Irrevocable Decision (complete story)
Irrevocable Decision (complete story)
by Obsessed Pam
Summary: Jack has simply had enough and decides to leave SG-1.
Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Episode Related: 409 Scorched Earth
Season: Season 4
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: 13+
Warnings: minor language, none
Author's Notes: I decided this story needed a different ending to meet the needs of all those shippers, so with the unstinting help and additions of my brilliant beta, Nell, we give you this updated version. (hope you like it).
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 06/16/06
Irrevocable Decision (Complete - N.)
"Alright people, that will be all...Dismissed."
General Hammond's appraising eyes observed Dr. Jackson and Major Carter push back their chairs from the large oak conference table almost in unison, their eagerness to escape the briefing all too apparent. He had noted, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, how no one throughout the briefing had made eye contact, apart from Teal'c; the remaining members of SG-1 had kept their eyes fixed firmly on their hands or on the table.
As Teal'c made to follow Daniel and Sam, the general's gaze returned to his 2IC who had made no move, his dark eyes following the Jaffa warrior as he exited the room. Hammond was all too aware of the carefully applied mask Jack was wont to apply to hide any feelings he may have and right now the general knew full well that mask was firmly in place.
"Do you have anything further to add, Colonel?" the general enquired softly.
For a split second the deep, sombre eyes flashed a message which was almost instantly concealed. However, the general hadn't worked with O'Neill for these past four years without knowing something was amiss, big time. Had something been omitted from the report he wondered, something the team had felt necessary to conceal?
He shook his head, deciding it wasn't going to help matters if his mind went off at a tangent. Better to face what was before him here and now. He knew as much as anyone he decided, regarding the oft times unorthodox head of SG-1 and the wary look he had detected in the grey-haired man's eyes served to make the feeling in his stomach begin to simmer uncomfortably. He needed some Maalox, quickly.
As if reading his mind, the younger man muttered, "This won't take long, General."
Dark eyes bored icily into blue ones and General Hammond had to steel himself from actually shivering.
"I'm out of here, Sir."
The smaller, stockier head of the SGC smiled in relief.
"Don't worry, Jack. You've one full week of down time and, unless there's a direct threat to Earth's security, I'll make sure you get what you deserve."
"Not enough."
The general frowned at the sharp retort but excused it. He realized that this last mission with the Enkarans and the Gadmeer had put an enormous strain on his premier team and on Jack in particular.
"I reckon I can swing it to two weeks, Colonel, but don't think I'll make a habit of this." He was smiling to take the sting out of his words, standing and gathering his papers together. There was no reaction from the colonel. Maybe his intuition had been off and this was all just a matter of his flagship team getting a long and much needed rest.
"I'm not coming back, General."
And there again maybe it wasn't off.
Hammond stilled, not wanting to believe what he had heard.
"Jack, I know this was a tough one--."
"Tough one?" Jack's head shot up, his voice rising. "I nearly blew Daniel and the Gadmeer to smithereens!"
"It was a tough call, Colonel. You did what you thought was right."
"I f--cked up, General. End of story." Jack screwed his eyes shut, rubbing the heels of his two hands into his eyes, as he relived the moment when he had pressed the button to detonate the naquada bomb. The same bomb he had been forced to order his 2IC to make. He still felt like puking his guts out even now.
"You're tired Jack, two weeks from now you'll--."
"I'm not coming back." The black eyes burned with a despairing dejection.
Hammond faced his 2IC, shocked by the depth of emptiness in his gaze. His own shoulders slumped in defeat - a feeling he wasn't used to. Over the years he had been required to handle a furious and rebellious Jack O'Neill. He'd handled stubbornness, petulance, arrogance and childishness but never had he seen the utter hopelessness now revealed in all his 2IC's anguish.
"What about the rest of SG-1?" The general's voice was hollow with sadness.
Shaking his head bleakly, Jack answered, "They don't have a clue about this and for the moment that's how I want to leave it. I... I'll tell them in my own way."
"That's your prerogative son, but I hope you realise they--."
"General, permission to be excused!" Unable to bear even General Hammond's choice of address for him - he didn't feel like anyone's son right now - and unable to cope with any further sentiment without losing it completely, Jack shot up sending the chair he was on crashing backwards. There was too much rage burning within him; he had no wish to be absolved of the guilt he felt so keenly.
--------------(Just over two weeks later)
"Does he think he can just walk out like that without so much as a by-your-leave?"
Teal'c frowned. "What is this `by-your-leave' you speak of Daniel Jackson?" It was all too obvious that Teal'c's calm demeanour was at odds with the feelings of the remaining members of SG-1.
Daniel scowled, in no mood to explain the semantics of old English.
Sitting in the commissary nursing cups of coffee, apart from Teal'c who chose herbal tea, the three were enveloped in an aura of gloom.
"It means," explained Sam moodily, "that the colonel didn't ask permission to go."
Teal'c's head turned to the side as he thought this over.
"But he did, Daniel Jackson, - General Hammond--."
"He didn't ask us!" Daniel shot back vehemently. "All I got was a pathetic message on my answering machine."
"I also received a message on Chulak - it was," he paused, "unexpected."
Sam scowled. "You two should count yourselves lucky," she complained tetchily. "All I got was a terse note left on my computer, `Maybe see you around some day, signed O'N.'"
Her usual features had darkened as she recounted the message she had so recently found on her laptop as well as her race to see the general to try and understand what the colonel's message was meant to convey.
"I've tried phoning," she continued, "but his mobile's been disconnected."
"As has his home number," added Teal'c.
"Everything's been cleared out at his home," Daniel spoke with a constant note of surprise to his voice.
"He must have gone to the cabin," Sam muttered softly, trying hard to hide the desperate hurt she was feeling. It was okay for Daniel to show his emotions so openly but she...
"We must go and persuade O'Neill to return to the SGC," stated Teal'c calmly.
Both Daniel and Sam looked at him aghast.
"I have a feeling, and correct me if I'm wrong," said Daniel peevishly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, "that he had his own good reasons for saying his goodbyes to us the way he did and it meant he didn't want to see us face-to-face."
"Why?" Teal'c's innocent question irritated the others at the table, forcing them to face the same gnawing question that had been eating away at them.
"Could it be O'Neill was hoping to evade the wrath of Major Carter?" The large Jaffa noted the shock on his colleagues' faces and continued, "Now that you are Level 4 in your hand-to-hand combat, would it now seem pertinent that he avoid disagreement?"
For a staggering moment both Sam and Daniel thought Teal'c was serious - then they remembered his own strange sense of humour - so much a reminder of Jack that it was painful.
"You may be joking, Teal'c, but right now a training session with the colonel would definitely meet a deep inner need!" And Sam had the gratifying picture in her head of kicking O'Neill butt big time.
And so it was that after further deliberation they decided to go, as a team, to beg General Hammond for extra leave and in turn had come banging on his cabin door.
But there was to be no face-to-face meeting they realized as they stomped round the cabin, and though Sam felt his presence keenly, she did not get the satisfaction of telling her former CO what she thought of his pitiful message and the fact that he hadn't had the decency to face her to say his goodbyes.
She has been furious though she tried her best to suppress it as she surveyed the land around, and only the final hard kick to the front door in any way pointed to the violently negative feelings she was harbouring within herself for a tall, grey-haired ex-air force colonel.
---------------
He knew them well, knew they'd come. So he made sure he wasn't around to face their shock - which he knew would in time turn to anger and resentment - to have on view his own failings and fears. He'd had two frenetic weeks to sort out his house and finances and then he'd escaped to his grandfather's cabin by the lake, the one he'd invited Carter to on a number of occasions, but which she'd never accepted.
He'd seen her, this time from a distance, her, Daniel and Teal'c. She'd banged on his door so hard he could almost believe he could feel the pain in his own hands and then she'd turned to face the woods, seeming to find his hidden position, piercing him with an accusing glare, her blue eyes filled with a terrible pain which was reflected in his own.
They'd left, eventually, but he hadn't returned until it was dark and he could be sure they had really gone; gone from his life, the same as he'd gone from the Stargate.
There was a finality to that visit that encouraged Jack to celebrate his success - his victory at being free, once and for all, from the choking responsibility of the SG-1 team. No more decisions except those which concerned himself. He'd raised the beer bottle, his fifth in succession, to the heavens and to the many stars which adorned the black sky and given a silent toast.
And when he awoke in the early hours of the morning, hung over and surrounded by empty bottles, he had staggered to his feet and had removed the dog tags from around his neck as the last symbolic gesture, cutting the ties to his past life. And reeling to the small wooden jetty, he had hurled the cool glinting metal as far out into the silently waiting lake as he could manage.
-----------
If he had thought life was going to be simpler or easier once he'd retired, he was to be proven wrong. Small problems on the cabin neglected over the years and which hadn't posed any major discomfort on short visits, suddenly erupted to gigantic proportions and all at once the tall, lean ex-airman found himself coping with rotting floor timbers, a leaking roof and the general wear and tear of a building that hadn't had any work done on it for the past six years.
In the following weeks the sounds of drill and hammer were a constant accompaniment to all that Jack undertook and as the glorious autumn weather gave off hints of the colder weather to come, Jack worked unceasingly to put his new home into order.
----------
Late autumn eventually turned to winter with a heavy fall of snow and icy conditions forecast on the roads for the coming night. The banging on Jack's door that same afternoon interrupted his work on the waste disposal system and biting back an oath, he dragged himself out from under the sink and padded to the main door, wondering if it was the rangers again warning about the deer poachers.
It wasn't a good moment to be disturbed as he hadn't come close to solving the disposal problem and his irritation was clear to see as he threw open the front door.
For an instant he wondered if he was imagining things, seeing an apparition, but the crisply spoken `Jack' as the figure brushed past him into the cabin was clearly no phantom.
He turned slowly being fairly obvious about still leaving the door wide open.
"Jacob?" His tone was anything but welcoming, but the large framed man standing well inside his home stared back through uncomfortably familiar blue eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Nice welcome, Jack." And observing the younger man's appearance enquired, "Lost your razor, Colonel?"
Ignoring the question and still remaining by the open door, Jack stood stiffly, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Jacob?"
For a long moment the newcomer regarded the sloppily dressed man in grey T-shirt and baggy chinos, grey bearded stubble covering much of his face, with his hair definitely on his collar - if he'd had one.
"The cold doesn't bother me too much, Jack, but seeing as you've gone to the trouble of getting this place so cosy it seems a shame to waste the heat."
Jack glowered, knowing he hadn't a cat in hell's chance of forcing Sam's father to leave and with a growl of irritation he pushed the door closed.
Walking back to the kitchen he snapped, "Make it quick. I'm busy." And he returned to the pipes under the sink ignoring Jacob as best he could, yet all too aware the man was walking around the cabin. Eventually he sensed him standing close by.
"Can't a man drop in on an old acquaintance?"
Miscalculating his aim with the hammer, Jack muttered a string of obscenities as he threw the tool down and hauled himself out yet again, shaking his left hand which had all too obviously borne the brunt of the hammer's blow.
Observing the swelling on Jack's thumb, Jacob grinned none too sympathetically.
"You might want to put some ice on that - it looks pretty sore."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Jack threw Jacob a withering look. "It's almost 900 miles from Cheyenne Mountain to here - I wouldn't call that `dropping in'."
"Really?" asked Jacob innocently setting Jack's teeth on edge. "Well then, I reckon a cup of coffee would go down well, if you're offering, that is."
Wondering what it would take to get rid of his unwelcome intruder, Jack decided he could manage a cup of coffee if that was what it took to help move the situation along.
As he scooped instant granules into a mug, Jack's tone took on a slightly defensive quality, "Did Carter send you?"
He watched Jacob carefully but there was no reaction other than a mild surprise and raised eyebrows. "Why would she do that?"
Jack shrugged indifferently, "Maybe because I pissed her off."
Jacob accepted the coffee enthusiastically putting it to his lips and sipping carefully. "Sam doesn't need me to fight her battles, she knows how to kick ass."
Jack wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not to hear this - if it wasn't his former 2IC then what had brought Jacob here?
"Anyway, what did you do to piss her off?" He actually sounded as if he wanted to know, but Jack felt himself erecting barriers which kept others out - now that Jacob had Selmak within him Jack didn't trust his abilities to keep the Tok'ra agent at bay.
"Ask your daughter."
"I will, next time I see her."
By now Jack had had enough of the pussyfooting around and decided to go on the offensive.
"Maybe you weren't aware that I've retired, Jacob. I'm no longer a part of the Air Force. I'm a civilian - have nothing to do with the Stargate or anyone involved in it," he finished coldly.
"So I heard," Jacob sounded unimpressed at Jack's revelations, merely handing his empty mug back to him and moving to the door, much to Jack's relief.
"Nice seeing you Jacob."
Jack watched the older man walk to his car, open the boot and to his consternation extract a small holdall, close the boot and retrace his steps.
"What are you doing?" Jack didn't care that he sounded ill-mannered.
"It's getting too dark for me to drive on these back roads Jack, I'll just use your sofa - don't mean to put you out."
"You don't seem to have much trouble negotiating a hundred planets but a few dirt tracks put you on hold?" he demanded witheringly, his brown eyes flashing heatedly. "How come Selmak doesn't offer his assistance?"
Jacob eyed him indulgently, smiling agreeably, apparently oblivious to Jack's foul mood.
"Selmak tries to stay as much in the background as possible when I'm back on earth."
Jack looked askance as the older man sat himself down on the large, comfortable sofa, holding his hands out to the blazing fire.
"Got yourself a nice place out here Jack - a bit away from things though."
"That's how I like it."
"Don't get lonely?"
"No!"
"Hell, Jack. Teal'c tells me there aren't even fish in the lake."
"There are - they're just way too smart to get caught."
Far from relaxed, Jack had forced himself to take a seat opposite Jacob, watching him suspiciously.
"Whatever it is you've come for - the answer is no. Two simple letters which have a definitive meaning which cannot be misinterpreted - even by you. Got that Jacob?" Well aware of just how offensive he sounded, Jack felt compelled to make his position crystal clear.
"Well, it's transparently clear that life in the country hasn't softened those hard edges of yours." Jacob laughed but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
Unable to sit still any longer, Jack lunged to his feet. "I'm going for a walk."
"It's dark."
Jack didn't answer, simply going to where his black leather jacket was hanging. He shrugged into it pulling the collar up and putting on gloves.
"From what Sam told me of your little escapade in Antarctica, I'd have thought you'd have had enough of ice and snow."
Hand on the door handle, Jack hesitated and not turning to face Jacob, his voice roughened so that it was more a growl than words, he muttered, "If you change your mind and decide to leave, consider our farewells done."
The door closed loudly, not exactly slammed shut Jacob reasoned, grinning to himself at Jack's barely controlled emotions.
"Let's see how long that restraint's going to last, Colonel."
-----
The snow had started to fall again, the sky a heavy white blanket in the darkness. Hunching his shoulders and pulling his Air Force issue cap low, Jack cut out across the grassy area down to the lake, stomping onto the small dock. It was already bitterly cold and he stamped his feet wishing he'd taken the time to put on his thicker boots.
Nothing stirred on the still black water and after a few minutes he turned away unsure exactly what to do. In no mood to face Jacob just yet, he decided to follow the path he'd recently made through the woods. He briefly considered returning to the cabin for his torch but decided against it - he didn't intend leaving the path, nor would he be long - his leather jacket only provided so much protection and he wasn't wearing thermals.
He marched out, his anger producing an excess of energy which drove him further afield than he'd intended, but even in the biting cold the light thrown out by the falling snow had turned his surrounding world into a magical land of serenity, the trees decorated in a soft down of pure snow. Already there was enough covering on the ground to mask any sounds his feet may have made whilst the snow, which still fell, was made up of iridescent snowflakes, fairy lights falling from the white sky.
Eventually Jack felt the racing of his heart begin to steady as his surroundings elicited a calming response and he found himself slowing his pace. Then suddenly, before he knew what had happened, the largest stag he had ever seen was facing him, its nostrils flared, its breath warm and alive in the frozen air, its bright eyes shining fearlessly. It was a statue of ice, the whiteness of its coat almost blinding and Jack froze in astonishment and wonder, unable to believe that the huge beast hadn't leapt away at his presence. And what Jack had originally taken for snow, he realized was in fact a pure white coat whilst in contrast, its black antlers reached up to a terrific height.
Hardly daring to breath, Jack faced the beast, taking in its graceful symmetry, its sleek albino coat and its magnificent body. He'd seen plenty of game in his time but nothing to equal the majesty of the beast which stood transfixed before him.
He blinked and in that instant it bounded away to his left, through the dense growth as if a wraith and only the indentations of its cleft feet gave evidence of its existence, otherwise Jack wondered if he would have questioned what his own eyes had seen.
------
Pushing open the cabin door, his senses were assailed by the inviting aroma of cooking food. Kicking off his shoes he padded into the kitchen to find Jacob standing over the stove stirring something which was bubbling away.
"Didn't think you'd mind me putting my hand to a little culinary treat - spaghetti bolognaise; it used to be one of Sam's favourites."
A mutinous expression settled on Jack's face.
A green salad had already been put in a bowl and as Jack scowled at the domestic scene before him Jacob proceeded to strain the pasta and serve it into two smaller bowls.
"Go wash up then come and eat."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing and he span back round to face Jacob, his dark brown eyes flashing angrily.
"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped.
"I think that's pretty obvious," and, not in the least intimidated by Jack's belligerence, asked, "By the way, where are the napkins?"
"Jacob!" Jack's voice held a tense note of warning as he growled the name out. Jacob blinked.
"Sam was right, you know - you are a mule-headed son of a bitch. Now go wash and then we'll eat," and seeing the O'Neill look added, "That's an order."
"I don't take orders anymore or have you forgotten?"
Jacob smiled chillingly, piercing Jack with a menacing glare.
"Yes, you do Jack," he uttered softly. "You see, I still have this general's mentality and whether you like it or not - you're still a snot-nosed colonel and in my book that means you do as I say."
For a second Jack wondered whether this was the time to call Jacob out, demand to know what the hell was going on, but in truth he was too tired, cold and hungry and the food did look appealing. He decided, against his better judgment, to put his questions on hold whilst he catered to other bodily needs.
-----"So tell me Jack, how do you keep sane?"
"Excuse me?" The glass of wine held to his lips was replaced on the table as Jack gave his guest a hard stare.
Waving his hand around him, Jacob smiled - much too sweetly, his host thought gloomily.
"You know, all this. And then compare it to the SGC?"
Jack adopted the blank, incomprehensible look he liked to use when he wished to give the impression he was a little dense.
Jacob merely gave him a dry look of reproof as if to say, `Don't waste it on me, Jack. I don't buy it.'
Scowling deeply, Jack finished off his wine aware when it was refilled yet uncaring.
"It's a nice place you ran to though."
Brown eyes flashed dangerously knowing all too well what Jacob was saying. Jack remained silent.
"Aren't you just a little intrigued to know what's been going on, what's going on now?"
Pushing back his chair just a little too quickly, Jack took his dish into the kitchen area placing it in the dishwasher. He took his time needing the respite from Jacob's none too subtle inquisition. He put the percolator on and finding no other reason to stay away, returned to the dining table to find Jacob holding out his own empty dish. Jack looked at it witheringly and Jacob sighed.
"I am the guest here."
Snatching it out of his hand, the younger man returned to the dishwasher practically throwing the unoffending item in with bad grace.
He stomped back to his place grabbing his wine and downing it in a fit of pique then played with the glass, somehow managing not to break it.
"Sam seems to think you've got some demons inside you which need exorcising."
Jack kept his eyes glued to the glass, his face apparently carved from stone.
Jacob snorted incredulously. "Told her George had molly coddled you too much and all you needed was your butt kicking hard to exorcise whatever it was eating away at you!"
Eyes glowing with resentment, Jack shot the Tok'ra a venomous look. "Is that what you're here for?"
Jacob didn't trouble to answer as he drank the wine, his grey head tilting a little to the side, a trace of cynical amusement tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Unable to hold Jacob's gaze for long, Jack dropped his own eyes, reaching for the bottle to refill his glass. He began to cough and felt the colour rising in his face as he felt Jacob's observant eyes on him. Once the coughing spasm had subsided, Jacob spoke again.
"You taking anything for that?"
Jack threw him a scornful look saying dryly, "Didn't know you cared." He thought he saw a glint of anger flash across Jacob's blue eyes but if it had been there it was instantly masked as the older man grinned at him.
"Beats me how Sam managed to work with you all those years without taking a swing at you." He said this amiably, with no hint of malice but Jack was instantly on alert.
"Oh, she had her moments," Jack responded cryptically, returning Jacob's grin but devoid of any warmth. "So...how are they?" he continued casually, succeeding, he believed, in making Jacob think it wasn't the one question he had longed to ask from the moment his visitor had darkened his doorstep. He deliberately kept his eyes lowered, unwilling to meet Jacob's intense scrutiny.
"Not bad, considering their C.O. turned tail leaving them high and dry."
Jack willed himself to be still though he was unable to prevent the hot flush rising within him.
"You know Jack, I've called you many names but I never figured you were spineless."
The blood pounded in his brain yet still Jack cautioned himself to remain calm.
"Think what the hell you like, Jacob - it's your prerogative."
He grimaced realizing the Tok'ra had failed to provide answers to what he craved yet he was reluctant to ask again. But as if knowing what was in Jack's head, Jacob continued, "Teal'c is Teal'c, always the same but, if I were to ask him, he wouldn't be afraid to admit he missed you."
Jack felt the intended dig but revealed nothing.
"Daniel being Daniel threw tantrums left, right and centre then simply turned sad...He likes to think he's gotten over you running out, but he hasn't. Betrayal is a hard thing to -."
"Betrayal!" Jack's indignation was palpable as his dark eyes, high precision drills, bored into Jacob. "I retired, for crying out loud! Admittedly it was quick, but I. DID. NOT. BETRAY. HIM!"
Seemingly oblivious to Jack's fury, Jacob merely shrugged. "Try telling that to Daniel...Oh, I forgot. Silly me. You haven't spoken to any of your team since you returned from PX238," the Tok'ra muttered dryly.
Rigid with anger, Jack struggled for self control, his face devoid of colour.
"I think I'm ready for that coffee that's been bubbling away," Jacob uttered softly, moving to the breakfast bar. He appeared to know where the mugs were kept and took two down pouring the strong, black liquid into each. "Any honey?"
Silently Jack produced a jar from an overhead cupboard banging it down on the counter and watching as Jacob poured a good spoonful into one of the mugs.
"Milk?"
Jack shook his head and as Jacob slid over a mug, he shook his head indicating the other one.
"That's yours."
No, it isn't."
Irritation flared. "That's the one with the honey," he snapped indicating the mug Jacob was pushing his way.
"I know."
Jack blinked. "I don't take honey." His tone had taken on a hard edge as he struggled to remain polite.
`You do now." And raising the unsweetened mug in a toast, Jacob proceeded to drink the coffee.
Mulishly Jack pushed the proffered mug back to the Tok'ra. "I don't want honey."
"You may not want it Jack," Jacob insisted softly, "but you *will* drink it." And he pushed the mug back again.
"Don't think so," he persisted.
The mug came back.
"Stop being a pain in the ass, Jack."
"If you'll stop playing the goddamn mother hen!" was the sharp retort.
"Don't you want to hear about Sam?" And knowing he had the upper hand, Jacob continued, "Drink, indulge an old man."
Far from pleased at how this situation had evolved, Jack knew he was being held over a barrel - if he wanted more on his team he was going to have to grovel for it. Grudgingly he swallowed the hot liquid, trying hard to ignore the patronizing look Jacob was throwing his way.
"Ferretti was offered SG-1 - turned it down. Was unwilling to leave his own team and told George there was only one man suitable for the post."
Jack nursed his mug; his head hung low, his face hidden.
"Hate to admit it but I agree with him," Jacob continued, `but Stone was put up for it and accepted." Jacob watched Jack keenly but apart from a stiffening of his shoulders there was nothing. "The others put up with him and get on with it as best they can, but when you take the fighting spirit out of a team there's not a lot can be done."
The Tok'ra had hoped to get a response at this and wasn't disappointed when Jack's head jerked up.
"What the f-ck! Teal'c's got more fighting spirit than ten of me, so don't give me that crap!"
Jacob eyed the younger man through narrowed eyes. "He's your man Jack, always was, always will be. When you left he requested to return to Chulak, but George persuaded him to delay the move for a little while...Daniel spends more time going off world with other teams too. That cohesion you all forged disintegrated when you decided to take your ball away and sulk on your own."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Jack raked a hand through his grey hair. "Ever tried the objective approach, Jacob?"
The Tok'ra's eyes flashed dangerously. "This is the objective approach," he snapped, allowing O'Neill to see a little of what he was really feeling. "If I took the subjective way, I'd be dragging you outside by the scruff of your neck and beating the shit out of your worthless hide until you came to your senses!"
'Jacob!' Selmac's warning voice echoed loudly in the Tok'ra's head. 'We agreed to take the restrained approach, did we not?'
'You did,' snapped Jacob silently answering his symbiote sharply.
'Did we not feel that an all out attack would merely serve to raise O'Neill's defences to such an extent that--.'
'Yes, yea. He's a stubborn son of a bitch; you've no need to remind me!'
'Then I suggest you desist from provoking the colonel any further.'
Turning his full attention back to the fiery ex-head of SG-1, Jacob took a deep breath, counting to ten and back.
"Selmac tells me I'm being too hard on you."
"I don't need a snake looking out for me!"
"The trouble is, you can't cope with anyone looking out for you!" he challenged tersely.
"So you've moved into psycho-analysis now," Jack returned snidely.
Jacob grinned maliciously. "Just adolescent brats." Then glancing at his watch his eyes widened in surprise. "Look at the time. I need to get my head down soon...Now, where was I? Oh yea ...Sam."
He paused for effect, wanting the younger man to dangle painfully like a worm on the end of a fishing line, but Jack remained outwardly impervious to Jacob's determined mental prodding. Only the tightening of his lips and the narrowing of his guarded eyes gave any indication of underlying emotional turmoil to anyone astute enough to see.
"Yea, Sam...Well, you tell me how `you' think she's doing."
The unexpected request threw Jack slightly and he started.
"She's one of the finest officers I've ever worked with - she'll cope with whatever's thrown at her."
Jacob raised his mug as if in a toast, downing the last of its contents. "In a nutshell - she's coping. Fraiser says that given time, she'll be as good as new."
Jack's tired head shot up, eyes apprehensive. "Fraiser?" The hesitation and dread were there to see and hear.
For a moment Jacob was lost in his own thoughts then observing Jack, he continued grimly, "The last mission didn't go down too well - they gated straight into some internal friction. Before they could gate out she'd taken a hit."
Shit! "How is she?"
"Why don't you ask her? It appears that in her delirium she was asking for you."
-----
Having made up the spare room, Jacob was not long in retiring, leaving Jack to his own troubled thoughts. He finished off the rest of the wine as he stared into the dying embers of the log fire, trying hard to resist the temptation to make that one single call which would put his mind at rest.
He knew Jacob hadn't told him everything, but he was also reassured to think the father would not have left his daughter if she were desperately ill.
He needed to walk - to walk off his anger and anxiety and also the alcohol which was befuddling his senses. Not having imbibed any hard liquor for so long, its potency had gone straight to his head scrambling his thoughts.
Grabbing his mobile, he went out into the freezing night oblivious of the stillness of his sanctuary.
`Hah!' he ranted to himself, `some sanctuary!' His privacy had been invaded with a vengeance and until he had more information there would be no peace for his troubled mind.
He went to the water's edge, intending to get the call over and done with so that he could lend his attention to other things which weren't so disturbing to his equilibrium. The snowfall had stopped sometime during the evening but a good six inches lay on the hard, icy ground causing Jack to speculate that Jacob might be forced to spend even longer with him. He groaned softly at the notion, shaking his aching head. They were too alike, he admitted, for their own good. Both used to action and getting things done as efficiently and expeditiously as possible. Now that Jack had stepped back from all that, he could see how mystified Jacob was, unable to comprehend Jack's decision to leave the Stargate project and all that it meant.
At the dock he punched in a number committed to memory, impatient at having to wait as the tone rang out.
"Come on, come on..."
The strange noise he heard at the end of the line didn't sound human.
"Daniel?" he snapped out harshly, impatiently.
"Ja-ack?" Everything was conveyed in that name - surprise, shock, disbelief, hurt, reproach, condemnation!
Jack closed his eyes.
"Do you know what time it is?"
Jack smiled without warmth, picturing the young archaeologist scrabbling for his glasses, and winced when he realized that with the time difference it was after one in the morning where Daniel was.
"Yes." No apology.
Daniel wasn't his usual communicative self - the silence went on unbroken.
Damn. This was going to be hard. When, Jack wondered, had he gotten so resilient.
"I...I kind of wondered how you were all doing." Crap. Even to his own ears he sounded pathetic.
Daniel's silence seemed to last an age but then his cool, disparaging voice penetrated Jack's defences, "Almost six months have passed - we're fine."
"But Sam--." Shit! He hadn't meant to be so explicit.
"What about Sam?" For the first time since they'd started speaking Daniel sounded as if he didn't want this conversation to end.
Jack was trying desperately to pick up on any and every inflection in Daniel's voice. It wasn't easy when the archaeologist had adopted such a neutral tone.
"Jacob told me she was wounded, that she was--."
"Jacob? Is Jacob there? What's Jacob doing there?"
"How's Sam?" There! He had said it - he was just glad no one could see his face right now.
"Sam? What are you talking about Jack?" Daniel was sounding highly irritated - not what Jack had been expecting. "If Jacob is with you as you say, then you should know she suffered a slight concussion when she fell coming back through the Gate."
`Son of a bitch!'
More silence. Jack could feel the blood beginning to pound in his head. It was hurting.
"I...I must've misunderstood...Go back to sleep, Daniel." And with that terse command, Jack terminated the call.
"Son of a bitch!" he ground out more violently, his hands bunching into tight fists as he marched back to the cabin. `I'll drag the bastard out of his bed if I have to,' he fumed to himself furiously.
"You look as if you're on a mission, Jack."
Jacob stood in the open doorway, a self-satisfied look in his eyes. It was enough to drive Jack over the edge and without any warning he lunged at the older man, catching the Tok'ra on his jaw, sending him crashing backwards. Only just managing to retain his footing, Jacob brushed the back of a hand across his lip, grimacing at the blood.
"Dammit to hell, Colonel--."
"Is it too much for that superior intellect of yours to grasp that I'm no longer in the Air Force?" the younger man snapped icily, gasping from the exertion of his attack, shaking his right hand painfully.
Frowning dangerously, Jacob straightened, gingerly feeling his split lip.
"Sure of that, are you?" demanded the Tok'ra sarcastically.
"What the hell does that mean?" Jack glowered threateningly.
"Nothing *Mr.* O'Neill!" and wincing as he touched a particularly sensitive spot on his jaw, Jacob watched Jack with a predatory eye.
"I phoned Daniel," Jack spoke it as an accusation.
"Oh," was the soft reply.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Giving Jack a withering look, Jacob snapped, "It means `about time'. It means it's about time you got off your ass and got back to what you're exceptionally good at, and it means, Jack," and now the glare the Tok'ra threw at the younger man pierced him like a barb, "that you play a fool stunt like that with me again and I'll give you a lesson on manners you will never forget!"
`Jacob, he has had enough,' Selmac intoned gently.
`Hah! If I'd had my way I'd have beaten some sense into that stubborn hide of his a long time ago!'
The hostility between the two men was still palpable when Jacob turned on his heel muttering that he was going to get his head down.
------
Jack looked up briefly from his fruit loops as Jacob entered the kitchen the next morning. He noted that there was only slight bruising round the cut on the Tok'ra's lip and assumed that Jacob's symbiote must have assisted in the healing process. He grimaced as the throbbing in his own right hand increased painfully, all too aware that the swelling and skinned knuckles would take much longer to heal.
He pointed out the coffee, cereal and toast then returned to his own breakfast, making no attempt at small talk.
The sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the cabin and the sound of its horn interrupted the silence and had Jack climbing wearily to his feet. He reappeared a moment later with a young woman in uniform.
"Jacob, Olivia. Olivia's one of the rangers for this area. Olivia, meet Jacob - he's ex-Air Force, too."
Jacob estimated a woman in her late thirties, auburn hair and bright hazel eyes which right now were sparkling pleasantly.
"Nice to meet you, Jacob."
Pleasant voice too, Jacob mused. He took the proffered hand, noting the firm grip.
"We rarely get to meet Jack's friends."
Jacob's eyebrows shot up and Selmac gently yet firmly advised, `You are seeing more to this than you know.'
Ignoring his symbiote, Jacob put on his most charming smile for the woman as he continued holding her hand. "That might be because Jack doesn't have that many friends." And as Jack scowled, Jacob continued, "The pleasure's all mine, Olivia. I have a couple of friends further north in the same line of business. Until I knew them I never realized just how much you people do."
Behind Olivia Jack rolled his eyes, even more annoyed when it was Jacob who bade the attractive woman sit at the breakfast bar and brought her coffee to Jack's exact specifications. He also put a fresh mug before Jack into which he'd again added honey, encouraging him to `drink it all up like a good boy.'
Wiping the scowl off his face, Jack turned to the ranger. "So what's happening to bring you knocking on my door?"
Again Jacob noted the ease with which the man spoke to this woman, the way the two of them were so relaxed - the fact that Jack knew how she took her coffee. She was, he admitted, certainly easy on the eyes with her long hair tied up in a ponytail and the uniform which was unable to hide her slim waist. She had a golden glow to her skin which was natural for someone working outdoors a great deal of the time and yet her hands were well cared for the Tok'ra noted. He also noted the way the woman smiled a lot, particularly when her eyes alighted on Jack.
"We've received news that a small gang has moved down into our area trapping beaver and otter and basically decimating the wildlife...If you see any signs of traps or any kind of unusual activity, give us a call."
"There's no market for those skins - they're banned," exclaimed Jacob, his ire aroused at the idea of such indiscriminate killing.
Olivia nodded in agreement, her green eyes revealing her own anger as she turned to the older man.
"There's still a market in southeast Asia, that's where most of the stuff ends up. And it's not just the pelts. Some people believe the deer's musk glands have certain properties to aid sexual potency; a stag's antlers are ground down and mixed with other compounds to be sold as so-called healing properties. That's just for starters," she explained hotly, the fire in her eyes telling Jacob more than her words just how deeply she was affected by the poaching.
Draining the last of her coffee, she took the mug to the sink, rinsed it and bent to place it in the dishwasher just as there was a knock on the open kitchen door.
The newcomer felt three pairs of eyes swing her way as she entered the kitchen, noting the curiosity in the hazel pair, surprise followed closely by wariness in the blue, and then a distinct lack of anything in icy dark brown eyes just before Jacob started forward and exclaimed, "Sam, is everything okay?" and after receiving a barely perceptible nod he continued, "Olivia this is Sam, my daughter."
----
Sam smiled cautiously, her blue eyes unable to move from the woman putting a mug into the dishwasher. She couldn't help thinking that this woman's - what was her name? - day uniform was a hell of a lot more becoming than the BDUs she got to wear most days.
Suddenly aware that the woman she couldn't take her eyes off was holding out her hand, Sam managed to bring some semblance of order to her overactive thoughts and reciprocated the move.
"Hi...pleased to meet you." Liar, liar, liar! Sam was relieved her voice sounded so normal when she actually felt...
"Well, I'm sorry to leave just as you arrive, Sam, but I've got to complete my rounds. Maybe I'll see you at the dance?" Olivia moved to the door aware that, just as Sam's gaze was fixed on her, Jack had eyes only for the tall blonde in blue jeans and white shirt.
"Dance?" Sam didn't sound so much curious as confused. Having been on the road for too many hours to count she was finding it difficult to get her head round anything in the least bit tending to normality. "I don't think--."
Olivia smiled. "It's just a local weekly affair - nothing special - held at the barn at the end of town. Casual but fun. It's tomorrow so if you're still here get Jack to bring you along." Then with another wave of her hand she stepped out of the cabin and shortly after, her vehicle was heard drawing away.
Reluctant to admit her discomfort now she was actually here, Sam gave both men her fiercest glare to help cover up her own inadequacies.
"What's going on, Sam?"
"You tell me, Dad!" she stated coolly, giving him a level stare.
"Daniel rang me in the early hours of the morning, alarmed to hear first from ..." She paused, unsure what term to use, then with the slightest of shrugs, continued, "Jack O'Neill, and next that you're here at his cabin. And last," and here her voice had dipped to a glacial level, "for some unknown reason my health appeared to be in question!"
With her attention glued to her father, Jack again had the opportunity to observe his former second in command, and try as he might not to stare his restraint was in tatters now that she was actually here before him. He was, however, very careful to adopt a thoroughly casual stance, giving the appearance of someone who couldn't give a damn whether she was here before him looking slightly dishevelled or not.
Jacob began to rub his two hands together not realizing it was a sure sign to his daughter that he was feeling ill at ease. He smiled confidently. "It was a slight misunderstanding on Jack's part, that's all." And he took care not to meet his host's less than pleased expression. "No big mystery there, and as for me being here, as I told Jack, I felt like dropping in."
Sam blinked, her cold blue eyes narrowing suspiciously as she approached her father to stand directly in front of him.
"What's that?"
Jacob was all too aware Sam was staring at his cut lip and bruised jaw.
"What?" His voice was too innocent and he knew it.
"I hit him."
She whirled around, meeting Jack's eyes for the first time and didn't pretend to hide her reluctance nor her contempt.
`Excuse me?" Her tone was heavy with outrage.
"You heard me, Carter."
And even as she stood there, her whole manner concentrated on piercing the armour she knew all too well he'd erected around himself, so stiffly erect, her whole demeanour conveying her reproach, still she felt her senses alive to his presence. And while her mind denied any interest in the tall, grey-haired man who used to be her CO yet her body failed her miserably. Appalled at the racing of blood through her veins and arteries and the wild beating of her heart, she shook her head in disbelief and willed herself to give him a withering look. Then deliberately turning her back on him, she once again faced her father, eyeing him warily.
"You had no--."
Excited barking interrupted her tirade forcing her to turn to the open doorway.
"What the hell's that?" Jack asked, moving to the sound.
"Never heard of a dog before, Jack?" Jacob's supercilious grin was erased the moment he felt Sam's irritable glare on him as she marched out of the kitchen and to her car.
"Is that Oscar?" Jacob had followed on her heels. "What're you doing with him?"
"Mark and the family have gone for a short trip to Hawaii and I offered to dog sit."
"So why aren't you at...?" His words trailed off as he felt the glare on him again.
"That was the plan!" she snapped dryly, "Until Daniel phoned me. Anyway, I need to--."
"The dog needs some exercise, Carter." Sam stared at Jack dangerously. "Come on Carter, don't take it out on the damn dog just because you're pissed with me."
And without waiting for permission, he opened the rear door of Sam's car thereby allowing the large black and white mixed breed to lollop across the snow covered lawns and urinate against the first tree it met.
She couldn't help herself, and knowing how childish it was she still couldn't help it, but she was incredibly annoyed when Oscar came galloping back to the group and sniffed both Jack and Jacob in a friendly manner. The moment Jack went down on his haunches and allowed the dog to snuffle him around the ears, whilst Jack returned the favour by scratching behind long canine ears, the bond was forged and nothing Sam could say or do could change that fact. The dog was in seventh heaven and Sam's irritations levels rose a hundredfold.
"Oscar!"
The hound ignored the commanding tone, eyes now closed as it leaned heavily into Jack's scratching hand.
"Get in the car. Now!"
Still no response. The love that oozed out of every pore of the canine began to be returned by Jack as Sam's annoyance grew. A wide grin was plastered on the ex- colonel's face as he began to enjoy the dilemma facing Jacob's daughter. In the end, blue eyes flashing lightning bolts, Sam marched up to the dopey hound and grabbed it by the collar, heaving on the leather and only then, with a gentle shake of its head, did the dog reluctantly accompany her to her car.
"You might try working on those commands a bit, Carter," Jack advised, a deadpan expression on his face, but it was as if he'd never spoken. Turning to her father, Sam said softly, "I'm staying at the Mountain Lodge five miles down the road tonight. I need to go get some shuteye now but maybe we can have an early dinner together?"
Her tone had softened dramatically and Jacob smiled, nodding his head in acquiescence. His eyes moved to Jack but Sam chose to ignore the subtle hint to include him in the invitation, getting into her car and departing without another word.
-----
Standing on the deck, Jacob looked down, watching Jack as he worked with the long shovel clearing the snow away. Every so often the younger man would stop as a bout of coughing interrupted his rhythm, but once it had passed Jack returned to his formidable chore.
"Can't have been easy." Jacob's voice rang out in the thick silence.
Jack hesitated, wiping the sweat from his face.
"What?"
"Having Sam ignore you like that. It would have pissed me off."
Jack shrugged. "I'll live." And he returned to his work hoping that the mammoth task would leave him too exhausted to waste any energy on a blonde, blue-eyed termagant.
"She must have driven most of the night to get here from Mark's. I guess she was worried."
Jack wished to high heaven Jacob would just shut up and leave him to get on with what he was doing.
"Mind you, she's always watched your six."
"Mine?" Jack couldn't prevent his astonished reaction, throwing down his shovel and glaring hard at the Tok'ra.
"She's your daughter," he explained coldly, "and if I'm not mistaken it was you she was checking up on."
Jacob grinned devilishly. "Only because she thought I'd come to nail your hide to a tree," he said and chuckled at Jack's expression. "Trust me on this one, Jack, I know my daughter."
"Well, if you know your daughter so well, how come you looked as if you'd been blindsided from nowhere when she walked through the door?" Jack had reclaimed his shovel and was leaning on it, mists of air shooting from his mouth with every dry word spoken.
"You've got a lot to learn about women, Jack." Jacob spoke with a smugness that merely served to cause the younger man's irritation levels to a new height.
"Oh, and I suppose you're going to offer me some insightful lesson?" The sarcasm dripped heavily.
"No need," he replied smoothly, "Sam'll be much better at it than me."
Stunned was the only word to describe Jack as he watched Jacob turn on his heel and return to the warmth of the cabin.
-----
The annoying demands for an unopened bar of soap and a fresh bath towel were behind Jack's rather patently sharp words to Jacob as the Tok'ra made his way to the white-tiled bathroom
"I thought you'd have been desperate to return to your snake friends by now." His tone was just short of insulting, yet Jacob merely shrugged casually.
"I still need to spend time with family."
Jack snorted incredulously. "I'm not family!"
Hesitating in the doorway of the bathroom, the older man continued to ignore the blatant rudeness, shaking his head. "Good job too," he answered good naturedly.
Suspicious, Jack countered sharply, "What do you mean by that?"
Staring him straight in the eye, Jacob spoke carefully. "Do you really need me to spell it out for you, Jack?"
Then just before closing the door behind him he gave one last word of advice. "I think you'd better start honing up on those survival skills you used to be so damned good at," and smiling too sweetly for Jack's liking, continued, "because when Sam decides she wants some answers to all of this crap you're doing, she sure as hell won't be satisfied with any feeble excuse you might think to give her."
-----
When the cabin door eventually closed behind Jacob and the sound of his car could be heard receding into the distance, Jack at last allowed himself to relax, sinking onto his sofa and running a hand over his aching forehead.
He swore aloud, regretting that the time of year prevented him from simply taking off for a few days. He'd fought enough battles - he had nothing to prove nor did he have to give a reason to anyone, least of all his 2IC - ex-2IC he amended - if he simply were to disappear. But the lousy weather was too much to contend with now, and truth be told he really wasn't up for a trek in the wilds, loath as he was to admit this weakness even to himself.
Against his will, his thoughts turned to a pair of distinctly glacial blue eyes and he groaned in despair. What was the point? It was hell doing his job with her, but it was another kind of hell without her. Stalemate, he thought dejectedly.
When he'd seen her walk into his cabin, long legs that went on forever, he was stunned. He'd had to employ every inner resource to hide his shock and deny his body's electric reaction to her overwhelming presence.
`Just pretend she always walks into the damned kitchen every day of your life,' he silently instructed himself, acutely aware she'd not so much as glanced his way until she'd verbally attacked him for causing her father's injury. He wasn't even sure which he was more offended by - the indifference or the repugnance.
But memories of ordering Sam to build a naquada bomb and his willingness to detonate it had encouraged him to shut down his feelings and desires. He'd imposed a self-discipline which did not allow for further introspection. Having decided to live with the burden, he chose not to be forced into such a situation again. And if it meant denying certain feelings, then so be it.
------
The biting wind whistled uncomfortably down his neck making him shiver as he attempted to ignore his immediate surroundings to concentrate on the heavens through his telescope. He'd assembled it on the rear deck and still missed his roof, but this was what was available and he wasn't going to gripe about it, not when he had a lake on his doorstep and a forest as his garden. No, he could put up with some inconveniences.
He sighed heavily when he eventually heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of the cabin.
Then again, there were some inconveniences which shouldn't have to be put up with.
His eye caught a distant star and he strained to keep it in his vision, wondering if...
"Nice of you to wait up for me, Jack."
There was no way in hell he could concentrate now, and he pulled away from his beloved `scope, regretting that he'd failed to take any bearings on that last sighting. Maybe if he... he put his right eye to it once more and...
"You have what I'd call a good eye for a woman."
`What the hell--!' Jack stiffened, turning to glare Jacob full in the eye.
The Tok'ra continued as if he hadn't noticed the stunned expression on his host's face.
"Olivia's a good looking woman."
"Olivia?" He was incapable of hiding his astonishment.
"Who'd you think I was talking about?" Jacob questioned smugly, his voice slightly mocking as he continued, "She's an attractive woman - no denying it. She certainly seemed to be pretty much at home when she was here."
Jack's eyes narrowed menacingly.
"Is this leading on to something I ought to be interested in?"
Jacob shrugged and changing the topic entirely, drawled, "Are you going to ask me what Sam and I talked about?"
"No."
Trying hard to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that Jacob was toying with him, Jack closed the shutters of his scope, brushing past Sam's father to return to the kitchen. He felt chilled to the bone and suppressed a shudder which he knew Jacob, who had followed him back inside, would be sure to pick on. He was in no mood for a Jacob Carter lecture on the state of his health. Which was, he decided, a little ironic anyway when, on the other hand, he had been warned of the possibility that Sam could be detrimental to his existence. What the hell! Jack found his hand reaching for the whisky and he hesitated long enough for Jacob to give him one of those Carter stares that he decided must run in the family.
"Changed your mind?"
Jack scowled; the Tok'ra was like a dog with a bone.
"Probably for the best considering," Jacob advised knowingly.
Jack waited pointedly but Jacob was playing with the egg timer and either hadn't realized Jack was waiting or, more likely, was making him wriggle on the end of the fishing line.
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, (Daniel, he decided, would have been proud of him if he'd not been so pissed) Jack sighed heavily and growled, "Probably for the best considering what?"
Jacob raised his head and looked at him as if he were stupid. Jack was beginning to feel he just might be.
"Have you forgotten the barn dance?"
It wasn't exactly on a level with the sun rising, the sun setting and the sun giving light and heat now, was it? So, yes, Jack admitted to himself that he had forgotten, but the nasty feeling he was beginning to get in his gut was informing him that he shouldn't have.
"Jacob?" The warning growl was much more obvious, probably because there was a certain hint of panic thrown in for good measure.
"Sam was going to leave tomorrow but I persuaded her to stay and come to the Barn Dance. I told her you wanted to talk to her, explain--."
"You wha-at?" Jack's face had twisted into a furious scowl
"Did I do something wrong, Jack?" Jacob's wide eyes watched him carefully. "Don't you think you owe her an explanation?"
The battle to contain his rising anger was being hopelessly lost as the ex-colonel yelled, "The hell I don't!"
"The hell you do!" Jacob's tone had dropped menacingly as his gaze pierced Jack painfully.
"I thought you said Carter could fight her own battles," Jack accused.
"I'm her fa---"
"Enough!" Selmac's voice interrupted Jacob in a tone brooking no argument. "He does not deserve you to remind him of what he never forgets."
Accepting the rebuke grudgingly, Jacob stabbed a finger at Jack. "Eight o'clock tomorrow, Jack." And seeing the look behind the guarded brown eyes Jacob's voice hardened further.
"Be there!" he barked in his best general's command voice, "or I'll come down hard and kick butt big time!" And with that parting shot he walked out leaving Jack alone.
-----
They sat at a table furthest from the stage yet still their ears were assailed by the loud country music being produced by a group of four musicians belting out a rhythmic beat on their two violins, guitar and big bass whilst a mass of swirling dancers wreaked havoc on the dance floor.
Watching his face, the woman twirled her glass then making up her mind leaned close so as to be heard and shouted, "I never took you as one who needed his hand holding, Jack."
He winced at the observation but had already spotted Jacob approaching their table. His eyes passed the Tok'ra and alighted on the person following closely behind. She stood out even here, her height setting her apart but it was something else that kept Jack's eyes riveted to her, making Olivia turn to see what had caught his attention.
"Ahh," she whispered knowingly.
He was drawn against his will to her eyes which were just as blue as the first time he'd met her and just as...no, there was no light of challenge shining in them now - they were just pissed and looking for trouble.
Jack had been in the eye of a sniper's sights more than once but right at this moment he was feeling uncomfortably vulnerable as Sam's visceral gaze pierced him with a venomous glare. Warily he stood, nodding to the two latecomers, muttering their names whereas Olivia in stark contrast reached out a welcoming hand stretching over to give both Sam and Jacob a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.
"Glad you could make it," she beamed and casting a tolerant look over the proceedings, explained, "It's a little hectic to the eye and ear right now but it's fun and in an hour or so things start to mellow."
"Sounds good to me," enthused Jacob taking his seat and remembering times long past when he'd whirled Sam's mother round a similar dance floor, revelling in the excitement and energy supplied by the musicians and dancers alike.
A waitress appeared and orders were taken so Jack took the opportunity to cast his ex-2IC a sideways glance.
She was no longer hurling metaphorical daggers his way, but was instead observing Olivia with a slightly puzzled frown on her forehead. It was quickly erased as she felt Jack's eyes on her and she dropped her gaze studying something on the table with indifferent attention.
As the evening progressed, however, Jack found himself actually relaxing. He hadn't quite realized how relieved he was that they were conducting themselves in such a civilized manner and unwittingly he fell into the trap of believing his last minute plans were going better than expected.
A relaxed arm thrown casually over the back of Olivia's chair portrayed a territorial possessiveness that Sam had tried hard to ignore, avoiding looking anywhere in his direction, which was a little difficult when Olivia was chattering away to her. She tried not to think of the alarm that had shot through her when she'd first spotted this familiarity by her former C.O. or the sick feeling that had twisted her stomach into painful cramps.
"How long have you known Jack?"
A line appeared on Sam's brow as she cast her mind back three years to that auspicious moment when she had stepped into the briefing room and had come face-to-face with Colonel Jack O'Neill, throwing him an exemplary Air Force salute and taking no small delight in the stupefaction on his face.
"A little over three years." She gave a tight-lipped smile and reached for her tonic water. She couldn't trust herself with alcohol tonight she had decided, but was beginning to regret her decision. She held onto her glass staring into the tonic water's clear depths, shaking the ice and remembering a time when ice had brought her and the colonel closer together on two different levels.
"So are you managing to cope without him?"
It was a question which, Sam knew, had been asked jokingly and innocently. Sam had decided, albeit reluctantly, that she liked Olivia against all her emotional judgment and this wasn't a tricky interrogation to make her feel uncomfortable. Her lips moved slightly and for a moment she allowed her eyes to rest on the lean figure in question.
"You learn very soon in my line of business not to get too attached to a colleague. The very nature of the job means constant changeover. You get used to a scribbled goodbye note or a hasty one-line e-mail."
Her voice had tightened as she spoke and feeling Jacob's hand surreptitiously rubbing her arm she forced herself to take in a slow breath and smiled shyly as if to take the bite out of her next words, though Jack knew differently.
"No one is ever indispensable - there's always someone ready to fill the empty place."
And then to her intense relief, they were chatting about the latest hockey games and Sam was able to sit back and go on autopilot so that she could apply all her senses to appearing relaxed and content, a far, far cry from what she was actually feeling.
------
"Dance?"
She was jolted from her glazed introspection by an unfamiliar voice in her ear, too late realizing the voice had been speaking to her. Startled out of her little world she raised wide eyes to a pair of intense brown ones smiling expectantly down on her. Only they weren't the eyes she was wanting to--! She kicked herself hard under the table, furious with herself.
"S..sorry...I...I didn't--." She wanted to curl up and simply disappear. That would be fine. She was acting like a tongue-twisted adolescent asked out on her first date, and to make matters worse she could feel a hot flush begin to creep up her neck and face.
"Care to dance?" an equally warm voice repeated. It belonged to a tall, dark eyed cowboy, his Stetson set at a rakish angle. Anyone else wearing such headgear would have been given a hard time by Sam who considered it a definite poseur's item, but this man certainly looked the part and, without realizing it, she found herself returning the smile and even more surprising, she found herself rising to her feet and allowing herself to be led onto the dance floor.
The next half hour was a kaleidoscope of movement, music and laughter as Sam found herself whirled, literally, off her feet.
When, at last, she cried for mercy and a respite, she was reluctantly returned to her table by chocolate brown eyes which openly revealed their admiration. As she sank gratefully into her seat still breathing heavily from her exertions, her dance partner dropped his head close to hers and drawled in her ear, "Darlin', don't get too comfortable `cos I'll be back. You can count on it."
As a deeper pink stole into already flushed cheeks, Sam's eyes unwittingly met Jack's, and she couldn't help but notice an incredulous eyebrow raised so high she felt sure he'd been taking lessons from Teal'c.
"Seems like you've got yourself an admirer, Sam," Olivia spoke appreciatively. "You should be flattered, that's Josh Morgan; he's considered highly eligible in these parts, wouldn't you say, Jack?"
Cool, dark eyes bore into her whilst a cynical twist to his lips had Sam cringing. "Wouldn't know about that," he muttered and shoved his chair back with a little more force than was necessary, and then turning to Olivia asked, "Dance?"
The ranger actually looked surprised but covered it up by rising with speedy enthusiasm and as Sam watched, Jack took Olivia's hand in his own before he wrapped an arm round her waist and escorted her to the floor.
"You okay?"
The gentle voice of her father was almost her undoing. She couldn't face his barely concealed pity so she rolled her too bright eyes at him dramatically, sucking in a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves. Locking her jaw in grim determination she nodded, unable for the moment to bring herself to speak.
When she felt her equilibrium return enough so as not to disgrace herself, she said, "Dad, I'll be setting off back in an hour or so. The weather report isn't looking good for tomorrow - I'd better get on the road before it's too late."
"Is it a good idea to drive through the night?"
At last she smiled, shaking her head. "I'm a big girl now, remember?"
He shook his head fondly, a trace of sadness behind his blue lined eyes, "You'll always be my little girl."
A derisory snort had Sam's eyes shooting up; a gleam of anger narrowing them as she realized Jack had returned and heard the last part of the father/daughter conversation.
"Lost your girl, Jack?" Jacob asked flippantly, not in the least concerned to be overheard being sentimental with Sam.
Turning his head, Jack indicated the stage where Olivia had now joined the other musicians and was playing a lively piece on the flute. "She's holding down a second job."
"A talented lady," Jacob spoke admiringly. "Little wonder you escaped back here," he joked pointedly but Sam had already looked away and did not see her ex-CO frown and turn his attention to the label on his beer bottle.
"I don't know about you people, but I'm going to have another drink. Sam?" She raised her tonic to request a repeat whilst Jack also nodded indicating a refill.
Silence, even amongst all the noise, was palpable at the table. Neither of the two members of SG-1 appeared willing to start a conversation. Yet it was Sam who decided this was her only opportunity to get some finalization on the subject. As her reserved side warred with her more volatile and repressed inner self, victory was awarded to the latter as she launched herself into a hostile offensive.
"Was it worth it?" The question was sharp enough to make Jack flinch.
"Was *what* worth it?" Shit! His attempt at nonchalance didn't sound too great even to his own ears.
"Of everyone I've ever known *you* have always assessed every possible risk before any undertaking." Her large eyes, full of accusation, drilled into him but still she hesitated. "Before you left, did you take everything into account?"
She felt as if she were holding her breath as she sat face-to-face with him, but like a slap in the face his answer was returned without a moment's hesitation, his "Yes," softly spoken but firm.
In a heartbeat he had destroyed the offer she had provided for him for a way out and as the blood drained from her face she forced a cold smile to her lips and said with no little effort, "Then I'm glad for you."
Pushing back her chair, she stood on legs that she wasn't sure would hold her, then as if remembering something important she turned back saying reproachfully, "You could at least have told me to my face - I deserved that small consideration after all we'd....." Her voice faded and she shook her head as if annoyed with herself and her loss of control.
"I believe General Hammond gave you the details, Carter. I should have thought that would've been good enough," he said frostily.
Furious with his stone-cold attitude, Sam pushed against the barrier he had so carefully erected. "You could at least have had the courtesy of telling me to my face, or didn't the three years we worked together mean anything to you?" Her eyes were full of reproach cutting into Jack's armour.
His defences attempted to rally.
"I didn't realise I was required to clear my movements through you, Major." He stressed her title scathingly and saw the results as a hot flush coloured her pale features as she struggled to hide her distress.
"I...I thought--."
Stabbing the air between them with his index finger, Jack barked, "Your trouble is and always has been that you think too much, Carter."
His dark eyes, flat and cold, raked her mercilessly hoping to overwhelm her with his own verbal attack, because he knew full well that if she was ever able to gather her thoughts together she might just be able to shoot him down in flames.
As a myriad of emotions raced across her face, Jack went in for the coup de grace knowing full well he was being a first class bastard.
"It's so simple, Carter - just get it into your skull. I'd had enough of saving the world. I'd had enough of getting shot, captured and tortured. So I decided to get off the roller coaster ride we were on and do some `real' living before it was too late."
The shocked emotion was so clearly evident in her eyes that Jack felt a stab of remorse strike him with deep intensity, yet the fear of having to make another traumatic decision like the one that had almost blasted Daniel to smithereens was intolerable. He could not, would not go through that again. After Charlie, he had known he could never allow anyone or anything to get close to him again - and what had he done??? He shook his head in disgust at his own weakness, still aware that the thunderous beating of his heart was telling him something entirely different.
"S'cuse the interruption,"
Jack's frown deepened as he looked away from Sam's shell-shocked expression. Josh Morgan had appeared at Sam's side; hat in hand, his perfect white teeth smiling appealingly.
"but you looked as if you might be leaving so I just--."
With a suddenness that surprised even himself, Jack's hand shot out and took hold of Sam's arm.
"Sorry, Morgan, the lady's already taken." As he moved to the dance floor he felt Sam's resistance, particularly when she realized that a slow, romantic piece of music had started, but his grip tightened perceptibly, urging her on.
She felt her temper rise as he turned her to face him and took her in his arms, but as she felt his body lean into her own, Sam had to close her eyes in an agony of distress. Dreading that he should see what she was feeling, what she knew would be revealed in her eyes, she kept her head lowered, her body stiffly reluctant as they moved on the floor amongst the other couples.
`This is ludicrous,' she chastised herself and tried jerking out of Jack's hold, but it was as if he could read her mind as his arms wrapped more tightly round her, pinioning her against him.
"Let go of me!" she demanded softly through gritted teeth.
"Aw c'mon, Carter, don't tell me you've never pictured the two of us doing this," he taunted, pulling her even closer.
"Bastard!" she spat, her face twisting into an ugly mask of pain.
"Truly, my momma would argue that one with you, Carter. But does your daddy know you use such language?" he chided her and realizing she was about to burst into heavier expletives he jerked her against him cutting off her reply and in a low, menacing voice he uttered, "Trust me when I say it doesn't suit you, Major."
She snorted, her blue eyes widening in disbelief. "And what would *you* know about what suits me?" she demanded spitefully. She meant her words to cut and hurt him and felt a perverse pleasure at the shadow she saw cross his face.
As the slow melody came to a close she pulled away, throwing him a furious glare before storming away.
"You're a damned fool, Jack"
He spun on his heel and scowled at Olivia as she watched Sam's retreating figure.
"Excuse me?" he sounded pissed and rounded on her indignantly.
"You can't hide away forever."
"I'm not," he snapped and walked back to their table, Olivia following. She was not put off by his show of temper and continued to voice her disapproval.
"Are you going to let her leave like that?"
"Olivia!" his warning growl made little impression on the woman.
"If you can't see she's half way crazy in love with you, then--."
Abruptly rising, Jack interrupted, "I don't want to hear this." And he marched off.
"Go stick your head in the sand," she called to his stiff back, "but don't blame me when your ass gets bitten good and hard!"
------
Blinking hurriedly, Sam refused to allow the bitter tears of frustration which pricked at her eyes to surface. She pushed determinedly through the crowd milling by the bar until she found her father.
"Dad."
"Sam?"
She could feel his concern wash over her and she smiled wanly, hardly daring to make eye contact.
"I'm heading back to Mark's."
"Now? Can't you--."
"I need to go, besides," she explained more forcefully, "I don't want to get stuck here with the deteriorating weather conditions." She rolled her eyes in mock horror at the thought and managed a weak grin.
Jacob was no fool. He could see the pain she struggled to hide and determined to allow her to retain her dignity whilst promising he would give Jack O'Neill a firm lesson indeed.
"Okay, hon, I'll get a lift back with Jack."
Jack! Would she ever erase the image of their dance together? If she closed her eyes she knew she would still feel his hands holding her, his body so close she was sure... She shook her head in exasperation. Now was not the time to fantasise about your ex-CO. Not now. Not ever!
As he hugged her one last time and kissed the top of her blonde hair, Jacob could not help himself as he fell into his father's role.
"You be careful now - I don't want you--."
"Dad!"
-----
She had just settled her hotel account and was heading for her car when she realized someone was standing next to her vehicle.
`Shit!' She rolled her eyes. `Now what?' She couldn't imagine what the ranger woman would want with her and right at this moment she was in no mood to see her, let alone talk to her.
She smiled tightly. "Olivia?"
"Sam, before you leave, I think there's something you should know..."
-----
She was seething. As she sat in her car and watched the fading rear lights of Olivia's 4x4 she could feel her whole body wound so tight her one desire in life at that moment was to do physical damage to one stubborn, hard-assed former CO. She shook her head, furious at her own gullibility.
`How could he? How could he do it?' Dammit, he'd gone and done it. There was nothing that could be done to change that, but by God, she'd let him know just what sort of chicken-shit person she considered him to be. If he wanted out, then she'd just have to accept it and get on with her life, but to try and use Olivia as his get-out clause. Hah! It had been a long time since she'd had reason to give anyone a dressing down but the one coming up would go down in history; she promised herself that if nothing else. As her hands banged down on the steering wheel, Oscar began to whine in consternation as he picked up the volatile atmosphere. Turning her head, the harsh light in her eyes disappeared and her tone softened.
"Shhhh boy, it's not you, okay? Settle down now, there's a good boy."
As she released the handbrake and pulled out of the hotel's car park, she failed to take the turning which would lead her to the nearest highway for Mark's home. She had other plans.
-----
He paced the deck, a beer clutched tightly in one hand, every so often raising it to his lips and taking a deep draught. A pulse in his temple beat erratically, testimony to his temper. He kicked out viciously at a discarded bottle at his feet, sending it spinning and crashing off the deck.
Sometimes he wished his f-cking memory would be shot to hell and right now his preference for drunken oblivion was intensified as he relived the final moments he'd had with Sam, grimacing at his own cutting words.
`Don't tell me this isn't something you've always fantasized about.' He'd thought himself so clever inverting his feelings - forcing them onto her. `Oh yea, an award winning moment in your non-existent career, O'Neill.'
He had seen the misery in her eyes just prior to the revulsion and the memory was shattering to recall.
`Well, O'Neill, you've excelled at being a first class, f-cking bastard - you should be proud of yourself.' And he drank from the bottle again before hurling it as far as he could, cursing aloud as a new fall of snow began to drift down from the white heavens.
The realization of his success brought such a nauseous rush of emotions to him that he found himself grabbing onto the fence, bowing his head and groaning as if in physical pain. He shook his head from side to side, trying to eliminate the voices resounding in his skull.
He had crushed her with his false words, felt her pain as he had held her in his arms, but his success was a bitter victory to contemplate and without thinking he pushed himself off the deck almost at a run as he entered the dense forest covering. Heedless of the outstretched branches tearing at him, he raced along as if chased by a horde of Goa'uld and only when his tortured lungs craved oxygen did he slow, head hung low, arms resting on trembling thighs as he laboured for each painful breath.
It was the cold glint of metal within the brilliant white which eventually caught his attention, forcing his reeling brain to stop dissecting every word spoken to Sam since she'd appeared through his door, and he realized that he was staring at the tip of a trap.
From the little showing above the snow, it looked to be a device which had ferocious steel claws which sprang shut on its victim's limbs, often severing a leg and causing the animal to bleed to death even though it was no longer imprisoned.
In an instant, Jack's anger was channelled against the obscene piece of workmanship which, to him, was yet another personification of evil, and grabbing a rotting branch near his feet, he approached the poacher's trap and thrust the branch deep into its hidden teeth, ensuring it sprang shut with an echoing clang in the hushed silence of the forest. With a feral grin of satisfaction, Jack surveyed his handiwork and made the second mistake that day.
Stepping back off the little used path his brain registered his left foot making contact with an unusual object just as his sense of danger had him jerking back from the claws of steel he knew were snapping closed. No satisfying clang of steel claw meeting steel claw this time. Instead, a crunching sound as teeth tore through material and leather and entered warm flesh.
-----
He yelled as jagged spikes tore into his lower calf and tumbling to the white ground, he was dimly aware that bright crimson blood had splattered the virgin snow as his trembling hands settled on the offending metal, trying desperately to prize it open.
Sobs of agony filled the night air as he strove to escape the agonizing trap which was sending bolts of agony shooting up his leg before returning down to his toes.
`Shit. Shit, SHIT!'
Feeling rivulets of blood pouring down his leg into the heel of his boot from each of the punctures made in his skin, he tried to move his leg into a position that would afford him a better hold of the brutal trap, but the pain intensified until he felt his vision tunnelling and knew consciousness was fading.
He stilled, realizing his chances of survival in these treacherous elements were dangerously diminished if he were to fall unconscious.
`Easy...O'Neill...Easy. Breathe, damn you!' He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his lip as the agony rose in increasing waves that he desperately attempted to ride. `Suck it up, airman; you've had f-cking worse.'
Unsure what would get him first - the loss of blood or the below freezing temperatures - he aimed to prevent both if he could help it. Feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he returned to the agonizing chore of escaping from the bloody grip, unaware of the sweat and tears dripping off his chin, joining the red stain of his life. The tightening in his chest threatened a coughing spasm which he knew would exacerbate his agony and send him over the edge.
Moaning aloud, unable to smother the sounds, he managed to take a hold on either side of the merciless teeth, groaning as he prized them apart. Millimetre by millimetre he pulled, but the spring's resistance could not be held back by his shivering effort and it snapped back excruciatingly, enfolding his calf in a grisly embrace. He screamed out to the waiting night, grateful when the blackness enveloped him in its own merciful hold.
-----
When she skidded to a halt outside his cabin she was on a mission. She noted with grim resolve that Jack's vehicle was parked out front; the lights blazing from the cabin, another testament to him being home. She hadn't expected him to have returned so soon but it suited her just fine. Strike while the iron was hot her father had always advised. Well, her former CO was about to see just how hot her iron was. At the back of her mind she was aware she knew of no one except, perhaps General Hammond and Master Bra'tac, who could put Jack O'Neill in his place, but after what Olivia had told her, she was way beyond logic and reasonableness. She had every intention of kicking O'Neill's ass big time.
Slamming her car door with far more force than was necessary, she bounded up the steps of the cabin's deck oblivious to the dangers of the slippery snow coating the wood.
`The bastard lied to me, bullshitted me par excellence and, fool that I am, I took it all in, sucked it up good and proper like the perfect little second-in-command that I am - was!' she corrected herself darkly.
She thumped her fist hard against his door, bouncing from one foot to the other as the adrenaline coursed through her veins.
`Just try ignoring me - this time you've bitten off more than you can chew.' "Colonel! Let me in." As she shouted her demand her hand reached out and opened the door on its well-oiled hinges.
Silence met her.
`Hell, where are you.' "Dad?" Hadn't he said he would return with O'Neill? She scowled, prowling through the cabin, moving from room to room, pausing outside what she presumed was his open bedroom door. She hesitated, then cursed herself and entered, her eyes falling to his bedside table and the closed book, the hint of a photograph sticking out as a bookmark.
Wasn't that...? Her inquisitive nature could not be deterred and reaching out, she flipped open the book and froze.
When she returned to her car for the whining Oscar, she couldn't honestly make up her mind whether she was more angry or not, but as she raised the boot of the vehicle she was giving serious thought as to her mode of attack. Subtle or brutal? Decisions, decisions.
And as Oscar leaped into the snow, nose instantly to the ground, sniffing furiously as he wheeled one way and then the other, a slight curl to Sam's lips attested to the fact that she had made up her mind and she was looking forward to the ensuing fight. Except...just where the hell was the blasted man?
Returning to the warmth of the cabin, she rubbed cold hands together, blowing on them.
"Come on, Oscar. No point freezing our butts out here..." She peered back outside and frowned irritably. "Oscar? Oscar!" `Damnation. Where the hell is that dog now?' Her exasperation was giving her a serious sense of humour failure. `Damn, damn, damn. That dog is going to drive me insane, unless,' she admitted, `Jack O'Neill beats him to it!'
Sam cast her eyes around the cabin noticing for the first time the brightly coloured rugs thrown haphazardly on the buffed pine floor, aware that they were of excellent quality, possibly Turkish. She'd spent a couple of years in that country and had fallen in love with the warm, vibrant people and learned a lot about the classic oriental designs predominant there. She hadn't realized O'Neill was such a connoisseur, but there again, nothing, she had to admit, would surprise her about the man. Decorated in the minimalist style, she had to admit grudgingly that everything in the cabin had been tastefully chosen if just a little too `male' for her liking.
She spied the chess set to one side, noting that there was a game in progress. How did the man manage to enjoy playing against himself? It was unnatural and so unnecessary! And as her train of thought ran along those lines, she could feel her annoyance with the canine transfer to the former leader of SG-1, as if she wasn't furious enough with the man. She wouldn't, she promised, allow herself to think of the reasons behind why a picture of her taken at one of the SGC's barbecues last year should be kept in a book on Jack O'Neill's bedside. She had to admit it was at least a halfway to decent picture with her, as her memory recalled, laughing at something the colonel had said to her just as Daniel had clicked away. It couldn't possibly have any significance, could it?
-----
It was no good. She was incapable of sitting back and waiting.
`The damned mutt will more than likely end up in Canada if I don't go out looking for him!'
Having prowled the house a little longer, hoping against hope that an excited barking would assail her auditory senses, she left the warm comfort of the cabin, aware of the utter silence of the white night which gave back nothing. All too aware of how heavily the snow was now falling, she was loath to admit that it wouldn't be too long before she was a prisoner. These had to be blizzard conditions. She could barely see a yard in front of her.
`Drat the dog!' If she wasn't careful she'd be holed up here, and after speaking her mind to O'Neill, she had a funny feeling this wouldn't be the ideal spot to be in. Rolling her eyes, she admitted that was an absolute understatement. She was so not going to be flavour of the month - make that year.
She wouldn't mind, but the reason the wretched dog was now off exploring the wilds of Minnesota was all Jack's fault - if he hadn't gone and moved to this part of the world full time, Jacob wouldn't have come here, Daniel wouldn't have gotten the phone call, and she wouldn't have gotten Daniel's call. Furthermore, she wouldn't have broken every speeding law in three states getting to Jack's cabin worried sick that her father had done something terrible to the colonel. Hah, that was ironic considering how much she would like to lay into the man at this very moment.
She peered out at the land beyond, white the only dominant colour - all else erased from the landscape. She shivered, feeling eeriness in the calm, the silence now appearing sinister. Shaking her head, Sam wondered at her own overwrought imagination. What was wrong with her for God's sake? Renowned for her coolness under fire, she couldn't quite shake the disquiet she felt. And for what reason? Is this what she had been reduced to when she came in contact with Jack O'Neill? Damn the man!
"You're pathetic, Sam Carter," she taunted herself sharply. "Five minutes in his company and you get the jitters. Pull yourself together!"
She grimaced, appalled with herself. She had come here with the firm resolve to put one tall, grey haired ex-colonel with attitude, firmly in his place and if it hadn't been for one loony dog she would, she was sure, have been practicing her bawling out routine to perfection.
`And where is the mutt, anyway?' she asked herself, glancing at her watch, alarmed at the passing time. If she didn't set off soon she wouldn't be going anywhere.
"Oscar!!" She bawled the name to the heavens and just as she was about to chance entering the trees, she saw him loping out of the woods covered in a layer of snow, long tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He stopped when he saw Sam and began to race back to the trees.
"Oh no, you don't. Oscar! Here boy, come on fella. Come here, Oscar, let's go find Mark."
It was with immense relief she saw him stop, look back at her and then turn towards her.
She'd opened the rear door of her car and whistled for good measure and it seemed to do the trick, for the animal hurtled back to her and bounded into the back. Just at that moment she saw the dark marks on his hind quarters and she groaned.
"Hell. I hope that's mud and not crap." The thought of a wet dog in a warm, confined space stinking of animal faeces was not a happy thought. As Oscar turned and tried to lick her face, she grabbed the spare towel for just such occasions and started to wipe off the dirt, sniffing suspiciously.
In the dim light of the vehicle she almost missed it, but it was the stickiness that alerted her to the fact that it wasn't crap or mud. And as her heart sank, she speedily examined her brother's dog dreading that it had been injured. He certainly hadn't appeared hurt as he raced back to her and, as she finished her examination, she started to wonder, if the dog wasn't injured, just whose blood was it?
-----
Hand gripped tightly to the handle of the metal dog chain, Sam ploughed through the ankle deep snow, desperately trying to keep up with Oscar who was bounding over the ground before her. Twice now she'd had to halt the dog when she'd stumbled and fallen, dropping the first aid kit from her other frozen hand. But so frantic was she in her desire to be where Mark's dog was taking her that she barely gave a thought to her scraped knees, soaking jeans and freezing extremities. Her brain had all the while been playing around with different scenarios. Maybe Oscar had caught a rabbit - but there was blood on his haunches - maybe it was a big rabbit? But the coincidence of a missing Jack O'Neill and her father had her heart racing and her mind in turmoil. She did promise herself, however, that if this was a wild goose chase - and please God it was - when she next met her former CO she would truly give him something to remember her by. And it wouldn't be pleasant!
Peering wildly ahead she screwed her eyes up in an attempt to see further than the blizzard conditions allowed her.
She only spotted the body in the instant Oscar began yelping and struggling to be released, and her relief was acute when she saw slow movement. But who the hell was it?
Heart in her mouth she called out, "Dad?" and on seeing the body jerk she now knew for sure.
"Colonel!"
"Carter?" His voice sounded distinctly frail and wheezing, but he was still giving orders. "Stay where you are. Don't...come any closer." Though all too obviously weak, the words were clear in the frosted air and she halted, her need to rush to his side temporarily repressed.
"Sir?" Instinct was hard to eliminate.
"Traps - more than - one." He coughed, gasping in pain at the effort needed to speak and now she could see why as she took a step closer.
Eyes flashing wildly, his head jerked up as he spat out, "Dammit, Carter, don't you understand a f-cking order when you hear one... Stand down!"
Accustomed now to the dark light, Sam's eyes widened at his language. She had rarely heard him use expletives and never at her; he really meant business. But having detected the trap and the spreading colour of his life blood which had seeped into the snow like spilt wine on a damask tablecloth, she was in no mood to be the obedient little 2IC.
`Not on your f-cking life!' "Sir, you need--."
"What I need is for you--."
`Just give me a break here!' "Sorry, sir." She had made up her mind, Jack could hear it in her tone and he closed his eyes willing himself to inject the hard-ass authority of a drill sergeant into his voice. He swore colourfully and told her in full technicolour what he'd do to her if she came any closer.
It was water off a duck's back.
"No man gets left behind - your motto. I'm coming, so shut up, Colonel, and conserve your energy."
Even with all the pain he was in, his eyes narrowed menacingly but never moved from her as she carefully tied the dog to a low hanging branch, giving a stern "Stay!" Then turning back to him she cautiously began her approach. And seeing him about to waste even more energy she muttered fiercely, "I can still see Oscar's tracks faintly - I'll be fine, just stay quiet and try not to move." She had spotted the other trap with the branch Jack had put into it standing up like a petrified limb.
It seemed to Sam that hours passed before she was kneeling next to the injured man and taking a close look at his trapped leg.
`Shit, it looks bad!' She was appalled by the amount of blood yet, as if reading her mind, Jack muttered, "It's not as bad as it looks, Carter. The freezing conditions have stopped the blood flow."
Yanking off her gloves, she turned her attention from Jack's white face and with the utmost care put her hands on the trap. She didn't think it was possible for him to turn any whiter but he did, flinching and sucking in a strangled breath as he desperately locked his jaw to keep in the pain.
"Where's Dad?" `I could really do with his help right now.' And seeing his confusion, she explained, "He was going to get a lift back with you."
Jack just shook his head and Sam understood that she was very much on her own with this dilemma.
Suppressing every feeling of compassion, her one focus was to free her CO before he bled to death. Removing her pants' belt she looped it just above his knee then throwing him a contrite expression she pulled tightly, ignoring the gasp of pain, and fastened it. She now turned to the actual trap her gaze both fearful and determined.
"Sir, I'm going to try pulling this apart but I'm going to need your help."
The arm thrown over his face lowered and pain-filled eyes met her own, unwavering in their trust of her capabilities. The breath caught in her throat - it had been too long since she had seen that look and her resolve grew stronger. No way was she going to fail him.
"Got...nothing...better...to...do!" he wheezed.
That O'Neill sense of humour - she grinned despite their predicament.
"On three, Colonel." With no energy to speak he simply nodded, his teeth biting hard into his lower lip. "One. Two. Three!"
She pulled while he turned his head into the snow, both hands clutching the snow as he moaned through gritted teeth. "God, god, god!"
She felt as if her fingers were being pulled from their own sockets and when she was able to lock her elbow, she could feel the wracking tremors as her muscles threatened to collapse. Aware that Jack's cries had intensified she had to ignore the pleading as he begged her to stop. Finally she was able to thrust in the thick branch she'd already set aside to take the brunt of the steel claws before they could snap back onto the injured leg.
The bleeding had already begun anew and she understood, without a doubt, that she was going to have to stem the flow before she could even think about moving him. As she spared a second to check his vitals, she murmured a prayer of thanks as she realized his head had fallen back, his eyes were closed and he had mercifully lost consciousness.
Now Sam was able to rip the bottom of Jack's jeans to the knee, carefully removing his boot and sock. Even unconscious he moaned from the pain. Deep, ugly punctures oozing blood encircled his calf which was already inflamed and swollen.
She grimaced. `Don't think, just clean it,' she ordered herself ruthlessly, and tore open antiseptic wipes from the first aid box, cleaning the wounds as much as she dare, all the while aware that the grey-haired man was freezing to her touch. Having applied compresses around the leg she hastily bandaged the wounds.
Sitting back on her haunches she surveyed her work critically - it would have to do for now. She was fairly confident his leg wasn't broken but the damage was significant and he needed specialist care a.s.a.p.
Having already bemoaned the fact that she'd left her cell phone in her car, her disgust was magnified when she thought of the journey back to the cabin. She'd toyed with the idea of racing back and calling for help but rejected that plan when she'd realized how close to hypothermia Jack was. She shook her head and took a deep breath. There was only one option and if she wanted her CO to live in order that she could kick his butt then she needed to get him up and moving.
Her voice had no effect on him so she tried gently rubbing his frozen hands. In the end she had to resort to moderate open-handed slaps on his alabaster cheeks. Not the perfect scenario, but it worked. He came up fighting - or squirming.
"Wha' the hell!" He struggled to push her hand away, swearing.
"Sorry, Colonel. I couldn't wake you."
"'s okay." His voice was slow and slurred - a clear warning for Sam.
"We've got to get you out of here." She could tell she was losing him. "Colonel!" Gently, she shook his shoulder. "Stay with me."
He was ashen, his eyes now screwed tightly shut as he tried to ride the waves of pain shooting up his leg and spiking into his brain.
"Get...Jacob," he groaned softly.
"I think he's still at the dance."
`Dance?' Jack found it impossible to concentrate. Was that still part of this night? It seemed a life time since he'd been there, watched her with Morgan, unable to contain his jealousy, so that he'd forced her to dance in his arms knowing that the memories would return later unbidden to torment him. He moaned softly now though Sam thought it was from the pain. The moans turned to wet hacking coughs which alarmed Sam almost as much as the injury. She knew she couldn't allow herself to soften, it was imperative she got him back to the cabin.
"You've got to get up, Colonel. Lean on me. You can do it, Sir, it's not broken."
He opened bloodshot eyes, a hard line of irritation creasing his forehead.
"Where are we? Where's the DHD. Daniel?"
Oh God! He was hallucinating. Sam's eyes widened in alarm and fear.
"No, Sir. We're near your cabin, remember? You got caught in some poacher's trap."
No time to lose, get him up. She took one arm, placed it over her shoulder, and then used her other arm to snake round his waist
"C'mon Colonel, help me out here. Up we go." She heaved, he cursed venomously, but after enormous effort on Sam's part they were standing, albeit swaying dangerously. Sam changed her position to gain a steadier hold and to bring under control the protest her trembling muscles were making. She could feel the sweat trickling down her face and back even in the freezing conditions. She released the hand hanging down over her shoulder and wiped the sweat out of her eyes, pushing her hair back.
Oscar watched all this, alert and somehow aware that all was not right. He whined occasionally but waited patiently until Sam freed him, taking the chance of him running off; all her efforts were on keeping Jack up and moving.
Although the intensity of the snowfall had dramatically fallen, still it was proving to be a nightmare journey. Sheer tenacity and a stubborn trait within her not to fail Jack pushed Sam on beyond her limits. She coaxed and wheedled him to push on when all he wanted to do was lie down in the comforting snow. Eyes glazed with pain gazed at her with puzzled incomprehension as her cajoling turned to threats. Yet as a scientist, she was well aware of the law of gravity and finally a hidden stump sent them both crashing to the frozen ground.
Jack yelled as his wounded leg hit the ground, then moaning weakly he seemed to embrace the white blanket, his half conscious state more than content to be off his injured limb. And Sam accepted in her exhaustion that she was incapable of getting him up again.
Thinking fast, she shrugged out of her thick coat, laid it on the ground next to the still man, and then rolled him carefully onto it. Her jumper came off next and she wrapped this round Jack's neck and shoulders, tucking parts into his own clothing to prevent it working loose. Finally, she called to Oscar who had remained close.
"Here boy, here." He obeyed instantly and she sent up a silent prayer to the heavens in grateful thanks. "Lie down, lie down." Patting Jack's back, she encouraged the dog to settle against the injured man's body. "Stay Oscar, don't move boy. Stay with Jack - keep him warm."
She ran, or rather staggered back the short way to the cabin, having remembered something that would assist her with a semi-conscious form. She knew the futility of wasting time making a phone call, instead freeing the sledge which was fastened to the rear wall of the cabin, unhooking it and sighing in relief when it moved smoothly over the ever deepening snow.
-----
How she got him back was something Sam longed to erase from her memory. If she did think about the actual distance travelled she wanted to weep because it simply bore no relation to the effort and torment required to meet such a challenge.
When she had raced back to his side her heart had missed a beat, so still was he. Even the falling snow had not melted when it touched his face, and she brushed it away with a trembling hand as she checked the pulse in his neck. It was there, faint, too faint, but it was enough. The dog had not moved.
"Good boy, Oscar." She patted him ferociously then tried rousing Jack once more.
"Colonel? Colonel, you've got to wake up."
She noted a frown cross his brow as if her voice had reached some deep, inner part of him, but other than that he lay still.
Hauling on his jacket lapels, she pulled him up into a sitting position, and then using her foot manoeuvred the sledge behind him. Once his back was on, she heaved him further back so that his legs were partially on the wooden apparatus. She scowled to see his injured leg dragging in the snow, worried in case of frostbite. In the end she removed the jumper around his shoulders and wrapped his foot and lower leg in it, then taking up the rope of the sledge, she wrapped it around her shoulders and took up the tension.
Compared to half carrying him, this was much easier and her spirits began to rise. She watched each one of her booted feet as they took one more desperate step forward, straining her screaming back and shoulder muscles, feeling the enormous blisters pop on her abused hands. And just when she was thinking she'd got him home she spied the four steps up to the deck and she faltered, swearing profoundly as her head hung in exhaustion unable, for the moment, to do anymore than drag much needed oxygen into her protesting lungs.
"Y'r dad'll...warm your...butt...he hears you."
Her head jerked up, eyes wide with disbelief and relief as she heard the weak, gasping words.
"Colonel!" She dropped to his side, sobbing his name.
"An' if he...doesn't...I will!" he wheezed, his voice barely more than a painful whisper.
A brilliant smile lit up her face as a renewed burst of energy surged through her, mobilizing Sam into hauling Jack up the steps and into the warmth of the cabin.
But there he faltered.
"Down," he demanded feebly and he sagged in her arms, a dead weight.
"Noo, no, not here." She strained to keep him up. "Colonel, just a little further. Please!" she implored.
But he had nothing left to give and he sank down, pulling Sam with him.
In the end, she used her coat as an extension of the sledge principal, dragging her CO across the wooden floor and into his bedroom.
Casting a sharp glance at his injured leg which was already looking swollen, she knew her priority right now was to warm him up. Kneeling beside him she began the task of undoing zips, buttons and belts. He was soaked to the skin and needed to be divested of sodden clothing. Her hands moved swiftly and surely, pulling, pushing, rolling and turning, talking to him at all times, letting him know what she was doing. His trousers were an obstacle that almost had her searching for scissors and in exasperation Sam coaxed, "Come on, Colonel - help me out here."
At which a weary voice answered, "Much as I'm tempted, I'm gonna have to pass."
She froze, horrified that he was actually thinking...Hell!
Her objective attained, Sam grabbed at the large duvet covering his bed and dragged it off, wrapping it around him. Again she checked his pulse, unhappy it was so slow, then groaning aloud as she got to her feet, she started going through his drawers until she found what she was looking for.
She didn't make the mistake of requesting his help a second time to get him into the sweats, she did the job then lay beside him on the floor, her back against the bed, so tired that all she wanted was to sleep. The temptation was great but she knew she had more to do.
`Come on Sam, move your ass.' And sighing heavily, she rose stiffly to her feet. It was time to call in the cavalry.
-----
`Your main priority is to warm him gently and then keep him warm.'
Janet's words echoed round Sam's head as she closed the connection to the SGC. The short walk from the cabin to her car to retrieve her phone was time enough to let it sink in that there would be no cavalry for the time being and this had been seconded after Janet had had her people check the weather forecast for the area.
`Well, it isn't as bad as Antarctica,' she reminded herself, trying to jolt herself out of the bitter disappointment that left her stranded with an injured O'Neill and with no chance of medical personnel getting to them in the next twelve to eighteen hours whilst the blizzard conditions were so severe.
She'd already found the thermostat and turned the heating on full blast, then returning to Jack's side she sank to the floor and placed her own woolly hat onto his head, pulling it firmly over his ears. Moving the duvet, she gently raised the sweatshirt she'd got him into and felt his stomach. She winced at the touch - his body temperature was still far too low.
She had a job to do, though she couldn't help grimacing at what Janet had demanded of her. When she'd gotten him out of his clothes, she'd not even considered the fact that she was dealing with a naked O'Neill - she'd had far too much to contend with, but what Janet was asking certainly made her feel uncomfortable.
Grabbing some small hand towels from a cupboard, she rolled them up tightly then put them in the microwave together with a glass of cold water. She removed them when the warning ring sounded and checked to ensure they were hot but not too hot, and then hurried back to her patient. One she put under his head, another around his neck; the third she placed under the grey sweatshirt against his chest and the last - she hesitated checking his face to ensure he was still deeply asleep - if he were to wake up now...
It wasn't that she was a retiring flower or anything, but when the CMO had reeled off her instructions Sam had baulked at one detail.
Janet's irritated voice had shot into her ear, "For God's sake Sam, you've seen a naked man before!"
"Ye-es, but not the Colonel." She sounded aghast.
"Be grateful I didn't ask you to take his temperature!"
"What?"
The pause was ominous and Sam gasped as she suddenly realized just what that incurred.
Janet continued, "Trust me on this, he'll thank you."
"Hell, I hope not."
That thought seemed to worry her more than the procedure she was dithering over. But gently, with cautious determination, she checked that Jack was still out then pulling at the waist of the sweatpants she'd struggled to get him into, she pushed the last hot towel over his groin, trying hard to ignore the flame of colour heating her face and neck. Nor did it end there.
Removing her own clothes down to her camisole and panties, she slid under the duvet and shuffled up until she felt Jack's ice-cold body against her stomach. Carefully, she placed her arm around his waist and hitched herself even closer, attentive to the fact that she shouldn't disturb his injury. She had to admit that even in these first few minutes she was aware of a reduction in the iciness of his skin.
As her own body grew accustomed to this close proximity, she allowed herself to relax, the muscles in her shoulders, back, arms and legs aching while the weariness, even cuddling a block of ice, induced her to close her eyes - just for a few minutes, she promised herself.
-----
She woke with a start, struggling to make sense of her surroundings, just for a second unable to comprehend the sensation of a strange body. Her bed? Then it came to her - together, on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around Jack.
"C..c..cold," he stuttered through chattering teeth. He began to cough, the spasms moving all the way down to his injured leg. He groaned softly, achingly.
Rubbing his back, Sam whispered words of comfort as she pulled him back into her arms soothing him, as the tremors continued, with soft words and the warm heat from her body. Unsure how long that episode lasted, eventually Jack's coughing and shivering eased and he drifted into sleep.
Twice more she repeated the procedure with the hot towels, acutely relieved her CO remained unaware, and once she was satisfied she had done everything Janet had requested in dealing with his mild hypothermia, she again searched the drawers, found a large shirt of O'Neill's and put it on, then she turned her attention to the damaged limb. Turning back the duvet a little, she uncovered the bandaged calf and ankle and with a sharp pair of scissors she cut away the dressing, grimacing when the wounds were uncovered. The punctured flesh was angry looking and burning to her touch and she knew enough about wounds to feel a buzz of alarm.
She'd already prepared what she needed for the next procedure and as she reached out with the moistened cloth, she gave up a silent prayer that Jack would remain oblivious of what she was doing. Nightmares from Antarctica still had her waking in a cold sweat but at least that had proven the motivation for her to improve her first-aid, so that what she had to do now was a technique with which she was familiar. That didn't mean she was in any way looking forward to it.
`Be thorough,' were Janet's words of advice, `Infection is his worst enemy and until I can get there to shoot him full of antibiotics you are going to have to treat his injuries the old fashioned way.'
Biting her lower lip, Sam began to cleanse each puncture with strong antiseptic solution, her own hands covered in latex gloves. She felt him shudder as she probed and pressed on the first laceration and as she continued her meticulous occupation she realized from his increased movements that consciousness was not far away.
"Easy, Colonel, take it easy." She used one hand to keep his leg still as she continued her work.
The low moan, followed by a sharp intake of breath alerted her to his mental presence. Raising her head from the unpleasant task, she paused to check his face and eyes which, shot with pain and exhaustion, struggled to focus on her.
Sam? What the hell was she doing here? Was he hallucinating? Must be, seeing as she looked to be wearing one of his shirts and little else.
Jack struggled to sit up, and instantly Sam laid restraining hands on his shoulders.
"Stay still, Colonel. You've been hurt."
A weak snort of unconcealed irritation greeted her words.
"Help-me-up," he ordered unsteadily, pushing himself onto his elbows, throwing away the cover despite Sam's objections and holding out his hand. He flinched visibly when he looked down and saw the damage.
"Well?" he challenged hoarsely. "Are you going to--?"
"Colonel, you're not supposed to exert yourself!"
"I won't if you damn well give me...a hand."
In his weakened state, Jack was relieved to see Sam moving to obey his order, but the moment he rose to his one good foot he found himself expertly twisted and then gently but firmly pushed back.
"Car--ter!" Unbalanced as he was, he didn't stand a chance and once more found himself recumbent, only this time on his bed.
He swore at her through gritted teeth, his skin a ghastly white from the exertions, but other than giving him a disapproving look, she returned her attention to the work at hand, closing her ears and her mind to everything but the intricate task. Aware of his harsh, wheezing breathing, she realized that he must be in need of painkillers, so she paused to hold out two stronger ones she normally kept for the really debilitating cramps that afflicted her cycle from time to time. When Jack made no move to take them, her face darkened in frustration and she pushed them between his lips, following it with a glass as she cradled his head.
He took what she offered ungraciously.
`Damn the man!' "We're blocked off for the time being, Colonel. When the weather clears a chopper will be..."
"Chopper?"
"Janet's arranging ---."
"Wha-at?" he bristled with anger, his hands clenched tightly as he glared at Sam.
"Sir, you're injured." She couldn't help it, she sounded as if she were addressing a preschooler and Jack knew it, too. "You need to be hospitalized. I think the SGC's the best place--."
"What you think, Carter, means shit to me!" he gasped, his jaw locked in defiance.
Struggling to rein in her temper which was fast reaching eruption point, Sam stared Jack straight in the eye shaking her head in disbelief.
"You made that abundantly clear when you abandoned SG-1."
"And what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, "I thought you and Josh Morgan had hit it off big time."
Hardly able to believe his lack of gratitude, Sam ground her teeth together. 'Concentrate on the job,' she ordered herself tersely. "And now, if you'd shut up and lie still, I'll get on with this."
He fought the pain the only way he knew, meeting it head on, intractable in his need to show no vulnerability. Unfortunately, the constant probing and prodding, without the aid of Janet's happy juice, eventually proved too much for Jack's tolerance levels.
Gripping the bed sheet in his fists, he hauled himself up to a sitting position, hot beads of sweat now pouring down his face.
"Enough, Carter!" he ground out, his dark eyes blisteringly bright, tight lines of pain surrounding them.
Throwing him an apprehensive look she replied, "When I'm finished. Those meds will kick in soon - just hang in there."
Throwing one arm over his eyes, Sam could hear him mumbling obscenities under his breath, some she'd never heard put in quite such colourful terms.
"Nice turn of phrase you've got there, Colonel. It seems you've acquired more country skills than even I could have imagined."
Silence.
She continued her single-minded work, suppressing every feeling of compassion, her one focus to do the job and do it right. Janet had been all too clear on the dangers of infection and there was no doubt the trap was host to a multitude of bugs; it wasn't about whether he would get an infection but how bad it would be. She knew her CO well enough that if she revealed one iota of weakness, he would hack away at her vulnerability and she would wither under the onslaught.
Eventually she was finished with her meticulous cleansing. She sat back, breathing deeply, bone tired and scared in case she'd missed some dirt that would send Jack's temperature soaring, scared that the infection would bring about gangrene or something else she would be incapable of dealing with. Her eyes moved up to the man's face, his features, what little she could see that weren't hidden behind his arm, rigid with the tension of trying to control the pain. He was drained of colour and the sound of his rasping breath was giving Sam cause for concern.
Leaving his side to put away the bloodied cloths and water, she returned with a beaker of warmed milk. As she cradled his head, Jack lowered his arm and stared suspiciously at what she offered.
"Drink, Colonel."
His nose wrinkled but he obeyed and on tasting the honey mumbled, "Like father like daughter." He'd barely taken a mouthful before he turned his head away. "No more."
Sam followed with the beaker "This isn't open to discussion, Sir, it all gets drunk." And seeing that stubborn look she was so familiar with, continued, "I'm just following Janet's orders."
"Haven't you forgotten something here, Carter?" he hissed, his sarcasm biting. "I'm no longer in the Air Force!"
Where the hell did he get the energy to argue, she wondered in amazement? Smiling sweetly, Sam replied, "No, but *I* am and while I'm here you'll do as you're told."
Jack's impenetrable dark eyes watched her, choosing to ignore the proffered drink. "Aren't you taking your duties just a little too seriously, Carter?"
Sam blinked, feeling the whiplash of his words but refusing to show they were marking her painfully. "Thank God someone is, because for sure you aren't." And ignoring the look that had wilted thousands before her, she brought the milk to his lips and through will power alone got him to consume most of it.
When he at last lay back, he wiped the back of his hand against his mouth distastefully. "Your nursing skills stink, Carter." It was a childish thing to say and he knew it the moment the shadow of hurt crossed her eyes. She grimaced in an attempt to hide her feelings.
"Well, I'm all you've got for the time being, Colonel." She smiled tightly. "You're just going to have to grin and bear it, but the moment Janet appears I can promise I'll be out of your hair." Then spinning on her heel she marched out of his bedroom.
Away from his prying eyes and caustic tongue she leaned against the door, closing her eyes against the whole mess she was facing and wishing that she was anywhere other than where she actually was. Her head was splitting with pain and she decided to take a couple of her own painkillers and go lie on the sofa. Glancing at her watch she realized that it was only just past one in the morning. She groaned softly knowing full well that Janet wouldn't be able to get here until well after dawn.
She promised she would rest for just a few minutes, try to bring the thumping in her head under control and then return to check on the patient from hell. She decided there and then that Janet should have been awarded the Medal of Honour a long, long time ago for valour way, way above and beyond the call of duty when it came to dealing with one Jack O'Neill, impossible man, impossible patient, impossible.... She closed her mind to what her heart wanted to say, deciding she was more in need of those pain meds than ever.
-----
He came awake yelling, trembling from the clarity of the nightmare that had gripped him in its hold, feeling his heart beating so strongly he was sure it could be heard. He ran his hand over his face unsure whether tears had mingled with the sweat that seemed to be pouring down him. God, he was hot.
He pushed at the duvet that enveloped him using his good leg to kick it as far away as possible. Desperate to cool down, his eyes searched for water, but there was none at hand.
His mouth felt like it had been through a sandstorm wide open, whilst his head pounded with an internal beat that made him flinch and screw up his eyes. He groaned aloud, uncaring, desperate for something, anything to cool down. The thought of calling for help didn't even cross his mind.
Pushing himself up, the room rotated crazily for a few seconds while he hung on to the side of the bed for dear life, keeping his eyes closed and his head down. He could feel the nauseous bile of burning acid bubbling in his throat and swallowed it down as he stared at his heavily bandaged lower leg.
Standing produced dark spots in front of his eyes and he concentrated on the pain which had escalated from a dull, prominent throbbing to a sheering shard of agony which raced up to his knee and returned to his ankle repeating the same circuit over and over. He bit on his lower lip and sucked in a deep breath.
Sheer mule-headed determination, the contrariness which had his superiors reaching on numerous occasions for anti-acid medication, was what got him up and hobbling out of the door. Across the room Sam lay in exhausted sleep, unaware her charge was up and about and in imminent danger of causing himself more harm.
Oscar raised his head off his paws and puzzled, golden eyes watched the injured man's erratic movements. His tail thudded on the wooden floor but when he received no open invitation to accompany this man, his head returned to his paws and he lay quietly, eyes slowly closing.
Jack opened the door to the deck and leaned against the frame, allowing the freezing air to cool his over-heated body. Loss of blood coupled with the fever had made him light-headed and incapable of clear thought, so the notion of getting to the jetty and immersing himself in the water seemed a compelling idea until, that is, he attempted the steps.
As his good leg stepped down to the next level, his injured foot caught on the top of the deck and the pain he had fought to control exploded. Crying out, he twisted to favour the injury, but his precarious balance was lost and, swaying like a palm tree in a storm; his body began to make its inexorable way to solid earth.
The seconds turned to slow motion as Jack felt his body falling. But as his brain screamed out to protect his injury and his hands automatically shot out to take the brunt of the tumble, he felt himself inexplicably scooped up, but he did not realise he had been hoisted over a broad shoulder as the embracing darkness claimed him once more.
"Going somewhere, Jack? Need a lift - just like the one you were *supposed* to give me back here?"
The only reply Jacob received as he ascended the steps to the deck was a painful groan, and only now, realizing that Jack was injured, did Jacob's tone soften to mild vexation, "What the hell have you managed to get yourself into now, Jack?" There was no answer.
Pushing through the open door, Jacob witnessed his daughter's horrified expression as she launched herself from the sofa, bleary-eyed and drained, Oscar hurrying towards him. A gentle command from the Tok'ra had the dog instantly lying down to obey.
"What happened?" Sam snapped, "And where have you been?" Her tone was just short of accusing.
"You tell me, Sam. I thought you'd be well on your way to Mark's by now." He looked as if he wanted to know more about her change of plans but finished his own explanation, "There was no Jack when it came time to leave so I managed to hitch a lift to the highway, but had to walk the rest of the way - it wasn't easy and then I found Jack trying to do a flying leap off the top of the deck. At first I thought he'd just had too much to drink..."
Shaking her head in startled disbelief, Sam gave her father a quick run down of events ending with, "Janet can't get here until the weather opens up - probably midmorning if it doesn't start blowing a blizzard again. I've been treating him for mild hypothermia...I can't believe he was able to get up!"
She shook her head in frustration as she followed her father into Jack's bedroom helping him as he relieved himself of his heavy burden. "All I did was to take a nap, I didn't think..."
Seeing the guilt trip Sam was about to go on, Jacob turned and enfolded her in his arms.
"Hey, kiddo, everything's going to be alright. If you hadn't come back here, Oscar wouldn't have gone off and he'd still be out there!" And giving her one of those quizzical looks, he asked, "And do you mind telling me why you *are* here?"
"I came to kick his butt!" It was said with defiance though her eyes told a different story.
Sam's father grinned widely. "It must definitely run in the family - me too."
Her smile was wan as she turned back to Jack watching as Jacob felt the injured man's forehead; he frowned. "I thought you said he had hypothermia."
"Yea, but I think--."
"Well I'm no doctor but I'm telling you he's got a fever - a high one and listening to the way he's breathing I'd say he's a strong candidate for pneumonia." And checking the back of his neck, he mumbled, "I knew that cough of his would turn round and bite him in the ass one of these days."
Seeing the tears of exhaustion in Sam's eyes, Jacob immediately went into general mode and began ordering her around as in the days of old. Then, she had resented it like hell, right now she was only too grateful to be relinquishing command.
"Boil me some water and put it into a teapot, then look in my tote bag - it should be by the coats - there's a leather pouch containing something that looks like loose tea leaves. Put two pinches into the water then add some honey, three or four cloves of garlic and if you can find any fresh ginger - put some of that in, too." He shrugged as his daughter rolled her eyes spectacularly. "I know, I know - I can expect the Goa'uld to give up their dreams of self aggrandisement before Jack O'Neill allows ginger into his kitchen - I should have known better than to ask. Anyway, let it rest for ten minutes then bring me a cup of the stuff. It works wonders on fevers and the like."
She didn't even stop to question him, simply turning to obey. When she returned to his side it was to find Jack had been changed into boxers with Jacob sponging down his fevered face and body with iced water. He took the proffered drink, aware that Sam had wrinkled her nose at the concoction's less than pleasant smell.
"I said it worked well on fevers, not that it was the taste of the week!" Jacob lifted Jack's head and put the drink to his lips.
From past experience Sam was doubtful of her father's success. She frowned, shaking her head slightly. "He'll never take it orally."
"Have you forgotten who's the senior officer around here?" he asked smugly, then turning back to his patient, said gently but firmly, "Come on Jack, let's get this into you and you'll soon start to feel better."
As the liquid trickled past his lips, the injured man swallowed reflexively, but as Jacob encouraged him to take more, Jack's face scrunched up and he fought to turn away. Ready for such an eventuality, the Tok'ra had cradled Jack's head in a determined grip, and was not allowing him to escape the foul brew.
Little by little, the liquid made its way into the patient, the odd dribbles caught with a towel held by a hovering Sam, and when it had all been consumed Jacob gave his daughter a wink of triumph. "Did you honestly doubt my capabilities when it comes to dealing with Jack O'Neill?"
For the first time in a long time he saw the twinkle that was part of Sam's persona shining in her tired eyes.
She laughed softly and challenged, "I'm looking forward to the same outcome when he's wide awake."
"A walk in the park, Sam." Then taking the towel from her hands, he said more seriously. "You look all done in. Go get your head down, I'll sit with him. He won't go on any more walkabouts, I promise."
Relieved at last that she could hand over responsibility, if not to Janet, then at least to someone she could trust, Sam laid a hand one more time against Jack's cheek, more for her own reassurance than anything else, then returned to the welcoming comfort of the large sofa.
------
"No more!"
Crap. Was that his voice?
Jack pushed the repulsive drink away from his lips and managed to scowl at the person holding it.
"No more," he reiterated just to make sure Jacob had got his message.
"Sorry, no can do. This stuff is ..."
"Shit! And save the lecture, Jacob - not in the mood! What time is it?"
"Nearly 04:00 - you've had a rough night."
"Who wouldn't when they're being forced to drink - what the hell's in that stuff anyway?"
"Something the Tok'ra use for general healing."
"They use honey, too?"
"No, I had Sam add the garlic and honey, knowing how much you're partial to the stuff." And seeing the revulsion on Jack's face, the older man grinned and went on to explain, "It's good for the soul - anyway, didn't your mother tell you that if it tastes rotten it must be doing you good?"
Good naturedly, Jacob closed his ears to Jack's acerbic reply and held the mug once more to his lips, ignoring the stubborn light in the weary eyes and the tightly closed lips.
"You still having nightmares about the Gadmeer?"
Jacob made his move as Jack opened his mouth to protest and Jack spluttered in disgust that he'd fallen for such a ruse and, more so at being forced to drink more of the foul Tok'ra medicine. "Tell me Jack," Jacob continued, ignoring the furious glare scorching his skin, "why do you always scream for Sam to get off the ship when it was Daniel who was on it?"
Black tortured eyes closed down leaving Jacob staring at...nothing. He'd pulled the damned shutters down, but if he thought that was going to do the trick he had another thing coming Jacob promised silently.
"I always felt there was something more to the whole Gadmeer/Enkaran...."
"You're mistaken!" And going on the offensive as he always did when threatened, Jack spat savagely, "Anyway that was classified information." He was wheezing from the effort as he tried to ignore the alert blue eyes watching him. "Carter had no right opening her mouth."
Laying a restraining hand on his patient's chest to keep him down, Jacob shook his head in mild disapproval.
"I'm not mistaken AND before you say anything else, Jack, it isn't the first time you've had the nightmare, so don't waste your breath denying it and stop looking at me like that. It's not as if I'm accusing you of sleeping with my daughter."
Jacob stilled, frowning down at the patient. "You haven't, have you?" Then seeing Jack's appalled look the Tok'ra relented, grinning widely. "Relax Jack, I'm joking."
Walking to the window, Jacob allowed time for the patient to regain his composure, while he pulled back the drawn curtains. There was no hint of the coming dawn but the snow had stopped and he realized that Janet and her team should soon be on their way.
"No doubt you'll be looking forward to Doctor Fraiser's ministrations - I know Sam is - you gave her quite a scare back in those woods."
Blinking as if dazzled by a bright light that wasn't there, Jack replied brusquely, "She's seen worse."
He didn't meet Jacob's probing eyes.
"Do you take lessons in being deliberately thick-headed? Is there any wonder George hasn't got a hair on his head!"
And giving the injured man a level stare, he continued dryly, "You know, Jack, you should think yourself lucky you were never under my command. Now let's finish the damned drink."
Rolling his eyes, Jack groaned, "Don't you have anything better to do?" He shuddered as he heard Jacob chuckle maliciously.
"Other than hang around and wait until you're well enough for my daughter to kick your ass - no. But tell me, Jack," and now the Tok'ra's voice turned solemn, "If you have repeated nightmares about Sam, don't you think you should do something about it?"
And irritated now by the mutinous set to Jack's mouth and eyes, Jacob snapped, "For some reason Sam has lost that brilliant enthusiasm for her work - life no longer holds that spark it once did and God help us all, but the key factor in this whole mess is YOU!"
The injured man would have loved to ignore Jacob, to simply block him out and concentrate on coping with the pain, but that wasn't a luxury he could allow himself. "This has nothing to do with you, for crying out loud. Just stay out of this!"
"Too late, Jack, my little girl is involved so it has everything to do with me. Admit it, why don't you?"
Tired and in more discomfort than he'd care to admit, Jack ran a hand through his grey hair. "Admit what?"
"You want to return to the SGC - go on, say it." Jacob could have said a lot more but restrained himself.
Jack's eyes flashed. "Go to hell!"
"Dad, what are you doing?" Jacob span round and held the cup up aloft, putting on the innocent wide-eyed look. It might have worked on Sam if it had been Daniel doing it - but it wasn't. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Trying to get our cranky patient here to take his medicine like the good little boy he isn't."
"It looks to me like the two of you were having an argument." She locked stone-cold eyes with Jacob. "What about?"
"Nothing important."
Her eyes moved down to Jack. Already she could see an improvement in his colour though she wondered if his temper was the cause of that; his eyes were revealing nothing. Her silent censure had both men in defensive mode as she stood before them, her arms folded tightly.
"I suggest Dad, you try and keep the colonel as calm as possible. Raising his blood pressure isn't likely to improve the healing process and Janet may have a thing or two to say about it." She was pleased to see the flare of alarm in her father's eyes.
"As for you, Colonel," her eyes glared ominously, " no doubt Janet will deliver a lecture or two on the advantages and disadvantages of going walkabout on an injured leg - whether you're in the mood or not."
There! That told them both she'd heard their every word and knowing her as they did, they both knew this wasn't the end of it. Then giving them equally chilling looks she turned briskly on her heel and left them alone.
Jacob groaned. He knew he was in for it. Maybe now would be a good time to rally his allies. He moved back to Jack making sure to keep the medicine well away from the patient.
"You've done it now, Jack."
"What the hell do you mean?" Jack demanded witheringly. "You're her father - go and do those father things, for crying out loud. Put her in her place. Let her know who the boss is."
Jacob snorted incredulously. "And how do you suggest I go about that, eh, Jack? You might have noticed that the threat of a spanking wouldn't go down too well," he continued dryly.
Suddenly, a cunning smile cut across the Tok'ra's open features as he leaned in closer. "Anyway, you're the one who's," He stabbed the air with his finger to add force to his words, "who's in love with her - you go deal with her."
And seeing that Jack was about to argue, continued forcefully, "And don't disappoint me by giving me any bullshit, Jack. I know it! You know it! Sam would like to know it but, funny as it sounds," and here Jacob's sarcasm fell thick and heavy, "she's been getting these mixed messages that have thrown her out of synch. You're the one who has to fix it!"
He could see the infamous O'Neill obstinacy closing down all other feelings and decided, hurt or not, the man was in serious need of a metaphorical smack around the head to get his brains back in gear. "You know, Jack. She's an attractive woman, just like her mother."
"Good job you didn't have much to do with that side of things," Jack mumbled snidely.
'Jacob.' Selmac's warning tone conveyed that she too was aware of the growing frustration within her other half; that metaphorical slap could so easily be transferred to the physical kind...
"One of these days someone is going to come into Sam's life, and it's going to be one of those times when she's tired and probably had enough crap (giving Jack a very pointed look) for the day and that someone will make her see that she's missing out on the important things in life... I don't think that good-looking guy, Morgan, was thinking about wasting any time when he asked me for Sam's mobile number."
And apparently satisfied with the look on Jack's pale face, he brought the medication back into full view, and ordered, "Drink the damned stuff will you? You're going to need every bit of strength you've got to get out of this mess."
-----
When Janet eventually descended on the cabin, everything became a whirlwind of activity. Given no time to voice any objections - Janet knew better than to provide such an opening - Jack was examined, administered various shots, given oxygen to assist his breathing, had an I.V. attached and kept on various monitors even while transported by helicopter.
There was no time for farewells when the CMO was on a mission and even if he'd been inclined - which he wasn't - the sedative Janet had added to the I.V. had ensured Jack slept the sleep of the innocents and had no recollection of being moved from his bedroom until he awoke many hours later in the way too familiar environment of the SGC infirmary.
He should have known better. Had he learnt nothing from all the times he'd been a prisoner in the infirmary?
"Ouch. Damn and blast, woman! Have you nothing better to do than blind me the moment I wake up?"
"It's my favourite pastime, Sir."
Ugh oh! He must have said that out loud. Big mistake.
"Come on now, open up, I just want to make sure the anaesthetic is wearing off nicely."
`And when, for crying out loud, has any anaesthetic been known to wear off nicely?' He had a rather strong and unpleasant recollection of throwing up at some stage and swearing like a master sergeant when gentle hands had disturbed him by attempting to clean him up.
Jack groaned, swatting at the hand he knew was hovering over his face. "Leave me alone," he grumbled, past caring that he was speaking to the person who wielded the biggest needles known to man. He tried removing the hated mask over his mouth and nose.
"Can't do that, Colonel." The voice sounded amused. "And leave the mask alone!"
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't."
"Can."
"Can't."
"Still playing those juvenile games, Jack?"
For just a moment, the patient stilled, hardly daring to open his eyes. When he did, he showed nothing of the unease which was rippling through his body, though the monitors he was attached to were doing a good enough job.
"I learnt from the best, Daniel."
He took comfort in seeing the indignant look his old friend threw at him before Janet's penlight blinded him again. It was a few moments before he could return his attention to SG-1's archaeologist and linguist while he waited for Janet to complete her checks, and when he did he found him in his customary defensive mode, arms wrapped tightly around his sides whilst he tried to look as if he meant business.
"I'll leave you two alone for a little while. No doubt you've got a lot of catching up to do."
And giving Jack the eye warned, "If I come back and find you've removed the mask, Sir, there'll be trouble." Then turning to Daniel, continued just as sternly, "Don't tire him out - he's going to be with us quite a few days more, okay?"
She didn't move until Daniel nodded his acceptance of her rules; he knew better than to ignore them when she had been so specific. Then, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm as she passed him, she moved through a gap in the curtains, calling, "Fifteen minutes - no more."
She didn't hear his answer, but Jack did. "It won't take that long."
"You pissed with me, Daniel?"
"Now why would you think that, Jack?" the younger man asked cynically, his blue eyes blinking repeatedly, unable to hide the hurt of his loss but trying all the same, while his folded arms tightened further still.
Feeling at a distinct disadvantage as he lay on his back, Jack closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer.
"Oh, I don't know - maybe the fact I almost blew you to pieces a while back and I never apologised."
The younger man frowned, just for a moment confused by words he hadn't expected to hear.
"There was nothing to apologise for."
"Then why the attitude?"
Daniel jerked like a marionette, furious that Jack still had the capacity to rile him and unable to restrain himself and hide the fact.
"Attitude? You call this attitude?" His glasses sparkled under the fluorescent lighting as he fought to keep his voice down.
"God forbid that I should have an attitude when my..." he faltered, uncomfortable with his next words which would reveal his naivet and helplessness, "when you simply disappeared out of our lives, leaving SG-1 leaderless, leaving Teal'c without the brother he has come to admire so much, leaving me without anyone to argue with and leaving Sam--." He stopped, speechless, unsure how to continue.
Ignoring for the moment what hadn't been said, Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows hoping he'd get a better grip on dealing with such a disgruntled linguist. He pulled the mask down.
"You mean to tell me you miss arguing with me?" It was Jack's turn to look helpless as he raised an incredulous eyebrow.
Ducking his head, to hide the flush of embarrassment creeping up his face and neck, Daniel stared down at his shoes.
"You actually missed arguing with me?" The question was repeated in the same astonished tone.
Snorting in disgust, Daniel raised his head, his eyes daring Jack to laugh.
"We...I...Ah hell, what's the point?" And turning on his heel, the younger man escaped the curtained-off area just as Teal'c entered.
With obvious relief, Jack met the Jaffa's clear gaze, knowing there would be no hidden words or meanings for him to work out the cryptic code.
"Teal'c, it's good to see you."
The warrior's eyes shone with a distinct glow of happiness. "My heart is glad to see you, O'Neill, though I wish it were in better circumstances."
"Ah, well," Jack brushed off his injury as if it were a pesky fly. "So, Teal'c, how are things?"
The warrior inclined his head, considering how to answer. "Things have been inauspicious since you left, O'Neill," and eyeing the oxygen mask hanging uselessly round the patient's neck, the Jaffa said, "and Dr. Fraiser requested me to remind you that your future will also be most unfavourable should she find you have not listened to her orders."
Rolling his eyes theatrically, Jack groaned, "Oh?" How to sabotage a promising conversation in one easy lesson. He frowned. "Have you been taking lessons from Daniel or Carter by any chance?"
Teal'c stared long and hard and then said, "I have not. To what purpose would I have taken lessons?"
Jack waved a hand, "Just wondered, no sweat. Forget it." He began to fiddle with the edge of his bed sheet, choosing to leave the mask where it was. "So tell me, where have you got to in Star Wars?"
(Three days later)
"Are you going to ask me how he's doing?"
The blue jello poised precariously on the end of Sam's spoon just about to be consumed was stopped mid-air. It trembled. Sam paused thoughtfully as if giving the question serious consideration, then with a determined blink of her blue eyes she nonchalantly replied, "No." Blue jello disappeared.
Taken aback, Janet sat forward in her chair, keeping her voice low. "You do know you're the only one who hasn't been to see him since he arrived here four days ago? Daniel, Teal'c, General Hammond, Siler..." Janet continued to reel off a list of SGC personnel.
Not taking her eyes off her dessert, the blonde Air Force officer chose to ignore the obvious criticism.
Janet frowned. "He's getting very irritable."
"Try working with him!"
"He's still very sick. That secondary infection was...."
"He's tough."
"Have you no...?"
Sam's head shot up, "Have *you* forgotten?" she demanded heatedly.
And Janet swallowed her words, realizing that she had pushed far enough and that her meddling was putting a strain on their relationship. She reached for her coffee, taking a deep swallow. "I'll say no more."
"Good."
"It's just that...."
"Janet!" The warning could be no clearer as Sam ground out her name before rising and leaving the perplexed doctor sitting alone at the commissary table.
-----
He didn't give a damn that she hadn't visited him. It was no skin off his nose. Anyway, he was far too busy to notice something as pathetic as an absent face.
Shifting restlessly on his bed, Jack reached down and began to scratch the area at the top of his dressing. He stared disconsolately at the tray of infirmary food that the junior nurse had left on the side; she had sensibly made no vacuous comment about the patient consuming it. Otherwise, he toyed with the idea of adding some rude notations to his chart but dismissed it as beneath his intellect - just.
His eyes did a quick scan of the infirmary, but there was nothing there to meet his needs. The place was empty bar his own bed and the staff was doing an inventory which put the nurses in no mood for any of his antics. Mind you, he knew what a pain that job was so he was fairly sympathetic, and anyway, he mused, it kept them out of his hair. His eyes moved to the ceiling, to the ubiquitous grey tiles - yup, same number as last time. No change.
He ran a hand over his jaw and grimaced at the harsh feel of the stubble. He needed to shave.
Strange, he thought, that at the cabin he was quite happy to throw away his razor yet once back on home ground he--. He frowned bleakly. Hell, what was he thinking - home ground? The cabin was home, for crying out loud, not the SGC and as sure as hell, not the infirmary.
His mood swung from being slightly bored to bleak and bad tempered and unable to bear the inaction any longer he threw back the covers, checked there was no one watching, and swung his legs over the side and reached for his crutches. He decided it was time to annoy Daniel and just maybe he could cadge a coffee off of him. He was on the move before anyone knew it. Or so he thought.
"Colonel, where do you think you're going?"
Hell. Busted.
He turned carefully, favouring his injury, attempting the casual, `I've done nothing wrong' look. He winced at the look on Dr. Fraiser's face.
"Just thought I'd take a shower."
"You know that's not on. And didn't I tell you to stay off that leg as much as possible?"
He was skewered by her glare yet still had the temerity to face her.
"Aw, c'mon, Doc. you know I--."
"I *know* I could ask Lieutenant Lange to give you a bed bath."
He froze; all thought of escape gone at the prospect of losing every bit of his dignity in front of the youngest officer in Janet's infirmary - she looked all of fifteen. He shuddered at the predatory look in the CMO's eyes and decided withdrawal was the only sensible course of action.
Seeing his metaphorical retreat, Janet was willing to show mercy. "I suggest you get back into bed right now, Colonel. If you're bored try reading that book I saw on your bedside."
Jack frowned. Book? What book? He couldn't remember a book. Looking over his shoulder he could just see a corner of it behind the water jug. He frowned even more. It looked like his... no, it couldn't. He shook his head perplexed. He hadn't brought it, he was dead to the world when they'd moved him from his cabin and, for sure, Janet had other things on her mind that she should choose some reading literature for him. He ran over the possible solutions to the little mystery and as he returned to his bedside and reached for the item in question, his face paled and then filled with crimson.
`Oh crap, oh crap, crap, crap!'
"Colonel, are you alright?" Seeing the extreme change in his pallor, Janet assumed that her patient was feeling the adverse effects of his unauthorized stroll and was reaching for her stethoscope and other instruments to monitor his vitals.
Ignoring her completely, Jack grabbed for the hardback, flicking through the pages and repeating the action as if searching for something of importance. Then in a fit of pique he threw the book across the floor, narrowly missing an orderly who was washing down the tiles, and swore colourfully.
"Colonel!" The tone was unmistakable but, unfortunately, said Colonel had other things on his mind.
"Who brought that damned book?" he snapped, his dark eyes flaring with unsuppressed fury.
Though bewildered by her patient's extreme attitude, Janet had no intention of allowing such behaviour. As the orderly, clearly aware of the tension crackling in the air and eager to escape, handed the book tentatively back to the Colonel, Janet intercepted it and frowned at the title.
`Now why on earth should this have caused such a fit of temper?' she wondered perplexedly. "I really don't know, Colonel, but I would have thought you'd have been pleased to have something on ice hockey. Whoever brought it certainly knew you. And I don't think throwing it across my infirmary constitutes appreciation. I have it on good authority that kids at kindergarten learn how to look after books in a civilized manner. What's your excuse, Colonel?"
"I need to get out of here."
Ugh oh. Here it was, in full bloom - the Jack O'Neill litany of excuses to be excused. Well, it hadn't worked in the past and it wasn't going to work now. Janet adopted her intractable glare, daring him to even start.
"Where the hell are my clothes?"
"Where you can't get at them."
"To hell with you!" and to Janet's disbelief he stomped determinedly past her on his crutches...
"Colonel O'Neill, get back here now!" There was no mistaking her fury and as the nursing staff on duty watched wide-eyed, Janet turned on her heel and marched to her office.
To say that personnel literally leapt out of Jack O'Neill's path was a slight exaggeration but no one, on seeing the focused look on his face, even considered stopping him to make polite conversation.
He was sweating by the time he reached the corridor in which Sam's laboratory was situated, the pain in his leg definitely making itself known in no uncertain manner. No need to check the time to know he'd missed his meds. His ankle was the best time keeper of all.
She was on the phone, deep in conversation when he pushed open her door but he had to give her credit, she didn't bat an eyelid as she muttered something into the phone and put her hand over the receiver. She waited for him to speak, but he simply put on the silent act and hoped she'd crumble before his leg did. In the end she spoke softly into the phone and told whoever was on the other end that she'd get back.
She stood facing him, the only evidence she might just be feeling the strain was the fact she was chewing her lower lip. He was drawn to her eyes, but they were veiled, revealing nothing.
She broke first.
"Janet know you're on walkabout, Sir? Are you cleared to be in this area?"
She knew when to hit low, but he had no intentions of playing by her rules. `Always take the initiative' - he'd learned that early on in his career and it had served him well.
"I'm missing something; from my book."
There was no reaction.
"The photograph; you forgot the damned photograph," he accused.
She didn't even blink as she replied coolly, "No, I didn't."
"I want it back."
"Why?" Her tone was just short of insolent and he stiffened not liking it.
"It's mine."
She snorted. "You can't cope with the real thing, so what does the photograph do for you?"
He canted his head, his eyes narrowing, the softness of his tone doing nothing to belie his meaning. "You're treading on thin ice, Carter."
"Really?" It was a challenge and he groaned inwardly, at a distinct disadvantage as the discomfort in his leg reached the next level up.
"Just give me the goddamn photo." For just a second Sam looked taken aback by his belligerence, but going on the attack herself exclaimed, "I wasn't the one who got a friend to act out the role of my lover."
He must have revealed something in his body language because the next minute she had rolled her computer chair towards him, muttering dryly, "You'd better sit down before you fall."
"I'm touched by your concern," he replied flippantly, his irritation clear in his dark eyes as he ignored the chair. She raised an incredulous eyebrow at his stupidity; she clearly knew that he was a hair's breadth from collapse but he refused to accept what was offered.
With a snort of exasperation she moved behind him and shoved the chair against the back of his legs. He came down hard and lips that had been set in a thin line of stubborn resolve released a soft moan of pain before being instantly bitten back. Her hand reached for the phone and he knew who she was calling.
"Don't!" he whispered vehemently. She ignored him but he too was grimly determined. He pushed himself up, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he hobbled towards her putting his hand on her shoulder. His eyes flicked over her revealing his sudden nervousness. "I shouldn't have done it."
Her hand pressing the keys stilled, but she kept her head down, unwilling for the moment to meet his burning gaze. When she did Jack wished she hadn't. Shooting him a reproachful look she shrugged away from his touch moving away from him, keeping her distance.
"Which part?" she asked so softly he could barely hear.
Running a shaking hand through his sweat-slicked hair, he realized that he'd done his running. It hadn't worked and it was now time to face the consequences of his cowardice. "All of it."
"Are you looking for absolution?"
Sucking in a sharp breath he attempted to move forward again but, unfortunately, his ankle had other ideas and he felt his leg buckle. He attempted to twist towards the chair but it was too far and he knew that in the next moment his butt was going to be meeting the hard surface of the laboratory floor.
"Colonel!" She literally flew to get to him, her feet barely touching ground as all her protective instincts once more kicked into full gear and as gently as she could she eased him down in as controlled a fashion as she was allowed given his size and weight. Trying to push himself up, the walls started doing some strange manoeuvres and Jack ended up falling back. Slowly, he became aware that his head was resting on his former 2IC's lap and when he looked up he realized her eyes, that had only a moment ago been coldly antagonistic, were now full of anxiety. For a long moment he searched her anguished features and knew it was time to come clean.
"I have to live with the fact that I was," and seeing she was about to cut him off, he cried, "hear me out, Carter, please! I have to live with the fact that I was prepared to wipe out not only a whole civilization, but to make it a crowning success, my...my best friend." The words choked in his throat and his eyes burned brightly.
"Daniel never blamed you!" she replied forcefully, willing him to believe her words.
"I know. What you don't know is that I..." his eyes dropped away from hers unable to face her open probing. "I...I... Sam, I kept thinking that if it had been you, I...I...."
He shook his head disconsolately, unable to rid himself of the memory that continued to haunt him, faltering in his speech. "You mean more to me than..." His eyes were pleading for understanding at the same time as he was trying to push himself up.
"Ah, crap. I've messed up. I just couldn't face the thought of..." his voice faded and his eyes dropped away in humiliation.
Eyes flashing fire, Sam reached out putting both hands to his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"Dammit, Colonel. You know as well as I do that our job is...shit happens. We take note, learn hopefully and get on with our lives. We do a great job. Sometimes we don't, but we keep going. There's too much at stake right now to just give up. YOU can't give up, I won't let you! I have plans, plans that damn well include you. And once our work...."
He smiled wanly, aware that others had entered the room but never allowing his gaze to leave Sam's. "A bit late for that, wouldn't you say?" His eyes were tired and lacking hope. "They wouldn't bring me back from retirement a second time round."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that, son."
Jack's head jerked to the side to find General Hammond looking down on him with a clearly pissed-off CMO at his back.
He would have liked to have questioned his CO on his cryptic words but just then Janet came bursting forward like a bat out of hell accompanied by two hefty orderlies and anything he had intended to say was put on hold as he was bundled onto a gurney, given a look that threatened the direst repercussions, and wheeled back to the infirmary in deadly silence, just able to yell, "I still want that photograph!"
-----(Later that day)
They sat on the empty beds which surrounded the curtained-off area, wearing grins to put a Cheshire cat to shame.
"I tell you I can do that," the petulant voice of Colonel Jack O'Neill could be clearly heard arguing behind the curtain accompanied by the splashing of water on the floor. This was followed by a sharp smack and an indignant yell.
"Hey! You struck an officer!" O'Neill's indignant voice accused.
"I believe Lt. Lange will attest to the fact that my hand inadvertently slipped, Colonel." The CMO's voice sounded exaggerated in its innocence indicating that there was every possibility of her hand slipping again should the need arise.
As Teal'c's eyebrow rose higher than normal, Daniel tried swallowing his sniggers almost choking when Janet appeared from behind the curtains looking slightly frazzled but clearly determined. Her eyes alighted on Sam and a silent message was sent and returned. Raising her voice, Janet said, "Sam, we're having a little trouble with the Colonel's bed bath. Maybe you could give Lt. Lange a hand. My other nurses are indisposed; the patient isn't being all that cooperative and...."
`No!" The voice from behind the curtain sounded both appalled and outraged.
"I'll help out any way I can, Janet." Sam's clear voice rang out enthusiastically.
"Car-ter!" The warning from her hidden CO was exactly as she'd imagined it and she chuckled in delight.
Janet grinned, a patent gleam in her eye and continued, "Lt. Lange, if Colonel O'Neill continues to misbehave, and I do mean even the slightest infraction, don't hesitate to call for backup. Major Carter has had prior experience in dealing with unruly personnel. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"
"Loud and clear, ma'am." The young voice of Lt. Lange was equally amused. "However, I believe Colonel O'Neill and I will be able to handle this situation."
(The next day) -----
"I took the liberty of annotating your resignation, Jack. A proviso was inserted to the effect that should you wish to reconsider your position, this would be acceptable within a period of six months.
Looking freshly scrubbed and boyishly innocent in his hospital gown - Janet had confiscated the pyjamas -Jack listened with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, but just as he was about to reply to this information, the general held up his hand.
"I don't want you to say anything right now. By my estimation you have another two weeks before that six month deadline is up. I want you to take that time to rethink your position; examine every possibility and then, and only then, do I want you to come and inform me of your decision."
"But, Sir, I--."
"Two weeks, Colonel." And narrowing his blue eyes, he warned solemnly, "And if I were you, I'd take that time to get on the good side of Dr. Fraiser."
Jack met his CO's keen, forthright gaze and returned it sheepishly, and then ducking his head as pink stole up his face, he continued. "I'm sorry, General. I've been a pain in the a--."
"You've been missed, son." The general frowned, hesitating for the moment, looking as if he wanted to say more. He took in a deep breath. "I'm going to say nothing to the others; I don't want any false expectations that may later be shot down in flames, nor do I want you to be pressured into doing something you're not ready for."
The general's tone had grown unexpectedly exasperated and suddenly the mystery of why Jacob had descended on his cabin became a whole lot clearer - the general must have given this information to his friend not realising Jacob would act on it.
"I had every intention of seeing you before the deadline to see if you would reconsider your position, but I was beaten to it. However, I want you to know, the status quo will remain the same unless you decide otherwise. Take this time to reassess your goals, Jack."
-------(One week later)
He strove to appear indifferent, his eyes on the flat TV screen where a hockey match was in progress; it might just as well have been one of Daniel or Carter's scientific documentaries the amount of attention he was giving to it.
He looked at his mobile resting on the coffee table willing it to ring. Silence. He frowned. He'd thought that their little chat in Sam's lab had sorted out the problem between them, but obviously it hadn't. Making sure she was never alone with him, she'd made the obligatory visits while he was in the infirmary, but since he'd been released and allowed home, she'd stayed away, neither showing her face nor sending a message to explain her absence. And Jack, being Jack had said nothing.
Sighing, he put his hands behind his head, interlacing his fingers to support him. It was no good; he reached for the control and began flicking through the various channels. Finally, his disgust apparent, he switched the screen off and threw the control onto the sofa, muttering an imprecation about the quality of cable TV.
He stood, pleased that his ankle wasn't complaining as much; the twinge was quite bearable though he had been given strict instructions to stay off it as much as possible. Janet had made it clearer than clear that he would be hauled back to the infirmary if she found the swelling had worsened when she made her usual daily house call.
He'd been home for three days now and this was the first time he'd actually been left on his own. Daniel and Teal'c had taken it in turns to `baby-sit' but Daniel had been called in to the base at short notice when one of the off-world teams had brought back a translation that required immediate attention and Jack had insisted he could survive a few hours on his own without having to resort to calling Teal'c.
The solitude was both welcome and grating. At least he could allow his thoughts a certain amount of freedom but at the same time he shied away from where those thoughts took him.
Moving to the back garden, he settled himself on the swing chair, remembering to hoist his leg up then swore as he realised he'd forgotten the cool beer which would have been something to occupy him. Wondering whether he should make the trip back to grab a bottle, he was aware of the sound of the front door opening and assumed Daniel had returned. He checked his watch. The translation couldn't have been too much of a challenge.
"I'm out back. Grab me a beer will you, and make a wounded man's day!"
He smelt her before he actually saw her arm come over his shoulder to place the bottle in his hand but despite every sense in his body going into overdrive he refused to turn and acknowledge her presence other than to raise his bottle to the sky and say cheers.
He waited, heart pounding, willing his body to conceal his agitation.
Slowly, purposely? Jack wondered, she moved into his line of sight and he knew payback was about to descend on him big time. Dressed in a simple white top, her short skirt revealed more bare, tanned thigh than was surely legal in Jack's judgment. He raised his head deeming it safer territory, but found her eyes observing him coolly, calculatingly; he instantly looked away giving the beer bottle his full and undivided attention.
He felt something flutter down and stiffened staring at the photograph which Sam had dropped into his lap.
`Shit!' Her words, reproachful and angry came back to taunt him: `You can't cope with the real thing...' Well, the real thing was here and in all honesty he really did wonder how he was going to cope.
"Carter." He congratulated himself on keeping his voice so neutral. "Got yourself a beer?"
"Think I'll pass, Sir."
She continued to stare at him and he had to make a determined effort not to squirm.
"So?" He met her eyes.
She gave a tight smile.
"Been busy?" He had to push it.
"Not overly so."
His eyes narrowed. If she'd come here to...
"So what brings you here, other than the photograph?"
"You."
This time he couldn't conceal his surprise. Whatever the hell she was trying to do, Jack decided she was doing it damned well.
"And?" His frustration was just beginning to show itself.
"Does there have to be an 'and'?"
Utterly confused by the vagueness of her words, he snapped, "Yes!"
He felt like one of her specimens under minute observation in her lab and it was getting to him.
"For crying out loud, Carter, just why the hell are you here?" He had pushed himself up ready to swing his injured leg down wanting to be standing face to face with her, when suddenly, without any warning, she dropped her head and kissed him, her tongue demanding entry as she ground her lips against his.
This was no sweet, tentative reaching out to test the state of affairs. It was a mind-blowing sexual encounter that was having an all too obvious effect on Jack's equilibrium and though words did spring to his mind they never made it to his lips, which were otherwise fully engaged.
Groaning with an overwhelming need, the beer bottle dropped on the deck and his hands reached up to draw her into a closer embrace, but almost as abruptly as it had started, she stepped back, straightened her top and smoothed down her skirt. Then without any further ado, she twisted and headed indoors.
Incapable of speech, he could only turn his head and watch her go back the way she'd come, his expression stunned. His eyes widened as he saw her pause and look over her shoulder.
"All those months you were gone, a day never passed that I didn't wonder." She touched fingers to her reddened lower lip, her head shaking infinitesimally. "I told myself I'd never make the same mistake twice."
And before he could react, she was gone.
'Hell!' He reared up, oblivious to the pain that shot up his leg as he launched himself from the swing chair and hobbled as fast as his ankle would permit.
"Carter!!" He found his voice, but as he threw open the front door, his head shooting left and right, his disappointment was complete; there was no sign of her, not even a disappearing car.
Closing the door, he leant against the frame, head hung low, eyes closed, breathless, unable to comprehend just what had occurred a few moments ago.
"F-ck, f-ck, f-ck!" His limp was far more obvious as he crossed the hallway. To hell with Doc Fraiser, he needed a drink, a strong one.
Movement at the corner of his eye had him turning, wondering, hardly daring to hope...
She had taken his favourite spot on the sofa and was drinking a beer, looking so mind numbingly beautiful that he felt an instant leap in his groin. She had picked up the control and was flicking through the programmes. She stopped at Discovery Planet, giving her undivided attention to the documentary on the melting polar icecap, seemingly unaware that Jack was frozen to the spot. Or so he thought.
Not taking her eyes off the screen, she enquired nonchalantly, "Are you going to stand there all day, Sir, because if you are, Janet may have something to say that you may not like?"
He grimaced, willing the heat in his body to subside before he made even more of a fool of himself than he already had. Cautiously, he approached, surprised when she moved her legs to make room for him.
He stared at the screen seeing nothing.
"Carter?" His questioning tone conveyed all the uncertainty within him.
Carefully, she put down her beer, placed it on the coffee table and turned, her eyes pinning him in a hypnotic hold.
And as Jack made to speak, Sam's hand went up. Smiling provocatively, her voice dropped huskily, "That kiss was just payback. I think you deserved it."
She saw him flinch followed by a flash of something deep within his eyes and she smiled. She knew full well he didn't appreciate the attitude she had adopted, but this time she felt it was justified.
"And now..." she rose up to her full height, completely aware of exactly what she was doing to him.
"Carter?"
She ignored his whispered word. "I suggest you get your weight off that leg, Colonel. I really don't think you want Janet dragging you back to the infirmary."
Dejectedly, he stared down at his hands, not wanting to see her go. There were some things he needed to say to her and he didn't know how to begin.
Taking pity on him at long last, she murmured, "By the way, I told Daniel not to return until tomorrow, mid-day."
His head jerked up, brown eyes flashing, a blaze of longing clear to see.
And in disbelief he watched her turn not towards the door to exit, but to the steps leading to his bedroom.
"Carter...Sam," Jack awkwardly called out.
Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a questioning glance.
"Your father was right, you know." Jack moved forward towards Sam who seemed to be firmly rooted in place.
"I am an idiot and more for leaving you without first coming clean...Sam..."
Her hand reached out to place gentle fingers over his lips, her eyes at last softening to reveal such depths that Jack was certain he would surely drown in them.
"And I'm an idiot for letting you go."
A wry smile tugged at his lips. "I was pretty focused."
She rolled those same bewitching eyes. "Tell me about it!"
Suddenly he dropped his gaze, uncomfortable with what he knew he had to say. "I...I need to tell you..."
"I know everything I need to know."
Sam's softly spoken words had his troubled eyes shooting up to meet her understanding ones. Such compassion. He wondered if he deserved it.
She smiled reassuringly, reaching out to run fingertips down his cheek and over his jaw, feeling him tremble.
"I've been pestering General Hammond incessantly for days now and in the end he caved in. He informed me that your commission could possibly be reactivated and he was waiting to hear from you in the next week as to whether this would be the case or not."
She gave him such a luminous smile running her thumb over his lower lip that he found it almost impossible to concentrate on her words. "The way I see it, I'm in a no-lose situation. Depending on your decision, I get to spend the next seven nights, still being under Colonel Stone's command, in the arms of the man I love carrying with me the promise of more in the future; or two, I get the rest of my life with this man. Either way, I win - big time."
Seeing his expression at her use of the 'L' word, a soft giggle spilled from her lips and for just a moment, Jack had the terrible feeling that Doc's medication must be making him imagine these things, No way would Carter be standing here before him looking like...
Still he faltered. Yet clearly there was something that was making him uncomfortable. His brow creased with intense concentration as he slowly shook his head.
"How...how do I tell someone that I love them when I have no right...?"
Her hand went to his chin, tipping his head up so that his eyes locked onto hers.
"I already know that too," she said with just a hint of smugness. And seeing his apparent confusion, she explained, "You talked a lot when you were burning up with fever."
'Crap!'
Sam smiled at his all too obvious discomfort. She hadn't quite forgiven him for all that she'd been through this past six months; there was still some more payback to come.
Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "Yea, it seems at times you found it hard to distinguish between Dad and me."
The appalled look in Jack's eyes told her enough and she had to work hard to hide her amusement.
"Dad did ask me to tell you that he's delighted that you consider him part of the family, though he didn't expect you to take it quite so far."
Groaning in abject misery, Jack could only squirm in horror at what he might have said to the Tok'ra. "Er...what...um... exactly did I...er... say to him?" He was finding it very difficult to hold her amused gaze
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head slightly. "You really don't want to know."
His dark eyes flared in unmitigated horror. "Aw crap!" He just knew that Jacob would have a field day over this and he dreaded their next meeting.
But enough was enough. She wasn't an evil person - not quite. She observed him as he strove to regain his equilibrium and decided that it was time to turn his thoughts back to more urgent considerations. She smiled wickedly as her hand began to make an obvious descent to a part of his body that had no problems focusing on the change in subject matter. His eyes locked onto hers like a heat-seeking missile.
His jaw dropped. His whole body language conveyed his need. And as he watched her give him a look that conveyed just exactly what her intentions were right here, right now, he decided that he could deal with the real thing.
He determined his restraint was pretty pathetic when compared to Sam's and he groaned longingly as he melded his whole body against hers, pushing her up against the wall as his mouth began to make its own investigation of her mouth and neck. Drawing back slightly, Sam could see he had a huge grin plastered over his face as he asked, "What was it that Doc said about my leg?"
Momentarily befuddled - the effects of Jack's attentions was causing her mind to be centred on one thing, and one thing alone - Sam could only stare at him in perplexity. Jack, however, knew exactly where his line of questioning was going. In what seemed a nano-second he reflected that he was, after all, breaking no rules or regulations. The general had been quite explicit about him taking the full time to reach his decision and so, in the meantime, he was still technically 'retired'.
Not only that - he was obeying Doc's orders too - he was about to take the weight off his leg and go to bed. .
The End
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Irrevocable Decision (complete story)
by Obsessed PamStory Bemerkung:
I decided this story needed a different ending to meet the needs of all those shippers, so with the unstinting help and additions of my brilliant beta, Nell, we give you this updated version. (hope you like it).Site Navigation
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