Secrets and Shadows: What You Don't Know
Part Three
Thank God, it's Friday.
Well, she would have been thanking God if she believed in God. And she would have been thanking him if there was anything to thank him about. A migraine was not something that she considered high on her priority lists of 'things to be grateful for.'
The throbbing in her head was like the vibration of an F14 jet engine, an incessant, nagging pulse that had been there most of the morning. It was driving her insane.
She rifled through her desk drawers, looking for some medication: ibuprofen, tylenol, anything that might have an effect on the pain. Zip, zero, zilch, nada. Nothing but a Twinkie. She rested the Twinkie in her hand.
Strictly speaking, Twinkies were not appropriate medicine for headaches. But breakfast had been quite a while ago...
Oh, who cared? She was pregnant. She was hungry. Her ex-boyfriend had it in for her and her friends, and she had a Twinkie right here and a meeting in the Gateroom in less than ten minutes.
Sam stuffed the Twinkie in her jacket pocket as she ducked out the door, then wondered if she should maybe call Daniel and see if he had anything to help with the headache. Daniel was almost certain to be late, too, so he might still be in his office... Then again, if she let him know she had a headache, then he'd probably chivvy her until she went and laid down.
If anyone knew that she was feeling just the slightest bit ill...
Lately, it seemed as though the entire base had decided that her health was their personal concern. Sam wondered whether it had been the Colonel or Daniel who had threatened something equivalent to immediate disembowelment if anything happened to her and someone else had failed to inform them of the problem ahead of time.
Any time she looked even slightly less than one-hundred percent on the ball, any time she hesitated in the corridor, whether it was because she'd forgotten something or realised she was going the wrong way, any time she lost her train of thought, there would always be someone there to ask, "Major Carter? Are you okay? Should I call Dr. Brightman/Colonel O'Neill/Dr. Jackson/Teal'c/General Hammond?"
Whose baby was she having, anyway?
Uhh...Pete's?
Shut up. Thinking about her ex-boyfriend and current problem was in no way condusive to easing the pain in her head. It made her sick to her stomach to realise just how much she'd underestimated him; his inability to cope with who she was, what she did, what made her the person she was. So much for true love and happy endings.
Sam cast her past mistakes away. She was going to be late to the meeting if she didn't get a move on.
Waiting out in the corridor, Sam began wolfing down the Twinkie, almost forgetting the headache in the sugar-rush. Of course, that meant that when the elevator arrived, she had a mouthful of sponge and cream - not exactly the most elegant way to appear when stepping into a confined space full of people.
Colonel O'Neill arched a brow at her, dark eyes taking in her full mouth and the Twinkie wrapper in a single glance. Sam fought not to colour at his smile. "Did you happen to bring enough for the whole class, Carter?"
Someone chuckled and Sam swallowed the mouthful to reply. "At the time I started it, the 'whole class' consisted of me," she pointed out dryly. "So, technically, yes, I did bring enough for the whole class..."
His lazy smile raised her temperature by at least a few degrees, and she carefully kept her gaze fixed on the elevator doors, maintaining what composure she could.
Was it just her imagination, or was the crackle of Twinkie wrapper very loud?
"Got your stuff all ready for the departure Sunday?" He asked as she finished another mouthful of Twinkie.
"Not quite. We're still working out which items to take along..."
"You can always dial back and get other items if you want."
"We intend to minimise contact with the SGC, sir. That means no coming back."
"And if you run out of Twinkies?"
Her amused exasperation needed no voice to communicate itself to him. And he, damn him, just smirked.
As the doors opened, the personnel in the lift separated, heading for their designated areas. Military and exploratory personnel were in the Gateroom, technical in the control room, and the scientific groups would observe from monitors set up in the briefing room. Those who weren't able to fit into any of the designated areas were assigned to specific recreation rooms where the announcements would be transmitted via closed-circuit television.
Whatever announcement was being made, it was a big one.
As they slipped in beside the other members of SG-1, Sam weathered both Daniel's scrutiny and Teal'c's regard from his wheelchair. By comparison, Captain Peyton's swift smile was a pleasant relief, without the weight of her former team-mates' concern behind it. She took her place, the Colonel standing to her left.
Then the General was walking up to the ramp leading up to the Stargate. "Attention!" Colonel O'Neill barked. The military personnel snapped to attention. Those few civilians present in the Gateroom were marginally slower to bring their heels together, but they knew the drill by this stage and what was expected of them.
General Hammond faced the room. "At ease." He looked around the room, his eyes resting various officers here and there as he began his prepared speech. "I have three announcements today. The first is a well-deserved promotion for excellence in the execution of duty." His gaze came to rest on SG-1, and the blue eyes twinkled just a little. "Major Carter, please step forward."
Sam stared, blinking. There was a moment when she nearly stopped to ask what was going on. She'd as good as resigned from the Air Force, effective when her child was born in another few months, why would they award her with a promotion now and under such circumstances?
It took Daniel to shuffle sideways and murmur, "I think they're playing your song, Sam."
She glared at him as someone in the background muffled a chuckle. Two steps took her out of the line as Hammond smiled down at her.
"Major Samantha Carter, for your efforts towards the greater well-being of the SGC, and for taking initiative above and beyond that required of your rank, I have the privilege of promoting you to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, by the authority of the United States Air Force. While an official ceremony will follow at a suitable time, where you will be formally presented with your new insignia, the rank with all its privileges and rights is effective today." His eyes twinkled, a blue faded with age and experience. "Congratulations, Colonel Carter."
Applause began behind her, probably started by the Colonel, although she couldn't actually tell. Her brain had stuttered to a halt after the first realisation that she was being promoted.
Instinct caused her to stand to attention and salute the general, routine taking place of actual thought. She felt just a little dizzied by the realisation that she'd made it to command rank. The General saluted her back, smiling broadly.
As she stepped back into place between the Colonel and Daniel, she felt him lean gently towards her. His low-voiced, "Well done, Carter," and the accompanying smile was all the approval she needed as others turned to her and offered their congratulations.
General Hammond allowed a few more seconds of applause before he began speaking again. This time, his words were slower and sounded as if they were being more carefully chosen. "My second and third announcements are related to each other, so this next part may take a little longer.
"When I first took up this post in Cheyenne Mountain, the Stargate was an artefact, covered with dust and sheets, nothing more. Nobody imagined its potential, certainly not me. Yet, today, I stand before it, in front of the hundreds of men and women who have not only imagined but experienced and developed its potential through the years." General Hammond paused a moment, his gaze ranging over the personnel in the Gateroom, before lifting up to the control room and briefing room.
"A few of you have been with the project since day one; we've witnessed how much things have changed - and how much things have remained the same. As many of us as are here today, there are equally many who began work with this project yet are no longer with us. Their memory is honoured as we continue with the work they contributed to, however large or small their part. It has been my privilege to command such dedicated people through the years." He paused for a split second, "Yet, all things come to an end."
Sam felt the room ripple in faint astonishment as his words sank in, but the General never hesitated. "I am retiring from the United States Air Force, and therefore retiring as commander of this facility, effective from the beginning of next month."
Perhaps the announcement shouldn't have come as such a surprise; the General had both the age and experience to know that he wasn't going to last in the job forever. He'd already been retired once, although that time the action had been imposed on him; maybe Sam had just gotten used to the idea that things would go on just the way they had forever.
Some things didn't change. Some things did.
Her own pregnancy was testament to that.
Out of the periphery of her vision, she saw Daniel lean towards her. His mutter was expertly pitched so only she could hear, "So which asshole General are we going to get looking after us now?"
"Daniel..." She reprimanded him in an undertone. Asshole generals or not, whoever they sent in to replace General Hammond would be their commanding officer, and due the respect of his position. Even if he was an asshole.
On the other side of her, the Colonel shifted, frowning slightly.
General Hammond continued. "Stargate Command is certainly no easy facility to run. It has been frustrating, and sometimes downright scary - but in the midst of all that, it has remained a challenging task to keep up with you, and work towards not only Earth's interests, but the interests of my people. I have tried to do my best by you, and would not feel comfortable relinquishing this command to someone who did not have your best interests at heart. However, it is my great pleasure to say that the commander who will be taking over the facility is an officer who will hold your interests and the interests of Earth far above the politics that other applicants for the position might have indulged in.
"It is my even greater pleasure and privilege to announce his promotion to the rank of Brigadier General, commensurate with the role and responsibility as base commander of the SGC." A surge of something akin to premonition swept through the Gateroom, flooding personnel as Hammond looked down at SG-1. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, please step forward."
Amidst the pleased mutters of astonishment, and the swiftly-muffled cheers, she heard Daniel mutter, "Shit," and spared a moment to turn and grin at his abashed expression.
The Colonel, by contrast, had no compunction about catching Daniel's eye, and his brow arched high in affectionate malice. None of his team had any difficulty in reading his meaning. I'll get you later, Daniel.
If General Hammond had witnessed the exchange between Colonel O'Neill and Daniel, he paid no attention to it, instead stating. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, on behalf of the United States Air Force, and for your excellent command skills and the trustworthiness you show in commanding men and women of character and honour, you are promoted to the rank of Brigadier General." The General wasn't even trying to hide his grin. "As with Colonel Carter, your new insignia will be presented at a formal ceremony within the next few weeks, but the rights and privileges pertaining to the rank are immediately effective. Congratulations, General O'Neill."
The Gateroom - and probably the Control and Briefing Rooms - erupted into cheers and applause.
Amidst the noise of the ovation, Sam felt lightheaded again. Her headache, temporarily forgotten, reminded her of its presence with renewed vigour, and she only managed a congratulatory smile as the Colonel stepped back into line beside her.
"The hand-over ceremony will take place in two weeks time and will be attended by the President of the United States, as well as select members of the Joint Chiefs. You will be briefed as to the time and date." General Hammond looked out over the assembled people, "Dismissed."
"Do you think we could arrange for Kinsey's demise while he's here?" Daniel muttered, sotto voce.
Sam's mouth twitched in amusement, before people began crowding around her and the Colonel, smiling, laughing, congratulation them both and individually.
The next fifteen minutes was spent repeating stock phrases, and trying not to get dizzy with each subsequent question. "No, I never suspected. Yes, it's an honour. No, I don't know how General O'Neill will be running the base..." The people pressed in, their well-meaning concern crowding in on her, suffocating her, until she had to say, "Excuse me..."
She managed that much before the world around her went away.
----
"You should have said something," the Colonel - General - said as they walked out to his rental car.
Sam didn't answer him. The headache of this morning was still bashing its wings against the cage of her skull. She could almost understand why primitive societies had believed that headaches were evil spirits which needed to be released from the mind by boring a hole in the skull. Barbaric as the custom might have been, there was a certain logic to it.
"Carter?"
She met his concern evenly, "It was just a headache at the time, sir. I didn't think it was anything to worry anyone about."
"We worry," he said, in the mildest tones of voice. "We worried when you fainted clean away in the middle of the Gateroom."
"Well," she conceded, "I didn't know that would happen at the time."
"Hindsight is always perfect, eh?" His sardonic question, surely rhetorical, struck her hard. There were a lot of things she would have done differently in hindsight.
She didn't address that thought, though, it had already run through her mind far too many times in the last month. "I could have driven myself home..."
"Correct," he said. "But Daniel wanted some coffee beans, and I have to go collect stuff from my place anyway, and you know the deal right now. We don't go anywhere alone." Thanks to your ex-boyfriend.
Sam climbed into the Cherokee's passenger seat and glanced around the interior. Austere brown-grey plush furred gently under her fingertips as she gripped the edges of the seat and made herself comfortable. Her back had been aching a little lately - too much time spent hunched over her desk. Add that to the headache and she was one mighty uncomfortable newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel. "I'm sorry about your truck, sir."
His mouth twisted as he started the ignition, "Well," he said mildly. "I was thinking that I didn't really need a truck that big... And the Grand Cherokee is nice." He indicated the overhead display showing the temperature and orientation of the car.
Sam hid a smile. For all that the Colonel...General made fun of her distraction with technology, he was as gadget oriented as the next man. "You don't really need an SUV this big either, sir."
"Probably not," he said as he put it into gear and headed out of the parking lot. "But it drives very nicely. And his actions have nothing to do with your decision, Carter."
The change of topic took her by surprise. "Sir?"
He glanced at her, very seriously. "His actions are his own. The way he chose to respond to your decision is his problem, not yours."
No names mentioned, but no need of names, either. She knew who he was talking about, and she'd been avoiding the topic all week. "Sir... I don't want to talk about it."
"You'll have to think about it sometime," he said, more gently than she would have expected from him. "You get a couple of weeks grace, but after that..." He trailed off. "And if he crosses any lines and we can prove it, we're not going to go easy on him."
"I wouldn't expect you to, sir." Sam looked at him, silently acknowledging that this had to be hard on him, too. "He..." She swallowed hard. "He'd have to deal with the consequences of his actions sooner or later." Silently, Sam hoped that the time away from Earth would give her the perspective she needed to deal with everything that Pete entailed. Because she'd need to work things out with him somehow - for the sake of their child.
Their child.
His and hers.
She remembered the relationship with no little pleasure, but a small sting remained - the bitterness of the knowledge that she'd been so obsessed with being in a sexual relationship again that she'd never noticed the other failings and issues.
Sometimes life hands you lemons, and that's when you make lemonade.
Sometimes people came up with some really sucky clichés.
Sam directed her thoughts away from Pete. She'd spent enough time fretting about her mistakes over the last few days.
Besides, the stress was making the headache worse.
"What did you think of the Dixons?"
"She was lovely," she responded, thinking of Belinda Dixon's affectionate openness. The woman had invited three virtual strangers into her home and was completely at ease, even if they weren't. "Very friendly."
"The food was good."
"Better than your usual hotdogs?"
"Don't knock the hotdogs, Carter." A moment later, he added, "Although I haven't had real biscuits and gravy in...oh, years."
Sam smirked slightly, "You might have to wrangle an invitation a bit more often, sir."
"Oh, I'll just tag along when she cooks you dinner next time," he said, lightly.
The image that scampered through her head was frighteningly domestic; her and the Col...General standing on the front porch of Colonel Dixon's house, complete with baby carrier.
She winced. Colonel Dixon's family life had been something that Sam had long ago given up ever having: a touch of normality. And the occasional glances Sam had caught Dixon giving his wife...
There had never been a guy in Sam's life who'd looked at her in quite that way - someone who knew her inside and out through the experience of long years and the practise of hard commitment. And it made her envious of what Belinda Dixon had: not specifically David Dixon, but a man who knew her in all her faults and fits, and was still willing to help tidy up the dishes at the end of the meal, and spoon up behind her at the end of the night.
Glancing at the man driving the Jeep beside her, Sam sadly supposed that this was the closest she'd ever gotten to that kind of relationship. And that was forbidden and always had been. Even after she had the child and resigned from the military, it would still be impossible, with Pete hovering in the background, and her son or daughter a constant reminder that she'd given up on them first.
Something in her hoped he still cared about her like that. And something else laughed scornfully at the tattered desire.
Unconsciously, her hand slid over her belly, lightly feeling for the child within her. In the end, it didn't really matter whether he did care or not. Her control was too complete, and she'd never let him in that close. However much she wanted to.
"So, how do you feel?"
Surprised by the question, she could only stare at him. "What?"
"About the promotion?"
"Oh. Happy."
He glanced at her as they pulled up at a set of lights. "You don't sound so sure about that."
"I'm not," she admitted.
"Why not?"
"Why now?" She shifted, and saw him glance down at the hand on her belly. "I mean, in less than six months, I'll be out of the Air Force. Unlike everywhere else in the Air Force, most Colonels at the SGC are out in field assignments. I'll be one of the few exceptions." The inside of the SUV was silent.
After a moment, he spoke. "You got the promotion because you deserved it," he said at last. "That's all there is to it."
There didn't seem to be all that much to say except, "Thank you." She paused. "How do you feel about your promotion?"
It wasn't their usual kind of conversation, she supposed, but then, it wasn't their usual kind of day.
"Ambivalent." He glanced at her with a half smile, "Never figured they'd bump me up to General."
"You deserved it, sir."
"Actually, I don't know that I do, Carter," he admitted. "I have this feeling they only bumped me up to take the command. Hammond's recommendation."
"Did they have someone else lined up to take command of the SGC?"
"They had a couple of alternatives. Not bad people. Just not good ones either." And in his voice, Sam heard his reluctance to take on the role.
"You didn't want to take command?"
"Only an idiot wants a command like the SGC, Carter," he said, shortly. "I took it because the alternatives were worse." He didn't elaborate further; he didn't need to. They'd both seen commanders who would look at the SGC's purpose and think of nothing else; commanders who would see the potential for advancing their own political careers, while ignoring the very people who made up their command. The SGC was too enticing a plum for too many parties, and that General Hammond had managed to keep the SGC above water for so long spoke well of both his dedication to his people and his political ability.
"And no more SG-1."0
His mouth twisted as he paused at a four-way stop sign, "No."
They were silent for the remainder of the trip to his place.
Well, mostly. Sam's stomach grumbled as they drove into his street.
"I don't think I have anything left in my fridge that I'd trust enough to let you eat," he commented as they parked in his driveway. He looked at her for approval to move into her personal space, then flipped the glovebox open and took out a Beretta.
"Should I have brought my sidearm, sir?" She wasn't entirely alarmed at the presence of the weapon, given the state of Daniel's house, it was a reasonable paranoia.
He glanced at her. "Just in case, Carter."
There was no trouble going into the house, and the contents were intact. He shut the door behind her, and flipped the latch. Then he laid the Beretta on the table, holding her gaze as he did so. "If you want anything to eat, take it. Just remember that some of the stuff in the fridge may not be the freshest."
Sam nodded and began hunting through the pantry and fridge. Some crackers, a carton of milk that wasn't past its use-by date. A glance around the room showed there were apples on the coffee table in the centre of the living room...
Crackers, milk, and apples. Sam craned her neck, trying to determine if they were Jonathons, or Red Delicious. She wondered if she'd wandered back into kindergarten somehow.
Her stomach reminded her that, kindergarten or not, food was food, and right now, it could do with some. She poured herself a glass of milk, and took the box of crackers down to the living room.
She was just bending down to take an apple, when the baby kicked. Hard.
Sam gasped. The surprise and the headache contrived to unbalance her, and her hand missed the apples and crashed into the basket edge. Stainless steel pressed cold against her flesh, carpet dug into her knees, and her other hand went straight to her waist as apples cascaded to the floor, bruising their tender flesh, momentarily forgotten.
"Carter?" He was down the hall and kneeling in front of her before she could wave him away. "Carter, what is it?"
He had not meant to come so close, she realised later. But that realisation was distant from the scent and warmth of him, which itself was distant from the movement beneath her hand.
Her child. Hers. She'd felt the foetus shift before, turning restlessly as she tossed in her bed, but she never remembered it moving quite so definitely. There, a leg, and there, an arm; her son or daughter lashing out at the world around. A life was growing in her, filling her, changing her - and she'd never felt anything like it.
A glance up at the Colonel showed him staring at her. In the depths of his gaze, she saw a glimmer of understanding of what had caused her to pause; and the envious hunger of what she had. The urge to share the experience - the urge to share the experience with him - was sudden and impulsive.
Sam Carter never did sudden and impulsive.
One hand snagged his, and she pulled it to her waist, yanking up her t-shirt so he could more closely feel the movement of the child in her womb. "It's moving," she said, knowing that she must look like an idiot at that moment, but unable to cease her delight. She watched as his eyes searched her face, then dipped down to where her hand pressed his fingers against the swell of her belly, and felt the child move, twisting and turning to find a comfortable position.
Without thinking, she reached for his other hand, and laid that beside the first. His palm was hot against her abdomen, like a brand against her skin. The moment was both pure with the joy of motherhood, and sensuous with the awareness of his fingers against her.
Sam looked up at him, again, grinning fatuously.
And stopped.
He wasn't looking where his hands were pressed, although she still could feel the baby moving. Instead, he was staring at her, his face scant inches from her own. Dark eyes looked down at her with heated tenderness, and her mouth went dry at the naked longing in his gaze.
"Sir?" She managed through dry lips.
His tongue flickered out and licked his own lips, "Carter."
Questions shattered her joy, unwelcome intruders into the moment. Was she the object of desire, or was it the memory of his own son's birth that brought the passion into his expression? Did he see her or was he looking at a woman who resembled his ex-wife, Sara Mulholland, and seeing the woman who had borne his son?
Sam wasn't sure she cared to know.
But the tenderness in his eyes was more than even she could resist with his hands on her body and his face so close to hers.
In a deserted ship's corridor, in the labyrinthine tunnels of her mind, she'd fantasised kissing him. But she'd never actually felt his lips on hers, wanting her, however physical the desire might be. That simply, Sam had to know.
Before she could think about it, her body acted, pressing against him in an intimacy she had no reason to believe he would welcome. An intimacy that her rational mind screamed he would reject. Yet he responded.
Against her lips, his mouth was warm and hungry, and his hands slid over the skin of her waist as hers lifted to his cheek and his throat. Gently, he drew her in to him, their knees nudging aside the apples that had fallen to the floor and were now rolling around their legs, releasing a fruity aroma into the air.
There were reasons why they shouldn't. Reasons why they didn't.
But Sam reasoned that if he didn't want this, he could always push her away. He didn't. Instead, his hands lingered hot over her skin, as though he were blind and his fingers were his sight.
There were unanswered questions between them. Pete. Melissa. The baby she carried. The promotions they'd received. They were things that should have mattered.
Somehow, the only thing that mattered to Sam was the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the taste of his mouth in hers, the ache between her thighs. And something in her was hungry for what he silently offered; a scarred man, but one who knew her, was well aware of her faults, and yet...
His hands still moved over the curve of her belly, spanning the breadth of her hip as though he could take her measure. And his mouth traced over her skin, silencing any protests she might have made - but gently, eliciting a response from her as her fingers crept up under the edge of his own t-shirt seeking the furnace of warmth in his flesh.
If he had second thoughts, he never spoke of them to her, but drew her down with him as if in a haze, and she went with him as if in a daze.
Then there was nothing but flesh and skin and hunger and heat.
And all around them, the scent of apples.