Author's Note: This story was expanded from my 280 character response on Twitter to an SG-1 Fic Prompts ( fic_sg) post. The prompt was "An accidental discovery of a bundle of handwritten love letters." It's going to be two chapters. I look forward to your feedback!
There wasn't a lot to sort through in terms of material possessions after her dad died. He'd already been living off-world with the Tok'ra for several years by that point. Before that, Jacob Carter was a man dying of cancer and trying to settle his affairs before the end came. The house and car had been sold long ago. Most of his clothes had already been given away. He'd never been an acquisitive man.
There was just one small storage unit of boxes that contained Jacob's remaining possessions on Earth. That was all. Sam needed to decide what to keep, what to ship to Mark, and what to give away.
Her dad made this part easy on her, so Sam didn't understand why it still felt so hard.
She heard the door open and close. There was a thud as another box hit the carpeted floor of her living room.
Sam looked up to see Jack brushing dust off his hands from the box.
"That's the last one."
Her entire living room was now filled with cardboard boxes, stacked two and three high.
"Thanks a lot for helping and for the use of your truck."
His lips curved up in a brief, self-effacing smile.
"Not a problem, Carter. Happy to be of service."
He sat down on the other side of the couch and leaned back, crossing one foot over the other on the floor in front of him.
"Daniel and Teal'c volunteered to go grab food so we can take a break before we help you go through all this."
He gestured to the towers of boxes.
"You really don't have to -"
"Carter, it's okay to let other people help you."
Sam knew that, but she also worried that she'd been relying on them all too much lately, especially Jack.
She wasn't used to relying on people.
"I know." The expression on Jack's face clued her in that she sounded a little defensive. Sam blew out a breath. "I mean, thank you."
Jack tapped his hand on the arm of the couch.
"What d'you have there?"
He pointed at the folded pieces of paper that were in her lap, some in envelopes and some without them. They'd been at the top of the first box she opened and she hadn't gotten any further.
"Love letters, if you can believe it."
Sam knew that her parents loved each other, but she'd never thought of her dad as romantic. She looked through the yellowed papers. There were at least ten of them, all signed and dated, covering a span of almost twenty years.
One was dated after her mom died. She didn't think she had it in her to read that one yet.
"I didn't think my dad was the type."
"Carter, all men are the type for the right woman."
She looked up at him. He sounded so confident that she realized he must've written some love letters himself.
"Did you write love letters to Sara?"
Sam wasn't sure if he'd answer. The few times she'd brought up Jack's ex-wife, he attempted to end the conversation without revealing much of anything.
"A few to her and…"
His voice trailed off.
"And?"
He shrugged.
"Can't exactly deliver them yet, Sam."
His tone was careful and flat, but to Sam it was as if he'd said the words with a grin and a wink. She couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her face before she contained it.
"Really?"
Some wistfulness slipped into her voice, but Jack just shrugged again in response.
They'd been managing a careful balance since her dad died and she'd broken things off with Pete. Sam just wasn't sure which direction things between them were going to tip.
She didn't even know for sure if he was still dating Kerry Johnson or not. She assumed he wasn't, hoped he wasn't, but Jack hadn't said anything to confirm either way.
Ms. Johnson had left, but he'd spent a lot of time on the phone in his office the past couple days. Daniel told Sam that Jack was going to D.C. for a few days next week.
Maybe the letters weren't for her.
"I'm gonna grab a beer. Do you want one?"
"Sure," she replied, the words falling out of her mouth automatically while her brain continued to spin.
Jack O'Neill had written love letters.
Sam wondered what they were like. She couldn't see him writing anything overly flowery or poetic, but the truth was she didn't really know what Jack would be like in a relationship. She knew almost everything else about him, but he'd kept that part of himself carefully hidden through the years.
Sam couldn't blame him. She'd done the same.
She picked up another of her dad's letters and started to read through it. It was straightforward and relatively brief, but it was still beautiful in its simplicity. She could almost hear her father's voice saying the sentences out loud. He spoke of love and family and happiness.
I just wanna know you're gonna be happy.
Her dad's words had been running through her head for days. She'd been...content with Pete. Just like she'd been content before Pete in a different way.
She hadn't been happy.
The conversation she had with her dad on his deathbed had been the polar opposite of so many other conversations they had throughout her life where he always wanted her to do better in her professional career. Sam was reminded of their disastrous conversation when he tried to get her into NASA.
He'd been dying then too.
In that first conversation years ago, he demanded that she put her career first, unaware that she already had.
In the second, he told her not to let rules and her job stand in the way of her personal happiness.
Sam wished she hadn't lied to her dad about being happy. What she should have told him was, "I'm not happy yet, but I will be."
Yet.
Just like Jack couldn't deliver his mysterious letters yet.
Daniel had been talking the other day about the possibility of SG-1 breaking up. He wanted to go to Atlantis and Teal'c felt committed to helping the Jaffa rebuild after the defeat of Anubis.
There wasn't much need for them to be on the front lines of saving the world with the Replicators and Goa'uld out of the way.
If there was no SG-1, what excuse did she have not to see if she could be happy?
There was an open position at Area 51 that she was considering. It would take her away from the SGC, which would be difficult, but could also open up opportunities if she wanted them. If she needed them.
Jack walked back into the room, drinking out of one bottle with the second held loosely in his other hand.
"Still looking at those?"
She put down the letter in her grip, one that her dad had written to her mom after her brother was born.
Jack handed her a cold beer and sat down on the couch.
"I never knew this side of him," she said. "I mean, I knew that he loved my mom, but he was never very good at finding the words to show he cared. It surprises me, that's all. I never thought of him as much of a romantic."
Jack looked like he was at a loss for what to say.
"Still waters run deep, or something, I guess."
Jack only reached for cliches as a last resort. He looked back towards the door as if hoping Daniel and Teal'c would appear.
Sam wondered why he suddenly seemed uncomfortable.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, Carter. Just thinking about a chat your dad and I had in the infirmary. The guy was a hardass, but I think he did have a hidden romantic streak in there."
Jack grimaced, as if the conversation with her dad had been unpleasant.
"What did he say?"
Jack's expression changed...softened.
"That he was sad he wouldn't be able to walk you down the aisle."
It surprised Sam that her dad would say something like that, given his very obvious negative opinion of Pete. She was even more surprised that he would talk to Jack about it.
"Well, I'm not getting married."
Sam took a sip of her beer. She was glad she'd broken things off with Pete, but a part of her missed the certainty of having a plan for her personal life. There was a comfort in being loved.
"Not yet," Jack replied cautiously. "And not to Pete. But maybe one day."
Yet. There was that word again.
It was a short, three letter word...one that could give her hope if she let it.
"True."
Sam glanced over at Jack, her gaze caressing the familiar lines of his face as he looked at the boxes in her living room and then checked the time on his watch.
He turned towards her. "Hope pizza's okay."
"Yeah, sure. Sounds great."
"Great."
It had been a while since the two of them had been alone in the same room together with no distractions. Sam thought about offering to turn on the TV, but didn't. The boxes would block most of the view anyway.
Her dad said not to let rules get in the way, strongly implying that he meant Air Force regulations. Sam had to figure out if she was willing to take the risk. Right now she just felt so emotionally exhausted that she wasn't sure if she had the energy to be courageous.
She was also less certain about what the outcome might be now than if she'd taken a risk years earlier.
He told her that he'd always be there for her, but Sam also remembered how blank-faced he'd been when she started spilling out her soul in his backyard before Kerry arrived.
Jack didn't used to be so hard to read.
Over the past week, he felt both closer and further away than ever. Jack helped her plan the service for her dad and offered his truck when she mentioned cleaning out her dad's storage unit. But they hadn't talked about much of anything besides work and details related to her dad's death.
Sam wondered how he would respond if she scooted over to his side of the couch and rested her head against his shoulder.
She looked back down at the pile of heartfelt missives in front of her.
"I've never gotten any love letters," Sam admitted, to fill the empty space between them. Now that she thought about it, she'd never even gotten so much as a romantic handwritten note in a birthday or Valentine's Day card.
Jonas and Pete had both tended towards over-the-top gestures rather than small, thoughtful ones.
Jack let out a barely audible sound of disbelief.
"Somehow, I highly doubt that, Carter. Awkward poem from a high school boyfriend, maybe?"
She appreciated that he didn't bring up her two failed engagements.
"Nope."
"That's a shame."
Sam wanted to ask him if he'd really written her love letters. She wanted to know how many he'd written and when. She wanted to know if the sentiment still applied.
She didn't ask, though, on the off-chance she might be wrong. He could have been referring to someone else.
Maybe he wrote one to the CIA liaison who he'd been having a secret relationship with. Maybe he'd see her when he went to D.C.
Sam frowned and picked at the label of the beer bottle.
"Carter, you okay?"
No, she wasn't.
Sam took a sip of her beer and set the bottle on the coffee table next to the letters.
She turned towards him. Jack was looking at her with warm, concerned eyes.
"It's just...been a lot, lately."
He nodded. "Yeah."
Jack set his bottle on the side table. "You know, Sam, I was thinking -"
"Food's here!"
Sam heard Daniel's voice and the slam of the front door. She opened her mouth to ask Jack what he'd been about to say, but he stood up and made a comment about how he was starving. He followed Daniel and Teal'c into her kitchen.
It was a bit of a whirlwind as they grabbed plates and napkins and drinks and brought them all to the kitchen table.
Daniel, who had plenty of experience going through documents and personal effects because of his background as an archeologist, had some advice for Sam about how they could be more efficient when going through the boxes. She decided to let him take the lead on the process. She'd only rein him in if she needed to.
Other people might find it weird that she was going to let these three men go through her dad's belongings and help her decide what to keep and what to get rid of, but they were like family, so it only made sense to lean on them now.
Daniel and Jack carried most of the conversation through the meal, with Teal'c sending her supportive nods every once in a while. Sam appreciated that she didn't have to say much.
After they cleaned up and headed back to the living room, Daniel identified empty spots on the floor in three corners of the room where they could divide the content of the boxes into Sam, Mark, and Give Away piles. While he talked about his strategy, Sam went over and picked up the letters from the coffee table, straightened the pile, and put them in the drawer of her side table.
When she straightened and turned, she was surprised to see Jack's eyes on her.
"Safe place," Sam explained. "I think this will be one of those gets worse before it gets better situations."
She gestured at the slew of boxes scattered around the room.
Jack nodded. "Lot of things are."
They were talking about more than boxes messing up her living room now.
"Carter, it will get better, though," he added.
If anyone knew about tough times leading to better ones, it was Jack O'Neill. She hoped he was right.
She did want to be happy if that was an option.
"Sir, before Daniel and Teal'c got here with the food, you were going to ask me something. What was it?"
She wasn't expecting the crooked grin that lit his face. It had been a long time since he'd looked at her like that. It was disarming.
"Fishing, Carter," he replied. "I figure we could all do with some rest and relaxation after saving the galaxy. You, me, and the guys. What do you say?"
She couldn't help grinning back.
"I'd love to."
"You'll love it at the cabin," he promised.
She was pretty sure she would.
"Can't wait."
Before Jack started opening boxes, she saw his eyes dart down to the drawer where she'd placed her dad's love letters.
Sam Carter wasn't happy yet, but maybe she would be soon.