I don't own any rights.

Post Divide and Conquer

Jack visits Sam after a very bad day.

Grateful that General Hammond had sent her home after just a short debriefing, Samantha Carter managed to keep it together until she stepped into the shower. She tried to fight off the tears, the pain, the agony until she at least was in bed but she couldn't. The tears fell as she wished the water would wipe away everything, that she would wake up and find the day had all been a nightmare but she knew she wouldn't wake up from this. She closed her eyes and saw those deep, brown eyes looking at her with a level of sadness she never knew existed. Those brown eyes melted to a bright blue full of pain and fear begging her to end it.

As the hot water turned cold, she finally turned off the shower and got dressed in an old Air Force t-shirt that he never realized she had kept and flannel pj bottoms. Her stomach growled alerting her to the fact bed was not the next stop. She found a bowl of leftover something or other that would suffice and curled up on the couch.

Then she heard the light knock at her front door. Maybe if she ignored it…

"Carter," came the soft voice. "Sam, please."

She had to bite back more tears. He'd pushed her before, he'd whispered words of encouragement before. He'd never pleaded.

Opening the door, her red eyes met his. "Sir, now isn't…"

Jack O'Neill didn't move. He kept his eyes locked on hers and she saw everything. Quietly she stepped aside the let him in and closed the door. The next thing she knew she was wrapped in his warmth, his arms pulling her close to him.

"Sam," he whispered into her ear. "I'm sorry."

That was all it took before she completely broke down. "I killed him."

"I know. You have no choice."

He made his way to her couch, never letting her go, and continued to hold her as they sat down.

Sam pulled back enough to look at him. "This has really been a sucky day all around," she told him with a sad smile.

"Look, Sam, I…"

She shook her head. "Don't say it. Please. I know this means a transfer for me but please don't say it until tomorrow, Sir."

"That's now what I was going to say. And this isn't really a conversation that requires 'sir'." He wiped away a tear from her cheek. "There's no transfer unless that's what you want."

She shook her head.

He smiled. "Good. First, I really am truly sorry about Martouf. I know he meant a lot to you."

"He did, but it was really more Jolinar. Everything is so mixed up right now between dealing with her feeling for him and my feelings for…" She stopped, her eyes dropping from his.

Placing a finger under her chin, he lifted her face upwards. "Second, Sam, I don't want to leave it in the room unless that's what you need us to do. We have a lot to talk about. A lot of important decisions to make but I would like for us to at least, maybe… Gah, you know I'm bad at this."

Sam smiled, really smiled, for the first time all day. "I'd like that, too, Si… Jack. I only suggested leaving it because I thought it's what you wanted."

"Okay. Well, I, um, guess, we're okay?"

"Always." She took a deep, shaky breath.

"C'mere." He pulled her close again as he leaned back against the couch. "I'm here. Whatever and however you need to deal with Martouf, I'm here."

"I know. Thank you for this. For coming over. You turned a horrific day into a slightly better one tonight."

"And Sam?"

She tilled her head up to look at him again. "Hmm?"

"You look far better in that shirt than I ever did."

With a small laugh, she buried her face in his neck.

He kissed the top of her head. They'd figure things out, they always did, but for now it was enough just being there.