Too Strong Part 2 of 11

Disclaimer: See Original Post

"You seem very distracted tonight."

Jack looked up from the plate of take-out Chinese in front of him, his fork twisted in the soft chow mein noodles, to focus on Kerry sitting beside him.

"Sorry. Long day."

"Wanna talk about it? Or is it stuff that requires higher clearance than I have?"

He shook his head. "Been up since 0300 hours."

She smiled, and sipped her Merlot. "Do you ever forget you're military?"

Jack let his arm relax, the side of his fork clicking on the edge of the plate. He stared at the redheaded woman who had so recently infiltrated his life, so quickly that some days he swore he couldn't remember how or when it happened. One day he was swapping omelet recipes with Carter, and the next he was sharing his bed – one that had been empty for more years than he liked to think about – with a woman nearly half his age.

What the hell are you doing, O'Neill?

"No," was his simple answer.

Kerry daintily cut up her sweet and sour chicken, lifting a piece to her mouth with the fork held upside down. Jack had a passing memory of sharing a similar meal with the Gang in the past. Chinese food was never eaten at the table or dished out on stoneware plates. It was eaten in the living room while watching the game – whatever 'game' was applicable to 'the season'. Usually, Jack claimed his favorite corner of the couch and Sam – more often than not – sat on the floor near his feet and used the couch as her backrest. In stocking feet, her legs crossed Indian style, she'd eat her Eggs Foo Yong from the carton and occasionally twist around to steal a bite of his Chow Mein. Daniel sampled a little bit from every container, usually opting for a paper plate from the pantry closet and T' stuck to the Pork Fried Rice. With lots of Soy Sauce. Lots and lots of Soy Sauce.

"I heard some SG teams came in under fire this morning."

Jack blinked, forcing himself once again to focus on the conversation – and company – at hand. "Yeah."

"You lost one."

"Yeah."

"Is that what has you so quiet?"

Jack abandoned the food, setting his fork down and pushing the food away. "Sorry. Long day."

Kerry swirled the wine in her glass, staring at him over the rim. Then she sighed and set the stemware down. "Yeah, you mentioned that."

"You're distracted tonight."

Sam looked away from the television screen and the movie she hadn't really been watching, and focused on Pete. "What?"

He chuckled and smiled. "That's pretty much been the answer to every question I've asked you tonight. What's on your mind, Sam?"

She shook her head and slipped her thumbnail between her lower front teeth, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch. "Sorry. Long day."

"How are you feeling? I mean, I know you can't tell me how you got the crap knocked out of you . . . but . . . you are okay, aren't you?"

Sam nodded and shifted, immediately regretting it as pain shot down her leg. "I'll be fine in a day or two. I'm a fast healer."

"Can I get you anything?"

The phone ran beside him as he asked, and Sam nodded towards it. "You could get me the phone."

"Cute," he said, picking it up. "Hello." He paused, and Sam saw a familiar shadow pass over Pete's features. Without asking, she knew who it was. Pete handed the phone to her.

"Hello . . ."

"Hey, Carter."

"Hello, Sir. Is something wrong?"

"No." Jack's voice came emphatically over the line. "I just called to see how you were feeling. You doing okay?"

"Just sore, Sir. Nothing I can't handle."

"You need a day or two? To rest up."

"No." This time Sam realized it was her turn to sound overly emphatic. She cleared her throat and glanced at Pete, who was doing his best to appear like he wasn't listening to the conversation. "No, that won't be necessary, Sir."

"Sure?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good enough. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sir?" she said quickly before he had a chance to hang up.

"Yeah . . ."

"No word yet?"

There was a pause before he spoke, and that was all the answer Sam needed. "No. Not yet. The moment I know anything about Daniel, you're my first call. No matter the hour."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Night, Carter."

Sam turned off the phone and set it on the couch cushion beside her. The same burning pain she had felt in the infirmary worked its way up the back of her skull, coursing through her veins and capillaries until it capped her head and made her eyes burn. She pressed her lids shut and ground her teeth against it.

Do what needs to be done . . . do it before it's too late . . . DO IT!

"Sam?"

"What?"

Pete shook his head. "Nothing . . ." and stood up to head for the kitchen.