AUTHOR: Glinda

TITLE: No, you're not are you.

CATEGORY: angsty, past story, some present day action and romance in future chapters if my dear readers want it

PAIRING: S/J - I'm a shipper so sue me! *panikaly* please don't!

WARNING: Swearing, later maybe a little (not too much - couldn't bear to hurt my two favourites that bad! -) graphic violence

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, don't own anything. Just a poor little Uni. student trying to stay sane by letting her imagination run wild. Not making any money.just doin this for fun! Plz don't sue!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Oops, forgot about this bit last time! But consider it true for the last chapter and all - if any - subsequent ones. If you want more let me know. This is my first published so be gentle with me but point out where if going wrong! I live for feedback! Ooh and plus I think it can also be an answer to Challenge 1,765 on Heliopolis so I'll send it there when its complete. If you want to publish it other places just let me know and send me a link - always on the lookout for more good fanfiction! (

Sam Carter looked herself up and down critically in the mirror. She'd do. Locking her bedroom door from the inside and leaving a tape looping she opened the window and climbed out into the tree that was her gateway to freedom. She had to admit that this was far easier to do than in her usual Saturday night outfit. Despite the jeans, trainers, non-descript T- shirt and whole lack of make-up, there was a thrill in her stomach breaking the whole grounded thing hadn't given her in years. She jumped down, dodged out of sight till she was round the corner, then set off at a run towards the familiar pick-up waiting at the end of the road. Waiting for her. She smiled.

Jack bathed in the flow of that 1000-watt smile of Sam's as she got in and it lit up his truck. He had no idea how she managed it but the depression, cynicism and downright destructiveness that had become second nature to him since he joined special ops had faded into the background since he met her. He'd done a lot of things in his life he wasn't proud of, seen more he wished he could forget and made decisions in the field he'd rather not have to live with but did all the same. And she understood. As much as someone who'd never been in combat or stared down the barrel of a gun into someone's eyes and pulled.well that wasn't entirely true. She had done that. She should never have had to but she'd done what had to be done. Because he couldn't. The whole lying bleeding on the floor thing had somewhat hindered him.

FLASHBACK - 5 YEARS PREVIOUSLY

He'd just walked into the drugstore on a whim to pick up a few things he needed before heading back to the base. He'd only just made it before closing time. Two guys in balaclavas walked in and held up the shop. There'd been 5 maybe 6 customers in the entire shop. He'd been in the aisle next to the counter when they'd burst in. The girl on the till had stared down the gun and nearly fainted, but held on and opened the till. Next thing he knew the guy with the gun was yelling obscenities at her. Turned out the manager had just left to take the safe to the bank and all the poor girl left in charge could give him was the till float. By now the girl was sobbing hysterically and the gunman was pretty pissed off. He needed a hostage fast. Jack had surreptitiously moved to block the guy's view of the young girl standing by the sleeping pills but was too late. The gunman lost it and started firing randomly at customers. Jack spun round swung the girl off her feet and threw them both to the ground rolling them out of the line of fire behind a stack of.something. He'd opened his mouth to speak only to hear her mutter "I know, I know: play dead!" "Good girl", had been all he could mutter through the bullet he'd taken in his side. Ignoring the pain he'd slowly risen to his haunches to gauge his chances of overpowering the gunmen, only to have the girl grab his wrist and whisper "Don't be a hero - he's a maniac without a safety catch!" He'd simply nodded his understanding - this guy had intended to kill at least one person no matter the outcome - and muttered something about just doing his job. As the gunman moved down the aisle Jack had sneaked up behind him and disarmed him, thanking his special ops training for teaching him how to knock someone out first try with his bare hands. As the gun fell from the hand of the now unconscious robber it scooted across the linoleum towards the young girl who - thankfully - had followed his instruction and was faking death in a pool of blood. He panicked for a moment about the poor kid being injured till the pain in his side reminded him it was his. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction the other robber - who'd watched Jack drop his companion in horror started firing his revolver madly an - luckily for Jack - wildly inaccurately. He mentally counted how many the second had used. One in the ceiling when they walked in, two in the shelves on either side of him, one made something on the shelf explode - causing the girl on the floor to involuntarily flinch - one in his arm and the other in his shoulder. As he collapsed to his knees he mouthed "6 down none to go - run!" before blacking out. The last thing he saw was her arm reach out and pull the gun under her. When he awoke the first man had recovered and was swaggering towards her saying "I know you're alive I saw you move there" he knew that tone of voice.he'd heard it too many times when he'd fallen into enemy hands. It was the kind that you hoped for if you wanted to get out alive - it was the voice of a madman. Someone who wanted to prolong his power over you for as long as possible putting off the moment of death till he'd grown bored. How did that adage go "if you have to stare down the barrel of the gun the wrong way pray you face a madman for a good man".a good man what.he couldn't remember. It was hard enough trying to stay conscious. "Get up" it snarled. The young girl rose calmly bringing up the gun she'd hidden below her and said coolly "I don't think you're in any position to start making demands here. Cos the way I see it your guns empty - mine still has ammo. I suggest you get you're scrawny asses out of here before I waste it on you." Snort from the arrogant maniac "there's only one bullet left" Deadpan "I'll only need one shot." The gunman made to turn away then swung back to thump her one and she fired. He dropped to the ground and his companion fled. Jack looked up at the girl and the image of her horrified eyes as she stared from the gun in her hands to the man at her feet to him etched itself permanently on his memory. Struggling into a sitting position he'd pulled himself over to her and she'd let him wrap his arms round her as she'd collapsed to the floor sobbing. He'd looked appealingly at the girl on the desk hoping desperately that she'd not seen. She'd walked up and gently said "He started firing you threw yourself over the girl to protect her. He walked up to finish the job, you tried to disarm him and the gun went off accidentally killing him" He murmured "thank-you" while rocking the young girl gently in his arms remembering the rest of the adage "pray you never face a good man, for a good man will kill you with hardly a word".

END OF FLASHBACK

The girls he dated were.like whiskey.simply a way to block the pain and feel more than a soldier. But he, she made him feel more alive than he had in years. Since he'd been back on active duty he'd been consciously trying to 'do the right thing' - it was gonna get him into trouble but it was something he had to do. She was such a faithless person - she could almost match him blow for blow in the cynicism and sarcasm stakes - yet after that first night they'd fallen asleep stargazing she'd developed this - for want of a better expression - unspoken faith in him. He'd never been anything but honest with her - dammit, she knew everything about his life that wasn't classified: and a few things that were. She knew he was no angel, but she believed that underneath it all it didn't matter whether or not he was a good person - the important thing was that he was trying to be. So he tried. It was hellishly hard and he seemed to be failing constantly, but it was worth it. He nodded firmly to himself: the pride shining out of those crystal clear blue eyes when he'd pulled off that rescue and got his demotion reversed would keep him warm on desert nights for years to come. "Just thinking" he replied to her questioning look. Maybe he'd never be a proper her, but every time he pulled her back from the brink or saved her from herself he knew that being HER hero was worth more than all the medal, commendations or promotions in the world. It was the least he could do for the girl who'd not only probably saved his life but who saved his soul every single day.

Sam wondered what really went on behind those chocolate brown eyes of his. A helluva lot more than he let on, that, she was sure of. The truck stopping outside the arena interrupted her train of thought. As she got out of the truck Jack leaned in the back and pulled out a hockey sweater which he chucked at her "so you don't freeze in there!" She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust before pulling it on grinning. It'd become a running joke between them, given her tendency to 'forget' to return them till the following day. She hoped that he just presumed she liked ice hockey more than she let on - and that he never noticed the pattern. She only 'forgot' before he was scheduled to leave so that she could pretend he was holding her when he was halfway across the world. And sleep contently wrapped up in his smell. She scolded herself that she was a pathetic little High Schooler with a crush.but that didn't stop her taking comfort in it whenever she could.

Well? What do you think? A tad longer.got a little out of my control there.but I'm pulling an all nighter cos my muse is in the building so.there may be more before the morning comes (its 3am here)! :D