Sam continued to sway gently on the hammock, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight as she looked at Jack.
"Talk? About what?" she asked, her voice casual yet tinged with fake curiosity.
Jack slowly settled into one of the chairs, his expression serious.
"I went to an AA meeting after our conversation and your... drunken incident last night," he began, his gaze fixed on his hands clasped together in his lap.
Sam sighed softly, reaching up to adjust her sunglasses before sitting up on the hammock.
"I've already apologized for that, Jack. If you want, I can apologize again," she offered, her tone sincere this time.
Jack shook his head, still avoiding her gaze.
"I don't want your apologies, Sam. I realized that you're hurting. That I've hurt you since the Gulf when I left and went back to Sara. You pretty much said that last night when you were drunk. And the last thing I want is to hurt you, Sam," he admitted, his voice heavy with remorse. "I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you, but at the time, I was married."
Sam's heart clenched at his words, a mix of pain and longing swirling inside her.
"Yes, you were. And now you're divorced, but it still doesn't change anything. Like you said, your sobriety comes first," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.
Jack finally looked up, meeting her gaze with vulnerability and determination.
"I'm trying to get back on my feet with this. I thought you understood that," he said earnestly.
Sam took a deep breath, her chest feeling tight with emotion.
"I do, Jack. More than you realize. That's why I sent you my notepads, offered my place for you to stay, and encouraged you to join AA. I fully support your recovery," she confessed, her voice filled with sincerity.
Jack cleared his throat, his expression softening with gratitude.
"But you're still hurt by me?" he asked tentatively.
Sam hesitated for a moment, knowing she had to tread carefully. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, of him leaving her house and her life.
"No, that was just an emotional reaction stemming from a misunderstanding I had about us. It's been clarified now and settled. The issue is over," she lied, forcing a smile onto her lips.
Jack's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his surprise evident.
"Over?" he echoed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Sam held his gaze, her heart aching with the weight of her deception.
"Yes, I didn't like having you and my father discussing my life behind my back, I confess, and that hurt me. But we are both adults and friends; as such, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. Like I said, I fully support your recovery, so you're most welcome to continue staying here," she said, her smile faltering slightly as she tried to convey reassurance.
Jack's lips parted slightly, his surprise still evident as he processed her words. He had expected a different conversation about their feelings for each other. But Sam's words left him uncertain about where they stood. He knew he had to tread carefully, unsure of what Sam felt beneath her acceptance facade.
"But you aren't upset with me?" Jack insisted once more, his brows furrowing in concern.
Sam swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on her. If he continued pressing like this, her resolve might falter, and she couldn't afford that.
"Our conversation yesterday was quite straightforward, Jack. You made it clear where we stand. We're fine," she replied, forcing a calm tone despite the turmoil within her. "Don't worry, I won't mention our time in the Gulf or dwell on what might have happened anymore. It's in the past, and it's best to let it rest there," she added, each word feeling like a dagger to her heart as she spun yet another lie.
Jack nodded slowly, sensing something was amiss, but decided to let it go for now. If this was how Sam wanted to handle things, he could play along. Perhaps it was best to settle the dust before addressing their complicated history.
"Okay," he said, though uncertainty lingered in his voice.
Sam offered a small, strained smile, relieved that her goal had been achieved. He was staying, and that was what mattered. Now, she had to steel herself to endure the pain of seeing him every day, knowing he was forever out of reach, like a forbidden fruit she could never taste.
"Good, now that everything's settled, I'm going to take a shower," she announced, pushing herself up from the hammock and leaving the deck.
Jack remained seated in his chair, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just swept through their conversation. He had expected a vastly different outcome, but then again, with Samantha Carter, anything was possible.
In her bedroom, Sam didn't immediately head for the shower. Instead, she reached for her notepad and quickly jotted down a note. Acknowledging this pivotal moment in the complicated dynamic between her and Jack felt necessary.
"Today marks a turning point in the complex relationship between Samantha Carter and Jack O'Neill. What once held the promise of a future together, a naive fantasy spun in my mind, has now been starkly reduced to 'just friends.' This declaration feels like a solemn vow, spoken aloud almost as if etched in blood, sealing our fate once and for all. From this moment forward, that's how he'll be regarded. No more illusions, Samantha Carter. Dreams and fantasies have long been your greatest adversaries, and it's time to confront the harsh reality staring you in the face. He's off-limits, confined to the realm of friendship alone. Now, your priority lies in supporting him as he fights for sobriety, not burdening him with futile feelings of love and longing. He's made it clear he doesn't want them, so it's time to cease this idiotic pursuit and cease making a spectacle of yourself. This charade ends here!
From this moment forward, it's time to perform. Utilize your best acting skills to convince him that you're nothing more than friends. That he's not the love of your life, the reason you wake up every morning. And the most effective and safest way to do that is to maintain distance. Avoid intimate contact, keep your pain to yourself, and prevent any hint that he might discern. You want him in your home, so be his friend. The kind, supportive friend. It's time to start acting, Samantha Carter. Your sanity depends on it!"
Sam closed the notepad and tucked it away with a heavy sigh, steeling herself for the challenge ahead.
Meanwhile, Jack offered to make dinner while Sam decided to go to her office, locking the door behind her. She didn't want to do it, but she needed it. She just had to be quieter this time.
As Jack busied himself in the kitchen, the clinking of pots and pans provided a soothing rhythm to his thoughts. He hummed softly as he chopped vegetables, the familiar cooking routine a welcome distraction from the tension between him and Sam.
However, as he stirred a pot of simmering sauce, Jack's ears pricked up at the faint sound of something stirring in the house. The same eerie noises he had heard weeks ago seemed to echo through the walls, sending a chill down his spine.
Jack froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he strained to listen. But just as suddenly as they had started, the noises ceased, leaving him in the kitchen's silence, a sense of unease settling over him.
Shaking off the feeling, Jack forced himself to focus on dinner, determined not to let his imagination run wild. He set the table and called out to Sam, who emerged from her office, a hand over her face.
"Oh, I just need a minute," she said, excusing herself as she quickly went to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Jack stood in the hallway, a hint of surprise lingering on his features, but he eventually shrugged it off and returned to the kitchen, deciding to wait for her there.
After a few minutes, she emerged from her bedroom, and Jack couldn't help but notice the change in her attire. Again, after showering. She had swapped her previous shirt for another T-shirt, this time with the Air Force logo, and had donned a pair of yoga pants. Her hair still appeared damp.
Jack couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity, but he pushed it aside, choosing not to dwell on it as they continued with their evening.
"Smells delicious," she commented, offering him a smile as she sat at the table.
"Thanks," Jack replied, ignoring the lingering sense of unease that gnawed at him. "Did you hear anything strange just now?"
Sam furrowed her brow.
"No, why? Did you hear something?"
Jack hesitated, unsure if to mention the noises he had just heard.
"It's probably nothing," he said finally, forcing a smile. "Just thought I heard something, that's all."
Sam nodded. "Well, let's eat before it gets cold," she said, picking up her fork.
Jack followed suit, trying to push aside his unease as they began to eat. But the memory of the mysterious noises lingered in the back of his mind, casting a shadow over their almost non-existent dinner conversation.
And so, for the following weeks, Sam fell into a routine of burying herself in her work, deliberately arriving home late to avoid any meaningful interaction with Jack. He noticed her changes, of course, but remained silent, leaving her dinner plate in the fridge each night, a gesture that caused a lump to form in Sam's throat as she fought back the tears while reheating the meal in the microwave. Meanwhile, Jack would be engrossed in the living room television or on the deck with his newly acquired telescope, spending hours gazing at the stars.
Their conversations dwindled to essentials, each word a painful reminder of what once was. Yet, Sam was determined to endure the discomfort. This uneasy coexistence persisted for precisely two weeks until one night when Sam returned home to find Jack absent. Panic gripped her immediately as her mind conjured the worst scenarios. Had he relapsed? She tried calling his cell repeatedly, only to be met with voicemail each time. Resigned to wait for him or any news, she sat in the dimly lit hallway, her back against the wall, knees pulled to her chest.
Shortly after 1:00 a.m., the front door creaked open, startling Sam. Jack stepped inside, and confusion was evident as he flicked on the hallway light, revealing Sam sitting there, her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness.
"What are you doing there?" he asked, setting down his wallet and keys.
"Waiting for you," Sam replied, blinking against the glare. She had spent hours in the darkness, consumed by worry.
"Why?" Jack's raised eyebrow betrayed his confusion.
Sam almost laughed bitterly. "Where were you? Why didn't you answer my calls?" she demanded.
Jack's expression turned slightly cold.
"Since when do I have to report my whereabouts to you?" he retorted, crossing his arms.
Sam swallowed hard after remaining seated on the floor for hours, allowing her mind to conjure the worst possible scenarios. She should have known better.
"You don't," she conceded, starting to rise.
Jack followed her movements, his eyes catching sight of the clock on the wall, registering the lateness of the hour.
"Oh, fuck... I didn't realize it was so late. I'm sorry, Sam, I thought it was still earlier," he apologized, his tone shifting.
Sam was already on her feet, waving off his explanation.
"No need for explanations," she said, brushing past him toward her bedroom and closing the door firmly behind her.
Jack cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of her disappointment.
"Fuck," he muttered to himself, wishing he could find the right words to mend the growing rift between them.
The following morning, Jack was the first to arrive in the kitchen. Since their pattern of late-night work sessions had begun, Sam had gotten up earlier to avoid crossing paths with him during breakfast. Sometimes, Jack would rise and join her at the table, despite her usual silence, while other times, he would remain in bed, having breakfast alone, after she was gone to work. But after the events of last night, he had reached a breaking point. This couldn't go on. They needed to talk, and they needed to do it today.
As he sipped his coffee, Sam entered the kitchen, his presence catching her off guard. She mumbled a quick "Good morning" as she passed by, filling her mug with coffee.
"Morning," Jack replied, his tone steady as he watched her.
Sam leaned against the countertop, seemingly intent on avoiding his gaze. Jack turned to face her directly.
"We need to talk," he said firmly, setting his mug down.
Sam continued sipping her coffee, barely acknowledging his words.
"I mean it, Sam. We're talking today," he reiterated, determined.
Setting her coffee in the sink, Sam moved to grab her briefcase, but Jack intercepted, taking it from her hands.
"Nope," he said, holding it out of her reach.
Sam's expression darkened with frustration.
"Jack, give it to me," she demanded, her voice terse.
He shook his head, the briefcase secured in his arms.
"First, we talk. Then you can go back to work," he insisted, his resolve unwavering.
Sam placed a hand on the countertop, her anger palpable.
"I'll beat the shit out of you, Jack," she warned, her tone serious.
Jack smiled slightly, still holding onto the briefcase.
"Well, you can certainly try, Major," he replied, unfazed by her threat.
Taking a deep breath, Sam weighed her options. She might get her briefcase back if she tried to force the issue, but she'd also risk driving him away from her house. After all her efforts, it wasn't worth it. She slowly sank into the chair across from him with a resigned sigh.
"Fine, Jack. Let's talk. About what?" she asked wearily.
Jack looked at her with surprise, not expecting her to yield so easily.
"Us," he said without hesitation.
Sam arched an eyebrow skeptically.
"There is no 'us,'" she retorted.
Jack cleared his throat, his gaze steady.
"For now. I know you're angry with me, and you've been putting up walls between us ever since I made it clear that my sobriety is my priority. But I love you, Sam," he confessed slowly.
Sam stared at him incredulously. She surely must be in bed dreaming.
"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"I love you, Sam," Jack repeated his tone earnest. "Yesterday, I was a jerk to you, and I'm truly sorry. But you haven't made things easy for me these past few weeks. It took me some time to realize what you were doing, but I figured it out. You put on quite the act, by the way," he added, a hint of admiration in his voice.
Sam felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, cursing herself for being so transparent.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, crossing her arms defensively.
Jack sighed softly.
"The 'friends' act, the distance, the late nights at work—everything to avoid me. It's quite clever, but I'm not buying it. That's not you," he said with conviction.
Sam shot him a glare, her frustration mounting.
"You have no idea who I am," she spat.
"I have a pretty good idea," Jack countered. "I'm well aware of your caring and affectionate nature, and I understand your worry when I didn't return home last night. I genuinely apologize for mishandling the situation. We went out for dinner, and then one of the guys from the gym proposed going bowling. I lost track of time, and my phone died. I was enjoying myself, but now I should have been more considerate of your feelings. I was a jerk, and I'm sincerely sorry."
Sam continued to look at him.
"Yes, you were", she confirmed.
Jack nodded.
"So, now that we established that, I think it's time we put this charade behind us and start having a real conversation about our feelings. Like I said, I love you, Sam," he reiterated.
Sam stared at him in stunned silence.
"And just like that, you suddenly decide to tell me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jack nodded, his expression resolute.
"I think it's time we stop pretending," he admitted, finally releasing her briefcase.
Sam stood seated silently, her eyes fixed, absorbing his admission of love. Emotions swirled within her, and she realized she would need time to process this revelation. This unexpected confession had stirred many thoughts and feelings within her, and she needed to sort through them before responding.
Without another word, Sam rose from her seat, grabbed her keys, and headed to the garage, leaving her briefcase abandoned at Jack's feet. He listened to the roar of her Mustang as she drove off to work, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.