It had been a week since SG-1 returned from that ice cube of a planet. The team still had another week of downtime to spend trying to re-familiarize themselves with, well, themselves. Sam had finally gotten to the point where she was thinking of herself as "Samantha" again, rather than "Thera."
It had been so strange when they first came back. Everything that had happened on the planet since they'd been stamped was crystal clear to Sam, but the false history beyond that was only reluctantly fading as her real life slowly revealed itself to her mind. Memories would come in spurts, as some phrase, or sight, or just a sound or smell triggered them. The biggest shock had been when she'd first emerged from the Stargate. So much had come back to her upon seeing the `gate room, but there had still been disturbing blank spots that needed to be filled in. At least now, everything seemed to be back in place.
Sam's largest challenge had been trying to act "normal" around Jack. The foremost thought in her mind whenever she'd seen him was of their last night together as "Jonah" and "Thera." When she tried to conjure up memories of a comfortable working relationship, she only got as far as the Zatarc detector, and their forced confessions. He was just as uncomfortable as she, as far as Sam could tell. They had both behaved as if they were standing ready for inspection whenever they were within close proximity of each other. Their eyes never met as they each initially debriefed Hammond. As Daniel and Teal'c took their turns, however, she'd caught Jack's eye as he looked her way, and was nearly overwhelmed at the sadness she read there. He'd glanced back down at his hands as soon as he'd realized she'd seen him, and she'd pretended to be listening with rapt attention to the general and her other teammates.
A few times since then, the team had gotten together to try and help each other piece things together. Once, they'd all gone over to Jack's house for pizza and movies. Although they'd talked about a lot of things, past missions, friends on and off base (and on and off world), and anything else they could come up with, there was still only one thing on Sam's mind—and it was the one thing she wasn't about to discuss with the group. Jack had looked as though he wanted to keep her back after the other two left for the evening, but before he said anything he seemed to retreat within himself, and wished her a good night. Sam had just nodded sadly and walked out, steeping in her own whirlwind of thoughts as she drove home to try and find some comfort in dreams.
As Sam puttered around her house on day eight, she couldn't help but glance at the phone every time she passed it. Twice that morning she had almost picked it up to call her CO, but chickened out before she even touched it. It was now ten o'clock. She'd watered all of her plants, done all of the dishes and laundry she could find, swept the snow from her front walk (it wasn't nearly deep enough to shovel), and dusted every room of the house. Now, she was sitting at the table, resting her chin in her hand, and just staring at the phone debating with herself. "None of this has to leave this room," she heard herself say in her mind. Yeah, right. As if she hadn't been praying with every fiber of her being that he'd say, "forget that!" or words to that effect. It had been a sweet kind of torture before then, working with him day in and day out, knowing a secret that they hadn't even openly shared with each other. After leaving it in the room, she'd told herself that it wasn't as big a deal as she'd been making it, and that he only thought of her as a very, very close friend. But no longer. She couldn't convince herself that he didn't feel a whole lot more for her than "friends," whether they'd admit it professionally or not—not after that night. . . .
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her screen door opening and closing, followed by a ring of her front doorbell. Trying to remember ordering any packages, she made her way to the front hall. She couldn't see anyone, so she opened the door, and picked up the manila envelope that lay at her feet. Instead of an address, it simply said "Carter," in familiar handwriting. She walked into the living room with it, sitting down on her couch before finding the courage to open it.
Inside was a CD jewel case, with a Post-It note on the front. It read, "just throw this in the trash right now, if you want it all tucked back in that room." Did she? It would make working together easier. . . for a while. They were pretty good at pretending; but was that how she wanted to live her life? Was she just obsessing, or did they really have an opportunity to make something of all this? Well, she decided, he'd taken a chance, she might as well take one, too. She opened the case, took out the CD-R, and put it in her stereo. There was another note, a folded sheet of notebook paper, inside the front cover that simply said, "after the CD." She set up the disk to play, and sat back down on the couch, holding the second note in anticipation.
Soon enough, the sweetly sad tones of the song began:
"Just when I believed I couldn't ever want for more. This ever changing world pushes me through another door. I saw you smile And my mind could not erase the beauty of your face Just for a while, Won't you let me shelter you?
"Hold on to the night Hold on to the memory I wish that I could give you something more, That I could be yours
"How do we explain something that took us by surprise Promises in vain Love that is real, but in disguise What happens now Do we break another rule, let our lovers play the fool? I don't know how to stop feeling this way
"Hold on to the night Hold on the memory If only I could give you more...
"Well, I think that I've been true to everybody else but me And the way I feel about you makes my heart long to be free Every time I look into your eyes I'm helplessly aware That the someone I've been searching for is right there
"Hold on to the night Hold on to the memory I wish that I could give you more.... Hold on to the night"
The stereo stopped playing once the track was done. Sam sat hunched on her couch, looking down at the unopened note in her hands through tear-filled eyes. She couldn't yet be sure how much of the song he meant for the two of them, but every word seemed to strike a chord within her. She would have stamped her feet in frustration, if she were given to tantrums. As it was, she just hit "play" again, trying to approach the situation as analytically as she knew how. If she could finally pin down her own thoughts and wishes and expectations, then she could straightforwardly compare them to whatever Jack had written in his second note.
Sam hit "pause" just before the words began playing, and reached for a notepad and pen lying next to her phone. She then let the CD play, pausing again after every few lines to make a note. After another run-through, she looked at what she'd written:
1. Admitted physical attraction from first introduction. Grown to admiration and infatuation at the least. Really, really tempting to give in.
2. No way I'll ever forget that night. Pure, simple, honest, affection from the core of my being without any outside constraints to make us pretend to be something other than ourselves.
3. A part of me wishes for so much more of it. It would never be as simple as in that world, but being our true selves, it could be so much better—or complicated and harshly realistic.
4. I certainly wasn't expecting or trying for this. It just snuck up on me, as I gradually came to live for the chances I got to be near him, and to miss him every moment he wasn't with me. His phrases come to my mind at the most inopportune times. I think of him any time another woman asks me how "hot" I think one of the guys is. I sneak pieces of pie or cake at chow just to remind myself of him—but never when he can see! I dream of moments I've spent with him, of possibly being with him, of losing him.
5. "No matter what happens when our memories come back, I promise you we will be together. We have to be." Yeah. The best intentions. . . .
6. Okay, so I do love him. But I've managed, for the most part, to disguise it as admiration, friendship, camaraderie. I'm pretty sure I've fooled most people (except maybe Teal'c and Janet). I might even have had him convinced, if it hadn't been for that night.
7. What do we do? Pretend like some irresistible forces drawing us together somehow put us above the rules and regulations of our service? No, no sneaking. There are only three options that I can see: A., We forget it, act like there's nothing between us, and move on. B., We remember what we had, but put it behind us for the sake of our professional relationship. . . maybe keeping it locked away until "someday" comes and we're not as busy fighting this war. C., We come right out and face it, throwing ourselves on the general's mercy to help us figure out what to do.
8. Feelings are just feelings. But facts are facts. I might be able to forget how I feel, but the more time I spend with him, the more my whole personality seems to mold itself to him, to drink in every aspect of him. It just seems so natural now, I'm not sure I could stop it even if I tried.
9. Ouch. "True to everybody else but me." I certainly have tried to be the dutiful officer, the good daughter, the dependable, astrophysics miracle worker. But I've followed a lot of my own dreams, too. I didn't have to serve a tour as a pilot after grad school; they were actually begging me to go straight into research. I could have stayed behind a desk instead of fighting for a spot in the field. Unfortunately, the goals I've achieved come with a measure of obligation that's keeping one man from me. I do wish it wasn't so complicated somehow, that I could be free to have it all.
10. Is he the one? It sure seems like it to me, sometimes. Through my past boyfriends, wannabe-boyfriends, fiancé, even, I've always felt that I was being tolerant of someone else's affections because they kept me entertained and I could help them with something they were lacking. But he brings out so much in me that I never new existed. We seem to compliment each other's strengths and challenge each other's weaknesses. I'm still just guessing at how he really feels, but if he were to confess the same to me, then yes, I'd have to say he's "the someone I've been searching for."
Sam read and re-read her notes. "Wow," she said aloud to herself. She had it bad. She was 100% in love with her commanding officer. She picked up his note, still unread, and held it tightly in her left hand. Setting down the pad and pen, she took a deep breath. This could be it. What he said on this page could break her heart, or make her dreams come true. "A, B, or C," she said, glancing at item #7 as she unfolded the paper.
"Dear Sam,
"You know I've never been good with words. I think that's why we work so well together, because you can almost read my mind and I don't need to say anything. But I need to say this.
"If you're reading this, then I hope there's a chance that you want us to be more than "friends," if that's all we are now. If I'm honest, I've wanted you since I first met you. I started worrying that I loved you after that Abu guy kidnapped you to trade to Turban." Sam chuckled at his re-naming of Turghan, but was surprised at how early on he was admitting he'd had feelings for her. "I was so relieved when we found you, then terrified again when you fought him, but more proud than I could imagine when you beat him. It took me a long time, living in denial, but I finally knew for sure that I loved you when you were taken over by Jolinar. I think Janet's known since then, too, when I couldn't leave your side after the ashrak got to you." He'd said it. He loves her. Wow.
"You've done something to me that no one else ever has. I don't know if I can put my finger on it. Your presence just makes me, well, happy. You care so much for people, and for some reason, for me. You throw yourself so whole-heartedly into whatever you do. You have a smile that shines through your eyes and lights up my soul. Before I met you, I lived life because I didn't have anything more to die for. Daniel and Skaara had helped me get over that. But you, for you I'd cling to life with every ounce of my strength, even if I had every reason to die, just so that I could live to see you again. And I'd give my life without a moment's hesitation, if it meant that you could live.
"If I'd succeeded in hiding behind just `caring' for you," Sam turned the page over, "then I hope you know how I really feel now. `Jonah' was me, in every way I wish I could be for you now. Except in `Thera' he only had a glimpse into the wonderful person that you are. He couldn't know the depth of your compassion, dedication, strength, or courage, anywhere near as much as I do. I can't make your choices for you, but if there's a chance you want a life with me, then I'll do everything in my power to make it happen. I don't know what or how long it will take, but please don't doubt me. Hold on to what we had together, and believe me that we can be so much more—if you want it.
"`Jonah' promised you that we'd be together no matter what, and I'm holding to that. It's up to you to tell me how. I couldn't ever ask you to just ignore the rules, or throw away your career. If you want me to forget us, and just work together like nothing happened, I'll do it for you. I could never stop loving you, but I'll respect your decision as much as I respect you.
"Like I said, I'm not good with words, and I don't think I've come close to saying everything I meant to say. If you've changed your mind after reading this, then you can still trash it and I'll never mention it again. But if you think we've got anything near a chance, just call my cell. I don't know what to do, but I know you'll figure something out like you always do." Sam looked back at her notepad, and smiled. She had already been trying to do just that. He knew her so well.
"Love,
"Jack"
Sam read the note twice more. Here it was, everything she'd dreamed he'd say to her. She laughed to compare the two compositions: her analytical breakdown of the song, versus his heartfelt motivation for choosing it. So different, and yet, so "complimentary," as she'd said in her notes. She wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes again. She knew she had to call him now, and she didn't want to look like a mess if they were going to meet and somehow talk through all this.
Sam got up and walked over to the phone. Resolutely, she picked up the cordless and dialed Jack's cell phone. She paced nervously as it rang. She was debating whether or not she could leave a message if his voicemail picked up, when he suddenly answered.
"—Eill," he cleared his throat, "O'Neill," he said.
"I'm sorry, sir, did I wake you?" asked Sam. It was just after noon now, and she'd thought he'd dropped the package at her house himself.
"Carter! No, I mean, I must have dozed off. . . . What's up?"
Sam felt her courage slipping away, so she charged ahead before it left her altogether. "Um, did you send me a package today, sir?" she probed.
"Yeah," said Jack. After a while, he asked, "did you read it?"
"I did," she replied. Finally, she continued, "and I'd like to talk about it, if we can." She closed her eyes, dreading whatever response he'd give her. He may have reconsidered. . . or he might want to come right over.
Jack didn't answer right away. At last, he asked, "is it alright if I come in?"
Come in? Don't you mean come over, thought Sam. "You mean come over?" she asked aloud.
"No, actually, I fell asleep in my truck outside your house, hoping you'd call."
Oh. "Oh." He's here already! Sam looked herself over, wondering if she should change. A sweatshirt, blue jeans, some tennis shoes. Then, she almost laughed out loud, remembering her glamorous outfit as "Thera." "Sure, sir, that's fine."
"Okay," he said. She could hear him unbuckling his seatbelt. "I guess I'll see you in a few, then."
"Right. Bye," Sam said, hanging up the phone. She took a quick look out of her front window to see if she could spot the truck she must have missed earlier when she'd come to the door. There it was. He'd parked two houses down the street. She could see the driver's door opening now. Turning back to the living room, she made a quick visual sweep to make sure everything was in order. She turned off the stereo, slipped the CD's jewel case back in the envelope, and tossed it on the kitchen counter, then folded his note back up and stuck it in her notepad, flipping it closed over her remarks. She left it on the table, in case she worked up the nerve to show him what she'd written.
Just as she was finishing, she heard a knock on her door. She took a calming breath, then opened it. He was standing in the now flurrying snow, without a hat, wearing a jacket over a button-down shirt and black jeans. Sam thought she'd felt "in love" before, but seeing him here, now that she'd read his heartfelt confessions, took her breath away. She managed to stand aside to let him in the house, closing the door after him.
He seemed calm, as he stood in her living room brushing some snowflakes off of his leather jacket. "Hi," he said at last.
"Hi," Sam replied, and then she saw it. He was trying to act composed, but his eyes gave him away. He was desperately scanning her face, trying to determine which way this conversation was going to go. Sam realized, as far as he knew, her curiosity could have just gotten the better of her, and she'd asked him here to try and let him down easy. Realizing she'd have to get into it sooner or later, she picked up her notepad, and gestured to the couch. "Would you like a seat? Can I get you anything? Beer?"
"Water'd be good, thanks," Jack said. "Can I help you?"
"No, thanks, I'll be right back." Sam turned quickly to the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses of water. Jack eventually moved over to the couch, and shrugged out of his jacket. He tossed it over the arm as he waited.
After a few moments, Sam came back in with the glasses. "Here you go, sir," she said, handing Jack his water. She saw his brow furrow, and mentally kicked herself for the appellation. She knew she was just nervous, but he probably felt like she was distancing herself. "Please, sit down," she said, sitting on the couch next to where he stood, trying to make him see that she wasn't going anywhere.
Jack finally sat, looking at the coffee table, rather than at her. He set his glass down after taking a small sip. He drummed his fingers on his knees. Sam placed the notepad on the table, and tried to figure out where to begin. She took a drink of her water, and then placed it on the table as well. This wasn't going nearly as well as she'd hoped. She loved him so much, but what should she say? "Thank you," came out at last. At least it got his attention. "The song, it's beautiful."
"Yeah?" He looked her in the eyes, waiting for her to give him just a little more of a clue.
"So was your letter," she said, smiling. She was relieved to see him smile a bit, too. He was so handsome when he smiled! Okay, she thought he was always handsome, but man!
Worry came back into his eyes, as he asked, "what did you think, about. . .," he broke off, searching for the right words.
"Us?" Sam supplied.
"Yeah, us," he said, his hands now stilled on his knees.
Sam reached for her notepad, hesitating slightly before she flipped it open and handed it to him. "I wrote this after I heard the song, before I read your letter. It's not much, but. . ." she let her sentence trail off, as he reached out and took the pad from her.
Sam sat back into the couch as she watched him read. She saw him reread a couple of the lines as he went, and his smile grew as he did. He seemed even more encouraged by the glances he stole of her sitting there next to him, smiling more and more broadly. At last, he finished, his mouth slightly open in silent astonishment. "Wow," he said, finally.
Sam beamed at his reaction, then plowed ahead. "Your letter was everything I'd hoped for. I was so scared that it was just me. . . ." She stopped as Jack's hand came up to her face. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch, just enjoying being close to him again.
"Sam," he said, turning more fully towards her, having set down the notepad. She looked at him, and was amazed at what she saw. It was the same face, the same eyes that had looked at her when she'd been with "Jonah," but the love she saw went so much deeper and was so much stronger than what they'd shared on the planet.
"Jack," she said quietly, feeling herself reach for his free hand. They would have to talk. But right now, she let herself be drawn to him, if she wasn't the one leaning into him. Thoughts of rules went out the window, as she felt his lips on hers. This was too right, being with him, feeling his hands on her neck, her head, her arms, melting into him. . . they'd make it right. She slid her hands around his waist as he leaned over her, pulling him more tightly to herself as she explored the delicious territory of his mouth. It felt like the strongest case of déjà vu she'd ever experienced. It was physically familiar, but emotionally brand new. She suddenly realized her hands were on the bare skin of his back beneath his shirt, as he trailed kisses along her neck from her ear to her clavicle. She really, really didn't want this to stop, but at the same time she was hoping he might find some of the willpower she was apparently devoid of.
Sam began kissing his neck behind his ear, as he found a particularly sensitive spot near her shoulder. With a moan that turned almost into a growl, Jack pushed himself up on his arms. As they both caught their breath, Sam saw the regret in his eyes that he had to pull away. "Thank you," she said. Jack raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for her to clarify. "I didn't think I could have stopped," she explained, with a shy smile.
"Oh, Sam," he said, quickly kissing her neck again, before rolling into the back of the couch. At least he was lying next to her, instead of on top of her. She might be able to think clearly enough to talk to him now. Jack looked in her eyes, then kissed her nose and leaned his forehead against hers. "So, what're we gonna do?" he asked.
"I don't want to try and forget this," she said, mentally going over the options she'd written down.
"Agreed," said Jack, smiling.
"And I," she hesitated, hoping she wasn't going to sound selfish and impatient, "I don't want to wait, either."
"I noticed," Jack said, with an evil grin. Sam gave him a fake jab in the ribs. "Hey!" he laughed.
"So," Sam said.
"So, we talk it over with Hammond," Jack finished for her.
"Yeah," she replied.
They were both silent for a while, and lay there holding each other. Sam was excited and terrified. She closed her eyes as all sorts of scenarios began playing out in her mind. Jack would try to retire again. She'd try to resign and work as a civilian. Hammond wouldn't let them do anything, but would send them away with a stern talking to. She'd get transferred to another SG team. She'd get sent back to the Pentagon. They'd get court-martialed.
"Stop thinking so much," she heard him say.
She knew she was being silly and just overreacting, but she couldn't help but feel nervous. On the other hand, here she was, lying on her couch with Jack O'Neill in her arms. She opened her eyes and looked into his, and suddenly knew she had nothing to worry about.
"That's better," he said, as he saw her smile. "I love you, you know."
"I love you, too," Sam said, happily snuggling into his neck.
"Thank God," he said, hugging her tightly.
TE
Story Notes: Email: sj_author@yahoo.com
Spoilers for: Divide and Conquer, Beneath the Surface
Archive: SJD, yes, please
Thanks so much to Jess and Lara for the betas, and to everyone else who replied. The song's by Richard Marx.
Spoilers for: Divide and Conquer, Beneath the Surface
Archive: SJD, yes, please
Thanks so much to Jess and Lara for the betas, and to everyone else who replied. The song's by Richard Marx.
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 ]