Months before their unexpected kiss in his kitchen, Jack had been taken aback when he first caught her in his garage, thinking she was a burglar. Instead, he watched her outside the window as she worked on the car. He was even more surprised when Carter returned later, night after night, after that first time. He had watched her, intrigued by her dedication, as she disappeared into the garage, only to emerge hours later. It ended up with her taking the car from the garage and being pulled up for speeding. And then their kiss in his kitchen.
Following their kiss and Grace's unfortunate timing, Carter ceased communication with Jack, directing her attention solely towards Grace. She resumed her weekend strolls and mall outings with Grace but actively avoided Jack's calls and eluded him at the Pentagon. Despite Jack's attempts to reach out via calls and emails, he hesitated to visit her home, sensing a reluctance within himself to do so.
It was then that he realized they needed to have a serious conversation. Mainly because, at the same time, she wasn't answering him, his secretary's incessant gossip about Colonel Emily Carter and General Dwayne Harrison began. It only fueled his determination to clarify their relationship status before further speculation arose. They had kissed passionately twice already, for crying out loud!
So, he extended a dinner invitation, a gesture he wasn't too confident she would accept. To his surprise, she agreed. "Fine," she replied to him by email.
Jack opted for a restaurant outside of D.C., a quaint little place with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background, aiming to minimize the chances of running into acquaintances and further fueling gossip. He dismissed his driver and personally picked her up. She appeared in a simple yet elegant ensemble—a silky crimson blouse that accentuated her ivory skin, paired with a charcoal gray pencil skirt and comfortable flats, eschewing heels for the occasion. Jack, in turn, chose a casual but refined attire: dark dress pants that hugged his very hard-to-keep-still lean frame, a long-sleeved collared navy blue polo shirt, and black leather shoes.
As she opened the passenger door and exchanged a glance with him, offering a swift "hi," Jack felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn't seen her in more than two weeks.
"Thanks for coming," he managed, starting the SUV. They embarked on the journey to the restaurant in silence, the tension palpable in the air.
The Italian restaurant, nestled away from the bustling streets of downtown, exuded an inviting warmth and charm. The evening sun cast a warm glow on them as they walked towards the restaurant, their steps in sync. As Jack and Sam entered, they were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the savory scents of simmering sauces and aromatic herbs. Soft, ambient lighting cast a gentle glow across the space, creating an intimate atmosphere perfect for their conversation.
Their table, tucked away in a cozy corner near a large window adorned with billowing curtains, offered a secluded haven from prying eyes. A crisp, white tablecloth draped elegantly over the surface, punctuated by flickering candlelight in delicate glass holders. The centerpiece, a vibrant bouquet of freshly cut flowers, added a splash of color and fragrance to the setting.
Seated across from each other, Jack and Sam perused the menu, still avoiding any talk.
As the waiter approached to take their orders, Jack gestured for Sam to go first. Blushing slightly, she requested a refreshing caprese salad, highlighting the ripe tomatoes, creamy mozzarella, fragrant basil, and a drizzle of balsamic glaze. Jack, in turn, opted for the comforting classic of spaghetti carbonara, craving its creamy sauce, crispy pancetta, and perfectly al dente pasta. They settled on a red wine recommended by the waiter to complement their meal.
As they waited for their food, Jack took a deep breath and decided it was time to address the purpose of their dinner.
"So, you must be wondering about the reason for the invitation," he began.
Sam's expression remained unreadable as she replied, "I can take an educated guess, but please, enlighten me."
Jack looked at her, surprised. "An educated guess? What do you mean?" he inquired, curious.
Sam discreetly toyed with her napkin.
"Despite its physical size, the Pentagon is a rather small place for certain things, much like the SGC. Rumors tend to spread quickly," she explained, her blue eyes conveying more than her words. She had tried not to stare much at him, but he looked handsome. Or she just missed looking at him.
Jack cleared his throat.
"Since when do you care about rumors?" he asked, relieved that she hadn't addressed him as "Sir," at least not yet.
Sam sighed softly. "I don't anymore, but clearly, you do. Hence, this dinner," she replied.
Touché, Jack thought, swallowing hard.
"Right. I won't insult your intelligence by denying that it isn't one of the reasons why I asked you out. There have been continuous talks about you and Harrison. I know it's not exactly my business, but I will ask anyway. Is it true?" he inquired slowly.
Sam offered a small smile. "It's none of your business," she stated firmly.
Despite everything, Jack couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his fingers absentmindedly crumbling the grissini.
Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "So, what was the other reason?" she probed.
Jack began to fidget with his other fingers on the table.
"Well, I can't really delve into that without knowing the answer to the first question. So, I suppose the conversation is pretty much over," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Sam raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Seriously? Are you going to be that immature?" she questioned.
A blush crept onto Jack's cheeks, and his fingers halted their movement. He had already destroyed almost all the thin appetizers with his nerves.
"I'm not being immature. But there's no point in continuing with the other question until I know whether you're involved with Harrison," he explained slowly.
Sam rolled her eyes, exasperated.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. This is like a conversation straight out of high school. You're a three-star General, for goodness' sake. Act like one," she scolded him.
This time, Jack couldn't help but blush. Deeply. "Watch your tone, Carter," he warned.
Unfazed, Sam glanced around the restaurant, where a few couples were having dinner just like them. No one seemed to be paying attention to their little drama.
"Or what? Are you going to demote me? Make me foot the bill?" she retorted. "Sent me back to my reality?" she added, leaning in, her voice dangerously cold.
Their exchange was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Jack also leaned forward as soon as the waiter departed, his voice lowered.
"Of course, I wouldn't do any of those things. Are you out of your mind?" he murmured.
Sam began to eat her salad, pointedly ignoring his attempt at conversation.
Jack stared down at his delicious carbonara, deciding to follow her lead. There was no sense in ruining a perfect dinner because she wasn't willing to answer his question. They ate in silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other across the table. When the waiter returned and inquired about dessert, they quickly declined but accepted coffee. Jack decided to make one last attempt.
"Very well, I'll risk embarrassing myself and ask you the second question, even without knowing if you're dating Harrison," Jack declared.
Intrigued, Sam paused mid-sip and started to set down her coffee cup to give him her full attention. Jack cleared his throat nervously.
"I miss you," he confessed quietly.
Sam cleared her throat also, trying to process his admission. "That's not a question," she pointed out gently.
Jack returned his gaze to his hands, his nerves starting to get the better of him.
"What did you want to ask me?" Sam inquired, her voice softer now.
Jack hesitated, feeling his resolve waver. "Never mind," he muttered after moments of tense silence.
Sam sighed, refusing to let him off the hook so quickly.
"Come on, Jack. You've come this far, and I'm here. Don't give up now. Ask the question," she urged, using his name for the first time.
Immediately, Jack lifted his head, surprised by her assertiveness. She had changed since her time at the clinic. Maybe he was finally seeing the real Samantha Carter—the confident commander of the Hammond, the woman older than his wife who had also commanded Atlantis. She stared at him with unwavering blue eyes, her demeanor apparently calm.
"Do you love me?" he finally asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
Sam's mouth opened slightly, then closed again. Her gaze shifted from his face to the window, staring outside into the darkness.
"For many years, Jack O'Neill was the love of my life," she admitted quietly.
Jack noticed her use of the past tense. "Not anymore?" he pressed.
She continued to look outside before slowly turning back to him. "That love only brought me endless pain and hurt," she confessed.
Jack swallowed, feeling a pang of regret. "I can't speak for the other O'Neill, but I apologize for hurting you here," he said earnestly, remembering the times he had caused her suffering.
A faint smile ghosted across Sam's lips. "Yes, you do apologize a lot. After hurting me," she remarked.
Jack clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of her words. "I'm not perfect, and this is complicated for me," he admitted.
She fixed him with a piercing gaze. "And for me? Is it a walk in the park?" she challenged.
Jack shook his head.
"No, I know it's complicated for you, too. That's why I wanted to talk to you—because we're both struggling," he explained.
Sam raised both eyebrows in surprise. "We are?" she asked incredulously.
Jack let out a frustrated sigh.
"For crying out loud, Sam, cut me some slack, will you?" he pleaded, gripping his hair in frustration.
"Why should I? You never did since the moment I arrived in this reality. So why should I cut you some slack, General?" Sam's words cut through the air, her tone firm as she addressed him by his rank this time.
Jack closed his eyes in desperation. Inviting her to dinner in hopes of resolving their issues had been a mistake. The kiss on the rooftop and the kitchen and his admission of love hadn't meant anything to her. She had clearly moved on and must have set her sights on Harrison. Someone completely different from him, both physically and without all the emotional baggage Jack carried in this and from her reality.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry again for this. It was a mistake," Jack admitted, signaling the waiter to bring the bill.
Sam swallowed hard, feeling a pang of guilt. "Jesus, you give up fast," she muttered through clenched teeth.
She rose abruptly, tossing her napkin onto the table before leaving the restaurant. Jack stood there, speechless, watching her retreating figure. He quickly paid the bill and hurried after her, finding her leaning against his SUV, waiting.
"What the hell was that for?" he demanded as he approached the vehicle.
Sam sighed heavily. "So, I could do this," she replied, grabbing his head and kissing him fiercely.
Caught off guard by her sudden move, Jack instinctively reacted, enveloping her tightly as they crashed against the SUV frame. Their kiss escalated into a passionate battle for control, neither willing to yield. The location didn't matter to Jack; for all he cared, they could have been in a parking lot or the heart of the Pentagon.
She was the first to pull away, her lips swollen, her eyes wide with uncertainty. This was a risk, but she had missed him terribly, more than she cared to admit.
"Okay..." she murmured, wetting her lips as she gazed at him.
"Okay," Jack echoed, his hands still resting on her waist, unwilling to let her go.
They stood silently, their gazes locked. His hands rested gently on her waist while hers lingered on his chest.
"I love you. I've fallen in love with you," Jack confessed, his voice soft but persistent.
Sam adjusted his shirt and looked at him with a hint of skepticism. "This isn't the first time you've said that to me," she recalled.
Jack nodded, acknowledging her observation.
"No, it isn't. But now I'm absolutely sure. My feelings are for you, not my wife," he explained slowly. He had told her this before, but now he was absolutely sure.
Sam swallowed, her hand coming to a halt at his neck. "How can you be so sure, Jack? You look at me and see her," she pointed out.
Jack held her tighter, his embrace reassuring.
"I used to, yes. But not anymore, and now I'm certain of that. That's why I wanted to talk to you—to tell you that and see if you felt the same. Or if you were with someone else," he admitted in a hushed tone.
Sam's fingers gently caressed the hairs at the nape of his neck.
"I don't have anything with Harrison. He just asked me out for lunch once and then to be his date at that cocktail party, nothing more," she clarified.
Jack's fingers on her waist started to caress her gently, his touch soothing.
"So, what people have been talking about at the Pentagon…" he said, his voice uncertain.
Sam's fingers continued on his neck.
"Gossip. You better than anyone know that gossip doesn't mean a thing. It never did at SGC, at least not for me," she said sadly.
Jack swallowed hard. Rumors had circulated about him and Sam from the start, but they had never acted on them until Hammond successfully pushed for the rule changes. After that, Jack couldn't honestly claim they had waited for the official confirmation of those changes. They hadn't.
"What do you want to do?" he inquired.
Sam moistened her lips, pondering her reply. Emotions swirled within her, adding depth to her words. "Take things slowly," she finally decided.
Jack nodded in agreement. "I can do that," he affirmed.
Her fingers paused, and she met his gaze with a hint of uncertainty. "Okay," she murmured once more.
Jack released his hold on her waist, but his eyes remained fixed on her lips. "Can I kiss you again?" he asked, his tone gentle yet eager.
She nodded slowly, permitting him. Jack tenderly moved his hands from her waist to cup her face, leaning in to kiss her once more. The kiss was sweet, the intensity tempered but the emotion palpable. Sam felt her cheeks flush with warmth, and it ended with a gentle peck on her forehead.
"I'll take you home," Jack offered as they broke apart.
They entered the SUV, and Jack drove to her house with a contented smile. Sam interlocked her fingers with his, relishing the silent companionship as they journeyed. Neither spoke until he parked in front of her condo.
"Thank you for dinner," she said as she opened the door.
Jack returned her smile. "Thanks for accepting," he replied.
"I'll see you around," she said before leaving the vehicle and heading inside.
Jack watched her until she disappeared, his heart light with hope. And with that dinner, everything between them began—slowly, just as she had wanted.
He strolled into the garage while she tinkered with the Corvette, catching her off guard. She had assumed everyone was asleep, as usual, and they hadn't discussed meeting here. These late-night sessions with the car that once belonged to his late wife had become her ritual. After much internal turmoil, she realized she needed an outlet besides her job.
One evening, she had impulsively opened the drawer where she had angrily tossed the garage remote and found herself transfixed by it. The longer she stared, the more she realized she wanted to work on the car, despite everything—the memories, the emotions, him. So, one night, around 0200, she hailed a taxi and went to his house.
The lights were all extinguished, casting the neighborhood in darkness. Armed with a powerful flashlight, she activated the remote and slipped into the garage, swiftly closing it behind her. She settled on the floor, gazing at the car after removing its cover. That first night, she didn't lay a finger on it, only absorbing its presence. Eventually, she covered it back up and departed. But she kept returning without knowing the house's owner was watching her.
Quietly, she toiled away in the car. After all, the other Samantha had already completed most of the laborious tasks; she only needed to perform some touch-ups, and she had already taken the car for a ride—a ride that had ended up with a discussion in his kitchen and a passionate kiss between them. And now they were supposedly taking things slowly, a concept that Sam was still grasping.
Jack lowered his head until their lips hovered inches apart. His finger delicately lifted her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his.
"I've wanted to do this again so badly," he confessed softly.
Jack's proximity was intoxicating. His presence was almost tangible against her lips, causing them to part involuntarily in anticipation.
But Sam remained wordless, her chest tight with apprehension and longing as he drew nearer. His hands gently found their place at the sides of her neck, and though the touch was intimate, her heart raced so fiercely that she could feel its echo in her ears.
As his fingers brushed against her throat, Sam felt a mixture of deep dread and calmness wash over her. Amidst the lingering clouds of heaviness within her, she grasped that he could be the radiant sunlight breaking through the darkness.
Jack cradled her gently as their lips united in a passionate kiss. When their mouths met, an intense heat surged through Sam's being, igniting her senses like a fiery gulp of whiskey, flames dancing from her lips to her essence. When he withdrew, awaiting her response, Sam's instinctive reaction was to lean in for another kiss.
He let out a deep, primal groan as Sam's lips met his again, and he gently parted them with his tongue, eliciting a blissful response from her, her eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy. She savored his taste, inhaling his essence deeply. Beneath her fingertips, she felt his presence, grounding her in the moment. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, yet he was the sole source of solace in his embrace, holding her fragile pieces together.
"What's troubling you?" he inquired, observing the tears gathering in her eyes.
"Nothing," she fibbed, burying her face into his neck. She couldn't tell him.
Despite her attempt to conceal her emotions, Jack refused to let her hide, tilting her chin until their gazes met once more.
"Talk to me, Sam," he urged gently.
She reluctantly opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. "I'm afraid," she confessed.
"Why?" Jack questioned, his fingers tenderly wiping away her tears.
She attempted to avert her gaze, but Jack gently redirected her attention back to him.
"Please, talk to me," he implored.
Sam swallowed hard, summoning her courage. "I'm scared that you're only here because you miss her," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
His heart skipped a beat.
"We've discussed this, Sam. Before we made this decision," he reminded her, meeting her blue eyes earnestly. "I told you that I loved her, but she's gone. It's painful, and yes, I miss her, but you're not her. I made that clear from the start, even back at the SGC," he added, attempting a faint smile.
But Sam remained somber, her emotions weighing heavily on her. He tenderly brushed her face, his touch comforting.
"I've fallen in love with you, Samantha Carter," he affirmed, pointing to her heart.
Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. "I want to believe that, Jack, I truly do," she murmured.
"Let me prove it to you again," he pleaded softly, leaning in to kiss her once more, a gentle reassurance of his feelings.
As his hand ventured lower, seizing her hip and trailing to her backside, a low, guttural moan escaped Sam's lips, sending shivers down her spine.
"You're the one I want," he groaned, his pleasure evident in his voice.
In response, Sam tightened her grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer with a genuine urgency, mirroring the intensity of his hold on her. Their connection was electric, each touch igniting a fiery passion between them.
Sam playfully winked and leaned back, her chest rising and falling excitedly, her throat dry and scratchy.
"I just realized we're in the garage..." she chuckled, glancing around the space.
Jack smirked, meeting her gaze.
"Are you concerned about traumatizing the Chevy?" he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.
He leaned in for another kiss, but Sam could already feel the strain on her lips, the late hour, and the awareness that Grace was sleeping alone in the house creeping in.
"Jack?" Sam murmured against his lips, trying to regain his attention.
He responded with a playful nip and a smile, his lips still pressed against hers.
"What's up?" he asked, still lost.
Sam attempted to speak again, and this time, he pulled back, pouting like a disappointed child who had just lost a prized possession.
"What's on your mind?" he inquired slowly.
"We need to stop. Grace is alone at the house, sleeping," Sam reminded him, placing a hand on his chest.
Jack sighed heavily.
"Yeah," he relented, planting a swift peck on her lips.
Sam still held onto his neck. "But I really enjoyed this," she confessed with a smile.
Jack returned the smile. "Good. Because we're going to do it again," he declared with a mischievous glint.
Sam lowered her gaze, blushing.
"But now you have to go, right?" he asked, creating some distance between them. She had told him she wanted to take things slowly.
"I do," she confirmed.
"Okay, I'll help you clean up," he offered.
Sam shook her head. "No, go home. I'll be fine," she insisted, needing time to process what had just happened.
Jack reached for her hand. "I want this, Sam," he cautioned her.
She met his gaze. "Me too," she affirmed.
He gave her another quick kiss before reluctantly leaving the garage. Sam leaned against the black Corvette, closing her eyes, letting the moment sink in.
Sam wiped her greasy hands clean, tidied up her tools, packed everything away, and exited the garage. Yet her mind remained fixated not on the beautiful Corvette but on Jack and the kisses they had shared, his hands tracing her body. Sleep would elude her tonight, consumed instead by thoughts of him and other emotions still conflicted in her mind and heart.
Unbeknownst to her, Jack had indeed returned to his house, positioned by the window, silently observing her departure. Her intuition was spot on. While they had been entangled in their passionate embrace in the garage, Grace had been alone in the house, peacefully asleep. Jack wasn't overly concerned; he had activated the alarm system as always before retreating to the garage. However, he couldn't deny the truth in her words—the garage wasn't the most suitable location for their rendezvous. Yet, he found himself unable to resist the pull.
Each passing day brought Jack a glimmer of hope, yet he couldn't shake the looming fear of an impending downfall. He dreaded the weight of that inevitable plunge.
