PART 3

Several days later:

Jack watched his former 2IC as she strolled down to the jetty, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She was wound up tighter than he'd ever seen her – and that was saying something. How had he not seen this earlier? He'd let his hormones do the thinking, was the answer that came immediately to him. "Is she okay?" he asked Ferretti, feeling horrible.

His old friend shrugged. "She says she is … but you know what a crappy liar she is, Jack," he said. "She's had a bad year and I think it's finally taken its toll on her."

Jack nodded his head, feeling guilty that he hadn't been there for her. Having to kill Martouf, that whole weird memory stamp thing and then that damn Entity only a few weeks ago. "Yeah," he agreed. "This vacation will do her good."

Ferretti snickered. "You can't fool me, Jack," he said. "If you could've gotten away with it, you'd have happily left us on Earth and brought her here by force."

"What're you trying to say, Lou?" Jack barked in his best 'General' mode.

"Charlie and I saw the sparks at that first briefing," Lou said – he'd known Jack too long to be intimidated. "I don't know what happened after I transferred out, but I saw enough that week I came back. You've got it bad for her, man."

Crap; when had he become so transparent?

Then, in front of his appalled eyes, Sam sank down onto the jetty, brought her knees up to her chest, dropped her head and began weeping. Soft, ragged sobs that broke his heart.

"Ah man; you have to go to her," Lou muttered. "And don't let her know I was here. She'd die if she knew her CO had seen this."

"Yeah," Jack replied absently, his gaze fixed on the beautiful woman in the grips of despair. "Thanks, Lou."

Lou walked quickly away and Jack sighed, then crossed quietly over to the young woman. He folded down beside her and just sat. She'd come to him if she wanted – he wasn't going to push her.

She looked up, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, then she turned in to him, curling her fingers into his tee shirt and uttering those choked little sobs once again. Ah, crap. If anyone ever needed a hug at this moment, it was Samantha Carter. He slid one arm around her shoulders, waiting for her to flinch.

When she didn't do so, he slipped his other arm round her slender waist and drew her into him. Her fingers curled tighter into his tee shirt, then she sank into him as she began to cry in earnest.

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Sam tightened her hold on Jack's tee shirt as she sobbed and mumbled away all her grief into the man's chest. "Sorry … sorry," she told him, appalled at her breakdown. She moved reluctantly away from Jack's warm body as she remembered that she was a Major and he was an active duty General. "I'm sorry," she said more coherently. "That won't happen again."

Jack's hold on her tightened. "Look, Sam; I don't know the details of what you've gone through this year, but I know enough," he said. "And trust me; you needed to grieve."

"But … you haven't," Sam bit out, surprised at his hypocrisy.

Jack's chest heaved as he sighed. "No; I never allowed myself to grieve properly. And Sara left me. I'm alone, Carter, because of my ways. I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

For some reason, his calling her 'Carter' made her feel better. No-one else called her that. It was either "Sam", "Major" or "Doctor". "Thanks," she muttered, dropping her head to his shoulder, and giving his neck a gentle kiss.

"For what?" he asked.

"For … this." Sam waved her hand at the small lake overlooking the colony. "I'm glad you invited us – I think I need the break."

"Glad to do it, Sam," Jack said softly.

They remained curled together, Sam still sniffing now and then as the urge to cry came back. But the worst rawness of her grief had been dispelled by someone just allowing her to let go. With this man, she didn't have to be the perfect soldier, the brilliant scientist. She could just be Sam.

After some time, Sam shivered slightly as the breeze wafted over her. "I think I need to move, Jack," she said, yet was reluctant to leave his warm embrace.

"Yeah," Jack said. He looked at her, then tilted her chin up and gave the sweetest lightest kiss to her tear-swollen eyelids. He untangled his long frame from hers, then got up smoothly, offering his hand to pull her up. "Let me show you around – you still haven't had the fifty cent tour yet."

Sam allowed the man's fingers to remain linked with hers as they strolled away from the jetty. It felt nice. It felt right. She knew her feelings for the man weren't just lust. She wanted every bit of him; his warm heart, his magnificent soul and his beautiful body.

But she was afraid to tell him. He didn't seem to believe himself deserving of love and affection – always brushed it off when anyone tried to demonstrate it. So, she would satisfy herself with this deepening friendship and attraction – for now. Then when she was a little stronger, she would tell him. And she would make the stubborn son of a bitch believe her.

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That night:

"She's looking better," Lou said, sitting down next to Jack. "I don't know what you did, but I haven't seen her look so good in months."

Jack looked over to where the Major sat, chatting with Teal'c and several young Jaffa. The young men had been taken aback at the idea of a female warrior, but Sam had won them over when she'd proceeded to neatly put each one on their backs in a display of her fighting prowess. Now, they were about ready to eat out of her hands. "Yeah; she's pretty gorgeous," he said.

He didn't kid himself that she was entirely over what had happened to her during the last year. You didn't get over things like that – you learned to live with them. But even he could see that the nervous tension had dissipated, as she flashed that gigawatt smile at something Teal'c said.

He remembered reading the edited reports from when they'd returned from that ice planet – P … whatever. Some goons had tried to rob her – at knife point. She'd put up a good fight – even a memory stamp couldn't override years of military training – but had been left with several nasty scars on her stomach.

His fists clenched at the thought of sharp knives marking Sam's soft pale skin. They were damn lucky she hadn't killed them.

Speaking of whom … Sam came over to them and sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder quite calmly. "Evening, Jack … sir," she said to him and Ferretti.

"Evening, Sam," Ferretti said.

"Ah, yeah; evening," Jack echoed, startled when she slid an arm around his waist. In front of Ferretti? Huh; if the Major wanted to play, he could do that. He carefully slid a hand inside her tee shirt, pressing his cold hand to the soft skin of her back. She flinched and yelped.

"Sam; you okay?" Ferretti asked.

"Fine, sir," Sam said, sounding like she was gritting her teeth. Lou looked away for an instant to check out an admittedly beautiful young Marine, and Sam's hand suddenly landed on Jack's crotch, stroking it briefly. "Game on … General," she muttered, then squeezed once and released him. She got up. "Well … I think I'll go for a walk. Too nice a night to just … lie around here."

"See you later," Lou said.

Jack sat there, breathing hard, his flesh throbbing. Round one to you, Sam, he acknowledged. The witch.

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Later that same evening:

Sam's thighs twitched as she saw Jack come over to her. They'd been flirting like crazy all evening and she was just about ready to push him up against that tree and strip that gorgeous body. And the half-dozen beers she'd consumed had nothing to do with it. Well, okay … maybe a little. She wasn't drunk, though – just … relaxed.

"Hi, Jack," she said.

"Hey, Sam," he replied. He slipped an arm around her waist and the other round her shoulder, then drew her into a long, hard passionate kiss, ending with a deep dip. She slid her own arms around his neck to anchor herself and enjoyed the moment. Jack's lips, Jack's tongue, Jack's hands on her.

The kiss ended when they needed air, and they separated reluctantly with an audible pop. "Game over?" she said.

"Game over," he confirmed huskily, linking his fingers with hers. "Come with me."

She strolled along with him, giving greetings to the various colonists, who were now beginning to disperse as the night grew blacker. He stopped outside his quarters and drew her into a slightly less intense – but no less sweet – kiss. "I want you, Sam," he muttered.

She smiled, then kissed the pulse throbbing near his left ear. She'd never thought a man's neck particularly appealing before, but this man's neck was undeniably sexy. Lean and tanned, and it tasted delicious. She suckled softly on the hot flesh. "I want you too," she said.

She was tired of feeling tired – the crying jag she'd experienced in Jack's arms that morning had done a lot to heal the wounds, and the quiet friendly busy atmosphere of this colony was like a balm to the overworked Major. Here she wasn't expected to come up with solutions. Here she wasn't expected to be brilliant.

Not that she would change her life – it was amazing, and she felt a little ashamed when she allowed herself to get blasé – but sometimes she yearned for a bit of normality. Huh; normality was over-rated.

Jack linked his fingers with hers once more and drew her into his quarters. As befitting the ranking military officer, he had an actual bed as opposed to the cots the lower ranks had, but the room itself was actually pretty Spartan. A picture of Charlie graced one side of the bookcase while the other side had a picture of SG-1 from their last night at O'Malley's.

They sat down together on the bed, kissing sweetly, his hands sliding up her body to reach her still-covered breasts. She pressed eagerly into him as his long elegant fingers stroked her breasts gently. "You sure?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said less than articulately.

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Jack groaned heavily, his breathing still coming harshly as he rested against Sam's breasts. Christ … a virgin. How in the name of God did someone as beautiful and sexy as Sam Carter reach the age of thirty three without ever having sex?

And why was the Neanderthal part of his brain pleased that she'd saved herself until him?

It was true – men were pigs.

He'd been wrong to have her so deep her first time, but she'd been so sweetly responsive, so welcoming. She'd been on fire. For him. Moaning his name and writhing underneath him.

But now she was suspiciously quiet. Her chest heaved under his head. Oh God, was she crying? He lifted his head, then placed his hands on the bed, withdrawing himself gently from her. He grimaced and got off the bed to dispose of the condom – there really was no glamorous way of ending a lovemaking session – then flinched when he saw the small spots of red on the condom.

Goddamn son of a bitch.

Condom disposed of, he headed into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, then grabbed a large warm towel. He yanked on a pair of sweats, then went back into the bedroom and looked at the beautiful woman lying on the bed, eyes closed and breathing deeply. And … yes … a tear made its way down one of her flushed cheeks.

Crap … he was such a bastard.

He sat down on the bed and put a gentle hand on her thigh. She quivered. "Sam; honey," he said gently. "I'm sorry."

He pushed her thighs open, flinching at the blood spotting around her opening, then began to gently clean her up. She moaned. "Jack."

"It won't be long," he reassured her. Having cleaned her up, he raised her gently and wrapped the giant towel around that spectacular body, then kissed her softly on the forehead. "Go to sleep," he said.

Her eyes opened. "Go to sleep?" she echoed. "After the way you rubbed me down just now?"

Some of the tension in him eased at the sight of the mischief in her eyes. "That … turned you on?"

"Uh-huh," she said, then sighed and stretched like a cat, arching her back. "God, Jack … you're amazing!"

He'd always known he wasn't as smart as Sam Carter, but now he realized that he was an idiot. "Then those were happy tears?"

She smiled at him, then sat up fully, taking his face in her hands. She kissed him sweetly, her lips moving against his, suckling, nibbling and nipping. "Those were happy tears," she confirmed.

"But … I hurt you," he said. "I should have been more gentle."

"Jack; you didn't know I was a virgin," Sam said matter of factly, crossing her arms over those awesome breasts. "And it only hurt for a little bit. Then it was mind-blowing."

"Mind-blowing?" He chewed hard on the inside of his cheek to prevent the shit-eating grin he felt trying to surface.

"Yeah," she said, uncrossing her arms and tugging the sheet downward. She turned and cuddled into him. "Mind-blowing," she uttered around a yawn.

"Go to sleep, Sam," Jack said. He kissed her gently on the forehead, then lay down with her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling the sheet over them both.

He yawned and smiled down at her. Sweet lips, red and swollen from his kisses, sheet hiding what he now knew was a phenomenal body, whisker marks on her pale skin. It was like he'd branded her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel a happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. "G'night," he said. "I love you."

Then he tensed. Shit. Did he just say what he thought he'd said?

"Love you too," she mumbled with a smile. "Go to sleep, Jack," she added.

Fighting the panic that had gripped him for a second, he closed his eyes, took a long whiff of her hair, then fell asleep.

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The next morning:

They lay together, hearts pounding, sweaty limbs entangled. "Holy shit!" Sam muttered. "That was …". Doctor Samantha Carter – queen of the polysyllables – actually didn't have the words.

"Yeah," he said smugly between gasps. "Geez; what a way to say good morning!"

Sam chuckled and lifted herself off of him, then pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "You know it's not just about the sex, right?" she said. "I meant what I said; I do love you."

"I know, Sam," he said, his eyes softening from the dark passion of minutes earlier. "And I love you too. But you're so damn good for an aging fly-boy."

Sam smiled and kissed his neck, tasting the salt of his perspiration. "So … what's the plan for today?" she said.

"Well; I thought we might actually get out of bed at some point," he teased. "Maybe … oh, I don't know … eat. Turns out I've got a hot blonde fifteen years my junior and she's a wildcat." He grinned fiendishly at her. "Need to keep up my strength, you know."

A wildcat? Sam … liked that. And truth be told, she kinda felt like a cat right now. An extremely lazy, sleepy, satisfied cat. She started when someone banged the door open. "Jack!" Daniel called. "I can't find Sam anywhere!"

"Shit!" Jack muttered, covering their bodies up hastily as one wild-eyed linguist skidded into the bedroom.

"Have you seen Sam?" Daniel called frantically, then came to a dead halt.

Sam raised her hand and waved languidly at him. "Hi, Daniel," she said.

"Ah. Okay." Daniel blinked, but recovered quickly. "Okay. Well, guess I'll call off the panic." He seemed determined not to look at Sam's bare shoulders. "Yeah. I'll be going now," he said.

He left quickly and Sam started to giggle. "Leave it to Daniel to ruin a moment," she said, recalling how he'd broken up their kiss outside O'Malley's.

Jack chuckled reluctantly. "The guy's timing always stunk," he agreed. He kissed her bare shoulder quickly, then got up, seemingly oblivious to his nudity. "Shower, dress, then some baseball."

"Baseball?" Sam objected – she'd never been a big fan.

"Yeah," Jack said. "We've got enough kids for two teams – I coach them in my spare time."

She just couldn't resist Jack O'Neill when he was so sweet. And she couldn't resist him when he was hot. Sexy. Loving.

Oh, face it, Sam, she scolded herself, you can't resist him, period!