BURNING BRIGHTLY

Chapter Ten:

Disclaimer: Stargate is someone else's as always.

Authors Note: Last chapter ...

I know Daniel and Teal'c don't get a lot of attention in this story. Actually it's one of the things I don't like about this. I love Daniel and Teal'c is my favourite character, but I have to admit they're both hard to write. I promise to give them more time in on the action in my next fic.

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DANIEL:

"What about Sam?" I ask.

Jack narrows his eyes. "I thought Fraiser told you Jacob was with her. Come on, Danny. Have you ever tried catching a bus with a load of grocery shopping?"

No, but then, I've never had my license suspended either. "I've already got to take Janet home, and Teal'c is staying with me again. I suppose a stopover at the supermarket can't hurt."

His eyes say thankyou, even if he doesn't manage to get the words out.

At least, that's what I'd like to think.

He shotguns the front seat, relegating Fraiser and Teal'c in the back with my books. Well, I have books in the front too, as he is about .... ah, as he has discovered.

"How are you holding up, Jack?" I ask softly, as soon as the doctor and the Jaffa have struck a conversation that suitably blots out our own.

He flips through a textbook on Ancient Mesopotamia while jostling with J. B. Bury for leg room. "Fine," he quips. "My wrist is ... great."

"I mean -"

"I know what you mean. I'm fine. Really."

Which means he's everything but.

He sighs. "We're all fine. Aren't we? We got through it."

We always do.

"Yeah, we're all fine." I say. For a while, Fraiser's description of the practice of acupuncture to Teal'c distracts me.

I drop Janet off to a bouncily happy but concerned Cassie, and we all spend fifteen minutes convincing the teenager that Sam is fine and that she can visit her sometime on the weekend. And so it is that the three of us end up wandering the aisles of Safeway. Jack insists on getting two trolleys. He reminds us that if you pile too much into one you end up with stuff being squashed. But with the amount he seems to be buying, I think we should have grabbed three.

I eye a garishly colourful display of coffee flavoured biscuits.

Jack frowns. "That's just wrong."

Teal'c eyes the display. "I do not understand this craving for such variety. Is not plain chocolate satisfying enough?"

I shake my head sadly. "They never taste like coffee anyway."

"Mushrooms," Jack mutters absently. "Mushrooms, carrots, broccoli, dammit, where's the fresh food section?"

I raise an eyebrow.

"Hey," he says, annoyed. "I never did shopping until Sara left me."

I point the way.

Jack searches the fresh produce thoroughly, subjecting the food to rigorous scrutiny before it earns its place in the cart.

"Where's the capsicum?"

I point.

"It's yellow."

I suppose it is, yes.

"Capsicum is supposed to be green or red. As in pizza topping."

Trying not to laugh, I lead him across to the green and red varieties, then knock his hand away when he reaches for the closest one. It's shrivelled and small. Teal'c moves a few around before handing him a perfect specimen, which sets him glaring.

"What are you planning to cook?" I wonder if it's a safe question.

"Stir fry," he says. "And fish."

"Asian?"

"Huh?"

"If you want Asian, they have some sauces over in the international foods. The instructions are on the label." Never mind that I've never been able to cook the damn stuff anyway.

Jack nods.

"Pans?" I prod. "Does Sam have the pans?"

He looks incredulous, and I'm forced to go on. "We'll get a frying pan as well. Don't forget vegetable oil for the stir fry."

We get through frozen food - something that we at least agree on. A bag of pasta and some pasta sauce, some dinner rolls and essentials later. Finally, the wine section. Jack baulks at the price of my recommended Shiraz and opts for the cheaper stuff so that he can throw in a slab of beer as well. Finally, bagged and payed for, we lug the lot out to my car and dump it in the boot.

"You going to tell her?" I say later, as we head towards his place.

He looks distracted. "Not really sure, Daniel."

"You should."

He gives a faint smile. "Right now I'm just glad she's letting me within five feet of her."

We fall into ponderous silence until he says at last. "Danny?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"It's fine, Jack." I say.

JACK:

"Sit DOWN Carter!" I say for the billionth time. "I've got everything under control."

"But you're looking in the wrong place," she protests. "They're under the bench."

"I can find the bench," I assure her, and continue to mutter on my way back into the kitchen. Actually, the entire house is so damned neat and organised I wonder if she gets someone in to clean the place while she's out on missions. Not even dust seems to settle on her furniture.

I slice the onions deftly with the located knife, taking care not to breath through my nose as their pungent fumes fill the air. Capsicum follows, and mushrooms. I don't pride myself in being able to cook, but I can do it. If I can find the stuff I need in the supermarket. Quickly chuck the lot in a frypan with some rice, and stir it briskly. I check the grilled fish, which is coming along nicely; add a few extra herbs, stir the rice again, and out of the corner of my eye notice Sam standing on her crutches near the side table, looking for the remote. She moves stiffly, her mouth in a determined line against the pain I know she feels.

"For cryin' out loud!" I leave the food and do a dash for the living room, stepping across the coffee table to forcibly restrain her this time. I grab her elbow. It's the slightest of movements, the smallest tensing on muscle beneath the skin, but she flinches under my touch. I pull my hand away just as quickly. "If you don't sit down, I'll call Janet."

"You wouldn't dare," she says, claiming the remote but hobbling back to the couch. I ignore the reproachful look and remember the food, sprint back into the kitchen and stir again. Plates... ah, in the cupboard. Knives and forks. TV dinner trays, because I ordered Sam to sit and I'm not having her get up and walk to the table, otherwise I might never get her back on that couch. Much as I hate to turn my gourmet cuisine into a TV dinner. Oh damn! Food...

It's okay, perfect timing actually. I tip the vegies and rice onto the side of the plates and place the fish artistically, arranging the lemon slices on the edge.

Sam is watching TV without any interest at all, staring blankly at the screen. I put her tray on the coffee table in front of her.

"You can cook?" she says incredulously, eying the meal suspiciously.

Insulted, I sniff haughtily. "You noticed?" I say defensively. "It's safe to eat." I take a bite of the fish to show her she's not going to fall to the floor choking. The herbs complement the flavour and nicely. The vegies and the rice are reasonably spiced, and Daniel's recommended sauce adds to the flavour somewhat.

Sam takes a dubious bite, balancing the tray on her lap. "This isn't bad." she says.

"I spent the evening cooking for you and it's 'not bad'?" Hell, I should have let her get home help. THEN she might appreciate real cooking.

It takes me a while to realise that she's trying to stifle giggles behind mouthfuls of the meal. "I didn't even know I had any herbs." she muses. "I don't remember buying any last time..." she trails off, realising that the last time she probably went shopping was before the mission to P3X-959.

"I bought them. Got some freezer-fillers as well, and some fresh vegies."

"You did my shopping?"

"I did my shopping. The fact that it's now in your larder is coincidental."

Sam sits silently for a while, eating the food and staring blankly at the screen again. It's a documentary on the solar system, a bunch of scientists sitting around debating the probability of there being another planet in the universe capable of sustaining human life. I used to watch these shows a lot. Now I can't stand to even see them listed in the TV guide.

As if reading my thoughts, Sam reaches for the remote and flicks the TV off. I can almost picture her saying 'Psht. Amateurs.' but she doesn't. No condescension on her part, not ever.

So we sit in silence. She finishes her meal and I take her plate and mine back out to the kitchen and return with two glasses of wine. I see her look. "It's cheap shit," I amend. "Ten bucks a bottle."

She takes a sip and decides I'm not lying. "This is horrible." She laughs.

I grimace and mumble. "Should have forked out an extra ten."

But we drink it anyway. It's almost dead quiet, but I don't know what to say. Seeing her up and around, laughing and looking more alive than she's seemed in weeks is incredible. I wonder just how close I came to losing her. I lost most of the good things in my life, and until they sent me through the Stargate to Abydos I figured it was all a great big conspiracy against me. Like I was actually that important in the universe that it would turn against me and give me good things before taking them away. I didn't want to let Sam become a good thing, because if I lost her it would prove me right.

But I'm NOT that important. I'm tiny, compared to what's out there. What I do makes a difference, but we don't know how big this universe is, and we know for sure there are countless other universes out there. So I guess the cosmos isn't out to get me.

Sam became a good thing a long time ago. She's a constant, a bright star, a part of my life. I don't want it any other way. I love her.

I look at her in the dull light from the living room lamp. She's lost a bit of weight during this, her cheeks hollow and her eyes rimmed with black. But she's still so beautiful.

"My dream was about you, you know." she says, turning her blue eyes on me.

"What?"

"A dream. I kept seeing you. I had to..." she swallows, turning away. "I had to admit something to myself, something I'd been denying. And I was denying it because I thought that if I acknowledged it I wouldn't be able to suppress it anymore. I've done a good job so far." she closes her eyes for a moment. "But I was right and it's getting harder."

Whoa. Um... did she just say that? I have no idea exactly what she said, and yet I know what it is she's talking about. A sudden rush of feeling nearly overwhelms me. On impulse, I reach out and take her hand again, holding it gently. "Sam..."

She shakes her head, still not looking at me, but not pulling away. "I've been so stupid. I should never have let it get like this in the first place. I should have... but when I saw you with Governor Laius on P3X-959 I ... I was drunk, intoxicated or whatever it was, but it made me so jealous."

Is she kidding me? "Im the one who punched out a senator!" I protest. She was jealous? "I might have even shot the guy if -"

She pulls her hand away and turns slightly so that she's facing away from me, tucking her hands under her arms. "Im sorry, Jack."

She's sorry? What the hell for? "What the hell for?"

"For this!" She says, angrily. "I didn't want to tell you, I don't want this to interfere with what we do or regulations or..."

"It already does."

She stiffens at those words, turning slightly back to face me. "It doesn't have to."

"No. No, it doesn't."

She closes her eyes then, for the briefest moment, taking a deep breath.

"Come on, Sam." I say lightly, leaning across the couch to wrap my arm around her. She falls into the friendly hug and I can feel her relax. My arms tighten around her involuntarily, one around her shoulders the other resting lightly on her arm. "It's not all bad." Some of it's quite good, actually. Like how this feels. It's as if its right. Absolutely right. I smile. "Would you dance with me?"

She shifts, her short hair tickling my chin. "What?"

"Dance. You know. Apparently you're quite good at it."

She pulls out of the hug and blushes. "My leg," she reminds me.

"It's okay. Slow, and I'll help you up. Just don't go straining anything."

She ducks her head and laughs, then sees that I'm still perfectly serious. I hold out my hand. She hesitates, then takes it firmly and I carefully lift her up, keeping most of her weight off her healing leg, my arms supporting her all the way. She winces slightly at the movement, but I trust her to let me know if it's too painful. She doesn't say anything except "This is ridiculous."

"Yeah," I agree, leading her out into the centre of the room. There's no music, but that really doesn't matter as I help her move gently, following the steps of the waltz-thing we learnt on Frevia Four at a much slower pace.

We dance. Sam holds my waist and my shoulder for support. I can feel every inch of her body where it touches mine, and I wonder if this was a good idea. Maybe I should leave now, before I do, say, or think something incredibly stupid. It's getting late anyway. And ... I don't want to leave. Never want to leave.

She pulls back slightly so that she's looking up at me. She feels for me exactly what I feel for her. Regulations can't stand between that, and neither can anything else.

I loosen my hold slightly so that I can raise my hand and smooth her hair back from her face. My hand has developed its own consciousness and moves of its own accord; sliding gently down her cheek, cupping her chin, coming to rest on the nape of her neck. All the while looking into her eyes. Incredible eyes, so startlingly intelligent but never intimidating.

She reaches first, breaking the moment. Reaches up to catch my shoulder and, closing her eyes, presses her lips gently to mine. The briefest of seconds and then she pulls away, looking down as if ashamed.

No way we can have that.

I lift her chin and kiss her. Longer this time, deeper, tasting the cheap wine on her breath. I pull her towards me, careful not to forget my support; the length of her is pressed against me and every part of me burns for her. What it feels to be able to do this...

Pull away when I feel Sam sag slightly, and guide her back to the couch. She's trembling, almost as much as I am. I intend to get her to the couch and retreat to a safe distance, but she pulls me down with her and I'm kissing her again, urgently. I'm scared I'm not going to be able to stop; I slide my hands round to hold her and pull away again, give as much distance as I can right now, which is all of, oh, about four inches. Even that's stretching things.

"I think I just made things more difficult." she says, still trembling slightly.

"Probably," I quip. "But its going to be interesting working it all out." The only thought in my mind is that with her leg injured like that she's not going to be able to put up much of a fight if I decide to drag her to Minnesota.

She laughs genuinely, lowering her head as she reaches out to stroke my knee. I don't need any more encouragement. I lift her back into the kiss and close my eyes. I can feel her beneath my touch. Everything I feel is right here, no longer hidden. No longer able to hide what is so strong, so right.

No longer hiding what burns so brightly.

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Well, that's it. Like or hate? Let me know what you think, please!

Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed and read this, you guys are great!

I've already started my next Stargate fic. You'll see it soon hopefully.