You're Not the Only One in Need

Part Two
After a disastrous dinner, Jack O'Neill decided that the best course of action was to go home and get completely wasted. He made his way into his darkened house and moved towards his kitchen. Once there, he pulled out a full bottle of some very nice Bourbon that had been given to him a few years before from an old friend from his Black Ops days. He poured the liquid into a tumbler and carried both the glass and the bottle with him into the living room.

After his second glass, he became somewhat drowsy and curled up on the couch to sleep. There he slept for a couple of hours when he was abruptly awoken by the sound of loud banging. Clearing his head with a few shakes, he quickly realized that the noise was coming from his front door. He took his time in stretching his aching muscles, immediately regretting going to sleep on the couch. Only when he had fully stretched did he slowly walk to the door to answer it.

"Okay, okay. Hold your horses," he mumbled as he stumbled up the stairs into the front hall.

Somewhat hesitant about answering the door at this time of night, he decided to throw caution to the wind, if only to stop the incessant banging that had gradually become louder and louder.

"Open the door you selfish bastard!" he heard a female voice yelling through the thick wood of the door.

Luckily, he didn't have any neighbors living within earshot of his house. Otherwise, the police would probably have been there by now charging his visitor with disturbing the peace.

Now both genuinely curious and confused, he flipped on the porch light and opened the door a little to peek out. He was shocked to find his second-in-command, dressed only in her nightgown and a pair of untied sneakers, standing on his front porch. She was clearly upset which was apparent not only from her actions, but also by her appearance.

Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were tear-stained, and her hair was sticking straight up in all directions. Even though it was winter in Colorado, she hadn't even bothered to wear a jacket over her long cotton gown and her bare arms were covered in goose bumps. This, combined with other signs, made O'Neill immediately realize that his 2IC was obviously drunk. He had never had to deal with a drunk Carter before, unless you could count that time on 595. Her entire body was shivering and swaying in the breeze. It became clear to him that she could barely keep her balance as she stumbled forward towards him.

He reached out and grasped her upper arms to keep her from falling down. "Jeez Carter, what are you doing here at this time of night?" He peered around her shivering body, trying to spot where she had parked her car, all the while hoping that she hadn't actually driven in her condition. When he didn't see it, he asked, "How did you get here anyway?"

Having regained her balance, she brusquely pushed past him into his house and mumbled, "Cab...We need to talk."

He closed the door and locked it, then turned around to face her only to find her nowhere in sight. His eyes traveled the length of his hallway, finally coming to settle on her huddled figure sitting on the top step into his living room. She was leaning her head against the wall and he could just barely hear her muffled sobs. Not quite knowing what to do, he approached cautiously.

'Great,' he thought, 'now I have to deal with a drunk and crying Carter.'

"Carter? Would you like something to drink? Perhaps some coffee?" he offered, trying to be a gracious host in a very awkward situation.

She sniffled softly and then replied, "I need something a little stronger than that."

He stared at the gentle curve of her back as she wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to conserve heat. He shook his head in dismay and softly answered, "I think you've probably had enough for one evening, Carter. It's really not like you to get drunk like this."

"I can't help it. I just miss him so much, sir," she muttered. She turned her head to face him, her eyes filled not only with tears but also with anger and accusation. "Why did you stop my Dad? Why did you let Daniel go?"

Jack rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. He had been trying to avoid this very conversation, thinking that if he just ignored what had happened that it would simply go away and things could get back to normal. Clearly, Carter wasn't about to let it go.

"I can't explain it, Carter. While I was standing in the infirmary with the rest of you, he came to me and asked me to tell your Dad to stop. I don't really understand what happened, but it was what he wanted. You have to believe me. I would never have let him go if it wasn't what he wanted." He wasn't sure whom he was trying to convince – her or himself.

Tears continued to pour down her face and her body shook from the combination of cold and grief. The emotion in her eyes softened from anger to understanding as she continued to gaze at him. "Oh God, sir. I'm sorry... It's not your fault. I know you miss him too."

He moved slowly towards her and motioned for her to get up. "Come on, Carter. Let's get you into the living room and try to warm you up a bit."

Jack helped her up and guided her onto the couch in the next room. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and then rose to go into the kitchen to make some coffee.

To his surprise when he came back into the room, he found her with his discarded tumbler from earlier in the evening in her hands steadily sipping a rather large glass of Bourbon. She had obviously found the glass and the bottle on the table beside the couch and had taken full advantage of it.

His tone was a bit playful and chastising at the same time. "Whatcha doing?"

Sam shot back a look that clearly stated, 'What the hell does it look like?'

Jack shook his head in dismay and tried to reason with her, "Don't you think you've had enough, Carter? I'm making coffee, which would be soooo much better for you right now."

"I don't want any coffee," she snapped. "I'm not in the mood to get sober and besides...it reminds me too much of Daniel," she added softly.

He sat beside her on the sofa and took the now half-full glass from her hands. Not knowing how to handle this situation, and just grateful that she was talking to him once more, he knocked back the rest of the alcohol in the glass in one shot.

He figured that he might as well commiserate with her and her chosen method for the evening, it seemed, was to get completely and unabashedly drunk. He poured another glass of Bourbon and handed it to her. She took a couple of sips and handed it back to him. They continued taking turns sipping Bourbon in silence for a few minutes before either spoke.

"Why did he want to leave?" Sam whispered, staring blankly out into the darkened room.

"What?"

"Daniel...why did he want to leave so badly? Why did he want to leave us?" She wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and stared up into his eyes.

Jack sighed heavily in response. "I don't know, Carter. Maybe he didn't want to take the chance that he wouldn't be completely healed by the device. Maybe he thought that he wouldn't be able to live his life as fully as he had before."

He paused thoughtfully before continuing, "I tell you what, though. I think he really wanted to go because he was presented with the opportunity of a completely new adventure...a new challenge if you will. You know how he was. Just the thought of learning about a new culture or society made him salivate at the mouth. This way, he actually gets to experience that new culture first-hand."

"It's every archeologist's dream, I know. But I still can't help..."

"Being angry at him?" he completed her train of thought and continued, "I know. I'm angry too. But I figure that I have to let it go. It was what he wanted, after all. It was his choice."

Sam shook her head with determination and spoke emphatically, "I would never want to leave, sir. Not even if some alien race offered me the chance to study the universe's most advanced technology. I would never want to leave the SGC. I would never leave...you." And with that, she leaned her head gently on his shoulder.

At this revelation, O'Neill suddenly became ill at ease. He coughed nervously and moved over on the sofa to put some distance between them. He realized, even though Carter was carrying on a surprisingly coherent and articulate conversation, that she also had to be completely drunk. Major Sam Carter would never have made such admissions while sober and in her rational mind.

Jack also knew that he had been getting much too comfortable with her. Her presence beside him on the sofa was warm and comfortable and reassuring. He craved that comfort, but knew that it was something he had to deny himself. The alcohol, mixed with the lateness of the hour, was obviously clouding both his reason and hers and he knew he needed to reassert control over the situation.

"Why don't you sleep it off here on the couch, Carter? I'm going to head on up to bed. It is rather late, after all. We can talk in the morning." He moved to get up.

Sam grabbed his hand and looked at him with glistening eyes. Although she had been trying to control her tears during their conversation, she now could no longer hold them back and one crystal stream made its way down her pale right cheek.

"Please don't go," she begged. "I really don't want to be alone. I'm so tired of being alone."

At her tearful request, he reluctantly sat back down and allowed her to place her head in its earlier position on his shoulder. Although he knew it was a very bad idea, he also knew that he could deny her nothing – she was his one weakness. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and used his free hand to pick up the glass of Bourbon off of the coffee table. They remained like that, with both passing the glass back and forth for a few minutes, when she once again interrupted their companionable silence.

"You know what I told Daniel the last time I really spoke to him?" she asked.

"No, what?"

"I told him that we never tell those we love how we feel about them before it's too late – like my Mom. I never told her how much she meant to me before she died. I regret that to this day. At least I got to tell Daniel, although I'm not really sure he heard me. He was pretty far gone by then."

Jack gently squeezed her shoulder and reassured her, "He knew how you felt. And so did your Mom. You don't need to say those kinds of things out loud, Sam. You just know it in your heart."

She raised her head slightly to gaze at him with a questioning expression. "Do you know?"

His brow knit in confusion. "Know what?"

"How I feel about you? In your heart?" Her slender hand slipped out from under the blanket to reach up and caress his cheek.

He leaned into her touch and whispered his response, fearful of the very words he was admitting, "I know, Sam. Believe me, I know. Just like you know how I feel about you in your heart."

At this, she tilted up her head and raised her lips to capture his. At first, the kiss was gentle and hesitant. Jack mistakenly thought that it would end at that. They were both drunk and grieving but he was still sober enough to control himself. He had no intention of taking advantage of the situation. But his good intentions gradually vanished as Sam increased the pressure and emotion behind her kiss and it became more demanding and passionate.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was their combined grief and pain, or maybe it was that he just could not deny his need for her any longer, but he began returning her kiss with fervor. Giving into his emotions, he leaned her back on the sofa and covered her body with his own. She gracefully moved her legs to cradle his body with hers as he continued to devour her mouth.

The blanket that had been covering her had fallen from her shoulders as he had leaned her back, exposing her bare neck and arms. He kissed his way down her neck, hungrily consuming her skin, her warmth, her fragrance. She tilted her head back over the arm of the sofa, humming in pleasure as he continued his exploration of her shoulders and neck.

Sam's hands greedily reached for his head and guided it back to her lips, which she then used to contentedly explore his mouth and face. She placed delicate kisses on his forehead, eyelids, and nose, before invading his mouth once again with eagerness.

Jack suddenly extracted himself from her lips and pulled his head back to look down at her, fearful that things were going too fast. Sam clearly noted the hesitation in his eyes and acted quickly to combat it. She gazed up at his confused face with longing and determination evident in her eyes, as she pulled him back down to kiss him passionately. The confusion in his own eyes slowly faded as the kiss deepened. No words were needed – her actions told him everything he needed to know.

This time, there would be no hesitation, no remorse.

Their lovemaking was brief and frantic, neither even bothering to remove all of their clothes. It was as if both Jack and Sam were fully aware that one or the other might realize their mistake at any moment and pull back. Although brief, it managed to satisfy the aching need that had been building in them both.

In the aftermath, Sam smiled languidly at him and buried her head in the crook of his neck as her eyes fluttered shut. Within seconds, she was fast asleep in his arms. Jack quietly kicked off his pants and boxer shorts now tangled about his ankles, and then pulled another blanket from the back of the sofa to drape over their half-clothed bodies. He watched her form snuggle against his body as she slept, both astonished and elated at what had just occurred. Jack nuzzled the top of her head lovingly and placed a soft kiss on it, then laid his own head down on the sofa and drifted off to sleep.

TBC