Pineapple Express chucking it down the whole day, and guess what? The awful weather got this out of my beta's inbox. Thank the rain soaked roads that had most folks wisely staying in today.
Chapter 15: Leave Some Morphine Out My Door
After Sam had agreed to marry him, he'd promised himself that his last call to G-Man Farrity would be the last time he would get involved with Sam's work without her permission. She had made it patently clear to him that her military career was off-limits. He wouldn't ask any questions, and she won't be forced to lie to him. It was something they had tacitly agreed to.
It had been extremely difficult not to ask questions when she would disappear for weeks on end without contact, and then show up all banged up from a mission. She always refused to speak about what happened, quoting her usual 'classified' mantra.
He found it ironic that he was now on the other side of what he'd put his former wife through - which had ultimately ended his marriage. If he didn't love Sam so much and know how extremely lucky he was to have a woman like her in his life, he probably would have thought twice about his decision to go through with the wedding. Maybe even the relationship.
Sam had always been reluctant to give too much of herself. He'd always known that there was a part of her that he would never know until she decided to fully open herself to him. He'd thought that her decision to marry him would persuade her to start sharing more with him, perhaps even make her decide to cross that final line of openness. But she'd convinced him that she wanted to do things differently, and that because it wasn't a first engagement for either of them, or a first marriage for him, then they should do something special. He'd thought it incredibly romantic at the time, and he'd agreed that they should keep separate houses until after the wedding.
He was now starting to believe that Sam still had doubts, and had used what he thought was a romantic idea as a delaying tactic to keep him at arms length. She had yet to set a date and he'd been incredibly patient with her.
He told himself that Sam had been burned before. They'd dated so briefly and she was just being cautious and needed time to get to know him better. She had a busy job. They had plenty of time to set a date. What was the rush?
But she barely spent enough time with him, and she didn't act as if they were engaged. He knew none of her friends. The ones he'd met were stand-offish and seemed uninterested in getting to know him better.
When her best friend had died, he'd only found out because he'd surprised her with tickets to a musical in Denver, and he'd arrived to a scene of a weeping teenage girl on Sam's sofa. It had been after the funeral. Sam hadn't even considered him comforting her, and instead sent him on his way so she could take care of the girl.
It was only a few weeks later that he'd found out her name was Cassandra Fraiser and was adopted daughter of Janet Fraiser, the base CMO. That had been through Farrity. According to official government records, she'd been KIA in a rescue mission abroad that had gone wrong. Sam had never divulged what really happened.
A few weeks later he'd called her repeatedly to no avail. Her voicemail was full and her cell was turned off. He'd even gone as far as calling the base, but no one would tell him anything. He'd finally called Sam's brother Mark, thinking he was probably her next of kin, and would know if something had happened to her.
He'd gotten the shock of his life when Mark embarrassedly told him to call Sam's boss rather than him. Apparently "O'Neill, J." was listed in her files as her next of kin. His mind had reeled at the implication. Was that even normal? Was it something they did in the military? Mark had replied, that no, it wasn't normal, but what Sam did wasn't normal either.
When Mark had questioned their father about it, General Carter had brushed him off and told him to mind his own business. He knew O'Neill and he would take care of Sam. Mark told him that Jacob was Air Force through and through, and often thought of his men close as family. He was sure this was why he had put such trust in Sam's CO.
But it had always niggled at Pete that after they got engaged, Sam hadn't thought of listing him as her next of kin. She'd kept the status quo, and when he'd tried to discuss the issue, she'd clammed up and changed the subject.
When he'd had the chance to properly meet O'Neill at that restaurant where they'd bumped into a bunch of guys from her work, Sam had looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed. O'Neill had acknowledged him briefly, and he had realised that the older CO he vaguely remembered seeing when Sam had been called into work in the middle of a date, wasn't as old as he'd thought.
He'd made another call to Farrity then, his friend firmly telling him that there was no way he was looking into his fiancée's records again, especially anything to do with her CO. His searches had been flagged, and another infraction would land him in deep shit.
He'd tried wheedling it out of Sam instead, but she was like an immovable wall. She was too good at shutting people out, and for the sake of their relationship he'd stopped asking. There had been a look of warning in her eyes, and whenever he even mentioned O'Neill a look of pain would briefly appear, before she was able to cover up her emotions properly.
He was a good cop, a great cop. He knew how to read people, and there was something not right between her and O'Neill. He'd tried to dismiss it, tried to get to know her friends better by inviting them to his bachelor "do". His attempts had only served to humiliate him in front of his friends and family, and further cement his suspicion that something odd was going on with Sam and her boss.
O'Neill had taken too much pleasure in putting him in his place in that paintball field, despite his nephew Adam's insistence that 'Jack' was the greatest thing since sliced bread and had taken great effort in getting to know him.
Adam kept going on about how 'Jack' was awesome at hockey. 'Jack' flew planes for living. Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack… He'd had to tell the kid to shut up, and had taken his ire out on Sam for not telling him that her scientist friends Jonas and Daniel were quite familiar with combat. She'd replied that he'd never asked.
How the hell was he supposed to know that an archaeologist and physicist would know how to handle guns or be trained to work as a unit. O'Neill, on the other hand, he could understand knowing his way around small arms, and even her big alien friend, who she refused to talk about as well.
"Murray", or rather Teal'c's past was off-limits. He could know the basics, that the guy was basically an alien from another planet, and that he was now fighting on their side in some cosmic war, but that was it. He knew about the other aliens, the Gould, that they were somehow hell bent on taking over the galaxy, and Sam's work involved making sure that they didn't. They went through something called a Stargate, and Sam's dad was somehow involved, but she couldn't discuss that until she was able to get in contact with him and tell him about her engagement.
Another secret.
Another thing he wasn't privy to.
Another thing Sam's boss knew about, but Sam's own fiancé didn't.
Another reason why he'd had to break his promise to himself, and follow Sam from work when she'd deviated half way home and gone to her boss's house instead.
It was why he'd stood across the street from Memorial Park, his binoculars trained on the surreal scene being played out in the park like some TV show. He'd almost run over when he saw O'Neill grab hold of Sam, his blood boiling at the implied violence. But he'd halted when Sam had relaxed into O'Neill's arms despite the dangerous hold he had on her.
The intimate scene had rocked him to the core.
He'd watched in morbid fascination as an argument had erupted between the two. Sam had been sobbing at the end of it, and O'Neill had pulled her into a hug, a familiar embrace that Sam had automatically sunk into.
It was brief, and O'Neill had pushed her away, before leaving her in a blubbering mess on a park bench. He'd never seen Sam display so much emotion before. He'd never seen her so raw, and she'd only displayed it because she was with her CO.
It was why instead of going over to his fiancé, Pete had decided to confront O'Neill instead.
Sam wasn't certain how she'd managed the walk to her car, to start the engine and safely navigate her way back to her lonely house. How could she have possibly done all these things when her mind and body felt so damned numb.
How was she still breathing when her reason for living and not just existing had told her he loved her, but to stay the hell away from him and their… his daughter. How had it all come to this?
She'd always believed that if nothing else, she would always have his friendship. Despite all he'd said, she had been his friend. Yes, admittedly, there was always that invisible line that they had to carefully tread as not to accidentally cross it. There had always been that tension between them, that slight uneasiness that she'd never had with either Teal'c or Daniel. Thinking back, she knew it was that physical awareness mixed with respect and hero worship, that had eventually morphed into raging attraction and love.
Jack had been correct that there had never been just friendship, but they had been friends with the ever looming possibility of more.
But now, that possibility was completely gone, and the part that had always secretly hoped and wished for that more felt utterly, and bitterly destroyed. His admission of love had obliterated her heart, shattering every wall and protection she'd ever built to protect herself from him. One single sentence had undone her, and she knew with complete certainty that she would never be the same again.
Still fully clothed in her civvies, she curled deeper into herself on top of the comforter on her cold and immaculately made bed. For once, her mind was blank. She couldn't think past the next few seconds. Life stretched before her, blank; her next breath her only concern. Even that felt too much of an effort, and she wondered briefly how much easier it would be to just stop.
Survival was too ingrained in her, and the thought of giving up on life, no matter how bleak and unappealing was not in her make up. In that respect, she was too much like Jack. Too much like her father. Surrender was not in their vocabularies and it wasn't in hers.
She would have to live her miserable life. She would have to exist in a world that didn't have Jack O'Neill in it, cluttering her existence with inane jokes that never failed to make her laugh, and those brown eyes looking at her with such care and admiration. Instead there would always be sadness and regret as the years went by; perhaps in time, fading into a forlorn memory of what never was.
Aggravation only grew stronger in him as he waited across the street from O'Neill's house. He'd made sure to get there before the General so he could confront the man outside. He wanted to be on neutral ground and maintain the element of surprise. If he wanted to get his answers, he needed catch Jack O'Neill at a time and place he wasn't expecting it, perhaps pushing him slightly off kilter.
But the man had taken his time getting there, and now he was the one feeling unbalanced. He could feel the adrenaline still coursing through him, and the need for confrontation rose steadily as the minutes passed.
He'd made sure to keep his service weapon locked in the glove compartment of his unmarked police car. This was unofficial business, and if things got ugly between him and O'Neill then he didn't want anyone getting hurt.
A few more minutes passed until he spotted the General's truck pulling into the driveway. Pete took a deep breath and calmly exited his vehicle, mentally preparing himself for the coming confrontation.
He watched O'Neill tiredly slip out of the truck, the man's posture conveying the low level of his emotional wellbeing. If Pete was going to get his answers, it had to be now.
"General O'Neill?" he called out, putting as much confidence he could muster into his voice.
The General suddenly looked much more alert the moment he realized who was addressing him. His stance was relaxed, but the earlier weariness was gone, and the man was suddenly a blank wall again.
Pete silently cursed at the transformation.
"Detective," O'Neill acknowledged him with a slight nod, allowing a small amount of confusion to appear on his face. "What brings you-" he looked up around the trees, "to my neck of the woods?"
"I need to speak to you about Sam," Pete got right to the point. He figured there was no need to… beat around the bush. He smiled internally at the unintended cliché.
"Oh?" O'Neill said with a little bit of interest. He pushed the cab door closed, keeping one hand on the truck door and the other stuffed into his BDU pants.
"Yeah," Pete replied, unconsciously mirroring O'Neill by stuffing his own hands into his jeans. "I saw what happened at the park." He tried hard not to let his anger come through, but by the shuttered expression on the General's face, he knew he'd been unsuccessful.
"You seem to have a bad habit of doing that, Detective."
Pete shrugged. "I figured it's the only way I can get anything out of you people."
O'Neill raised his eyebrows. " 'You people' ?"
"The Air Force," he clarified, almost spitting out the word as if it were something filthy. "I'm not proud of having to follow my own fiancée, General, but I'm sick and tired of being quoted regulations and being told that everything's classified. I wanna know some answers for once, and I'm damned well gonna get them right now."
O'Neill remained seemingly relaxed. "And what, exactly, made you think that I would answer your questions, Detective?"
"Because what went in that park had nothing to do with the Air Force and you know it!" Pete threw out. "When it comes to Sam, I have every right to know what's going on with her. Why she'd let her boss, of all people, manhandle her that way!" Pete's voice had steadily risen, and he found himself almost at O'Neill's face.
The whole time, the General hadn't moved. He still stood at the exact same spot, but Pete could tell he was on the defensive by the tight look on his face. He'd given a small wince when Pete had used the word 'manhandled'.
Good. Pete wanted him to start reacting.
"Then maybe you should be asking her that instead of making a scene in my front yard." O'Neill subtly glanced at the house across the street, and Pete saw the twitching curtains.
"I'm not leaving until I get my answers," he told the General. "I wanna know how long you and Sam have been going around behind everyone's back. Was it from the beginning? Am I just some beard to cover up a torrid affair? Did she accept my ring to make it more convincing for the two of you? Is that why she insists on waiting until our wedding night to be completely with me? I wanna know, O'Neill!" He was practically yelling by the time he'd finished to take a breath, and the steely look in the other man's eyes wasn't making him feel better.
He'd expected several rebuttals, not this cold silence, so pushed harder. "Just tell me how long Sam's been screwing you behind-"
"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Detective Shanahan," O'Neill interrupted him, a warning in his voice. He crossed into Pete's personal space, so that he was looking down to meet him eye to eye. "Carter deserves better than someone who would question her integrity like that. She deserves better than either of us, and you should count yourself lucky that she's willing to marry you despite you being a complete and utter moron for thinking she'd sink that low."
"You expect me to believe that what I saw is normal behavior between a subordinate and her commander?" Pete said in incredulity. "Do you treat all your people like that? Throttle them then practically make out with them in broad daylight?"
"Go home, Shanahan," O'Neill said with finality. "I deal with enough delusional idiots without having to add your name to the list."
At his dismissive tone, Pete lost the threadbare control he'd been hanging on to. "I'm not done," he spat out. When O'Neill made to walk away, Pete grabbed his arm. O'Neill shook him off to back away, and without much thought, Pete found himself swinging, connecting with the General's face, causing him to lurch forward and the General to land backwards on the side of his truck.
"Daddy!"
The panicked cry halted both men.
Pete whipped his head towards the source of the distressed small voice, and his gaze landed on a familiar looking face, that had his blood suddenly freeze in his veins.
"Cassie! Get her inside the house right now," he heard O'Neill bark out.
Cassandra stared at the scene for a moment, before finally reacting, and pulling the protesting little girl with her towards the house.
Pete followed the sobbing girl with his eyes. "Oh my god…"
He found himself being slammed against the F-250 with a very angry General breathing down his face. "I'll give you that one shot, Shanahan, but you stay the hell away from my family from now on. You understand me? I find out your following any of us around, including Carter, I'll be escorting you to the nearest Jaffa-infested planet for a very personal taste of what Carter calls classified."
O'Neill abruptly let him go and stalked off, not bothering to check if Pete was gonna go after him. The detective pulled himself from the side of the truck, his knees now feeling weak, the adrenaline finally rushing out of him.
Despite having hit the General, all he felt was defeat. One look at the sobbing little girl, with her wide cornflower blue eyes, and he'd felt like his whole world had been tilted on its axis. Everything he thought he knew had irrevocably changed in a blink of an eye.
The shrill sound of the house phone shoved Sam back into wakefulness, making her realize that she'd cried herself into exhaustion. Her eyes were crusty with salt from the copious tears she'd shed way into the late hours of the evening until sleep had finally given her some blessed relief.
Faint sunlight filtered through her haphazardly drawn drapes signalling the beginning of a new day. She glanced at her alarm clock before reaching for the still ringing phone. Seven o'clock. Had it only been over twelve hours since her world was shattered? It feels like forever.
She stared at the noisy device in her hand unable to summon the energy to actually push the green answer button. Pete's cell number flashed at her and the thought of having to deal with him as well as her crumbling world left her feeling even more exhausted.
Sam closed her eyes and dropped the phone on the floor. He'll just have to wait.
Pete eventually gave up after another two rings and left a cheery message on the machine that was in living room. She couldn't make the effort to really listen. It felt too good to just lie there and ignore the rest of existence.
Her breathing evened out and she drifted back to sleep.
The next time Sam woke up, the sun was higher in the sky. Her military-trained internal clock refused to let her sleep another wink and she reluctantly rose out of bed to take a much needed shower. Her crying fit the night before had left her face feeling sticky and her nose had been rubbed raw with repeated wiping.
Despite the bleak cloud that still hovered over her, the sleep-in had done some good, and her mind was a lot clearer than the night before. A hot shower would make her feel human again and far more ready to face what was ahead.
She was certain now of what she had to do.
She had to end things with Pete.
Oh yes, she's finally gotten there. What do you all think of Pete at the moment? I'm not hating on him. He's hurting too... Specially since he got all up on that gorgeous O'Neill face =D Bonus Points for those who recognize the chapter title WITHOUT Googling.