By His Side, Always, Chosen Hearts series, S1, 102

by HDorothy

Before Major Kawalsky dies, Sam promises him that she’ll stand by Jack’s side, always. But can she deal with his mourning ritual, and most of all, his crap?

Title: By His Side, Always, Chosen Hearts series, S1, 102
Author: HailDorothy
Season: One
Spoiler: Stargate the Movie, Season 1, Episodes: Children of the Gods - 101, The Enemy Within - 102
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Other characters: Daniel, Teal'c, Kawalsky, Hammond
Song: Farwell to You, Lyrics: © White Lion
Readers: No beta this time, so I take all the blame for any mistakes!
Series order: Follows 'Charades', and 'Crap! So Not Going Fishing!'

Story Summary: Before Kawalsky dies Sam promises him that she'll stand by Jack's side, always. But can she deal with his crap?

Series Summary: Charade is the first novella of the ongoing, Chosen Hearts series, which not chronological written, begins with Jack and Sam's first romantic encounter to present SG-1 season through S10 and the movies. Please read 'Charade' for setup of rest of, 'Chosen Hearts,' series that will include Black Ops flashbacks, and references to 'Charade.' Other than the twists I've first introduced and a few along the way, this series is canon based. Really!

Disclaimer: All publicity recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This series may include script excerpts from the TV Series 'Stargate SG-1.' This fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks are intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of said author, HailDorothy 2004 ©, revised 2007©.

Feedback: Gosh, darn, don't make me beg! Pretty Please? Starvation of this writer's muse is no pleasant sight. All feedback is food for thought and well digested. "Feed me, Seymour!" (The Little Shop of Horrors)

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Farewell to Major Charles Kawalsky

Well it's time to say goodbye, my friend
I'm glad you stayed until the end
I hope that you've enjoyed the time we spent
Though, I know that I will be back again
I don't know just how soon my friend
Until we meet again,

Just think of me, I'll think of you
It was easier to say hello
Than to say goodbye

Now the bus is leaving once again
I bid farewell to you, Oh, oh yeah

I remember all the fun we had
And all the tears when times were bad
But you were there when we were down and out
And I know that, I will not forget
What was written and what was said
And who was there when we were not on top of the world
It was easier to say hello
Than to say goodbye

Yes, it's time to say auf wiedersehn
Sayonata, and ciao my friend
You'll always have a place within my heart
And rock will come and rock will go
The scene will change and time will show
But still I hope that I'll be there for you
Be there for me
It was easier to say hello
Than to say goodbye . . .

00000

SGC, Conference Room:

General George Hammond stood by the star map, pointing out the next designated objectives to Jack, Kawalsky, Daniel and Sam.

"Gentlemen, these planets designated P-3575 and P-3A577 have been submitted by Captain Carter's team as possible destinations for your next mission. SG units 1 and 2 will operate concurrently."

Although listening to the General, Sam's attention had been diverted by the immature and competitive rapport of Colonel O'Neill and Major Kawalsky. Were she keeping score, it'd been nonstop since the two men reunited three days ago. She also realized that Jack—er-um, the Colonel, took delight in how easily amused she was by their antics. Most of all, she appreciated that he and Kawalsky had a friendship not even time could change. Right now, the two officers were at it again.

"You know," Jack said to Kawalsky. "I'm kind of partial to P-3575 if you don't mind taking P-3A577."

"No, I'll take 577." Kawalsky insisted.

"I'm not married to it." Jack changed his mind.

"No, no it's—,"

"Hey, I want to be fair about it. How about we flip for it?" Jack reached into his pocket for a coin.

"How about you go where I tell you. As far as I'm concerned—," Hammond stated gruffly.

Before either man could respond, alarms went off and the Stargate activated.

"Inbound traveler! Repeat inbound traveler!" Major Davis announced over the intercom.

"Damn those Goa'uld are persistent." Charlie groused.

"I think we pissed them off." Jack made eye contact with Sam as they ran for the Gate Room.

Six hours later:

Heading for Major Kawalsky's private room, Sam rounded the corner of the infirmary just as Colonel O'Neill emerged with his head down. When he spotted Sam he sniffed, backhanded his damp eyes and squared his shoulders.

"Hey, shouldn't you be in bed or something, Captain?"

"Colonel, I believe we had this conversation in the briefing room. Other than a slight headache, I'm okay."

"Well, long as you take it easy."

"With you and Doctor Jackson babysitting, I've no choice, sir."

"Well there ya go." He donned his poker face.

"How is he, sir?" she glanced passed the Colonel to the private Infirmary room.

"Better than I'd be with a snake hardwired to my brain." He shuddered than gave her a curious look.

"Oh, the Major requested my presence, sir." She motioned to the quarters guarded by two armed SF's.

"He did, huh?" His brows shifted.

She nodded. "Although, why I've no idea."

"Sam, Kawalsky might be a bit rough around the edges, but he's got a heart of gold and appreciates a certain pretty blonde officer—,"

Sam's brows shifted with disbelief.

"And that wasn't a male chauvinist insult," his voice bottomed out, "Really."

"None taken, sir." She winked.

"Sweet. Besides, I suspect your illuminating smile is just what the doctor ordered. Oh, and, Captain?" He bounced on his boot heels, then flourished a hand her direction.

"Colonel?"

"Treat Major Kawalsky with kindness, wilya?" He leaned in as he motioned to stroll off, "Besides you, he's the best friend I've got."

"Yes, Colonel." Sam smiled at his departing backside, but her joy vanished as she watched his broad shoulders slump. Despite their brief courtship, he considered her a best friend. Man, Jack O'Neill was a lonely man. Stiffening her upper lip, she acknowledged the guards and rapped on the door.

"En-ter," said the Major through a raspy cough.

"Sir?" Sam poked her head inside.

"Captain Carter." Major Kawalsky smiled and maneuvered onto his right side. His complexion was pasty and dark circles etched his eyes. The senior officer's health had nose-dived. Sam's heartstrings tugged.

"Yes, Major." Sam entered the room with uncertainty.

"Hey, I'm sorry 'bout the elevator. I don't remember. Shit, I never meant tae hurt ya. Can you forgive me?" he asked with remorse.

"Nothing to forgive, sir. And I'm fine, really." She smiled to reassure him, but kept her distance.

"Hey, have a chair." He pointed to the one beside his bed. "Should still be warm from good ol' Jack's behind."

Sam nodded and took the standard hard plastic chair. Sure enough it felt warm and a flush crept up her face. "Um, so how you feeling, sir?"

"Doped. They shot enough drugs into me tae bring down an elephant and yet here I am talking tae a brainy, beautiful Captain. Jack ever tell ya I like pretty blondes in uniform?" He winked.

"Actually, he did." Sam stared at her clasped hands. No doubt the drugs had messed with the Major's judgment about protocol, so she'd let him flirt—for now.

"Hey, Captain, if I don't pull outta this, yu've gotta do me a favor?"

"Please, Major, you'll be fine. Doctor Warner's going remove the Goa'uld."

"Wish I had your faith, Carter. Heck, I'd settle for Jack's faith. He's gone sorta religious, ya know? Must be those Irish Catholic roots, huh?"

"I—um, yes." Sam blushed and looked at her polished boots. Kawalsky gently grabbed her left wrist. Startled, she looked down where he held her. More than aware of how the Goa'uld could take possession of her, she kept her cool.

Since their first meeting she'd suspected the Major didn't like or approve of her. She'd told herself it didn't matter, but it did. Major Kawalsky was Jack's longtime friend and she wanted his friendship and trust. He glanced about the room, then at the guards watching the door. Sam swallowed and reached down to gracefully dislodge his grip.

"I won't bite." He let go and signed, "I just wanted tae say that if I don't pull out of this, it's been an honor tae serve with you, Captain Carter."

"Wow!" Sam let out a breath. "I feel the same way, sir."

"Well, don't that beat all? I figured you hated my guts. Let's face it, I've not exactly been your favorite fan. But I respect you and I'm sorry I treated you poorly, Ma'am. Why, just yesterday I requested General Hammond reassign you tae my team."

"You did?" Sam relaxed thinking of the possibilities it'd allow her and Jack to pursue.

"Yeah, Hammond didn't seem thrilled but said he'd consider my request. Twenty minutes later, I got called into his office to find Jack chomping at the bit. He accused me of stealing his science officer. I argued, he already had Doctor Jackson. And ya know what he said?" Kawalsky coughed and grinned.

"No, sir, what?" she tried not to sound too eager.

"Well, it'd not be proper tae use his vulgarities, but he respectfully told me tae find my own science officer and then go tae hell."

"Oh." She flushed. He started coughing and reclaimed her hand.

"Sir, you okay?" She caressed his forearm.

He nodded and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Look, I know 'bout yoz and Jack, and its cool. You're good together. I had my doubts about you when we first met, but now realize why Jack's so hung up on you. You're a damn good soldier, Carter, not to mention smarter than anyone I know."

"Sir?" She glanced nervously at the SF's on the other side of the door, then back at the senior officer. Man, if he knew who else did?

"Hey, Captain, your secret's safe with me. But I worry for Jack. He's been through hell the last few years, losing his son and then his marriage. I'm askin' ya to watch his six and be by his side. I know Jack. If something happens tae me, he's going tae take it hard and do something real stupid like—."

"Like what, sir?"

"How the heck should I know? He's Jack. Just stay with him always, until—"

"Please, Major, stop talking as if you're not going to beat this?" She eased her hand from his clammy one and tried to be professional. But the naked fear in the man's eyes caused her to stroke his arm in a comforting manner.

Kawalsky smiled down where she touched him. "I envy that son of a gun."

"Sir?" She sent him a questioning look.

"Having you in his life. I mean it, Captain. No matter what offensive bullshit he pulls, you can't leave him alone. Promise me?"

"I promise, Major."

"And, Captain . . ."

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell Jack he can have my stereo."

00000

Gate Room:

Major Charles Phillip Kawalsky was dead.

"He was your friend," Teal'c said solemnly to Jack as they knelt beside Charlie's body in front of the Stargate.

"My friend died on the table." Jack shoved to his feet, turned from his friend's corpse and walked down the ramp past the armed SF's. He halted briefly before Hammond, "Permission to go home, sir?"

"Granted, Colonel," Hammond's empathizing blue gaze held his for a moment. "But, first a word in my office."

"Yes, sir." Jack walked passed Colonel Kennedy, Doctor Warner, Daniel, Teal'c and Sam.

"Sir?" she called out.

"Later, Carter."

"Yes, sir."

Jack heard the nakedness of her tone, her regret. He couldn't deal with her now or anyone living for that matter. Yet as he took the stairs up to General Hammond's office, Jack had several living issues to address, one included Kawalsky's SGC memorial service before his body was shipped home, and secondly, Teal'c's welfare and one asshole, Colonel Kennedy. Jack sure hoped Hammond had an ace up his sleeve because if not, Jack would go AWOL to save the Jaffa.

Forty minutes later Jack left the General's office hopeful. The president had actually talked and listened to Jack's story of how Teal'c saved SG-1's lives along with dozens of residents of Chulak. He promise a resolution by tomorrow. Still, the moment an infuriated Colonel Kennedy entered the office, Hammond dismissed Jack, no doubt concerned that Jack might strangle the man.

Afterward, Jack reassured Teal'c that for now he was safe. Teal'c thanked Jack and then returned with armed guards to his quarters. Other than a stop by Major Louis Ferretti's bed Jack planned to shower, go home and get drunk.

"Jack?" Daniel was on his heels. Jack's jaw tightened. The kid was relentless.

Halting at the elevator, Jack swiped his ID, turned his head and glared at the linguist, noting the smudges on Daniel's eye-lenses. Jack wondered how the man ever managed to read hieroglyphs let alone see.

"You want some company?"

"Do I look like I want company?" He gave his best sarcastic face, then regretted it. With his wife still possessed by a snake, Daniel was in worse need of emotional support; problem was Jack had no support to spare.

"Well, no, but then—" Daniel did a fish impression.

"Good night, Daniel. Get some rest and I'll see ya at the wake." The elevator door opened and he stepped inside, but not before he spotted Sam jogging toward him. Their gazes locked long enough for her to dissolve Jack's emotional force field. He broke eye contact to discourage Daniel's persistence badgering. "This ride's taken." Jack glared to where Daniel's hands held the door ajar.

"Um, Jack, the Major's death wasn't your fault." Daniel continued to block the elevator.

"Tell that to his ex-wife, ten-year-old daughter, brother, nieces, nephews and his mother." Jack punched the infirmary floor button and then shut his eyes before Sam could board.

His last stop before leaving base was to break the tragic news with Ferretti. The man was still recovering from his staff weapon injury and now this dung got dumped on him. Besides exchanging sentiments not his comfort zone, Jack promised Louis he'd be there for him, no matter what. After saying good night, Jack went to the locker room intent on divesting of his perspiration drenched BDU's, which he jammed into a duffle bag to drop off at the cleaners on his way home.

00000

Exiting the communal showers Sam heard the slam of a locker and flinched. Couldn't those male morons comprehend the locker room's door sign that read: Female Officers Occupancy Only? Emotionally bankrupted she clutched the towel around her wet body and padded round the row of lockers with the mindset to ream-out some junior officer with his head up his rectum. Spotting the Colonel she came to a slippery halt.

"Ja-ck?" she blurted, cursing her failed etiquette.

"That would be Colonel to you, Captain." He tugged his polo shirt over his head and pivoted to face her, his damp brown hair on end.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, Colonel." She clutched the towel tighter and drew herself up only to realize that posture emphasized her saluting nipples. The short white towel barely grazed her thighs. Why couldn't the Air Force supply longer, thicker towels? She'd put in a request for what good it'd do.

The Colonel's tanned face stained crimson as he took in her wet slicked-back hair and exposed flesh. Normally she'd appreciate his opened-mouth gape but there was nothing sexual in his eyes. "With all due respect, sir," she decided to stick to the issue of protocol. "The sign clearly states—,"

"I can read, Captain. It's all yours. I'm gone." He turned to his locker, tucked his polo shirt into his tan casual slacks and donned his battered leather jacket.

"Sir, I want to say how sorry I am and—"

"Can the sentiments, Carter. I'm just peachy." He marched toward the door and turned the knob.

"No, sir. I don't believe you are." That got his attention. The door ajar he turned and glowered down at her. The iceman cometh.

"You're wrong, Carter. In our line of work good folks die everyday. Kawalsky knew that, so do I." His drawn features were rigid, his voice glacier cold and his golden brown eyes transformed into onyx shards. "I'll see you at the SGC's memorial service. And don't forget we gate at 1200 hundred hours."

"Sir, that's not until tomorrow." She hoped he knew she wanted to be with him now.

"Glad you can add, Carter." He left her staring at his rigid backside and shivering with remorse.

00000

Jack didn't recall driving to the liquor store let alone to his house. When he got home he remained on autopilot, his failsafe mode. Just as he'd acted indifferent to Carter, he did the same with himself. Almost twenty years in the military had taught him self-preservation. He knew how to categorize and file issues in different compartments of his mind and heart. Each compartment had a header: Crisis Crap. Immediate Crap. Noteworthy Crap. Non-noteworthy Crap. Emotional Baggage Crap—which held volumes of folders. That's the folder where Kawalsky would eventually be filed, but not until Jack had his private grieving session, which would start ASAP.

Grabbing a beer, he headed for his bedroom and flicked the bottle cap down the hallway. He changed into black sweats and Reeboks, emptied his overripe refrigerator contents and carried the garbage to the street curb. On a whim, he entered the basement and rummaged through two military travel lockers before he found his prize.

Upstairs, he dropped the dusty photo album on the dinning room table and with a full bottle of Scottish Whisky in hand, flipped through the pages and then strolled down memory lane. For the first time in hours he found himself smiling. Him, Kawalsky and Ferretti during the last days of U.S. occupied Hanoi, South Vietnam. They'd been three eighteen-year-old wannabe heroes assisting refuges and Americans onboard helicopters and planes, within hours of the North Vietnamese takeover. Talk about disillusioned enlisted Airmen. They were pathetic. To this day, he wondered how many Americans realized how that rash exit cost thousands of innocent lives. The killing fields be damned!

The next photos' four years later at the Air Force Academy where they reached for the brass ring to become USAF officers and pilots. After graduation the three men lost track of each other, but he and Kawalsky managed to cross paths.

The next twenty pictures said it all: East Germany, El Salvador, Soviet Union, Iraq, and then Abydos. Crap! He went around this world and visited an alien world with Charles Kawalsky at his side. Jack knew everything about his old buddy, but hadn't shared squat with Charles regarding his personal life. Not until last week when Hammond reunited the two men including Louis Ferretti. The fact Charlie treated him with honor and respect said a lot about Charles and very little about Jack. What kind of friend had Jack been? A lousy one. He had a lot of casual friends, but few close ones. He'd considered Charlie a best friend, who hadn't known until a few days ago that Jack and Sara had a son named Charlie.

All in all, Jack sucked at relationships, even with men. That realization spiraled back to his relationship with Sam. Another failure in the making. Maybe that too was for the best. Yeah, keep it professional. After all, that's what they'd agreed to right?

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And hour later, Jack lounged with his companion of Scotch in the dark, listening to his answering machine click on and off. Eventually, he unplugged the recorder. Everyone had called. Hammond, Daniel with Teal'c, but no Sam. Oh, she'd show up sooner or later. How did he tell her he didn't want company, not even hers? Maybe he'd be lucky and his final words to her in the locker room had sunk in. Seeing her standing there practically naked hadn't done him any favors. He'd almost broken every military code of ethics he respected, and ravished her marking her property of Jack O'Neill.

He snorted through his nose. Had she any idea how much he lusted after her, and how often? Let's go for broke here, Jack, how about hourly for starters, okay, every ten minutes. On the other hand, screwing Carter could have its beanies. Well, there's a first. He'd always classified his desire for Sam as making love. The vulgar term, screw, never seemed appropriate for Doctor Samantha Carter. Must be the booze talking, Jack, um . . .thinking. Whatever.

"'Sides, this isn't about jumping Carter, this is about mourning the departure of your friend. So wrap your head around the facts and stay focused! Hell, what kind of best friend let's years pass without so much as a phone call? How many times did Charles or Louis call or write to get together and you'd always have some lame excuse. Too many to count."

After he'd drained an eighth of the bottle, Jack thought to sit on his roof and get fully wasted, but opted for the sofa. It was a lot shorter free fall than off his roof. Not to mention he had a memorial to speak at tomorrow. Two hours later he had a good buzz going and hadn't shed a tear. What for? Crying didn't solve crap. Not even when his son Charlie died. All those wasted tears shed alone hadn't brought back his son nor saved his marriage with Sara. Tears were for the weak-of heart, not Jack O'Neill.

More than ever, Jack regretted he'd not shared his personal loss with Charlie until the second Abydos mission, but then he had tons of regrets. Snorting, he tipped the bottle and swallowed the amber liquid that scorched his throat and aching gut. Crap, he needed to pee but suspected he wouldn't make it without an accident. He sat and suffered. Suffering was good. He needed to feel something, even a painful explosive blander.

The rise of a full moon crested over the mountains and moonlight invaded Jack's private world. Minutes later the headlights of Sam's silver Volvo danced over his drawn window shades as she pulled up into his driveway. Not too many Volvos with a rebuilt 1965 engine. The dang car purred like a well-fed kitten. Jack frowned. Maybe he should drink more often.

When he heard Sam's knuckle rap against his front door, he cursed her away. She persisted. Livid, he stood unsteadily with the intent to shove his military nose into her disobedient face and kick her off his property. His attempt faltered when his knees buckled and he toppled into the coffee table that crashed against the hardwood floor. Jack tumbled, missed the sofa and nailed his forehead on the floor. He let out a string of cusses, the 'F' word being his most operative expletive.

"Colonel?" Sam yelled with a panicked voice.

"Go 'way!" he slurred out. He gripped the bottle's neck and wore more Scotch than he'd drunk, but he smiled, because he'd managed to hold onto his cherished companion. Now if Carter'd just get the f#$! outa here.

Waiting for his limbs to catch up with his stand-up order, Jack thrust into an all fours position, then aimed his uncooperative body toward the sofa that appeared a galaxy far, far away. Crawling seemed the safest bet. Now, how'd that go? Right, left, um that's not right, no it's . . . Behind him the front door's deadbolt released with a solid click. Blast! He'd given her a key the other day. Halfway up the sofa, he took a longer swill and rested his pounding head.

The house door opened then quietly shut. "Sir?" she called out.

"Leave the sa-ame waay ya kam, Car-er, or I'll—."

"Have me arrested for breaking and entering?" She took the tentative step down into his living room and reached for the light switch.

"Don't!" He waved a hand in the dim moonlight. "And yeah, the thought tae dial 9-1120 crossed my mind."

"Colonel, I just want to make sure you're okay." He heard but couldn't see her.

"Peachy." He belched, within reach of his goal. The sofa.

"Ouch!" She banged into the overturned table. Even in his bitter drunken state, she'd managed to shred his defenses. He hoped she'd not hurt herself. When he didn't respond, she stepped closer and reached out tentatively until she located him and patted her hands across his back. "Let me help you, sir."

"Tae hell wi'hya."

"Only after I help you up." She seemed stronger than he recalled and in one fell swoop he was dropped onto the sofa. He mumbled thanks and shifted his bulk into the sofa's right corner and peered up through fuzzy eyes.

Soft moonlight pooled around Sam like a halo. He tried to ignore how angelic she looked. She'd changed into a short black skirt and red, button-down blouse. His gaze lingered on her long slender legs. She was so hot! He'd obviously not drunken enough. He took another gulp and screwed his eyes shut. Sam sat down beside him and eased the bottle from his grip. He expected her to place it out of his reach, but she lifted the bottle's mouth to her lips and downed several swallows. His jaw slackened as he watched her. Not too many men, let alone women could chug that much Scotch whisky without choking. He figured she was experiencing a strong slow burn about now. But she didn't even wince.

"Hum," she licked her lips, and glanced at the label. "Chevis. You've got expensive taste, sir." She handed the bottle back and belched like an airman.

"Kawalsky 'serves the best." He took another drink and swallowed with a grunt.

"Yes, he does. He said the same about you."

"Hammond know ya're 'ere?"

"Yes."

"Why not Daniel?"

"Because as your second he felt it my duty, not Doctor Jackson."

"Duty my ass. Leave!" He turned away and rubbed his blue-shadowed face with a shaking hand. Damn, he hated when his body betrayed him.

"Not happening, sir."

"That's a fricking order, Cap'n. Now get outa here, 'fore I do or say something I'll regret and you'll hate me for!"

"With all due respect, sir, I made a promise."

"Yeah. To whom?"

"Major Kawalsky. I promised to stay with you through this, no matter what bullshit you pulled. His words, not mine." Sam touched his face. Jack flinched and stared at her admission.

When she made that little turtledove chin jut and tuck he realized this wasn't easy for her. He saw the moisture in her gray-blue eyes and didn't want her sympathy or tears. He didn't handle tears well, especially Carter's. Man, how he wanted her. Even before she showed, he'd been fantasying about making love to her. He needed something to fill the void of losing another loyal soldier and good friend.

Well, loyal soldier Carter had come to his rescue. Just like he knew she would. Sitting so close, he could smell Samantha the woman, beneath the shampoo and body lotion, while Carter the soldier tried to comfort him over the lose of a brave officer she'd barely known. Why? One by one the people he loved and cared about were being ripped from his life. Charlie, Sara, Sha're, Skarra, and now Kawalsky. Who'd be next, this woman beside him that he shouldn't love, but did? This woman he couldn't even kiss let alone make love to, coz of the freaking regs.

Screw the regs!

Jack fisted Sam's short hair and kissed her—hard, shoving her down on the sofa one hand pawing, the other ripping her clothes. He forced her lips apart and jammed his tongue into her mouth. She gasped when her blouse buttons broke. Jack yanked at her lacy bra, the straps snapping beneath his determined grip. His other hand slid up her silky thighs and under the bunched-up skirt. This was not a mutual seduction. He expected her to kick and bite, even whip his butt. Instead, she lay placid beneath him while her hot tears wet his face.

Reality slam-dunked him! Ashamed and angry, Jack rolled off and stared down at Samantha. Her creamy freckled breasts were exposed to his view, there for his taking as was her trembling body. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, there was no fear or contempt in those sad blue eyes, only total trust. Caught between guilt, nausea and the urge to urinate he shoved off her.

"Crap, Carter!" She'd have let him take her. He dragged the green afghan off the back of the sofa, covered her and then struggled to his feet. "I'm—sorry."

"I know," she said quietly adjusting herself beneath the afghan. "I knew you would stop."

"Yes, well, there's a lot ya don't know 'bout me, Carter, and like this," He gestured between them, "It's not rosy." With a strong need to get to the head he staggered onto the landing then toward the bathroom. Dear God, he'd almost raped the woman he loved! His stomach pitching, Jack barfed before he could shut the door.

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Hearing him vomit Sam removed her shredded brassiere. She never had liked the thin strapped bra. Her hands shook as she rearranged her disheveled clothes. She refused to think about the darker side of Jack O'Neill she'd just encountered.

A curse echoed from the bathroom. Sam drew a breath and pushed to her feet. It took a moment to collect her thoughts and calm her heart. She'd never seen him this way; angry, vulnerable and violent. Her fault. He'd warned and she'd not heeded. As the stench of his purged stomach hit her, she gagged and fought for control. Her first time in his house, Sam flipped on the lights as she made her way into his kitchen and removed paper toweling and a bottle of sanitizer from the cupboard. Outside the bathroom, she heard him urinate and flush the toilet. More swearing, but he sounded coherent, better.

Calling on her military discipline she shoved her arm between the jam and door before he could slam it in her face. "Here, sir," she offered the items.

He accepted the cleaning objects and mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She returned to the kitchen to fix coffee and food, knowing that had he eaten before he'd gotten snookered, he'd not be so sick. Sam realized this was the first time she'd seen the colonel truly drunk. Well, other than the White House Halloween ball, but then he'd been tipsy, no wasted. Yep, he could hold his liquor.

Almost twenty minutes passed before the bathroom door opened and he padded into his bedroom without bouncing off the walls. The door slammed. Sam kept her cool. She rummaged through his pathetic stocked refrigerator thankful to find fresh eggs, six strips of questionable turkey bacon, half a loaf of wheat bread and frozen orange juice. At least he'd planned on breakfast.

A few minutes later Jack entered the kitchen barefooted, wearing clean sweats. Sam pivoted and clutched the button-free front of her blouse.

"Um, here." He handed over a black and white flannel shirt. "I'm sorry about the blouse and bra, I'll replace them." His voice dropped as he avoided her direct look.

"That's okay, sir. I'll just write it off as hazard duty." She donned the shirt, rolled up the long sleeves, then smiled reassuringly.

Wincing, he looked pale but sounded more alert. "In the morning I want you to file assault charges with General Hammond."

"No. I came knowing you might be upset, drunk, and even unpredictable. And you were."

"Guess I didn't disappoint you. For cryin' out loud!" his hands directed traffic. "I almost raped you." He dragged a splayed hand through his unruly hair and cursed.

"Sir, one needs an erection for that to happen." She looked him head on.

"I, um, ya mean?" He blushed as he blew out his mouth.

"Yes. No, you didn't." She took a step forward and reached out to touch his arm but he recoiled. Sam returned to the stove. "You couldn't poke a marshmallow, let alone me."

"Marshmallow?" he mouthed. "But I hurt you," he continued to chew the same fat and shut his eyes.

"No, you didn't. Now sit and drink your coffee while I scramble some eggs . . .sir."

"It's after midnight and I want to be alone."

"I thought we established that's not going to happen. However, if you prefer Daniel instead, I'll call him."

"I don't want Daniel." His eyes widened with comprehension. "Look, Sam, I'm not going to do anything stupid, like blow my brains out."

She turned back to him. "That thought never crossed my mind, sir."

"It didn't?" he asked incredulously.

"No. Not unless you're a selfish SOB, who'd leave the woman he claims to love more than life." She dished up the eggs, jellied toast, and set the plate in front of him.

"Well for the record, eighteen months ago I was that selfish SOB."

"I know that too."

"Oh."

00000

"Let's talk." Sam settled in the chair across from him and started on her toast.

"For the final time, no." He braced his pounding head. His Scotch buzz wearing off he felt like downright crappy. He also felt like an ass. "Look, Captain," he had to keep his professional edge or he'd lose more than his dignity. "This is how I deal with death, especially of someone close to me."

"By not talking about it."

"Ya think?" He snorted and stared at the eggs. "What with the red stuff?"

"Paprika." She dove into her food.

"Ah." He took a nibble. "Holy buckets!" He wheezed, and chugged the glass of orange juice which just worsened the internal burn. Jack went to the refrigerator and downed milk from out of the carton. It took a few moments before he caught his breath.

"Too much Cyan Pepper, sir?" Sam smiled over at him without breaking a beat as she ate.

"You little bi . . .!" He noted the smirk on her lips as he coughed and tried to swallow.

"Yes?" She scooped another forkful and chewed.

"Guess I deserved that." He pounded his chest wondering which hurt worse his head or gut.

"Most definitely, sir." Sam smirked around the rim of her orange juice glass.

"So what's the red spice on your eggs?" He poked his fork into hers, hoping her constitution wasn't stronger than his.

"Paprika, and that's what's on the rest of your eggs." She smiled wider."I swear."

"Ah." He took a tentative nibble and smiled when he tasted the mild spice and nothing else. They ate in silence. Sam watched with relief as Jack finished off his plate and two cups of black coffee.

After wiping his mouth with a piece of paper toweling, he patted his stomach, leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. Sam yawned and glanced at the clock. It was past 0100 hours. Fortunately because of Kawalsky's memorial service, they didn't have to show at base until 0900 hours. Despite the fact he looked better, Sam figured the Colonel would have one dozer of a hangover come morning. They needed sleep. She flexed her sore neck and shoulders and realized that she'd be seriously stiff tomorrow.

"Ya do know you busted a twenty-year-old O'Neill tradition tonight." He made a face.

"How?" She gazed up from her musing.

"Whenever someone close to me dies, I spend a night with my Scotch Whiskey and memories and then put it behind me."

"I'm truly sorry, sir."

"Like hell you are." He shoved to his feet, wobbled, then picked up their plates and carried them to the sink. Sam stood and began clearing the rest of the table.

"You're right, sir. I just never thought getting drunk solved anything."

"Never said it did," he shot over his shoulder. "But after my reprehensible behavior I think it's time I ditch that ritual." His back to her, he placed his hands on the counter, lowered his head and exhaled. "I'm so fricking sorry, Samantha." His shoulders shook.

"I know and I forgive you, Jack." She walked over and touched his tensed back. "Now, how about we get some sleep?"

He turned and she saw the repentance in his dark brown eyes. "I don't want you driving home. I'll call a taxi."

"No. General Hammond trusts us. He ordered me to stay all night if necessary."

"Oh." He flinched, then flourished a hand. "So ya think it's necessary, you staying all night that is?"

"Only if you think so, sir." She grinned.

"Well, if General Hammond insists, who am I to argue?"

"Exactly, sir." She smiled. "I'll take the sofa."

"No." He gestured down the hall. "I um, do have a guest room."

"Okay. I'll get my bag out of the car."

"Came prepared, huh?"

"Always. Um, I also brought my dress blues for the service."

He nodded as they walked toward his front door. Jack glanced into the living room to see she'd already straightened up his mess, the bottle of Scotch no where to be seen.

Twenty minutes later, Sam walked out of the bedroom, wearing a robe and pajamas. Jack was in the kitchen popping a handful of Aspirin. "You okay, sir."

"Oh, yeah, just trying to head off the incoming hangover from hell."

She nodded and let out a breath as she felt his appraising eye.

"Hum, are those the same sexy pj's you wore last week at your D.C. apartment?"

"Yep." She shyly grinned, recalling how he almost had her out of them that night.

"Funny." He flexed his jaw and sauntered toward her.

"What?"

"A week ago we were making out and discussing a future that included six rug rats."

"Six?" Sam coughed. "I thought it was three." She clearly remembered but wanted a diversion.

"Three, six? Seems a lifetime ago, huh?"

"But not last night at O'Malley's." She took a step back at his approach. "When we agreed to obey the regulations, sir."

"Ah, yes the holy regs." He shut his eyes. "Don't want to screw with military ethics." He halted and gazed into her apprehensive gaze. "I doubt I'll ever get over the guilt and regret for what I did to you tonight, Sam. You must believe from here on, I'll be above board. Because the last thing I ever want is to lose your trust and respect."

"You haven't, sir." She gave him a reassured look.

"Thank you." He breathed out. "Well, um, sleep well, Captain."

"You too, Colonel."

He smiled tenderly, trailed a blunt fingertip across her cheek then walked to his bedroom and shut his door.

Sam entered her bedroom and climbing into bed, pulled the blankets around her and tried to sleep. An hour later, she tossed off the covers and sat up. This was nuts. She should be exhausted. She'd even taken the muscle-relaxer Doctor Warner had given her. Normally drugs knocked her out cold. Not tonight.

Remembering the milk in Jack's refrigerator, she decided to heat up a coffee cup like her mother had done for her as a child. Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, she wasn't prepared to find a lamp light on in the living room and soft classical music playing. Even if he was drinking, Sam decided to let him be. She padded into the kitchen, heated her milk in the microwave oven and headed back to her room with the hot cup.

"Can't sleep either?" Jack asked just loud enough for her to hear.

"No." She walked to the edge of the hallway, peering into the sunken living room. He still wore his black sweat pants and sweatshirt. Perched against the sofa, he sat cross-legged on the floor with a photo album. A half cup of steamed milk set on the coffee table. "Sorry." She glanced at the fireplace's mantle clock. It was now almost three a.m. "I'll leave you alone."

"Stay." He didn't look up.

Sam covered the distance and settled beside him on the floor, arms brushing as she looked over his shoulder at the photos. "Oh, my gosh, is that you with Major Kawalsky and Major Ferretti?"

"Yeah, we went through basic and later the academy together."

"Man, oh man, you were skinny." She laughed.

"Really?" he said in his CO voice and frowned. Sam sensed he was pulling her leg, she hoped.

"Um, with all due respect, sir, you were a stick." She tried to hide her giggle and failed.

"Ah, yes, the agonies of youth," he said with a dramatic flair. "At least I'd lost the zits." He cocked his head her way. "Ya love me now, but would ya of loved me then, Captain?" he tapped the picture.

Sam engaged his cynical expression then looked back at the photo. "Well, you were kinda adorable. Guess you'd grow on me . . . sir."

"Sir, huh?" He flinched.

Avoiding his remark Sam focused on the pictures. "Oh my, you and the Major without hair and smoking cigars. What's the Major's holding there? It looks like a grass snake."

"Yep, that's what it was alright."

"Why did you catch it?"

"Because our pain in the ass instructor hated snakes. So one night we—"

"Oh, sir, you didn't?" Sam chortled in mocked shock.

"Not me, Kawalsky. He put the snake in the gunny's cot. That was the first time I ever saw a gunny wet his bed. Still don't know what killed the snake. But guess who spent a week cleaning heads with a toothbrush?"

"Because you caught the snake. Why am I not surprise?"

"Yeah, my first botched plan A. Should have had a plan B. But seeing the dread on gunny's face was so worth it." He grinned and flipped the page. "Oh, this is the day we shipped overseas. . ."

Drawing her knees to her chin Sam stole a glance at her CO. Despite his hangover his brown eyes glowed with fond memories. They'd be exhausted come morning, but in her heart Sam knew it'd be worth it.

"He was one hell of a soldier and friend, Sam. I only wished you'd gotten to know him better."

"Me, too, sir, but thanks to you, I'm coming to appreciate Major Kawalsky more than ever."

Jack tipped his head and looked seriously into her eyes. "Did I mention that I adore you already, Captain?"

"Yes, Colonel, but I won't hold that against you."

"I'm a safe bet ya know." He winked.

"So am I, sir. Now drink your milk before it spoils."

"Yes, Ma'am." He gave a sloppy salute then lifted his cup toward hers. "Here's to, Major Charles Kawalsky, one of the finest soldiers with whom I ever had the privilege to serve. Rest in peace, Charlie," his voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he clanked his cup against Sam's, held her steadfast gaze then finished off his milk. Sam did likewise.

Setting down their empty cups, Jack eased his arm around Sam urging her to rest her head on his shoulder. She didn't protest. He then perched the open album on his thighs. "Oh, here's where we hoisted a Lieutenant's Playboy Bunnies boxers up the flag pole. My idea," he said with pride.

"Sir, you didn't!"

"Yeah sure yabetcha."

00000

The SGC, Next Day:

In full gear, Sam and Daniel walked the corridor toward the Gate Room.

"Sorry." Sam failed to stifle a yawn.

"Rough night with your neck?" Daniel glanced worriedly at her.

"Sort of." Sam chose not to elaborate. "I'll be fine." She flashed a smile.

"Odd." Daniel shoved his glasses back up his nose. "Jack's yawning too." He waggled his brows. "Though not as much as you. No doubt the seasoned soldier thing."

"Didn't notice." She cleared her throat then switched gears. "The memorial service was nice, huh?"

"Yeah, never knew Jack had an eloquent bone in him. His sharing stories about the Major were moving. And I'm grateful that despite how badly everything went down, the Major didn't blow up the mountain."

"I don't think that was ever his intent, Doctor. The Colonel and I believe it was Kawalsky's attempt to alert us to the Goa'uld's plan for escape. If anything, the fact that he knew how to set the auto destruct code proves there's hope for Sha're and Skaara."

"How?"

"Cos only Kawalsky could have known that code."

"So something of the host must survive?" Daniel asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I hope so."

00000

Hammond's Office:

General Hammond was on his red phone. "Oh absolutely, that's good to hear. Oh, anytime, sir, you just come on down, we'd be glad to have you. Well hell, sir, he's right here, why don't you tell him yourself. I'm sure he'd like to hear it from you." George offered the phone to Colonel Kennedy.

"Yes, Mister President? Yes, sir!" The Colonel swallowed and grimaced at George.

Knowing Kennedy was about to get his ass reamed; George smiled and headed for the Gate Room. A minute later he waited to address Colonel O'Neill and his team. The occasional yawns expelled by Captain Carter gave him pause, but not enough to regret ordering her to keep O'Neill company last night. It'd apparently paid off, because if Jack had a hangover, he showed no signs. Despite the two officer's unorthodox relationship, George had a good feeling about them. And he sure as hell wasn't about to stand in the way of budding love. At least, they hadn't rendezvoused in the supply closet today. Then again, they'd made it to the memorial service by the skin of their teeth. And to George's surprise O'Neill's farewell to Major Kawalsky hadn't left a dry eye in the service.

Now as George observed his Flagship team, pride bubbled inside his Texas heart. These brave folks were venturing into God's vast universe and they'd need all the prayers he could spout to keep them safe.

"Captain Carter?" He motioned her to his side.

"Sir?" Sam approached somewhat cautious and he smiled to put her at ease then whispered, "I assume your assignment last night was successful?"

"Oh," her tension vanished. "Yes, sir."

"No glitches?"

"None whatsoever."

"Job well done, Captain." He patted her shoulders.

"Thank you, sir." She sauntered to where Jack and Daniel stood.

The Colonel toyed with his baseball cap and watched her bury another yawn. "Long night, Captain?"

"Um, no, sir." She avoided his mischievous glint.

"Good. Don't want ya tripping over your boots down the yellow brick road." He rolled his right hand toward the gate and hummed, "Off To See The Wizard."

"I'll try not to, Colonel." She turned and encountered Daniel's nosy expression.

"Colonel O'Neill, is SG-1 ready to ship out?" General Hammond intervened, and she headed up the ramp beside Daniel.

"We are, sir," Jack replied.

"Then you have a go for a standard recon mission on P-3575."

"Yes, sir." Jack nodded to Carter and Doctor Jackson.

The blast doors opened and Teal'c entered wearing full gear and carrying his staff weapon. He walked up to General Hammond and saluted. "Reporting as ordered."

"Sir. It's sir." Jack corrected the Jaffa with a smile.

"Sir." Teal'c bowed his head to the base CO.

"Welcome aboard, son." George beamed at the newest addition to SG-1.

Teal'c nodded as he and Jack marched up the ramp to join Sam and Daniel. As if a mutual admiration society the team members stared at the undulating blue fishbowl before them.

"The MALP reports conditions on the planet are favorable," Sam offered.

After talking more during the memorial service than he had in weeks, the extent of Jack's vocabulary was a simple, "Well."

Before they stepped into the event horizon, he glanced across to his brilliant wannabe lover. When their gazes met Jack's heart flipped over. Dear Lord, he missed Kawalsky and would mourn his passing for a long time. But from here on Jack knew, Captain Samantha Carter, would be by his side, always. And that was the one safe bet he could live with for a very long time.

The End