Chapter 20: One Last Time
Jack replaced his monoculars into his tac-vest pocket. The moss-covered bark under his palm was smooth and slippery, affording him very little grip to protect him from a potential fifty foot fall below the jungle canopy. He was careful with his footing, testing the tread of his boots against the mossy branches before shifting any weight onto each leg.
Sam was watching him from the ground, her neck craned up at an unnatural angle. She held her breath each time he made a move to a lower branch, descending steadily towards her. Her neck was starting to hurt, but she couldn't for the life of her take her eyes off her CO's treacherous journey back down the forest floor. Her breathing only evened out once he was back on terra firma. Unfairly, he was not at all breathing hard from the adrenaline inducing climb he'd just performed.
"Good news?" she ventured to ask. She couldn't read much from his stoic expression.
"Ruins, maybe 15 klicks as the crow flies from here towards the coast. The river flows in that direction."
She returned his P-90 and watched him clip it back to his vest.
"So we just follow the river."
"Yep. It meanders but it's still better to follow it than trying to cut through the jungle. This way we're close to a reliable water source. It does mean that we may run into some steep descents though."
She silently agreed with him. They set off towards the banks of the gentle flowing river where they'd camped out the night before. They hadn't had much on them when they'd been swept away by the Lantian transporter and deposited in the escape tunnels and eventually into the moist jungle: just their BDU jackets and whatever had been stashed inside their tactical vests and uniform pockets.
Daylight had revealed the banks lined with fruit bearing trees with leaves that hid the fruit during the night. The sturdy branches were heavy with them and the ground below the trees was covered with the colorful ripe fruits, half or mostly eaten by scavengers that had feasted from the overflow.
Jack had gingerly sampled a tiny bite that morning for breakfast and after an hour waiting for side-effects, had declared it 'probably' safe. They'd seen some small koala-like creatures snatching them from the branches as they made their back to their campsite, and figured if the mammals were happy to consume the fruit without dropping dead, it might be alright for them.
The small bear-like animal seemed to be the main species in the ecosystem. Sam and Jack observed the creatures as they trekked down to the coast, fascinated by their feats of acrobatics and the group dynamics of their social structure.
They kept mostly silent as they walked, their relationship still too fragile to support what used to be a comfortable chatter between SG-1 teammates. Here and there they would remark about the flora and fauna, but Jack had shut down every overture she'd made at casual conversation.
"I think our little friends are actually omnivores." Jack pointed at a group of 'koalas' some eating and others still hunting in a shallow area of the river for fish.
The agile little creatures, who were armed with black pointed claws, used their wide hands to swat at swimming fishies just below the waterline. They usually came up empty, but the density of fish in the shallows eventually yielded a catch given enough swipes, their sharp claws puncturing the wide belly of the fish, and the injured creatures would expire and float to the surface where the eager companions of the hunter, the younger ones, would pull it out of the water and devour it with gusto.
The sun was directly above when Jack called for a halt and they collapsed in a shaded pebbly area close to the water edge.
"Start a fire, Carter. I'm gonna do some spearfishing."
Sam watched him disappear inside the jungle. With a wistful sigh, she quickly followed orders and built a fire ring. She located a similar tree to the one the previous night to strip off the bark to use as kindling. Fallen branches were plentiful on the jungle floor and she was able to build a fire without difficulty. It smoked somewhat because of the dampness of the wood, but she managed to get enough heat to sustain the burn.
She spotted Jack further downstream and her gaze fixed on the startling sight. He'd stripped down to black boxer briefs, confidently wielding a five foot spear he'd fashioned from a sturdy but narrow branch. He was knee deep in the water, his stance totally still apart from his upper body which twisted occasionally to follow the movements below him.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen him out of his clothes. Eight years going on missions together guaranteed that they'd seen each other in their skivvies, which would explain why he easily stripped down in her presence without a trace of awkwardness. As far as she knew, Jack O'Neill had no problems with self-consciousness. The man knew he was in great shape, even before the Asgard had transferred his mind into a younger undamaged body.
The members of SG-1 had always been a source of amusement in the infirmary for their frequent visits and the lust-inducing displays the premier team inadvertently exposed the medical staff to.
Teal'c had no shame pulling his clothes off to be pushed and prodded by nurses. He was usually the only part of the team that stayed unharmed, with Junior usually fixing him right up, requiring very little medical intervention or the dreaded infirmary stay.
Poor Daniel on the other hand spent the most time injured of all of them, mostly from freak accidents that resulted in him being confined overnight for the nurses to coo over. He'd suffered the whole range of abuse from twisted ankles to having his appendix removed. There were also the deaths, of course.
The Colonel was the other frequent flyer, who'd racked up way too many infirmary miles. His injuries tended to be more serious than Daniel's. As team leader, he took it upon himself to be the first in and the last out of a battle, and the scars on his body reflected that. He'd been shot, zatted, staff blasted, electrocuted, burnt, beaten, stabbed, fallen, tortured, broken and thanks to Ba'al - killed too many times to count. Yet, despite all the abuse he'd endured, he was still the subject of admiring whispers, lingering looks, and the object of many fantasies, including hers.
His rank had been the only thing that protected him from female advances at the base. As Hammond's 2IC he was out of bounds for everyone working at the SGC, including the civilian scientists, with whom O'Neill refused to interact with even with a barge pole. Daniel had once mentioned it and Jack had simply replied, "Don't eat your honey where you make your money." He was old school that way. At the time, she'd laughed along with Daniel, but a part of her had mourned at the comment.
She continued to watch his micro movements; She gasped when he suddenly lurched forward and stabbed at something in the water. Sam grinned at the sight of him fist pump in triumph before pulling his makeshift spear out of the water, a chunky two foot pink-colored fish hanging off the end.
He zeroed in on her and seeing that he had her attention, pointed at the speared fish on the stick, grinning widely.
Sam fought the tears threatening to fall at the heartbreaking sight. He rarely smiled at her like that anymore, so unguarded, so free. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing him like this again.
She saw him take care of the fish then readied himself again to take on another meal. She looked away and focused on tending to the fire and building a spit for the fish to cook over.
They had used wide flat leaves from a squat tree that reminded her of banana leaves to pad the ground where they'd slept in the night before. She figured with a bit of rinsing, they could also use it to wrap the fish for cooking over the fire. Yeah, she'd seen a few episodes of Ray Mears and Bear Grills on the Discovery Channel.
She located the leaves easily and used her field knife to cut through the thick stem. Sticky, white sap leaked from the stem, making her grimace at the tacky substance that clung to her fingers and knife.
She headed straight for the water, determined to rinse off the leaves and the stickiness from her fingers and KA-BAR. By the time she emerged from under the jungle canopy and into blue skies, she was dripping with sweat, her tactical vest chafing her exposed skin raw, the tank top she'd stripped down to, giving inadequate protection from the rough nylon that coated the vest.
A quick check on the General and she found him squatting by the river's edge, his back to her, fiddling with something by the shallow rocks. A glint of light against metal told her he was probably gutting the fish to prepare it for cooking.
She was glad to be spared the disgusting chore. He was better at it - well practiced from his time on that alien moon with Maybourne.
Sam picked up some rocks and positioned them to hold the wide leaves under water to soak. She used sand to give her fingers and her field knife a scrub to scrape off the sap. Her hard scrubbing was sending her temperature higher and with a curse, she abandoned the scrubbing and walked over to the shaded area near the fire ring.
The General didn't seem too concerned about wearing his tac-vest and the heat was making the use of it unbearable. She unzipped the material and tossed it over a protruding rock, followed by her boots then her combat pants. She hesitated for a moment before deciding to strip off her sweat soaked tank top, leaving her only in her grey sports bra and serviceable matching sporty boy briefs that hugged her in all the right places.
He'd seen her in less. They used to do laps together at the Academy pool as part of their team training. Daniel had struggled with their punishing pace. She and Jack were very competitive people and would race each other until they were both ready to drop.
Teal'c, always in top physical form, was allowed to skip certain sessions, and honestly, none of them had really wanted to be in the water with Junior, even tucked safely in the Jaffa's pouch.
Jack was an amazing swimmer. His long limbs and broad shoulders were perfectly streamlined to glide across the water. With his trick knee, low impact aerobic exercise had been ideal, and swimming had replaced long runs around the track.
But those training sessions had ceased once he'd been promoted to General. He had way too many responsibilities and last she'd heard, he'd taken up basketball with some of the guys at the base. She'd spotted him a few times at the base's court, shooting hoops with - of all people - Graham Simmons! They made an odd pair, a Brigadier General with a wet behind the ears Captain.
She'd felt a bit put out at the time, felt jealous of poor young Graham who was spending more time with Jack O'Neill than she did. The ease and camaraderie in which the two of them interacted spoke of a level of friendship that she'd always struggled to achieve with him. Jack had been right when he'd told her that their mutual attraction and awareness of their ranks had always complicated what should have been an easy friendship.
Despite what she'd said to Emmett Bregman all those months ago, she and the then Colonel did have loads in common, not least their love for the Air Force.
They'd both done extremely well at the Academy. Like her, the General had declared as a double major. Aeronautical Engineering and Military Strategic Studies, minoring in Foreign Languages. So much for the image of the idiot Colonel who had an unhealthy attachment to his guns.
She'd done Physics and Mechanical Engineering, and thanks to a very understanding then-Colonel Kerrigan, had chosen Computer Science as a minor, something the Academy didn't normally offer. She'd technically received her doctorate in astrophysics at CalTech, but most of her research had been done outside of college and in AF labs. Very few advisors were knowledgeable enough to properly vet her doctoral thesis, and she'd sailed through her defense with only minor corrections in less than two years.
Jack had gone on to become a test-pilot and later on had been recruited into Special Operations. She had no idea what had that transpired and in all likelihood, she'd never know. At a guess, someone higher up had been watching his potential unfold since the Academy, and had had their eye on him all that time.
She on the other hand had trained as a pilot in order to join NASA. That had been her main drive and focus for years and years. She'd racked up the flight hours in order to register as at least a blip on NASA's radar. She'd written dozens and dozens of papers to get published in Astrophysics journals. She'd re-engineered jet engines, and coded improvements to engine management systems to make her resumé sparkle.
On the surface their interests and career path seemed orthogonal, but in the end, it had led them to the same, shining point: The SGC.
Like her, he had an avid interest in astronomy. Except he had no interest in analyzing it to death and sucking the fun out of it, hence the lack of interest at joining NASA. He'd always been a hands on type of guy, and according to Jack, theory had never held any appeal.
Fast jets and jumping out of planes were more his thing. It was also her thing, the adrenaline rush, the fast planes, cars, motorbikes, space shuttles… Except she had a bad habit of analyzing it 'till the cows came home, and probably retrofitting the damned thing until it went faster…
They also lived their lives outdoors. Camping was a way of life for them. She'd always excelled at field exercises and Jack O'Neill was a master. It had been one of those irritating realizations once she'd gotten to know Pete better, that he hated any sort of outdoor sleeping.
Pete was a city boy and the closest he got to camping was barbecuing at tailgate parties during a game. He just couldn't understand why anyone would subject themselves to the indignity of having to find a bush to pee in or dig a hole to take care of other needs.
If Pete had been the one stuck in a moon, millions of light years from Earth, he would've been dead in a matter of days - if not hours - from exposure and starvation, nevermind from a paranoid ex-Colonel with questionable fishing techniques.
Why she thought she could be happy with a man she had no shared interests with, in order to forget a man who she shared so much of her life with, was now a complete mystery to her.
Hindsight was a bitch and a bastard.
If she could somehow find a way to predict solar flares, she'd send a lengthy note to her much younger self and advise her to skip the Jonas Hansons and Pete Shanahans of the world and just patiently wait for Jack O'Neill to pull his finger out. Or outright seduce him.
Saving the world was a noble and worthy cause, but did it have to preclude a semblance of happiness? Wasn't she entitled to the man she loved, a life with him, after all the sacrifices she'd made for her planet? Because really, in the grand scheme of things, would the universe care if she was sleeping with her CO?
With that in mind, she looked over at Jack who was still busy cleaning fish guts, snatched her tank top from her clothes pile, and waded deep into the river. The garment would start to smell disgusting if she didn't give it at least a rinse before letting it dry under the hot sun.
The heat of the day would take care of her wet undergarments. She still had her t-shirt, jacket and pants, so she'd have something to cover herself while her intimate apparels dried.
She dove underwater to rid herself of the sweat and grime that clung to her skin. Her hair would be a mess afterwards, but at least it wouldn't be matted with sebum and sweat. Already, the cool water mentally and physically refreshed her.
When she finally came up for air she was startled to find her commanding officer much closer, in the process of pulling out the wide leaves she'd left soaking by the side of the river.
Up close, he was even more beautiful. How he managed an all over tan buried hundreds of feet under a mountain was another mystery to her.
Rivulets of water sleuced down her heated skin as her gaze was inevitably drawn from his handsome face and down towards the sparse hair on his muscled chest, drifting further down to the six pack that he just couldn't maintain when he'd been pushing fifty, but was now perfectly outlined tapering into a 'V' shape that disappeared inside the elastic of his low slung boxers.
She flushed at the thought of going lower. She'd had glimpses of that part of him too in the past. Just the thought of those times sent heat flaring up at her center and when she finally averted her eyes, she caught his gaze, staring intensely back at her.
Sam almost whimpered at the hungry look he was giving her. Her heart leapt at the realization that while he was determined to get over her, there still remained a part of him that still wanted her, and god help her, she was going to take advantage of that part, even if all ended in heartbreak. One last time, she said to herself.
Yes, it's back. School's out and I packed myself and the kids out of NoCal to the UK, shoved them to grandpa and grandma and locked myself in my room to write Ch.36 of PD. Once those sets of GPs got fed up with the little monsters, we headed to Canada to see the other set. I ignored the kids' constant bickering with noise-canceling headphones and sat down to write GOC Ch.20. You may send your thank you notes to the grandparents and BOSE for the updates...