Too Strong Part 11 of 11 – Conclusion
Disclaimer: See Original Post
Five weeks later
Jack's Pond – Minnesota
2130 hours
Jack woke with a start, half way off the couch before his eyes were even open. He threw off the light blanket he had been using as a cover, and scanned the dark common room of the cabin.
The fire had dwindled in the fieldstone hearth, only small flames licking at the hickory and the embers glowed red. But the night wasn't that cold to need a roaring fire. Daniel lay on the braided rug closest to the stones, his sleeping back tucked under his chin, snoring loudly. Teal'c was lying prone near the far wall, his hands folded over his chest and his eyes closed.
Jack yawned and scratched his scalp. He could have sworn he heard something, but figured it was too many years of going off world deeply engrained into his head. This time of night usually was his watch. He stood up and tossed the blanket back on the couch, walking barefoot to the kitchen in his tee shirt and boxer shorts.
Then he stopped, listening again. This time he knew he had heard something. Jack turned towards the closed door that led to the only bedroom in the cabin, and padded carefully across the wooden plank floor. He leaned towards the door, listening.
"Sam?" he whispered as loudly as he dared.
He heard her hitch her breath and sniffle, then clear her throat. "Yeah?"
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
Not quite believing her, he carefully turned the knob and cracked the door open. Sam was sitting at the head of the bed with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Moonlight streamed in through the open curtains to highlight her face and let him see the wet streaks on her cheeks.
"What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
Jack huffed and closed the bedroom door, walking to his bed. She followed him with her eyes, her chin hitching up as he drew closer. He sat down at her feet, putting his hand on her bare knees.
"Sam "
"I had a nightmare," she finally admitted.
He didn't have to ask about what. He knew. In the last five weeks, he knew exactly what nights she had suffered with them even when she didn't tell him. He saw it in the shadows beneath her eyes and the way she looked at him across the room.
At least tonight he could do something about it.
He stood and threw back the blankets. "Scoot over."
She didn't even look surprised as she shifted down into the bed and onto the other side. Jack crawled beneath the covers and pulled the sheets and quilt over both of them. He turned towards her, stretching out on his side, and fluffed the pillow beneath his head.
"C'mere."
Sam came back into his waiting arms, her back against his chest and her head on his upper arm like a pillow. Jack wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer, nuzzling his face against her shoulder.
"Go to sleep. I'll keep the dreams away."
Sam turned her head and looked up at him, a bright smile on her lips. She reached up her hand and laid her palm against his cheek, urging him to move closer. He willingly complied and pressed his lips against hers, every nerve and muscle immediately responding to the touch of Sam Carter's mouth beneath his.
Her lips parted, and he allowed himself one sweet moment of temptation as his tongue slid along hers and her soft moan reverberated through him.
Then they broke apart, both knowing that was where it stopped.
For now . . . damn it!
Jack curled his arm up to brush the hair away from her forehead with this thumb. She still watched him, her blue eyes dark in the moonlight.
"What?"
Sam smiled. "Nothing. Sometimes I just can't believe you're here . . . that we're finally . . . "
"That we both wised up?"
She smiled wider. "Yeah, something like that."
He kissed her temple. "Go to sleep."
Sam shifted and settled against him, and Jack drew the blankets up around her shoulders to keep her warm. Then he found her waist again beneath the blankets and closed his eyes.
Finally . . . a decent night's sleep!
Fourteen Months Later
0212 hours
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
"Welcome back to the Mountain, Jack. It's good to see you."
Jack accepted the firm handshake of his long time friend and now commander of the SGC, General Hank Landry. "Thanks, Hank. Good to be here. Everyone treating you okay?"
"Oh, sure. I think they miss you, Jack . . . not that anyone will admit to it."
Jack smiled and followed Hank through the halls of the SGC, and a melancholy feeling of being home washed over him. Had it really been a year since he'd left Colorado full time? Oh, sure . . . he still knew everything that went on here. He had to as Head of the Department of Homeworld Security and overseeing all things Stargate related. But it wasn't like being here.
Just like being General of the SGC had been different than being the commander of SG-1.
But, you live . . . you learn . . . you move on to bigger and better things.
"How are things in DC?"
"Beaurocratic, Hank."
Hank laughed. "Don't I know it. I did my stint at the Pentagon, but you know that. I like it here."
"Yeah, I always did, too. Better out there, but if not there, then here."
"The misses come with you?"
Jack shook his head, an uncontrollable grin tugging at his lips. That would just never get old. "No. She doesn't know I'm here. Or why. So, I'd appreciate it if we kept this between us."
"No problem, Jack. As far as I'm concerned, you're not even here."
They reached the section of the SGC that had been Jack's goal since he stepped through the first check point. The holding cells. He drew a slow, calming breath.
"He was a mess when we found him. Course, he was abandoned by his Jaffa over a year ago, those that were left after Ba'al kicked his ass. With no followers and no grunts, he's been wasting away on some god-forsaken planet planning his revenge."
"His last attempt failed," Jack said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, I heard."
"So, he serves no purpose."
"Not really. He's a wasted, dried up, useless god with no followers."
Hank stopped in front of one of the security cells, and put a blank passkey in Jack's hand. "Give me ten minutes, then you can go in."
Jack nodded. As Hank moved to walk away, Jack grabbed his arm. "Hank . . . "
His friend patted his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Jack. I know what he did. You do what you have to do."
Hank left him alone in the hall. Jack waited eleven-point-five seconds before he slid the passkey through the lock and opened the door. The lights were on inside the cell, usually to make sure the prisoners could be more easily watched at all times.
Tonight that didn't matter . . .
Jack glanced up to the video camera in the corner of the cell. The red indicator light that usually showed the camera was recording was out. Thank you, Hank.
The man on the bed rolled over, his haggard and drawn face accentuated by the unforgiving fluorescent lights overhead. When he saw Jack, he sat up, his legs coming off the side of the cot to rest on the floor. In that moment, Jack saw the flash of recognition – and acquiescence – in the former System Lord's eyes.
Time to Pay the Piper . . .
"Hello, Camulus."
