SEVEN

THE TIDE

"Sir, what are you doing? You got work to do."

"Oh Carter, I'm been running for ages and when I finally stop." Jack gestured at the confined space. "Ya see the irony?"

"You just going to sit there?"

The question surprised him. Hours ago, she'd left him. Now she was back? How the hell did it allow her to get in but he stays inside?

"How did you get here?"

Sam's brow furrowed profoundly, puzzled by O'Neill's dismissive behaviour. Perhaps he thought she was still his fabrication, even though she was the original Carter. The question was, should she play along? Or should she find a means of letting him know she's the original.

She cleared her throat, feeling out of the loop. "Um, I . . ."

"Landry sent ya, go figures."

"Yes?"

"It's called a vacation, for crying out loud."

Still rooted to the floor, Sam winced at the abrasive outcry.

He winced, too, calmed down, then swiped his hand through the air. "Well, I am a week overdue. He was bound to send someone."

Okay, so General O'Neill was still in control, even so, she could see it barely showed. He looked defeated, wrestling to hold onto the little thread of reality he had left. Taxing himself like this, for who knows how long, would overcome the toughest of soldiers. And he was as tough as they come.

Be that as it may, it was difficult to watch and too hard not to think she's responsible for this sudden desire for clarity. Did she do this to him? Was she doing this to him?

Presuming the lack of reaction was her evaluating the situation, he clarified. "I'm stuck in a fog. Like I am . . . an outsider looking in. And I shouldn't see anything, 'cause you see squat in fog. And you know when I'm lying, and when I'm being evasive. You know what a . . . mess I got buried inside me. Stuff I've forgotten, for obvious reasons. No parent should have to go through losing a child."

"Sir."

"No, it's a-okay. This is good. I'm good. I'm coming to terms with this, you know? I've never let anyone in this close before, someone who sees straight through the walls I put up. And I mean clean through. For you . . . I always had the right words. Concise, to the point. No nonsense, straight, direct. I'm always there when you need me. Nice to know it's the other way around."

They stared at one another.

After a short deafening minute, he looked away and sighed frustrated. Shit, he was rambling, making a fool of himself, and she wasn't even real. Why did he always feel the need to explain himself to her? Like his tongue got tied into knots and only the unintelligent words streamed out.

Knocking a fist against his forehead, he growled under his breath. "I'm shattered. Knackered. And all those lovely Irish words that explain how utterly exhausted I am."

Biting her bottom lip, Sam mustered some much-needed courage, then approached the General. She sat down and faced him. When he saw her from up close, his face softened and a tired smile lined his lips.

"Hey."

She stifled a chuckle. "Hey yourself."

A stray tear rolled down his cheek. Sam winced, reached out and wiped it away with her thumb. He stiffened at the contact, realizing how authentic it was, then relaxed. She frowned perplexed.

Jack took hold of her hand and sat in silence for a moment or two.

"You came?" He whispered. "You're real? Ah crap."

O'Neill covered his eyes in embarrassment, but she withdrew his hands and smiled softly.

"Of course, Sir."

"Hey, I ordered them not to follow me."

"It's the SGC, we learn from the best."

"Mm-hmm. Z?"

"No, I came to PC4-992 without Zeke and his supervisor's knowledge. But they were all too happy I did."

"Ha."

Tears welled in his eyes for a second time. Though due to being grateful, he wiped at them quickly, feeling like he could crawl into a hole and hide away for a very, very long time. The exhaustion couldn't be helped, and his emotions felt like they had a mind of their own and had hopped onto the merry-go-round willingly. And given that this Carter was the original, he hated being vulnerable.

Even so, in spite of everything she heard and saw, she sat next to him, with eyes sympathetic and gentle. Willingly, her hand touched his heart and he reached for it, enveloping it delicately. Then his weeping came uncontrollably, like a dam under pressure had finally burst.

Desperate, he covered his face and blurted out. "I'm not fine. I'm not. Please, don't go. Don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, Jack."

He nodded.

"You are so close. Don't give up."

"Close to what? I thought I had the answer, then the damn walls started dropping outta nowhere."

"What, may I ask, is the answer?"

Jack swallowed nervously, lowered his hand from where it covered his eyes, then looked up.

Sam squinted, observing the behaviour carefully and with a certain amount of dread. He had never been this emotional before. She could understand why though. Many times, when saving the team eluded her or when she was alone and exhausted, it ended identically.

The strain of six trials drained him. Desperation drained his will to fight. Constantly looking for an answer drained his mind and emotions.

"I think I know what's best for you."

The statement was all too familiar to her, for it was precisely the same conclusion which pushed her to come after him. And for him to be able to admit it, know it and discern it here and now instilled hope in her heart, but it also caused her to rethink what might happen afterward.

She swallowed nervously, then bit her lip. Jack smiled at that.

"Nervous are we, Carter?"

She motioned at the confined space, to emphasis what she currently experienced.

"Aren't we all." He said. "Anywho, I guess I've always known, it just took me years to admit that I am the one who is best for you."

A relieved sensation bubbled in his chest, and it felt good to finally have it out in the open, though at the back of his mind a thought screamed. What if she didn't see it the same way? What if he was too forward?

He frowned and Sam instantly noted the sudden confusion in his eyes. She had to be vulnerable too, before he backed out.

"You are, Jack. You are what's best, and lately I've realized . . . I am the one who is best for you."

Smiling at her, he touched her cheek, then cradled her chin with his fingers, drawing closer. "Seems we're in agreement." They shared a tender kiss for a while, and after they parted, he placed his forehead against hers. Both smiled, relieved.

"News flash."

"We're still here."

"Ditto."

"Dejon did say you're almost there."

"The mustard guy?" Jack recoiled slightly. "And what else do you know?"

Sam smiled brightly, having caught the awkwardness play out on his face. "They value your privacy."

"Good man." He said, clearing his throat. "Anything else?"

"This trial is successful, bar one tiny detail."

"Tiny, you say?"

"Yes, but that's all I know. That, and I should be able to help you."

"Can't pull the plug, hey?"

"All your hard work disappears. This." She touched his chest. "This moment will never have happened. I don't want us to forget."

Jack avoided looking at her, but found he wanted to. Their eyes connected and he noticed warmth in hers. "I'm afraid."

"Me, too."

"But I'm committed."

"I see."

"And I've shown my commitment."

The confession hung between them, echoing loudly in her mind, that fear shone in her eyes. He marked it and lowered his gaze from hers.

"You walk away. Every trial."

"You've never given me reason to." She admitted.

"Duty, obligation, careers, the military. I don't blame ya or me. It's a safety net. And I've been making my case according to those guidelines. The trials aren't successful because you walk away, it's because I let you. I use the same damn excuse every time."

"But not with this one?"

"I came after you, deliberately, because I realize something important. I can't lose you, not again."

Looking down, the awkwardness grew between them, but she pushed through the fear and asked, softly. "What's the commitment?"

The question exploded in his mind, enough so, nerves drained more of his waning confidence. It had been so easy early on, but knowing Sam Carter sat next to him, felt intimidating. She never said yes, of course, given that she was a figment of his imagination. But here, with her being present and thinking for herself, proposing could either succeed or backfire, hugely. Nevertheless, six times the result ended the same. He couldn't fall any further than what he already had, why didn't he just go for it while he still had the confidence?