Disclaimer: See default chapter
Chapter Ten: Jack, Just Jack
"But I'm the one asking."
Sam stared at him – trying to absorb everything. Why was it she could calculate celestial drift in her head and recalibrate a tri-phase naquida regulator under heavy Jaffa fire, but when it came to accepting the fact that Jack was no longer in SG-1... she went blank.
He raised his eyebrows, tipping his head in a classic Jack expression. "Carter?"
Sam raised her hands and shook her head. She tried to talk, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was babble-like sounds. Jack's lips turned up in a small, warm-her-blood grin.
"Carter is speechless. This is new."
Sam laughed, despite the chaos in her heart. "There's a first time for everything, sir."
"Jack."
She stared at him. "What?"
"I'm not your CO anymore. Call me Jack, Sam."
His voice was like honey over gravel, sweet yet as rough as he was. "Y- you're still a Colonel in the United States Air Force."
"Then I'll make it an order."
Sam smiled and dipped her chin. Warmth filled her cheeks, but from pleasure. Of talking with him, being near him. As if the last few days hadn't happened. Was it just a handful of days ago that he had wiped whipped cream from her cheek in the elevator, then licked it off his own thumb?
Jack leaned his elbow on the tabletop, and rested his fist against his jaw. "So, whatcha thinkin'?"
She looked into his eyes for several moments, and a gentle feeling of peace edged away the tension. His expression was... soft? No, soft wasn't the right word for Jack. There was nothing soft about him. Kind? Warm? She didn't know... couldn't put a name to it, but it was calming, and nice.
Many times in eight years, she had been scared out of her mind. But she had spent years learning how to hide fear, anger... whatever emotion could be used against her in a fight. He might not have known she was afraid, but all it would take was one look from Jack, maybe even just a brush of his shoulder against hers, and it was always enough to calm her. Ease her fears. Make her believe everything would end up just fine.
"I'm thinking... that... this is a big change," she said, finally finding her voice. She cleared her throat softly and found his hand again beneath the table. "But, I'm thinking that it's nothing you can't handle, and everything will work out in the end, like it always does."
He just watched hers, those dark eyes of his seeing right through her. Jack O'Neill might play dumb when it came to theoretical astrophysics, the mechanical probability of wormhole stability, or the native cultures of ancient civilizations across the galaxy, but he didn't fool her. He was a man with understanding that went deeper than most.
She looked down at the neoprene and Velcro brace that wrapped his leg. Sam winced when she remembered the sickening crack the joint made when the chief on P3X-453 hit him. Jack's face, twisted in pain, flashed in her mind.
"Hey," he said, and she realized she had closed her eyes. She opened them and looked at him. "What else?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I can't help believing this is my fault."
"Nope." He gave an extra 'pop' to the 'p'.
Sam tilted her head. "Nope? That's your answer?"
"Yep." Same pop.
"Well, I think you're wrong. If I hadn't—"
"If you hadn't what?" he said cutting her off.
"If I could have—"
"If you could have what?"
Sam huffed. "If you'd let me finish, sir."
"Jack."
"Fine. Jack." He waved his hand for her to continue, and rested his cheek against his knuckles again. Sam realized he was goading her, taking away the edge of tension from the moment. She smiled, letting herself give in to the easy pleasure of talking to Jack O'Neill.
"If I hadn't been sick, then you wouldn't have had to fight for me."
"Could do anything about being sick. And even if you hadn't been, I would have done it anyway."
"Why?" Sam asked, shaking her head once. "Jack, I can take care of myself. I've trained for years to do just that. And I've proven to you more than once I can do it."
Jack nodded. "Yes, you have. Like those Obladee Obladi people..."
"Shavadai."
"Yeah, them. You kicked butt."
"So..."
Jack leaned towards her, closing the space between them. Sam held her breath, her skin tingling. "So, it wouldn't have worked. He challenged me." If possible, his eyes seemed to darken. His lips tipped up in a lopsided grin. "For my woman."
Sam couldn't catch her breath. She felt the flush in her cheeks, and the pounding of her heart. Jack's other hand, that had managed to stay on her knee through the whole conversation, squeezed gently.
*Good God!*
She drew air slowly into her burning lungs and looked into his brown eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"You're the smarty pants scientist. You tell me."
Chapter Ten: Jack, Just Jack
"But I'm the one asking."
Sam stared at him – trying to absorb everything. Why was it she could calculate celestial drift in her head and recalibrate a tri-phase naquida regulator under heavy Jaffa fire, but when it came to accepting the fact that Jack was no longer in SG-1... she went blank.
He raised his eyebrows, tipping his head in a classic Jack expression. "Carter?"
Sam raised her hands and shook her head. She tried to talk, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was babble-like sounds. Jack's lips turned up in a small, warm-her-blood grin.
"Carter is speechless. This is new."
Sam laughed, despite the chaos in her heart. "There's a first time for everything, sir."
"Jack."
She stared at him. "What?"
"I'm not your CO anymore. Call me Jack, Sam."
His voice was like honey over gravel, sweet yet as rough as he was. "Y- you're still a Colonel in the United States Air Force."
"Then I'll make it an order."
Sam smiled and dipped her chin. Warmth filled her cheeks, but from pleasure. Of talking with him, being near him. As if the last few days hadn't happened. Was it just a handful of days ago that he had wiped whipped cream from her cheek in the elevator, then licked it off his own thumb?
Jack leaned his elbow on the tabletop, and rested his fist against his jaw. "So, whatcha thinkin'?"
She looked into his eyes for several moments, and a gentle feeling of peace edged away the tension. His expression was... soft? No, soft wasn't the right word for Jack. There was nothing soft about him. Kind? Warm? She didn't know... couldn't put a name to it, but it was calming, and nice.
Many times in eight years, she had been scared out of her mind. But she had spent years learning how to hide fear, anger... whatever emotion could be used against her in a fight. He might not have known she was afraid, but all it would take was one look from Jack, maybe even just a brush of his shoulder against hers, and it was always enough to calm her. Ease her fears. Make her believe everything would end up just fine.
"I'm thinking... that... this is a big change," she said, finally finding her voice. She cleared her throat softly and found his hand again beneath the table. "But, I'm thinking that it's nothing you can't handle, and everything will work out in the end, like it always does."
He just watched hers, those dark eyes of his seeing right through her. Jack O'Neill might play dumb when it came to theoretical astrophysics, the mechanical probability of wormhole stability, or the native cultures of ancient civilizations across the galaxy, but he didn't fool her. He was a man with understanding that went deeper than most.
She looked down at the neoprene and Velcro brace that wrapped his leg. Sam winced when she remembered the sickening crack the joint made when the chief on P3X-453 hit him. Jack's face, twisted in pain, flashed in her mind.
"Hey," he said, and she realized she had closed her eyes. She opened them and looked at him. "What else?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I can't help believing this is my fault."
"Nope." He gave an extra 'pop' to the 'p'.
Sam tilted her head. "Nope? That's your answer?"
"Yep." Same pop.
"Well, I think you're wrong. If I hadn't—"
"If you hadn't what?" he said cutting her off.
"If I could have—"
"If you could have what?"
Sam huffed. "If you'd let me finish, sir."
"Jack."
"Fine. Jack." He waved his hand for her to continue, and rested his cheek against his knuckles again. Sam realized he was goading her, taking away the edge of tension from the moment. She smiled, letting herself give in to the easy pleasure of talking to Jack O'Neill.
"If I hadn't been sick, then you wouldn't have had to fight for me."
"Could do anything about being sick. And even if you hadn't been, I would have done it anyway."
"Why?" Sam asked, shaking her head once. "Jack, I can take care of myself. I've trained for years to do just that. And I've proven to you more than once I can do it."
Jack nodded. "Yes, you have. Like those Obladee Obladi people..."
"Shavadai."
"Yeah, them. You kicked butt."
"So..."
Jack leaned towards her, closing the space between them. Sam held her breath, her skin tingling. "So, it wouldn't have worked. He challenged me." If possible, his eyes seemed to darken. His lips tipped up in a lopsided grin. "For my woman."
Sam couldn't catch her breath. She felt the flush in her cheeks, and the pounding of her heart. Jack's other hand, that had managed to stay on her knee through the whole conversation, squeezed gently.
*Good God!*
She drew air slowly into her burning lungs and looked into his brown eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"You're the smarty pants scientist. You tell me."