Well peoples, here's the 7th part to our tale :) Remember that Pete whumping you guys wanted? smirk Okay, so the whumping is soft, but at least he's gone, right? and it's time Sam felt some guilt. Enjoy, guys, & reviews are welcomed :)

Mornings and Love Part 7

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Sam stayed under the cold water as long as she could stand it before she turned the knob to "off". She touched her arms; her skin was icy to the touch, a lot colder than she'd realized.

Grabbing a towel, she feverishly dried off, hoping to put some warmth in her cold limbs and torso. She looked down, surprised her toes weren't blue.

She dressed in jeans and a sweater (brrrrr!) and went to the elevator. When the doors opened, she found a weary Jack O'Neill resting against the wall. God. Jack O'Neill + BDUs hot, hot, hot! Jack O'Neill + dress blues drooling.

But Jack O'Neill + civvies?hothothothothot + oddles of drooling!

He considered her coolly for a moment before saying, "You gettin' in or what?"

Sam pursed her lips and walked forward, turning and standing next to him without speaking.

"Giving me the silent treatment, now, Carter?"

She didn't reply.

"Well, fine. Doesn't bother me."

Snort. When hell freezes over, maybe it won't. But let's faze it, Jack O'Neill? He needs respect and hates not getting it. Why d'you think Simmons and Kinsey are on his "LIST"? – Granted, he doesn't like morons or idiots, either, and those two are seriously Dumb and Dumber, in that order.

Not one minute passed before she felt a slight…prick at her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed, but she ignored it.

Then she felt it again. A frown formed.

And again. Hands clenched.

And again. Nostrils flared, deep, deep, deep breath.

And ag –

"Will you stop poking me?" she snapped, grabbing his index finger and twisting it away.

"Ow, hey!" he exclaimed, rubbing his finger. "I could write you up for that, y'know!"

Sam snorted. "Oh, yes, I can see it now: Major S. Carter court marshaled for stopping her commanding officer from poking her."

"Court marshaled for insubordination, more like it."

"Oh, screw you!" Sam snapped.

"What!"

"Sorry – screw you, sir! Just because I rejected you, you've acted distant and cool towards me, and today you've been a total ass! I can't take this anymore!"

Just then, the doors opened and Sam flew down the hallways, dead determined to get home before the shock wore off and he came after her.

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Sam turned the corner onto her street, and groaned when she saw the car in her driveway and the man on her doorstep. Would he ever leave her alone?

She maneuvered around and parked her car in the street for a quick getaway should things get ugly enough. Though she doubted she'd need it; she was level three hand-to-hand and trained with a level four. Pete was only a cop. She could (and would) whup his ass.

"Pete, what are you doing here?" Sam asked, sighing as she went up the sidewalk.

Pete was donned in a tux, with flowers in one hand and wine in the other. How cliché.

"Look, Sam, I know I screwed up big time, but please, hear me out?" he pleaded.

Begging. And puppy-dog eyed. God. He isn't going to make this easy on me. Still, she nodded, briefly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Can I come in?" She scowled at him, giving him her "I'm-a-major-in-the-US-Air-Force-and-I-know-50-different-ways-to-kick-your-sorry-butt" look.

"Okay, never mind. Listen, I said stupid stuff on our last…er…date. I've felt absolutely horrible about it and have been trying to get time off for ages to come apologize. Please. I'm so sorry, babe. Can you forgive me?"

Sam regarded him coolly. "Forgiven," she said simply, moving to open her front door.

"Wait, Sam! Please, give us another chance?"

His voice was whiney and begging, like a four-year-old that'd gotten smacked for asking for that delicious chocolate chip cookie.

Chocolate. Hmm…I could go for that.

"…Sammy, babe, we can start over, take it slow, please? Then maybe, a few months or a few years from now, however long you need, maybe you'll be ready to wear your ring again?"

God, the ring! Geez, what a moron she was. She'd forgotten, in her anger and hurt, to give him back the ring. Understandable, of course, and it was probably best she'd forgotten; she might have poked his eyes out using the strong little diamond.

"Come on in for a minute," she said absentmindedly, forgetting that she was trying to get rid of the guy. "Wait here," she instructed as she went down the hall.

When she returned with the small, velvety box, she stopped in her tracks. Pete had poured wine into two elegant wineglasses. The lights were off and the world outside was fading into evening. Sweet, gentle music flooded her ears.

"Pete…" she sighed sadly.

"Sshh, babe."

He approached her, and placed a glass in her hand while holding his own.

"Pete, we need to talk about this." Her voice was firm and decisive. Or so she thought.

He leaned in and captured her lips slowly.

No. This is wrong. I don't love him. Jack?

She couldn't believe she'd just run out on him like that. What was she, a frickin' five year old? She should have sat down and had a rational talk like an adult. Instead, she threw a fit and stormed off! There wasn't a chance in hell he'd show up tonight. He wouldn't want to. And she was stuck here alone to fend off Pete for herself.

Pete suddenly captured her tongue and bit it. She winced and groaned her pain. Good god, her tongue must be bleeding after that! Pete seemed to take her groan as an arousal, something she was definitely not. Maybe if it'd been Jack…

He was getting quite aggressive in his attempts to seduce her, massaging a breast and pressing his body to hers.

Sam put down the glass and put her hands between them, gently pushing him away. As their lips parted, Pete frowned quizzically.

"Babe…what…?"

"Pete, I don't want to give us another try," she said softly.

"It's O'Neill, isn't it."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement. And a fact. One she could barely stand to hide. At the moment, she would stand atop Cheyenne Mountain and scream to the SGC personnel, "I LOVE JACK O'NEILL!" if only she could mend things with him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "but yes."

Pete sniffed. "But you two can't do anything," he insisted. As if she needed him to remind her!

"We don't have to," she said, happily realizing she was speaking truthfully and from the heart. "I…I love him, just being near him. Learning from him. Having his –" she paused, making sure she left out "very hot" – "six when we're out on the field."

"You said you loved me. Many times. Why'd you say that when you so obviously love him?"

Sam winced at the bitter tone. Well, she did deserve it, and more. "I do love you Pete," she said, still speaking quite honestly. "But it's not in the way I tried to make it be. You're like the buddy next door. A very, very good friend, and I love you for it. But I'm not in love with you."

"But you're in love with him?" His tone was disbelieving.

Her heart purred when she said, "Yes."

"He's too old for you! God, Sam, I thought you wanted a family and kids and…and a dog!"

"No, that's what you wanted. I wouldn't care if I have a family and dog, that white picket fence with Jack. Sure, it'd be nice, but I want most of all is him. And I don't have him…not anymore."

Tears came to her eyes.

Suddenly she was being embraced by her…ex? Definitely ex. She missed Jack's hugs. A Jack O'Neill hug seemed to wrap you like a Christmas present, and he'd dip his nose into the crook of your neck.

"We can still be great," Pete whispered in her ear. "He's off limits, but I'm not."

Sam swallowed hard. "No, Pete. Please go. Please."

He held her by the shoulders and looked incredulously into her eyes before scowling. He shoved her away, and she was slammed backwards into a wall so hard it made the framed pictures shake.

Pete was gone before she could apologize again.

Damn.