The Things We Say
by beatenandwhipped
TITLE: The Things We Say
AUTHOR: beatenandwhipped
EMAIL: beatenandwhipped@yahoo.co.uk
CATEGORY: Angst, POV, Romance
PAIRING: Sam/Jack
SPOILERS: none
SEASON / SEQUEL: 5
SERIES:
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Some things just don't go away.
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Ann M for beta'ing this fic! Much appreciated!
Prologue
It's not the things we say.
It's the way that we don't say them.
Like right now, for instance. We're in a bar, with most of the SGC around us, it seems. The base is celebrating…something. Someone else's happiness, I guess. We are so far apart – as far apart as we can possibly be while still remaining in the same room.
He's standing at one end of the bar, not far from the exit, surrounded by a group of SF's that I know only vaguely. He chose their company for exactly that reason, I suspect – he knows none of them are going to spot me, going to invite me over to join them.
I'm at the other end of the bar, near the entrance, ready to make a quick getaway the moment no one is paying attention. I've been in almost the same spot since the moment I arrived. I drifted in, spotting him almost immediately, and stayed put on the basis that it was the point furthest from his being. Janet is next to me, chatting to a couple of Airmen, and I'm trying to look like I'm listening.
Just like I know he's trying to do the same, all the way over there, in the middle of his group. His little buffer zone.
But he's not listening to them, any more than I am listening to Janet. I know this, because every few minutes, one of us will glance towards the other just quick enough to catch the other person's gaze sliding away. It's like some secret agreement that not even we are party to. It's a deal we never agreed to but have no way of backing away from.
We are so far apart, right here, right now, but we may as well be locked together. This is why we don't do this sort of thing anywhere, anymore. We don't see each other outside the SGC, we don't pop into the local bar for a drink after work – not even with Janet or Teal'c to 'chaperone'. Last week, we spotted each other in the supermarket, each doing our weekly shop, and we didn't even say hello. I stopped stock still by the vegetables, waiting for him to glance up from the newspaper stand and see me. When he did, there was a moment of absolute silence, as if someone had just switched off the ambient sound and silenced all the other shoppers in one single instant.
Thinking about it now, of course, I realise that it must just have been some internal reaction on my part. I have a siren that goes off as soon as I see him in a non-military situation, but my heart has inversed it somehow. Turned it into another little joke to tease me with.
He smiled, a tight little smile that tore my insides and jiggled in my small intestine. Then he just turned away, walking up an aisle and as far away from me as possible.
I just went straight to the checkout. Who needs vegetables anyway?
This is how we are when we're out of uniform. Because once we've stopped talking about all the things we can talk about, the only things we have left to say are things that we don't.
Because when we're out of uniform, we don't speak. But we're screaming at each other.
We're shouting, we're calling…
…we're begging. Or at least our bodies are. Our minds are tied up with trying to keep everything else in check.
So we stay apart, as far as we can, killing time until we can put our uniforms back on and force all these glances and what they stand for back beneath the surface, somewhere so far inside that we can almost kid ourselves they aren't there at all.
Because we are speaking, right here, right now, right over everyone, even though they don't notice. Because when we aren't Colonel and Major, we shouldn't even be in the same room, because all we do is tell each other things we have no right thinking.
But it's not the things we say.
It's the way that we don't say them.
…it's the way we can't.
I can see Carter, spine as stiff as a board, standing across the room from us, chatting to Janet. Well, she's making it look as if she's chatting, but I know she's not. I know this, because every time I look at her (which has been every eleven and a half seconds so far), she is just looking away from looking at me.
It's weird, and I know it's a cliché, but I could almost swear that there is no one else in this place but us. I could almost promise you that there is absolutely no one in the space between us. Because I can feel her, I can hear her breathing, as clearly as if she were standing right before me.
And god, I wish she was.
We're both out of uniform, and I can't remember the last time I saw her in civvies. She's not dolled up, exactly, but then Carter's not one for war paint and frills, and Christ knows she doesn't need all that stuff. She's just wearing jeans, tight enough to show that she still works out every day, and a black short-sleeved shirt, open at the neck.
I still don't understand how the woman can turn my insides to jelly without even meeting my eyes. But she does.
But she has.
We shouldn't be here, in the same room, out of uniform. I realised this a long time ago. It's just too difficult….not that self-control is a problem for either of us, I mean Jesus, if it was I'd certainly have been up for a Court Martial years ago. It just reminds me so clearly of what she is, other than one of the best soldiers I've ever served with.
She's beautiful, and sexy…and she keeps looking…at…me. And all I can think about right now is her, and how much I want to walk over there, how much I want to speak to her.
But I don't, because there's a new unspoken rule in the Carter-O'Neill non- household, and it's that what the eyes can ignore, the heart can't yearn for. We don't see each other outside the SGC at all anymore, and that pretty much confines any interaction we have to military exchanges only.
It kind of works. It doesn't stop me thinking about her most of the time that we're apart, but it stops it spilling over into something it shouldn't. Into something it can't. And even now, as I look at her again for the eight hundredth time this evening, I realise that it's the only way to deal with what's going on. Because there's no way to ignore this, this charge that detonates between us whenever we meet and keeps burning until one of us leaves. There's no way to control it, either, other than with distance and uniforms.
It stinks. This much repression can't be healthy. It seems to be more excruciating that usual this evening, and it's not just because we're here to celebrate some airman's engagement. It's because we've just come back from a particularly good mission, where we were both entirely relaxed and happy in each other's company. We were so busy being friends and co- workers that we were able to see past the tension, past the elastic band wound tighter than a yo-yo that has strung itself between us and just keeps winding up a notch more. And it was perfect. Even when I'm not busy being knocked over by how stunning she is, I'd still rather be with her than anyone else in the Universe. Anyone.
So now, here we are, back on Earth, and all I want to do – and from her body language right now, this goes for Carter, too – all I want to do is be with her, talk to her. See her smile, hear her laugh. But now the tension is back, and we're wound tighter than ever because thanks to our wonderful working relationship, we both know just how good we would be…'together'.
My stomach is coiled tighter than a spring, and I can't stop looking at her. I can't stop yearning. I can't stop thinking about how she's the brightest point in the room. But I can't talk to her, and she won't come and talk to me, and bless her for that because tonight would probably be the night I'd say something aloud that I meant to only think.
Pretty soon, I'm going to have to leave, because standing here knowing she's so close is just too much to bear. So I'll just wait for the speech that is sure to come, and I'll get going. I'll slip out and she won't even see me go, and the next time we see each other we'll both be back in uniform, back in character. We'll both be back in control. Because right now, I know I'm not, and the only thing between us is the space that we aren't crossing.
Janet's beginning to realise that I'm not really paying attention. She keeps flicking her eyes to my face and sooner or later she's going to see where mine have been pretty much fixed all evening.
Come on, Carter, pull yourself together.
It would be easier if he weren't doing the same thing. If every time I looked at him, he were engrossed in conversation, I'd feel an idiot enough to stop doing it. But because every time I look up it's obvious he's been looking at me, I can't stop it. My heart feels like it's beating way too fast and this is so stupid
I have to go. I should never have come in the first place – I should have figured out a reason, somewhere else I had to be. But I really wanted to wish Lieutenant Danis well, Christ knows the world needs as much happiness in it as will fit. And it's got a long way to go till it's full.
Okay, if I'm really honest, I wanted to be here for another reason to, and I've proven to myself exactly how stupid that was. I actually thought it would be nice. I actually thought, in my pig-headed stupidity, that it wouldn't be like this. That we could extend the last week into our 'normal' lives, perpetuate that easiness we found off world. Nourish it, cherish it…
Idiot!
As soon as I saw him I knew that was a mistake on my part. The second our eyes met it hit me like an arrow in the forehead. We were as far apart as we could possibly get in that room, and I felt like he'd taken my face in his hands. The feeling was so intense I really thought someone would notice and call me – or the Colonel – on it. It felt like we'd been staring at each other for hours, but it must have only been seconds after I walked in that Janet came up and held out a drink.
We haven't met each other's eyes since but I can still feel this thing there, burning between us, and god it hurts. It's like an open wound to know there's someone you want that wants you this much and all you have to do is reach out for them.
Except that's not all I'd have to do, and we both know it. And it's the knowing that burns as hotly as the fire in the pit of my stomach, the one that I know is going to be there until we do something about it. Or die.
I'll wait for Danis to give his little speech and then I'll go. I'll tell Janet I'm not feeling well and I'll just slip away. No one will notice, and I'll just go home and sleep.
Although I probably won't sleep. I'll just dream. I've perfected the art of dreaming without sleep, and it's as good a place on earth as I've ever been.
And tomorrow I'll be fine again, just Major Carter, all wrapped up in and buried under her military uniform, the one that's saved my career more than a few times over the past few years.
I don't look around as I edge towards the back door. Thankfully, everyone is engrossed in what whatisname… Danis…is saying. To be fair, he's not the worst speech-maker I've ever heard. He at least seems to have a sense of humour, and I'm thankful that he seems to be keeping everyone interested enough to not notice me sidling guiltily towards the door.
It's probably very rude of me not to say goodbye to the hosts, but I'm really not in the mood. That would mean having to cross the floor, bringing me closer to Carter, and at the moment that is certainly not a good idea. Anyway, one plus side to being Jack O'Neill and having the reputation that goes with the name is that people expect this kind of thing from me. Who am I to disappoint?
I have my hand on the door handle when I turn back to look for her through the crowd. I can see Janet, but Carter is obscured by a whole lot of people. My heart clenches with a ridiculous kind of sorrow, and I try to remind myself that I'll see her at work in the morning.
But I know I won't, not really. Because tomorrow it'll be back to the uniforms and everything they represent. And even though tonight has been difficult, it's as close as we're ever gonna get and for that it breaks me in two.
Blinking, shaking the pathetic sentimentality from my brain, I slip through the door and out into the cool, smokeless night. Digging my hand into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out my car keys and I'm just about to walk to my car when I hear a sound ahead of me and look up.
What I see stops me dead.
It's Carter. I guess she must have had the same idea as me about getting away because she's got her jacket on and her own car keys in her hand, holding them at waist height as she unlocks the door of her car from a suitably flash distance.
I can't move. She hasn't seen me, and as she walks towards the little MG I see her rub a hand over her face wearily. You and me both, kid, I feel like calling out. Instead, I take a few steps towards my car. This is easily dealt with, my brain says. All you need to do is get in the car and wait until she's pulled away. She hasn't even noticed you, and there's no reason why she should.
But there's the other part of me that doesn't want to ignore the churning in my stomach, the one that's making my heart thump like erratic bongo drum. Still, I seem to be in a stronger frame of mind than I thought tonight, because instead of continuing to stand there like a moron, I take a couple more steps towards my car. But I still can't stop myself glancing up at her.
She's seen me.
Carter's standing at the driver's side of her car with the door slightly open. Instead of getting in, though, she seems to be frozen to the spot, one hand on the open door, the other resting on the roof, still clutching her keys. She doesn't say anything; she just stands there, staring straight at me.
My stomach turns over so fast that for a second I think I'm gonna black out.
Janet looked suspicious when I said I had to go, but she was too interested in the speech to ask me much about it. Who knew Danis was so eloquent? If the circumstances had been different, I might even have stayed to listen. As it was, my head was beginning to ache and I felt as if I need to run into a field, dig a hole and scream into it until my voice gave out.
Thankfully, I hadn't put my jacket into the cloakroom, instead slinging it over the back of a nearby chair in anticipation of my early get-out plan. Slipping it on quietly, I put my hand in my pocket to stop my keys rattling. I really would rather no one noticed my departure. Smiling a small goodbye to Jan, I back towards the door, involuntarily looking towards where I had last seen the Colonel. I'm disappointed when I realise he's hidden from my view by a group of people, and I'm then distinctly annoyed with myself for my disappointment. After all, the whole reason for me leaving is to avoid the continuation of this particular predicament. What would seeing him one last time possibly achieve? Anyway, I'll see him tomorrow, uniformed to the hilt and without that edge of danger that so often nearly brings us to our metaphorical knees.
Pulling open the door as quietly as I can I slip thorough it, leaning on the wall outside for a moment as I let the cool night air wash over me. It hadn't been particularly stuffy inside the bar, yet I'd spent all evening feeling as if I was suffocating slowly. Opening my eyes, I see my shiny little car across the parking lot in front of me and can't help smiling a little.
I love my car. It actually lets me feel like me, at least when I'm behind the wheel. And it's so small that it doesn't matter that there's never anyone beside me in the passenger seat. Sighing, I begin to move towards it, pulling out the keys and deactivating the electronic lock with one push of a button.
It isn't until I put my hand on the driver's door handle that I see him. The Colonel. He's walking slowly towards his car, seemingly oblivious to me. He must have had the same idea. Figures. Sometimes I think we're joined at the frontal lobe. I don't know what to do. Part of my brain is screaming that he hasn't seen me, that I can just get in the car and shut the door, wait until he pulls out and then go home as if this whole evening hadn't happened.
But there's another part of me, a guilty part that wants him to look up. I want to be seen.
God help me, I want to feel what I felt when I first saw him this evening.
I want to feel his hands on my face.
She's not moving. She's just standing there, like I'm just standing here. Somewhere in the parking lot, a beer can rattles in the wind, and behind us the muted sounds of the party liven up again. The speeches must have finished.
But here, outside, between and around us, everything is silent. We're staring at each other like a couple of loons, and I don't know what to do.
I know what I want to do. I know what I should do. The two most definitely are mutually exclusive.
What I should do involves a quick smile and then an even quicker dash to my car, and then home to safety.
What I want to do is see her more closely in the moonlight.
After a couple of seconds, I realise she's shut the door to her car again. That may or may not be because I've been moving, slowly, towards her. I don't think I have control over my feet anymore.
I know I don't have control over my brain.
My whole chest shudders from the jolt in my heart as I realise he's moving towards me. He hasn't said a single word, he's just looking at me.
Holy Hanna, how he's looking at me! I know in the instant that I register what's in his eyes that this is the closest we have ever been, to the line, to breaking everything we've been holding on to…So why am I shutting the door? Why haven't I got into the car, started the engine, and driven away fast enough to leave everything a blur?
But I don't do that. Instead, I step forward slowly from between my car and the one in the neighbouring space. I stop there, leaning back against the low tail, and as I do so I can feel myself shaking. It's partly fear, about what's going to happen and the foolishness we both suddenly seem ready to embrace.
But it's mostly anticipation. Because I see a look on his face I haven't ever seen before, and it's an expression that holds more passion than anything I have ever experienced.
Carter's leaning gently on her car….waiting for me to approach. There's a look on her face I can't quite gauge, but I know it's something I've been dreaming about seeing in her eyes for years. I keep walking, one foot slowly falling in front of the other, until I'm just a couple of feet away. I don't say anything.
I honestly don't think I could.
Instead, I just look at her, my heart full of something so simple that I cannot explain it. She's so pale in the moonlight, so very pale. Something snaps in my chest, and I just want to reach out and touch her, run my fingers down her neck…I just want…
Jesus, how I want to…
Carter shifts her head, glancing away suddenly. I think she's looking for some sort of relief from the moment, from whatever she sees on my face. I don't blame her. It's scaring me to death, so god only knows what it's doing to her.
Her head is tipped away, chin raised as she looks at the sign on top of the bar, glowing a hard neon pink in the night. Carter's neck is bare, a slender white shaft slipping away from the hair at her nape and curving to where her shirt scoops across her shoulder, casting a fluid shadow where it opens just above her chest.
I don't know how I come to be so close, but suddenly I'm leaning down, brushing my lips across her clavicle. Her skin is cool, but I can feel the heat below the surface, and it's something I haven't felt for a long time…not since…Edora. That amazing, incorruptible knowledge of another human being, the only absolute assurance that you are not alone.
Carter shudders, a deep motion from within. I feel a tiny breath escape from her lips, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, I feel her fingers move across my stomach, still clutching the keys to her car in one hand.
She's trembling, and it nearly undoes me. I don't reach out with my hands, afraid that too much movement will scare her off. Instead, I move my lips gently on her neck. Her breathing is so shallow that if it were more even I wouldn't hear it at all. Parting my lips a little, I touch my tongue to her skin.
For a second I think she's crying, as a tell tale salty moisture collects at the corner of my mouth.
Then I realise it's me.
I can feel his tongue on my skin, moving upwards, and I can't stop the tears forming.
How long have I waited for this?
He's not holding me, he's just kissing my neck, pressing so lightly it almost feels like a feather. I can't describe what it's doing to my insides, other than that the desire in my belly has multiplied.
How can this man be so gentle having seen so much?
The tears fall, but I don't move my hands from where they are resting on his hips. I don't want to move. I don't want to lose this.
He reaches the top of my neck, and I can feel the night air tease the skin in the wake of his kisses. He pauses for a moment before taking my earlobe between his lips, and have to fight down the helpless sob I suddenly feel rise in my throat. Around us, the trees rustle slightly in the breeze, and the neon sign fizzes as its unreliable bulb blinks. It feels like our own world, a million miles from every thing I know.
Right now, I don't want to be anywhere else.
Carter smells….incredible. For a moment I have to just stop and actually take in the fact that I'm standing here at all, this close, kissing her neck. This isn't where I thought I'd be tonight, standing in a parking lot with the object of my many daydreams.
But god, I'd give anything to stay right here forever. Our bodies are close, I can feel her warmth thorough her shirt, the rise and fall of her chest as it brushes against mine. Suddenly I want to see her face, and so pull back just a little and to my surprise I feel her fingers grip my waist tighter.
He moves, and for a moment I think he's going to stop. Almost involuntarily, I press my hands harder to his body, willing him to not to leave. Then I feel his lips on my cheek and realise he's just pulling back a little. Opening my eyes, I look at his face, and smile.
Something contracts in his eyes and he kisses me.
It's the most powerful thing I've ever felt.
She smiles at me and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Her lips are as soft as I remember them to be from the last kiss, the one I stole from her, the one she'll never remember. It's so intoxicating to feel her tongue brush over mine that I can't help reaching for her, running my hands up her back and under her jacket as I pull her closer.
For a second, I feel everything she's thinking, everything she's feeling, and Carter, I hope to high heaven that you can feel that very thing from me too.
Bringing my hands up around her back I slip them over her shoulders to cup her face, moving my mouth from hers to kiss the rest of her features, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. I can feel her mouth curving in a breathless smile as I return my lips to hers for a kiss that goes deeper than anything I've ever felt.
Suddenly, there is a noise behind us. It's the creak of the bar door, and it's followed by a light pouring out onto the gravel of the parking lot. Voices follow swiftly into the night as we both spring apart, breathing heavily. I look over my shoulder to see a group of airmen clapping Danis on the back, obviously preparing to leave.
Turning back to Carter, I see she's already moved, backing away towards her car door. The look on her face has transformed from passion to anguish: she knows as well as I do that we can't be seen out here together, this close. She doesn't say a word as she opens the door and slides in.
For a second, I can't move, stunned that our interlude is over so abruptly. More than that I'm stunned at what we've done, full stop. Then, mindful of the airmen, I move into the shadows thrown by the bar, and head for my own vehicle without a second glance.
We were nearly caught! Jesus, we were so nearly caught, me on the hood of my car and my Commanding Officer with his hands up my back!
I'm shaking so badly I can't manoeuvre the key into the ignition, so instead I just rest my head on the steering wheel, waiting for every emotion bubbling inside me to subside. I hear the airmen in the distance climb into a car and pull away. They didn't notice the Air Force Major sitting in her driver's seat, shaking like a leaf.
Then I realise that Jack's truck hasn't pulled past me. He's still there, a few cars away, and I wonder if he's shaking as much as I am.
I bet I beat him hands down with the tears, though.
I watch the airmen leave as I lean heavily on my steering wheel. My heart is hammering as I realise how close I came to blowing Carter's career completely…although I guess given our relative positions I could have contested that I forced myself…
…though somehow I know she wouldn't go for that, not even to save her career.
But Jesus….what a jerk!
Taking a deep breath, I lean forward and start the car.
It isn't until I'm pulling out onto the open road that I realise we didn't say a single word to each other.
Not one single word.
I sit still as O'Neill's truck pulls past me and out of the lot. More people are beginning to leave the party now, so it must be getting late. At least that means our cars are unlikely to be spotted, leaving together.
My heart rate has slowed a little, enough for me to shake less. Starting the car, I put it into reverse, eager to get away from here, eager to be home.
I pull out onto the highway, heading into town. It's busy, but up ahead, I can see Jack's truck pulled in on the hard shoulder. As I slow down he pulls in front of me and I follow him slowly, my heart jumping. I try to concentrate on the road, misery mixing with memories in my throat.
When we pull up at a red light, I see him tilt the mirror so he can see into my car. His eyes take up the reflective surface entirely, glinting darkly in the night. He's looking at me. He's looking straight at me.
He's saying goodnight.
And it's only then that I realise what we didn't say.
That would be: anything at all.
Just the same as always.
It's not the things we say.
It's the way that we don't say them.
…it's the way we can't.
End
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