CHAPTER EIGHT
Two days later: Colorado Springs U.S. Air Force Military Hospital.
The Asgard did what they could for Sam, and got her stabilized. However, since the Replicators had destroyed most of their advanced medical technology, they did the only thing they could, they delivered Sam in critical but stable condition to the SGC. Until that moment, Jack had no idea how vulnerable the Asgard had become, which meant the universe was in one hell of a jam or was that pickle. Dang, he hated clichés.
Few folks knew about Sam's situation. Teal'c filled Jack in on life at the SGC. Apparently Daniel had gotten hooked up with that crazy alien Vala Mal Doran and missed his ride to Atlantis on the Daedalus.
During a phone call, Landry explained how Daniel and a very skeptical Teal'c had agreed to work with Cameron to find the mythical sword Excalibur, etc, etc. When Landry explained that Daniel and Vala had lapsed into comas', Jack asked that Landry keep Sam's condition quiet but keep him apprised regarding Daniel's serious situation.
Teal'c's loyalties were torn between Sam and Daniel. Jack insisted Daniel needed to see Teal'c's smiley face when he awoke. The Jaffa agreed reluctantly. However, shortly after Sam went into surgery, Daniel had been returned to his body within seconds of death. The same went for Vala.
Sam's surgery lasted fourteen hours. It proved to be one of the longest days of Jack's life. Through it all Cassandra, T, and George keep vigil with Jack. That is everyone but Daniel who was still attached at the hip with Vala, whom Landry refused to let off base. Daniel called hourly and kept apologizing for not being there for Jack and Sam.
No doubt about it, Jack wished Space Monkey were here. He'd almost overshot Landry's chain of command, but knew that he'd have done the same were their roles reversed. There was absolutely no reason to trust that flimflamming Vala. Heck, she'd sell her own mother if she could make a buck.
Jack leaned forward, stretched and then cracked his stiff neck. Day ja view. Been here done this--again. His butt had long gone numb as he sat in the bedside chair of the Colorado Springs USAF base hospital's ICU ward, watching his wife's slow animated breathing. Every breath initiated by a respirator. This was so fricking unfair. He'd been in this chair before . . . just a different location. He wished they were at the SGC with familiar faces. Then again he and Sam wouldn't be married, nor would this have happened, right? Well, anything was possible.
Caressing the one place of her pale forearm not riddled with IV's, Jack spoke softly to his godsend. He'd repeatedly tried to speak telepathically but with no success. He did a mental count of Sam's injuries. A broken jaw and left cheek bone, right eye socket, cracked collarbone, four broken ribs, shattered left fibula, dislocated right hip, stab wounds to her left lung, punctured kidney and a nicked right aorta of the heart. She'd lost a great deal of blood.
He didn't recall her ever being this seriously injured on any off world mission. Which just made the irony of their situation worse. Since they brought her up from surgery Sam's pale bruised purple facial features hadn't changed. She'd not moved a muscle. The attending physician had placed her in an induced coma to progress the healing process. He said she had less than a thirty percent chance of survival. Heck, Jack mused, that was better than when the Entity had taken her over.
Unaware Jack and Sam were married the doctor had first insisted Jack limit his visits to ten minutes an hour with Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter. After she came out of surgery, the doctor gave Jack Carte blanch. Being head of Homeworld Security had its perks, as did a call from the President of the United States to the hospital administrator.
Although his arm wound required serious stitches and was now secured in a sling, Jack's Ancient body would heal in no time. It was Sam he worried about. Soon as Pete had burst into a ball of fire, Jack had revived Sam then started to heal her. But unlike with Master Bra'tac or when he'd removed the Replicator device from Sam's womb, her complications were more than he could handle at one time. On Thor's ship, he'd passed out trying to heal to her. He humbly realized being an Ancient didn't make him God. Like then, he had an open line of communication with The Keeper of Stars. In the end he had little choice but to place her into His loving hands. Furthermore Jack had to tread carefully at the hospital for fear of exposing his unique abilities.
Cassandra had not left Sam's side until an hour ago when she drove to the SGC to retrieve Charlie whom the Tok'ra had begrudgingly allowed to return in order to see his mother. Of course, Jack's threats to reveal Klorel's escape to the Pentagon seemed to have impacted that diplomatic decision.
Jack stood and stretched his aching back muscles then walked to the door and glanced down the empty corridor to make sure he was alone. He needed to do this before Cassandra and Charlie arrived. The ICU nurse had just stepped out for coffee. That allowed Jack fifteen minutes of quality time to speed up Sam's healing process.
Switching off the lights he removed from his briefcase the hand-healing device with which he'd become more comfortable. He didn't need it to heal Sam but the device allowed him to better sense the progress.
He needed to rid himself of the anger that quelled his healing abilities. Nothing. He'd been so caught up in his concern for Sam and his rage toward those responsible for her condition he'd forgotten the most important thing. This wasn't about his Ancient genes or what he could do. It was about what God would do through him. Bowing his head, Jack prayed for inner peace and to do God's will. As peace washed over him, the healing gift embraced him and a tingling sensation flowed from his chest outward and into his arms, hands and fingers.
Jack healed the puncture in Sam's lung and the artery the surgeon had spent hours reattaching to Sam's heart. He then concentrated on her cheekbone and jaw that was presently wired shut. The thought of Sam not being able to talk for a while did have its beanies and caused him to briefly smile.
As the gray cloud of unconsciousness loomed before him, Jack stopped. He had never been so physically, mentally or emotionally drained in his life. The rest of her injuries would have to wait. Exhausted, he dropped into the chair beside Sam, rested his hand over hers, and dozed.
Sometime later, half asleep, he felt a tingling sensation down his spine. Always a sign something Asgard was about to happen.
"Thor?" He opened his eyes. He'd no sooner spoken, than a vertical shaft of light flashed and Rodney McKay stood just inside the doorway, tugging at his Atlantis uniform and looking nervously around.
"McKay," Jack drawled pushing to his feet.
"General." Rodney acknowledged. "That just never gets old." He pointed over his head and smiled.
"Nope, it doesn't." Jack replied softly. "I thought you'd hitched a ride with Thor to the Daedalus."
"Yeah, we're about to engage hyper-space, but I wanted to um," clenching his hands, the astrophysicist took a hesitant step toward Sam surrounded by medical equipment. Jack watched the younger man's face tense with emotion. "So is she?"
"Holding her own." Jack slipped a soiled blonde curl behind her right earlobe. "Not out of the woods yet, but God willing, she'll pull out of this."
"Yeah. Glad to see you're so optimistic. Wish I had the quality. Unfortunately I deal with numbers and facts and well, the odds aren't in her favor," he said bluntly.
Ready to chew the man out, Jack turned a dark eye on him then stopped as he saw the hopelessness on the physicist's face.
"All things are possible with the Man upstairs," Jack said with certainty.
"Now there's a shocker. I never thought you to be into anything spiritual, especially with all the undeniable evolutionary stuff you've experienced."
Jack smiled and jammed his hands into his front jean pockets. "Well don't get too worried, McKay. I'm still a grumpy old fart with a cynical heart. But there's got to be more to life than what we can analyze or theorize with a chalkboard of equations. If not, why bother to live or explore what's out there?" He nodded skyward. No matter what you believe ya can't take it with you."
"I, err," Obviously uncomfortable with spiritual debates, he glanced back at Sam. "So you'll keep me up to date with her recovery?"
"Of course. Um, if you'd like a moment alone." Jack gestured.
"Sure. But you actually trust me alone with your wife?"
Jack's jaw slackened then snapped shut.
"Gotcha." Rodney preened. "Along with Klorel's observation, I put two and two together at her apartment. Sam never struck me as the shacking-up type. Nor you, General."
"Well there's that." He flinched. "And about the whole blowtorch thingy on Nirrti's ship, I hate to make threats or order you, but—"
"My lips are sealed. Besides, General Landry and General Hammond already impressed the national security threat on me."
"Such as?" Jack suspected but wanted to make sure.
"If I squeal about any of this, I'm on the next flight home from Atlantis and back to the frozen tundra of Russia."
"Ah, yes. My idea." Jack snickered.
"Yeah, figured that."
Grinning, Jack rocked on his heels. "Best let you say goodbye to Sam, before Thor gets antsy and beams you up."
"Thanks." Rodney turned to the bed.
Jack walked toward the door but didn't exist. Not that he was interested hearing McKay confess his undying love. No, Jack didn't leave Sam's side unless he had no choice. When he stole a glance at McKay, he felt for the guy. Rodney was bent over Sam, caressing her face and talking softly, just loud enough Jack heard emotion in the self-centered egomaniac. Who'd have thunk? Then again, Sam brought out the best in people, even one Doctor Rodney McKay. Jack looked at the monitor. When anyone spoke to Sam her heart rate elevated. A good sign, even if it was Rodney.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Rodney held Sam's hand and tried to restrain his tears and the tremor in his voice. "Okay, so I'm not the lucky chump. But you'd have done a lot worse with that Shanahan nutcase, then the General. So, I'm just asking that you pull through this, Doctor Carter--O'Neill. Cuz, in all honesty, there's no one on Atlantis to challenge me mentally. Well, there's Zelenka but he's a pinhead. Anyways," he cleared his clogged throat, "Even though I can be a self-centered asshole, I care about you, Sam. A lot. Get better so I can show you Atlantis, yeah, that'd be great."
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ
Jack watched as Rodney straightened and regained his bearings, including a backhanded swipe at his damp eyes.
"Well, General O'Neill." He turned and walked toward Jack.
"McKay." Jack sniffed and rubbed his aching lower back.
"Um, although I don't believe the better man won, I am glad you got her instead of Shanahan."
"I suspect there's a compliment in that twisted remark—somewhere." Jack snorted.
"Yes, somewhere. You take good care of her."
"Of course." Jack gave a tight smile. "Who knows, maybe we'll come visit you in Atlantis."
Rodney's eyes widened with horror but he quickly recovered. "Well, I'm sure Doctor Weir and Colonel Shepard will be glad to see you, sir. And I can show Sam all the technological advances I've single-handedly achieved and —"
Flash! No McKay.
"Yes!" Jack clenched his fist and pumped his arm. "Saved by the bell," then settled in the chair beside his wife and caressed her cold fingertips. "You have no idea how much that pompous ass annoys me, Sam."
She squeezed back. "Well, I'll be da—Whoops, sorry. Still working on that swearing thingy, Dorothy." She squeezed again and he snagged his lower lip to hold back tears. "You sleep, Carter. That's an order."
Her hold relaxed and he closed his eyes a few minutes. An hour later, yawning, he glanced at his watch and wondered what happened to his kids. They should have been here by now.
As if on cue, they entered the private room. The attending nurse turned to remove them.
"He's her son." Jack explained.
"Oh, sorry," the nurse acknowledged Charlie. "I'll be outside if you need me, General."
"Thanks." He nodded. Cassandra came to his side, Jack watched Charlie's handsome face pale as he approached his unconscious mother.
Cass snatched Jack's hand and whispered, "He's scared and angry, Dad. Please . . .?"
"Sure thing." He stepped quietly to where Charlie stood and slipped his arm around Charlie's broad shoulders. Jack thought Sam looked better since he'd used the healing device, but no doubt, he'd grown accustom to the fact that she look very little like the Samantha Carter their son had last seen.
"For crying out loud!" Charlie buckled but Jack caught him and held on tight.
"She's going to get through this, son."
Wordless, Charlie turned into him and hung on. "I want to kill them!"
"Already done," said Jack matter factually.
"But Shanahan's alive."
"Yes, barely."
"Why?" Charlie swiped a wet eye and faced Jack with a look of disgust.
"He holds key Intel about the TRUST."
"I don't give a rip about the TRUST. I want him dead, vaporized!"
"Me too." Jack confessed remembering that had Teal'c not intervened Pete would have long been ash. "But if we can't extract information from him, all of this, including what your mom's suffered will be for nothing, Charlie."
"General O'Neill," the nurse reentered the room.
"What?" he looked over his son's trembling shoulder.
"Mr. Shanahan is conscious and has requested to speak to you."
"Thanks, I'll be there."
"Let me come with you." Charlie insisted glancing at Sam's bandaged form.
"No. This is official business, son. You stay with Cass and your mom." He turned and smiled down at Sam. "Talk and touch her, Charlie. Let her know you're here. Give her another reason to live."
His son shuddered with emotion. "She looks so fragile, so broken." He sobbed, his gaze resting on the leg and hip cast.
The sound of the ventilator continued to rise and lower, making a whooshing sound. A tear wet Jack's cheek, but his stern tone was that of a commanding officer addressing a lower ranking officer.
"Cut the whining, son. Your mother is neither fragile nor broken. She's Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter O'Neill and she needs you to be strong for her."
Cassandra walked up to them and took one of Charlie's damp hands. "Hey, little bro, let's do this together." She directed their hands to Sam's left arm.
Jack watched as they caressed her forearm and moved down to her palm. Charlie let go of Cassandra and coiling his fingers around Sam's frigid ones, leaned forward and kissed the one spot of her face not bandaged. "Hey, mom, it's me, your Retu Charlie, and I'm not going anywhere until you're up and about ya hear."
Several moments of stilted silence passed and then to everyone's surprise, Sam clutched his hand and her good eye flickered just long enough for her to focus on her son. She then coughed into the ventilation tube, before she closed her eyes.
"Wow!" Charlie turned to Jack and Cassandra's surprised expressions. "She heard me."
"Sweet." Jack backhanded his tears of joy.
"General?" the nurse was back.
"Yeah, coming. Meanwhile get the doc in here ASAP. My wife just opened her eyes and coughed."
"That's impossible. She's in an induced coma?" the nurse gaped.
"Not anymore!" Cassandra said hugging Charlie.
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ
At Shanahan's door, Jack nodded at the two SF guards and entered the secured dimly lit infirmary room. He found agent Barrett nodding off in a chair. The younger man came to attention and shot upright at Jack's presence.
"Agent Barrett." Jack acknowledged wearingly and walked past him to the hospital bed.
"General O'Neill." He smiled briefly then glanced with concern at the patient. Although Barrett didn't know he and Sam were romantically involved, let alone married, he knew Sam's critical condition and had checked with the desk nurse numerous times.
Jack knew the agent had been briefed on everything, including how Pete got burned. No doubt Barrett worried Jack might want to finish what he'd started. It took great willpower to face the man responsible for his wife being tortured. But Jack felt angrier with himself for not having protected her. He'd known Pete was dangerous but had no idea to what degree, let alone he'd been a part of Nirrti's rat pack and the Trust.
His left hand clenched, he lorded over Pete's hospital bed. He really wanted to kill the SOB but that meant Pete would go to his grave with important information needed on the TRUST and Baal.
"He's conscious again, General, but . . ." Barrett frowned.
"But what?" he rolled his tight aching shoulders and glanced at the burnt remains in the bed. All but his eyes and mouth were bandaged. Jack remembered Daniel's fatal exposure to radiation three years before. Apparently the flames Jack had created were radioactive. Interestingly, no one, not even Teal'c had been exposed.
"The doctors have done everything possible. It's a miracle he's made it this long, sir."
"Has he said anything?"
"Yeah, mostly gibberish. But he told me he's been on the TRUST payroll for over two years, back to when they were part of the NID. The Colonel wasn't his first assignment. Apparently he has a gift of charming women."
"Whatever. If he's on his last breath let's interrogate him now."
"Yes. I requested an FBI dictation secretary to . . ."
"Not necessary." Jack removed a hand held tape recorder. "The less ears, the less cleanup we'll have."
"Understood, sir." Barrett agreed. "Um, before we start. How's Sam, I mean Colonel Carter?"
"Critical but stable." Jack's answer sounded automated.
"Um, well, would it be possible to see her? I mean, if that's all right, General?"
Jack closed his eyes and exhaled. He wanted to say no, but knew the agent had feelings for Sam. Barrett was a good man and Jack wouldn't deny him five minutes with his wife. If he could stomach McKay, he could sure handle Barrett. "Sure. But let's get this over with first."
The agent nodded. "Thank you, sir. And, General?"
Jack gave his 'what' look.
"I'm glad that Sam finally has you in her life and not as her CO."
Jack stared then blinked. They'd yet been given permission to go public. How did—?
"Since this case is a matter of national security, the President told me everything, sir."
"Everything?" Jack swallowed.
"Well, I'm sure he left out a lot," his lips twitched and Jack thought to see a smirk.
"I see. Well just remember that top-secret national security thingy. Otherwise, I'll have to shoot you." Jack winked.
"Promise, General." Barrett smiled back. They held each other's gazes in understanding.
Sniffing, Jack turned and addressed the sleeping man with a firm authoritative voice. "Shanahan?"
The former police detective opened his bloodshot eyes and blinked a few times before he focused on them. Jack set the tape-recorder on the bedside table.
"O'Neill . . . " Pete spoke above a whisper, "Sam . . . alive?"
Jack refused to answer, clenched his teeth and nodded to Barrett who proceeded to read Shanahan his rights.
"You have the right to remain silent anything you say may be used against you . . ."
"Will -- talk." Shanahan ended Barrett's legal litany.
"We'd like that," Jack said nicer than he felt. "Who you working for?"
"The TRUST." He coughed blood.
Jack's brows meshed.
"Yeah, you realize the Goa'uld control the TRUST?" Barrett asked.
"No!" Pete insisted and his vitals raced.
"Yes!" Jack argued back. "You were there, you saw Nirrti at work with Klorel."
"I'm undercover for CIA," he whispered.
Barrett and Jack exchanged skeptical glances.
"It's possible. I'll check it out." Barrett shrugged.
"Okay, now tell us what the TRUST wanted from Colonel Carter and myself and Cassandra Fraiser?"
"Ancient DNA." Pete breathed harder.
"They already had that, General." Barrett speculated too accurately. "There has to be more to this."
"I know." Jack dragged a hand through his hair.
"Sam okay?" Pete asked through the onset of chain stoke breaths.
"Why do you care?" Jack snorted.
"Lo-ove e-er." his watery eyes held Jack's furious gaze.
"What do you know about love, you son of a b—?" Hands stretched out, Jack leaned in for the kill. He didn't need Ancient powers to strangle the man.
"General?" Barrett intervened before the monitor began to beep. Pete went into cardiac arrest.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Pete Shanahan died with his secrets. Which meant they were no closer discovering the headman behind Pete's mission to abduct Sam and Jack. Although the most obvious candidate was Baal, there was no proof.
Sam was semi-conscious and breathing on her own. The doctor intern had removed the respirator and one IV. Jack kept his promise for Barrett to spend a few moments alone with her. When he'd exited her room it was apparent the younger man had been crying. Amazingly, Jack had yet to shed many tears. He felt all dried up inside and wondered if he'd ever cry.
"She's asking for you," Barrett said as he picked up his jacket and turned to Jack.
"What?" Shocked, Jack didn't bother to thank the man and rushed into the room, where the staff doctor and nurse were discussing Sam's progress.
"I don't believe it, sir." The intern smiled across at him. "We induced this coma and she's fighting to come out of it."
"Great! Can I . . ." he motioned to Sam who had more color in her bruised cheeks.
"Sure, but just a moment. She needs rest."
"Our son and daughter went to the cafeteria. Can you page them?" he asked the nurse, realizing he'd admitted they were his kids, not giving a hoot.
"Of course." She smiled and exited the room.
Jack waited until the Intern left then brushed a damp curl from his wife's forehead. "Sam, Hon, it's me Jack."
She mumbled slightly and opened her eyes. The brightest gray-blue gaze he'd ever hoped to see stared back at him.
"Cass?" she rasped with a sore throat.
"She's safe."
She nodded slightly. "You?" she whispered.
"Hey, I'm fine." He felt her focus on his bandaged arm. "It's healing." Sam would think about everyone else but herself.
"Hurt." She winced. "Drink?" she focused on the water cup and straw he'd picked up.
Jack put the straw to her parched lips and lifted her head for her to swallow. "You were seriously injured, Babe." He soothed her with words and caresses. "But you're going to pull through and—"
Her attending physician and the surgeon stormed the room. Sam stopped drinking and Jack eased her head back on the pillow.
"How could this have happened?" the doctors talked between themselves.
Jack smiled and stepped back, but not before winking at his wife. Then he heard her in his head.
'Jack?'
'What, Dorothy?'
'I would have died . . . you saved me.'
'I didn't do it alone.'
'No you didn't.' She yawned inside her head as the doctors rechecked her vitals and ordered another CAT SCAN.
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ
Jack's townhouse, Washington, DC: Four months later:
With her head on straighter Cassandra had returned to college and Charlie had begrudgingly returned to work with the Tok'ra last month. In some ways, Charlie and his Tok'ra counterpart had replaced Jacob/Selmak and now a fragile line of communication had formed between Earth and the Tok'ra.
However, on the day Charlie left, Jack didn't know who had suffered most, him or Sam. They'd had little time to bond with their Retu son, but managed to make the most of every moment he'd been with them. Also, the love and sibling rivalry between Cassandra and Charlie had proved a much needed distraction for Sam during her long grueling rehabilitation.
For now, life was back to normal. Well, as normal as their lives would ever be. Basically the honeymoon was over. Not that they'd ever had one. Jack had plans but didn't know when they'd ever get to 'Disney World.' Hey, some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this. . .Jack did a singsong of the ditty in his head. After all, he had never been there and neither had Sam.
Per usual the newest bad guys, the Or-eye, were badgering Earth. Landry had requested Sam report to the SGC for temporary off world duty. Jack had said no way, two hours ago and had no intention to change his mind. Hank swore that Samantha Carter was all that stood between Earth and the wicked ascended beings. Not in Jack's world. Let them find another brilliant mind to blow up a sun or whatever.
He realized he'd not exactly handled the call in a professional manner, especially with Sam sleeping beside him. The fact, she'd not awoken or probed his mind like she usually did made him worry, but he wasn't about to bring up the matter if she didn't.
It was now 0710 and just feet away in the bathroom Sam prepared for her first day back at Nellis AFB and Area 51. After having shared a shower with some early morning delight, Jack escaped their small bathroom in order for Sam to do whatever females do for an eternity after they shower. Lounging in bed, he attempted to steal a few more ZZs before he would personally deliver Sam via the X302 and then fly back to D.C. He didn't have to be in the office today until ten am and planned to take advantage of the extra snooze time. Besides, he and Sam had been catching up on months of missed lovemaking and she'd worn him out. Not that he'd admit that to her.
Unfortunately, listening to Sam sing off key was no lullaby, but it did make him smile in his zoned-out state of mind. Lying on his stomach with a towel wrapped around his hips, and his face pressed into Sam's pillow, he heard her sing the annoying ditty—again, "Sit on my face and tell me you love me. . ." She only knew the first line. He should teach her the rest. Nah.
His cellular rang. Jack fumbled for the phone on the floor and brought it to his ear. "Whaat?" he said through a yawn loaded with annoyance.
"Jack?"
"Daniel?"
"Well?"
"The answers still no."
"Hey, at least let me talk to her."
"So not going to happen, Space Monkey." He rolled onto his back and stretched.
"We need her, and--" Daniel rattled on. Jack made a vulgar gesture and dropped the phone. Swinging his legs over the bed's side, he sat upright and scratched his bare stomach, then poked at his belly button. Fuzz? How'd that get there? Heck, he'd just showered.
"Jack, are you even listening to me?"
"Trying—not," He reclaimed the phone, pressed the speakerphone option and searched for his military boots among other missing items of attire that had been flung around the room last night.
"Landry's going to call again."
"Shaking in my boots," Jack snorted.
"You can't keep saying no."
"Read my lips. No!"
"That's not your decision to make. It should be Sam's."
"Need I remind you I am the boss-man, Daniel? Your boss, Hank's boss, everyone's boss." Ah, there was that missing boot. Jack dropped to his knees while Daniel continued to plead his case.
"Jack, I think that newest promotion fried your brain."
"My brains just fine, Daniel."
"Well if you saw firsthand what the Ori are capable of, you wouldn't be such a self-centered jackass. The free Jaffa needs our help and Sam's the best hope we have—"
"And this is her first day back to work—at R&D, Daniel. She's not ready for active field duty and you know it. Even the doctors said she needs to ease back into things."
"Not according to the latest medical report from Doctor Lamb. Sam's in the best physical shape ever. Apparently some hard assed General tormented and coached her into recovery in half the time it'd take anyone else."
"Whatever." Hey, there was the missing green sock from last week. Jack snatched it up and smiled. He hated when he had mixed matched pairs.
"Jack, the Ori have taken over the planet of Kallana, and a Prior built an invisible force field around the gate and it appears to be drawing energy from—"
"I know. Landry told me."
"And you haven't told Sam?" Daniel sounded miffed.
"Nope. Hey, did you ever find the answer to that crossword puzzle question, the one about a nut and the missing link? Sam won't give me the answer."
"No, Jack, I've been slightly distracted. First I had a female man-eater attached to my hip—still do, almost got squashed, then barbecued, and now these Ori with chalky bad complexions want to take over the galaxy. So, no, I didn't get to your stupid crossword puzzle! But I bet if you wrote your name in the squares it'd fit."
"Oy, down big fellow." Prone on his stomach, Jack reached and yanked the lone boot out from under the tall dresser. Every time he and Sam replayed the Broca virus, things got wild and their bedroom got trashed. He smiled at the evidence which included half of their bedding, along with a knocked over lamp on the floor, Fortunately the lamp had survived their wild foreplay. Jack picked it up and placed it on the bedside table.
"You're a real piece of work, Jack!"
"Thanks. I'm also a husband, Daniel, protecting my --."
"Property?" the tense feminine voice came from behind him. Jack gulped and expected to feel a slender size eight foot shoved up his butt.
"Um," he stood to find Sam holding the phone and glaring at him.
"Daniel?" she asked softly.
"Sam?"
"Yep. I'll call you back in a few," she said too calmly into the phone.
"Um, yes, well, okay. Hey, don't hurt him too bad, he's just trying to--"
She shut off the phone and tossed it onto the bed.
"So?" Jack shrugged holding his boot as if it would protect him from a scorned mad scientist. "How much'd you hear?"
"Enough." She calmly walked to their closet, slipping off her robe.
"Hey, I didn't mean that the way it sounded." Boy, was he in trouble. He rummaged a hand through his damp hair and approached her guardedly.
"And just how was that suppose to sound, sir?"
Woops! "Sam, you've barely recovered and. . ."
"When did General Landry ask for my assistance?"
Jack grit his teeth then sighed. "Three hours ago . . .max." He held up four fingers.
"And when did you plan to tell me?" She walked over to her cell-phone and searched for missed calls. Jack had turned her ringer off after Landry's first call to him. She identified the unanswered calls from the SGC then frowned.
"He's rung you twice since then." Jack blew out between his lips, "Then called me-again."
"Ah." She turned the cellular back on and dropped it into her purse. She removed her class A uniform from the closet, turned and rolled her eyes at him. "Daniel's right. You are a real piece of work, Major General O'Neill."
"Hey, they've got Doctor Lee, Felger, and half a dozen other brainy geeks. Besides you're needed at R&D. If you recall, that's where you asked to be assigned. And I honored your request, Colonel." He crossed his arms as if his CO persona kicking into gear would level the playing field.
Sam proceeded to dress in silence. That she'd chosen her dress blues complicated by the fact that she wasn't arguing. However when she turned to face him, Jack met that Carter-kick-ass-look in her gray blues. Sure, he'd lost the battle, but it didn't mean he would go down with the preverbal sinking ship.
"You can't fly the 302 in Class A's, Samantha."
"Who said I was flying anywhere?"
"Oy!"
"I'm not needed there, Jack."
"Um, where?" He'd dragged this out as long as possible.
"Nellis, AFB. Area 51. True, I love managing R&D."
"Oh, yeah, tinkering your heart out," he slid on his BDU slacks and zipped up as he spoke with encouragement. "Playing with alien gadgets and doohickeys, and--"
"I want to go to the SGC, Jack." She buttoned up her pristine white blouse and smoothed down the lapels, then tucked the blouse into her skirt.
"Samantha?" he tried not to beg.
She snatched his BDU shirt off the hanger and walked over to him, then helped him slip into the starched button-down that he rarely tucked in, even at the Pentagon. Unless he had no choice, he always left his Class A's at the office and only dressed up when he had too.
Sam's small hands smoothed down the military shirtfront and retraced their journey to rest over his fast beating heart. "Jack, as a woman, I am flattered by your desire to protect me."
"You are?" he suspiciously glinted down at her. Something was rotten in Demark and it wasn't Swiss cheese.
"Yes. Of course. I've always loved it, even when as my CO you'd put yourself between me and harms way."
"Um, let me remind you that I'd do that for anyone, Carter." Her sweet words wouldn't hoodwink him. "And I know how much you hated when I did step between you and a Goa'uld staff weapon."
"Okay, so kick-butt Colonel Sam Carter hated that, while Samantha O'Neill, who being in love with her CO felt loved and protected by her husband."
"Good try." He rolled his eyes and captured her fingers. "I'm not reassigning you to SG-1, Carter."
"No, you're not." She didn't miss a beat. "Because SG-1 has been disbanded, sir."
"Not if Mitchell has any say in the matter. He's already got Daniel and Teal'c under his spell. Now if he can rope you in . . ." he trailed off with a tone of disgust.
"Only one man has ever roped me in, sir. And he's standing right here in our bedroom, being a mulish overprotective jerk."
"Am not."
"Are too." She reached up and kissed his tensed blue-shadowed jaw. "I love you, Jack, but I want to do this. Daniel sounded pretty concerned. What's going on?"
"Samantha?" he pulled away and shook his head.
"Okay, answer me honestly. Who is best qualified to assist the SGC with this present Ori threat?"
Jack gaped. No fancy scientific mumbo jumbo, just a straight out question he could comprehend. He hated when she did that.
"Well?" she crossed her arms over her firm round breasts, that distracted him.
"Hey, that's an unfair tactical maneuver."
"Why?" She walked to the chair, sat down and slipped into her black military heels, then smoothed her hands up her pantyhose clad legs—slowly--to her tanned thighs. His gaze settled on those long beautiful legs. Dang, she was evil!
"And that's just plain dirty." He stalked by her toward the bed reminding John-John he couldn't come out to play.
"Sorry," Sam giggled softly then turned serious. "You didn't answer my question, General O'Neill."
"You, of course." He slumped onto their unmade bed, dragged a hand over his face and through his hair then scrunched his face, which caused his dimples to slash deep alongside his mouth. He knew she loved his 'God, help me look,' plus his dimples, the combination of which, shattered her defenses. Yeah, Carter, two can play this cat and mouse game, he spoke in her head. "But then, you knew I'd say that."
"Yes." She caved in, "Those dimples do it every time."
"If you say so," he milked his deadpan expression for all it was worth. "Dangit all, Carter. We left the SGC to be together and what you want is so not together." He tossed his hands in the air.
"What?" she looked confused.
"Well, I'm just saying. . ." his hands directed traffic.
"I'm not asking for a fulltime reassignment to the SGC, sir." Her military tone insisted. "Just consider it provisional, General." He expected her to salute him. Thankfully she didn't.
"Provisional?" His brows did a caterpillar dance across his forehead. "You mean just this once?" He pushed to his feet and walked toward her flagging his pointer fingers for affect and giving her the scrutinizing O'Neill eye.
"Yes." She did her adorable Turtle Dove chin-tuck that always shattered his diehard military mindset.
His memories too fresh from their encounter with Shanahan and Nirrti, he pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. "Your old man doesn't know if he can do this anymore, Mrs. O'Neill."
"Do what?" she asked against his chest, even though they knew the answer.
"Let you go through the gate. Not be there with you and watch your six," his voice bottomed out.
"I know, Jack. But I want this."
"Ya think?" he snorted.
"Remember our relationship is based on trust. So trust my judgment to know I can help the SGC battle this oily Prior dude."
"Oily Prior dude?" He pulled back and winced. "Maybe we do need a little away time from each other, huh?"
Sam nodded and he saw the sparkle in her blue eyes. A sparkle he knew too well. He'd not seen that look in months, and if he were honest not since before SG-1 disbanded. He couldn't hold her back. Not then, not now. Besides this was just temporary, right? Let her fly, Jack.
"Fine." He surrendered. "Starting now, you have a transitory assignment to the SGC, Colonel."
"Um, just fine?" She glanced up at his less than smiling face. "I was hoping for an, excellent, sweet, ya sure youbetcha, go kick some royal Ori ass, Carter!"
"Don't push it, woman." He chuckled, hugging her closer, his fingers playing with her fine blonde hair that she'd been growing out—for him, while his other hand caressed her back and shoulders with possessive urgency.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Feeling his swift beating heart against her head, Sam sensed the tension within her husband/CO. No doubt, she'd just asked a lot of him. Their bond had grown so strong that sometimes it was hard to know where Samantha Carter started and Jack O'Neill ended. They truly were one in heart, body, mind, and soul, their ancient genetics intricately fused. Nor would she have it any other way. However, she knew as did Jack, they each needed their space. If they didn't, they'd start to resent their Ancient bond and each other. She sometimes wondered if the reason the Ancients had ascended/died out, was due to lack of individuality, a sense of purpose. She couldn't imagine life with out Jack, nor could she imagine not being Colonel Samantha Jean Carter.
This was a critical turning point in their marriage. She'd thought she could be happy working at R&D, and had been for a while, really. But ever since Cameron Mitchell asked her to rejoin SG-1, Sam had become discontent, itching for active field duty. She'd never once told Jack. Big mistake. When Nirrti and her motley crew of clones hijacked them, Sam had secretly been elated—well until she got the crap beaten out of her.
Since that horrible incident with Nirrti, she and Jack had hardly been out of one another's sight. Mostly Jack's decision. He'd taken a six-week leave from the Pentagon, during which time General Hammond handled Jack's duties as head of HS. Jack personally oversaw Sam's rehab, putting every Marine Drill instructor to shame. He not only coached her, he participated in all her exercises. Her fifty plus year old General had run her into the ground, literally.
Although he'd never tell her, she knew Jack had grown physically lax during his stint in D.C., and he wasn't going to let that happen again. Meanwhile, he became a badgering CO barking at her to get off her dead assets and do another ten bench presses, another jog around the track, add another five pounds to her weight lifting exercises, etc. He motivated her like no one ever could. There definitely was a fine line between love and hate.
She couldn't recall how many times she had wanted to shove a fist down his throat or beat the living crap out of him. Actually, there was that time boxing match last month when she purposely hit his straw jaw and sent him down for the count. She still smiled at the memory of watching his chocolate brown eyes roll back into his silver head with his stupid duh look before he hit the floor face first.
Teal'c had reefed that match. After he'd checked Jack's pulse and then counted to ten, Teal'c looked up at Sam and announced with a wide Jaffa grin. "I believe you have regained your mojo, Colonel Carter. However, I believe the General will need sufficient R&R to recover from this blow to his ego."
His ego survived and the next day Jack returned to the Pentagon. Meanwhile Sam had been monitoring R&D from her laptop for several weeks. Today, she was to go fulltime. That was until the Ori had dropped in on Kallana yesterday. Originally, she only heard about the SGC missions through Jack, which wasn't much. What he didn't know was she'd talked with Cameron twice last week and General Landry last night when Jack had gone to the grocery store. The fact, they'd been playing head games was wrong. She'd purposely not told him that Landry had contacted her because she wanted to see how Jack would handle the matter. Her feminine side felt flattered, and her military side, insulted. The Jack O'Neill who'd been her CO over eight years would never have withheld such pertinent Intel from her. She hoped.
Jack cradled her face in his hands and smiled down at her. "I love you more than life, Dorothy."
"I know, Scarecrow." She brushed her dry lips across the palm of his calloused hand, inhaling the familiar scent of her man and surrendered to the physical affects his scent had on her. She felt the butterflies dance inside her belly and her legs tremble like blue Jell-O. After all their time together, he still made her feel nineteen again. She could visualize the younger brown-haired Jack O'Neill, only known to her then as Scarecrow. See him smile passionately at her through the blue mists of Nirrti's mating chamber, before he'd taken her as his lover.
Had Jack any idea what his sultry gaze or touch still did to her? Twenty years later, did he experience the same physical feelings for her?
"Yes," he nodded and swiped a maverick tear from her right eye with a gentle fingertip. "I do, Dorothy, always."
Not realizing she'd started to cry, Sam sniffed and blinked up at him. He'd been inside her head and she'd not even known it, which meant she'd invited him, right? It didn't matter. What mattered was that he knew.
"C'mere." His left hand encircled her waist and his right hand drew her into a slow dance on their carpeted floor. Jack pressed his face into the arch of her neck and his lips lingered on her pulse point while he hummed, Que Sera Sera.
Sam held onto her husband as if her life depended on him. It did. Her mind flashed back to when Hathor had put Jack in the deep freeze and how he'd clung to Sam after being revived. He'd not only held her because he was cold but he'd needed her like she needed him now, like the air she breathed.
Her decision to help the Jaffa meant this could be the last time they ever held each other. Jack knew that, and she softly cried her regrets. She couldn't do this to the man she loved, put herself in danger when they'd had barely a year together as husband and wife. She would call, Landry and say--
"No Starbucks this morning or the Opera this weekend, huh?" Jack's upbeat tone was her answer. He loved her enough to let her fly.
"Both in holding pattern," she leaned into his warm embrace, drawing strength from him.
"Lots of crazies out there, Carter. Be careful wilya?"
"Promise. After all, I've got a husband and family to come home to." She winked.
"Sweet." Jack kissed her. Hot and sensual, a kiss that demanded she keep her promise. She returned his kiss with equal measure.
The phone rang and Jack reluctantly eased out of her embrace and brought the phone to his ear.
"Now what?"
The other side spoke. Jack snorted. "What is it about the word, no, that you don't understand, Hank?"
Sam smirked and buttoned up her dress blue jacket, finger combed her hair and spot-checked her makeup. She then recalled Jack's retort to Daniel, "I'm also a husband, protecting my wife." How did she convey that their marriage should never come between them when duty called? How did she tell him something he had drilled into her head for eight long years, but now refused to address? Perhaps, from the sound of his one-sided conversation she wouldn't have to.
Jack pressed the speaker button, rolled his eyes then went to the dresser's top drawer and removed an Asgard transport stone. He handed it over to her. Accepting the handy device, Sam kissed his weathered cheek and he pulled her into his arms.
"Hold that thought, Hank." He turned on the mute button, kissed Sam soundly then mouthed against her lips, "I love you."
"Forever and always—Um, we okay, Jack?" She smiled into his brown eyes that she swore were moist with tears.
"Yeah, we're forever okay, Babe."
Sam smiled.
"However, you owe me three rounds in the sack, Carter." He motioned to their rumpled bed.
Sam's mouth dropped open.
"Or don't you think you can handle this old flyboy?" he challenged and playfully slapped her derriere.
"You're on, sir," she said through a suggestive twitch of her lips.
"Cool." He wagged his brows and his dimples tucked deep along side his lean mouth.
"Thank you, for this assignment, General O'Neill," she meant it and saluted.
"You're, welcome, Colonel Carter." He saluted, and then addressed Hank with that wicked look on his handsome face that always meant trouble. "Um, you were saying, Hank?"
"I'm saying this is serious shit, Jack, and I need Colonel Carter now!"
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, she's just gotten back on her feet and you're expecting her to save the fricking galaxy—again!"
"Jack . . .Jack . . .Jack! She practically invented the Mark 9 and you're the one who thinks we should use the damn thing! Why are you wasting valuable time saying no?"
"Because she's my wife and should be home doing wifey things."
"Wifey things?" Sam slugged him hard in the arm before stepping out of his reach.
"Ow! I mean," he flinched and rubbed his bruised limb. "She's not blowing up anymore suns." He winked while Landry raved on.
"And I've read enough of your SG-1 mission reports to know that there were times when no one else but Samantha Carter could have pulled your ass out of the fire. Well this is . . ."
Sam pressed the Asgard stone and waved goodbye to her husband. Seconds later she arrived in a burst of white light just outside Landry's opened office door. At least she hadn't materialized inside of a wall. In transit toward the General's office Walter almost lost his armful of folders, when he witnessed Sam's Asgard arrival.
She watched the shorter man collect his wits, smile, and salute, "Welcome back, Colonel Carter," and then he gestured to the open door.
"Thanks, Walter."
Sam marched into the office and heard Landry, " . . .One of those times." The General turned to the door, gawked at her and shook his head realizing he was the victim of another O'Neill prank.
"Reporting as ordered, sir," she saluted and smiled, slipping the stone into her pocket.
General Landry snorted. ". . .Yeah. . .she's standing right here. You're a funny man, Jack."
Sam grinned as Landry signaled her at ease.
"Very funny," Hank ended, then hung up on Jack and smiled at her. "Well, after having kissed his ass for the last few hours, I don't want to know what you promised him, but I'll be forever grateful, Colonel."
"Rest assured, General, you won't ever know." Sam smiled wider. As adrenaline spiraled through her, she knew in her heart, she wanted this to be more than a temporary assignment, however convincing Jack, would be one of the hardest missions of her life.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
After Hank had slammed the phone in Jack's ear, he speed-dialed Daniel, changed his mind and dialed Mitchell first. He'd leave Landry for last. Yes, time for to play the big bad Major General.
"Colonel Mitchell here."
"At ease, Cameron."
"General O'Neill, sir?"
"That'd be me, Colonel." Jack finished picking up the bedroom and sat down to yank on his boots.
"So um, what do I owe this honor, sir?"
Jack smiled into the phone and waggled his brows. Yes, this will be fun. "You got your wish, son."
"I did, sir?"
"Yes. Colonel Carter arrived a few moments ago, should be in Landry's office." Jack glanced at his watch and visualized Cameron racing through the SGC toward his CO's office. Another smile.
"Gosh, golly, that's terrific, sir!"
"Chill, Cameron. Now let's set a few rules of engagement, shall we?"
"Yes, sir."
"This assignment for Carter is transitory, impermanent, short-term as in temporary. Soon as that self-proclaimed pompous Ore-Eye prophet becomes dust, so does the Colonel's assignment with you."
"Oh—I'd thought--."
"Don't think, listen!"
"Um, yes, sir." Jack imagined the younger man saluting in mid-stride.
"After said assignment she will return to Nellis and her position as head of R&D, understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"And Mitchell?"
"General, sir?"
"As senior officer and supervisor of SG-1, you are responsible for Colonel Carter's welfare."
"I understand that, sir, actually I'd thought we'd share the position and--."
"Not this time. I know you and Carter are equals, Colonel. However, because of your need to scratch an itch instigated this mission you'll lead, but with the utmost respect for Carter's proven leadership qualities and amazing brilliance."
"Thank you, sir, you won't regret this!"
"Don't crow ahead of time, Mitchell. I'm not thrilled that with your lack of active field duty or black ops, Landry actually assigned you to lead SG-1."
"Be assured, I'm a quick learner, sir. Besides, it was you who told me to get the gang back together," he sounded insecure. "Sir." Cool!
"Oh, hell, Mitchell, I didn't think you'd actually follow through on that lame brain suggestion." Jack paused, had he just labeled himself lame brained? Oh, well. "However, the fact you did just that means that you've got big balls and that I do respect. As for Carter, see that she returns alive and in one piece. If not, your ass will be mine, as in permanent reassignment to Antarctica. Basically, you'll never gate travel, again. Understood?"
Jack heard a distinct intake of air and an audible gulp. "Yes. . .Of course. You can count on me, sir. I'll watch Sam's, I mean Colonel Carter's six like it was mine own, sir."
"You do that." With a smug grin, Jack hung up, and dialed Daniel.
"Hey, Jack, I hear Sam's back."
"Temporarily. One assignment." Jack stated sternly.
"Sure. Um, okay. Hey, was that you talking to Mitchell just now?"
"Yep. Why?"
"He just ran into the head looking pretty pale and is now taking a dump. Argh! That smells like the runs. Whatcha say to the poor man?"
"What I'm about to say to you . . . " And so it went.
A week later:
Sam sat in her cluttered lab and glanced at the clock. Even though she'd see him in a few hours, she couldn't resist and dialed his cell phone. Two rings later he picked up and she could hear the smile in his voice, which made her smile.
"Hey, Carter, whatcha doing?"
"Talking to you, flyboy."
"Just checking. So, miss me?"
"Yes, and you?"
"Um, yeah, but it'd be a lot nicer with you here."
"Weekend's coming in two hours. Be patient, General."
"Hey, patience's my middle name."
"I thought it was James."
"Funny." He snorted.
"I thought so."
"So'd I miss anything 'side's the Baal triplets debut, which I recall we foresaw coming months ago?"
"Well, sorta," she led him on.
"Um, besides that amazing skyscraper fireworks in outer space?" he teased.
"Yes but something more down to earth, personal," she baited.
"Did Baal hit on you again and if so, which one?"
"Nope. No Baals."
"Samantha?"
"Agent Barrett asked if I was single again."
"For crying out loud, will that man ever give it up!"
"Now, Jack—"
"But you emphatically told him, no, right?"
"Not exactly." Yep, that'd get arise out of him. She smiled into the phone.
"Aw, crap!"
It did.
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ
On the other end, Jack smiled at her head game and after they'd shared a few lustful-plans-for-the-night exchanges, he hung up, and propped his polished boots on the mahogany desk.
Little did his wife know that true to his word, Barrett hadn't revealed his knowledge of Sam and Jack's personal involvement, and hopefully hadn't let on about Shanahan. Nevertheless, Jack wished the agent would stop flirting with his wife. After Sam came out of the coma and begun her long three-month rehab, she had some memory glitches. For one she didn't know Pete had been involved in her abduction or that he had used her. Jack couldn't stand to see her hurt again. Rather she believed Pete had dated and loved her for who she was and not the Intel she could provide. As head honcho of HW Jack made sure that Sam didn't see his or Teal'c's mission reports.
Good old Teal'c had no problem protecting Sam. Landry and George were a little harder to convince, but in the end agreed to circumvent the issue. Jack sugarcoated Pete's involvement making it appear that he too had been abducted the same time McKay was. Pete died a hero, defending Sam. If all went as Jack planned, it'd stay that way. More importantly, now that Sam had saved the world--again, she'd be reporting back to Nellis, safe and sound, and warming Jack's bed every other night.
Of course, that's so not how it went down—Crap!