AN: Thanks for the encouragement. Please keep the reviews coming - they keep me motivated!
Chapter Two
He waited a while before he left the base for the night. He wanted to give her space; he was afraid of what would happen if he ran into her in the parking lot. He didn't want another argument. He didn't want to make her madder. It was late enough that there was no traffic to fight, but early enough that it wasn't yet dark. Jack thought about Carter, about their fight, as he drove.
She was far angrier than he'd honestly expected, far angrier than he'd seen her in a long time. When he thought about the obvious disdain she'd displayed, it gave him an even better indication - for her to allow herself to show such contempt for a superior officer she had to be madder than hell.
His phone rang halfway through the drive and he grabbed at it, praying it was her. Luckily, he checked the display before he answered it - it was Daniel. He let the phone fall unanswered onto the passenger seat. He hadn't been making up the invitation to Daniel's, but he certainly wasn't in the mood for it anymore.
One clear thought struck him as he pulled into his driveway. He'd been in the military a long, long time and had met more generals than he could name. They'd almost always been rude or cold or aloof. On occasion, he'd met a decent few who would smile or have a normal conversation, but they had always been ones far removed from wherever he'd been working at the time. It all became clear at that moment - they'd all known the lesson he'd just learned. It wasn't possible to be in charge and to be a friend.
Just as horrible as sending a friend into battle, blocking a friend's career path was the quickest road to ending the friendship. Regardless of his reasons, he knew she didn't understand. Carter was having the same trouble making a distinction between his roles in her life as he was. And although she'd called him 'sir' he knew she hadn't seen her boss telling her no - she'd seen her friend. That was why she'd been so burned.
Jack spent a good half hour puttering about in his kitchen for dinner. It was force of habit, rather than actual hunger, that propelled him to put some pasta on the stove to cook. He watched it boiling and realized he wasn't the slightest bit hungry. Still, he continued to stir it and the sauce, trying to distract himself. It didn't work.
Damned if you do… It was about more than Carter's career anyway; he just didn't know how to tell her. If he allowed her to transfer, to take the research position, it would technically be a promotion although her rank would remain the same. He knew rumors would fly over him promoting her again and so quickly. Favoritism, fraternization - whatever they attributed it to, it would look just as bad for her as it did for him.
Damned if you don't… Of course, keeping her on base, under his watchful eye, never out of his chain of command would look suspicious as well. People would talk that he was still favoring her, keeping her in the highly coveted position as leader of SG-1 when it was obvious her talents were well suited for more scientific pursuits.
There had to be another way - a way that wasn't so hard on her as to make her question his loyalty; a way that wasn't so easy on her as to make everyone else question his character.
Screw them all… He'd find a way to make it up to her that didn't involve her going halfway across the galaxy. He'd been in the business too long to care what people thought anymore. Besides, he could always threaten retirement. Then Carter would have a boss who could make decisions about her career based on her merits alone and not be swayed by the thought of having to face a day without her.
The hiss of the water boiling over brought him back to reality. He turned off the burners and abandoned the half cooked meal. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and picked up the phone to call her. He was going to be out of sorts until he talked to her.
The phone rang far too many times before he realized she didn't have it on her. He tried her house line and hung up when her machine clicked on. She was probably out on her bike. He knew she rode when she was upset and he was well aware that he'd well and truly set her off. He carried his beer onto the deck, threw himself carelessly into one of the chairs, and stared at nothing.
His eyes fell on the spot where she'd stood that fateful day. She'd been so endearingly nervous, so frazzled and uncertain, so unsure of herself as to appear young and innocent and naive. He'd been glued in fear to his spot at the grill, knowing without question that Kerry was going to stumble into that conversation. Had he been alone, he would have rejoiced in seeing her, especially when he heard the bumbling words that most certainly prefaced a conversation he'd been dying to have. He remembered the uncharacteristic way she'd revealed her nerves in playing with her sweater self-consciously. It still brought a smile to his face that she was there to confess her unprofessional feelings for him and had still called him sir. The smile disappeared as soon as it had come. He vividly recalled the momentary shock and hurt and betrayal he'd seen on her face when she recognized Kerry and why the other woman was there. He'd thanked his lucky stars when he phone rang and tore her away; he was sure they all had, although the news it had brought wasn't welcome at all.
But worst of all, he remembered the stupid, selfish, simple way he'd stood there with his girlfriend and watched the love of his life scamper away with her heart broken and her tail between her legs.
He'd wanted to tell her, to explain to her, that he'd wanted to give chase, that he'd wanted to ignore Kerry's interruption and have that conversation with her. He'd just been so shocked that she'd been there to have it at all and so embarrassed about hiding his relationship that he couldn't respond until it was too late. Too late for Carter's benefit, but not too late for Kerry. She'd seen it. He took another sip of beer and thanked whoever was looking out for him. He'd liked Kerry, but he wouldn't have been able to fake it for long. And he was well aware that she probably wouldn't continue to ignore all those times he'd called her by the wrong name - especially at intimate moments when Carter should have been the furthest thing from his mind.
He returned to the kitchen briefly to grab the rest of the six-pack before he resumed his lookout over the back yard. It was Carter's own fault, he determined with the aid of the alcohol. After nearly ten years, she had to be aware of how thick he could be at times. She had to know that he always reacted like a deer caught in the headlights whenever their relationship came up. Hell, half the times she spoke to him, he reacted that way. He thought over their argument once again and corrected himself. A stupid deer caught in the headlights with its foot in its mouth. That was more like him. Or maybe a fly on flypaper - where every move he tried to make only made the situation worse.
He was on his third beer when he heard the answering machine beep. He'd been so focused on his thoughts that he hadn't heard the ringing. He perched on the edge of the chair, ready to run for it if it was Carter. It was Daniel, announcing his assumption that dinner was off although he couldn't reach anyone to confirm that and asking if he ought to call the police and report them missing. His friend's half worried, half irritated voice made Jack smile. It was so rare anymore for them to hang out together that no one turned down the suggestion when it was made. Jack settled back in his chair; he'd call to apologize in the morning. Daniel wouldn't want a somber Jack and a pissy Carter over anyway.
It was long since dark, but Jack could see the storm clouds gathering in the moonlight. He didn't pay attention to the weather much since he spent the vast majority of his life twenty-eight stories below the ground, but he knew it had been terribly hot for the previous few days. The air had been stifling and muggy and painfully still since he'd been sitting there, giving away the intentions of the universe, had he been paying attention.
He felt the condensation drip from his last beer, run down his hand, and fall to the wooden deck. The beer was getting dangerously close to too hot to drink, but he was determined to finish it. Beer meant he'd stop thinking; he was already halfway there - his thoughts were coming at random and some of them had nothing to do with Carter. Even better, the thought of Carter no longer brought the frustrated, angry feeling it had following their fight - it only brought the smile it usually did when he was alone.
He stayed on the porch and watched the clouds move closer. The thunder rumbled softly in the distance. The lightening flashes lit the sky. It was still far enough away that Jack only sat and watched the show. It moved quicker as it got closer. The telltale first drops of rain stained his shirt and he stood up, pausing for a moment to consider the empty bottles littering the porch. He knew he should pick them up, but by the time he finished the thought, the drops of rain had turned into a deluge. He ducked into the comfort of the house and decided he'd clean up in the morning.
He closed up the house, locking the doors and turning off the lights as he headed to bed. He left the bedroom curtains open to watch the storm as he fell asleep. As he drifted off, his last conscious thoughts were of Carter and his hope that she'd made it home before the rain started.