STARGATE SG-1: Bed of Roses

Summary: The morning after. But it's not all sweetness and light...

Pairing: Jack/Sam, Sam/Joe

Season: Future (2006)

Spoilers: 2010, 2001

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate SG-1 or a Streetcar Named Desire. Please don't sue me!

Author's Note: I'M NOT SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT THIS CHAPTER! Just read it! And then review, of course! Thanx. Enjoy!

Bed of Roses: Chapter 6 – Nicety

"There are things that happen between a man and a woman in the dark that
sort of make everything seem unimportant."
- Stella, Scene 4, 'A Streetcar Named Desire.

###

You'd think that after an incredible night like that – and it WAS incredible – that we'd be able to work something out wouldn't you?

But clearly, we didn't. In fact, the night's 'activities' are what made the next morning and, indeed, the last two years so hard to get through.

There was a real sense of euphoria when I gently woke up that morning. The first thing I was aware of was a warm glow from the sun creeping in through the curtains and over my body. Next, was the tentative line of kisses Jack was tracing from the small of my back, up my spine and to my neck. The effect was enough to send even the most chaste of women over the edge. He slowly rolled me onto my back and continued his journey to my lips. The first kiss he planted there was so light, I could barely feel it, apart from the flutter it sent to my stomach. I slowly opened my eyes and smiled up into his deep and oh-so seductive brown eyes, still hot with the desire of the pervious night. He smiled back at me.

Before I could say anything, though, he claimed my lips once more. This time, more fervently. He really was waaaaay too good at doing that – sending me wild from not knowing what was coming next.

He began to trail back down my neck again, leaving a tingling sensation under every touch. I let my eyes close again as a sense of pure rapture engulfed me.

He carried on down my neck to my collarbone – the one place, he had learned last night, where I was unbearably ticklish. His tongue traced lightly across the slightly raised flesh just below my shoulder.

I couldn't stand it! Every nerve he traced screamed in playful agony, while every other nerve in my body felt tortured for not being the centre of such attention.

I let out a tiny shriek as I instinctively sat up straight.

It still surprises me, when I think about what happened next, just how spry Jack was then for his age. In the movement of me sitting up, he managed (in a split second) to sit up with me, slide me onto his lap and, before I could even contemplate protesting, he had control of my lips again.

We broke apart, at last, gasping slightly for air.

"Morning," he said. His voice was low and husky, and with the close proximity out bodies were in at that moment, I felt the word reverberate through me.

It wasn't long before our hungry lips were practically fused together again and we were off again for round two.

Well, actually, it was more like round six, by now. But hey! Who was counting?!

Either way, it was quite a wake up call.

When I woke up for a second time, I was alone. There was a brief moment when I thought Jack had just slipped out to avoid the awkward conversation we had to have on the matter of last night. I was still heavily involved with Joe, after all.

But he hadn't slipped out. Just downstairs. After noticing his shirt was still tangled on the floor with the rest of my clothes, I realised he hadn't left. That's when I heard several pans clashing together in the kitchen.

Smiling contentedly to myself, I grabbed my bath robe and soon went down to see what all the commotion was about.

As I opened the kitchen door, I was hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, pancakes, maple syrup and bacon. Jack was busy tidying up the stack of pans he had disturbed, completely oblivious to my presence.

I stood and watched him for a moment a he bustled around, cooking up goodness knows what for breakfast (it smelt good, though, I can tell you that!), dressed only in the jeans he had been wearing the night before. It really was quite a sight to Jack O'Neill – former CO and man of my dreams – showing off his domestic side (not to mention those muscles!).

Quietly, I sat down, still not alerting him to my presence. Once I was settled on the nearest stool, I cleared my throat.

Jack dropped all the pans again in the action of turning around to see me watching him. For a second, he looked like a deer could in headlights. Then his face split into one of his award-winning, patented disarming smiles that turn my knees to jelly (luckily I was already sat down and therefore not likely to fall over because of it).

"Breakfast?" he said cheerily, indicating a stack of syrup drenched pancakes to my left.

He seemed to dither for a moment while I tucked into the pancakes – some of the best I've ever tasted! I could tell he was itching to say something.

"Look Sam," he said at last. "I think we need to talk about what happened last night."

I wholly agreed and had some idea of what we could do, but I could see he wanted his say first, so I just nodded and carried on eating... God! Those things were delicious!

"I love you, you know that right?" he said.

I looked up at him. I hadn't been expecting him to start the conversation like that, that's for sure.

"And you know I'd do anything for you," he continued.

As perfect as this morning was turning out to be, I could tell that there was a down side to this declaration. There was something in his voice that told me what he was really trying to say would be something I didn't want to hear and he was just covering his back before he broke the bad news.

He sat down in front of me and took hold of my hand in both of his. He thought for a moment, clearly debating over different ways to proceed.

Finally, he picked his course of action.

"Sam, I want you to come away with me," he said plainly. "We can just pack up right now and go. I don't want to spend another day without you."

It seemed to simple. Just walk into work on Monday and tell them I was leaving. It wasn't like they couldn't cope without me.

But I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it then and if he asked me again, I wouldn't do it now.

I knew why he was asking this, you see. I knew he only wanted me to give up everything because of his ridiculous grudge against the Aschen. And even though I wasn't essential to the project, my work was still essential to me. It was – still is – who I am.

My heart sank. I loved him, really did. But there are things that just can't be put on the line for something like that. Six years at the SGC taught me that.

I placed my fork back on the plate, suddenly not eager to eat anything. My stomach was churning terribly, tying itself in knots of guilt and apprehension.

"Jack, I can't," I said quietly, hoping he would let it go.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I have responsibilities here. My job. Friends. Joe."

As soon as I mentioned his name, Jack jumped away from his seat and turned his back on me. I saw the muscles in his back and shoulders tighten as his fists clenched and he tried to hold back from punching through the wall. I knew I was breaking his heart by not going with him.

"You still gonna stay with him?" he hissed at me, his malice and contempt for Joe showing clearly.

I looked away from him. My stomach aching from the nerves working themselves frantic inside me.

"Well, if nothing can continue between us, then yes. He's a good man, you know." It was a lame excuse, I knew, but it was the truth and I really cared for Joe. I wasn't about to break his heart so harshly. Unfortunately, that meant breaking Jack instead.

"And last night?"

I closed my eyes, as if that would somehow erase the conversation. I knew it wouldn't. And I knew I had to answer him.

So what about last night? I honestly couldn't tell what it had meant then. It was as if half of my mind was treating it as a way to move on from my lingering obsession for him, whereas the other half of me saw it as the beginning of something amazing with the man I loved more than anything. I looked at Jack – who by now had turned to face me – his face showed a mixture of hurt and aggression (never a good combination). It didn't take long for me to realise that even though I loved him, as deeply as I did, we simply couldn't make it work. He had changed so much. Too much.

"It was a one time deal," I said, only half believing it myself.

For a second, Jack looked so broken that his knees could have given way at any minute.

"A one time deal?!" he repeated, as if saying it again would change it's meaning. It didn't. "Why?"

"Jack, just what sort of a future do you see us having?"

"You, me, a cabin, lots of sex. What more do we need?!"

I smiled briefly. I didn't sound too bad put that way.

"And what about my work? All I've put into making the alliance a success?"

"Screw the alliance! Screw the Aschen! And screw responsibilities! We've put our lives on the line enough times to get something back, don't you think?"

It wasn't as simple as that. But he didn't see it like that anymore and there was just no getting through to him. At this point, I was beginning to realise this and it both saddened and infuriated me.

"I just can't do that, Jack!" I shouted, hoping added volume would have the desired effect. "The whole point of responsibility is that you don't just give it up on a whim –"

"A whim?!"

I knew that wouldn't be a popular phrase. But I couldn't let him side tack me. I had to get this off my chest.

"Yes! A whim!" I repeated forcefully, before picking up where I had left off. "You used to know what it meant to have obligations. Why else did we wait so long? It just seems that you've forgotten how to be the man you were and, frankly, that scares me."

I stopped. Waiting for some sort of angry out-burst from him. Waiting for some sort of indication that he felt any sort of resentment to what I was saying. The old Jack would have shut me up in an instant. But this Jack had all of a sudden become closed off and not even I could enrage him. Or so I thought.

"What's happened to you Jack?" I said crossing the room to him, placing my hand on his face, giving him some sort of connection with which to come back to me. "You used to trust people. Why can't you do that anymore?"

For a moment, I thought I was getting through to the man I had fallen in love with. He turned to face me fully, his eyes suddenly alive with the passion that I knew him for. He took hold of my face in his warm, strong hands, his fingers gently weaving into my hairline. He leaned in so we were barely an inch apart. I felt his warm breath wash over em, sending yet another flutter to my stomach.

"Why can't you wake up?" he whispered, shattering my disillusioned state of mind. "They're not who they seem."

Anger began to rise in my veins once again.

"They saved our lives, Jack," I whispered as he had.

Without even a nano-second's pause, he let me go (and none too gently either). The force of his release sent me staggering backwards a few paces. My jaw ached but not enough to indicate the makings of a bruise.

"Oh! Come on, Sam!" he ranted, throwing his hands up. I knew I was in for an earful.

"No, Jack! You come on!" I said before I really knew what I was arguing. I only knew I couldn't let him rail at me about the Aschen anymore. "What's so wrong in believing them?! They didn't HAVE to help us, but they did. They didn't HAVE to bring Earth into their confederation, but they did! They've done nothing but good for us and YOU can't accept it!"

All the time I was talking, he paced up and down my kitchen, like a caged tiger, shaking his head in what I can only assume was disgust.

"Like you keep saying, it's not that simple." His tone was suddenly quieter and even more malicious, almost mocking. The look on his face turned my stomach. And not in a good way. It was a dreadful mixture of bitter anger and ironic humour. It took a while for me to answer his challenge.

"That's where you're wrong," I said, matching his tone of voice. "This really is that simple..." I trailed off for a moment as what this fight as really about finally struck me.

"Tell me, Jack. What have YOU been doing for the last four years?" It was my turn to sound mockingly malicious.

Jack stopped pacing with his back to me. I knew he was listening by the way his shoulders once again tensed and he drew himself up to his full height.

"I'll take that as a 'not much', then, yes?" I continued, coming to stand directly behind him. "And you can't stand that, right? You hate the fact that someone else was the hero and someone else got the girl! You're not just paranoid. You're trying to prove you can still win!" I was almost laughing at how pathetic it all sounded. But, to me, it was all true.

"That's not it!" he protested, turning his head to look at me, but not turning fully.

"Oh, really?!" I taunted further. "Why did you come to Hammond's funeral? Why come here hast night?"

Once again, he was silent. But from my vantage point behind him, I could see his breathing quicken as, finally, anger began to boil inside of him. I had one more chance to break through to the passionate, life-loving Jack I used to know.

"Face it, Jack. You're washed up and you can't control things anymore –"

"NO!" He had snapped. He spun round wildly, lashing out at me. I fell to the ground at the force of his blow, the entire left side of my face throbbing from the impact his fist had made.

I think it was shock more than fear that kept me down. The fact was, I was shaking like a leaf. When I finally did look round, it was to see him stood over me, his heart rate beating twice as fast as mine was (which was going some). His fists were still tightly clenched and for one horrific moment, I was sure he was going to lay into me again.

But his face betrayed to me what he was really thinking. He was just as shocked and horrified as I was.

"I – I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I didn't –"

I put my hand up to stop him as I slowly go back to my feet. Once I was standing, I didn't say anything. I just stared at him, my eyes not showing any warmth of feeling towards him – at that point, there was none to show.

"Please, Sam," he pleaded stepping forward.

I knew he wasn't going to do anything, but I instinctively took a step back.

"Sam."

"Please, Colonel. Just go." He met my eyes sharply as I referred to his former rank. We hadn't been on those terms for a long time, but I grasped at them to keep myself from breaking down completely.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, undecided as to whether he should try to explain himself.

Eventually, he left the kitchen, gathered together the rest of his clothes and left.

As soon as I heard the front door slam behind him, it was if an emotional dam had burst inside me and all the pain and heart ache poured through the cold front I had shown him. I collapsed onto the floor once again, unable to support my own weight under the torrent of tears that was overwhelming me.

I must have sat there for at least two hours before I came to my senses and realised I couldn't let him get to me like this – as always, easier said than done. Besides, I had things to do that day. I was meant to be meeting Janet for lunch and Joe was taking me out to dinner in the evening. I also had the wreckage of the previous night to clean up. As I went about setting my house straight again, I couldn't help but feel empty because of what greeted me. Everywhere – especially the bedroom – reminded me of him and the rampant emotions his memory evoked from me.

By lunchtime, I was more than happy to get out of the house and into an area that didn't reek of his lingering, seductive presence.

Janet was already at the restaurant when I arrived – the bruise over my left eye carefully covered with my sunglasses. I sat down awkwardly opposite her (several muscles still complaining from the stringent exercise they had received last night). She looked at me curiously as I made no attempt to remove my sunglasses. Luckily, we were seated outside and the sun was blazing overhead, so she didn't make too much of the point. But she had noticed something in my general countenance that puzzled her.

"Have you ordered yet?" I asked, trying not to sound nervous.

"No. Not yet. Something wrong?"

It didn't surprise me that she got straight to the point. She was my best friend, for crying out loud. It was her job to be blunt with me. Who else could be?

I sat nervously for a moment, thinking over the different ways I could tell her what had happened. In the end, I opted for a direct approach – much as she had done. I took a deep breath.

"I slept with Jack!" It was one of the simplest, monosyllabic sentences I had put together in a long time, and yet it spoke volumes.

Janet, on the other hand, didn't. She just stared harder at her menu.

"JANET!" I shouted, slightly hurt that she wasn't immediately trying to console me or just saying ANYTHING to help!

"I heard you," she chided, looking up from the menu. She didn't seem bothered at all. But why wasn't she?!

"Well...?" I pushed further.

"Well, what?"

"WHAT DO I DO?"

"I don't know!"

I slumped back into my seat, feeling let down by her apathetic attitude to my crisis. Finally, she put down the menu and looked sympathetically to me.

"When?" she asked quietly.

"Last night," I replied, fighting back a sting of tears and the memory of the events.

"But didn't Joe take you home?" It was also typical of her to bring Joe into the equation so quickly. She had always urged me to move things along with him. She said we made a great couple.

"He left early on."

"Have you told him?"

I looked at Janet for a moment, half unsure if she had just asked that ridiculous question. She soon twigged.

"Good point," she conceded.

But it cast an interesting question into my mind. What if Joe ever did find out about me and Jack? He'd hit the roof! It was all I needed for my situation to steadily worsen the more I thought about it. Without thinking, I removed my sunglasses and tried to work some of the tension out of my temples.

"What the hell happened to your eye?!" Janet demanded immediately.

'Damn!' I thought. I was hoping to avoid discussing that side of the story.

"I... erm..." I searched for a tangible excuse. "I walked into a cupboard door this morning."

She saw straight through me. "A cupboard door also known as Jack?"

I closed my eyes for shame, tears rolling down my bruised face. "He didn't mean to." I had no idea what made me defend him as I did.

"Sam! –"

"Janet! He didn't mean to. OK?"

"Alright... but Joe IS going to notice something."

"I know."

"So what are you gonna do?" She was asking everything I had been asking my self all morning. And everything that I couldn't find the answers to.

"I don't know." I said weakly, burying my head in my hands.

Janet had clearly switched to comforting-best-friend mode as she continued asking all the right questions, like a text book guide to friends in crisis.

"Have you talked to Jack about it?"

"How d'you think I got this?" I pointed to the left side of my face – boasting in an impressive shade of purple.

Janet nodded knowingly. "You didn't want things to carry on with him."

"Not exactly." I filled her in on the rest of our conversation – omitting certain parts that would send her crazy with anger.

"So he hit you?!" she stated, horrified at his actions.

"Like I said. He didn't mean to. He was angry, we both were. He... he's a good man, Janet."

She was still dubious though. "I know that," she said cautiously. "But is Joe and if he –"

"He won't!" I cut her short again, not wanting a lecture on what Joe would do if he found out what happened.

We lapsed into silence for a while, before Janet asked out of the blue; "So how was he?"

I looked straight at her, my eyes wide. "I can't believe you just asked me that!" I protested.

"Sam," she said, matter-of-factly. "You were in love with the man for at least ten years, now something actually happens between you! ... It had to be significant enough for you to be this worked up about him."

"Yeah, but this is Colonel O'Neill we're talking about!" Yet again I was clinging to the old formalities to save face.

"Sam, he's been 'Jack' to you for a long time now."

I thought for a moment. There was no way left to avoid her question.

"He was ... Well, it was like nothing mattered last night. I only wish that was still the case now."

"Why did he hit you?" she asked, returning to text-book-mode.

This had been one of the details I had omitted before. Not that it did me any good.

"We were talking about what to we were supposed to do next and he said he wanted me to drop everything here and just go off with him. Then one thing led to another and somehow, I ended up saying something about how washed up he'd become, and he just snapped." I reeled off my story as fast as I could to get it over with; hoping the rest of the conversation would be over soon too.

"So what's you're problem?" Janet asked. "If you already decided not to go with him, why get so worked up?"

I looked sheepishly at her for a moment. "Part of me wants to go with him."

"And what about Joe?"

"That would be the problem! I just don't know?!"

Janet closed her eyes and sighed despairingly for me.

"Look," she said eventually. "There are two kinds of men in this world. The kind that hurt you and the kind that don't. And it doesn't take a genius to work out where Jack and Joe fir into those categories. And I don't know about you, bit I sure as hell don't want to see you hurt."

I was grateful for her attempts to simplify things for me. But the fact remained that I was still passionately and painfully in love with JACK!

"He wasn't always like this," I rationalised.

"I know," Janet agreed. "But he's changed. He's not the man you fell in love with."

"But that's just it! He is! ... Somehow. I still love him, Janet. There's a part of me that just can't breathe without him."

She was beginning to see how lost and desperate I was feeling, but being the true friend that she is, she tried to break it down further for me.

"Well then," she said heavily, "it's gonna come down to want."

"What?" I queried.

"What is it you want, Sam? And is that the same as what they want?"

I thought through her logic. "It's not that easy, Janet."

"No..." she agreed, "but it's a start at least."

###

I'm afraid to say that choosing Joe over Jack was only ever a start to moving on from him. Even if we hadn't shared that night together, I don't think I would truly have stopped loving him in any way, shape or form. That's what happens when you fixate on someone for that long. They become a part of who you are.

It was about six months after Hammond's funeral when Joe asked me to move in with him. My bruise had long since faded (something I had managed to keep hidden from him with the careful use of make up). Not long after that, he proposed. It took me by surprised when he popped the question. I should have known it was coming – everyone else sis! But then, they were paying attention. I wasn't. I was still coming to terms with letting Jack go.

When he asked me to marry him, I must have sat there at the restaurant for at least five minutes, just staring blankly at him before it even registered in my mind what he had said.

Like he said at the time, it just sucks the romance right out of it when you have to ask twice in a space of ten minutes!

That's what swayed me, though. The fact that he was willing to ask twice. It may have felt like settling for second best, but I didn't care. From that point on, I truly loved him and I haven't looked back since.

Well, maybe once... at the wedding.

Dad was leading me down the aisle to Joe and my chosen future. Something in my stomach wouldn't settle and hadn't done all morning. I had put it down to pre-wedding jitters.

But walking down the aisle, something caught my attention to one side of the people gathered.

It was Jack. Watching from the shadows. His face riddled with pain and regret. I promised myself there and then that if he spoke up at all, I would just go with him. Screw responsibility!

I reached Joe in front of the minister and waited with baited breath. I could see Jack in my peripheral vision, hovering near one of the exits.

"... and if any person here knows of any just impediment that these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now."

This was his chance! His last chance to sweep me off into the sunset. Isn't that how the fairy tail goes? The knight in shining armour bursting in, saving the damsel from her ordeal so they could live happily ever after.

He stayed silent. Not long after, he slipped out, closing the door behind him.

There was nothing left for the two of us now.

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Author's Note: OK, so that's chapter 6 over. Just want to say a quick sorry to Shona, but it had to be done! (Hope you get what I mean!). Anyway, there's only two more chapters left in this one! But before I get to them, I'll be finishing Grandfather Paradox, for those of you waiting for that. And for people who read and reviewed Weekend World, I afraid that one is staying as a stand alone short story. Sorry if that disappoints anyone, but I like it as it is. Anyway, please review this one now! Thanx.