Cuddling Sam under a blanket on his couch at the cabin, Jack was thinking about their conversation.
"I always thought that I was the lucky one," he commented in a whisper, breaking the silence of their long mute cuddle. Sam sighed dreamily and kissed him on the cheek.
"Then maybe both of us are," she replied with a smile, "Good looking, a wonderful man, and great sex. What more could a girl want?"
"Someone a little younger maybe," he said and she stared at him, trying to determine whether the age difference really bothered him or not. She couldn't, so decided to be direct.
"The age gap bothers you?" she asked.
"It doesn't bother you?"
"No. I never even thought about it, but you obviously have."
She spoke truly. To Sam it simply wasn't an issue. Her concerns about age revolved around her own rather than Jack's. What if she couldn't give him the family she suspected he wanted? Sure, women older than her had kids, but that didn't mean that she could or that it would be easy. Shaking off that thought, she concentrated on Jack's fears. She wouldn't voice her own unless they decided to get married - then they would cross that bridge.
"It's crossed my mind."
"Then let it uncross your mind. What, it's 15 years?" Sam didn't think that was a particularly big gap.
"Don't remind me! You never even thought about it?"
"I've never thought it was a problem, no."
"15 years is a lot Sam. When I'm 70 you'll only be 55. It hasn't occurred to you?" Sam had to admit that she had never thought of it like that but the notion wasn't perturbing.
"Not like that, no. Jack why are you so determined to find things that might put me off this relationship?"
"I'm not!"
"Oh? Could have fooled me. All those things about your past and now this?"
Jack stared down at his feet and Sam twisted to face him, her hand reaching to his cheek and turning his face towards hers.
"Jack, I love you, you do know that, don't you?"
"Sure I know it, but love doesn't conquer all, Sam."
"I didn't think we had anything to conquer."
She sighed, letting go of his face and slumping back against the couch. Jack thought he detected a flash of anger in her demeanour.
"Are you pissed with me?" he asked.
"A little. I'm pissed that you have so many doubts about us, about me."
"It's not like that Sam."
"Isn't it?" her lips were pursed into a stony frown.
"Are we going to have an argument? I really don't want to do that."
"Neither do I."
"Sam, honey."
This time he twisted around to face her and draped his hand around her shoulders, stroking her skin with his fingers.
"I didn't mean. aw crap, I don't know what I meant. I just. damn! I so wish I was better at this stuff."
"This stuff?"
"Communicating my feelings about things."
"You do okay."
"No I don't. I love you Sam. I hope that's enough."
"There's a whole lot more to this relationship than that, Jack."
She wanted to make that hugely important point. Love was only part of it. Intertwined with love was also respect and friendship, two such fundamentally essential things. There was no doubt more than that and she knew words probably existed but would be hard pushed to find them.
"Yes, there is." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead and resting his head against hers. "Please don't be pissed with me."
"Then don't doubt me."
"I don't. Maybe I doubt that my dreams really can come true. I wanted this. I longed for this. for so long, Sam. I-I don't want to screw it up."
"Jack, you are so important to me I'm not sure you even know how much," she pressed a hand against his chest, stroking it soothingly. "Age, none of that stuff matters. What matters is what we feel, how we are together, and that's pretty damned great in my opinion."
"Yes, it is. More than I dreamed possible."
"Then stop worrying about things that aren't going to happen. Live for the moment."
"Okay, I can do that - I think," he smiled. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't be. I guess it's better to have this stuff out in the open."
"Exactly."
"Then I'm the one who's sorry."
"For being pissed with me?"
"Yes. I don't want you to feel you can't tell me what fears lie in your heart Jack."
"Huh! I would hate to bore you to death," he kidded.
"That seems highly unlikely," she smiled, kissing the tip of his nose and they cuddled lovingly for a long time after that until, much later, Sam ventured a question.
"So you picture us together when you're 70 and I'm 55?"
"I, um, sometimes," he admitted with a flush in his cheeks.
"That's nice," Sam replied, her words belying the thrill that ran through her at the thought of Jack imagining them being together that long.
"Is it?"
"Yeah. I like the idea of sitting on the porch outside holding hands with you and exchanging little loving smiles."
"Even if you have to hand me my walking stick and help me out of my chair?" he laughed but she could see a serous undertone to his question.
"Even then. Sounds like a pretty fair deal to me. 70 Jack? That's not so old. I've seen what you'll be like when you're way older than that, remember?"
She referred, of course, to the incident many years ago when he'd been artificially aged at a potentially lethal rate on Argos. Remember? How could he forget? There were a lot of embarrassing elements to that little adventure that he'd prefer to forget. Sleeping with an alien woman on an alien planet? What had he been thinking? Actually, he hadn't been thinking. It wasn't his fault; he'd been drugged, for crying out loud.
"How could I forget?" he said with a slight blush, which made Sam smile inside as she recalled what had led to that threat to her CO's life. Then he considered more of Sam's words, "A fair deal? Wow, I." his heart soared in his chest. This seemed so incredible to him and he deeply cherished that love and devotion, "So that picture doesn't scare you?"
"No."
"I'm glad."
He nuzzled up to her, loving her more than ever for those thoughts. If this vacation was meant to be some kind of Jack O'Neill test of Samantha Carter's feelings for him, she had passed with flying colors. Jack didn't consciously think of it as a test, but Sam wondered about it and his need to do it.
A lot of what Jack had recently revealed went a long way towards explaining the man. When she considered what obstacles he'd encountered as a child and while serving his country, Jack had done a pretty fine job of rising above them, admittedly not without scars deep inside but, nevertheless, he was a survivor who lived, not merely survived. That was something to admire and respect.
"I wonder what the weather is doing out there?" she said.
"Think we should take another peek?"
"Well, I don't think we should spend all day like this."
"Ack! Don't see why not," he grinned.
"Jack O'Neill, you are a naughty, naughty man!"
"But you love it, right?" he asked, tickling her gently.
"Yeah, I love it a lot," she giggled.
"Okay, your turn to take a look outside."
"You make it sound like a penance."
"Getting up off your ass is a penance, I just haven't decided what it's a penance for yet. Go look woman," he ordered jocularly, "you're the one who doesn't want to stay here all day."
She pushed back the curtain and squealed with delight at the now relatively thick layer of snow lying on the ground outside. The landscape looked picturesque capped in white and the snow was spluttering at a fairly gentle pace now instead of the heavy fall they had witnessed earlier.
"Looks like that roll in the snow is definitely a runner. Let's get dressed and go outside," she said excitedly and Jack grinned, getting up and standing beside her with his arm around her shoulders.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he said, more of a statement than a question.
The blanket of snow changed the landscape around the cabin and the bright light that reflected off its almost unremitting whiteness enhanced the scene's picturesque aspect. It was a sight that Jack had seen many times but it still entranced him and Sam's obvious pleasure intensified his.
"Yes it is."
"God, I so love this place," he sighed.
"I love it here too."
"You do?"
"It's so peaceful. It must have been really great to grow up around here."
"Hell of a difference between here and Chicago."
"I bet that was a culture shock."
"You could say that. I had good reasons for not wanting to be home with my parents but, for a while, this place seemed way worse than any punishment my dad could even dream of back in Chicago - sending me here was his ultimate punishment."
"Was it something in particular that changed your mind?"
"Lots of little things, but I'll never forget after I'd been here a while. I must have been hell: sullen, rude, ungracious and hateful. My grandparents refused to be put off. I kept expecting my grandpa to get out a big leather strap and whup my ass, or lock me in the cupboard the way my dad used to." Jack had never mentioned anything about being locked in a cupboard before and Sam's heart lurched at the thought.
"Anyway, a few days after I came here my grandpa had me chopping wood out back and I accidentally let go of the chopper and it went flying through the window, shattering glass everywhere. My grandpa and grandma came running out of the house and I was terrified. If I'd done something like that back home my dad would have knocked me into next Tuesday week, so I thought my time had come. I didn't understand that the look on my grandma's face was concern at my reaction, my terror. I thought she was really pissed.
"I cringed as she came near me, almost turned and ran out into the woods, except they scared me more than she did. Then, well, she took me in her arms and hugged me so tight. I think it was then that they must have realised something of the hell I'd been through. So she was hugging me and sobbing her heart out and I enfolded my arms around her and cried like a baby. I hadn't cried in such a long time. I refused to cry. I learned not to cry, not to show my dad anything, but now I cried and." he sighed at the memory and Sam touched him lightly, moved by his story.
"It made me feel so good: hugging, crying, her crying, knowing she cared enough to cry, knowing I could cry, knowing they wouldn't treat me like my mom and dad did. Things started to change after that; I changed. I decided to lose the attitude and try to enjoy it, and then I grew to love it, and to love them. It was way better than Chicago had ever been."
"That's such a great story, Jack." She decided to be direct and ask what she wanted to know. "Your dad used to lock you in a cupboard?"
Jack met her eyes thoughtfully, unable to recall mentioning that, although it had only been seconds before, and surprised at how much he had confided. His subconscious obviously wanted him to tell her things he had never intended to reveal. He sighed deeply.
"Did I tell you that? I don't remember."
"Just now. You said you kept expecting your grandpa to get his belt to you or lock you in the cupboard."
"I did? Jeez! Sam." he responded, tailing off as if he had run out of words.
Gently, she laid her fingers on his arm and stroked it, reaching her lips up to his for a brief kiss.
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me."
"It seems I already have. I guess I never really wanted to tell you the details, but." his eyes became unfocussed, looking into a distant nothingness. "He used to do that a lot, lock me in the cupboard, leave me there for hours on end: cold, thirsty, hurting. He'd knock me around for a while and then open the cupboard and throw me in. It was dark in there and smelled like old boots. Sometimes I'd just curl up with fear and loneliness, and sometimes I'd stay defiantly angry.
"In Iraq, when they shut me up in the box, it reminded me of my dad locking me in the cupboard. It was way worse, of course, but I guess I kind of knew how to deal with it by then, in my own way, and I'd been trained to... as much as they can ever prepare you for that. They can't, not really, they just think they can. But when I was a kid. I so hated when he opened that cupboard. I hated that worse than him hitting me. It was a totally different kind of pain. My dad would have done well as an interrogator in Iraq."
"Christ Jack, how did you ever get to be so normal?"
"I'm not normal, Sam, am I? I wish I was. You think that after everything you learned about me?"
It was a good question. He had raped, killed, and tortured his torturer, seeking revenge. He had been beaten, neglected and unloved. The man had been through so much, and she admired his relative normality in the face of it. She thought she'd made that point clear but knew Jack must fear there would be consequences for them and their relationship. He had good reason to fear it. So did she.
When he received no response, Jack turned to look at her and almost seemed to know what she was thinking, or at least what she was thinking about: his shame. Out of all the terrible things he had done in his life, that single act of rape had been the worst. He recalled waking from a nightmare a couple of days before and it had been that moment which had haunted him: that village, that carnage, that young girl's face, filled with terror and hatred, and the sickening laughter of his comrades in arms.
He'd woken in a sweat and turned to look at the sleeping Sam while contemplating that appalling moment. He should have known better, and in his heart he had, but he still went through with it. Jack had asked himself why he'd done that. He'd been the victim of abuse himself, although not of the sexual kind, not as far back as that.
Yet, despite his own experiences, he had dished it out to that young girl and that act was such a bad thing it was off the Jack O'Neill scale of bad things. Sure, he'd had a conscience about it, but the whole thing was just plain wrong. Jack was unable to deny that and didn't even want to try.
Until confessing it to Sam he'd tried not to think about it. Self reflection was something Jack O'Neill fought to avoid: too many bad memories, better to live for now. It was too late for regrets, although not for remorse.
But why? Was he so easily led by the others? Was he too afraid to say no? Did his own violent past thrust him into committing violence upon others? Jack still didn't really know or understand the reasons, only that he had participated in a terrible act and had to live with that.
Reporting it later simply was not sufficient to clear him of sin. He might have been raised as a Catholic but that did not mean he believed that confession washed everything away. To confess might be good for the eternal soul, but not for the one you carry around with you on Earth.
The horrific beating he had received at the hands of his unit had done nothing to cleanse him either, although it had helped, which was kind of perverse and probably had more to do with his father's abuse than anything else. He'd often wondered if he really had deserved those beatings. High self esteem isn't exactly a well known personality trait for sufferers of abuse.
Maybe that was why he'd participated in the rape. He'd so needed the acceptance and praise of others to bolster his own fragile ego. Also, he'd admired his CO and the men in his unit: their acceptance and praise was probably what he had craved more than anything else and he'd debased and dishonored himself to get it. That was pretty pathetic.
It was all so confusing and Jack found it difficult to rake over it trying to discern his motives. Motives don't always matter, actions do and he had acted like them: cowardly bullies, just like his old man. Acceptance and praise? Sheesh!
Jack had been bitter about the aftermath of reporting the incident to his superiors - no punishment for the perpetrators, only a cover up. He should have guessed it would happen. He'd been prepared to face the consequences of his actions, whatever the Air Force would throw at him, because he knew he deserved it, but it hadn't happened. So he had faced the consequences, they were merely different consequences, and he had faced them with equanimity.
Later, with a little more maturity, he reflected that his background could make him go one of two ways: he could become a hateful violator like his father, or he could be a far better man and protect the innocent from violation. Thus, Jack had tried throughout his life to follow the latter course and, for the most part, had succeeded.
Jack's violence was born from orders and honor, not from hatred and bitter, twisted cruelty. He had his own high moral code and followed it. He rarely raised a hand in anger, despite many temptations, and generally pulled himself back from the edge of that dark and bottomless precipice. Jack was proud of having done so. One exception, of course, was his wrathful revenge on his captors and torturers in Iraq. Jack had confessed some of that to Sam, although she didn't know the full story and never would.
He'd told Sam that there were no more revelations but it wasn't true. He'd never revealed anything about his own rape at the hands of his captors in Iraq. It was a humiliating and painful violation, but he believed he deserved every moment of that additional torture. As it was happening, he'd seen that young girl's face, her terror, her hatred, and truly understood the depths of his shame.
Jack's primary torturer hadn't been the only one to suffer a nasty fate at his hands and, if he'd been able to get to the rest, his wrathful revenge would have been truly dreadful to behold. Looking back, he was pleased he hadn't had more success in that department because, if he had, maybe there would have been no going back; that dark, bottomless precipice sure had been tempting. Sara had helped. If not for her... he didn't even want to contemplate that.
Now he had Sam and for that he would be forever grateful. His second chance. God knows, he didn't deserve one, but someone up there must believe he did.
He was ashamed of his actions that night when they'd got back from the opera in Chicago. Another violation, another stain. Sam hadn't merited that treatment and he was still at a loss to know where it had come from. Something inside him was just plain wrong, he knew that and it scared him. It should scare Sam too, and maybe it did but, if so, it seems she was prepared to live with it. She saw so much good in him and that was a marvel.
Never again. That was a promise. He'd rather rot in hell surrounded by the devil's paperwork. That would probably be his fate anyway. Sheesh! Maybe he could save a few souls that way. He smiled to himself at that thought. Jeez, he had a warped sense of humor sometimes.
As these thoughts had run through his head, Sam had stirred in her sleep, screamed, and awoken with a start. He'd reached over to hold her and, initially, she'd shied away. That had hurt, not that he hadn't earned that momentary profound pain but, if Sam couldn't face him, he was lost.
TBC in Part 2/2
Eventually she'd let him enfold her in his arms and told him about her own nightmare. It reflected his, which was pretty damned spooky to say the least. Although they had originally seemed to pass through that moment with relative ease, probably way too much ease, it appeared that his past would bite them both on the ass after all. Life isn't a bowl of cherries - go figure!
"Sam, please tell me what you're thinking," he'd pleaded after a long silence.
"About the nightmare, about you, about us."
"W-what.? I-I." He caressed the skin on her arm, unable to vocalise his fears.
"Jack, I'm not going anywhere. I don't like that you were involved in something like that, of course I don't. To a woman that is the ultimate sin. But I told you, that wasn't the man that I know. You aren't him. I've known you for a long, long time and you are not a reprehensible, bullying and violent coward but an honorable and brave man. That's the person I know. All that other stuff? It happened over 30 years ago, in another time, another place, with a different person. And it was part of what made you, you. It shaped you as much as any of those other awful things that influenced your life and made you a good man, not a bad one. You aren't perfect, I know that, but fundamentally you have a good heart. You protect the innocent, and you do it well."
Those final words had surprised Jack because it was what he would have wished to believe about himself and so close to what he'd been thinking only moments before.
"But you still had a nightmare about it. That must mean something. You cringed away from me when you woke up. That must mean something too."
"Just because I accept it as a fact of your past, and love you anyway, doesn't mean it doesn't disturb me. I had just woken up from a nightmare. How else would I react?"
Jack considered those words carefully before he replied and decided to go for the bottom line.
"What does it mean for us Sam?"
"We discussed that. We got closer, didn't we? All of this brought us closer. I feel safe with you Jack - I am safe. You've proved that over and over again."
"Look, Sam, what happened in Chicago. I will never, never ever, do anything to hurt you again. I promise, cross my heart."
"I know you won't."
"That's very trusting."
"Yes it is and that should tell you a lot. Jack, I want us to enjoy this vacation and relax. We have so little time."
"And I guess I kind of ruined it with my self-indulgent trips down memory lane, didn't I?"
"No, and I'm glad I know all of that."
"Why?"
"Because we can be honest with each other. Because we can move on. You need to move on."
"I can never do that totally, but I can try - for you." Sam said nothing in response and eyeballed him. "For us," he added.
"Even better."
"And what about that respect you had for me?"
Sam knew that such a loss would be unbearable to Jack. He craved that from her even more than love or affection, so she hastened to reassure him.
"Jack, I respect the man I'm holding in my arms right now. I respect that person a heck of a lot because you have earned it. You fought your past to become that person, or used it to evolve. You overcame a lot of the crap that you suffered. I admire that."
He searched her eyes for the truth of it and found what he sought, gently kissing the woman he loved so much, and increasingly day by day, to thank her for the words and support. He said nothing more but Sam didn't expect it. These events had made them stronger and bound them more closely than ever before, and that was enough. The subject was closed and he fervently hoped that they could move on from this turmoil.
Now, he waited for her response to his query about being normal, fretting a little despite their previous conversations. He had to get past that. It was so not a good way of continuing what he hoped was a lifetime commitment with this woman.
'Think positive!" he chided himself.
"I told you Jack," she replied after some thought, much of which had reflected Jack's had he but known it. "You have to believe in me and trust me, just as I believe in and trust you."
"I think I can do that," he answered with a small smile.
"Good." She kissed his cheek affectionately and eyed him sadly, continuing on a slightly different theme, "Y-you must have been scared so much of the time when you were a kid. I can't imagine that."
"Yeah, I was scared, but I didn't stay scared. I fought it, and won. Sure I still get scared, but it doesn't rule me because I won't let it. Instead I use it. When I was out there fighting for my country, for this planet, I used it."
"And you wonder why I admire you for it? You used it well, Jack."
"Sure, it's what I was born to do, wasn't it?"
"Yes, I think it was."
Jack cupped his hand around Sam's cheek and rubbed it with a thumb, leaning down to kiss her.
"I love you," he whispered softly in her ear.
"I love you too."
"Right, um, first one out the front door is it!" he grinned, neatly changing the subject, and the mood and tone, and getting them racing to put on their clothes and go play.
Wrapping up snugly, they both ran towards the door but Sam beat Jack out of it by a whisper.
"I am so gonna get you Jack O'Neill!" she shouted as he went loping off for her to chase after him.
"You so are not!" he called back to her.
She fruitlessly chased him through the woods and then he circled back towards the cabin again, thinking he'd evaded her, but Sam was waiting and leapt out at him on his way past. He landed on the ground with her on top of him and they both laughed their asses off for a while, rolling around struggling with each other, playfully.
"So what's my reward for catching you Mr Scarecrow?" she asked, still giggling.
"I'll let you kiss me if you want, Dorothy."
"Dorothy would love to kiss Mr Scarecrow," she grinned, pinning him down and doing exactly that.
"If we stay here for too long my butt will freeze to the ground," Jack said when they came up for air, echoing his words at another time and place, in Antarctica. Sam reflected on that moment and how much had changed since then: their relationship, their feelings, as well as how they had both evolved as people as a result of those long years spent as SG-1.
"Our lips might stick together," she said with a grin.
"I could live with that," Jack chuckled.
"So, snowballs?" Sam enquired.
"This time I'll get you!"
"That's what you think!"
Sam pulled herself up and ran a little way away, gathering snow, and they started a monumental snowball fight all the way back to the cabin, continuing onwards for a while when they got there.
"You've been practising," Jack accused jokingly when he realised Sam was winning hands down at this little game. As he bent to pick up snow, Sam hit him with a gigantic ball and he tumbled over. "Oh, I am so gonna get you for that Samantha Carter," he laughed, quickly scrambling to his feet.
Their game continued and, heedless of the damp and cold, both of them were laughing so much that they ached. This was fun. Sam screeched as Jack felled her by launching himself at her without letting go of his snowball, and her shriek gathered momentum as he stuffed the snow down the back of her neck.
"Jack that is cheating."
"It so is not."
"Is!"
"Is not!"
Before she could protest further, his mouth enclosed hers in a passionate kiss and Sam smiled, capturing his eyes. Having caught him off guard, she rolled over so that she was on top of him and sat astride him triumphantly, shoving a pile of snow into the front of his jacket and down his neck.
"Now who's cheating?" he accused.
"You cheated first."
"Did not!"
"Did!" she laughed and he grasped her weight and pushed so that he was now on top of her.
They were rolling around in the snow just as Sam had wanted and her exuberance and joy was contagious. Besides, Jack enjoyed these childish games. At this moment, he would have been hard pressed to recall an occasion when he'd felt happier. Scrambling up, he grinned and pulled her up after him and into his arms.
"This is fun Jack, isn't it?" she queried.
"Lots of fun."
"See, I do know how to have fun."
"Have I ever said otherwise?"
"Many times."
"That was a long time ago. I guess I was wrong."
"Too right you were. Now, man the barricades. More snowballs!" she exclaimed, struggling to get out of his arms.
"But my balls are so much more fun to play with!" he retorted with a smirk and Sam giggled.
"That is so true, Mr Scarecrow, although only by the narrowest of margins," she teased.
"Ow, that hurts, Dorothy, no need to be insulting," he responded with mock petulance. "You're wet, and you're shivering," he added, his tone changing to one of mild concern, "Um, now we've stopped I'm not sure I've got the energy to start again. I'm getting too old for this."
"Nonsense, General, you are way fit enough. Just feel those muscles!" she squeezed a bicep and grinned, "but I have to admit I'm feeling pretty cold and wet now."
"Wanna go back into the warm?"
"We can always come out again, I guess."
"C'mon, lets get you warm," he said, putting his arm around her and leading her back to the cabin.
"A shower might help."
"Okay. I'll make coffee while you take a shower. Or perhaps some cocoa?"
"Cocoa? Gee, you're not 70 years old yet," she taunted, referring to their earlier conversation.
"Bah! Nothing wrong with cocoa," he muttered with a small smile of satisfaction, loving the ease with which they bantered. As he'd grown older and more cynical, this was so much more than he'd ever believed could happen. Sam neutralised a lot of that cynicism. She was a breath of fresh air in his life and he didn't deserve it. Nevertheless, he had it and really appreciated that fact. Maybe he did deserve something good in his life after all the sacrifices he'd made. He'd paid his dues, many times over. Sam had been right about that. "Now, where'd I put that walking stick.?"
Sam laughed in response, kissing him on the cheek and quickly turning on her heel to leave the room. Once she disappeared for the shower, Jack's thought wandered back Sam's last trip to Washington and the wonderful shower they had taken together. It occurred to him that he too could do with some warmth.
'Screw the coffee!' he thought and hurriedly abandoned what he was doing, quickly going into the bedroom and stripping off and then approaching the bathroom excitedly. He peeked around the shower stall.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked and Sam's face broke into a huge smile. That was answer enough so he stepped right in, taking her into his arms and holding them both under the hot running water, simply swaying her in his arms for a while. Then he kissed her.
"Are we gonna have sex?" she asked with a cheeky grin.
"Do you want sex?"
"Anywhere, anytime with you Mr Scarecrow."
"Should I be flattered?"
"Too right!" she responded, tickling him where she knew he was sensitive.
"Ack! So not fair!" he exclaimed with a titter.
"All's fair in love and war."
"Is it indeed? Right you asked for it," he declared, tickling her back where he knew it counted too.
"Jack!" she exclaimed eventually, "if I laugh too much more today I'm gonna bust!"
"So no more laughing? That's just wrong on so many levels," he teased, grasping her head and pulling her into another kiss.
This time his hands wandered over her body in a much more sensual way and she could feel him responding to the notion of making love. The shower rapidly seemed to be coming one of their favourite places for lovemaking. Afterwards, they held each other lovingly as they recovered.
"That was great sex, Jack," Sam declared.
"It was pretty good, wasn't it?"
"Way more than pretty good. When we started this relationship, then the sex was pretty good. Now? It's in a different league."
Sam recalled her seduction of him the first time she had visited him in Washington and wondered if it would be better next time she did that. She had to try it sometime.
"Why is that? Practice makes perfect?" he asked, interested in her thoughts.
"I guess. More than that. We've got used to each other. We know each other's bodies better, what we like. We're less inhibited. We're in love."
"We were always in love, weren't we?" he queried curiously.
"Probably, but this is more than that too."
"You're right, it is."
They got out of the shower, dressed, and became practical, making lunch and eating it looking out of the window at the snowfall.
"So, will we get snowed in?" she asked.
"Possibly, but it's a bit too early in the year, although who knows what with the freaky weather all over the place? If I didn't know better I'd think the NID was using that weather control thing again," they both paused to briefly remember that particular mission. Harry Maybourne: what a character he was. Love him or hate him he sure could keep you on your toes - always interesting, and exciting. Jack continued, "However much I'd love to get stuck here with you, I'm so not sure that our superiors will find snow an acceptable excuse."
"Yeah, the Armed Forces does have its downside," she grinned, grasping his hand and giving it a squeeze.
Jack was wondering how they would continue to deal with the long distance aspect of their relationship. It couldn't carry on like this forever. If they got married, what then? When he was married to Sara, Jack had frequently been away on missions. That was the nature of his job and they both accepted that. Was this so different? Perhaps not, and forever was one hell of a long time.
The vision conjured by their discussion of the age gap came to mind; the two of them right here at the cabin, old and grey and still holding hands and exchanging loving looks, which is probably all he'd be capable of by then. Well, maybe not quite all. but things sure would be different. It seemed unlikely he'd be up to sex in the shower, for example.
'Have to take advantage of being fit while you can, Jack,' he told himself.
This was a pretty good argument for spending as much time with her as possible now. How long did they have? He made up his mind to spend even more time in the gym, and jogging, to keep himself as active and supple as possible. Sam might not be worried about his age, but he still was. well not worried exactly, but concerned.
"I so wish we had longer together," he opined.
"So do I. But we'll have Christmas Jack. It's not so far away."
"It's a whole month!"
"We'll be okay."
"Promise?"
"Promise," she replied with a small smile.
He reached forward and took hold of the pendant he'd given her for her birthday.
"This was the best deal I ever made," he smiled. "Look where it got me. We might still have been nowhere right now. Think of what I would have missed."
"What we both would have missed. Do you really think we would have been nowhere?"
"I don't know."
"It's hard to imagine, Jack."
"Sure is."
"I never want to be alone again. Not now I've found. this... us," Sam ventured.
"You don't have to be alone, Dorothy." Jack's smile was a shy wisp that made Sam's heart flutter.
"Neither do you, Mr Scarecrow."
They fell silent after that and Jack got to thinking about returning to Washington and being separated from Sam. It was going to be hard but she was right, they would be okay. Even after all the revelations of the past few days and their shared history, both good and bad, they would be fine - great in fact. She held his heart. It was a cliché, he knew, but they say 'home is where the heart is', which meant he was at home wherever she was and however far away. That was a reassuring thought.
Story Notes: Sequel/Series Info: Part 13 of the Never Alone Series. Sequel to Never Alone: Home Sweet Home
Author's Note: The fic challenge on the As The Stargate Turns Yahoo Group issued on 13 November 2005 was to use the line "But my balls are so much more fun to play with!" and/or the word 'Deal' in a fic/drabble. As usual I have found a use for both, and very appropriately in the case of the sentence - brilliant timing from SA, who sets the challenge. She must have been reading my mind as to what I was thinking for this story.
Author's Note: The fic challenge on the As The Stargate Turns Yahoo Group issued on 13 November 2005 was to use the line "But my balls are so much more fun to play with!" and/or the word 'Deal' in a fic/drabble. As usual I have found a use for both, and very appropriately in the case of the sentence - brilliant timing from SA, who sets the challenge. She must have been reading my mind as to what I was thinking for this story.
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 ]