Ballydehob, 1997
Faced with Sam's serious demeanor and Jack's sudden change in attitude, Nan and Liz excused themselves and left the kitchen, leaving the two military alone. Jack turned towards the kitchen, remaining silent as he busied himself in the room. Shortly after, he replaced Sam's cup of tea with a real cup of coffee, perfectly brewed just the way she liked it.
She gave him a grateful smile, surprised by the gesture, and turned to her backpack, which she opened to take out a satellite phone and placed it in front of her.
"Secure line," she explained in response to his inquisitive look. "General Hammond needs to talk to you."
Jack nodded and grabbed the phone, his fingers hovering over the keypad to dial the number that would connect him directly to his superior. The conversation was brief, with Jack maintaining a closed-off expression the entire time, and Sam found herself realizing that even after all they had been through, she could never really tell what he was thinking.
The call ended, and they remained silent for a moment. Hammond had sent her here because he needed to speak with his second-in-command. The President of the United States had decided to suspend the Stargate program, too concerned about the health risks the world faced after recent events, notably the Broca Divide and Jack's premature aging incident on Argos. Hammond was currently trying everything possible to find a solution, but the battle was likely to be long.
Jack cleared his throat and finally looked at her. "I'm retired, again," he said in a tone that immediately took her back to that hallway outside General West's office.
Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised by this reaction. She had expected him to jump up, to demand to return to the base as soon as possible to defend their program, to defend his team. He must have known that Daniel was devastated at the thought of not finding Sha'Re, that the Goa'uld threat remained the same whether they crossed the gate or not. Yet, he did nothing.
"Hammond asked for us to lay low for a while," he added; as if reading her mind. Because that's how it was between them: she struggled to see what was behind his mask while he seemed to read her like an open book.
She nodded, downed her coffee in one go and got up to put the cup in the sink. "So…"
Jack shrugged. It was unlikely that a barely 30-year-old Captain would be put to retirement just because a program was shut down. She would probably be reassigned to the Pentagon, and they both knew it. Yet, the memories of their history kept gnawing at him. It was ancient history, sure, but he had never thought he would have the woman who had brought him back to life sitting like this in his family kitchen, across the Atlantic. It stirred something primal in him.
"So…" he repeated, stepping closer to her.
Sam looked up at him. "Sir…" she tried weakly.
"Jack," he corrected, just as he had done in that dingy hotel room five years earlier. "Hammond has just officially informed me that we no longer work together, Sam."
He was giving her an out, she knew it. He knew her well enough to know that things had to come from her. That she could only let go by willingly agreeing to let him take control. He knew all that about her even though they had never talked. And the realization took her breath away. Once again, the universe was giving them the opportunity to satisfy their needs without breaking any rules. And at that moment, she realized that everything she had been trying to make her brain believe for years was false.
She was very human.
Because machines don't feel such powerful desire.
Sam stood on her tiptoes and let her breath mix with Jack's. She would return to the United States tomorrow; she hadn't had an orgasm since their meeting in his office at the reopening of the Stargate program and hadn't had one for three years before that. It would be a stolen moment, a reward for the hours she had spent putting the military before her life.
"This means nothing," she finally said, letting her mouth crush against his.
"I know," he groaned against her lips as he felt her hand rest on his erection.
Maybe they were destined to endlessly repeat the same pattern, Sam thought. Save the world together, lose themselves in each other's bodies without promising any commitment, and start again.
Because she could never promise him anything. She was too cynical, too detached. Too broken, maybe. They used each other. Took what they needed, like a coping mechanism set up by two souls too damaged by life.
Jack took her hand, grabbed the satellite phone and her bag, and led her through the maze of hallways in the house. They made a first stop at a door that Jack slightly opened to throw in the bag. Sam understood that it would be her room. Closing the door, he turned to her and pinned her against the wall, his lips tracing kisses along her neck while his hands roamed her body hungrily.
Sam bit her lip to stifle a moan and let herself be guided to the suite he occupied, confirming once again to herself that Jack O'Neill was indeed the only one capable of reducing the incessant race of her mind to nothing.