like she was asking a lot. All she wanted was one person, out of all the billions on the planet, one person to be hers. Was that so much? Just one person. One specific person, actually. One specific Colonel who could make her smile with little more than a glance, and who occupied far too many of her thoughts.
Turning off the water, she stepped out of the shower and started to towel off. Her mind was now set on the relentless Jack path, which she knew from experience it was pointless to resist. It always went the same way - I love him, he loves me, we aren't going to do anything about it, so just move on. Vaguely she wondered how many times that little train of thought was going to race through her mind before she started believing it. Move on, Sam. It isn't going to happen. It can't ever happen. But that knowledge weighed like lead in her heart, and a little stubborn corner of her mind refused to believe it. 'You never know,' it whispered to her in the darkness of the night. 'You never know what's around the corner.'
But she did. In the cold light of day, she knew exactly what was around the corner - regulations, the war with the Goa'uld, her career, and their professionalism. And ever since that day when the unspoken truths had been uttered, things had only gotten harder.
Oh sure, at first it had been kinda fun. Knowing for certain how he felt, after hoping and suspecting for so long, had brought a smile and a little buzz of excitement as she woke each morning. And every covert glance, every almost-accidental touch had sent a little thrill to the pit of her stomach. But the romance had soon worn off, starved to death by the knowledge that it was a hopeless cause. Romance, she figured, was as temperamental as a hot-house flower, needing constant nurturing and heat to sustain its life. But under the daily grind of longing for the impossible, of physical frustration, and of crushing loneliness, the romance had died, leaving behind it only a heart- wearying need that could never be fulfilled. It was no fairytale. She was no princess, and there'd be no happy ending.
She glanced at her face in the mirror - short, wet hair ruffled and spiky where she'd rubbed it dry, slightly hollow cheeks, and subtle lines around her eyes. Laugh lines or crow's feet? She hadn't done a lot of laughing recently.... Thirty-four. Hardly over the hill, but certainly on the steep climb to the top. Thirty-four, and alone, in love with a man who she could never have. She shook her head, and left the bathroom. How the hell did you get yourself into this mess, Carter? And how the hell are you going to get out of it?
***
Jack sat on the edge of his narrow bed, gazing thoughtfully at the small, smooth wooden box he held in his hand. Today was Sam's birthday. Somehow, the date had imprinted itself onto his consciousness. He had no idea when, or how, only that somewhere along the way he'd come to know that today was her birthday, and that she'd be thirty-four. A quiet laugh escaped. Thirty-four. It sounded so young. Barely out of her twenties, so full of life, so full of the future. God, he loved her. The thought sprang into his mind unbidden, and he shook it away. 'Not going to happen, Jack, just let it go. She's a friend, a colleague. She can't be anything more. Ever.'
Which brought his mind back to the little box he held. Should he give it to her? Would he be crossing that subtle, indefinite line they'd drawn between themselves if he did? He didn't know. He really didn't know.
Damn, things had gotten so complicated since that day everything had spilled out into the open! The thing was, he'd always imagined that, if he ever told her how he felt, he would see something like shock, astonishment and embarrassment on her face. He had imagined that mortified look frequently, using it to cool the heat that had been building for years, using it to persuade himself that there was no chance, that she saw him as nothing more than her CO. A friend, at most. And it had been pretty damn effective. Whenever he'd been tempted to push things, to test the waters, he'd imagined that look and yanked himself back into line.
The problem was, she hadn't looked at him like that at all. Oh no. The look she'd given him had reflected back all his own secret longing, his need, his desire. Reflected it back with a heat of her own, and in that look ignited a flame that, until then, he'd done a reasonable job of keeping at bay. Before it had been smoldering, now it was a fire twenty feet high. Things, he realized, had gotten a hell of a lot worse.
Now, when he saw her he couldn't kid himself that she was just a colleague, a team mate. Now he knew she was more, that he ached to be with her, that he longed for her emotionally and physically. He knew it, and so did she. But what made it almost intolerable was the knowledge that the only thing standing between them was their own sense of duty, of what was right, of what they owed to their colleagues in the SGC. Professionalism, you might call it. And it sucked.
He treasured every glance they shared, every little illicit touch that set their pulses racing in tandem, stoking the fire that shouldn't have been burning at all. He treasured them all, but knew that one day they'd stop. She was young, she was smart, funny and beautiful, and one day she'd find someone to share her life with, because she deserved to. And he'd have to watch it without comment, he'd have no right to say a word.
And that sucked. It sucked big time.
***
The cafeteria was largely empty at this early hour, for which Sam was grateful. Their mission today was due to start at oh-seven-hundred, so she still had half an hour for breakfast before the six o'clock briefing. Not that she was hungry, but knowing she'd regret it if she didn't eat, she tried to force down a bowl of oatmeal. Before her, sitting brightly on the table, was Lou's still unopened birthday card. She stared at it as she ate and then, at last, reached out and tore it open. A couple of pictures fell out, narrowly missing her breakfast. She glanced at them with a sad smile; another baby, by the look of the little pink face. That made two.
The letter was shorter this year, but still glowed with happiness and pride. Sam skipped down, picking out the highlights. Tom got a promotion, little Oliver started nursery. The new baby is a girl - weighed seven pounds eight ounces - called Joanne. Nice, she thought, returning to her oatmeal. But hey, I'm going to another planet today, right? Imagine that! Who needs men, or kids, or pools anyway? Right? Yeah, right.
"Hi Sam." She glanced up with a smile, to see Daniel taking a seat opposite. He still looked half-asleep as he sipped at his coffee.
"Who's that?" he asked, nodding towards the photos.
"Kids of a friend," she told him, pushing them across the table towards him. "Cute."
"Yeah."
His eyes wondered over the table, fell on the birthday card and widened. "It's your birthday!" he said suddenly, and then winced.
Sam smiled. Daniel always forgot and always felt terrible. "It's okay," she told him.
"I can't believe I did it again!" he muttered. "I remembered last week, and...."
She reached out and touched his hand. "Really, don't worry. I'm trying to forget it myself."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "The wrong side of thirty."
"It's not so bad," he assured her.
"What isn't?" The voice was Jack's, as he dropped into a seat next to Sam.
"Being the wrong side of thirty," Daniel told him.
Sam couldn't help but smile at the irritated look that flashed across the Colonel's face. "Try being the wrong side of forty," he muttered.
"I need more coffee," Daniel said then, changing the subject and getting to his feet. "Sam, need a refill?"
"No, I'm good, thanks."
Once Daniel had left, silence descended, as it so often did these days. It wasn't that they had nothing to say, just that the subject that burned most brightly between them was forbidden. And so, as often as not, they simply sank into silence. Sam hated it, hated knowing that so much of their relationship was locked away behind the rigid walls of regulation, hidden even from their own eyes. She hated the silence when there should have been companionship and laughter. But at last Jack spoke, glancing at her sideways and giving her a small smile, devoid of his usual bravado. "Happy birthday, Sam," he said quietly.
"Thanks," she replied, pleased that he'd used her first name. He hardly ever did anymore. She returned his smile and his glance, feeling the warmth in his eyes like a sweet torture. So much there, just beyond her reach.
Their gaze locked for a long moment, until Jack looked away, his eyes dropping to the table top. Obviously looking for something to fill the deepening silence he said, "Whose kids?"
"High school friend," she told him, returning her attention to her breakfast. But her stomach refused another mouthful, and she shoved the bowl away. "She's just had her second - the little girl." She pushed the photos towards him, just as he reached out for them, and their fingers met. Her instinct was to pull away but he suddenly caught the tips of her fingers beneath his own, and held them there on the table top, his eyes returning to her face.
Sam's heart thudded with a painful beat, the touch of his fingers failing to light the fire it would once have done, but rather intensifying the pain in her chest. "Don't," she begged quietly.
He withdrew his hand immediately, his eyes touched with a deep sadness. "I'm sorry," he murmured, still gazing into her eyes. And then, reaching into his jacket pocket, he said, "I probably shouldn't have...."
"Can you believe they ran out of coffee?" Daniel exclaimed, slumping back into his chair. "At this time in the morning?!"
Jolted out of the intense moment, Sam turned to him with some relief. "No coffee?" she asked, with a good deal more emotion than the situation deserved.
Daniel gave her a surprised look, and said, "Don't worry, I'll survive. They gave me tea."
"If you want caffeine," Jack said, jumping abruptly to his feet, "I'll get you a Coke."
Daniel was disgusted. "Jack," he said, shaking his head, "it's not even six o'clock!"
He frowned. "Yeah?"
"Never mind," Daniel muttered. "The tea's fine."
"Suit yourself," Jack shrugged, and headed off towards the counter in search of his own breakfast, obviously relieved to have escaped their little tete-a-tete. Sam watched him go, her heart still constricted by their intense and unsatisfying exchange.
"Why the long face?" Daniel asked, sipping cautiously at his tea. He made a face, but continued sipping. She shook her head, but Daniel was persistent. "Come on Sam, what's up?"
She sighed. "Oh, just life," she muttered, giving him a rueful smile. "You know."
"Tell me," he suggested.
Prodding at the pictures on the table, she said, "Lou - their mother - is the same age as me. She has two kids, great house, vacations, husband...."
"Getting broody?" Daniel asked with a smile.
But she shook her head. "No, not really. I just - I just wish I had a life! It sounds stupid, but...."
"No," Daniel butted in, "I know exactly what you mean. Work is great, fascinating, an unbelievable privilege and all that, but sometimes I wonder - is this it? Is this it for the rest of my life?"
"Exactly!" Sam replied, relieved that someone understood. "That's exactly it. I wonder if I'm ever going to have a personal life again."
Daniel nodded, his face serious. After a moment he said, "What I had with Sha're was so special, so amazing - I sometimes think that maybe that was it. That was my one shot at personal happiness. I can't imagine finding anyone else like her."
Reaching out for his hand, Sam couldn't help but feel a little guilty about her own disappointments. After all that Daniel had been through with Sha're, how could she complain about a little unrequited love? "You will find someone, Daniel," she said quietly, "I know you will. And she probably won't be anything like Sha're, but you'll still love her."
He smiled and squeezed her hand in thanks. "Well, if I can, so can you, Sam. Just a matter of time."
"Oh, I don't know," she replied, sitting back in her chair. "I think I might be a lost cause."
Taking another sip of his tea, Daniel suddenly grinned. "Maybe we should make one of those pacts?" he suggested. "You know, if neither of us is married by the time we're forty, we marry each other."
Sam couldn't help but giggle at the idea. "I'll start making a guest list," she offered.
"Pessimist," Daniel accused her.
"Realist," she replied. "Trust me on that one."
***
As he picked up his loaded tray, Jack heard Sam's giggle drift across the slowly filling room and smiled. But his smile was a sad one, as he realized how rarely he elicited a laugh, or even a smile, from her these days. Taking a deep breath he turned and made his way back towards the table. Sam was still laughing, and she and Daniel were engaged in an animated discussed.
"What'd I miss?" he asked, returning to his seat by Sam's side. Despite the tension between them he always wanted to be near her when he could. He couldn't help himself. Daniel's face split into a grin. "Sam and I just decided to get married," he announced, and Jack froze. For an bizarre moment his worst fears became an awful reality, and he felt his heart stop in his chest as his eyes searched Sam's face for the truth.
"We made a pact," she explained hurriedly. "If neither of us are married by the time we're forty...."
Jack felt his heart jolt back into motion and forced a smile. "Need a best man?" he asked, although the thought filled him with horror even in the abstract. Sam's wedding? He'd rather die than see that day dawn, swear to God.
"Sure," Daniel agreed, "but I think we'll both be disappointed. I mean, what are the odds of Sam still being single in seven years time?"
"Um," he mumbled, awkward with the question, not knowing how to answer.
"Come on Jack," Daniel sighed, mistaking his awkwardness for obtuseness. "She's beautiful, smart, brave - Sam, you must have guys lining up around the block."
"Hardly," Sam muttered quietly, "unless they're lining up around a different block." She kept her eyes averted from Jack's as she spoke, but he watched her nonetheless as Daniel's words hit home. She *was* beautiful, and smart, and she was one of the bravest people he'd ever known. But she was alone. And in his heart he knew why. She was alone because of him, because of this thing that had grown between them, this thing that they had deliberately stunted before it could blossom. And now it couldn't grow, and it wouldn't die. It just sat there between them, growing uglier by the day, and slowly poisoning their friendship. She deserved more, he realized, a hell of a lot more.
"Off-world activation," the alarm suddenly rang out. "This is not a drill. Off-world activation."
Instinctively, Jack looked to Sam. Her gaze met his with a question - are we going, sir? His slight nod answered her as they both leaped to their feet and headed for the door. Colonel and Major they could do, it was everything else that caused the trouble.
***
By the time they reached the gate-room the pandemonium had died down, although Sam was relieved to see that the iris remained securely closed.
"What happened?" Jack asked as he strode into the room, Sam on his heels and Daniel a couple of steps behind, still nursing his tea.
"Someone's trying to dial us up," Hammond told him, glaring down at the console.
"Someone friendly?"
"We don't know, Colonel," the General replied. "We have no idea where it's coming from." Then he turned to Sam, "Major Carter, would you take a look at this data?"
"Yes sir," she said, moving toward the console. Pushing her tumultuous feelings aside, grateful for the distraction, Sam sat down and punched a few keys, frowning at the screen for a moment. After a couple of minutes she said, "Well, to extend the telephone metaphor, General, it doesn't look like they can get through."
"Why not?" Hammond asked, his brow creasing into a frown.
"I'm not exactly sure," she replied, tapping a few more keys. "But I think that they might be trying to dial manually, without a DHD. They probably don't have enough power."
"One of our teams?" Jack asked immediately. "Is anyone off-world?"
"SG-11," Hammond replied. "But we had visual confirmation of a DHD, as always."
"Maybe 'had' is the operative word, sir?"
"It's not them," Carter interrupted, looking up at him from her seat. "SG-11 are on P4X530. Whoever's dialing us up is coming from somewhere completely different. It's not even a gate we've charted, sir."
"And you know this how?" Jack asked, an eyebrow twitching skeptically.
She couldn't help but smile at him. "By extrapolating from their incoming signal, sir," she replied, not even trying to explain further.
He shrugged. "That works for me."
The siren's wailed again. "Off-world activation!"
"Looks like they wouldn't take no for an answer," he said then, his gaze returning to the gate.
"It's still too weak," Sam told him. "They can't establish a worm- hole from their end."
"General?" Jack asked. "You think, maybe we should try and find out who these guys are? And why they're so keen to get in touch?"
Hammond nodded his agreement. "Major Carter, can you dial them up?"
"Yes sir."
"Good," he said, with another, curt nod. "Send a MALP through, and we'll see what we're dealing with."
***
"We should be receiving telemetry in five, four, three," Sam said, eyes fixed on the screen, "two...one. Got it."
The video playback was fuzzy, but revealed a small tree-lined clearing. She turned the camera, sweeping the area. "Atmospheric conditions are suitable," she noted, taking a quick glance at the other data streaming in, "Temperature ten degrees C."
"Hello!" Jack's surprised tone brought her attention back to the video screen.
"Holy...!" she began, staring at the curious face peering into the camera. "Well, I guess we found our caller."
The face suddenly pulled back, as the man stood up and took several steps away.
"Have we got audio?" Daniel asked, still sipping at his tea.
Sam nodded, tapping a key. The static hiss made her wince, but beneath it she distinctly heard voices. "Let me see if I can clean that up," she muttered, making a few adjustments.
"...evidence of some technology!" a voice said then, as the man returned to the camera, another man at his shoulder. "Look."
Both men now knelt before the MALP, wary but unafraid. "It's nothing that our people would use," the second man said, his brow contracting into a frown beneath his mop of dark hair. "You're sure you got the right co-ordinates?"
"I'm sure, Taran."
"Then I guess the TSD is shot."
"They still might be able to help us," the first man said, scratching at his chin. "Their technology looks reasonably advanced."
"This is just some kind of probe," the man called Taran pointed out. "There's no guarantee anyone's going to come."
"Um, Carter?" Jack said, from where he stood behind her, "you wanna say 'Hi' to these guys?"
She glanced up at him, with a nod. "Yes sir." Slipping on the headset, she opened the microphone. "Hello," she began hesitantly and watched both men jump back, startled. "Don't be frightened. My name's Major Samantha Carter, of the United States Airforce."
At her words both men shared a look, almost as if confirming an unpleasant truth. But the man called Taran soon recovered himself and returned to the MALP with a small smile brightening his dark eyes. "Our apologies, Major Samantha Carter," he said, "we didn't realize your probe contained communication technology."
"I'm sorry I startled you," she replied.
"No apology necessary," the man said, sitting down to make himself more comfortable before the MALP. "My name is Taran Santer, and this is my colleague, Jemus T'Laren."
Jack leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Ask them why they were trying to dial us up," he reminded her.
She flashed him an irritated glance. What did he think she was about to do? Seeing her annoyance he stood up with a little defensive shrug, turning his eyes back to the video screen. Sam shook her head, "Were you attempting to open the Stargate to our planet?" she asked.
Taran nodded. "Unfortunately we have insufficient power to operate the gate."
Sam frowned. "Is this your first attempted to use the Stargate?" she asked.
Taran shook his head, glancing down, his dark hair falling over his eyes. "Not exactly, Major Carter."
"Meaning?" she heard Jack mutter from behind her.
"What do you mean?" she asked Taran, flicking Jack another glare that said 'shut up'!
By now Jemus had joined Taran and the two men exchanged a brief glance, and seemed to come to a decision. Taran scrubbed a hand through his hair, and smiled, looking a little sheepish. "We're rather stuck here, you see."
"Stuck?"
"Stranded," he clarified. "We're explorers - anthropologists actually. We use the gate system for research purposes. But something went wrong during our last mission. Our equipment malfunctioned and we landed here, with no way to get home."
"Sounds familiar," Jack muttered behind her. This time, she couldn't help smiling at his wry words.
"There's no DHD," Sam guessed.
"DHD?" Taran asked.
"Oh," she shook her head, smiling at herself, "I mean, the device used to operate the gate."
"Ah, the GCT," he grinned. "Well, it's here but it's been stripped down to its bones by the locals."
"Locals?"
"Friendly," Taran assured her. "Relatively civilized."
"So you were trying to operate the gate manually?" Sam asked, her mind racing ahead of his words. "But the gate doesn't have enough power does it?"
"No. You're absolutely right."
Sam smiled. "Well, I think we can help you," she said. "We can bring through a naquada reactor to power the gate, and...."
"Carter?" Jack's voice had a sharp edge. "You wanna discuss this first?"
"Oh," she said, suddenly realizing that her enthusiasm had overreached her authority. "Yes, sorry sir." She turned back to the microphone. "Taran, I need to discuss this with my Commanding Officers, so we're going to close the gate. We'll reopen it soon. Standby."
"Very well, Major Carter," Taran replied, with a brief nod. "We'll be here. And thank you."
***
"I think we should go, sir," Sam said as soon as the briefing room door closed behind them.
"Yeah," Jack sighed, slumping into a seat, "I got that impression, Carter."
"We can help them get home!" she protested, not understanding his resistance. "We all know what it's like to get stuck out there."
Taking a seat opposite Jack, Daniel pulled his glasses off and rubbed wearily at the bridge of his nose. "I agree with Sam," he said. "We can help these people - and who knows what we could learn from them."
"Hey!" Jack protested, raising a hand, "I didn't say we shouldn't go, I just think we should be cautious. I didn't like the look of the guy."
"Come on, Jack," Daniel said, glancing over the table as he started to clean his glasses. "They're just a couple of anthropologists!"
"Well, not that you can't be a scary guy at times..." Jack began.
"I'm an archaeologist," Daniel pointed out, but Jack either didn't hear or he chose to ignore him.
"We only have their word for it that they're anthropologists," he said.
"Why would they lie?" Sam asked.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's see," he speculated extravagantly. "Maybe they're Goa'ulds?"
"No," she said, a little too quickly. Jack's eyes narrowed, forcing her to expand her argument. "He, um, he didn't look like a Goa'uld, sir."
"*He* didn't?" Jack asked, placing an odd emphasis on the word. "*He* being Taran Sanitary or whatever the hell he called himself?"
She refused to rise to his bait and just said, "Neither of them looked like Goa'ulds. Daniel," she asked, "what did you think?"
Daniel sighed, obviously not wanting to get into what was close to becoming an argument. "I think," he replied slowly, "that we won't know for sure until we go look."
"Diplomat," Jack accused him.
Just then General Hammond walked into the room. Jack made a half- hearted attempt to get to his feet which Hammond casually waved away. "As you were," he said, taking a seat himself. "Sit down, Carter."
She obeyed in silence, still irritated by Jack's obstinacy.
"Okay, Colonel," Hammond said, getting straight to the point, "what do you recommend?"
Sam watched as Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair, glanced over at her briefly, before leaning forward, hands clasped on the table top. "I recommend that SG-1 takes a naquada reactor through the gate to go save these anthropologists' butts, sir," he said.
The ghost of a smile touched the General's lips, but his eyes remained all business. "Any tactical threats, Colonel?"
O'Neill nodded. "Oh, yeah. You should close the iris as soon as we're gone, sir, and I recommend that we initiate a four hour check-in protocol, just in case."
"Sir...?" Sam started to protest, before a sharp look from O'Neill silenced her.
But although he cut off her words, his gaze still held her eyes. "Until I know why they were dialing our number, Major," he said quietly, "I won't be as confident in our new friends as you seem to be."
She dropped her gaze, kicking herself for missing the obvious. "Yes sir," she replied, duly chastened. Why the hell *had* they been trying to dial Earth, and not their home planet? And why the hell hadn't she picked that up?
***
Releasing the safety on his weapon, Jack hefted the familiar weight in his hands and stared up at the open gate. He risked a quick glance at Carter, standing as she always did by his side. Her gaze was trained in the same direction as his, the shimmering blue of the event-horizon only adding to the luster of her eyes. The Stargate might be a technological wonder of breathtaking proportions, he thought, but compared to those eyes it looked like a cheap fairground illusion. Given the chance, he could happily lose himself in those eyes forever. Given the chance.
He sighed, and she must have heard because she turned to face him with a question in her eyes. Friends? she asked silently. He smiled, delighted to see the expression mirrored her eyes, adding a twinkle that sent his heart skipping. God, he loved her. He couldn't help it, he couldn't stop it, he couldn't even deny it anymore.
"What are we waiting for?" Daniel's curious voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized he was standing there, in front of the open gate, gazing at Carter like a fool. His head snapped front. "Just gathering my thoughts, Doctor," he replied, struggling to find his equilibrium. Christ, Jack, that was damn stupid! It's exactly why they have regs against this kind of thing....
Sam must have felt the same, because when he shot a quick glance in her direction he saw a slight flush stain her cheeks as she checked her weapon, deliberately not looking at him. Just as well. This was work. This was dangerous work. Distractions of any kind could be fatal, to the whole team.
Clearing his throat he straightened his back, holding his weapon ready for use. "Okay, kids," he said, summoning the familiar bravado that always served him so well, "first thing we do is make sure these guys don't have snakes in their heads. Got that?"
"Yes sir," Carter said at his side.
"Whatever you say," was Daniel's impatient response. Teal'c of course, remained silent, but he probably inclined his head a little, in silent agreement. That was what he normally did.
"Okay," he said, taking a deep, steadying breath, "let's do it." And with that he stepped through the gate and let the cosmic forces take him.
The gut-wrenching, nerve-stretching, body-crunching journey was over almost before it had begun, and Jack stepped out onto the alien world already shaking off the icy-chill, his weapon raised as he scanned the area for a threat.
He sensed, rather than saw, Carter at his side, but he knew she was there. She always was. "Sir?" her voice said into the silent clearing. "Over here."
He turned, weapon still raised, to follow Carter's line of sight. Her eyes, and her gun, were trained on two men standing nervously at the edge of the clearing, their hands raised.
"Don't move," Jack warned them, walking slowly down the stone steps before the gate, not letting them out of his line of sight. "We're not going to hurt you, but we just need to check something."
"Major Carter?" one of the men called, and Jack recognized him as Taran.
"That's me," Sam said from somewhere behind him. "Don't be afraid Taran, we just need to make sure you're who you say you are."
"Teal'c" Jack barked, coming to a halt a couple of meters in front of the two men. "Check them out."
Wordlessly, Teal'c strode towards them and Jack saw their eyes go wide at the sight of the large man approaching.
"He won't hurt you," Sam told them, coming to stand at Jack's side. "Please - don't worry, he just wants to look at the back of your necks."
"Our necks?" Taran asked, confused but not really sounding afraid.
"Humor us," Jack suggested.
Taran shrugged, and allowed the inspection. After a moment Teal'c withdrew, giving both men a curt nod of thanks. "They are not Goa'uld," he said.
Jack didn't have to look to know that Sam was smiling her I-told-you- so smile. Deliberately ignoring it, he lowered his weapon but still kept a wary eye on the strangers. The Goa'uld weren't the only threat. Taran smiled a little. "You thought we had been infested by the Goa'uld?" he asked.
"It happens," Jack replied, not liking the man's smooth smile. Far too slick.
"Yes," Taran nodded. "It was a wise precaution." He paused for a moment, and then, as if remembering himself, he held out a hand. "My name is Taran Santer," he said.
"Colonel Jack O'Neill," he replied, shaking the offered hand briefly before returning his own to the safe familiarity of his weapon. "That's Doctor Daniel Jackson," he added, indicating Daniel who still stood on the steps leading up to the Stargate. "He's an anthropologist like...."
"Archaeologist!" Daniel called out sharply.
"Whatever," Jack muttered. "Teal'c you've already met, and this is Major Carter."
He couldn't help noticing the way the man's eyes lit up as he turned towards Carter, and it didn't do a lot for his good opinion of the stranger. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Major Carter," Taran said, obviously meaning it.
Sam smiled and held out her hand. "Samantha," she said. "Major Samantha Carter."
Taran's smile turned into a grin, a definite grin, as he took her hand and held it rather longer than Jack felt was necessary. Sam didn't seem to notice, or care, however. "We brought the reactor," she said then, nodding towards the large box sitting near the edge of the gate.
"Easy, Major," Jack warned. Damn, she was eager to trust this man! "Just got a couple of questions, Taran."
"Of course," he replied, his sincere smile only serving to irritate Jack further.
"Why were you trying to come visit us?"
Taran flashed a quick look at Jemus, who gave a little shrug. Obviously, they were trying to decide what to say.
"The truth," Jack prompted. "If you don't mind."
"The truth, Colonel O'Neill," Taran said slowly, "is that our Stargate is not within the gate system you know. We need additional technology to travel to our home. We were trying to get home, but because of the damage to our equipment we reached you instead."
"Why us?" Jack pressed.
"Serendipity," Taran shrugged.
"Lucky guess," Carter supplied, from where she stood at his side.
"Out of all the millions of Stargates, you just happened to pick ours?" Jack asked. "That's a little too lucky to be believable, Taran."
"Lucky?" The man appeared genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"
Jack shrugged. "You need someone to repair your *device*, and you found us. Damn lucky, I'd say."
Glancing down, a small smile tugged at the corner of Taran's lips. "With all possible respect to you and your people, Colonel O'Neill, had we been looking for a technically advanced civilization we would have hoped to find one rather more advanced that yours."
Jack was speechless for a moment, and Carter seized the opportunity to leap in. "Then your technology is superior to ours?"
"Considerably," Taran nodded.
"Don't suppose you'd be willing to share?" Jack asked, knowing it wasn't the most diplomatic of approaches, but pretty certain he knew the answer.
"That would be - problematic," Taran replied.
"Figures," Jack nodded. "An alliance then?"
Taran's smile was apologetic. "That too is not possible. I'm sorry, Colonel. The Goa'uld are a terrible enemy."
"We'll survive," Jack replied, and to his surprise Taran grinned.
"Yes, I'm sure you will."
"Colonel?" Carter said then, "You want me to start setting up the reactor?"
Jack nodded. "How long do you need?" he asked.
"About an hour, sir."
"Good," he said, glancing around at the glowering gray sky, and dark, morose trees. "The sooner we get out of here the better."
"Oh," Taran interrupted, glancing at Jemus. "I'm afraid, we can't leave right away."
"We can't?" Jack replied, his patience beginning to thin. "Why not?"
"We haven't finished our research," Jemus explained. "There's a very important festival we need to observe tonight."
"Festival?" Did he hear that right? They'd come all this way, put their asses on the line to rescue these guys, and they were more interested in some damn festival?
"Well, we can stay until tomorrow," Sam said. "Right sir?"
"I don't...."
"Did you say important festival?" The voice was Daniel's, right at his shoulder.
"It's the festival of Mia - the Goddess of the Earth," Taran explained. "It only occurs once a year, at the vernal equinox."
"Jack...?" he could hear the pleading in Daniel's voice.
"Our mission..." he began, glancing between Daniel's hopeful face and Carter's expectant one. "Oh, for crying out loud," he muttered. "Okay! Carter, get working on that reactor and send a message to General Hammond telling him what we're planning to do."
"Yes sir," she replied, flashing him a little smile that said thank you. He gave her a slight nod, acknowledging her thanks, but couldn't bring himself to smile. Something about Taran disturbed him, something in the fascinated way he was watching Carter as she started working on the reactor.... Okay buddy, Jack thought to himself, you just back off or there'll be trouble.
***
Daniel couldn't contain his enthusiasm as Jemus led them to the village that had grown up near the gate. Unlike many of the civilizations they'd discovered, this one appeared to have northern European roots, which was definitely rare.
"Iron-age," he muttered to himself, as he glanced at the circular dwellings, their low roofs thatched and hanging down almost to the ground.
"Excuse me?" Jack said, obviously unimpressed by their surroundings.
"I was just noticing that the settlement looks iron-age," he said, knowing that Jack wouldn't be interested.
"Looks like mud-age to me," he replied, poking at a wall with the toe of his boot.
"Jack!" Daniel protested, "For Christ's sake, at least try to be polite."
He grumbled something Daniel didn't catch, glancing back over his shoulder towards the Stargate, where they'd left Carter working on the reactor. "I shouldn't have left her on her own back there," he said then, stopping and turning around.
"She's not alone," Daniel pointed out. "Taran is with her."
"Yeah," Jack replied, glancing down and scuffing the dirt with his boot. "Exactly."
"You still don't trust him?" Daniel asked.
Jack winced a little, and shrugged. "Not entirely."
"Sam can look after herself," Daniel pointed out.
"Yeah," he nodded. "I suppose she can."
Daniel's attention was caught then by the approach of a small group of men, dressed in heavy woolen robes, designed, he figured, to keep out the penetrating chill of their world. Jemus greeted them, his language fluent and too fast for Daniel to hear enough to understand. But it sounded Celtic, that much was clear. Fascinating! "Um, Jack?" he said. "Time to be friendly."
O'Neill turned, and to his credit did a reasonable job of courtesy and charm. The fact that the villagers didn't understand a word he said probably helped.
"The village Chief welcomes you," Jemus explained. "And invites you to share his fire tonight, at the festival."
Daniel's eyes widened. "Oh! Thank you," he said, nodding towards the Chief. "Tell him that we're honored." He glanced at Jack, who was once again lost in thought, and nudged him in the ribs. "Try to look honored," he said around his smile.
"Right," Jack nodded, grinning unconvincingly. "Honored. Really."
Whatever Jemus said, the Chief and his party appeared satisfied and smiles broke out all round. "He invites you to share his midday meal," Jemus beamed, as the Chief made a beckoning gesture, indicating the entrance to the largest house.
"Thank you," Daniel replied, nodding enthusiastically again.
"Actually, I'm not really hungry," Jack began, glancing back towards the gate. "I think I'll just go check on..."
Daniel cut him off before he could get any further. "We don't want to insult our hosts," he warned. And then, with a suspicious look, he added, "I'm sure Sam's fine. What's got you so concerned about her all of a sudden?"
The result was instant. Jack's head snapped back, and his brow drew down sharply into a frown, "I'm not concerned about her," he snapped. "I'm concerned about the reactor, that's all. It's our only way out of here."
"Oh," Daniel replied, not even remotely convinced.
Jack glared at him, daring him to say more. "So are we going then?" he asked. "Don't want to keep the Chief waiting for his lunch, do we?"
Daniel didn't answer, but turned and proceeded through the low, hide- covered doorway into the Chief's house. But even as he was absorbing the fascinating detail that surrounded him, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on with Jack. His concern for Sam was obvious, and not particularly remarkable. Hell, Jack treated his whole team like family, and had always had a soft-spot for Sam. But what really intrigued Daniel was the fact that he'd lied about it. Jack had lied about his concern for Sam, and that told him a whole lot more than his simple concern ever would have. A whole lot more. 'So Jack,' he smiled to himself, 'she managed to slip beneath that tough military hide of yours, did she? Well, now you're in trouble. Boy, are you ever.'
***
"Simple, yet effective," Taran noted from where he sat on the Stargate's stone steps, watching Sam work on the reactor.
"Simple?" she asked, glancing up at him with a smile.
He shrugged a little. "Well, the concept at least," he replied. "I'm no scientist - I can't even pretend to know how it works."
Sam stood up, stretching the kinks from her back as she did so. "Well, let's see if it does," she suggested. "You want to help me dial?"
"Dial?" he spoke the unfamiliar word with curiosity.
"Oh, of course," she grinned, "it's surprising how idiomatic language can be, isn't it? Um, dial refers to a communication device on our planet - called a telephone - that used to have a...." She trailed to a halt. "I'm sorry, listen to me! You're probably not at all interested in that - I get a little carried away sometimes!"
"No," Taran protested, rising slowly to his feet and walking down the steps towards her, "it's fascinating. I'm an anthropologist, remember? Etymology is one of my interests."
"Really?" she asked. That sure made a change - someone who was actually interested in what she had to say!
"You can tell me while I help you 'dial'" he replied, nodding towards the gate. "I assume you're referring to the manual activation of the Stargate?"
As they worked together to rotate the huge ring, Sam couldn't help but be impressed by the man's strength and quick understanding. Although he claimed to know nothing about science, he clearly had a sound grasp of the gate technology, and an apparently endless interest in learning more. He said little himself, just asked questions, watching her with eyes so dark they were almost black, glittering beneath his mop of straight hair that constantly fell across his eyes. He could do with a haircut, she decided. Not that there wasn't something kind of cute about the way he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. She blushed a little at the turn of her thoughts, and for a moment felt a slight pang of guilt over Jack - which was ridiculous. How could she be disloyal to Jack when there was nothing between them to betray? When there never would be? She sighed - the sooner you accept that, Sam, the sooner you can get on with your life.... She glanced at Taran again and he favored her with a bright smile that lit his face with an infectious enthusiasm.
"I hope you'll be attending the festival tonight," he said then.
"Are we invited?"
"I'm sure you will be, although," he paused, a frown dimming his smile, "your Colonel O'Neill seemed a little reluctant to remain."
"Oh, don't mind him," she replied, turning back to her work, "his bark's worse than his bite."
There was a long pause, before Taran said, "He bites?"
Sam couldn't repress a burst of laughter at the image. "No," she said, still giggling, "not that I know of anyway!" She grinned at him, shaking her head until she had full command of her voice. "It's just an expression - it means he's not as severe as he looks."
"Ah," Taran replied, his own smile returning. "I'm relieved. He does look rather - forbidding."
"Yeah," she replied, the laughter dislodging other emotions, "guess he does. But he really isn't. Actually, he's really quite...."
She swallowed the word, in a vain attempt to stop the fond thoughts from surfacing, bringing with them their familiar pain. But it was too late. Affectionate - that was the word that had formed on her lips - and warm. Warm, affectionate eyes watching her with love, demanding nothing in return but an occasional smile. She swallowed again, trying to force the image away.
"Major Carter?" Taran was at her side now, and she realized that she'd dropped into silence. "Are you well?"
"Yes," she nodded, forcing a smile. "I just got a little distracted. Ah, right," she got to her feet. "I think we're almost done. One more chevron to lock - ready?"
Taran smiled again. "I'm at your disposal, Major Carter!"
***
Jack was prowling, prowling in the dark of early evening. The sun had already sunk below the gray horizon, bringing a deeper chill to the air. 'No wonder the place is so damn cold and damp,' he thought to himself, shivering slightly in the chill air.
He wasn't really meant to be out here at all, stalking around the perimeters of the little settlement in the dark. Oh no. He was meant to be inside the smoky hut the Chief called home, listening to Daniel ramble on and Jemus translate everything very, very slowly. But he hadn't been able to sit still. His mind had started wondering, even if his body couldn't, and the thoughts that span in his head had made him antsy.
He must have been fidgeting quite obviously, because after about the tenth time he'd glanced at his watch, Daniel whispered, "Why don't you just go find her then?" If the Chief hadn't been watching him with a curious expression on his weather-beaten face, Jack might have protested that he wasn't thinking about Carter at all. Which, of course, would have been a lie. Carter was all he thought about these days, the main focus of his thoughts from the first moment he woke until sleep took him at night. And today was no different.
But right now his mind wasn't drifting along the hazy roads of fantasy. Right now he was focused on the fact that she'd been gone over two hours. Two hours, when she'd told him it would only take one to get the reactor up and running. So, okay she might have run into some problems, it might have taken a little longer than she'd expected, but two hours? Two hours with Taran, all sleek smiles and smooth words. Two hours was too long.
And so he was prowling, trying to decide if he had a legitimate reason to go find her, when he heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the dirt behind him. Turning abruptly, he just made out Taran's figure moving through the village. He looked around, but saw no sign of Sam.
"Hey!" he called, his voice sounding sharp in the darkness.
Taran turned towards him, peering through the night. "Who's there?" he asked.
"O'Neill. Where's Carter?"
Taran walked closer to him, and Jack could see the white flash of his teeth as he smiled. "I left her at the Stargate," he said.
"Alone?" You asshole!
"There is nothing here to harm her, Colonel O'Neill," Taran assured him. "She is quite safe."
"You left her alone, in the dark, on a strange planet?" he replied, feeling a damn side more irritated than he should.
"She assured me she would be able to find her way here," Taran replied, obviously a little taken aback. "She appears to be a very capable woman."
Jack didn't bother to answer, turning abruptly on his heel and stalking through the trees towards the gate. What the hell was she doing, sending him back alone, leaving herself so vulnerable? It wasn't like her. It wasn't like her at all.
It didn't take him long to find the gate; even in the dark its massive presence dominated the tree line. And he was about to barrel in and demand to know what the hell she was playing at when he saw her sitting alone in the moonlit clearing, and all his irrational anger dissipated in a sudden rush of tenderness.
She sat on the steps that led up to the gate, her arms wrapped around her knees, pulling them to her chest against the chill of the night, motionless, her gear packed neatly at her feet as she stared out into the darkness. She looked so very alone, and he knew, even from this distance, that she was sad. He could sense it, he knew it in his heart, and all he wanted to do was go to her and pull her into his arms. All other thoughts fled his mind as he stepped into the clearing and walked towards her. Sam's attention was so far away that she didn't hear his approach until he stopped at the bottom of the steps and said quietly, "Hey, Carter."
She turned with a start and a little self-conscious grin. "You scared me, sir!"
"Sorry," he replied, watching her fragile smile dissipate as the sadness returned. Suddenly aware that he was standing there, still clutching his MP-5, he tugged the strap off his shoulder and lay the weapon aside. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked.
She sighed, but said, "Sure."
Sitting down next to her, careful not to get too close, he watched her for a moment. She didn't say anything more, didn't look at him, just stared out into the night. At last, for want of anything better to say, he murmured, "Guess you'll get a birthday party tonight, after all."
She smiled a little. "Nice of them to hold their festival in my honor."
"Yeah," he replied. "Well, I had a little word with the Chief...."
She smiled again, her head sinking so that her chin rested on her knees. But she didn't speak, she barely moved.
"Carter?" he said then, dropping every attempt at banter. "What's the matter? You don't look happy."
She shook her head, and when she spoke her voice was thick. "No, I suppose I'm not."
His heart sank. "You want to tell me why?" he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.
She must have read his mind, because she whispered, "I think you know, Jack."
Jack. That made it personal, that told him enough. "Yeah," he admitted, "I suppose I do."
Silence descended once more, awkward and tense. There was so much to say, yet nothing that could be voiced. Jack glared into the darkness, struggling to find the right words, but all he could think of was taking her in his arms and holding her tight. He wasn't any good at words, he never found the right ones at the right time. Quips and jokes were one thing, but real, meaningful words...?
In the end it was Sam who spoke. "This is so hard, Jack," she said quietly. "What we're doing. I never thought it would be this hard."
He nodded into the darkness. "I know," he agreed, the right words still eluding him.
With a sigh, Sam uncurled her legs, stretching them out in front of her. Her hands came to rest on the cold stone step at her side, slim and pale in the moonlight, and Jack couldn't resist. Knowing that he shouldn't, knowing that he was getting dangerously close to the line they had promised not to cross, he reached out and took her hand in his, letting his thumb slowly caress her soft skin. He didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge what he was doing, he simply held her hand in the darkness, relishing her warmth and the feel of her fingers as they curled around his own. 'Oh Sam, I wish I could show you more,' he thought, 'I wish I could show you what you mean to me.'
They sat there for a long time, hand in hand, drowning in the silence of unspoken words. But at length she moved, or he did, he wasn't sure which, and the spell was broken. Their hands drew apart, their touch remaining unacknowledged.
"We should probably be getting back," Jack said then.
"Yeah," she replied, climbing to her feet and turning to the pile of gear stacked neatly at the bottom of the steps.
"Need a hand with anything?" he asked, moving to help her.
"No, I got it," she replied, as she bent down to heft a heavy bag. He took a step closer, intending to help, just as she apparently changed her mind and stood up straight, turning back towards him. "Could you...?," she began, and then stopped as she found herself face to face with him.
Jack stopped too, just inches from her. They were close, their feet almost occupying the same piece of ground, their bodies separated by nothing more than will power. So close. He'd hadn't been this close to her since his stolen kiss on that day she would never remember, and the intensity of his sudden desire rooted him to the spot.
Move! A small part of his mind started yelling at him to step back, to get out of her personal space, but it was far away, lost behind the sudden rush of blood in his ears, behind the racing of his heart. He was so close to her, so close....
Sam didn't move either, just gazed up at him, unblinking. He stopped breathing, her beauty stilling the breath in his chest. The pale moonlight drained the color from her face and turned her golden hair to platinum, but her eyes....her eyes were as deep and dark as the night sky, and starlight twinkled in their depths as she gazed straight through him, straight into his heart. He couldn't move, all he could do was watch spellbound as his breath, shimmering silver in the cold moonlight, mingled with hers, entwining slowly between them as they were drawn irresistibly together. 'Oh God,', he thought, 'it's going to happen. It's going to happen now.' Closer and closer they moved, still not touching, but so near that the air between them crackled with tension. He tipped his head slowly to one side, as the brim of his cap threatened to collide with her forehead. He was going to kiss her! It was going to happen! Adrenaline flooded his veins, twisting glorious knots in his guts as his eyes remained locked on hers, his breathing as ragged as her own. And then her hand moved to his shoulder, her fingers brushing his neck. Her touch was so light he would have barely felt it, had he not been so attuned to her. But her simple, tender gesture shot through him like fire. 'Oh Sam, this is really going to happen at last!' His heart was racing, his whole body trembling, as his eyes started to flutter closed. His hand reached for her face, and at last he....
"Jack?"
NO!
"Sam? You guys out here?"
Shit! He froze, they both did.
"Jack? Sam?"
He didn't move. Maybe, if he just didn't move...? But it was already too late, the moment was shattered and Sam stepped hurriedly back, dropping her eyes, her hand retreating from his shoulder.
"Jack?" The voice was closer now. "Jack, is that you?"
Turning reluctantly and painfully away from her, he squinted into the darkness. "What's up Daniel?"
Daniel emerged from the trees only a meter or two away. "I've been looking all over for you," he complained. "The festival's about to start."
"Well thank God you found me in time," Jack muttered, aware that Daniel didn't deserve his anger, but too frustrated to care. They'd been so damn close...!
"You coming then?"
"In a minute," he replied, struggling to regain even a semblance of composure.
"The Chief is waiting for...."
"I said in a minute!" he snapped, scrubbing a hand through his short hair, and noticing, with some surprise, that he was still trembling.
Daniel shrugged and turned to go. But before he did he frowned and said, "Don't suppose you've seen Sam, have you?"
Sam? He turned around, but she was long gone. Damn it. Now he'd done it. He'd crossed the line, and she'd run - he couldn't blame her. "I, um," he faltered. "No. I haven't seen her."
"Maybe she's with Taran?" Daniel suggested, and Jack just nodded, not really hearing his words. She'd run, run from what had so nearly happened between them. Run from him. Damn it, why did he keep pushing when he knew what she wanted? Or, rather, when he knew what she didn't want?
"Jack?"
"Huh?"
"You okay?"
"Yeah," he replied, forcing his feelings down deep, behind the walls he had so carefully constructed over the years. "I'll be there."
Daniel cast him one final, curious, glance before he shrugged again and disappeared into the woods. The clearing returned to its undisturbed silence, and Jack waited motionless for a moment, hoping against reason that Sam would appear from the trees and that everything would be okay. But she didn't, just as he'd known she wouldn't. So with a heavy sigh he picked up the rest of their gear and started to trudge back towards the village.
***
The festival was a whirl of color, music, firelight and laughter as the villagers danced and sang through the night. Food was plentiful, as was the drink - a sweet, cloying liquid with a punch that made your eyes water. After a couple of sips, Sam wisely decided to avoid the stuff. Even if she hadn't been on duty, drunk is the last thing she wanted to be tonight. She'd come dangerously close to losing control stone cold sober, so alcohol was definitely off limits.
She sat at the Chief's fire, listening to Daniel explain the symbolism of the dance, of the different foods she was offered, and of the festival as a whole. It was interesting, it really was. And she tried to focus on his words, but her mind was still reeling from her encounter with Jack. Her body was still reacting to his almost- touch, her heart still thudding, her blood still burning with a fire she couldn't quench. And as she gazed into the crackling flames all she could see was his eyes, their warmth and humor replaced with a fierce heat that reflected her own deep longing. They'd been so close to doing something disastrous - disastrous but wonderful - and if Daniel hadn't stumbled across them who knows what would have happened. But he had, and the sound of his voice had freed the rational corner of her mind from its emotional prison, and she'd run.
She'd run from Jack because she couldn't run from herself and she'd run from the insanity that had nearly ruined everything. They'd decided not to cross the line, yet tonight they'd been dancing on it so precariously that a breath could have pushed them over the edge. And it so nearly had.
She glanced up at Jack now, sitting opposite her, poking a stick into the fire that separated them, nodding absently as Jemus talked. She knew he wasn't listening, she knew that his thoughts were running along the same lines as hers. She knew him. And then he looked up, a flash of surprise touching his dark eyes as he realized she was watching him. But it was a fleeting expression, replaced immediately with a tentative smile and a slight drawing down of his brow, asking her clearly if she was okay. She gave a little nod, his genuine concern only serving to intensify the slow-burning fire in her heart, reminding her anew why she loved him.
"Sam?"
Daniel's voice brought her back to herself. "Yes?" she replied, aware that she hadn't been listening to a word.
"What's up?"
"Nothing," she said, forcing a bright note into her voice, determined not to let her secret - their secret - be discovered. "I'm just a little tired."
"Tired? Right."
Daniel turned silently back to watching the dancing villagers, biting his lip against the words he longed to speak. She smiled at his self- control, and touched his arm. "I was listening, really," she assured him. "I just zoned out for a minute - tell me about the dance. I am interested."
The gaze he turned on her was suspicious. "You don't have to humor me."
"I'm not!" she protested. "When have I ever done that?"
"Hmm," he replied, and then his natural enthusiasm got the better of him. "Well, if you're sure...?" She gave him a broad smile, and he continued. "Okay, so this dance is for married couples - although as a pre-Christian society, they don't exactly have marriage in the sense that we understand it - but essentially this dance is designed to bestow fertility on the union."
"Seems like a lot to expect from a dance."
He frowned. "It's mostly symbolic in this context. Although it's believed that on Earth the Celts often used animal sacrifice to invoke the blessings of the gods - even, it's suggested, human sacrifice..."
"Daniel...?" she exclaimed, reaching for her weapon. "Why didn't you...?"
"No!" he assured her. "No, I checked, Sam. They don't do that here. At least, not anymore. It's purely symbolic now - you see those wicker effigies?"
She peered through the fire-lit night towards several large constructions. "They're effigies?" she asked. They looked more like intricately woven cages.
"At midnight they'll burn them to invoke the blessings of the gods on their harvest. In the past the wicker cages would have contained live animals, sometimes, um, virgin women."
"Nice," Sam muttered, still feeling a little uneasy. "You're sure this is just symbolism?"
"Oh yes," Daniel replied. "Jemus and Taran have been here almost eight months - they know a lot about these people - and they assure me sacrificial practices are long gone." He sighed then, "I wish I had more time to study them...."
"Yeah," she nodded, "I know. But our primary mission isn't to...."
"Oh, please," he muttered, "now you're sounding like Jack."
Sam smiled at the thought, but didn't reply because at that moment Taran joined them.
"I hope you're enjoying the festival?" he asked immediately, flashing her a charming smile.
"Yes," she replied politely, "thank you. Daniel's been explaining some of the symbolism to me."
"Ah," he replied.
"Of course," Daniel said hurriedly, "Taran is the expert."
Taran shrugged off the compliment. "It would be a pleasure to tell you anything you wish to know, Major Carter, if I may join you?"
"Of course," she replied, moving to one side to make room between herself and Daniel. "And you don't have to call me that."
He smiled as he sat down next to her. "Samantha then," he said.
"Most people just call me Sam."
"Sam?" He said the word almost as if he were tasting it. "I think I prefer Samantha," he decided. "Sam seems such a simple word to encompass such a fascinating woman."
She was startled by his words and unsure how to reply. Across the fire she saw Jack shift irritably, his eyes fixed warily on Taran, and she knew he could hear their conversation.
"I'm sorry," Taran said then, "I have offended you, Samantha - it was intended as a compliment."
"No," she assured him with a smile. "I'm not offended, I'm just a little surprised, that's all."
"Surprised?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "I find it hard to believe that a woman as beautiful as you, Samantha, is surprised by a compliment."
She couldn't prevent a little, dark laugh from surfacing. "Well, believe it Taran. I don't get a lot of them."
"But surely," he said slowly, dropping his voice slightly, "your husband, at least, must tell you every day how beautiful you are?"
"Oh for crying out loud!" The muttered words, drifting over the flames, told her that Jack was still listening.
"Husband?" she asked, frowning into Taran's face, scrutinizing his motives. His shy, self-conscious grin gave him away, and Sam's frown melted into a smile, "I'm not married."
"And now I am the one surprised," Taran replied, his grin broadening. And then, cautiously, he added, "But, is there no man in your life, Samantha?"
"Um," she stalled, suddenly very much aware of Jack, whose absentminded prodding of the fire had stilled as he listened for her answer. Okay, this was awkward! What could she say? "Um," she muttered again, glancing up into Taran's dark eyes. How could she answer him? With the truth, she decided in the end, however painful. Taking a deep breath, almost gritting her teeth, she said, "No, there isn't anyone in my life. Not really." Oh Jack, I'm sorry! God, that was harsh.
Jack didn't move, didn't make any indication that he had heard her words. But she knew that he had, and she knew that they had hurt him, however irrationally and unintentionally.
"Then I'm glad," Taran said, his bright voice breaking into her dark thoughts.
"You are?" she asked, her gaze flicking helplessly towards Jack, hoping to catch his eye. But he remained focused on the fire, his cap drawn low over his eyes, hiding most of his face.
"I'm glad," Taran continued, "because it means that I can ask you to dance the next dance with me, Samantha. Will you?"
"Um, dance?" she replied, turning back to him. "Well, I don't know if...."
"Go ahead, Carter." Jack's quiet voice startled her, as he stood up abruptly, still avoiding her eyes. "I've got things covered here. You have fun. It's your birthday, after all."
"Colonel, I...," she began, but he was gone, disappearing into the darkness beyond the firelight. She ached to follow him, but knew that it would be a mistake. After all, what could she say? They both knew how things had to be between them, and to follow him now would only extend their mutual anguish. So instead, she allowed Taran to take her hand and lead her away from Jack and into the dance.
***
Ignoring protocol, ignoring the goddamn regulations, Jack had gotten as far as possible from the squalid little village and its damned festival. They could all go to hell for all he cared. Tonight he was in no mood for doing the right thing. Screw the mission, screw protocol. He didn't give a damn.
And so he had started striding through the woods, almost running, letting his feet take him up a shallow hill until the trees disappeared and he had found himself staring down at the small fires of the festival below, a pale reflection of the stars that glittered above.
And he sat there still, chilled by the damp night air but with no intention of returning. The men's raucous voices and the shrill laughs of the women drifted to him from the valley, and he almost fancied that he could hear Sam's laughter on the breeze. But it was illusion, he knew, the product of his need to maintain the unspoken, yet intimate, connection that bound them together. But the connection was weakening, had been for months, under the pressure of everything they were denying to themselves and each other. Sam was trying to move on, and he had to let her go.
Flopping onto his back on the damp earth, Jack gazed up into the night sky, hoping to find solace in the stars' infinite dance. But he'd never been much of a philosopher, and right now what he really needed was a beer, not eternal verities. No, scratch that, a whisky. Probably more than one.
He sighed. So, the blow had come. He hadn't expected it to be so hard, or so fast. It hardly seemed possible that, only hours ago, they'd sat hand in hand in the darkness, sharing a bitter-sweet moment that had seemed so insufficient to express all that he felt, and yet was so much more than he could hope to have again. And then there was the kiss. Well, the almost kiss. He closed his eyes against the memory, but it did little good. He could still smell the scent of her hair, hear her rapid breathing, and feel the warm touch of her fingers against his neck. His guts clenched so painfully at the memory that he almost gasped, his eyes flashing open. They'd been so close. So damn close. And now it was over.
Her words, drifting across the fire, had cut him to shreds - 'There isn't anyone in my life. Not really.' He knew it was true, he told himself the same thing a hundred times a day, but hearing it from her lips, hearing her tell Taran, had been almost too much to bear.
Covering his face with his hands he pressed his palms into his eyes and tried to maintain control of the torrent of emotions surging through him. Grief, desperation, love, loss and anger all vied for a place in his heart, stretching his body so taut that he felt as though he might fly apart. And that was something Jack O'Neill never did. Never. His emotions were always channeled inwards, restrained behind half a lifetime of mental discipline. It was better that way. Safer for all concerned.
And so, forcing himself to relax, Jack pulled his hands away from his face and let out a slow sigh. This was for the best, however much it twisted like a knife in his gut. She had a right to her future and he refused to stand in her way. Who was he to complain if another man showed an interest in her? What did he have to offer her? Nothing. Nothing but stolen glances and silent longing. Nothing but pain. He had to let her go. He just hoped she wouldn't go too far. At least not straight away. He hoped he would have a little time to deal with losing her, a little time at least.
But fate it seemed, was determined to be cruel. For even as the festival drew to a close and Jack began to contemplate returning to his team's camp, he heard a voice in the darkness below him.
"Spectacular, you see?" it said. "The stars are so bright here, and there are so many...."
A cold shaft of jealousy shot through his chest. The voice belonged to Taran.
"Beautiful!" another voice whispered.
Jack closed his eyes. Sam.
"Yes," Taran agreed. "But the stars look more beautiful still, when they're reflected in your eyes."
Oh please! He really didn't need to hear this. Jack sat up slowly, determined to escape, but to his dismay he saw that Taran and Sam, standing close together, were just a couple of meters below him on the slope. If he moved they would see him, for sure. Damn it, he was trapped!
"You certainly have a poetic turn of phrase, Taran," Sam said quietly, and Jack could hear the humor in her voice. Good, he thought to himself, she doesn't buy all that crap.
"If I do," Taran replied, "it's because you inspire it, Samantha."
She shook her head. "Please, I don't...."
"Why so reluctant to hear it?" he pressed, reaching out and turning her to face him, his hands lingering on her arms. "I'm speaking the truth."
Jack closed his eyes, refusing to watch. But after only a moment a kind of sick fascination drew his eyes irresistibly back to the scene unfolding before him.
"I guess I'm just not used to people being so...direct," Sam explained quietly. And then, with a little dry laugh, she added, "It's actually quite refreshing to have someone just tell me what they're feeling for a change."
Jack understood her meaning, and it drove another little splinter into his heart. 'I would tell you, Sam, if I could. Don't you know that?'
She was smiling now, and her smile was brighter than the stars. For a moment Jack almost smiled too, until Taran reached up a tentative finger and touched her lips. "Your smile is like sunshine," he told her, "but your eyes...?" He cocked his head to one side, "Your eyes are sad, Samantha."
"Sad?" Taran nodded. "Tell me what saddens you."
She shook her head, and Jack could tell she was uncomfortable with the question. Like himself, she rarely opened up. It was something else that bound them together. But to his surprise, when she spoke she said, "I guess I'm a little lonely."
Lonely? Jack's heart jolted. Oh, Sam I'm sorry.
"Lonely?" Taran echoed. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't have much of a family I guess - my mother died, my Dad's...away a lot. I hardly see my brother."
"But you have friends?"
"Yeah," she nodded, and even Jack could hear the sadness in her voice. "But I feel - I feel very alone sometimes."
"Samantha," Taran whispered, tracing her face with a gentle touch, threading his fingers into her hair, as he pulled her into his arms, "you're not alone now. Not tonight."
"No," she replied, gazing up at him, her face pale and serious. "I suppose I'm not."
And then he kissed her, gently, lingering over every moment, as slowly, so slowly, Sam wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer.
Jack could stand no more. Not caring if they saw, not looking back to find out, he jumped to his feet and stalked away.
***
Sam woke early, cold and uncomfortable even in her thermal sleeping- bag. This planet, whatever it was called, possessed a chill dampness that seemed to permeate everything. Shivering, she sat up, still cocooned in her sleeping-bag, and glanced around their little camp on the edge of the village. She'd returned late from the festivities and was already regretting it as her head was muzzy with lack of sleep.
The night had ended strangely, standing in the dark, gazing up at the stars with Taran. Stargazing always reminded her of Jack, and the pulse of heartache had obviously shown in her face, because Taran had noticed and asked why she was so sad. And he'd been so kind, so gentle - and so there - that when he'd kissed her she hadn't objected. She'd closed her eyes and allowed herself the physical comfort her weary heart craved, and although he wasn't the man she loved, his arms were warm and his kiss was tender. And she had to move on from Jack. She had to. Taran, she figured, was a step in the right direction.
If he'd expected more than a kiss, he made no complaint as they separated at her team's little camp, merely squeezing her hand in a gesture of affectionate farewell. She smiled. It had been too long since she'd felt the warmth of strong arms around her, and she realized now how much she missed it.
She yawned. Late as she'd been in returning, she'd still gotten to bed before Jack. After he had left the fire she had seen nothing of him for the rest of the evening. And so she was glad to see him now, sleeping not far from her, buried inside his own sleeping bag with a couple of blankets thrown on top, little more than the top of his hat visible in the gray morning light.
She smiled again, glad that he'd come back, but knowing that she'd hurt him. Not that he would ever let her know that of course. He was a private man, and she respected that. He wasn't like Taran, running free with flowery words, he kept his feelings to himself, locked in and private. But what he felt, he felt deeply, too deeply to be easily voice. She knew that about him. She loved that about him.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Sam yawned and reached into her pack for her boots, hoping they'd stayed reasonably dry. Wriggling out of her sleeping bag, she pulled them on, wincing at the cold, and headed towards the river to wash her face and brush her teeth. Jack always found it highly amusing that, no matter where they were, she'd find somewhere to brush her teeth. A shower she could do without, but toothpaste was an essential. Her toothbrush got a few curious glances from the villagers as she crouched by the river, but she just gave them a frothy smile and they shook their heads at the strangeness of their visitors and left her alone.
By the time she got back to their camp, Jack was up and Daniel was blearily searching for his glasses. "I think I drank too much of that...sweet stuff," he was muttering. "My mouth tastes disgusting."
"If you say please, Carter might lend you her toothbrush," Jack suggested, as he packed his gear away.
Sam smiled at the comment. "I think money would have to exchange hands first, sir," she replied. "I saw how much he drank last night."
"Ugh." Daniel moaned, sinking back down. "Can't find my damn glasses anywhere." Jack rose to his feet, his kit neatly packed, and blew into his hands. "I suggest we get the hell out of here as soon as possible," he said. "This place is so damn damp I think I'm turning moldy."
Sam giggled a little, catching his attention. Almost despite himself he glanced at her, but there was no matching smile on his face. "You know where Taran is this time of day?" he asked, in a tone that was far too restrained to be natural.
She raised her eyebrows, her heart skipping a beat. What exactly did he mean? "Why should I, sir?" she asked carefully.
He shrugged. "I don't know - just thought you might, that's all. We need to find him and get out of here."
Sam looked away, disconcerted. Did he somehow know about the kiss she'd shared with the man? She vaguely remembered hearing something, the rustling of animals in the dark she'd thought, but had he seen? Had he been up there?
"Carter?" his voice was strained paper-thin.
"Sir?"
"You want to go find Taran?"
"Why me?" she asked, still suspicious.
Wrong answer. She saw a flash of surprise, swiftly followed by irritation, in his eyes and suddenly he was every inch the officer. "Do I need to make that an order, Major?"
"No sir," she replied hurriedly, scrabbling to her feet and heading out. Whoops. Guess she'd misread that one.
***
It seemed like an eternity, but at last Jack had managed to get everyone assembled in front of the Stargate, including Daniel, who was squinting at everything and complaining like hell that he couldn't find his glasses, and the anthropologists who seemed to have to say goodbye to every single one of the damned villagers, at least twice.
"Okay," he called, for probably the tenth time in as many minutes, "we're moving out. Now!"
The babble of the villagers didn't recede, and the Chief seemed to be about to launch into yet another speech, so ignoring them all he turned to Sam and said, "Get the reactor on-line, Carter." Then he yelled across the crowd, "Teal'c! Dial us up!"
It took a while, but Teal'c was strong and at last the slowly rotating gate drew the attention of the excited villagers, and the noise lowered a few decibels. Thank God. Jack felt like crap, and the incessant noise wasn't doing anything for the headache grinding right between his eyes. But unlike Daniel, it wasn't overindulgence that caused his pain, it was nothing but lack of sleep. After witnessing Sam's little tryst in the dark, he'd spent most of the night walking, trying not to imagine her with Taran. He hadn't been very successful, his imagination was too vivid and his jealousy too overwhelming to admit anything but the worst possibilities. So when he'd eventually returned to their camp, barely an hour before dawn, he'd been surprised to see her there. Convinced as he was that she would be dozing - or worse - in another man's arms, to see her tousled blond hair poking out from the top of her sleeping bag had come as a relief, of sorts.
"Colonel O'Neill?" Taran interrupted his thoughts, his smiling face emerging from the crowd the last thing Jack wanted to see.
"Taran," he replied by way of greeting, careful to keep his voice even.
"I want to thank you again, " Taran said, "for allowing us to return with you. Samantha is confident that she can repair our device once she has access to her laboratory, so I hope we won't trespass on your hospitality for too long."
Jack shrugged. "If Major Carter can't fix your doo-hickey, then no one can," he told him. "And it's not my hospitality you're trespassing on. It's the US tax-payer's."
A little frown clouded the man's smile at Jack's words, clearly weighing their meaning. But all he said was, "Our thanks anyway, Colonel. I fear this has been a trial of your patience."
Jack couldn't help the dark smile from touching his lips. "Oh, you have no idea!"
If Taran was going to respond, his words were lost amid the loud gasp of amazement that accompanied the opening of the Stargate.
"Hallelujah!" Jack muttered. "Good job Carter, Teal'c," he called then, earning him a nod from each. He turned back to Taran, "Okay, grab your gear, 'coz we're outa here."
***
A shower and some warm, dry clothes had done a lot to improve Sam's mood, and she sat now in the middle of their debriefing feeling warm and content. She just wished it had had the same effect on Jack. Unusually he sat opposite her instead of at her side, slumped in his seat, trying to blink away the fatigue that obviously dogged him. He looked like crap she decided, and he probably felt as bad. A little whisper in the corner of her mind suggested that it was somehow her fault, and tiny wings of guilt fluttered in her stomach. Had he seen her with Taran? She desperately hoped he hadn't seen her.
"Major Carter?" Hammond's voice drew her from her thoughts and she glanced up.
"Sir?"
He frowned. "I asked you how long you think it will take to fix this device of theirs, Major."
"I don't know sir," she replied honestly. "I haven't had a chance to take a good look at it yet. It could be a couple of weeks."
"Weeks?" Jack was obviously displeased as he glanced at her across the table, rubbing absently at a spot right between his eyes. Headache, Sam guessed from the pinched expression on his face.
"It's complicated technology, sir," she explained. "And although it's just the power module that's malfunctioned, I'll really need to understand how the whole thing works before I can repair it."
He scowled, scrubbing a hand through his short hair and stifling a yawn. "What's it do anyway?"
"Um," she started, dropping her gaze to her hands, neatly folded on the table, "I'm not exactly sure yet, Colonel."
There was a long pause before he said, "Excuse me?"
She glanced up, forcing herself to meet his eyes. They were flinty, and narrowed as he waited for an answer. "Taran hasn't told me yet."
"Colonel O'Neill," Hammond jumped in, "are you telling me that SG-1 has no idea what these people have brought through the gate with them?"
"Sounds like it, sir," Jack replied, sitting up a little straighter. "I'm sorry General," he said, "I made the mistake of assuming that Major Carter had done some research before recommending that we bring the device - and its owners - back here."
Hammond frowned. "Did you ask her?"
"As I said, my mistake, sir," he replied. "I'll know better than to trust her next time."
Sam felt his words like a physical blow, and it hurt. "Are you questioning my professional judgement sir?" she asked quietly.
"No," he replied with a cold cynicism that made her shudder, "just questioning whether your judgement was professional or personal in this case, Major."
"Come on Jack," Daniel protested, "it's not a big deal."
"Isn't it?" he asked. "It could've been a bomb. Or something worse."
"It's not a weapon sir."
"Taran tell you that?" he snapped.
"Yes," she replied, starting to get a little heated herself. "And I trust him, sir."
"Yeah," Jack muttered, "I've seen exactly how much you *trust* him, Major." He put a peculiar emphasis on the word 'trust', and she saw a flash of real anguish on his face before he dropped his gaze.
Oh no, he'd seen them together. She saw it in his eyes now, a raw pain that she felt as if it were here own. She suddenly understood his irrational anger and felt nothing but compassion, but despite her unhappiness, and ignoring the way her heart was twisting, all she said was, "I checked the device myself, sir. It's not a weapon. Taran wasn't lying."
"Colonel," Hammond said then, clearly surprised by his outburst, "you want to tell me what the problem is here?"
Glancing over at the General, Jack shook his head. "No problem sir."
"Are you sure?" Hammond pressed, turning his gaze on Sam. "Because it sure as hell looks like one from where I'm sitting."
"There's no problem, sir," Sam assured him. "The Colonel's right - I should have briefed him more fully, sir. I'm sorry." She turned to Jack. "I'm sorry, sir," she said in a gentler voice, hoping he would understand her.
He did, because he lifted his eyes to hers and she saw that his anger had dissolved, replaced by a weary sadness. "It's okay, Carter," he replied quietly. "These things happen. It was inevitable."
She dropped his gaze then, watching her fingers clench where they rested on the table-top. How could loving someone be this hard, and this painful? It wasn't right, it just wasn't.
"Major Carter?" Hammond said into the silence that had fallen, "I want regular reports on your progress. The sooner we get these people on their way the better. Getting their device operational is your top priority now."
"Yes sir," she replied, snapping back into her professional role.
"The rest of you," Hammond continued, "will be non-operational until Major Carter's finished her work on the alien device."
"Figures," Jack muttered.
Hammond frowned. "I suggest you make good use of the time, Colonel," he said, rising to his feet. "I think I'm still waiting for several reports, aren't I?"
Jack gave a little shrug of acknowledgement as he sat up straighter, clearly anxious to leave.
Hammond nodded. "Dismissed," he said, and Jack was out the door almost before the General.
***
Crap. That pretty much summed it up. He felt like crap - looked pretty bad too, he decided, as he gazed at his reflection in the small mirror by the door of his office. Grey hair, haggard face, eyes red-rimmed with lack of sleep. Crap. Not a lot of competition for Taran and his smooth young features, dark hair as sleek as the man himself, untouched by gray. Not much competition at all. Not that he was competing. Not that he could. Taran had an open field, and all Jack could do was stand on the sidelines and watch.
With a sigh he slumped back into his chair and gazed distractedly at the pile of notes on his desk, and at the blank document on his computer screen. Determinedly, he typed "Mission Report: P4R -" and then stopped, scrabbling around in his notes. Was that right? What the hell was the damn planet called again?
Oh screw it, he wasn't in the mood. He'd barely gotten any sleep, the coffee he'd been wallowing in was doing nothing for the headache boring into his skull, and however much he tried to concentrate on his reports, his mind returned again and again to the one thing he really didn't want to think about. Sam.
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and gave in to it. He'd been doing so well all morning, he thought, keeping the lid on his hurt, giving nothing away. And then something had slipped and he'd lost it in the debriefing. He'd accused her of unprofessional behavior when he knew damn well that he was the one stepping out of line. And she'd borne it almost without comment, with nothing but understanding shining in her beautiful eyes.
With a sigh he sat up, trying to banish the image from his mind, and dug around in his desk draw for the packet of Tylenol he knew was in there. His fingers had just closed over it when he spotted another little box. A little wooden box. He stared at it for a moment before he lifted it out, weighing it, and a decision, in his mind.
He figured he owed Sam an apology. Well, more than one really. For his outburst in the de-briefing, of course, but also for what had so nearly happened between them the previous night. He'd almost dragged her across the line they were so determined not to cross, despite the fact that he knew she didn't want to go there. Her career was too important to her and he respected that. She was a brilliant scientist, a damn fine officer, and she deserved to rise to the top - to the very top. She'd worked so hard to be where she was, fought against the institutional sexism of the military, fought against the stereotypes of her gender and her scientific vocation. She was one of the Air Force's finest, no doubt about it, and he didn't plan to get in her way. But last night - he still remembered his overpowering need to hold her, the way his whole body had responded to her touch - last night he'd almost drawn her into destroying everything she'd worked for, and for that he owed her both an apology and a promise that it would never happen again.
Slipping the little wooden box into his pocket he swallowed a couple of Tylenol with the remains of his coffee and headed out of his office. He knew exactly where she'd be, of course, and as he drew near to her lab he slowed. This would be the last time the feelings he had for her would ever be acknowledged between them. No more meaningful glances, no more secret smiles. This was it. It was over. It had to be.
Taking a deep breath, he listened for a minute at her door, half afraid that he would hear Taran's silky tones within. But all was quiet, and so he knocked gently.
Sam's response was immediate, if distracted. "Come in."
The device she was trying to repair lay in pieces across the bench and she was studying it with her usual intensity, a delicate frown creasing her brow. Jack smiled at the sight, knowing with a painful certainty that whatever resolutions he might make about keeping out of her way he would always love her, albeit from afar.
"Carter?" he said at last, when it became apparent that she wasn't going to look up.
She raised her head with a start, as if she'd forgotten the knock at her door. "Sir!"
He nodded towards the device, "Busy?"
"Yeah," she replied, and then gave him a little smile. "But I could use a break. What can I do for you, Colonel?"
"Oh, nothing," he replied, picking up a piece of the machine and studying it until she carefully took it out of his fingers and returned it to the bench.
"It's very delicate," she explained.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Guess so."
She said nothing more, merely watching him with open curiosity.
"I, um," he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets, "I owe you an apology or two, Carter."
She shook her head. "No you don't."
"What I said in the debriefing," he continued, ignoring her quiet protest, "was way out of line." She glanced down at the workbench in silence, so he carried on. "You know that I trust your professional judgement Carter. You've never given me any reason to doubt it. Never."
"Thanks," she replied, "that means a lot, sir." He nodded silently, about to continue, when she looked up and said, "And what about my personal judgement, sir? Do you trust that too?"
He held her gaze, not sure he understood the mute appeal in her blue eyes. "Your personal life, Major," he said quietly, "is none of my concern."
"Isn't it?"
"You know it isn't," he replied, his heart starting to race as they drew closer to the subject that both united and divided them. "It can't be."
Her eyes slid away from his, acknowledging his point unhappily. Okay, it was now or never, he figured. Taking a deep breath, he plunged in. "What we nearly did yesterday," he said, "was pretty close to the line."
"Yeah," she nodded.
"I'm sorry," he continued, "I'm sorry that I pushed it, Carter. I was out of order. As your CO, I should...."
"Sir?" she interrupted, "I can look out for myself - we're both responsible for what happened last night." He frowned a little, but she carried on. "If I'd asked you to leave, you would have."
He shrugged his silent agreement.
"And I should have asked," she said then, "but I didn't."
"You shouldn't have had to," he countered. "And you won't again, Carter. I promise you that."
He caught a flash of disappointment in her eyes before she murmured, "Oh," and dropped her gaze, picking up a small piece of the device and studying it intently.
"That's what I wanted to tell you, Sam," he continued, determined to say his piece. "Whatever personal decisions you make, I won't make life difficult for you. I swear."
She was silent for a long moment, her fingers toying with the small scrap of metal. But at last she returned it to her workbench and looked up, her serious gaze fixing him where he stood. "Were you up on the hill last night?"
The question surprised him and he let out a long, slow breath. After a moment he nodded. "I'd been up there a couple of hours when you - you and Taran - turned up."
"I'm sorry," she breathed, looking away again. "I hurt you."
"No," he lied. "I mean, I'm glad for you Sam. You deserve to be happy and if you've fallen for Taran, who am I to complain?"
She laughed, shaking her head slightly. "I haven't fallen for him."
"Kinda looked like it," he replied, wincing even as he spoke. "Not that I was looking," he added lamely.
She sighed. "What you saw meant nothing. It was...," she trailed to a halt, obviously searching for the right words. "Sometimes," she said at last, raising her eyes to his face, "sometimes it's just nice to be held."
"Yeah," he breathed, his gaze locked on hers, "I guess it is. I just wish...." He stopped himself before he said anymore, but it was too late, and he saw understanding blossom in her eyes. 'I just wish I could have been the one to hold you, Sam.'
"I know," she whispered, as if his thoughts had flown straight to her heart, "me too."
Damn it, he'd done it again! He'd come here with the intention of stepping aside, of letting her know that he was fine with her new relationship, and before he knew it they were gazing at each other with as much hopeless longing as before. Ruthlessly he turned away, breaking the contact between them. But the silence was intense, stretched so taut he was afraid it would shatter. And as he stood there, glaring at nothing, his fingers curled around the smooth wooden box in his pocket and he drew it out.
"I, um," he said, his words easing the tension a little as he turned back towards her. "I'm sorry it's late," he said, offering her the box. "Happy Birthday."
Her eyes widened as she took it from him. "Sir, you didn't need to...."
"I know," he cut her off. "I wanted to." Then he shrugged, "Sorry I didn't wrap it."
She smiled up at him, shaking her head. "You really shouldn't have...."
"It's just a gift for a friend," he told her abruptly. "Nothing wrong with that."
"No sir," she agreed, as she took the lid off the box and drew out what lay inside. "Colonel," she breathed then, running the slender golden chain between her fingers, "it's beautiful!"
He smiled, glancing down at his boots, not wanting her to know how pleased he was. "Glad you like it."
"It's...," she began. "I've never seen anything like it - where did you get it?"
"Oh," he shook his head, flicking her a little lopsided smile, "P3X...something."
Her astonishment was written in every feature. "You got it off-world, sir?"
"Thought it was appropriate."
She grinned, her smile a burst of sunshine. "It's probably highly inappropriate," she said, "but it's perfect. Thank you." And as she spoke, she got to her feet and came around to the front of her workbench, stopping a couple of feet away from him. "I'm glad we're still friends," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Always will be, Carter. Swear to God."
"Yeah," she agreed, gazing into his eyes. And then, with a sweet smile, she quickly closed the gap between them and pulled him into a warm hug, holding him tight but not saying a word. He drew her closer, the bitter-sweet sensation of holding her almost overwhelming him, and they stood like that for a long moment, gently swaying. But at last she pulled away, and he reluctantly let her go.
"I should get back to work," he said at last, his voice sounding gruff even to his own ears.
She just nodded and he turned away. But as his hand touched the door handle she said, "Sir, can I ask you something?"
"Anything," he replied, keeping his back to her.
"If you got the necklace off-world, how did you pay for it?"
He turned, smiling innocently. "MasterCard."
Sam arched an eyebrow.
"American Express?" he tried.
"Sir," she said then, glancing at his hand, still resting on the door handle. "Is that a new watch?"
He grinned. "Later, Carter."
"Sir...?"
But he was out of the door before she could say anymore, and while he still had the strength to leave her.
***
Daniel stepped into the fall sunshine and took a deep breath, glad to escape the confines of the SGC for a while. He found if he spent too long in the depths of the mountain he began to lose touch with the seasons, let alone the days, that turned in the world above. So from time to time he liked to leave his lab, grab a sandwich and spend an hour in the sunshine and the fresh air. He walked a little way from the stone-faced marine guarding the entrance, and sat down in a sunny spot, resting his back against a tree. He'd just taken his first bite of sandwich, when he heard a voice behind him.
"Do you still think she can fix it?" Daniel frowned at the sound of Jemus' voice. "It's been ten days already," the man continued. "It might be beyond her capabilities."
"No," another voice replied, one he recognized as Taran's. "She can do it; she has one of the most brilliant minds I've ever encountered."
"Huh," Jemus growled. "I didn't think it was her mind you were interested in."
Daniel froze, sandwich half raised to his lips. They were talking about Sam.
"I've never met anyone like her," Taran admitted, sounding almost wistful. "Brilliant, beautiful, funny...."
"*Here*," Jemus pointed out, as if it were of some great significance.
"I know," Taran replied. "But..." he sighed, "she'd be worth breaking a few rules for."
"A few?!"
"I've *never* met anyone like her," Taran repeated. "Never - and I mean that literally."
There was a long pause, and then Jemus said, "Well, it'll be a moot point if she can't fix the TSD. We'll be stuck here."
"She'll fix it," Taran said quietly. "Although sometimes I almost wish she couldn't."
"You'd want to *stay*?" Jemus asked in disbelief. "Here?"
"It's not so bad - at least we can still feel the sun on our faces."
"Have you any idea how polluted this air is? And the water...? God knows how these people survived - we'll need to spend a week in de- tox when we get back."
"I like their television," Taran countered. "And there's a certain grittiness about their lives that gives the whole place an edge."
"Huh," Jemus puffed, "it's okay for a research trip, but to live here? Not me. The sooner she gets the damn TSD fixed the better. I've had enough of roughing it."
"I think I could get used to it."
"Really?" Jemus asked. "Or is it just Samantha Carter you could get used to?"
Another pause. And then Taran said, very quietly, "I think I already have, Jemus. Far too much."
"Taran...?" There was a warning note in the man's voice, "Now what are you planning?"
Another pause, even longer this time. A blob of mayo dripped from the end of Daniel's sandwich and landed on his knee, but he dared not move.... What the hell *was* he planning?
At last Taran spoke. "I'm going to ask her to come back with me."
"What?! Oh Christ, Taran, no. You can't."
'Christ?' Daniel thought suddenly. 'Did the man just say Oh, Christ?'
"Why not?" Taran's response was belligerent. "I wouldn't be the first."
"You want to end your career at thirty-five?"
"I think I might be in love with her."
Jemus groaned. "You've only known her a couple of weeks!"
"That doesn't matter."
"This is crazy, even by your standards," Jemus muttered.
"I know," Taran agreed, and Daniel could hear the smile in his voice. "I can't help myself."
"What makes you think she'll go with you?"
Yeah, Daniel thought, good question.
"Because she's got no one to keep her here," Taran replied confidently, "she told me as much."
Daniel's heart skipped a beat. What? No one? What the hell did he mean? She had him, Teal'c, Janet - Jack. Especially Jack, if he ever got his act together and let her know how he felt. No one? Had Sam really said that? Had she really meant it?
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Jemus warned him.
"Well, I can ask. I have to."
Daniel heard Jemus sigh. "It's your life," he muttered.
"Yes," his friend agreed. "It is."
Their voices were harder to hear now, and Daniel realized they had moved away. He risked peering around the tree he was leaning against and saw the pair nodding to the marine as they disappeared back into the mountain. Sitting back he sighed, his lunch forgotten. Sam was going to leave them? Taran was going to ask her to go with him back to who-knew-where...? No, he decided, climbing to his feet. He'd be damned if he'd let that happen. No one to keep her here? "Bullshit," he muttered as he strode through the trees, his mission suddenly clear to him.
***
Jack ate his lunch alone, mostly because it was late in the afternoon and the cafeteria was deserted, but also because he was trying to proof-read his final report before he handed it over to Hammond. Final report. Those words sounded damn good! And since Carter was still working on Taran's device, he'd taken the opportunity to use a few of those leave days he'd been accumulating for the past three and a half years, and get the hell out of Dodge.
So once he'd done with lunch and handed in his report, he was heading home. And then? Well, he'd figure out where to go later. He didn't really care where he went, as long as there was no chance of bumping into Carter and her new best-friend. He sighed as his thoughts turned inexorably to Sam, and from Sam to Taran. The man had been trailing her like a lost puppy since he got here and Jack had hardly spent two minutes alone with her since his big apology a couple of weeks ago. Which, he reflected, was probably a good thing. Since they seemed to make a habit of flirting with crossing the goddamn line whenever they were left alone together for more than five minutes, he figured that separation was the best way to keep them both on the straight and narrow.
He sighed heavily as he realized he'd gotten to the bottom of his report without registering a word of the last couple of pages. Plus, he noted irritably, there was now a blob of mustard sitting right in the middle of the cover-page. Damn.
"Jack!" Daniel's urgent voice startled him, as his friend came hurtling into the commissary.
"What?" he snapped, half expecting to see a couple of Jaffa on the man's tail.
"Trouble," Daniel said, dropping into a seat opposite him. "We're in trouble."
"Why?"
"Sam."
A strange chill clutched at his chest. "What's happened?"
Daniel shook his head. "Nothing yet, but I think we're going to lose her."
"Lose her?" he asked shortly. "How?"
Glancing around, Daniel leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I overheard Taran talking to Jemus. He's going to ask Sam to go back with him."
"Oh," Jack replied, feeling his tension ease as he returned his attention to the remains of his lunch. "So?"
"So?!"
"You don't think she's going to go, do you?" Jack asked, taking another mouthful.
"She told Taran that she had no one to keep her here," Daniel said pointedly.
"She has the SGC," Jack said, deliberately ignoring Daniel's silent implication. "She has her career."
Daniel sighed, leaning back in his chair. "What if she wants more than that?"
"Don't we all?" he countered. "Doesn't mean she's gonna start playing house with this Taran guy."
"Why not? If she feels like there's no one here who cares...?"
"Because she's Carter," Jack replied. "Because she's loyal to her team, committed to fighting the Goa'uld, and because her career means more to her than anything."
Daniel shook his head. "I think you're underestimating how alone she feels, Jack," he said quietly. "I was talking to her on her birthday, and she was really down. Maybe it's hard for you to understand - me too, perhaps - because we've at least had a shot at marriage and family. But Sam's spent her life working to be where she is, her whole life, and I think she's beginning to realize that there's more to living than getting the next promotion."
Jack was silent, staring down at the crumbs on his plate. Could Daniel be right? Could she really consider leaving them? Leaving him? At last he forced himself to speak, hoping that Daniel wouldn't notice the emotions he was struggling to hide. "If Sam thinks Taran is the guy to give her what she wants - marriage, family - who are we to stop her?"
"We can't stop her," Daniel agreed quietly, "but if she knew how we felt about her...?"
Jack smiled, guessing where Daniel was going with this. "You think that would make a difference?" he asked.
"You should talk to her."
"Me?"
"I think," Daniel said slowly, watching him over the rim of his glasses, "that she cares - a lot - about what you think of her."
Jack shook his head. "She knows what I think of her, Daniel."
"No," he replied, sitting forward again, eyebrows drawn down as he struggled to put his suspicion into words. "I mean, I think she has - feelings - for you."
If he hadn't been so miserable, Jack would've found the whole situation hilarious. But he just sighed, and said, "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you care about her, Jack," he persisted. "If you told her how you feel, maybe...?"
"Just leave it," he replied, getting to his feet.
"Jack...."
"I said leave it!" he snapped. "It's not what you think, Daniel. Okay? Just keep out of it." And with that he grabbed his mustard- stained report and stalked out of the commissary. Sam was leaving? With Taran? He couldn't begin to deal with that right now. He sighed and deposited his report, mustard and all, in the nearest in- tray, then headed for the elevators. The sooner he got the hell away from this place, the better.
***
Rubbing at eyes grown weary from concentrating on the micro- technology she'd been working with for the past ten days, Sam headed for the commissary in search of coffee and inspiration. Taran's device was driving her nuts.
Not that she hadn't gotten the thing working. She'd done that by the end of the first week; she just hadn't gotten around to telling anyone yet. Well, anyone but General Hammond, that was. He'd agreed that she should try to discover exactly what the device did before she returned it to Taran, so for the best part of the last week she'd been prodding, testing, and hypothesizing to no avail. She knew that it somehow bent the wormhole from its original trajectory, but to where and why she had no idea.
The frustration was making her irritable and she sighed as she turned the corner to the cafeteria. Just as she did so, the doors flew open and Jack stalked out, his face dark and clouded, headed in the opposite direction. She watched him go in silence. They'd barely spoken two words since the day he'd given her the necklace and she missed him. But she knew why he kept away, and admired him for it, even as she cursed him for being so damned honorable.
Instinctively, when she thought of him, her fingers reached beneath her uniform to touch the necklace he'd given her, warm where it lay against her skin. She hadn't taken it off since she first put it on, despite the regulations. Hey, considering what she *wasn't* doing for the sake of regulations, she figured she'd earned the right to a minor violation of the dress code! Not that anyone could see it anyhow. But she knew it was there, and it made her feel closer to him. She couldn't have imagined a more perfect gift, something so exquisitely beautiful that also represented the adventure they shared together. She'd traveled the galaxy with this man, and he'd brought a tiny part of it back for her. It was perfect. Just perfect.
Her musings ended as she pushed open the commissary door, but she was still half-dreaming as she poured herself a coffee. She was about to head back to her lab when she caught sight of Daniel sitting alone in the empty room, head in hands. Remembering Jack's apparently angry departure, she wondered what had happened and sauntered over towards him.
"Hey, Daniel," she said, taking a seat. "You okay?"
"Sam!" he started guiltily, as if caught in the middle of something he really shouldn't be doing.
She frowned. "What's up?"
"Did you see Jack?" he asked hopefully.
"Not to talk to," she replied, her concern mounting. "Why? What's happened?"
Daniel sighed, and shook his head. "Nothing, I guess."
"Did you have a fight?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied. And then he smiled, and reached across the table to touch her hand. "How are *you*, Sam?" he asked seriously.
"Fine," she replied carefully. "Why?"
"I just want you to know that I care - that we all do, Sam," he replied, fixing her with another intense look. "You're not alone here."
"Okay," she nodded, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the situation. She'd never been good at overt displays of affection. And because she was nervous, her fingers automatically started fiddling with the chain she wore about her neck.
They fell into silence for a moment, and she was just contemplating retreating to her lab when she noticed Daniel's eyes fixed on her throat. It took her a moment to realize that he was looking at her necklace.
"Where did you get that?" he inquired, before she had time to tuck it back under her shirt.
"Um," she said vaguely, "it was a gift."
"Can I see it?" he asked.
She shrugged, unclasping the chain and handing it to him. He studied it for a moment, his thoughts racing visibly across his expressive face, and then he smiled. "From Taran, I guess?"
"Why do you say that?" she asked, rather pleased with the way she'd evaded his question.
"Well, for a start it was obviously made off-world."
"It was?"
"Yeah," he replied. "The 'glyphs are clearly derived from Sixth Dynasty Egypt, but certainly aren't anything ever used here on Earth."
"Glyphs?" she asked, leaning over the table to where the necklace lay spread out before him.
Daniel glanced up, plainly surprised that she hadn't seen them before. "The links," he explained, "are basically stylized 'glyphs - you see."
Sam nodded, understanding the repetitive design in the necklace for the first time. "I just thought it was a pattern."
Daniel smiled. "Taran's a romantic," he said, with an almost inaudible sigh.
"What do you mean?" she asked, letting him believe the fiction.
"Well, this one," he said, pointing at one of the slender links, "means something like beloved or cherished, and it's joined, you see, to the second one that means loyalty and constancy. And the two links are repeated over and over - a perpetual cycle of love and loyalty."
"Oh." It was all the words Sam could manage as she stared at the necklace, not daring to look up for fear that Daniel would see the truth in her eyes.
"And the clasp," he continued, lifting the necklace to take a closer look, "is actually just one 'glyph that you can only read when the two halves are closed. See?"
She just nodded.
"It means eternity."
"Eternity?" she whispered. Oh, Jack.
"It really is quite romantic," Daniel sighed. "A promise of eternal love and loyalty."
Swallowing the lump that was rising in her throat, Sam reached out and took the necklace back, clasping it about her neck once more, her fingers trembling. Had he known what it meant? Maybe he'd just thought it looked pretty? But no, she knew him better than that. He might enjoy pretending that he had no interest in anything above the military necessities of each mission, but there wasn't much that got past him. He knew. Of course he knew. And then she remembered his casual words as he gave it to her, 'Thought it was appropriate'. Oh Jack, it is, on so many levels.
"Guess I underestimated the guy," Daniel muttered.
"What?" she said, suddenly flustered.
"Taran," Daniel reminded her. "That's who we're talking about, right?"
"Yeah," she replied, getting to her feet. "I, um, I gotta go, Daniel," she blurted, turning and almost running from the room.
She was gone so fast that she didn't see the little speculative smile touching Daniel's lips, or hear him murmur, "Never had Jack pegged as a closet romantic!"
***
She had to find him. This was too much. He couldn't give her this, tell her this, and then just walk away. She wouldn't let him. She couldn't. She checked his office and his quarters, but they were both empty. Where the hell was he?
"Samantha?"
Damn it, not now! She turned, forcing a smile, as she came face to face with Taran. "Hi," she said curtly, trying to make it obvious that she wasn't in the mood for a chat.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "You look disturbed."
"Have you seen Colonel O'Neill?"
Taran nodded. "A few minutes ago. I believe he was leaving the complex - he wasn't in the mood to talk."
Home. He'd gone home. Okay, well, she knew where that was. All she had to do was...."
"Samantha, I need to talk to you."
"Now?" she asked, aware that she was being unfair to the man, but unable to stop herself. All she could think of was Jack, and his silent declaration of love - a promise of eternal love and loyalty, Daniel had called it.
"Now," Taran replied. "Please. It's very important."
"I'm really in a hurry," she told him. "Will it take long?"
He frowned a little, obviously unnerved by her attitude. "I hope not," he said, his frown turning speculative. "But it depends on you."
There was an odd depth to his look, and Sam's stomach began to sink as she realized where this was heading. Oh, shit. She'd been foolish to let it get this far, to welcome his company because being with him was better than being alone, to smile at his sliver-tongued compliments because she heard them from no one else. Now she was about to pay the price for being less than honest with him and, she suspected, so was he. Sighing, she decided to get the awkward affair over with sooner rather than later, because she wanted her head as clear as possible when she saw Jack. Forcing a smile, she said, "Let's go to my lab."
As they entered the room, Sam made her way behind her workbench, ensuring that its solid presence formed a not-so-subtle barrier between them. She smiled, "So, what's so important it can't wait?"
Taran made no answer at first, but he walked forward and picked his device up from her bench. After studying it for a moment, he glanced at her and said, "Have you discovered its purpose yet, Samantha?"
"I, um," she blinked, and then smiled self-consciously, knowing she'd been caught. "No, not exactly."
Taran just nodded, not seeming to be concerned by her minor deception. "We call it a Temporal Shift Device," he told her.
She blinked. "Temporal shift...?" Was she understanding this right? "You mean - it shifts time?"
"Not exactly," he explained, "it allows the worm-hole created by the Stargate to move through time as well as space, allowing us to...."
"Travel through time," Sam breathed, her mind spinning with the possibilities, as everything but thoughts of this incredible discovery fled from her mind. She grinned in excitement. "It's a time machine!"
Taran smiled. "Of sorts."
"So, wait," she said, shaking her head and trying to focus, "you're not from this time, then? That's why you need it to travel home?"
"Yes," Taran replied. "We are from two-hundred years in the future. Your future."
His words stopped her dead. "Our future?"
"Earth's future."
"Oh my God!" This was astounding, it turned everything she knew upside down. Time travel! She could hardly breath with excitement. "Can you go anywhere?" she asked, aware that she was starting to babble, "To any time, on any planet with a Stargate?"
He nodded, his own broad smile lighting his dark eyes. "We can see whole civilizations rise and fall, Samantha," he told her. "We can watch species evolve before our eyes. We can see stars die and be reborn - anything you can imagine is ours."
Her mind was reeling. This was impossible, but she saw the truth in his eyes and knew that it was real. She fumbled for her chair and sat down, unable to tear her gaze from the device, so small and yet so awesomely powerful.
Sam took a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to step back. She was a scientist by vocation, but she was a soldier by profession, and the caution ground into her by years of service started to cut through her intellectual enthusiasm. Okay, so this was amazing, phenomenal even, but there were still questions to be asked. She frowned slightly, looking up into his ebony eyes. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked.
Taran shrugged. "Regulations," he told her. "We're forbidden from disclosing who we are or where we're from to the peoples we encounter on our missions - it's meant to preserve the integrity of the time- line."
She nodded, understanding the reason, but his answer only served to deepen her suspicion. "So why are you telling me?"
He didn't reply immediately, just watched her for a moment as if assessing her reaction. At length he said, "For two reasons. First, I knew you would discover it for yourself in the end, and second," he paused, licking his lips, obviously nervous, "second, because I want you to come back with me. I want to show you my world, Samantha. I want to show you everything you could possibly imagine."
Her breath caught in her chest. He wanted to take her to the future? 'I could visit the future! I could visit the past, I could go anywhere!' Her mind swam with thoughts of all the technology she could discover - so much that could help them in the war with the Goa'uld - hell, with all the knowledge available to her she could probably end the damn war in a day! "Is it possible?" she breathed.
Taran smiled. "Possible, yes," he agreed, but she could hear reservation in his voice.
"But?" she asked, her excitement suddenly dampened by misgiving.
He looked a little uncomfortable as he said, "It's not entirely permitted."
"Regulations?" she asked with a crooked smile, and he nodded.
"But Samantha," he said, moving around the bench to stand closer to her, "you're worth breaking the regulations for."
"What would it mean?" she asked, edging backwards slightly. "Breaking the regulations?"
"A slapped wrist," he shrugged, "a couple of promotions maybe." Then he reached out and took her hand. "But Samantha, I'd give up anything to have you by my side."
Ah. In the excitement of her discovery, she'd forgotten about this little problem. "Taran," she said, pulling her hand from his, feeling all the awkwardness of the situation but refusing to flinch from it. "You should know that I don't have feelings like that for you." He dropped his gaze immediately, and she winced a little at the flash of disappointment in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she added.
"Perhaps," he said then, a faint smile touching his lips, "in time you might...?"
"In time?" she repeated, smiling at his choice of words.
"We would have plenty of it, Samantha."
"Guess we would."
"Let me take you there," he begged, returning his eyes to her face. "Even if you're there as nothing more than a scientist, let me show you everything I can offer you. This place, Samantha, it's too small for a woman like you. Too limiting - I can give you so much more."
She sighed, her mind still spinning with the possibilities. There was so much she could discover if she went with him, so much she could find to help win the war, to free humanity across the galaxy. She couldn't turn her back on this opportunity, despite the awkwardness of Taran's feelings for her. "Could the rest of my team come too?" she asked him eventually. "Daniel would never forgive me if I went without him!"
Taran's eyes darkened. "No. I'm sorry, Samantha. The Commission won't like even your presence. More than that, and they'd hang me out to dry."
Her suspicion returned. "And me?" she asked sharply. "What would they do to me?"
"There's not much they could do," he assured her. "You'd already be there."
She nodded silently, her brow creasing with a tense frown. "But would they let me come back?" she asked quietly, watching his face intently.
"Once you've seen it, Samantha," he said, "you won't want to come back. Our world is so beautiful, and you can barely start to comprehend all that we could discover together." Reaching out he took her hand once more. "I don't believe that you would want to return, Samantha."
Again, she pulled her hand from his and took a step backward. "Would they let me come back?" she repeated firmly.
He held her determined gaze for a moment and she could see conflict glittering in his dark eyes. But at length he murmured, "No. No, they wouldn't Samantha. You would have seen too much and the risk of contaminating the time-line would be unacceptable."
She sighed, the possibilities his technology had offered scattering around her, broken and discarded. "Taran," she said gently, "I can't leave here, there's too much at stake," she smiled slightly, "the future is at stake, if you like. I belong here, I have responsibilities here - I have a war to win."
"On your own?" he asked, a faint, unhappy smile touching his lips.
"With a little help from my friends."
"Your friends?" he asked, his dark brow drawing down into a frown. "You told me you were alone, Samantha," he pressed, taking a step closer. "You don't have to be alone."
But she shook her head. "I'm not," she assured him. "I was never alone. I have friends here, Taran. Friends I care about more than anything else. Friends that care about me."
He gazed into her face for a long moment, but he must have seen something there that crushed any remaining hopes, because he turned abruptly away and strode towards the door. He slowed as he approached it though, and turned back towards her, anger and disappointment at war on his face. "I asked you the wrong question, Samantha," he said after a moment, "back on the planet."
"You did?"
"I asked if you had a man in your life," he told her quietly, "but I should have asked if you had a man in your heart." She opened her mouth to answer, but found she had no words. "Colonel O'Neill is a lucky man," he sighed, "and a foolish one, for not making you his own."
"No," she told him softly, "he's not lucky. Neither of us are. And he's no fool, he's just honorable."
Taran gazed at her, as if seeing something to which he had previously been blind. "Sometimes the honorable can be as foolish as the rest of us," he said, smiling sadly as he turned to leave. "And sometimes, Samantha, they should be."
***
The early-fall evening was almost as cold as the beer Jack held in his hand, as he sat on his roof gazing up at the night sky. It was so clear that he didn't bother with the telescope, instead he just lay back and watched the universe slide slowly by; the thin sliver of a new moon was the only rival to the heaven's beauty. A breath of wind rustled in the trees and dry leaves whispered of the end of things, sighing with the last breaths of summer. He sighed too, wondering how he'd carry on if Carter left. He had spoken the truth when he told Anise that he would rather die than lose her. But in this case, the choice was hers and not his.
Dimly through the rustle of leaves he heard the crunch of tires on gravel, a car turning into his driveway. Glancing down he saw bright lights suddenly darkened, and heard the smooth opening and gentle clunking shut of a car door. It was too dark to see much, but even blindfolded he would have recognized those footsteps. His heart did a little somersault as he heard them come to a halt at the bottom of the ladder. What was she doing here?
"Sir?" Carter called softly. "You up there?"
He winced a little, knowing he couldn't deny it. "Yeah," he said carefully. Why was she here? He glanced at his watch, peering at it in the thin light of the new moon. Ten-thirty. What the hell was she doing? She never just dropped by. And then he remembered his conversation with Daniel, and his heart froze. Had she come here to tell him she was leaving? God, no.
"Can I come up sir?" she asked, her voice tentative.
He wanted to say no - he didn't want to hear what she had to say, he never wanted to hear it - but there was something in her voice that caught at his heart. Something that spoke to him as a friend, not as a CO, not as a would-be lover, and he couldn't refuse it. He'd promised her that he would always be her friend, and so he would, whatever it cost him. So with a supreme effort he called down, "Are you alone?" Well, okay, it wasn't the most polite of responses, but he really was *not* in the mood for Taran's slippery words.
"Yes sir," came her reply.
Relief made him smile and he said, "Come on up, Major."
It didn't take long for her blond head to appear over the top of the ladder, her smile reserved but still beautiful.
"Hey," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder, as he popped the cap from another bottle and offered it to her. "Beer?"
"Thanks," she replied, taking it from his hand. The slight brush of her fingers against his was warm in the cold night air.
He watched her for a moment, waiting, but she said nothing, perching on the wall and glancing around her. "It's really beautiful," she breathed. "I'm not surprised you love it up here."
"Yeah," he said, not taking his eyes from her, "the view's pretty special."
She glanced at him as he spoke, her face serious, eyebrows drawn low as if formulating difficult words. He decided to speak before she did, to make it easier on them both. "So, where's Taran?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. "Waiting in the car?"
She blinked, obviously surprised. "Um, no sir, he's gone."
"Gone?" Okay, he hadn't expected that one. "Gone where?"
"Home," she replied.
"Home, as in...?" If she meant her apartment he'd jump off the damn roof!
"He and Jemus left a couple of hours ago," she explained. "I got the device fixed and they left."
"Oh." His heart was thudding with a wild relief and it was all he could do to keep from grinning. But when he looked at her, his smile soon faded. There was something in the way she was staring down at her soft boots, scuffing on his roof, that told him there was more. He took a not-so-wild guess. "Did he ask you to go with him?"
She nodded, glancing up into his face. "Yeah, he did," she replied, with no attempt at denial.
"Why didn't you go?" he asked.
"Because my life is here," she replied quietly. "My duty is here. Everyone I love is here."
Everyone I love? Her words sent his hear tripping. "I, um," he said, struggling to keep his voice even, "I'm glad you stayed. It wouldn't have been the same here without you, Carter."
She smiled again. "Thanks."
Silence descended then, tense and awkward. Sam was toying with the beer bottle, absently tapping it against her thigh, while Jack just watched her, wondering. After a long moment, he said, "Not that it isn't a pleasure to see you, Carter, but why are you here?"
"I don't know, exactly," she admitted quietly. "Just wanted to talk, I guess."
"Okay," he shrugged. "I can do that."
With a sigh she stood up, turned her back on him, and gazed out over the trees. "Are we going to be able to do this, sir?" she asked at last.
"Do what?"
"This," she replied. "Work together - be together - without crossing the line."
"Oh, that." He shrugged a little, "Do we have a choice?"
"I guess one of us could leave - transfer, resign. Something."
"Yeah," he agreed softly. "But that would mean giving up the fight, wouldn't it? Letting someone else hold the line against the Goa'uld."
She sighed, her head drooping so that he could see the pale skin at the back of her neck, the delicate golden chain he'd given her catching the moonlight. "Why us?" she whispered. "Why do we have to be the ones to hold the line?"
"Because we're here, Carter," he said, coming to stand by her side, "and because there's no one else."
"It's cruel," she whispered.
"Yeah," he agreed, longing to comfort her with more than words, but not daring to touch her. The situation was too fragile. He sighed, watching her in the darkness, "Life's pretty damn cruel, Sam."
"Guess so." She gazed out into the night as she spoke, her hand creeping towards her neck, pulling the slender chain from beneath her thick sweater and running it through her fingers. He watched her with a mute fascination until she said, "Did you mean it, Jack?"
"Mean what?"
She glanced down then, almost as if she were embarrassed. "Eternal love and loyalty?"
"Oh." He smiled awkwardly, disconcerted that she'd discovered the hidden meaning in his gift. He'd never really intended her to, he hadn't wanted her to feel obligated, but somehow he'd needed to tell her how strongly he felt, even if she didn't hear his promise.
"Jack?" she prompted, her voice trembling with a sudden uncertainty.
"Every word," he assured her hurriedly, and then unable to stop himself he reached out and tipped her chin up to face him. "I wish I could show you how much I meant it, Sam. Words aren't enough."
"I know," she whispered, clutching her arms around her chest, as if willing herself to stay still. "Me too."
His heart thudded. "You too...?"
"I wish you could show me," she sighed, and in a barely audible whisper added, "I wish I could show you."
The touch of her skin still tingled on his fingertips as he lowered his hand, trembling, to his side. "After the war's over," he said in a thick voice. "Then we can be together. I'll retire...."
"I'll resign," she nodded, a hint of a smile brightening her face.
"Maybe the war will end real soon?" he suggested.
"Right," she replied, but there was no hope in her eyes and her face soon grew serious again. "And maybe neither of us will live to see the end."
"Hey!" he snapped. "Come on, don't think like that."
"Like what?" she asked. "Realistically?"
"It's not gonna happen."
"Oh, come on," she sighed, suddenly deadly serious. "We both know the odds, Jack. Every single time we step through that gate we know that one or both of us might not come back. I already can't count the times it's almost happened!"
"Well," he said, struggling to reassure her, "show's how lucky we are, doesn't it?"
"Luck runs out," she said darkly.
"Not ours."
She turned away again, and drew in a deep breath. "I thought I was prepared to die, Jack," she whispered. "It comes with the job, and I've always known it could happen. But now I would regret...," she shook her head a little, staring out into the night for a long time, silent and thoughtful. He was about to speak when she abruptly turned back towards him, her eyes wide with a sudden determination. "What if you could?" she asked.
"Could what?"
"Show me."
He blinked, his breath catching. "Show you...?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What if you could show me how you feel, Jack? Just once, while we still can."
"But we can't," he protested, the words coming reflexively. "The regulations..."
"Just once," she breathed, gazing up at him with her wide, trusting eyes.
He could hardly breath. "It would be wrong."
"It would be wonderful," she sighed, stepping closer, a hand reaching up and touching the side of his face, threading lightly through his hair, setting him on fire.
Oh, how he wanted her. His desire flashed through him with a white heat, and he trembled with the effort of not sweeping her into his arms and doing what she asked. 'Just once? Oh, God Sam, we can't. We *can't*. Can we?' His heart was pounding and his breathing was short and shallow as his vision narrowed to her, and her alone. "You don't mean this," he growled, hoping that she did. "You're not thinking straight." 'Oh please God, let her mean it!'
"I mean it," she murmured, answering his fervent prayer. "Why can't we have just one night, Jack? We give everything else to the fight, every day. Can't we have just one night for ourselves?"
She was still toying with the hair at his temple, driving rational thought away with each touch. He was so close to giving in. So close. His fingers entwined with hers as he took hold of her hand and pulled it gently down to her side. "It'll just make this whole situation harder," he warned her - and himself.
"How can it be harder?" she sighed. He said nothing. She had a point. How the hell could it be any harder than this? "And if the worst happens," she murmured, her eyes glittering with starlight and unshed tears, "at least we'll have something to remember. Something more than regrets and wasted opportunities."
And that was what did it; the thought of dying - or, worse, of losing her - and looking back on this night, knowing that he had turned her away. It was too much to contemplate. He couldn't do it. If he lost her without ever having had the chance to love her properly, he knew the pain of regret would drive him insane. So he closed his eyes and deliberately stepped out of himself. No longer Colonel O'Neill, he turned his back on the rules and regulations, on the hundred good reasons why they shouldn't do what they were about to do, and when he opened his eyes again he didn't see Major Carter, he saw Sam. The woman he loved with a depth and intensity that he could barely comprehend. She must have seen the subtle change in his eyes, because hers suddenly burst into life, filling with a joyous mixture of love, delight and hope.
He didn't say anything, and neither did she. They just stood together, drowning in each other's eyes, enjoying the sensation of being on the edge, of being about to fall into the forbidden. Jack reached out slowly and cupped her face in his hands, determined to relish every moment of their all too precious time. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his fingertips as he gently caressed her cheek; he saw her smile slowly as he leaned closer, their whole bodies coming into willing, deliberate contact. The scent of her hair filled his head with subtle spices and sent his mind spinning back to another stolen kiss, a kiss that had never happened for Sam, but that had lingered long in his dreams. But this time was different, this time she reached for him too. Her fingers twisted in the hair at the back of his neck as she pulled him closer, impatient for his touch. Her eager lips found his mouth and his heart all but exploded with the sweetness of the moment.
"Sam," he breathed, infusing her name with everything he felt for her, as he covered her face with fervent kisses, trailing down to her neck, eliciting little gasps close to his ear. "Oh, thank you," he whispered suddenly, crushing her into his arms, his fingers tangling in her soft hair as the reality of the situation finally hit home. "Thank you."
She was shivering in his arms, with cold or emotion he couldn't tell, but it reminded him where they were. Standing on his roof, in the cold fall night. "Sam," he whispered into her hair. "We should go inside."
"Yeah," she replied, her voice unsteady but not unhappy, although she made no move to release him from her tight embrace.
Gently, so gently, he pulled away so that he could smile into her face. "Knees not too weak to manage the ladder?" he asked, with a lopsided grin.
"I can handle anything you can," she reminded him, with a slow smile of her own. "Don't you know that by now?"
"Sure I do," he replied, stepping back to let her pass. It didn't take them long to get down, but it was time enough to let them both step back a little from the intensity of the moment. As he jumped down the last few rungs Jack turned to her, watching her face intently. "Are you sure about this?"
She didn't reply, but the promise in her eyes, dark in the starlight, gave him all the answer he needed as she held out her hand for his. He took it in silence and together they walked into his house, into each others arms, at last.
***
Sam was awake, watching the sky pale towards dawn though the windows of Jack's bedroom, listening to the first birds start their morning chorus. The night was almost over. Their night.
She lay with her head cushioned against his chest, as his fingers traced lazy circles on her shoulder. The flood of their passion had abated, leaving them floating in its dreamy aftermath, closer than they had ever been. Words were no longer necessary, all that could be said had been said and everything else had been felt with a depth beyond language. She was tired, they both were, but neither wanted to sleep. Their time was too precious to waste in oblivion. And so they just lay there, silently enjoying the bitter-sweet moment as they waited for the dawn that would part them.
She sighed and his arms tightened around her, his head turning to kiss her gently on the forehead. So gentle. He was so gentle. That had been a surprise. After all he'd seen, all he'd done in his life, she'd never imagined him to be so gentle. Not that she'd noticed at first. She smiled a little at the memory - the first time had been wild, a frantic release of passions pent up over years of denial, leaving them both gasping and trembling, clinging together as they drifted like flotsam on the receding waves of desire.
And then things had gotten serious. Then he really had shown her how he felt, and the strength of his emotions had overwhelmed her. In every caress, every kiss, she'd felt the deepest love, and she'd seen it in his dark eyes as he whispered her name. And he'd touched her with such gentle confidence, with such practiced ease, that she almost felt as if he knew her body better than she did. She sighed, realizing that a guy couldn't be married for over a decade without learning something! And, boy, had he learned his lessons well! Her body was still reeling from his touch, her mind still half-lost in the tenderness of his lovemaking.
But there'd been a bitterness too, a sharp pain that had mingled with the sweetness of their first night. For this was also their last night, and that knowledge had lent a biting poignancy to every moment they spent together.
And now dawn was breaking, dispelling the magic of the night with her cold, harsh light. Sam stirred again in Jack's arms, knowing she had to leave, that every moment she stayed made the parting harder. "It's almost morning," she whispered at last. "It's getting light."
"Th," he murmured, pulling her closer. "Just close your eyes."
She did for a moment, sinking back into the darkness, willing herself to believe that the night was still theirs. But it was a lie, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that the stars were fading into the azure sky.
"I should go," she said at last, her voice as bleak as the pale morning light.
"I know," he whispered back, his arms tightening around her. "But not yet. Just a little longer."
"If I stay any longer, I'll never leave," she told him gently, forcing herself to sit up, pulling out of his arms. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
"And that would be a bad thing, why?" he asked, opening his eyes to gaze up at her. "I can't remember."
She laughed softly, sadly. "Something about duty, and a war, and holding the line."
"Oh yeah," he replied. "Can't remember why the hell I thought that stuff was important."
She reached out to touch his face. "Because it is," she told him, as he caught her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. "Because you're an honorable man, Jack, and because there's no one else to do it."
He sat up then, his fingers tracing the delicate line of the golden chain around her neck. "I'll always mean it," he said, looking deep into her eyes.
"I know," she replied, his touch sending shivers across her skin. "And I'll always wear it." Then she reached out and pulled him close, kissing him tenderly as he held her for what they both knew was the final time. At last they pulled apart, as if on some unspoken signal, their fingers all that remained in contact, entwined between them on the bed.
"I'll, um," Jack said, clearing his throat, "I'll let you get dressed, and go make some coffee."
She nodded in silence, unable to find the words to answer him. She would be gone by the time the coffee was made, and he knew it. Goodbye was impossible, they neither of them could bear to say it, and so they played out the fiction. Jack left the bedroom without a backward glance and she heard him banging around in the kitchen as she pulled on her clothes, almost without thought, and ran to the front door. By the time she drew it shut behind her, she could smell the coffee brewing and could hear the radio playing a happy tune, masking the pain of their silent parting.
***
Lunch Time Commissary Work
October 3 2000
Dear Lou,
I'm so sorry I didn't get this to you in time for your - our - birthday. To be honest, I had a little trouble finding anything to write about this year. Not because nothing's happened, but, I guess, because I wasn't really sure what was happening. To be honest, I'm still not sure.
Yeah, you guessed it, there's a guy. Isn't there always? And this one has gotten so far into my heart that I don't think he'll ever get out and, to be honest, I don't think I want him to. Which is a problem. We're friends you see, the strongest, most loyal friends you could ever imagine. We've been friends for a long time now, and that's how it should've stayed.
But a couple of months ago something happened that changed our friendship, drove it in a new direction, or perhaps, just opened both our eyes to where it had gone all by itself. And last night.... Well, last night something else happened. And, Lou, it was indescribably wonderful. I've never, in my whole life, felt so utterly fulfilled, emotionally and physically. There are simply no words to describe the hours we spent together. Perfect comes close, sublime maybe...? No. Words aren't adequate.
It was also unbearably painful. Because, you see, we can never really have each other. Last night was our first, and only, night together. There are things which stand between us that are simply insurmountable. I can't tell you what exactly, but trust me when I say that if there was any way, we'd have found it. And there isn't. Not yet.
But I don't want to dwell on that. Instead, I want to tell you all about him - about the man I love. So, where shall I start? Well, the beginning I guess, where else?
I first met him over three years ago, and to be honest, I think I was a little in love with him even before we met. I'd heard a lot about him - he was a kind of hero around here - and I'd read everything I could about what he'd done. I had to, it was part of my job, but something of his personality came through even in the official reports, and he made me smile. (He still does.) So when I met him, well let's just say sparks flew...! And I think that from the moment he first smiled at me, and I mean really smiled, the smile that makes his eyes sparkle with warmth, I knew that this was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life loving. And I am, Lou. I really am, despite everything that's keeping us apart.
But anyway, back to the story. I guess I owe you a few years of detail, so here we go. I hope you're sitting down, Lou, because this is gonna take a while....
THE END!
Story Notes: Notes: Thanks once again to Marcy for beta reading this, and to Becci for putting me right a couple of times! There's not a lot of action, but you could probably use a big chocolate bar with this one!
End Notes: Well thanks for making it all the way to the end! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear from you if you did, or if you didn't, at reevesally@hotmail.com
Thanks again for reading!
Thanks again for reading!
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 ]