Never Say Never
Chapter Ten
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"Mom?" Cassandra smoothed a cool rag across Sam's flushed cheeks.
Sam's lashes fluttered and she opened her tired eyes. "Cass?"
"Yep!" Cassandra grinned down at her. "It's me. Daniel's here. Hey?" she called over her shoulder, "she's awake."
Daniel came into view hands resting in an intimate way on her daughter's shoulders. Why? Sam took in his scruffy beard and the touch of gray at the temples. He looked older, but those blue eyes twinkling down at her were Daniel Jackson's. This was the man she'd seen five months ago in D.C., the man she'd mistaken for a Replicator.
"Well, look who the cat dragged in." He reached down and caressed her cheek.
"Daniel?" Sam pushed up into a sitting position. Her hand found his and found strength in his secure touch.
"Hey, I think we're making headway here." He winked from behind his glasses.
"I'm so sorry I hurt you." She looked at his right forearm that was hidden by a faded, long-sleeved, green BDU shirt.
"It's long healed." He shrugged.
Sam blinked and tried to restrain her tears. "Where's Janet?"
"Right here, Mom." Grace walked in carrying the blue-eyed toddler that was most definitely a girl.
"Mummy." The adorable bundle in Grace's arms reached for Sam.
Sam balked at the eager toddler. "No, I mean Doctor Janet Fraiser?" She looked at each of them and then at Daniel who was no longer smiling.
"Okay, I think we need to back peddle a bit, guys, I mean gals." He shared an agreeable look with Cassandra.
"Ya think?" Sam said watching their mouths drop ajar. She gave an equally confused look. "Wha—t? It's an expression, right?"
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Janet was dead! It took Sam by surprise. Yet soon as Daniel shared his agony of being with Janet that fatal day, Sam realized that what she wanted to believe so badly was not true. She then relived almost losing Jack. Goa'uld death gliders everywhere! She saw him get hit and fall onto his back, fingers of smoke drifting from his body armor. The heart wrenching experience of leaning over him and as he laid still on the grassy field, seemed real. She'd felt her world end, felt total despair. There was so much crap separating them and now he was dead or dying and she'd not told him. Not said, what'd been on her heart for so long. As she felt the faintness of his pulse, she'd bent over and whispered, "Damnit, sir, don't you die on me! I love you, Jack!"
Sam hitched a shaky breath. She had been married to Jack O'Neill for over twenty years since a wedding on Chulak when they were still SG-1. Wasn't that breaking the regs? A little late to worry about now, Sam. They had six children ranging in age from thirty-one to two and half. Wow! Talk about a shock to the maternal system. Sam was still absorbing the details but as she did, she remembered more. More importantly wanted to. She spent much of the day re-bonding with the kids, especially the twins. The only one she didn't see or speak with was Jack.
Daniel explained Jack needed space and had responsibilities to attend to. What those duties involved she had no idea and knew her friend and family were keeping something important from her, especially when she asked if this was the location of the infamous last outpost known as Safe Haven. Even Grace and JJ wouldn't give her a direct answer. She had to give Jack credit. His—their kids were loyal to him. Sam needed to regain his trust and find out why she'd been missing for over two years. Most of all, she wanted to be Mrs. Jack O'Neill.
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"We're caught in a trap, I can't walk out, Because I love you too much baby.
Why can't you see, What you're doing to me When you don't believe a word I say?
We can't go on together With suspicious minds And we can't build our dreams On suspicious minds . . ."
The sun had long set but soft security lightening illuminated the area surrounding the cabin. Jack had arrived out of nowhere around suppertime.
He smelled of fresh air and silage. He donned a good front for their children but Sam knew he felt uncomfortable around her. His hands were always in motion and he'd downed two bottles of beer during the meal. Sam had maybe lost her memory, but knew liquor was a rare treat now days. Daniel told Cassandra to chill that Jack had a lot on his plate. Sam suspected she filled most of his plate.
Soon as the meal was finished he played and chatted with the kids then excused himself. When Jack went to the cellar for a third beer, Cassandra nagged at him. Third beer in hand, he said nothing and went outside. Cassandra then told Sam that Jack had hit the bottle hard after Sam's abduction then, like most of his bad habits, he'd gone cold turkey.
That'd been two hours ago. Sam recalled that like her, their kids had always been Jack's main focus. She suspected that hadn't changed until she'd dropped in yesterday. Grace was disturbed by her father's avoidance. Sam decided to find out what bug was up his assets.
"Jack?" Sam hesitantly stepped onto the small dock in her cold bare feet, chafing them against each from the walk through the wet grass. She should have put on shoes, but she'd longed to feel real grass beneath her feet. Whatever caused her to think that? She set her focus back on Jack.
A delicate finger of cigarette smoke wafted skyward. So he did smoke—guess he was a man of his word. She left. He started smoking.
"What?" he asked harshly, but not before she saw him swipe a hand across his eyes. One thing she distinctly remembered, Jack O'Neill rarely cried and when he had, it'd been in her arms.
She didn't answer. Sam stared at the rugged beauty of the man standing with his back to her and the soft glow of the cigarette's embers when he inhaled. She decided now wasn't the time to nag about lung cancer.
At his side set a tattered lawn chair and fishing pole. He'd been in the chair a few hours and as if sensing her approach stood and started packing-up the fishing gear. She noted a bucket with six good-sized bass. Another memory surfaced.
Jack stood in the corridor of the SGC wearing tanned kakis, a white shirt and his black leather jacket. He'd turned and grinned at her. "Last chance, Carter – Bass grow this big," he'd stretched out his long arms. "Land of sky blue waters, mosquitoes, snookums . . . " And he'd vanished in a streak of bright light.
Sam blinked and found herself in present time. She trembled as she regained her bearings. The flashbacks were so real, so unnerving. It took another few moments before she felt certain she wouldn't be propelled into the precedent again, she hoped.
In this time line, Jack wore the tattered jeans he'd had on this morning but an opened blue-checked flannel shirt, its sleeves jammed up his tanned forearms.
A memory wearing that same flannel shirt with no other clothing underneath the flannel popped into her head. Jack hugged her to his hard lean body and huskily said, "It looks way better on you, Carter." Then he kissed her and the shirt slid to the floor. "And you look way better without it. You're so hot!"
Sam blinked and focused on him. The t-shirt was tucked at his waist, but the jeans hung loser than she recalled. There was gauntness to his weathered features. Then again, it'd been a rough time according to Daniel and the kids. Almost three years. Was that possible? Her last memory other than when the twins were born was when Grace was nine going on ten, and JJ seven or had he been eight? And something about being beamed up by Thor and then nothing.
"Jack, the kids are asking questions I can't answer. They want you inside." She stepped close enough to see his face and hands.
"I know." He refused to look at her and skipped a stone across the smooth dark water, then padded his pockets for another cancer stick. She watched as he found the mangled empty packet then pitched it into the bait bucket. He cursed about needing a smoke. She saw his hands tremble and she ached for what she'd put him through. To know she was the cause of his suffering.
"I'm sorry." She took a step closer and touching his shoulder. He flinched and her heart shattered.
"Not your fault, Carter, ya had no way of knowing," he said in a tone she recalled from when she'd let the Replicarter escape from the Alpha site.
"Yes it is." She refused to deny it any longer.
"Like hell it is!" He turned and glared. "I made the decision to leave Fifth behind and he's used you and now our family to punish me! Far as I'm concerned the invasion, everything has been for his revenge against me."
Sam snorted.
"What?"
"You think this," she gestured to condition of their world. "Is just about you and me? Pride truly doeth come before the fall." She shook her head in regret.
"Fine! It's also about the Replicator and Wraiths need to survive in their own sick perverted ways. But let me also refresh your memory, Carter. You took my place when it was me he'd come for all along."
"You'd be dead if I hadn't."
"Rather me than the twins."
"No. He'd promised he'd leave them with you. And he did."
Hands windmilling, he went off on one of his tongue-twisting tantrums. "Well, I don't know what all you know, but know this."
"Huh?" Sam was trying to wrap her head around Jack's flurry of words when he stepped into her personal space. She took a step back. He followed.
"After your abduction bug eyes abducted me and said if I came with him, he'd let you go."
"He—he did?" She gaped.
"Yeah, ya sure yabetcha." His Minnesota accent sounded. "But true to Fifth's unnatural nature, he tricked me. He sent a Replicator in your place. Teal'c blew it away with the Disburser cannon—in front of the kids." Jack had her pressed against one of the dock's support posts. She felt the weathered splinters dig into her back.
"I—I didn't know." She didn't. She shut her eyes and breathed in. She could feel, smell his cigarette breath against her face. On anyone else Sam hated the smell but this was Jack and darned if it didn't kick up her attraction.
"Why'd he let you go?" he asked against her temple.
"Don't know. I don't even remember being with him." She shrugged. "Maybe I escaped." She stared up into his precarious gaze.
"Right." He tossed his hands in the air and turned back to the lake. "Or he let you escape. Ferrcryin'outloud! We're overrun with Replicators and Wraith. They've made a truce ya know. It's just a matter of time before they wipe out the last of the Resistance."
"Which you lead." She stepped away from the post and realized her limbs were shaking, she felt as if she had sea legs.
His head snapped around and he had that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression that any other time would have made her smile.
"Daniel and Teal'c told me."
"Those boneheads." He didn't trust her! What must she do to convince otherwise?
"Don't worry they didn't give away any top secrets."
He sniffed and scratched his lower back. "Whatever."
"You think Fifth planted a device in my head? You think I'm a spy or Zanarc?"
"I don't know what to think." He shoved by to walk toward the cabin, but Sam blocked him. "Especially about you."
"Holy Hannah, Jack! I thought you loved me."
"Yeah, well shit happens. People change. And if you are the Sam Carter I married, you'd understand why there's no way in Netu I can trust you. Just 'coz it waddles and quacks like a duck don't mean squawk." He glared to where her hand pinned his shirt's sleeve. She let go. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got four kids to tuck into bed."
Sam nodded and watched him limp across the lawn. His knee must be acting up again. She should get the ointment and ice . . .she stiffened as more memories flooded back. Why would his knee bother if he were an Ancient? Because after he'd injured it five years ago he'd chosen not to heal it in order to feel human!
"Wait?"
"What?" He halted and jamming his hands into his front pockets cocked his silvery head her way. That familiar pose stopped her heart. How many times had he looked at her that way? Hundreds? Thousands?
Sam found her voice. "You think Homer Simpson should be president, love double chocolate cake, vanilla ice cream, have a red handmade yoyo I gave you fifteen years ago, love hockey and have an autographed Wayne Gretsky's hockey puck and—"
"And what?" He glared with those penetrating brown eyes.
Digging deeper she took a few steps toward him. "You prefer red Jell-O to blue, eat Jell-O and ice cream with a fork. Um, something about a crossword puzzle bet. Love opera and classical music, play guitar, sing only for me and the kids and our lovers song is . . .darn, what was it?"
"Yes?" his tone now hopeful he stared at her.
"Somewhere Over the Rainbow." She snapped her fingers.
"Wrong." He turned away.
Sam swore. "Wait. That was the first song you ever sang to me, Scarecrow."
That caused him to halt mid-stride and face her. She watched his rugged features tense up, his brow furrow, while his lean mouth didn't quite shut. It rarely did, she recalled. He flipped his left palm up and gestured toward her, "When?"
"Don't know," she confessed and watched him walk, as she stood barefoot on the chilling damp grass. "We'd been abducted—to-to mate by a Goa'uld named Nirrti. We bonded and fell in love. We created Grace. You were still married to Sara."
That made him halt. She heard him sniff. "Anything else?" He started to walk away.
"Central America, someone tried to rape me, but you stopped them . . .arm wrestling and the safest bet I'd ever make." The words tumbled out of her mouth in confusion. "Oh, a White House Halloween party. Striker and Shimmer . . ." She looked desperately at him. "You're Striker. I'm Shimmer."
She thought to see a flicker of light in his eyes, a twitch to his iron-board mouth. "Yes." A less-cynical affirmation. He headed back toward the house, his long legged stride expanding their distance.
"I know this sounds crazy." She hurried after him. "You helped my mother deliver me in an elevator, something about the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. You were um a teenager."
"Ah." He paused. Silence trickled by as she waited, trying to think of something else of relevance. Well, the very idea her husband had delivered her was just plain warped, a figment of her imagination, right? No wonder he wouldn't talk to her. She was one sick bimbo.
"Coming with?" he tossed over his shoulder with a warmer tenor that she recalled hearing in her head so often.
"Huh?"
"Ya deaf, Carter?" he'd switched back to annoyance.
"Not deaf. And I'm not coming with unless I'm wanted," she said with a snip as she ventured to within a few inches of his stance.
"The kids want you." He turned and shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his bare feet. "God Almighty help you, Carter, if you're linked to Fifth, if you hurt them," his voice dropped to a deadly calm that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned into her, "I'll snap your neck like a dry twig." He stalked into their house and slammed the porch door.
Knowing he meant it, Sam tapped down her respectful dread. God, help her? God, help them all? Somehow, someway, she would get her family back and win over the heart of the man she loved more than life itself, Jack O'Neill.
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"Why haven't you acted?" Replicarter angrily asked Fifth.
"It is not yet time." He shrugged and turned off his internal link with Sam. "Besides I don't want O'Neill to discover us."
"He will you know."
"Yes, but not until it's too late."
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Five Days Later:
"So, if an old friend I know Drops by to say hello Would I still see suspicion in your eyes?
"Here we go again Asking where I've been You can't see these tears are real I'm crying . . ."
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Sam couldn't sleep. Because Jack hadn't slept with her since the first night was a good part of her restlessness. Not that she slept alone. No, the twins had warmed their way into her heart and bed. Sam wanted, desired to learn everything she could about Jacob and Janet. She longed to recapture the two and half years of bonding she'd lost with them. They were so unique. The first time she saw Janet elevate across the living room, she almost hyperventilated, not to mention she could light a candle with the flick of her hand. Cass assured Sam, that the toddler got punished whenever she played with fire.
Then Sam caught Jacob levitating and spinning the chess pieces of Jack's chess set. Sam flashed back to when Cassandra had done the same thing with as Jack called them, horses. Magnets my eye! Fortunately that was the extent of their Ancient gifts—for now. She could only imagine what adulthood would bring.
Presently they were cuddled in the king size bed on Jack's side, looking like innocent babes. Sam also knew that at some point one if not both would find their way to where Jack's slept on the leather sofa in the living room. The consolation was that she'd awaken to find Grace, Jacob or both in bed with her. The O'Neill bed was definitely communal where their kids were concerned. Sam relinquished that if she had to forfeit having her husband sleep with her, she could deal as long as the kids were around.
These last five days revealed so much to Sam. For one, her children loved her unconditionally. Daniel and Teal'c although cautious, as to what they divulged, seemed to genuinely care about her. Dare she call it brotherly love? Not yet. She knew they'd no reason to trust her, but gave her more latitude emotionally that Jack. Oh, he talked to her when the children were present, even put on a façade that he cared, but she knew differently.
A force field of suspicion stood between them. Regarding her loyalties and whether she was an advanced Replicator or just royally screwed up. Sam felt human, but had doubts. She'd analyzed every possibility. Jack was right. If their roles were reversed, she'd not trust him either. And if he didn't know whose side she was on, how could he possibly let down his emotional guard? It didn't help that Jack remained emotionally reticent. Okay, that was overstated. Twenty years ago he'd had so many walls she'd not known which one he hid behind. That had changed, right? To watch him with the children one saw the real Jack O'Neill. The little boy who wanted not only to play, but to love and be loved unconditionally. They'd had that once, or so she sensed.
Yesterday, Sam found artwork the kids had drawn and painted. Sam recalled how while still leading SG-1, Jack had encouraged grade school kids to use art to express themselves. No doubt a connection to his first son Charlie's love of painting.
JJ and Grace's were amazingly talented. Many of their pictures included Jack being Jack. Playing ball with the kids, riding a horse, fishing, tussling with the kids or in full dress blues with the title General O'Neill. It was obvious they knew the difference between their dad and what he did to save the world.
The pictures that grabbed Sam's heart had her in them as well. A series of drawings by Grace brought Sam to tears and rattled her memory bank. Dressed in black t-shirts and BDU pants, she and Jack stood face-to-face with a blue line between them. The background was painted in gold.
These pictures were literally minute frames of when she and Jack were on Apophis' ship. She'd gotten trapped on the other side of the force field just minutes before the ship was to explode from C4. One picture showed Jack slamming an object against the force field. Sam remembered that incident as if it were yesterday. Emotions sluiced over her like a tidal wave. She'd been about to die and he wouldn't leave her.
Jack repeatedly beat on the control panel then applied his frustration to the force field. His face contorted with emotion driven intensity.
"Sir, just go!"
"No!" Sweat streamed over his tensed face he stood up and faced her. They held each other's gazes. No words were needed.
Sam cocked her head and extended her open hand just shy of the force field. "Please, Jack, save yourself?"
Mimicking her action with his right hand, he shook his head. "No." His ebony brown eyes bathed her with devoted love. He was about to die with her, for her. This was unconditional love. This Jack O'Neill was the man she had fallen in love with so long ago.
Grace approached Sam from behind and said softly in her ear, "Sometimes I see things from your and dad's past."
Yanked back to the present, Sam quickly swiped at her tears and sniffed. She didn't want her daughter to see her cry.
"Has he seen these?"
"No. He'd be upset. But that's what I see when I look at him now. Even though you're back, he can't break down the wall that keeps you from being together. Dad's afraid, Mom."
"I know, honey." Sam turned and drew the young teenager into her arms. "So am I."
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Her eyes watering Sam released that bittersweet memory. Easing her arm out from under Jacob's possessive hold, she slipped out of bed and stood up, pondering what to do with her pent-up energy. It was almost 0200 hours and her brain wouldn't shut down. Yawning she padded to the bedroom window and pushed back the curtain. This window faced the barn that was about 60 yards from the house. Sam saw the flash of the transport rings. Someone had either left or arrived.
She heard the cabin's front door open then shut and a few seconds later saw Jack amble across the yard toward the barn. He walked at a sluggish gait. She' noticed he'd been favoring his right shoulder and arching his back the last two days. When she inquired, he'd muttered, that he was no spring chicken anymore, and he'd deal.
As Jack stepped into the barn Sam surmised it was too soon for Charlie to get off duty. So who had arrived at this odd time? She'd determined the transport rings in the house were only used during the daytime or emergencies. She recognized evidence of a working covert base all around her. Where was the question? She'd found Jack's duty roster in plain sight on the refrigerator. She'd been not been surprised by the names. But Maybourne! So far, she'd not seen the man who would be king.
Curious, Sam threw on her jeans, sweater and jogging shoes, hurried down the stairs and out the back door instead of the front. She stealthy made her across the lawn to the illuminated pole barn. The side door was open and she stepped inside. Once there, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the lanterns dusty glow. She heard voices. One was Jack's, the other that of a woman's carried across to her.
One of the horses whinnied at Sam's arrival and she pressed tight against a stall and held her breath. The voices stilled then started again. The woman giggled followed by Jack's hearty laughter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard that carefree laugh. And just who had instigated it? Sam's blood pressure soared and her nails dug into her palms.
Relying on military finesse, she maneuvered among straw bales, stalls and equipment until she was a few yards away. She'd hoped it was Cassandra, but would have recognized her daughter's voice. Sam peered between two hay bales and saw the back of Jack's silver head. She couldn't see the woman straight on, but did glimpse long curly auburn hair. Sam experienced da ja vu, but couldn't remember why.
"You're exactly what I needed tonight," he said softly.
"I aim to please, Jack." The woman replied with a sexy lilt.
"Then get on with the pleasing part, wilya." He removed his shirt and Sam saw the ripple of his back muscles, the lean compaction of his biceps. Her husband had the body of man half his age. Apparently, being Ancient had benefits. And he was about to have sex. Sam's gut hit the floor and she turned away. Her heart thudded painfully. She felt sick.
"Now lay down, roll over and don't move, General."
"Okay, let's get this done. I can't stand it anymore. I've been aching for days."
"Believe me, Jack, when I'm done with you, you'll feel like a new man."
"New man, ya say?" Jack groaned.
"Absolutely."
"Aa-ah."
"So I found the spot?"
"Excellent. You haven't lost your touch. Ohh, yeah, just like that, Kerry . . ."
Kerry? The Kerry Johnson, Jack's former lover? Sam began to shake. Part of her wanted to storm the couple and catch them in the act. The rational part though, couldn't blame Jack for gratifying his sexual needs. But what if it was more than sex? Was this an emotional relationship? Had someone else replaced Sam in his heart and bed? Leaving as quietly as she'd come, Sam fled back to their bed and then, holding the twins she cried herself to sleep.
The Morning After:
"We can't go on together With suspicious minds And be can't build our dreams On suspicious minds
"Oh let our love survive Or dry the tears from your eyes Let's don't let a good thing die When honey, you know I've never lied to you Yeah, yeah . . ."
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Standing before the bathroom's mirror, Sam stared at her puffy red eyes, then stared at her limp blonde hair. Digging in the drawers she found a scissors and curling iron. Releasing the French braid she started to prune the unmanageable mess. Nothing too drastic, but it was time for a change.
An hour later, she sat alone at the large dining table and shoved the partially eaten omelet around her plate. The kids had risen, eaten and vacated the house to enjoy the warm autumn morning. She'd stayed in bed to avoid everyone, especially Jack. No such luck. He was off duty today. She'd spotted him raking dead leaves in his tattered jeans and a black pullover, its long sleeves jammed up his forearms. He'd yet to shave and the salt and pepper whiskers made him ruggedly handsome.
The back screen door creaked as he entered the house and went straight for the bubbling coffee pot on the wood burner stove, then the muffin pan. She watched him pop an entire muffin into his mouth and his tongue flick pass his lips to catch the crumbs. Watching Jack O'Neill eat aroused Sam. Not good! As much as she loved this man their sexual attraction seemed unnatural, especially considering their ages. Surely, after all this time and six children their love life would be like most married couples, nice, but not priority, let alone primal.
Sam inhaled. Heaven help her! Masculine scents assaulted her. Sweat, musk and autumn leaves emanated from the man. The ache below her hips intensified. Her cheeks burned and despite the moderate temperature she felt salty moisture on her upper lip. Sam tried to act nonchalant and nibbled her dried-out omelet and burnt toast. Seeking a diversion she mused, that she'd once been able to cook anything that included eggs.
Sam forced conversation. "Sleep well?"
"Like a baby. Feel like a new man."
"I bet," she mumbled. Her stomach pitched as she tried to erase last night's erotic conversation and a half-naked Jack from her mind.
"What?"
"Nothing." She let her fork clang onto the plate and shut her aching eyes only to recall a younger woman's face and sensuous curves. Kerry Johnson. It seemed sardonic that of all women Jack would have turned to, it'd be his former lover.
From the moment he'd entered the cabin Sam felt their personal tension elevate. He was humming "Suspicious Minds." The irony made her snort. She felt him access her butchered hair. Just because she could blow up a sun didn't mean she could style hair. Blow up a sun? Had she actually done that?
"Not hungry?" he shattered her wretched thoughts as he sat with coffee and the other muffin, layered with fresh churned butter. He stretched out his long muscular legs before him. Her gaze riveted on patches of tan hairy skin. The holey jeans revealed he didn't always wear jeans or slacks. Did he sunbath? A naked Jack. Oy! Sam swept her tongue across her parched lips. She had it bad.
"Carter?" Jack nudged her erotic thoughts with his husky tenor.
"Err, no." She took up her plate and gestured to rise, before she acted out her sensuous thoughts. 'Focus, Carter! He'd cheated on me! How could he profess to never giving up on me and then sink this low?'
"Nice hair," he said amusingly to her retreating backside.
"Like you care." She snapped.
She carried her plate to the sink then remembered Thor ate anything.
"Carter?" Jack's hand was on her forearm. How'd he do that? She'd not even heard his chair scrap the floor.
"Don't." She glared up at him.
He let go. "Fine. You hair's shorter. Why?" He flourished a hand at her head.
"Too much work and you don't have decent conditioner."
"Ah." His eyes crossed. "Don't use the stuff myself. But I'll make sure Walter gets right on that." He snickered.
Sam ignored his sarcasm and scrapped her plate into Thor's dog dish.
"Your hair's longer on the left side than the right. Why don't you let me even it up or cut it shorter."
She glared up at him.
"Or not." He backed off with a smirk tugging his mouth upward.
The dog devoured the eggs and toast before Sam stood upright. When she did, she collided with Jack--again.
"Excuse me?" she said cooler than she felt as he had her trapped between the sink and counter.
"What's wrong?"
Sam gaped. "You've gotta be kidding!" she said in the same tone he'd use.
"I'm not." He was serious. Had getting laid fried his brains?
"Nor am I, sir." She put her hand against his chest for distance. She felt his heart thud against his ribs. His pulse raced. So did hers. She wanted to slap him silly and then have her way with him. What was wrong with her? She dropped her hands to her side and exhaled.
"Sir?" His scared eyebrow tracked into his hairline.
"Yes. I assume you're more comfortable with that pre-established relationship, than the informality of spouse. After all, you've already moved on, sir."
"I have?" His face constricted with confusion.
She reached up and extracted the strand of straw from his bed-head gray hair. "Rolling in the hay, sir?" She slapped the evidence into his left palm.
"Huh?" He took a step back and looked at the proof. To her shock, a smile crept across his lean mouth and his left dimple tucked deep. "So you spied on me, huh?"
"I wasn't spying." She huffed and once more tried to get pass him.
"Sweet." He gave her space and his eyes got that familiar glint of O'Neill mischief.
"So you screw just any female who transports into the barn at two a.m., or have you a list of favorites? I image without regs to conform to anymore there are loads of women willing and able to satisfy General O'Neill. You always did envy Maybourne's multiple-partner life style."
"Maybourne? The only think we've got in common are dogs."
"So you're into that too?" Okay, that was pushing it, but she was mad.
"That's just wrong on so many levels!" Jack's brown eyes bugged out.
"To each their own." She snorted and reached up to tug at her uneven hair.
"You're serious." He gawked raising his hands as if in surrender.
"You most certainly were last night. I do hope she satisfied that right spot."
'Right spot?' he mouthed, his lips ironing out.
"After all, she was exactly what you needed." Sam stormed out the front door before she engaged her hand-to-hand combat knowledge.
"Wait, I can explain!" Jack ran after her then halted and watched her charge off to where the twins played in the fenced in sand box.
"Screw you, sir!" She yelled back.
"I wish." Jack let out a breath and banged his forehead against doorframe, once, twice . . .
"Jack?"
"What!" His shoulders slumped and he turned to the familiar voice.
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Daniel entered through the backdoor and had heard enough to do the math. "You want me to go and explain what she thought she heard or saw last night?"
"No." Jack dumped his cold coffee into the sink and blew out his mouth.
"So you're going to let her think you're getting it on with another woman?" Daniel asked, exasperated.
"She's already made her scientific evaluation. Just one more reason this won't work. My Sam would know I can't 'get it on,' with anyone but her."
"And why's that? Her brain's scramble eggs, Jack. And if you spent more time with her, you'd realize just how much. Every time she remembers something, no matter how minute, she's ecstatic. I don't think she has a lot of knowledge about the Ancients, let alone bonding between chosen hearts."
"Excuse me." Jack turned and ranted with his steely low tone. "Knowledge hasn't a fricking thing to do with Ancient bonded couples. It's about emotional, mental, spiritual and physical bonding that goes beyond average human perception! Sam's not aware of me in any of those ways. She's oblivious that I can't get her off my mind, heart, or out of my blood." He unconsciously tugged the hem of the shirt he wore.
Blushing, Daniel averted his gaze from Jack's chagrin. Since Sam's return Jack was in a constant state of arousal, especially when she was within range of his scent or sight.
"I know the true reason you knew the fake Carter wasn't Sam had to do with you're not becoming um, stimulated around her--it." Daniel fiddled with the book he'd been reading.
"Ya think." Jack snorted.
"Well it's clear you can barely control yourself around this Sam Carter. You should read your body languages from my end. You two really should get a room."
"Please spare me the genital details." Jack yanked the sweaty shirt over his head, strolled into the laundry room, tossed it, and grabbed a clean shirt off the dryer. "We're mature adults. Just because I'm an Ancient doesn't mean I can't control my err . . .um, needs."
"You're such an ass, Jack." Daniel snorted and poured coffee then took a sip. "Mister, I am Ancient, hear me roar. Maybe Cass and I aren't true Ancients, but since our um, physical union, I've some idea of what you're experiencing. Your Ancient genes need to physically blend with hers."
"And Carter's doesn't." He settled on a stool with a fresh cup then emitted a grunt of distain as he flicked something out of the mug before drinking from it.
"You don't know that."
"Well, I don't see her lying awake all night, taking cold showers or . . .ya know." He winced.
"Women deal differently with that stuff."
"How?"
"Ya know." Daniel flinched.
"I do?" Jack donned his bewildered look.
"Yeah, they err um . . .the same thing we do. Just less obvious."
"Oh." Jack looked down at his cup. "So she um . . ." He made a suggestive hand gesture.
"Yes. I mean I don't know for sure. But if this is our, Ancient Sam, she's has to do something to release her pent-up energy. Especially, when she can't bond with you—coz, you won't let her."
"Crap." Jack dragged his hands through his hair and growled.
"The point is, Jack. You're wrong to let her believe you cheated, especially with the former Kerry Johnson, aka former CIA agent, turned chiropractor. And I don't think Kerry's husband will be happy. He's a jarhead Colonel. Also a sixth degree black belt."
"I did promote him," Jack said with authority. "And Kerry's a better chiropractor than she ever was government agent."
"Yeah, she's good." Daniel nodded with personal appreciation. "So get her and Sam together and tell the truth."
"Oh, right," Jack snickered. "I'm to haul Kerry—now a mother of three topside and explain to Sam, "Hey, Carter, just coz you saw me with my old flame with my shirt off, don't matter. She was adjusting my aching shoulders and back because I can't sleep on the crappy sofa."
"That works," Sam said opening the front door as she stared at his backside.
"Doh!" Jack blustered shot to his feet and faced her. Getting caught in the act caused Jack's tan complexion to turn even darker.
"Um, yes. That went well." Daniel smiled then back-stepped toward the kitchen door. "I think this is where I find something fascinating to do--read." He waved his book. "Yeah. Bye."
His eyes fixed on Sam Jack swallowed hard. "Stay," he ordered over his shoulder to Daniel.
"But?"
"Yes, stay." Sam reiterated then turned, closed the door, and strolled back toward the children.
Daniel swore there was a skip to her steps.
"Go after her!" he blathered.
"Nope."
"Why?" Frustrated beyond words, Daniel dropped onto a stool at the kitchen counter.
"It doesn't work that way with us, Daniel. Never has."
"You two are unbelievable!" Daniel whined. "You're telling me you are willing to keep sleeping on that lumpy sofa."
"Yep." Jack turned, picked-up his muffin and munched with a silly grin. "I'm a patient man. Little steps, Daniel, little steps." He gazed out the window to where Sam had settled on the swing with Jacob on her lap.
"If you two took any smaller steps you'd move slower than the Replicators did when we froze them in that time-dilation prison."
"Trust me, Daniel."
"Just shoot me! Being around you guys is like being slowly sucked into a black hole, one piece at a time."
"What?" Jack set down his coffee and stared at Daniel as if he'd said something prophetic.
"I said it's like being sucked into a black hole piece-by-piece. Why?"
"A black hole, you say?" Jack shot off his stool.
"I believe that's what I said." He peered suspiciously over his glasses at the advancing man.
To Daniel's horror Jack grabbed his face and planted a fat kiss on his forehead.
"Yuck!" He swiped at the wet spot, smearing his glasses. He hoped Jack's sexual frustration wasn't making him . . .ya know.
"You, Doctor Jackson, are a mastermind, a genius!" Jack tugged the Persian rug off the rings and stepped inside the circle and pulled back his sleeve revealing a ring activator next to his watch.
"Um, thanks, I think." Daniel adjusted his soiled glasses. "Whatcha you doing?"
"C'mon." Jack windmilled his arms.
Daniel hesitantly complied. "But it's our day off. Cass is working and I want to read." He possessively clutched the dusty book to his chest. Since the invasion, he rarely got a day alone, let to read the few books still available.
"Daniel, if we pull this off, you'll have the rest of your Ancient life to read."
"Really?"
"Ya sure yabetcha."
Ten second later the rings delivered them two miles underground. Jack hummed as they merged into the busy Tok'ra tunnels labeled with manmade signs for the directionally-challenged. Jack's idea.
Military folks respectfully saluted Jack, who responded with a causal, "Chill, solider." They did.
Meanwhile, Daniel tried to connect the dots, usually Jack's problem which really annoyed him. "So, um, will you tell this, genius, why you're so pumped?"
"Not before I talk to McKay and Doctor Lee."
"Oh." Daniel shrugged. "About Sam's butchered hair?"
"Yes?" His gray brows shifted with his duh look.
"It's nasty." Daniel did a body shuddered. "Like the haircut she had when we were stuck beneath that ice planet."
"Nah, Carter looks hot," he said through a dimpled smirk. "Just like she did back then."
"You're pathetic." Daniel sighed. "You'd say that even if she'd shaven her head."
"Ya think? Don't worry, Danny, it's only hair. It'll grow on ya." Jack chuckled as his long strides maneuvered among the milling occupants of J.A.C.O.B.
"So, genius, where's P3X-808 located? Ya know, the planet where we lost SG-10."
"Um, its . . ." Daniel halted mid-gait and stared at the backside of the smartest, most self-effacing man alive, Jack O'Neill.
Piece-by-piece—Replicators, Wraith? Black hole? Oh, shit! Even better, it just might work. "Hey, Jack, hold-up!"
END OF CHAPTER TEN