Crime Scene Pt. 1

Spoilers: Shades of Grey

Summary: Sort of songfic (sorry, sorry, sorry) based around Crime Scene Pt. 1 by The Afghan Whigs. The whole song just reeks of Jack and Sam, but this line: "A lie, the truth, which one should I use?" seemed to sum up this episode. It's been done numerous times before, but I thought "what the heck, I like clichés!". Mostly Jack's POV.

Disclaimer: The characters and song do not belong to me. The voices tell me they do, but the medication is helping with that. So don't sue, it would be a setback for my recovery!

The words looped through her head again. She kept telling herself that she shouldn't take it personally, but what was she supposed to think? The words had been personal, there wasn't any other way to take them.

"No Carter. I haven't been acting like myself since I met you. Now I'm acting like myself."

Funny how things could change in such a short time. Sam didn't want to believe this of him. She'd spent almost three years following his lead, and breaking from that would be to deny everything that she'd thought or felt over that time.

She wasn't ready to accept that she had been wrong – couldn't accept it.

Trying to school his features, Jack turned away from Daniel to sit down with his beer. He hadn't realised how much this would hurt. He'd known he would have to lie to them – his friends. But what hurt was how easily he could. Every time he saw the effect his words had on them he was filled with a mix of emotions. Guilt. Yes, he had expected that.

What he hadn't expected was the sense of pride. Pride in his ability to pull this off, and pride in the pain he was causing.

Where had that come from? Pride in causing them pain? Yet, there it was; pride that they, his team, cared enough about him to be hurt by his actions and words but still not ready to give up on him.

However this ended; whatever he would be forced to do, right now, right here he knew that they cared. Ashamed that he would have to use that against them, he settled further into the charade.

And he was back. Just like that. No emotional scenes; no recriminations. They'd met him with the gentle teasing that was just part of how they operated. "We, uh, we drew straws. I lost". So why, instead of feeling grateful, did he feel cheated?

Was that why he was sitting here, outside her house? If he was honest, Jack wasn't sure he knew why. He'd had the option to tell them the truth, tell her the truth. But he'd chosen to lie. Surely there had to be some fallout from that?

The guilt had eaten at him; an acid that burned in his mouth as he'd turned and spoken to her in the corridor:"No Carter. I haven't been acting like myself since I met you. Now I'm acting like myself." If he could feel the poison of the words, why couldn't she?

Yes, it was self-indulgent, and it was definitely unwise to pick at this particular scab; but he couldn't stop asking why his words and actions were affecting him more than them. Or, if he was being honest, affecting him more than her. It was always about Sam.

The need to find out was overriding his better judgement, moving him out of the truck, pushing him through her gate and pressing him to reach her door.

Sam opened the door. "Sir, hi"

He just stared. The drive to know had gotten him this far, but it hadn't told him what to say. So he just stood there silently for a few seconds. They felt a lot longer than that, and not only to him he realised when Sam frowned at him slightly.

"Erm, yeah, hi Carter. I just wanted to come and see how you are, you know?"

"I'm fine sir. But, sir, why, I mean, what's wrong sir?"

He realised that he was puzzling her. Three "sirs" in short order was a sure give-away. He had no idea what to say, so instead just nodded his head towards the inside and Sam moved to let him in.

Turning in her living room, he faced her and again just stared. Jack had no idea what he expected to see in her face. He was just trying to find some sort of hint there; a hint that would show him how to play this. There was nothing, just a look of confused concern. He coughed before forcing himself to speak.

"Sam, I just wanted to, yeah, you know, come and apologise. I treated all of you badly, and I'm sorry. I just need to know we're ok?"

The last sentence came out as a question, but he was still lying. Sure, he was sorry, but what he needed to know was that she wasn't ok, that his words had hurt her.

"Sir, I understand, it was necessary. You had to create a credible scenario of distrust, there was no other way to get to Maybourne and Makepeace. So, yes, we're ok."

"You sure?"

He wanted the answer to be no. Needed the answer to be no. No would mean she felt... something. Something beyond a soldier. Something they couldn't admit, but knew nevertheless.

"Yes sir. I have to be."

He just considered her reply for a bit. It wasn't no, but it was far from unequivocal. His need to know was still there though.

"Carter, I would understand if you weren't ok. I said some things that, well, I, er, would never mean."

"Don't, please."

Two words, whispered rather than spoken. Sam was looking down as she replied and he knew. He knew that she was not ok. She had been hurt, but she was working through it.

It wasn't melodramatic, but then that wasn't them. They sucked it up and came back for more, tamping down their emotional responses because it was necessary. It was honest, and the unstated had to be enough.

He walked over to her before leaving. Placing a hand on her shoulder he whispered softly to her:

"I needed to know and that was selfish. I'm sorry."

She just nodded before looking up at him. They were no longer just talking about whether she understood his actions, but the rest would be left unsaid. It had to be because this wasn't the time to choose the truth.