Jack was staring out over the balcony to the hills beyond. He heard the door slide open and closed; he didn't need to look to know who it was. "Enjoying your party?"

She was angry and drunk, and not willing to leave things unacknowledged any more. "Tell me right now," she demanded.

"Tell you what?" He still didn't look at her.

"How you do that. How you always know it's me. Tell me."

The aggression in her tone stirred him. This was the way between them, challenge and response. This was the outlet they used to channel their strongest frustrations. He couldn't help but respond. He turned towards her, leaning back on the balcony railing, and grabbed one of the bottles she held. "You don't want to know."

"I asked. What? Do I smell or something? Am I a noisy breather? I think it behooves you to tell me, before I end up giving our position away to the enemy."

"There are no enemies here, Carter, unless you count the person that makes up the prices on the mini-bar items."

"Don't try to distract me. I want an answer."

"No, you don't."

"Don't presume to tell me what I want. Just answer the damn question, Sir."

The sarcastic inflection of the honorific grated. He swigged the Guinness and made a decision. Now was a good time for a fight. He turned and looked her in the eye. "If you want a detailed explanation, you'll have to read my medical records. Janet made extensive notes."

"What?" Sam was completely taken aback.

"It's your own fault. You chose me. Something to do with imprinting on the primal brain and the way animals sense their mates, the animals that mate for life... I don't know, but it's permanent. It's been this way ever since you went all prehistoric on me. I'm... aware when it comes to you."

"You..." Sam was stunned. "Why wouldn't I..."

"I wasn't quite as far gone as you at the time. Janet said you would have taken my self-control as rejection. In my mind, though..."

"What?"

"I think Daniel can tell you how possessive I was of you. After they sedated me, I don't remember much, but Teal'c tells me I wouldn't stop trying to break out of the iso room. Janet thought I was trying to get to you. When you were injured and they wheeled you past the door, they say I went nuts. It just... didn't go away."

"This is in your records?" she asked in disbelief.

"It was freaking me out. I talked to the doc to be sure I wasn't going crazy."

"Yet, you didn't tell me?" Sam practically shrieked.

"Oh, yes. 'Carter, you kissed me and now I'm bound to you for life.' That wouldn't have made our working relationship at all awkward, now would it?"

"You don't think I had a right to know?"

"For cryin' out loud! What would that have accomplished?"

She turned on him with fire in her gaze and venom in her voice. "That's been it all along, hasn't it? I'm an idiot. I've been ripping myself apart wondering if I'm making the right decision, and it's about nothing more than primal urges to you."

He moved dangerously close and spoke in a low, casual tone that sent shivers down her spine. "If that was true, I'd have done something about it a long time ago. I have a medical excuse, after all."

Sam knew anger and inebriation were making her irrational, but she was past the point of caring. One way or another, their status quo was going to change. "So you just don't find me attractive, is that it?"

"Carter," he said warily.

"No. You have this primal mate-for-life thing going on, but you never tell me, never make a move - hell, you never even came inside to get your kiss tonight. What am I supposed to think?"

Jack grabbed her bare shoulders and pulled her close, his mouth hovering near her ear, his voice strained. "I wasn't inside because I couldn't stand to watch all those people touching you. I would have killed someone."

Sam pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. "You know, I'd like to believe that means something. But how could I ever know it wasn't just a side effect of this... whatever it is? How can I ever trust you?"

Jack slammed down his empty bottle on the patio table and snatched the other from her hands. "Trust me? You weren't listening. I'm the one who is stuck feeling this way for life. I'm not the fickle one."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam snarled.

With an alligator's smile and a deceptively light tone, he began his recitation, counting on his fingers and dangling the bottle precariously. "Well, let's see. There was Martouf, Narim, Orlin..."

"Screw you."

"And of course, there's Pete."

"And there's Kerry," she spat back.

"No. There isn't. Kerry was a reaction. It was over before it started."

That news took a bit of the wind out of her sails. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I should have known better," he said bitterly.

Sam wasn't ready to let go of her anger; it was the only shield she had against the pain. "So, why tell me now? Do you expect this to change things? Am I supposed to leave Pete at the altar because you're 'stuck with these feelings?'"

"I told you because you insisted," he said coldly. "I don't expect anything from you. I never have."

"Bullshit. You don't call a person 'fickle' unless you expect fidelity from them, and I'd like to know what gives you the right..."

"I called you fickle because you can't seem to decide how you feel about anyone. Martouf, Narim – you gave them the same mixed signals you gave me. How can anyone give you what you want when you don't know what it is?"

"Well, Pete doesn't have that problem," she said icily.

"What was that you said earlier about wondering if you're making the right decision?" he asked with mock innocence. "Pete doesn't know he has that problem. I feel sorry for him."

"Well, that'll be a nice change from feeling sorry for yourself. You can sit out here alone and pout some more on his behalf. And while you're at it, you can think about the fact that if you'd had the nerve to do anything to work out our situation, we wouldn't be in this mess," Sam said caustically.

"You were the one who wanted to leave it in the room," he accused.

"What choice did I have?"

"We could have at least discussed it."

"As we could have one thousand times since. It wouldn't have changed anything. You're still my CO."

Jack's frustration boiled over. "I told you," he yelled, "I was willing to resign!"

Sam found herself surprised again. "What? When did you tell me that?"

Jack raked his hands through his hair in exasperation. "You showed me your ring and asked what if things were different. I told you I wouldn't be at the SGC."

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "Is that what you meant?"

"What did you think I meant?"

"Not that!"

"Any news, Teal'c?" Daniel asked, peeking around the large man to get a glimpse of the balcony.

"No, Daniel Jackson. They continue to argue with one another."

"Can you hear what they are saying?" Daniel asked curiously.

"Indeed. I have heard much."

"And?" he prompted.

"And I will not repeat it. That would defeat the purpose of my assignment to guard the door."

"I think Cassie just meant for you to prevent them from being interrupted."

"Cassandra Frasier said I was to ensure their privacy."

"Poor choice of words," Daniel huffed, and headed back into the crowd.

A sullen silence prevailed between Jack and Sam, each brooding on their own feelings of being treated unjustly. Jack paced the confined space while Sam looked out over the night. Suddenly, he stopped. "Would it have made a difference?"

Sam turned and looked at him thoughtfully, leaning back against the railing. "Can we just declare a moratorium on vague hints and evasion for a few minutes? Just pretend we're normal people having a straightforward discussion?"

"Brilliant idea, Carter. Let's go for it."

They stared at one another in silence. After minutes ticked by, Carter sighed out, "This is hopeless."

"No. No, it's not. We can do this." He took her hand and led her to the table and chairs. He pulled his chair closer to hers and they sat down. "If you understood at the time that I was willing to resign to be with you, would it have made a difference? Would you have still said yes to Pete?"

"I don't think I would have asked if I didn't, at least subconsciously, want you to change my mind. I've just... never really been sure what you feel for me."

"I thought I did a pretty poor job at hiding it."

"Better than you thought, apparently."

Jack took her hand again, fidgeting with her fingers distractedly. "I love you. I did even before... this effect you've had on me."

"We'd only known each other for a month or two."

He smiled at her briefly, then turned away again. "I think I knew the first day I met you. And anyway, it didn't really affect my feelings so much as my senses."

"And what is that like?"

"Weird at first, but I don't even notice it anymore. After all these years, it just seems normal."

Sam looked at him expectantly, but Jack was struggling for the words. "I know when you're nearby - I don't know how, I just do. I'm aware of everything about you - your breathing, your body language, the tone of your voice. And touching you or even just being close enough to smell you has a very... comforting effect on me. I can think more clearly, I can relax. I get a little crazy if I'm away from you too long."

"And that's in your medical records?"

"Just the part about being able to sense your proximity. Doc Frasier thought I was joking at first, but she put me to the test. We'd wait in the commissary or the briefing room, I'd sit with my back to the door and signal her when I knew you were there."

"I wish you'd told me."

"But you understand why I didn't?"

Sam sighed. "Yes and no."

"But you'll forgive me?"

"I've never been able to hold anything against you," she said, as though the fact was a source of some irritation.

"So." Jack rubbed his hands together anxiously. "Now we're clear on where I stand."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I need to think."

"You need to think to know how you feel?"

"It's complicated."

"The situation is complicated, Sam. All I want to know is how you feel about me. It's simple."

"I need to think," she insisted, pulling her hand from his grasp.

"Okay," he agreed. "Whatever you need."

"I'd better go back in."

He nodded. "I'll just stay out here."

Sam stopped with her hand on the door handle. "Jack?" she said experimentally. It felt good. She turned back to him. "I forgot the reason I came out here."

He stood, waiting. Sam closed the distance between them, lacing her arms around his neck, and kissed him lightly on the lips. His arms slipped possessively around her waist, preventing her escape. Her eyes locked on his, studying him with a mixture of apprehension and pleasure.

"The moratorium is still in effect," he reminded her. "Tell the truth: was that the kind of kiss you really want?"

"No."

Jack claimed her mouth without hesitation, kissing her hungrily. She returned the kiss with full fervor, hands twisting through his hair, dragging him closer. His touch electrified her bare back, sending shivers from her spine straight to her brain. As they broke for air, Sam went weak against him, letting her headrest on his shoulder and his arms support her. Jack held her close.

"Listen," he whispered against her neck. "You go ahead and think things over. Whatever you decide, I'll stand behind you. The most important thing to me is that you be happy."

Sam breathed deeply and waited for her heart to stop skipping. In that moment, she knew exactly how she felt. Now, she just had to earn the right to tell him.

Jack pushed her gently away. He pressed a small object into her palm and closed her fingers around it. Guiding her by the shoulders he turned her towards the door. Purely out of the habit of following his direction, she moved to return to the party.