Author's Note: Written for 'Weatherman's Day' on 5 February. The celebration "helps to honor those who work in the field of meteorology, from the storm spotters to the people you see on camera." A tenuous link at best for this fic!

The door slides open and crashes into its frame making the glass shake violently, its vibrations deafening in the otherwise now silent room.

Leave me the fuck alone.

But Sam doesn't follow the order. She just stands in the doorway and waits.

Between the final remnants of daylight and the worsening weather conditions, she is just able to make out the colonel's silhouette as he storms towards the far end of the yard. It's raining and it bounces off his body deftly, the droplets being sent in every direction as his shoulders rise and fall – once, twice, three times – with his ragged breathing. But it's his hands that hold her attention. The way they shake, right before they are balled into fists by his side. It takes a while, but then he slowly uncurls and flexes his fingers.

She's rarely seen him like this and a part of her knows she needs to leave, because it's safer. He's on the verge of slipping into the darkness and that's when he becomes unpredictable. Dangerous.

But Sam's always had a love for danger. And it's this illicit, perhaps foolish, desire that makes her step out onto the deck and go to him.

"If you really want me to leave," she offers softly as she comes to a stop a few feet behind him, "I will. But –"

"No." He sighs heavily. "Stay."

Her gaze roams over his form, the tension radiating from every muscle and joint and nerve.

"Just drop the subject," he adds on a whisper, his back still to her.

"OK," she agrees and takes a step closer. "If you want –"

Without warning, the colonel spins on his heel and Sam catches the fire and fury in his eyes but she doesn't flinch.

"You don't know what I want," he growls. "Even if you did –"

He stops abruptly and studies her. His eyes cold, yet blazing hot. Unseeing, and yet staring as if he can see right through to her soul.

Sam slowly takes another step closer.

"Try me."

"Carter," he warns. "Don't – don't do this."

"Do what?" she whispers as she takes one final step, her face now just inches from his.

When he doesn't answer, she reaches for his hand and lets her fingers tangle with his. "You don't have to do this alone."

His entire body shakes and she knows he needs a release. The effects of the sarcophagus still linger within him.

She feels his fingers twitch against hers. "Sam," he whispers. "I'm barely hanging on here."

"Then let go."

It's her way of saying she understands. That she knows he isn't ready to even start putting the hell of Baal's torture chamber behind him; but that she'll be here when he is.

"He loved her," he chokes out. "That's why he went back. The bastard used that against me – used you against me."

She frowns. "Me?"

When he just nods in response, Sam sees the unshed tears in his eyes. "I told you once before, that I'd rather die myself than lose you. Kanan… he felt the same way about Shallan. It wasn't you – I knew it wasn't you in that chamber – but he made me think it was and I couldn't – I had to get you out of there."

"I know."

"He loved her," he repeats, his voice rough.

She holds his gaze. His expression is intense, almost threatening, and for a moment Sam thinks he is angry with her, but then he pulls her to him and covers her mouth with his. His mouth is warm against the cold rain and she responds immediately, as she feels his tongue tease her lips. A low moan escapes her at the sensation and he uses it to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding to either side of her face, keeping her there. He's kissing her hard, almost bruising, but she doesn't care. She hasn't felt this alive in weeks; ever since the colonel fell ill and she watched helplessly as he was implanted with a Tok'ra symbiote. A blending she persuaded him to undergo.

Suddenly, Jack pushes her away as if he's been burned.

"I'm sorry, Carter," he says in a strangled voice, his words almost lost in the rain. "I didn't – I shouldn't –"

Immediately, she steps up to him and places a finger against his lips.

She idly wonders if his heart is beating as fast as hers, or if he is feeling anything akin to the desire that has settled low in her belly. But then she sees his darkened eyes and she has her answer.

She thinks she really should have left earlier, because while she's not going to regret this, she knows that as she removes her hand and presses her lips back to his, things are going to be a hell of a lot messier in the morning.