Chapter Eight

By the time Sam pulled up outside Jack's house, she was extremely nervous. She still had no idea what she was going to say.

Checking her watch she saw it was 22:30. Two hours since he'd left the briefing room.

She forced herself to get out of her car and walked towards the house.

Jack's truck was parked erratically outside his house. As if he'd just pulled into the driveway and stopped.

The lights were on in the house. Sam walked to the front door, pausing only slightly before she knocked loudly.

When no answer was forthcoming, she knocked again, harder.

Again, no answer.

Now that she had steeled herself to this, Sam was going to force herself to go through with it. She opened the door and walked into Jack's house.

Sam entered the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, located one of his ever-present beers, and took one. She leant back against the counter top, opened the beer and took a sip.

Jack finished his shower, grabbed a towel and exited the bathroom, using the towel to dry his shoulders.

As he wandered towards the kitchen for a beer his hair began to drip cold water down his neck. Jack switched to drying his hair.

Consequently, when he entered the kitchen the towel was covering his face and he didn't see Sam nearly choke on her beer.

Not looking where he was going, Jack walked to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed a beer. Then he turned around. Then he moved the towel from his face.

"Fucking hell! Carter!" He yelled, hastily relocating the towel to cover an area in distinct need of cover. "What the hell are you doing in my kitchen!"

Sam's mind was still too full of what she'd just seen to formulate an answer beyond, "I uh… I came to… see you."

"Well you did that all right!" Jack's anger from earlier that day was only compounded by his freaking out now. "Ever hear of knocking?"

"I did." Sam managed. 'Don't stare. Don't stare. Don't stare. Don't-'

"Carter, are you staring at me?" Jack asked, glaring.

Sam ignored him and said, "No one answered."

"Did it occur to you that there might be a reason for that?" Jack asked, deeply sarcastic.

"I… uh… I'm sorry. I just wanted to talk to you." Sam stuttered.

"Well you know how good I am at that," Jack said, adding, "Can I at least get dressed first, or is there something you didn't see?"

Her still mind full of images of a naked, fresh-from-the-shower Jack O'Neill, Sam could only nod.

Jack turned to exit the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," he sneered.

Sam walked into the den, taking a seat on the couch. Most of her brain was desperately seeking what she wanted to say to him. The other part was still in shock, 'He was naked! I saw him naked. OhMyGOD! '

Sam clamped down on the rogue brain cells, before they could drive her to distraction.

It was obvious that Jack was still very, very angry. She wondered if he'd listen to her or just yell and throw her out.

The last time she'd felt this uncomfortable was when she'd come here to talk to him, just after he stuck his head in the repository of the Ancients.

'Oh, god. It's almost a year later, and I still don't know what to say.' She thought shaking her head.

"What?" Jack asked, making her jump. She hadn't heard him return.

"Oh! Nothing." She said, still stammering for all she was worth.

Jack had dressed. 'Thank God!' She thought. Then replaced that thought with an internal groan. He looked too good. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. He had a beer in his hand. He didn't offer her another one.

Taking a seat opposite her, he said, "What d'you want, Carter?"

"Firstly, I wanted to thank you," she began.

"For what?"

"For coming to get Daniel and me, for what you did for me in the cell,"

"That's what friends are for." He said. The tone of his voice making it clear he was repeating what he'd heard in her memories.

'So he was listening', she thought. "Well… thank you." She finished lamely.

"Anything else, Colonel?"

"I wanted to apologise." She said.

"What for?" He asked.

"You want a list?" She asked. He didn't smile. His eyes remained black and angry.

She wondered if it was something he'd learned in Special Ops, or if he'd always been this inscrutable. Then she realised she knew. She'd seen it in his memories from when he was a child. He'd always been this way.

"I wanted to apologise for… for what Pete did." She said, afraid to meet his eyes.

"Why? You didn't do it."

"He did that to you because of me. I should have seen it coming. I should have…"

"Stop." Jack ordered. "What?"

"Just before Pete came to your room, I… I broke up with him and he thought you were the reason. So, I wanted to say I was –"

"Why would he think that?" Jack asked.

Sam's mind was racing now. "What?"

"Why would he think that?" Jack repeated. His tone hadn't changed since she arrived. He was still mad as hell.

Sam paused before answering. "Because," she finally said, mentally kicking herself. 'Oh yeah, Sam. Really using that famous brain now. '

"Because..?" Jack repeated.

'Damn you for making this difficult', Sam thought before saying, "Because I care about you," in a small voice.

"You care about me?" Jack sneered.

"A lot more than I'm supposed to," Sam said, meeting his eyes briefly.

Then her courage completely failed her. Her brain started screaming 'Retreat! Retreat!'

Quickly, she dragged his dogtags out of her pocket, throwing them on the table.

Then she bolted for the door.

Her hand was on the handle when Jack's hand slammed into the door, holding it shut.

"Escaping, Carter?" He asked.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck; feel his presence just behind her. Unable to concentrate, she just nodded.

"What, you're just gonna say all that and run away?"

She nodded again.

"Why?"

This confused her. "Why what?"

"Why say all that now?" He asked.

"Because I needed you to know."

"Well, that's selfish of you." He said.

Sam was suddenly outraged. She spun beneath his arm, turning to face him. "Selfish?"

"Yep." He said, glaring down at her.

"Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me?" She asked, him, anger flaming her cheeks.

"Nope." He said.

Sam abruptly realised how close he was.

"Don't care either." He added.

"Fuck you, sir!" She said, before she could stop herself.

He grinned at that. A fully fledged O'Neill shit-eating grin. "Samantha, I've got you pressed up against a door, you're gonna call me sir?" He sounded genuinely amused.

His amusement made her even angrier. "I could call you something else, you arrogant, self-centred -"

His eyes narrowed. Before she could stop him, he was kissing her. Then she didn't want to stop him.

Then, all too suddenly, he backed away.

"Wha - ?" Sam asked, her lips were throbbing from the kiss.

"I'm sorry, Carter. Shouldn't have done that." Jack was breathing heavily.

She reached for him, but he twisted away from her.

"Don't do this." She pleaded, her voice quiet.

"Carter I just had to basically relive my entire life. Forgive me if I'm not too rational right now."

"Come here." She said.

"You might wanna think about this-" Jack began.

She cut him off. "I'm tired of thinking about this!" He looked shocked at her outburst. "I'm sick of thinking about this, of needing this! I want to do this!" She grabbed him and yanked him towards her, kissing him fiercely.

As her mouth moved to his neck, Jack said, "This is wrong."

"I know."

"You think we should stop?" He asked, sliding his hands under her top.

She had his t-shirt over his head in what had to be record time. "No." She said, kissing him again. When her hands strayed towards his fly Jack felt he should step in.

"Uh… Carter? Bedroom, Carter?"

She giggled. "You've got me pressed up against a door, and you're gonna call me Carter?"

Jack growled, grabbed her and roughly shoved her in the direction of his bedroom.

Half-way there the same idea struck both of them simultaneously. Jack pushed Sam against the wall once more, yanking her shirt over her head. Sam's hands flew to his fly.

They didn't make it to the bedroom.

When they finally came back to themselves, Jack was supporting Sam, holding her against the wall. Her legs were wrapped around his waist.

Jack began to laugh.

"What?" Sam asked, staring at him as if he'd finally lost it.

"Eight years," he finally managed, helping her stand, "and we end up against a wall in my house." He continued laughing, leading her to his bedroom.

This time they took their time.

Sam awoke with a start, immediately realising she was alone. 'Alone in Jack O'Neill's bed. Hmm…'

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand she saw it was three AM. She'd only slept an hour and a half. 'Huh,' she thought, 'long enough for him to sneak off.'

She pushed the duvet back, shivering in the cold air. Scanning his bedroom she spotted one of his shirts thrown across a chair. She pulled it over her head and left the room to find him.

She finally located him in the living room. He'd pulled his jeans on before leaving the room, his silver hair, as always, was sticking up in all directions. He stood facing the patio doors, looking out at the darkened garden.

He sensed her presence before she could speak.

"You should be sleeping, you're tired."

She snorted at that. "And you're not?"

He didn't turn around to face her, but she could see him watching her in his reflection. "Yeah," was all he said.

She walked across the room and put her arms around him, holding him from behind. "So… what gives?"

"What gives?" He repeated. "You sound like me."

"That's a bad thing?" She asked.

"Probably."

"So…?" She asked again.

"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to disturb you so I came in here."

"Bad dreams?" She asked, knowing how personal the question was and wondering if he would answer.

"No."

"What then?"

"This… what we've done."

She stepped back from him and put her hand on his shoulder to turn him towards her. Reluctantly he complied. "Jack?" She asked, hating the trepidation she could hear in her own voice. She noticed he was wearing his tags again. "You regret this?"

"God no!" He scrubbed a hand through his already mussed hair. "It's just… you have so much more to lose from this than I do, and less to gain. It's not exactly fair…" He trailed off, possibly because he saw the anger in her eyes.

"How can you say that? How can you even think it?" He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. "You know how I feel about you. You know."

"Oh come on. This isn't exactly a fair trade off is it?"

"What do you mean?" She asked obstinately.

"You know what I mean." Unexpectedly his voice was quiet.

"Tell me anyway." She said, imitating him.

"C'mon, I get a smart, beautiful woman and you get what? A grey-haired, grouchy old guy. Not fair."

"Shut up."

He was taken aback by her words and the quiet command in her tone. Momentarily thrown off balance, he was silent.

"If I ever hear you say that again, I swear to God I'll shoot you." She said.

Finally he smiled slightly. "Okay, now you definitely sound like me. C'mere." He pulled her against him.

"Okay… JJ." She said, smirking against his chest.

He groaned. "Be careful! I'm still mad at you guys for watchin' that stuff." He was only half-joking; she could hear it in his tone.

"Well, it's like Daniel said, how else were we ever gonna find anything out about you?"

"I s'pose." He conceded. Then, "Don't call me JJ, or I will shoot you." He threatened, looking down at her.

They held each other in silence for a while.

"So what are we gonna do?" Jack asked.

"About what?" She asked.

"Work."

"Oh… that. Nothing."

He pushed her away slightly so he could look at her better. "That's your great plan? Nothing? Even I know that's not gonna work. C'mon, Sam, you're supposed to be the smart one here."

"Ah, yes, but you're the great military mind." She teased.

"Cut the crap, Carter. We can't just do nothing."

"Sure we can." She replied. "Look, if the Air Force wants us it'll fight to keep us."

"And if it doesn't want us?"

"Screw 'em."

"Definitely spending too much time around me." Jack muttered.

"I wouldn't worry about them not wanting us." She said, running her fingers over his chest.

"Why not?"

"Well, they need you to run the SGC. And they need me to lead SG-1 and keep the gate working. See?" She sounded thoroughly pleased with herself.

"That's it? That's the plan?"

"Elegant in its simplicity." She said, remembering something he'd said a long time ago. "Now, can we go back to bed, please?"

"Was that begging, Colonel Carter?" Jack asked, playfully.

"Yes, sir!" She said, grinning.

"Sweet." Jack said.

At some point in the night Sam woke up in a cold sweat, a muffled scream escaping her lips.

She sat bolt upright and stared around madly, unsure of where she was.

Jack reached up and pulled her back down to him, holding her against him.

"Its okay, Sam. Shhh." He stroked her back gently until she quieted.

When she was calm again he asked, "What was it?" His voice sounded sleepy.

"Just a bad dream. A very bad dream." She said.

There was silence for a moment, then: "Jack?"

"Mm?"

"You and Janet acted like you never met before, like you weren't friends, why?"

"Cos we weren't." He replied, sleepily.

"Because of what she asked you to do?"

"Yeah. I probably shoulda done it, I just couldn't."

"Janet understood, though."

"Yeah. She got it."

They were quiet for a moment, then Sam said, "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever speak to your family?"

"I haven't spoken to my parents since I left home. But I called Joe, my brother, after Charlie died."

"You should call them."

"Maybe." He paused, "You done interrogating me for tonight?"

"Yeah." She said, sounding tired.

"Good." Jack closed his eyes, ready for sleep.

"For tonight." Sam muttered, closing her eyes. "Tomorrow we talk about the time loops."

Jack groaned.