Author's Note: Written for 'National No Excuses Day' (27 September). Missing post-episode scene for 'Full Circle'.

It's after twenty-three hundred hours and Sam is contemplating opening another beer when there's a knock at the front door.

She frowns. It's Friday night, it's late, and she isn't expecting any company.

After the debriefing earlier, the team had decided to go out for a drink but it was soon apparent that none of them were in a celebratory mood and so, after just one round, they'd called it a night. The colonel had given Teal'c and Jonas a lift back to the base before he'd driven Sam home, said he would see her at the base on Monday morning, and wished her goodnight. That had been three hours ago.

The knock sounds again, a little louder, and pulls her from her thoughts so she slowly makes her way down the hall and to the door. She knows she can take care of herself, but ever since she was kidnapped by Adrian Conrad's men last year, there are times when she is still anxious to be on her own.

"Who is it?"

"Carter, open up."

She quickly unlocks and opens the door but doesn't think she fully manages to hide her surprise at the fact that her commanding officer is standing outside her house, in the rain; and, from the looks of things, he's been caught in the downpour for a while. Her frown deepens.

"Did you walk here, sir?"

"No." He winces. "My truck is parked down the street."

"Oh."

She isn't sure how else to respond and her attention shifts to a point just over his shoulder. She notices the rain falling, but it isn't quite heavy enough to explain the colonel's current state and Sam feels her concern rise.

"I was standing in the street," he offers quietly, as if he can read her thoughts, "wondering if I should really be here."

She tilts her head at his admission and lets her gaze roam. His leather jacket is soaked; the water racing down the sleeves, the drops gathering at the cuffs and falling with an almost silent splash to the ground. He's also dragged a hand through his hair and it sticks out in every direction while water gathers at his hairline and slides down his face in tiny rivulets before he reaches up to brush them aside –

Sam tears her gaze away, steps back and invites him in.

"Colonel," she starts softly, "is everything okay?"

He doesn't say anything so she waits and gives him another onceover but he seems fine. There are no obvious injuries that she sees; no signs that he's slipping into depression because of what happened on their last mission; no concerns that he has been spending the last few hours alone drinking. The sound of more drops of water softly hitting the floor catches her attention and she bites the inside of her cheek.

"Stay here. I'll get you a towel."

She turns away but only takes a step when Jack reaches out and his fingers loop gently, yet securely, around her wrist; the feel of his skin cold and wet against the dryness and warmth of her own. She slowly meets his eye.

"Sir?"

"I should have told you about Daniel."

As she grabs a towel and a spare tee-shirt that she keeps around for when her dad visits, the Colonel's words echo in her mind.

I should have told you about Daniel.

A part of her knows he is right; he should have told her. She'd initially been surprised to learn that both he and Teal'c had seen and spoken to their former teammate over the past year. But then her surprise had turned to hurt because she felt neither of them – especially knowing how much she was missing their friend – had deemed it important enough to share the interactions with her. She didn't necessarily need to know all of the details of their conversations; she just wanted to know that Daniel was okay.

The other part of her also harbored some anger towards Daniel, leaving her wondering why she had been the only one of the team he hadn't visited. It hadn't exactly been an easy year for her either on SG-1.

She briefly closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as her emotions begin to rise to the surface once more. When she feels more in control, she heads down the hallway only to find the Colonel still standing by the front door.

"I didn't want to –" He trails off as he helplessly gestures to the puddle of water by his feet.

"Here," she says, "give me your jacket."

He follows her request and even in the dim light she can see the rain has also soaked through his fleece. She resists the urge to laugh when the colonel scrunches his nose as the material clings to his skin.

"Second door on the right," she adds as she hands him the items in exchange for his jacket.

In the kitchen, she allows herself to run her fingers along its shoulders as she drapes it over the back of a chair, before she decides to make a pot of coffee even though she suspects they may need something stronger to get through whatever conversation he's come here to have.

"Thanks, Carter."

She jumps slightly as he catches her eye and takes a step further into the room. He looks better; warmer, drier and more confident and it helps to ease her own nerves as she tries to understand why he's here. At her house. Late on a Friday night. She clears her throat.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Whatever you're having is fine."

Sam spares a glance at the coffee maker, then at him, before she goes to the refrigerator and grabs two beers. They stand quietly as they take a few tentative sips and just when she thinks she can't handle it anymore, Jack breaks the silence.

"Could we – ah –" He gestures towards the living room and Sam nods.

She reclaims her spot at the end of the couch and leaves the small armchair free for him which he happily takes. Yet he still doesn't say anything, or even attempt to meet her eye. Instead, his focus is on the bottle in his hands as he picks at the corners of the label. When he takes another sip and Sam realizes he's half-way through his beer, she sets hers down on the table. The base of the bottle as it hits against the wooden surface is loud in the silence and Jack's gaze snaps to hers before he looks down at his hands.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I should have told you about Daniel."

"You've already apologized," she reminds him softly.

"I know." He pauses. "I thought it might make me feel better if I said it again," he murmurs before he takes another sip of beer.

Her brows knit together in confusion. "And does it?"

He thinks over his answer. "No."

"Sir –"

"I don't know why I'm here," he interrupts and Sam is beginning to wonder if she needs to contact the SGC to find out what's going on when he gives her a small grin. "I haven't been drinking, or been replaced by an alien version of myself, if that's what you're worried about. I'm fine. What happened with Skaara – I'm fine," he repeats.

"Are you?"

"Yeah, strangely," he shrugs as he goes to take another drink, only to change his mind and he sets the bottle onto the table.

Her eyes track his movements and she goes over the sparse conversation they've had so far to try and find something clear to work with. Then it hits her. He isn't here because of the mission or because he wanted company; he's here because of Daniel.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her question is soft, non-judgmental, but his expression darkens.

"I… didn't think it was important."

He hastily adds 'at the time', but Sam thinks it a pretty poor excuse overall and she huffs out a breath.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't say anything about Daniel… because you didn't think it was important?" she repeats slowly.

"Yeah."

"We're talking about Daniel, sir."

"I know."

"Then why –"

"I wasn't exactly myself, Sam."

His defeated admission hangs in the silence before he sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. Sam studies him for a moment when realization dawns.

"Daniel was with you at Ba'al's outpost, wasn't he?"

He turns his head slightly to look at her. "Yeah."

"What did he do to you, sir?" she whispers.

"Does it matter?"

"I think it does."

"Look, Carter. It happened, but you helped me get out and get home. That's what matters," he adds quietly as he reaches for his beer and takes a large swig.

The atmosphere in the room shifts as Sam sees the Colonel's unease and anger start to bubble and burn just beneath the surface so she decides not to press the issue – even though he's the one sitting in her house at midnight – because she knows him too well. Even if relations have been strained between them over the past year, she still knows the essence of who Jack O'Neill is and when he refuses to talk about something, there tends to be a good reason why.

Besides, the distinct lack of details in his report from that particular mission have already told her everything she really needs to know.

The promise leaves her lips before she has a chance to stop it.

"We'll find him, sir."

"A part of me hopes you don't."

"He deserves –"

"Don't get me wrong, Carter, I'm going to make sure that son-of-a-bitch suffers before he dies, but you are not gonna be anywhere near him. He's – you – you're too important."

"Jack," she breathes. The raw honesty with which he states those last few words take her by surprise and she has to swallow against the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry."

He slowly meets her gaze and cants his head as he studies her. "For what?"

"I was angry with you," she admits quietly as she folds her hands in her lap, "for not telling me about Daniel, but the truth is you wouldn't have even been in that position if it wasn't for me."

"Carter?"

"I was the one who asked you to accept the blending with Kanan and –"

Jack starts to interrupt, but sometime between him waving away her apology and her closing her eyes in an effort not to cry, he's moved from the armchair and to beside her on the couch and his arm is around her shoulders. She turns and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Talk to me, Sam."

"When Ba'al…" Her voice comes out muffled against the material of the tee-shirt, but it feels safer this way; it's the small barrier she needs to remain so she can bare a little of her soul to him. "I should have been there for you."

"You were," he reassures, "in ways you'll never know."

She pulls back and holds his gaze, neither seeming willing to break the moment, when Jack sighs softly.

"C'mere."

He leans back against the couch cushions and Sam follows, easily slipping in between his arms. A shaky breath escapes her and she's convinced she feels the ghost of a kiss against her hair as he holds her tight.

She's not sure how long they stay that way but she knows some time passes before the Colonel reaches over and switches off the small table lamp.

The darkness shuts them out from the rest of the world, keeping them and their shared secrets hidden.

For Sam, it's also enough to break down that final barrier and let their demons lie silent for a while.

She shuffles closer, burying her face against his chest and she feels the calm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. A sense of belonging and contentment envelops her and she finds herself falling in love with how he makes her loneliness and sadness fade away. And as the rain beats against the window, she closes her eyes and starts to fall asleep, quiet and safe, in his arms.

And these secrets, all that we've got so far; the demons in the dark, lie again.
– Speeding Cars, Walking On Cars