*
*
*
Jesus... this wasn't good. This just... wasn't good.
Sam thought the whole point of one-night stands was that you'd never see the guy again. It, and the guy, would remain forever shrouded in mystery and considerable guilt. He wasn't supposed to show up in the middle of one of the most important missions of her life.
This was verging on a nightmare situation.
She knew she couldn't hide in the staff restroom forever. For one thing, it had been ten minutes already; any longer and either Ms Buckingham would notice her absence or one of the other waitresses would tell on her. She also knew that she couldn't go out there. If 'Jack' saw her, her cover would be blown to hell and back. Since he seemed to be on particularly good terms with Ms Vautour- and, yes, that freaked her out completely - there was a distinct possibility that he would turn around and inform her that Sam had only a couple of weeks ago been working a bar which he'd visited.
Which wouldn't suit her cover story at all.
What she needed to do was call the Colonel.
Who would ask her how she'd met this Hollywood superstar.
And Sam would have to tell him.
Shit.
This was why personal and professional didn't mix. God only knew how he was going to react when she told him. And she knew she would have to tell him. This was work now. This was business. He would want to know all the facts, no matter how they could make him feel.
Maybe... maybe Daniel Frakes wouldn't recognize her. Maybe he had one night stands a lot. Maybe there were women all over the country just like her and their faces would forever merge into one in his memory. It wasn't like she was particularly anything to remember.
Unfortunately, she couldn't take that chance.
"Ms Clorel?"
Oh... crap.
"I'm in here," Sam said, her voice coming out strangely weak. She decided that was good - the only way she could get out of there was if she faked being ill.
"Are you all right?" came the surprisingly concerned voice. "I noticed you're not in the kitchen getting the specials."
"I'm not feeling very well." Sam scrunched up her face, automatically feeling guilty for this one necessary lie. She had a feeling Ms Buckingham took all the flak if the restaurant didn't run as smoothly as Ms Vautour wanted it to.
"Really? What's wrong?"
"I think... I may have a stomach bug. I was afraid I was going to be sick; that's why I'm in here."
"In that case, you should go home." The brisk, professional voice came back swiftly, and Sam was distinctly relieved. It was easier to feel neutral about the professional, cool businesswoman than it was for the caring employer. "Can't have the guests thinking it's the food."
"No."
"All right. I'll go and distribute your tables to the others."
"Okay. Er.. thanks Ms Buckingham."
"Call us tomorrow to tell us how you're doing. It may well be one of those twenty-four hour things."
Leaning her head against the wall of the toilet, Sam nodded. "I hope so."
*
The Colonel beat her home. God knew how he did it, but the moment she walked through the door he was upon her, swiveling around to face her as she walked in. He appeared to have been pacing. "What happened?"
Wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, she grabbed her discarded clothes from the day before and went into the bathroom to change.
"Carter?" he called through the door.
"Give me a sec, okay?"
He didn't respond and Sam stared at her reflection mournfully. She slapped at her cheeks a couple of times, trying to find the courage to face him.
"Carter?"
She sighed. "Okay, okay." She ran her hands through her hair and stepped out of the bathroom.
He was still standing in the middle of the room, his hands deep in his pockets, a figure of barely restrained impatience. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"One of the VIP guests was someone I knew."
"I thought you waitresses didn't see the VIP guests."
"We don't." She picked up his bag and went to sit on the couch. From inside, she pulled out the files, all the information they had. He carried them with him at all times - just in case they got any unexpected visitors in the apartment while they were both out. "It was an accident. I was stacking wine behind the bar, I'd been delayed because the cellar door was sticking, and the guest was early. Ms Vautour had to come down especially for him."
"Did you overhear their conversation?"
"No, they were too far away, but I did get to see them together. They looked very... comfortable. They must have met before. She took him into the VIP room a few minutes later and then summoned Ms Buckingham. That's when I made my break for the bathroom."
"You didn't get spotted?"
She shook her head. "I told Ms Buckingham I wasn't feeling very well and she sent me home."
"Who was this guest you knew? Didn't realise your acquaintances included the rich and famous, Carter," he said wryly, coming to sit down next to her.
Nervously, she looked at his hand that was lying on the couch between them. "Daniel Frakes." She glanced up at his face, smiled a little. Part of her was glad he didn't seem to know the film-star, just like she hadn't. "He's been in a couple of films recently. That Tom Cruise one, you know?"
From the look on his face, the film didn't ring a bell. "I'll take your word for it. Are you good friends? I mean, he would definitely recognize you? When was the last time you saw him?"
Her eyes went back down to his hand.
"Carter?"
There. He'd already picked up on it.
The hand moved, the couch dipped as he stood up and walked away. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not gonna like this?"
"He was the reason Maybourne found me," she admitted slowly. "Before... I was working in a bar. Daniel Frakes came in... we danced. Someone filmed us and it was on the local news."
Silence.
She couldn't even look up at him this time. She just knew he understood *exactly* what had happened between her and a virtual stranger.
"You fucking slept with him, didn't you?"
Oh God. This was going to worse than she thought.
"Yes."
The tension crackled. A long, solitary minute ticked by where Sam stared down at the floor and he... God knew what he was doing but she suspected he was glaring at her. She just couldn't look up.
Then she did.
But only because he left, slamming the door behind him.
*
For two hours, Sam sat on the couch and waited for him to return. Supposing he returned, that was.
When that two hours was up, she decided she'd done enough waiting and that she would get ready for bed.
The motions were easy, ingrained. Taking off her clothes, folding neatly, placing in one of the drawers. Her pyjamas were lying on the end of the couch where he had obviously tidied them away. It was strange to think of him handling her clothes, let alone her nightwear. Somehow bizarrely intimate. Her hands lingered over them a little longer than was necessary before she pulled on the strappy blue top and the cotton drawstring pants.
Teeth cleaned, face toned and cleansed and every speck of makeup removed, she combed her hair. A sudden image - his fevered face as he was pinned to the wall by the alien communication device - hit her hard, sucking the air from her lungs. The comb dropped into the basin and she slowly lowered herself down onto the toilet seat as the tears rose so swiftly and suddenly to her eyes she didn't have time to prepare herself.
Damn. She didn't think she was going to cry. The eye make-up remover stung her eyes and she reached for a towel, pressing it to her eyes as they streamed with tears and pain.
When it was over, and thank God it was over quickly, Sam dried her eyes, feeling ashamed of herself. So she'd slept with someone else. Someone else? She wasn't even sleeping with him. Technically, he had no right to be angry with her. He had no rights over her - no one did and no one ever would - and it wasn't as if they had any kind of an understanding. It wasn't as if they'd ever sat down and told each other that dating anyone else was unacceptable. Even if they couldn't be together themselves.
He came back at half past twelve and she was sitting on the couch, a sheet wrapped around her and only the light on his bedside table on.
"God, you went out without a coat," were the first words she said, taking in his chilled appearance.
Shivering, he nodded and kicked off his boots. Without saying a word, or undressing further, he walked over to the bed and climbed under the covers.
Concerned - damn, but he was an idiot - she clambered over the coffee table to him. "Idiot," she muttered, tucking the sheet around him and pulling up the blanket from the base of the bed. She dropped her own sheet from around her shoulders and added that to the pile that was building up over him. She could only just see the top of his head, the grey mess of hair. "It would have been just as impressive if you'd stormed out with a coat."
He groaned. "Just shut up. Are my feet sticking out?"
She glanced at the end of the bed and shook her head. "No. Do you want me to find you another pair of socks?"
"Please. There should be some thick ones in my bag."
She crouched down by his bag and started sorting through his things. She found his socks and hurried to the base of the bed, sitting on the edge and turning up the covers to find his feet. She rolled a sock onto each foot, then quickly rubbed her hands up and down, using friction to generate some heat. It was kind of weird putting socks on a guy's feet but then... kind of sweet too. Like they were far closer than they actually were.
"Okay. Now get in."
She thought she'd heard him incorrectly. "What?"
"I'm not kidding - get in. I'm freezing."
Part of her was already in bed with him - but the rest of her knew this was exactly the type of situation she was trying to avoid. There would be no sleeping at opposite ends of the bed this time. She would be in bed with him for the warmth only close contact could provide.
"You're not that cold."
"It's below freezing out there, Carter." Sensing he wasn't going to get away with it, he lifted his head a little and looked at her. "If you get in, I'll answer anything you ask me."
She blinked. "You swear?"
"I swear." The head disappeared. "Get in bed."
She grinned freely. Well, if he put it like that... how could she resist?
Sam slid very carefully in next to him, trying not to bump against him too much, aware that she was wearing very thin night clothes. Colonel O'Neill seemed to have no qualms, however. His arms went about her quickly, and hard, drawing her tightly towards him and absorbing her warmth. He sighed deeply. "That's good."
Honestly, he was getting far more out of this than he ought to be, Sam thought. She could feel his body relaxing against hers but as her eyes drifted closed, finally able to sleep now that he was back, she suddenly recalled just how he had convinced her to get into bed with him.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, eyes opening. "Don't go to sleep!"
He was smiling faintly, eyes closed. Sam ignored the stray thought that if she moved her head just a little she could press her lips to his throat. That was *so* not gonna happen.
"Colonel..."
This made him snort and one dark eye opened. "Colonel? You can still use that in bed with me?"
She started to blush. "Yes. I can. You said you'd tell me anything I wanted to know."
"I said I'd answer any questions you had for me," he reminded her pedantically.
"Whatever." The eye closed again and he moved his head on the pillow, actually inching closer to her. She tried to ignore that too.
"What's wrong between you and Daniel?"
"We had an argument."
"About what?"
"Oh, God, you know. Daniel and me stuff. He didn't think I was doing enough to find you. He was wrong, but that didn't seem to be a problem for him."
Great. Yet another friendship she'd ruined. Her heart sank further. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling inadequate.
"I know you are." The hand that had been resting on her back rubbed up and down her spine restlessly. She guessed he was trying to be comforting, which was really off-putting. "I didn't mean to push him through the window, though. That definitely was an accident." He grinned.
She didn't understand his glee at all. "You look pleased."
Both eyes opened, wide with delight. "It was pretty funny."
"Colonel!"
"You should have been there - I know you would have laughed. It was an open window, did I tell you that?"
She shook her head, grinning along with him helplessly. "How high off the ground?"
"Oh, floor level. He fell into a bush. Man, I laughed so hard. He was really pissed and he stormed off, leaves on his ass." His shoulders shook and he turned his face into the pillow, chuckling.
It was all so easy to imagine that Sam was having a hard time not laughing. "Poor Daniel."
"Poor Daniel! You should have seen the bush! Completely flattened." This seemed to make him laugh harder. "Damn, I'm never gonna forgot that."
"Why are you all on downtime?"
"Initially, because of you. Obviously." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Then... well, General Hammond put us on stand-down while we looked for a temporary replacement. I think it was fairly obvious Daniel and I weren't seeing eye to eye, and Teal'c was just general pretty pissed with the both of us so he went to Chulak to see his son for a few days."
She made a face. "Oh God, who did you get as a replacement?" Please, please, let him or her be awful, she prayed silently.
"We didn't."
"What?"
"I... refused to participate. Which was why I was at home the week you called."
"I don't understand."
"Hammond sent me home. Told me to cool down. Which I did by getting spectacularly drunk several days in a row." He gave her a big, fake grin.
"My God, Colonel... "That nauseous feeling just had to be a new, delightful form of guilt for her. "I'm so....."
"Don't. Not about this. You know I don't deal very well with... stuff."
"Stuff."
"That's what I said." He gave her a hard, uncompromising look. "Stuff."
She began to get a strange idea. "The day that I called... the first time... your wife picked up."
"Ex-wife." Well, that was a relief, and it must have showed on her face because he smiled, one hand coming up to touch her cheek. "Idiot," he murmured affectionately.
"She was there because..." she began, trying to encourage him to continue.
"Daniel called her." He made a face. "He didn't think it was safe to leave me alone, yet he wasn't talking to me, so he got me a chaperone. I don't know where he got her number, probably off my file, though how he... never mind. I couldn't believe it at the time. Sara wasn't particularly impressed either. She threw a bucket of water over me."
Now *that* made her laugh. "Really? I must spend more time with this woman."
"I hope you're kidding."
"Totally, sir."
The hand that was currently stroking her cheek slid down her throat. She shivered just a little, waiting to see what it would do next, but, disappointingly, it just rested on her shoulder for a moment before moving back down under the covers and ending up on her back again.
"Though," he continued, eyes on her neck, "since you were sleeping with someone else at the time..." Colonel O'Neill's eyes came back to her and she felt herself tense up. "It would be fairly hypocritical of you to condemn me for being with another woman."
She swallowed. "It would, yes," she managed, slowly enunciating the words.
"Then again," he smirked, "I did walk past a video store on the way back from my little walk."
"Little - you were gone for three and a half hours!"
"And I saw a poster for one of his films in the window."
Why was he smirking like that?
Oh wait.
He was grinning now, probably because she was looking so mortified. "He kinda reminds me of someone, Carter. Wonder who?"
"Oh please, like you look like a movie star," she said, trying to get as much disgust in her voice as possible, all the while not looking him in the eye.
"You're probably right."
She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. She could sense he was still smiling, still looking at her. His arms were still around her, his legs tangling with hers. "He went by the name Jack, too," she whispered, biting her lip and turning her face into the pillow, feeling her blush prickling her hairline.
"You understand... I'm still not thrilled."
"Yeah." Her voice was muffled by the pillow.
"But... I'll deal. Right?"
"Right."
"Okay. Guess you were pretty pissed after Edora."
It was easy to imagine it. Easy because she'd thought about it fairly consistently. She'd gone through a phase shortly after the Zatarc testing when she brought up all the reasons *not* to be in love with him. Edora had been pretty high on the list. "Words do not describe."
"Good."
She turned her head back to him. "Good?"
"Good," he repeated.
"All right. Jealousy isn't an attractive emotion."
"It is when someone's being jealous over you."
Yeah, she supposed that was true. "It still feels like I cheated on you."
"Emotionally, I suppose you did." He shifted slightly and she didn't know it was deliberate but he slid one leg further between hers. She watched him intently, searching for a sign that he was making a move, but she saw nothing in his face that suggested any duplicity at all.
Maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe, since he was clearly warm now, she should move back to the couch. It wasn't an appealing thought, but she didn't want to get too comfortable in bed with him.
The leg moved again.
Definitely intentional.
"Okay, stop it," she ordered sharply.
In a move she really should have seen coming, he rolled on top of her, hands sliding easily up her top to rest below her breasts. "You should have seen it coming," he told her, mimicking her thoughts.
He was entirely too charming. "Get off."
"I'm just reaching for the light," he said, innocently reaching over to the lamp.
"And you needed to lie on me to do that." Goddammit, was that laughter in her voice? Was she amused by this? This blatant advantage-taking on his behalf?
She used to be so *good* at being restrained around him.
Then again, she never used to hop into bed with him either.
The following darkness didn't improve matters in the least. Firstly because he didn't appear to be moving off of her, secondly because she found her body was totally enjoying every moment of it, and lastly because the darkness somehow added just enough secrecy to the matter to make it somehow more... acceptable.
His head lowered. "See... I figure the cold... has influenced my sense of responsibility."
Really, that ought to have jolted her. Given her a reason to push him off. "I can see that."
His head lowered further, her vision suddenly filling with him. And she didn't mind at all.
His mouth just touched hers, then he pulled back, as if waiting for her to protest. *That* was her moment. Later, Sam would remember that clearly. That he had given her the chance to say no, to tell him to get the hell off of her for real. She didn't, however.
There was no resistance on her part whatsoever.