AN: After Grace.
Jack could count on hand, one finger even, the number of times he had heard Sam use his name—the one that didn't include his rank. Even when he had asked her to, she said that she couldn't. She couldn't because she wanted it to mean something if she said his name. She had said it that night when she woke up in the infirmary. He hadn't let himself hope that she meant it. No, he had quit doing that a long time ago. It was going to take a pretty big flashing neon sign at this point for him to hope that she wanted something more with him.
"Jack?" He heard the voice from behind him, but it was the wrong voice. It wasn't Sam.
"What, Daniel?" Jack had left his team in the house to get some fresh air on the deck, but they had a habit of not letting him.
"When a person throws a party, they typically participate in said party," Daniel began fishing.
"Parties are for happy people."
"And you've got nothing to be happy about?" A long moment of silence passed between them as Daniel leaned onto the deck railing next to him, just waiting. Daniel was the classic dog with a bone, and Jack was smart enough to know that when Daniel picked up the scent, there was no point in fighting it.
"I shouldn't have let her go," he rasped before he tipped his bottle back for a swig of the cool, dark liquid. The bitterness fed his mood.
"But you did. And she came back."
"Not the point."
"Then what is the point?" Jack ignored the question. It was easy to do since he wasn't sure he could articulate the answer. "You have to let her go, Jack."
"Daniel," he warned. He wasn't a fan of the softness in Daniel's tone that implied something more that they shouldn't be talking about.
"Not like that. I mean, you have to let her go. You have to let her be the wild, crazy, competent bad-ass she's supposed to be."
"Great idea, Daniel, but who the hell am I supposed to be?" Jack hadn't meant to raise his voice to his friend. It wasn't Daniel's fault that any of this was happening. He took a breath and explained more steadily, "It's my job, Daniel. It's my job to protect my team," Jack continued pressing his first two fingers firmly against Daniel's chest. Then gesturing toward where he had left Sam inside the house, "It's my job to protect her. How am I supposed to do that if she's out there on her own? I tied my own damn hands on this one, and she could have paid the price for that mistake." A breeze swept through the trees around them, and Jack turned his face into it, needing the stimulant to distract him from the weight of the moment.
"I know it's not easy. I know it goes against everything you believe and everything that you are, but she needs this. She deserves this," Daniel reminded him.
"What if it's too soon?" Jack needed to know.
"When will it be time?"
"I was thinking 2020 had a nice ring to it," Jack joked.
"Jack..."
"I know."
"It's probably none of my business, but is there any chance you've talked to Sam about this?"
"Always just one step too far, Daniel," Jack warned him that they were finished discussing it.
Once upon a time, Sam had been unsteady and green. She had needed him. Not anymore. Even stranded in a nebula or whatever it was, she hadn't needed him. At least on SG-1 he had been able to help her out from time to time. He knew she was ready for command, but knowing it and watching those first few faltering flutters while she found her wings were two different things. She didn't need him anymore, but watching her realize it mission after mission was going to be painful. Being helpless to do anything for her was going to be agony.
Jack knew that they were friends. They had helped each other through a lot in that year that Daniel was gone. He knew that Carter hadn't been pushing him away since Daniel returned, but the fact remained that he hadn't seen her much lately. At least not as much as he wanted to. She and Daniel were closer than ever. She would never be alone as long as Daniel was here. She didn't need Jack to be there for her in the same way anymore. He still would be, but she didn't need him.
What Jack really wanted was for Sam to need him. No, not need him. That wasn't it at all. He wanted her to choose him. He loved her. And whether she meant to or not, she had him in her sights, and he couldn't jink her. Didn't want to jink her. He had accepted that it was just a part of him now. Being her CO and her friend was what he did because that's what he was allowed to do. Now those substitutes seemed to be slowly slipping away too. He was losing her, piece by piece, while she was finding herself. He was losing a part of himself too, the part that needed to protect her. Jack hadn't ever been much for fairy tales since he had never had a little girl to read to, but he was pretty sure this wasn't how they were supposed to end.
Once upon a time, Colonel O'Neill had told her to let him go. He told her to get a life. Sam had tried. Not for a while, but she had tried. But every time, it was no contest. He was selfless, brave, humble, smart, funny. No one could come close to the pedestal she had so carefully set him on all those years ago, and the ugly truth was that she had never really taken him down.
Even when she had been working on the X-302 with Alec Colson, or having lunch with Joe Faxon, or any of the other distractions she had tried, Sam had left him on his pedestal. None of them stood a chance. She knew now that she was just going through the motions. Colonel O'Neill had hurt her, but she hadn't been able to stop caring for him. Even now, she couldn't believe that he had truly wanted to push her away. Knowing him the way that she did, she had convinced herself that he was doing it for her own good, but that didn't mean that time and circumstances hadn't given him the distance that he needed to let her go.
The hug he had given her tonight hadn't been the one she wanted. It was brief and friendly, with a little half grin and a "glad you made it back, but next time, just stop and ask for directions." He had opened up to her over the past couple of years, as much as someone like him ever did. He had let her get closer to him. He had let her become a friend to him. However, the long, lingering hugs seemed to be a thing of the distant past, and tonight especially, she had craved it from him. She needed some reason to hold out hope. She wanted him to want to hold her. She didn't want to ask for it.
"Sam," Janet had not been expecting Sam to show up on her porch tonight. "What's wrong?"
"I think it's a problem now." Sam wasn't proud of the tear she let fall as she made her confession. "You asked me once if it was a problem. I told you it wasn't, and I think I really believed it. Hell, maybe it was true then."
"Oh, honey..."
"And I think it's been a problem for a long time." Janet pulled Sam in by the arm and locked the door behind her. Taking a seat on the sofa, Janet settled in for a long night of listening. "Is this okay? I don't want to say anything to you that is going to put you in a difficult position."
"Sam, you're not going to tell me anything that I don't already know," Janet confirmed softly with a sympathetic gaze. Sam couldn't tolerate the feeling that was so closely related to pity, so she turned forward and scrubbed her face in her hands before raking long fingers through her hair.
"I feel so stupid and embarrassed and hopeless," Sam began, and she raised her eyes forward to stare at nothing. "And I love him. I love him, Janet. What kind of idiot falls for their CO?"
"Sam, you didn't fall for your CO," Janet argued as she scooted closer and slid an arm onto Sam's back where she was still hunched forward. "You fell for a man. A man who cares about you a great deal."
"Does he?" Sam asked, looking up at her friend finally. "I mean, I know he does, but I don't think it's like that anymore for him. We're friends now. Good friends, but he doesn't... he's not the same with me anymore. Not like it used to be. It used to be fun and flirty and full of these... looks, innuendos, possibilities. I could tell that he was still in it, you know? I don't see that anymore. I think he's over it, and I'm just sitting here crying because... I'm not over it, Janet. I've tried, but I don't want to be over it. What am I going to do?"
"What do you want?"
"I want him," Sam admitted aloud. Truthfully, she needed him, but she couldn't admit to that.
"And?"
"I want him, and I don't think he wants me anymore." Saying it out loud tore something inside of Sam, and it took her a moment to catch her breath. "So, the rest of it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"You think he's indifferent? You think if you walked in tomorrow and told him that you wanted him that he would just look at you and say 'no, thanks'?" Janet challenged. In that moment, Sam could feel the way that Jack had kissed her back when she was on the Prometheus. She could feel his mouth reaching out for hers and asking for more. She could feel his hand on her face, gently pulling her in closer. In her mind, at least, some part of her wasn't sure that he didn't want her.
"I don't know what he would say. Probably nothing. He's good at that." Sam knew she was being inconsolable. Janet was trying, but the truth was that Sam was out of hope.
"Sam, have you ever thought that he might be thinking the same things that you are?"
"What? No. He's... I'm not very good at hiding these things." Sam tamped down the spark that threatened to catch flame at the notion that maybe all she needed to do was tell him.
"Maybe he's not very good at seeing things."
"How can he not know? Everybody knows, it's a source of continual humiliation for me."
"Sam, I hesitate to say this, because I know how you feel about him, but... the man can be a bit dense." Sam couldn't help her amused huff, and she was grateful for it. She needed the relief, if only for a moment. "I don't want you to have any regrets, Sam. Think about it. Think about talking to him."
"Maybe. Maybe I just need a break. It's so intense all the time. I go to work and he's there and then well that's it. I go to work and he's always there. Maybe it's time to do something outside of work for a while."
"Get a life?"
"Shut up," Sam chastised teasingly. "I can't take it from both of you. But... yeah, maybe. A part of me can't help but wonder if I don't love him the way that I should."
"What way is that?"
"I mean, what if I only think I love him because nobody else would understand? We're so different, you know? But it feels like he just gets me. I haven't had that before, and a big part of that is what we do. How do you even begin to explain that to someone else? So, what if I don't actually want him? What if I just want him because I don't think anyone else could get close to that kind of understanding? It would be weird to think that your boss knew more about you than your boyfriend. What if... What if I'm just afraid to try with anyone else because of that?"
"What do you do when you're off-world and you're afraid?"
"Do it anyway."
"So, maybe you do it anyway. But Sam," Janet added, "maybe the same thing applies to talking to him."
"Janet, if I do that, and he's not... if he doesn't feel the same," Sam answered with a shake of her head, swiping away at the tears that had reappeared. "I can't lose him. I don't think I can take that risk." Sam was ashamed of the admission that was so close to I need him, but the sweetness of the truth on her lips felt good for a change.
"Okay. I won't mention it again. But I'm always here if you need to talk."
"Thank you, but I don't think talking is going to fix this." Janet pulled Sam close and rested her head on the taller woman's shoulder. Sam was right. No amount of talking would take away this pain, but sometimes it was nice to not be alone in that pain.