TITLE: What We Share
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey
EMAIL:
CATEGORY: Missing Scene/Epilogue, Romance, Angst
PAIRING: Sam/Jack
SPOILERS: Redemption
SEASON / SEQUEL: 6
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS:none
SUMMARY: During Redemption (Season Six). What are Sam and Jack to do with the world ending? Enjoy a piece of cake with a side of unspoken feelings.
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: anywhere else, ask.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stargate. But don't archive without my permission!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wrote this when Redemption actually was on the air and never got around to uploading it. Hopefully people are still interested in some Season Six-ness.
What We Share
"Major, I thought I said cake."
Sam smiled, and then emptied the spoon hungrily. "Yes, but you didn't say I couldn't have blue Jello. Anyway, it tastes better."
Shaking his fork at her, Jack chided with a mouth full of chocolate cake, "You have a problem, Carter." He swallowed, twirled the fork in his fingers and then stabbed the helpless desert. "You've grown too dependent on that stupid Jello. Do I have to call up MacKenzie?"
"You do, you die."
Jack feigned shocked fear. "Is that a threat?"
"It just might be." Sam took a spoonful of Jello, then, rethinking it, put it back in the bowl and took a spoonful of Colonel O'Neill's cake. As he looked on her in disbelief, she just shrugged. "You never said I couldn't have your cake, either."
"Argh! Will I never get to eat my cake! Even those poor French people got cake before I did!"
Sam swallowed another bite of his cake, a slight smile forming on her chocolaty lips. "Uh, actually, sir, they didn't. You see, when Marie Antoinette—"
"Ah! Shut up!" Jack paused, staring straight into her rebellious blue eyes. "You touch the cake and I'll have you demoted faster than you can say 'Captain Samantha Carter reporting for duty!'"
"Fine, then. I'll stick to Jello. Are you happy now?"
"Very." He pulled his cake closer to him and took a bite. "So, how's McKay? I know you've got that 'sexual tension' thing going on."
Sam's eyes widened as she almost choked on her Jello. "Sexual tension? What gave you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know. All that playful conflict between you. Jonas used you to test out a new term: chemistry."
"I am going to find that alien and hurt him badly." She eyed Jack in a defeated manner. "He is the biggest jerk I've ever met. He's spiteful and annoying and a stalker. One that speaks technobabble, but a stalker all the same. He's flirted with me, tried to discredit my theories, and caused me to be sent to the infirmary. Yeah, our sleepover is next Saturday."
"Sleepover? You're a smoother operator than I thought, Carter."
She smiled flirtatiously. "Smoother than you know."
"Are you suggesting something, Major?" Jack grinned. It was nice that they had finally been able to talk so intimately again. After the zatarc incident and the whole entity fiasco, their relationship had been severely damaged. It was as if the line between them was clearer than ever; always coworkers, never friends, definitely never more than friends. But there was still this smoldering passion that neither could ignore, and after a long time of denial, they let themselves indulge in this flirtation. Nothing could come of it, but it was reassuring to know that, no matter what, the other one cared a lot more than they were letting on.
Sam licked her spoon. "Maybe." She paused. Everything she'd just said came rushing back to her. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to cover up the previous, totally unprofessional conversation. "So, is your knee—"
"—it's fine, Carter. Good thing I just twisted it a bit. No need for you to put a splint on it."
"A splint?" Sam smirked. She couldn't resist the urge to tease her CO just once more. "Nah, I was thinking surgery. Extensive surgery involving lots and lots of needles."
"You're bad."
"I know."
He was about to add something, but stopped himself. The levity had ended; the silence between them grew thickening, blocking out the hum of working officers and giggling scientists. Sam fiddled with her spoon, then dropped it with a loud clatter.
"Sir, what are we supposed to do?" There was anger in her voice, but so much regret and guilt powered it. Jack bit his lip. How was he supposed to know what to do, what to say? God, the world should've ended, what, five or six times now? and he was tired of saving it. Even worse, he couldn't save it. He had twenty-four hours left to live and here he was, useless and eating cake. At least he'd die full.
Jack hesitantly took Sam's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I don't know. Something. We'll figure this out, Carter. The world isn't going to end if I have anything to do with it." The calm front he'd layered on quivered. "We aren't gonna die, Carter. You just have to trust me."
She tried to smile, but her eyes spoke of giving up and failure. "I—I do, sir. I trust you with my life. But this is—"
"—No different. We've cheated death too many times to be beaten now. The world will be here tomorrow. It will be here next week, next month, and for a million years more, at least!" He caught her eyes. "If I'm wrong, I'll bake you your own cake." Sam laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. "And if, by some wacky, wacky, non-existent chance I'm wrong, at least I spent some of my final hours with you."
Her wan smile grew into a confident, gentle grin.
Swallowing the urge to just take her now and unleash the passion that had been driving him mad since he'd first met her, he flicked his wrist to look at his watch. "Time to go," he murmured, wishing he could stay at that table with his 2IC forever, or at least until the gate blew. "Meeting with Hammond and the President."
Getting up, he was surprised that Sam had readjusted her hold on his hand, not letting him go. She stood up. "Sir, whatever happens, you know that—"
"Yeah, Carter, I know." He smiled sadly. Leaning closer to her, he kissed her cheek. When they separated, she still held tightly onto his hand. Her unspoken dedication and love sparkled in her eyes. Relishing this moment, Jack sighed and let go. Then he went off. We're gonna make it, he told himself. We've got to.
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