I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

Pablo Neruda

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The early morning sun shone timidly through the window, casting the long shadows of the coffee table and the half finished bottle of whiskey that rested upon it. During the first few moments of the new day, the shimmering light came to rest on his face, waking him easily with a slight shudder, his experienced body making light work of the cheap whiskey he drank not hours ago. His eyes fell heavily on his nighttime companion that sat before his, though the twists of the glass that made it, he could see a distorted vision of time; the clock on his VCR reading 07.00. Staring into middle-distance he tried desperately not to think of why he had reached for his trusty bottle last night, before he stood from his four hour resting place on his couch.

He stretched with satisfaction, working the kinks from his back, before making his way stiffly towards his bedroom, where his bed laid untouched.

He glanced towards the clean sheets pulled taught over the firm mattress; exactly how he'd left it 4 days ago.

In the last four days it had remained deserted, no one seeking refuge within its depths.

On the first night, Jack spend the night hours within the confines of the base, remaining sleepless past 36 hours just waiting for the return of his team, and when he did finally come home it was his couch that provided the refuge for his tired limbs. Harbouring him for those few precious hours before daylight returned.

Though his body began whining and creaking in places he never knew existed, the stiffness almost demanding a few more hours of blissful black slumber, he took to his shower, praying the hot water would silence his muscles and awaken his mind.

As the steaming water made soothing work of his muscles, and the dim light that shone through the curtain allowed his eyes rest, he found that his mind was still half asleep and so with little effort he's dreams filled his mind once more.

There where several things he knew about the situation and many that he didn't.

He loved Samantha Carter.

That much was clear, but looking back over the years since she had come into his life he couldn't figure out when it happened.

There was no one incident that flicked the switch in his head that made him know that she was the only one. But no one was more surprised than him when on separate sides of a force field some 5 years ago, the feeling which his subconscious had been harbouring for sometime, hit him with such force than the only thing that stopped him from passing out was the fact that he could lose her at any moment.

It shocked him that even though his heart was some black place covered in deep scars that were reminders of the past, she had somehow managed to find a way in, find a way to make his blood run faster and hotter whenever she was near.

However such things as how and when are best left as great mysteries that make the alluring nature of the woman he loved.

I love Samantha Carter.

It was just four words, four words.

The fact that he loved her was one of the simplest things in his life. A never wavering constant that was buried deep within his heart. It was elementary; it was only the situation that was complicated. Complicated enough to make he's dreams unobtainable.

He loved Samantha Carter.

And he could tell no one.

It was one of those overwhelming and not so funny ironies of life; the fact that the very thing that you want to shout from the roof tops is the only thing that your not allowed to say.

Not being recognised as part of the 9 time saviours of the world paled in comparison to not being recognised for loving such an amazing woman.

It was the greatest secret of Jack O'Neill within the greatest secret of the world.

He loved Samantha Carter.

He wasn't sure how or when it cam to him. He could never act on it. He could never tell of it.

But he could never imagine himself living without it.

With that thought he shut the comforting stream of water off and stepped from the shower.

As he put on his uniform, the military persona returned, and with it the constant of his heart was hidden beneath the two silver plates that read;

Brig. Gen. J. O'Neill