Categories: Romance, kinda angst.
Set between Seasons 8 and 9.
You have been tired before.
Exhausted.
Living off adrenaline and caffeine.
But this bone-deep … soul-deep … weariness is a relatively new condition.
Ever since your father died and you split with Pete, you have become aware of the emptiness of your life.
Yes; you have a great team, who would lay down their lives for you and vice versa.
Yes; you are one of only a few female Lieutenant Colonels leading a front-line unit.
Yes; you are one of the world's leading theoretical astrophysicists.
But you are tired. And lonely.
Your father had told you that you shouldn't let rules stand in the way. You'd feigned ignorance, but knew you hadn't fooled him.
So you ended your relationship with Pete. A good, caring man – but not too perfect – he'd been hurt, but had wished you happiness.
"I hope you get what you want," he told you.
But do you really know what you want? You have become so accustomed to considering him out of reach.
Now, however … Your brilliant – if somewhat eccentric – commanding officer transferred to the Pentagon last week to take up the role of Head of Homeworld Security.
This move gave him a well-deserved second star … and effectively removed you out of his direct chain of command.
So, theoretically, there is nothing stopping you from seeing if whatever it was you had could be something more.
You lift up your hand to knock when the door is wrenched open.
That familiar care-worn – but still handsome – face is marred by a scowl that is quickly replaced by a gentle, tender smile. "Carter," he says, "surprised to see you here. Thought you'd be packing for R&D."
"I should be," you reply quietly, "but I … wanted to see you."
"Ah." Your CO … check that; former CO … shrugs then takes your arm in his large hand and draws you into his new government-issue apartment. "Well, let me give you the guided tour," he says.
You smile at him, aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, and allow him to give you the 'guided tour'.
Which takes all of ten minutes. As a single man, he does not need the near-palatial Alexandria residence often preferred by a man in his position.
You end up on the small balcony, looking down into the quiet street. There is silence, but it's a comfortable one.
His arms are around your waist from behind and his chin rests lightly on your shoulder.
This should feel strange … awkward, even, after so many years of dancing around each other.
But it doesn't.
The word 'right' springs to your mind.
This man is right.
His arms around you are right.
"Sam?" he says softly.
You turn in his embrace and your lips meet his, exploring, touching, tasting and caressing.
And as you relax into his loving embrace, you realize that your weary soul has finally found rest.