Part 1
Jack was almost out of breath by the time he reached the gate room – he'd totally lost track of time and had nearly missed saying goodbye to half his team as they headed out on another archaeological extravaganza. Daniel was standing eagerly before the spinning Stargate, looking incredibly excited, as Jack dashed into the room. He slowed his trot to a walk as he approached, weaving his way through SG-7 who were milling around ready to depart.
"Hey," he said, tapping Daniel on the shoulder to get his attention. "Got your tickets, passport, traveler's checks…?"
Daniel grinned. "This is going to be amazing," he enthused. "If the preliminary translations I've done are correct, then we might be on the point of proving the existence of Atlantis! I know that…."
Fortunately the wormhole interrupted his flow as it splashed out into the room, and Jack took advantage of the momentary pause in Daniel's conversation to jump in. "Look," he said, glancing hurriedly around before pulling a small package out of his pocket and offering it to Daniel, "would you give this to Carter tomorrow?"
Daniel stopped mid-track and frowned. "Ah… why?" he asked, staring bemusedly at the gift.
Feeling a little awkward, Jack shifted onto his toes and said, "Well, it's just small, I mean it's nothing really , but I…."
"Oh God!" Daniel groaned suddenly, slapping a hand over his forehead. "It's her birthday."
Jack smiled slowly, shaking his head at his friend's discomfort. "Don't tell me you forgot," he said, enjoying the way Daniel was squirming.
"I've been so caught up in this mission," he explained, wincing with guilt. And then, as was so common with Daniel, he seemed to change track mid-thought. "Oh!" he said, face brightening. "She's not coming!"
"What?"
"She called me last night." Daniel was nodding in obvious relief at being let off the hook. "I can't believe I forgot! Yeah, she's, um, got a cold or flu or something. She's off sick." He smiled happily.
Jack couldn't share his pleasure. "Carter's off sick?" he repeated. He couldn't remember the last time she'd been off sick – possession by snakes aside. "Is she okay?"
The smile faded from Daniel's face. "Actually, she sounded pretty rough," he said. "She's kind of lost her voice – it sounded like a nasty one."
Thoughtfully, Jack slipped the gift back into his pocket. "Huh," he said, "that sucks."
Around them, SG-7 were getting ready to leave and over the speaker General Hammond's voice boomed out. "You have a go SG-7, Doctor Jackson, we'll see you in seven days."
Daniel looked up and waved a farewell to Hammond, before turning back to Jack. "I guess you'll be able to give her your gift yourself," he said with studied innocence.
Jack's eyes narrowed as he searched his friend's face for a deeper meaning but Daniel gave nothing away. "Have fun," Jack said at last, nodding towards the ramp where the last members of SG-7 were waiting for him.
"You too," Daniel replied. "And tell Sam I'll bring her back a souvenir from Atlantis."
Jack pondered suspiciously Daniel's implication that he'd be seeing Sam, but it wasn't until Daniel was half way up the ramp that he called out, "I'm going fishing!"
"Really?" Daniel replied, without a backward glance. "Is that what it's called these days?" And with that he stepped into the worm-hole and was on the other side of the galaxy before Jack could think of an appropriate response.
Turning around, he found himself face to face with a stoic SF. "Fishing," he assured him, heading to the door. "Fishing. In my cabin. Alone. Definitely alone. Unless you count the mosquitoes. And the fish. And…."
Ah hell, who was he kidding?
***
There were some missions Sam wouldn't mind missing – the ones with the rain, or the desert, or the endless trees. The ones where she got forced to dress in outrageous local clothes, or infected by mysterious alien viruses, or trapped in freezing ice-caverns….. Yeah. But this one – this one involved a lost civilization, the answer to a question that had plagued history since history began and, most importantly, miles of white, sandy beaches. Beaches with gentle lapping waves, warm sunshine and no one to disturb the peace. All in all…fantastic.
And so it was just her luck that instead of exploring the warm sand and warm oceans of GRT-739, she was laid flat out on her sofa with a pile of used Kleenexes on the floor at her side, a head that felt as though an army had set up camp inside it, limbs that ached in whatever position she lay, and a throat that made even sipping at water a tortuous event. Yeah, just her luck.
It was typical and she should have guessed that something like this would happen. It always did. There was just something about her birthday that attracted disaster. If she'd been the sort of person who believed in cosmic forces, she'd have blamed ill-omened planets. But lacking superstition to fall back on, Sam was forced to admit that she just had bad stinking luck.
She rolled over, suddenly hot beneath the quilt she'd been shivering under only minutes earlier. Flinging it off, she let it fall to the floor and lay there in her shorts and tank-top staring at the banality of daytime TV. Blearily she read the caption beneath the woman speaking on the screen. `Sleeping with her mother's boyfriend' it read. Sam shook her head and might have laughed had the movement not sent another arc of pain drilling into the top of her head. Closing her eyes instead she tried to imagine herself on the warm sandy beach, perhaps sipping a frozen margarita with the sun hot on her skin, until eventually the combined efforts of cough medicine, decongestant and Advil sent her sinking into sleep.
***
Jack had woken early, roused from a restless sleep by a persistent, nagging thought: why had Daniel assumed that he'd go visit Carter and why did he find that assumption so…unsettling? After all she was sick and he was her CO. It wouldn't be entirely unnatural for him to check up on her. Would it…?
He paused as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and tried to think back to an occasion when he'd been to check up on one of his other seconds in command when they'd come down with flu. Okay, so… none. He frowned and continued brushing his teeth.
Carter was different, he reasoned. He was her CO but SG-1 was like no team he'd ever worked with before – they were as close as family. He and Teal'c were like brothers in arms in all senses of the phrase, while he had a bond with Daniel that was unique. He'd never had that kind of relationship with a guy before – normally it was all back- slapping, innuendo-flying guy stuff. But Daniel didn't do that crap. He did things like…talk. All the goddamn time, it seemed. But sometimes Jack found himself talking back in a way he'd never been able to do before, not to anyone. Not even to Sara. Yeah, he and Daniel had something strong, powerful…weird. And then there was Carter. Suddenly an image of her smile flashed before his eyes, bright beautiful and…
Oh God, what the hell was that feeling in the pit of his stomach? Adrenaline, excitement …desire? His toothbrush paused halfway back to the cup on his sink. Carter. Carter's smile. Carter's wide, expressive eyes. Carter's self-assurance and humor. And then, abruptly, Carter's pale and lifeless face as Jolinar died within her and his own heart turning as gray as ashes…..
Sucking in a sharp breath, he realized that he hadn't been breathing. But still he couldn't tear his gaze away from the face staring back at him in the mirror. "For crying out loud, O'Neill," he muttered, "what the hell is this?"
But he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer and turned abruptly away, heading back into the bedroom to get dressed. He did a good job of forcing all disquieting thoughts of Carter from his mind until he'd taken his first sip of coffee, but then his eyes came to rest on the small gift he'd bought for her birthday sitting on the kitchen counter.
He hadn't been lying when he'd told Daniel is was small – just a picture. It wasn't inappropriate. Not at all. So why had he been so glad that Carter would be off-world with Daniel so he could get him to pass on the gift? He didn't have an answer, merely stared accusingly at the inoffensive package and wondered if he should swing by her house to say happy birthday. It sucked to be sick and alone on your birthday, and she might appreciate the company. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Colleagues, friends if you will, watching out for each other. He'd do the same for Teal'c, or Daniel, right? Sure he would. No question.
Lowering his mug to the countertop he picked up the gift and looked around for his car keys. He had to stop at the grocery store anyhow, which was almost – kinda - in the same direction. It was totally natural that he'd stop by and see how she was doing on her birthday, sick as she was. Totally natural. Totally.
***
Sam cursed as the doorbell roused her from her uncomfortable doze. Her head was still thudding but she pulled herself wearily to her feet, tugged her quilt around her shoulders since she was shivering again, and padded across the floor towards the door. She had no idea who'd be pestering her but had vague thoughts about it being a birthday gift from Mark. She unlocked the deadbolt, pausing only to wipe her streaming nose before opening the door. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Jesus! Carter, you look like crap."
She blinked. "Colonel? What are you doing here?"
He stood there on her porch, a bag of groceries in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other. It was such an unusual sight that she was half convinced she was dreaming. "Ah," he said into the sudden silence, "I heard you were sick. Came to say happy birthday."
"Oh," she nodded, astonished and at a loss for words. "Well…um…come in. The house is a mess, but…."
"Don't sweat it," he said, as he followed her into the living room. "You should see my house when….holy smoke!"
Slumping back onto the sofa, she saw him standing in the middle of her chaotic living room staring at the jumble of books, magazines, screwed-up Kleenex, half-full glasses and dirty plates. "I haven't felt like tidying," she explained weakly, a sudden wave of light- headedness forcing her to lay back down on the sofa.
"No," he agreed as he began picking his way through the mess. "You look awful, Carter," he added in a soft voice she'd rarely heard before. "Are you taking anything?"
Sam waved a heavy hand towards the various pills and potions on the coffee table. "All of them," she mumbled, losing the words as she blew her nose for the hundredth time. It was red and sore, and very unattractive she was sure. Along with the limp, unwashed hair, the puffy eyes and pale face. Not that she cared what she looked like. Why would she? It was only the Colonel. And he certainly wouldn't care.
"I bought you these," O'Neill said then, waving the flowers as he picked up a couple of books from the armchair to make room to sit down.
"That was kind," she told him, but made no effort to take them. She really didn't think she could stand up again.
O'Neill nodded. "I'll put them in some water for you," he decided, getting back to his feet. "Do you have a vase?"
"Kitchen," she replied, following him with her eyes as he sauntered out of the room. Despite feeling so lousy, she couldn't help but wonder what he was doing there. He never made social calls, in fact she thought this was probably only the second time he'd visited her house at all. "Is there something wrong, sir?" she called after him, suddenly struck by the fear that he was there to break bad news.
His reply drifted in from the kitchen. "Only with you," he said. "I thought you might want some company, since you missed out on Daniel's `Man from Atlantis' trip."
She smiled at that and he caught the expression as he returned with the flowers haphazardly arranged in a vase. "They're beautiful," she told him. "Thanks – you didn't need to."
"I know," he nodded, once again in that unfamiliar, soft voice. "I wanted to. It sucks to be sick on your birthday."
"Humph," she muttered, pulling her quilt a little higher under her chin, "I'm too old to care about birthdays."
That earned her a flat look. "You're not exactly over the hill, Carter," he pointed out. "How old are you? Thirty-three?"
"Don't remind me," she groaned.
He didn't reply to that, merely returned to the chair and sat down. "Daniel said to tell you he'll bring you back a souvenir," he said, obviously changing the subject as he picked up a book from the coffee table and started studying it.
"Bet he was excited," Sam replied, thinking wistfully again of warm water and palm-fringed beaches.
"Oh yeah," he agreed, absently flicking through the book in his hands, "like a kid about to enter the world's biggest candy store." He glanced up. "You read this stuff?" he asked.
"What?" she said, straining to see which book he held. Ah – John Grisham. She smiled. "I like a little escapism. I used to read sci- fi but…."
"…you didn't want to bring the job home with you," he nodded, dropping the book back on the table. "Got ya."
"How about you?" she asked, relaxing back into the pillow. "What do you read?"
"Other than the hockey scores, you mean?" he asked wryly. But there was a self-deprecating tone in his voice that belied his humor.
Maybe it was because she felt like shit, but for some reason the normal rules of the world felt as though they were suspended. Here she was, crashed out in the middle of a chaotic living room, wearing short shorts and a stringy vest, making small-talk with her CO. It was hardly an everyday occurrence and so everyday rules – and reason – didn't apply. "Why do you do that?" she asked him, stifling a yawn.
"Do what?" he asked.
Sam shrugged. "Make out like your stupid, when you're clearly quite the opposite."
O'Neill's brows rose in obvious surprise and for a moment she regretted her words, but then his face softened and he turned his gaze away from hers. "I didn't realize I did," he said quietly.
"It's probably defensive," Sam decided, her eyes beginning to droop towards sleep. "If people underestimate you, it gives you the advantage."
He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I guess so," he said, and she smiled at the surprise she heard in his voice.
"Didn't work though, sir," she mumbled sleepily. "I saw right through you from the start…."
"Yeah well," she heard through a fog of sleep, "you always were way smarter than me, Sam."
Sam. She smiled slightly, the name sounding warm and reassuring on his lips, before she fell helplessly into sleep's gentle embrace. Sam….
***
Jack sat and watched her for a long time. He knew he should probably leave her to rest, but for some reason leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. And besides, she really was sick. Her face was pale but tinted with a flush that spoke of fever, gray shadows lay beneath her closed eyes and her nose was swollen and red. She really did look awful. But at the same time there was something oddly appealing about her unusual vulnerability, something that made him want to… touch her. The thought stung him like a bee, making him start sharply at the sudden realization. Oh God, he wanted to touch her. He wanted to brush the hair from her face, take care of her, make her well…. What the hell was this? What the *hell* was happening to him? He was a soldier. Carter was a soldier. And yet….
Abruptly he got to his feet, afraid that if he sat there staring at her any longer he might actually act on these disturbing impulses. But despite the slow realization that was dawning, or maybe because of it, Jack still didn't want to leave. Instead, he began quietly moving around her living room attempting to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. Once he'd piled her books and magazines up beside the sofa - who'd have ever thought Carter read Cosmopolitan! - he collected the various plates, mugs and glasses from around the room and made his way into the kitchen. It wasn't much better than the living room, and seeing that the dishwasher was empty he began to load it. He smiled to himself as he worked, somewhat surprised at the mess all around him, and wondered if Carter usually lived among such clutter or whether it was simply because she was sick.
He realized that he actually knew very little about her personal life or personal habits. All he really knew was Captain Carter, with a little Doctor Carter thrown in for good measure. Captain Carter was the personification of order and efficiency and Doctor Carter was about the same. But about Samantha Carter he knew very little, and he was beginning to realize that he'd like to know more. A lot more. More than their working relationship and relative ranks gave him any right to know.
Frowning at the thoughts and trying again to ignore the truth that was hammering in his heart for attention, he started opening cupboards in search of dishwasher powder. He found it at last, but his search had revealed that Carter's cupboards were more than a little bare. He checked the fridge and it was the same. Damn, he knew she spent way too much time on base but this was ridiculous! He moved quietly back into the living room intending to retrieve the bag of groceries sitting on the floor near his chair, but he stopped just inside the door, transfixed. Carter still slept, but he could see sweat on her face now dampening her hair and making it curl softly around her ears. She'd flung the quilt off and Jack felt his stomach turn over excitedly at the sight of her long, bare legs and the little vest that really didn't leave much to the imagination. Christ, Carter…!
The wave of desire rose up from the pit of his belly with an intensity that he hadn't felt in years and he turned hurriedly away, retreating to the kitchen with his groceries. Nice going Jack, he berated himself, you're getting the dirty old man routine down real good. He found that his fingers were actually shaking a little as he began to unload the groceries onto the kitchen counter, his mind still struggling to get over the sudden rush of emotion. He wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling - attraction, interest…lust - but he did know that whatever it was called, it was damn unprofessional.
Still trying to get a grip on himself and his growing awareness of something long repressed, Jack pulled open the fridge and started loading it with the milk, juice and bread he'd brought for himself. He could always get more, but Carter wouldn't be leaving the house any time soon and she had to eat something. He dithered with the pint of Super Fudge Chunk ice cream, but figured that Carter must like chocolate. She was a woman, after all. Oh yeah, a wicked part of his mind reminded him, definitely a woman. He shook his head and pushed the ice cream into the freezer, alongside a couple of frosted cartons of left over Chinese take-out that looked as though they'd been there way too long. He shook his head, smiling again. This was not the Carter he'd imagined.
He decided that she probably didn't need the six-pack of Rolling Rock, so kept those for himself, scrunched up the bag and threw it in the trash. Time to go, he decided, uneasy with what he was feeling and deciding that retreat was probably the most prudent course of action. But he'd only taken a couple of steps beyond the kitchen when Carter opened her eyes. She blinked curiously for a moment and then smiled broadly. "You stayed," she beamed. He was lost.
"Ah…," he muttered, his heart racing like a kid on his first date. For crying out loud, it's just Carter!
She didn't appear to have noticed his discomfort, for she was gazing around the room in astonishment. When she returned her gaze to his her eyes were wide. "Did you tidy up?"
Jack shrugged. "Well, kinda….."
Carter pushed herself upright, pulling her quilt over her lap but revealing a whole lot of bare shoulder in her strappy little top - and hinting at so much more beneath. Oh Christ, this was *so* not happening! "Sir," she said, smiling even as she shook her head, "you really shouldn't have bothered."
"It didn't take long," he assured her, taking another couple of steps towards the door and safety.
But she was having none of it. "You're leaving?" she asked, sounding very disappointed.
"Well…," he replied, the words of a lie forming on his lips. But the mixture of hope and disappointment in her wide eyes stalled him. "Well, I," he tried again, "I thought you probably wanted to rest so…."
"Actually, I wouldn't mind some company," she replied, pulling her legs up under the quilt and resting her chin on her knees. "It's so boring being sick. Daytime TV drives me insane." She smiled at him, a frank friendly smile with no hidden agendas. "But if you're busy….?"
"I'm not." The words rushed out before he could stop them, his desire to stay trumping his reason.
He was rewarded by another dazzling smile and he felt his heart swell. This was bad. Oh God, this was very bad. "I don't think I have much in the house to eat," Carter said then, "but if you want to stay and have some lunch we could order pizza or something. I'm not hungry but…"
"Actually I bought a few things round," Jack interrupted, with a vague wave towards the kitchen. "Sandwich fixings and stuff." Ignoring her amazed look he hurried on. "You should probably eat something. I could fix you a sandwich."
Carter shook her head. "I'm really not hungry," she assured him. "But…sir, did you buy me groceries?"
"No," he replied quickly. "No, I bought myself groceries. But when I saw the state of your fridge I decided that your need was greater."
"Wow," she replied, genuinely nonplussed. "I don't know what to say."
"I'd have done the same for Daniel," he assured her. "Or Teal'c."
"Yes sir," Carter replied hurriedly, dropping his gaze to stare at her lap. "Of course you would." Jack paused, watching her. Was it wishful thinking or was there a note of disappointment in her voice?
She glanced up again almost immediately. "You know," she said swinging her legs off the side of the sofa, "if you don't mind I think I might take a shower first. It might make me feel better."
Jack had to force himself to keep his eyes on her face and not on her legs. "Knock yourself out," he said with a shrug. "I'll make us some lunch."
Carter rose shakily to her feet, steadying herself against the wallfor a moment. "Light-headed," she explained as he watched her with some concern. He was a little afraid that he might have to help her into the bathroom, and although there was a certain appeal to getting up-close and personal to that much exposed flesh, he really wasn't sure it would be good for him. But after a moment she smiled again. Jack smiled back and for an instant their eyes locked in a warm, affectionate gaze. Her face softened. "Thanks sir," she said quietly. "I'm glad you stopped by."
"Me too," he agreed. And then with a little nod she dropped his gaze and he turned back towards the kitchen.
"No mayo," she called as she headed for the bathroom, "wheat, not rye, no lettuce, no onion, extra tomato…."
Jack grinned.
In the back of his mind a little voice was screaming at him to stop, to get out of her house and to jump into bed with the first willing woman he could find. Anything to erase the image of Carter's long, shapely legs and the incredible curves revealed by her skimpy top. Anything to return Carter in his mind to nothing more than his second- in-command, a friend at most. But even though he knew that his conscience was right, that he was heading out across paper-thin ice, he decided to ignore the warnings and keep on going. The lure of her company right now was just too much to resist. It had been so long since he'd felt this kind of buzz that despite the dangers in the situation he really didn't want to stop. He felt too alive and it had been a long, long time since he'd felt this good.
***
Sam felt marginally better after she'd showered, although the effort totally wiped her out and she crashed on her bed for at least ten minutes before she had the energy to get dressed. But as she dozed she couldn't help but muse over the strange fact that Colonel O'Neill was in her kitchen, making her lunch. It was…unusual to say the least.
Not that she wasn't grateful for the company, or for the food come to that. Although she was a little surprised that he'd be so thoughtful. The Colonel had lots of charms, but she'd never seen him as the thoughtful type. Passionate, yes, but thoughtful…. Whoa! Her eyes flashed open. Passionate? Where the hell had that come from?
She blinked, his dark eyes suddenly in her mind's eye. Dark with anger, dark with warmth, dark with intensity. Yeah, she nodded, passionate was probably the right word. Not in the sexual sense, of course, she told herself as she sat up. She meant passionate in his beliefs. O'Neill was a man who felt things deeply. He was a loyal friend, but boy could the man hold a grudge.
Shaking herself out of her musings, Sam got dressed slowly. If she'd been alone she'd have dragged on her sloppy sweats and a baggy t- shirt. But despite feeling like road-kill she pulled on her jeans and a white t-shirt that fitted a little more snuggly. Not that was worried about how she looked. Gazing in the mirror, she realized that whatever she wore would never negate the pallid complexion, dark- ringed eyes and red, swollen nose. She gave her hair a brief taste of the hairdryer, before giving up and heading back to the living room.
The Colonel had set a couple of plates with sandwiches on the coffee table and she heard the percolator burbling in the kitchen. She really wasn't hungry, but she appreciated the effort as she sank back gratefully onto the sofa. Her quilt had been folded up and she smiled at this odd domesticity.
"Hey," O'Neill said as he emerged from the kitchen with a mug. "You want coffee?"
Sam shook her head, her stomach revolting at the idea. "Is there any juice?" she asked, feeling rather ridiculous for having to ask in her own house. But the Colonel just smiled.
"Orange or cranberry?"
"Cranberry," she decided. And then, a little louder she called out, "Never saw you as a juice kind of guy, sir."
He didn't reply until he came back into the living room and set a tall glass of juice in front of her. "There's lots you don't know about me, Carter," he assured her.
"Well, that's true," she agreed taking a sip of juice. Its sharp taste cut right through her stuffy head and she had to admit it felt good.
O'Neill was watching her out of the corner of his eye as he came and sat on the other end of the sofa. "And lots I don't know about you either," he said as a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. "Like how house-proud you are..n't."
"It's not always this bad, sir," she assured him, feeling an embarrassed flush creep over her face. "Usually I at least have food in the house, but I've been feeling so rough…."
"Hey!" he interrupted, raising a hand to halt her. "I was joking. I don't care what your house looks like." He smiled again. "Actually, this is kinda reassuring. Captain Carter can be a little intimidatingly perfect sometimes."
Sam was astonished by the remark. "Me, intimidating?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief.
He shrugged. "Well, come on, you are pretty…perfect. Never late, never wrong, never out of line…."
She laughed at the picture of herself. "Never wrong?" she said, shaking her head. "I can think of a few times."
"Never when it mattered," he assured her in a voice that was suddenly intense. She glanced over at his face, but his eyes just slid away before she could catch them. "I'm just saying," he muttered, "that it's nice to know that you're not always so perfect."
Sam shook her head in disbelief. "You know," she said, watching as O'Neill reached for his sandwich and started eating, "that's actually pretty funny, sir."
"It is?" he said with his mouth full.
"Yeah, because I think you can be quite intimidating at times."
He didn't look surprised. "I'm meant to be," he told her as he swallowed his mouthful. "It took years of training to perfect that skill."
She smiled. "Training? They teach you how to do the intimidating scowls when you reach Full Colonel?"
"Oh yeah," he nodded, catching her light tone. "The scowls, the order-barking, the grouchy temper before you've had your first coffee of the morning. It's all there in Colonel 101." They shared another smile and his face softened a little. "But," he added almost nervously, "you don't really…. I mean, you're not intimidated. Are you?"
Sam shrugged and reached for her sandwich. "Sometimes," she admitted. "I was at first. When I thought…." Suddenly realizing what she was about to say, Sam swallowed her words.
But the Colonel wasn't going to let it drop. "When you thought what?" he asked curiously.
She shook her head. "Probably not a good idea, sir," she told him.
She was surprised to see him wince as he returned his attention to his sandwich, although he didn't take another bite. "You know," he said carefully, "sometimes I can come across as a bit of an ass. If I've ever made you feel uncomfortable, or made you think that I don't have the highest respect for you as an officer and as…a friend…then I'm sorry."
His little speech was as astonishing as everything else about the day. "You haven't," she assured him quietly. "I guess I was just afraid that I wouldn't live up to your expectations for a while, that's all. It wasn't anything you did."
"I'm glad to hear that," he told her with another smile. "Because I do respect you, Carter. A lot. A hell of a lot. You're a fine officer. And I probably don't tell you that enough."
Sam felt her heart start to race under his intense, serious gaze. And she knew herself well enough to understand that it wasn't entirely due to his unaccustomed praise. There was just something about the way he was watching her that touched her more deeply than was proper. There was something in those dark, intent eyes that made her want to…touch him. Oh God, she wanted to touch him. Shit.
She broke the gaze hurriedly and feeling ridiculously flustered said, "Thanks sir, that…means a lot. I respect you too. Even when you're…."
"…being an ass?" he finished for her.
Sam grinned. "Your words, sir."
He nodded thoughtfully, and then said, "You think you can lose the sir for a while, Carter?"
"Sir?"
"It's just us," he pointed out.
"Oh," she said uncertainly, still trying to get her heart to stop racing. "Okay. Why not, I guess…Jack." It felt awkward to use his first name, but at the same time it leant an immediate intimacy to their conversation. And she had to admit, she liked it.
O'Neill - Jack - smiled, still watching her for a moment longer before he took another bite of sandwich. "So," he said around the food, "did you get much loot for your birthday?"
Loot? Sam shook her head at the term. "Janet got me a great bottle of wine and Mark sent me Amazon.com gift certificates," she told him. "Dad…?" She shrugged. "I don't think the Tok'ra do birthdays."
"Yeah," he agreed, "by the time you reach a hundred there's no room for all the candles on the cake."
She grinned. "Oh," she said, reaching to the shelf beneath the coffee table, "and Teal'c got me these."
"Swiss chocolates?" Jack nodded. "Very…Swiss."
"Last year he got me a book on meditation techniques," she explained.
Jack's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Really? So the chocolates were….?"
"My idea."
"Good choice," he agreed. And then he reached for his jacket that lay over the back of the sofa and pulled something out of the pocket. "Here," he said, offering her the gift. "I got you something too. It's just small."
Touched, Sam smiled as she took the present. "Thank you," she said, turning it over slowly in her hands before she opened it. "What is it?"
"I guess it's what we're fighting for," he said with a serious smile.
Curious now, she peeled the tape away from the paper and took a look at what was inside. It was a flat cardboard box but she smiled when she lifted the lid. Inside was a silver-framed picture of Earth in all its glory, obviously taken from the shuttle. "That's so beautiful," she breathed, looking up at him with a sudden burst of emotion. "What we're fighting for," she repeated, returning her gaze to the picture. "It's hard to remember sometimes."
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I have one of these too," he said. "It helps, after a bad mission."
Sam didn't reply because her throat was suddenly choked with emotion. It was probably the most thoughtful gift she'd ever received. Covering the tears that pricked in her eyes by hurriedly blowing her nose, she cleared her throat and looked up at him again. "Thank you," she said. "It's a wonderful present." And then, to her utter surprise, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
He jumped a little, as if her touch were electric, but he didn't seem offended. Instead he just smiled again, looking very pleased. "I'm glad you like it, Sam."
Sam. God, she liked the way he said that. She was staring at him again, and he was staring back although she wasn't certain she understood what she saw in his guarded eyes. "It's worth it," she said into the silence between them. "Everything we've been through. It's worth it, for this."
"It is," he agreed. "It's worth it for this." But at that moment she wasn't certain whether he meant the planet or…something else.
Swallowing hard she looked away and picked up her sandwich again. She still wasn't hungry, but took a bite anyway and at her side Jack returned to his own lunch. They were quiet, but the silence was thoughtful, not uncomfortable. After taking another couple of bites of sandwich, Sam returned the plate to the coffee table and lay her head back against the cushions. She felt nauseous and exhausted, her head thudded and she wasn't entirely sure she could keep her eyes open much longer. "You look pale," Jack said quietly, and she looked over at him with a wan smile.
"I guess all the excitement got the better of me," she sighed.
"Have a nap," he suggested. "You need to rest."
"Are you going home?" she asked, trying not to sound too much like she wanted him to stay.
He watched her, as if assessing her response. "Not if you want some company when you wake up," he said carefully. "There's nothing I need to do today, and this is…nice."
Sam smiled tiredly as she curled her legs up onto the sofa. "This is nice? Hanging out with someone so sick she can't stay awake for more than an hour at a time?"
He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm enjoying the company - quality, not quantity."
"Then stay," she said, closing her eyes in an attempt to hide the feelings she felt swelling in her heart. She wanted him to stay. She wanted it a lot more than was appropriate, given their professional relationship.
He was silent for a long time, but just as Sam was on the edge of sleep she thought she heard him speak softly although she wasn't sure the words were meant for her ears. "I'll be here, Sam," he murmured. "For as long as you want me…."
***
Jack sat at the far end of the sofa staring out of the window into Carter's somewhat overgrown yard. The TV burbled softly in the background, but he wasn't paying any attention. For his mind was struggling to deal with something so huge it left attention for nothing else. He might be capable of great self-deception, but once he was alerted to the truth his mind forced it quickly into daylight. And he was no idiot. He knew exactly what was going on in his foolish heart.
The truth left him…elated. And terrified. He'd only ever felt anything comparable one time in his life and six months later he'd been married to Sara.
Love.
He had never imagined he could ever feel like this about anyone other than Sara. He'd never imagined it was possible to again feel that intense flowering of emotion, that powerful tug on your heart that bowled you over before you even knew what was happening. And he'd certainly never dreamed, in a million years, that he'd feel that way over a fellow officer - his second in command no less.
But it was that fact, of course, that tangled things way beyond the normal complications of a new love. There were regulations against this sort of thing and they were there for damn good reasons.
God, how could he have let this happen? How could he have let himself fall for her like this? What would he do next time they were in a firefight? Leap out to protect her like some over-paid Hollywood cliché, or let her take her chance with the rest of them?
"No choice," he muttered to himself, turning to look at her again. She slept curled up on the sofa, her feet pressed against his leg; the innocent contact felt like bands of iron tightening around his heart, binding him closer. No choice. If he did anything to reveal his feelings for her it would all be over. Hammond would split them up, and rightly so. Not to mention the fact that the chances of someone as young, beautiful and smart as Carter reciprocating his feelings was slim bordering heavily on none. No, his love - if that was truly what it was - would have to remain unvoiced and un- returned. It was bitter, but sweet nonetheless. He and Carter might not have a romantic future ahead, but she could hardly have been more integral to his life right now if she'd been his wife. Hell, he spent more time with Carter than he'd ever done with Sara in the whole course of their marriage. He'd get to see her everyday, to watch out for her as best he could, and have the privilege of counting himself as one of her friends.
He smiled fondly. It wasn't such a bad deal, all in all.
Sam moved a little in her sleep, her feet squirming in discomfort against his leg before she rolled onto her back and slid her legs onto his lap. Then she settled, obviously more comfortable stretched out, and fell into a deeper sleep. And so there he sat, the warmth and weight of her legs pinning him to his seat as he let his hands come to rest gently on her - one on a wooly-socked foot, the other on a slim calf. He was content, he realized as he stared back out into the yard. This might be all he got, but he was content. How many people got a chance to love twice in their life? To really love? Very few. He felt lucky, sitting there with this wonderful woman sleeping at his side. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.
***
Sam slept for a long time and the evening was drawing in when she at last woke up. The first thing she realized was that her headache had gone and that she felt considerably better. The second was that Jack still sat at the other end of the sofa, his head lolled against the cushions in a doze of his own, while her legs lay draped across his lap and his hands rested warmly upon her. She didn't move.
In the dim light of the day's end she studied his face, allowing herself the rare opportunity of really looking at him. He was an attractive man, no doubt. But there was more to him than good looks - there was something about him, as a person, that attracted her. Maybe it was her predilection for the lunatic fringe, but she found the man intriguing. He was complicated, not always easy, but as solid as a rock and as straight as an arrow. She found that she wanted to know more, to get under his skin and find out what made him tick. And maybe, just maybe, to ease some of the darkness she knew he carried inside.
She shook her head. "Been there before, Sam," she reminded herself quietly, thinking back to Jonus.
Not that she was entertaining thoughts of romance when it came to her CO. That was never going to happen. It was just…she enjoyed his company. And she wanted to get to know him better. Anything beyond that was out of the question and the sooner she got that thought fixed in her mind the better. Nothing was ever, ever going to happen between them.
Pushing herself upright Sam slid her legs from his lap and he opened his eyes. "God," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face, "what time is it?"
"Almost seven," Sam replied. "Have you been there all afternoon?"
Jack looked a little evasive as he said, "I guess. I was asleep."
"I noticed," she said with a smile.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting up a little straighter and running a hand through his hair.
She nodded. "Actually, a little better," she said. "Almost…human."
"Good," he said, with obvious feeling. And then glancing over at her barely eaten sandwich he added, "Human enough to eat pizza?"
Sam considered the question for a moment, but her stomach didn't object to the thought o0f cheese so she said, "Yeah, maybe." She nodded towards the kitchen, "There are menu's in there."
Jack rose to his feet. "You don't mind me hanging around for dinner too?" he asked only half-joking.
"No," she assured him. "I mean, if I'm going to sleep all evening too I may as well sleep with you…." She stopped abruptly, her face burning. "You know what I mean," she muttered, suddenly afraid that he could see right into the secret places of her heart.
"Yeah," he said softly, apparently resisting the temptation to joke. "I know."
The rest of the evening passed quickly. Her cold was still dragging at her, but she at least stayed awake and ate enough pizza to bolster her flagging energy reserves. They chatted about this and that, watched a little TV and then chatted some more. She found herself surprisingly at ease in his company and judging by the amount of laughter they generated between them, he felt the same. Later, he disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of minutes before returning with a pint of chocolate ice-cream with a lighted match stuck in the top in lieu of a candle.
"I won't sing Happy Birthday," he promised as he set the tub down on the table in front of her. "But you still get to make a wish when you blow it out."
Sam smiled at him, took a deep breath and blew. "So," she said as she pulled out the dead match and let him start scooping out the ice-cream, "want to know what I wished for?"
Jack shook his head. "If you tell, it won't come true."
"I'm not superstitious," she assured him, curling her legs up on the sofa and watching him attack the ice-cream.
He glanced up. "Neither am I."
She grinned. "Then I'll tell you," she decided, emboldened by the lateness of the hour and the relaxed atmosphere between them. "I wished that all my birthdays would be this nice."
Jack chuckled. "Carter, you slept most of the day."
"But I feel better now," she said. "Thanks to you."
He shook his head. "You just needed a little TLC, that's all."
"TLC?" she repeated, her heart suddenly skipping. "Is that what this is?"
Jack glanced up and their eyes locked again. They didn't say anything, but she could see something deep in his dark eyes, a truth he was afraid to let out. A truth she harbored in her own heart. He licked at his lips and she wondered if he saw the same tantalizing glimpse of an unspoken truth in her eyes too. After what seemed like an eternity, he said, "Maybe it is."
She just smiled and nodded. "You'd do the same for Daniel. Or Teal'c."
"Yeah," he replied, returning his attention to the ice-cream. "Sure I would."
And so the evening progressed until sleep once more set its claws into Sam, in earnest this time. As her jaw cracked in yet another overwhelming yawn Jack rose to his feet. "You need to go to bed," he told her in a tone not dissimilar to his command voice. "And I need to get home."
He was right and there was no use protesting. Rising to her feet, Sam picked up the picture he'd given her for her birthday and glanced down at it again. "I meant it," she said, looking up into his face, "my wish. I really do wish all my birthdays could be this nice. I had a good time."
Jack smiled warmly. "Me too," he said. "You're great company when you're sick."
She just rolled her eyes and together they walked towards the door. He slipped on his jacket and reached into the pocket for the car keys. "So," he said then, hesitating on the threshold.
"So," she agreed, feeling a sudden inexplicable tension in the air.
He nodded. "I should go."
"Yeah," she agreed.
He nodded again, frowned down at the car keys in his hand, and looked back up at her slowly. "Happy Birthday, Carter," he said reaching up and touching her cheek lightly with one finger before his hand dropped to his side.
Sam shivered, every nerve seeming to respond to his unexpected touch. "I had fun," she assured him, glad that her cold masked the huskiness in her voice. "Thanks for coming."
Jack nodded, but didn't move away. And then, after a moment he reached out and held her shoulders lightly in his hands, pulling her forward so he could place a soft kiss on her cheek. He lingered there for a rather longer than mere friendliness required and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, loosing a thousand butterflies in her heart. He sighed. "Thanks for letting me hang out," he murmured as he pulled away and slowly released his hold on her.
"Anytime," she replied breathlessly. But she had a strong feeling that neither of them would be letting themselves get this close again for a long while; the sudden tension in the air was more than a little dangerous.
He nodded again, this time in dismissal and turned to the door. "You take care of yourself," he admonished her as he pulled the door open. "And don't come back to work `til you're better." He smiled. "And that's an order, Captain."
Captain. She smiled sadly. "Yes, sir," she replied and saw a flash of sadness mirrored in eyes.
But all he said was, "Goodnight, Carter."
"'Night, sir," she replied, watching him walk down the drive towards his car with an odd mixture of emotions beating in her heart. In her hands she still held the image of Earth he'd given her and she stared at it now, taking in the beauty of their planet. She shook her head slowly before raising her eyes to where Jack's car was roaring quietly into life. Lifting her hand she waved and saw him do the same before he reversed quickly out into the road and disappeared towards home. He was gone, yet she didn't feel alone. And as she gazed down at the picture she held she realized that he was still with her, they all were - her friends, her family - they were all represented in the picture in her hands. For as beautiful as Earth may be, it was the people on it that made the battle worth fighting. And after today it was impossible for Sam to deny that Jack O'Neill had become one of the people for whom she fought. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Because he made the battle worth fighting and the war worth winning.
She shook her head and wandered into the bedroom. In the morning she knew things would seem different. The cold light of day would evaporate the warmth of the evening and bring down an avalanche of self-reproach and anxiety. But as she snuggled under the covers in bed she smiled and decided to allow herself to enjoy the moment. There'd be plenty of time to worry about the consequences in the morning. But for now…? She just smiled and let the warmth in her heart lull her towards sleep; she couldn't remember ever having had a happier birthday.
After all, it wasn't every birthday that you discovered that you were in love, was it?
~END~
Story Notes: Email: reevesally@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Classification: S/J friendship/UST. Short and sweet!
Spoilers/Season info: Set season two-ish. Minor spoiler for "In the Line of Duty".
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis, yes please. Anyone else, please just ask so I can find you!
Notes: Happy Birthday Lynn!
Rating: PG
Classification: S/J friendship/UST. Short and sweet!
Spoilers/Season info: Set season two-ish. Minor spoiler for "In the Line of Duty".
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis, yes please. Anyone else, please just ask so I can find you!
Notes: Happy Birthday Lynn!
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 ]