14

Starting Over Part 4

He was happy, there was no denying it. He was out of bed, in some comfortable sweats, sitting on the sofa with his leg up. The kitten was asleep on his chest and he had a beer. What could be better? Well, lots actually, he confessed, but compared to twelve hours ago this was good, better than good.

"Something amuses you, O'Neill?"

Looking up at the Jaffa, only now did he realize he must have been grinning. He sensed Sam's eyes on him from across the room but continued to stare at Teal'c.

"Not exactly – just appreciating the small things in life such as ...," and he raised his can of beer. "Even if it is 'light'."

He stroked the kitten's chin, sending its furry body into a paroxysm of purring, no longer caring that his tough reputation was being blown to smithereens.

"You are right. Good food and good company in pleasing surroundings are indeed some of what you Tauri call the 'good things in life'."

And although he didn't exactly agree with the Jaffa, neither did Jack disagree.

---------------------------

He could feel the changes with every passing day, could rejoice quietly in the strength returning to his weakened leg, could even cope with being in the same room as Sam without feeling his insides twist into painful knots. Well… almost.

Jack stretched his left leg carefully, pleased that he could do something as simple and pleasurable as that without any barbs of pain shooting down to his toes and back up to his hip. He had removed the leg brace that morning and was well pleased that he could walk down to the water's edge with only minor discomfort. Things, he decided, were definitely looking up. Even the daily morning workout with Teal'c was no longer the torture session it had been. Every day he was able to pass a milestone he had quietly set himself on his road to recovery. He had overcome, surpassed all challenges.

He frowned as his eyes swept to the right to where Sam lay on her stomach on the newly mowed lawn, dressed in cut off jeans and baggy t-shirt, reading a book whose title, from where he was, Jack was unable to read.

His frown deepened. Yes, all challenges overcome but for one.

With her back to him, he was able to watch her, his gaze moving over her from behind his dark sunglasses. He noted that she had managed to acquire a gentle golden tan in the week she'd been at the cabin – it suited her he decided. She'd looked too pale when he'd first set eyes on her – all eyes in ashen, drawn face. He realized now how vulnerable she had been waiting on that deck, waiting to see what sort of greeting she'd get from him.

She was no fool. Knowing her, she would have been ready for anything he could have thrown at her. Besides, Teal'c wouldn't have allowed him to get too carried away he realized. The large Jaffa wasn't averse to taking him by the scruff of his neck and shaking some sense into him, Jack admitted wryly from bitter experience.

She was totally absorbed in her reading and his curiosity got the better of him when he started to wonder what it was that could keep her so engrossed on the book. Physics? Chemistry? He began to edge closer, intending to circumnavigate her position one hundred and eighty degrees but keeping outside of the perimeter of her vision – staying unobserved. Unobserved, that is, until he snorted. He drew closer.

"Harry Potter?" His disdain was evident. "Is that what you're reduced to reading now you're part of the 'real' world?" he demanded scathingly.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the book was placed on the grass but Jack was unable to see Sam's eyes which were also hidden behind dark sunglasses.

"You object to my choice of reading material?" Sam's tone was carefully neutral.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Carter," he answered stingingly.

She held his gaze for a moment more then slowly turned back to her book trying hard to concentrate on the words and, to her consternation, failing miserably.

She was all too aware of his close proximity – he hadn't moved, still towering over her and the nerves in her body were sounding out alarms as they sensed the antagonism radiating from the man so very close. Still she refused to move, to show any reaction to him. She was going to ignore him if it took every ounce of willpower in her body.

Her serenity annoyed him. No, it damn well irritated the hell out of him. How was it she could just lay there without a care in the world? As his exasperation levels soared, Jack could feel the build up of a need within him to shake that calm demeanour. Yeah, he'd make her sit up and take notice, Little Miss Complacency. Had she forgotten just what it was all about? Could college and Mr. Fiancé – hell, he didn't even know the guy's name – have proven so perfect that all else was simply pushed aside? And as images of her with another man assailed his dark thoughts, it proved to be the trigger to his petulant provocation of her.

"Don't suppose you heard about Talbot, did you?"

The devil was on his shoulder, prodding him on and he obeyed enthusiastically.

Hidden behind her shades, Sam frowned. 'What was this now?' she wondered, alert to the change in Jack's voice. She wanted desperately to ignore him but he knew her too well - her resistance crumbled.

"Talbot from SG-8?"

"Yeah, seems Eriksson got pissed off with something and nothing and transferred. While Ian was training someone to replace his 2IC, he got zapped."

Sam couldn't prevent the sharp intake of dismayed breath nor could she stop herself from shooting up off the ground, her face mere inches from Jack's. Her outrage made her tremble and she clenched her fists tightly by her sides fighting within herself for control.

'Bastard!' she thought bitterly. He smiled coldly, contemptuously.

"I suppose if you can't take the heat, it's a good thing you scuttled off out of the kitchen."

It was too much to tolerate. A red rage flared through her as hot tears forced their way to her concealed eyes, whilst her hand raised itself in lightening reflex searching for his dark stubbled jaw, desperate to make heavy contact. But illness had not slowed his own powers of self preservation and Sam found her wrist held in a powerful vice as her body was hauled against Jack.

"Ah ah," he admonished lightly, his supercilious tone forcing Sam to grit her teeth in fury. "If you'd still been in the Air Force, Carter, this would have been a court martial offence."

He was grinning at her as she tried hard to ignore the fact that she was held fast, aware of her body pulled hard against Jack's own solid form. She stiffened and tried jerking away, grimacing at the pain in her wrist.

"Stop struggling and it won't hurt."

"Let. Go!"

"As soon as I'm assured you won't take a swing at me I'll --."

She raised her knee in a reflex move but it appeared Jack could read her thoughts, his free hand blocking her move and twisting her round so that she found herself held fast in his arms, her back to him.

She seethed at her impotence ready to use any tactic, fair or foul, to bring about her release. If she had to heel him in his bad knee…..

"Don't even think about it," he whispered into her ear, his lips almost caressing her as he issued the warning.

Her eyes flared wide in shock. 'Could he read her thoughts? … No way!'

She shifted her weight preparing herself for the assault, refusing to think of the consequences, of what Janet would say or do.

She felt herself pushed away, released just as she was about to commit herself, and almost lost her balance so unprepared was she at being set loose.

She whipped round, her face livid in its anger. She raged at the arrogance she saw in her former CO's features and threw back a look of pure venom as she battled to bring her emotions under control.

Never before had she come so close to totally losing it with anyone. She could feel her muscles beginning to tremble and hugged herself, turning her back on Jack to hide her lack of control.

"Wise move, Carter," His voice was still infuriatingly calm, tinged with self-righteousness. He grinned coldly. "You would probably have found it pretty difficult trying to explain to Teal'c why you found sitting so painful."

Unable to believe her ears, Sam whirled round, astonishment warring with her anger.

"You wouldn't dare!" she spluttered, her face suffused a deep blushing red, her mortification desperate. Jack stared her straight in the eye and if it were possible she felt more heat rising in her face.

His step was deliberate as he moved towards her, a wicked grin twisting his features.

"I know my leg isn't up to much at the moment but I can sure as hell cope with turning you over my knee and whipping your sorry butt."

Was this happening to her? Was she going to find herself waking from this nightmare scenario and laughing at her embarrassment? She sighed heavily. No such luck. Her face twisted into a mask of ugly pain. Could she ever have actually enjoyed working with this jackass, she raged inwardly, sucking in a sharp breath? Struggling to cope with her turbulent emotions she felt the dismay as a huge lump in her throat and she fought the bitter tears of frustration, blinking madly to force them back.

'I won't cry in front of you, I won't give you that satisfaction!' And then, remembering what she had so carefully arranged, the blood drained from her face leaving her pale, making Jack think she was about to faint.

'Oh God, what have I done?' she asked herself in horror. 'He hates me more than ever.' And throwing him one last look of dismay she escaped his derisive glare.

-----------------------------

Damn, damn and treble damn. What the hell had just happened? Jack ran a hand through already dishevelled hair, confused by the lopsided turn in the conversation with Sam. He grimaced as he recalled how he'd provoked her in a manner which left him wondering about his ethics. He shook his head wearily, remembering the colour draining from her face making him afraid that she would fall over.

He realized, belatedly, that if he had been able to see the anguish he knew was hidden behind her dark sunglasses, his resolve to hurt her would have shattered into a million tiny pieces. It had almost come to that when he'd grabbed her and held her against him. His senses had been so aroused by the contact that he'd practically had to push her away for fear she would have felt his body's attraction to her.

He was going to have to somehow make it up to her and not being too big on apologies he winced in apprehension at the thought of what he'd have to do to atone for his foul behaviour. Whichever way he looked at it, it certainly wasn't going to be pleasant. Damn, damn and treble damn.

-------------------------------

He'd spent the remainder of the afternoon down by the lake going over in his mind possible ways to show her that he hadn't meant to be such a god-awful bastard.

Slowly, but surely, over this past week the realization had fought its way through his twisted pain and anger to emerge as a cohesive thought – and that thought was that he was glad she'd come back into his life even if it was on terms he preferred to throw through the gate to land on some remote, uninhabited planet a million miles away.

He'd missed her – it was as simple as that – missed her badly.

And so he searched for ways to best show Sam that she was still cherished by him without revealing his deeper, more profound feelings. Those he'd just have to deal with himself.

It was dark by the time he returned to the cabin and Jack was actually surprised at how late it was.

He looked for Sam trying not to seem too obvious, but Teal'c was well aware of his commander's interest.

"You search will be fruitless, O'Neill. Dr. Carter has gone out."

"Out?" Jack felt affronted. What the hell! He'd just spent the last few hours desperately trying to find a way to put right what had transpired and now she'd gone off leaving him truly high and dry. Hadn't he just worked his ass off trying to find a way out of this dilemma? And where had it got him?

Teal'c silently laid a plate of food before Jack, noting the dark scowl marring the features of the silver-haired man. Jack picked up a fork, moving the food around on his plate unenthusiastically, making no attempt to eat it.

"I believe Dr. Carter has gone to a place called O'Reilly's."

"O'Reilly's?" Jack's voice resonated with disbelief and scorn. "What the hell's she gone to that place for?" And as it was purely rhetorical, he did not expect nor want a reply from the larger man sitting opposite. Teal'c, however, chose to continue.

"She has gone to meet someone there, O'Neill."

Jack's eyebrows rose high as he glared at the Jaffa, then afraid he was revealing too much, his gaze dropped to his plate. Silence ensued.

Teal'c, behind his inscrutable visage, watched the other man with just a hint of exasperation. 'These Tauri are illogical,' he decided wryly. He had long understood what Jack's feelings were for his 2IC and yet, to his surprise, no action had been taken. In fact, it even appeared that the two in question had grown further apart. And once circumstances had separated them, after Jack's initial desire to find Sam, come what may, had evaporated into anger and denial, the resulting vacuum had been a painful thing to observe.

Although the initial reintroduction of Jack and Sam had not been entirely comfortable and there had been the odd moment or two when Teal'c's habitually calm demeanour was taxed by Jack's stubborn attitude, he had seen the rebirth of a growing attraction these last few days, but after seeing Sam practically in tears as she hurried out a short while earlier, and now seeing Jack's troubled features, he was under the distinct impression that all his, Daniel's and Janet's hard work was going to come to nothing.

"You know this O'Reilly's?"

Jack grunted. He really didn't want to talk.

"You have been there?" Teal'c was nothing if not persistent.

Another grunt – he was definitely giving out signals to be left well alone but Teal'c being Teal'c ignored the vibes.

"Are you not interested to see with whom Dr. Carter has made this assignation, O'Neill?"

'No!"

"It is not her fiancée."

Jack's head shot up. "Wh-at?"

'Ah, some reaction.' Teal'c nodded in satisfaction. "I said 'it is not --.'"

"I heard what you said. How the hell do you know that?" Jack snapped, his dark eyes burning.

"Dr. Carter told me."

Rubbing his forehead as if he were in pain, Jack tried to get his head around the information Teal'c was calmly throwing to him like a handler throwing fish to a seal.

"She told you that she wasn't going to meet her fiancé?"

Teal'c regarded him benignly. "I did not say that, O'Neill." Then seeing Jack's shoulders slump, Teal'c continued, not wishing to prolong his commander's pain, "Dr. Carter does not have a fiancé, O'Neill. She has not since just before her arrival here." He didn't need to say that if Jack had just taken the time to be civilised and talk with his former 2IC, he would have learned this information for himself – the reproof was there.

The dark warrior allowed this information to be digested, permitting the younger man to assimilate the important news.

'Maybe it does make sense,' Jack thought, determined not to allow his mind to go into overdrive and failing miserably. It would account for the apparent lack of contact from either side though it didn't, he realized, answer the question of whom she met up with just under a week ago. And who was it tonight, for god's sake? Was it someone from around here? – how else would she know about O'Reilly's? It wasn't exactly on the five-star tourist track.

As all these thoughts raced around inside his head like a kaleidoscope, Teal'c sat back calmly awaiting the outcome. He had to admit he was somewhat perplexed by O'Neill's behaviour when it came to Samantha Carter. Being a man of unwavering action, it was almost a shock to see him procrastinating, hesitant, unsure, and dare he think it? Afraid. He shook his head, glad that he, as a Jaffa, did not have to endure these warring emotions so at odds with what he knew of his leader. Being a Tauri was not easy but at least he could help to make this very difficult path a little easier. And so he sat back and waited tolerantly.

He didn't have to wait much longer. Abruptly, Jack pushed back his chair and limped to the door.

"I need your keys, Teal'c."

"That will not be necessary, O'Neill. I will drive you."

Jack winced. "Negative, Teal'c…. but thanks for the offer."

Observing the grey-haired man before him, Teal'c was gratified to see a fresh determination in the eyes of the SG-1 leader, but he was still concerned enough to attempt to change Jack's mind.

"This O'Reilly's, is it safe?"

Jack smiled warmly – the first time in a long while.

"I think I can get in and out without too much trouble. You don't have to watch my six this time round."

Teal'c regarded him for another moment, and then once again inclined his head graciously.

'It is time you talked to Dr. Carter, O'Neill."

Eyes narrowed, Jack stiffened. He didn't like people interfering in his affairs and he knew the Jaffa understood this. Yet still Teal'c had felt it necessary to speak, felt the need to point his stubborn, cantankerous brother-in-arms in the right direction and give him a shove to boot.

Jack gave a barely perceptible nod, catching the keys thrown to him.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome O'Neill."

At the door, Jack turned to look over his shoulder. "Don't wait up for me, Dad."

He was amused to see the larger man frown but Teal'c's reply wiped the smile from Jack's face.

"Dr. Fraiser's orders still require you to be in your bed by twenty-two hundred hours, O'Neill."

Aghast, Jack checked his watch, realizing he had barely an hour and a half to get there and back and do what – he had no idea – before the doc's curfew set in.

"Aw, c'mon, Teal'c. There's not a chance in hell I'll -----."

He saw the hint of a smile touch Teal'c's lips and glared.

"Is that not what a concerned father would say, O'Neill?"

Raising his eyes to the heavens, Jack sighed loudly.

---------------------------------

He could hear the music through the large open doorway as he pulled into the car park and grimaced – not his type of music at all.

He sat in the car for a few minutes trying to decide his best course of action. He wasn't happy – this was too much like unknown territory for him. In a job where preparation and planning were a major part of the workload, he suddenly felt vulnerable to what lay ahead.

'Ah hell, O'Neill,' he mumbled darkly to himself, 'get a grip!'

He massaged his leg which was protesting from the demands of the drive but inertia was pushed aside as he stepped from Teal'c's vehicle and made for the entrance.

So intent was he on searching for Sam as he went through the entrance, that he failed to notice the fair-haired young man brush past him with his briefcase, did not register the strangeness of an 'office' man in such a place, and in all the myriad of cars in the car park, failed to notice the military plates on one dark four-wheel drive. He had other things on his mind.

Waving the Stetson-headed hostess away, he approached the wide wooden bar, polished to a lustre so that it was possible to see the sparkling glasses' reflections in it.

Jack nodded to one of the bartenders and took a seat to the side, in the shadows, well away from the frenetic activity going on in the main part of the establishment. Raising his head he was able to view the whole area without being too obvious himself.

There was a small stage on which a group, made up of three men and a woman, were playing guitars, bass and fiddle with one or more singing out, whilst on the larger dance floor couples moved to the rhythm of the music.

Jack's dark eyes merely skimmed these – he didn't expect Sam to be among those enjoying the music in this more physical way. He was more cautious as he cast a glance over the tables but again he was not successful and for a moment he wondered if she had already left – had they passed each other on the road? He shook his head. He didn't think so.

A cool beer was pushed towards him and he raised it to his lips savouring the taste – the real stuff – which he'd been denied since he'd fallen under Janet's despotic ministrations.

Sighing with satisfaction, he continued his survey of the room, aware that the booths at the edges of the room offered a little more privacy so that Jack was unable to see every single person.

Enjoying his beer and not wanting to rush the experience, he decided he could afford to take his time. He wouldn't admit it openly but the energy and excitement emanating from all of these people out to have a good time was, somehow, contagious and Jack found himself slowly relaxing. As he watched the couples on the dance floor he could almost forget why he was there, almost ignore the tight knot that had formed in the pit of his queasy stomach.

He caught sight of the back of a blonde head, short cut, tall, slim figure dancing with a partner but as she turned he realized she wasn't the one he was searching for and his heart started beating again.

His gaze paused at a table of men, loud and on their way to getting drunk - Friday night customers letting off steam after a hard week at the factory, attempting to catch the eyes of women without male attachments. A passing barmaid had to be quick to avert the groping hands that came her way, and one particularly persistent joker had his knuckles slapped hard. The remainder at the table burst into adolescent peals of laughter and tried easing their raging hormones by indulging in their second passion, downing as many tankards of beer in the shortest time possible.

Jack shook his head indulgently – in the early days of his Air Force career he had gained a certain reputation for similar nonsense. But not now. He was too worldly- wise and cynical to get into that sort of mess he confessed. Except for a certain blue-eyed blonde who had the ability to turn him on his head.

'Dammit, O'Neill,' he chastised himself severely. 'You can challenge a dozen Goa'uld system lords yet come unstuck over one little astrophysicist!'

He downed his drink and quickly demanded another before a little voice in his head began to warn him of dire consequences should a certain CMO find out he'd been mixing meds with alcohol, not to mention his breaking of the curfew. Right now, however, he had other more pressing problems to deal with. Doc and her rules would just have to be put on hold.

He did another quick scan of the room, wincing at some of the outrageous 'cowboy' styles some of the men and women wore. It was, he decided, the western hats which really irritated him. How on earth any one in their right mind could choose a Stetson when there were perfectly good baseball caps to be had for a fraction of the cost. Absurd! He wouldn't be seen dead in --.

He suddenly caught sight of blonde hair and his heart leaped to his mouth. She'd appeared from one of the booths at the far side of the room, blue-jean legs and a close fitting white t-shirt.

His breath almost caught in his throat as he realized that it was Sam at the same time as he accepted she was utterly, mind-stoppingly beautiful in the most casual of clothes. Her legs simply went on forever whilst the t-shirt hugged her figure just as it was supposed to.

As Jack drank in all her attributes he also understood that, naturally, he wasn't alone in appreciating what was on view. Every single man in the room knew a vision of beauty when he saw it and, given Sam's natural demeanour, it was all the more enticing.

Casting his eyes behind her, Jack could see no one following her and if he wasn't mistaken, she looked as if she was heading for the exit.

'Yes! This is looking good.'

He felt his whole body relax, the tension dissipating as he watched her walking out.

"Hey, doll face, c'mon over here."

"Light of my life – let your smile light up my life."

"Sugar babe!"

'Who in hell used those lines, for crying out loud?'

He watched Sam falter momentarily as she realized the accolades were meant for her. A faint flush crept over her neck and face and her eyes dropped to the floor so no one could see the annoyed embarrassment reflected in them.

Torn between longing to keep his eyes on Sam and at the same time wanting to beat the crap out of whoever was causing her this distress – his gaze ventured in the direction of those calling out and alighted on the table of Friday night revellers, the ones letting off steam the only way they knew how – and now they had struck gold. Big time!

His features darkening, Jack glared at the table, the men oblivious to the danger so close at hand. And certainly they were unaware of the other danger as Sam made to pass by their table. Suddenly, the one with the long, black hair and sparkling green eyes which danced so mischievously, was blocking her way, and although Sam hadn't seen him Jack certainly had, rising from his seat with a fluidity which belied the injury to his left leg.

"Carter!"

His warning carried across the rowdy room, transcending the noise of the patrons, cutting through the rhythm and beat of the musicians.

As if jolted by a current of electricity, Sam's head shot up, her huge eyes searching for the owner of the voice, only vaguely aware of someone or something in her path. All her sensors were attuned to that voice, so totally unexpected in this concrete way after she had been listening to the same voice replaying in her head for the last few hours.

His tall figure, with dark brown eyes which appeared to burn into her, was caught in her hostile glare and as she returned his look with one chillingly frozen, she heard the odd word of the man in front of her, caught the look of lust mingled with open admiration, and as words of rejection jumped to her lips, Jack's caustic words rang in her ears "…good thing you scuttled off out of the kitchen." And she blushed deeper recalling his threat to mete out corporal punishment as if she were an insolent juvenile.

Jack saw the look of defiance and resentment she threw at him as she turned back, the cold anger on her face replaced by a tantalizing grin, offered so patently to the stranger, that Jack flinched feeling it almost as a physical slap to his own cheek.

Arms folded defensively across his chest, he watched her with the younger man, his eyes menacingly bleak as he watched the two interact with each other.

Still he waited for her to brush the character off and so sure was he of this that he actually groaned aloud when he saw the man take hold of her arm, as if he goddamn owned her, and led her to a spare chair at his table. With an air of total disbelief, Jack watched as she interacted with all the men, appearing relaxed and at ease even though she must have been aware of their drunken leering.

Shifting restlessly on his stool, Jack turned his back, motioning to one of the bartenders for another drink – this time a double whisky - after seeing Sam accept a beer. His face flat with rejection, Jack proceeded to down it in two rapid gulps then rapped on the bar for a refill.

Having observed this particular customer for some time, Steve, the head bartender, was slightly puzzled at this turn of events. Accustomed to observing and analyzing his clientele, he had placed the grey-haired client in the cautious group, one who would enjoy a few and then move on. From seeing this man drink carefully for most of the time he'd been in the bar he now exuded a 'do not disturb' warning as he proceeded to drink himself into a stupor. From long experience, Steve knew that look but he accepted that he'd never seen the transformation occur so suddenly, It was as if a switch had been thrown from 'go slow – care, care, care' to 'all speed ahead – drunken oblivion here I come!'

Jaw locked in grim resignation, Jack sucked the new glass of liquor through gritted teeth, desperate to turn and watch the proceedings but stubbornly refusing to look at something he knew would cut into his soul. Yet his senses were so in synch with the table, it was as if he was at the next one and could hear the bawdy conversation which Sam, in his tortured imagination, was enjoying to the full. He cringed as a roar of laughter bounced around the room, knowing full well from where it came.

Without being able to hear the spoken words, he could tell when Sam spoke and how the other male voices cried their approval. And then he realized there was a change in the tone and frowned chancing a glance over his shoulder. He froze as he watched the black-haired guy lead Sam on to the dance floor, hardly believing as the man put his hands on Sam's waist to begin a Salsa-type dance, spinning her round to the obvious approval of his buddies whose humour grew warmer and more exuberant with the heated expectation of all for their lucky colleague, whilst Jack's own mood darkened ominously.

He rapped on the bar gaining the older bartender's attention and raised his glass. He waited but the glass remained empty. Looking up, his scowl ugly, with a deliberate and precise diction he spoke though somewhat gruffly, "Fill her up."

Friendly, grey eyes observed him carefully. "Don't you think you've had enough?" Steve asked softly.

"Nope."

"You drive here?"

"Not that it's any of your business but, yes."

Jack's dark eyes drilled into the man behind the bar. There was no lack of focus – he seemed sharper than ever, but knowing the amount of alcohol he'd imbibed, Steve knew full well that it wouldn't, couldn't last.

"I can call a cab."

Jack grinned though it didn't reach his eyes. He was aware of the shouts and shrieks of delight coming from 'the' table and knew without looking that Sam and her new found 'friend' had retaken their seats. He saw the bartender looking past him.

"Quite a rowdy element you've got in here – I don't see you calling a cab for them," he remarked dryly.

Steve's eyes narrowed. "When I think someone needs a helping hand, I offer it."

Accepting the gesture for what it was, Jack allowed the ugliness rising within him to subside. "Thanks, but no thanks….If I can't get a drink; guess I'll just watch the show." And he swivelled on his seat leaning his back against the bar. He had eyes for one person only and his vision zoomed in on her.

-------------------

Go to Part 5