AN: During and After Chimera

It hadn't escaped Sam's notice that Pete was different from her usual type. He had some past family issues according to Mark, but nothing crazy and dark. He was funny, but not in the dry, sarcastic way she knew so well. He wasn't a brooder. He was also younger than she was, and he made her laugh. It was easy to be around him. It had been a while since Sam could say that she was with a man who made it easy. There were no stakes, no pressure, no looming possibilities for disciplinary hearings. She was just Sam, going out for coffee with a guy—with Pete.

Maybe he wanted to move things a little faster than she was comfortable with, but maybe that was her problem. It was probably her own hang ups that made her hesitant. She was the one being abnormal, not him. It wasn't serious between them, but maybe it could be someday. Sam knew she wasn't at an age to just have a casual fling, and Pete wasn't looking for that. She had thought she could manage something temporary, but it just wasn't in her nature. She couldn't use someone like that. She also knew she wasn't in the right frame of mind for something serious. But how do you tell a guy you just met that you can't get serious because you just got out of a serious relationship with a possibility? He was only in town for a few more days for a case, and then he'd be going back to Denver. She could hold him off for a few more days.

"Holy sh..." Colonel O'Neill cleared his throat, and stepped into the elevator. "Carter."

"Sir." Great. She was hoping to have a second wildly awkward moment with the Colonel today. After that first ride up in the elevator, she had managed to avoid him today.

"That's umm," Colonel O'Neill began and cleared his throat again and gestured toward her outfit. She had on the same dress she'd worn to meet Pete this morning, and now regretted that she hadn't brought anything else with her to change into.

"Actually, can we not discuss it?" she asked.

"Sure. You've never looked worse. Hideous, if you want to know the truth. That dress does nothing for your eyes. You should burn it." He was rambling now, but that was better than staring. She felt exposed standing next to him. There was nothing inappropriate about what she was wearing, but it wasn't exactly a physical nakedness she felt.

"Thank you."

"What do you wanna talk about?" he asked.

"Uhh, Daniel. Daniel's not sleeping well, did he tell you?"

"No, he didn't. Did you suggest the warm milk again?"

"I told him he should talk to someone. He's having weird dreams."

"I hope you didn't suggest me. My experience with dreams would probably not be very helpful."

"Mary Steenburgen again?"

"Uhh, yeah." Jack didn't like lying to Carter, but was he supposed to answer that question truthfully?

"I hear she's very nice."

"Nice is good. I like nice. So... what about Pete? Is he nice?"

"Yeah, very nice. So far, at least."

Sam should have known that the Colonel would figure it out. He knew her too well. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? Nobody knew her like Colonel O'Neill. She craved it and cursed it in the same moment. Is this what it would be like now? Awkward and uncomfortable, with him trying to figure out how to talk to her like she was completely indifferent to his reactions?

"Sounds nice. Have a good time," he offered as he stepped between the barely opening doors. This is what she had been afraid of. He wasn't completely avoiding her, but it was different between them now. There was a strain there that she hadn't felt in a very long time. There was no way this thing with Pete could be worth it if she lost her friendship with the Colonel.

Morose seemed to be visiting Jack quite a bit lately. He was still dealing with the fact that Carter's growing independence in the field made him less important to her as a leader. Daniel's return made him less important to her as a friend. And now Pete. It was a jab he hadn't seen coming, and it sucked. He didn't begrudge her happiness if she could get it, and in spite of what he might want to believe, she did look happy.

Jack poured another shot of tequila and downed it quickly. The living room was dark since he hadn't bothered with the lights tonight. He didn't want to see anything. He just wanted to see her in that elevator in that white and blue dress that she was wearing for someone else. There was something fitting about the way the image both turned him on, and also sliced through his heart. He hadn't been on that elevator with Carter, not really.

Jack had been on that elevator with Samantha. Samantha, who wore frilly little dresses to meet her date, was a stranger to him. It was a shame that he had only met her when she was already with someone else. But now that he had, he would forever remember how she fit right into his fantasies. She was soft and sexy from her bare legs to her peeking cleavage. Her eyes hadn't met his though. She hadn't looked at him. She couldn't look at him it seemed, though he wasn't sure why.

Was it awkward between them because of their history of almost (but not quite) getting a chance to be together? Or was it awkward because she knew? Sam had to know how much she still meant to him—how much he wanted her. But the last thing he wanted was her sympathy. He was doing enough feeling sorry for himself that he didn't need it from her.

No, tonight was the night. Tonight, he was going to stew in his mess of thoughts and, God help him, feelings. Then tomorrow it was over. Tomorrow he would walk onto base, and he would be just Jack. Not Jack who loved Sam, or Jack who dreamed about Samantha, or Jack who was so fucking proud of Carter that he wanted everyone else to know how awesome she was, but Jack. Just Jack wasn't awkward, but all those other Jacks were so tied up in her that they didn't know what to do about Pete. Fucking Pete.

In some ways, Pete being around was a good thing. Jack wouldn't have to be so careful around Carter anymore. Half the base had seen her walking around in her little Samantha outfit, so Jack knew he wasn't the only one that was aware of the change in her status. The careful lid he'd kept on his mouth could be unscrewed a bit. He could breathe around her a little more now. He could relax without feeling like everything he said or did was going to be subject to base gossip. The talk had been starting to get to him, not for his sake, but for hers. She was brilliant, and deserved recognition for what she did. Instead, she was starting to get noticed because of her proximity to him. It was a distraction that he didn't want for her, and maybe Pete showing up would free her of that.

Okay, maybe there were a couple of red flags. Who didn't like Singin' in the Rain? Even Colonel O'Neill—tough guy extraordinaire—liked musicals. Sam stopped herself before she took that thought any further. She had promised herself that she wouldn't do the compare & contrast thing. It wasn't fair to anyone.

And maybe Pete was a little short for a 5'9" leggy woman, but not every man could be 6'2" of perfection. So what if she couldn't wear heels as much. And maybe Pete's eyes were just a little too brown. Maybe they lacked a little sparkle and grit and mischief, but they were still nice. Nobody was perfect.

But now he was staying two more weeks. They'd already been out several times, and he was being so patient. But it was also clear that he wanted more from her. She had promised herself she was going to try. What was so wrong with sleeping with a nice guy that you liked who also liked you? Theoretically, nothing, but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't right, at least, not yet. But sitting right next to that feeling was that one that told her she was leading Pete on, and she wasn't that kind of girl. It was the next logical step. It was time, she decided.

"Ambulance is on the way, what's his status?" Colonel O'Neill shouted as he crossed the street to where Pete lay on the grass next to her.

"He's, uhh... he's..." Sam couldn't understand the question. She had discovered the wound, but hadn't started to address it yet. Her body seemed to be moving in slow motion while her mind raced.

"Jesus, Carter. Move over." She looked up at him blankly as he reached for the bottom of Pete's T-shirt. Shaking her head to clear the fog, she scooted away from Pete while Colonel O'Neill applied pressure to the bleeding.

"Sam?" Pete asked as he looked from Colonel O'Neill to her.

"It's okay, Pete, he's with me," she assured him.

"Carter, you okay?" Colonel O'Neill asked. He continued to press down on Pete's abdomen, but he was looking up at her now, his eyes moving over her body looking for damage.

"I'm fine," she answered. That wasn't exactly true. All she could hear in her mind was the joke she had made to Pete about how all of the guys she had dated had died. God, what if it wasn't a coincidence? It's not like she was superstitious. She was in a dangerous line of work, and all of them had been involved with the program in some way so it made sense. But Pete wasn't in the program, and he had still ended up here lying on the ground and bleeding. The ambulance arrived and the medics took over. Colonel O'Neill came around to her side and gripped her shoulder.

"He's gonna be okay, Carter. It's not too bad." She just nodded her head and looked up at him. She needed to see the flecks in his brown eyes catching hers. He gave her a single nod of assurance, and her shoulders sagged in relief. Looking back at Pete, she could see him still looking up at her, confused and in pain, but she couldn't think of anything to say to him.

"Why am I cold?" she asked, looking back up at Colonel O'Neill. He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"You're in shock. You'll be fine. Come on, let's grab a blanket for you."

"I'll see you soon, Pete," she assured him as she let the Colonel lead her away while the medics prepared to lift him onto the gurney.

If Sam had a shot with anyone, it was going to be Pete. Since he had been read into the program, she didn't have to hide that part of her life from him. He had a chance at understanding her which was something no other guy off base could contend with. She owed it to him to try to make it work. More than that, she owed it to herself.

When he had lay there in the grass bleeding, every joke she'd ever made to herself about being a black widow sped through her mind. She had faced her fears. Her dad wasn't the only example she had of love ending in loss and pain. What a cruel twist of fate it would have been to lose Pete. Not that she loved him. It was way too soon for that, but there was something about having possibilities stolen from her that was really starting to piss her off.

Colonel O'Neill had stopped acting weird around her which was a relief. She was starting to hope that they could go back to normal. And he had asked about Pete. He seemed okay with it. Why wouldn't he be if he didn't care for her anymore? She still didn't feel good about being with Pete when she was trying to get Jack out of her system, but now that she had already started seeing him, she couldn't very well pull back. She could walk and chew gum at the same time though. She had to believe that she could work on a relationship with Pete while at the same time letting go of someone she couldn't have—someone who didn't seem terribly upset by the fact that she was seeing someone else.

And maybe she had been hoping that he would have been upset. That he would have been a little less happy for her—a little more broody, and a little less awkward. If he had sulked or retreated from her, she might have been able to believe that he still cared for her, but he hadn't done those things. He called an ambulance and helped her stabilize Pete's wound until medics arrived. She didn't want to hurt Colonel O'Neill. That had never been the goal. But some indication that this was as hard for him as it was for her might have been nice to see.