A/N I've learned something about myself as a writer. I can't just sit on the story if I have part of it written. I also don't feel like bartering for your reviews by withholding chapters either. I really do enjoy them immensely and if you feel like writing one it is always appreciated, but I also want to go ahead and post what I have written… so since last chapter was an 'insert' here is what originally followed chapter two. The REAL chapter 3, which we will now call 'chapter 4'. If there is something you would like to see happen, let me know, and I'll see what I can do—as clearly shown with the 'fake' chapter 3.
It was two weeks later that she finally had the nerve to talk to anyone other than Cassie.
Embarrassment, shame, and a multitude of other emotions assaulted her whenever she let herself think, and what to say to these men was beyond her grasp.
How do you look the people you love in the eye again when you break their trust in your judgment so thoroughly? Can you hope to regain it?
Betrayal is a strong word, but the only one that she can come up with when she thinks of Jack O'Neill. Daniel and Teal'c she was sure of their forgiveness, if not understanding, in time. But Jack? No, she didn't expect that from him. She knew him too well.
That's why when she showed up on his doorstep she wasn't surprised that he didn't answer the door. When she "let herself in", the first thing she noticed was the mess. His house, usually pristine, was messy. There were plates of food on the counter, beer bottles near the couch, and magazines strewn about.
It wasn't messy in a someone-broke-in way, but more a carelessness which did not resemble Jack O'Neill at all.
Not knowing what to call him, Sir? Jack? General?, she didn't announce her presence. She just methodically started looking through the house for him.
It was the clip for his beretta lying in the hallway that shocked her.
When she opened the door to his bedroom the situation became even more surreal.
He was lying on his left side on the bed facing her, curled into a fetal position, wearing plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His side arm was next to his pillow, but missing its clip. In his right hand was a small glove which was precariously touching an empty glass which would fall on the floor with any slight movement. His left hand held a care worn photo with frayed edges, but was at an angle that she couldn't see who was in it.
His eyes were closed, obviously in sleep, but the tracks where the tears had fallen were fresh enough that he could not have been asleep long.
It was while staring at him that his eyes opened slightly, and a small gasp escaped his lips. He clenched his eyes shut again as the tears started streaking down his face and his soft sobbing began.
She didn't know what to do.
She was saved from the moment by the movement of the glass, whose life had been in a dangerous situation to begin with, descending to the ground and smashing against the hardwood floors.
He sat straight up so quickly it startled her and he looked as if he was going to jump off the bed.
"Don't!" she almost screeched at him as he went to stand up.
He froze on command and looked up as if only seeing her for the first time.
"You're barefoot, you'll cut yourself, let me… get a broom. I'll be right back…"
She ran to the kitchen and returned to find him sitting in the same position. She quickly swept up the dangerous glass and had just turned to put the broom against the wall when she found her self pressed up against it.
He put his full weight into immobilizing her against the wall, and with his entire body lined up with hers and her face an inch away from his, he looked at her.
"What are you doing here, Carter?"
"I…you were right."
"Was I?"
"Yes, it's daisies. Red Gerber daisies."
The understanding that passed between them at that moment is something that words could never actually describe. But, actions could.
She lightly and ever so slowly leaned in to kiss his right cheek whispering in his ear, "You were right."
Slowly she moved to the left but she didn't make it. His kiss was strong, passionate, desperate, and gentle. It overpowered her senses to an extreme that she was sure she started purring. Her entire body was humming from the intensity of his mouth.
When it came to an end she realized that he was just as awed as she was with what they just experienced.
"I love you." It came out as a whisper, but being so close he heard it just the same.
His eyes closed in pain. "It was always you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I let it go so far, I didn't, couldn't love him the way I love you. Please, God, please forgive me…" She realized that she was begging, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded with him, for his forgiveness, for his love.
When he looked back up at her his eyes were cold.
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Trying my shot at a cliff hanger… what do you think? Did it work?
I know this might seem slightly out of character for some, but give me the benefit of the doubt for a bit, I'm trying to add 'depth.'