AN: During Heroes Part 2.

How long was it supposed to take? Sam had been seeing Pete for over a month now, but that familiar pull that she felt toward Jack was still there. He had held her while she cried in his room. He had rested his face against her neck, and it reminded her of why she had told Pete that she didn't like it when he did that. Every time Pete had tried to nuzzle her or kiss her neck, she thought of Jack.

Her dreams and her fantasies had been fueled in part for years by the way Jack's lips rested against her neck when he hugged her. Sam knew he just meant to comfort her, but there was something powerful about the sincerity of it. He wasn't making a move on her, he just wrapped himself around her because... he wanted to? He thought she wanted him to? Whatever the motive, Sam knew that it wasn't seduction. And having Pete touch her that way had felt wrong, as if it tainted the purity of those moments with Colonel O'Neill somehow. As if that part of her body wasn't hers to give anymore.

"Thanks for letting me come with you," Jack said from the passenger seat that was slightly reclined next to her. His eyes were closed, and she could tell he was still hurting from the staff blast.

"I'm not sure you should have. I probably should have taken you home," she answered him.

"I'll be all right," he assured her. Sam didn't want to notice it, but every recovery seemed to take a little longer these days than it used to for him. His body was young for his age, but cellular aging was bound to catch up to him. "Cassie needs to know she still has family."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. Her life has been a little heavy on the estrogen since she came to Earth."

"I want to be there for her. I just... you know."

"She doesn't need a dad. She just needs you to be around." Maybe Sam was overstepping with her assumption, but he said she knew and that was the best guess she had.

"Piece of cake."

"Besides, Janet already did the hard part."

"We hope," he managed a tiny smirk.

"And... I'm glad you're here too. I know she's technically an adult now, but—"

"No, she's not. She's always that little girl in the bunker."

"Yeah, she is." Sam sniffed in a vain attempt to hold back the single tear that was threatening to stain her cheek.

"But she's still got a family. She's not alone," Jack finished with his face turned toward her. "You aren't either, Sam." he added quietly. Another tear formed when she felt his hand, its warm, wide palm resting just above her knee. He never called her Sam anymore, even though there was nothing wrong with it. He hadn't done it for a long time. The pressure of his hand made her think of how she hadn't just lost Janet. For several long minutes she thought she had lost him too, and the memory of the visceral pain she had felt in those minutes caused fresh tears.

"God, why can't I stop crying?" Hurriedly, she flicked away the tears and returned her hand to the steering wheel.

"You will. Just not today," he answered with a long squeeze and a back and forth flick of his thumb on her knee. Sam wasn't thinking about Pete when she moved her fingers from the steering wheel to wrap around his. She wasn't asking herself if it was weird to hold Jack's hand, even if just for momentary comfort. It was unnatural to question something like this—something that just felt right and necessary and honest. She had already been missing her dad when she lost Janet. She had already missed opportunities to make them both know how important they were. She was tired of missing those opportunities.

For years, Sam had thought that keeping her distance from Colonel O'Neill—from Jack—was what she needed to do to keep them all and the rest of Earth safe. Then she had watched his nearly lifeless body fall to the ground in front of her. In spite of her years of self-denial, the bargain she had made with fate almost hadn't worked. She had almost lost him anyway. What a cruel twist that would be, to deny herself what she wanted for his sake, and then lose him anyway, having never gotten a chance to really love him the way he deserved.

Pulling up to the airport curb at Arrivals, Sam released his hand to put the car in park, and then turned slightly so she could see his face. He was reclining slightly and the smallest tilt of his head against the headrest meant that his eyes were on her where she sat, fighting with herself. The car was lit by the airport lights from outside, and Sam couldn't imagine a less perfect setting to tell him what he meant to her, but if she had learned anything the past few days, it was that waiting for perfect timing could sometimes bite you in the ass.

"I just keep thinking that there were so many things I should have told her—so many things that she deserved to hear out loud, and now I'll never get the chance. And I can't help wondering why I held back from her. Why I hold back from..." Sam's head dipped before she locked eyes with him again and finished unsteadily, "other people."

"Carter..." Sam let a little crinkle appear between her eyes before dipping her chin. She was Carter again, not Sam. "You don't have to say anything."

"You're right. I don't have to, but maybe I should," she fished as she raised her eyes to his. He looked almost as uneasy as she felt. Maybe he wasn't following her implication, but this was the biggest risk she could take right now.

"I think saying things can be over-rated," Jack answered honestly. Actions were a lot harder to fake than words. Sam sat silently, looking at him and then looking down at her hands where she was picking at one of her fingernails in her lap. Jack closed his eyes and rested his head back against the head rest. "It's okay, Carter," he assured her. "Stop thinking so much." The corner of his mouth tilted upwards when he heard her guffaw.

"Sir, I think you know that's an order I can't follow."

"I always knew you had a rebel inside you somewhere."

With no other choice, Sam let the subject drop. Maybe he already knew what he meant to her, or maybe he would never know. Either way, he seemed to be content with the arrangement, and she had learned to follow his lead years ago.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam looked up from the device she had been working on to see Colonel O'Neill still in his full service dress standing in her doorway. Usually he was pulling off his jacket or at least the tie the moment he could get out of sight.

"Yeah, I just needed to get away for a few minutes," she answered turning her head down and fiddling with some wires.

"It was nice, what you said about her," he continued as he leaned on her workbench opposite her. He groaned slightly with a hand on his abdomen where he had been hit. Sam couldn't answer him without crying again, and she already felt like she had cried for days on end. Janet had been the closest thing she ever had to a sister, and now she was gone. She had been the only one that Sam felt safe talking to about Jack. She had been family. Overwhelmed, she changed the subject unceremoniously.

"So, General Hammond finally got you to do the interview with Bregman?" Jack accepted the deflection and followed her lead.

"Yes, but I had a list of demands," he replied.

"What was on it?" Sam gave him a little crooked grin, and he felt confident that he had read the situation correctly.

"Weekends off for a month."

"Nice!"

"You'll be the benefactor of that too since... you know. Where I go, you go," he answered gesturing between them.

"Lucky me." She had a little pep in her voice now, and he was proud to have put it there.

"For the weekends, yes."

"And for the going where you go." Jack thought she might be taking things a little far now, and he told her so with squinted eyes.

"Brown noser," he accused.

"What else?"

"I told him I wanted to see all the interviews before I had mine," Jack informed her casually while looking around the lab, but decidedly not at her.

"All... all of them, Sir?" Sam's stutter drew his attention, and he tightened his mouth to fight the amusement.

"Yep." He allowed a dramatic little pop to embellish the end of that affirmation.

"So, you... oh God." Sam covered her eyes with a palm.

"What's wrong, Carter?" He teased.

"All of them? Unedited?" Okay, now she looked a little mad, and he was beginning to question this strategy.

"I don't know, he just gave me some tapes."

"And I suppose you watched them. All."

"What would be the point of putting it on the list, if I didn't watch them? Hmm?"

"Yes, Sir," she answered as she regained her composure. "So, any favorites?"

"Oh yes," he answered with a smirk. Sam blushed furiously. "Don't worry, Carter. I think you're pretty damn great too. And I didn't know that our Gate draws more power than off-world gates by ten percent, so it was also very informative."

"God, I was so boring."

"You were intellectually authoritative."

"Authoritatively boring," Sam argued.

"Stop it. You're brilliant. It's not your fault if everyone else can't keep up."

"I'm already sad and depressed. I don't need to feel embarrassed too," Sam explained.

"Embarrassed?"

"I gushed. And I looked like a geek."

"Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but you are a geek," Jack reminded her.

"Maybe, but I wasn't trying to look like it."

"I like that you're a geek." So what if he hadn't always been a fan of geeks and scientists? She was different. She was more.

"That's a change of tune for you."

"Not really. I just don't sing much in public. I'm more of an in the shower kind of guy." Jack hoped she didn't pick up on that little confession. He did happen to think her nerdiness was kind of hot, and it wasn't uncommon for him to dwell on her hotness in the shower until the warm spray started to cool, relieving his panting, overheated, and temporarily satisfied body.

"And I gushed," Jack smirked at her word choice. Context was a bitch sometimes, and the thought of Sam gushing in the shower was one that he could get behind. Or under. Inside? Really, any of the prepositions would do.

"Relax. It's not like any of it was true. Or at least, that's what I would say if I were modest and self-effacing."

"Oh God. Please stop talking," Sam begged him as she buried her face in her hands, hiding the pretty pink blush of her cheeks. Jack reigned in his inappropriate thoughts, and circled the table to sit beside her.

"If any of that crap you said about me were true, I would have to tell Bregman that you are the foundation of this program, and none of it could have happened without you. I also would have to tell him that you are one of the most curious, brave, kind, creative, tough, loyal, and beautiful—inside and out—people that I know." Sam looked up, surprised to see that he wasn't avoiding her eyes. She didn't often get to see his eyes up close, and she probably never had in such a sincere moment. There was a softness there that she hadn't ever seen before. And then with a twitch of his eyelid they began to sparkle. "Right up there with Mary Steenburgen. So, I guess it's a good thing that you lied through your teeth."

"Great. Now we'll both look like idiots," she smiled, dropping her chin.

"Who cares? The world has bigger problems. Hell, we've got bigger problems."

"Indeed."

"Hey, speaking of Teal'c. That guy—a vault. I was hoping to get something from him, but nothin'."

"You're kidding." Jack noted that she had gotten considerably better at the sarcasm, so at least he had taught her something.

"Swear to God. He said maybe seven words."

"That many? Geez, man. Shut the hell up." Sam was proud to get an amused huff out of Jack.

"Hey," he began, and she looked back up to those soft eyes that had disappeared a moment ago. "Even if you lied about me, I would be telling the truth." Sam was overwhelmed. Colonel O'Neill had never been one to share or be overly complimentary. She could handle that. She knew he had a high opinion of her, but to hear it said aloud was a different feeling. Paired with the worry she had about what her new relationship with Pete would do to the bond she shared with Jack, his words touched her like a salve—cool and soothing.

Sam tipped her head onto his shoulder, letting his eagle press into her temple. He was slow to move, but she was accustomed to that. He always seemed to put a lot of thought into touching her. It was a fact around which she had formulated many theories, the first of which was that he felt it was inappropriate for them because of their working relationship. That one made her feel a little guilty for initiating it. As loudly as he talked about being a troublemaker, he had a strong sense of right and wrong. If that was true, his conscience lost today when he put an arm around her and gripped her shoulder. It was brief though since he squeezed her and then let go. She could take a hint, so she straightened herself up, and fiddled mindlessly with the wires she had been reworking in front of her.

"I noticed that when Bregman asked you about me, you didn't... you, uhh, didn't mention your boyfriend. Everything okay there?" Jack asked. Sam gave him that deer in the headlights look again, and he didn't care for it. It was his job to protect her, and if she wouldn't talk to him, how was he supposed to know if she needed help?

"Pete? Oh, God, yeah. It's fine. Just... it's new. Not exactly serious. I mean, we're seeing each other, but I wouldn't call him my... boyfriend," she rambled with a blush. Jack hated the way she wouldn't meet his eyes. Knowing that she was hiding this part of herself from him hurt worse than the fact that it was even happening.

"We can... I mean, I probably wouldn't have much to say, but you can talk to me about him, you know?" Now she showed him the storm in her eyes.

"Sir, I don't... I'm not sure there's much to say about it yet."

"No pressure, Carter. You don't have to, but if you ever wanted to... I mean, friends talk about these things, right?"

"Got it." And then there was the second theory that Sam had about why Colonel O'Neill seemed reluctant to touch her. He didn't think it was appropriate because she belonged to someone else, which definitely wasn't true. The third was possibly her least favorite. The third was that he didn't want the closeness or the connection that it brought between them. That third theory and what it represented was the one that hurt the most.