Author's Note - thank you again to everyone for your reviews, patience and messages of kindness. I didnt think I'd feel inspired to continue writing again so soon but here's another chapter. I'm also half way through the next chapter so, provided I can find the time to finish it over the weekend, that should be posted by Monday as well.
Disclaimer as per previous chapters.
Even at his most relaxed, Jack was never one to drift slowly from sleep. He was either asleep or he wasn't and right at this moment, having made the transition, he was taking the time to assess his surroundings before deciding whether any sort of immediate action was likely to be required.
His initial assessment gave him only the information that he had a splitting headache, his stomach wasn't entirely solid and he really needed to pee. Since this wasn't a completely unfamiliar state, he pretty much disregarded it and moved on to a more detailed analysis of his surroundings.
He was at Carter's house. He knew this because, without moving his head, he recognised her coffee table and the fireplace behind. His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes for a moment to control it before risking another look. Probably best not to throw up in Carter's lounge; he'd never hear the end of it if he did.
Moving his gaze along the coffee table he realised that she was actually sitting in one of the lounge chairs to his left and resting her feet on the table directly in front of him. From his position on the sofa he could only see her legs from the knee down and to his very slight surprise he noted that she had painted her toe-nails with sparkling blue nail polish. There was a fleeting moment when Jack wondered if there were air force regulations to give guidance on the appropriate colour for polish on toes. If he ever bothered to look hard enough he'd probably find something relevant but personally he couldn't have cared less. They were nice feet, at least in his humble opinion, and he thought the sparkly blue toe-nails were a nice touch.
Jack had a sudden and overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke one of her feet. It wasn't an overtly sexual pull, just a moment of absolute tactile compulsion to touch her. To run his fingers over the tendons on top of her foot, to circle her ankle with the length of his thumb and fore-finger and hold onto her strength and grace for all he was worth.
"I know you're awake."
Reality lurched back with a thump. Jack had been a married man for long enough in his life to understand, just from the tone of those four words, that he shouldn't expect to enjoy the way this conversation was heading.
A layer of oily fear added itself to the rolling discomfort in this gut and he groaned.
"Do you remember anything at all about how you got here or what you did then?"
All too aware that Sam Carter, the best 2IC he'd ever had (or never had, depending on his mood at any given time), understood him well enough to know that another groan at this point would just be a delaying tactic, Jack growled, his voice rough from drink and sleep "Locked myself outta my damn house and walked here because you've got my spare key and you live closer than Danny."
Sam was actually relieved. She'd already checked up and down the street for his truck and the rational part of her brain had been anxiously hoping he had neither driven the thing nor abandoned it somewhere else before making his way to her house.
"And the rest, Sir."
Not a question and she'd used the magic word. The magic word he'd learned a long, long time ago that coming from Samantha Carter's mouth was all about distance and nothing at all to do with submission.
Not a good sign at all.
Jack levered himself into a sitting position and leaned forward, running his fingers roughly through his hair before coming to rest with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. From that angle he watched Sam remove her feet from the coffee table and cross her legs away from him. He knew she hadn't intended the movement to be anything remotely approaching arousing but it was still a nice move and he hoped he'd never be too old or hung-over to appreciate it.
Jack unfolding himself from her sofa too had momentarily transfixed Sam. She fought the familiar, weary struggle with her own emotions and let her gaze settle on the view out of her back window. The last few rays of the setting sun gilded the mountains rising in the distance behind her house and she sighed.
Whether it was in response to the sigh, her defensive posture or just him feeling particularly ornery, Jack felt the need to push back.
"Exactly what the hell was he doing in your back yard?"
"And exactly what business do you choose to make that of yours?" Her response was as quick and as vicious as a whip cracking in the quiet of her cosy home.
"Christ, Carter, if I'd known you were that curious to find out what I looked like when I was 18, all you had to do was ask and I woulda shown you a photograph."
Jack was suddenly weary. His anger spent, and unwilling now to meet her eyes for fear of the pity he always anticipated was lurking there if only he'd choose to see it. Unconsciously he scrubbed his long fingers over his face as though absorbing the feel of the bones so close beneath the flesh. He stood.
"Where are you going?"
He could see the confusion on her face but misinterpreted it completely.
"I gotta pee, Carter."
When he came back from the bathroom she was standing, her arms folded, staring intently at the wall of photos opposite the fireplace. She made no move towards him when he came and stood beside her.
"Gimme a minute, Sir, and I'll drive you home."
But she didn't move, her eyes fixed on a picture of him and Daniel taken at O'Malley's on some team night more years ago now than he'd care to calculate; long enough ago that his hair seemed, by comparison to its present almost solid grey, implausibly brown.
Jack took the chance to examine her face in profile. He was aware that the infinite tenderness she provoked in him was something akin to the feeling he'd had the first time he ever watched Charlie sleep, and never without a degree of the same pain.
"I'm such a fool, Jack." The words were spoken so quietly he almost missed them, pulled from some part of her psyche she didn't really want to examine closely. "I can't believe I didn't realise."