12

Starting Over Part 5

Sitting back at the table with four total strangers, all the worse for drink, was not Sam's idea of a perfect evening and for a moment she wondered what the hell she was doing there.

'Oh yeah, Colonel Jackass, damn him!' she thought bitterly, her eyes turning a darker shade of resentment. 'How dare he try to insinuate that what happened to SG-8 could just as well be SG-1?' Her blood started to boil anew just thinking about it. 'Damn but he's a first class, obstinate, son of a bitch, and why on earth I should have even considered giving up my time to help take care of him…Fool me!'

Realising Tom was trying to refill her half-empty glass; she put her hand over the top.

"Enough, thanks," and her blue eyes, though now sparkling, were firm telling all that she knew her own mind.

"The night's still young darlin'," Tom coaxed, still holding the bottle out.

Sam smiled shaking her head, only half her mind on the conversation whilst the other half was on higher alert, aware that over by the bar a tall, silver-haired Air Force colonel was watching every move she made. 'Well,' she thought grimly, 'might as well give you something worth watching.'

With what she hoped wasn't too overtly dramatic a move, she lay her hand on Tom's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. It was a moment before he reacted, but after a quizzical frown covered his rugged features, he reached over to Sam pulling her to her feet and leading her to the dance floor again.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Jack had never thought it possible of Carter. She had always appeared so cool and reserved. Sure, she'd have fun with the guys – her team – but with total strangers? If he hadn't seen it he wouldn't have believed it. And now here she was partying big time with a group of delinquent thirty-somethings who looked as if the only thing on their minds was to have a piece of Sam Carter.

Jack scowled. Well, it wasn't going to happen. She may be free of her fiancé but it didn't mean he, Jack O'Neill, was going to sit back and allow her to make a complete ass of herself

His eyes narrowed menacingly as he realized the music had slowed and she was now in the guy's arms. 'For crying out loud!' So be it. He pushed himself off of his stool, checked to ease the pain in his leg, and approached the dance floor.

Until the last minute he wasn't sure he'd actually have the nerve to carry it through but as he saw her partner's hands running up and down her back – was he fiddling with her bra fastening! And as the words of the song penetrated his red, hot brain, he knew he had no choice.

Let's make out – let's do something amazing

Let's do something that's all the way

'Cos I never touched somebody

Like the way I touch your body

Now I never want to let your body go …

Very gently, very properly, he tapped Tom on the shoulder saying, "Excuse me." There was a fixed, tight smile on his lips. He kept his eyes on Sam.

"Get lost." Tom didn't move his head from Sam's neck.

"That's impolite."

Jack tapped again aware that Sam's wide eyes had never left his though her expression was inscrutable.

This time Tom's attention was caught – he didn't look happy. Ignoring the aggressive vibrations emanating from Tom's body, Jack continued. "This is where etiquette demands you hand the lady over to me and you go back to your buddies."

"F-ck off!"

Feigning ignorance Jack shook his head slowly.

"No, that's not how it goes." And now Jack did turn his dark eyes on Sam's partner and what was in them made Tom hesitate.

Under no illusions, Sam was vitally aware of the danger the younger man was in. She didn't take her eyes off Jack.

"What do you think you're doing, Colonel?"

"You know this jerk?" Tom's posture was all aggression.

"It's okay, Tom. I think we can both sit down."

"Carter?"

Her breath caught as she heard the longing and despair voiced in her name, Jack's defences lowered as he turned to her in supplication.

As one part of her yearned to reach out to him, the other half pulled back reminding her of all the pain she had endured this past six months because of him – because of Jack O'Neill.

She stared hard into his deep, fathomless eyes, unable to move, transfixed by their pull as the music and the dancers moved gently around them.

Let's make a night to remember

January to December

Let's make love to excite us

A memory to ignite us.

"You coming or what?" Tom demanded acerbically.

"Just give me a minute." She put a gentle hand on the man's arm and as she turned back to Jack, in that single moment she saw a light extinguished in his eyes. The openness had gone replaced by his usual hard, dry veneer which covered all the painful cracks in his complex persona.

"Never figured you'd go for that type, Carter," he muttered coldly.

"You don't know who my type is… sir."

She threw the last word in as an insult and it shot home as she saw Jack blink, his eyes going flat and dull.

"Truer words were never spoken," he rasped, his voice scathing. "Enjoy yourself!" he spat out and turning on his heel, he walked away trying his hardest not to limp, not to show any sign of weakness, not to show he was ready to tear anyone and anything to pieces should he be given the oh so longed for opportunity.

He didn't return to the bar but took an empty booth where he was able to place his order with a barmaid for a bottle of whisky.

'Screw you, bartender,' he thought bleakly catching sight of Steve busily serving a group of men fresh in. His fingers drummed on the table impatiently until, hearing approaching footsteps, he looked up expectantly, already tasting the bite of the alcohol as it burned down his throat, but as he recognised Steve he groaned realizing his chances of drinking himself into total oblivion had been zeroed.

"Sorry, friend, my ruling still stands but I can call that cab."

Jack shook his head slowly. A good soldier knew when to accept defeat. No reason to hang around now. So much for trying to make an apology.

"No need – can do it myself."

He stood and without a backward glance headed for the exit, reaching for the cell phone in his jacket pocket and pressing out the number of a local taxi service. As he was depressing the last digit a heavy blow to his shoulder made him stumble but ready to accept responsibility for the collision, an apology was on his lips until the evil grin of Tom came at him from nowhere followed by a fist to the side of his head.

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She was absolutely sure he'd been sitting at the bar but as she scanned the people around her no single guy with silver grey hair came into her vision.

Damn! Maybe he'd gone to the guy's room. From the smell of his breath she knew he'd been doing plenty of drinking – just what Janet had not ordered.

Glancing at her watch – almost eleven, she grimaced, she had an unexpectedly early start tomorrow which wasn't going to be pleasant given that she'd get, she estimated, approximately six hours sleep.

Still no sign of the colonel. Catching sight of the older man behind the bar, Sam caught his attention.

"Tall, grey-haired guy, black leather jacket and …"

Steve smiled. "Just left – he should be outside waiting for a cab if--."

One of the young barmaids quickly approached, interrupting and whispering in his ear. The friendly smile disappeared, replaced by a much more serious scowl.

"One moment, miss. I'll be back in a minute."

The two practically ran outside and it was only then, as she turned and saw Tom's empty table, that a sickening tightness hit the pit of her stomach.

'Please, no,' she cried silently as she followed close on their heels.

Pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes flew to the blood dripping from Jack's left eyebrow, coursing down his cheek and as her automatic training kicked in and she prepared to do battle, she suddenly realized that Tom was on the ground holding both hands to a bloody nose whilst one of his friends lay in the dirt groaning as he held his midriff. The other two stood well back ready, it seemed, to cut and run at the drop of a hat.

"Up to your party tricks again, Tom?" Steve asked dryly. "Well, it appears you cut off more than you could handle this time. Be on your way before I call the police and oh, yeah, you're banned for the duration."

They watched as the two standing helped their fallen comrades up and disappeared into the night.

Turning back to Jack and Sam, Steve surveyed the damage to Jack's eyebrow. "Why don't you come back in and let us help you clean up?"

"Thanks for the offer," Sam interrupted before Jack could get a word in and she smiled to show her appreciation, "but I'll get him back. It's not far."

Watching them walk away, Steve smiled to himself. 'Glad you found each other.'

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The drive passed in frigid silence apart from when Sam had thrust a wad of tissues into Jack's hand for his bleeding eyebrow and snapped, "Warn me if you're going to throw up."

He was out of the car, attempting to hurry for the deck steps before she had come to a complete stop and put on the hand brake, but slamming her door she knew she hadn't quite finished with Jack O'Neill just yet.

Able to move much faster, she easily caught up with him as he entered the cabin and with a firm grip on his elbow she steered him into the kitchen.

"Sit before you fall down."

She moved to a cupboard she knew contained a first aid box and began to rifle through it. Finding what she wanted, she turned back only now noticing that Jack was still standing where she'd left him. Hissing in exasperation, she grabbed a part of his jacket and pushed him over to a kitchen chair where she tugged hard causing him to land heavily on his rear.

He gave a low growl but, ignoring it, she took a firm grasp of his chin, tilting his head up sharply so that she could get a better look at the cut, not allowing herself to stare into his troubled eyes.

"This will hurt," she snapped and without a second's hesitation she applied a wad of cotton which she'd first soaked in some liquid.

She was ready when, with a sharp intake of breath, he tried to rear up and jerk away from the stinging pain and she held on to him with grim determination and pushed down hard so that he was forced back onto his seat.

"Sit still. I haven't finished."

"The hell you have." He tried rising again.

"The hell I haven't," she shot back, pressing down on his wound whilst keeping a vice-like hold on his jacket. "You'll need steri-strips unless you'd prefer a trip to the local hospital?" she challenged dryly.

She knew the answer even with his silence but was pleased to feel the resistance fade from his body. He sat silently, unmoving as she finished her ministrations, eyes lowered, guarded against any possible intrusion.

Once she'd finished, Sam pressed a large glass of water into his hands.

"Drink it all – it might help with the hangover." And piercing him with a look that would have quelled a mob of unruly airmen she continued, "No doubt you'll have the perfect excuse for Janet when she asks about your eye?" Then turning her back on him she started to clean away the debris, ignoring him, but she knew when he stood and headed for his room, choosing not to acknowledge the fact, merely continuing her work.

The sound of his bedroom door closing allowed Sam the respite she so dearly craved and she sank down onto the nearest chair Jack had just vacated, elbows resting on the table, head in her hands.

She started at the sound of Teal'c's voice, gentle and concerned.

"You are unwell, Dr. Carter?"

Wearily she raised her head, a tired smile touching her lips.

"No, Teal'c, just a little tired…I'm afraid you car has been left at O'Malleys – I gave the colonel a lift back."

She saw the raised eyebrows and the gentle nod.

"I have to be away earlier than expected tomorrow, a six a.m. departure. We could go get it now if you like."

Seeing her weariness, the tall Jaffa shook his head. "I will retrieve it in the morning – it will do O'Neill good to have a long, slow walk instead of his usual work out."

Sam smiled – a good enough punishment she thought wryly.

"Can I get you anything, Dr. Carter?"

"No, I'll just have a cup of tea and then I'll retire."

The Jaffa noticed her frown, a look of discomfort pass over her features. He tilted his head to the side and waited patiently.

"Teal'c... er... the colonel… He, er… he doesn't know I'm leaving."

Teal'c's gentle eyes watched her carefully. "Indeed?"

"No…..I thought……well I just…..I wanted--."

'If it would help, I will convey your farewell wishes."

Sam's eyes softened as she silently thanked the dark warrior for his generosity of spirit in not forcing her to put into words what she was unable to do.

"I will see you in the morning Dr. --."

"Oh, don't feel you have to get up on my account."

Teal'c scrutinized her, the slightest of frowns marring his perfect, dark features.

"I do not feel I have to get up on your account, Dr. Carter. I wish to get up on your account….There is a subtle difference. You are cherished in my heart as you are in Daniel Jackson's and Colonel O'Neill's."

Sam's eyebrows shot up "Oh, yeah, I know." She was unable to prevent the irony in her tone yet dropped her eyes, feeling vulnerable with Teal'c's admission.

"Do you doubt that I speak the truth, Dr. Carter?"

Sam's eyes shot to his, horrified that he might think she doubted his own feelings.

"No, no, not at all Teal'c. It's just, well...the colonel isn't exactly...what I mean is that I'm not the colonel's favourite person – as you might have noticed." She gave an awkward grin, feeling the colour creeping up her neck.

"I have seen for myself what O'Neill feels for you, Dr. Carter, and I must disagree with your observations."

Sam winced slightly, unwilling to argue with the gentle Jaffa.

"I think I'll simply beg to differ with you there," and she smiled to show there were no hurt feelings.

"Does O'Neill require my assistance?"

"It's okay, Teal'c. I'll check on him before I go up. You go and do your kel-nor'reem and I'll see you in the morning."

Sitting at the breakfast bar, she made her tea last longer than normal, now wishing she had let the Jaffa go in to Jack.

'Why did I say I'd check on him?' she asked herself crossly. 'He's fit to chew me up and spit me out in tiny pieces! Why do I put myself in such unpleasant situations?'

Washing her cup, ensuring the kitchen was immaculate and turning out the lights, Sam now hesitated outside Jack's bedroom door. Softly, very, very softly she knocked. She waited not breathing.

'Asleep, thank goodness.' She allowed herself a sigh of relief and was turning away when the door was thrown open. She blinked in surprise.

"I…I…thought you were asleep," she stuttered.

"Pretty nigh impossible when you're thumping on my door."

'Ugh oh – he's pissed.' And she wasn't referring to alcohol.

Refusing to be goaded into an argument, she dropped her eyes from his cold glare.

"I just wanted to check you were okay before I--."

"I'm fine!" His tone was sharp enough to slice through the air. "It warms my heart to know you care, Carter."

'Bastard!' He knew how to stick the knife in and twist it excruciatingly.

Her features twisted into a grotesque parody of a weak smile as she stepped away and heard his door close.

Slowly, painfully she climbed the steps to her room but with every step she felt her own anger bubbling up.

'Just what did he mean by 'It warms my heart to know you care?' Just what the hell did he mean by that?'

By the time she had reached her own bedroom door she was seething from the injustice of O'Neill's attitude. 'He is going to get a piece of my mind if it's the last thing I do!' And marching down the steps she had just climbed, she banged hard on Jack's door until it was yanked open.

"What the hell--."

"That is thumping on your door, Colonel!" she snapped indignantly. "I just thought you should know the difference." Her heart was beating so loudly Sam was sure he must be able to hear it.

Jack glowered dangerously. "Is there anything else, Carter?"

His tone could burn the hide off a steer.

Suddenly losing her momentum, Sam stepped back "No..." 'Bastard!' "Yes, yes, there is."

It was Jack's turn to blink.

"Did you think I would leave it this way?" Sam's voice was softly spoken but there was an edge of carefully controlled anger simmering beneath the quiet tone. "Did you really?" Eyes narrowed, voice beginning to harden, Sam stabbed at Jack with her hand, pushing him in the chest and before he could recover she shoved him hard again. Caught completely off guard, he actually stumbled backwards and she followed, skewering him with her burning glare.

"How dare you!" she cried, 'You conceited bastard!"

Hah, that had got his attention.

"You dare to question my feelings, you heartless son of a bitch. You've been so--."

Finally, finding his voice he attempted to interrupt. "If I want to--."

"Shut up, Colonel. You're going to listen whether you like it or not. 'I' didn't leave you behind at O'Reilly's, though you damned well deserved it, just like I didn't leave you on Edora."

Her eyes burned bright as she held his stony glare. "I learned my lesson well from you, maybe too well," she whispered vehemently. "But why Edora?" she demanded, her strength beginning to crack. Exhaling a shaky breath she stared at her former CO despondently. "Why did you have to choose that one out of all the planets?"

He turned away unable to look her in the eye as he growled back, "I had a job to do and I did it the only way I knew how – to the best of my ability."

"Is that so?" Sam demanded scathingly, grabbing his arm and pulling him round so that he saw her white face open in its despair. "And what the hell happened to not leaving your team behind?" she finished softly.

There, she had voiced the one question she knew would cut him to the core of his very existence.

Struggling to find an answer, his pale features whitened further as rage and pain brimmed in his eyes.

"I believed in you," she whispered fiercely, "like the sun rising every morning I believed in you and everything you stood for."

She couldn't have said anything more to hurt him and as he deliberately turned his head to avoid her accusatory glare, all the pain and anger, the fury and despair, rose up as a tidal wave to overpower her very senses. Her voice, ominously soft, she continued, "I'd never run from anything before, but what you did made me sick to my stomach."

"Carter," he growled her name warningly, the flush of rage burning across his exhausted features.

"Screw you, sir!" She spat it at him in venom, her body rejoicing at his reaction.

Fists clenched at his sides, he stood straight and tall, but as she spun on her heel his hard hand shot out jerking her back round and pulling her roughly against him.

Shock drained the last vestige of colour from her cheeks as she glared up at him impotently; her chin rose in defiance as she saw the look in his dark eyes.

Lines of bitterness were etched deeply round his mouth as accusation burned in her eyes.

As if her proximity was suddenly too much for him to bear, he thrust her away from him and she stumbled back almost losing her balance, having to reach out to the wall for support.

His voice low but determined, he pronounced each word slowly, precisely and with heavy irony in synchrony with his steps forward to meet her face to face. "I'm sorry your ethics have received a battering, Carter, but I've never held myself up to be a beacon of morality." And slapping the wall hard on the side of her head, he continued ruthlessly. "Stop acting like a prima donna adolescent and grow up!"

He heard the sharp intake of her breath at the same time as she hit him as hard as she knew. And as if time had slowed, she watched in horror as he raised one hand towards the white imprint of her palm which slowly started to fill with red across his cheek.

Devoid of all expression, he watched her with a dangerous calm.

"I...I...," she floundered, searching for words but unable to find any, so appalled was she by her own actions.

For a long moment he searched Sam's anguished features, stiffening when he saw tears of mortification threatening to spill down her cheeks while she blinked hurriedly to dispel them.

"I haven't even decided on a punishment, Carter, so can the tears," he whispered menacingly.

She dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes and the smouldering anger she could see just barely held in check.

He fingered his jaw tentatively

"Got yourself quite a swing there, Carter – only thing is – payback's a bitch."

Bristling at his threat of retaliation she raised her chin belligerently, pride preventing her from running, yet as the seconds passed in an agony of silence, she could not withhold the slight tremor of apprehension which travelled through her.

But like a fickle wind inexplicably changing direction, the fight went out of the lean soldier – the burning fire in his eyes faded leaving a weak flame which was ready to expire. He physically wilted though Sam, head bowed low, missed the signs.

"For crying out loud – just get the hell out of here," he muttered.

He'd expected her to run like a rabbit now escape was being offered. Perplexed, he shook his head at her stillness.

Rubbing the heel of a palm across his aching forehead, his eyes were closed when she looked up, seeing again the Jack she knew of old, the one for whom she craved. Reaching out a tentative hand, she touched him lightly on the cheek where her hand had made brutal contact.

He started, so unexpected was this feather-like touch but her eyes stilled him and he returned her look searching for something he thought he could almost see.

He reached for her hesitantly almost ready for her rebuttal but his lips were warm and deliberate when they found hers, no hesitation now as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Stepping into his embrace Sam moulded her body against Jack's drawing his head closer to hers as her lips parted allowing him access to her sweet breath, and as his own hands reached under her top and made contact with her skin she gasped with a compelling need that craved this man's touch. As her own hands made their own sensorial search of his tall, lean frame she felt herself melting into him, her own urgent desires demanding fulfilment in the age long union of bodies entwined.

She had no recollection of Jack slamming the door shut, of being carried to his bed or of being divest of her clothing. Her sole being centred on making love to a man for whom she had had deep feelings for almost four years, deep feelings she had refused to allow any form of realization. But now the flood gates had opened and nothing could withstand the force of their demands. She pulled him deep within her, arching her body to meet his thrusts, their bodies dancing to a timeless rhythm which eventually left them sated and exhausted in each other's arms.

He slept, possibly the result of all the alcohol consumed but more likely from the sweet relaxation, allowing Sam the pure pleasure of being able to observe him openly, admiringly, lovingly.

With the softest of touches she ran her hand down his face, onto his shoulder and across his chest. He murmured in his sleep but her frown relaxed when she heard her name and saw the smile on his lips.

She grinned impishly, wondering if his dream was as good as the real thing. Then relishing the feel of his naked body so close to hers beneath the cotton sheets, she allowed herself to relax and eventually her soft, even breathing joined Jack's.

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Go to Part 6

N.B Please be warned that the opening paragraph of Part 6 is rated M but then returns to T rating for the remaining Parts 7 to 9.