As they stepped out into the freezing evening, Jacob Carter took a deep breath and sighed expansively. "Nothing beats Tauri air!"
At his side, Sam smiled. "What? With the carbon-monoxide, the ozone depleted--"
"It's still home," her father replied, seriously. "I miss it."
For an instant their eyes met, a moment of shared understanding that was still slightly awkward even after so long. But it was better than what they'd had before. Much better. "Come on," she said, striding towards her car, "let's get home."
The roads were slick, and flakes of snow drifted in the air. But they were just early enough to beat the rush as Sam eased out of the parking lot and joined the flow of traffic homeward. In the car the heater blasted and the radio jangled quiet Christmas classics, while at her side Jacob stared out at the winter landscape with a wistful smile. "It's been too long since I've been home for Christmas."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, although over the past couple of years her view of 'home' had somehow shifted until she wasn't quite sure where it was anymore. Her house? No. Colorado? Maybe. The SGC... Almost.
"You know, I really appreciate you getting the gifts for Laura and Mike," Jacob carried on. "I can't pay you, but--"
"Dad, it's fine," she sighed. "I just ordered stuff online. Mark told me what they wanted." She glanced over at him and smiled. "I didn't wrap them. I hate wrapping. You can do that this evening."
The idea seemed to please him. "I'd like to."
The snow was starting to fall in earnest, and Sam switched on the wipers as she slowed the car. "I haven't got any food in the house," she warned her father, "so I thought we could go out to eat. If that's okay?"
"Sounds good," Jacob sighed, easing back in his seat. "Dinner with my beautiful daughter, a little Christmas wrapping, and then off to San Diego in the morning. Perfect."
Sam smiled, glad for his enthusiasm. She hoped it would make up for any lack of her own when they reached Mark's house. Not that she didn't want to see him or the kids. It was just... She couldn't help feeling that she was leaving something important behind. And that, as fun as Christmas would be, a part of her would be longing to get back to Colorado Springs.
A couple of years ago she'd have kidded herself it was the work. That it was the challenge of her amazing opportunity to travel the vast expanses of space in the blink of an eye that drew her back here. But she knew herself better these days, and she knew that the empty place inside her chest had nothing to do with wormholes or fighting the good fight. And had everything to do with the man who'd be alone, as always, over the holidays. The man who deserved so much more. The man to whom she could give so much less than she wanted. So very much less.
***
It was a whim, really. Or perhaps an avoidance. Not that Jack O'Neill was planning to get wasted, but the thought of a quiet beer in the corner of the bar somehow seemed more appealing than his empty house. And so when he saw the turn-off sign from the freeway, he slid impulsively into the inside lane and headed out into the dark back-streets towards the bar.
It wasn't the closest one to home. It certainly wasn't his usual. But once, a couple of years ago, Carter had taken him there. No big deal. Just a drink after work, back in the days when they could do that sort of thing without it seeming to mean more than it should. And on this cold night, before the silence of the holidays, the memories of that evening were oddly fresh. Perhaps he was just lonely, and this was the closest he could get to actually being with her? Or perhaps he just preferred the company of strangers to the stillness of his home.
He didn't bother to analyze it too closely as he pulled into the parking lot, snatched his most recent - and still unread - issue of The National Geographic from the glove box, and headed through the flitting snow towards the bar.
Inside, all was as he remembered. Quiet. Decorated now for the holidays, of course. A little holly here and there. Nothing overt. He liked that. It was still early, and most of the booths were occupied with the dinner crowd. But he ignored them and walked straight up to the bar.
"Evening, sir," came the cheerful welcome. "What can I get you?"
"You got an 1845 Goldcamp?"
The kid behind the bar grinned. "Coming right up, sir."
Nodding, Jack slung his jacket over the back of the barstool and opened up his magazine. This had to be better than slouching in front of the TV, right? And anyway, he'd already programmed the VCR to tape The Simpsons...
***
Sam couldn't help but notice the way her father's attention was wandering as she tried to explain the uses to which she was hoping to put their new stockpile of naquadria. His eyes kept drifting over her shoulder, then back to her, then away again. If she hadn't known him better, she'd have thought he was checking out one of the waitresses!
"Dad?" she was forced to ask at last. "You okay?"
His attention snapped back to her, and he took another huge bite of burger. "Yeah," he nodded, although his eyes wandered yet again as he gestured with a french-fry. "Is that Jack?"
Jack? Stupidly, Sam felt her stomach flip over at the thought. Which was ridiculous! There was no way the colonel could be all the way out there. And even if he was, her stomach certainly shouldn't be dancing at the thought. "I doubt it," she replied, twisting in her seat to see, "this is miles away from his-- Oh."
"It is, isn't it?"
It was. She'd know him anywhere, even half-obscured behind the rather large woman perching precariously on a barstool next to him. "Yeah," Sam replied quietly. But what the hell was he was doing in her local bar? Had he followed her? It didn't seem likely. And yet...
"JACK!"
Sam jumped out of her skin! "Dad!" she hissed, as half a dozen other patrons glanced towards them.
Jacob looked around, indifferent. "What?"
Sam just shook her head, for at that moment she saw O'Neill turn in his chair and scan the bar. Instantly, as if drawn magnetically, their eyes locked. And for a split second she saw unalloyed pleasure flicker over his face. But it was soon chased away by an emotion that looked suspiciously like embarrassment. He had to know, as well as she did, that his presence there couldn't be accidental. That it was far from his part of town, that only a deliberate effort could have brought him there. And that it spoke of things that had to remain unspoken.
"Hey, Jack!" Jacob called again, and, despite everything, Sam smiled at the look of shock on the colonel's face when he realized who she was with. "Come on over!"
He hesitated, but had no option as he slid slowly from his stool, picked up his jacket and the remains of a beer, and made his way towards them. Looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Hey," he said as soon as he was close enough to talk without shouting, "I thought you guys were heading out to San Diego."
"Tomorrow," Jacob assured him, taking another bite of burger. "Sit down!"
O'Neill glanced at the cozy booth they were sharing and stepped back. "I don't wanna intrude or--"
"Don't be stupid," Jacob replied, gesturing at Sam to move over. "If you can keep Sam from talking about naquadria for more than a minute, you'll be welcome."
She glared at her father. "Dad, you--"
"Come on, Sam," he protested, "move over so Jack can sit down."
Gritting her teeth, she did as she was told. But out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice the grin O'Neill was trying to suppress. "Geeze, Carter," he murmured, "and I thought I gave you a hard time"
Despite herself, she couldn't stop her own smile. "You have no idea, sir."
"You eating?" Jacob asked as he dipped the last of his fries into the ketchup.
O'Neill shook his head. "I ate on base."
"Sam says the pie's great," he carried on, pushing his empty plate away. "God, it's good to eat Tauri food again!"
"Yeah, that Tok'ra stuff is kinda bland."
Jacob grinned. "Selmac doesn't agree, but what would she know? So..?" He glanced between them. "Are you two gonna join me for some pie?"
Sam shook her head. "You go ahead though."
"Sam," Jacob said, leaning across the table towards O'Neill with a conspiratorial glint in his eye, "thinks she needs to watch her weight." The colonel just raised an eyebrow, looking awkward. "Isn't that one of the stupidest things you ever heard?"
"Um," O'Neill muttered, "I guess..."
"You guess?" Jacob seemed offended, pulling back in his chair. "Have you taken a good look at her recently?"
"Me? I..." The colonel cleared his throat. "I mean, she's always--"
"Dad!" Sam groaned, rescuing O'Neill from his stammering answer. "I'm right here!"
Jacob shrugged. "I'm just saying you look good as you are. There's no reason why you can't have some pie."
"I don't *want* any pie!" she protested. "I'm not hungry."
At her side, she heard a soft laugh. Turning, about to snap off an appropriate retort, she was stopped mid-flow by the affectionate look she saw in O'Neill's eyes. But he wasn't looking at her, his gaze was turned inwards. As if remembering something. And it occurred to Sam that this kind of family squabbling was nothing more than a memory to O'Neill, a man who was all but alone in the world. Feeling her gaze on him, he glanced over and the wistful expression was replaced by an evil glint. "I dunno, Carter," he said, deadpan. "Now your Dad mentions it, you are looking a little skinny..." Her eyes widened. "Maybe you should have some pie?"
Jacob chuckled and Sam glanced between the two, shaking her head. "Fine," she sighed, irritation lapsing into amusement. "If it'll make you happy, I'll have some pie. With whipped cream. And extra-ice cream."
"That's my girl!" Jacob grinned, flagging down the waitress.
***
Eating pie with Carter and her Dad was the last thing Jack had been expecting to do when he'd walked into the bar. But he couldn't deny that it was...nice. He liked Jacob, despite the snake. And thankfully, in the current setting, Selmac was keeping an ultra-low profile. So it was just them, Jacob - a guy he could definitely respect - and Carter.
Carter, who was sitting next to him in the small booth. Close enough that their arms kept bumping, however hard they tried to stay apart. Close enough that he could detect a faint hint of perfume. Carter never wore perfume at work, obviously. Which just made the slightly spicy sent even more exotic. And alluring. Although her father's keen eyes, no more than two feet away, were enough to keep any inappropriate thoughts in check. More than enough!
"So," Jacob said as he swallowed the last mouthful of his cherry-pie, "what are you doing for the holidays, Jack?"
And there it was. The moment that broke the bubble of warmth and let reality in with an icy gust. He said nothing, suddenly acutely aware of Carter at his side. She'd gone very still. Listening. Even though she knew what he'd say. "Not a lot."
After a moment's pause, Jacob said, "Staying in town?"
"Yeah. I've got some paperwork--"
"Paperwork? You're kidding me!"
He winced, hating that he had to explain this. Again. And to someone he'd assumed would already know. "I'm not big on Christmas," he said quietly. "This is how I like it."
"Come on, Jack--"
"Dad," Carter interjected. And this time there was no playful banter, but an earnest seriousness. "The colonel doesn't have to explain why--"
Carter Senior, it seemed, was as stubborn as his daughter. "I know it's tough," Jacob said quietly. "After my wife died--"
"Dad!" Carter almost hissed.
"It's okay," O'Neill replied, somehow finding his hand lightly touching her arm. Her head jerked around, and for the second time that evening he found himself staring into her eyes. The distress and compassion he saw there almost undid him.
And into the dangerous silence, Jacob spoke. His voice soft and determined. "You should spend Christmas with us, Jack. We'd love to have you."
Carter's eyes popped out of their sockets. "I don't think--" she began, but Jack was faster.
"I don't think so. Not that it isn't a tempting offer, but I can't impose on--"
"Nonsense!" Jacob replied, in a tone of voice Jack found deeply disturbing. The voice of a general who had made up his mind. "Mark won't mind. The more the merrier at Christmas."
"Jacob," Jack protested. "I can't. It would be--"
"Tell him, Sam. He'd be more than welcome, right?"
He knew exactly what Carter would be thinking! It would be wrong - insane! - for them to spend that much time together. And God knows what her brother would think about a total stranger turning up on the doorstep! But he had faith. Carter would have a fool-proof reason why he couldn't possibly-- "You'd be very welcome."
Her voice, quiet and hesitant, drove straight into his heart. "Carter...?"
A small smile, nervous. Earnest. "I should have suggested it before, sir."
What was that? Guilt? "Carter, you don't need to--"
"Nothing wrong with it, is there, sir? Colleagues - friends, even - spending the holidays together?" As she spoke her eyes met his again, and he saw the invitation mirrored in their depths. It wasn't given lightly. He doubted Carter ever did anything lightly. She was serious. And he realized that, for the first time since they'd come to recognize the 'thing' that had grown between them, Carter was reaching out. Making the first move to lower the walls between them, even if it was just for a couple of days.
And the impact of that, of what he knew this was costing her, was staggering. It touched him so profoundly that all he could say was, "Okay."
She smiled and looked away. And he turned his attention back to Jacob. "Thank you," he said, although he doubted the man knew what exactly he'd done. And had he known, Jack was pretty damn sure Jacob wouldn't have done it at all!
***
Finding a flight to San Diego on Christmas Eve proved to be one of the more difficult adventures of Jack's life. And yet somehow - miraculously - he found himself squeezed into a cramped little seat at the back of the plane. Smiling.
He was going to San Diego! He was going to spend Christmas with Carter...!
He was going to spend Christmas with Carter.
He was going to spend Christmas with Carter?
Holy shit! What the *hell* had he been thinking?
"Sir?" The stewardess smiled through her lipstick. "Peanuts?"
He shook his head and turned to gaze out of the tiny window at the snow, piled up either side of the runway, as they taxied past. He was under no illusions that the next couple of days were going to be difficult. Christmas always was, but this year... What the hell was he doing?
He couldn't decide if being with her would be harder or easier than being alone. And he guessed only time would tell. But he couldn't help wonder what would it be like. To be with her like this. Even under the watchful gaze of Jacob Carter, it would be intense. He'd never spent much time with her off-duty. Certainly not since *it* had happened. Since everything had been admitted and simultaneously locked down so damn tightly it was sometimes hard to breathe.
"Are you feeling okay, sir?" The stewardess, again. "You look a little nervous."
He blinked. "I'm fine." Just flying across the country to spend the holidays with Carter and her Dad... Oh shit! "Um...is it too late to get off?"
A flash of panic crossed her plastic features. "I'm afraid it is, sir. Are you a nervous flyer...?"
"No," and suddenly, he found himself chuckling. He probably sounded slightly hysterical. "Not normally."
Her panic increased. "Sir, are you--"
"I'm fine," he assured her, swallowing his humor. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna freak out."
Smiling nervously, the stewardess straightened. "Okay. Well, just call if you need anything."
"I'll be sure to push your button." The woman blinked, and he gestured towards the armrest. "That one, right?"
The rest of the flight passed in a blur of cramped knees and bad coffee, punctuated by his heart jumping from wild expectation to stark terror and back again. By the time they touched down in San Diego he was so antsy he had to fight to keep from vaulting over the seats and running off the plane.
Barely batting an eyelid at the change in temperature as he stepped out of the terminal with his duffel bag over one shoulder, Jack reached for his sunglasses and hailed a cab. The setting sun shone golden across the tarmac, and he breathed in the warm air with an odd mixture of excitement and trepidation.
Carter and her Dad would have arrived earlier that morning, and she'd offered to meet his flight at the airport. But Jack had declined, relishing the last few minutes of isolation and the illusion that he was still master of his own fate. Yet he knew that, from the moment Sam had quietly seconded Jacob's offer, to the moment the cab door slammed shut behind him, Jack had been pulled along by threads of steel that felt very much like fate. Not that he believed in such things. But any choice he'd had in the matter had been taken away the moment her offer - so much more important than Jacob's - had been given and received less than twenty-four hours earlier. There was no way in hell he could have refused. No way he could *not* have been there, in a cab, speeding through the Christmas Eve traffic towards the house of a stranger. Towards Carter.
All too soon - and yet the previous evening, in snowy Colorado, felt like an age away - Jack found himself standing outside the neatly kept house. Number 2103 Blue Mesa Avenue. As the cab pulled smoothly away, he found himself in relative silence, staring at the subtle Christmas lights that decorated the house. Nothing flamboyant. Which didn't surprise him. This was a Carter house. He didn't think they did flamboyant.
Out front was a well-used SUV, and a new car that had to be a rental. At the sight, his treacherous heart did a little back-flip, knowing that Carter was inside amid her family. And that he - he! - was about to join them for one of the most intimate holidays of the year.
Slowly he bent to pick up his duffel bag and forced his feet to walk up the long drive towards the freshly painted porch. A wreath decorated the door, it's fake snow incongruous in the warm evening. But it looked homely. Welcoming. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Jack raised his hand, rang the bell. And waited.
After a moment that lasted forever, the door opened and a middle-aged man, balding slightly but with sharp, intelligent eyes, stood before him. There was a moment of awkwardness, before his face creased into a smile and he stuck out his hand. "You must be Jack?"
"Yeah." Jack smiled, suddenly feeling like the world's worst gate-crasher. "I hope you don't mind me just turning up and--"
"No! I'm used to Dad bringing home waifs and strays..." Jack's eyes narrowed instinctively, and the man - Mark, he assumed - corrected himself. "Not that you're a--"
"Hey, Jack!" Jacob pulled the door from Mark's hand and widened it. "Come on in! I've been telling the kids all about you. I think Laura has a crush already!"
Oh man. Eyeing Mark a little warily - not entirely sure he was truly welcome - Jack stepped into the hallway. "Let me take your jacket," Mark offered, smiling again. It didn't look too false... Jack hoped. "And go on through to the family room. Sam and the kids are trimming the tree."
"This way," Jacob instructed, heading off into the depths of the house with a tray of drinks in hand and talking over his shoulder. "Trimming the tree always was Sam's favorite part of Christmas..." Trimming the tree? Oh please, could it get anymore Little House on the--
And there she was. Sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by Christmas lights. Jack stopped dead in the doorway, poleaxed by the sight. She looked so...so...very unlike Carter. No fatigues, no black leather jacket. Just jeans and some kind of soft sweater thing that was deliciously feminine, clinging to all the right places and making him want to reach out and touch-- Okay, don't go there. Not with her father in the room!
"...and I told Dad to get them tested," one of the kids, a girl, was saying, from where she lolled on the sofa. "But he never listens."
"Don't worry," Carter muttered, her brow furrowed in a deliciously familiar expression of concentration as she fiddled with the lights. "I'll fix them before--"
"Hey Sam," Jacob called, depositing his tray of drinks on a nearby bauble-cluttered table, "look who I found?"
She looked up. Right at Jack. So he saw the beat of apprehension trip her for a moment, before her familiar smile rose from her eyes to her lips. "Colonel," she said, disentangling herself from the lights and standing up. "Good trip?"
He nodded, hoping that he didn't seem as pathetically pleased to see her as he felt. "About as good as they get."
She smiled again, then glanced down at the girl on the sofa who was now sitting upright and staring at him with shy interest. Carter's smile broadened. "Hey, Laura, this is Colonel O'Neill."
Jack smiled at the kid, and was a little surprised to see her blush. "Hi Colonel," she said coyly, rising to her feet. Then she smiled, and he saw a distinct flash of Sam Carter in her young face. "Do you want a drink, or something?"
His gaze flew from her to Carter - who, he noticed, was grinning - and back again. "Ah, sure Laura."
"Coke?" She offered. "Lemonade?"
"Or beer?" Jacob suggested from the other side of the room, causing Laura's face to fall.
Jack glanced over, smiled, then looked back at the kid. "Coke would be great," he assured her. Laura's grin was almost as bright as her aunt's as she dashed off towards the kitchen.
"That was nice," Carter said, stepping over the Christmas lights towards him.
He just shrugged. "She's a cute kid. How old?"
"Eleven. Rough age."
He smiled, feeling his insides start to buzz with an unusual frisson. She was close, standing really close. In that sweater... And, damn, but she was wearing that perfume again. Not to mention the fact that she'd done something to her hair. It looked different. Softer. Touchable--
"Jack?"
Jacob's voice startled him out of his inappropriate appraisal. Covering, he took another step into the room and away from Carter. "Yeah?"
"Hope you don't mind bunking down with me while you're here," Jacob asked, dropping onto the sofa with a beer in one hand. "Mark's only got a couple of spare rooms, and I didn't think Sam would want to share with either of us!"
Behind him he heard a soft curse, and turned to see Carter fiddling obsessively with the lights once more. But he didn't miss the flush in her cheeks. "Ah, no," Jack agreed, turning away from her with a smile building in his chest, "that sounds like a good idea."
***
Sam's mind was spinning, her heart thumping and her whole body buzzing with an adrenaline she couldn't quite explain. Jack O'Neill was here! But so what? It's not like she didn't see him everyday. And yet... And yet he was *here*. Amid her family Christmas. And it felt strange. Incredibly strange. Away from the SGC and all its attendant rules and regulations, everything felt strange. Just looking at him out of uniform, was strange. He didn't look like her CO, he looked like Jack. And that was worrying. And exciting. And dangerous. Very dangerous. And it sent her mind off on strange paths...
Like right now. He was upstairs, sorting out his bag in the room he was going to share with her father. The room, as it happened, right next door to her own. And the thought that he was up there, so near, made her heart race. The thought that he'd come back downstairs, sit at the dining table with them all to eat supper, smile and just *be* made her nervous and excited all at once. She felt like a kid with a crush, and what surprised her the most was that she was actually enjoying the sensation. The strange excitement of just being near him, something she hadn't let herself feel in a long, long time, was exhilarating to the point of recklessness and ...
"Sam?" Abby's voice from the kitchen doorway made her jump, dropping the knife with which she was attempting to peel potatoes.
"Hey," she grimaced as her sister-in-law approached. "I'm not sure I'm doing this right..."
Abby, all smiles and practicality, glanced over her shoulder at the potatoes and shrugged. "Looks fine to me." Then she leaned in conspiratorially, and added, "How come you didn't mention that Jack was so cute!"
Sam blushed. "I-- He's my boss, remember?"
"I don't care if he's the Pope!" Abby grinned. "The man's gorgeous!"
Shaking her head, Sam concentrated on not giving herself away as she returned to the unwilling potatoes. "I guess so," she muttered. And then, with a slight glance at Abby she whispered, "You should see him in his Dress blues."
Abby chuckled. "And suddenly I understand why you do that job!"
"Oh yeah!" Sam laughed in response, oblivious to the kitchen door creaking open behind her. "Definitely for the men in uniform! Not to mention the sexy big-ass guns that they--"
"Carter?"
She almost jumped out of her skin - again! - and sent a slippery potato skidding across the floor to land at O'Neill's feet. "Sir!"
He bent to pick it up, eyes twinkling as he tossed it back to her. "You know," he said, addressing Abby, "you're taking your life in your hands letting Carter loose in your kitchen."
Abby patted her arm, her grin turning alarmingly speculative. "So you're familiar with Sam's cooking?"
"Only in the field," O'Neill clarified hurriedly, as he walked across the room. "But she *is* the only person I know who can make MRE's taste *worse*."
Rolling her eyes, Sam turned back to the potatoes in hand. "Thanks."
"Well, I'm determined to feed her up," Abby told him, bustling over to the refrigerator and pulling out a huge ham. "She's far too skinny for my ego!"
O'Neill laughed at that, then changed the subject. "What can I do? Chop? Peel? You name it!"
Behind her, Sam heard the clunk of a drawer opening as Abby started rummaging. "Peel," came her muffled voice, and then more triumphantly, "Ah! I knew I had another potato peeler!"
And so, after a moment, Sam found O'Neill standing next to her at the counter, potato peeler in hand. And, to her extreme embarrassment, she found that her whole body was tingling with an awareness that was decidedly unprofessional. It was ridiculous! She stood next to him all the time, every day, without 'tingling'. Yet here she was, peeling potatoes in her brother's kitchen, every nerve ending so alive to his presence that they might as well have been flashing like Christmas lights!
After a silent moment of peeling, he spoke. "So... This is unusual."
His words were quiet, meant for her alone. Her stomach did a nervous back-flip. "Yeah," she agreed, keeping her eyes fixed on the potato mountain. "I'm glad you could make it, sir."
"Me too."
"Laura!" Abby called out, opening the creaky kitchen door again. "Could you set the table?"
There was a muttered response, followed by an exaggerated sigh from Abby. "In the dresser! You know where we keep them, for goodness sake...."
Her words trailed off as the door closed behind her, leaving Sam and O'Neill alone. Before the silence could become awkward, he was talking again. "I picked up some candies for the kids," he said softly. "Didn't know what to get them. They're not...I don't know...diabetic or anything are they?"
Sam glanced over, but his attention was fixed on the potato peeling. "No," she assured him, unable to help smiling. "That was nice of you."
He shrugged. "It's Christmas."
Nodding, she kept watching him. Far more blatantly than she would have done at work. "I got you something," she said at last. "Don't worry if you didn't get me anything, I just saw it and--"
"I did," he interrupted her, glancing up and catching her eye. "Got them a few... A while back." He smiled then, awkward, slightly rueful. And again her body responded, sending little shock waves out from her stomach to the tingling tips of her fingers. She couldn't repress a regretful sigh, and it drew a small frown onto his face. "What?"
"Nothing," she replied, looking quickly away. Straightening her shoulders, and reaching for another potato she said, "So what did you get me?"
"I'm not gonna tell you, Carter!" he smiled. "Spoil the surprise!"
She glanced at him sideways. "A clue then?"
"Nope."
"Sir!"
"What are you?" he laughed. "Ten?"
Smiling she shook her head. "You know me, hate mysteries..."
"Yeah," he said softly. "I know you."
And then it was his turn to sigh.
***
Supper was more fun than Jack had imagined. Mark, it turned out, had a sense of humor similar to his own - even if on matters of the military they obviously didn't agree. And Jack found himself sandwiched between Abby on one side - who kept trying to get him to eat more of this or that - and Laura on the other. She didn't say much, but he could feel her eyes on him more often than not, and from the grin plastered across Carter's face, where she sat opposite him, he had the distinct impression that he was the object of some sort of crush.
It was kinda cute. And kinda embarrassing, with the girl's father and grandfather in the room. Not to mention the fact that Jack himself was finding it hard to keep his eyes from Laura's aunt... Carter, relaxed and laughing, was a sight he didn't often get to see. And he found it hard to look away. In the room's soft light her hair glinted golden, her eyes were dark and yet seemed to glow so brightly it took his breath away. And to make matters worse, she kept staring at him.
It was almost like a game. He'd look at her, she'd glance up. She'd give a small smile, then look away, or say something to one of the others. And then, moments later, she'd be looking again and smiling again. Only this time he'd be the one to speak. But whatever he said, whoever he spoke to, his attention was fixed almost exclusively on her. He couldn't help it. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to help it.
"Jack?"
The quiet voice at his side drew him from the unspoken game of eye-tag he and Carter had been playing, and he glanced down at Laura with a smile. "Yeah?"
"Can you fly a plane? Grandpa can't. And I think it's funny, since he's in the Air Force."
Jack smiled, glanced over at Carter and said, "Sure, I can fly a plane. But you know what? Most people in the Air Force aren't pilots. Carter doesn't fly, do you?"
She smiled. "Actually, yes."
Carter could fly a plane? "But...you don't have wings. Right?"
"No," she agreed. "But I have a pilot's license."
"A civilian license?" he chuckled at the idea. "Carter, why on earth--"
"Jack!" Jacob interrupted him. "You know, you're actually the only non-Carter sitting around this table. You think you could manage to call Sam 'Sam' for the next couple of days?"
"Ah, sure," Jack replied, his eyes once more fixed on Carter's face. "No problem."
But her earlier smile had a nervous edge to it now, as did his own good humor. Not that he didn't think he was capable of calling her Sam without following it with a declaration of deathless love, but in the circumstances he wanted to keep as many of the overt barriers between them as intact as possible. They'd already lost the base and their uniforms, now they were going to loose their respective ranks....
Carter broke the silence, lifting a plate and offering it to him. "More pie, Jack?"
The humor in her voice helped diffuse his inner tension, and he shook his head with a smile. "No thanks. *Sam*," he replied with mock solemnity. "I think I've already eaten more than is wise..."
Carter flung a look at her father. "You got ear plugs with you, Dad?"
Jacob glanced curiously between Jack and his daughter. "Meaning?"
"Oh here we go," Jack sighed, leaning closer to Laura. And in a stage-whisper adding, "Never believe anything your aunt says!"
Laura giggled, a youthful imitation of Carter's own laugh.
"I'm just saying," Carter told her father, with an impish look in her eyes, "that when the colonel-- Jack - has eaten well, he kinda...snores."
"Hey!" Mark suddenly exclaimed, waving a fork vaguely between them. "You guys aren't..."
There was a sliver of silence, during which Jack managed to see Jacob's shocked glance mirrored in Carter's wide-eyes before he spoke and put the world back into motion. "No," Jack said sharply, softening the word with a smile. "But we--"
"Travel together," Carter chipped in.
"A lot," he added for good measure, deliberately not looking at her this time.
Mark nodded, as apparently satisfied with that as with anything military. Although he couldn't help but notice the way Jacob was studying his almost empty plate with an intensity the china pattern certainly didn't deserve. He wondered if he and Selmac were discussing something. And hoped to God it wasn't him!
***
By the time the kids were in bed, full of squeals and laughter, with their stockings hung and the milk and cookies left out for Santa, it was getting late. Leaving Mark and Abby to try and get the children to actually sleep, Sam fetched the gifts she'd brought and trotted downstairs.
As she shouldered the door open and stepped into the living room, she stopped. Sitting on the sofa, elbows on knees, was O'Neill. In his hand was a small silver bell, at which he was staring intently, his face its usual mask of impassivity. And yet there was something about the stillness with which he sat that made her uneasy; she had the feeling she was interrupting something very personal. She was about to back out of the room when he stood up, took one step towards the tree and then noticed her. An odd look flashed across his face as he froze in place. His hand, thrust suddenly into his pocket. "Hey," he said huskily.
"Hey." Realizing it was too late to retreat, Sam eased into the room and left her pile of presents on the table. "You okay?"
O'Neill nodded, picking up some of the kids' toys and attempting to tidy. "Sure."
The lie was in his voice, and Sam refused to ignore it. "Can I see?" she asked quietly, moving around the sofa and into his line of sight.
"See what?"
"You were holding something. You put it in your pocket."
His face darkened, and he almost looked embarrassed. "It's personal."
She nodded, considering. "You looked upset, that's all."
"I'm fine."
"Jack--"
"Don't!" he snapped, shocking her with the anger in his voice. "Don't call me that."
She blinked. "I'm sorry, I--"
"I'm going for a walk," he announced abruptly. "I need some air."
Confused, Sam stepped out of his path. "Okay..."
"Tell the others...I...I won't be long." And with that he was gone, and after a few moments she heard the front door quietly close.
Sitting down on the sofa, Sam couldn't help feeling an absurd desire to cry. Not because he'd snapped at her, but because he was so obviously upset and there was nothing she could do to help him.
***
The warm Californian air wasn't cold enough to blast the cobwebs from his head, as Jack stalked along the empty suburban sidewalk. But it was better than the warm, unbearably cozy Carter household. Sitting alone in front of the Christmas tree, listening to the kids laughing upstairs and missing Charlie so much he could hardly breathe, Jack hadn't thought the pain could get any worse. And then she'd walked in, her voice soft and understanding. And the pain of past loss had suddenly been gilded with a loneliness of the bitterest kind. Here he was, at the heart of her family, with the woman he--
Jack stopped dead in the middle of the street. The word he'd never said, not even silently, was racing through his mind, demanding to be spoken and acknowledged. It was twisting his insides, sending daggers of frustration into every nerve. The woman he... The woman he...
"Loved."
It was a short word, spoken aloud. The woman he loved...
He sighed and continued walking, his thoughts returning to their former track. Here he was, at the heart of a family, with the woman he loved. And yet she was as far away as ever, behind a glass wall of duty and regulation. And the love and family that surrounded him only delineated his loneliness all the more sharply. He felt as though he sat in an impenetrable bubble of isolation, seeing and hearing but unable to touch the warmth all around him. It was almost unbearable.
And yet... And yet being elsewhere would be worse. She was like a magnet, drawing him closer despite himself. Despite everything. Being with her, as painful as it was, was better than being away from her. And as if to prove the point, he suddenly found himself standing once more outside her brother's house.
Inside, he knew they would all be gathered. Packing stockings, setting presents under the tree. Half of him longed to be there, half of him dreaded it. But above it all he suddenly saw her face again, concerned and hurt as he'd snapped at her for no reason she understood. And a beat of guilt was added to his other pain. Guilt that he had hurt her, when she deserved so much more, and when he longed to give her everything she wanted. Or at least as much of it as he was able.
His hand found its way inside his pocket, fingers closing around the delicate object within. And he wondered if he could, as some kind of gesture towards everything that had to remain unspoken, tell her what he held so close. He wondered if he dared.
***
Bed was calling loudly to Jacob Carter as he sat in a warm doze in the corner of Mark's sofa. The lights were dim, only the soft glow from the Christmas tree brightening the room as he watched his daughter quietly reading in the chair opposite. Or, rather, pretending to read. It was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. She hadn't turned a page in half an hour and every so often she'd look up towards the dark window and sigh...
*She is concerned for him,* Selmac observed.
Jacob nodded. *Too concerned.*
*That's a ridiculous notion.*
*Is it?* he asked. *Does Sam look happy to you? This whole thing isn't good for her.*
Selmac was silent for a moment. *You thought it would have ended by now.*
That was the truth, he couldn't deny it. *It's been almost two years.*
Selmac smiled. Jacob didn't know how he knew, but he knew that she was smiling. *What is two years for those who love?*
Love? He eyed his daughter, her composed features keeping all her secrets. *Is that what you think it is?*
*He would rather die than lose her,* Selmac reminded him. *What would you call it?*
*A big fat mess.*
Selmac gave a mental sigh. *It is that also.*
Sam chose that moment to glance up, noticing immediately that his eyes were fixed on her. She gave a curious smile. "What?"
Jacob shrugged. "I was just thinking," he said slowly. "It's been too long since we've sat down and talked."
She gave him the look of disbelief he knew all too well from her adolescence. "Dad, we've *never* sat down and talked."
This was true. "I guess we could try," he suggested, pushing himself upright and sitting forward. "I mean, it's not like we get to see a lot of each other. And who knows when I'll be back on--" He glanced nervously over his shoulder, "Back in town."
Sam put her book down. "Dad, is everything okay? I mean... Is there something you want to talk about or--"
"Me? No," he assured her. "I was thinking of you... That is... How are you Sam? I mean, really. Are you...happy?"
Instantly, her defenses rose. He could see it in the way her shoulders straightened and her eyes grew bright. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know," he said vaguely. "I just thought...you know...with Jack..."
She turned to ice. Motionless and cold. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," he told her softly. "I just want to see how you're doing, that's all."
A faint stain of pink rose into her cheeks, but she kept her cool. "You know I'd never do anything to compromise my position at the SGC. And Colonel O'Neill would never--"
"Sam!" Jacob sighed, holding up a hand to halt her. "Stop." She did, eyeing him warily. "I'm not talking about the regs. I'm talking about you. About you being happy." Still she said nothing, remaining stubbornly silent. Jacob took the hint, and rose slowly to his feet. "There are a lot of things in my life that I regret," he said. "Not being around enough for you and Mark was one of them." With a sigh, he shook his head. "Don't lose sight of what's really important, Sam."
She looked up, wide eyes painfully similar to her mother's. Her voice was husky when she spoke. "You did the best you could, Dad."
But he shook his head. "No, Sam. I didn't." Turning, he walked to the door and opened it onto the sleeping house. "I could - and should - have done a whole lot more for the people I cared about. I just let other things get in the way. And before I knew it, it was too late."
She couldn't hold his gaze, her eyes returning to the dark window. And without another word, Jacob left her to her solitary thoughts. But as he climbed the stairs he heard a soft knock at the front door, and knew that Jack was back...
***
He was afraid he'd idled too long outside, relishing the luxury of being alone. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up half the house because he'd stayed out so long. It was bad enough that he'd gone in the first place, he figured. Not exactly the most sociable thing to do. But to have to wake them up...
The door opened at last. But instead of an irritated Mark, he was confronted by a silent Carter.
"Hey," he said awkwardly.
She gave a little smile. "Thought you'd gotten lost, sir."
"I, uh... No."
Standing back, she opened the door wide. "It all gets kinda intense sometimes, doesn't it?"
Saying nothing, he stepped past her and into the silent house. "The others all gone to bed?"
"They'll be up early. You know, the kids can't wait..."
The familiar pang of loss stirred, and he nodded. "Yeah, I know." Another silence fell between them, and in his pocket Jack's fingers clasped around the small metal object. "Look, Carter, I owe you an apology--"
"No," she assured him hurriedly. "Sir, I know that Christmas must be hard for you and I--"
"Wait," he cut in, his courage wavering. "I..." Glancing into the softly lit living room, he nodded towards it. "Can we go in there?"
She looked somewhat surprised, but being Carter took his request in her stride. "Sure."
The room was full of the peculiar silence of expectation that seems to descend every Christmas eve. The calm before the storm. Lights glimmered, tinsel glittered and the room had a strangely serene quality that Jack found almost calming. He took his time, standing and staring at the Christmas tree, feeling the metal in his fingers warm beneath his touch. And then, without turning around, he spoke. "I brought something with me."
He sensed her move to stand next to him, but his eyes were still fixed on the Christmas tree. "What is it?"
Carefully he removed the small silver bell from his pocket, turning it over in his hands and running a finger over the words engraved in the metal. Charlie, Christmas 1986. "I always imagined--" His throat choked, and he said no more.
But at his side, Carter moved closer as her fingers reached out to touch the ornament. "It's beautiful. Eighty-six...that was Charlie's first Christmas?" Jack could only nod. Carefully, her slender fingers took the bell from his hand to study it more closely. "I think we should--" She cut herself off. "I mean, would you like to hang it on the tree?"
Still fighting powerful emotions, Jack gritted his teeth. Carter had guessed his intention, even though he'd barely acknowledged it to himself. "If it's okay..."
"How could it not be?" she smiled, returning the bell to his hand and closing his fingers gently around it. And despite, or perhaps because of, the feeling beating in his heart, the simple gesture seemed profound. And it paralyzed him. He couldn't take his hand from hers as their eyes met and locked. Her touch was warm and firm, and lit a pulse of desire that stopped his breath. His mind jumped from that single touch to the illicit memory of her body in his arms, the heat of her lips on his and how much, how very, very much, he longed for that contact again. Right here. Right now.
What she was thinking, he couldn't tell, but her eyes were bright and full of an emotion he dared not name. The strange tranquility of the room seemed to have stilled them both, trapping them in a moment that neither dared shatter. Jack wasn't sure whether - if he moved - he would pull her into his arms or push her away. And so he did nothing, just stood there with her hand clasped around his, wanting her as fiercely as has he'd ever wanted anything. And doing nothing about it.
She was equally transfixed, although her lips moved slightly as if she was on the point of speaking. And then...CREAK!
The distant sound of the kitchen door broke the spell. Like mist dispersing in a breeze, the moment was gone and Carter took a step backwards. From the kitchen Jack heard running water, and then the soft footfalls of someone heading back down the hallway towards the stairs. He sucked in a deep breath, and in his hand the bell felt warm as he opened his fingers.
"Go on," Carter urged quietly, from where she now stood behind him.
Absurdly feeling as though he were lighting a candle in the sort of Church service he'd avoided since adolescence, Jack reached out and found a small branch and slipped the little bell onto the tree. The mental glinted in the Christmas lights, tinkling softly where it swung.
The longing of a moment earlier was suddenly gone, replaced by an ache of an older and never-ending cadence. Closing his eyes against the burst of bitter grief, he gasped when soft fingers once more slid around his hand. Carter. Standing at his side again, holding his hand. Behind his eyelids he felt tears of gratitude prick, and had to swallow hard to keep them in check.
"I'm glad you're here," she whispered.
He squeezed her hand, hard. "Me too."
***
Christmas day began with a whirlwind of excitement, and Sam found herself swept away by the laughter and squeals of her niece and nephew. She kept a cautious eye on O'Neill all morning, but the melancholy she'd seen the previous night was either gone or - more likely - well hidden.
He chased the kids, played with their toys and generally kept them out of their parents' hair as the Christmas lunch was prepared in the kitchen. Her father, she noticed, kept them all liberally supplied with alcohol, and before long Sam felt the glow of Christmas blanketed in a soft alcoholic haze.
Dinner was deliciously over-indulgent, and Abby seemed to have catered for twice their number. After forcing down a second helping of pecan pie Sam was seriously regretting the black pants she'd chosen to wear. Or, perhaps only half-regretting. She'd seen the colonel's eyes flitting away from her more than once during the course of the day and suspected that he, at least, had noticed the figure hugging style. Which had been the intention, though she blushed to admit it!
Once the last plate was loaded into the dishwasher, and the scent of coffee filled the air, Sam dropped onto the sofa and felt her heavy eyelids sliding towards a doze. From the family room she could hear the kids playing together, the merry sound mingling with her father's soft snore from the chair opposite. At the other end of the sofa, Mark was as comatose as their Dad and Sam was sure she'd soon be joining the snore-chorus. But just then the door opened, and O'Neill quietly entered the room. As always, her eyes were on him and she smiled at the amused look on his face as he cast his gaze around the semi-comatose room.
His roving eye landed on her, and he smiled as he drew closer. "You old-timers," he chided softly, surprising Sam by taking a seat at her side on the sofa. Suddenly she wasn't so sleepy.
"What's the point of Christmas if you don't sleep half of it away?" she replied with a grin.
He smiled again, his gaze fixed on his hands where they rested in his lap. And for the first time, Sam noticed that he held a small gift. Before she could ask, he murmured, "It's for you. I didn't want to give it to you earlier, because..." He nodded towards her father, then looked up and caught her eye with a significant look. "It's probably not an *entirely* appropriate gift from your CO. But..." Trailing off, he offered her the present. "Merry Christmas, Carter."
Sitting up straight, all vestiges of sleep forgotten, Sam took the small box. It was pretty obviously jewelry, from the size and weight. But when she opened it her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the small, yet beautiful stud-earrings glittering against black velvet. They looked like diamonds. "Oh my God, you shouldn't have--"
"I know," he agreed quietly. "I know."
Sadness flashed over his face, an expression so infinitely painful to Sam that she added, "But they're beautiful. Really beautiful. No one's ever-- Thank you." He glanced up as she spoke, eyes guarded and cautious. "Thank you, Jack," she repeated quietly. "It means a lot that...." She couldn't continue, afraid of what she might say. But she knew he understood.
With a smile, he looked away again. "They're forever, right? That's what they say. Diamonds are forever--"
"Oh, that's a great movie!" Abby chirped, bustling through the door with a tray full of brimming coffee cups. "Is it on this afternoon? I love James Bond!"
"Ah, I don't know," O'Neill muttered, getting to his feet to help her with the tray. "So you're a Sean Connery fan, huh?"
Sam used the convenient cover to hide away the discarded gift-wrap and the simple little box. But she didn't hide the earrings, instead slipping them on with fingers that trembled. Diamonds. He'd bought her diamonds! The gift said everything that had to remain unspoken between them; Sam wasn't so blind that she didn't understand the meaning of the gift. And the thought set her mind and heart spinning amid her alcoholic haze. He loved her. He'd all but said it. And she knew her own heart well enough, had known her own feelings for too many repressed years, to doubt how she felt in return. Yet here they were, as far apart as ever, and yet so close she could reach out and touch him. She could wrap her arms around him, hold him tight and thank him with words and caresses. Which is wasn't. And yet, it was all she could do to stop herself from throwing everything to the wind and doing just that. The regulations had never seemed so cruel and irrelevant!
Sudden frustration drove her to her feet and sent her prowling around the room. O'Neill looked over as she headed for the door, the question clear in his eyes. *Are you okay?* "I just need some fresh air," she muttered, and headed out into the cool of the hallway. God, she needed some perspective. She needed to remind herself why duty mattered, why the team mattered. And why her life had to stay on hold for the duration.
Only problem was, she was having a hard job convincing herself of any of it. The only thing in her mind was a longing so deep and profound that it was like nothing she had ever known. And in that moment, she knew in her heart that it was more important than anything else in her life had ever been, or would ever be.
And that terrified her. Major Sam Carter was seriously thinking of putting her personal life before her professional life.
What the hell was going on?!
***
She was wearing the earrings he shouldn't have bought her. Jack noticed the moment Carter walked back into the room, trailed by Laura and Joe. She was laughing with them, but Jack knew her well enough to see the tension in her face. And his conscience pricked. He'd pushed her. No doubt about it. Giving her the earrings had been a step too far. She understood their meaning all too well. Knew how wrong it was. And yet...
And yet she was wearing them. Despite everything. Their bright sparkle was visible occasionally through her hair, their brilliance outshone only by her smile. For the rest of the afternoon, they didn't stray too close to each other. But Jack found his eyes on her the whole time, and hers on him. They were circling each other, conscious only of each other, yet trying to keep their distance. An impossible dance. But the only thing they could do.
If he could just stop thinking about her. Stop wanting her! Stop imagining how she would feel in his arms, how smoothly her skin would glide under his fingers. And how it would make him feel to hold her in his arms again, to love her and - God! - to be loved by her. If he could just stop--
"Jack?"
Jacob's voice startled him, sending a rush of embarrassment to his face. "Uh, yeah...?"
"You need another cold one?" Jacob nodded towards the empty beer in Jack's hand.
Eager for escape, Jack jumped to his feet. "Sure, you want me to get you one too?" He had the distinct impression that Jacob, or perhaps Selmac, could actually read his mind!
Jacob grinned and drained his bottle. "You read my mind, Jack!"
Almost falling over his own feet in his hurry to escape, Jack failed to notice that Carter was no longer cross-legged on the floor playing with Mike's new GameBoy. She was, in fact, on her way back into the room with a glass of wine, just as Jack went barreling out
"Woah!" Carter yelped, sloshing wine onto her shoes as Jack almost knocked her off her feet in the doorway.
His hand instinctively shot out to steady her. "Shit! Sorry Carter."
From behind him, he heard the kids giggle. A sound echoed by their mother, Abby. "Hey, guys," she called in a tone of voice that made Jack's heart sink. "Look up."
He didn't. Instead he looked right into Carter's eyes. Wide and as blue as the California sky, he knew instantly that his suspicion had been correct. She sighed, and rolled her eyes. "Mistletoe."
"Go on, Sam, give him a kiss," Abby cajoled.
Carter's protest was immediate. "I don't think it would--"
"It's good luck!"
Jack turned, acutely aware of the shrewd look they were getting from Jacob. "Carter's right. Air Force regulations don't allow serving officers--"
Abby laughed out loud. "They have a regulation for mistletoe?!"
"Well...no," he admitted, turning back to Carter. Her face was set, and he understood exactly what she was thinking. If they protested too much, it would be a dead giveaway. Especially to the eagle-eyed Tok'ra in the corner. With an unspoken signal, born of their shared years in the field, Carter told him all he needed to know.
Jack forced a smile, his heart hammering with unreasonable speed as he said, "Okay, Abby. You win." He didn't need to move much closer to kiss her, his lips touching her cheek just shy of her mouth. It was no more than a peck, and yet the soft heat of her lips against his face all but melted him. And then her hand touched his arm, gossamer light and as searing as fire. He lingered, as long as he dared, his soul screaming in frustration. God, to be able to kiss those lips, to take her in his arms and make her his. To--
She moved away, her face flushed as she gulped down half the glass of wine she still held. And in that moment he knew for sure that she wanted him as ardently as he wanted her. Something they had held in check for over two years had slipped its leash and was rapidly careening out of control. Had they been alone, God only knew what might have happened.
Jack all but ran into the kitchen, stopping only when he reached the refrigerator and pressing his head against its cool door. He had to get this back under control, he had to tie it down, repress it. Forget it.
But, *God*, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it was an actual physical pain, spreading out from his heart and into the very core of his soul. It was rapidly becoming, he had to admit, an obsession.
***
Despite escaping to bed early, sleep would not come for Sam. It might have been too much rich food, or too much alcohol, but more likely it was too much O'Neill. The kiss, short, awkward and oh-so-sweet haunted, her constantly. Had she turned her head a fraction, her lips would have met his. Had they been alone...
With a sigh of frustration, she rolled over and punched her pillow into submission before burying her face in it and seeking hopelessly for sleep. It was still elusive. Rolling onto her side, Sam felt a small prick against the side of her head and realized that she was still wearing the earrings. She reached up and ran her fingers over their hard, bright surface. Diamonds... No one had ever bought her diamonds before. And a smile crept over her lips at the thought, bringing with it a warmth that radiated from the deepest part of her heart. She didn't know how long she lay there, smiling and remembering the look in his eyes as he'd given her the gift. But when her mind once more returned to the present, she heard the silence of the house pressing around her. And knew that everyone else was asleep.
The whole world was sleeping, it seemed. But not her. Frustrated, she threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. Pulling back the drapes, she peered out into the silent street beyond. It was dark, the Christmas lights cold and quiet. Another Christmas, come and gone. And everything was still the same. Just like every year. The world moved on around her, but she stayed the same. How long, she wondered, would it continue?
Forty was now closer than thirty, and she found herself wondering where she'd be when she passed that milestone. Was her life destined to be one of service and duty alone, without the compensation of a loving home and family? Was that really what she wanted? Or was it simply what fate had decreed? She could feel time speeding up, each Christmas riding hard on the heels of its predecessor, cramming themselves together before her allotted time elapsed and there were no more Christmases. No more new years. No more Sam Carter.
The gloomy thought made her shiver, and she turned away from the window. Sleep was still distant, so she sat on the edge of her bed and picked up the glass of water she kept nearby. It was empty. Her mouth felt as dry as a bone, and she knew that she wouldn't sleep at all until she'd quenched her thirst. So, quietly creeping past the closed doors of her sleeping family, Sam headed downstairs to the kitchen.
The tile floor was cold under her bare feet, but she ignored it as she filled her glass from the sink and gazed out of the kitchen window across the dark yard. She hadn't bothered turning on the light, and the moonlight glinted brightly off the pale paving outside her brother's house. It was quite a beautiful night, she realized, leaning forward slightly to get a better view of the starry sky. A good night for star-gazing, she thought with a smile. Funny, how her mind always ran towards him, even from obscure angles. Star-gazing always reminded her of O'Neill, perhaps because she harbored a secret fantasy that one day they might lay down and watch the stars together, close and warm as--
Creak!
Sam jumped as the kitchen door creaked open, dropping her glass of water into the sink. "Shit," she hissed, turning around and...
And stopping dead.
O'Neill stood paralyzed in the doorway. As shocked as herself, just staring at her. After a long, intense moment, he spoke. "I thought you'd gone to bed."
Her heart hammered, erratic and excited. "I was thirsty."
He said nothing, just stared at her. She couldn't quite see his eyes, dark against the night, but she could sense a hunger in the way he watched her. In the way his whole body seemed to be straining against an inner restraint. Her eyes focused on his hands, thrust deep into his jacket pocket. And it was then that she realized he hadn't been to bed at all. "I was outside," he admitted, completing her thought. "It's a beautiful night."
"Make the most of the weather," she smiled, taking nervous a step towards the door. "You'll be back in the snow tomorrow." The moment was too intense, too dangerous. She had to leave!
But he didn't move out of her path. He didn't respond. He simply moved closer, terrifying and thrilling her all at once. His hands pulled free of his jacket as he fixed her with a dangerous look. The air between them was on fire, alive with temptation. "I've kinda enjoyed the warmth," he growled. "I'd gotten used to the cold, but the warmer things have gotten..."
Oh God! Oh God, she should stop this. Turn away from him, defuse the tension before they lost control. But all she could see was the hunger in his eyes, all she could think of was tasting his forbidden kiss, feeling the hard strength of his desire and giving in to her own, fervent need. Tunnel visioned by a yearning too long suppressed, she breathlessly murmured, "I thought I was used to the cold too. But I think I'd just turned numb."
Understanding brightened his eyes as he moved closer still, into the pale moonlight and right into her space. "Numb," he growled, thick with emotion. "Unable to feel anything?"
He was so close. So very close... She could do no more than whisper. "It's less painful that way,"
"Less painful, until things start to thaw," he breathed. "And then..." His lips parted, a shaking breath drawn rapidly in and out. But he said nothing more, just stared at her with a fervor that incinerated all that was left of her defenses. Carefully, but without hesitation, he lifted a hand and touched one ear with the tip of his finger. He was gazing at the earrings, brushing her hair away so he could see them. Sam trembled at the warm caress, her body coiled so tight in anticipation and desire that she could barely move. "Beautiful," he murmured as his fingers gently ran through her hair.
Sam's eyesight dimmed. All she could see was him, all she could feel was his touch, and the world around them grew gray and unreal. All she wanted was him, in this single illicit moment. Her heart was hammering fit to burst, every nerve tingling with expectation as one hand cupped her face. Warm fingers around the back of her head, threading through her hair, his lips parted and a soft sound escaped as the last restraint snapped and he pulled her to him. Not rough, not gentle. Determined, and hungry. She went eagerly, aching with desire, as his warm breath washed over her face and their lips collided hungrily in an incandescent kiss that detonated fireworks in her heart and mind.
No tender first kiss, the moment crashed over them both like thunder. All thought, all reason was lost beneath the relentless momentum as years of suppressed desire surged through the floodgates. He was everywhere at once, his lips on her face, her throat, her shoulder. His hand in her hair, on her arms, sliding beneath her top to caress her naked back. She found him too, hot flesh under his t-shirt, rough stubble beneath her lips, soft skin of his neck.
Deep in his throat he growled again as she felt the hard edge of the kitchen sink against her hip. A hand was on her waist, roving higher beneath her top, searching, greedy... Sam sank backwards, wanting his touch, longing for it. Her head lolled, eyes barely open as his lips found her throat once more, and she gasped with pleasure as his warm fingers at last cupped the swell of her--
CREAK!
Like ice-cold lightening rending the air, they flew apart. Sam spun around, pulling at her clothes. Through the lust-induced haze all she could see was her water glass, where it still lay on its side in the sink. She was panting, struggling for the appearance of control as her mind flew in a million directions at once. Someone was there. Someone had seen...
"What? Are we having a convention down here?" Her father! It couldn't be worse! His voice echoed loud in the quiet kitchen and Sam felt her stomach contract in horror. Had he seen? Oh, God... What if he'd seen?
"I've been star-gazing," O'Neill said quietly, calm and in control. God, how could he be?! "There's a good view of Mars tonight."
Her father chuckled. "Remind me to give you a closer look next time we're passing."
"Really?" O'Neill enthused, full of pseudo-boyish-charm. "Cool." Sam almost sank to her knees in releif!. "You know I'm gonna hold you to that, Jacob."
"I don't doubt it," her father replied.
Carefully she picked up the glass from the sink, and re-filled it before turning around. If she looked rumpled, she prayed her father would think it was from sleep and not... the other thing. God, she couldn't even think about that. Not now.
"Okay, Carter...s," O'Neill announced, slapping her father on the shoulder and definitely not looking at Sam. "I'm gonna call it a night. You two sleep well."
"Night, Jack," her father replied, turning a curious glance on Sam and forcing her to speak.
"Night, sir."
A tight smile touched O'Neill's lips, but he kept his gaze carefully averted as he pushed his hands into his pockets and left the room. The silence that followed was as brittle as glass. Sam dare not look at her father. She knew he'd see something in her eyes, and part of her even hoped that he would. At least then she could confess everything, and ease the burden of guilt she felt growing by the moment. But how could she do that? It wouldn't be fair, not to O'Neill. They were in this together, and that was the only way they were going to get out of it. One way or the other.
Mustering her self-control, Sam fixed a smile on her face and headed past her father towards the door. "Night Dad."
He said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her the whole way down the hallway. And even though nothing had been said, she had the distinct and disturbing impression that he knew everything.
What she didn't know, was how he'd react. The shit, she realized, had well and truly hit the fan.
***
Jack didn't even bother trying to sleep after his passionate encounter with Carter. His body was torn by a mixture of frustrated desire and deep fear. Not for himself, but for her. If Jacob had seen anything... God only knew what he'd do with the information. Tell Hammond,? Tear Carter apart on the rack of his personal morality? And as for Selmac... As much as Jack respected Jacob Carter, he was still a Tok'ra. And Jack knew, better than anyone else, exactly how much power the symbiote wielded over its host.
What he really wanted to do was talk to her. But how could he? Jacob wasn't stupid. He'd know exactly what Jack was up to if he disappeared from their shared room in the middle of the night. Rolling onto his side, Jack stared at the wall with sleepless eyes and decided that the best thing to do was leave as early as possible the following day. He'd make his own way to the airport, before Carter or any of the others awoke. He knew they had to talk about what had happened, but not here. Not with Jacob so close. Or her brother, come to that. And perhaps they both needed some space to deal with the...the... He had no adequate words to describe the fire that had exploded between them, just memories and sensations. And a deep, profound longing to be incinerated once more by the electrifying mix of lust and love he'd experienced during those painfully brief moments in her arms.
During that time, he'd been truly alive. And if he never felt it again, he knew the world would taste like nothing but ashes ever after. That was something worth fighting for... Wasn't it?
***
It was still dark when Sam heard the quiet tread outside her door. She'd been awake all night, twisting with unresolved emotions and drifting from utter joy to utter despair in moments. And so she knew with absolute certainty whose footfall passed her door. It was O'Neill. And he was leaving.
Jumping to her feet, she grabbed a sweater to pull over her shoulders and ran out of her room. For a moment she thought she'd missed him when she saw the empty hallway, but then the living room door opened and he emerged, tucking something into his pocket.
Charlie's bell, of course.
He didn't see her until she spoke from where she stood halfway down the stairs. "Colonel...?" He froze, at a loss for words. Just staring at her. "You're leaving." Her agile mind had gone unusually blank, thought drowned by the beating of her heart as she drank in the sight of him.
"It's an early flight," he said at last. Then, taking a step closer his face softened into affection. "You okay, Carter? I didn't want to--"
"My, my...you Air Force types are the early birds!" Abby's voice grated in Sam's ear like a bad gear-change. What the hell was she doing up so early?!
O'Neill turned towards the kitchen with a strained smile. "I'm glad you're awake," he lied. "I wanted to say thanks before I left."
Abby glanced at the duffel bag he held, eyes wide. "You're not staying for breakfast?"
"I hate long good byes," he smiled. Although from the half-look he flung her way, Sam wasn't quite sure it was a joke.
Abby, however, seemed oblivious, and wrapped him in a friendly hug of which Sam found herself ridiculously jealous. "I'm sure we'll see you again, Jack," Abby told him with a smile.
As he left her embrace, O'Neill turned back towards Sam. She could barely look at him, the memories of their brief encounter still too fresh in her mind. "I'll see you back at work, sir," she said after a moment, wincing as she spoke the last word.
A smile that was more of a grimace flickered over his eyes. "Yeah," he agreed, watching her intently. Not letting her go. His mind was racing, thinking on his feet. It was what he did best, after all. Suddenly, he brightened. "You going to Fraiser's New Year's party?"
Sam blinked. Not once had the colonel attended Janet's annual New Year's party! "I usually do," she replied cautiously.
"Good," he nodded, smiling nervously. "I'll catch up with you there then?"
Reaching out, she held on tight to the banister. Was he making a...date? It sounded a hell of a lot like a date. Oh God... What was he doing? What were *they* doing? But there was no stopping it. No stopping them. "Yeah," she replied, raising her eyes to his at last. "That'll be...nice."
Echoes of the night's passion flickered in the depths of his eyes, setting off new fireworks in the pit of her stomach. "See you there then, Carter."
And with that, he was gone. Leaving Sam feeling like a wrung-out rag, sitting on cloud nine. "Wow," Abby breathed as the front door closed behind him. "That's gonna be one hell of a party."
Sam's knees gave way, and she sat down heavily on the stairs. "You have no idea," she murmured. "No idea..."
~The End~
Story Notes: Email: sallyreeve@blueyonder.co.uk
Classification: S/J UST, romance, Christmas
Notes: I'm sorry this is so late! I intended to finish it by Christmas, but Christmas got in the way! My thanks to Erika, Sharon, and Ann for their gentle prodding to finish. And my apologies to everyone who is sick and tired of all things Christmassy...
This story can be found in its entirety on my site at http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes, and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Classification: S/J UST, romance, Christmas
Notes: I'm sorry this is so late! I intended to finish it by Christmas, but Christmas got in the way! My thanks to Erika, Sharon, and Ann for their gentle prodding to finish. And my apologies to everyone who is sick and tired of all things Christmassy...
This story can be found in its entirety on my site at http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes, and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
End Notes: To be concluded in "New Year's Resolutions." Coming soon to a PC near you!(Humble apologies for the cliff-hanger ending!)
Thanks for reading! And, as always, I'm eager to improve my writing and welcome any constructive comments!
Thanks for reading! And, as always, I'm eager to improve my writing and welcome any constructive comments!
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 ]