Title: Faith

Chapter: 4 of ?
Email: S/J

Category: Angst/Romance
Spoilers: Jack's a General; Sam's a Colonel and engaged; minor reference to Affinity. General spoilers up to season eight.
Content Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own SG-1. Stamps foot and tosses hair childishly.
Archive: SJFic - Yes.

My site : else - Yes.

Author's Note: Please feedback me, I'm greedy.

Sorry for the long space between updates, had to go away from work and they wouldn't supply me with a computer to write fic on!

Thanks to everyone that gave feedback, all hugely positive and supportive, you know who you are.

Thanks to my boyfriend who serves as my beta reader, the man has the patience of a saint!

It was only when Jack parked the truck up across the street from Carter's house that he realised he had really not thought this through well enough.

It was unlike him. Consummate strategist that he was, he had come here with no strategy, no game plan.

And whose car was that parked next to Carter's volvo?

Jack stiffened in his seat as memory flashed a card. Pete Shanahan's car.

'Dumb, O'Neill. Real dumb.' He berated himself. 'Really shoulda thought this through.'

He re-started the engine, only to turn it off again. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He had come to apologise to his friend for upsetting her. To see if she was okay.

Despite what he had said to Daniel, Jack was more than willing to attempt friendship with Carter.

In any case, he wasn't about to let what friendship they had forged over the years end like this.

Fiancé or not, Jack was going to make sure Carter was okay.

That they were okay.

Now he just had to think of something to say.

Jack was lost in thought as he made his way to her front door.

Mind still a blank, he raised his hand to knock, just as the door opened.

Framed in the doorway was Pete Shanahan. The man looked upset, hurt, angry.

He took Jack in with a sweep of his eyes. "Oh." He said. "Its you."

Confused, Jack could only nod at the younger man in confirmation of this simple fact.

Pete nodded as though he had expected Jack's presence on his fiancée's doorstep all along, and said, "She's through there. Excuse me."

Jack moved aside slightly and the younger man stepped out of the house and began to walk down the path.

"Where are you going?" Jack blurted, wincing when he realised how clumsy that sounded and that it probably wasn't any of his business anyway.

Pete stopped but didn't turn. "I'm leaving." He said quietly.

"What? Why?" Jack asked, realising that this was the longest conversation he had ever had with the man.

"I wasn't enough." Pete said, simply. He walked to his car, got in it, and drove away.

Jack stared after him, wondering what he'd meant.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The voice was cold, angry, and it belonged to Sam Carter.

Jack turned to face her.

She was standing just outside her front door, wearing jeans and a nondescript dark blue t-shirt.

"I came to see if you were okay." He told her. "What happened?" He asked, seeing that she'd been crying.

"Why do you care?" She asked, obviously fuming.

Internally Jack flinched at her tone and said, "I care."

She snorted. "Of course you do."

"What's going on?" Jack asked.

"Its none of your business." She told him.

Obviously, rephrasing his earlier question wasn't going to work. "You're my friend." He said.

"We're not friends, we never were." She replied, the cold fury still darkening her tone.

Jack's eyes searched her face. "No." He said. "I guess not." He turned and began to walk back to his truck.

"See you around, sir." Carter called after him sarcastically.

"No, Sam, you won't." He called over his shoulder as he crossed the street. "And don't call me sir."

"Why not?" She asked.

"I quit." He told her, answering both possible questions as he climbed into the truck.

He started the engine, and pulled away from the kerb. Time to go home, Jack.

Sam watched as he drove away, his words sinking in.

He'd quit?

Left the SGC, the Air Force?

He'd come here?

He was still wearing his BDUs. He had looked tired, and dirty. He'd obviously come straight from the investigation, and he hadn't had time for a post-mission shower before that.

He'd come here.

They must have fired him.

But he said he'd quit. He wasn't likely to lie.

She laughed hollowly at that. He'd lied to her. About them. About their 'friendship'. About feeling… feelings.

She shook her head to stop herself thinking about him. Who cared if he'd jumped or been pushed?

It didn't matter. Not to her.

She realised she was shivering and headed back into the house, closing the door on the night.

But rather than going to bed, she stood in the middle of her den, lost. She glanced at the wall clock: 23:30.

He'd come to her house at 23:30, after going on a mission to rescue her and then being put through an investigation. She figured he hadn't slept or eaten for well over twenty-four hours.

And he came here.

"Damn." She muttered to herself, turning and grabbing her coat and car keys, and heading out the door.