They lingered in his living room, the passage of time stretching beyond an hour. The decision for Sam to come to his place had been reached after a torturous week, a week that took its toll on both of them. The weight of unspoken truths was etched on Sam's face, evident every time Jack stole a glance at her. Despite attempts to cloak their inner turmoil with jests and humor, the inevitable truth loomed over them. There was no escaping it; denial was futile. The undeniable had persisted quietly for an extended period, but now, it thrust itself into the forefront.
Since she had walked through his front door.
They were at an impasse in Jack's living room after rounds of heated arguments, discussions, and even moments of raised voices. They had tried everything except the one crucial thing they truly desired. And that was the crux of their predicament—an issue that had lingered unresolved for too long. They had successfully diverted their attention from it until this moment, the moment Sam rang his doorbell and insisted they confront it head-on. A real conversation was long overdue.
With determination, Sam voiced two simple words that reverberated in the air, disrupting the delicate balance they had managed to maintain until now.
"Just once," she uttered.
Jack, closing his eyes, understood the gravity of those words. It wasn't his decision; it had never been. He was at the mercy of her admission. And so, they found themselves seated in Jack's living room, overshadowed by those two words hanging in the air, altering the course of their relationship forever.
Jack gazed down at his hands in the quiet aftermath of their heated exchange, releasing a heavy sigh.
"I know this is tough, Carter," he admitted; the decibel level of their conversation had shifted from shouts to a more subdued tone.
"But we've come this far, Sam…" he continued, addressing her with unusual formality: using her given name.
Sam, who had been silent since the tumultuous shouting phase, displayed a vulnerability Jack had never witnessed before. She, his steadfast 2IC, momentarily lost control, revealing a side he hadn't known existed throughout their time in SG-1. Today marked the first instance where Major Samantha Carter had let her tightly bound emotions surface, breaking a longstanding pattern of self-restraint. Previously, only Daniel had witnessed this when they had been together, never Jack.
Without knowing what else to do, Jack implored her to speak.
"Please, say something, Carter," he urged as she remained silent, her gaze fixed on his wall.
After a prolonged pause, she finally responded, "I already did," passing a trembling hand through her hair.
Jack couldn't overlook the subtle tremor despite her attempt to conceal it. Sam crossed her arms, her eyes now fixed on his ceiling.
"I mean, apart from that," Jack pressed, looking down at his boots.
Sam leaned back on his couch; her response measured.
"I believe we've explored every other possibility during our shouting match," she remarked.
Jack muttered a curse under his breath, prompting Sam to rise abruptly.
"Forget it. This was a bad idea," she declared, her throat clearing as she added the formal "Sir."
Jack winced at the title he detested but would always follow her lead.
"You're right, Major. Let's forget it," Jack conceded, the weight of his decision already chipping away at his heart.
Sam grabbed her keys and approached the front door, pausing before opening it. Jack held his breath, hoping for words that might alter their situation, praying for a miracle. However, Sam merely opened the door and left, closing it firmly behind her. Jack swallowed hard, contemplating whether they had just sabotaged everything before it began.
When Jack stepped into the Mountain the following morning, uncertainty clouded his expectations. Opting for the indirect approach, he took what he half-jokingly considered the coward's way and sought out Daniel, making his way to the archaeologist's lab. SG-1 had been benched since the problematic Tok'ra test and the tragic loss of Martouf.
The SGC found itself navigating through peculiar times. Jack had publicly acknowledged a level of concern for his 2IC that exceeded professional boundaries, a sentiment that Sam reciprocated. The tension peaked when she killed her Tok'ra admirer in the Gate room. To add another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous day, she sought refuge at Jack's doorstep, confessing that she was unraveling. And unravel, she did—in his living room.
It took every ounce of Jack's restraint not to pull her into a comforting embrace, escort her to his bed, and shield her from the chaos. The pivotal moment arrived when she uttered the two words that shook Jack to his core: "Just once." In that instance, Jack teetered on edge, contemplating whether he could maintain control. Initially born from shock, his silence in response triggered Sam's misunderstanding, leading to an outburst of shouts. Strangely enough, Jack clung to the shouting match as a lifeline. As long as they were engaged in verbal warfare, the risk of succumbing to other, more intimate actions was temporarily averted. The prospect of crossing a line loomed dangerously. Jack recognized that it would be challenging to halt the momentum once they initiated something. He, especially, would struggle to stop.
Witnessing Sam in his living room, exposed and raw, had shattered all the preconceived notions of Major Samantha Carter. Jack found himself ill-equipped to navigate this unfamiliar territory, prompting a desperate need for Daniel's guidance.
Jack strode into Daniel's lab with a casual "Hey."
Daniel, who seemed halfway between consciousness and a deep slumber, sat with a coffee mug by his side, surrounded by old books and papers.
"Hi, Jack," he mumbled, barely lifting his gaze.
Jack settled onto the only available stool, his fingers fidgeting with an odd object on Daniel's desk. Without hesitation, Daniel swiftly retrieved the item from Jack's hands.
"Can you please go away and let me sleep?" he pleaded, blinking away the drowsiness.
Raising an eyebrow, Jack retorted, "Didn't you sleep at home?"
Daniel shook his head.
"No, I stayed at the base to help Freya and Anise with the Tok'ra and everything. I went to bed very late. Like very late," he emphasized.
A mischievous smile played on Jack's lips.
"Oh, Anise? Poor Daniel," he quipped. It was no secret that Anise was more attracted to Daniel and took every opportunity to get close to him.
Daniel, opening his eyes more fully, revealed a half-smile.
"She was looking for you," he added.
Jack's smile faded.
"Who?" he inquired.
"Freya," Daniel replied.
When the Tok'ra woman was mentioned, Jack rose from his stool and scanned the lab. Like Anise for Daniel, Freya didn't hide her attraction to Jack.
"Where is she?" he asked with caution.
Daniel nonchalantly shrugged, and Jack discreetly peeked into the corridor. Finding it empty, he made a quick decision. He had enough problems already.
"See you, Daniel," he said and hastily departed. A satisfied smile graced Daniel's face as he felt his eyelids surrender to the call of sleep.
Sam sequestered herself in her lab, shutting out the world. The previous day and night events left her unwilling to face anyone, especially her commanding officer. Delusions had clouded her judgment when she went to his house—an admission she reached after a sleepless night, blaming the Za'tarc tests for manipulating her emotions. Grieving Martouf only heightened her vulnerability, leading to an emotional breakdown she swore would never recur in her lifetime.
Despite the lessons learned from her past with Daniel, she believed that Jack would be different, even though their military ranks forbade any possibility of being together. Despite their challenges and restrictions, she convinced herself he was the one.
The harsh light of reality revealed the foolishness of her actions, jeopardizing not only her self-respect but possibly the respect of her CO. Any potential between them seemed irreparably damaged. Determined to move forward, Sam realized she needed to let go of illusions, no matter how alluring they appeared. The fantasy of the night before had shattered, returning Sam to the unadorned truth—she was Major Samantha Carter, and he was Colonel Jack O'Neill, her superior officer. Nothing more, nothing less.
Her lab door bore a sign declaring it "dangerous," a symbolic barrier she hoped would discourage unwanted visitors. Yearning for the day to pass swiftly, she envisioned returning home, immersing herself in a long, hot bath, and erasing the tumultuous 48 hours from her memory. In the real world, where she had duties as Major Carter in SG-1, the illusion had crumbled, leaving her to confront the stark reality of her professional relationship with Colonel O'Neill. She had to get her head back at the game and fast.
"So, where's Sam?" Daniel inquired during their lunch.
Jack glanced at the empty chair and then down at his plate. Teal'c continued to eat without a word. Daniel looked between the two men.
"Anyone?" he pressed.
"I am unaware of Major Carter's whereabouts," Teal'c stated after swallowing a bite of his potatoes.
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
"That's strange. I haven't seen her at breakfast either," Daniel added.
Jack furrowed his brow.
"No?" he questioned, having purposely avoided the cafeteria then, half-expecting her to be there.
"No," Daniel confirmed.
Jack's brain noted two missed meals.
"I'll pass by her lab later," Daniel said, concerned with her absence.
Jack continued to eat, though his appetite had diminished substantially.
"You do that, Daniel," he replied.
They finished their meal silently, and Daniel later approached Sam's lab. However, the 'dangerous' sign deterred him, prompting him to continue. He tried later, but the sign persisted, and when he knocked, he got no answer. When the day ended, Jack headed to his truck and noticed Daniel running into his car. It was starting to rain.
"So, did you see Carter?" he asked casually.
Daniel shook his head.
"She had a 'dangerous' sign on her door. It was closed," he reported, taking out his keys.
Jack stopped walking.
"Oh, really?" he inquired.
Daniel nodded and got into his car. As soon as Jack was sure Daniel was out of sight, he glanced around, noticing that her Volvo was still in the parking lot. Jack returned to the Mountain, punched in Level 19 for her lab, and found the door still closed with the 'dangerous' sign hanging.
He swiped his card, but the door remained shut.
Knocking, he called, "Carter?" No response. He knocked harder.
"Major, open this door right now!" he ordered.
Some noise came from inside, and the door finally opened. Sam stood beside the door, holding her card with a slightly annoyed expression.
"Yes, Sir?" she asked.
"What are you still doing here, Carter?" he asked, peering into her dimly lit lab. Most of the lights were off, leaving only the glow of the bench lamp.
"I'm almost finished, Sir," she replied without telling him what she was doing.
Jack placed one hand against the wall.
"Consider it finished, Major. Let's go," he instructed, his tone cold.
Sam clenched her jaw but obediently went to her bench to retrieve her laptop and turn off the lamp. She closed her lab and stood next to him.
"Come on," he ordered, heading toward the elevators. Sam followed silently, and the journey back to the surface was equally conversationless.
Once in the parking lot, Jack curtly said, "Night," and made his way to his truck, leaving her in the light rain as she watched him drive away. She sighed and quickly walked to her car, muttering curses. Entering the car, she went home silently, not bothering to turn the radio on. She was in no mood for music.
Days slipped away in the routine of SG-1's usual missions until a particular assignment altered everything. The mission unfolded like any other, but suddenly, the team was gripped by an ice age on the frigid planet P3R-118. To their bewilderment, SG-1 had been thrust into new roles as Thera, Jonah, Karlan, and Tor miners. Their memories were wiped clean, and an expansive, unfamiliar space replaced the familiar rules and sleeping quarters of the SGC.
Unbeknownst to them, SG teams scoured the ice-covered planet, searching for traces of the missing SG-1, who labored as miners oblivious to their true identities. Slowly, fragments of their memories began to resurface, offering glimpses of their authentic selves. The dichotomy between their current existence and the flashes of their past created a disorienting internal struggle.
Eventually, a rescue mission arrived, but the return to reality came at a high cost, particularly for Jonah and Thera, who were now aware of their true selves as Jack and Sam. Confusion and mixed emotions enveloped them as they grappled with the aftermath of their altered reality.
The team struggled to navigate their resurfaced memories and emotions back on Earth. The lines between their roles on the ice-age planet and their true identities blurred, leaving Jack and Sam grappling with an even more complex array of feelings. The challenge now lay in finding a way to reconcile the tangled threads of memory and emotion that wove through their factual and fabricated shared experiences.
This time, it was Jack who found his way to her doorstep. The door swung open silently, and she wordlessly allowed him to enter. Wrapped in a blue blanket, she sat on the floor before the fireplace, desperate to banish the cold that had clung to her since their return from that accursed planet. The chill persisted despite indulging in a nearly two-hour scalding bath, consuming hot coffee, and layering herself with as many clothes as possible. So, she turned to the fireplace, yearning for warmth, as Jack knocked.
He entered, looking just as worn as she felt. Silently, he settled on the floor beside her. Though they had taken on the roles of Jonah and Thera in that icy world, they were no longer bound by those identities. In the solitude of her home, they reverted to Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, a transition that Sam found painfully disconcerting. The urge to scream or cry since arriving on Earth clawed at her insides, yet she refrained from succumbing to either. Instead, she fixated on the dancing flames, hoping against hope that he wouldn't break the heavy silence.
Jack stole a glance at her. She appeared paler than usual, bundled in an alarming number of clothes. On the other hand, he had only jeans, a sweatshirt, and his leather jacket. The persistent cold from that damn planet seemed inconsequential compared to his concern for her well-being. Jack didn't care about his discomfort; he cared about her. Observing her closely, it was evident that she wasn't well. The unspoken understanding between them hung in the air as they sat before the fireplace, both grappling with the aftermath of a mission that had reshaped their realities. Again.
"How are you?" Jack's voice cut through the heavy silence.
Sam closed her eyes, silently cursing the intrusion that shattered the stillness and fragile illusion that everything would stay the same if they remained silent. It didn't.
"Cold," she admitted, her tone carrying the weight of exhaustion.
Jack cast another concerned glance her way.
"You have lots of clothes on," he observed.
She chose to ignore him, her focus on the flickering flames. Jack took the initiative to stir the fire, attempting to infuse warmth into the room.
"Want a coffee?" he offered.
"Already had several," she responded in a low voice.
His attempt at conversation faltered.
"Oh," Jack mumbled, his gaze shifting to his boots. He was about to ask another question when she abruptly threw the blanket from her shoulders, her hurt and frustration too much to bear.
"Stop! Please stop talking!" she pleaded, covering her face with both hands.
Jack stared at her, caught off guard. He was about to say 'okay' but wisely closed his mouth. Slowly, he rose, but her hand seized his arm tightly.
"Don't," she implored. Don't leave me alone." Her voice now held a different timbre—it echoed Thera, not Major Carter.
Jack hesitated before settling back down, putting his arm over her shoulder and offering a comforting embrace. She clung to him without a word, closing her eyes, tears streaming down her face.
Jack felt the dampness of his shirt as she cried, yet he held her tighter. Her cries turned into sobs not long after, and he gently caressed her hair.
"It's okay, it's okay," he repeated softly as she continued to cry in his arms. Exhaustion eventually claimed her, and she fell asleep, still in his embrace.
Jack carefully gathered some pillows from her couch, arranging them in the most comfortable position possible in front of the fireplace. Covering them with her large blanket, he settled down and succumbed to sleep, offering a silent presence through the night.
When she awoke, a disorienting haze lingered over her consciousness. As her senses gradually sharpened, she found herself beside Jonah, his arm securely wrapped around her. Confusion seized her momentarily, uncertain of her surroundings and identity. However, the movement revealed a different reality—they were not on the distant planet but rather in her living room, sprawled on the floor before the fireplace. The revelation struck her with a pang—she was Sam, and he was Jack. He was her CO, not Jonah.
Closing her eyes, Sam felt the weight of tears approaching. This nightmare was absolute, and she didn't want to face the waking world. Jack, stirred by her movements, woke up. Sensing her tension, he continued to hold her, the warmth of her body against his.
"Feeling better?" he asked in a sleepy voice.
Her body tensed further, and she attempted to extract herself from his arm. Undeterred, Jack maintained his grip.
"We used to sleep like this on the planet sometimes," he murmured near her ear.
In response, she kicked him hard, and Jack released her, wincing in pain.
"Fuck, Carter," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Rising from the floor, she declared, "We aren't on the planet anymore, Sir."
Jack sat up slowly, massaging his leg.
"It's best if you leave," she added, crossing her arms.
He looked at her, messy hair bundled in layers of clothes that seemed impractical for movement. Rising to his feet, Jack shifted his weight from one leg to another, attempting to restore circulation.
"Sure, Major," he said, grabbing his keys and the front door. "Hope you get better," he offered before leaving.
She remained motionless as he departed. Once he was gone, she reached for her phone and dialed Janet. After exchanging initial pleasantries, Sam requested a few days of leave. Concerned, Janet inquired if she needed company, but Sam insisted she needed time alone to gather her thoughts. After some negotiation, Janet reluctantly agreed to a three-day leave, after which Sam would have to report back to the base and consult with MacKenzie.
Sam hung up and allowed herself to sink to the floor. With three days ahead of her, she braced herself to get back on her feet.
In the aftermath, it wasn't just Sam who sought refuge in leave; Janet extended the same courtesy to Jack and Daniel while Teal'c remained on base. SG-1 found themselves grounded until further notice, medically mandated, as Janet explained to General Hammond, who willingly accepted her rationale. Having witnessed the team's return from the ice planet and recognizing its profound impact on two members, he understood the need for time to recover. If SG-1 required a respite to weather this trial, Hammond was willing to grant it.
Jack, however, was far from pleased about being sent home. The prospect of lingering around his house, dwelling on the events of that accursed planet, the tangled web of emotions, and thoughts of her, didn't sit well with him. Jack O'Neill was a man who moved forward, not one to dwell on the past. So, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey, headed to his observation deck, and settled into a folding chair. The telescope remained untouched, but he welcomed the silent night breeze that had begun to stir. It wasn't as bone-chilling as the winds on the ice planet. Spring was approaching, and the nights were becoming more pleasant. Still, Jack couldn't shake the persistent chill that had settled within him since their return to Earth. Maybe not as extreme as Sam, who had wrapped herself in layers of clothing.
He downed the contents of his glass, feeling the familiar warmth and harsh tickle in his throat. His thoughts wandered back to the orange uniforms they were forced to wear there and Sam's now-cropped haircut. He liked it; it accentuated the graceful line of her neck. Jack took another sip of whiskey, raising his glass to the visible moon.
"It is my honor to serve," he muttered sarcastically before hurling the glass against the wall.
Closing his eyes, he hoped that sleep would offer respite from the painful thoughts that clawed at him relentlessly.
After three agonizing days, Jack, Sam, and Daniel reluctantly returned to the base. Of the three, Daniel was the only one who seemed to retain a semblance of well-being. Jack and Sam, on the other hand, looked like they were still trapped in a walking nightmare. General Hammond observed them in the briefing room and promptly decided to ground SG-1 for a couple more days. Sending them off-world in their current state would be akin to dispatching zombies through the Stargate, and that was an unacceptable risk.
So, SG-1 found themselves confined to Earth.
As they were about to leave the briefing room, Jack gestured to Sam, indicating a need for a private conversation. They couldn't continue in this strained state much longer.
"Major? A word, please," he requested, nodding toward a corner of the room after Daniel and Teal'c had exited, leaving them alone with General Hammond, who returned to his office.
Sam swallowed hard and followed Jack.
"Yes, Sir?" she responded, standing almost at attention.
Jack sighed, studying the dark circles under her eyes. It was evident that sleep had eluded her in the past few days.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine," Sam replied, her gaze fixed on the window instead of meeting his eyes.
Jack silently cursed inwardly. 'Fine' was one of the words he detested most after the infamous 'Sir' when it came from her lips.
"Still cold?" he continued, crossing his arms.
Sam bit her cheek. "No," she lied, avoiding his gaze.
Jack raised an eyebrow, but she remained silent. She was layered in everything permissible within the confines of the base. The only missing piece was her tactic vest, likely absent because it would look strange.
"I think we need to talk," Jack suggested slowly, lowering his voice.
Sam arched an eyebrow.
"What about, Sir?" she inquired, glancing at him before averting her eyes again.
Jack sighed heavily.
"Several things come to mind. I'm sure the same goes for you," he acknowledged. "So, my place or yours?" he proposed.
Sam clenched her jaw. Now he wanted to talk?
"I'm quite busy, Sir. Being on leave has put me behind on several projects, Sir," Sam said, still avoiding eye contact.
Jack took a deep breath.
"Well, Major, I don't give a rat's ass. Your place or mine?" he reiterated.
Sam blushed but offered no response. Jack cursed again.
"Okay then. I'll bring dinner. Your house," he declared, turning his back and leaving the briefing room. Sam watched him descend the spiral stairs and closed her eyes when he was no longer in sight.
"Fuck," she muttered.