Part One - by Gunfodder
Jack screwed up his eyes against the harsh winter sunlight. He'd left his sunglasses in the car and wasn't in the mood to go back for them. Leaning back on the park bench, he sighed significantly, arms stretched out in both directions across the seat back.
Maybe today wouldn't be so bad, he thought hopefully, after all, it wasn't as if he saw much of what family he had left...if ever. And so what if his brother was a bit of a moron? It was just one afternoon...
"Hey, Jacky!" The voice lifted over the serenity of the park, causing Jack O'Neill to cringe as an elderly couple looked over their shoulders in disdain. "Jack! Jacky boy, over here!"
O'Neill waved resignedly to his younger brother, who was jogging towards him from the other end of the park. Jack didn't get up, waiting instead for Justin to approach. It gave the older O'Neill sibling a chance to observe his kid brother, taking in the baseball cap, jeans and jacket. He hadn't changed a bit, in dress or in demeanor, since the last time they had seen each other, which had to be what - seven years ago? Jesus, was it really that long? A pang of guilt ran through Jack as he realized how long it had been since the clan O'Neill had actually been together. Sure, they had exchanged the odd telephone call and Christmas card - well, Jack had received Christmas cards, without remembering to return the gesture - but other than that, silence had prevailed.
It was Jack's own fault. Since Charlie's death and the gradual dissolution of his marriage, he had withdrawn further and further from family life of all description, preferring instead to keep clear of anything that resembled such gatherings. Eventually, with the advent of the Stargate program, he had all but disappeared from the real world altogether, at least as far as his extended family was concerned.
Justin reached the bench as Jack finally stood up, an awkward smile on his face. Justin regarded him for a moment before pulling him into a typically manly embrace, thumping his brother on the back vigorously.
"Jack! God, it's good to see you, buddy - it's been too long!"
"It has. Good to see you too, Justin."
They sat side by side on the bench, Justin removing his cap and scrubbing a hand through his hair in a manner which would have reminded anyone else of Jack himself.
In fact, Justin was pretty much a carbon copy of his brother in the looks department, if slightly younger (and less weather worn), in every respect that mattered. Justin was perhaps a little taller, blonde hair a little longer than the military cut of his brother's. He was tanned a deeper shade than Jack too, otherwise featuring the same build. Justin's eyes, less lined than his older brother's, were nevertheless the same shade of brown - maybe a little more prone to a mischievous twinkle, but characteristically O'Neill nonetheless. In fact, it would be hard pressed to find anyone unable to pin them as brothers just from one glance at them together.
Justin had never been inclined towards the military mode of life, preferring instead to serve the US government in a different way. He currently held the distinction of Senior Ranger in the Yosemite National Park, following several years in arboretum research world-wide for the government. Jack never had been able to work out his brother's fascination for trees - and if any of SG-1 had even known that he had a brother, they probably would have understood his jokes about the species a little more.
"So, how's the plant life?" Jack asked, sardonically, "We still under threat from a sycamore invasion?"
Justin laughed, a deep throaty rumble that lit up his face. Jack wondered if he looked that happy when he laughed. It reminded him of someone else whose laugh could light up the sky like a firecracker...
"The Park's doing great - I love it out there. There's so much to save in the world, you know? It's good to be contributing a little."
"I know." Jack didn't really know what to say - this was always the worst problem when he met up with the various scattered remains of his family. He didn't seem to ever be able to hold a conversation. Worse, he never seemed particularly desperate to do so anyway. You're just a miserable jerk, O'Neill, he thought.
"Well, look, Jack, I don't have long - there's this fundraiser I have to go to tonight. But since I'm here in Colorado for a few days, it would be great to spend some time together, or something. It's been so long since we last saw each other - what, six, seven years? What have you been up to all this time?"
This was the other problem that they always had - the nature of Jack's career and the military stuff he was forever mixed up in was a sure-fire conversation stopper. "Umm..."
"Hey, tell you what, why don't we head off somewhere for coffee? I could do with a caffeine shot - I find flights so tiring, no matter how brief they are!"
Jack nodded, wondering if Justin really needed to be any more awake than he currently appeared to be, but opting to simply go along with the plan. Standing, they began walking back to the entrance of the park, Justin beginning to fill Jack in with various details of his life over the past seven years. Jack found it less boring than he thought he would - at least his brother seemed to have dropped his intensely annoying habit of quipping at just about everything that came out of his mouth. Yeah, he thought, maybe this was going to be okay after all...
They had just started crossing the car park towards Jack's car when Justin stopped dead. Jack looked around at him.
"Whoa. Look at that."
Following his gaze, Jack saw a woman getting out of her car, short blonde hair whisked back suddenly by the wind. She wore tight blue jeans on long slender legs, a pale blue sweater and sun glasses. She was beautiful, Jack could tell even from here, although the strong light in his unprotected eyes prevented him from a clear look. She paused after shutting the door, and appeared to be looking around for someone or something.
"Wow. She's incredible," Justin was still staring at the woman, who was pulling out a cell phone.
"Justin, from what I remember, you'd date anything in a skirt," retorted Jack, his brother's indignant comeback drowned out by his cell springing into life. "Jack O'Neill," he answered crisply, free finger to his ear in an attempt to block out the wind and traffic.
"Sir, it's me."
"Carter? What's up?"
"I'm sorry to bother you off duty, Sir, but we've got a bit of a problem with Daniel. I called by your place because your phone seemed to be out of range, and your next door neighbor said you'd gone for a wander in the park."
"Right." Jack screwed up his eyes again, glancing at his brother who was still transfixed by the woman at the other end of the car park. She held a phone to her ear, the other hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Jack's heart did a back flip, "Carter...you wouldn't happen to be at the park right now, would you?"
"Yes, Sir, I'm in the car park...where are you?"
Jack raised his arm and waved at Carter, who took a couple of seconds to realize who was waving at her. He heard her laugh, both down the phone and through the growing wind across the concrete. Hanging up, he started walking towards his Second in Command.
"Jack! What are you doing? Don't tell me you know her?" Justin was at his elbow in a flash.
"Sure do, little bro -"
"Colonel!" Carter approached, the bounce in her step and the beam on her face infectious, "I didn't recognize you! Nice jacket! But where's your sunglasses? Aren't they like your amulet, or something?"
Jack grinned, mostly to disguise the disconcerting feeling of seeing Carter out of uniform. She always looked entirely too feminine for her own good - or for his. "I left them in the car. So, what's up with Daniel?"
Sam looked curiously at Justin before replying, "It's not hugely serious, Sir. He fell down the stairs and broke his ankle at the base. They've set the ankle but he decided to stay overnight, so I said I'd pick up some of the books he needs for the research he wants to do. The spare key wasn't where he said it'd be, so I thought..."
"You thought it'd be easier to get mine than to go back to work."
"Right," She grinned, "Always thinking of the environment, that's me - no point sending all those needless fumes into the atmosphere!"
"Now, that sounds like a woman after my own heart," Justin, who was evidently desperate to say something - anything - to Carter.
"Really?" Carter looked at him for a second before sticking a hand out, "Samantha Carter, and you would be?"
"Justin O'Neill. It's good to meet you, Samantha."
"It's Sam," she corrected, eyes showing surprise as they shifted to Jack and back again, "Justin O'Neill?"
"Carter, this is my kid brother. He's in town for the evening." Jack muttered gruffly, for some reason extremely uncomfortable about introducing the two of them.
"Your brother? Sir, I didn't even know you had one!"
"Well..." Jack shrugged.
" 'Sir'?" Quoted Justin, "Don't tell me that my dear brother has the good fortune to actually work with you, Sam?"
Jack cringed for the second time in half an hour. Sam smiled.
"My title is Major. Well, one of my titles. I'm Colonel O'Neill's second in command".
Justin looked at his brother, who resolutely looked away.
"I knew there was a reason you joined the military, Jack, I just never thought I'd envy you for it!"
Carter grinned a slightly bashful smile, and dropped her eyes. Jack cleared his throat.
"I've got that spare key of Daniel's in the car, Carter, let me grab it for you."
She nodded, following as Jack headed off towards his vehicle.
"Sorry about that, Carter," Jack muttered, when they were far enough clear of Justin to be out of earshot, "my brother can be a little...coarse...when he puts his mind to it."
"No problem," she said, brightly, as if her attention had been somewhere else, "so, he's your...younger...brother?"
Jack suddenly wished he's never agreed to look after Daniel's spare house key. "Yeah, by five years," he answered, reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out a bunch of keys, "We don't see a lot of each other." Jack selected a key, pulled it off and held it out to Sam, "Here you go. Tell Daniel well done from me."
Sam laughed briefly, "I think he's secretly glad to be out of commission for a while. I mean, he gets all those nurses - not to mention Janet - running around after him, and all the time in the world to study those new 'glyphs we found!"
"You're probably right. I wouldn't put anything past him." Jack smiled at Carter, taking a mental snapshot of her out of BDU's for a change. "Well, I should get back to the family stuff. Justin's only in town for this evening, so..."
"Of course, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Trust me, Carter, I'd rather spend time with you any day of the week. Hell, I'd rather spend time with Maybourne!" said Jack as they returned together to where Justin waited.
"Sir!" Sam was amused but outraged, smiling as she looked up at Justin, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Justin. Have a good evening, you two."
Justin wasn't inclined to let her go so quickly, however. "Hey, why don't you join us for coffee, Sam? There must be a place close by..."
Sam looked surprised and then tempted, but made up her mind as she looked at Jack. "Thanks, but no. I really need to get over to Daniel's. Anyway, you two should catch up. Maybe another time, though." She waved slightly to both of them as she headed back to her car.
Jack and Justin looked after her as she went. "Wow. And you get to see her every day?"
"Well, it'd be a bit difficult to hold the team together if we didn't," said Jack, his exasperation threatening to show already. He turned towards his own car again, "Come on, let's go."
"Do you get to shower with her and stuff too?"
"Justin! Just get in the damn car, would you?"
***
Sam leant backwards in the steaming bath, enjoying the ebb of the water against her skin as it eased away the day's tensions. For a day off, it had been pretty hectic, mostly taken up with trying to sort Daniel out. Oh, and with locating Colonel O'Neill...
How strange that he had a brother he never spoke about. They didn't seem to be estranged in any way - distant, maybe, but then O'Neill had said they didn't get to see each other very often, so that was hardly surprising. Sam somehow found it weird that she didn't know about Justin, but then couldn't work out why that should be so. After all, she hadn't even known the Colonel had had his own family until Daniel told her about it six months after they all began working together. O'Neill just wasn't the sort to chat about his personal life, no matter how he had mellowed over the past few years.
Justin... He was amazingly like Jack, at least in the physical sense. Extremely good looking, in fact.
And he had been hitting on her.
Hmmm...What an interesting thought. A version of Jack O'Neill who seemed to smile a lot more, was interested in her and didn't have the trappings of rank. Why did that seem altogether too good to be true?
Sam sighed, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling. Because her life was complicated enough as it was, she reminded herself, without entertaining thoughts about pursuing her superior's younger brother.
Anyway, just because he looked like the Colonel didn't mean he would have his same qualities, and while that may be quite useful as far as some aspects of his personality, it would also be a damn shame.
Not that she was looking for a man like O'Neill. Why would she be?
The phone rang.
"Shit!" Sam exclaimed, trying to get out of the bath without slipping and cracking her head open. Grabbing a towel to throw around herself, she charged into the kitchen, and had to catch her breath before speaking into the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Is that Sam?" It was a male voice, somewhat confused from the sound of it. She didn't recognize it.
"Yes...who's this?"
"It's Justin O'Neill - we met in the park earlier today."
Justin?
"Oh...hi." Sam racked her brains for a clue as to why he was calling. "Can I help you?"
"Well," there was a laugh, "this is going to sound strange, but I wondered if you were free tonight?"
Huh?
"I have this conference to attend - a fundraising dinner - I thought perhaps you would like to join me. I have a spare ticket, and these things can be so boring..."
Oh.
"Ummm...Well..." Sam didn't have a clue what to say. Then suddenly an image of Justin flashed in front of her eyes, sun on his hair and eyes glinting.
"You'd be doing me a real favor, you know. I could ask Jack, but I'm not sure he has a evening dress, and anyway, he has this real problem with trees..."
Sam laughed at his wheedling, hearing some of the Colonel in the soft voice at the other end of the phone. "You know what? I'd love to. What time?"
"Great! Well, I've hired a car - how about I pick you up for around seven?"
Sam glanced at her watch: it was past four now. "Sure, I can do that. Do you have a pen and paper? I'll give you directions..."
She hung up a few minutes later, hand pausing on the telephone. A touch of something uneasy was lurking in the back of her mind, something like an instinct or a hunch urging her to be careful. Come on, she chided herself - what's the worst that can happen? He's O'Neill's brother, so you know he's got to be a nice guy. It's one evening - you're doing him a favor. This time tomorrow, he'll be gone again.
As she turned and made her way towards the stairs, Sam shook the apprehension from her shoulders. She could do with an evening out, it would be fun and there wasn't a reason in the world why Justin's invitation was inappropriate.
She was going, that was that, and she was going to have fun.
***
Sam stood in the center of her bedroom, eyeing her reflection in the mirror critically. Smoothing her hands over belly and hips, she turned around once, assessing the lines of the dress she had chosen. Not that there was a whole lot of choice available in her civilian wardrobe. It had been so long since she had seen herself in a skirt, let alone an evening dress - yet the feeling wasn't altogether an unpleasant one. Sam had never been one for frills and big skirts, but still, every now and then it was nice to see oneself in a different light.
The dress was simple, falling just above her knees, fitted and black. The neckline was flattering without revealing too much, running to a point between breasts that had temporarily been gathered into a Wonderbra. Sam usually avoided Gossard's invention like the plague, since to her it always felt as if she were wearing armor plating strapped to her chest. Tonight, though, she was in need of a slight confidence boost, and however liberated a woman Sam was, she wasn't at all averse to a little extra shape every now and then.
As a result of her rapid transformation since the surprise phone call two short hours ago, the woman who looked back at her from the mirror was a complete shock. Sam was always a terrible judge of her personal appearance, the result of spending far too much time in military fatigues. All she could do was hope that she looked at least presentable. From the brief description that Justin had given of the fundraiser, she had assumed it would be black-tie, and this was the closest she could get.
Applying her makeup, Sam began to feel the distinct flutter of nerves bubbling in her stomach. This multiplied as she realized that she was about to embark on her first date in...well, far too long. Her lipstick paused in mid-sweep as she remembered that the man who had broken her date drought was Colonel O'Neill's brother.
Jack's brother.
Sam frowned, and the woman opposite frowned back. She suddenly wondered if this was a terrible mistake. Dating your superior Officer's younger sibling had got to be a questionable proposition at the best of times, but in their situation?
She sighed heavily, finishing her lips and dropping the lipstick back in her makeup bag. Sam was so very tired of second guessing every move she made. Surely at her age she shouldn't have to be so cautious about making a simple date.
It was the ridiculous and sudden sense of guilt that galled her the most. What on earth did she have to feel guilty about? There were no promises between her and O'Neill - and any puerile 'understanding' that the two of them may have harbored at one point seemed utterly hopeless now. The war showed no signs of ending, and both of them had sunk themselves so thoroughly into their duties that for either of them to resign, particularly for so ignoble a reason, was unthinkable to both of them.
So, what did you do in the most important war in history, Sam? Oh, I fell in love and resigned my post...
Great.
Anyway, this was just a simple dinner - not even one-on-one, a fundraiser with hundreds of fellow diners in attendance. Then tomorrow, Justin would be gone again and her life would go back to the same old routine, the one where Sam was lonely and alone with no time and not much inclination to rectify the situation.
Her second sigh echoed away as the door bell rang. Glancing at her watch, Sam noticed that her date was early, and was still fastening the clasp on her necklace as she reached the door.
Opening it, she was greeted by a bunch of red roses and the smiling face of Justin O'Neill. Sam was taken aback, not just by the flowers (when was the last time anyone had bought her flowers?) but also by the undeniably handsome man clad in a very fetching tuxedo and standing on her (her!) doorstep.
"Sam! Hey, you look great!" Justin moved forward enthusiastically, pressing the roses into her hand and a brief kiss to her cheek.
"...umm...thanks.. And for the roses - they're beautiful. Come in, please." She ushered him into the house, waving at a passing neighbor who evidently found the spectacle of a man on her doorstep unusual. "You're early," she chided gently, shutting the door behind them.
"I know - I'm sorry, I was bored."
Sam laughed, offering him a seat as she went to find a vase for her flowers.
"Nice place," Justin observed, dropping on to the sofa and spreading his arms out in a gesture that instantly reminded Sam of his brother.
"Well, I like it. I'd probably like it even more if I actually spent some time here."
"Oh yeah. Well, that's the problem with Deep Space Radar Telemetry. It's just so damn time consuming, huh? One rarely has time for life outside the job, in fact..."
Sam reappeared from he kitchen to find her guest looking at her with raised eyebrows.
"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Mr. O'Neill?"
"Indeed you do, Miss Carter. I can call you 'Miss', right? To be honest, I find the whole military thing so tedious. Look, I know my brother, even if we don't see each other for long periods of time. So when he tells me that following the tragic death of his only child, he rejoined the Air Force to join their crack unit of Deep Space Radar Telemetrists...I know it's a load of rubbish. However, I know enough not to ask questions about it, so we'll leave it at that. What my knowledge does allow, however, is some pretty mean speculation about how you fit into the little scenario..."
Sam crossed the floor to sit opposite him, a broad smile on her face.
"Well, that would be classified too, so I shouldn't go speculating too wildly if I were you. It could land you in a lot of trouble."
"I have a feeling that being in trouble with you could lead to a lot of fun," Justin remarked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Or a lot of broken bones - and I don't mean mine," Sam laughed at his forthrightness.
"Well, we'll see. How about we just get through tonight, huh? With no military stuff lurking in the background, okay?"
Sam considered the challenge. It wasn't an easy one, in actual fact. Her whole life was the military, so much so that she wasn't at all sure where the division would come. Could she really lay it all down for one night and just be Sam for a change?
Well, she could give it a try.
***
The Hall where the Fundraiser was being held was pretty spectacular, an old colonial mansion right in the heart of Colorado Springs. Music played in the background of the brightly lit room, making the whole place seem airy. Justin led them to their seats around a large round table, laid up with elaborate cutlery.
"Make the most of this, Major," he whispered in her ear, courteously pushing her chair in as she sat down. "This'll be a far cry from military rations. Or Jack's cooking, whichever you consider to be worse."
The evening passed merrily, Justin's frequent jokes drifting into her ear throughout the worst speeches. He was attentive, Sam noted, listening to everything she said carefully and then continuing her train of thought. It was refreshing to have someone that actually took notice of what she was saying in a non-military capacity. Sam realized that the only people she really had conversations with that didn't involve MALP's or guns were Daniel, Janet and Cassie. She also realized with a start that she didn't really know what O'Neill thought about anything outside the tight constrains of SGC life.
"Am I boring you, Sam?" Justin was looking at her carefully as he forked a piece of dessert into his mouth.
"No!" She returned to the immediate with a start, realizing she had been daydreaming. About her date's brother...a guilty flush stained her cheeks for a second, "No, of course you aren't..."
"You just seemed miles away there for a moment," he continued with a smile, reaching over to pick up her spoon and capture a piece of chocolate cake from her plate. He held out the sweet encouragingly. "I don't want your hot fudge to go cold," he said, wiggling his eyebrows provocatively. Sam couldn't help laughing again. She ate the proffered cake with a smile.
"You are so much like your brother."
"I am?" Justin was nonplussed for a moment, looking at the spoon he had returned to her dish. "You mean Jack feeds you chocolate cake? Is that allowed?"
She nearly choked at the sudden image, covering her mouth with her hand.
"No," she gasped eventually, "That's not what I meant...."
Justin grinned at her, patting her casually on the back as she cleared her throat. "Didn't think so...on both counts...although I wouldn't blame the old boy for trying."
Sam couldn't help herself blushing, which annoyed her more than hearing her Colonel called 'old'.
"I bet he could beat you hands down, old or not," she challenged gallantly, without really understanding why she felt the sudden need to defend O'Neill from his younger brother.
"Oh, I'm quite sure he could - I've seen what he's capable of." Justin looked morose for a moment, before shaking his head with a smile.
"What does that mean?"
Justin looked at her for a moment, as if trying to assess to what extent he could trust her. "It's just...there are so many things in the world to save. So many things. But Jack always seemed better at killing them off. Or at least, that's the way he went when he joined up."
"The Colonel is a good man. He's an asset to the military - the best I've ever served with."
"I'm sure he is. But he shouldn't have gone back. When Charlie died...he shouldn't have gone back. He should have moved out to Yellowstone with me...he always said he wanted to fish more."
Sam smiled briefly, remembering O'Neill's many tales of fishing in Minnesota.
"We need him... He's doing an important job, Justin - believe me. He's saving things now. I promise you, he's saving things now."
Justin nodded, flicking a finger out over her wrist and smiling a sad smile. "I just wish he'd find something - someone to love. That probably sounds all happy-clappy...but of everyone I know, it's the most obvious in Jack. He's not alive if he hasn't got something to love, to live for. To defend."
"He has. He loves his job. And he's ok. Don't worry about him, Justin."
"Yeah, you're probably right. There was definitely something about him when we had coffee earlier - he was the same as when he first met Sara. Maybe he has got someone... Cagey, hiding something."
"Aren't we all?" Sam suddenly wanted to move the conversation on. She really wasn't up to hearing about O'Neill's love life. "Anyway, I thought we were going to keep out of all the military stuff? I don't want to talk about work - aren't you going to ask me to dance?" Sam indicated the area of the floor that had been cleared of tables. Several couples were heading towards it as the light lowered around them.
Justin beamed, standing and offering her a hand, "I would be delighted, fair lady, if you would do me the honor of letting me have this dance."
As they moved together gently, Sam thought about how nice it was to be held again - to be really held. No energy beings, no aliens, no agendas and no worries. Just a handsome man's arms around her. At the back of her mind, a dull ache had begun to develop. Did the Colonel really have someone? Is that what Justin had detected over coffee earlier in the day? That O'Neill had finally found a woman that wasn't beyond his reach to love? Her heart grew heavy, and without realizing it, she moved closer to Justin.
Sam was surprised by the pain she felt at the simple thought of O'Neill having a partner. She ran through all the things she had told herself earlier in the evening...no promises given...no understanding to uphold. It looked as if he had developed the same mode of thinking. Just be happy for him, part of her said. Just be happy.
Justin moved his hand on her back, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes with a smile. Sam found herself smiling back, with all the warmth she could muster, and rested her forehead on his chest as his hand reached up to caress the back of her neck.
Just be happy.
...Be happy.
***
Part Two - by Gunfodder
Next morning, Sam woke peaceful and was in her lab even earlier than usual. O'Neill found her there upon his arrival a couple of hours later, humming softly to herself as she fussed over the SGC's latest mechanical acquisition. The Major was oblivious to anything beyond her immediate task, and O'Neill paused for a moment, just watching her work before making his presence known. Her palpable happiness was soothing, and he couldn't help smiling himself.
"Something's put a smile on your face this morning, Major. "
Sam looked up with a force ten grin. Jack felt his heart catch absurdly at the sight, and crossed his arms across his chest as he leant against the doorframe.
He was startled to see something dark flash behind her eyes suddenly and she looked away almost immediately, the smile fading rapidly from her beautiful face. He was about to ask what was wrong when the phone rang shrilly, making them both jump. Sam went to answer it as he moved further into the lab.
"Yes, he's here...put it through." She turned around, holding out the receiver. "It's for you, Sir. An external call."
O'Neill felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. Who would be calling him at work? Everyone he knew was here...oh...right. He took the proffered telephone.
"Morning, Justin. You're up early." He was surprised again, this time by the look on Carter's face as she glanced up at the sound of his brother's name. "Well, process of elimination, really...yeah. What's up? I've got a briefing in a few minutes, so..."
As he spoke to Justin, Jack watched his Second in Command with naked curiosity. Sam had suddenly become a hive of activity, shuffling papers on her desk, fiddling with her computer...
"Bowling? Well, I guess... Ok, do that. I'll let you know later. Things have a habit of blowing up around here...Yeah. What?" Jack's voice tightened suddenly as he belatedly registered the last thing Justin has said. His brain seized up as the words streamed into his ear. "Yeah...she's here." Sam's eyes flashed up to his, and everything fell into place with a sickening thump. "Right. Hold on."
Jack thrust out the telephone towards Carter, their eyes locked. A flush stained her cheeks and suddenly all he could feel was a burning white pain in his stomach. When he spoke, his voice sounded dead, even to him.
"He wants to thank you for last night."
***
"You did what?"
"Don't look at me like that Janet," begged Sam miserably, slumped in a chair in front of the Doctor's desk. "Don't. Please. I've already had a terrible morning. The briefing was awful..."
Sam pressed the balls of her hands into her eyes, falling silent. The memory of O'Neill's monosyllabic answers thrown across the briefing table an hour ago surfaced in all their ugly glory. He wouldn't even look at her. Today's mission was going to be hell.
"Well what did you expect?" Janet asked softly. It was a good point, and the truth was Sam really didn't know. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Janet sighed, resting her chin on her hand and gazing at her distraught friend across the desk.
"Sam...honey...you know I love you. But this has got to be the most stupid situation you have ever put yourself in."
"I know...I know.."
"I mean - O'Neill's brother? What made you want to go?"
Sam took her hands away from her face and shrugged.
"I don't know - the call was so out of the blue, it took me by surprise. I was feeling a little low, I guess, and no one has shown the slightest bit f interest in me for a long time...and Justin seemed like fun..."
"You got that from the few brief moments you spoke in the park?"
"Well, yeah. He's a lot like Jack, and -" Sam stopped abruptly as Janet pushed herself back in her chair, nodding knowingly. "That's not why, Janet. God, I'm not that shallow!"
"I'm not suggesting you are, Sam But you mean to tell me that if Colonel O'Neill had been chatting to any other friend of his you'd never met who then called you up out of the blue for a date, you'd have said yes just as willingly?"
Sam paused before saying defiantly, "Why not?"
"Hmm...I know you, and I know you play things close to your chest, Sam. I'm not convinced. Tell me, in those hours you spent with Justin, you never once thought of Colonel O'Neill? You never compared them?"
"No, I - well, I noticed their mannerisms were alike a few times...but come on, I'm going to notice things like that! I -" Sam stopped again, shaking her head. She was determined not to accept that her reasons for dating Justin O'Neill were as shallow - or as shameful, even - as him sharing a physical likeness to the Colonel. "If you must know, I really enjoyed Justin's company. He's very interesting - well read, knowledgeable, passionate. He actually enjoys conversation, unlike Colonel O'Neill, and -"
"Hold on a minute, Sam." Janet interrupted her, standing up and walking around to lean against her desk beside Sam. "Just think about what you are saying. Here we have a guy that looks like O'Neill, is apparently as a good a man as O'Neill...but also pays attention to you...enjoys listening to what you have to say...and had both the inclination and the opportunity to ask you out. Am I right?"
"I guess." Sam sighed, knowing exactly where Janet's reasoning was leading.
"Could it be that Justin's arrival in town just happens to be fulfilling a few...shall we say...daydreams...that a certain Major may have been hiding in her subconscious?"
Sam stared moodily at the pile of patient reports on Janet's desk, turning over the possibilities in her mind. Was that really it? Had she just conveniently replaced the complications of O'Neill's character with his brother's more relaxed, unregulated demeanor? Surely not - she wouldn't do that! Still, the thought lurked uncomfortably in her mind.
"Janet, look. It was just one night. Nothing happened - he didn't even kiss me good night. As far as I know he's going back to California today, and I'll never see him again..."
"But what are you going to do about Colonel O'Neill? If you leave the situation as it is, it will permanently mar your working relationship. I don't suppose that Justin had any idea of the connection between you two?"
Sam snorted, bitterly amused by Janet's question. She couldn't even explain the connection she had with the Colonel to herself, let alone any one else. Sighing, she stood up. "I guess I'll have to talk to him somehow," she said, shaking her head, the absurdity of it all sinking on to her tense shoulders.
Still at the back of her mind, something hinted at her. She had genuinely enjoyed Justin's company - Sam had no doubt about that. And the thought that kept haunting her was:
Why not?
***
Jack stood in front of his locker, staring without sight into its sparse interior. He should not, strictly speaking, be here. It was only 0930 hrs after all - SG1's day hadn't even really started yet. Now was not the time to be taking a shower. For some reason that he didn't entirely understand, however, O'Neill had felt the compunction to drench himself in scalding hot water and scrub himself raw. Anyway, the day had been tough enough already. The thought of his early morning encounter with Carter made his stomach turn violently, while the subsequent briefing session remained a painful, featureless blur.
Now, his mind had settled somewhat. The shower had pounded much of the tension from his muscles, and he just felt weak, although Jack wasn't sure how much his physical depletion signified his deeper state of mind. To say that Jack's mind was quiet was a distinct understatement - in fact, he was drawing a complete blank in the higher thinking stakes. He kept rolling over and over the words that Justin had pumped into his ear, and then his brain would automatically visualize Carter's face contorting in the kind of pleasure he tortured himself would have produced her good spirits this morning.
It wasn't that he was angry with her. After all, he had been kind of preparing himself for a while - well, dreading, really - the moment that Carter finally found someone else. O'Neill just hadn't expected the guy to be quite so close to home. Or for it to hurt so damn much.
Should have known, he thought to himself dully, Justin always did go for exactly what he wanted. And he was checking out my phone. Looking up Carter's number, no doubt.
Burying his damp and cold-growing face in a towel he had pulled out of the black hole of his locker, Jack tried to drown out the images that flooded his unprotected brain. All those things he dreamed of for himself...
Eyes still squeezed shut, he slammed the locker door shut with a little more force than he intended. Pulling the towel away to check for tell-tale dents, he nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw Carter standing a few feet away, arms hanging limply at her sides. She looked apprehensive, wiping her hands on the pants of her BDU's as he regarded her.
When she didn't start speaking, O'Neill sighed tiredly and rubbed at his short hair with the towel. Maybe if he ignored her she'd go away.
"Sir, we have to talk about this."
"About what, Carter?"
"Come on, Sir, you know what I mean." Sam sounded a little impatient, which made his hackles rise. Why should she be upset? She was the one having all the fun...
"Do I, Major?" He carried on dressing.
"The 'phone call this morning."
"Is there something I should have noticed about it?"
Sam clucked her tongue in irritation. "Well, it's the reason the air is so cold in here right now, isn't it?"
" I don't know what you're talking about, Major. Now if you'll excuse me--"
"We just had dinner, Colonel. Your brother and I. He wanted company for the fundraiser."
"Right." O'Neill didn't look at her, continued almost as if he hadn't heard at all.
"Shit, Colonel! I didn't sleep with him, for god's sake! Is that what you think? Is that how much you think of me?"
Relief exploded in Jack's gut as Sam's angry words penetrated the fog around his brain. It was swiftly obliterated by his own particular brand of rage and stubborn pride. Was she pitying him? Heaven forbid!
"I'm sorry, Major - am I supposed to care? Go ahead and screw who you like, Carter. It's none of my business. I could probably suggest a few officers to you, if you want - you're quite the hit in this place, you know."
Sam's outraged silence wafted over his shoulders like radioactive fallout. Around them, the water pipes hissed and gurgled, and outside the insulation of the locker room Jack could suddenly hear the noises of the base going on as usual. Between them, though, the bitter cruelty of his words lingered, tearing into something he had held as the most precious thing in his life for some years.
They stood like that for a few moments, until Carter began to move towards the exit. O'Neill opened his locker again, tossing the towel back inside. As she reached the door, the Major turned again to say something and Jack looked up at her. Before her face slammed an icy mask down over her features, he saw indignation and hurt embattled with something terrifyingly akin to hatred flash across her face. His stomach turned again, this time with an aching nausea, but he said nothing, waiting for her to say her piece.
"I refuse to allow your puerile attitude to effect my work, Colonel. I do hope you can muster enough professionalism to prevent it from effecting yours."
He watched the door click shut behind her. This was sure going to be a fun day.
***
Half an hour later, it got a whole lot worse. The briefing that O'Neill had earlier spent most of the time ignoring was to discuss a short, six hour scouting trip to a planet which appeared to be rich in Naqueda deposits. Daniel, Teal'c and the Colonel were geared up and awaiting Carter's appearance in the gate room when Hammond arrived unexpectedly.
"General. What's up?"
"You three are going to have to manage this one by yourselves, gentlemen - Major Carter is going to be stuck in her lab for a few days, I'm afraid."
"Is that right?" O'Neill was immediately suspicious. Okay, so Carter enjoyed spending time in the lab - but she'd never willingly dropped out of a chance to travel through the gate because of it. A bad feeling began to bubble in his stomach for the tenth time that day.
"Is Sam ok?" Daniel asked, concerned.
"She's fine, Doctor Jackson, but it appears there is some kind of problem with the MALP. The Major doesn't feel happy leaving it to anyone else, so she has requested the job herself. Since your mission is unlikely to need her expertise, I saw no reason to refuse her request. That's if you are agreeable with that, Colonel?"
"No problem, General. I survived fine on my own before I met Carter -I'm sure I can manage it for a few hours now."
Daniel looked at him carefully as the General nodded and walked away.
"What?"
"Are you ok, Jack?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Is there something going on? Sam's never turned down gate travel before, has she?"
"Beats me what goes through her head," shrugged Jack, shouldering his pack and signaling to the observation deck for them to start dialing out. "But I'm sure we can manage without her for a day - even with you limping all the way."
Daniel nodded thoughtfully, following Jack up the ramp and through the gate.
***
Sam sat at her workbench, a pile of dismantled MALP parts in front of her. With her back to the door, she looked busy. But in reality her brain was miles away, working over problems that suddenly appeared far more pressing. Janet found her like this at midday as she was on her way to the cafeteria.
"Sam? Are you still at it? You want to take a break for something to eat?"
Sam looked up with a watery smile. "I'm not hungry, thanks."
Janet came closer, crossing her arms with a frown.
"Those MALP parts don't look as if they've moved an inch since the last time I stuck my head around your door. What's up?"
"Nothing, Janet. Why would anything be up?"
"What? Apart from the meltdown in your team this morning?" Janet made a face and grabbed the stool beside Sam's. "Come on, Sam. I know when there's something wrong. You never miss a chance to 'gate. This has something to do with Justin, doesn't it? Did you talk to the Colonel?"
Sam sighed, dropping the pieces of technology back on the bench. "Kind of. Well...not really...." She rubbed a hand across her face. "He was awful, Janet. I told him the truth and he acted like it made no difference. Practically called me a slut to my face."
"You're kidding?" Janet gaped at her friend, wide eyed. "He said that that?"
"As good as, Janet. Said that I could screw whoever I liked and offered to supply a few names that would be willing."
"That doesn't sound like Colonel O'Neill...that's bordering on sexual harassment!"
Sam shrugged. "What can I say? The guy's obviously a latent asshole. Maybe I'll take him up on his offer? I could do with a few nights of furious passion. It'd make me feel better."
"Sure about that?"
"Why not? Seems to be okay for guys to do it when they feel the need..." Sam sighed again, "Oh, I don't know. I've seen him angry before - just never at me, I guess. It just made me wonder why I was so bothered about what he thought in the first place. He obviously doesn't care what I do."
"If he didn't care, why would he act like such an ass?"
Sam shrugged. "If he *did* care, why would he act like such an ass?"
"Jealousy?" Janet suggested mildly.
"That's redic--"
"You're not going to see Justin again, are you?"
Sam looked away, frowning. And something that felt like broken trust turned her gaze cold. "I don't know. I think he's heading back to California tonight. But I've got his number..." She looked up, daring Janet to talk her out of it. "Maybe I'll give him a call? See what he's up to before his flight."
"Sam..." Janet's voice had a warning in it, but it was obvious worry that clouded the doctor's face.
"I had a lot of fun with Justin last night. What's wrong with a follow-up drink? Particularly since the person I was worried about doesn't seem to care about it anyway!" Having obviously made up her mind, Sam stood and pulled her jacket over her shoulders, heading for the door to her lab.
Sighing, Janet stood and followed her. She had a very bad feeling about this...
***
Sam sat at the bar, absently running a finger around the rim of her beer glass as she waited for Justin to return. It was quite late and the place was reasonably full, the soft hubbub of conversation billowing around her. The black mood that had haunted her for much of the day had lifted after a pleasant evening spent laughing with the younger O'Neill, and although she hadn't consumed a particularly copious amount of alcohol, Sam had to concede that her head was at least a little muzzy.
Looking up, she saw Justin wending his way back towards her from the men's room. Sam smiled as she caught his eye and indicated her glass to ask if he wanted a refill. He nodded and she turned back to order from the bar tender as Justin regained his seat beside her.
"You're a bad influence, Sam. It's a good thing the rental car went back today, or it would have cost me a fortune in taxi fares to collect it tomorrow morning!" Their shoulders brushed together companionably as Sam shrugged.
"Well, it's good to let your hair down once in a while," she argued, handing over a five dollar bill as their drinks were placed before them. "And as you may have realized, I don't get a whole lot of time for that."
"So it would seem - I was supposed to spend the evening with Jack, actually, but since he hadn't called me back, I figured I'd take you up on the offer of a drink instead."
"Ah - so I'm second choice, am I?"
"I wouldn't say that. Jack's loss is my gain. Although it's strange he didn't call to let me know that he couldn't make it. For all his faults, he's usually more reliable than that. One of the few bonuses of military training, I guess."
Sam frowned, "When was he supposed to call?"
"He said he'd give me a ring when his shift ended, which should have been..." Justin paused to look at his watch.
"The same time as me." Sam's brain began working overtime. She hadn't seen SG-1 after they were scheduled to return from their brief mission to P9X-526. But then, it wasn't as if she'd exactly gone looking for them. For once, Sam hadn't hung around the base once her duty shift ended, so she had probably left long before their buffer-time was up. If they'd been late returning and still within their allotted safety period, there was no reason that anyone would have thought to call her away from the lab.
But what if they hadn't returned at all? If it was so unusual for O'Neill not to call on schedule...
"Sam? Is there something I should know? You look worried. Look, if it's about Jack--"
"No, no, everything's fine," she tried to inject as much ease into her voice as possible while her heart began a swift decent into a well of concern, "if there was anything amiss, I would have been notified by now. No, it's just a stressful day catching up with me, that's all. Excuse me for a moment?"
"I must have started a trend," Justin quipped as Sam stood and headed for the ladies room, grabbing her purse as she went.
Once the door of the rest room had swung shut behind her, Sam pulled her cell phone hurriedly from her purse. She cursed as she realized it was dead. God knows how long it had been out - what if the SGC had been trying to contact her? With her phone out of action, no one knew where she was.
Sticking her head back into the bar, Sam saw with relief that Justin's attention was absorbed in conversation with the barman. Slipping out of the rest room as quietly as she could, Sam headed for the public pay phones.
It took a few minutes of frustrating formalities before she was identified and passed through to the SGC switchboard. As she waited her guilt mounted, coupled with an irrational fear that caused her gut to churn sourly. What if they hadn't made it back? What if they had needed her help and she hadn't been there for the team? What if.
Sam stopped herself with difficulty, pushing the fear down and forcing her rational side to take control. Don't be ridiculous, she told herself reasonably. It's just a missed telephone call. He was out of sorts today after this morning's fiasco... Anyway, it's not surprising he didn't want to talk to Justin. He'll have just forgotten. You're overreacting, and--
"Major Carter," Hammond's voice cut into her sharply. "Where the hell have you been?"
And a black hole opened up in her heart.
***
By the time she reached the base, Sam's head was about ready to implode. Hammond, obviously, hadn't been willing to divulge any information to her over the public telephone, but simply ordered her to return to duty as soon as possible. It was slightly humiliating to have to explain that she was well over the drink-drive limit and certainly wouldn't be officially fit for service. Of course, there was no real reason that she should feel this way: she was, after all, off duty. To Sam, though, it was like willingly admitting to some sort of personal weakness. Hammond's concerns were evidently elsewhere, however, a fact that caused her even more anxiety as she tried to make sure she was back home before the car the General was sending out to collect her arrived on her doorstep.
Her hurried departure from the bar was probably going to cause problems with Justin later - despite the arranged telephone call courtesy of Hammond that was waiting for her even as she returned to his side, his suspicions had been raised at her earlier reaction to his news of the Colonel's silence. After all, for all their distance, Justin was still the Colonel's brother and it wouldn't take him long to figure out that the older O'Neill sibling was incommunicado. Nevertheless, Sam was more worried about the current status of her team than about security.
The Major practically ran through the corridors of Cheyenne Mountain, punching the elevator buttons with impatience as she descended lower and lower into the depths of the installation. Reaching level 28, Sam's heart sank as the doors swished open to the steady, penetrating sirens of full alert status. Heading straight for the control room, she saw Janet hurrying along the route in front of her.
"Janet! What's going on, do you know? Is it SG-1?" Rather than forcing her evidently rushed friend to wait for her, Sam speeded up until she met Janet's pace.
"Sam! They've been trying to reach you for hours! Where were you?"
"Not home - my phone battery went dead and I didn't realize. What is it? They came back, right?"
"You'd better see Hammond first, Sam."
"Janet! Don't make me wait. Tell me they're safe, damn it!"
Janet stopped, breathing heavily as she turned to face Carter. "I'm sorry, Sam. Daniel made it back through almost in one piece, but Teal'c and the Colonel are gone." The doctor reached out and squeezed Sam's arm firmly, without allowing the professional look on her face to fail for a moment. "I have to go, I have some tests back from Daniel's exam."
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
"They're gone, Sam. The Goa'uld attacked. Daniel made it through but only because he was close to the gate and he's cut up pretty bad. I'm sorry, Sam, but you know the score."
Sam nodded dumbly, and then watched Janet begin to run again. She knew the score all right. Two soldiers against a Goa'uld attack force? The chances certainly erred on the worst side of bad. But then, SG-1 had been there before, right? Picking up her pace again, she headed for the control room, where Hammond stood glowering at the Stargate as Siler read out various readings from a screen.
"Major Carter reporting for duty, sir." She snapped to attention swiftly as the big man turned to witness her entrance.
"Major, I'm glad you're here. Come into the briefing room, I'll fill you in." Carter followed, noting the dejected slope to the older man's shoulders.
As the briefing room door shut behind her, Sam could feel the tension mount in the air. Through the window onto the gate room, she could see the frantic activity as several science teams worked on the gate. Two of the Chevrons smoked mournfully, remnants of whatever incident had caused all this uproar. Sam turned as the General began to speak.
"First of all, Major, I must apologize for my abrupt manner earlier. These few hours have been very fraught, as I'm sure you can understand, and having one of my finest officers go missing into the bargain was a little too much."
"I should apologize, sir - I really didn't realize my phone was out, or I would have taken steps to ensure you knew where I was. But General, please -"
"The situation is as follows, major. SG-1 were, as you know, on a routine survey mission. Apparently, they were not the only ones interested in the properties of the planet. They were attacked, as far as Doctor Jackson knows, by Jaffa under the control of an unknown Goa'uld. Jackson made it through, thanks to his broken ankle - he hadn't left the vicinity of the DHD. However, shortly after he came through the event horizon, the gate suffered a massive bombardment. Ours, as you can see, took enough damage to put it out of action for at least a few hours, so..."
"So God only knows what condition the other gate is in," Sam finished, voice remaining still over the quaking of her throat.
"Yes. And from the size of the attack force...well, you know what the odds are, major. Colonel O'Neill's good, but he's not Superman."
Sam didn't say anything, just stared out at the smoldering gate with a dull ache in her chest. Vainly she tried to think of the positives, of their chances, of fluke occurrences....but all her mind would allow her to think was 'he left angry at you, and now he's...gone.'
"I have to join the teams working on the gate, General."
"Of course, Major, you're dismissed." As she reached the door, the General's voice stopped her. "Major...I know how difficult this is for you and Doctor Jackson. I wish there was something more we could do."
Cater didn't turn, just nodded slightly and slipped out of the room before her eyes had a chance to betray her with tears.
***
Part Three - by Sally Reeve
Footsteps crunched in the dry leaves, mere inches from where Jack lay hidden in a shallow dip of earth behind a large, fallen tree. Dirt and dead leaves covered him, and he held his breath as the Jaffa patrol stopped.
He could see nothing more than their shoes, and dared not move to see more. Their leader barked something that was obvious as a command in any language, and his men moved off. Spreading out. Searching. Shit.
Teal'c was hidden a little behind him in the trees, but Jack knew that their cover was feeble and wouldn't bare close inspection. His P-90 lay awkwardly beneath him, but his fingers gripped it in readiness.
God, he'd have to breath soon. His lungs were burning for air.
More footsteps. Closer. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to any god who would listen. Don't let them find me, don't let them--
Apparently no gods were listening.
The butt of a staff weapon jabbed into his back. Shit. With a swift movement he flipped onto his back and squeezed the trigger. The Jaffa went down, and Jack was on his feet and running before the man hit the ground. Behind him he heard more shouts, and then a tree ahead of him exploded with a staff blast. The force staggered him, but he kept on running. Something hot and sticky trickled into his eyes and he realized that he was bleeding, although he felt no pain.
The staff blasts were closer now, and more frequent. Shit! He sprinted forward, adrenaline pushing him beyond his limits. Teal'c was around somewhere; he hoped he'd have the sense to keep hidden. On and on he ran, his lungs that had once burned for air now screaming with the effort of sucking in breath after breath as his heart hammered in his chest.
Mud rained over his back as a blast detonated at his heels, the force sending him stumbling forward. But he regained his momentum and kept going. It wouldn't end like this. It wouldn't.
Ahead of him he abruptly saw a cliff, rearing up through the trees. Its face was pockmarked with holes - caves. If he could just make it in there, perhaps he could lose them in the darkness? Hope spurred him on, faster and faster. But his breath was increasingly ragged, his feet stumbling over the branches and rocks on the forest floor. He could make it. He knew he could. If he could only...
Fire!
It burned through his arm, ripping a scream from his throat. Vivid, blood-red pain closed like a veil over his eyes as he felt himself falling. The stench of burned fabric and flesh filled his nostrils, and he dimly realized it was his own. No! NO! Not like this, not like this.
And then: "O'NEILL!"
The voice bellowed out of the darkness. Over his head streaked the blast of a staff weapon, once, twice, three times. He sensed someone above him, standing guard as he lay immobilized on the ground. Red turned to gray and gray to black. He was falling out of the world, sinking down into oblivion. And as he went, the only thing he could see in the darkness was a face. Her face. Her hurt, accusatory, beautiful face. And then there was nothing.
***
Sam felt frustratingly useless. They didn't need her. Siler had given her a look that was laced with sympathy, but assured her that he'd have the gate up and running in no more than three hours and there was nothing she could do to speed the process. There was nothing for her to figure out, no acts of technological heroism for her to perform. Nothing for her to do but wait.
She hated it.
Pacing her lab, she ran over the events of the morning in her head. Justin's call, the look of hurt and shock in O'Neill's eyes as he'd handed her the phone, his cold, nasty temper later in the locker room. His hurtful, cruel words. Her own anger - the flash of hatred born of sour disappointment.
And then, unforgivably, her single moment of disloyalty. The one time in five years that she'd put herself before the team. The one and only time. She'd passed up the mission, partly to spite him and partly because she couldn't bare the thought of his icy, barbed comments digging at her all day. She'd let them go out there without her to watch their backs. She'd allowed her hurt to guide her, and now they were gone. And her last words to him had been spoken in anger.
She kicked out angrily at her chair, sending it skittering across the room. Her team had been under attack, and she'd been sipping drinks in a bar! She knew the odds, she knew that if they weren't dead they were...something worse than dead. And it was her fault. If she'd been there...
Guilt bit sharply and she could have screamed with the anger and frustration welling up inside. If only she'd been there. If only--
The phone rang, its shrill tone jarring into her thoughts. She snatched it up. "Carter."
"Sam, it's Janet," came the calm voice. "I thought you'd want to know that Daniel is okay to have visitors."
Nodding dumbly at the phone, Sam managed to mutter. "Right. Thanks. I'll be right there." But she put the phone down with a sick sense of dread. Daniel. After the way she'd let down SG-1, how could she ever face him?
***
Colonel O'Neill was not a light man. Nonetheless, Teal'c moved swiftly and gracefully through the trees towards the promised haven of caverns ahead, with O'Neill slung over his shoulder. The Jaffa patrol had been relatively small, although the battle had been protracted. But he knew that more were on the way, for he had been unable to prevent the runner from breaking away from the group and heading back towards the Stargate.
The fact that the planet's pale sun was setting would aid their subterfuge, and Teal'c hoped that the Jaffa did not understand who they pursued. If they knew that the infamous Shol'va and the Colonel O'Neill, of Earth, were their prey then they would not relent in their pursuit. But these Jaffa seemed inexperienced and young, their markings unfamiliar. It was a slender hope, but one that he hoped would prove accurate.
At last he was free of the trees, and despite the weight of his friend, Teal'c forced himself into a run as he crossed the dangerous open space between the woods and the cliff. But no staff blasts followed him, and soon he had ducked into the cool comfort of the dank cave. Carefully, he lowered O'Neill to the ground. They had to move further into what Teal'c hoped was an extensive warren of caves, but first he needed to treat O'Neill's injury. The staff blast had caught him in the left arm, opening a sizeable wound. Teal'c pulled the emergency medical kit from his vest and applied a dressing. It was only as he tightened the bandage around O'Neill's arm that he noticed the slightly odd angle of the bones and realized that the blast had shattered more than flesh.
He didn't grimace. He had seen far worse. But he counted it a blessing that O'Neill was still unconscious as he strapped the arm close to the man's chest, not daring to do more for fear of doing more harm than good. What was clear, he realized grimly, was that O'Neill required medical attention. And soon.
Crouching before him, Teal'c tapped him gently on the cheek. "O'Neill," he called. "Colonel O'Neill. We must leave."
A soft groan. Eyes fluttered. "Teal'c.?"
"It is I."
O'Neill blinked, and tried to sit up. "Where's Carter.? Argh!"
"Lay still," Teal'c advised, a restraining hand on O'Neill's shoulder. "You were hit by a staff weapon. Your arm is broken."
Laying his head back on the rocky ground, O'Neill rubbed his good hand over his face. "Feels like it," he muttered. "Carter," he said again, sounding vague. "Is she...?"
"She did not accompany us on this mission," Teal'c reminded him. "And Daniel Jackson returned through the Stargate before it was attacked."
O'Neill was nodding now. "Right," he muttered. "I remember." His hand dropped from his face, and an odd look of sadness lingered in his eyes. "Guess it's a good job Carter didn't come after all."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Her assistance would have been welcome."
"Yeah," O'Neill grimaced, forcing himself upright. "Well - she had better things to do."
It was impossible not to miss the bitterness in O'Neill's voice, but Teal'c had no desire to query his friend's meaning. Besides, there were more important matters at hand. "Are you able to walk?" he asked. "We must move further into the caves before the Jaffa return."
"Nothin' wrong with my legs," O'Neill replied, struggling to his feet. He paused, "Is there?"
"There is not," Teal'c assured him.
Once upright, O'Neill wobbled for a moment before reaching out with his good arm and bracing himself against the wall. "Lost some blood, huh?"
Teal'c nodded. "I can carry you if you are unable to walk."
O'Neill fixed him with a steely look. "I can walk."
"Then we must go," Teal'c told him, pulling his flashlight from his vest. He whipped it around the cavern and soon saw a narrow passage leading back into the rock. "I shall lead the way," he announced, and O'Neill made no objection.
In silence they moved out, darkness and evasion the only things between themselves and the coming enemy.
***
Sam wore her guilt like a coat of lead, and Daniel could see its weight on her shoulders the moment she stepped into the infirmary. Her eyes were wide and haunted, and she moved towards him with an unusual hesitancy. He knew exactly what she was feeling; he'd known her for five long years. And so the first thing he said was, "Even if you'd been with us there was nothing you could have done."
His words stopped her. "What happened?"
Daniel let his head sink back into the pillow and closed his eyes. He knew nothing but absolute truth would satisfy her. "About half a kilometer from the gate Jack and Teal'c ran straight into a Jaffa patrol. Must have been there for the same reason we were. Jack radioed in as he was hightailing it back to the gate, I dialed up but..." He sighed, opened his eyes and looked right at her. "They had Deathgliders and...big guns. The works." Nodding ruefully at his broken ankle, he added, "I wasn't far from the gate, and when Jack saw the Deathgliders he ordered me to leave. I waited as long as I could, I saw Teal'c and Jack running for the gate before I left, but--"
He stopped and Sam looked away, her brow creasing. "But they didn't make it."
"No."
"General Hammond said something happened to the gate after you left," she said then, turning as she always did to the technological problems rather than the personal.
Daniel nodded. "Pretty heavy bombardment. Must have discharged a lot of energy into the wormhole to do the damage it did our end."
But Sam was shaking her head. "It doesn't make any sense," she said, coming closer to his bed. "Why would they risk damaging the Stargate? It's their only way home."
"Unless they had a ship in orbit," he suggested quietly. "The Deathgliders had to have come from somewhere."
He could almost see Sam's heart hit her toes. "A ship," she repeated softly. "Of course."
"And destroying the Stargate would keep rivals from the planet."
Sam nodded. "Yeah." She closed her eyes, fingers gripping the metal rails along the edge of his bed. Knuckles turning white. "Daniel," she breathed, with such grief that he felt tears choke his throat.
"I know," he whispered brokenly, reaching out a hand to cover hers. "I know."
***
The only things that were real during the long, dark night of endless passageways were the steady beam of Teal'c's flashlight and the constant pain in his arm. Everything else was illusion.
Carter. Nervous, a touch impatient. "Sir, we have to talk about this."
"About what, Carter?" Bitter. Oh, so bitter.
"Come on, sir, you know what I mean."
Their last conversation went around and around inside his head. At the time it had felt as though something was breaking, the words as cutting as a priceless vase shattering on the floor.
"Come on , sir, you know what I mean."
He had, of course. What she'd meant was the fact that she'd spent the night - or at least the evening - in the company of his oh-so-charming younger brother. He didn't even know why he was surprised; Justin saw something he wanted and he went for it. Always had done. But Carter...? He didn't have her pegged as vindictive, but if she'd tried to hurt him she couldn't have done a better job. Justin! Of all people.
Oh yeah, she'd hurt him. The pain was with him now, not as immediate but infinitely more profound than the fire and ice of his damaged arm. She'd hurt him. But that hadn't given him the right to say what he'd said. Damn it, but in the darkness of the caverns all he could see was the indignation and hurt in her eyes; the shock of betrayal. And an anger so close to hatred that it frightened him.
"Go ahead and screw who you like, Carter. It's none of my business. I could probably suggest a few officers to you, if you want..."
The words were branded into his head, as unwelcome as Teal'c's emblem of Apophis and far more shameful. Had he really said that? Had he really said that to Carter? To the woman he valued above all others? To the woman who's good opinion of him was the most important thing in his life?
Of course he had. It was what he did. Sara had certainly felt the sharp edge of his tongue more than once; it almost seemed that the more he felt for a person the more he pushed them away. In the end he'd pushed Sara right away, for good. And he'd probably done as much to Carter.
Unbidden into his mind came images of Justin and Sam together. They were images of fantasy, as painful as his own imagination could make them: smiling, kissing, loving. A wedding. Kids. Uncle Jack. God, no!
"O'Neill?" Teal'c stopped ahead of him and turned around.
Jack blinked in the darkness and shook his head to clear the vivid visions. "What?"
"You cried out," Teal'c told him.
"I did?"
Teal'c stepped closer and placed a cool hand on Jack's forehead. "Fever," he pronounced.
"I'm fine. Let's keep going and--"
"I believe we are as safe as possible," Teal'c replied, shining his wrist-light around the passageway. "This will suffice as a place of rest."
"Hey!" Jack protested as Teal'c began to push him gently towards the ground. "Who's in command here?"
Teal'c made no answer, simply fixed him with an incontrovertible look.
"Right," Jack muttered. "That's what I thought."
***
Sam was trembling as she stood in the control room. Not so much that anyone else would notice, but inside the core of her being she was quivering with dread anticipation. Next to her, General Hammond nodded towards Lieutenant Fredrickson.
"Dial it up, son," he said, his calm voice belying the tension that stretched the atmosphere in the room almost to breaking point.
The gate seemed to move in slow motion as it span, each chevron taking an age to engage and lock. And with each beat of her heart, Sam willed it to work. She had to get there. She had to be where they were, discover the truth for herself. See the bodies.
She shook that thought away. Not bodies. Not that.
"Chevron seven, engaged." At last! "Chevron seven, locked."
Relief was transitory. Something was wrong. It was obvious by the lackluster splash-back that struggled into the room. The event horizon shimmered and shivered half-heartedly for a long moment, but failed to stabilize. And in a sputter of light, it winked out of existence.
"What the hell was that?" Hammond demanded.
Lieutenant Fredrickson was scanning the data before him, but Sam understood instinctively. "The gate on P9X -526 is damaged," she told him numbly. "We can't establish a wormhole. We can't go back for them."
***
Teal'c allowed O'Neill to rest for three hours, before rousing him. So far there were no sounds of pursuit, no echoes in the dark caves. But his warrior's instinct told him to keep moving. Their only chance of survival lay in concealment.
"O'Neill," he called softly, shaking the man's shoulder where he lay motionless on the floor. "It is time to continue."
O'Neill's eyes flashed open, glittering in the glow of Teal'c's flashlight. "What happened?"
"You slept," Teal'c replied, offering him half a ration bar. "Eat this and we shall continue."
One-handed, O'Neill struggled upright, grimacing as he jostled his arm. "Not hungry," he muttered. "Thirsty though."
Water was sparse in the caves, which were dry as a bone. Teal'c reached for the canteen at his side. "Drink sparingly," he told his friend. "Our supplies are limited."
O'Neill gave a nod of understanding. Of all the members of his team, O'Neill's mind was closest to Teal'c's own way of thinking. Despite the apparent differences in their characters, in matters of importance they were as brothers. "They coming after us?" O'Neill asked then, handing the canteen back to Teal'c.
"I am unsure," he replied. "I have heard nothing while you rested."
"Seems kinda odd, don't you think?" O'Neill replied. "They gave up kinda easily."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "It is possible that we are of little concern to the Goa'uld on this planet."
"I guess," O'Neill replied, although he didn't sound convinced. Then, with a grunt of effort, he hauled himself upright. In the baleful glare of the flashlight he looked pale. His injury was severe, and a lesser man might have complained. But not O'Neill. Teal'c admired his stoicism.
Returning the uneaten ration bar to his pocket, Teal'c also stood. "With luck," he said, "we should be able to return to the Stargate under the cover of dark."
O'Neill just nodded, tugging his cap onto his head. "Sure we will."
***
"What do you mean, there's nothing we can do?" Daniel said as he lowered himself into the chair before Hammond's desk. "There has to be something!"
Sam looked anguished as she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "But there isn't."
Looking from her to the grim-faced General Hammond, Daniel slumped back. "But the gate is still there. Right?"
"But it's not working," Sam explained for the hundredth time. "I don't know how, but it's as if the gate on P9X -526 has been depolarized. It's impossible to establish a connection." She frowned, searching for a simple way to explain it. "It's like a magnet that's been demagnetized. It won't stick. And we can't fix it from this end, because we can't connect to it."
Leaning forward, Daniel sank his head into his hands. "Okay," he muttered through his fingers, "we've been here before. There's *always* a way."
"Not this time." Sam's voice was very quiet, clipped. She was holding everything inside. He could see it in the tight set of her jaw and the ache behind her eyes.
General Hammond cleared his throat. "I've already sent a message to the Tok'ra," he said. "I'm sure they'll do what they can."
When it came to the Tok'ra, Daniel was only marginally less suspicious than Jack. "How long?" he asked, resting his chin on his hands.
"Until they reply?"
He shook his head. "Until a ship can reach P9X -526?"
Abruptly Sam stood up, moving to gaze out the window. Hammond's eyes followed her, his face creasing with a sadness that Daniel understood. This was hard on all of them, but especially Sam. She was the one they all expected to 'fix' it. She was the one who pulled miracles out of her hat. But not this time. "More than a year," she said into the silent room. "And that's if they left now. P9X -526 is right at the edge of the Stargate network."
A year? Chances were, if Jack and Teal'c had survived the bombardment at the gate, then they wouldn't last more than a couple of days against the small army of Jaffa. Daniel felt tears prick his eyes and sank his head back into his hands. It was hard to accept that they were gone, that the Stargate wouldn't suddenly spin into action and they'd race through, guns blazing.
"I can't believe they're gone," Sam whispered, echoing his thoughts from where she stood by the window.
He didn't reply. There was nothing left to say.
***
Light.
Slow at first, a gentle infusion, Jack began to see the shapes of the rocky tunnel through which he was being forced to crawl. No easy task with a broken arm strapped to your chest. His right arm, the arm that bore the brunt of the effort, was beginning to shake with fatigue and he was forced to rest. If his arm gave way and he hit the ground it was going to be more than painful.
Teal'c stopped as O'Neill paused. He said nothing, making no comment on Jack's need to rest. He was grateful for that. To distract himself a little, Jack squinted towards the thin light. "Must be getting close to the surface," he muttered quietly.
"Indeed," Teal'c replied. "With luck, we will find an exit."
Jack smiled. "You'd think they'd be marked, wouldn't you?"
"I would not."
His smiled dissolved into a chuckle. "How long have we been in here?"
"More than twelve hours," Teal'c replied. "It is the early hours of the morning outside."
Jack grimaced. He'd rather move under the cover of night if he could, but the pain in his arm and his growing weakness told him that if he didn't get back to the gate soon Teal'c would be going alone. "Let's see what it looks like when we find a way out," he decided, resuming his slow and painful crawl.
With luck, Carter was already creating a bridgehead at the gate. SG-3 and five would have been his choice. That was one good thing about her not being along on the mission; despite all the personal feelings and complications between them, there was no one he'd rather have coming after him. Carter was dogged to the point of obsession, and he knew there was nothing that would stop her from bringing them home.
No one got left behind. She knew that.
***
Sam sat staring at the walls in a numb silence. She'd never felt so helpless. There was nothing she could do. No particle accelerator to build, no quick-fix. So slow-fix. Nothing. There was nothing she could do. And it was destroying her.
Perhaps if she'd been on P9X -526 itself she could have fixed the gate. But she wasn't. And that was the root of her anguish. She wasn't there. She'd refused the mission. And for no good reason other than her anger and need to lash out at O'Neill for his hurtful words. She gave a sour smile. Surprise! Her anger had probably cost him his life. How about that for payback?
Angrily she got to her feet, pacing the lab like a caged tiger. She had to get out. She had to *do* something to help. The guilt was gnawing, twisting her stomach until she thought she'd throw up. But Sam Carter never lost control. Never. Never.
Words span in her head, like crows mocking her with their harsh caws. It's your fault! Your fault. You killed them. If only you'd been there, if only you were there now, you could help. But you weren't. You were in the bar, with Justin. Betraying him. Betraying them all. You let them down, you failed, you... "Stop it!" she yelled, clamping her hands to the side of her head. "Stop it."
***
Janet heard the stifled cry as she was passing Sam's lab, and it touched ice to her spine. She flung open the door, to find Sam slumped in her chair with her head in her hands.
"Sam?"
"Go away," came the muffled response.
Like hell! Janet stepped into the room and closed the door. "What's going on?"
Sam was silent for a long time. Janet simply waited until, at last, Sam raised her head. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were dark and haunted. "This is my fault," she said in a flat voice.
"No it isn't."
"No," Sam sighed, staring at her. "You don't understand. If I'd been there--"
"Daniel says there was nothing you could have done. And just because you had other things to do during that one mission doesn't mean--"
"I lied," Sam said, her voice cracking like ice. "I lied to get out of the mission."
"Oh," Janet winced. Shit. "Why?"
Rubbing her hands over her face, Sam began to talk. Slowly at first, but with increasing emotion. "Because I didn't want to face him. Because I was angry at him. Because I was *totally* unprofessional and--"
"You're only human, Sam," Janet reminded her gently.
"I turned my back on the team!" Sam snapped. "There's no excuse. Not ever."
Taking a step nearer, Janet took a closer look at her friend's pale face. She was gaunt with worry. "Who knows what would have happened if you'd been there?" she said. "But you can't think about that. You have to focus on--"
"I should be there now," Sam whispered quietly. "Or I should have died there, with them."
"Sam...," Janet began to protest, but Sam talked right over her.
"I was in a bar!" she hissed. "A goddamn bar! With...with..." For the first time since she'd entered the room, angry tears filled Sam's eyes. "With...Justin," she finished, clearly disgusted at herself.
Reaching out, Janet put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. "You didn't know."
"I should have been there!" Tears were falling now, and she swiped them angrily away. "I wish I was there. God, I wish I was with them..."
"Go home," Janet suggested. "You need to rest."
She looked up through hurting eyes. "Rest?" she whispered. "Are you kidding?"
"You can't sit here all night," Janet said softly, squeezing her shoulder. "I know it's hard, Sam. But you have to keep going."
She looked away, her voice as dusty as ash. "You have no idea. No idea at all."
***
Part Four - by Gunfodder and Sally Reeve
The tunnel through which they were crawling ended in a fissure about twenty meters above ground. Jack peeked his head out cautiously, scanning the scrub beneath the cliffs for signs of movement. Nothing.
But his heart sank when he glanced down at the steep descent. It would probably be more of a scramble than a climb, but it still wouldn't be easy. Not with his arm. Worming his way back inside the tunnel was painful, and when he turned to Teal'c he couldn't stifle a groan of pain. Clenching his teeth, he muttered, "It looks clear."
"It would be more prudent to wait until nightfall," Teal'c noted.
Jack agreed, but, "To be honest, Teal'c," he said, shifting carefully until he sat with his back against the wall, "I don't know how much longer I can keep going."
Teal'c's face didn't flicker. "I will assist you should you require help, O'Neill."
"No," Jack told him seriously, moving his broken arm slightly, trying to ease the pain. It didn't help. "If it comes to it, you get your ass back to the gate. No point in both of us buying it here."
He raised an eyebrow. "I will not abandon you, O'Neill, any more than you would abandon me should the situation be reversed."
Avoiding an answer, Jack squinted out through the bright fissure. "We'll head out in a few minutes," he decided. "Take our chances."
Come on Carter, he added silently, be there waiting for us, huh? Be there with a big-ass gun and a goddamn platoon. He smiled slightly at the idea. Yeah, she'd be there all right. She'd bring him home. She always did.
***
She shouldn't have come here. It was a stupid, emotional thing to do. Anyway, what if there was some miraculous development back at the base and once again she wasn't around? At least this time her cell 'phone wouldn't give out on her. That was one mistake Sam could learn from. The others? She couldn't even fully comprehend them yet.
Sam knew in her heart of hearts that there would be no developments. There wasn't going to be a miracle. After her near break-down in the lab, she'd been driven back down to the control room buy her insatiable need to *do* something. She'd thrown herself headlong back into the work, refusing to stop for anything. She'd dialed P9X-526 five times more, hoping that she'd missed something vital. She doubled-checked every calculation by hand, redefined all the parameters and considered all the variables. Twice. But each attempt was met with diminishing success. And at last exhaustion had caught up with her in a tidal wave of sorrow. Nothing was working. Nothing would work. It was hopeless.
Eventually she gave in to the pressure from Janet and Daniel, and left the base. But she had no clear idea of where she was going. It was only then that Sam had realized it was late afternoon and that she had worked through the night and beyond. Brain refusing to switch off, Sam drove and drove until the sky had darkened into a cloudless night full of stars. Then, unwittingly, she had found herself here.
God, it was cold. A bitter wind whipped over O'Neill's roof, cutting right into her. Still, Sam couldn't force herself to move from where she sat huddled on the Colonel's observation deck, staring blindly up at the stars. Despite the clarity of the night, the light from the moon was weak and ghostly, casting a pallid silver glow over everything. From her vantage point, Sam could see clear across Colorado Springs to the distant gray bulk of the mountain. She stared at it for a few moments, but no reassuring feel of home rose up inside her at the sight. From here it just looked like another cold part of the tableau.
The noise from the traffic in the adjoining streets seemed subdued, retreating into a background hum that Sam hardly registered at all except as a universally distinguishing sign of a City. The Colonel's street itself was quiet, a residential area marked in the slightly higher earnings bracket by neatly clipped lawns, double garages and children's playthings in the gardens. Outside every home was a street lamp that spilt a pool of turbid orange light onto the sidewalk below, occasionally shuddering with fleeting, furtive shapes as a cat strayed into its distorted field. Twice she listened as a car drew up onto a driveway, doors slamming once - or maybe twice - as the last member of the family to return home at night stepped out into the cool air and then retrieved a briefcase or a book or a sheaf of papers from the backseat of the vehicle. Sam heard a key scrape over the lock, the latch falling as the door opened, and then the painfully recognizable sounds of domestic bliss as the returnee was welcomed back into the fold.
As another car pulled into the street and she prepared herself for a repeat of the ritual, Sam thought: Does the O'Neill I know really live here, in the heart of this perfect suburbia? Do his neighbors, with their perfect homes and children, know that he could kill them all with his bare hands if he had to? Do they know that he is...?
She tried to stop herself thinking the next word, but it was too late, and it slipped into her consciousness before she had a chance to stop it. Do they know that he is loved?
Angry with herself, both for allowing such unexpected sentiment to enter her head and for the tears that had suddenly dampened her eyes, Sam stood up abruptly. She had to get away from here, had to do something productive...
A shout from below startled her, and she looked down to see a figure half outlined by the street lamp. A car had pulled up outside the house, and its driver was standing looking up at her.
"Hey, who's up there? What are you doing?"
Sam's heart lurched painfully and for a moment she was speechless. Despite the darkness, she would recognize that stance anywhere. Shaking herself into movement, Sam headed for the stepladder and began climbing down to ground level, joy suffusing her in waves of light headedness. They were back! And safe, from the look of it. She didn't pause to wonder why the SGC hadn't called to let her know the good tidings, or to ask why Janet had let them return home so quickly. Her relief was too great, too basic.
"I'm warning you," the familiar voice said, "I have my cell phone and I'm ready to dial 911, I -" there was a pause, "Sam?"
She stopped dead, two steps from the bottom rung, all her joy seeping into the soles of her feet and away. Her knees shook for a moment before she regained her mental equilibrium and injected a harsh note into her failing voice. Stepping from the ladder, she turned to face Justin.
"It is you!" He said, coming closer with a look of curiosity on his face, "What on earth were you doing up there on Jack's roof?"
Her mind blank, still shaking, Sam merely said, "Hello, Justin."
"Are you ok? I was worried when you disappeared off last night - I've been trying to call both you and Jack all day. For some reason they weren't taking any external calls at the base, either."
"I'm fine... I was..." her mind kicked into overdrive as she lied, "I was collecting the Colonel's spare key - he's got a hiding place up there on the roof." In her pocket, she deftly pulled off O'Neill's key from it's permanent place on her key chain, holding it up for Justin to see. To her relief, he nodded. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked, having nothing left to do but unlock O'Neill's door and enter the empty house.
"Well, to be honest, I'm getting worried about Jack. I don't want to leave for California not knowing if he is safe." Justin watched her carefully as she fiddled with the lock, finally reaching out to grasp the handle and open it himself, "Do you want to tell me what's going on? Like why you are here, checking over my brother's house?"
She flicked the light switch by the door and looked dumbly around the front room. It was sparse, tidy, efficient. It was also incredibly and painfully empty of it's owner. Sam swallowed, willing herself to regain her strength. What was wrong with her? Pull yourself together, Carter! It's just an empty house, it's just two friends MIA. You've been through this before. Switch off, she ordered her emotions, become nothing but the soldier. What's done is done. Deal with it.
Sam turned and looked at Justin, who was regarding her with concern and a little frustration. What could she tell him? Sooner or later he'd realize His brother wasn't coming back, at least not any time soon.
He could obviously see the dilemma reverberating in her eyes, because he said softly, "I'm staying until I know what's going on, Sam. Military shouldn't come before family. Jack's paid the price for that before, and I'm not paying it again. I've got time to spare and vacation time to take from the park, so why not just save me the wait and tell me now?"
After another moment of consideration, she nodded, walking to the mantelpiece in silence. On it stood a picture of Sara and Charlie, all smiles and sunshine. Sam tapped a finger absently against the frame, and realized that the sudden, bizarre sense of serenity that was settling over her was nothing but her body trying to shut out the unbelievable pain.
"My team were sent on a routine mission. They ran into difficulty, and two of them did not return as scheduled."
"Let me guess, Jack was one of them, is that right?"
"Colonel O'Neill is one of the two missing, yes."
There was a cold pause.
"You weren't with them."
"No."
His next words surprised her.
"I'm glad."
"I'm not," she said, turning around. "I could have helped them."
"Or it could be you out there lost and Jack standing in your home with all the guilt. I think he'd say he's got the better deal, if I know Jack. I've seen him lose members of his team before, and it's not a pretty sight."
She smiled wanly, passing a hand across her face. Taking the key out of her pocket again, she laid it next to the photograph of O'Neill's lost family, suddenly convinced of what Justin would want to do.
"You're going to stay here, aren't you?"
"Yes." Justin coughed out a harsh, strangled laugh, "It saves having to come all the way back for the funeral, doesn't it?" His voice was angry, but Sam knew it wasn't directed at her.
"I'm sorry..." She wanted to shout that there would be no funeral, that she would find some way of bringing them home...but she couldn't say any more, for fear of giving something away she shouldn't, couldn't.
"So am I. For you, as well. I know what sort of guilt the Military can impose on team members that are sensible enough to stay out of harm's way - however unwittingly." He came closer, laying a hand on her arm, "If you need to talk...I'm here, Sam."
She nodded, "I'll be fine. Call me if you need anything."
"Promise me -"
"I promise." Their eyes locked for a moment. Sam found herself thinking how very similar Justin's eyes were to His brother's, how expressive, how dark when emotional. Then Justin's eyes were drawn to the photograph on the fireplace.
"Shit! I'd better call Sara."
"Sara?" Sam asked uncomprehendingly.
"She's still his wife - she would want to know...poor woman, as if she hasn't been through enough. Love was never the problem - it still isn't, at least not for her."
Pulling her arm away, Sam felt her serenity threaten to crack as Justin looked back to her again. "I have to go. Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, I'll be fine. It's just the waiting game now, isn't it? Until the brass decide they've waited long enough and can let them go with a nice little ceremony and a folded flag."
His bitterness stung, but Sam didn't have the energy to bite back.
"I'll call you tomorrow," she said, making for the door, and left him standing in the Colonel's house, looking for all the world like some freakish movie double. The she was in her car, driving again, and she had no where to go but back to the base.
***
They moved slowly through the trees, and not entirely because Jack was finding it increasingly difficult to put one foot in front of the other. The pain in his arm was becoming all-consuming, and with every jolting step he felt fresh tendrils of fire course through his flesh as bone grated against bone.
He felt sick. Nauseous. He'd already thrown up once, and knew that there was nothing left in his stomach. Not that it mattered. He was hot and fevered, and he suspected that the wound was infected already. But he had to keep going. He refused to die here, at the hands of some nameless Goa'uld. His death had to mean more than that.
Besides, he reasoned as he forced one foot in front of the other, Carter was waiting for him. She was at the gate. Or maybe she was already in the woods, looking for them? But he had to hang on until she found him. He had to. There was something he had to say to her, although he wasn't sure exactly what. Something. Something important. Something...
"O'Neill!" The urgency in Teal'c's whisper broke through his hazy thoughts, but even as he instinctively dropped into a defensive crouch he could tell that he wasn't moving right. The world looked fuzzy, he couldn't concentrate properly. He was in trouble.
Thinking clearly enough to know that keeping low and silent was the best he could do, Jack hunkered into the underbrush. Ahead of him, Teal'c was creeping through the trees with the stealth and grace of a panther. And then suddenly he dropped flat to the ground, and O'Neill instinctively copied him. The agony as he landed on his broken arm was mind-blowing, and he had to bite hard on the knuckles of his good hand to stop himself from screaming. Oh, Jesus, it hurt!
And then he heard it. Voices. A Jaffa patrol passed by, their armor clinking as they moved. Heart thumping, beating a new pulse of agony through his arm with every beat, Jack pressed his face against the cool dirt. Last time, they'd been spotted. If it happened again, he'd have no chance. His life was measured in the steady footfalls of Jaffa feet.
Blood seeped into his mouth from where he was biting his hand to keep from crying out, his whole weight pressing down hard on his wounded arm and smashing the broken bone and flesh together. His eyes were squeezed shut, and spots of white light darted beneath his eyelids as he felt the world begin to spin sharply. He was going to pass out. He struggled to keep a hold on consciousness, but it was as slippery as a Goa'uld and wriggled out of his reach.
In his last few moments of lucid thought he realized that if the Jaffa found him, laying unconscious on the ground, he would never wake up again. A blast to his head and it would all be over. His only hope was that Carter found them first.
Don't leave me here, Carter, he prayed as he slid helplessly into darkness, don't leave me behind.
***
In her car, on the way back to the base, Sam shivered. She felt as though someone had just walked over her grave. Inside, the constant fear she held in her heart twisted sharply and she felt a sudden, deep foreboding.
It was hard to imagine how things could get worse, but she had the terrifying feeling that they just had. She pressed down hard on the accelerator, eager to get back to the base. "Hang on, sir," she said aloud. "Just hang on."
***
Hiding in the brush, Teal'c watched the patrol pass close to them. Fortunately, the Jaffa did not appear to be searching for them. For had that been their intention, O'Neill would have been easily spotted where he lay, poorly concealed some meters behind Teal'c. But searching was not the Jaffa's intention, instead they marched at a distance-eating speed, heading away from the Stargate. Teal'c was surprised, and that was rare when it came to the tactics of the Goa'uld.
Keen to discover more, he crept alongside the moving army, his ears sharp in the darkness. At last he overheard a sliver of whispered conversation among the ranks.
"...our glories will be manifold!" a young Jaffa hissed to the older man marching at his side. "With this weapon Amoukat can challenge Anubis himself!"
"Shh! Don't speak so," the other man cautioned, casting a furtive glance towards the head of the column. "You bring ill-omen on all of us by speaking his name!"
The first laughed quietly. "Anubis is the one ill-omened. Our Lord Amoukat will--" His head snapped around, eyes staring blindly into darkness. Straight at Teal'c. "What was that?"
Teal'c froze, his breath ice in his lungs.
"It's just the forest," the older man replied, pushing the other into motion. "Keep in step. I will be glad of a meal at the end of this day, and you will not keep me from it!"
A weapon? Teal'c filed the knowledge away and, as the column marched on, he sank deeper into the woods and circled back towards O'Neill. But as he drew closer to the sprawled figure, a deep fear stole over him. O'Neill had not moved. Silently, Teal'c reached his side and placed a firm hand on his friend's neck. A heartbeat, labored and slow, beat in his neck and Teal'c permitted a small smile to touch his lips. At least he lived; he should have known better than to doubt O'Neill's resilience. However, he saw that the Colonel lay atop his broken arm and realized immediately that the pain had probably robbed him of consciousness. The body's ability for self-preservation was indomitable, and it was often the case that insensibility kept a man alive.
Taking advantage of O'Neill's stupor, Teal'c rolled him onto his back. The strapping holding his arm against his chest had become dislodged, and he tightened it again before tapping his friend lightly on the cheek. "O'Neill," he called quietly. "O'Neill!"
The Colonel stirred groggily. "Carter...?"
If Teal'c noticed that the major's name was always the first on O'Neill's lips, he chose not to comment. "It is I," he replied quietly, pressing his fingertips over the Colonel's mouth. "Speak softly," he cautioned. "The enemy are near."
In the thin starlight, he could see the glitter in his friend's eyes as they blinked open. After a long silence, O'Neill turned his head left and right and then whispered, "Still here, huh?"
"We are," Teal'c replied. "However, our situation may have improved."
A flash of white teeth accompanied a low chuckle. "I knew it. Carter's at the gate and--"
"I doubt that is so," Teal'c interrupted. "The Jaffa are withdrawing from the gate. Had Major Carter attempted a rescue, they would not be doing so."
O'Neill was silent, and Teal'c could almost taste his disappointment. He always placed a disproportionate degree of trust in Major Carter. Using his good arm, O'Neill pushed himself into a sitting position. "She couldn't take a team through with a Jaffa army camped on our side," he reasoned. "But if they're leaving, we should get down there. As soon as the gate engages, the bad guys will be back so we need to be ready to get outta here." His eyes turned to Teal'c, and another smile touched his lips. "And hey," he added, "if we get there first we'll be able to save Carter a trip."
Teal'c simply nodded, more concerned with the journey to the gate. O'Neill was in poor condition, and the woods were still thick with retreating Jaffa. "We must move quickly and silently," he told the Colonel. "Do you require my assistance?"
Even in the darkness Teal'c could see O'Neill bristle, or perhaps he could simply sense it in the air like un-discharged static. "No," came the crisp reply. "I'm fine."
He was not, but Teal'c did not intend to argue. If O'Neill claimed he could walk, then Teal'c believed him. They both knew the danger of a lie, and O'Neill would never lie for the sake of mistaken pride.
Getting slowly to his feet, O'Neill shook his head to clear it and paused. After a moment he nodded to Teal'c, "Let's go. You lead the way."
It was a tacit acknowledgement of O'Neill's incapacitation, and of Teal'c's earlier decision to take command. "Remain close behind me," Teal'c instructed as he moved out into the forest, "and say nothing."
A soft grunt, perhaps a laugh, followed his final instruction. But after that all was silent as they crept on through the dark, dangerous woods.
***
Sam was getting some odd looks as she hurried down the corridor of the SGC. But she paid them no mind. The feeling that something terrible was about to happen clung to her like stale cigarette smoke. She couldn't shake it.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was tired. Exhausted. And not just from the lack of sleep. She'd been awake for almost thirty-six hours, but she'd certainly gone longer than that without sleep in the field. Yet this was different. She was exhausted inside, emotionally. The idea that Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c were gone, without a moment to say goodbye, was eating at her in a way far more profound than sleep deprivation. And the guilt wouldn't let her mind rest for a second, especially now it was exacerbated by the memory of Justin's angry, frightened face.
She was sick with guilt at being unable to tell him the truth, or any part of the truth. At least she had some idea of what had happened to the Colonel, but Justin knew nothing. And could never know the truth, whatever happened. That was the way it had to be, and there was no reason for her to feel guilty about it. But she did. Perhaps it was something to do with the way Justin reminded her of his brother? His passion for what he believed in, his impatience with bullshit...his dark, deep eyes. Angrily she pushed the thought away, and found herself already at her destination. The control room. With nervous energy making her shaky, Sam pushed open the door and stepped inside.
It was quiet. The silence of night. Lieutenant Malcolm was on duty, and she looked up when Sam appeared. "Ma'am?" she asked, obviously surprised to see her. "Is everything okay?"
Sam almost laughed at the question, an indication in itself of her need for sleep. Okay? Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay until she'd found the missing members of her team and brought them home. She ignored the question. "Anything happened?" she asked, glancing at the bank of screens.
Malcolm shook her head. "No. SG-4 returned on schedule. That's all."
Returned on schedule. The words sent jealously twisting in her gut. It should have been her team returning on schedule. It should have been--
"Ma'am?" Malcolm asked, looking at her with a touch of apprehension. "Is there something I can do for you?"
Sam ran a hand through her hair, realizing it felt more than a little disheveled from the hours she'd spent sitting on O'Neill's observation deck. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No...I just...It's nothing."
Malcolm nodded with a slow sympathy. "Okay," she said, offering half a smile. "Well, if anything does happen..."
"Yeah," Sam said quickly, afraid that the woman's sympathy would either make her yell or cry. She turned away and threw a half-hearted "Thanks" over her shoulder. She was almost out the door when she bumped into a very determined looking Janet.
"Ah!" the doctor exclaimed triumphantly. "I heard you were back."
Sam moved to get past her, but Janet stopped her. "Sam...you look awful. I take it you didn't go home?"
"No."
"So, where did you go?"
Shaking her head, she pushed past and carried on down the corridor. "Just driving," she muttered.
In three swift steps Janet was at her side and keeping pace. "You're sleep deprived," she said. "You shouldn't be driving. It's as dangerous as drunk driving." Sam ignored her, speeding up her steps. Janet matched her, stride for stride. "If you can't sleep," she pressed, "I'll give you something for it."
"I don't want to sleep," Sam told her, turning the corner sharply.
"Why on earth not?"
Why not? Was she crazy? Sam slid to a halt, wheeling on her friend. "How *can* I sleep?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "How can I sleep, while they're out there...with God knows what happening to them? I don't have the right!"
"The right?" Janet echoed quietly, taking Sam by the arm. "You have the right to look after yourself Sam. More than a right. A duty."
"Janet," she breathed, the fight draining out of her as suddenly as it had arrived. "How can I rest while he...they...could be hurt? In danger? How can I be *here* and safe while they're--" She broke off when she felt tears threaten. She hadn't cried yet, and she wouldn't now. "It's not fair."
"I know," Janet nodded. "But hurting yourself - pushing yourself until you drop - won't help anyone. What happens if they need you tomorrow, and you're not fit to go?"
Her words struck home, hard. The truth was as cold and unfeeling as the mountain that pressed down above her. And just as heavy. "They won't," she whispered, tears wavering unsteadily in her voice. "They won't need me, because there's nothing I can do. I can't help them."
Janet's hand on her arm tightened. "Then help yourself. And Daniel. Rest."
Suddenly looking through a sheen of tears, Sam nodded. "I will," she sighed, defeated. "In a while. There's something I have to do first."
"What? It's late."
"Is General Hammond still here?" she asked, wiping at her eyes before her tears had time to fall. "I need to discuss something with him. It's important." Janet's face was stony with suspicion, forcing Sam to add. "It's about Justin. He knows Colonel O'Neill is missing. I don't know what to tell him."
***
Part Five - by Sally Reeve
Keep walking through the pain. Keep walking through the pain.
He'd done it before. He'd done worse before. Just keep walking. Carter would be here soon. Big gun, big smile. God, he loved that smile. He thought she looked damn sexy with a gun too, although he'd never admit it. Not even to her. Well, maybe to her. One day.
Keep walking through the pain.
Yeah, one day. He thought a lot about one day. One day when he could call her Sam, explore the feelings he'd spent so long ignoring, denying and ultimately just plain repressing.
Keep walking through the pain.
Maybe he'd even touch her. And make her laugh. He loved her laugh! And then maybe one day he could even introduce her to his folks...to Justin and...
Memory stirred a deeper pain than the one in his arm and his feet faltered. Justin. Carter and Justin. How could he have forgotten? That was why Carter wasn't here, after all. That was why she'd cried off. Because of Justin. Because of what Justin had done to their relationship; in two days he'd gotten further with her than Jack was ever likely to get. Justin.
Damn but his arm hurt. All the way up - his shoulder muscles cramping with the effort of holding his broken bones still. His head pounded with fever, his heart beat coldly in his chest. Justin.
Sam and Justin. He felt nauseous.
"O'Neill?" Teal'c's whisper dragged him back into the cold night. And with a grimace of embarrassment, he realized that his mind had totally switched off. He wasn't himself. He was off his game, big time.
Crouching down next to where Teal'c had paused, Jack determinedly refused to pay any attention to the grinding pain in his arm or the empty ache in his chest. "What's up?"
Extending a hand, Teal'c pointed. "Look."
He looked. The Stargate - thank God! But no Carter, and that was more disappointing than it had any right to be. "Don't see any Jaffa," Jack said, scanning the surrounding area as well as he could. Damn, but he'd kill for some night-vision goggles.
"I shall go," Teal'c decided, edging forward. "If there are any Jaffa I will be better able to evade them alone."
Jack nodded. "As soon as the gate starts spinning, I'll follow," he said. "But you don't move from that gate for anything. Got me?" Teal'c's face was impassive, infuriatingly calm. "I mean it," he warned. "If there's trouble, you get your ass through the gate and let me take care of myself."
There was a long silence, before Teal'c quietly nodded. "I understand." And with that he was off, moving as fast and silently as a shadow.
Jack watched and waited, trying not to feel the clammy dullness in his heart. But he couldn't ignore it, it even made the darkness seem darker. She'd fallen for Justin. Just like they all did. Happy-go-lucky, carefree, eco-friendly Justin. No demons, no black moods, no baggage. He never stopped long enough to accumulate anything! Justin. Everyone loved Justin.
Staring out into the night, watching Teal'c creep towards the Stargate and their passport home, Jack couldn't help but wonder what Carter was doing. Half of him hoped she was on the ramp about to come get them. But the other half, the old cynical half now acquiring a new and very sensitive target, wondered if maybe she wasn't on the base at all. Maybe she was at home.
Or maybe she was with Justin.
***
General Hammond was making his way slowly down the corridor, his eyes fixed on his shoes as he walked, his mind far away - with his missing team. He did this too often, he realized with a grim sigh. Too often, he paced the corridors of the SGC waiting for one of his teams to come home, and too often they never did.
It wasn't right. I just was not right. Good men like Teal'c and Jack didn't deserved to die such a pointless death, far from home and the people for whom they were fighting. They deserved much more. Teal'c deserved to watch his son grow up in freedom. And Jack... he deserved a return of the happiness fate had stolen from him, leaving him aching and empty. Hammond had seen the sadness in his eyes too many times. But he'd always thought - hoped - that one day fate would ease the loneliness, and give back to the man something in reward for a lifetime of duty and sacrifice.
No, they didn't deserve to die like this. It was wrong. Plain and simple.
The scuff of boots on the slick floor ahead of him made Hammond look up, and he wasn't surprised to see Major Carter waiting outside his office. She nodded to him, unsmiling.
"I thought Doctor Fraiser had instructed you to get some rest, Major?" he told her as he opened the door to his office.
She nodded again. "Yes, sir. But there's something I need to discuss with you first. If you have time."
Hammond gave a soft snort. "Of course," he told her, holding the door and frowning as she hesitated; God forbid, he was being a gentleman. "Go ahead, Major," he told her gruffly. She was as bad as his own daughter!
Once inside, the general moved around his desk and sat down. He took a moment to appraise the woman standing before him. In all honesty, she looked awful. Pale faced, with dark rings around her eyes, and guilt slumping her shoulders. So much guilt it was almost painful to see. "Take a seat," he told her, leaning back in his chair.
She obeyed, perching on the edge of the seat as if unable to rest. Her mouth was a tight line of concern. "Sir...it's about Colonel O'Neill."
Of course. "What about him?"
Carter looked away, shaking her head in an attempt to find the right words. "Sir...his brother is in town. He knows he's missing."
The general felt another weight descend on his shoulders. Damn. This complicated matters. "How do you know?" he asked. "Has he contacted you?"
"I...yes, sir," she said, still not looking at him. "I met him a couple of days ago."
"Jack didn't mention it," Hammond said, running a hand over his head. He frowned. "Come to think of it, he's never even mentioned a brother."
A thin smile touched the major's hard mouth. "Well, that's Colonel O'Neill for you."
"True," he sighed. "Is he staying with Jack?"
Carter nodded. "He is now, sir."
A bead of suspicion niggled in the back of the general's mind. "Now?"
Carter's eyes lifted to his. "I...bumped into him. This evening," she said softly. "He asked for the spare key to Colonel's house. He wants to stay there until we have some news."
She was lying. It was obvious. Bumped into him? How likely was that? It seemed clear that the major's knowledge of O'Neill's family far exceeded his own, and he really didn't want to know why or how that was the case. Some things were best left behind closed doors. Clearing his throat, he said, "We both know he could be waiting a long time, Major."
Carter nodded, frowning slightly. "Sir, I have to tell him *something*."
"Yes," he agreed, rising thoughtfully to his feet. "You do." Back straight, he walked to the window of his office and stared out. Jack's brother could never know the truth, but if he was anything like Jack he wouldn't wait patiently for news. He'd push and push until he got something. Hammond gritted his teeth against the inevitable. But there was no point in delaying any longer; the man deserved the truth, or the closest approximation prudence allowed. With a heart heavy with emotion, he turned back to Carter. She was looking up at him with her wide, sad eyes and he hated what he had to say. "You can tell him," he said slowly, "that Colonel Jonathon O'Neill has been declared Missing in Action. The official paperwork will be forwarded to his wife in due course, and that..."
Carter was on her feet. "But we're not stopping looking," she said. It wasn't even a question. "I can tell him we're still looking."
"You can," he agreed. "But, Major, you know the odds. Even if Jack and Teal'c survived the attack on the gate, they'll have to survive for at least a year in hostile territory before a ship can reach them. They're both good men. Good soldiers. But you have a better idea than anyone of their chances. Don't give the man false hope."
The words dropped from his lips into the silent room, leaving a sour taste in their wake. The last vestiges of hope died in Carter's eyes, turning them a dark, storm-gray. "Missing, presumed dead," she said in a hollow voice.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he said gently. "I know how much Jack meant to you."
It was the wrong thing to say. Carter jolted upright, her pale cheeks flushing red, as if he'd intruded brashly into the most intimate part of her life. "He's an inspiring CO," she told him. "And a...friend." A flash of pain flickered across her face. "I hope."
Hammond looked away. He couldn't bare to see the emptiness opening up in Sam's eyes; the same emptiness he had so often seen in Jack's face. An emptiness that spoke of regret and missed opportunities. It was the fate of all those who would put their country, and their world, before their personal happiness.
But that didn't make it right. Nothing made it right.
***
Teal'c crept cautiously towards the dark and silent Stargate, keeping to the shadows. But he heard nothing; the Jaffa were either more experienced than he suspected, or the gate really was unguarded. That in itself was worrying.
He stopped behind a tall, wide tree a few steps from the DHD, and was pleased to see the device apparently undamaged. That the Stargate itself was impervious to weapons fire, he knew, and it stood proudly in the dark, a few stars visible in the night sky that peeked through the vast ring. With one final glance around him, he crossed the empty space and swiftly dialed home. His other hand toggled his radio as he moved. "O'Neill, make your way to the gate," he whispered.
"On my way," came the slurred reply. O'Neill was unwell; it was lucky that he would soon be in the capable hands of Doctor Fraiser.
Even Teal'c's Jaffa training couldn't keep him from wincing slightly as the Stargate began to spin. The noise and the light would alert the enemy for miles around - he just prayed none were close enough to reach them before the gate engaged.
Out of the darkness he heard a rustle and span around, dropping into a defensive crouch, his weapon raised and charged.
"Easy!" a voice warned. "It's me."
Teal'c lowered his weapon, and risked a glance up at the gate as O'Neill came to stand at his side.
"Now that's a sight for sore eyes," he muttered.
"Indeed it is," Teal'c agreed. Six chevrons were engaged, and as he watched the seventh locked and the wormhole spluttered out into the night. Spluttered?
"That doesn't look right," O'Neill murmured taking a step forward just as the wormhole gutted and failed, plunging them once more into darkness. "What the hell? Try again."
Teal'c did so. Three times, each with the same result. "There appears to be a problem," he observed.
"Ya think?" O'Neill snapped at his side. Then he glanced around the silent forest. "We have to get outta here, the place is gonna be crawling with Jaffa any moment."
Teal'c nodded. "The fault with the gate may explain why no rescue has yet been attempted."
"Yeah," O'Neill muttered. "I guess it does. I just hope Carter's not too busy to fix it or we're gonna have to start looking for real estate here."
***
The sirens blared, jerking Sam from her light and anguished sleep. She was on her feet, heart thumping in her chest, before she'd taken a breath. But she was only halfway down the corridor when the sirens died, plunging the base into a ringing silence. Disappointment descended with the quiet, but the adrenaline pumping through Sam's veins kept her running towards the control room.
"What happened?" she demanded as she burst through the door.
"Someone tried to dial in, Ma'am," came the reply. It was Malcolm again, still on duty. "Ma'am," she added, glancing up with a tense look, "it was P9X -526."
A fire of relief exploded in Sam's heart, forcing a stupid grin onto her face. "Thank God." As she spoke the gate started to spin again, and her heart almost shot right out of her chest. Please let it work, she implored silently. Please. The wormhole spluttered open unhealthily, holding for just a couple of seconds before dissipating. "Damn it."
And again, a third time. "Boost the power to the transformers!" she barked, staring at the sickly event horizon. But it didn't work, and the light failed again. She could have wept; they were out there, alone and in danger, trying to get home. And she couldn't open the door. She couldn't open the goddamn door!
"Ma'am?" Lieutenant Malcolm asked, looking up at her and awaiting her orders. Sam slammed down hard on her emotions, forcing them back into line. "Have you informed General Hammond?" she asked, grabbing a chair and punching up the details on a consul herself.
"Not yet, ma'am. He's--"
"Right here, Lieutenant," a voice said from behind them, an excited undercurrent to its gravelly tone.
Sam flung a grim look over her shoulder. "It was them," she told him, utterly convinced of the truth. "They're alive."
Hammond frowned. "What have you got, Major?" he asked, coming to stand behind her so he could peer over her shoulder.
"It was definitely P9X -526," she replied. "They tried to connect three times, but the wormhole was only partly engaged for two-point-five seconds each time before it failed."
"Is there any way we can send a message?" he asked. "Tell them what we're trying?"
Sam shook her head. "They only have radios, so we can't send any compressed data," she replied. "And what can you say in a couple of seconds?"
Hammond was silent for a moment. "And you're absolutely sure there's no way you can fix the gate, Major Carter?"
The question irritated her. More than that, it infuriated her. "Sir," she grated, "if I wasn't absolutely sure do you think I'd be sitting here wasting my time when I could be helping them?"
"No," he conceded, resting a placating hand on her shoulder. "Of course not." The gesture only angered her more - she didn't want his sympathy!
Jumped to her feet, she took a step backwards, regaining control. "Sir, I'll try to think about how we can get a message across - something to at least tell them we're working on the problem."
Hammond frowned at her, but sympathy still lurked in his pale eyes. "You do that," he decided, turning once more towards the silent gate. "You do that, Major."
And in that moment, she realized that his sympathy was not for her alone. He shared in her loss, perhaps not in the same way, but just as deeply. They all did.
***
Jack had to stop, the world was spinning too much and the ground kept falling away beneath his feet. Even in the dark, he knew his vision was tunneling. Damn it. With his back against a tree he slumped to the ground silently, half hoping that Teal'c wouldn't notice. He didn't want to slow his friend down when the Jaffa came back for them. But Teal'c stopped almost immediately, turning around. His eyes glinted in the moonlight.
"O'Neill."
"Yeah," he sighed, shifting the agony that was his arm and clinging with grim determination to consciousness.
Teal'c crept back towards him, crouching down and scanning the woodlands. "They should be here by now."
Jack blinked at the unexpected comment. "You're right," he agreed, suddenly realizing how odd it was that the forest was still quiet and undisturbed. "Where are they?"
"I do not believe they are returning," Teal'c told him, shifting slightly. "Perhaps they already knew that the Stargate no longer functions?"
"Great," Jack sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head sink back against the tree.
Teal'c continued talking. "I overheard one of the Jaffa talking of a weapon of great power, possessed by the Goa'uld he serves."
"Yeah?"
There was a significant pause, forcing Jack to open his eyes and look at Teal'c. The man's face was grave. "If the weapon can render a Stargate useless, it would indeed be formidable. A Goa'uld with such power would be a great threat to your planet. To all planets."
"Shit," he breathed as the consequences began to sink in. "We're talking about the ability to destroy the supply lines of any Goa'uld force, to isolate any planet in the system." Tactically, militarily, it was--
His radio crackled. Jack sat bolt upright, his eyes meeting Teal'c's as a faint voice said, "....send a ship." Carter's voice. Jack's heart leapt out towards her, as if it could reach across the vast distance between them. And then she was gone; the radio went dead and he knew that the wormhole had cut off. Nothing but a few words.
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Send a ship where?"
Jack shook his head, heavy-hearted. "They're sending a ship," he sighed, leaning his head back against the tree. A ship? A goddamn ship? That was the best they could come up with? "Carter can't fix the gate." Carter can't...? He never thought he'd say those two words together.
"Such a journey would take considerable time," Teal'c noted. "More than a Tauri year. It is unlikely that we will evade detection for so long."
Great. Just peachy. Jack opened his eyes and gazed at his friend. "I figure we have two choices. We either high-tail it outta here - spend six months walking until we're as far from the Jaffa as we can get, then hole-up and wait." The subtle hauteur that spread across Teal'c's face told him he didn't favor that option. "Or," Jack added, "we go find that big-ass gun of theirs, and make sure it never leaves this planet and never gets used again."
A thin smile touched Teal'c's face. "I prefer the latter option."
"Me too," O'Neill agreed.
"But first," Teal'c said, placing a large hand on Jack's shoulder and preventing him from trying to rise, "I must see to your injury. If the bone is not set, it will not heal well. And I must also attempt to close the wound in your flesh and eradicate the infection."
A rush of light-headedness told Jack that the blood had drained from his face. "You don't have to--"
"There is no alternative," Teal'c insisted. "I will not let you die here, O'Neill. Not like this."
Jack grimaced and gave a faint smile. "Never thought I'd say this, but I actually think I'm gonna miss Doc Fraiser and her needles."
Teal'c merely raised an eyebrow. "No doubt you will, O'Neill."
***
Part Six - by Sally Reeve
Curiosity was the dominant emotion in Justin's heart as he walked slowly from Jack's kitchen back into the living room, a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. He paused on the threshold, taking a moment to study the woman who stood before the fireplace.
Samantha Carter.
She was gazing at the photo of Jack's family - former family - with an expression of utter concentration. He wondered what she saw when she looked at the happy picture, whether she knew the tragic story of Jack's life or if he'd kept that particular darkness to himself. He wouldn't be surprised if he had - if he could keep whatever hell they'd put him through in Iraq to himself, he could certainly hide the destruction of his family. Jack never talked if he had another option. And he always had another option, even if it was running right back to the bastards who'd put him in harm's way in the first place.
His familiar anger with Jack rose again. Once more he was missing, putting his family through hell. Putting Sara through hell. When he'd called to tell her Jack was missing she'd thanked him, but he wondered if she really meant it. Perhaps he should have just kept quiet until he had some news? After all, the waiting was why she'd left in the first place. The endless, empty waiting. Damn, but he hated the Air Force.
"So," he said, sharper than he'd intended. Sam jumped. "Sorry," he muttered immediately, moving into the room with a chagrined smile. "Didn't mean to startle you."
Her own smile was equally sheepish. "You'd never know I was special ops trained, huh?"
"You are?" he asked, his curiosity peaked. "I didn't think they sent women into combat. Or have I missed something?"
Her smile was smooth, but hardly sincere. "I said trained," she reminded him. "Not much call for combat in deep space radar telemetry."
Lies upon lies upon lies. She reminded him of his brother. "Jack seemed to find some trouble," he said, watching her carefully. Not a flicker crossed her face.
"He was assigned off-base," she told him. "It had nothing to do with deep space rada--"
"No," he interrupted. "I don't suppose it did." He raised the wine bottle. "Red, okay?" Sam nodded, trying to hide the faint crack in her composure. But she said nothing, and he held his tongue as he poured the wine. "Here," he offered her a glass, "let's talk about something else."
"Yes," she agreed, with the most sincere smile he'd seen all evening. "Let's."
He waved her to a chair and sat down opposite her, legs stretched out before him. "Not that it isn't nice to see you," he began, "but...what are you doing here?"
"I, um," she began uncomfortably, "I came because...I have some news. About the Colonel."
Justin didn't move. "What news?"
Her eyes were fixed on his again, wide and wary. "We have evidence that he may be alive. An attempt was made to make contact. It failed, but...we're pretty sure it came from either Colonel O'Neill or Teal'c."
"Well, that's comforting," Justin said dryly. "I'm assuming this is one of those 'unofficial' missions where Jack's left to rot because he's not meant to be wherever the hell he is?"
Sam frowned, staring down into her wine as she swirled it around her glass. "I can't tell you any more. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even told you that, but..." Shaking her head, she drifted into silence.
"But what?" Justin asked more softly.
"But I think you have a right to know," she replied, still staring into her glass. "And...well, my Dad was military. I know what it's like to wait."
He nodded at that. "And yet you do it yourself, right? Go off and get yourself lost. Make people wait at home."
Sam shook her head. "No," she said, looking up with a thin smile, "so far I haven't gotten lost. Not for long enough for anyone to notice, anyhow."
Justin got to his feet and walked to the fireplace. He stopped in front of the picture of Jack's family and took it down. "Sara would call me every day when he was gone. Even when we knew where he was. She hated it. Even before they were married she hated it." He looked up and into Sam's eyes. "I think she thought he'd change. Give it up for her. But he didn't. Not even when Charlie came along. Not even after Charlie died."
"What he's doing," Sam said softly, her brow furrowing as she chose her words with obvious care. "What he's doing here is...so important. I wish I could explain it properly, Justin,
but--"
"Don't even try," he warned her. "I've heard it all before. Duty, honor, holding the line against the barbarians at the gate! Believe me, you--"
Sam rose fluidly to her feet. "I should get going," she said as she set her wine glass down on the table.
"No," he objected immediately, moving to intercept her. "Sam, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. I shouldn't be laying all this on you."
"You're worried," she said. "I understand."
"Stay," he pressed, taking hold of her arm. For some reason the sudden contact seemed to startle her. But she didn't pull away. "I'll order in pizza."
For an instant he saw a flash of something that looked like pain in her eyes, and then her lips softened into a smile. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"Why not? Come on, don't leave me here to wallow all alone. I need the company."
Sam smiled. "Well, as long as I'm doing you a favor..."
"Huge," he assured her with a grin.
Her smile broadened, despite herself. "One condition."
"Anything."
"Anchovies."
Justin made a face. "There's one thing you should know about us O'Neill men," he told her as he headed for the kitchen to find a take-out menu, "we *all* hate anchovies."
There was a pause before she spoke again, and when she did he looked up to see her leaning against the kitchen doorjamb. "The Colonel doesn't hate anchovies."
He couldn't help laughing. "Jack? You're kidding. He can't stand them!"
Sam was shaking her head, an odd smile playing over her lips. "No, he-- Are you sure?"
Leaning back on the counter he fixed her with a serious look. "Oh, yeah. He's been known to send the delivery guy back to the restaurant if an anchovy even looked at his pizza funny. I swear!"
Sam said nothing, just frowned and turned away. But as she left he could have sworn she murmured, "Huh."
***
Jack found himself drifting in a comfortable place between consciousness and dreams. In his mind's eye he saw Carter's face. She was talking to him, although he couldn't hear her words. She smiled though, a flash of her inner self struggling through the military protocol. He had the feeling he'd asked her something, and that she was turning him down. The flat disappointment was not an unfamiliar feeling, even in his dream. And it was accompanied by the usual yearning, the ache in his chest that could only be filled by the woman he loved. The ache with which fate seemed determined to saddle him forever.
"Carter." He spoke her name, either in the dream or out loud. Or both. But she didn't answer. And in the dream she turned away from him. She walked down the corridor, back straight, with the confident stride he had grown to adore. And suddenly, at her side, he saw a man. The man turned, and he saw his own face as if reflected in a brilliant mirror where there was no sadness, no pain and no loss. It was his face five years younger, with a lifetime less cynicism and hurt. It was Justin's face. And he was smiling.
Jack started upright, and found himself staring out through a rocky opening into a paling evening sky.
Justin.
Blinking, it took a moment to reorient himself. His arm was bound to his chest, but the pain was more bearable now. Certainly more bearable than two days ago, when Teal'c had set the bone and Jack had chewed a tree branch to splinters in his efforts not to scream. Lifting his good hand he touched his face and it came away damp. He was sweating, which was a good sign. It meant the fever had broken. And now he thought about it, he was sitting upright without passing out and the throbbing in his head had receded to a mild ache.
All-in-all, he felt better. At least, as better as the situation would allow - stuck on a hostile alien planet, injured and with no hope of rescue for at least a year. But worse than that, far worse than that, he knew that Carter wasn't coming after him. He was beyond her reach. Alone.
And she had nothing to do but stay home and play happy families with his brother. His goddamn brother!
***
As Sam took the last bite of her pizza - without anchovies - she realized that she'd actually had a pretty good time. Not that it should have been a surprise, but it hadn't been her intention when she'd stepped out of her car that evening. But there was no doubting that Justin was good company - he was funny, open and seemed genuinely interested in her. He reminded her of O'Neill. Or rather, of how he might have been had he lead a different life. Of how he might still be, if he ever let her get close enough to find out. If he ever came back...
She dismissed the bleak thought sharply, and focused her attention back on Justin. He sat opposite her now, long legs stretched out in front of him, nursing a glass of wine. He looked as pensive as his brother. "Penny for them?"
Justin glanced up and smiled. "Just thinking about Jack," he said quietly. "Guess they don't have Dominoes where he is, huh?"
"No," Sam sighed. She felt cold fingers touch her spine, the way they always did when she thought about where he was and what he was doing. Cold fingers of guilt, and loss, and longing.
Suddenly Justin stood up. "You want to see some pictures?"
Curious, Sam rose. "Pictures of what?"
"I was bored," he explained as he went over to a tall, wooden dresser at the far side of the room. "I was rummaging..." He sat down, folding his legs under him, and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was stuffed full of photos, some in albums some still in envelopes.
Sam felt an instant reluctance. These were O'Neill's personal memories. But at the same time curiosity leaped up fiercely, digging its claws into her and refusing to let go. Before she knew it, she was sitting next to Justin on the warm wooden floor.
"Look," he said, handing her an album. "This must have been...'sixty-nine."
She took the book, smiling at memories she could never share with Justin. Sixty-nine; a good year. She opened the book and found herself staring at a hidden past, and her heart started to pound with a strange, illicit excitement. The photos seemed to be of a vacation. In the first a young boy, with bright brown eyes and a smile she would have recognized anywhere, sat on his bike staring at the camera.
"That's Jack," Justin told her unnecessarily. "And that's Mom." He chuckled, pointing to the tall, elegant woman behind. "I'm the baby."
She couldn't find words. It was like looking through a window that had always been dark, into a world of sunshine she'd never imagined. "He...you all look so happy," she said at last, hoping the emotion she felt choking her throat wasn't evident in her voice.
If it was, Justin ignored it. "I think we were on vacation," he said, studying the picture. "Yeah...that was Titasville. Florida. My grandparents lived there."
She smiled, flicking through the pictures. Jack's parents looked a lot like him, especially his mother. She had the same dark eyes and strong nose. It was less attractive on a woman than a man, but very striking. "Wow," she muttered to herself.
Justin caught it. "Wow what?"
"I don't know," she said, closing the book and accepting another. "It's just... I never really imagined Colonel O'Neill having a childhood."
Justin grunted a response. "Well, he wasn't always sour, dark and moody," he told her. "But ten years crawling around the arm pits of the world--"
"You mean his days in Special Ops?"
"That kind of thing can screw with your head. It screwed with his."
Sam didn't say anything, unwilling to argue. Justin's opinion of the military wasn't so different from her own, as a child. But time and experience had changed her; Justin hadn't had the same opportunities. She refused to judge him.
The next album she looked through was more recent. And she grinned when she saw the Colonel's handwriting scrawling under each picture. Despite his sometimes-wayward behavior, O'Neill had an orderly streak a mile wide. "Me and Sara, April 84," said one of the photos, and Sam studied it intently. The Colonel was the man she knew, but obviously younger. His hair was a little longer, although nothing un-military. But it was a lot less gray. At his side, with her arms around him, stood the woman Sam vaguely recognized as his wife. She was tall, blond and had a wide smile. In fact, they were both smiling. It was an expression Sam rarely saw on the Colonel's face.
"That was before they were married," Justin said softly. "At my folk's place."
Something in his tone of voice caught her attention, and she glanced over at him. "You and Sara were pretty close?"
"Yeah," he nodded, looking away with a sudden embarrassment. Then he laughed awkwardly and shook his head. "We always did have similar taste in women. But Sara only had eyes for Jack."
Sam felt herself blush, although she couldn't be quite sure why. Because she only had eyes for Jack, or because she suspected that Justin's interest in her wasn't entirely platonic? Perhaps both. To cover her discomfort, she said, "Are you still in touch with Sara?"
"Oh yeah," Justin nodded. "She lives here in Colorado Springs. Did you know that?"
"The Colonel mentioned it," Sam replied vaguely, really not wanting to go into the only occasion she'd met Sara.
"She doesn't see much of him," Justin continued, apparently oblivious to Sam's reluctance. "Things didn't really end well between them. Maybe if he hadn't been called away when he was..."
Sam looked up, once more hearing the note of bitterness in his voice. "You blame the military for a lot, don't you?"
He rose to his feet. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't take it personally. But...if you'd known Jack before. It ruined his marriage, made him bitter."
Frowning, Sam stared down at the picture before her. Perhaps she didn't see the Colonel smile all that often, but she didn't recognize him as the damaged man Justin described. "When did you last see him?"
There was a long pause, and she heard the clink of wine bottle on glass before Justin said, "It's been a while. Seven years."
She looked over at him then, choosing her words carefully. There were so many secrets to keep, not all of them professional. "Maybe he used to be bitter. He doesn't talk much about his past. But he's not now. I promise you. I think... I think he's happy. We enjoy what we do."
He stared at her and nodded. "I can see why he'd enjoy your company."
"We're a team," she replied, deflecting his implication with a shake of her head. "And we're friends."
"Then I envy him that," Justin replied, moving closer and offering his hand to help her up. She accepted, but he didn't let go once she stood before him. "I hope we can be friends too."
Sam smiled. "We already are, aren't we?"
His fingers tightened around hers. "Then that'll make the waiting easier for both of us, huh?"
"Yeah," she agreed, squeezing his hand. "I guess it will."
***
Days past. Weeks. One day merged with another in the forest, but Jack's watch efficiently flashed the date at him, as if mocking him with everything that was passing in his absence. It had been over two months, although to his weary body it felt much longer.
The cave in which they sheltered was cold, hard and damp. Their rations had long since run out, and they were reduced to eating whatever of the wildlife they could catch. The traps and snares he'd been taught long ago proved useful, and the forest was abundant. They wouldn't starve. But his pants were already loose and he was craving carbohydrates. As he crouched, coughing, in the rain-sodden forest he realized he'd probably give his right arm for a beer and a pizza. Even one with anchovies.
Especially one with anchovies, if it meant he was sharing it with Carter.
"O'Neill!" Teal'c's whisper drifted through the forest, drawing him back to the damp reality in which he was kneeling. Glancing over, he saw Teal'c pointing and followed the direction of his hand.
A Jaffa patrol. Jack ducked lower into the brush, careful to protect his healing arm as much as possible. It was usable now, although he suspected something bad was going on with the ligaments in his shoulder because his mobility was crap. No doubt, had he been back on Earth, he'd have been in daily physio-torture. But here in the wild there were no such painful luxuries. He just hoped it was salvageable once he got home. There was no way he'd be getting through a physical any time soon.
The Jaffa came closer, armor clinking. As they disappeared into the trees, he rose to his feet. So far so good. He motioned to Teal'c to follow, and they headed out after the patrol.
"I believe," Teal'c said as they walked, "that infiltration will be our best strategy in this circumstance."
He nodded. "I guess that means you, big guy."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."
"Okay. Just remember, all we need to know is how to destroy that weapon. Don't go all 'Carter' on me."
There was a hint of a smile on Teal'c's lips as he said, "I would not attempt to fill Major Carter's shoes."
"Good."
He felt his friend watching him out of the corner of his eye, moments before Teal'c spoke. "I too miss the company of Major Carter. And of Daniel Jackson," he observed. "I hope they are not overly concerned by our absence."
An unbidden image of Carter and Justin flashed into Jack's head, leaving sour thoughts in its wake. "I'm sure they're not," he groused. "You know Daniel, probably up to his eyes in rocks. And Carter..." He didn't want to imagine what she was up to her eyes in!
"Major Carter is a warrior. But..." He gave Jack a sideways glance, surprising him with the unusually perceptive look. "But I do not think you parted with her on good terms."
Oh. "I..." He glared at the ground. "What do you mean?"
"I have never known Major Carter to withdraw from a mission. And yet you did not seem surprised by her decision. Merely angered."
Damn. "It was nothing," Jack muttered, trying to blot the memory from his mind. The look of shock and hurt on her face when he'd uttered those unforgivable words...
I'm sorry, Major - am I supposed to care? Go ahead and screw who you like, Carter. It's none of my business. I could probably suggest a few officers to you, if you want...
God! He'd practically called her a whore!
"Self evidently, it was not 'nothing'," Teal'c observed, breaking the silence. "Or Major Carter would be here."
Smart ass. "Okay, so I might have... Possibly..." He kicked angrily at a stone underfoot. "I may have said some things that upset her..."
Teal'c looked at him with a glint of steel in his eyes. A subtle warning that Carter was his friend, too. If Jack had been a prudent man he'd have kept quiet. But prudence wasn't always his strong suit, and this had been gnawing at him for weeks. He couldn't help himself. "She's seeing my brother, for crying out loud!"
A flicker of surprise crossed Teal'c's face. "I did not realize that you had a brother, O'Neill."
"That's hardly the point, is it!"
Teal'c shrugged slightly. "You do not think Major Carter is worthy of your brother?"
Jack fixed him with a dark look. The Jaffa naiveté thing only stretched so far. "What do you think?"
Teal'c considered for a moment. "I think unrequited feelings are difficult for a man to endure with grace."
Jack stopped in his tracks, watching as Teal'c walked on. Unrequited? Great. "Go ahead and make me feel better, why don't you?" he called after him.
But Teal'c didn't falter as he strode ahead. And Jack found himself unable to deny the truth of his words. They sat like lead in his heart. Unrequited. Un-returned. Unwanted.
Teal'c was right. It was impossible to endure. With grace, or without.
***
"So, are you seeing him?" Janet asked, peering at Sam over the top of her cappuccino. Or what passed for one in the commissary. She looked better than she had in a while. Not so thin, less ragged with worry.
But she still shrugged evasively at the question. "Not like that. We're just friends really."
Right. "Just friends. So...what? You haven't slept with him?"
Sam's eyes widened. "No!" And then she looked sharply away, toying with the spoon in her coffee. Awkward. "But the other night, when I dropped him home..." She trailed to a halt.
"Go on."
"He kissed me."
Ah ha! "Kissed as in...?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed, obviously not prepared to go into details. "As in *kissed*."
"Oh." Janet sipped her coffee, watching the guilt play over her friend's face. "Did you kiss him back?"
Sam seemed to drift off for a moment, her focus going hazy. Perhaps remembering the kiss, perhaps remembering something - or someone - else. But at last she spoke, sounding as confused as Janet had ever heard her. "Yes," she confessed. "I did."
Janet shook her head. Oh boy. "You know, normally I'd say 'great'. Good for you. But, Sam... Colonel O'Neill's brother?"
"I know!" she sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "It's unprofessional and--"
"Screw unprofessional!" Janet objected, lowering her voice as her exasperation mounted. "Sam, I'm talking about the 'thing' you and Colonel O'Neill--"
"We don't have a thing!" Sam retorted, a little too loudly. Heads turned. She sank lower in her chair and hissed, "We never had any kind of relationship. You know that!"
Janet rolled her eyes. "He said he'd rather die than lose you, Sam. What more do you want?"
Sam frowned, a shadow that looked like memory falling over her face. "That was a long time ago. People change."
"You think the Colonel's changed?" she asked softly, but Sam just shook her head and refused to answer. Janet sighed. "I saw him, you know," she said. "When he thought he'd killed you. When you were locked in the computer. I saw him sitting by your bed. Just...sitting. He was completely shattered."
Sam paled, looking away. "Don't."
"Careful what you're doing, Sam. A lot of people could get hurt here."
***
Jack's heart was racing, pumping high octane adrenaline through his veins as he lay hidden from view outside the camp. A cough threatened to escape, but he repressed it ruthlessly. Through his field glasses he could see the weapon that had destroyed the gate, and he could see Teal'c walking slowly around it. Studying. Making plans.
But that wasn't what had him so fired up. The reason his heart was thudding with such enthusiasm - for the first time in weeks - was the fact that he was staring right at one fully functioning Deathglider.
Oh yeah!
A Deathglider that could get them off this rock, and - with any luck - to a planet with a Stargate. And from there, home.
Years of training kept him still and focused as he watched Teal'c complete his survey of the weapon, but inside he was humming. There was a way home. They'd found a goddamn way home!
Screw the Tok'ra, they'd be home before the Stanley Cup Playoffs!
***
Part Seven - by Sally Reeve
"You're quiet," Justin said, glancing over at Sam as they walked through the late snow-fall in the woods close to Jack's house. "Everything okay?"
She looked over at him and smiled, her hand squeezing his through their thick gloves. "Just thinking."
He nodded, trying to decipher her guarded expression. It was strange, as close as he and Sam had become in the three months since Jack went missing, there was always a barrier between them. It was as transparent as ice, but as solid as steel. He could see her perfectly, hold her hand. Kiss her soft lips. But her heart was warded, as if shielded from the world - and him - by some magical force field. Keeping her safe. Keeping her distant.
"It's been twelve weeks today," she said then, her words drifting on a cloud of breath in the cold air.
Twelve weeks since Jack had gone. With a pang of guilt he realized that she had remembered the date better than he. And it surprised him. Sam had rarely spoken of her feelings. She'd always seemed more concerned with him, with how he was handling his brother's absence. But in that moment, with the sunlight glinting on her golden hair, he saw a shadow pass over her face that looked like pain. "You miss him."
Sam laughed. Uneasy. "He's a friend as well as my CO," she replied, keeping her eyes on her feet as they crunched through the snow. "Of course I miss him."
Justin stopped, tugging her to a halt. "I miss him too," he told her, drawing a sympathetic look onto her face. "But..." He struggled for a moment, not sure how to phrase his words without sounding like a total bastard. He took a step closer, keeping hold of her gloved hand. "But I guess I'm glad I've had the opportunity to get to know you."
Sam just blinked, and then looked away with a self-conscious smile. "Me too."
He took another step closer, his heart starting to race. He was real close now, right there in her space. And she wasn't backing off. "I need to know something," he said, dropping his voice despite the fact that they were alone.
Her breath misted in front of him as she breathed, "What?"
"This," he said, gesturing between them. "This isn't just some kind of sympathy thing? I mean...you're not here because you feel sorry for me, are you?"
She stared, and slowly shook her head, although her expression was confused and introspective. "Because I feel sorry for *you*?" She sighed softly. "No, Justin. That's not it."
Her words should have brought relief, but somehow they didn't. "Then... you like me?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed, with a more determined smile. "I like you, Justin. I like being with you."
"Good," he murmured, raising his gloved fingers to brush the hair from her face. Sam didn't respond, just watched him. Then her eyes lost their focus, and he saw her begin to drift away. Afraid of losing her he leaned closer and tried to draw her back with a kiss. Her lips were as soft as ever, moving languidly against his.
He was about to pull back when he felt her hand grab the back of his neck as her kiss changed into something urgent and new. Something wonderfully hungry. She clutched at him, pulling him against her as she kissed him with a surprising passion. And then just as abruptly she broke away, burying her face against his shoulder, and clinging to him as though her life depended on it.
Confused, Justin simply held her and stroked her hair. He had no idea what had just happened, but muffled through his coat he thought he heard her whisper, "Oh, God."
***
The air was cold, but as Sam stood in Justin's arms, with her face pressed into his shoulder, all she could feel was heat. The heat of her own confusion.
What the hell was she doing?
That kiss. Like all the others, it has started out lightly. But today something was different... Her mind was full of O'Neill. Of how much she missed him, of all the terrible fates that could have befallen him. Or could be happening even as she stood there in his brother's arms.
And as if seeking refuge from her own sense of loss and frustration, her mind had fled to a fantasy world as Justin's lips had touched hers. With eyes closed, she'd let herself imagine that it wasn't Justin but his brother in her arms. That it was Jack who kissed her with such tenderness. And she'd responded to the fantasy like tinder to a spark, her whole body igniting with a flare of unprecedented passion.
"Shhh, Sam," Justin murmured, his words only pouring oil on the fire. He cared for her, he really did. And she cared for him too. Yet how did she repay him? By fantasizing about his brother! She was disgusted by her dishonesty. And her disloyalty...to both brothers.
Regaining some control, she pushed away from Justin. "I'm sorry," she muttered, failing to cover her embarrassment.
"For what?" he asked gently, his smile painfully similar to his brother's. "That was pretty intense. Not that I'm complaining."
Sam nodded, rubbing her face. "It's just... it's moving a little fast for me," she muttered. "Until Colonel O'Neill's back..." She shook her head, floundering. Her emotions were all over the place, and she couldn't be sure where her feelings for Justin began or her feelings for his brother ended.. "Maybe we should... I'm not sure how appropriate this is."
His eyebrows rose. "Appropriate?"
She ran a hand through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts. "You're his brother."
"And you're his colleague. How is that inappropriate?"
Sam looked away, unwilling to answer. Unable to. "It just feels wrong to be--"
"Happy?"
It wasn't the word she was looking for, but she let is slide with a shrug. "It feels wrong to be doing this while he's still out there. Lost. Maybe hurt..." Or worse.
Abruptly, Justin dropped her hand and took a couple of angry steps away. "You really are like him, you know?" he snapped. "God forbid you let go and have some fun! God forbid you're happy for once!"
"That's not it!" she snapped back, angry now. But more with herself than him. Until she was sure of her feelings, did she have any right to be toying with him like this? "It's... It's more complicated than you realize."
He glared at her, his face alive with emotion. Anger. Hurt. Confusion. She'd never seen Jack look like that - so open. It was instantly beguiling, profoundly attractive. "Then why don't you explain it?" he implored. It was a genuine question, with no subtext. So unlike his brother's guarded words, and the jokes that might mean more than they seemed. The looks that seemed to say so much but were cut off so abruptly...
Sam sighed. She couldn't explain her conflict to Justin, but his plea demanded a response. She reached out a hand to him, her heart welling with a genuine affection. "I'm sorry. I'm not myself right now. Everything is so screwed up."
Anger faded from his face, replaced by a concern that touched her deeply. He was a good man. A man she was growing to care about. "I've been selfish," he said as he stepped forward. "I've been so wrapped up in myself, that I forgot how much you'd be missing Jack too." He laughed darkly. "Hell, you've seen more of him the past seven years than I have!"
"Yeah," she agreed quietly as his fingers closed around her hand again. God, she wondered, would it be so bad to just let this happen? Here was a man who obviously cared for her, who wasn't afraid to show her how he felt, who had time for her... Why was she resisting?
Gently, he pulled her into his arms. "There's no rush," he said softly. "We'll just see where this goes. And who knows, maybe when Jack gets back we'll have something to surprise him with?"
Sam closed her eyes, but didn't pull away. Deep down, in a dark part of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder how the Colonel would react if she and Justin were together. Their last, acrimonious conversation still skulked in her memory, casting a shadow over their whole relationship. And part of her - the part that wasn't sick with dread that he wouldn't return - was still angry. Angry, hurt and betrayed.
Go ahead and screw who you like, Carter. It's none of my business. I could probably suggest a few officers to you, if you want...
On some level, he deserved this. Didn't he?
***
Oh, he *so* didn't deserve this! The rain fell in a constant slanting drizzle, getting into everything. Soaking everything. He'd never be dry again! Certainly not in the dubious warmth of their small, damp and somewhat smelly cave. Not that, after three months, his clothes didn't need a wash. But he'd really rather not be in them at the time.
"Come on, Teal'c," he muttered to himself as he shivered, coughed, and adjusted his position under the tree. At his side lay three dead rabbits. Well, he called them rabbits although they looked more like rats with long ears. But they cooked up well. And he was starving. It would serve as a fitting last supper on this miserable, god-forsaken, soggy planet.
Teal'c emerged from the trees with no more noise than a ghost, startling Jack. Which was normal. But he wore a smile that seemed incongruous with the rain, and held up a full bag. "Potatoes" he beamed.
Of course, they weren't. But for want of a better word, that's what they'd come to call them. In fact, they were a somewhat bitter tasting tuber that served only to bulk up the 'rabbit stew' and keep the hunger pangs at bay.
Rising to his feet, Jack shuddered as rain dripped down the back of his collar. "Good," he nodded, coughing as he took the bag from Teal'c and peered inside. "We don't want to be thinking about food while we're busy tomorrow."
"We do not," Teal'c agreed. As they started walking back towards their camp, Jack looked over at his friend. He was as strong as ever, muscled and dangerous. But he could tell from the gaunt face and sinewy muscles that hunger was something they'd both been battling. If their plan to steal the Deathglider failed, he doubted they'd be in much shape to try another escape attempt before too long. He could already feel his own body beginning to succumb to the rigors of their primitive living conditions, and although Teal'c may last longer in the end it would get him too.
"When we get home...," Jack said, forcing the grim thoughts from his mind - although his constant coughing refused to be silenced. "When we get home, the first thing we're doing is going to O'Malley's."
Teal'c cocked his head. "I believe the first thing we should do upon our return is...shower."
Jack grinned. He didn't even notice anymore, which was undoubtedly a bad sign. "You might have a point."
Teal'c nodded, and suddenly smiled. It took Jack by surprise. "To once more step through the Stargate into the SGC," Teal'c said, "will be a moment to relish."
"Yes," Jack agreed quietly, "it certainly will." He didn't often let himself visualize moments like that, preferring to keep his focus on the here and now. But Teal'c was right. It really would be a moment to relish. He could just imagine Carter running breathless into the gate room, astonished, staring at him with wide incredulous eyes. He loved the way she looked at him when he proved her wrong - it was an odd mixture of surprise and pride that made him feel soooo good.
Yeah, he couldn't wait...
***
It was early morning, and Janet headed for the commissary with the grim determination of a woman in need of coffee. It always amazed her that, after years of med school and the Air Force, getting up for an early shift was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. A thirty-six hour shift with no sleep? Not a problem. But getting up for a five a.m. start was a real killer. Go figure.
Still on auto-pilot she saw the commissary doors ahead of her, their metallic trim glinting dully in the fluorescent light. She was contemplating a double-espresso when the doors pushed open, and Sam trudged wearily out.
Instant female alarm bells started to ring. For a start, she happened to know that Sam was not on the duty roster today. And more importantly, Sam never trudged. Even when she'd been up three nights straight she'd stride through the base like she owned it.
For a moment, Janet hesitated outside the commissary. But in the end her body's need for caffeine won and she dipped inside to grab a cup. But instead of lingering in her normal comatose doze as she drank it, Janet headed straight back out and towards Sam's lab. She still had a few minutes before her shift began, and it had been a while since she and Sam had really talked. Justin O'Neill had been taking up a lot of Sam's time, a fact with which Janet was far from comfortable.
She found the lab open, but there was no sign of her friend. Acting on a hunch, Janet took her coffee to the locker room and stepped inside. Sure enough, Sam's things lay sprawled on a bench and the sound of running water came from the showers.
Janet sat down to wait, sipping at her cooling espresso. The caffeine got to work straight away, and by the time Sam came dripping out of the showers Janet was feeling awake enough to smile at her friend's startled expression.
"Janet? What's up?" Sam frowned as she headed towards her clothes.
Janet watched her, noticing the pinched look on her pale face. "Not much," she replied. "Just wondering what you're doing here on your rostered days off."
Sam glanced at her sideways. "I thought I'd catch up on some work."
"All night?"
Still wrapped only in her towel, Sam sat down on the bench and let her head lean back against the locker. "I just wanted to lose myself for a while. Not have to think."
As always. "About Colonel O'Neill?" she guessed. "Or Justin?"
Sam's lips tightened. "Both, I guess."
Janet shifted so that she was looking right at Sam. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"Uh-huh." Reaching out, Janet touched her arm and Sam tensed at the contact, opening her eyes. For a long moment she simply stared, as if weighing up her choices.
And then, quietly, she admitted, "I think I might have let things go too far with Justin."
Janet felt her heart skip an uneasy beat, but did her best to keep her face neutral. "How so?"
Sam raked a hand through her damp hair. "I let him believe that I feel more than I do," she confessed with a deep sigh. "I didn't mean to, it just... I don't know, I let my guard down. Or something."
"And that's a problem?"
Sam looked at her sideways, as if the question was profoundly stupid. "Yeah."
Janet shrugged. "Sometimes it's good to let someone in, Sam."
She shook her head slowly. "But not him!" she objected. And then, as if smothering her outburst, she added, "I mean...he's funny, attentive. Good company." She smiled a little, "And he's pretty cute. But, I don't know. There's something missing."
"A spark?" Janet suggested, watching her friend's slow nod.
"Yeah," Sam sighed. After a moment a sour laugh escaped. "It's a good job I'm such a rational scientist or I'd begin to think there was some kind of cosmic conspiracy going on up there."
Janet smiled. "The guy thing? Tell me about it!"
"I mean," Sam carried on, "I have an entire galaxy of men to choose from and I can't find one guy that I--"
"I didn't think finding the one guy was the problem."
Sam's humor evaporated. "Meaning?"
"That you've found the guy you lov--"
"Janet. Don't."
"Oh come on, Sam--"
"Janet!"
"You know, at some point you're going to have to admit this. Even if it's only to yourself."
Sam's eyes narrowed as she got to her feet and started to dry herself. Her swift, abrupt motions betrayed the anger concealed by her even tone. "Admit what, exactly?"
"That you're in love with him."
The words hung awkwardly in the locker room, as discordant as the clanging of Sam's locker door as she yanked it open. Pulling a t-shirt over her head Sam turned and glared. "You think it's that easy?"
"I didn't say it was easy."
"Then what's the point?" Sam snapped, flinging her damp towel into the locker. "What's the point of even *thinking* about that?"
Janet was silent for a long time before she said, "Because it's true."
Sam stopped, her hands stilling on the locker door. "Do you have any idea how trite that sounds?"
"I don't mean to be trite, but--"
"Jesus, Janet! You've been reading too many bad romances if you think 'love' has all the answers. Or any answers, come to that."
"Hey," Janet snapped. "You're talking to a divorced single mom here. Remember?"
Silence again. "We're grown ups, Janet," Sam said at last. Quietly. Sadly. "We both know the deal. Whatever feelings I may have for Colonel O'Neill have to remain...unfelt."
Janet snorted. "Unfelt?"
"It's easier."
"It's bullshit."
Sam's glare was cold fire as she rounded on Janet. "What the hell do you expect?" She barked, slamming her locker door closed so hard it bounced open. "You want me to admit that I love him? Okay. Fine! I love him! But so what? So *goddamn* what?"
Janet was unfazed. "So, it might explain the conflict you're in over Justin."
Sam blinked, still furious. Then she turned away, closing her locker more calmly. "I'm not in any conflict--"
"You've been dating him for the last two months and now you tell me there's something missing!"
"We weren't dating," Sam growled, dropping onto the bench and tugging on her boots.
"Then what?" Sam said nothing, yanking on the laces as if they were snakes. "Sam... I know it's hard--"
"No. You have *no* idea." Suddenly her head was in her hands and she was talking to the floor. Her voice was forlorn, muffled through her fingers. "You have no idea how hard it is to put half my life on hold. To go to bed lonely every night - every night! - just because sometime, maybe things might be different."
Janet ached just watching her friend. "I'm sorry, Sam. It sucks. The whole situation sucks."
"I keep thinking, why not Justin?" she quietly continued. "Why shouldn't I just have some fun? Justin's a great guy. He's straightforward, says exactly what he's thinking. He's good company. And he's...uncomplicated."
"Unlike his brother." Janet's heart sank, not sure for whom she was sadder.
"Yeah," Sam admitted quietly. "Exactly."
An image bloomed in Janet's mind. Colonel O'Neill, sitting at Sam's bedside, barely able to look at her as the machines that kept her alive filled the silent room with their hisses and bleeps. A man falling apart inside. Shattered. "I'm not going to tell you it would be wrong, Sam. But I think we both know how the Colonel would feel if you and Justin... If you were together."
"Do we?" Sam sighed, looking up at last. Her eyes were shadowed and grim. "The things he said to me before he left... Justin would never have been so cruel." Tears shimmered in her eyes as she spoke, and Janet felt herself begin to choke at the whole messy, painful situation. "And if Colonel O'Neill had really cared, he wouldn't have said them either."
"Don't be so sure," Janet told her quietly. "People say - and do - stupid things when they're angry."
Sam's bright eyes skewered her. "And is that what you think I'm doing? Something stupid?"
Janet shrugged. "Perhaps. I can't know how you feel, Sam. But you've got time to sort it out. Another nine months before the Colonel gets back--"
"*If* he gets back," Sam added darkly, pushing herself wearily to her feet. "Which just makes everything ten time's worse. He acts like a total jerk, pisses me off so badly that I can't bear to be around him, and then he disappears. Missing. Dead. Who knows?" She wearily pulled open her locker and threw her shower kit inside. "And where does that leave me? So angry I could thump him. So scared I could cry. So frustrated I feel like tearing my hair out!"
"Sam--"
"Oh, and let's not forget the guilt!" she added grimly. "Because, if I'd *gone* on the stupid damn mission, maybe I could have fixed the gate and brought them home!" Slamming the locker shut she thumped it hard with both fists, before letting her head come to rest on the door. "Jesus," she hissed through a jaw locked tight, "I'm so screwed up."
Janet laid a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder. "You have every right to be," she assured her. "You have a right to be angry and scared. And even guilty. Although from what Daniel said there wasn't anything you could have done..."
"I wasn't even here," Sam whispered into the locker door. "When Daniel came back, I wasn't even here. I was in a bar. With Justin."
"And if you'd been here, what could you have done?"
There was a long silence before Sam reluctantly admitted, "Nothing. There was nothing I could do here. I should have been *there*. On '526, with my team."
"Maybe," Janet admitted, starting to stroke her friend's back. "But you weren't. And now all you can do is wait and hope. And pray. Along with the rest of us."
Sam nodded, but still didn't move. "I get that," she sighed. "But...," her voice choked on tears. "Janet, what if that was the last conversation we ever had?"
Oh God. Turning Sam around to face her, Janet pulled her into her arms and hugged her tight. "Jack O'Neill can be an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. He follows his gut more than his head, and doesn't know a good thing when it reaches up and bites him on the ass." Sam made a little sound, hopefully a laugh. "But he cares about you, Sam. A lot. One little argument doesn't change that fact."
"I miss him," Sam whispered.
"I know," Janet assured her, hugging her tighter.
"And I'm so screwed up. With Justin... I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Pulling away, Janet sat and guided Sam down to the bench next to her. "You don't have to know what you're doing right now, Sam. You've got plenty of time to sort everything out. Get your head together. Figure out what you want."
Slowly, Sam nodded. "I guess," she admitted. And then wiping at her eyes she let out a groan. "God, Janet, look at me. I'm a total basket-case."
Janet smiled. "You're human. We all go nuts sometimes."
With a grim smile, Sam nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly. "I guess I needed that."
"Yeah, you did," Janet agreed. "What you also need is some sleep. Go home. Get some rest."
Sam sighed, and Janet swore she could almost see the tension flood out of her in the wake of her emotional release. "You know," she said, getting to her feet. "For once, that doesn't sound like a bad idea."
***
Part Eight - by Sally Reeve
The plan was simple. Steal the Deathglider, use it to destroy the weapon that had disabled the Stargate, and then hightail it outta there. What could go wrong?
Dumb question. Standing on the edge of the Goa'uld camp, tension buzzing in the pit of his stomach, Jack had the distinct feeling that everything could go wrong. And probably would. The camp was small, but compact. Well guarded. And Jack only had a limited supply of ammunition. It was up to Teal'c to secure the Deathglider. All Jack had to do was get there in one piece.
He shivered as he waited, still damp from yesterday's rain. His cough was worse today, rattling in his chest with each breath. It had kept him awake all night, and although he hadn't admitted it to Teal'c, it hurt like hell when he breathed. Not a good sign.
The sooner they got home the better.
***
The sleek lines of the Glider felt reassuringly familiar under Teal'c's hand as he circled the machine slowly. Once inside, it would take him thirty seconds to initiate the engines. He hoped that the confusion his actions generated would provide enough cover for O'Neill to reach the Glider. Despite his commander's protests to the contrary, Teal'c was well aware of O'Neill's physical limitations. His injured arm had not yet healed, hampered by their damp living conditions and inadequate variety of food. And then there was the cough that wheezed in his chest day and night, disturbing both their rests.
Not for the first time, Teal'c found himself in the contradictory position of being grateful for the symbiote which at once kept him alive and enslaved. It was a conflict at the heart of the entire Jaffa struggle for freedom, and indeed, at the heart of his own personal struggle.
"How can I serve, sir?" The voice was Jaffa, speaking in the high-Goa'uld tongue. Teal'c turned to the young man, banishing all distracting thoughts.
"You are the pilot?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir, that is my honor."
"An honor you take lightly," Teal'c observed, injecting the appropriate degree of menace into his voice.
"No, sir!" came the startled and fearful reply. "It is the greatest honor to serve--"
"Then tell me why I see dirt on your Glider," Teal'c broke in, raising the hand that had trailed across the machine's surface.
The Jaffa before him blanched. "I..."
"Clean it," Teal'c demanded. "Now."
The pilot bowed, and backed away. "Yes, sir, immediately," he groveled, before retreating in search of water.
Beneath his helmet, Teal'c smiled to himself. But his victory was short lived; soon the man would return. Yet for the moment, he was alone. He paused, looking out towards where he knew O'Neill would be hiding. Waiting.
The time was now. He took a single, deep breath and then burst into action. His helmet receded into his stolen uniform as he vaulted up the Glider and slid into the pilot's seat. His hands automatically flew over the controls and he felt the satisfying surge of power beneath him as the engines erupted into life.
In the periphery of his vision, he saw movement and heard the familiar rattle of gunfire. O'Neill was on his way. Teal'c could only hope he made it before he was forced to take off or risk losing their only chance to destroy the weapon.
***
Jack had made it half way to the Glider before the first blast of a staff weapon detonated behind him, flinging him forward. His arm crunched painfully as he landed, but he ignored it and surged back to his feet. Racing onward. Another blast. Closer. It was only a matter of time.
Spinning around, Jack sprayed the camp with gunfire. He saw two, maybe three, go down before he was running again.
Ahead of him, the Glider's engines ignited, the sound ear-splittingly loud at this range. Ignoring the pain in his ears, the pain in his arm, and the ever-closer staff blasts, Jack put his head down and ran.
***
O'Neill drew closer with every second. But he was moving too slowly. His injured arm hung limply again, and blood oozed from a cut on his head. Teal'c gritted his teeth, urging his friend forward as he rose from the pilot's seat and aimed his staff weapon. He took out two of O'Neill's pursuers, before he himself became a target and he was forced to duck back into the cockpit.
And lucky that he did. For, on the other side of the ship he saw a staff cannon being wheeled into view. It was aimed right at the Glider. "O'NEILL!" he shouted, his fingers flying over the controls. If that cannon hit him, their mission would fail before it had begun.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw O'Neill go down again. He struggled to his feet, but he seemed to have damaged his knee because he was limping badly now. Walking backwards, firing at the advancing enemy.
From the other side of the ship Teal'c heard the familiar whine of a staff cannon being charged. Ten seconds. He knew it instinctively. O'Neill had no chance. But still Teal'c hesitated. He could not leave his friend to die alone here, he would not...
"Teal'c!" O'Neill yelled. "Get the hell outa here!"
Teal'c almost smiled. O'Neill was no more a fool than he, and oftentimes more astute. Through gritted teeth, Teal'c initiated the launch.
Five, four, three, two...
And he was gone, streaking up and away even as the staff cannon fired.
***
Jack hit the deck as the engines engaged, the heat and the blast flattening everyone around the ship. And then, less than a second later, the staff cannon sheered overhead and detonated in the forest like a bomb.
Grimly, Jack struggled to his knees. Damn, but it hurt. His knees were shot at the best of times, and something had twisted badly the last time he fell. But he'd be damned if he'd go without a fight. Dragging himself to his feet, he backed away, fending off the enemy with his few remaining bullets. Not that they knew that. Not yet, anyway.
Before him, a Jaffa stepped forward. His staff weapon was raised and deadly. "Stop or die" he warned.
Jack shrugged. "Think I'll choose...DIE!" Bam, bam. Two shots, and the Jaffa fell dead to the ground. "Anyone else?" Jack yelled, trying to cover the whole camp with his single gun.
"You are either brave or stupid," came a voice from behind him.
Slowly, Jack turned. "I like to think I'm both," he replied as he found himself nose-to-nose with the business end of a staff weapon.
The Jaffa didn't even crack a smile. And then...KAWOOOOSH!
A blast of heated air and a supersonic boom sent them both sprawling in the dirt.
***
From the cockpit of the Glider, Teal'c's vision was obscured. He saw O'Neill go down, but as he banked for another pass he lost track of his friend. His primary objective was the weapon that had destroyed the Stargate, but first... With a deft touch he turned the staff cannon into a ball of flame before turning his attention to the real objective.
The guards around the gate-destroying weapon fired impotently at his ship, and he squeezed off three direct hits on the first pass. Four on the second, punching through the pall of black smoke that rose from the wreckage of the weapon. It was gone. Their mission had succeeded. Now all that was left was escape.
Keeping low, he skimmed over the camp again. O'Neill had to be out there somewhere, beneath the smoky haze. And if the man still breathed, Teal'c would not be leaving without him.
***
Despite his injured knee and arm, Jack was on his feet before the enemy. He yanked the staff weapon from the hands of the momentarily stunned Jaffa and backed off. Behind him, he heard the crack of an explosion and soon the air was filled with acrid black smoke. It felt like acid in his ailing lungs, choking him. He could barely breathe.
He sent three shots into the air, hoping they'd reveal his location. Teal'c knew, as did they all, that no one got left behind.
***
Music burbled in the background as Sam closed her eyes and let the heat of the water seep into every aching muscle. The air was heavy and humid, thick with the scent of lavender. And cocooned in the tub in the steamy bathroom, she could almost forget for a moment the troubles that gnawed constantly in the pit of her stomach.
And yet even this simple act left her feeling guilty, as if by enjoying this little luxury she were abandoning her friends. It was ridiculous, she knew. Teal'c and O'Neill would hardly expect her to stop living until they got back. There really was nothing she could do to help them. Every avenue had been explored, and there simply was no way to reconnect to '526 from Earth. Or any other planet.
Her head told her this was the truth, but her heart had a hard time accepting it. She just got the feeling that she should be doing something. That, at the very least, she should be at the SGC, keeping a vigil. Waiting. After her confusing kiss with Justin the previous day, it had been that sense of misplaced guilt that had driven her back to the base. The sense that she had no right to be enjoying herself, or doing anything but work, until her friends were home. And, more importantly, that her place was at the SGC so that she would be there should they need her.
It was nonsense of course, as ridiculous as knocking on wood or avoiding the cracks in the pavement. It would achieve nothing. And, as Janet had pointed out, it would be months before they could reasonably expect any news from the Colonel. At best.
Taking a deep breath, determined to relax, Sam let herself sink deeper into the hot water. She tried to focus on the radio, to lose herself in the music and to shake the feeling that she should be back at base.
Nothing was going to happen. Not for months.
She wouldn't miss a thing.
***
One.
Two.
Three.
Three blasts from a staff weapon, straight up into the air. Teal'c felt a smile tug at his lips when he saw the obvious signal. It had to be O'Neill. Dropping the Glider lower, he was forced to rely on the navigation systems because his vision was obscured by the thick black smoke that filled the camp.
A thud hit the side of his ship, rocking it. Staff blast. Not strong enough to be a danger, but if there were Jaffa close by it would make retrieving O'Neill more difficult. Lower and lower. Slower. The engines whined, eager for more speed, but he kept a tight hold on them, instinctively knowing how far he could push them before they stalled.
The smoke swirled before him, breaking every now and again to reveal running men. Dead men. And then a staff weapon. But not one wielded by a Jaffa. O'Neill!
Teal'c sent the canopy hissing backwards. The smoke instantly stung his eyes, making him cough as he lowered the Glider closer to the ground. Hovering. He dared not land.
O'Neill had already seen him and was limping cautiously towards the Glider as Teal'c hovered less than fifty feet away. Out of the smoke, a staff blast hit close to O'Neill's feet sending him staggering. Then another, deflected only by O'Neill's staff weapon. The force of the impact blew it out of his hands and knocked him to the ground.
For an instant, Teal'c saw his friend pause. Considering his options. And then, with a force of will he knew must be great, O'Neill surged to his feet and plunged headlong through the smoke towards the Glider. His ferocious yell was half-defiance and half-anger as he ground his damaged knee into motion.
Rising up in his seat, Teal'c fired blast after blast over O'Neill's head and into the swirling smoke. After an eternity that lasted mere seconds, he heard a clang on the wing of his ship. A hand appeared. Then another. Grasping, pulling. And then a face, flushed with heat and contorted into a grimace of raw determination as O'Neill hauled himself up onto the wing of the Glider.
He was totally exposed. A perfect target as he clambered along the wing towards the cockpit. Teal'c let loose a volley of blasts, as fast as his weapon could recharge, and sent up a silent prayer that O'Neill's luck would hold.
***
The pain knifed through him, from his knee, his shoulder, and his lungs. The smoky air was barely breathable, but Jack refused to give up. He was so close. He was practically there.
Light headed, he dropped to his knees. The pain was like a flash-fire in his increasingly gray vision as he dragged himself the final few feet along the wing of the Glider. Around him he heard explosions, but his ears were starting to ring, his hearing fading. He knew he only had moments of consciousness left as his hands reached for the edge of the cockpit and he fell inside.
Coughing and gasping for air, he managed to wheeze, "I'm in..."
The canopy hissed shut over his head, and as consciousness faded he felt the welcome surge of the engines and the pull of three or four gees as Teal'c punched them high into the air.
They'd done it!
***
Justin was bored. He missed his work, he missed Yosemite. City life had never suited him, and even though Colorado Springs wasn't exactly a metropolis, he still felt hemmed in.
Restless, he roamed Jack's silent house. It looked considerably more lived-in than when he'd first arrived. Jack's compulsive military neatness was something totally at odds with Justin's way of life. At some point, he knew he'd have to straighten up. But not today.
Pushing a pile of newspapers from the sofa to the floor, he slumped down and put his feet up on the coffee table. One thing he really needed to do was decide exactly how long he was going to stay here. Initially, he'd been intending to wait for definitive news about Jack. But according to Sam, that could take a year. He shook his head, scowling out into the gray day beyond the windows. A year? Where the hell was he that it would take a year to bring him home? His initial thoughts had been Afghanistan. But that didn't seem likely. Somewhere sensitive, no doubt. Maybe Libya. Iraq, again. Anywhere, really.
He sighed. Wherever Jack was, Justin's leeway at work was running out. He'd either have to quit the job, or head back to California soon. He certainly couldn't stay in Colorado for a whole year! But, of course, leaving Colorado would also mean leaving Sam. And that was something he really didn't want to do.
There was something about her. Something unique. Alive. She was beautiful, smart as a whip, (smarter, he suspected, than he really appreciated) and she was so confident. Not aggressive like some women, simply very much at home with who she was and what she did. It was incredibly sexy.
He sighed, frustration adding to his boredom. He'd known her more than three months now, and he'd thought they were getting closer. But whenever he tried to push things, even a little, she backed off. Again, that invisible barrier between them kept him at arm's length. Although... his mind drifted back to the kiss they'd shared the previous day. There'd been something there. Passion. A heat that he hadn't felt from her before. A hunger. He'd responded to it instantly, heart racing. And then... Nothing. She'd pulled away, as if embarrassed at having let herself feel so much.
Getting to his feet, he scrubbed a hand through his hair as he slowly circled Jack's living room. Sam Carter was too much like his brother, he thought. Locked up tight, never letting anyone in. As he walked, he trailed his fingers across the dresser and onto Jack's desk, ruffling the papers that were piled there and inadvertently sending a couple fluttering to the floor.
He bent to pick them up, when something caught his eye. It was a memo, in typical bureaucratic format. But the subject heading stopped him dead, stunned. "Letter of Resignation"
Standing slowly, Justin read:
FAO: General Hammond
From: Colonel Jonathon O'Neill
Subject: Letter of Resignation
Date: 29 July 2000
Sir
This letter serves as formal notice of my intention to resign my commission in the USAF. Due to personal reasons, it is no longer possible for me to continue in my current post...
Justin blinked. Jack was resigning? He hadn't mentioned anything about it! He knew his brother was closemouthed, but surely something like that would at least warrant a--
Hang on. He looked again, more closely. July 2000? The note was a couple of years old!
Perplexed, Justin returned it to the desk and picked up the rest of the papers. To his utter astonishment, there were four identical letters. Each dated differently. The most recent was only a couple of months old.
Justin closed his eyes, a new wave of sorrow washing over him. Despite Sam's assurances that Jack had been happy, this was evidence to the contrary. He'd wanted out of the Air Force. But what on earth were the 'personal reasons' he'd mentioned? And what had kept him from handing in the memo not once, but on four separate occasions?
***
The foggy atmosphere whipped around the windows as Teal'c coaxed the Glider into its final descent. The planet was barely hospitable, but he had had no choice. This was the only Stargate-baring planet within the Glider's limited reach. And then, only barely.
The turbulent atmosphere jostled him badly as he fought the controls. He had no engines, their power drained by the long flight, and was forced to rely on the uncertain air currents around him. Quite literally, the Glider was gliding into a landing.
Behind him, he heard O'Neill cough weakly. But the sound brought a fierce rush of hope. He'd been unable to do much for his friend in the cramped conditions of the Glider, and it was clear that O'Neill was in grave need of medical attention. His breathing was labored, and he had slipped in and out of consciousness throughout the flight. Unable to take his eyes from the controls, the cough was his only indication that his friend still breathed.
Another patch of turbulence sent the Glider into a stomach-twisting free fall, before Teal'c wrestled it into another air stream. The ground was closer now, and on his view screen he could see the light that pin-pointed the Stargate flashing closer and closer.
"No peanuts?"
The croaky voice from behind him almost startled Teal'c. He raised an eyebrow. "You are awake, O'Neill."
He got a wracking cough in response, followed by, "Even the crappy airlines give you peanuts."
Teal'c swallowed a smile. "Be prepared to brace, O'Neill. Our landing will not be smooth."
"Sounds like fun..." If O'Neill had intended to say more, a coughing fit prevented the words from leaving his mouth.
But Teal'c had little time to worry about his friend's condition, for at that moment the fog cleared and he saw below him rocky ground swept bare by a ferocious wind. And ahead of him, swirling in and out of the fog, was the Stargate.
Nudging the Glider lower, he battled grimly against the wind that threatened to rip the controls from his hands. "O'Neill..."
"I see it," came the grim reply. "Make sure you don't hit the Star--"
"BRACE!" Teal'c yelled as the ground rushed up to meet them. The jarring impact knocked the breath from his lungs, throwing him hard against the seat restraints. Behind him, O'Neill gave an agonized shout, and then fog and dust were everywhere. The lights went out and everything was darkness, noise and bone-shaking deceleration as the Glider ripped a path across the rocky ground.
***
The water was cooling by the time Sam climbed out of the bath. She felt better, she had to admit. As embarrassing as her breakdown in the locker room had been, it had probably done her some good. Janet was a good listener, and a good friend. She was lucky to have her.
Wiping the steam from the mirror, she took a good look at her face. Still flushed by the heat of the water, she didn't seem as pale as she had before. Although even she could tell she looked thinner than usual. It wasn't that she wasn't eating, but stress always knocked pounds off her no matter what she did. Some people would envy her, she supposed, but she didn't like herself so thin. Made her look old and weary with the world.
With a sigh, she tipped her head upside down and rubbed the towel over her hair. The weather outside was gray and uninviting, and the idea of curling up in the corner of the sofa with a good book suddenly seemed very appealing.
Slipping into her bathrobe, she stepped out into the cool hallway and padded towards her bedroom. She glanced once at the answering machine, a reflexive action, but there were no messages flashing for her attention. Good. She was half-way to her bedroom when she stopped, turned around and walked over to the phone.
She stared at it for a moment, before unplugging it from the wall. Justin was the only person likely to call her on that line, and she really didn't want to talk to him today. She needed some space and some time to think about what the hell she was getting herself into. And his presence, with his warm eyes so reminiscent of his brother's, wasn't conducive to rational thought. She felt a little guilty, but knew it was for the best. She had to step back for a while, to get things straight in her head.
***
Silence. It was the kind of silence you just knew was going to explode into something really, really nasty.
Jack moved his head, blinking in the darkness. Through the dirty canopy above him he could just make out the swirl of what looked like a dust storm, and he could feel the occasional movement as a gust buffeted the Glider. Going outside would not be fun.
"Hey," he said as loud as his ailing lungs would permit. "Teal'c, you okay?"
Teal'c twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder with a grim expression. "I am," he confirmed. "The Glider is not, however."
Jack couldn't help but smile. "Ya think?" Teal'c didn't respond in kind, his face more grave than usual. That was a bad sign. "What?" Jack asked, a sense of foreboding growing as he looked at his friend's bleak expression.
"We are some distance from the Stargate," Teal'c told him. "Perhaps half a mile."
Jack nodded. "My knee's screwed," he admitted, "but I can make it."
"I have no doubt," Teal'c agreed, "however, you should know that the atmosphere outside contains only half the oxygen of that on Earth."
Jack grimaced, not entirely sure of the implications. "So," he wheezed, "I'm gonna find it hard to breathe?" *Harder*, he corrected himself silently.
Teal'c nodded. "I will assist you, O'Neill."
"Yeah," Jack replied shortly. There was nothing he hated more than dependence, but he was soldier enough to understand necessity.
Teal'c glanced down at his controls, a flicker of unease passing over his face. "We must leave now, O'Neill. The engines are damaged and have become unstable."
Jack nodded, and did his best to suck in a couple of deep breaths while he still could. But the resulting cough left him as breathless as before. Looking up, he met Teal'c's serious gaze with one equally sober. "Let's do it," he whispered, bracing himself for the battle ahead.
Teal'c nodded slowly. "On three," he replied, as his finger hovered over the button that would release the canopy and expose them to the hostile planet that was their only chance of getting home.
"One, two..."
Jack held his breath.
"Three."
With a hiss the canopy retracted, and Jack was blasted by a searing wind. It was hot! Like standing in front of an oven blasting air into his face. For a moment he just gaped, struggling to suck a breath into his protesting lungs. He heard Teal'c yell, "Breathe!" Like he needed to be reminded!
At last he managed to gulp in a lung-full of 'air', but the oxygen-deprived atmosphere left him gasping. Teal'c was already standing up in his seat, a firm hand grasping Jack by the shoulder and pulling.
Focusing on what he needed to do, Jack ignored the beginnings of panic as he struggled for breath and forced himself into motion. The hours of sitting in the Glider had frozen his injured knee, and movement was excruciating. But he fought on, refusing to let his ailing body stand between himself and the Stargate. He would get home, even if it killed him. He would!
Grinding his teeth against the pain he dragged himself out of the cockpit and onto the wing. The wind was savage, battering at him as he tried to stand and forcing him to slide across the wing on his stomach. Grimacing against the inevitable shock of pain, he slid his legs over the edge and was about to drop to the ground when he felt Teal'c's strong hands take hold of his hips. Jack's injured arm wasn't strong enough to take his weight, and so he slithered and fell to the ground, the impact softened by Teal'c's guiding hands.
The wind was slightly less violent closer to the ground, and Jack turned and mouthed his thanks to Teal'c. The Jaffa just nodded, and then pointed off through the red-swirling clouds of dust. "The Stargate is that way," he yelled.
Jack had no idea how Teal'c knew, but his faith in his friend was absolute. "Head out!" he ordered, sucking in yet another inadequate breath of air.
Teal'c nodded, and moved to help Jack walk. For a moment he resisted, but his pride was soon overcome by common sense. His knee was shot, he could barely breath, and his vision was already graying at the edges. He didn't have enough breath to speak, so he simply looped his arm over Teal'c's shoulders and together they moved out across the desolate planet towards their only hope of survival.
***
Justin slammed down the phone in frustration. He'd been trying to get hold of Sam for over two hours, but each time he called he got the busy signal. She wasn't the type to spend hours yapping on the phone, unlike some women he'd known, which left two options; the phone was broken, or she had taken it off the hook.
He paced the living room again, Jack's letters of resignation clenched in his fist. He really needed to talk to Sam. He hated the thought of his brother trapped in a job that, for whatever 'personal' reasons, he no longer wanted. And Sam was the only person who could possibly explain to him what had made Jack so unhappy that he'd consider resigning. In his heart, he knew that perhaps he was over reacting and that no doubt guilt played a part in the depth of his feelings; had he been closer to Jack then maybe he would know what had happened. Maybe he could even have helped, persuaded Jack to follow his heart and leave the Air Force. If he'd tried to get past the walls his brother had built, if he'd been able to forgive him for going back to the military even after Charlie's death... But he hadn't. He'd washed his hands of the situation, told himself that Jack had made his choices and would have to live with the consequences, persuaded himself that Jack had become unreachable. And so he'd stopped trying to reach him. Just like Sara had. He'd given up on his brother.
But now, with Jack lost, he realized that he couldn't just sit back and do nothing anymore. He had to know, he had to understand his brother's life. And if, God willing, Jack came home he would do all in his power to make things right. He'd be the brother he should have been, and he'd make damn sure that whatever else Jack did he got the hell out of the military.
Fired with a new determination and a feeling of purpose denied him during his long wait for news, Justin grabbed the keys to Jack's truck and headed out the door. Sam would have to tell him what had been going on in Jack's life, because he simply would not take no for an answer.
***
Their pace was slow, practically a crawl, as they battled their way through the dust storms. The desiccating wind sucked the moisture from Jack's skin, leaving him gasping for water as well as air. But he refused to stop. He couldn't. Stopping meant death.
He closed his eyes against another blast of hot, dusty wind and allowed Teal'c to guide him limping onwards. They'd be there soon, stepping into the welcome embrace of the wormhole. He almost shivered in anticipation of the chill, of the spine-tingling ride that would take them home.
Home.
He let his mind drift there as he methodically put one foot ahead of the other, crunching on the dry, rocky surface of the dead planet. Home. Daniel and Carter would be waiting for them. Daniel would frown, raise his eyebrows and say, "Jack" in that way he did, half-question and half-exclamation. Carter would just stare, and then she'd smile. She'd give him that smile that looked like the sun breaking over the mountains. Yeah...
Somewhere in the back of his pain-filled, barely conscious mind he felt a cloud threatening her sunshine smile. But for the life of him he couldn't remember why it should be there. Carter was the bright center of his universe, he couldn't imagine anything dimming her brilliance.
"O'Neill," Teal'c's voice rasped in his ear. "Look."
Raising his head, Jack squinted through the dust storm and his heart leaped. There, in front of them, soared the Stargate. Salvation!
Jack struggled to find breath to speak, but at last he managed to whisper into Teal'c's ear, "If there's no DHD, we're screwed."
***
Part Nine - by Sally Reeve
The wailing klaxons startled Janet from the fitness reports she was signing off, letting loose a familiar pulse of adrenaline as she waited to hear...
"Medical Team to the gate room. Medical team to the gate room."
She was moving before the second word had been spoken, snapping orders to her on-duty team. Not that they needed orders, so familiar was the routine as she slung her emergency bag over one shoulder and ran down the corridor, the gurney rattling along behind her.
As she burst into the gate room, she saw Daniel and General Hammond standing behind the SF's whose weapons were trained unwaveringly on the Stargate. "What's going on?" she asked as she skidded to a halt, breathless from the run.
"We've received SG-1's IDC," the General told her curtly.
"Oh my God!" Janet grinned.
But judging by Hammond's somber face, the news wasn't all good. "It's not from P9X-526."
Janet turned her gaze to Daniel Jackson. "Do you think it's them?"
She sensed Hammond's skepticism, but Daniel's optimism was unfailing. "We knew they couldn't get back from '526," he replied, keeping his vision locked on the Stargate. "The only way they could get home is to find another planet with a working Stargate."
"And how would they have done that, Doctor Jackson?" Hammond asked quietly.
Daniel simply shrugged, but an answer was unnecessary for at that moment the wormhole shivered.
***
Jack sucked in a lung-full of rich, clean air. Big mistake. His lungs spasmed in protested, and he all but coughed them up in response. As he struggled to catch his breath, he heard the distinctive timbre of Hammond's voice barking orders, and suddenly soft hands were touching his face.
His vision was oddly blurred, as the concerned features of Fraiser came into view. "Get a gurney and some oxygen up here," she barked over her shoulder, before looking him directly in the eye. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere," he gasped, earning himself a brief smile.
Teal'c helped ease him onto the gurney, and Janet lifted his damaged leg gently enough that he only spat out half a curse. An oxygen mask was suddenly over his face and he breathed a little easier. Enough that, when Daniel's face loomed into view, he could manage a smile. "Hey."
"Jack," Daniel grinned. "How on earth...?"
"Long story," he wheezed, peering past Daniel in search of Carter. He hadn't seen her in all the fuss. And he still couldn't.
"Good to have you back, Colonel," Hammond nodded as Jack was wheeled off the ramp. "No doubt you've got a hell of a tale for us."
Jack nodded, grimacing as the jolting gurney jostled his leg, "Yes, sir." Damn, but he still couldn't see Carter. Where was she? A sudden sense of panic gripped him. A lot could happen in three months. What if... He grabbed Daniel's shirt where he walked along beside him, "Carter," he whispered. "Where...?"
"I'm just about to call her, son," Hammond explained as Daniel lay Jack's hand back on the gurney. "She's not on duty today."
Not on duty...? In his fuzzy mind, the words didn't make sense. Carter wasn't there? She had to be there! She was supposed to rush in, to be astonished he was back, to be proud of what they'd achieved. And to smile. She was meant to smile at him and make his insides melt. She had to be there! She was always there.
How could she not be there...?
***
A sharp rap on the door startled Sam from her book. Peering out of the window, her heart did a little flip when she saw O'Neill's truck parked outside her house. But the surprise passed in a heartbeat, when she remembered that Justin was driving it now.
Another rap at the door, more insistent. Damn him. What right did he have to come here and bang on her door like that? Irritated, she stomped to the door and yanked it open, startling him with her vigor. "Justin," she snapped.
He blinked, a little taken aback, but not put off. "I have to talk to you," he told her as he bulldozed past her and into the house. Sometimes he was exactly like his brother!
Closing the door, Sam followed him with growing indignation. "Justin, I'm really not in the mood for this. I think you should--"
"What do you know about this?" he demanded, spinning around to face her and thrusting a crumpled sheet of paper at her.
"What is it?"
"Read it."
Curious, she took the paper. It only took a moment for her to scan the brief note, but she felt her heart drop to her toes as she read. Resignation? The Colonel was planning on resigning. She glanced at the date; just over three months ago.
"Well?" Justin demanded.
Sam shook her head. "I don't know anything about it," she told him. And it was the truth. In a way.
"I found three more," Justin told her, fishing more papers out of his pocket. "The first is in July 2000!"
Sam felt herself pale. July 2000? "Can I see it?" she asked, keeping her voice carefully level. July 29, she read. The next day. The very next day! God.
"I have to know, Sam," Justin said, taking the papers back from her. "Why did he want to resign? You said he was happy, but... Obviously he wasn't, was he?"
Sam turned away. She'd had no idea O'Neill had considered resignation, although from the date - the day after the whole zay'tarc mess - she had a good idea what he'd been thinking. Not that she could tell Justin.
"I don't think you should be poking through the Colonel's private papers," Sam said, deflecting the subject as best she could.
"He's my brother," Justin growled. "Sam, you have to know. Why did he want to leave? Why *didn't* he leave?"
Sam shook her head, turning back and gazing at Justin. "Your brother has a very strong sense of duty," she began, choosing her words carefully. "Whatever his reasons for considering resignation, they weren't as...important to him as his duty to the Air Force."
"Duty?" Justin snapped. "What kind of organization demands duty at the cost of personal happiness?"
Sam couldn't help but smile. "This one does."
"That's bullshit."
"No. It's honorable."
Justin eyed her, his usually soft brown eyes growing hard. "You know, don't you?"
Sam didn't flinch. "I have an idea. But I'm not at liberty to--"
"Jesus, Sam! At liberty? You sound like a goddamn rule book! He's my brother, for crying out loud! What's so important that you can't--"
He was cut off by the shrill ring of her cell phone. Relieved at the escape, Sam snatched it up off the kitchen counter. "Carter." Her eyes widened as General Hammond talked into her ear, one hand grasping the counter for support as the words blasted into her head. Oh God. They were back. "I'm on my way, sir," she said, ending the call as she turned to stare at Justin.
The angry expression on his face softened into concern as their eyes locked. "What's happened?" he asked, his voice thick with dread.
Sam couldn't keep it from him. "He's back."
Justin just stared for a moment. "Jack?"
"Yes. He's...injured, but he's okay."
"Thank God," Justin whispered, closing his eyes as tears began to fall. "Oh, thank you, God!"
Sam was struggling to take it in. He was back! He was okay. And then her heart sank with the sudden realization that she hadn't been there. She hadn't been there for them! Damn it. She should have been there. "I have to go," she suddenly blurted, snatching her car keys from the dish on the counter. She had to get there, she had to see him.
"I'm coming with you," Justin declared, heading for the door.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No. Justin, I'm sorry. But it's impossible. You can't get onto the base."
He eyed her with a look as stubborn as one of the Colonel's. "I'm coming with you."
"Justin--"
"He's my brother. You make them let me in."
For a long moment their eyes locked, but in the end she couldn't deny him. With a brief nod, she said, "I'll do what I can."
***
General Hammond stood back to give Fraiser space to work. The endless-seeming list of instructions that spilled from her lips went right over his head, but from her apparent lack of panic he assumed that Jack wasn't in any immediate danger.
Watching at his side stood Teal'c, his steady gaze fixed on the bed where O'Neill lay hooked up to all sorts of machines with an oxygen mask over his face. Hammond turned his gaze away from Jack, taking time to look at his friend. Teal'c certainly was a sight for sore eyes. But even Hammond could tell that his adventure had not been easy. O'Neill may be in worse shape, but Teal'c also bore the signs of hardship in his unusually gaunt face. It was accentuated by the growth of stubble over his head, making him appear disconcertingly different.
"Can you tell me what happened, son?" Hammond asked him at last.
Teal'c turned, having lost none of his unflappability. "The Goa'uld on P9X-526 possessed a weapon capable of putting Stargates beyond use," he replied calmly. "When it became apparent that O'Neill and I could not return to earth, we decided to destroy the weapon."
Hammond felt a swell of pride. He expected no less from two men so committed to their war, but nonetheless Teal'c's understated description of their heroism stirred his heart. "I take it you were successful?"
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "We were. In the process, we were able to retrieve a Deathglider and make our escape."
Hammond found himself grinning, but resisted the urge to slap Teal'c on the back. "I should have known you two wouldn't wait for a ship."
"General?" the Doctor's voice interrupted them. "If you'd like to talk to Colonel O'Neill, now's a good time. I've given him a sedative to help him rest, so he'll be asleep soon."
With a nod, Hammond and Teal'c both moved closer to the bed. Jack looked thin and pale, and his eyes were a little unfocused. But it was still Jack. "Sir," he mumbled. "Sorry we're late."
Hammond grinned. "Teal'c's been filling me in."
Jack nodded slightly. "Don't let him steal all the glory." But the effort of speaking proved too much, and he started coughing again.
Janet was at his bedside instantly. "Roll him onto his side," she ordered one of her nurses.
"Hey," Jack groused between coughs, "I can roll myself over!"
Hammond looked over at Janet, their eyes meeting above O'Neill. "Is he going to be okay?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir." Then her eyes moved to Teal'c. "I need to take a look at you too."
"I am well," Teal'c assured her.
But there was no arguing with the Doctor. "We'll see."
At that moment the door to the infirmary opened, and a flustered young lieutenant raced in. "General Hammond, sir," he blurted. "I think you should see this."
***
Daniel was heading back to the infirmary when a scene by the elevators caught his eye. He could see Hammond standing there, hands on hips, confronting Sam dressed in civvies. They were arguing, which was more than odd. Unable to resist his curiosity, Daniel drifted carefully towards them. Listening...
"...totally unacceptable, Major!" Hammond barked.
But Sam was defiant. "This isn't a restricted area, sir. And I think he has the right to see--"
"You should have asked for permission, Major."
She was silent. And then, "Yes, sir. But now he's here...?"
As Daniel reached them, he was astonished to see a man standing close to Sam who had to be a relative of Jack's. The similarity was so striking it was almost uncanny. "Um," he butted in, "what's going on?"
Hammond turned to him, obviously angry. "Major Carter has seen fit to breach the base security protocols, and has brought a civilian into the facility."
"Daniel," Sam explained, "this is Justin O'Neill. The Colonel's brother."
Daniel's eyes widened as he offered his hand to the man. "Uh, hi. Daniel Jackson," he said. "It's, um..."
"I know," Justin replied with a thin smile, "you didn't even know Jack had a brother. Right?"
Daniel couldn't help but smile at the dry humor in the man's voice. "Actually...no. No, I didn't."
With another nod, Justin turned back to Hammond. "General," he said, taking a step forward, "don't blame Sam. I practically forced her to bring me here. When I heard that Jack was home..." He shook his head. "You must understand. He's my brother. I just want to see him. Trust me, I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in what you do here. None. I just want to see Jack."
Hammond was wavering, but the look he shot Sam was still icy. However, at heart, he was a compassionate man and so he nodded. "Major Carter can take you into the infirmary," he told him curtly. "You can have a few minutes. Once Colonel O'Neill has been transferred to the USAF Hospital at the Academy, you'll be free to visit as you wish."
Justin nodded. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "I appreciate it." Then he turned to Sam, flashing her a smile that was all Jack. "Lead the way."
"Sir," Sam said before she left, "thank you. I'm sorry that I--"
"Just go, Major," Hammond growled, "before I change my mind."
With a nod she was off, pulling Justin behind her.
Daniel turned to Hammond, as confused as the General appeared. Sam knew Jack's brother? She'd never said anything, and they certainly looked close. As if she'd known him for some time... "Well," he said, "that was interesting."
Hammond gave him a warning look, before turning on his heel and heading back towards his office. "I think the fewer questions asked the better."
Daniel had to agree. It seemed that Sam knew rather more about her Jack's family that was entirely appropriate given their respective ranks. But he couldn't help smiling. Damn, but she and Jack had been playing their cards close to their chests.
***
Everything was kind of a blur, punctuated by the incessant cough that felt like fire in his lungs. But at least the grating pains in his arm and knee were easing, thanks to the doping effects of morphine. His old and welcome friend.
Sleep was creeping up, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. But Jack resisted. He didn't want to sleep yet. Carter was on her way, and he wanted to see her. He wanted to see her so badly! Somewhere in the back of his mind he could still sense a shadow, a doubt that threatened like a cloud on a sunny day. But he dismissed it. Everything would be fine once he saw her, heard her voice and saw that smile. Yeah, that smile...
"Colonel?" the voice was Fraiser's, soft yet firm. "You should be sleeping."
"Not yet," he replied, slurring his words. Damn.
"You need to rest."
He nodded, and returned his attention to the door. She'd be here soon. He knew it. At his side, he heard Janet make a soft sound. A sigh? He turned his sleepy eyes on her, surprised to see such a sad look on her face. "What?"
She gave him a smile. "You're waiting to see Sam, aren't you?"
Jack knew he should have been embarrassed to have been so easily read, but he was too tired to care. So he just nodded.
Janet rose to her feet, touching him on the arm in a gesture that was unusually sympathetic. "She'll be here soon," she told him. And then, in a lower and strangely urgent voice, she added, "She missed you."
Those three words brought Jack more ease than all the drugs she'd pumped into him, and he felt absurdly emotional. Had he been less exhausted he might have said more, but all he could manage was. "Thank you."
A brief flash of distress crossed the doctor's face, before she turned swiftly away and busied herself with his notes. Jack was about to say something more, when the door burst open and there she was. Carter.
She stopped dead the moment she saw him, their eyes meeting with an instinctive flash of mutual delight. And in retrospect, he wished the world could have stopped right then and there. Her bright eyes brimmed with relief and joy, fixed on him alone, as a smile played along her lips. It was a perfect moment.
But the world didn't stop, and as she hurried into the room he saw that she was pulling someone behind her. Someone whose hand was firmly clasped in hers.
Justin.
Happiness shattered, and memory resurfaced in all it's heart-wrenching detail. Carter and Justin. Jealousy reared up, twisting joy into bitter anger and betrayal. His throat tightened and all he wanted to do was run. To get as far away as possible from the people causing him so much pain. He felt sick, nauseous. Trapped.
"Colonel!" Carter exclaimed. "Thank God..."
He couldn't speak. He had nothing to say to her, and his sluggish mind refused to practice deception. God, but the pain in his chest was so real. He dared not look at her in case she saw it in his face, so like a moth drawn to the flame he focused on her hand still clasped in Justin's. Tears bunched in his throat. Tears! Shit, he was so close to losing it. Sleep, he needed sleep...
"Jack! Hey, Jacky-boy," came Justin's ebullient voice. It had never sounded so hateful. Jack closed his eyes. It was the only way out. "Jack?" Justin was closer now, concerned. "Hey, nurse," he called out. "What's going on?"
Breathe in. Breathe out. Jack concentrated on the simple task, willing the world to slip away and take him with it. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want the image of their entwined fingers branded into his mind. He wanted to leave, drop out, escape. He wanted to sleep.
The click-click of heels brought Fraiser back to his bedside, but Jack didn't open his eyes. "You must be Justin," she said with a certain coolness in her voice.
"That's right."
"Janet?" Carter spoke again, softly. Concerned. Damn her. "Is he okay? He looks awful."
Awful? And he'd thought she looked so beautiful in that single, perfect moment.
"He'll be okay," Fraiser assured her friend, a hand once more coming to rest on his shoulder. It was odd. She was rarely so tactile with her patients. "He has a serious chest infection, which we'll need to clear up before we can do the surgery on his shoulder and knee."
"Surgery?" Justin again, his in-built suspicion of authority asserting itself as usual. "What for?"
Janet was all cool politeness. "His arm was broken during the initial incident," she explained. "There's a lot of scar tissue where it healed, and it was recently damaged again during the Colonel's...rescue."
Rescue? Jack would have laughed had he been able. What rescue? Not from the SGC. Not from Carter. Jesus, he and Teal'c could get themselves home with a goddamn Deathglider and she couldn't figure out a way to come get them? Obviously she had better things to do with her time!
"Did he twist his knee again?" Carter asked. "It's always his right."
"Yeah," Janet replied. "Teal'c said a staf--" She caught herself in time, before quietly adding, "No doubt the General will brief you."
A hand took hold of his. Justin. Jack wanted to pull away, but he refused to respond. If he moved, they'd know he was awake. He'd have to open his eyes. He'd have to see Carter with him. See her smile at him...
"Can he hear us?" Justin asked.
There was a suspiciously long silence before Fraiser said, "I gave him a sedative to help him rest. He's asleep."
"He looks thin," Carter noted, her concern only torturing him more. Why couldn't they just go away? They had each other, why did they insist on caring about him too? Why flaunt this in front of him?
"Well, I guess they didn't have much to eat where they were," Janet replied. "Teal'c's lost about twenty-percent of his body weight."
"My God," Carter breathed. "And the Colonel...?"
"About ten," Fraiser replied. "Teal'c...generally needs to eat more." There was another pause, before she firmly said, "Right, I think you should go now, Justin. He'll sleep for the rest of the night, and once the chest infection has cleared we'll move him to the Air Force Hospital for surgery. You can visit there."
Justin returned Jack's hand to the bed. "I'll see you soon, Jack," he told him quietly. A promise of more pain to come. "It's good to have you back." And then, more quietly, "I'll get you out of this, I swear. I'll get you out."
The words were puzzling, but at that moment the only thing Jack cared about was being left alone to try and deal with the maelstrom of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.
"I'll be back later," Carter told Fraiser, her voice edged with unspoken words.
"No. I'll come by your lab," Janet replied, moving them further away from the bed. "I'll fill you in on the details there."
Their footsteps faded away, but still he didn't move. He felt like stone on the outside, ridged and motionless, while inside his mind was raging with grief, anger and betrayal. At that moment, he didn't know who he hated more - Carter or Justin. All he could feel was white-hot pain exploding in his chest, turning everything to ashes.
Dimly he heard someone return. Fraiser. She pulled the privacy curtain around his bed and stepped inside. For a long time she didn't say anything, and he didn't move. And then her hand was on his arm again, a brief squeeze. "Get some sleep, sir."
With that, she was gone. So, she knew. They all knew. And they pitied him. What a stupid old fool he must seem to them. His own brother! Betrayed by his own damn brother.
When he at last opened his eyes, the lights had been dimmed. But bone-weary as he was, sleep eluded him. For a long time he just stared at the dark ceiling. The pain was acute, but as he lay there battling the tears that burned in his eyes, he felt the wound in his heart begin to numb. Hurt froze into anger. And from anger into an icy intention of rejecting forever the two people who had so completely shattered the most precious thing in his life.
***
Part Ten - by Sally Reeve
Sam sat numbly in her lab. Justin had long since gone, escorted from the base under the watchful eye of a none-too-pleased General Hammond. She didn't regret her decision to bring Justin, although she winced at the memory of Hammond's reprimand. Nonetheless, it had been the right thing to do. Even if it wasn't strictly by the book.
But her thoughts didn't dwell long on Justin. Instead the memory of the Colonel, thin and pale as he lay in the infirmary, filled her mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of guilt. Had she been there... But it was an old debate, one for which she was running out of patience. They'd survived, despite the odds, and she felt a fierce pride in that. She should have known better than to think O'Neill would sit on his butt and wait for someone to pull him out of trouble.
A light tap on the door drew her out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called, as Janet popped her head inside.
"You're still here," the doctor said, by way of hello.
Sam was on her feet, filled with a sudden tension. "Of course. I was waiting for you. How is he?"
Stepping fully into the room, Janet gave her a long serious look. "Sleeping."
"He looked exhausted," Sam sighed, waving Janet to a seat. "Teal'c seemed better." She smiled slightly, "Should have guessed they'd be out kicking Goa'uld butt instead of waiting for a rescue." Janet nodded silently, but her gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle-distance. Lost in thought. "Janet?" Sam asked. "Is everything okay? The Colonel--"
"He's fine," Janet told her, although Sam couldn't ignore the way she was avoiding looking at her.
"What?" she pressed, alarm mounting. "What is it?"
Shaking her head, Janet looked over at her and sighed. "Nothing," she said after a moment. "Just...just be careful, Sam."
She frowned. "About what?"
Janet met her frown with a serious, steady look. "You know what. There's a lot at stake here. And not just for you."
Sam was silent, hearing a new disapproval in Janet's voice that made her profoundly uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"
"Just think about it."
"Janet--"
But her friend held up a restraining hand. "I'm not going to get into the middle of this," she warned. "The middle of other people's relationships is a bad place to be."
"It'll be okay," Sam assured her, bullish in her optimism. "Once SG-1 is back out there--"
Janet winced. It was a subtle expression, but Sam instantly picked it up and it sent cold shivers down her spine. "What?" she asked instantly.
"Nothing, I--"
"Janet," Sam warned. "Tell me. What is it?"
Fraiser looked away, lips pursed, considering. "I really shouldn't discuss it. Patient confidentiality--"
"Oh God," Sam breathed, her imagination jumping immediately to the worst conclusion. "Janet. Please..."
With a heavy sigh Janet nodded. "This doesn't leave the room."
Stomach roiling, Sam sat forward in her seat. "Tell me."
"It's his shoulder," Janet began. "I haven't told him yet. I need to speak to the surgeon. But, Sam, it's bad. The original break was complex, too complex for Teal'c to set properly in the field. And it didn't heal well. The tendons were damaged, and there's so much scar tissue in the joint that I don't think he'll ever regain enough movement to pass a physical. The surgeon will do what he can, but it's not hopeful."
Sam's head was pounding. "Then... he's out?"
"Desk-bound, at least," Janet replied quietly. "I'm sorry, Sam."
Janet's words hit right in the center of Sam's chest, piercing her like knives. Cutting through the bullshit and getting straight to the point. And suddenly all she wanted to do was go to him, be with him. Help him through this. She wanted to make him smile, get behind his defenses, and make him happy. She wanted to love him...
Love him.
Oh God.
The admission hit home like a freight train. Of course she loved him. She'd never stopped. Even when she was mad as hell, she'd loved him. Even when she was with Justin, she'd loved him. And every single day that he'd been missing, she'd loved him. Tears sprang into her eyes, but she blinked them back before they could fall. "I have to see him," she said, jumping to her feet, her heart thundering with new possibilities. O'Neill out of SG-1? "I have to tell him--"
"Not now," Janet said firmly, reaching up and catching Sam's hand. Stopping her. "He's asleep."
Sam nodded in agitation, at once resentful and grateful that Janet had halted her reckless move. But she couldn't stop her mind from spinning. The Colonel was mere days away from medical retirement. She could barely get her head around the implications of that fact, all she knew was that things were about to change...
***
Janet arrived early for her shift the next day, for once not craving caffeine. She was tense enough as she stepped into the infirmary, and as wide awake as she had been most of the night.
O'Neill still looked like he was sleeping, which was good. He needed to rest, to give the antibiotics time to work on that nasty infection in his chest. His return had been timely, she thought, as she watched him sleep. Another couple of days and she'd have been dealing with pneumonia. Picking up his chart, she flipped through the papers to see if the night staff had added any notes. Nothing. Good.
Her gaze drifted back to his face. Still pale, the gray in his hair seeming to accentuate his pallor. And even as he slept, she could see the tell-tale crease at the center of his brow, physical evidence of a hard life. A life that would get harder still.
She alone, it seemed, had seen the flash of shock cross the Colonel's face when Sam had raced into the infirmary hand in hand with Justin. She alone had seen him shut down, the anticipation that had glowed in his eyes only moments earlier giving way to unspeakable disappointment. She sighed. What the hell had Sam been thinking?
Colonel O'Neill could be a hard-ass when he chose to be, stubborn and unyielding. But beneath the flinty exterior, his passions ran deep. Janet had witnessed his powerful emotions broach the surface more than once, and she'd watched him crush them down inside himself. Just as he had done last night when Sam and Justin had sailed into the room, unthinkingly flaunting their relationship. She'd seen hope die in his eyes. And it was enough to break her heart.
"You just gonna stand there all day, Doc?"
O'Neill's voice startled her and made her smile, all at once. Damn, but the man could even fool her. "You're awake, sir."
He opened his eyes. "Any chance of breakfast?"
Janet walked around to the side of the bed, watching him carefully. "How do you feel?"
It was a layered question, and there was a beat before he answered. His mouth twitched towards a sour smile. "Peachy."
Janet reached out and touched her hand to his forehead. Even the Colonel, she figured, needed a little human contact from time to time. "You're fever is down," she told him. "That's good."
He looked up at her, his dark eyes steady and full of words she knew he'd never speak. "How long?" he asked quietly. "How long before you transfer me to the hospital?"
"Couple of days," she replied, pulling up a seat at his bedside and sitting down. "Eager to get out of here, sir?"
He shook his head and looked away, gazing out across the empty room. "I'd rather stay."
Janet watched him carefully, not sure how much to say. She knew what he was thinking. Or, at least, she could guess. But O'Neill was a notoriously private man, and he wouldn't appreciate her prying. And yet... "Are you worried about visitors, sir?"
He froze, then grimaced. But he still didn't look at her. "Justin can talk the hind legs off a donkey," he said with a forced laugh. "He never knows when to shut up. Or when to leave."
Janet nodded, understanding him entirely. "I can stipulate no visitors for a couple of days, sir. If that would help."
His gaze had fallen to his right hand, lying motionless in his lap. He was studying it as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "It would help," he said softly. And then, to her surprise, he added, "So...Carter and Justin, huh?"
Janet's heart skittered, her stomach tingling nervously. What could she say? The man was too smart to buy a lie, and the fact he'd chosen to mention it to her said something. It said he trusted her. And that was a lot, coming from a man like O'Neill. Softly, she said, "Yeah. For a while now, I think."
He took a deep breath and turned to her with a smile that was practically a grimace. His barriers were up, but they were cracked and she could still see defeat in his face. But all he said was, "Great. That's great...really."
Janet held his gaze. She knew he was lying, and he knew she knew. But there was something in his eyes - a plea - that begged her to keep silent. To at least let him maintain the fiction that his heart hadn't been trampled into the dirt, to keep something of the dignity that was all he had left. Janet forced a smile as sickly as his own, her voice sounding obscenely chirpy. "So," she asked, "how about that breakfast?"
"Yeah," he nodded, the word released on a breath of gratitude, "a guy certainly builds up an appetite lying around doing nothing all day."
***
When Sam entered the infirmary some time later, Janet had her nose buried in a pile of files in her office. Good. She didn't particularly an audience for this conversation. Not this time.
She'd spent the best part of the night rehearsing her words. Strictly speaking, he was still her CO, so there could be no dramatic declaration. But given the fact that medical retirement could only be a few signatures away, she figured that she could loosen the hold she kept on her feelings. Let a little more out... Just enough to leave him in no doubt that she'd be waiting for him as soon as the ink was dry on his papers.
A smile crept unbidden onto her lips as she silently closed the door behind her, but it was laced with a nervous tension that felt a lot like fear. Getting this close to something she'd been dancing around for years filled her with a hundred doubts. A hundred reasons to back out of the door and rethink. But she refused to listen to them. Not now. She'd come too far. They both had.
Fortunately, the Colonel didn't notice her arrive. He sat prodding listlessly at breakfast, which gave her a few precious extra moments to compose herself, to run over for the hundredth time in her head what she was going to say. His mind was obviously elsewhere though, because he didn't even look up as she came to stand at the foot of his bed. He looked so tired. Flat. Weary. Not surprising - she could only imagine how she'd feel if she was out of the SGC. But every cloud... Her heart swelled with the idea that she was his silver lining. Her smile broadened, but still the Colonel didn't look up. After a couple of moments it was apparent that she'd have to speak before he noticed her. "Sir?"
His head jerked up, something akin to panic crossing his face. "Carter." He glanced apprehensively at the doorway, as if a horde of Jaffa were likely to be on her heels. He obviously wasn't quite himself.
"Didn't mean to startle you," she said, surprised by his reaction and offering a little smile.
He instantly dropped his eyes back to his breakfast. "What do you want?"
The harsh words froze the smile on her lips and left them hanging in an uncomfortable silence until she forced herself to say, "To see how you're doing."
"Fine," came the curt reply. "Considering."
Sam nodded, troubled by his apparent hostility. "I spoke to Teal'c yesterday. You guys had a rough time, sir."
He stared at the tray for a long moment, before carefully returning an untouched piece of toast to his plate and looking up. His expression was as impassive as she'd ever seen it; looking into his eyes was like staring into a mirror. Everything was harsh reflection, revealing nothing within. She shivered, confused. "Thanks to you, Carter."
His words hit like a car wreck. Blood thudded loudly in her hears, blotting out the world. "Me, sir?"
"You ducked the mission, Carter."
Dry mouthed, she was forced to look away as the heat rose into her face. Blindsided by such a direct assault. "I...I..."
"Don't try to deny it."
Raising her eyes to his, she straightened her shoulders, "No, sir. You're right. I should have been there." His dark gaze didn't waiver, his eyes as unrevealing as smoked glass. "I've hardly thought of anything else the whole time you've been gone, sir."
"Huh," his derisive snort cut deep. "I doubt that, Carter."
"Sir, believe me, I feel awful about--"
"Not awful enough to pull your finger out and figure out a way to get us outa there, though. Right?"
"There was no way--"
"Yes," O'Neill snapped, pushing his breakfast tray away so harshly a fork went tinkling loudly to the floor. "There was."
There was? His ice cold anger froze her blood. Had she missed something? Had she made a mistake? Was this her fault? There was nothing she feared more than failing. Nothing she dreaded more than failing her team. Failing him. It was all she could do to keep her face impassive as she said, "Sir, I ran every test I could think of. Every diagnostic. Every permutation of--"
"A Deathglider," O'Neill snapped. "Teal'c and I got home in a goddamn Deathglider, Carter."
He wasn't making any sense. "Sir, the fastest Tok'ra ship would take a year to reach you. And they were on their way. We couldn't--"
"You could have taken a ship through the gate to a closer planet."
Taken a ship...? Sam felt the floor cant from beneath her feet as she remembered Teal'c 'thread the eye of the needle' with a Deathglider. "Oh my God," she breathed, staring into his face in stark horror. How hard would it have been to dismantle a Tel'tac and ship it through in pieces to a gate closer to '526?
He was right, and the knowledge made her sick to her stomach. She hadn't thought of everything. She hadn't even thought of the obvious! Her worst fear was taking life before her eyes; she'd failed him, let him down in every conceivable way. The blood that had formerly flushed her face drained away with the wave of nausea and her throat tightened. "Colonel, I..." But she had nothing to say. Afraid that the tears she felt in her eyes might actually fall, she dropped her head and whispered, "I'm so sorry. I should have thought of that. I was... I should have thought of it."
There was a long, heavy silence. Sam blinked, refusing to release her tears, and at last made herself look up again. O'Neill was watching her with an odd expression in his dark eyes. For a moment she thought he looked as pained as she felt, but the expression dissipated quickly as he looked away. "Well," he said in a taut voice, "don't sweat it, Carter. Turns out it was probably a good thing we stuck around for so long."
With difficulty she cleared her throat. "Because of the Goa'uld weapon you destroyed?"
He gave a shrug, as if the idea hadn't occurred to him. "I guess. I was thinking about something else." His eyes were on her again, dark and hard. "It gave me some time...some perspective. On things."
Things? She was already numb, her body heavy and her blood too listless to move through her veins. She didn't understand him. "What things?"
The Colonel was silent, the only indication that he felt anything at all was the slight frown that creased his brow before he said, "Sometimes, working closely with a person can generate an artificial sense of closeness. When you rely on someone for your life, it's easy to let camaraderie take on too much significance."
Sam just stared, too stunned by his previous anger to be able to respond to his new line of attack.
"What I'm trying to say," he continued, his frown deepening. "What I am saying is that, having gotten some space, I realize that I don't...." He faltered. His face scrunched for a moment, before he determinedly continued, "I may have misled you in the past, regarding the nature of my feelings, Carter. I just want you to know that I realize now it was nothing more than...the heat of the moment. It didn't mean anything."
The world narrowed to the painful thudding of her heart and the rush of blood in her ears. It didn't meant anything. Never had she felt so exposed, so mortified. And the only thing she could think of at that moment was escape. Her eyes were hot with dry tears and her throat choked under the weight of his dual assault - first he tore apart her professionalism, then her heart. She was reeling, not sure how she should look, what she should say. In the end all she could manage was a shaky, "I understand, sir." Her voice sounded as wretched as she felt.
O'Neill's eyes jumped to her face and she saw a frown flicker across his features. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but no words were forthcoming. Instead he calmly picked up his toast and took a bite, the crunch sounding harsh in the dead air.
A lesser woman might have turned and run, but despite how ardently she longed to, Sam refused to lose what was left of her dignity. Instead, she screwed her courage together and, in a subdued but steady voice, said, "I let you down on '526, sir. I'm sorry."
The Colonel's eyes narrowed in a shadow of a grimace as they locked with hers. And, for an instant, she saw a warmth she recognized behind his anger. But then it was smothered and he looked away. "Accepted, Carter."
She swallowed, every nerve in her body screaming at her to get the hell out of the room. "I have some work to do, sir. So, if there's nothing else...?"
He shook his head, tight lipped, and she turned towards the door. She'd just touched the handle when he said her name. It was almost a growl. "Carter?"
She turned, silently begging him to let her go. "Sir?"
"It probably wouldn't have worked anyhow. The ship idea, I mean."
Sam shook her head. "No. It would have. And I should have thought of it."
He said nothing else, just watched her leave with an inscrutable expression in his dark eyes. It wasn't until the door closed behind her that Sam let herself suck in a shaking breath, but it caught against the lump in her throat and came out as a dry sob. Afraid she might lose it completely, she strode as fast as decorum would allow towards the privacy of her quarters. Only then, she knew, would she be able to comprehend how fully the past ten minutes had destroyed everything she held as sacred.
***
She'd cried.
He'd heard her through the thin door as clearly as if she'd been in the room. A dry, miserable sob. And it had wrenched his gut so hard he'd almost jumped out of bed to go after her and apologize. Almost.
But he held himself back and stamped down on remorse, justifying his actions with a brutal practicality. He had to make Carter think he didn't care. How else could he survive her relationship with Justin? How else could he ever face them together, unless she believed that he was indifferent? Unless he believed it himself.
Mission accomplished. Only he felt no satisfaction, no relief, not even a moment of bitter triumph. He'd hurt her, and all he felt now was a deepening ache in the black void that had once been his heart.
***
Teal'c allowed himself to surface slowly. Gradually, he became aware of the sounds and sensations around him. The coldness of the floor on which he sat, the small radius of heat from each of the candles that surrounded him, the noises that echoed through the mountain above and below. Footsteps outside his room.
A knock on the door.
He opened his eyes, inhaling a deep and welcome breath before calling, "Enter."
The door opened a crack. "Teal'c?" It was Major Carter. "I'm disturbing you," she said immediately, backing up a step. "I'll come back."
"You are not," he assured her, rising fluidly to his feet. "I was about to go in search of breakfast."
She nodded, but no smile followed his words. "I won't delay you," she said, edging into the room and closing the door behind her. "I just wanted to apologize."
Teal'c was a man of few words, yet rarely found himself at a loss for something to say. In this case, however, he was bemused. "For what, Major Carter?"
"For not getting you guys back," she replied, looking at him with such dismay that he was forced to take a step closer. "I should have thought about the ship. I don't know why I didn't."
Raising an eyebrow, Teal'c flicked on the harsh overhead light in order to get a better view of her face. She squinted in the sudden brightness, but nonetheless he saw the darkness in her red-rimmed eyes. "I do not understand," he said quietly. "To you which ship do you refer?"
She frowned, ashamed. "The one that I could have taken through the gate to bring you guys home. Colonel O'Neill...pointed out that I should have thought--" She bit off the sentence, grimaced, and added a quieter, "I'm so sorry, Teal'c. I know I let you down."
"You did not," he said immediately, a cool anger beating in his chest. He sensed O'Neill's sharp tongue at work here. "Did O'Neill lead you to believe that you had?"
She shook her head slightly, loyal to the end. "He didn't say anything that wasn't true."
That, Teal'c doubted. He was far from oblivious to the complex dance in which O'Neill and Major Carter were engaged, and over their three month exile O'Neill had talked more than once about Carter's relationship with his brother. Nor was he blind to the fact that O'Neill did not always keep his anger and resentment in check. "I do not believe," Teal'c said calmly, "that you could have reached P9X-526 before O'Neill and I escaped."
"If I'd taken a Tel'tac through - in pieces - and reassembled it on a planet closer to '526 then--"
"Do you believe that you could have persuaded the Tok'ra to agree to such a plan, located a suitable planet, stripped down the Tel'tac, transported it, reassembled it, flown it to P9X-526 and located O'Neill and myself within three months, Major Carter?"
She blinked at him. "I..." And then she frowned, a flicker of relief replacing her despondency. "Well, when you put it like that..."
"Do not hold yourself at fault, Major Carter. I do not." He paused, registering the haunted expression in her eyes, and added, "And I am sure that O'Neill does not."
She shook her head, letting out a shaky sigh. "Don't be so sure of that, Teal'c."
It seemed impossible to Teal'c that this woman, whose intelligence was second to none, could have failed to see the nature of O'Neill's anger. Did she not guess that her relationship with his brother would damage their friendship? Jaffa women would not be so blind, and he felt a sudden swell of pride at the thought. "O'Neill is quick to anger," he reminded her, "and often speaks without due consideration of his words."
But her gloomy expression only deepened. "I don't think so. He'd thought this one through, Teal'c. I had the impression he'd been rehearsing it for days."
Teal'c cocked his head to one side. "Does that not, in itself, tell you something, Major Carter?"
"It tells me he's been thinking about it for a while."
He took a deep breath, endeavoring to be patient, and tried a different approach. "O'Neill is a formidable tactician, is he not?"
Major Carter nodded, clearly bemused. "The best."
"Indeed. And in a no-win situation, where all hope was lost and only death awaited him, how would O'Neill respond?"
"Teal'c, I don't get--"
"Would he defend or attack?"
Carter blinked and slowly said, "Attack, of course. Teal'c, are you saying...? What are you saying?"
Teal'c turned away and retrieved his jacket from where it hung in his closet. He kept his back to his friend as he spoke, uncomfortable with addressing such personal issues. But if she insisted on being so blind...! "Are you familiar with the work of Miguel Cervantes, Major Carter?"
"Um...sure. He wrote Don Quixote, right?"
Teal'c inclined his head in a small nod. "'Love and war are the same thing, and stratagems and policy are as allowable in the one as in the other'."
There was a moment's silence before Major Carter muttered, "All's fair in love and war."
He let a smile curve his lips, but did not turn around until his face was schooled to its customary gravity. "Indeed."
Carter's eyes were wide as they met his, but he saw a light igniting to their depths. It was made of three parts hope and one part steely determination. She gave him a slight nod. "Thanks, Teal'c."
Teal'c merely nodded in return. O'Neill would not know what hit him.
***
Part Eleven - by Sally Reeve
Three days after Colonel O'Neill had been transferred to the tender mercies of the Academy Military hospital, Janet Fraiser found herself standing outside General Hammond's office with bad news to break.
She was taking a deep breath, and composing herself before she knocked, when she heard the General's gruff voice from around the half-open door. "Quit dithering out there, Doctor, and come on in."
With a smile she stepped inside, O'Neill's substantial medical file tucked under one arm. "General."
He waved her to a seat, his eyes fixed on the file she held. She knew he'd recognize it. For a start, it was twice as large as anyone else's. "How can I help you, Doctor?"
"I'm afraid you're not going to like it, sir," she said as she perched on the edge of the seat and flicked open O'Neill's file.
Hammond's eyes narrowed. "Jack's okay, isn't he?"
"The surgery was successful," she assured him. "And Colonel O'Neill's in no danger, sir. He should be home in a day or two."
"I'm sensing a 'but' here, Doctor."
She nodded. "But..." She removed a single sheet of paper that lay on top of O'Neill's file and handed it to the General. "This."
Hammond took it and read it. Lips tightening, he closed his eyes for a moment. "Medical retirement?"
"It's what he's asking for, sir."
The cool blue eyes that faced her were steady. "Does he qualify?"
"Borderline," she replied. "According to the surgeon, with aggressive physio he should regain ninety-five percent of the mobility in his shoulder. That's just enough to get him through the physical. However..."
"However, O'Neill doesn't want to play ball?" Hammond surmised.
She nodded. "It would probably take at least a year for him to be combat-ready, sir. And even then, there's no guarantee. Colonel O'Neill doesn't feel it's worth it."
The General dropped the paper on his desk and stood up, moving to close the door. When he turned around again, his voice was lower. Confidential. "We're both aware of the personal reasons Jack may have for pursuing medical retirement."
Janet repressed the grimace she felt tightening her jaw. "I'm not so sure, sir," she replied quietly. "Things may have changed in that regard."
"How so?"
She squirmed uncomfortably. "I think...I believe that Major Carter is involved with someone else, sir."
Hammond's face tightened as he came to sit down again, and she didn't miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes. "That's a damn shame."
"Yes, sir." A damn shame. "Sir?" she added, not entirely sure she should say what was on the tip of her tongue. But Hammond nodded for her to continue, and the words spilled out. "I think the Colonel's reluctance to commit to the physio may be because he doesn't... Working with Major Carter may be difficult for him now, and I believe he may be seeking a way to save himself some discomfort."
It was obvious that Hammond shared her distaste with the subject, bordering as it did on gossip. But at the same time he understood her point. The General's lips thinned, but his concern was clear. "Then he may come to regret his decision. He may not be thinking rationally."
"I wouldn't say that," Janet corrected him. "But I believe it may be more of an emotional decision than he would admit to himself."
The General nodded. "Where do we stand here, Doctor? Can we refuse him medical retirement if we so choose?"
"If we did, he could contest it."
Another nod. "And how soon do we need to decide?"
"Sooner the better. His pension will be calculated from the date of--"
"A month?"
Way too long. Unless... "I could run some more tests, sir. String it out a little if you think it would help."
"Let's give him as much time to think as we can, Doctor. Put him on a month's sick leave, full pay. At the end of that, we'll make a decision."
Janet nodded. It was one of the compromises that skirted the bounds of the regulations for which the General was famous. Or, perhaps, infamous. "Yes, sir," she said, rising to her feet. "I'll let the Colonel know."
***
The sun shone brightly on Jack O'Neill's house, and a fresh scent of spring was in the air as Sam pulled into his drive and killed the engine. Climbing slowly from her car, she shivered in the early spring air but didn't reach for her jacket. What she had to say wouldn't take long, certainly not long enough for the weather to change before she left.
She felt a pang of regret as she approached the door, knowing that what she had to say wouldn't be welcome. And knowing equally, with a stab of shame, that the words she was about to speak were long overdue.
Squaring her shoulders, she walked past O'Neill's truck. It looked like it hadn't been washed in months - which, given Justin's lack of concern for such things, it probably hadn't. A smile crept over her lips as she imagined the Colonel's reaction to the state of his pride and joy! She sure hoped Justin was planning to have it cleaned before O'Neill came home the following day.
The thought made her hesitate before she reached out and ran a hand over the smooth lines of the truck. Tomorrow. Twenty-four hours until he was home, and she could put her half-crazy plan into action. She hadn't seen him since their acrimonious exchange in the infirmary, quite deliberately. She'd needed some time to process Teal'c's hints, to try and think past her aching heart. It had taken a while, a couple of bottles of Semillon Chardonnay, and a heated conversation with Janet. On leaving Teal'c's quarters, she'd marched straight towards Janet's office. Her anger had been high and growing higher by the moment. So help her, if Janet had told him about Justin...
She burst into the office and barked, "Janet."
"Sam? What are you--"
"What did you tell him?" she demanded hotly.
Janet just blinked. "Who?"
"The Colonel. What did you tell him about me and Justin?"
At once, Janet's eyes darkened. "Nothing. Not really."
Sam took a step closer. "Not really? Janet..."
Holding up a defensive hand, Janet rose to her feet. "Hey," she'd protested, stepping away, "don't blame me. He *asked*."
Guilt and anger mixed nastily in Sam's stomach, making her fists clench in frustration. "Asked what?"
Fraiser shrugged. "If you guys were together. I told him you were."
"Janet!" Sam all but exploded. Together? "We aren't together, we're--"
"Together," Janet had broke in, her own anger surfacing. "Rationalize it how you like, Sam. You've been dating Justin. I'm not going to lie to him about that."
Sam glared at her for a moment, before turning away and raking a hand through her hair. Through the window of Janet's office she saw O'Neill's bed. He lay there as if asleep. But she knew he wasn't. Her anger dissipated and guilt rose in its wake. So he knew. Damn. "What did he say?"
Janet just sighed. "He said it was great."
"Great?"
"What did you expect him to say?"
She hadn't had an answer to the question then, and she still didn't. She supposed that some stupid, hurt part of her mind had expected him to break down and apologize for his harsh words that day in the locker room. To confess his culpability and to beg her forgiveness.
But instead he'd just turned to stone.
She'd done enough soul-searching in the past few days to realize that at least some part of her relationship with Justin had been born out of a need to strike back at the Colonel. To inflict the same kind of shock and disappointment that she'd felt during their argument in the locker room, so many months ago. In short, to hurt him.
And yet Justin had provided her with an ephemeral link to the Colonel; her friendship with him had been based on loss and shared grieving. And that while she was still visiting O'Neill's house, seeing his brother, looking through his photographs, she had been able to fool herself into thinking that O'Neill was still around. While she was seeing Justin, and agonizing over torn feelings, the Colonel had still been a very real part of her life. He hadn't been missing, probably dead. She hadn't had to grieve. She hadn't had to think about losing him.
It was far from an edifying thought. What it meant, in cold hard English, was that she'd used Justin. She'd used him to feel closer to his brother, and in so doing had been grossly dishonest with him about the nature of her feelings. Not to mention breaching a fundamental, heartfelt trust with O'Neill.
She deserved his scorn. She deserved his anger. She just hoped that she still deserved his love.
***
The view from Jack's hospital room was dull. Trees. What else? Sitting perched on the edge of his bed, Jack couldn't wait to get out. Luckily for him, escape wasn't far off. Fraiser had been called to an emergency on base, leaving Jack free to bully her replacement into discharging him a day early.
It hadn't been difficult. The kid had been green, and when Jack refused to take no for an answer there was nothing anyone could do. And so he was out of there, as soon as the papers were signed.
Not that going home was much better than sitting staring at the trees all day. Especially not with Justin still camping out there. But his brother would be gone soon, so he said. And at least the food would be better. Not that he felt hungry these days. Not that he felt much of anything. But it was better that way. He liked the emptiness, embraced it. It was so, so, so much easier than the alternative.
"Colonel O'Neill?" the voice from the doorway was the kid. The doctor. Papers all signed. Good boy.
"I'm all set?" Jack asked as he got to his feet, hobbling on his strapped knee.
The doc glanced down and winced. "You know I really think another night would--"
"Great," Jack said, "then I'm outa here."
"You should see your own doctor in a couple of days," the kid insisted as he trailed along behind Jack. "We'll need to do some more x-rays on the arm..."
"Sure," Jack muttered. "And physio. I know the drill."
"The surgeon was pleased with the results of the surgery," the kid enthused. "And with the right physio you could be--"
"Stop!" Jack interrupted, holding up a hand. "Important question."
"Yes, sir?"
"Did you call me a cab?"
***
Sam was nervous. It was ridiculous really, given all the things she'd had to do over the past five years. But it had been so long since she'd had to do *this*, that the butterflies charging around her stomach were actually beginning to make her feel slightly nauseous.
But she refused to run from this, to take the cowards way out. Justin deserved honesty, at last. Taking a deep breath she climbed the steps to the porch, rang the bell and waited. It took a while, but eventually she heard shuffling footsteps and the door was flung open.
"Sam!" His grin sent her butterflies into a tailspin.
"Hey," she said. "I...Can I come in?"
"Sure," came the laconic reply, as he stepped back to let her pass. "I tried to call you last night," he carried on as they headed for the living room. "You were out."
"Yeah," Sam muttered. Although it was a lie. She'd simply been screening her calls.
The living room was a beyond a mess. Used plates cluttered the coffee table, newspapers piled up on the end of the sofa. Her surprise must have shown on her face as she looked around, because it provoked Justin to chuckle. "I know," he said, "I'm planning on tidying before Jack gets back tomorrow."
"You'd better."
"So," he said, watching her curiously. "It's, ah, kinda good that you're here because I, um, needed to talk to you about something."
"Oh?" She kept her response as light as possible, quelling the nightmarish fantasy that he was about to get down on one knee and propose.
"Yeah," he nodded, taking a seat and pushing a pile of papers onto the floor to make room for her. "I, uh... I'm gonna head back to California day after tomorrow."
"Oh!" Thank God! "Right. Well, I guess you need to get back to work. You've been here a long time."
He nodded, watching her carefully. "You're either hiding it really well," he said slowly, "or you're not entirely devastated by the news."
Sam smiled again, apologetically. "I... I'm sorry, Justin. I like you a lot. But...it's probably good that you're going back. I'm not sure that this," she gestured between them, "is such a good idea. You know?"
Disappointment flashed across his face, but he did his best to hide it. "Not exactly," he said. "I was kinda hoping we could keep in touch. That maybe you'd come out and visit."
"I'd like that," Sam told him honestly. "As friends."
He winced. "Ouch."
"I'm sorry."
"I should be surprised," he said, watching her carefully. "But somehow... There's always been a distance, hasn't there?"
Sam blinked, grimacing slightly. "Yeah. And it's me. It's all me."
"So what's his name?" Justin asked then, eyes narrowing darkly.
Shit! "What?" she feebly stalled.
"Come on Sam, I'm not stupid. Who is he? The reason for all the distance?"
Sam felt herself flush as she raked a hand through her hair. "It's complicated. God, it's so complicated..."
Justin sat back against the corner of the sofa, watching her with a glower that would have done his brother proud. "Try me."
Sam clenched her jaw. "We're not involved, or anything," she assured him. "But we--"
Justin grunted. "Guy must be a moron, then."
"No," Sam sighed. "He has his reasons. Good ones."
Justin took a deep breath, studying his hands where they lay clasped in his lap. He reminded her painfully of his brother, pensive and hurt. Good job Carter, she thought bitterly, that's two good men you've screwed over.
"I...care about you, Sam," Justin said quietly, obviously trying to suppress his disappointment. "I hope..." He looked up, grim-faced, "I *think* I hope we can still be friends."
Reaching out, Sam hesitantly took his hand. She wasn't sure if she really had the right, but he let her anyway. "I hope so too. You're a great guy."
"Not great enough, apparently."
Sam shook her head. "Better than I deserve." God, when he knew the truth! And she had to tell him. She had to tell him now. She owed him that "The thing is, Justin, the guy who I--"
A noise sounded from the hall. A key turning in the lock. Justin pushed to his feet. "What the hell?"
Sam was about to follow when a figure appeared in the doorway.
Jack O'Neill.
Shit.
***
Carter.
Shit.
Jack's heart died as he froze on the threshold of his living room. He flushed with the awkwardness of the situation, almost as if he'd walked in on them in bed. He could only imagine what they'd been doing, cozied up together on the sofa. His sofa!
"I..." His suddenly racing heart made him light headed. He was forced to reach out and steady himself on the door frame. "I didn't know you--"
"Jack!" Justin was across the room in two swift strides. "Why didn't you call, buddy? The doc said you wouldn't be out until tomorrow."
"I got a cab," he mumbled, his eyes not leaving Carter. She was watching him with such an odd expression on her face. Was it fear? Or hope? Something. Something intense.
Justin was guiding him towards he sofa, where Carter sat. She stared at him as though he were dangerous, but compelling. She didn't seem able to look away. "Sit down," Justin urged, kicking piles of papers out of his path. "You look pale."
He felt pale. His heart was thudding painfully and he felt sick to his stomach. Coming home to find Carter and Justin smooching on the sofa wasn't exactly what the doctor ordered.
"Let me get you some water," Justin offered as he eased Jack onto the sofa.
Jack grimaced at the pain in his knee and arm as he moved, feeling old and pathetic in front of Justin's obvious vitality. How could he blame Carter for choosing him?
As Justin scurried into the kitchen, Jack let his head sink back against the cushions. "Something wrong with your house, Carter?" he sighed, desperately trying not to imagine her and Justin making use of his bed...
"Sir?" came the quiet reply, much closer than he'd expected.
He opened his eyes, glancing at her sideways. God, he loved that face. The thought came out of nowhere, knocking him sideways. Ruthlessly, he crushed it. "You don't think it's a little weird?" he ground out. "You and Justin...here?"
She flushed, a heat that spread up from her chest to her face. Good. Nice to see she wasn't impervious to the situation. "We were just talking," she assured him. He expected her tone to be barbed, but all he heard was a softness that bordered sadness. And then, in an even quieter voice, "I was sorry to hear about your shoulder, sir."
"I wasn't," he lied, looking away before he could see the sympathy in her eyes. A year in physio, and then no guarantees he'd be back. Could have been worse, according to Fraiser. But it was still more than he wanted to deal with. "Looking forward to getting the hell outa Dodge." That, at least, was God's honest truth.
Justin came clattering back into the room, a mug in hand. "Ah, I forgot to run the dishwasher," he explained as he handed the mug over. "No clean glasses. Sorry."
With a sigh, Jack let his eyes roam over the cluttered room. It looked like a small bomb had detonated. "I see you haven't changed."
Justin laughed. "I'm gonna tidy. I promise. You're a day early!"
"Yeah," Jack replied, glancing at Carter, "sorry I interrupted."
A dark look crossed Justin's face, and he shook his head. "You didn't."
"I was about to leave anyway," Carter added, rising to her feet. She looked at him again, that same inscrutable but intense expression on her face. "It's good to see you again, sir."
He just nodded, unable to say the same. "See you around, Carter."
She nodded, with an earnest intensity. "Yes, sir. You will."
"I'll see you out, Sam," Justin offered, following her from the room. Hovering close. Jack looked away, unwilling to see more. Trying not to imagine the goodbye kiss that was no-doubt happening on his doorstep at that very moment.
Fate was a cruel son-of-a-bitch.
***
"Sam?" Justin said in a low voice as he stepped out onto the porch after her, pulling the door closed behind him. "There's something else."
She turned, serious face open and ready to listen. "Yeah?"
"Jack's coming back to Yosemite with me."
Suddenly she was very still. "Oh? When?"
He shrugged. "Day after tomorrow. I know he's not happy here. And we both know he wanted out of the Air Force - I hope he's gonna stay."
Sam's face darkened, and she looked away. "He's probably already out, Justin."
Already out? "What do you mean?" he asked, stepping closer again. "He's resigned?"
She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "His shoulder wound. He's going for medical retirement."
He stared at her, not sure what to make of the statement. Only the previous day the doctor at the hospital had been telling him there was a good chance the injury would heal well enough to let Jack back on active duty. Given enough time and therapy. "I thought they could do physio?"
She shrugged. "He doesn't want it. He wants out. Apparently."
Justin felt his heart leap. Thank God! "He told you that?"
Sam shook her head. "Janet did."
"What do you think?" he asked, scanning her impassive face. "You think he should retire?" He couldn't see Sam Carter - or any military types - letting him go that easily.
"I think our team will lose one of its greatest assets," she replied, with all the military evasiveness that had irritated the hell out of him for years.
Justin suddenly had the odd sensation of squaring off against a rival. "You should know," he said, "I'm going to do everything I can to keep him out of the Air Force. It's made him miserable. He deserves a break."
Sam looked away, her eyes scanning the trees in the neighbor's yard. "You're right," she agreed at last. "He does deserve a break. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he gets it."
For some reason, her words didn't provide him any comfort. "I mean it, Sam," he warned her. "I'm not going to let you talk him out of a medical retirement."
She turned to face him then, slipping on her sunglasses and hiding behind them. "Believe me, Justin. That's the last thing I'm going to do."
***
"Personal leave?" General Hammond repeated, watching Major Carter practically standing at attention before him. "I'm sorry, Major, but this isn't exactly a good time."
She did a passable job of hiding her irritation, but wasn't backing down. "It's important, sir. I think you're aware that I haven't ever asked for any personal leave and--"
"That's not the issue, Sam," he replied, tipping back in his seat and waving her towards another. "Fact is, I have a mission for you."
Her eyes closed, just a fraction of a second too long for a blink. He could almost hear her silent curse as she stiffly took the offered seat. "With all due respect, sir, SG-1 is hardly in a position to--"
"I'm very much aware of the position of SG-1, Carter," he assured her. "In fact, that's what this mission's about."
She frowned. And he smiled. Once in a while it was fun to perplex the formidable Samantha Carter. "I need you to go see Jack."
Total stillness. Not a muscle moved. "Oh."
Hammond nodded, pushing himself to his feet and moving to stand by the window so he could gaze down at the Stargate. The heart of the complex. But not the heart of the SGC. "Jack's been here since day one," he reminded her. "He was the first to go through that gate."
"Yes, sir," came her quiet response.
"He's a difficult, irascible, downright insubordinate officer. But...he's also a damn fine one. And we can't afford to lose him." He turned, and saw a bleak expression creeping over Carter's face. The sun behind clouds.
"You want me to talk him into coming back." She didn't even bother to make it a question.
Hammond nodded, watching her carefully. What was that dying in her eyes? It looked a hell of a lot like hope. He frowned, wondering if Doctor Fraiser's hints about Carter's personal life had been entirely accurate. "Would that be a problem, Major?"
"No...," she began, but she couldn't hold his gaze and looked sharply away. After a moment, her lips tightened and she said, "Are you giving me an order, sir?"
Taking a deep breath, Hammond shook his head. "No, Major. I'm not."
She nodded slightly, looking up again. The conflict in her eyes was deep, and painful to witness. But her courage was inspiring. "In that case... It would be a problem, sir."
He held her gaze for a long time, seeing at once the little girl he had known, the officer with whom he had served, and woman he considered a friend. He could send someone else. Hell, he could go himself. And they might be able to persuade Jack, but seeing the look in Carter's bereft face, he realized that it would be nothing short of cruel to snatch this from them now.
Turning away, he returned to his study of the Stargate and all it represented. How the hell would the SGC survive without the wealth of experience Jack O'Neill brought to the job? The experience which had--
He stopped, mid-thought.
Experience.
Moving back to his chair, he sat down. "How about a compromise, Major Carter?"
***
Part Twelve - by Gunfodder and Sally Reeve
It was a beautiful night, and the heavens were a carpet of stars this far from polluted city skies. Jack sat on the rickety porch of the small cabin, listening to the babbling creek and the tuneful buzzes and chirrups of the night's insects.
It was almost peaceful. It should have been peaceful, restful and healing. But Jack felt anything but peace. In the seven years since he'd lost his son, the world had never felt so flat, weary and stale. Hopeless. It was exactly the right word. He was without hope. And in the few days since he'd joined Justin in this rural retreat, he'd had more time than he needed to think about the way in which his life had fallen apart.
Hope. It was all about hope. Hoping for victory, hoping for peace, hoping for love... He snorted at his own sentimentality. God, but he was becoming maudlin in his old age. Reaching for his beer, he found the bottle empty and muttered a curse. His knee was too damn painful to bother limping inside for another. He felt old. Really old, like some abandoned fighter plane rusting runway. Useless and forgotten.
A sigh left his lips, hovering on the warm California air as he stared up at the blanket of stars. He could imagine Carter out there among them, fighting the fight, saving the world. And the thought brought a tired lump to his throat. He ached to be there with her, watching her back, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. But it was impossible. It was difficult enough being up here with Justin - his cheerful face a daily reminder of what had fallen through his clumsy, inadequate fingers. But to see her everyday, to be touched by her radiance of spirit, and yet to be forever denied what his heart so ardently desired, was a pain at which even his formidable courage quailed.
And so he sat alone, lost in a despondency that circled the edge of depression. Like a leaf on the rim of a whirlpool, he waited to be sucked down. He had lost the will to resist. His life was already over.
"Nice night."
The rumbling voice startled him, but he didn't move a muscle. Fifteen years in the field had given him that much. "Justin. Thought you'd be tucked up in bed by now."
Uninvited, Justin dropped down on the steps below Jack's chair, stretching out his long legs. "I haven't seen you for a couple of days. Thought I'd check in."
"I'm enjoying the solitude."
Justin wasn't perturbed by the brush off. "Some of the guys are going into town tomorrow night. A few beers, pizza. You wanna join us?"
"Nope."
Justin just shrugged. "Well, I didn't think you would. But you know, some time you *are* going to have to snap out of this. Just because the Air Force--"
Snap out of this? The words coiled into the simmering anger in Jack's gut, squeezing it tight. How dare he? "Why?" Jack snarled. "To make you and Carter feel better?"
Justin turned, his face lit by the light that seeped out of Jack's small cabin. "Carter?" he asked, confused. "You mean, Sam?"
Jack's heart thudded painfully, making him sick to his stomach. Why the hell had he mentioned her? It was the last think he wanted to discuss - he couldn't bare to hear her name on Justin's lips. She's mine, a primal part of his brain screamed, stay away from her!
"Jack?" Concerned now, Justin moved closer. "You okay, bud?"
Swallowing the jealousy that rose like bile, he managed a gruff, "Fine."
Justin continued to study him for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he let out a long sigh. Picking up a piece of gravel from the step he threw it hard into the chattering water. "You know Sam well?"
Oh crap.
"Jack?"
"Yeah," he growled, reaching for his empty beer and wishing it were full. "Kinda."
"She's...," Justin sighed again, dropping his chin into one hand. "She's a pretty amazing woman."
Jack's fingers tightened around his beer, threatening to shatter the glass. His mouth felt dry, tasted foul. "Yeah, she is."
Justin sighed again and rose to his feet. "I need a beer," he said, heading into the cabin. "You need another?"
"Sure." Although a shot of whiskey would be better. Several. As he listened to Justin rattle around in the tiny refrigerator, clinking bottles, Jack's mind threw relentless images of his brother and Carter into his head. Sitting close on his sofa, holding hands, smiling, laughing, kissing....
"Here." The cold beer was pressed into his hand from over his shoulder, and he raised it to his lips without thanks. Cool, bitter, it did something to steady his queasy mind and stomach. "So," Justin continued, dropping down to sit on the step again. "I guess Sam didn't tell you she dumped me?"
Beer caught in Jack's throat as he sucked in a breath. Dumped? The word ricocheted through his mind, imbedding deeply in his palpitating heart. "Dumped...?" he managed to gasp between coughs.
"Hey...easy," Justin muttered, jumping to his feet and thumping Jack on the back. "You okay?"
He waved him away, and took another soothing sip of beer. She'd dumped him? Carter had dumped Justin? Oh, thank God! Thank God! "What...," he coughed. "What happened?"
Still standing, Justin leaned against the side of the porch and shrugged. "Another guy, apparently."
The world was canting now, threatening to pitch him out into the dark blue yonder. Another guy? Jesus, Carter! "Who?" The sharp bark belonged on a parade ground, and Justin turned with a raised eyebrow. Grimacing, Jack waved away Justin's irritation, "What guy?"
But Justin was looking at him oddly now. "She didn't say." He paused, his scrutiny intensifying with every beat. "Someone she worked with..."
A slow heat rose in Jack's blood, and despite his best intentions, he couldn't hold his brother's inquisitive gaze. His eyes slid away. Someone she worked with? Could it be...? Could she mean...?
"Oh my God," Justin breathed, the words almost a hiss. "It's you, isn't it?"
"No." It couldn't be. Could it...?
"It is!"
Jack shook his head, pushing himself to his feet despite his protesting knee. He couldn't just sit there being stared at; he didn't know what he was thinking or feeling. She'd dumped Justin? But what did that mean...?
"You and Sam had a thing?" Justin snapped, eyeing him with obvious anger.
Jack shook his head. "No. I told you. We never--"
"That's what she said," Justin interrupted. "She said this guy...she said they'd never been involved." A silent beat. "I said he was a moron."
Grunting, Jack moved to the edge of the porch and looked out over the night-dark landscape, tracing the silhouettes of the mountains against the starry back-cloth. "Whoever he was," he murmured, "it didn't stop her getting involved with you."
There was a long silence in which nothing and no one moved. At last, Jack turned to look at his brother, watching as he stood staring out into the night. "So that's what this has all been about," Justin said, as if sensing Jack's gaze on him. "Jealousy."
"All what?"
"This," Justin sighed. "This hard-ass act you've been putting on since you got back." Jack said nothing, not sure how to answer. Justin turned, fixing him with a hard look, "Are you in love with her?"
Trapped, with his back against a wall and ten Jaffa with staff weapons leveled at his head, would have left Jack feeling less exposed than at that moment. "I..." he stammered, ripping his gaze from Justin's. "I can't."
He could still feel his brother's baleful gaze on him. "Can't what?"
It was strange, Jack realized. He'd never talked about this, aside from some veiled references to Hammond. He'd never had to explain his feelings, or even think about them in too much detail. But standing there in the darkness, he felt an odd sort of release as he quietly said, "I can't love her. I'm not allowed."
"Allowed?" Justin snorted. "Don't tell me the military has rules about who you love now!"
"Of course they do."
Justin laughed grimly, shaking his head as he scooped up another loose pebble and hurled it out into the brook. "You know, I don't know what's funnier. That the Air Force would try and tell people who to love, or that schmucks like you would let them."
Jack felt his hackles rise, as they always did when he and Justin talked about the Air Force. "There are plenty of good reasons, Justin."
"Right," he growled. "Let me guess, duty, honor--"
"Military effectiveness. The safety of your team. You can't go into battle with people you--" You what? he asked himself. People you'd rather die than lose?
"So does it work?" Justin pressed. "Can you just decide not to fall in love with someone because the Air Force says it's wrong?"
Jack shook his head, letting out a long breath in a sigh. "Of course not. But you can...keep it to yourself. Not act on your feelings."
"Don't ask, don't tell?"
"Something like that."
Justin stepped down into the dirt. "You're an idiot, Jack."
"And you're a self-righteous bastard."
Justin turned, anger flashing in his eyes. "If you're so damn smart, why are you sat up here alone. Huh?" He nodded towards Jack's arm. "You're out now, aren't you? Why aren't you with her?"
Jack's eyes slid away from his. "Because I thought she was with you."
Justin grunted. "And you were just going to let her go without a fight? Or is this one of Jack O'Neill's patented grudge matches?"
"What?"
"I know you, Jack. You're pissed that she even looked at someone else, right? Especially me."
He glared out into the night, all too aware of the anger that pulsed close to the surface. But he had a right to be angry, didn't he? She'd betrayed him. "Carter's free to do what she wants."
"But if she doesn't live up to your ideas of duty and loyalty, then she out on her ass? Just like me."
Jack swung his gaze back to his brother. "What do you mean, like you?"
"Oh, come on, Jack," Justin laughed. "I know what you think of me. I don't live by your rules, so I'm a waste of space. A stupid, undisciplined tree hugger. I'm not stupid."
"I don't think that," he growled. "I never said that."
"You don't have to, Jack. I can see it when you look at me. No respect."
"That's not true--"
Justin held up his hand. "Whatever. But if I were you, I wouldn't risk Sam coming to the same conclusion. I'm your brother, I have to stick around. She doesn't."
***
Carter's four-wheel drive made light work of the long trip to Yosemite, eating up the distance with somewhat more enthusiasm that her limited budget would allow. Still, the power and size of the vehicle was exhilarating, her ability to control it a curious juxtaposition she felt keenly against her convoluted life. Sam sat it the hot driver's seat virtually motionless, her elbow resting in the cool rush of wind through the open window. The closer she came to the park, the easier she seemed to breathe. Something like the future fluttered on the air.
Enjoying the rare solitude, she had foregone the ritual of the car radio, instead allowing her mind an utter and unaccustomed rest. She felt no anxiety, none of her usual tumult. She had simply decided what had to be done, and she was doing it, for better or worse. It was no great shakes.
Except that it was. It truly, truly was.
Still, Sam was determined not to turn back now. Where would the point in that be? Backing away would mean resigning herself to a lifetime of personal uncertainty and doubt. There was no way she wanted to spend her life that way. To her mind, she had already wasted too much emotional energy in precisely that fashion. She was weary, yet determined.
For we are no longer children
The scales have been taken from our eyes
And we have failed this challenge -
Can no longer live our own lies
The verse slipped into her head unexpectedly, and it occurred to her that instead of not thinking at all, as had been her intention, she had actually been thinking very hard indeed. She was unable even to remember where she had heard those lines first, but it seemed to her a simple way of explaining her current course of action.
Something had happened in those weeks of O'Neill's absence. Epiphanous was too melodramatic a word for what Sam was feeling. It was more like a simple acceptance of something she had known for a long, long time but had never allowed to permeate her consciousness. Not really. Love was not a fairytale, Sam knew. It did not conquer all, it certainly did not make the world rotate any more successfully on its axis. It was nothing more, really, than the Universe's failed attempt to balance out the magnitude of cruelty that exists now and forever. Coming at it like a teenager was hopeless, pathetic and succeeded in nothing but a reduction of its value. Yet this is how they had both treated it - as a game, one they had ended up playing badly. So very, very badly.
So, Sam had decided that ignoring the existence of this emotion within her was achieving nothing but the propagation of a monstrosity. Still, what she was about to do was a million miles from the candy-colored hearts and flowers mentality that spouted from every pop song nowadays...
At last the road gave way to the wholesome formality of a national park; picnic benches, well marked trails, and the ubiquitous Visitor's Center. Sam pulled up outside, letting her truck idle as her eyes were drawn to a familiar figure standing amid a throng of eager-faced children.
Justin.
As if he could sense her presence, he glanced up. Surprise and pleasure broke across his face, swiftly followed by a resigned comprehension. He muttered something to the children, and waded through them to reach her truck. "Sam," he said, with a smile that was a confusion of pleasure and sufferance. "I thought you might show up."
"Hey, Justin," she began, her spine crawling at the awkwardness of the situation. "I've come to see--"
"Jack?"
She blinked, pulling off her sunglasses to see him more clearly. "Yeah."
"He's not expecting you."
"I know."
Justin nodded, squinting up a dusty track that led higher up into the mountains. "About ten minutes that way. The cabin's at the end of the trail. You can take the truck the whole way."
After a moment of silence, Sam quietly asked, "How's he doing?"
"He's Jack," Justin shrugged. "Might as well ask how a rock's doing." He paused, then softened, "But I think he misses you."
Her heart skittered. "You do?"
"We had a little talk," he said, fixing her with a steady look. "I wish you'd told me, Sam."
She felt herself flush. "Justin, I--"
"Don't," he protested, holding up a hand to stop her. "I've heard it all from Jack. Regulations, duty, respect. All the usual bullshit." But his anger seemed as lazy as the heat, over ripe and lacking any real bite.
"I treated you badly," she admitted. "I'm sorry."
"Me too." He offered her a sad, but undamaged smile and took a deep breath. "Jack O'Neill is a cantankerous, stubborn son-of-a-bitch. But if you think you can knock down some of those walls he hides behind... Hell, you go girl."
Sam couldn't help but smile at the description, shaking her head. Stubborn didn't even begin to describe him. And she'd seen the guy hold a grudge for decades when he thought his trust had been betrayed. Which it had. Completely. She shivered slightly at the though, despite the heat. "Do you think he'll talk to me?"
Justin just shrugged, returning to his increasingly impatient young audience. He flung his answer over his shoulder. "Stranger things have happened."
She found him at last on the wooden veranda of a little fishing hut, eyes masked by sunglasses and deliberate alienation, the stubble of idle days grown into a pepper-colored beard. His face was as closed as the first day they met and through the muffle of her travel-weary brain, Sam wondered at how quickly they had regressed into strangers. Or perhaps, she thought almost idly, this is how they had always been, and it was only ever dreams that had made them anything else.
He didn't see her at first, so intent was his scrutiny of the burgeoning landscape. Or perhaps he simply slept? Either way, fate was upon her and Sam knew she had to act. She took another step forward, and her boot scuffed on the dirt. His head snapped around, and froze. He could have been made of stone.
He said nothing, but she knew him well enough to see the telltale signs of tension. The furrow in the middle of his brow, the set of his shoulders. Despite the strap on his knee, he looked poised for action. Fight of flight. She wondered which he'd choose.
Afraid that speaking might provoke something she wasn't ready to deal with, Sam kept quiet. But she didn't keep still. Moving slowly, she crossed the dusty ground between them, keeping her eyes on his face the whole time. Waiting for him to object. He said nothing, even when she was standing at the bottom of the three rickety steps that lead up to his cabin.
Refusing to be intimidated by his silence, and refusing to leave, Sam chose the only other option. She decided to wait him out, bend his stubborn will to hers. And so Sam sat down on the bottom step, below his chair that rocked lazily too and fro. The lake was already drying a little in the rainless days, stillness resting like a skin on the surface and disturbed only by a small confusion of geese on the far shore. The hut was too far from the water to catch fish, but then the creatures themselves never had been of much interest to O'Neill.
From the purple-topped mountain behind the shack a tiny stream flurried towards the lake, large enough to interrupt the thick silence with its faint tinkling. It ran full tilt beneath the old wood of the hut, directly under Sam's feet and onwards with breathtaking purity. Transfixed, Sam watched the little brook, swirling, swirling, but could not see beneath the surface, beyond the hard diamond-sparkle of the sunlight, the chaotic ripple of the current. Behind her the veranda creaked in the heat as the wood expanded to its limits and then strained beyond them. When she breathed in the air was perfumed, heavy, hot like the day and dusty like the track she had followed so laboriously up the mountain.
But still the Colonel was silent, even as the flies buzzed fatly around the lukewarm bottle he clutched so incongruously in his good hand. "I wasn't aware I'd invited you on this particular fishing trip, Carter." His mumble was gruff, the bottle resting at his lips.
"You didn't. But then, I didn't come for the fish."
There was a long pause, in which the absence of formalities welled tentatively between them.
"If you've come to see Justin--"
"I'm here to see you. Jack."
He stopped, the beer stilling midway back to his lap. Sam smiled. "Glad to see I can still surprise you."
"Don't think you'll ever stop doing that. Wanna beer?"
She turned so she could see him, still hidden behind his dark glasses. "No, thanks. I'm not staying long."
He tensed, his lips pressing into a thin line of control. "Long way for a social call."
So this was it. At the end of it all, it came to this moment. Sitting alone, far from the mountain and the responsibilities that had defined and restricted their relationship for so long. Slowly, deliberately, Sam removed her sunglasses so he could see her eyes. It was bright, and she had to squint. But he just stared, impassive. The only indication that he felt anything were the tips of his fingers turning white where they gripped his beer bottle.
"You know I was seeing Justin while you and Teal'c were--"
"Trapped and fighting for our lives? Yeah, I know."
She nodded, an acknowledgement of his resentment and hurt, but refused to be distracted. "I made a mistake. I let you down. I betrayed your trust, and you have a right to be angry."
Still nothing from him. She wished she could see his eyes, but all that was reflected in those dark glasses was her own pale reflection. "What I want to ask you," she carried on, starting to quail but refusing to turn back. "What I want to ask you, Jack, is whether that...betrayal...is more important than the years we've spent working and fighting together. Whether it's more important than the feelings you once had for me, and..." She was shaking now, but the words had to be said. Her honor demanded it. "And whether it's more important than the fact that I love you."
It was done.
He didn't move, and Sam sat staring at her own face reflected darkly in his glasses. The tension between them kept her motionless at first, as if by moving she'd shatter her own self-control and give in to the terrible fear his silence was fuelling. He couldn't forgive her. He wouldn't forgive her.
And at last she had to look away. But far from overwhelming her defenses, her emotions simply ebbed away, leaving her empty and exhausted. Failure. She pushed herself to her feet and fumbled for her sunglasses. "I guess I have my answer."
Stepping down onto the baked ground she began to walk, wondering idly if she had enough gas to get to a motel. It was too late to drive far and--
"Carter." She turned. He was standing, holding onto the porch for support. But all she saw were his eyes, bare of his sunglasses, hooded and dark, staring at her like a starving man coveting a feast. "Wait."
Her heart burst into life. She hadn't realized it had died, but the moment he spoke that single word it started pounding in her chest like a live thing. She tried to swallow, but her throat was as dry as the hard ground. She couldn't speak, her usually quick mind deserting her under the hot sun.
"Why him?" O'Neill said at last, making no move towards her. "Why Justin?"
"Because he's more like you than you might think." It was a flippant response, and he didn't seem to appreciate it. She cocked her head to one side, studying him. "Because he's a nice guy? Because he wanted to be with me, made me feel good and--"
"My brother, Carter. My goddamn *brother*!" The words sliced through the languid air, silencing her. "Did you sleep with him?"
There was just a slight tightening in the center of his brow as he spoke, a deepening of the shadows in his eyes. This was important. It was important to her too, and suddenly their icy argument in the locker room was vividly before her eyes. *Go ahead and screw who you like, Carter. It's none of my business. * "Would it make a difference if I had?"
He blinked once, but nothing else moved in his granite features. "Did you?"
Damn the man! She'd already bared her soul to him, told him point-blank how she felt, and this was what she got for her troubles. Arms folded across her chest, chin high, she said, "No."
He sagged. It was the first physical response she'd seen since she arrived. He looked away and gripped the porch rail doggedly, but she could see his shoulders rising and falling with swift, shallow breaths. She couldn't tell if it was pain or relief, but she resisted her instinct to ask if he was okay. He resented it at the best of times. So she just watched as he gradually seemed to calm, his death-grip on the porch rail loosening. But his gaze didn't leave the distant mountain tops as he said, "I'm not sure what you expect from me, Carter."
Her stomach sank like a stone. "Just the truth."
"The truth," he murmured, casting her a swift glance. "Truth is, Carter, this isn't something I can just...forget. I mean...my brother? I just--" He looked away. "It feels too much like treachery."
Treachery. A painful mixture of anger and remorse cut deep. Her jaw worked her dry mouth for several seconds before she managed to whisper, "So, that's it?"
"The whole time I was out there," he said quietly, "the one truth I knew for damn sure was that you were here, working your butt off to get us home." He shook his head, turning to stare at her. "But you weren't, were you? You were out playing kissy-face with Justin!"
She had no answer to that, what feeble words she could muster slid uneasily from her queasy lips. "I did everything I could, I--"
"I believed in you!" he snapped. "You were the one thing in which I had *absolute* faith. You, Carter. You." He looked away, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. "And now...now I have nothing."
Tears bunched in her throat and she had to swallow. "I'm sorry."
He nodded, but didn't look at her. His voice was a harsh whisper, barely on the edge of control as he ground out, "I'm not sure that's enough."
"It's all I have."
"I know."
So that was it. Sam stood and watched him staring out into the mountains as the silence between them threatened to drown her in unshed tears. When she could take no more, she turned and started walking. Her shoes clumped heavily on the dirt, and with every footfall she expected to hear him call her name. Call her back.
But he didn't, and she kept on walking until her hand touched the hot metal of her truck. She lingered only a moment, braving the inferno within as she slammed the door and turned the key savagely in the ignition. The engine roared, but still O'Neill didn't break his silent contemplation.
With tears rising in her throat and eyes, Sam threw the truck into reverse, executed a swift three-point-turn, and bumped down the dirt track. Out of his life. For good.
***
It was dusk by the time Justin left the office, dangling the big ring of keys from one hand as he scuffed his way towards his own cabin. He figured he had just enough time to shower and change before he headed into town with the rest of the crew. God knew, he needed a few beers tonight!
It had been a long, hot day. Seeing Sam again had been...unsettling. But in a way he was glad. It felt good to set things straight between them, to ease the resentment he'd felt growing over the weeks since he'd left Colorado Springs.
And if he'd needed any convincing about the honesty of her feelings for Jack, the way her eyes had softened when she mentioned his name had told him everything he needed to know. For better or for worse, Sam Carter was...
Sitting on the hood of her truck. Crying.
Shit.
"Sam?" he called, crossing the empty parking lot. "You okay?"
Jumping down, she immediately turned away and began swiping at her eyes. "Justin. Yeah. Sorry, I didn't think anyone was still up here..."
"What happened?"
She shook her head and sniffed loudly. "Nothing. God, I'm just...being an idiot. I'm fine. Everything's fine."
Turning her firmly to face him, Justin said, "I don't believe you. Did you see Jack?" Lips tightened, fresh tears welled and she nodded. Justin's jaw clenched. "Don't tell me he sent you away."
Sam broke out of his grasp, pulling a Kleenex from her pocket and wiping her eyes. "I can't blame him--"
"Stupid son-of-a-bitch!" Justin growled. "For crying out loud, I can't believe this. Not even of Jack. The stubborn, arrogant, self-important--"
"Don't!" Sam protested, although he had no idea why she'd be defending him. "Don't. He has his reasons, and I--"
"Bullshit."
"Justin--"
"No!" he protested, prowling back and forth as his anger took hold. "You don't get it. I've spent forty years dealing with this crap from Jack. Shutting everyone out, making *us* feel guilty because *he's* so emotionally screwed-up that he can't--"
"Please!" Sam whispered, pressing her fingers over her eyes. "Please, don't."
For her sake, he bit back his anger. But it didn't go far. "I saw what he did to Sara. I can't stand by and watch him do the same thing to you."
Her hands fell from her face, and she reached out to squeeze his fingers. "You're a good man, Justin. But I'm okay." She gave him a shaky smile. "I'm tougher than I look."
He nodded, but not because he believed her. That she was deeply hurt was obvious, her bright eyes were red-rimmed and dull with disappointment. And loss. "You need a place to stay?" he asked, turning her hand over in his. "We still have a couple of unoccupied cabins..."
Sniffing, Sam wiped at her eyes and whispered, "Thanks. But I think I'm just gonna find a motel. It's probably not a good idea to hang around." She waved vaguely at her truck, "I was just trying to get myself together before I started driving."
"Cedar Lodge is pretty good," he suggested. "About eight miles out on Highway 140. But...should you be driving when you're so upset? I mean--"
"Trust me, Justin," she smiled grimly. "I've done much worse."
"I'm sure you have."
She smiled then, more steadily, her innate optimism breaking through her dejection. "Thanks," she murmured, leaning in and kissing him softly on the cheek. "Thanks for being...okay with this. You're a good friend."
He nodded, repressing with a sigh all thoughts of something beyond friendship. "You take care of yourself," he admonished. "And stay in touch, okay?"
"Sure," she agreed, although he could see the doubts lurking darkly in her eyes. And something else... She bit her lower lip slightly, then hesitantly said, "Listen, you'll make sure he's okay, won't you?"
"Jack?"
"Yeah."
"He's my brother," he reminded her. "I'll take care of him, whether he wants - or deserves - it or not."
Sam nodded, reaching out to touch him again. "Thank you."
"He doesn't deserve you, you know," Justin told her as she climbed into her truck and he closed the door.
Sam sighed, blinking back fresh tears. "No. He just doesn't *want* me."
***
Darkness.
The sweet oblivion of sleep.
Outside Jack's cabin the night music warbled and babbled. But inside his bedroom, only the long, deep breaths of slumber disturbed the night air. Until...
FLASH!
Lights blared, scorching the shadows from the room as someone flicked on the light and yelled, "You're such a fuck-up, Jack O'Neill!"
His injuries only slowed Jack a little as he rolled out of bed, his hand automatically reaching for the weapon that wasn't there. But his fingers closed around something else. "What the...?" Heart pounding, pulse racing, he stood there in his boxers, the bedside lamp in one hand poised to launch at...Justin.
"What the hell are you *doing*?"
"How can you sleep?" Justin drawled, and Jack knew instantly that his brother was drunk. He lowered the light, his heart slowing and the pain in his shoulder and knee returning with a vengeance.
"You're drunk," Jack growled, sitting slowly on the edge of the bed. "Get outa here."
"Tell me, Jack," Justin slurred, "did the Air Force actually *turn* your heart to stone or did they just remove it?"
"It's the middle of the damn night, Justin!" Jack growled. "Go to bed."
"How could you do it, man? She came all this way to see you... Jesus, you're a cold-hearted son-of-a--"
Jack was on his feet again, wincing at the pain in his knee. "If you're talking about Carter, it's none of your goddamn--"
"I found her sobbing in the parking lot! Crying so hard she couldn't drive. Jesus, Jack, what the hell did you say to her?"
Sobbing? Shit. His treacherous heart clenched and his stomach rolled over as the image of Sam burst unbidden into his mind. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do... Or was it? Isn't that exactly what he'd wanted to do? Hurt her, like she'd hurt him?
For a moment, words were lost to him, but Justin's looming presence demanded an answer. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered, finding his eyes strangely riveted to the laces of his boot, lying discarded on the far side of the small room. Carter, sobbing?
"Try me," Justin replied, and Jack could hear the squeak and groan of wicker as he dropped down into then room's only chair.
"We're military--"
"Bullshit. You told me you loved her Jack. Why'd you send her away? Did she want to get too close? Did she scare you, Jack?"
Scared? Actually, it was pretty close to the mark. Damn close. "It's a matter of trust." Justin didn't respond, but he could sense his brother's brooding disapproval and it provoked him to add, "She let me down - in the field and personally. That's not something I can just forget."
He heard Justin shift in the chair, and glanced over to see him sitting with his arms resting on his knees. His eyed bored into Jack's, dark and angry. "Or forgive?"
Jack maintained eye contact, despite a powerful urge to the contrary. "It's important. You wouldn't understand. It's a military thing."
Justin continued his scrutiny. For a drunk, he was un-nervingly incisive. Maybe it was because he was his brother, or perhaps because it was the middle of the night and his defenses were down, but Jack had the distinct feeling that Justin was reading him like a book. His suspicion was proven accurate when Justin said, "I guess you were pretty hurt when Sam and I hooked up, huh?"
He looked away then, scowling down at his bootlace again. "You know I was."
"Hurt," Justin mused. "Angry. Betrayed.... Bereaved."
"What's your point?"
"That you must have felt like shit. And that it's damn scary that one person can have so much power over you."
A tendril of deep unease worked its way free of Jack's subconscious. "Don't," he said, instinctively recoiling from a deeper truth Justin's words were threatening to uncover.
"When Charlie died--"
Jack was on his feet, moving to the window. He was not going there. He was *not*. "Get out."
"It almost destroyed you, Jack."
"Justin, I'm gonna count to three and--"
"You were so afraid of losing someone else you loved--"
"ONE!"
"That you pushed Sara so far away you destroyed your marriage--"
"TWO."
"And that's why you're too afraid to let Sam in. Because you're too afraid of losing her."
Silence. Jack stared out into the dark night, seeing only his reflection gazing back through the window. Deep inside, he felt a tremor. Like an earthquake felt at a distance. A profound shaking of his foundations. Too afraid. He thought back to the bleak hole into which he'd fallen after Charlie's death with a sick kind of dread. More hellish than any Iraqi jail, that prison of his own making had unmanned him entirely. Taken away his control, robbed him of who he was, of his very essence. And the thought of ever - ever - being forced back into that interminable darkness was truly terrifying. Yet, only days before, he'd found himself skimming the edges of the whirlpool that had drawn him into hell with a terrifying ambivalence. Not caring meant he'd been half way there.
"She told me she loved me," Jack said, so quietly he wasn't sure Justin could hear. It didn't really matter if he couldn't. "And I realized that nobody... That no one since Charlie had ever had so much power over me." He swallowed. "If I lost her, it would kill me."
There was another squeak of wicker as Justin shifted. "But haven't you already lost her?"
"No," Jack muttered, staring out into the night. "I sent her away. My choice."
"That's a subtle difference," Justin observed. "You're still going to be miserable."
Jack shrugged. "I'll live with it."
"Maybe you will. But what about Sam?"
Again, his chest squeezed tight around his heart. "She'll get over it too. She's tougher than she looks."
Justin snorted. "That's what she told me. I didn't buy it from her, and I don't buy it from you. But this isn't about her being tough. It's about you being brave--"
"Brave?" Jack snapped. "I've seen things that would have you peeing in your pants--"
"I'm not talking about that," Justin interrupted. "I know you're brave enough to die, Jack. Question is, are you brave enough to live. With all the risks that involves?"
"Where d'ya read that? Fortune cookie?"
In the dark reflective surface of the window, he saw Justin get to his feet. "Go ahead and mock," he said quietly, "but you know I'm right. You're scared Jack. You're so afraid that you'd rather hurt Sam than risk being hurt yourself. In my book, that's the act of a coward."
Jack felt the familiar surge of violent rage, his fingers curling into a fist as he span to face his brother. "If you knew the things I've done--"
"I know what you've done!" Justin yelled. "You ripped your marriage apart, you turned your back on your whole damn family - on *anyone* you cared about - just to protect your pathetic excuse for a heart. You--"
Ignoring the pain in his knee, Jack crossed the room in two quick strides and had Justin slammed against the wall before his brother could finish his sentence. "Don't you *ever* talk to me about my family again. Don't you ever--"
"Or what?" Justin almost spat in his face. "You're going beat me to death?" He pushed at Jack's hands, and he let them fall away as the red tide of anger receded.
But he was still breathing hard as he stepped backwards. "Get out," he growled. "Before I do something I'd regret."
"You already did that this afternoon," Justin replied, making no move towards the door. "And if you don't regret it now, you will. For the rest of your life."
The pain in his knee was starting to catch up with his rapid movement across the room, and Jack was forced to lower himself onto the bed. He suddenly felt tired, and old. And...scared. "Justin..."
"I know what you went through with Charlie," his brother carried on, his back still against the wall. Perhaps he was afraid of moving, but no fear showed itself in his voice. "I know--"
Jack squirmed, hating the words he was hearing. "You have no idea."
"I could see it, Jack. You were a dead man walking."
He stopped, still. A dead man walking. For the first time in what seemed like an age, Jack lifted his eyes to his brother's. His words had struck home, too accurate to be guesswork. With a sense of incredulity that this man, so different from himself, could have seen the truth, he found himself saying, "That's exactly what I was."
Justin nodded. "And when you thought you'd lost Sam...?"
He blinked, the tightness around his heart rising unbidden to his throat. "I could feel it," he muttered thickly, "I could feel it starting-- I couldn't go through that again."
"Do you wish you'd never had Charlie?" Justin asked softly, moving quietly back into the chair. It squeaked when he sat down. "It would have spared you a lot of pain."
Staring down at his hands, Jack felt the familiar queasy grief seep out of the secret, locked room in his heart. He kept it all in there, the good and the bad. Both were equally painful. "I can't talk about this," he whispered, his voice as broken as his heart.
Justin sighed. "You had it rough, Jack. What happened to Charlie... No one should have to go through that. But...Sam loves you. And if you miss this chance... She could help you. She's...well, you know she's amazing. She could make you happy." Grinding his teeth against the terrifying emotions churning in his chest, Jack looked back up into his brother's honest eyes. "Go talk to her. She's at the Cedar Lodge on Route 140."
Suddenly, Jack felt a strange reversal. As if, for the first time, he was the kid brother. "I don't know if I can."
Justin rose to his feet, his hand closing on Jack's shoulder. "Sam told me you're the bravest man she knows. I know you can."
With a nod that was more acknowledgement than agreement, Justin turned towards the door. But Jack stopped him at the last moment. "You were wrong," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.
Justin turned. "Huh?"
"What you said the other day. About me not respecting you?"
"What about it?"
"You were wrong. I've always respected you. Envied you." He waved vaguely between them, "Because you can do this."
Justin frowned. "Ball you out in the middle of the night?"
Jack almost smiled. "Deal with all the crap, and still be a human being at the end of it."
"We're all human, Jack," his brother laughed softly. "Even you. You just have a hard time dealing with it sometimes."
***
Part Thirteen
Dawn crept slowly through the ill-fitting drapes on the motel window, lancing into the dark room and setting dust motes drifting. Sam watched as it brightened, knowing that another day was dawning outside and that despite the sunshine it would be as dull and gray as the one before.
Sleep had eluded her for most of the night, a potent mix of anger, loss and guilt keeping her mind whirring despite her body's craving for rest. Anger that he'd rejected her, loss because all her hopes had been desiccated in that single, blistering afternoon. And guilt that she hadn't even had the wits to propose Hammond's compromise to the Colonel. Not that she thought he'd except it.
The letter was still in her bag, lying where she'd dropped it the previous evening. She should probably mail it. But that would mean getting out of bed, finding a post office. Drawing back the drapes on a day too bright.
Glancing over, the little red display on the TV told her it was almost seven. She felt awful, sandy-eyed and bone-weary. Almost certainly in no state to drive, but there was no way she was staying. The only thing before her now was the long road back to Colorado Springs, and she hoped that the physical distance she would put between herself and O'Neill would somehow ease the pain of the emotional distance that would forever keep them apart.
Weary in mind and body, Sam pushed herself upright and stood up. The carpet felt rough and cheap under her feet, but she ignored it as she pulled back the drapes and let in the unwelcome sunshine.
After a quick shower, the heat and pressure doing nothing to lift her mood, Sam left her rumpled room and headed blinking into the already hot day. Gratefully, she pulled on her sunglasses and squinted over at the restaurant across the parking lot. Her stomach didn't thrill to the idea, but she knew if she was going to drive she had to eat first or risk killing herself or - much worse - someone else when she fell asleep at the wheel.
Despite the early spring heat, the parking lot was mostly empty as Sam traipsed across it, and when she stepped into the cool air of the restaurant she was almost the only client.
"Good morning," chirped a waitress - Bonnie, according to her badge - entirely too happy in her work for Sam's taste. "Would you like a booth?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded, trying a smile and hoping it didn't look like a grimace.
"Beautiful weather again," Bonny commented as she snatched up a menu and led the way down the narrow aisle between the booths. "Are you on vacation?"
"Not really."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in the only other occupied booth. A flick of a newspaper, someone standing up. And then...
"Carter."
Head whipping around, her heart gave a single, painful thud and then was silent as she saw Jack O'Neill getting to his feet in the opposite booth. She could do nothing but stare in astonishment.
"You two know each other?" Bonnie chirped, delighted by the apparent coincidence. Sam could only nod. "You want to sit together?"
He was staring at her, as terrified as that day on Apophis's ship - the day that had changed so much between them. And just as intense. More so, even. As if he were trying to bend her to his will by thought alone. "Please," he said, sitting down slowly.
The word sounded more like a plea than an invitation. And so she nodded, moving towards him on rubber legs, grateful when she could ease herself onto the bench opposite him.
"I'll go get you some coffee," Bonnie chirped again. "Sir, would you like another refill?"
"Uh, yeah," O'Neill muttered, pushing his empty cup towards her. "Thanks."
And then they were alone. Or as alone as was possible when you were the only two people in a restaurant full of bored staff. For a while, Sam just stared out the window across the empty parking lot. She could feel his eyes on her, but had no idea what to say. Had Justin taken pity on her and put him up to this? It would be like him, always trying to solve other people's problems.
"So," he said at last, after Bonnie had brought the coffee and left them in peace. "You're probably wondering why I'm here."
She turned back to face him, realizing that she still wore her sunglasses. Deciding she liked the added layer of protection, she kept them on. "I'm tired," she said. "I was tired before I got here. Tired of all the games. I don't want to play anymore."
He looked down, staring at his fingers as they toyed incessantly with a thin packet of sugar. "I'm not playing games."
"Then what is this?"
He gave a little shrug. "I've been sitting here since...five, trying to think. I still don't know what to say to you, Carter."
A flash of weary temper tore at the end of her frayed nerves. "I thought we'd said it all yesterday?"
"No, I--"
Bonnie bounced merrily up to the table. "Okay. Are you guys ready to order?"
Flustered, Sam buried her nose in the menu and ordered the first thing she could lay eyes on. "Waffles."
"Nothing for me," Jack added. "Thanks."
With a flash of a smile, Bonnie was off again and Sam returned to her perusal of the parking lot. God, she hated waffles.
"I think I had a right to be angry," Jack said after a moment. "But...some of the things I said..."
There was something unusual about his voice, the way it dropped out mid sentence. He was always so in control, but today... She turned back, arms crossed defensively over her chest. "What about them?"
He gave a little shrug, and looked up. If she hadn't been safely hidden behind her glasses, he'd have been looking right into her eyes. "They were lies."
"Oh."
"What I felt for you... It meant... It was never the heat of the moment." She didn't reply, her jaw locked with tension. She was so rung out that she was afraid to relax, even for a moment, incase she broke down entirely. He frowned, looked away, and then back up again. "Carter, I want..." He stopped, frowned again, and then in one swift move reached over and snagged her sunglasses from her face.
"Hey!"
He smiled, although he didn't relax. "That's better," he said, holding her with a long, weighty gaze. "Sam, I want --"
"Waffles! Here we are!" Bonnie. Again! It was getting ridiculous. Across the table, she caught O'Neill's eye and a spark of dry humor flew between them. Helplessly, a smile twitched at her lips. And when she saw it mirrored on his face, she almost laughed.
"That looks great," Sam lied, to cover her sudden rush of inappropriate humor. "Thank you."
"You need anything else? Syrup?"
"No. This is great. Thanks."
As Bonnie left, O'Neill leaned over the table and murmured, "I thought you hated waffles."
Again with the smile. "I was distracted."
"Yeah," he agreed, his dark eyes suddenly intoxicatingly warm. "We should probably do this someplace else."
Her eyebrows rose as she cut off a small bite of waffle. "What are we doing, exactly?"
"Talking. Aren't we?"
She chewed the waffle thoughtfully, then swallowed. "First time for everything, huh?" And then, deciding she really didn't like waffles, she pushed the plate towards him. "You want this?"
***
With a belly full of waffle and way too much coffee, Jack limped towards Carter's motel room, while she strolled slowly at his side. They hadn't said much since the ice had broken, and he hadn't been lying when he'd told her he didn't know what to say. But at least the silence was more comfortable now, less threatening. But it didn't make him any less terrified. Although he wasn't sure what frightened him most, the thought that she might reject him or the thought that she wouldn't.
"This is it," she announced, stopping in front of room 323. "It's a bit of a mess."
As he stepped into the slightly shabby room, Carter busied herself moving clothes from the room's only chair and hurriedly tidying something that could have been underwear into her bag. "Sit down," she muttered, waving him towards the chair.
He obeyed, his knee more than grateful for the rest after the long - long for his knee - walk from the restaurant. Sam sat on the bed, cross legged. She'd found an apple somewhere and bit into it with a crunch. "So," she said around a mouthful of fruit. "Never done this before."
He smiled. He was rather surprised at how much smiling he'd done that morning. "I'm *this* close from retirement," he reminded her. "I think it's allowed."
"Probably isn't," she replied, although she didn't seem too bothered by the idea. Crunch. Another bite of apple.
Jack took a deep breath, she obviously had no intention of broaching the subject that sat like a brooding tiger between them. And since she'd said her piece - damn bravely - the day before, he figured it was his turn. "Bonnie's not gonna burst in with a coffee refill, is she?" he asked, glancing at her door in mock alarm.
Carter smiled. "I locked it."
He just nodded, saving his breath for the words that still eluded him. He had no idea what he was going to say until the words dropped from his lips. And then it seemed obvious. "I'm sorry."
Her eyebrows rose. "For what?"
"Being an ass."
She smiled, looking away as if she might agree and didn't want to upset him. "We both made mistakes," she admitted, glancing up again with a faint blush on her cheeks. "Justin was...a mistake."
Assaulted with a powerful memory of that day, doped up on sedatives and seeing her hand-in-hand with Justin, he was tempted to bolt from the room for fear of ever feeling that abandoned again. But he forced himself to stay, and to speak. It was one of the bravest things he'd ever done. "I thought I'd lost you, Carter," he blurted. "When I saw you with Justin... God, it hurt, and I didn't know how to--" He ground to a halt, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought against revealing too much. Revealing anything was usually too much. It scared the hell out of him.
But the effect of his words on Sam was instant. The apple dropped onto the bed, and she moved right forward until she was perched on the edge. So close, their knees were almost touching. Almost. But not quite. "I'm sorry I hurt you," she said quietly. "I never meant to, but... It's the last thing I'd ever want to do."
He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting over her beautiful, cherished face until he found himself staring into her eyes. He was bewitched, her gaze as clear as liquid. "I meant to," he admitted, his heart aching with the truth. "I meant to hurt you, Carter. Those things I said in the infirmary--"
"Shhh," Sam whispered, stopping his words with her fingertips against his lips. "It's history." His eyes didn't leave hers, but as her fingers lingered on his mouth he couldn't stop his lips from pressing a feather-light kiss onto their tips. A flush of longing washed across every nerve, making him shiver. Closer, she moved, tracing her fingers over the angles and planes of his face until they brushed the edges of his hair. And then she smiled, a shaky, beautiful smile. "You're the finest man I've ever know, Jack O'Neill."
He blinked suddenly, his eyes suspiciously hot, as he shook his head in denial. "Sam, if you knew what I was really--"
"I know enough." She moved closer, coming to kneel on the floor in front of him. "I know you're not perfect. And you know I'm not. God knows, we've made enough wrong choices."
That was the honest truth. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her face. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingers, and he thrilled as he felt her tremble under his caress. "If I ever lost you," he whispered, the words and emotions flooding unbidden from his warded heart. "I don't think I could--"
Her hand grasped his where it trailed against her skin, her grip strong and warm. "You won't lose me. I'll never--"
But it was his turn to silence her with a finger on her lips. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Her face crumpled in a moment of anguish and she pressed the palm of his hand against her face. "If I could promise..."
"I know." He shifted closer, until nothing but willpower kept his lips from hers. And suddenly there wasn't even willpower. She gasped softly as he brushed a gentle kiss over her lips, lingering deliciously in the spell they were beginning to weave. She met his kiss hesitantly at first, as if afraid he might change his mind if she moved too fast. But her fingertips ran up his arms, warm against his warm skin, leaving incandescent trails in their wake until they tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. It was all so new, so untested. Her lips on his, exploring, tasting, feeling. Wanting. Needing. And so highly charged that unprecedented tears welled in his eyes at the absolute tenderness of the moment. They slipped helplessly from beneath his lashes until he tasted them on his lips and pulled away, wiping awkwardly at his face. "Sorry."
"Hey," she murmured, her voice a husky shell of itself as she ran her thumb along his cheek. "It's okay."
And it was. It really was. She was there, and it was okay. Everything was okay. His arms went around her, pulling her close as she lay her head against his shoulder and took a delicate, shaking breath. He felt at once strong, protective, and ultimately vulnerable in her arms. A single word from her could destroy him, or send him spinning dizzy with joy into the stars. It was risky, dangerous. Terrifying. But it was life. And in that moment, Jack realized that for the first time in almost a decade, he was alive. Really, truly alive. It was enough to make him shout from the rooftops. But he didn't. He simply buried his face against her neck and breathed the words that had been locked behind his fears for so very many years. "I'll always love you, Sam."
She answered him with a kiss more eloquent than a thousand words, a caress that put to rest all the worries, mistakes, and doubts that had kept them apart for so long.
Epilogue - by Sally Reeve
She loved the way he held her when she slept. Curled up behind her, one arm firmly around her waist and his fingers tucked between her chest and the mattress. It wasn't possessive so much as assured. He held her like he held his gun, with the absolute knowledge that she belonged where she was and that there was nothing on God's Green Earth - or any other planet - that was going to take her away.
The sunshine that drifted through the motel windows was as thick and golden as honey. The room was warm, its slightly shabby furnishings gilded by the setting sun, although Sam suspected the golden glow came from within rather than without. This morning all had been bleak grayness, this evening the world was painted in glorious hues of gold.
She sighed, letting her happiness bubble to the surface and bring a slow smile to her face. And behind her, Jack stirred. He wasn't asleep after all. "You awake?"
"Mmmm," she mumbled. "Unless I'm having the best ever dream. In which case, don't wake me up."
"I think we missed lunch," he replied, although he didn't move to find his watch. "What time is it?"
"Sunset." Still keeping herself within the circle of his arm, Sam rolled onto her back and smiled. "Hungry?"
He raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "I kinda built up an appetite."
"So you did," she replied, lifting a finger to trace the face that had become so intimate in the past few hours. He kissed her fingertip as it skimmed his mouth, before his arms closed around her and his lips were on hers once more.
Sam felt the familiar swell of desire, although the rising wave broke a little early as her stomach grumbled hungrily. She felt Jack's lips curve into a smile against hers, before he pulled back. "Guess we should refuel before round two, huh?"
Her answering grin was as wicked as his own. "Technically, I think this would be round three, sir." She regretted the word the moment it left her lips. But it was too late, and she saw the familiar wariness fall over his eyes as he moved away and rolled onto his back. She grimaced. "Sorry."
"Technically," he said quietly, "you're right. Major."
He didn't have to say anymore, they both understood the implications. Even if he was days from retirement, regulations were regulations. However... "Actually, it's not as bad as you think."
He frowned, rolling back over onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow. "What isn't?"
"This," she replied. "Us."
"Carter," he sighed, with all the familiar frustration, "get to the point."
"Hang on," she told him, slipping out of his arms and darting out of bed. She was more than aware of his eyes on her - hardly surprising since she was as naked as the day she was born - and she turned around and flung him a smile. His grin only broadened.
Grabbing the letter she needed from her bag, she slipped back under the covers and handed it to him. "Ostensibly, this is the reason I'm here."
Jack just blinked. "I assumed you were on leave."
"Not exactly," she confessed. "Hammond asked me to--"
He sat bolt upright. "Hammond? If you tell me I'm a 'mission', so help me I'll--"
"For crying out loud," Sam muttered. "Just open the letter!"
Eyeing her with a wariness that wasn't entirely feigned, he tore open the letter and read. For a moment he just stared down at the words, nodding thoughtfully. Then he looked up, right into her eyes. "A desk jockey, Carter?"
"I told him you'd hate it," she nodded. "But, think about it, Jack. Head of Strategic Policy and Planning at the SGC - you'd have influence over all the front-line stuff. How SG teams deal with new cultures, how we negotiate for new technology. The first line of defense of the SGC..."
"It's a desk job," he repeated, dropping the letter off the side of the bed.
"It's effective immediately," Sam pointed out, refusing to be defeated. "We're not in a direct chain of command. And you're still assigned to the SGC."
"I'd rather fish."
"Would you?"
"Sure. I've given almost twenty years to--"
"You'd hate the waiting," she interrupted bluntly. "Sitting by the phone each time SG-1 was off-world. Waiting. Believe me, I saw my Mom do it for Dad. And..." she hesitated, but figured she had a right to say it now. "And I'm sure Sara told you how difficult it was."
That got him, and he looked sharply away. He didn't say anything for a long time, but she could see the thoughts flickering behind his dark, expressive eyes. At last he turned to her again, face serious. "I want a bigger office. And a view."
Overwhelmed by a rush of relief, all Sam could say was, "Thank you."
"You know the gossip machine will overload?"
"We'll be old news in a week," she assured him, moving closer and kissing him lightly. "Boring, stable couple. Where's the fun in that?"
His eyes widened slightly, and she really should have predicted his next move. But she didn't. And so, with one swift move, he flipped her onto her back. Pinning her there. Grinning dangerously. "Boring?" Her smile answered his, but she didn't have time to speak before his lips had descended on hers for a long, hard kiss that left her hot and wanting. "Boring?" he repeated, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel the contour of the word.
"Bad word choice," she murmured against his lips. "How about...committed?"
His kisses had moved from her mouth to her jaw-line, edging inexorably towards her neck and downward. Words drifted up through the heat. "I...prefer...hot."
Her mumbled response was unintelligible as his questing hands and lips found their objectives and she gasped as his expert touch. Caught once more on the surging tide of desire, Sam let her mind fly free, readying herself free-fall, when suddenly--
Gurgle.
Gurgle. Grumble.
Jack lifted his head, dark eyes a bewitching mixture of humor and desire as he said, "Or perhaps...hungry?"
Embarrassed, she pressed her hands over her eyes. "God."
A kiss on her forehead, her lips. The backs of her fingers. "You know, you blush all the way down to your--"
"Okay!" she laughed, pushing him away with enough force to send him rolling onto his back. "Last one in the shower buys!"
She was out of bed and across the room in two steps.
"Hey!" he called out after her. "Take advantage of a wounded man, would you?"
She stopped in the doorway, watching as he limped towards her. "All's fair in love and war," she reminded him with a grin, resting against the doorjamb until he reached her.
Jack smiled again. At one time in her life - only a few hours ago, she reminded herself - his smile had been a gift rarely bestowed. Today, it seemed to be almost the only thing he could do. "And what's this?" he asked, trailing a hand along her collar bone. Making her shiver. "Love, or war?"
Reaching up, she kissed him again - a soft, generous kiss, full of promises. "Both, of course."
With that she closed the bathroom door in his face; it was half a gesture of cheekiness, and half a real need - just for a moment - to be alone with herself. To stop and contemplate the way her life had just swung a total one-eighty.
But his protest was immediate. "Hey!"
She smiled, a mixture of irreverence and affection. "What? If you come in here, we'll never eat!"
After a grumbling silence, he muttered, "You know I'm gonna get you back, don't ya?"
"Oh yeah," she murmured, flicking on the shower with a broad grin, "I'm counting on it."
She could almost see his answering smile sizzle through the door as she stepped under the shower. But he didn't come in, and that small gesture of respect and understanding touched her in the deepest places of her heart, away from the pent-up passion and the exuberant joy of the day. It told her, more than anything else, that the fire burning between them would only temper their friendship, harden it against the unknowable future.
And as she stood under the pummeling water of the shower, Sam knew without doubt that whatever that future held, she'd be facing it with Jack at her side. At work and at home. Together. Always and forever.
And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt absolutely at peace - with the world, the galaxy, and herself.
~The End~
Story Notes: This story was begun by Gunfodder way back when...and has now, after many months, been finished by me! Hence, the first five parts are re-posts (since I doubt anyone will remember the beginning!) and the rest is all new. As always, the whole thing is now available on my website: http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/
Thanks: To Erika and Ann, for pulling the ending apart and making me write a better one! And to Ann, for her detailed and methodical beta reading... One day I'll remember to write 'its' and not 'it's'! And to Gunfodder, for letting me finish her great story!
Thanks: To Erika and Ann, for pulling the ending apart and making me write a better one! And to Ann, for her detailed and methodical beta reading... One day I'll remember to write 'its' and not 'it's'! And to Gunfodder, for letting me finish her great story!
End Notes: Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Any and all feedback is welcome at sallyreeve@blueyonder.co.uk and/or gunfodderuk@yahoo.co.uk
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 ]