Thirty-Eight Weeks
Thirty-Eight Weeks
by Sally Reeve
TITLE: Thirty-eight Weeks
AUTHOR: Sally Reeve
EMAIL: salxtom@netscapeonline.co.uk
CATEGORY: Sam and Jack
SPOILERS: 100 Days
SEASON / SEQUEL: Season 3
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: m/f
SUMMARY: Old and new truths come to light when SG-1 return to Edora.
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Jack stopped dead in the doorway to the gym. It was early, but Carter was already there, running on the treadmill, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat beneath her crop top and shorts. She was breathing steadily, her lips moving slightly to the music on her headphones.
He knew he shouldn't be watching her like this - it was no doubt in breach of some regulation or another - but, damn, she looked good! Under her fatigues it wasn't so easy to see how she curved, but in this outfit...
"Morning Colonel," she said, not missing a stride. He blinked, and then, feeling like an idiot, met her gaze in the mirror that covered the wall of the gym. Her eyes were laughing, but her face merely twitched towards a smile.
He flinched under her scrutiny. "You're up early, Carter," he grumbled, walking into the room. "I'm used to having the place to myself."
"Afraid of a little competition, sir?"
"From you?" he asked. "Come on!"
Stepping up on the treadmill next to hers, Jack glanced down at her odometer. "Huh," he grunted as he started to run, impressed but refusing to show it. "Ten miles?"
"Every morning."
Every morning?! "I'm more of a weights man, myself," he explained, flexing an arm to demonstrate.
"Figures."
"Meaning?"
She shrugged. "Men always do the weight thing," she glanced at him sideways. "They think it impresses women."
"You mean it doesn't?"
She smiled. "Running is better, builds stamina and cardiovascular strength."
"Weights build muscle," he countered. "Speeds up your metabolism. Stops you getting flabby."
Carter kept a straight face, but there was a wicked twinkle in her blue eyes as she said: "Probably a good idea then, sir. At your age."
His eyes narrowed. "All right, Carter, you wanna prove something? Two miles. Right now."
She grinned at the challenge. "Want to make it interesting, sir?"
"Why not?"
"Loser buys breakfast."
"Dinner," he countered. Huh, he thought, dinner? Where did that come from?
Carter looked a little startled, but smiled nonetheless. "You're on."
Jack watched her as they ran. She was serious, her face sharp with concentration as she glanced down to see how far he'd gotten, and adjusted her speed to counter. He did the same, speeding up, overtaking her. A smile flickered over her lips, but she was breathing too hard to speak as she lengthened her stride to match his. They ran on, their feet pounding in time, pacing themselves. Half a mile to go. Jack glanced at her in the mirror, her face was flushed, and her hair, damp with sweat, was curling about her ears. God, she looks sexy! The thought came unbidden to his mind, just as Carter looked up and their eyes met in the mirror: "Try and keep up sir," she said with a sudden grin, and started sprinting.
Damn! She was fast, but he was stronger, his legs were longer and slowly he closed the gap between them. She frowned as he overtook her, but his heart was hammering in his chest as he watched the numbers flick slowly towards his goal. He was almost there, but Sam was close behind him now and closing fast. He saw her struggle for a final burst, but it was too late. "Yes!" he gasped, throwing his hands in the air. "Jack O'Neill is the winner!"
Carter let herself slide off the back of the treadmill, bending over, hands on hips, to catch her breath. "I almost had you," she told him.
"Ya think?" he asked, throwing her a towel.
She stood up, and wiped her face, rubbing the towel over her hair and the back of her neck. Jack found himself staring again, and hastily looked away.
"Well," he said, slowing to a halt. "I guess that means you owe me dinner, Carter."
She glanced up at him, an uncertain smile touching her lips. "I guess so."
"Next time we have some down time," he suggested, suddenly feeling awkward. Which was ridiculous. It wasn't like it was a date or anything. It was a bet, between colleagues. Friends, even.
Carter was nodding. "Okay. Whenever."
"Right, good. Well I think I'll go and..." he flexed his arms, "do the weight thing."
"And I'd love to watch and be impressed, sir," she said, with an arch smile, "but I'm going to do the shower thing."
Jack grinned. He couldn't help himself. "And I'd love to watch and be impressed, Major, but -" He didn't finish his sentence, because Carter had already shot him a steely glare, and stalked off towards the showers. But he couldn't help noticing the smile that lit her eyes as she shook her head, pretending to be offended, and wondered what exactly it meant.
As Sam stepped into the mess-hall in search of breakfast, she was surprised to find it full. Full of people she didn't know, but recognised instantly as top brass. With a shrug, she fetched herself a cup of coffee and some toast - cold, as usual - and sat down to eat. She'd barely taken a sip of her coffee, when Daniel slid into the chair opposite her.
"Guess what I just heard?" he asked.
"What?" she said, around a mouthful of toast.
"They're ready to sign a treaty with the Edorans."
"Huh," Carter nodded. "Is that what this lot are here for?"
"Guess so." His mouth was pursed into a straight line, and he leaned conspiratorially across the table. "And guess which unit gets to hold their hands through the Stargate?"
Carter felt her heart miss a beat. "We're going back to Edora?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound as cold as she suddenly felt.
Daniel nodded. "It's going to be kind of weird for Jack."
"Yeah," she agreed. He's not the only one!
"He hasn't been back to see her, has he?"
"No," Carter replied, a little too quickly.
"We should probably tell him," Daniel suggested, "you know, just in case he's freaked by the idea."
"Well, now's your chance," she replied, watching as the Colonel pushed open the door. He stopped, casting a suspicious eye over the visitors, before grabbing a tray, piling a few things onto it and making his way over to their table.
"Uh-uh," Daniel shook his head. "Not me."
"Who are the goons?" O'Neill asked, as he sat down next to Carter.
"We're signing a treaty," Daniel explained, his eyes fixed on Sam. YOU TELL HIM, they said. She shook her head, dropping her gaze to her breakfast. There was no way she was doing that!
"Toast?" O'Neill said, nodding at her plate. "That's all you're having?"
She glanced up at him. "Sir?"
"Not surprised you're so damn skinny," he muttered tucking into a plate of eggs and bacon.
She smiled, despite the pall that Daniel's news had cast over her heart. He always managed to do that to her somehow. It was a gift. Or, more accurately, a curse. Her curse.
"So," the Colonel said, his fork paused half-way to his mouth, "who's this treaty with?"
"Um," Daniel was suddenly on his feet. "I've just remembered I've got something I need to, um, do. Before we go off-world. So I'll..."
Carter stared at him, shaking her head slightly, imploring him not to leave. O'Neill just frowned. "We're going off-world?" he asked. "Today?"
"Yeah," Daniel nodded. "Carter can fill you in."
She glared at him, and if looks could kill Daniel would have keeled over right then and there. But he just smiled at her: "See you guys later."
"Carter?" O'Neill asked. She could tell he was already irritated at being out of the loop.
Sam smiled uneasily. "Daniel just told me, sir - we're accompanying the delegation to sign the treaty. Tactical support, I guess."
"Nice of them to let me know," he growled. "What the hell happened to the concept of chain of command?"
She said nothing, taking a bite of her toast and trying to force it down her dry throat. She was waiting for the next question. She didn't have to wait long.
"So where's this treaty being signed? Somewhere nice I hope. With beaches."
"It's," she began, feeling like a fool for being so nervous. Why should she care? She hadn't been stuck there for three months, she hadn't gotten herself involved with...
"Carter?" he prompted. "Any time now would be great."
"Yes, sir," she said, looking up at him. "It's - well, the treaty's with the Edorans, sir."
His eyes slid immediately away from hers. "Oh," he breathed, turning back to his breakfast, poking absently at his food but making no further attempt to eat. After a moment, as if remembering she was still there, he said: "When do we leave?"
"I don't know sir," she said quietly. "I guess the General will brief us this morning."
"Right," Jack nodded, still staring at his plate. And then he stood up abruptly. "I've just -," he trailed to a halt. "See you in the briefing, Carter."
She nodded. "Yes sir."
As she watched him leave, the envy she harboured for the woman he had met on Edora was eclipsed by a genuine sadness. For reasons she could imagine, and for others she could only guess at, this return was going to be hard for him. And because she was his friend, because she cared about him, she felt his distress as if it were her own. Putting aside her petty jealousy, she decided that she would do all she could to help him through it, even if she could do no more than be a friend.
Closing the door to his quarters behind him, Jack leaned against it and squeezed his eyes shut. Edora. Laira.
He'd promised to go back. He'd wanted to go back. But - well, it was hard. The time they'd spent together had been special, almost magical. It was a part of his life that seemed out of time, outside the reality he knew. It was almost like a dream. And he found it hard to reconcile it with his real life. He was a soldier, he had a job he loved, friends he cared deeply for, and yet, there was this three months lurking in his past, where he'd been someone completely different. He'd lived and loved in a world utterly alien from all he knew, and yet he hadn't been miserable. In the end he'd been happy. She'd made him happy.
He sighed, and flung himself onto the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling. He owed her so much. She'd kept him sane during those first awful weeks when the grief was so great it had almost paralysed him. And then she'd shown him a future, a warm, quiet future with her, and he'd embraced it. Embraced it until the day his radio had sprung to life and his world had turned, once more, on its head. He didn't think he'd ever forget that moment, standing there listening to Carter's excited babble, while his mind struggled vainly to adapt to the idea that the impossible had happened, and that he was going home. He'd felt like he was dreaming. Carter, Teal'c and Daniel, standing there before him, had seemed like creations of his imagination, just as the memory of Laira felt like a dream right now.
And then he'd left. He'd left her, after all she'd done for him, and she'd let him go without bitterness, but with understanding and love.
Guilt, he realised, was his primary emotion at this point. Guilt because he'd left. Guilt because she'd loved him enough to let him go, guilt because he hadn't loved her enough to stay. And guilt because he hadn't gone back sooner. How long had it been now? Eight months?
"You're an ass, Jack," he told himself. It was true enough, and now the decision had been made for him, and he'd have to deal with it. He was going back. Today. With Carter.
He frowned at the ceiling. With Carter? What did that have to do with anything? Yet somehow it made it worse to know that she'd be there. He felt self-conscious, awkward at the thought that she and Laira would meet. Again, he felt that these two realities shouldn't coexist. Couldn't coexist. Somehow, they seemed mutually exclusive. The Jack that Laira had known wasn't the same Colonel O'Neill that Carter knew - he couldn't be both. One of them would be disappointed. And, if he was honest, he wasn't sure which.
"So, how'd he take it?" Daniel asked as Sam dropped into her customary seat at the briefing room table.
"Coward," she accused him. "I can't believe you just left me there!"
Daniel shrugged. "I call it an instinct for self-preservation." He paused. "So, did you tell him?"
"Like you gave me a choice?"
"And?"
"And nothing. What did you expect?"
"I don't know - something!" Daniel shook his head. "He was stuck there three months, he didn't think he'd ever get home, he was practically married to that Laira woman..." Sam's eyes shot to the table top as he spoke, and Daniel trailed to a halt. Good one Dr Jackson, he berated himself. Rub her nose in it, why don't you? "Well," he finished lamely, "it was a few months ago, Jack's probably forgotten all about her."
Sam glanced up, about to reply, when another voice spoke: "Sound's salacious. Who are we talking about?"
Daniel froze as Sam's eyes shot to the doorway, and the colour rushed to her cheeks. "No one sir," she mumbled.
"Sorry, didn't get that Major?" Jack snapped.
Sam swallowed nervously. "I said no one, sir."
"Funny, could have sworn I heard a couple of names I recognised."
Carter stared at the table top, and Daniel could almost see her trying to curl up into a little ball. He sighed, and turned around in his chair. "Jack, don't be jerk. We're your friends. We're concerned, that's all."
"Yeah, well that kind of concern I don't need," he said, stalking into the room and slumping into his usual seat at Carter's side. "My business is my business."
Carter muttered an automatic "Yes sir."
But Daniel just shrugged. "Our mistake," he said. "But if you change your mind and want to talk..."
"I won't."
"Okay!"
"Okay."
Daniel shook his head, trying to catch Carter's eye, but she kept her gaze on her fingers, entwined so tightly on the table top they were turning white. He didn't know who was worse, the Major or the Colonel. Not much in it, he decided. They both kept themselves wound so tight he was afraid one day they'd just explode. And that was something he didn't want to be around for!
The door opened again, and Teal'c stepped into the room. He stopped instantly, sensing the tension. Glancing between O'Neill and Carter, he raised an eyebrow in query, and Daniel replied with a resigned shrug. Teal'c took a seat without saying a word. He knew better than to try and break the icy silence.
General Hammond, however, had no such qualms. "Morning," he barked as he strode into the room. O'Neill and Carter started to get to their feet, but the General waved away the formality and sat down. "So," he said, glancing at them, his astute eyes resting on the Colonel, "I guess you already know what's happening today?"
"Oh yeah," Jack replied sourly, "seems like everyone's talking about it."
The General frowned. "Have you got a problem with this, Colonel?" he asked, not unkindly.
O'Neill sat up a little straighter. "No, sir."
"We've got some top people in this delegation," the General continued, "I don't want anything going wrong. If there's a problem..."
"There's no problem sir," O'Neill insisted. Hammond's gaze lingered on the Colonel's face for an instant longer, before he said: "Good." Then, consulting his papers, he continued: "The delegation will arrive on Edora at eleven-hundred hours, and will be received by representatives of the Edoran people. The signing of the treaty will occur this evening, and the delegation is scheduled to return the following day. Your brief is to provide tactical off-world support, to facilitate contact with the indigenous people, and to generally keep things running smoothly. Any questions?"
A general chorus of "No sir," rippled around the table.
"Very good," Hammond said. "Be ready to leave at eleven." He rose to his feet: "That's all."
Jack headed back to his quarters as soon as the briefing ended, but he didn't move fast enough.
"Colonel?" He heard Carter call after him, and ignored her. But she was persistent: "Sir? Colonel O'Neill?" With a sigh, he slowed and eventually stopped.
"What is it Major?" he asked, still mad at her.
"Sir, I wanted to apologise," she said immediately. "Daniel and I were just..."
"Gossiping?" he suggested.
But she shook her head. "No, sir, we were just concerned. It's going to be - difficult - going back. For all of us." She looked up at him then, a tentative smile touching her lips, and he felt his anger soften. It always did when she smiled at him.
"For all of us?" he repeated.
She shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. "Well, we did almost lose you last time we were there, sir."
Lose me? Huh. He'd never thought of it like that. "I guess so," he said slowly. And then a thought occurred: "I never thanked you, did I Carter? For bringing me home?"
She smiled, and shook her head. "You didn't need to thank me sir."
"I didn't need to," he agreed, "but I should have." He paused, smiling at her embarrassment. "Thank you Carter."
"You're welcome, sir."
"And this time, let's make sure we all come back together?"
She grinned. "Yes sir."
The gate room was bubbling with excited chatter as Sam entered, her fatigues and heavy pack at odds with the dress uniforms of the dignitaries surrounding her. Making her way through them, she spotted the Colonel, Teal'c and Daniel at the far side of the room.
"How many are we taking?" she asked, as she joined them. "There's about twenty people here!"
"Too damn many," O'Neill grumbled. "But apparently, they've all gotta come."
"It does appear to be a waste of resources," Teal'c noted.
"Yeah," O'Neill muttered. "Yours and mine."
Sam heard the familiar sound of the Stargate beginning to dial, and shrugged her pack into a more comfortable position. "They're opening the gate, sir," she said.
Jack nodded and sighed. "Time to get this circus on the road." Walking a short way up the ramp towards the gate, he held up his hand for silence and the babbling died away.
"How does he do that?" Daniel whispered in her ear.
Carter shrugged. "Got me."
"My name's Colonel O'Neill, and I'm in command of this mission," Jack began. "The Stargate will shortly be opening, and then we'll proceed through. Major Carter and I will lead the way in, and Dr Jackson and Teal'c will make sure you all get through safely." He paused, then added: "You should be prepared for an unusual sensation."
"Understatement of the year," Daniel muttered.
Glancing up at the gate, Carter noticed the final chevron encoding. "Sir?" she called.
He glanced down at her.
"A little close?"
He gave her a brief nod of thanks. "You might want to step back," he advised those immediately in front of him, as he strode down the ramp. Behind him, the gate whooshed open, accompanied by gasps of astonishment from the assembled dignitaries. Standing there, back- lit by the shimmering blue of the gate, Sam had to admit that the Colonel cut an imposing figure. "Any questions?" he asked.
There were none in the hushed room, and so with a nod to Carter, he turned back toward the gate. She came to stand at his side, noticing the tense, almost pained look in his eyes.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes sir. You?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the Stargate. "Let's go, Carter." And together they strode into the gate, and back to Edora.
The man who stepped forward to greet them was tall, and slim, with sandy hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were dark though, almost to the point of blackness, which had a startling effect against his pale skin. Sam thought she recognised him; hadn't he been one of the refugees stranded on earth while she'd worked to re-establish contact with Edora?
"Tarak," he introduced himself, holding out a hand to Jack in greeting. "Welcome to Edora."
Jack shook his hand. "Jack O'Neill. Colonel. It's good to be back."
Recognition flickered across Tarak's face. "Colonel O'Neill," he nodded. "Laira has spoken of you." He smiled, but there was a definite chill in the curl of his lips.
O'Neill looked uncomfortable at the mention of her name. "Is she, um," he glanced at the small Edoran delegation, "is she here?"
"She is in the village," Tarak replied.
"Right." He paused for a moment, and then recollected himself. "This is Major Carter," he told the Edoran, "Dr Jackson and Teal'c."
Tarak greeted them all, murmuring something about his gratitude for all they had done to bring his people home, and then turned his attention to the larger delegation. "Friends," he called, "you are welcome to our homes. Please, follow us to the village where we can greet you properly."
"You know this guy?" O'Neill muttered to Sam as they followed Tarak towards the village.
"I think I met him a couple of times," she replied. "Seems nice enough." "Huh," was the Colonel's only reply.
It didn't take them long to reach the village, and as they approached, Sam could see O'Neill getting progressively more nervous; one hand raked through his hair, or fiddled with his sunglasses, he shifted the weapon slung over his shoulder, or rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Sam smiled. Yep, he was definitely nervous. And she didn't blame him. Her stomach was doing its best to tie itself into knots too, which was stupid. Why should she be nervous? Why should she care what happened when he first saw Laira again? Her jaw clenched. She shouldn't care. But she did. God, how she did.
The village itself was small, although larger than when she'd last stood there. The Edoran's had been rebuilding since the destruction of the meteor shower, and their hard work was visible all around her. "Looks like they've been busy," she commented to O'Neill, who just nodded, taking everything in. His eyes, she noticed, lingered most frequently on one particular house, and she guessed it to be Laira's. The villagers were gathering around them now, laughing and whispering as they watched their exotic guests. Tarak was talking again, words of greeting and friendship, but Sam wasn't really listening. Her eyes were fixed on O'Neill, who was scanning the growing crowd, looking for the one face he wanted to see. And then he stopped, and stared. She followed his gaze, and saw a small group of women standing together, chatting quietly. Closest to them, and with her back turned, a cascade of curls falling to below her shoulders, was Laira. Sam knew her instantly, more by the way O'Neill was staring than because she recognised the woman. One of the others noticed him, and murmured something. Laira nodded slightly, and slowly turned around. Sam's heart was in her throat, not wanting to witness this moment, yet unable to drag her eyes away. But as the woman turned, shock stopped her breath. For Laira's belly was swollen in the last weeks of pregnancy. And as she raised her eyes to Jack's, Laira gave him a gentle smile, an invitation.
"Oh boy," Daniel breathed close to her ear, but Sam couldn't respond. This changed everything. Absolutely everything.
O'Neill didn't move, he just stared, stunned. She wasn't even sure he was breathing. And then he suddenly turned towards her, thrusting his weapon into her arms; "Hold this," he muttered, as their eyes met. And his expression turned her cold; he looked like a man caught in a trap. He was terrified. Before she could say anything, he turned and walked quickly towards Laira. They spoke, quietly, and after a moment he took her hand, then both her hands, and then he pulled her gently into his arms, stooping slightly to avoid her bump. Carter looked away; the sight was too painful for her to watch, ending, as it did, all her secret, barely acknowledged hopes.
She found herself caught by Daniel's bright eyes: "That's rough," he said. And she wasn't sure if he was talking about O'Neill or herself.
But Daniel and Carter weren't the only ones watching the touching reunion. From the midst of the crowd, Tarak's dark eyes narrowed as he saw what was happening, his face turning cold and hard.
PART 2
Jack sat at the table, poking at his untouched meal, and Laira watched him patiently, waiting for him to speak. She knew he would, now that they were alone.
"Did you know?" he began eventually, his voice low and quiet, trying to disguise his obvious anger, "Did you know before I left?"
She took a deep breath. "Not for sure," she replied, "but I felt it in my heart."
He looked up. "You should have told me."
She nodded, acknowledging his reproach.
"If I'd known, I'd never have left."
"I know," she replied, "which is why I said nothing."
He frowned. "You didn't want me to stay?"
"I didn't want you to stay for the wrong reason."
He looked away again, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Well, I know now."
"I don't expect anything from you Jack," she assured him. "The child will live well here."
"No doubt."
"And if you would like to know him - or her - then we could..."
"If?" he interrupted. "What do you mean if?"
There was anger in his eyes now, flashing brightly, and she dropped her gaze, surprised by the intensity of his feeling. "I'm sorry Jack, I didn't mean to imply anything."
"I know what it means to be a father," he told her, still angry, "it's not something you walk away from. Ever."
A timid tap on the door interrupted their conversation. "Ignore it," he whispered, but the caller tapped again, a little more forcefully. Shaking her head, Laira started getting to her feet, but Jack put a restraining hand on her arm. "Stay there, I'll deal with it." He pulled open the door with the obvious intention of giving the caller short shrift, but his face relaxed as soon as he saw who stood there. "Carter."
The name shot through Laira like a lightening bolt. Carter. Samantha Carter? Curiosity drove her to her feet - Samantha Carter was a woman she had wanted to meet for many months.
"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt," the woman said, sounding as if she'd rather be almost anywhere else. "It's just, I need permission to requisition a podium."
"Why?"
"You really don't want to know, sir."
"Okay."
"So, I can?"
"Why not?"
"Thank you sir."
Determined not to miss this opportunity, Laira came to stand behind Jack. Carter's eyes flew to her, and away again, in an instant, but it was enough to alert Jack to her presence. He turned, and glanced between them, his face scrunching. "Um, Carter," he said with obvious reluctance, "this is Laira. Laira, Major Carter."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Carter said, offering a tentative smile.
She was younger than Laira had expected, and more serious. Her face was pretty, lending an odd femininity to her heavy clothing and boots, but there was a reserve in her that Laira hadn't expected. "Please come in," she offered, keen to know more of this woman.
"What?" Jack interrupted. "Um, I'm sure the Major has something else to do...?"
"Nothing that can't wait, surely?" Laira persisted. "Besides, I would like to meet your friends Jack."
Carter glanced between them. "Well, actually I do need to..."
"Please," Laira said, "I insist. I've heard a lot about you, Major Carter."
"You have?"
She smiled. "Jack liked to talk about his friends while he was here."
"Oh." Carter glanced at him, and he gave a little, helpless shrug. Then, succumbing to the inevitable, Jack turned his back on the door and returned to the table. Laira watched him; he was uncomfortable with her meeting this woman. She wasn't surprised.
"Would you like some tea?" she offered, indicating a seat for the Major.
Carter sat down, perched on the edge, and said: "No, thank you. I'm fine."
Laira shrugged, and sat down herself, grateful to rest. Her time was near and the baby lay low, making standing uncomfortable. "So," she said, with a smile, "you have been to many worlds with Jack, through your Stargate?"
Carter nodded, her eyes flicking constantly toward him. "Yes," she replied, with a nervous smile of her own. "It's fascinating."
"I can't imagine it," Laira said with a small shake of her head, "Edora is all I've ever known. All I ever want to know."
"That's nice," the Major replied. "To be so happy here..." Something in what she was saying made her uncomfortable, and she trailed to a halt, her eyes dropping to the floor.
Just then the baby kicked hard against Laira's ribs, making her gasp a little, and she leaned back, stretching her stomach to ease the pressure of a sharp little foot. "You okay?" Jack asked, kneeling at her side in an instant.
She smiled at his concern. "Fine," she assured him. "He's just a little active today - and he's strong! Here," she took his hand and placed it on her belly, "can you feel?"
The baby moved again under Jack's light touch, and a small smile lit his face. The first she'd seen since he arrived. "Powerful," he agreed.
A sudden scuffing sound drew their eyes to Carter, who was on her feet and edging towards the door. "I just remembered something..." she muttered, doing her best to avoid looking at either of them. "I need to - go."
"Carter?" Jack said, getting to his feet and taking a step towards her. Their eyes met, and something passed between them.
Carter nodded, as if a decision had been made. "I can handle things out here, sir," she said.
Nodding his thanks, Jack turned away. Laira sighed, wondering if they even realised they communicated without the need for words.
As soon as she left the cramped little room, Sam sucked in a breath of air and started walking. That was an experience she never wanted to repeat! The sight of him gazing up at her, with the sort of gentleness she'd always hoped that.... Well, it didn't matter what she'd hoped. Hope was over. Entirely over. "Major Carter?" she looked up and was surprised to see Tarak standing in her path.
She forced herself to smile. She was a professional, after all. "Tarak."
"Is Laira within?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he gazed at the small house behind her.
"Yes," she told him slowly, "with Colonel O'Neill, but I got the feeling they'd rather be alone."
His frown turned into a scowl. "He has no right!" he hissed under his breath, his vehemence taking her by surprise.
"Excuse me?"
Tarak closed his eyes for a moment, regaining his self-control. "Forgive me," he said, "my personal feelings should not be so expressed. It is inappropriate."
She watched his face, the way his lips pressed together, the tautness about the eyes, and recognised her own pain. She let out something that might almost have been a laugh: "You have feelings for Laira?"
"Feelings?" he repeated, as if not quite understanding. "I love her, if that is what you mean."
"Okay," she agreed. Euphemism obviously wasn't a big thing on Edora. "Then I'm sorry - this must be difficult for you."
"It is," he agreed. "I have asked Laira to be my wife."
Carter stared. "Oh."
"She is yet to give me an answer," he continued. "It has been more than two months now, but Laira told me that O'Neill would return before the birth of her child, and that until she had seen him once more, she could not answer me."
"I see," Carter replied. After the scene she'd just witnessed, she didn't like Tarak's chances. "Well, I guess you'll get your answer soon," she said quietly.
He nodded, his eyes once more fixed on Laira's home. "I believe I shall."
It was almost dusk by the time Jack emerged from the house, and the village was busy with preparations that told him tonight would be one for celebrating. Ironic, really, since that was probably the last thing he felt like doing. So, keeping his head down and hoping he wouldn't run into anyone, he skirted the edge of the village and headed out to the lake. He'd gone there often during his months here - to remember, to think, and to be alone.
And alone is what he needed to be right now.
Sometimes life threw you a curveball, and sometimes it threw you a whole goddamn battalion of them. And as he stood, staring out across the water, tinted now with the violets and reds of the waning day, he could hardly believe that this morning he'd been joking with Carter in the gym. Flirting even. Almost. And now? Now he was on the other side of the universe, and a couple of weeks away from fatherhood. Go figure.
Picking up a stone, he skipped it across the water, watching the ripples run outward across the lake. It brought back memories. He'd spent a lot of time out by this lake. Thinking. Thinking about home. And thinking about Carter. He remembered that now. He'd thought a lot about Carter while he was here, and had slowly come to acknowledge his own feelings for her. What had appeared confused and complicated on Earth had seemed so simple as he'd sat alone by the water, missing her so badly he almost couldn't breath. It was here he had first admitted to himself that he loved her. Funny, that when something is placed permanently beyond your reach, you realise it's the only thing you want. A year ago, distance had been the obstacle. Now it was responsibility. Obligation. He had fathered a child here. He had to stay. He wouldn't walk away from it.
But Carter...? He sighed, wondering why he'd done nothing about his feelings for her after he'd returned to Earth. Maybe because his relationship with Laira was still unresolved, or maybe because he wasn't sure what Carter wanted. If she even wanted anything. Sure, there was something between them, a spark, if you like. He felt it when she smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling like sunshine on the ocean, or when she stood close and he felt every nerve in his body respond to her presence. Yeah, there was something there. But Carter didn't give a lot away, and he needed more to go on. Making unwanted advances towards subordinate officers was a pretty serious offence. Not to mention deeply humiliating. So he'd held back, tested the waters a couple of times, but basically done nothing. And now it was too late. Again. When Laira had turned to face him that morning, his fate had been sealed. His own sense of where his duty lay trapped him here as firmly as if the Stargate were dead and buried.
Not that he didn't love Laira. He did. She was a wonderful, loving, generous woman. He was grateful for all she had done for him during his exile here, and he was proud of the way she led her community. And as for the child, well, she'd not deceived him in that. She'd asked him for a child, and he'd agreed, when home - and Carter - had seemed irretrievably lost. And now he must accept the responsibility that fatherhood bestowed, despite the fact that the life he had thought was over had been restored to him. He could be happy with her, he told himself. He HAD been happy with her.
But it was a different happiness, a quiet happiness compared with the fierce emotions Carter provoked. What he felt for Laira was a warmth, while what he felt for Carter was a heat; Laira was a partner, where Carter was a friend. He loved Laira, but he was in love with Carter. He sighed. Yeah, he'd done a lot of thinking about Sam Carter at this lake. A hell of a lot. It was here he'd first realised that he loved her, and it was here he'd resigned himself to having lost her. He'd done it once, and he could do it again - no matter how much it hurt. "Samantha Carter." He spoke her name quietly, just to feel it on his lips. "Carter."
"Sir?"
He turned so fast he almost stumbled into the lake. "Carter!"
She was watching him with that quizzical look that so often touched her face. "Are you okay sir?"
"Sure," he replied. "Got eyes in the back of my head."
She nodded, not really convinced. "Tarak asked me to find you sir," she explained, wisely choosing to ignore his somewhat strange behaviour. "They're ready to begin the treaty signing ceremony."
"Huh," he nodded, struggling to regain his equilibrium. "This ceremony, is it likely to involve speeches?"
"Long ones," she assured him. "And, yes sir, you do have to be there."
"Great," he sighed, "the perfect end to a perfect day."
She made no reply, and they walked back to the village together in silence.
Sam had been right about the speeches. They were long on platitudes, and short on interest. But at last they ended, and the music, food, and drink started flowing, for which Carter was immensely grateful. Being forced to sit no more than a few inches from the Colonel and Laira, watching each time she absently stroked her swollen belly, as if flaunting the fact that she carried his child, had been a torture of exquisite pain. Jack had kept his eyes on the table most of the evening, stifling the occasional yawn and glancing at his watch. He didn't look particularly happy, she decided, not exactly overflowing with joy. But then, it was Jack. He rarely overflowed with joy - if ever.
"Would you like some ale?" a smiling Edoran woman asked as she passed by, laden with a full tray.
Carter accepted gratefully, taking a long drink. It was stronger than she'd expected, which wasn't a bad thing. She needed something to blunt the poignancy of this particular evening.
"Careful, Major," O'Neill muttered, casting her half a smile. "You're still on duty, remember?"
Give me a break! "It's been a long day," she replied, taking another swig. And then, added: "Sir."
O'Neill didn't answer, but she heard him sigh and wondered what he was thinking. Probably trying to decide what to do next; marry Laira, almost certainly, and bring her back to Earth. It seemed the most logical course of action - until she remembered her brief conversation with Laira that morning, when she'd said she never wanted to leave Edora.
The thought closed like an icy fist around Sam's heart. If Laira wouldn't leave, then O'Neill would stay. She knew him too well to think otherwise. Jack O'Neill wouldn't abandon her with his child, it was against his personal moral code. This was a disaster she hadn't seen coming! She'd been so wrapped up dealing with the fact that he still loved Laira, that they were to have a child together, she hadn't figured out all the consequences. But now she had, and it slammed into her hard. She was going to lose him utterly, as a CO, as a colleague, and as a friend. This might be the last night she spent in his company, ever! Her throat choked with sudden tears, and she found herself blinking rapidly to keep them from falling. Get a grip, she told herself angrily. For Christ's sake, get a grip!
The music suddenly grew louder, and a few couples got to their feet to dance. Sam watched them as if staring at something on TV - none of it seemed real. And as her eyes stared absently at the happy dancers, her mind drifted back, remembering how much she'd missed him during the long three months she'd worked day and night to bring him home. But this time, there'd be no need for rescue. This time there'd be nothing but the pain of his absence, with no hope of relief. It was a bleak picture indeed.
"Major Carter?" Laira's voice dragged Sam from her gloomy thoughts.
With an effort, she turned her head. "Yes?"
"Do you like to dance?" Laira asked, nodding towards the dancers.
The conversation seemed so prosaic, so irrelevant, that she found it hard to reply. "Um, I don't often get the chance..." she muttered, glad she'd found some words and not too concerned with what they were.
"Carter would probably prefer to strip down a nuclear reactor," O'Neill added. "She has a strange idea of fun."
Despite her sadness, Sam smiled, but the smile only tightened the knot in her throat and she found herself unable to speak. Fortunately, she was spared the need, for at that moment Tarak approached the table. "Colonel O'Neill," he began, with a polite nod, "Major Carter, I trust you are enjoying the festivities?"
"It's a blast," O'Neill replied. Sam just nodded and smiled, taking another long swig of her ale in an attempt to swallow her tears.
But Tarak was obviously less interested in their replies than he was in Laira, and he turned to her immediately, his face softening. "How are you this evening?" he asked. "No more leg cramps?"
She smiled, a gentle, grateful smile. "No, thank you - I feel very well."
"Good. And you're still taking the preparations Jemus made for you? Each morning?"
"Yes," she replied dutifully, "each morning."
O'Neill sat up as Tarak spoke, a question creasing his brow as he looked between them. Laira turned to him with a smile. "Tarak has been very kind to me over the last few months," she said, a faint blush hinting that he'd been rather more than kind.
"That's nice," O'Neill said, but his eyes narrowed as he reappraised the man. "I'm glad."
Sam slouched further down in her seat, wondering how rude it would seem if she just got up and walked away. Listening to two men compete for another woman's affections wasn't doing a lot for her ego. She glanced about the room, searching for her friends - Daniel looked like he was in deep discussion, so there was no point in hoping for rescue from that direction, and Teal'c was nowhere to be seen. Lucky him. She was on the point of getting to her feet to emulate him, when Tarak said: "Laira, would you like to dance?"
She shook her head, resting a hand on her stomach. "Not this evening," she smiled, "but I'm sure Major Carter would love to join you."
What?! Sam sat up straighter, a demure already forming on her lips, when Tarak said: "My apologies to Major Carter, but I'd rather sit with you if you do not wish to dance."
Zing! Sam smiled, trying not to appear as awkward as she felt, and took another gulp of her ale. Way to be rejected, Carter! Laira looked a little ashamed of her friend's bad manners, but, to Sam's surprise, O'Neill's face scrunched into a scowl as he rose to his feet. "Well, I kinda feel like a dance myself," he said, and held out his hand to Carter. "May I?"
She stared. O'Neill dancing? Oh, come on!
"Carter?" he repeated, with a slight raising of his eyebrows that said: don't make me look like an idiot, Carter!
She smiled, unable to resist, and took his hand. "Sure, sir. Why not?"
Laira watched as Jack and the Major danced. He held her hand so lightly their fingers scarcely touched, while her hand on his shoulder barely rested there, and his arm practically hovered around her waist. They were close, yet they held back so much it was almost painful to watch. Powerful emotions were at work there, she realised, and her heart sank with resignation.
"Are you all right?" Tarak asked, his concern touching her.
"A little tired," she admitted.
"Do you wish to leave?" he pressed, covering her hand with his own. "Let me walk you home."
"In a while," she nodded, "I'll just watch the dance a little longer."
She had to be sure. And although she had little doubt, if she were to do what she must, she had to be sure. And so she watched as they danced, as they talked, and as they lost themselves in the dance and each other.
As soon as her slender fingers touched his, Jack knew that dancing with her, this evening of all evenings, was a very, very bad idea. But Tarak had irritated the hell out of him, and provoked him into ignoring his own good sense. And so, he found himself leading her into the midst of the dancers, and pulling her close as he slipped an arm lightly around her waist. It was a bad idea, but he had to admit that it felt good to hold her, even if there were still a judicious few inches between them as they swayed gently to the music. He looked into her face and frowned. "That Tarak guy," he said, "is a jerk."
She smiled, the little half smile she gave him when she didn't quite approve. "He's just jealous," she told him quietly.
"Yeah." He'd figured that much out. Tarak obviously had feelings for Laira, but he doubted she shared them. He'd seen affection in her eyes when she spoke to him, but no fire. "I guess he's out of luck," he said.
"Yes sir," she nodded, dropping her eyes to his shoulder. He said no more, merely enjoying her closeness, the delicate scent of her hair and the warmth of her hand in his. It was an illicit pleasure, and a fleeting one. Soon the dance would end, and tomorrow she would return through the Stargate and be lost to him. Tomorrow. He had to talk to her about tomorrow, to tell her that he wasn't coming back with them. But it was a subject he was reluctant to broach, because once he'd said it, once he'd told her, it would be real. And although he knew he had to stay, and he wanted to stay, to do what was right for Laira and their child, he was loath to let go of the life he had shared with Carter.
But it had to be done, and now was as good a time as any. "Carter?" he began, drawing her eyes back to him. "Tomorrow - tomorrow you'll be taking SG-1 home."
"You're staying." It wasn't even a question.
He nodded. "I have to."
Her face crumpled slightly, and she looked abruptly away, blinking rapidly. "I understand," she whispered. "I guessed you would stay with her." What was that expression on her face? Hurt? He frowned. Were those tears clinging to her lashes? "Hey," he asked, as a drop of moisture trickled down the side of her face, "Carter?"
She shook her head, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes. "Stupid!" she sniffed, giving a little, forced laugh. "I'm sorry, sir - it's just, I'm going to miss you Colonel."
He sighed. "We've had some wild times, haven't we Carter?" he smiled, feeling a little choked himself. "I wish things were different, but..."
"Yes sir," she replied, too quickly. "I understand."
But she didn't. She didn't understand how much he wanted to hold her right then, how much he needed her in his life - and how hard it would be without her. They were standing close together, motionless amid the dancers, and he suddenly became aware of Laira's eyes on them. Did she know, he wondered. Had she guessed? God, he hoped she didn't know.
"Sir?" Carter's voice drew him back. She was looking around, conscious that they were no longer dancing. "Shall we sit down?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet." It was too soon to let her go, so he took her hand again and pulled her into his arms, closer this time, so that her body pressed against him. He knew he shouldn't, but he just needed to hold her once, before he let her go forever. She didn't resist, and he felt a tremor run through her as she lay her head against his shoulder and tightened her arms around him. Oh, God, he prayed, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment, let this last forever. But it didn't, and soon the music ended in applause, and Jack was forced to release her.
She smiled a watery smile. "I'm happy for you, sir," she told him. "And you'll be happy here. With Laira."
"I'll come visit," he promised - as if that was enough!
"You'll always be welcome, Colonel," she replied, her tone too formal as she took a step backwards, smoothing her uniform. For a moment he almost expected her to salute, but she just gave him a tight smile and said, "Good luck, sir," before she turned and walked slowly away.
Jack watched her go with a heart so heavy he was sure it would break, oblivious to Laira, who, in her turn, was watching him with a heart equally troubled.
Sam lay in bed, staring at the low ceiling of the house, her heart too full for sleep. She tried closing her eyes for the hundredth time, but, as always, all she could see was O'Neill's face as he smiled at her and told her he was staying. In the darkness her eyes flashed open, and she sat up straight. It was no good. Sleep refused to come and she refused to lie there any longer waiting for it.
She dressed quickly, and crept out into the night. It was late. One or two in the morning she guessed, and the Edoran stars shone bright in the sky. The air was cool and fragrant, and she took a deep breath, trying to ease the sadness that clawed at her heart. After a few moments of standing, enjoying the night, she decided to head out towards the lake. It was peaceful there, and she was sorely in need of peace. She walked quietly, conscious of the way her heavy boots crunched in the dirt. Passing Laira's house - Laira and Jack's house, she corrected herself - she saw that a light still burned. She really didn't want to know what they might be doing up so late, and hurried passed. At last, the dark expanse of the lake appeared before her, its still surface reflecting the glitter of the stars. It was quiet, the silence of the dead of night. Nothing moved along the shore, and she knew that she was alone. It was a relief, after the pressure of being so long amid the flurry of the treaty signing, always smiling, always professional. Here she was free to just be. To be sad, if she wanted. To be angry, hell, even to cry if she needed to, without...
"Major Carter?" The soft voice behind her startled her so much she nearly yelled.
"What the...?" she began. And then stopped, as a rather ungainly figure, carrying a small lamp, waddled towards her. "Laira?"
The woman smiled. "I didn't mean to frighten you," she apologised. "I saw you pass by the house, and wanted to talk with you."
"I hope I didn't wake you," Sam said. So much for a little personal space!
"No," Laira replied, easing herself down onto a large, flat stone. "This little one is kicking up a storm - I hoped a walk might settle him."
"Him?"
She smiled. "I think so."
Sam just nodded, not quite sure what else to say. But she needn't have worried, for Laira had come there with a purpose.
"Jack told me tonight that he's planning to stay on Edora," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on Sam, eyeing her reaction.
"Yes," she nodded, turning back towards the lake. "He mentioned something about that..."
She heard Laira give a little, resigned laugh. "I thought he might have told you."
"You must be happy," Sam continued, hoping her words didn't sound too bitter. Laira didn't deserve her anger.
There was no reply immediately, and when Sam looked back around she saw the woman watching her intently. "Tomorrow morning, I will agree to marry Tarak," she said quietly.
Sam stared. "Why?" she asked.
"Because he is in love with me," she said. "I am the centre of his world, and he loves me."
"But Colonel O'Neill loves you," Carter protested, hating the truth but not afraid to speak it. "I know he does."
"He does," Laira nodded, "in his way. But his place is not on Edora. And you must help him see that."
"Me?" Sam asked. "I can't interfere with his personal life."
Laira shook her head. "I think you already have, Major."
"What?"
Laira shifted her position on the rock, but kept her eyes on Sam's. "When I married my husband," she said slowly, "it was the most joyful day of my life. Our love was - eternal. When I looked at him, I saw everything I ever wanted, and when he looked at me, I saw that same feeling in his eyes." She smiled at the memory, a fleeting expression that soon turned into a sigh. "I can't settle for less than that now. You said that Jack loves me. And he does. But he's in love with someone else."
Sam frowned. Someone else? There was another one?! "Who?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Laira smiled. "You don't know?"
"No."
"Your people are strange," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "On Edora, we are not ashamed of loving, it is encouraged, celebrated. But your people hide it, even from its object, as if you are ashamed."
"Well, I don't think we...."
Laira waved her to silence, and pulled something from her pocket. "I meant no disrespect. Your culture is just different from ours, and it is simply hard for me to understand your ways." Then she held out a wad of folded papers towards her. "It may be inappropriate for me to give you these, but I believe they are yours by right, and that it will be better for us all if the truth is acknowledged."
The truth? Curious, Sam took the papers, surprised by their weight. They were folded together, like a letter, and written on the front were two words: For Carter. She recognised the sprawling script immediately as the Colonel's, and her heart did a little back-flip. "What is this?" she asked.
Laira's eyes slipped away from hers, and she gazed out over the lake. "When Jack was first stranded on Edora, he would often come out here. To be alone - to get away from us, probably. He's a man who needs his own space." She sighed. "I came across him once, sitting here - just where you're standing - writing. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was writing to his friends on Earth. It was a way to feel closer to home, I suppose, and I thought nothing more about it. And as the days passed he came out to the lake less often and joined our community. He was happy I think." She smiled, rubbing absently at the small of her back. "And then, you came for him and he left us." Sam could hear the sadness in the woman's voice, and felt a pang of sympathy. But Laira continued talking before she had time to speak. "A few weeks after Jack left, I came out to the lake. And as I was sitting here, I noticed something - a piece of paper sticking out from under a small pile of rocks. What I found there were the letters you're holding."
Carter glanced down at the folded pieces of paper. For Carter. "What do they say?" she asked quietly.
Laira looked a little embarrassed. "You assume I read them?"
"I would have done," Sam told her honestly, and Laira smiled.
"Well, yes, I did read them," she confessed. "But they're for you, and you should read them now Major."
Sam studied the papers, crumpled and stained by the rocks. "They were written a long time ago," she said quietly.
Laira nodded, turning to leave. "You must read them and decide for yourself what to do." And with that, she turned and made her way back towards the village, leaving the little lamp for Sam.
She sat for a long time, staring at the words: For Carter. Did he really mean her to read them? After all, he'd left them under a pile of rocks on a planet light years from home, and maybe that's where they should stay. But curiosity got the better of her, and she knew, even as she hesitated, that she had to know what the crumpled pages contained. So, with trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper, and began to read.
"Dear Carter,
That sounds kinda formal, doesn't it? I hope you don't mind, but when I think of you, I always think of you as Carter. I just can't seem to get my head around Sam. I guess I never used it enough. Maybe a should have used it more. Yeah, I definitely should have, but I didn't. So, it's Carter. Although, to me, that doesn't sound formal. More like a nickname. Carter. I like it. It's you.
Well, Carter, I've been here a week already. A week of nothing. A week of getting up and knowing that I'm never going home, that my life is over. Sometimes I wish I'd been hit by one of those damn rocks and put out of my misery straight away. It would've been better than this. I wasn't born to be a goddamn farmer, which is what these guys spend at least 25 hours a day doing. No kidding! I hate farming. I hate their low tech little lives, I hate - God, I sound like an ungrateful bastard. It's not their fault I'm stuck here and half their people are stuck back on earth, thousands - millions, probably - of light years away. You'd know how far, wouldn't you Carter? To the meter probably. I miss that.
So, what should I do? Give up on home, quit trying to find a Stargate that isn't there? No. I can hear you say "No, Sir". You wouldn't let me give up, so I won't. Besides, I know you're out there working hard to get me home. And if there was a way, you'd find it Carter. I know that. But, what you don't know is that there is no gate. It's gone. Blown away. And I'm stuck here, with the farmers. But hey, you're smarter than I am - maybe you'll achieve another minor miracle? Minor? Hell, this would be a full-fledged walking-on-water kind of miracle! Not that I don't have faith in you, you understand, but everyone has their limits, Carter. Even you.
It's strange to think of you up there somewhere, among the stars, sitting in the lab trying to figure out a way to get the Colonel back. How do you feel, Carter? Sad? Angry? Bored? I wonder if you miss me like I miss you? Probably not. Too much to do, more planets to discover, more battles to win. I can't stand to think of you out there holding the line without me, but I'm glad you are. Someone has to, and you're one of the best. Actually, you are the best. Bet I never told you that, did I? No? No. Thought not. Lots of things I never told you Carter. I guess I always figured I would, but the time was never right. And now, there's no time left. And that sucks, that sucks big time.
It's getting dark now, so I'm going to head back. Batteries on my flashlight are nearly dead, and I don't think they sell spares here on sunny Edora. But it's been great chatting. We should do it again. Soon. Goodnight, Carter, sleep well.
O'Neill."
Without pause, Sam turned the page to the next letter, eager for more.
"Hey Carter,
More than two weeks, and still no sign of you. Guess this one's too impossible even for you, huh? Not that I blame you, since, like I told you, there is no gate. There is no way home.
So, I'd better just get on with life, right? That's what you'd do. Probably what you're doing right now. I hope Hammond gave you SG-1 - if he didn't it's a crime. You can tell him that from me.
I haven't told you much about the people here, have I? They live simply - like I said they're farmers - and they're a good sort of people. Even if some of them blame me for this whole situation - like it's my fault they messed up the evacuation! I should blame them! But what's the point? They're all I've got now.
There's one woman, her name's Laira, who's okay. Did you meet her? She tries to understand how I feel, talks to me sometimes. Like today, she gave me this big speech about how she'd grieved over her dead husband for a hundred days. I think she was trying to tell me to do the same. It was well meant, but I know all about grief. And this is different. When Charlie died, God, I wanted to end it. Nearly did a couple of times, but life moved on and in the end so did I. The pain is still here, but when Charlie died, it was final. He was gone, and I had to keep living, day after day after day. And things become normal again - a different kind of normal, but normal. But this? How can I grieve for a whole life? For a whole planet? For every single person I have ever known, ever hated, ever loved, ever regretted not loving...? It's impossible. It's too much. It would take a hundred years, not a hundred days.
Sometimes I think I'll go crazy, knowing that you're all out there, living the life that used to be mine, fighting the fight, while I'm stuck here twiddling my thumbs on this goddamn rock. It's like prison, with no hope of parole, no visitors and no phone. And I miss you so much. All of you, but somehow I miss you, Carter, most of all. Funny, that. I've lost track of the days already, but I wonder if you still play poker some Saturday evenings? Do you still win all the time, Carter? Damn, I would give everything I ever had to be there with you. God, I can't believe how much this hurts - "
His writing sprawled across the page, and suddenly halted, and Sam's heart clenched. Since she'd known about Laira, she'd always assumed he'd spent three blissfully happy months on Edora, but the truth, she was beginning to realise, was more complicated. Turning the page, she began the next letter.
"I haven't written for a while. I've been busy - planting crops. Hard to believe, huh? Farmer Jack. Great career move, O'Neill! Anyway, I've been thinking. Mostly about you. Surprised? Yeah, me too.
You see, being here on Edora is kind of like being dead. I can't go back to Earth, and I realise now how much I left undone and unsaid. So many things. Like, I never told Daniel how much I respected him and what he did. It was so easy to joke, to avoid saying anything that might give too much away, and I hid behind that. But maybe he never knew how much I admired him, and now he never will. It's a regret. But worse than that, Carter, is what I never told you."
The next sentence was crossed out under heavy black lines, so that, try as she might, Sam couldn't make out what he'd written.
"See," the letter continued, "even now, when I have all the time in the world, I don't know how to tell you. But this is hard, I mean, to come right out with it cold. What I should have done was take you out to dinner. Yeah, that would have been a start. I know a great little place, good music, good food, and plenty of time to talk.
Yeah, I should have taken you to "Gradey's", and we'd have had a couple of drinks, and I'd probably even have managed to call you Sam. And you'd have definitely had to call me Jack. I know it makes you feel awkward - you can't quite look at me when you say it - but we'd have gotten some funny looks if you'd called me sir all evening! So, we'd have had dinner, and talked, and maybe even danced a little. Yeah, that would have been nice. And maybe then, I'd have had the courage to tell you how much you mean to me. I think I would have had to kiss you too, because I know your eyes would have been sparkling in the candlelight, and you'd have been irresistible. I'd have kissed you and told you that I loved you. There, said it. I love you. Shocked? I bet you are. But it doesn't matter, does it, because you'll never know. I can't believe you'll never know! Right now, it's the most important thing in my life, but you have no idea. To you I'm just O'Neill. The Colonel. Sir. God, Carter, if by some miracle, you walked through that gate right now I would hold you so tight I'd never, never let go.
Unless you wanted me to. Which you probably would. I mean, you could certainly do a lot better. I'm not exactly a great catch, but hey, this is my fantasy, right? So I'll choose to imagine that you'd hold me as tight as I'd hold you, and that when we kissed it would be like the Fourth of July. Only better. And when we -
Well, you get the picture. But that won't happen now, will it? If there was ever any chance for us, it's over, broken and buried with the Stargate. I feel like yelling it! I'M IN LOVE WITH SAMANTHA CARTER! Can you hear that, all the way back on earth? I LOVE YOU!
Maybe you can. I hope so. I want you to know. It would give it some meaning that way, and I'd feel a little less empty knowing that maybe, somewhere, you loved me too.
But I guess the only thing I'll ever know for sure is that I love you, Sam. And where ever you are, whoever you're with, I hope you're safe, happy, and loved."
In the small golden glow of the lamplight, Sam read the words over and over again. I love you, Sam. I love you. "Oh, God," she breathed quietly, her fingers trembling as she held his letters. He'd loved her, and she hadn't known. She felt like such a fool. But there were more letters, letters written later, letters not written amid the bitterness of loss. Letters written after he'd started his relationship with Laira. And she turned to them now, not sure what she would find.
Jack couldn't sleep. Which was strange. He could always sleep, even with broken bones and an ice-cube for a bed, he'd managed to sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, he'd told Laira he would stay on Edora, and with those words had sealed the door on his former life. Tomorrow - or, rather, today - he'd have to say goodbye to them all. To Teal'c and Daniel. And to Carter. Yep, that was the one that kept him awake until the night started to retreat.
Getting up, he crept from the house, hoping not to disturb Laira. It was almost dawn, and the sky along the horizon was paling into shades of azure as he made his way towards the Stargate. It looked strange, still sunken into the rock, but nonetheless it looked like home. The doorway home that he had closed upon himself.
"Colonel O'Neill?" He recognised the voice immediately as Teal'c's and turned.
"Up early," he commented.
"As are you."
Jack shrugged an acknowledgement, but said nothing more. Surprisingly, it was the usually taciturn Teal'c who spoke: "Daniel Jackson told me you do not intend to return to the SGC."
"That's right." He didn't really feel like discussing it.
"You have given up your battle then?" Teal'c asked, a note of disappointment in his voice.
Jack's eyes narrowed. "I haven't given up anything," he replied. "But, if you hadn't noticed, Laira is expecting my child - I have responsibilities here."
Teal'c inclined his head in silent agreement, and said: "It is a difficult thing, to turn one's back on family for the sake of a higher cause."
"A higher cause?"
"The war with the Goa'uld."
Jack scratched his head, not sure how to respond. Teal'c had left his family, had condemned them to a life of poverty and danger, for the sake of fighting this war. He had a point, and a right to express it. "I know what you sacrificed Teal'c," he said quietly. "But this is different."
"How so?"
He frowned. "You - you're important Teal'c. Hell, you're the only Jaffa on the planet! Colonels are two a penny. The SGC doesn't need me like they need you."
"Without you, Colonel O'Neill, it is probable that the SGC would have been destroyed on several occasions. I believe we need you."
"Nah," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You'll be fine."
"We will continue," Teal'c conceded. "But I believe you are making a wrong decision, Colonel O'Neill. Some things are more important than personal duty. This war is one of them."
Jack scowled at the floor. For crying out loud, this was hard enough already without Teal'c laying a guilt trip on him! He kicked angrily at an un-offending stone, and watched it bounce down and ricochet harmlessly off the dormant gate. He didn't need this, he really didn't need to be told he was abandoning some goddamn higher cause. Not today. But then, of course, Teal'c had already faced this choice, and had chosen differently. His own guilt, Jack realised, must be heavy, and to see another face the same choice, and walk a different path, must bring his own decision into question. Teal'c, he realised, was just trying to justify his decision to abandon his family. "Teal'c," Jack began, "what you've done has been so important to the...." But as he looked up, he realised that his friend was long gone, a small figure heading into the village in the face of the slowly rising sun.
"Dear Sam,
See, I can call you that now, because I feel like we've gotten closer. Funny that, since really we've never been further apart. But in my mind, I feel like we're closer. I think about you a lot. All the time, really. And last night, oh man, last night I dreamed about you. And it was so real. I saw your face, just as if you were sitting right here next to me. I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you are, how you get that little frown when you're concentrating, and how your smile looks like sunshine breaking over the mountain tops. God, I miss you.
So, you wanna hear about my dream? Sure you do. There's no sleaze, swear to God! You were in the lab, working like crazy on something. You were driven, focused, and nothing was going to distract you. And I was watching you, through a window in the door. Or was it the wall? Not sure, but it was definitely a window. Anyway, I called your name, but you couldn't hear me, you just kept on working and working. I tried banging on the glass, kicking at it, but it wouldn't budge, and you still didn't hear me. Then, just when I'd given up all hope, you looked up, right at me, and smiled. "I'm working on it, sir," you said. "Working on what?" I asked. You looked a little surprised at the question, and said: "The way home." And then I woke up.
Is that what you're doing Sam, working on a way home? Is there one? I wish you could tell me. It's been over two months now, and even I'm beginning to realise that I might actually be home. That this might be it, and I'll have to move on. But it's hard. It's hard to know that you'll never see these letters, that everything I feel for you, and for everyone at home, will die here with me.
Whoa - okay, getting a little morbid! Time to stop moping, Jack O'Neill! Things aren't all bad here on Edora. Laira, for one, is a bright point. She's not like you, Carter, so don't you go getting jealous! In fact, she's probably opposite to you in almost every way. She's very open, and easy to read - I can tell what she's thinking, and she doesn't try to hide what she feels. And she's very feminine - nurturing, kind. Soft, I suppose. She's easy to be around, and, yeah, I like her. And I think she feels something for me. She's interested, I'm sure, but she's taking her time. Which is fine by me. Time's something I've got plenty of.
Okay, I just re-read that paragraph. It kinda sounds like I don't think you're soft, or feminine, or nice to be around. So let me just clarify things here - you, Sam, are so gorgeous you make fatigues look sexy. But more than that, you make me whole. Before I met you, I never knew I was incomplete, but now I realise that life before you - and after you - was, and is, emptier. You're simply part of me, Sam. And nobody can ever touch that, can ever come close to touching that. I love you, and whatever happens here, I will always love you. And if, one day, a miracle brings you here, I swear to God that I'll leave anyone, and anything, to be with you again."
Dawn was lighting the morning sky as Sam finished reading the letter. Only one more lay in her hands. One short letter that she was almost too afraid to read. Almost. Standing up, she turned so that the pale dawn light fell on the paper.
"Dearest Sam,
This is the last letter I'm going to write to you. So, I guess it's goodbye. You're probably wondering why - I can almost see the question in your eyes - so I'll tell you. Something happened last night. Between me and Laira. I'm sure you can guess what, so I won't go into details. But it was nice. Warm, affectionate - yeah, nice. And so, I guess I'm moving on at last. I can't keep clinging to these ghosts anymore. You're gone, lost to me forever, and I have to get passed that or I really will go crazy here. And I think Laira can help me. She's already given me so much - a reason to get up every day, a future when I thought I had none, and who knows, maybe even another family. Never saw my life heading in that direction again. Just goes to show, you never know how the story will end, right?
And so Sam, it's time I let you go. Or rather, let my memory of you go, because you've been gone a long time, haven't you? These letters are just dust, my way of dealing with a loss I still have trouble comprehending. But Laira deserves better than half of me, and for her sake, I have to try and give her all that I can.
So, goodbye Sam. Goodbye Carter. I'll never, ever forget you, but it's time I left you where you belong, in my past, and start living again. There'll be no more letters, but whenever I look up at the stars I'll think of you Carter. Because I know you're out there somewhere, and for as long as you are, I'll love you. God bless you, and keep you. Jack."
"Oh, God," Sam breathed, as the last of his words burned through her mind. "Oh, Jack." She hated to think of him here, alone, missing them all so much, missing her. She could taste his bitter sadness, and it tied a knot in her throat so she almost couldn't breath.
And he'd only just gotten over her, only just started to move on when - WHAM - she'd opened the gate and dragged him back. She'd always assumed that his relationship with Laira had been immediate, that he'd fallen into it happily, like some stupid romance novel. But it wasn't like that. All those weeks he'd clung to a past he knew was irretrievable, and just at the point when he'd started to reach out tentatively for a new relationship, for a new friend amid the strangers, the impossible had happened and she'd torn him away again, into the world he'd left behind.
"I've been so stupid," she realised. She'd been jealous, angry that he hadn't been overjoyed when they came for him, hurt that he'd apparently jumped into this relationship with Laira, and disappointed that he'd thrown off his old life so readily. But she'd been wrong, so very wrong. He'd never talked much about it, of course, and she'd never asked. No one had. Because that's what they all expected of him, wasn't it? He was Jack. He'd be fine. And he'd seemed to readjust so easily to his old life, but now she knew it must have been painful and confusing. He must have needed a friend, and where had she been? Nowhere. Struggling with her own disappointment and too blind to see that he need her. "Some friend," she muttered. "Some damn friend, Carter."
She stared at the letter again, at all of them, scattered about her on the floor, and stooped to pick them up. She still wasn't sure that she should have read them. They were too personal, never really intended for her eyes. But Laira had obviously thought that she should, and... Laira! "No," Sam breathed, "Oh, no." She was suddenly struck by the image of the newly pregnant woman, bereft of the man who had fathered her child, stumbling across these love letters to another woman. How could she ever look her in the eye again?! And if Jack knew Laira had seen them, if he knew she herself had seen them - ?
"It can't happen," she decided. "He can't know."
And anyway, it wasn't as if any of it really mattered now. The things he'd written were the product of loneliness, of grief and frustration - he hadn't been himself. It wasn't surprising that his emotions had intensified under the stress of the situation, that he'd thought he'd felt more than he really did. Because, if he'd really loved her so much, wouldn't he have said something since? It had been nearly nine months - he would have said something, done something if he'd still wanted her.
A sudden niggle of frustration tightened into a little ball in her stomach. If only she'd gotten him home sooner! If she'd opened the gate just a couple of weeks earlier, maybe he really would have held her tight and never let go! But she'd been too late. He'd put her behind him and moved on, and now Laira was the one he wanted. It was obvious. To her, at least, it was obvious.
Folding the papers carefully, she tried to decide what to do next. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, flashing on the lake, crowning its lapping waters with golden crests. And for a moment she considered flinging the letters into the water, and letting them drift into the past where they belonged. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. His words were too precious to her, too personal to him, to be cast aside so easily, and so she thrust the folded wad of papers into her pocket, and headed slowly back to the village. What she would do when she got there, she had no idea.
Jack was eating breakfast when Laira returned, and he looked up with a smile as she entered. But the expression didn't reach his eyes, which were dark with lack of sleep, and with a deep sadness she thought she understood.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "They said you'd gone to see a friend?"
"Yes," she nodded, answering both his questions. She took a seat, grateful to ease the weight on her swollen ankles. "I went to see Tarak."
Unease creased his brow. "Why?"
She smiled slightly. As always, he got straight to the point. Well, he was right, there was no point in delaying this, however much she might want to. Leaning across the table she took his hand. His fingers were warm, and curled around hers. Taking a deep breath Laira said: "I have agreed to be Tarak's wife."
Jack just stared for a moment, before he pulled his hand away and stood up, shaking his head in disbelief. "For crying out loud - why?"
"Because he loves me," she told him calmly. "And because he asked me."
"I told you I was going to stay," he said, as if that solved everything.
"I know," she nodded, her own sadness threatening to break her resolve. "But, Jack, you're not staying for me, are you?"
"I don't see anyone else."
"Then why didn't you stay nine months ago?"
"I," he began, but he couldn't answer her, and looked away. After a moment, he said, "And, you love this Tarak guy?"
"He's a good man," she told him. "He will be a good husband. And a good father."
"But do you love him?" he pressed, turning to face her again.
She paused before she answered: "I believe I love him much as you love me."
He frowned. "Meaning what?"
"I think you know."
"Well, I'm a little slow when it comes to this kind of thing, so why don't you give me a clue here?"
She sighed. He was pushing her, but she was determined to hold her ground. "Very well," she said, "if you wish. How about Major Carter?"
His mouth tightened instantly, and his gaze dropped to the table top. "Major Carter?"
"I don't want to be second best, Jack," she said quietly. "I think I deserve more."
At least he had the grace not to try and deny it. "And what about Tarak?" he asked after a moment, raising his eyes to hers. "Doesn't he deserve more?"
"He understands the situation," she told him, her voice cooling with every word. "It's not your concern."
"Like hell it isn't!" Jack snapped. "He's going to be raising my child!"
"Better him, than a man who feels trapped into fatherhood!" she snapped, and then sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said quietly, "I'm tired, and this is so hard...." She felt tears come then, tears of sadness and of exhaustion, flooding her eyes and falling before she could stop them. She wiped them away, but more came to take their place and in the end she gave in. She didn't want to see him go, she loved him, and she had hoped, prayed, that when he came back he would have missed her as much as he'd missed Samantha Carter. That perhaps he'd written her some letters too. But he hadn't. He hadn't because he was still in love with Carter. She knew that beyond a doubt. She'd seen it in his eyes, in every gesture, when they were together. If she'd seen half as much love in his eyes when he looked at her, she'd have married him in a heartbeat.
"Laira," Jack was at her side, kneeling by her chair and taking her into his arms. She allowed herself to rest there for a moment, before she pulled away.
"If there'd been no way back," she said quietly, "I think we would have been happy together."
He nodded, taking her hands in his and holding them tight. But he said nothing, and his eyes were unsure when they met hers. After a long silence he murmured: "What do you want me to do?"
She shook her head. "I have no say in your life, Jack. You must find your own path, I cannot guide you."
He closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded. "I wish -"
"Shhh," she said, placing a finger over his lips. "I understand."
"I know," he whispered, "that's what makes it so hard."
The village was coming to life as Sam returned from the lake, her head swimming with all that she had read. She had no idea how to make sense of it all, or what on earth she should do next. How would she even be able to look at Laira, or at O'Neill? She felt as if her heart was on display to the world, and that anyone who saw her would know everything in an instant. So she pulled her hat low over her eyes, and stared at her boots as she walked - which was why she didn't see the pair of outstretched feet, and tripped over them, barely managing to catch herself before she landed flat on her face.
"Damn it!" she cursed, turning around.
"Carter?" It was him, of course. O'Neill. Given her impeccable timing, who else would it be? He was sitting behind one of the buildings, looking very much like he was hiding from the world.
"Sir?" Her embarrassment disappeared as soon as she saw his face. She knew instantly that something was wrong. Swallowing her nerves, she said: "Are you all right, sir?"
"Oh sure," he replied bitterly. "Just great. How are you?"
She ignored the question. "What's happened?"
O'Neill climbed to his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but making no move to leave. His eyes flickered to her face, and away again, before he said, "Laira's decided to marry Tarak."
She felt her heart thud painfully. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Yeah well," he shrugged. "These things happen."
"Did she," Carter asked quietly, "did she say why?"
He frowned down at the floor. "She had her reasons. Good reasons. She's probably made the right decision - I wasn't exactly cut out to be a farmer."
Sam couldn't help smiling. His words reminded her of his letters. "No, sir," she said, "you weren't."
He looked up then, his face more open than she had ever seen it. "I, um," he began, with a little disbelieving laugh, "I don't know what to do, Sam. It's a real mess."
She nodded silently. His confusion disquieted her, she wasn't used to him looking so lost. Colonel O'Neill always knew what to do, always had an answer, but he was looking at her now with a mute appeal that almost frightened her. She licked at lips gone suddenly dry, and said: "Do you have to decide right now, sir?"
"We're due to leave in a few hours, Major."
"Forget about that," she told him, taking a step closer. "Sir - Jack - this is too important to decide like this."
He shrugged, acknowledging her point.
"Stay here," she suggested, "I'll speak to General Hammond when we get back - under the circumstances, I'm sure he'll agree a leave of absence."
"You think I should stay?" He looked right into her eyes as he spoke, with an intensity that stole her breath.
No! She wanted to say, no, come back with us, come back with me, Jack. But she knew it would be wrong, that it wouldn't be fair to land that on him right now. So, after a moment, she said. "I think you need time, sir. You need to spend some time with Laira, to talk to her - it's only been a couple of days. You both must need time, to sort out what you really want."
His mouth twisted into half a smile. "If it was just about what I wanted, Carter," he said, "it would be easy."
"Perhaps it is that easy, sir," she suggested, her stomach lurching painfully. If only she knew what it was he wanted! Did he still want her, or had Laira supplanted her during the months since he'd left Edora? She couldn't ask, yet she yearned to know. She felt the heat rush to her face, and looked away. "It'll seem clearer from a distance, sir," she said quietly. "Things always do."
He was silent for a moment, and then said: "You'll square things with Hammond?"
"Yes sir."
"And if anything happens...?"
"We'll come get you, Colonel."
He nodded. "I don't know how long it'll take - a couple of weeks, maybe."
"Take your time sir," she told him. "It's too important to rush."
He nodded again, hands thrust deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched, as if the weight of his problems were overwhelming. "Thanks Carter," he said after a moment. "I appreciate it."
His words sent her heart fluttering. "You're welcome sir," she replied, turning to leave. But she stopped after a couple of steps, and turned back to him. She couldn't leave without giving him some sign, some indication that she'd be waiting for him if he chose to return. "If it helps you decide, sir," she said, daring a smile, "don't forget I still owe you dinner."
His eyes flashed to hers. "I hadn't forgotten, Major," he replied with a small smile of his own, "and don't think you're getting out of it."
"No, sir."
"Be seeing you Carter," he said quietly.
"I hope so, sir," she replied, and then turned and walked quickly away before he could see the longing in her eyes.
PART 5
Sam was having a crisis. A real moral dilemma. On the kitchen counter sat a packet of pasta and an assortment of vegetables, which she'd been intending to turn into something moderately healthy, until her eyes had caught sight of the pizza menu lurking on top of the microwave. Hmmm, decisions, decisions.
Normally, she wouldn't have had a problem. Self discipline won nine times out of ten with Samantha Carter, but tonight, she was feeling reckless. It was unusual, but she suspected it had something to do with the almost obsessive way she'd been thinking about Jack for the last two weeks. She'd read his letters too many times to count, and she thought he was beginning to rub off on her.
"Oh, for crying out loud," she muttered, proving her own theory, as she dithered between the pasta and pizza. "Make a goddamn choice Carter." Yep, she'd certainly been thinking way too much about Jack O'Neill.
"Pizza," she decided in the end, sweeping the veggies back into the fridge, and starting to hunt for the phone. "With tuna, and jalapenos...." Now, where was the damn phone?! Her apartment was, by her standards, a mess. She'd been too preoccupied to tidy since her return from Edora, and the phone was no doubt buried somewhere under all the disarray. It had been a long two weeks, and so this evening she had decided to forget all about Jack and Laira, and unrequited love. There was only so much a woman could take before she went crazy. And so, she'd gone out and rented the trashiest action movie she could find - without, she hoped, a hint of romance - and had stocked her freezer with sufficient supplies of ice-cream, and her fridge with way too much beer. And, she had to admit, she was already feeling better, as she slopped around her apartment in woolly socks and baggy sweats. There was nothing like a little self-indulgent slobbery to get you over a man. Well, for an evening, at least.
"Ah, ha!" A brief glimmer of triumph made her smile as she stumbled across the phone, and started dialling. But before she'd got half-way through, the doorbell rang. She considered ignoring it for a moment, but then realised it was probably be Daniel. He'd been checking up on her over the last couple of weeks, in an assiduous way that unnerved her a little. It was just possible, she realised, that he might have some idea about the feelings she had for Jack. Unlikely as it seemed, given her total discretion, there was no other explanation for his unusual, and very diligent concern. Still, Daniel was always good company, and she wasn't averse to sharing her beer and pizza. Even her ice-cream.
So, still clutching the phone and take-out menu, she pulled open her front door. And froze. It wasn't Daniel. It was Jack.
"Hey," he said.
She just stared, and after a moment said: "You're back."
"Astute," he observed. And then added: "Can I come in?"
"Of course, sir." Okay, so when she'd imagined seeing him again - and she'd done a lot of imagining - the scenario had never included sloppy sweats, or take-out pizza. She ran a hand through her hair, and kicked her sneakers out of the way, clearing a path. "Go on through."
"You in the middle of something?" Jack asked, glancing around her uncharacteristically chaotic apartment.
"Kind of," she admitted. Well, it wasn't a total lie - she was in the middle of trying to deal with the turmoil his letters had thrown her into!
"Wanna hand?"
"No - it's fine," she told him.
"Okay." He raised an eye-brow: "Got a beer?"
"A beer? Sure. Yeah - sorry, sir, I should have offered." She hurried into the kitchen, grateful to escape for a moment. What the hell was he doing here, she wondered as she delved into the refrigerator. He never just dropped by! And when had he gotten back anyway? It could only have been this evening, at the earliest, because she'd been at work until late and... Her mind switched track - why had he come to see her so soon? There was only one reason; he wasn't here for long, and had to tell her he'd decided to stay on Edora after all. Laira had probably changed her mind - she'd be a fool not to! Damn it! He'd come to tell her goodbye. God damn it!
"Carter?"
His voice behind her made her jump. "Sir?"
"Are you talking to your refrigerator?"
"No, I was just..." She handed him a beer. "Here."
"Thanks."
She took a long swig, glad to be doing something that didn't involve talking. If he was here to say goodbye, she wished he'd just get on with it and go. She didn't think she could face a long goodbye on top of everything else. Not and retain any shred of self-respect.
But Jack didn't seem to be in a hurry to talk, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, gazing abstractedly at the floor, sipping at his beer. And, after a while, the silence between them started to become awkward. Sam, afraid of provoking the goodbye she feared, tried to think of something to talk about that didn't involve the last two weeks, but it was pretty hard. In fact it was impossible, she realised. And she was being stupid, cowardly, and selfish in trying to avoid the subject. He at least deserved her friendship, and as a friend, she had to ask the one question she dreaded to hear answered.
"So," she said after a while, "how long are you staying?"
"Why? Are you expecting company this evening?" he asked, deadpan.
"On Earth," she clarified.
He shook his head. "I don't know...."
Sam's heart hit the floor. Damn, she was right. This was it. She steeled herself for the worst.
"...twenty, maybe thirty years if I'm lucky."
Carter blinked, as her mind grasped his meaning. "You're - you're staying, sir?"
"Sorry to disappoint you, Major," he said, swallowing another mouthful of beer, "but you'll have to wait a little longer before you get command of SG1."
She smiled. "I can wait, sir. A long time, I hope."
Jack nodded, draining his beer, but remained silent. His face was strained, doing its best not to reveal too much of what lay beneath. But he was sad, she realised, and probably wanted to talk. She took a deep breath: "What happened with Laira, sir?" she asked quietly. "If it's not too personal a question?"
He glanced at her. "It is a personal question," he said, but then scrubbed a weary hand through his hair and added: "She married Tarak last week. Two days before the baby was born."
"I'm sorry," she replied, not sure what else to say.
He shook his head. "Don't be. Laira's a very smart woman, and she made the right choice - I never was much of a farmer."
"No sir," she agreed, smiling as she remembered his letters. But there was something in his eyes that looked like shame, belying his attempts at humour, and her smiled soon faded. "For what it's worth sir," she added, "I think you made the right decision. The SGC needs you."
"More than my own son?" He spoke quietly, angry with himself but not her, and she wished she could comfort him. If he were anyone else she would have. If it had been Daniel, she'd have put an arm around his shoulder, and told him she was glad he was back, that she needed him, and that she'd missed him. But not O'Neill. There had always been a tension between them that forbade anything so familiar. And so, as usual, she reverted to practicalities.
"Your son is with his mother, and with her husband. He'll probably be safer there than on Earth," she said. "And I know he'll be happy - and loved." He gave a non-committal little shrug, but said nothing. So Sam continued: "And we need you here sir. I need you." His eyes flew to her then, and she hastily added: "I couldn't command SG-1 sir."
"Sure you could."
"No, I couldn't begin to fill your shoes Colonel."
He glanced down at her feet. "Well, I guess they're a little small, but in those socks...? Maybe."
She smiled, not sorry he was trying to lighten the mood. "Another beer?" she offered.
"No, thanks. I'm driving." He glanced at the phone and pizza menu on the counter top and said: "You ordered?"
"No. I was about to though - do you want something, sir?" She smiled then, feeling more self-conscious than she would have liked, and added: "I, um, I think I still owe you dinner."
"I guess you do," he agreed.
Sam nodded towards the video cassette sitting nearby, "And I've even got a movie too."
He picked up the box, eyebrows raised: "Bruce Willis?"
She shrugged. "I felt like something mindless."
"And talent-less?" He shook his head, giving her a speculative look. "Actually," he said slowly, "I was kinda wondering if you wanted to go out for a bite?"
Out?! Sam felt her heart start pumping. Was he asking her out - to dinner? Okay relax, relax. It's not what you think! She smiled, her face, she hoped, calm and friendly. "Sure. That sounds nice."
He seemed to relax a little, and nodded. "There's a place near here that's pretty good: Gradey's - you know it?"
Ohmygod. Oh my God! "I've, um, heard of it," she managed to stutter, trying not to appear like a gibbering idiot. Gradey's! He was going to take her to Gradey's! The words from his letter flashed unbidden into her mind: Yeah, I should have taken you to Gradey's...we'd have had dinner, and talked, and maybe even danced a little.... And maybe then, I'd have had the courage to tell you how much you mean to me. I think I would have had to kiss you too, because I know your eyes would have been sparkling in the candlelight, and you'd have been irresistible.
"It's pretty casual," he was saying, glancing at her sweats, "but...?"
"I'll change."
He smiled. "Personally, I think you look great - and those socks...."
She was already heading for the bedroom, and closed the door before she could hear the end of his sentence. But she had to sit down for a moment, to talk some sense into herself. Okay, Carter, she began, just because he's suggested Gradey's doesn't mean he's going to declare his undying love for you. This is real life, not a fantasy. Get a grip, or you'll make a complete idiot of yourself. She took ten deliberate, deep breaths and tried to slow her heart rate. It worked, for about half a minute, until she started wondering what the hell she was going to wear! "Oh God," she muttered, staring at her wardrobe, dithering between jeans - safe, predictable, easy - and a pretty little dress she'd bought in the sales three months earlier, and never had the chance to wear. "Come on Major," she chided herself, "why not? Give the guy a hint - you never know!"
Okay, so he certainly hadn't gone there with the intention of asking her out to dinner. It just kinda happened. He HAD gone there to see her, because she hadn't been in the SGC when he arrived, and he'd felt so heart-worn on his return that he just needed to be in her company for a while. So, ignoring his better judgement, he'd turned up on her doorstep before he'd even made it back to his own house. And she'd been so - so Carter. A little embarrassed, but pleased to see him, concerned about what had happened on Edora, but not too pushy. And, well, damn it, she'd looked so goddamn cute in those floppy socks!
The idea of going back to his own dark and empty house had seemed very unappealing, but he'd been afraid that if she'd curled up next to him there, with a pizza and a video, nothing could have stopped him from kissing that sweet face of hers and telling her everything - whether she wanted to hear it or not. And so, he figured, going out would be safer. He'd still get to be with her, but the danger of him doing something stupid would certainly be reduced out in public. He hoped. And perhaps, if she didn't look quite so soft and hugable, he wouldn't - HOLY SMOKE!
Her bedroom door opened, and Carter stepped out wearing a dress that definitely wasn't soft and hugable. It was something entirely different.
"This okay?" she asked, a little uncertain.
He nodded mutely. It wasn't as if it was sexy in any obvious way, but it just kind of showed her off in all the right places. And it made her look a lot less like Major Carter, and a whole lot more like Sam. He found he had to swallow before he could speak. "That's, um, a new look for you, Carter."
She shrugged. "Sometimes even I get fed up with fatigues and lab coats, sir."
"I'm not complaining," he assured her. And then, before he said more than he should, he indicated the door: "Shall we?"
She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. Oh, boy, he told himself, now you're in trouble, Colonel. Big trouble.
Jack was right, Gradey's was a nice place. Relaxed, great atmosphere, good food, and intimate enough to be able to talk. And they'd done a lot of talking. About almost everything, and yet nothing of any weight. He'd seemed reluctant to discuss Edora any further, for which, Sam had guiltily admitted to herself, she was grateful. And so their conversation had rambled around work, onto the dubious qualities of Bruce Willis as an action hero, the dubious quality of action movies as a whole, onto how good the food was, and the wine - that they should order another bottle and get cabs home - and finally onto the music playing, and what did or didn't qualify as a 'classic'.
"Now this," Jack was assuring her, "is definitely a classic."
Sam listened for a moment, and nodded. "I guess." And then, with an arch smile added: "A little before my time, though."
He didn't rise to it, like she'd expected, just gave her a steady look and said quietly: "Not that long before your time, Sam."
"No," she replied, little thrills of adrenaline rippling through her stomach as his serious eyes held her fast. "Not long at all - certainly nothing significant, I mean just a couple of years really...." Okay, Carter you made the point, shut up now!
Jack glanced away for a moment, as he deliberately set his glass down on the table. And when he looked up, she had the distinct impression he was about to do something he knew he shouldn't. She swallowed, feeling even her fingers start to tingle, as he nodded towards the dance floor: "You want to...?"
Yes!! God yes! She smiled, hoping she didn't look too eager. "Sure, sir."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sam?"
She winced. "Sorry - Jack."
He reached out for her hand as he stood up, and hoping he couldn't feel her fingers tremble, she took it and he led her onto the dance floor.
Her mind instantly flew to the last time they'd danced together, that night on Edora she'd thought would be their last. What a contrast! Then, she'd had to struggle to keep her grief in check, and his gentle touch had been a strangely soothing kind of torture. But tonight, it was her hope, her excitement, and her desire she was struggling to control, and his touch was kindling to the fire. He was holding her close, closer than on Edora, and through the flimsy fabric of her dress she could feel the warmth of his arm about her waist and of every finger of the hand that rested on her hip. God, it felt good.
He didn't speak, and she found she had no words either, so they danced in silence until the music changed, and slowed. Okay, she thought, now this is definitely a slow dance! Sam felt herself stiffen with a shy tension, which Jack obviously noticed because he drew back for a moment, studying her face. But she smiled into his serious eyes, forcing herself to ignore her instinct to slam up her defences and run a mile from anything that had the potential to hurt her this much. He responded to her smile with a strange, almost helpless expression, dropped his hold on her hand and brought both arms around her waist, pulling her so close she could hear the gentle rhythm of his breathing.
"We're friends, aren't we Sam?" he said after a moment, his voice scarcely above a whisper in her ear.
She just nodded.
"And we have a good - and I mean a damned good - working relationship. Don't we?"
Another silent nod.
"Yeah," he sighed. "That's pretty damn important to me Major." He'd lapsed back into using her formal title, and her heart sank a little - as far as it could, given the fact that she was actually in his arms!
"Yes," she managed at last. "To me too."
He sighed, pulling back a little so he could see her face properly. "You wouldn't want to do anything to change that relationship," he said, studying her intently, before adding a hesitant "Would you?"
"Not our working relationship..." she agreed, leaving it open.
His eyes were still fixed on hers, soft in the gently lit room, and full of silent questions. But...?
"But," she said, not sure how to continue. "But if you still...I mean, if you wanted to change...that is, I'd be...." She felt the heat rush to her face, and dropped her eyes, dredging her spinning mind for the right words. But none would come to her and she found herself staring at his shoulder in silence. Damn it!
And then, because she couldn't think of the right thing to say, because he was holding her so close she could feel the beat of his heart, because she'd missed him so much, and because she knew that if nothing happened here, this night, it probably never would, she decided to be reckless. Lifting her face to his, Sam smiled and brushed his lips with a soft kiss.
His eyes widened slightly, not in shock but in wonderment. And then he smiled, an expression of such heartfelt delight that she thought she was going to drown in his eyes, until they fluttered closed and he leaned in to kiss her. Sam felt the world dissolve around her as their lips met, and she sank into a kiss of such sweet and tender affection that she had a hard time staying on her feet. But his arms around her held her tight, and when they at last broke apart, Jack was still smiling. "Well, I guess that changed a few things," he breathed.
Sam nodded, gradually becoming aware once more that they stood in the middle of a rather small restaurant. His mind must have been following a similar thread, because he leaned close and whispered in her ear: "You want to bug out of here?"
She smiled at his choice of words: "Just give the order sir."
But he was serious when he looked at her and said: "I'm not giving any orders, Sam."
"I know," she assured him as they headed back to their table, but then grinned: "Guess, that means I'm ordering the cab then?"
"Smart, Carter," he grumbled, but his eyes were smiling.
"I've, um, always wanted to ask this," she grinned, sitting down and reaching for her mobile, "your place or mine?"
In the end it was her place, on the grounds that any food in Jack's would probably have gained a life of its own by this point, and, more importantly, that hers was closer. They'd actually managed to behave reasonably well until the front door closed behind them, and then three years of frustrated desire had crashed over them like a burst damn and swept them away in a flood of passion that hadn't subsided until the morning's early hours.
And so, the sun was high and warm, bathing the room in golden yellow light, by the time Sam's eyes flickered open, dragged from sleep by a persistent knocking.
"What the hell's that?" a sleepy voice said from beside her, and her heart did a little loop-the-loop as the memories returned. Jack! Wow.
"It's the door," she told him, eyeing the distance between herself and her bathrobe on the back of a chair. Despite everything, she felt a little shy in the daylight.
"Expecting someone?"
She shook her head. "No, unless...." Oh no. It couldn't be.
"Unless?"
She flinched at little at the idea: "It might be Daniel."
"Daniel?" He propped his head up on one hand. "Why?"
The knocking persisted, accompanied by a faint: "Sam? Sam are you in there? Are you okay?"
"He's been checking up on me," she told him, sitting up, careful to keep the covers over herself.
Jack noticed and smiled, touching her shoulder with a soft kiss: "Go get rid of him," he suggested, and then lay back down and closed his eyes. "I won't peek."
She hurriedly slipped on her bathrobe, and went to the front door, opening it to see Daniel's concerned face staring back at her. "Sam! I was worried - are you okay?"
"I was asleep," she told him pointedly.
"Oh." He looked a little sheepish, and held up a grocery bag. "Thought you might like some brunch?"
"Brunch...? Um...."
"Why not? It's Sunday," he told her. "And we're back at work tomorrow, so why not make the most of it, right?"
"Well, it's..." Think of an excuse!! Damn - he was already in her apartment!
"You heard then?" he said, heading straight for the kitchen, oblivious to the clothes scattered across the living room floor. Following him, she shoved Jack's jacket behind a cushion, and kicked his shoes under a chair.
"Heard what?"
"That Jack's back."
"Oh," she nodded. "Yeah I heard."
"Janet call you?"
"Um. Yeah." Okay, this was ridiculous, he was unloading pancake fixings. "Look Daniel, this isn't really...."
"He's staying, you know," Daniel said, turning to look at her. "He's staying with the SGC."
"Yeah," she nodded. "He is."
"He was asking after you," he continued. "Where do you keep mixing bowls?"
"Top cupboard. But Daniel, this isn't really...."
"I think he missed you Sam."
"Daniel," she said, shaking her head. "You don't have to do this. I'm fine."
He smiled his sweet, friendly smile. "I know, but I want to. This has been hard for you..."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he talked on: "...Don't deny it, Sam. I know how much you missed him, how hard you worked to get him home - you half killed yourself - and then, to have this happen...."
"Daniel," she said, touched by his real concern, "I'm fine. I'm great. Really."
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "I just figured you might need a friend."
"Always," she told him. "But right now...."
"Right now," a voice said from behind her, "she needs breakfast. And so do I."
Daniel's eyes popped open. "Jack."
"Daniel."
"Oh." He was puzzled for a moment, until something clicked. "OH!" He grinned, embarrassed and amused in equal measure. "Well, you know, I've just remembered I've got to go...some place else. So I'll let you guys.... Yeah, I'll just go."
He'd almost reached the door when Jack called: "Daniel?"
He turned. "Yes?"
"Not a word."
Daniel nodded. "I know - regulations." Then he frowned: "Not even Teal'c?"
"'Bye, Daniel."
"Janet?"
"Go."
Daniel grinned. "See you guys tomorrow," he said, glancing at his watch as he pulled the door shut, "and, um, try not to oversleep, Colonel."
"Out!"
"Oh God," Sam sighed after the door had closed. "I'm sorry - I just couldn't think of anything to say..."
"Hey," Jack smiled, tugging on the belt of her bathrobe to pull her close. "It's okay. He'd have figured it out eventually."
"I guess," she agreed, gazing up into his face. "No regrets then?"
"One," he told her. And then frowned: "Actually two."
"Oh?" He was joking, at least she thought he was. She hoped he was.
"I regret," he said, "that we didn't do this at least two years ago."
She smiled. "Me too. And?"
"And," he said, a dangerous glint in his eyes as a hand found its way beneath her bathrobe, "I regret not peeking this morning."
She just giggled, and slid her arms around his neck. Life, she realised, was about to get a whole lot more complicated. And she simply couldn't wait.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Sally Reeve
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