Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Okay, you guys sparked my muse. Here's the third part; jury's still out on #4 but with any encouragement ;) coughcoughreviewscoughcough
Again, many thanks & enjoy!
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Sam sighed as she sank into the cushions. She couldn't stand much more of this. Colonel disappearing, colonel dying, colonel being tortured, colonel turning into a teenager (or, rather, being cloned, as they discovered). Every time something new happened, her heart was put on stand-by and started to freeze with terror. Then he managed to wriggle out of harm's way and she hit the floor like a sack of flour, relief wracking her body and mind.
"I can't believe Pete's coming over tonight," she muttered as she poured herself another glass of diet soda. Her taste buds sighed and purred as the deliciously cold liquid washed over them.
It suddenly occurred to her that that wasn't exactly a natural reaction one usually had when one's boyfriend was scheduled to come over.
Oh boy, here I go again, Sam groaned inwardly.
Mom's Rules On Relationships, Rule No. 453: If seeing him doesn't make you happy, you have a right to get out of it.
Mom's Rules On Relationships, Rule No. 454: …But if he's prone to "puppy-dog eyes" and "pretty please?" tones, break his heart gently. This rule does not apply if said boyfriend is dense and stubborn.
Sam had always known she had feelings for the colonel, but never realized quite how strong they were. And it felt right saying it, even in her mind:
I'm in love with Colonel Jack O'Neill.
This time her heart purred. Yes, that definitely felt right, and GOOD.
I love him.
I love him!
I'M FLIPPIN' HEAD OVER HEEL IN LOVE WITH HIM!
"Slow down, Sammie," she muttered to herself. "Two obvious problems: 1) you're technically still with Pete, so all other men are hands-off. 2) there's also the little thing called REGULATIONS, oh, yeah, and the fact he's your CO!"
A few minutes later, a car drove up and honked the horn a few times. Sam cringed, a shot of irritation going through her. She HATED it when people just honked the horn, sometimes a dozen times before a person came out of the house. It was rude and it disturbed not only her but her neighbors.
Usually she ignored it, but not this time. Oh, no, no, no! Not this time. She was tired of it and would not stand for it. She'd warned him once, but this was it!
A few more impatient honks came from outside before her phone rang. It was Mrs. Shelby from next door.
"Dear, can you go out so he'll stop? He woke up my baby with that infernal racket!"
Sam sighed and bit her lip. "Alright, Mrs. Shelby. I'm sorry."
She hung up and irritably grabbed her jacket. "Great, just great," she grumbled as she walked out the door, checking herself twice to make sure she didn't slam the door behind her like she so, so wanted to.
"Pete, what's going on?" she asked, her conscience demanding that her voice be neutral and not snippy. "You're disturbing the neighbors."
Pete frowned. "Your neighbors should get lives," he informed her.
Note to self: do not kill boyfriend.
"You woke Mrs. Shelby's baby."
Her "boyfriend" blinked, probably not knowing what to say.
"Jamie's a horrible sleeper. She'll be up all night getting him to go back to sleep."
"Who?"
"Jamie's her baby."
"Oh, Mrs. Sherbet's baby, right."
"Shelby," Sam corrected while her conscience snipped at her, saying, Why are you correcting him? Stop wasting time! Stop procrastinating! If you're going to break up with the idiot, do it and get it over with, and maybe you'll get some decent sleep tonight.
"Right, of course, babe. Come on, you'll love what I have planned tonight!" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and all Sam could think was, He's waggling them wrong. Colonel O'Neill does it better.
"Uh, Pete? …Why don't you come inside. I want to talk to you." It wasn't a suggestion, it wasn't a "please, pretty please?". Her mind was made up.
Pete frowned again and turned off the engine. "Well," he drawled with a smirk as he got out of the car, "we can do it here, too, if that's what you want."
No, it's not, you idiot, she thought with a stab of viciousness as she allowed him into her home for what would be the last time.
"Have a seat," she said, waving towards the couch absentmindedly. "Want something to drink?"
"Wine sounds good," he said, looking funnily at the diet coke liter bottle on the table, and the empty glass next to it.
"Something non-alcoholic?" she asked. He stared at her. She shrugged. "I'm out of alcoholic beverages," she lied.
Turns out she was a pretty good liar. He sat back smugly. "Got any real soda?" he said, nodding at the diet soda.
"No. But I have lemonade, milk – er, scratch the milk," she said, scowling at the only carton's expiration date. "Okay, I have lemonade and juice."
"I'll have water," he said, the distaste showing bitterly in his voice.
"Yes, your majesty," she muttered as she brought a glass to the sink.
When everything was settled, she sat down on the couch, a good dozen inches away from Pete. It was a good distance for the break-up talk, she felt. Not cuddly, not "I want to get in your pants" close, and not "ohmygod don't you EVER shower!" distant.
But clearly Pete had other things on his mind. He squashed those dozen inches and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, rubbing her thigh. Before, she would have responded eagerly, and allowed him to play with her, but tonight her mind was 100 gutter-free.
"Pete," she said firmly, making new distance between them, this time a little farther away. Clearly this man wanted only the one thing she definitely didn't want, at least, not with him, she noted, her mind briefly picturing Jack O'Neill dreamily. Clearing her throat, she said, "I was serious when I said I wanted to talk."
"Uh, sure babe," he said, looking very irritated that he wasn't getting any.
Tough luck, Shanahan, she thought bitterly.
"Look, I don't think this is going to work out –"
"What?" he said, sounding and looking alarmed. "Why? We're great together!"
Then why do I always feel like crap when I'm with you? she wondered. Why am I always dreading dates with you? Why do I always feel too pressured, and why do I always have to defend my job and my decisions and choices when I'm with you!
Finally, Sam settled for, "Because, I…I just don't feel the same."
"The same? …About me!"
"N – yes. Yes. I'm sorry."
And she was. He didn't deserve this, but, quite frankly, she didn't either. "I think it'll be best for the both of us," she said gently.
"How do you figure that?" he asked, the whimpering tone seeping into his voice.
"I, I just…" – God, what could she say to that?
"I love you!"
Her eyes flew up to his.
"No, no you don't," she said with quiet confidence. "I know you don't." Because if you did, you wouldn't sound so accusatory when you say it.
"But I do! I –"
DING DONG.
Pete stopped short and narrowed his eyes at me. "You didn't order a pizza, did you?" he asked. Sam couldn't quite decipher the tone of the voice.
She shook her head and went to open the door. To her surprise, there was pizza on the other side, but it wasn't the usual delivery boy.
In his place was a very handsome Air Force colonel, grey hair, patented smirk and all. "Hey, Carter. I know it's late, but me 'n the boys thought we could have a team night. Teal'c and Daniel are coming; they're just at the video store. I hope Daniel makes sure they get something other than Star Wars."
His quirky and light-hearted voice calmed her immeasurably, and she felt a grin poking at the corner of her lips. Wow, it felt like centuries since she'd last smiled.
At least he can ring a doorbell, she thought approvingly. It was the smallest things like that that made her love him.
Wow. That just never got old. Love him love him love him love him –
"That's it, isn't it!"
Pete's voice shocked her back into reality. She turned, almost too shocked to be irritated that he interrupted her Jack-fantasy. Almost.
"What?" she demanded.
Pete stood and stomped over to them, hands fisted. His body language just screamed "pissed!"
"It's been him all along, hasn't it! You've been having an affair with that old fart! You cheating slut!"
Before she could decide whether or not it was okay to burst out laughing at the ridiculous comment, he sneered, "I guess we all know how you got to the rank of major so quickly, now don't we?"
This shocked her beyond reason. She stood there numbly, fingers shaking. Suddenly, that shock turned to rage. Hate burned in her body, from her thumping heart to her fingers, and it poked and stabbed, quite literally, painfully.
Before she realized it, she'd grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. Sam didn't even notice it when one of her favorite pictures fell and shattered because of it.
It wasn't hard to hold him there. She stopped every evasive maneuver he tried without thinking about it. She stared hard and cold into his eyes, which were now very wide with fear.
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and deadly. "I earned every damn rank. I earned the rank of cadet by working my ass off in high school to get into the Academy. I earned the rank of second lieutenant by going through four years at the Academy, which was almost, almost as hard as getting in. I earned the rank of first lieutenant when I flew in the Gulf. I earned the rank of captain after two years of tedious study in D.C. I earned this rank by being a part of the team that saved the damned unthankful planet, and do you have any idea how OLD that is getting!"
By this time, Sam was shouting. "So you think I've been sleeping my way up the chain of command? Think again, you selfish moron! You just try my life on for size, be my guest! It's been no cakewalk, today least of all! And I'm tired of it! I'm tired of your constant interrogations and petty jabs at how I don't 'trust you'. Well guess what, Shanahan? Any chance of saving US is GONE! Get the hell out of my house and my pitiful life!"
By this point she was in tears. Too deflated to maim him like she'd wanted to, she clutched his shirt and banged him into the wall one last time before she let go. Sadly, she walked down the hall and into her room, closed the door, and locked it.
Sinking onto her bed, she buried her face in her pillows. They were brand new – very fluffy and absolutely heavenly to sleep on. Now tears stained them, though she couldn't see the streaks because she hadn't turned on the light.
A few moments later, Sam's conscience started badgering her. Geez, that's just great, Carter! So much for strong, independent woman! What would Colonel O'Neill say if –
Sam shot up into a sitting position. Oh. My. God. Colonel O'Neill!
A soft knock came from the door. "Carter?"
Oh, his voice was soft and gentle and all she wanted to do was rush over, swing open the door, and bury herself in his arms.
But no. She couldn't do that.
The handle jiggled, and soon the door cracked open.
I knew I'd regret teaching him how to pick locks.
Sam heard him cross the room, and the bed shifted as he sat on the side of it, closer to her head than her knees.
Next she knew, warm, strong arms were tying her into his embrace. Stiffly at first, she relaxed into him. Her eyes were dry and sore from tears, and she had none left to shed, but her body was still shivering with emotion. He just held her tightly, silently; her rock, like always.
She shifted so she could fit into him better, but he took her legs and swung them over his lap, and pulled her so close she was on his lap. She pressed her forehead against the base of his neck and the shivering stopped. Still he held her, not letting go.
Her chest felt about to burst with gratitude and trust. Her anger and sadness melted away, not because it didn't hurt, but because it didn't matter anymore. She was here, in the arms of the man she truly loved.
Sam sighed happily as the roaming bits of her heart flew back to her and locked into place.
"I love you," she whispered against his flesh.