NOW
He held up her hand for a moment, looking once more at the graceful design on her hand. Then, with the reverence of a man finally allowed to worship at the feet of his goddess, he turned her hand over and kissed her palm.
TWO HOURS AGO
She rang the doorbell, over and over again. Then she hammered on his door. She knew he was there. He had to come out. He had to let her in.
And when Jack O'Neill did open his door, he found Sam Carter standing there, in tears, her face red and swollen.
"I didn't want you to let me go!" she sobbed.
"Come here." He said, softly, pulling her into his house, and into his arms. He had no idea what she was talking about, but she was crying, and upset, and all he could do when she was like that was hold her, however inappropriate that was.
She let herself be held for a second, still sobbing, then pulled away.
"I need a tissue." She mumbled. He looked around, knowing he had none, then went to the bathroom, and came back with a wad of toilet paper. He handed it to her, anxiously.
She smiled at it, but took it, and blew her nose noisily.
"Sorry." She said, her voice cracking. "I soaked your shirt."
"Yeah, well, it needed a wash." He said, trying to raise a laugh, standing there, unsure of what to do next. Should he hold her again? Lead her into the living room, and sit her down? Leave her to stand there? Ask her what was wrong?
"I hated the house." She said, walking into the living room.
"My house?" he asked, confused, following her.
"No. I love your house." She said, choking a little, still crying a little. "The house Pete bought."
"Oh." He said. He wanted to say, 'good, I'm glad', or say 'I'm sorry', but he had no idea what she wanted to hear.
"I wanted a life." She said. She still had her back to him. "I thought I knew what life I wanted. And Pete was going to give it to me."
"Everyone deserves their perfect life." He said, sadly. She turned to look at him. Her face was still tear-stained. Her clothes were haphazard, thrown on in a hurry. Her hair was unwashed, she wore no make-up.
He thought she had never looked lovelier.
"But not everyone knows what their perfect life is." She said, softly. "I thought I did. But once I had it, I knew it wasn't right. It wasn't me."
"You and Pete..."
"We've broken up."
"Sorry." He said, and he surprised himself by meaning it. He was sorry she should be hurt.
"I'm not." She said, and he saw she was smiling. A soft, certain smile.
"Kerry broke up with me." he said, trying to commiserate.
"Why?" she asked. She took a step forward, towards him.
"Oh, you know, stuff..." he lied. She touched him, very gently, on his arm.
"You're always trying to tell me what I want to hear." She said. "Please, I just want to know...don't brush me off. Tell me something." She said, intensely.
He made a decision.
"She said I still loved you."
"You love me?" she asked, breathlessly, her eyes suddenly bright.
"You don't know?" Jack asked, incredulously. She shook her head, clutching his arm.
"I love you." He said simply. She let go of his arm, and turned away. He grimaced, aware he'd made the wrong move. He should have denied it, quoted regs, done anything rather than put her in the untenable position of being loved by her commanding officer, by a man she shouldn't care for, couldn't love.
"I thought I could do without you." Sam said, still with her back to him. "But then I saw you with her. And I hated her, and something changed. I finally learnt something. "
She turned to look at him.
"These tears," she said, gesturing to her face. "They aren't because of Pete. That was the best decision. I'm crying because of you."
"Me?"
"I thought I'd lost you. To her."
"You can't ever lose me." he said, softly, without thinking.
"I want more than that." She said, firmly, walking towards him. "I don't just want to never lose you. I want to have you. I want to be with you. I want you." She stopped, and ran her hand, the one with the mendhi design on it, across his cheek. "I love you." She said, softly.
He thought he should argue. He thought he should point out the difficulties, and reasons why they shouldn't do this. He thought she was mistaken, on the rebound.
He thought all this. But all he did was lean down, and pull her into a kiss.
NOW
They lay together in the afterglow, naked under the white sheet, still intertwined and curled up in each other, like the design on her hand. He held it up, looking at the pattern.
"How long does this last?" he asked.
"The tattoo, or us?" she asked lazily.
"Both." He said, suddenly tense.
"The mendhi lasts about a month. Us..." she caressed his cheek, turning his face back to her, so she could kiss him. "This will last forever."
THE END
He held up her hand for a moment, looking once more at the graceful design on her hand. Then, with the reverence of a man finally allowed to worship at the feet of his goddess, he turned her hand over and kissed her palm.
TWO HOURS AGO
She rang the doorbell, over and over again. Then she hammered on his door. She knew he was there. He had to come out. He had to let her in.
And when Jack O'Neill did open his door, he found Sam Carter standing there, in tears, her face red and swollen.
"I didn't want you to let me go!" she sobbed.
"Come here." He said, softly, pulling her into his house, and into his arms. He had no idea what she was talking about, but she was crying, and upset, and all he could do when she was like that was hold her, however inappropriate that was.
She let herself be held for a second, still sobbing, then pulled away.
"I need a tissue." She mumbled. He looked around, knowing he had none, then went to the bathroom, and came back with a wad of toilet paper. He handed it to her, anxiously.
She smiled at it, but took it, and blew her nose noisily.
"Sorry." She said, her voice cracking. "I soaked your shirt."
"Yeah, well, it needed a wash." He said, trying to raise a laugh, standing there, unsure of what to do next. Should he hold her again? Lead her into the living room, and sit her down? Leave her to stand there? Ask her what was wrong?
"I hated the house." She said, walking into the living room.
"My house?" he asked, confused, following her.
"No. I love your house." She said, choking a little, still crying a little. "The house Pete bought."
"Oh." He said. He wanted to say, 'good, I'm glad', or say 'I'm sorry', but he had no idea what she wanted to hear.
"I wanted a life." She said. She still had her back to him. "I thought I knew what life I wanted. And Pete was going to give it to me."
"Everyone deserves their perfect life." He said, sadly. She turned to look at him. Her face was still tear-stained. Her clothes were haphazard, thrown on in a hurry. Her hair was unwashed, she wore no make-up.
He thought she had never looked lovelier.
"But not everyone knows what their perfect life is." She said, softly. "I thought I did. But once I had it, I knew it wasn't right. It wasn't me."
"You and Pete..."
"We've broken up."
"Sorry." He said, and he surprised himself by meaning it. He was sorry she should be hurt.
"I'm not." She said, and he saw she was smiling. A soft, certain smile.
"Kerry broke up with me." he said, trying to commiserate.
"Why?" she asked. She took a step forward, towards him.
"Oh, you know, stuff..." he lied. She touched him, very gently, on his arm.
"You're always trying to tell me what I want to hear." She said. "Please, I just want to know...don't brush me off. Tell me something." She said, intensely.
He made a decision.
"She said I still loved you."
"You love me?" she asked, breathlessly, her eyes suddenly bright.
"You don't know?" Jack asked, incredulously. She shook her head, clutching his arm.
"I love you." He said simply. She let go of his arm, and turned away. He grimaced, aware he'd made the wrong move. He should have denied it, quoted regs, done anything rather than put her in the untenable position of being loved by her commanding officer, by a man she shouldn't care for, couldn't love.
"I thought I could do without you." Sam said, still with her back to him. "But then I saw you with her. And I hated her, and something changed. I finally learnt something. "
She turned to look at him.
"These tears," she said, gesturing to her face. "They aren't because of Pete. That was the best decision. I'm crying because of you."
"Me?"
"I thought I'd lost you. To her."
"You can't ever lose me." he said, softly, without thinking.
"I want more than that." She said, firmly, walking towards him. "I don't just want to never lose you. I want to have you. I want to be with you. I want you." She stopped, and ran her hand, the one with the mendhi design on it, across his cheek. "I love you." She said, softly.
He thought he should argue. He thought he should point out the difficulties, and reasons why they shouldn't do this. He thought she was mistaken, on the rebound.
He thought all this. But all he did was lean down, and pull her into a kiss.
NOW
They lay together in the afterglow, naked under the white sheet, still intertwined and curled up in each other, like the design on her hand. He held it up, looking at the pattern.
"How long does this last?" he asked.
"The tattoo, or us?" she asked lazily.
"Both." He said, suddenly tense.
"The mendhi lasts about a month. Us..." she caressed his cheek, turning his face back to her, so she could kiss him. "This will last forever."
THE END