CHAPTER 3
The sound of the phone ringing cut through Sam's giggles, which stopped instantly the moment she registered it. Pete.
Something akin to panic rang through her. Sam jumped from her seat, dove for the phone which lay several feet away, lifted it from the receiver, and slammed it down before the answering machine had the chance to pick up. She then proceeded to pull the service cable out of the wall.
Jack watched her with part concern, part curiosity.
"I, uh…Just don't feel like talking to anyone right now."
"Understandable." It most certainly was. If there was anything in this world Jack O'Neill could relate to, it was not wanting to talk. He got that. He got that big time.
Jack paused. He really didn't want to risk asking his next question, lest the answer remove him from her side. "Are you sure you don't want me out of your hair?"
"No sir. I just…There are things that I just can't deal with right now."
Jack attempted a look of understanding, though honestly he didn't understand. Is she talking about funeral arrangements?
"I just can't…" That last word lost all its strength.
Sam broke down.
She stood there in the middle of the kitchen and began to sob.
In an instant Jack rose to his feet. He knew this was coming, and he felt grateful that he was here when it did. She'd said she was fine about losing Jacob, that she was grateful that they'd gotten their second chance with each other, but that didn't mean never seeing him again wouldn't hurt like hell. He knew that was going to hit home pretty soon. He felt a true sense of grief in his own gut. Jacob Carter would be missed.
He needed to hold her. He shouldn't, he knew. She wasn't his to hold anymore. He'd given up that privilege when he stupidly decided to let her go. Not that ever would, or even could do that. But for her, he could pretend. He'd made a vow to himself long ago that he would stand by her no matter what. If she decided she couldn't wait for him any longer, then he had to accept that. But right now, in this moment, she was his. There were no other arms around to hold her, and maybe, just maybe…this would be the last chance he ever got. His heart sank at the thought.
He moved towards her, standing before her within a few short steps. She held her face in her hand, trying to shield his view of the tears. Trying to fight them off, but it was a losing battle. These tears had been threatening to spill out for months now, possibly years, and there was no more strength in her to fight them. She was overcome with grief. She hadn't known that's what she was feeling this last year, but now that her father's passing had amplified that feeling a hundred times over, she recognized that's exactly what it was. Grief. That emptiness, that dark mournful feeling that nagged at her soul every moment of every day for the longest time…It was grief. She'd been mourning the loss of Jack O'Neill.
Sam was broken. She couldn't do this anymore. Not any of it. They'd have to find someone else to defend the galaxy in her place, because she was done. Her father was dead. Daniel was missing, and most likely dead. She was engaged to a man she didn't love, and the man she did love - had always loved - she couldn't have. She was done fighting. Or at least she would have been, if she wasn't a born soldier.
"I'm sorry sir." She mumbled through the tears, her hand still covering her face. "I..I...-"
"Sam." The sound of her given name in Jack's voice was something she always longed to hear. Whenever she heard it, she felt comfort. It was a sign he had let his guard down, if only for a moment, and was acknowledging that she meant more to him than her rank. She knew when he used her name it was purposeful, thought out, something he was doing for her. She didn't want to look at him. It would break her heart to look at him. She couldn't bear seeing the care there, in his warm brown eyes. The care she'd seen what felt like an eternity ago, and had to turn away from, for the good of the planet, whose fate rested in their hands. She couldn't bear to see it and turn away again. She couldn't take anymore pain…Anymore loss.
She felt him move closer. She could feel the warmth of his body in front of her. He was anything but freezing. Then she felt his skin on hers, as he slid his hand over the one covering her face, shielding it with his own. The warmth of his palm belying the chill she had felt earlier. He didn't pull her hand away, like she anticipated. Instead his thumb caressed it into moving of its own accord, her hand falling gently by her side. Jack caught it within his own, lacing his fingers over the top of hers. He could see her face, but she still didn't dare to look at him. She couldn't…
The despair on Sam's face made Jack ache inside. He wanted to make it stop. He wanted to kiss away every tear until she had none left to shed. She was engaged to another man, and right now he was on the brink of not giving a damn. The pain he witnessed on her face shouldn't be there. He'd seen her in pain before. He'd seen her with her bones poking through open wounds. He'd seen her with third degree burns that scorched her skin black. But this… He'd never seen this… The look of utter defeat.
She was, without a doubt, the strongest soldier he'd ever known. She didn't tout her strength about her in a show of bravado, like the many men he had commanded in his military career. No, she saw something that needed to be done, and she found a way to make it happen. She'd amazed him time and again with her brilliant mind, accomplishing things, dreaming up things that he would never think possible. As far as he was concerned there was nothing she couldn't do. This defeat…It just wasn't her, and for the first time he wondered if there was more to these tears than he knew.
Since she had relinquished control of her hand to him, he could see her attempting to regain control, to steady her breathing, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it. She just wanted to cry, and if that was what she wanted… He had to let her know that was okay. That she didn't have to be brave for him now. That she was just Sam, and he was just Jack. He took the hand that wasn't clinging desperately to Sam's and brought it up to gently caress her cheek. Her breathing seemed to steady at his touch. Her stifled sobs quieting just a little more. Still she refused to meet his eyes, staring towards the polished wood floor.
"It's okay Sam, you can cry. It's just you and me, and personally…I think you look incredibly hot when you cry." He said with a genuine smile. Sam's eyes flicked up to meet his in an instant, all reluctance forgotten. She smiled through her tears, throwing herself into his embrace. She clung to him, as all the emotions she'd tried to shut down over the years spilled out in uncontrollable sobbing.
He held her just as tightly, rocking her gently against him. She immersed herself in him, his smell, his warmth, his touch. She had missed him. Even though they had seen each other almost everyday for 8 years, she missed him. The idea that she would never be here again, safe in his arms, had bore a deep sadness within her. A grief that only he could quell. Sam cried for the injustice of it all. Holding onto him hurt like hell. Letting him go, hurt so much more. Not only had she hurt herself in her attempt to move on, she had hurt a good man. She felt sick with herself, knowing there was no possible way she could go through with this wedding now. Not now that she'd felt what it was like to be in his arms again.
She'd known it was wrong to say yes, almost as soon as she'd said it. She'd just thought, for a moment, she could be happy with what Pete had to offer. Knowing the alternative was coming home and being alone every night for the rest of her life, waiting for the day the Earth might be safe enough for her and Jack to be together, if that was even what he wanted. She realised now that she hadn't been missing having someone in her life at all, she'd just been missing Jack, and she would always be missing Jack. The emptiness within her would never go away, no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried. She cried harder. Jack held her tighter, something she wouldn't have thought possible a moment ago.
She cried until she was too exhausted to continue, Jack never loosening his embrace. The sound of the rain filled the silence between her soft whimpers. When she quietened completely, they stayed in their positions - Sam with her arms wrapped around his waist, her head buried into his chest, Jack running one hand up and down her back soothingly, the other cradling her head against him, fingers intertwined with her hair. He almost wished she wouldn't stop, because he didn't know how on Earth he was going to handle letting her go. If he had it his way he would be holding her forever. He pressed a kiss on top of her head, not caring about what boundaries he was crossing. It was a crystal clear sign of affection and he was just fine with that. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that had always loved her. But he could not destroy her happiness with Pete.
"You okay?" He asked, almost so soft that his voice broke. She pulled away slightly, but to Jack's relief, not completely - both her hands clutched onto his shirt at his waist. Her eyes remained fixed at his chest. She nodded gently, the look on her face belying the gesture. He could see she was hurting, she just didn't have the energy to cry anymore. Her eyes were red, and her face was splotchy. Gorgeous, but splotchy. Jack brought his hand up to her face once again, hoping she would meet his eyes as before. She did. And what he saw in those eyes, had him lost.
There was a pain in those eyes like he had never witnessed before. Actually, a pain that he had witnessed once before. It was the same pain he had seen in the eyes of Dr. Carter all those years ago, when she was grieving for her Jack O'Neill. He'd never seen that grief in the eyes of his Carter until now. Even when they had lost Frasier last year, she hadn't looked like this. Losing her father must have hit her harder than even he'd expected.
He wanted to kiss her. Kiss her, and keep kissing her until all that pain was gone. Touch her until she forgot she could ever feel this way. His thumb stroked her cheek lovingly. He'd already decided that the military wouldn't hold him back anymore. What kept him from kissing her this time was the chance that he could be destroying her chance at happiness. In one week's time, she was going to marry the cop. She wouldn't be doing that if she hadn't found some happiness with him. Happiness that he had failed to give her. He couldn't put that in jeopardy. He never, ever, wanted to do anything to hurt her. No, he wouldn't kiss her, he wouldn't confuse her when she had already made her decision. But he would be here for her, now, and whenever she needed him.
Sam's eyes still stared up at him. He could see her eyelids growing heavy. Jack suddenly noticed that light no longer streamed through the windows, and he wondered how long ago night had fallen. It seemed like they had been standing here for just a few moments, but in reality it could very well have been hours. He'd lost all perception of time.
He studied her face, still moving his thumb across her cheek in a rhythmic motion. She was perfect. Everything about her was perfect. Her hands still rested on his waist, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt, as if she was counting on it to keep her steady. She needed rest, and given that he couldn't kiss her, or find any words to say as usual, he did what Jack O'Neill did best, he took action.
"Bedtime." He whispered softly. Within an instant he had one arm underneath Sam's legs, the other around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She melted into him, too exhausted by the events of the day, to question his actions.
He moved slowly down the hall, his boots clunking against the wooden floor. He was relishing every step, wondering what it would have been like to do this everyday, knowing he most likely would never experience this again. She felt almost weightless in his arms, and his bad knee gave zero complaint, for which he was grateful. Her head rested against his shoulder, and he could feel her warm breath against his neck. He swiftly reminded himself that he was putting her to bed, nothing more.
The clunking of Jack's boots became a dull thump as they hit the carpet of Sam's bedroom. The whole room smelt like her. It was intoxicating. He moved swiftly towards the bed and gently lowered her down on top of the covers. As he moved back into standing position he wondered if she might already be asleep. Her eyes were closed, and she gave no indication of consciousness that he could see in the limited light. God she was beautiful.
Jack turned on the bedside lamp so he could get one last look. He had no intention of leaving, but the temptation to lie down next to her was so powerful, that he knew he had to get out of her room pronto. He picked up a blue throw blanket from the end of the bed and placed it gently on top of her, being careful not to disturb her. He was sure she was asleep now, her breathing seemed deep and steady. He could stand there for hours watching her sleep. Something he had become guilty of god knows how long ago, on his many pointless night watches, which he himself insisted upon.
He really wanted to kiss her goodnight. Really wanted to. He played with the temptation for a moment, before denying himself once more. He contented himself with stroking a stray strand of blonde hair away from her face, admiring how at peace she was in sleep. He hoped she'd stay that way for a while.
"Goodnight Carter." He whispered.
Oh hell. Why not?
He kissed her anyway.
