Oh, my poor readers! I'm sorry this took so long. Hopefully I haven't lost you.
Mornings and Love Part 30
Sam awoke to an empty bed, snow crystallizing the small window in a picturesque scene. She yawned and sat up, wriggling uncomfortably. This was going to be one of those days; despite the cozy Christmas setting, she didn't like what she was feeling. She wasn't even out of bed yet and she was already feeling achy.
As she tried to get out of bed without irritating her already sore body, she scowled, trying to figure out how she was absolutely fine – she checked the bedside clock – two hours ago and feel like this now. She was halfway through – her legs dangling over the side – when she heard footsteps.
Soon, Liz's head popped around the corner of the doorway and she said, "Morning, Sam! How you feeling?"
"Honestly?" Sam asked, gritting her teeth in the small smile she flashed Liz. Liz nodded. "Like a two ton truck ran over my back a few times, just for kicks."
Liz winced sympathetically. "Eck. Are you hungry? There's also aspirin in the medicine cabinet if that'll help any."
Sam inwardly swore that Jack had the best sister in the entire galaxy. "Thanks," she said, sincerely grateful. She managed to get on her feet with a small grunt, giving up the impossible task of not hurting her back doing it. She made her way to the medicine cabinet and greedily swiped the aspirin, swallowing a couple.
When she walked back into the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, Liz was waiting patiently by the door. "Think you can keep some food down?" the woman asked.
Sam nodded. "Sure. I'm starving." Liz grinned and beckoned for her to follow. Sam followed eagerly. Seated at the kitchen table were Robert and Richard, along with Mrs. O'Neill. Jack was at the stove, frying something, and Liz promptly returned to his side to help.
Sam walked up behind Jack and rubbed his back, a small smile of remembrance on her lips when images of the previous night marched in her mind.
She felt two large hands cover hers. "Hey," he said softly.
"Hey yourself," she replied, stretching her neck to kiss the skin between his cloth-covered shoulder blades. "Breakfast smells good."
"Just good?" he said, his voice joking and playful. "The very idea is a slight to my many talents!"
"No, just your cooking one. And I still had to watch you to make sure the eggs didn't burn!" Liz exclaimed. Sam laughed, burying her face in Jack's back as much as she could.
"No respect," Jack muttered. Just then, Mr. O'Neill walked into the room.
"My back is aching," he grumbled.
"Oh, Ernie, hush!" ordered Mrs. O'Neill. She patted the seat next to her. "Come and sit."
As Jack's father obeyed his wife, Jack dumped the eggs unceremoniously from the pan to a pot, and placed the pot on the table. His sister followed with the bacon and toast, and Sam grabbed the pitcher of orange juice before either sibling could whisper it away. They both groaned about her not having to do anything, but she merely smiled.
"I think I can handle a pitcher, Jack," she said, placing it on the table.
They sat down, and Mrs. O'Neill insisted that Sam sat next to her. "I want to hear all about you, dear!" she said. The previous night's dinner had been talkative; the siblings all wanted to brag about their lives. Well, the twins did, and then Liz butted in to start a "my horse is bigger than your horse" contest.
"What's to know?" Sam shrugged. "I work under a mountain in deep space radar telemetry."
"Boring!" Jack added.
"Bull!" Mr. O'Neill snorted. Everything fell silent, and all eyes were on him. He returned their stares with an exasperated look. "Come on, that's the most transparent cover story in the world."
Sam exchanged a look with Jack. Is it in a father's programming to see right through EVERY lie their kid – or kid's girlfriend/boyfriend – tells them? she wondered, remembering how her dad never believed her either. She also remembered how that ended up (which wasn't a bad thing), and decided to tread very carefully around Ernie O'Neill.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Dad," Jack said coolly.
Ernie O'Neill grunted, glared, then went back to his eggs.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Sam?" Mrs. O'Neill asked brightly, completely ignoring her husband's miserly mood.
"One," Sam answered. "My older brother's name is Mark."
"Does he have a family of his own?" Mrs. O'Neill said curiously.
"He's married and has two kids," she said. "My niece and nephew."
"Oh, how lovely. Is he excited to be an uncle?"
Uh… "I'm sure he will be," Sam said. "It's going to be a surprise." Wasn't that the truth? Mark would have kittens when he found out his sister was pregnant and living with an Air Force colonel!
Mrs. O'Neill didn't miss the double meaning. She nodded slowly with a suspicious look on her face, but smiled a moment later. "I'm sure he will be, too, Sam," she agreed. "Johnny, please pass the eggs."
"Sure, Ma."
"Speaking of marriage," Mr. O'Neill said, "is John going to make an honest woman of you?"
Everything halted. The twins stopped their hushed conversation to hear what was said next. Liz's eyes grew worried, and Mrs. O'Neill's closed; whether in exasperation, worry, or irritation, Sam couldn't tell. She looked to Jack, who was staring at his plate silently – the only one in the room whose eyes weren't on her.
Slowly Sam's twinge of worry intensified. Though mostly she managed to excuse marriage, a tiny part of her always hoped Jack planned on asking. That part had also thought that, maybe, if he was planning on asking, he'd said something to his family, (or, Ma and Liz at the least).
Having learned that his family knew nothing of any secret plans/hopes/desires on Jack's end, Sam felt very much cornered and unprepared.
Swallowing hard, she fought to meet Mr. O'Neill's eye. "We haven't discussed it," she said simply.
Mr. O'Neill grunted and waved his fork in a warning way as he said, "I'm not surprised, Samantha. He didn't propose to Sara until he thought she was getting tired of waiting and wondering. She was pregnant then, too."
Sam's mind waved the information away. It didn't matter to her what he'd done with Sara. What happened before and during Jack's and Sara's marriage was between them. She was more than a little appalled at the attitude of Jack's family (excluding Mrs. O'Neill and Liz, of course).
"I really don't think that's our business, Mr. O'Neill," she said calmly.
"It's somebody's business!"
"Dad," Liz interrupted softly, "Sam's right…"
"Sam doesn't know John!" Mr. O'Neill said angrily. "He'll probably break her heart the same way he broke Sara's. How he's gone through over twenty years in the military without learning how to lock up a gun is –"
"You don't know wha1 happened!" roared Jack, a look of deadly anger on his face. He stood and leaned over slightly in a predatorily fashion. "Don't talk about my son!"
It was like watching two wolves snarl at each other from across a pond; Jack on one side, a mere inch from attacking, and Mr. O'Neill on one side, furious, but without the will (or ability) to attack.
"Please! Stop!" Mrs. O'Neill exclaimed worriedly.
"No, Ma, let's let them fight it out," smirked Robert.
"Shut up, Rob!" Liz snapped. "Dad, please! Will you leave John alone for five minutes?"
Sam didn't know what to say; she found it hard to believe that she would make an impact on these strangers. While Liz's might, she was still new, and she wasn't family, not yet. How on earth was she going to put an end to this?
Immediately she was reminded of her dad and Mark. How a death could destroy relationships left and right, all beginning with blame. Selmak had pushed her dad to make amends with Mark; how could Mr. O'Neill be convinced to make amends with Jack? It was enough to give a woman a headache.
Color swarmed in Sam's eyes and an involuntary moan escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and bent her neck, rubbing her temples. A moment later, she looked up; Robert and Richard were laughing with each other; Mr. O'Neill and Jack were still glaring at each other and bickering; Mrs. O'Neill was pleading and ordering them to stop.
And Liz was staring intently at Sam. Her gaze wasn't predatory, but full of curiosity and interest, and caring, and a hint of worry. She tilted her head as if to say, "Are you going to let them go on like this, getting you in such a bundle of nerves?"
Sam felt a flare of anger rip through her and she stood as quickly as she could, as fiercely as she could; the effect was dampened by her burgeoning belly, though. And, as loudly and commandingly as she could, she bellowed, "STOP!"
At her voice the world seemed to stop; silence reigned and all eyes were on her. A comical side of her imagined the audible click of a spotlight pinning on her. She held the reins now, and she was going to make sure they listened.
"Whether we're married or not, Jack and I are going to have and raise this baby," she said. "Right, wrong, or different, that's the way it's going to be unless he and I decide otherwise."