Silence and Sound PG-13
CATEGORY: Sam/Jack UST
RATING: PG-13 (for a few racy thoughts that might offend some)
SUMMARY: SPOILERS FOR S7: During Fifth Race, they don't talk. During Lost City they do.
DISCLAIMERS R US: You'll recognize all the
characters I don't own in this story -- they are
the famous, well-loved ones. I didn't ask anyone's
permission to take them out for a spin. However,
once you read it, you'll realize this is a non-profit
venture 'cause no one would actually pay me for
writing it ARCHIVE: Yes, SJD
STATUS: Complete
SPOILERS: Up to current Season Seven in general,
but Season Two Fifth Race, Season Seven
Heroes and Lost City specifically.
FEEDBACK: Both positive comments and
tough critical feedback help to improve my writing.
Feedback very much appreciated and adored.
tmpotter@widomaker.com
"Now, describe your pain. But, please, be honest.
This is, after all, for posterity."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had an older story on my hard drive
that was never really happy and finished. The spoilers for
Lost City stuck an inspiration in my head and a challenge
from a friend pushed me into writing the rest. I hope it is a
better story now. My thanks go to Carm, who is always too
kind. Any mistakes are all my own fault.
##########################
January 1999
Silence
"Okay, Sam."
Janet gently tapped her friend's knee as she spoke aloud, causing
Sam to open her eyes and sit up a bit straighter where she was
slumped on the examination room bed.
The efficient doctor's hands held up a small tube of ointment,
swinging it back and forth in front of the blonde's eyes to catch her
already wandering attention.
"Use this as often as possible on the burns. It has a mild anesthetic
in it so it will help with the pain. And it's sterile, so it will help
keep them clean. Be especially careful about the ones on your face
-- you want to keep them protected. And no makeup until I give
the okay."
Janet took the larger tub that the nurse handed her and plopped it
on the bed next to Sam.
"And use this other one on the scrapes. It's just a first aid cream to
make sure that none of the open abrasions get infected."
The doctor smiled but her face settled into the She-Who-Is-Not-
To-Be-Ignored look that struck fear into the heart of every SG
team member. It meant she was about to give out Doctor's Order's.
"Take it easy for the next couple of days and replenish the water
you lost or I will have you back in this bed on IV fluids so fast it'll
make your head spin."
Janet was glad to see Sam smile, even if it was a bit wan.
As she smiled, Sam felt a crusty spot of sticky sand on her neck
crack and fall down onto her shirt. She pulled the front of her shirt
away from her chest, an unchecked "ugh" escaping her lips as she
watched the dirt there crack off and fall to the clean concrete
infirmary floor.
They'd all been so *grimy* when they'd trudged back through the
gate. The wind had blown incessantly on that planet, making the
sand fly across the dunes like a Huey was landing. When they'd
first stepped through the 'Gate, she'd been hoping that the blowing
sand would eventually die down. But the second sun rising had
seemed to make the atmosphere that much more wild. The
scientist in her had feared this reality. It made sense. The more
energy you added to a closed system like weather the more
unstable it becomes, resulting in-
She was thinking too much. She'd like to attribute it to the heat
exhaustion, but-
'Carter, you *always* think too much.'
His voice rang out in her memory. Even though he'd been back on
Earth, she'd kept hearing the Colonel like this back on the planet.
The ghost of his voice whispering in her ear, motivating her to do
more, do better, do the impossible...
Sam's face suddenly clouded and she looked over at where Janet
was leaning against a table, making notations in a thick medical
chart that Sam knew was nothing compared to a certain
archeologist's file.
"Janet, how's the Colonel? I mean...how is he really?"
Janet's brown eyes were clear when she looked up at Sam, but the
worry she had for her other patient was there in her puckered
forehead and small frown.
"Sam, he's...He's doing okay. He hasn't shown any signs of
recovering from whatever this is, but physically he's holding his
own. He's no longer capable of speaking English, and I'm not
certain he still understands everything we say, but he does gets bits
and pieces..."
Sam's eyes clouded over and she looked away.
"For now, he's going to be okay, Sam. Daniel has been working
with him on some big project or other. The Colonel's built
something -- no one knows what it is, yet -- but he keeps saying it's
good."
"Built something? The Colonel? Hmmm...Maybe I can help
Daniel figure it out-"
Sam stopped, realizing she was ignoring Janet and talking aloud to
herself again.
"Go ahead and hit the showers, Sam. Just remember-"
"I know, I know...'Take it easy. If I feel dizzy or have any out of
the ordinary reactions, come back and see you'...I heard you the
first three times, Mom."
Janet pulled a face, sticking her tongue out at her friend in a perfect
imitation of Cassie in a particularly teenaged moment.
Sam laughed, grabbing the dirty pile of her over shirt, scarf, and
hat from the middle of the bed, and hopped to her feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam had never thought a shower could feel *this* good.
Her parched skin burned in the places where wind-blown sand had
scoured the skin raw, but the hot water coursing down across her
face and shoulders felt better than she remembered it could. She
had scrubbed the gingery shampoo into her hair three times and
had used her shower gel twice, scrubbing away the stink and grime
from the planet and reveling in the feeling of being gloriously
clean.
Turning, she stretched her arms forward to lean against the slick
shower tiles, letting the pounding water pressure work the knots of
tension from her shoulders and back. She groaned as the worries
of the hard trip to P9Q-281 washed away with the tension running
from her body and sluiced down the drain at her feet.
She was the only one in the locker room at this time of the day, so
she took a moment for the luxury of standing in the shower for a
good long while, her head hanging forward against her chest, her
eyes closed. Thoughts of what had happened on the planet kept
racing through her head as the seemingly unending supply of
scalding water pounded down around her...
She'd been *so* afraid when she'd realized that they were stuck
without a working DHD. She'd pushed that fear aside, though, the
way she'd been trained to, the way the voices of every instructor
she'd ever had kept telling her she had to. Keeping your people
focused and sharp under the duress of even a currently unengaged
combat situation was always paramount to keeping them alive.
She'd made herself the focal point when that second sun had risen,
pushing them all so hard to find shelter, possible water supplies,
and a solution amongst the gear they had with them and the brains
that God gave them. Donaldson and Marriott had probably come
to hate her during those long hours. She had used every trick she
could remember, from her basic to her POW trainers, always
pressing them into the next problem and solution set so they had no
time to fall into despair over their situation.
The whole time, she'd been shaking with a fear that this was the
time that she was going to fail. *This* was the one experience
where she couldn't pull an idea out of her head and turn it into a
life-saving reality. She'd worked so hard to keep it together for the
team, and she'd been so comforted by Teal'c's calm and sure
presence, just being there to back up her decisions. He'd been First
Prime, a warrior and a leader of men, and he knew what she was
doing, but he took her pressure to succeed without comment.
It was after their weak, makeshift shelter had been pitched that
they were able to doze in the miniscule shade while slowly melting
in the heat from the blazing air around them. She'd stopped
pushing then, leaving each of them alone with their thoughts,
making their peace with themselves and maybe their own gods
before they succumbed to this inferno of a world. In the hellish
hours before that scroll of paper had popped through the 'Gate,
she'd been reviewing her own life. Remembering the good times
with her family and her friends, regretting the things she'd never
made the time to do. The books she'd never read, the beaches she'd
never visited, the animals she'd never seen for real...And the
people she'd never told she that she loved them...
She suddenly stood straight in the shower, slapping at the water
valve, stopping the flow of water and wishing she could turn off
her thoughts as easily. Grabbing a towel from the bar just outside
the shower stall, she patted her skin down, hating how dry and
tight it still felt, hoping she'd left that big bottle of herb-scented
skin cream in her locker. Otherwise, she might have to use that
medicated, horrible-smelling cream Janet had given her all over
and she was not looking forward to smelling like a meds locker all
day.
She wrapped a second, dry towel around her abused body and
walked back to her locker, dropping the wet towel and kicking
aside the dirty clothes lying in a pile on the floor in front of the
bench. Feeling lucky to find it, she grabbed the bottle of lotion
from the shelf in her locker and began smearing it everywhere she
could reach, flinching only a bit as it hit a few abrasions here and
there. The citrus-basil smell was light and refreshing in her nose
as she dressed, pulling on the utilitarian undergarments that she
always wore at work and slipping her fatigue pants up over her
hips.
She took the hated jar of first-aid cream, scooping a liberal amount
out and finding all of the raw patches on her arms and torso, one
by one soothing them into submission with the medicinal goo. She
stopped before she finished fastening her trousers, leaving them
hanging open as a raw patch just below her elbow chafed when she
moved, demanding another application of cream.
She dabbed at the elbow with a handful of cream and turned back
to pull a clean T-shirt out of the locker, quickly skim it over her
head, and tuck it in her waistband before zipping her trousers. She
bent to gather up her dirty clothes and wet towels and remembered
she had not brought her shower gel and shampoo back to the
locker. She left the pile where it was and quickly retrieved her
toiletries from the shower stall.
As she leaned back out of her locker after depositing them, she
caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye and whirled
towards it, gasping aloud in her surprise.
Half hidden by the shadows near the entry door to the locker room,
he leaned back against the doorframe. It unnerved her that she
didn't know exactly how long he'd been standing there, but she
assumed he'd just arrived in the last few minutes. Heat burned her
cheeks and a blush rose across her neck as she thought about what
he would have seen if he had arrived a few minutes before. As it
was, her wild hair, clean-scrubbed face and bare feet made her feel,
ridiculously, as exposed as if she were standing there in nothing
but her underwear.
"Sir!...What are you doing- I mean, how are you doing?"
He stepped forward, the dark receding to reveal his sober brown
eyes. A raised eyebrow and a slight shrug accompanied his hand,
wavering back and forth in the classic gesture for 'so-so'.
"Can I help you, sir? Umm, you *do* know this is the women's
locker room, right?"
Once again, he stepped forward, his mouth quirking into a small
smile and the humor was now shining there in his eyes, letting her
know that he knew *exactly* where he was.
'I'm losing my ability to speak English, Major, not to reason like a
normal adult' his eyes clearly said.
She wasn't certain what language he was actually thinking in at this
point, his mind being slowly transformed by the alien coding in his
brain, but Sam smiled as she realized that even being unable to
speak the language did not seem to hinder his capacity for sarcasm.
He stepped even closer, an arm's length away from her now, so
close that she thought she could hear him breathe.
"Sir, I...Are you okay?"
He raised an eyebrow, nodded his head and raised his thumbs.
'Peachy.'
As she smiled, he echoed her and she had to look away from him,
lest she become undone by that gentle expression in his eyes.
His hand slowly reached out and caught her own, a finger under
her chin pulling her attention away from her own bare toes and
back up to his face. He raised his eyebrows in an inquiring gesture
that was gentle in its nature and firm in its insistence. She had
seen that look before and she knew there was no getting away from
him until she had answered his unspoken question.
'How're *you* doing?'
She could hear the deep, slightly raspy timbre of his voice in her
head, even though he said nothing. She pulled her face away from
his fingers, looking away from those still dangerous eyes as she
answered.
"I'm fine, sir. I just-"
She was mortified as she felt the patchwork wall of control she had
been so ruthlessly building over her emotions for the past few
hours slip a bit sideways, leaving a small gap through which the
edges of her turmoil slid. Her throat closed with jumbled fear,
pain, relief, hysteria -- too much emotion balled together to sort out
the individual ones -- and she swallowed it down, scrabbling for a
neutral subject, trying to keep her voice even as she spoke again.
"I wanted to thank you for the DHD plans you drew. They were
amazing. There are functions explained on them that are brand
new to us. Even after all of this time we didn't know the DHD
could do all of that. How did you?"
She glanced up long enough to see a laconic shrug of broad, olive
drab draped shoulders and eyes confused her as much as they
comforted sometimes. Her eyes dropped back away before another
crack appeared in the dam of her emotions.
He waved a hand in front of her, just close enough to catch her eye
and make her look up again. He sat down on the bench, straddling
the seat and gesturing for her to sit beside him. At her dubious
expression, he cocked his head to the side, his eyes intent. She sat
down at a comfortable arm's length from him. He kept his eyes on
her face and gestured for her to talk to him, tell him what was
wrong...
Logically, Sam knew that the Colonel's reaction was the natural
one of a nurturing leader. On more than one occasion, she'd seen
him sit with Daniel like this after they'd returned from a
particularly hard mission. They would sit in the mess hall, hands
wrapped around stoneware mugs, and talk in low voices designed
to block out the rest of the world.
Or they'd go to the O club with her and Teal'c and they would all
sit around nursing beers. Sometimes they'd discuss a movie none
of them had actually seen or a juicy rumor from the base.
Sometimes they'd discuss the more general and unclassified details
of their mission -- trying to make sense of another senseless death
or careless action, remembering the fallen and honoring their
memories.
But this wasn't about a team loss. This was about her almost
losing it and taking three good men down with her. But she didn't
want to talk about that. She thought that if she just waited him out
he would get the message and give up on her.
She should have known better.
After a few minutes of silence between them, she looked up at him
and a small headshake told her he wasn't falling for it.
'Not gonna get out of it, Major. You might as well spill it.'
She licked her suddenly dry lips, trying to find some moisture to
help her mouth work well enough for her to lie her way out of this.
"Sir, I was serious when I said I was fine. I am. We all came home
in one piece. That was the most important thing once we had
determined that there was nothing there to help us figure out what
has happened to you."
She looked up at him as she finished. The expression in his eyes
was open and...vulnerable.
Her heart stuttered as she realized that Jack O'Neill was pulling
away the mask of her Colonel. At that moment, in the effort to
make her feel at ease and talk to him, he was letting her see all of
the emotions that constantly burbled behind his eyes.
Her own control slipped again, leaving her awash in her fears and
anger, adrift on a raft cobbled together from her hopes for the
future and her faith in him.
"I'm *so* sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry that I got us trapped
and needed *your* help to get home. I'm sorry for what's
happened to you. We tried to find an answer, some way to help.
Something..."
Her voice broke on the last word, swallowed in a small sound that
was too close to a whimper. She felt the tears break from her eyes,
splashing down onto her cheeks and coursing down to land on her
neck. She refused to look up at him, hiding her face behind her
hands.
She was crying in front of him. Crying over her complete inability
to help him. Her mortification was now complete.
She felt him move closer, pulling her hands away and wrapping
her in his embrace. She stiffened, tempted to pull back from him
only to feel his arms tighten around her, pulling her head down
onto his shoulder.
He said something incomprehensible, the lyrical language slipping
through a throat and lips made to speak a different set of glottal
stops and diphthongs. Despite her lack of understanding, the low
rumble of his voice was reassuring and the overlapping vowel
sounds of the language flowed from him, allowing her to lose
herself in their round, warm sounds.
He offered so freely, not forcing but encouraging her to take the
comfort he could provide. Something about their forced lack of
communication made this easier. They had no choice not to
discuss anything -- they actually *couldn't* speak of what had
gone on out on that planet today.
She gave in to the need to let go, wrapping her arms around his
warmth, resting her cheek against the slightly stubbly skin of his
neck, breathing in the clean soap-over-man scent of him...
As she breathed in so much of him, she breathed out her control.
----------------------------
The tears continued to slip down her cheeks, silently wetting his
neck and shirt collar, purging her of the fear that had threatened to
paralyze her when the team had been trapped on the planet, the
regret that she couldn't perform miracles for him, the feelings of
helplessness over his plight.
She wasn't certain how long he held her there in the women's
locker room. When he finally stopped talking, she was all cried
out, but even then, she stayed where she was, waiting for her
breathing to even out and her control to reappear.
She held onto him, feeling his chin rubbing against her hair, his
hands running in soothing patterns across her back. Her breathing
slowed, synchronizing with his even as their heartbeats seemed to
keep time, pressed together as they were, chest to chest.
She closed her eyes again, relaxing in his arms, aware for the first
time that her thigh was pressed intimately along the outside of his
own and her fingers were twined into the short hair at the base of
his neck. She had clutched him to her, seeking the comfort he
offered.
Comfort, that was all.
He had offered the same when she had undergone hypnosis in
order to determine what really happened to Daniel on that beach on
P3X-886. She refused to let herself be seduced into thinking there
was anything else there.
His own hands were now holding her against him, one locked at
her right hip and the other against the back of her neck, a warm
finger tracing across her C3 vertebrae in a slow, soothing rhythm.
His mouth had slid down next to her ear, resting in the soft spot
behind her earlobe, making it easy to hear the nonsense he was
again crooning aloud as he comforted her. After another moment,
she pulled away, the gentle pressure prompting him to release her
and lean away, too.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to..."
His raised eyebrow and sardonic half-grin were a gentle rebuke.
"Thank you."
His expression softened, his eyes full of comfort and support, his
face wearing a small half-smile. What he couldn't say, what she
wanted to say...All of that and more would remain unsaid.
And, for now, somehow it was enough.
He slid back on the bench away from her and stood. A last, long
look at her and he walked over to the door. He stopped, turned and
raised both eyebrows at her.
'Feeling better now?'
She smiled an almost-normal-for-her smile and gave him a silent
thumbs-up.
He motioned for her to come out and she nodded.
"As soon as I finish getting dressed, I'll meet you and Daniel in his
lab. I want to see this thing that Janet says you built."
The thumbs-up was his this time.
She picked up the pile of dirty laundry, stuffing it into a bag for the
laundry before bending to retrieve her boots and pair of socks from
her locker.
#####################################
June 2004
Sound
She was waiting for him outside of his office. He had figured her
for the locker room, but upon reflection during his walk here, had
worked out that the locker room would be too...indiscreet, for his
by-the-rules Major.
As he approached her, he saw she was sprawled against the wall
like she'd been there for a while. A quick glance at her dampened
collar told him she hadn't taken the time for the hair dryer. So,
she'd hot-footed it here.
He knew, then, that her indolent stance was misleading. To most
people, Sam Carter was casually settled back against the wall,
shoulders pressing the concrete while her hips and legs stretched
out in a perfect acute hypotenuse to the wall and the floor. Her
relaxed arms brushed the gray vertical down to where her hands
were splayed out against the wall, near her butt.
Yep, looking at her from afar, most folks would have thought her
to be almost comatose.
But he knew better.
The look in those eyes and the pucker to that brow spoke of heavy-
duty thinking going in that head. He nodded at her as he stopped,
shielding the cipher lock with his body out of habit as he ran the
numbers to open his office door. He reached in and flipped on the
lights before he turned back to her.
"Carter. Something I can do for you?"
"Sir. Yes, sir. I'd like to speak to you about a matter. In private."
Her stiff tones forewarned him, and he managed to avoid the wince
only through years of training and having a pretty good idea that it
was coming. Even so, he could've sworn he felt his testicles try to
start to creep back up inside his abdomen out of a sense of self-
preservation. They were probably the smartest part of him right
now.
"Then come in, Major. Mi casa es sue casa -- or office at least."
She swept past him, the energy bristling from her making the hair
on his arms stand up and the warm, womanly smell of CleanCarter
making other senses come to attention. He took a moment, giving
himself a mental 'Down, boy' before he girded his metaphorical
loins (see boys, it'll be alright), closed the door, and stepped into
the fray.
He made a show out of reaching over to the filing cabinet and
pulling out a tatty sweat sock. Unfurling it with a flourish, he
reached over to the security camera in the corner and slipped the
open end over the lens. There. Looked kind of rakish, if he did
say so himself. Very American Pie, Cassie would probably say.
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
Her request came even before he managed to plant his ass in his
uncomfortable-as-hell new desk chair. He plopped down and
motioned her to the guest chair in front of the desk. Leaning back,
he cast a speculative eye her way, wondering how straight-laced
she was going to play this.
"What's the topic, Major?"
Her eyes met his for the first time, snapping them both into the
thrall that they held on each other any time full-bore eye contact
between them was achieved. He squirmed as he realized that her
eyes had darkened to a navy blue, their surfaces a bit too slick for
normal tearing, and their expression tempest-tossed.
"Sure, Sam. Go ahead. Say it."
His own voice was soft in his ears, quickly crowded by her gasped
intake of breath at his use of her first name, followed by the
explosive little exhale she gave before she spoke.
"How could you, Jack?"
The miserable whisper barely made its way across the desk to him.
But the look on her face penetrated faster than the speed of sound
and he felt something clutch at his heart.
"We only had seconds. Someone-"
"Why you? Why again? Last time, you came very close to-"
Her voiced cracked and stumbled to a halt. Her eyes closed,
locking him out, and her mouth thinned to a pale, angry slash
across her now milky face.
He realized that the misery in her voice was laced with Anger.
Anger was bad.
Anger tended to displace Logic.
And Logic was probably the only friend he had in the room at the
moment. He had to get that brilliant mind of hers back to working
the problem so she would see why...
"Think about it. We couldn't let this fall into Anubis' hands. He's
already got way too many advantages and I, for one, don't want to
be the one who delivered this knowledge to him."
"But why you? Why couldn't-"
"Who else, Sam? Who? Daniel? Teal'c? Which one of you was I
supposed to order to sacrifice yourself to do this? Which one was
supposed to place yourself in jeopardy trying to fit all of this junk
inside of your skull? Which one?"
The impatience that crept into his voice shamed him. He knew she
heard it. He could tell from the way her eyes widened and took on
an even slicker sheen and then dropped away from his own again.
"It just...*I* just made sense. We *know* that I can handle this
stuff. Thor said that I was special, somehow physically different.
So, it stands to reason that not everyone could take this into their
heads and come out whole on the other side."
He spoke to the top of her head, noticing that her hair was drying
with a jagged part up one side. She'd hate that later on when the
cowlicks started to come out around her ears.
"We know I can handle this for a while. And it isn't going to be for
very long. As soon as we get into the debriefing room with
Hammond and Doc Fra-"
He pulled up short as a now-familiar pain sliced through him and
he watched her head jerk as if he'd slapped her.
He sighed, running his hands over his face and rubbing at his eyes.
They were all too raw for this. They'd been running so hard for so
long to keep up with the quickly-changing situation of Anubis and
his plans. They'd been so focused on doing what had to be done,
fighting the next fire, that they'd never really gotten a chance to
heal. And it showed at times like this.
"In the debrief, I'll give Hammond the whole rundown. Then
Doctor Finndreddie can give me the full medical torture rundown
and look at my chart to try to check the progress. I know from
before that I have a couple of hours before even the first effects are
seen. By then, we'll have called Thor and he can come and
'discharge' me."
God he hoped this worked. It had to work...
Her shoulders straightened as Logic re-introduced itself and shook
her hand. She looked up at him and in place of the ravaged,
emotional eyes he'd looked into moments before, he saw the self-
possessed Major who had, more than once, taken his orders and
executed them with emotionless precision.
"We don't know that this is 'like last time'. What if it's different?
What if there was *more* this time? What if something goes
wrong? What if-"
"It's done, Major. Nothing is going to change that now."
"But sir, what if-"
"What if we're late to that debrief?"
He indicated the time on the little LED clock on his desk. He
grabbed up a pad, handing her a blank one he pulled form his desk
drawer, gathered up his pen and access card, and ushered her
before him, towards the closed door.
His hand closed over her ice-cold one as she touched the door
knob. He slowly drew it towards him, making sure to catch her
eyes as he took her hand in both of his own.
"It's going to be all right. You'll see. You've just got to stick with
the course of action and it will all work out."
She peered at him, delving into his soul with those eyes, making
him regret that there wasn't more between them than a command
structure and a wish...
"I hope so. I really do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She rang his doorbell and stepped back, admiring the way the light
from the late afternoon sun lit his porch, gilding the damp foliage,
turning 'straw into gold'. She knew he was home, she'd tried
calling ahead and his phone was busy. She turned back to the door
as it swung open. He was still on the phone.
"Yeah, it was the door, Mom."
He smiled, seeing her standing there, and motioned her to come in,
shutting the door behind her. Like her, he'd had time to change
into civvies. Those faded, soft-looking jeans and the casual
sweater, sleeves pushed up to reveal his toned, tan forearms. She
found herself smiling a funny little smile, and when he turned back
to her, his own had turned hesitant and slightly puzzled. He held
up a finger, indicating it would only be a few minutes.
"Major Carter, Mom."
He paused for a moment, listening. Sudden color suffused his
neck and face and he whipped around, putting his back to her.
"She's not *my* Major, Mom. She's not a *puppy* for God's
sake!"
His low mumble carried over to where she had gone to drape her
jacket on the couch. She whirled, facing his broad back and
feeling a heat creep up her own neck.
"Mom! Mom! No, Mom! Look, I have to go. I'll call you back
later. Yes, *tonight*! No, I *won't* be busy!"
The blustery sigh he let slip was full of teenage embarrassments
and little boy bravado. She swallowed a smile, realizing that, no
matter how long you lived, you were always 12 years old when
you were on the phone with a parent. She sat down in the corner
of his comfortable couch, tucking her left leg up under her,
crossways to her right.
"Love you, Mom."
He clicked the end button and set the cordless down on the end
table. After a moment, she saw his shoulders straighten and he
turned. The smile on his face was sheepish and endearing.
"Ummm...That was my Mother."
"Yup."
"She has a...vivid imagination."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
He stood for a moment, hands pestering a thread in the middle of
the placket on his chambray shirt. They stopped and his right hand
reached for a beer bottle on the end table. He sighed as he saw it
was empty, setting it down with a thud.
"Get you a drink?"
"No. And...I wish you wouldn't have one either."
His eyebrows climbed his puckered forehead, and he nodded as he
walked around to the end of the couch to plop down into the
comfortable chair at the end of the living room.
"I'm sorry. I just don't think that Dutch courage is the kind either
of us needs right now."
"Okay, nothing but the natural kind. What'd you need?"
She looked at him, slouched in the chair, one leg hung up on the
arm at a jaunty angle.
He was a picture of relaxation and health.
A deceiving one.
She watched his knee bounce, the short jerky motions giving away
his agitation. As her eyes came up to meet his, his eyebrow lifted
and that sardonic grin appeared.
"Honesty."
The grin drained away, replaced by a sober, carefully neutral
expression.
"About?"
"You. Me. Us."
His eyes turned speculative and he dropped the leg, leaning
forward and locking his arms on top of his knees. He rested his
chin in his upturned hands, locking his eyes into a feedback loop
with hers.
"Honesty. About us."
They weren't questions. He knew exactly what they were talking
about.
She leaned forward, crowding her own body in a mirror of his,
bringing herself within his personal space. She spoke in low tones,
her voice above a whisper by bare increments.
"Four years ago, I said we didn't have to talk about it. About what
went on in that room. And before that, so many times...And when
you were...like this...We couldn't talk about us...about what we felt,
what we wanted. That doesn't mean I didn't *want* to talk about
us."
"Then why? Why didn't we?"
His voice was as whisper thin as hers, both of them murmuring
truths that had been left unsaid for so long. Somehow the quiet
intimacy in the room made it easier to say this, easier for her to
open up to him and him to her.
"Because it would have meant the end."
"Not the beginning?"
"Maybe both."
"But we'll never know, will we? What could have happened..."
"There've been so many times when I thought we'd never get the
chance"
"Not so many."
"More than enough."
"Why now? Why after all of this time and all of the gambles and
risks we've let come and go?"
"Because, for the first time, it doesn't scare me."
"What doesn't? Me? Us?"
"You...Us has never scared me. Well, at least not for a very long
time. Us has felt so right, for so long, that I can't imagine how it
would ever scare me."
"Then what? What isn't so scary anymore?"
"The future. The part *after* we talk about it...act on it..."
"The future?"
"The moments, the hours, the days and years after we finally do
something about this...thing between us"
He leaned away, breaking the spell that had wound its way around
them. She was almost certain she saw anger there in the set of his
jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders. She reached to touch him for
the first time, her hand landing on his knee, grasping at the thick,
soft material of his jeans. Her voice was stronger but full of
confusion now.
"Why is that wrong? Why are you angry?"
He let his gaze drop from the ceiling back to her, the weight of his
regard a physical one that settled around her with a familiarity that
was comforting. As long as he would look at her, they could work
through this.
"Not angry. Not at you. Not really."
----------------------------
"What, then?"
"You only want to talk about this...Can only trust this when there
*is* no future for us."
She started to automatically deny it, call him a liar, say it was
untrue. But she stopped, snapping her mouth closed and realizing
he was right. And her eyes dropped from his to his collarbone,
peeking out above his sweater and t-shirt collars.
"Who would have thought, after all of this time, trust would be an
issue between us?"
His chest, below that collarbone, expanded explosively.
"Since I asked for honesty, let me give you that first."
Her eyes glanced at his, skittering away from the astonishment she
saw there. She stood, unable to sit this close to him while...
Staring out the sliding glass door, facing the lush green garden
hidden in the shadows of the evening, she told him her mind and
heart.
"I love you, you know."
Score one for her. Her voice was calm and even when she said it.
Her insides shuddered, though, and when she heard a noise behind
her she refused to turn around and look at him.
"I think I've loved you for a very long time, now. It seems that
way at least. I...The first time we met, I was a little confused. I'd
read all of your reports on the original trip to Abydos. I know it
was my imagination, but after spending so much time with your
notes and ideas, I felt a...strange connection to you...like I
somehow knew you..."
"And then, when I stepped into the conference room here, you
were so...snarky and rude. In short, you were a pig...A military,
tight-assed, pig who was going to try to keep me off the mission
that I had waited so long to get. I was pissed at you. For
dismissing me, for ignoring me."
She paused, folding her arms across her chest, but keeping her
back to him.
"And I was disappointed. For so long, I felt I'd in some way come
to know you. The man who'd written such detail about Skaara and
the children on Abydos, the man who'd refused to shoot when
those little boys stepped in front of Ra, the man who'd written
those words...He was someone I thought I could understand."
"Then we met. And you wanted nothing to do with me. The man I
met in the SGC that first day couldn't be the man I'd come to know
through the reports. I didn't know about your family then, about
the pain that stayed with you like an old friend dogging your steps.
I didn't know that you hadn't learned to forgive yourself for the
failures."
"Sam, I-"
"No, let me finish. Please."
"We went to Abydos and Chulak, and somewhere between Daniel
showing up, Teal'c choosing to join us, and the firefight with the
Jaffa, the Jack O'Neill I thought I knew showed up. The man
whose humor and courage had captivated my attention in those
reports had finally arrived and I found myself beginning to
understand you. I understood that the tight-ass was just another
face you wear -- a suit of armor that protects you from the world."
"Through the years we've been together, I've come to understand
you. I've learned so much about leadership and honor and being
responsible for others. I've discovered the bitter taste of regret for
the things never done and the fear of losing someone more
important than my own life."
"I've learned that cliches are cliches for a reason. And it *is*
possible for a modern, independent, smart, career woman to fall in
love with her CO and want to give up everything -- duty, honor,
integrity -- just to taste his mouth."
She laughed aloud, a harsh low laugh that was as much filled with
pain as it was with mirth. She sucked in her breath as she felt his
warm hand wrap around her upper arm. The gentle tug nudged her
around to face him. He was so close to her, now, his head lowered
near her own.
"I always thought there'd be a future for us. A time when we could
be ourselves and take our feelings out of the room. I've wanted it
for so long...and getting a taste of it that time as Thera only made
me crave it more. But I always thought there would be a later.
Even when you were hi-jacked with the X301, when you were lost
on Edora, when you disappeared with Kan'an...All of those times, I
knew that we would get you back. I could build a machine or I
could change the laws of physics...But we *would* have a future
where we could discuss this and come to terms with what we
shared."
He stared into her eyes for a moment, looking for something in
them...she didn't know what. She watched his eyes narrow, his
face pinch, the lines tighten around his eyes. And then she felt her
own eyes widen as his eyes locked onto her mouth.
"Sam, you wanted honesty. I...My only regr-...The only truth I
have right now is that I love you, too."
It was a low, rough whisper said in a voice so desperate that he
sounded in pain. It knifed through her, making her heart stutter
and her eyes pool with tears.
Slowly, so slowly, he lowered his face to hers. She could feel his
breath brushing across her face, tasting on his breath the remains of
the beer he'd had before she'd arrived. His hands slid up her arms,
palms flattening as they sculpted her shoulder blades through her
shirt and continued on to the small of her back. She didn't resist as
he pulled her closer, his warmth enveloping her, his mouth
touching hers. Her eyes slid shut and she let the sensations he was
creating take over.
His lips were pliant and warm, a butterfly's touch resting on her
own sensitized mouth. He made a sound in his throat, a kind of
congested groan, and his mouth pressed harder against hers,
demanding her response.
Her own arms came up to wrap around him, one hand touching the
back of his neck, pressing him closer while the other leveraged her
hips and torso closer by wrapping around his waist. She felt him
nipping at her mouth, asking entrance, and she let him in, her
breath escaping on a whisper into his own mouth. His tongue
quested forward, the slightly raspy surface tracing the edge of her
mouth, touching the sensitive skin just inside.
She felt him pressing her backwards, towards the furniture. Slow
shuffling steps got lost in the spinning in her head. She could only
clutch him to her, letting him lead their motions and guide their
destination. She felt the low back of the leather sofa press into her
thighs and still he pressed her back. His hands shifted from her
lower back to her hips, giving a small heft as he helped her to
perch on the edge with one leg intimately tucked between her own.
The grunt he gave as he lifted vibrated though her mouth, eliciting
a groan that surprised her. His hands released her hips, wandering
upwards to clutch her waist. She let her own hands skim across his
back until one was cupping his jaw and the other rested on his
upper arm.
She squirmed, getting closer as he released her mouth for a
moment. She could feel his chest pressing in time against her own,
both sets of lungs working like the bellows of a smithy's fire. Her
eyes fell open, zeroing in on his mouth, swollen and red from their
kisses. His forehead came to rest against her own and his eyes
were shut as his shaking hands stroked her neck and back, inciting
where always before they had soothed.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat as she tilted her
head, locking her mouth to his again. This time she led the dance,
her tongue questing into the depths of his, sliding past the hard
smooth edge of his teeth, touching the slick, smooth surfaces,
tasting the beer and darker flavors of his mouth.
Her mind spun with the sensory overload. The taste of him, the
familiar smell of him, the feel of his lips against her, the whiff of
leather emanating from the couch, the ache of his jeans-clad thigh
pressing into the V between her own...It all combined in a
drugging miasma that robbed her of her good sense and made her
feel like she was flying.
She was leaning back, still precariously balanced with his insistent
body pushing her back over the couch, towards the air above the
cushions. She shifted her grip on him, sliding her fingers to his
waistband and pulling him closer as she went over the back of the
couch and into the soft cushions below. The loud 'brrrppp' of jeans
sliding across leather accompanied their descent and a slight 'ooof'
escaped between their pressed lips.
She shifted, letting him settle between her outstretched legs. He
levered his upper body away from hers, pressing himself tighter
against her lower body in the process. Their simultaneous groans
echoed in the superheated air between them and he managed a
panting question.
"What happened to talking?"
"Don't you know it's highly overrated as a form of
communication?"
"Huh?"
"This says so much more."
She had grabbed his head and pulled his mouth, unresistingly, back
to her own. His hands had just crept back up to her buttons again
when-
DING-DONG! DING-DONG!!
The doorbell penetrated the haze that he had woven around her
mind, snapping her out of the fog she had fallen into and making
her pull her lips from his. He fell face forwards into the couch, his
entire length pressing her deep into the cushions. A deep, ragged
groan cut through the static still clogging her ears, and she heard
him softly curse.
DING-DONG! DING-DONG!!
"Jack?! Jack, are you here?!"
Daniel's voice echoed in through the closed door. The muffled
quality meant he was probably pressing his face into the sidelight,
looking to catch a glimpse of Jack moving around inside.
"I'll kill him! I swear to *God*, I'll kill him!"
The growl was just loud enough for her to hear and was said
between panting breaths. He lifted himself up, just enough to look
at her again, his brown eyes still glazed but his expression pure
murder. She spoke between heaving breaths, trying to forestall his
impulse.
"Can't do that. He had no idea I was coming here. Probably came
over for the same thing."
That changed his expression from murderous to incredulous.
"Daniel came over to tell me he loves me and almost make love
with me on the couch? I know I'm dying but..."
The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied by loud knocking
and Daniel once again hollering for Jack.
She felt the color drain from her face. When he said it that way it
made what had happened seem somehow less. He must have felt
her body stiffen below him, because his gaze grew sharp and he
captured her chin between finger and thumb.
"What?"
"I didn't come here because...Well, I did come here for...But I
didn't plan to..."
"It's okay. I know, I know."
"No, you don't. I wasn't lying before when I said I wasn't scared
anymore. I'm not. This wasn't some kind of...just because..."
"Because I'm dying?"
"No, you're not. We're going to find a way out of this. We're
going to find Thor and he's going to fix this whole damned thing."
Her own voice sounded strong in her ears, steady and sure,
tamping down the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach when he
said the words.
"Believe me, Sam. Right now, I'm not planning on dying. I'm
gonna make it through this, if only to continue where we just left
off."
A sudden smiled bloomed on her face, prompting a mirroring one
on his own. She was used to his mercurial moods, but things had
been so strained between them for so long...
"So you're saying-"
"That I have very simple motivations. A good steak, a dark beer,
you -- not necessarily in that order. These are the things that
occupy my mind almost every moment I live these days. And I'm
not going without the chance to fully enjoy a lifetime of
*everything* on that list."
He kissed her one last time, a tender, slow massage of her lips that
ended with her pulling his bottom lip between her own for a final
hard nip. He cleared his throat after a moment of prolonged eye
contact.
"Oh, yeah. And once we're finished with the enjoying, we're
gonna talk."
She couldn't help it. She giggled. She felt it burble up through her
throat and burst into the room. With that sound, the tension was
broken and the promise was made.
His head dropped back into the crook of her neck, and he shifted,
causing them both to gasp at the feelings that swept through their
skin.
DING-DONGDING-DONGDING-DONGDING-DONGDING
DONGDING-DONGDING-DONGDING-DONGDING-DONG
Daniel must have been leaning on the doorbell.
"I gotta get up. If I don't he's gonna be back around here, looking
through the slider."
He heard Teal'c's voice join Daniels and this time the pounding
rattled the glass in the sidelights.
"Oh, yeah. I gotta go answer the door and kill both of them."
He pressed himself up and tumbled off her to the floor beside the
couch. She rolled over and looked down at him, sprawled there,
his mouth red and swollen, his hair by Vegematic, his shirt pulled
out of his jeans and halfway undone. He shifted and-
"You can't answer the door like that! I'll get it."
She sat up, quickly running her hands through her own mussed hair
tucking shirttails back into jeans and rebuttoning buttons that had
mysteriously come undone. He was watching her hurried motions
from the floor, a puzzled frown on his lips. He spoke as he came
to his knees and then stood
"Why the hell not? I'm just as decent as-"
He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening as he realized the point
she'd been making.
"Ah, maybe you're right. I...uh...need a minute..."
"Or two."
She finished repairing her clothes and hair, stood in front of him
and smiled a dazzling smile.
"You go ahead. I'll answer the door and tell them you'll be out in a
minute. Then we can all have a nice team evening together. We'll
order in. You have more beer or do I need to go out?"
"We could use more. More is good."
He turned away and was almost out of the room when she called to
him again. She walked over to him, a solemn look in here eyes,
and stopped a few inches in front of him. Reaching out, she ran a
hand up his arm and neck, coming to rest cupping his cheek. Her
thumb traced the edge of his lips, loving being able to touch him.
"While I'm gone for more beer, you can call your Mom back and
tell her *I* get to keep *you*."
###