Standing in line at the checkout, Sam sourly eyed the display that dominated the front of the store. Balloons, in a riot of pink and red, bobbed happily above a table that was covered in the most ridiculous assortment of fluffy bunnies, heart-shaped candy boxes, and cards spouting the worst kind of soulless sentiment she could imagine.
Valentine's Day. Yuck.
Normally the day passed her by without a second thought. She could deal with the sentimentality and the saccharin cynicism, all wrapped up in an over-priced bouquet of nonsense, in much the same way as she dealt the peculiarities of the thousand strange cultures with which her job brought her into contact. It was something alien to her, something from which she was totally separate. Normally.
But this year wasn't normal. Nothing would ever be normal again, because everything had changed. And from the moment she'd seen Daniel disappear into brilliant nothingness she'd felt as if her nerves and her emotions had been scraped raw, sensitive to even the slightest breath of air. And the crimson cacophony of Valentine's day, with its artifice and false sentiments, felt like sharp claws against her sensitive emotions.
Love. What did any of this have to do with love? Love had nothing to do with hearts and flowers and fluffy bunnies. Love was about duty, sacrifice and pain. Love was denial, repression-
"Ma'am?"
Sam blinked, embarrassed to find the clerk staring at her curiously. "Thirty-six dollars and twenty-three cents ma'am." He repeated the words as if it wasn't the first time he's said them, his eyes flickering towards the Valentine's display with a smile.
Angry with herself, Sam dug out her credit card and handed it over. Anger. That was an emotion she'd been dealing with a lot, recently. Anger at herself, at her team. Even at Daniel for being so damn heroic, and for leaving the rest of them behind where they couldn't follow. Anger. It wasn't an emotion that sat comfortably with Sam Carter; she felt at war with herself.
"Have a nice day!" The phrase slipped so glibly from the clerk's tongue that she doubted he registered the meaning. But these days Sam found herself sensitive to every nuance, her anger bristling defensively whenever any thoughtless words trod too close to what lay within. A nice day. How the hell was she supposed to have a *nice* day? Daniel was gone. Dead. And her whole world was upside-down and inside-out.
Unsmiling, Sam grabbed her grocery bags and stalked out of the shop. Deliberately, perhaps, she walked too close to the offensive display and left a pile of ridiculous stuffed toys on the floor in her wake. She didn't even break stride.
***
Teal'c only hesitated for a moment when he saw Major Carter sitting alone, glaring at her meal in the cafeteria. In the past he may have noted to Daniel Jackson that she appeared disgruntled, and the good doctor would have taken his meal and joined her. But Daniel Jackson was no longer among them, and Teal'c would trust her to no one else. So, with all his usual deliberateness, he moved through the tables and stopped before her.
"Major Carter," he announced, drawing her eyes to his face. "May I join you?"
"Sure, Teal'c," she sighed, making some room on the table for him. "I didn't think I'd see you today."
"Nor I you," he observed. "Today is a rest day."
Major Carter nodded, her eyes sliding away from his face. "Yeah, well, I tried resting. But when I rest, I think. And right now I don't have nice thoughts."
He nodded at that. "I too have found some difficulty in reaching a state of kel'noreem. The events of the last week--"
"Events?" she snapped, bitterly. "You mean Daniel dying?"
"I do," he replied, ignoring her uncharacteristic burst of anger. "But I have observed that many humans prefer not to be so direct."
Major Carter laughed bleakly at that. "Yeah, I've noticed the same thing," she grumbled, returning her attention to the meal she was obviously not eating. "Daniel's 'gone', or 'passed away', or 'left us'."
Interrupting her, Teal'c decided to speak his mind. "Is it that which angers you, Major Carter?"
She stopped. "I'm not angry," she replied, although her brittle tone gave the lie to her words.
"Many people feel anger towards a lost loved one. In fact, in--"
"That's not it!" she snapped hotly. And then she sank her head into her hands. "I'm sorry, Teal'c. It's just...it's just today."
Teal'c quirked an eyebrow. "Today?"
"Valentine's," she muttered into her hands.
He considered the comment, recalling the term from somewhere in the depths of his mind. "A festival for...lovers?" he queried, wondering how this should effect her mood.
"Huh," she grunted. "Stupid, right?"
At a loss now, Teal'c could only say, "I did not realize that your feelings for Daniel Jackson had become romantic, or I--"
"No!" she interrupted, jerking her head upright with a small, embarrassed smile. "No. That's not what I meant."
Teal'c shifted uncomfortably in his chair, reminded anew why he had always left these conversations in the capable hands of Daniel Jackson. "Then, I do not understand why this day should pain you."
Major Carter sighed and pushed her plate away. "It doesn't, I guess. It's just, it's all so tacky and I feel..." She leaned closer, her eyes wide and beginning to glisten with all-too-familiar tears. "I can't stop thinking about the last time I saw him. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell him how I felt, because it was too late. And now, everywhere I look I see those stupid cards with hearts and flowers all over them, and I *know* that it isn't real. That it isn't love." She paused and swiped at her eyes, shaking her head in an attempt to master her emotions. "I loved Daniel, and I never told him. And now he's gone, and everywhere I look I see all this...this..."
"Sentiment," Teal'c finished for her. "Sentiment without feeling."
She nodded, pursing her lips together against her emotions. "I wish I'd told Daniel how much he meant to me. I tried...," her voice choked into a whisper. "I tried at the end, but I don't even know if he could hear me."
Teal'c nodded. "I too carry that regret," he said seriously. "In life, we hold these truths close to our heart. It is only when death looms that we gain the courage to speak them."
Major Carter looked up at him, through tearful eyes. "Why do we do that?" she whispered. "Why do we always wait?"
He had no answer for her. But her words and her anguished expression wrought their own change in him. Silently he took hold of her hands across the table. "It is a regret I do not intend to repeat," he told her quietly. Her fingers squeezed his as she nodded, tears falling silently. "A sister could not be more beloved, nor a brother a more fearsome warrior," he told her solemnly. "I am honored to call myself your friend, Samantha Carter."
She nodded again, her fingers biting into his hands. But all she managed to say was, "Me too, Teal'c."
****
Sam stood in front of the mirror in the toilets of the locker room, feeling ridiculous. Her eyes were red and puffy with crying. Again. God, couldn't she just get through one day without tears? But her conversation with Teal'c - in the cafeteria, of all places - had been too much for her raw nerves. She felt as if all her emotions had taken up residence on her sleeve, that all those years of reserve and circumspection had drifted away with Daniel. And that all that remained was a pathetic, emotional wreck.
"Shit," she whispered as she stared at her pale reflection. "I look like crap."
The sound of the locker room door slamming shut jolted her, and in the mirror she saw herself start. Damn. She was so sick of hiding her tears, of seeing the sympathy in the eyes of her friends and the speculation in the eyes of strangers. Why couldn't they all just leave her alone? Coming into work had been a bad idea. She should have just stayed home. At least there she could cry in private. But then, her conversation with Teal'c... Yeah. That had been worth the trip. That moment of spoken honesty between them had given her heart some ease. With him, at least, the truth could be acknowledged. She loved him, as she'd loved Daniel, like a brother.
Of course, with others there were truths that could never be acknowledged. Not now, not ever. And probably not even in death. Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she squeezed her swollen eyes shut. Others? Who was she kidding? There was only one other.
With a shocking abruptness, memories surfaced in her mind and she found herself trapped among them. Daniel, swathed in bandages, lay dying in agony. But suddenly it wasn't Daniel. It was someone else, someone whose hold on her was infinitely more complicated. Dark eyes blinked up at her, helpless in death. And a pain exploded in her chest, almost gagging her.
The Colonel.
With a gasp she jerked out of the image and found herself staring once more at her horrified reflection. God! Her heart was clenched so tight it was painful, and she saw a sickly flush creep over her face as she stared into the mirror. Was it guilt? Beneath the stark fear, was that guilt? Daniel was dead. Her grief was so tangible it turned everything to ashes in her mouth. And yet she knew it could be worse. That there was one loss she simply couldn't bear. Her hands began to shake where they rested on the sink and she felt bile rise in her throat. If she lost him.?
A locker door banged open, but she didn't move. Transfixed by her own reflection she realized a horrible truth. A week ago SG-1 had been invincible. A week ago she'd allowed herself to imagine a distant, golden future where there were no Goa'uld and where they were victorious. But now? Now the illusion had been shattered. Daniel was gone. Dead. And if he could die, then so could the rest of them. Teal'c, herself...and Colonel O'Neill. Fate could tear them apart in a heartbeat and everything she had never said would remain forever unspoken. There *was* no future, she realized bleakly. There was only the past, and a present that was marked in fragile heartbeats.
"Carter?"
The voice startled her, and she turned sharply as memory and reality clashed. "Colonel?" Crap! Her mind was spinning, her thoughts wild and unwieldy. Had she been speaking aloud? Had he heard her? He was standing in the doorway to the toilets, a towel draped over one shoulder, watching her with concern.
"Whatcha doin'?" he drawled, although she knew him too well to be fooled by his feigned ease. He hadn't relaxed for a moment since Daniel died.
She shook her head, and turned back to the sink. "I'm done," she said, using the few seconds to pull herself together.
"I heard that you..." He faltered to a halt. "You okay?"
Her facade was so badly cracked that her usual response sounded phony, even to her own ears. "Fine sir," she muttered, swiping at her face and turning towards the door he was so effectively blocking.
"Oh," came the clumsy reply. "Well...good. I guess."
"I'm gonna head home."
He nodded. "Right. Well...have fun."
She looked up at that, appalled by the thought. "Fun?" she whispered, staring into his dark eyes. The same dark eyes that had blinked at her in the waking nightmare.
He winced. "Sorry, I..." Then he sighed and stood aside. "Night, Carter."
"Night, sir," she replied, walking past him. But the doorway was narrow and as she passed by he reached out and lightly touched her arm.
"Carter?" he said, speaking in the soft, intimate voice he so rarely used. It stopped her, sending her stomach cart-wheeling. When she glanced over at him she was surprised to see the ghost of a smile on his lips. "We're gonna get through this," he assured her. "All of us."
She simply nodded, feeling too exposed to say more. His light touch on her arm burned like fire, making her battered heart crave more. She knew she had to move before her unruly emotions led her astray. With, perhaps, a little more force than necessary she pulled away from him and almost dashed for the door, feeling his eyes on her back until the locker room door slammed heavily behind her.
***
Jack didn't move for a long time after Carter left, replaying their meeting over and over in his mind. She was taking Daniel's death - or whatever the hell had happened to him - badly. Not that he wasn't cut to the core by the loss, but loss was something with which he was intimately familiar. He knew how to deal with it, how to move on. Hell, compared to the nightmare of guilt and despair that had surrounded Charlie's death, this was easy to bear.
No, he sighed, running a hand over his face as he looked at his tired features in the mirror. Not easy. But it was bearable. Although not for Carter, it seemed. They'd been through so much together, that sometimes he forgot how inexperienced she was. He'd been so frequently immersed in the cold fire of loss that he'd been tempered by it, but for her it was new. Sure, she'd lost people before - Martouf, perhaps, being the closest to her. He tried not to think about how close they may have been. But Daniel was different, he was family. And she was taking it hard.
He sighed as he remembered Carter's red-rimmed eyes, and the bleak shroud of grief he saw bowing her shoulders. And he kicked himself for not helping her. But what could he do? He wasn't exactly a group-hug kinda guy. And as much as the idea of having Carter in his arms was appealing, he was well aware that the tension between them would turn even the most innocent of embraces into something infinitely more profound. And dangerous.
So he'd let her go, afraid to reach out to her and, instead, offering her nothing but an asinine injunction to 'have fun'. "What an idiot," he growled to himself, remembering her outraged look.
But at the same time, he knew that this was how it had to be. How she wanted it to be. Although, he had to admit that since they'd lost Daniel, he had begun to wonder if this was still how *he* wanted it to be. If it had been Carter on that table instead of Daniel..? He shook his head, memories swimming through his mind of her all-but-dead face after the incident with the 'entity'. Yeah, he had a pretty damn good idea how he'd have felt if it had been Carter. And that wasn't a place he wanted to revisit any time soon. Not ever.
With a sigh, he pushed himself back into motion and headed for the showers. The blast of water, just a little too hot, would ease the chill from his bones and heart. And then home to silence and peace. It was the best he cold hope for from the evening.
***
Alcohol. It wasn't often Sam resorted to its mood-altering properties to deal with a crisis, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And so she sat slumped in the corner of her sofa, blindly channel-hopping and trying to ignore the endless commercials for Valentine's gifts.
Say it with flowers? Ha! It would take an entire rainforest to try and explain her complex feelings. She'd just lost a man she'd loved like a brother, and was eaten up with remorse that she'd never told him how much he meant to her. And she was left with a man she loved a whole other way, but she wasn't allowed to tell him how much he meant to her. What a stupid mess. What a stupid, fucking.
Bleep, bleep.
The telephone startled her from her thoughts. She decided to ignore it.
"Hi, this is Sam Carter," chatted her bright and cheery answer-phone. "Leave a message after the tone, and I'll get back to you."
Damn. When had she ever sounded so cheerful?
"Sam? It's Janet. Are you there?"
"No!" Sam called out.
"Okay. I, um, heard that you weren't doing so good today and wondered if you wanted to talk or something. I could come around."
Come around? Hell, no!
"Maybe I'll come around anyhow," Janet continued, in a tone of voice that made Sam suspect she knew she wasn't talking to an empty house. "I think I still have that spare key."
Sam struggled to her feet, managing to knock over her glass in the process and spill red wine all over the floor. "Shit," she cursed as she stumbled towards the phone and snatched it up.
"Janet.?"
"Sam.Hey. You just got in, huh?"
Sliding down the wall to the floor, Sam sighed. "Something like that."
There was a long silence, and then, "So. How are you?"
Closing her eyes, Sam let her head clunk back against the wall. "I hate today," she muttered.
"Today?" Janet repeated. She was going into professional mode, Sam could tell.
"Valentine's," she sighed.
A distinctly unprofessional guffaw came down the phone. "I should put Cassie on. She's got a ton to say about Valentines. None of it good."
A thin smile touched Sam's lips. "Didn't get any, huh?"
"These things are important at fifteen," Janet laughed.
"Yeah," Sam sighed. "I can almost remember."
Janet was silent again. "Seems like they're important to you too."
"No. Not really." Opening her eyes again, she stared around her silent, empty house. "It's just.it's all so fake, isn't it? All this crap about love. It's a product they sell you. But none of it's real."
"Well, that's true enough," Janet agreed. "But sometimes it's real. It just doesn't look like the stuff on chocolate boxes."
Sam was silent, her thoughts drifting inexorably back to Daniel. "I never told him," she said, unconsciously voicing her thoughts.
Down the phone, she could hear Janet's intake of breath. "He knew, Sam."
"Did he?" she whispered, feeling the tears fall again. God, she was so tired of crying. "I'll never know if he did. He just lay there."
"You have to believe it."
Sam shook her head, and swiped at her eyes. "I just wish I'd told him. Before."
"You were good friends, Sam. Everyone could see that."
A sigh shuddered out. "But he never really knew. You always think there'll be time. That one day things will be different and--"
"You know," Janet said then, with an edge of trepidation to her voice. "I may be way off the mark here, but it seems to me." She paused, and Sam braced herself for what was to come. "It seems to me that Daniel isn't the problem."
"He's dead," Sam snapped, wobbling angrily to her feet. "Some people might not seem to care but--"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Janet snapped back. "God, Sam. You know how much I miss him."
Swallowing her anger, Sam raked a hand through her hair and sniffed. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry, it's just."
"Daniel's gone, Sam," Janet said in a husky voice. "And there's nothing any of us can do about that. But I think there's someone else you need to talk to."
"I don't know what you mean," Sam lied, making her way back to the sofa, carefully stepping over the red wine stain on the carpet.
Janet wasn't buying it. "Talk to him, Sam. It might do you both some good."
***
It wasn't until Jack was filling up at the gas station on his way home that he even realized the significance of the date. Valentine's. Not that he'd ever been big on flowers and candies, but gazing at the selection of heart-themed gifts as he as he stood in line to pay got him wondering. Should he have said something to Carter?
Someone nudged him from behind, and Jack moved slightly to let the young man reach forward and pick up a box of candies. The kid eyed the price ruefully, and when he saw Jack watching him he gave a grim smile. "Forgot," he said with a shrug. "She'll kill me if I come home with nothing."
Jack returned the smile half-heartedly, and stepped forward as the clerk asked for his credit card. Women liked that kind of thing, he knew. Sara, for all her down-to-earth practicality, would glare at him in silent reproof each time he forgot. Which was a lot of times. But Carter.? He signed his name on the line mechanically, half an eye still on the gifts. Should he have made some intimation that he was thinking of her?
No, he decided as he stepped back outside into the chill air, she wouldn't expect that. And given the current situation, hearts and flowers were the last thing on any of their minds. With a heavy sigh he climbed back into his truck and threw his bill-fold and cell phone on the passenger seat.
He stopped then, feeling the wave of loss roll over him as Daniel once more intruded into his thoughts. It had only been a week. And he knew, from bitter, bitter experience that the road of bereavement was far longer than that. He remembered its bumpy path well. Not that familiarity made it easier to travel, but he doubted it held any surprises for him anymore. Still, it was a long and lonely path, made more difficult by his inability to share it with anyone. That was the way it always was; his grief was always internal. In some ways he envied Carter her emotional honestly, although the thought of himself breaking down in tears in front of his team was humiliating to the point of terror. And yet perhaps, he mused, as he turned the key in the ignition, the road would be easier to travel with company.
An irritated hoot from the car behind him told him he'd delayed too long at the pump. He pulled away sharply, and turned his truck towards home. It was late and he was tired. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep.
***
Sam was in bed. Her head was muzzy with alcohol, but still sleep refused to come. Rest, of any sort, had been difficult to find since Daniel's death. And so she lay there, in the soft light of her bedside lamp, staring dully at the ceiling.
Daniel was dead. And he'd died not knowing how she felt about him. She'd never told him she loved him, that he was closer than a brother, that.
"Oh God," she slurred into the empty bedroom, "who the hell are you kidding?"
Janet's words, kind but firm, battered into her mind: 'It seems to me that Daniel isn't the problem.'
Sam squeezed her eyes shut. But try as she might, she couldn't deny Janet's words. Truth, when spoken with love, was hard to ignore. The grief she felt at losing Daniel, the regrets she bore for holding back her feelings when he was alive, were illuminating a greater fear; that one day Jack O'Neill would die and she would feel all the same regrets, multiplied a thousand fold.
'I think there's someone else you need to talk to.'
"How can I?" she asked, her voice hollow with defeat. Reason, regulations, and commonsense all told her that the prudent silence she'd maintained on the issue for the best part of two years was the right thing to do. Leave it alone, leave it in the room. Ignore, repress, move on. Yeah, yeah. She'd repeated the mantra a thousand times.
But now, dizzy with alcohol and grief, aching for the loss of her friend, reason was losing its appeal. How could she live with herself, she wondered, if he died without knowing the truth that beat daily in her heart?
"Why do we always wait.?" she said aloud, feeling tears leak down the side of her face. "Why do we wait.?"
***
Jack O'Neill lay deep in sleep, sprawled across the center of the bed with half his face buried in a pillow. The night was dark and still, and outside a frost began to settle under the clear starlit sky.
Far away from where the colonel lay sleeping, discarded on the passenger seat of his truck, his cell phone began to ring.
Bleep-bleep. Bleep-bleep.
In the soft oblivion of sleep, Jack lay unaware of the call in the darkness. Unaware that he was needed.
Bleep-bleep. Bleep- "Hey, this is O'Neill. I'm not here, leave a message."
***
With the phone pressed to her ear as she lay on her bed, Sam struggled to talk through her uncontrollable emotions. Relief and disappointment were at war in her stomach, sending drunken butterflies skittering in all directions as she listened to his brief message. And then the phone beeped again and demanded a response.
Eyes screwed shut, tears a breath away from falling, Sam began to speak. "Sir.it's me. Carter. I. It's late. You're probably asleep, and I'm.I have to speak to you, so. Actually, it's good that I'm talking to your phone. It'll make this easier."
She swallowed, and sucked in a shuddering death. "I've been thinking about Daniel, about.how I never. There were things I wanted to say to him, than I never did. And so I talked to Teal'c, and Janet and I want to. I have to tell you that... Oh God, this is hard."
She raked a hand through her hair, struggling to articulate the thoughts and feelings she'd spent so long trying to ignore. "What I'm trying to say is that I want to tell you how I feel about you, in case anything happens. To you. Or to me, I guess." She sat up, fingers twisting in the sheets as she screwed up her courage; this self-revelation was more terrifying than any battle. "Sir, I want you to know that serving with you has been the most amazing experience of my life, that I've learned so much from you. That I admire you, respect you and.and.that I.that I love you."
There. She'd said it, cast the fateful words into a silent, unresponsive night. Relief and shock made her giddy. "I just wanted you to know that, sir. Because.it's true." And then, not knowing what else to say, she muttered. "Good night," and ended the call.
Flinging the phone onto the floor she pressed both hands over her face. For better of for worse, she'd done it. At last.
***
General Hammond looked around the cafeteria and soon spotted the subdued SG-1, gathered together at the far end of the room. He still found it painful to see just the three of them there, and couldn't shake the feeling that Daniel Jackson would come bounding over at any moment. That was always the way; memories haunted you like ghosts.
He sighed and made his way over to join them. He rarely ate in the cafeteria, but since Doctor Jackson's death he had been making a point of keeping a close eye on his flagship team. And the informality of lunch made it easier to assess how they were dealing with such a significant loss. Not that he didn't trust O'Neill's assessment, he just liked to watch out for his people himself.
"Mind if I join you, Colonel?" he asked as he reached them. The fact that all three of them hadn't noticed his approach was testament to their preoccupation. But O'Neill managed an almost-respectful smile, while Carter and Teal'c simply moved over to make room. Some officers might have been offended by the lack of ceremony, but Hammond knew these people well enough to be flattered by their ease in his presence. He valued the friendship of each and every one of them.
Glancing around the solemn group, his attention was particularly caught by Major Carter. She was pale, to the point of appearing ill. Her cheeks were sunken, and gray circles shadowed her eyes. He frowned and looked over at O'Neill to see if he had noticed her appearance. But the Colonel had just fished his cell phone out of his pocket, and was frowning in concentration as he stared at it, pressing the buttons in an apparently random attempt to get it to do *something*.
"You don't look well, Major," Hammond said, returning his attention to Carter. "Are you okay?"
But she was oblivious to his words, her eyes fixed in a sudden horror on O'Neill.
"Can never work out how to get messages on this damn thing," the Colonel was muttering to himself.
Carter managed to turn an even more deathly shade of pale. "Major?" Hammond pressed. "What on earth's the matter?"
She blinked, looking at him as if she wanted to bolt from the room. "Nothing," she replied, her eyes flicking over to O'Neill. "I.Colonel--"
"Ah, there we go," O'Neill said to himself, holding the phone up to his ear with a small smile of triumph.
"General Hammond is correct," Teal'c joined in. "You look most unwell, Major Carter."
"I.no," she flustered, more at sea than he had ever seen her. Bemused, Hammond glanced over at O'Neill. But the Colonel was sitting unusually motionless, listening with utter concentration to the messages on his phone. His face was inscrutable, but Hammond could have sworn the man had stopped breathing. And then O'Neill started, as if suddenly shocked. His eyes widened and fixed on Carter with a penetrating intensity. Slowly, almost numbly, he lowered the phone and slid it into his pocket, his eyes never leaving her face.
Hammond was no fool, and the fact that Major Carter's pallor had been replaced by a sickly flush told him that something he had no business knowing about had just taken place; Carter looked like she wished the earth would open up and swallow her. Torn between concern and curiosity, he cleared his throat and said, "Get Doctor Fraiser to take a look at you, Major. I wouldn't want--"
"Good idea, sir," Carter blurted, jumping to her feet and almost knocking over her coffee in her haste. "I'll go right now." And with that, she was gone, weaving through the tables with eel-like grace. O'Neill made no move to follow her, although his eyes were fixed on her fleeing back. And a small, surprised smile flickered deep in his eyes, setting regulatory alarm-bells ringing loudly in Hammond's ears.
***
Sam had no intention of seeing Janet, all she wanted to do was run. God, how could she have been so stupid? And what the hell had she said anyway? All she could remember from her long and rambling message were three words, now burned into her mind with mortifying intensity. I love you. She'd said that. She'd actually said that, to her CO!
"Idiot," she hissed at herself, feeling the blush creep again over her face as she all but ran along the corridor. Those moments, sitting there watching him listen to her confession, with the General at her elbow, and been some of the most uncomfortable in her life. What if Hammond had heard? What if he'd suspected the truth from her reaction? Or the colonel's? She'd risked everything! "Stupid!" she berated herself. "How could you be so--"
"Sam?"
She stumbled to a halt, snapping her head up to see Janet a little farther down the corridor with a pile of files clutched against her chest.
"You look terrible," Janet told her. "What's the matter?"
For a split second she almost blurted the truth. But she'd had more than enough truth for one day, and in the end she chose a lie. A white lie, but still a lie. "I feel terrible," she said. "I think I'm gonna head home. Would you do the paper work?"
"Of course," Janet nodded, closing the distance between them. "This is unusual. I can't remember the last time Sam Carter went home sick."
She gave a weak smile. "Special occasion."
Janet's eyes narrowed suspiciously. But, to her credit, all she said was, "Okay. I'll tell Colonel O'Neill."
Sam had to bite her lip to prevent herself from yelling, 'No!' As her CO he had to be informed, of course. Feeling a wave of nervous nausea rise in her throat, Sam just nodded and said, "Thanks." Without risking a longer conversation, she headed straight for the elevator. All she wanted to do now was get the hell out of there before Colonel O'Neill came looking for her. Because she knew he would, and she had no idea what the hell she would say to him.
"God," she growled, hitting the elevator call button. "You are such an idiot, Samantha Carter."
***
'I love you'
She'd said those exact words. I love you. They thrilled through Jack's mind like fireworks, their initial impact deepening with every second that passed. I love you. He'd never thought to hear those words, not from her, not in this life time.
He was still in something of a daze as he wandered into the infirmary. He had no idea what he'd say to her when he eventually tracked her down, but all he knew at that moment was that he had to see her. Her message had been somewhat slurred, drunken he suspected. Which would explain a lot. The Sam Carter he knew played her cards so close to her chest that her feelings were almost impossible to read. But nonetheless, she'd said it. And he couldn't ignore it. In fact, the way his stomach was fluttering in anticipation told him that he didn't *want* to ignore it. He never had. She'd been the one to lock everything down, and while he'd respected her choice, if she wanted to open the door on those feelings there was no way he was going to resist.
I love you.
Wow.
He must have been smiling, or doing something unusual, because the moment Fraiser saw him she tipped her head to one side and said, "Is there something going on that I should know about, sir?"
A grin escaped. "Oh, I don't think so, Doc." He glanced around the disappointingly empty infirmary. "Carter in here?"
Fraiser shook her head. "She went home. She's not feeling too good."
The news was disturbing, and sent a worm of unease wriggling through his previously euphoric thoughts. Carter was never sick. Even when she was sick, she was never 'sick'. Which seemed to imply that her flight from the cafeteria hadn't entirely been due to embarrassment. She was avoiding him. Damn. "Oh," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. "Is she okay? I mean.nothing bad, right?"
"Nothing that some R&R won't cure, I'm sure," Fraiser replied, still watching him carefully. He had the distinct impression she could see right through him.
"Okay," he nodded, turning to leave. "Guess I'll get back to work then."
"Yes, sir.," she replied, trailing off as if she wanted to say more.
Jack glanced over her shoulder. "Doctor?"
Fraiser shook her head. "Nothing, sir."
Good decision, he thought. Whatever happened in his tangled relationship with Carter, the fewer people who knew the better. "Have fun, Doc," he told her with a small smile, leaving her to whatever speculations were currently preoccupying her sharp mind.
***
Being at home wasn't helping. Sam paced the length of her house nervously, fiddling with anything that crossed her path but unable to settle for a moment. Her head ached with a dull hangover, and a week of grief and sleepless nights had robbed her of all her usual resilience.
She felt awful, physically and emotionally. How could so much change in a week? She'd gone from a solid happiness, being part of a team that meant more to her than anything in the universe, to a hopeless wreck unable to keep a lid on her emotions. Daniel was gone, shattering her team - her family - and now she'd gone and made it worse with her drunken confession of feelings that should never have been spoken aloud. No matter how much she'd wanted to tell him, her feelings should have remained unvoiced.
In the cold light of day she knew that. If only she'd been as clear-headed the previous night. Across the room her eye landed on the wine stain on her carpet, and it looked like blood. The life blood of SG-1, first spilled by accident, then drained my her own emotional weakness. Maybe the 'way-of-the-warrior crap' wasn't such crap after all, she thought bitterly. A little stoicism might have saved her a hell of a lot of pain.
With a sigh, she went to fetch something to clean the carpet. It was something to do, she figured, to keep herself from anticipating the inevitable, toe-curlingly embarrassing meeting she faced with O'Neill.
God. Life couldn't get any worse.
***
Passing Colonel O'Neill's office, Teal'c was surprised to see his friend still working. He paused by the door, waiting until O'Neill glanced up.
"Teal'c," he said, looking around as if expecting a fire, "what's up?"
"I believed your duty shift had ended some hours ago," Teal'c told him.
O'Neill nodded. "Yeah," he sighed. "I was just." With a frown, he shook his head and changed the subject. "Hammond wants us to go close up Daniel's apartment tomorrow," he said with a sigh.
Teal'c moved further into the room. "On Chulak," he told him, "it is customary to distribute the possessions of the dead amongst family and friends. The process is considered.cathartic."
"Right," O'Neill nodded absently. "I guess. Daniel had a will, so we'll need to deal with that." He smiled then, a sad smile. "Hope he remembered to leave me his foosball table."
Teal'c raised a skeptical eyebrow, but made no reply. And as he watched, O'Neill's expression changed from melancholy humor to something else. Anxiety. The change was subtle, but he had known the man well for many years. Biding his time, Teal'c waited for O'Neill to speak.
"How do you think Carter's handling all this?" he said at last, glancing up cautiously. "I mean.do you think she's okay?"
"She is greatly saddened by the death of Daniel Jackson," Teal'c observed, "as are we all."
O'Neill nodded. "Yeah, I know. But.do you think she's okay? I mean." He tapped the side of her head, "You don't think she's acting a little strangely?"
Teal'c was surprised by the question. "She is grieving," he replied. "Grief can often make us behave strangely. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," O'Neill blustered, and then, as if hearing the obvious lie, he added, "I just need to make sure she's herself. That she isn't." He got to his feet suddenly and cleared his throat, pushing papers around his desk in an attempt to bring some order to the chaos. "It's just unusual to see her so emotional, that's all."
Remembering his conversation with her in the cafeteria, Teal'c nodded. "She regrets never having spoken to Daniel Jackson of her feelings for him."
O'Neill stopped dead in his desk-tidying. "Feelings?" he repeated in a soft voice.
"Feelings of fraternal affection," Teal'c clarified, amused by O'Neill's sudden suspicion.
"Right," O'Neill nodded, jerking back into motion. "Fraternal." He looked up then and said, "I'm no good with all this feelings crap. I can never say the right thing."
Teal'c nodded. "Between men, it is unnecessary," he agreed. "But Major Carter is a woman. We should make allowances."
O'Neill laughed darkly, shaking his head. "Don't let her hear you say that!" And then he sobered, and said more quietly, "I think maybe she's the one who's been making allowances, Teal'c."
Teal'c said nothing, unsure that he truly understood the subtext of their conversation.
And then, as mercurial as ever, O'Neill smiled and abruptly announced, "I gotta go." He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and bolted for the door. "Lock up, will ya?" he called over his shoulder.
And with that he was gone, leaving Teal'c bemused in his wake.
***
A long soak in a steaming hot bath had done much to improve Sam's humor. She stood now in the kitchen in comfortable sweats, putting together something that could pass for a salad while she waited for her pizza to arrive.
She still felt like an idiot, every time she remembered the startled look on O'Neill's face as he'd listened to her message. But the intervening hours, and the heat of the bath, and allowed her to put things in a clearer perspective. Sure, she'd be embarrassed when they next met. But things had been awkward between them before - after the Zaytarc thing, and the whole Jona/Thera mess - and they'd always gotten past it. They would this time. He'd understand, and they'd move on just like they always did.
And at least now he knew. At least she'd said it, even if it had only been in a drunken message on his phone. If anything happened to him, she wouldn't have that regret. A hell of a lot of others, but not that one. The thought almost made her smile.
Her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of her pizza, so she grabbed her bill-fold from the counter and padded towards the door. The aroma of pizza greeted her the moment she opened the door, but as she delved for the right change a voice said, "This one's on the house."
Sam looked up with a start, to find herself staring into the face of her CO who was standing there holding her pizza box. For a bizarre moment she wondered why the hell he was working for Papa Jones Pizza, until she saw the delivery guy pull away from the curb, passing rather close to O'Neill's truck. "Oh," she said. And with understanding came mortification, as she realized that the meeting she'd been dreading all day was suddenly, and unexpectedly, upon her. "Colonel."
"If you don't let me in, your pizza's gonna get cold," he told her, with a smile that was uncharacteristically gentle. Affectionate even. Her heart began to hammer. What the hell was this?
Stepping out of the way, she let him in and closed the door carefully behind him. O'Neill didn't pause as he carried her pizza directly to the kitchen, "Don't tell me you ordered tuna again," he said as he went.
Flustered, Sam followed. "I wasn't expecting company," she said in her defense, pausing at the kitchen door as he dropped the box on the counter and turned to face her.
"Weren't you?" he asked, his voice soft again.
She swallowed hard. "Look, sir. I know why you're here. And I.I don't know what to say. It was unprofessional, and stupid and--"
"Carter," he said, injecting a note of command into his voice. "Shhh."
She blinked, watching as he took a cautious step closer. "I spoke to Teal'c this evening," he said, his eyes pinning her where she stood. "He told me how you felt about Daniel - about never having told him how you felt."
"Oh," she whispered, closing her eyes with an uncomfortable grimace.
"And," O'Neill continued carefully, "I think you have a point."
When she opened her eyes, she saw that he'd moved closer. Nothing disrespectful, but closer. "That's not an excuse," she told him huskily. "I should have been more professional."
"Why?"
It was hardly the question she'd been expecting. "Because that's the way things are," she reminded him. "The way they have to be."
But he shook his head, his brow furrowing. "Is it? It doesn't seem right anymore."
"The regulations--"
"--are a guideline."
Sam backed away and found herself against the wall. "What are you saying?"
His eyes were still fixed on hers, but he didn't move closer again. "That I'm glad you said what you said. That.," he smiled self-consciously, "that it made me - makes me - incredibly happy."
Her heart thudded in a single, painful jolt. "It does.?"
"Carter," he said, closing the gap between them once more. "I wish.I'm no good with words. I can't." Another step closer, his eyes fixed on hers. "I want you to know how I feel."
He was very close now, right inside her personal space. With her back pressed against the wall, his presence in front of her was overpowering. He filled her mind, her vision, and her facility for speech fled. All she could do was nod. "I don't have the right words," he told her, still moving relentlessly closer. His warm breath caressed her cheek, her heart stuttered out a thudding tattoo, and she felt pulses of electricity shivering from head to toe. "And so" he whispered, "I'll just have to show you."
In the space of a breathless heartbeat, he leaned down and kissed her softly and tenderly. She was too stunned to respond, and the kiss was brief. Moving away, just enough that he could look into her eyes, he smiled and said, "So, now you know."
Sam just blinked at him, her heart too full for words. But words weren't needed, because there was really nothing more to say. And so she did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him, and this time there was no hesitation on either side. He wrapped his arms around her eagerly, clasping her against him as the kiss intensified. And in that moment Sam felt something break in her heart. It was as if a tremendous tension had snapped, and a well of emotions flooded helplessly to the surface. Tears were irrepressible, a mixture of sweet joy and lasting grief.
Perhaps sharing her feelings, or simply sensing them, O'Neill broke the kiss and simply pulled her into a fierce hug. Sam was shaking, torn between laugher and tears. Daniel was gone, one of her dearest friends lost to her forever, and yet here she was wrapped in a love of such strength it was overwhelming. The depth of her feelings was too much to bear, they refused to be repressed and for once she didn't try. She simply stood there, letting him hold her and comfort her, even as she held and comforted him in return. And after a while she felt his breathing begin to shudder too, and his tears mingled with hers as they shared the bitter-sweet poignancy of the moment, each drawing solace from the other.
Epilogue
"You know, it's just unnatural," Jack complained later, picking the tuna off his pizza.
Carter smiled from where she sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, watching him with open affection. "Why? People put anchovies on pizza all the time."
He glanced up at that, right into her eyes. God, they were beautiful, even shadowed, as they still were, by grief. "Yeah. Crazy people."
Her smile sparkled for a moment, before it softened and she sighed. "Daniel did. Anchovies and pineapple."
He chuckled. "Case in point."
"He wasn't crazy," she countered, still smiling. "A little eccentric perhaps."
"Perhaps? His apartment has more book-shelves than walls." He sobered then, his words reminding him of the task the following day held. Carefully, he replaced his pizza on the plate and moved closer to her. "You gonna be okay with clearing out his apartment tomorrow? Because Teal'c and I could--"
"I'll be fine," she assured him, seriously. "I want to be there." And he could tell by the resolute determination in her face that she was speaking from the heart.
"Then I'm glad," he told her quietly, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. "It'll be easier if we're all there."
To his surprise, she covered his hand with her own. She was a little hesitant, but their shared kiss and the subsequent emotional tidal wave had changed much between them. "It's a team thing," she said. "SG-1."
"Yeah," he nodded, squeezing her fingers. "That's exactly what it is."
"And this?" she asked then, her thumb moving softly over the back of his hand. "What's this?"
He smiled at that. "Team building?" he suggested, earning himself another smile. Then, more seriously, "I don't know what this is, Carter. I just know it feels right and that sometimes you have to do the right thing, even when it's the wrong thing."
Carter nodded. "A week ago, I'd have said that was crazy."
"And now?" he pressed gently.
"And now I think you have to take every moment as it comes, and that every second you deny the truth is wasted time."
Her words touched him, speaking to a truth he had long felt. He envied her eloquence, and all he could do in return was reach over and place another soft kiss on her lips. "So," he whispered, still close enough that their breath mingled, "here's a truth.I love you, Samantha Carter."
She smiled, still shaky with emotion, and kissed him again. "I love you too," she whispered back, sending his heart soaring. "And I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but all I know is that I'm tired of waiting."
With that, she pulled him back into her arms and kissed him with a force of passion that was breathtaking. And as he held her close, he knew that another chapter in their tangled lives had begun. For good, or for ill, since Daniel's death everything had changed. The future lay in the lap of the gods, and Jack O'Neill had learned long ago not to try and predict the twists and turns they had in store. All you could do was hold on and enjoy the ride. Which was exactly what he was planning to do, and with Carter at his side he knew the ride would be incredible.
~End~
Story Notes: Notes: Lots of notes!
First, this is pretty short and I feel bad that I haven't had time to write much recently. Sorry, guys, but RL is very busy right now. Hopefully after June I will be able to produce something longer!
Second, this is the first thing I've written since the end of Season 5, and I have to say I miss Daniel! Twice I started writing scenes in this from his POV, only to remember that he is no more. It was sad. So, RIP Daniel Jackson, you will be missed. But life goes on, and so does the show - thank the Lord and MGM!
Third, I didn't have time to get this beta read, so my apologies for any mistakes. Enjoy!
Fourth, this story is now posted on my website at: http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/
First, this is pretty short and I feel bad that I haven't had time to write much recently. Sorry, guys, but RL is very busy right now. Hopefully after June I will be able to produce something longer!
Second, this is the first thing I've written since the end of Season 5, and I have to say I miss Daniel! Twice I started writing scenes in this from his POV, only to remember that he is no more. It was sad. So, RIP Daniel Jackson, you will be missed. But life goes on, and so does the show - thank the Lord and MGM!
Third, I didn't have time to get this beta read, so my apologies for any mistakes. Enjoy!
Fourth, this story is now posted on my website at: http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/
End Notes: Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it. Whatever you thought of it, I'd love to hear from you at sallyreeve@blueyonder.co.uk
P.S. I know Jack's cell phone wouldn't have worked under Cheyenne Mountain. Call it artistic license. Or lazy-writer syndrome!
P.S. I know Jack's cell phone wouldn't have worked under Cheyenne Mountain. Call it artistic license. Or lazy-writer syndrome!
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 ]