The doorbell rings. It's an annoying long bell sound. Sam never heard her doorbell before. She didn't even try it out when she rented the house. It wasn't like she was staying forever, so who cared.
When she goes to answer it she's shocked to see her commanding officer standing there. Strike that… her former commanding officer. Now that she's transferred to Area 51, he isn't her commanding officer anymore. Now he's nothing to her, and that bothers her more than she'd like to admit.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," she replies back.
A moment of silence.
He shifts awkwardly on his feet, and she notices the duffle bag dangling from his arm. It's the one they get issued in basic training; apparently Jack never gave his back.
She remembers that he isn't from around here. That he must have flown from D.C. all the way to the middle of the Nevada desert to see her.
"Come on in," she says, moving away from the door.
"Thanks," he replies, looking relieved.
When they lived in the same town, he was only in her house once, and that was only because she'd seen an alien during off hours. She'd been to his house a few times, but most of them were business-related, too.
"I want to offer you something to eat, but all I have is some left over Chinese," she says.
"That would be great," he says, dropping the bag by the door. She's not quite sure what that means. She has no idea if he intends to stay the night, or the weekend, or what, and she's a little scared to ask.
"I'll just heat it up for you," she says, leading him into the kitchen.
"I like it cold," he says.
So she just pulls it out of the fridge, sticks a fork in it, and hands it to him.
He looks around the kitchen to see where he should sit. There is only one chair, and it's next to a tiny table that is covered in paperwork.
"Do you want to sit in the living room?" she asks.
The living room is clearly not set up for company, either. There is a chair declared hers by books, and an empty diet coke on the end table, but the couch is covered in boxes. She moves a few to the floor, and he sits down.
He takes a bite of the Chinese and realizes it is still warm. It's strangely intimate to be eating out of the same take out container as she did so recently.
"How have you been?" he asks.
"Good," she says.
A pause.
"I assume you're not here because the world is ending," she says.
"This has nothing to do with the Stargate," he says.
Which is weird, because everything with them has always revolved around the Stargate. Not just the putting away of their feelings, but having the feelings too.
"I'm getting old," he says suddenly.
She looks at him concerned, "Sir, did you get some bad medical news?"
He laughs, "No, Samantha, I don't have to go to the doctor to know that I'm not a spring chicken."
She can never decide if she loves it or hates it when he calls her Samantha. Usually, it's when he feels sorry for her, or she's wearing some tribal dress.
"You're not old, sir," she says softly.
In some ways, she's right, and that's the only reason he's here at all. He still plays with yoyos and video games. He's got more youth that she has. He's not quite ready to give up on a happily-ever-after with someone. He's still got two chairs in his kitchen. He may be sixteen years older than her, but Sam has always been the mature one.
"Is the 'Sir' strictly necessary?" he asks.
The words fill her with undeniable relief. Now at least she can understand why he's here.
"Do you want to play chess?" she asks.
He's played with Daniel, and he taught Teal'c, but the two of them never played. She clears off the rest of the couch, and pulls a board out of one of the boxes, and sets it on the cushion between them. It's a precarious situation, and means that neither of them can do a whole lot of breathing, but that's fine, because neither of them were really planning on breathing anyway.
"I take it you don't view Nevada as a permanent location," Jack says, with a glance at the boxes.
"I just haven't had the ambition to unpack."
He worries that she's depressed. Her father just died, and her engagement just blew up a few weeks ago, after all.
"I can't imagine you as anything but ambitious," he says lightly.
A suspicion leaks into her brain, and causes her to make a bad move on the chess board before she says rather bitterly, "Did you draw the short straw?" When Jack was all depressed, they drew straws to see who had to check on him.
"What?" he asks, confused.
"Daniel and Teal'c made you come up here and check on me, didn't they? It was just because I cried the other night on the phone with Daniel. Well, I'm fine," she says defensively.
"I didn't talk to Daniel," he says softly, making a decisive move. He's perhaps even better at chess strategy than he is at military.
Sam blushes, and wished she kept her mouth shut. "I'm really fine," she says, taking a long time with her next move so she doesn't make any mistake.
"Well, that's kind of amazing. I'm not even fine about Jacob's death, and he wasn't my father," Jack says.
She studies his face carefully, and sees grief etched there. But there is more in the face that she missed on his first arrival. He's lonely. He's just moved away from his team, too.
"You want a beer?" she asks. He nods her head, and she pops up to get it. She knocks over a few chess pieces in the process, pawns, and he sets them back up. She returns a few minutes later, and hands him one as she takes a sip out of her own.
"I don't want you to think I'm just here about Jacob," he says, "I mean that's part of it, but…"
"I know," she says.
He forces himself to say a bit more than he wants too, "I'm here about the room."
"What?" she asks. He lives in a different state, and she's not taking in roommates.
"You know, we left stuff in it."
Maybe she should have unpacked her boxes; does she have something of his?
"The Zanex," he mutters in frustration.
"Oh," she says. "THAT room."
He meets her eyes, and is alarmed to see a little panic there. This was a stupid idea. He never should have flown across the country without a phone call to see what she was thinking. For crying out loud, she'd been engaged two weeks ago.
But she'd broken off that engagement to be with him. And he couldn't see what her face was doing if they were on the phone.
Sam is panicking right now. He's never seen Sam panic before. It's unnerving to see someone who has blown up a sun losing her cool.
He stands, and hands her his beer, unsipped, "I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. I'm sorry to bother you."
"Stay," she orders. Her voice sort of chokes as it comes out.
"Sam, it's okay. Your life has changed a lot in the last month. I shouldn't be surprised that… this changed too."
"It didn't," she says.
He gives her a 'you've got to be shitting me' look that he stole from her father, it hurts her heart. "I'm just surprised, and I'm not sure exactly… I don't have any eggs."
"What?" he asks, confused. Why the hell is she talking about reproduction? Apparently they left very different things in that room.
"For breakfast. I don't have any eggs for breakfast," she says.
"Oh," he smiles understanding. "Sam, are you worried that I came here expecting you to jump into bed with me?"
"The duffle bag," she mutters, blushing.
"I thought you might let me crash on the couch, but if that's too weird, I can get a hotel. I'm in town until Sunday, but I don't have to spend every second of that with you."
She lets out a breath of relief.
"I thought we could work on transferring our relationship from colleges to friends, and then later from friends to…" he lets his voice drift off.
"I'm sorry… it's just… guys usually want to go quicker than I want to and… I'd hate to disappoint you."
"That would be impossible, Sam. So… should I get a room?"
"You can stay in Cassie's room," she says, sitting back down.
"Cassie has a room here?" he says in surprise.
"I almost decided to be her mom the first time she lost her parents. When Janet died… she had a month left of high school…"
"I knew she lived with you," Jack says.
"Well she's going to be coming to stay with me when college gets out for the summer," Sam says softly.
"Good," Jack says, "Kids need their parents for a long time after they turn 18."
Now they are back in Jacob territory, and they both fidget.
Sam draws her legs up under her, and turns toward the game. She moves the pieces that have wiggled out of their squares back.
"So how is DC?" she asks.
"Full of politicians," he tells her, making a face and a move on the board.
"There is this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I used to go to all the time when I lived there," she says.
"We could go together, sometime," he says, looking up at her hopefully. She could get lost in those brown eyes.
"Maybe I could make a trip to you weekend after next," she says.
"I'd like that," he grins.
"Checkmate," Jack says a few moves later.
"Movie?" Sam asks.
"Sure, science fiction to mock?" he asks.
"You know me well," she says with a smile.
"Well, eight years together will do that to you."