(no subject)
More String Theory: An AU Series
Dr. Samantha Carter joins the SGC and discovers a life she never expected.
Action/Adventure, Drama, Angst, Romance, S/J
Teen: minor language and violence, sexuality
A/N: This one got a lot longer than I planned!
Ficlet 22: Escalation
“Sam?”
Looking up from her desk, Sam finds only Daniel’s head peering somewhat cautiously around the doorjamb of her office as if expecting objects to be thrown at him in response to his simple query. She feels her temper rise in annoyance only to break apart on a drawn out sigh. Has she really been that unbearable these last few days? Daniel’s behavior seems to indicate that she has.
“Come on in, Daniel.”
“It’s safe?” he asks, even as the rest of his body appears in the open door.
“Safe as it ever is,” she notes with a wry grin.
Obviously encouraged by her response he circles around her desk and seats himself in an empty chair. In his casual perusal of her office, she notices him eying the cot piled high with blankets shoved carelessly in the corner.
She meets his eyes across the desk, wordlessly daring him to comment at his own peril. Wisely, he says nothing, instead sinking back further in the chair and casting about for something a bit safer to rest his eyes upon.
Sure, sleeping in her office is probably a little high on the eccentric scale, but around this place, who’s really in a position to judge? Certainly not Daniel. Not that it keeps her from the temptation of confessing to him. The damn man always seems to have that effect on her.
But how exactly does she explain the strange force that keeps her rooted here, spending nights tossing and turning on her narrow cot? Contrary to what Daniel may think, she is not haunting this place in hopes of catching a glimpse of the recently returned Jack. Quite the opposite actually.
She was quite safe when he had disappeared off on some impromptu vacation to God knew where, but ever since he returned she is frozen by the fear that if she sets so much as a foot outside the Mountain she’ll end up on Jack’s porch, lining herself up for another door slammed in her face. Right now, she’s not sure she could deal with that. Hibernation seems a much better option.
“I was wondering if you wanted lunch,” Daniel says with painful casualness, as if he hopes to slip the invitation and the implied company past her without her noticing.
Nice try, Daniel, she thinks, barely resisting rolling her eyes at his pleading look. “Thanks for the offer,” she replies with excruciating politeness, “but I have an appointment I have to keep.”
She crosses to the door, leaving Daniel no choice but to follow. “I’ll see you later?”
“Sure, Sam,” he says, giving her one last penetrating look before disappearing down the hall.
Once on her feet and out in the hall, Sam has no choice but to find somewhere else to hide for a few hours. It’s not really a hard decision.
A few minutes later, she pushes open a door, pausing for a moment to take in the rigorous order and calm that is her main lab on level 19. A few scientists move purposely throughout the space, voices lowered as they discuss various projects. This lab, acknowledged by all as Sam’s domain, has been transformed over the last year into a dynamic think tank populated by professionals personally chosen by Sam. She brooks no laziness, fatalism or, more importantly, divas.
In many ways the air tight secrecy of the place is a blessing, with no hope of public glories many of the scientists are much more willing to share ideas, work projects in tandem, and ask for help whenever it’s needed. It’s a far cry from the super-competitive world of Academia Sam remembers from her years as a student and greatly successful for the most part. Under her direction, scientists from this lab have made leaps in military armor, the integration of advanced alien technology into the weapons used by off-world teams, and even a few breakthroughs in the field of agriculture.
Sam might allow herself a sense of pride if it weren’t for her continuing failure to craft a stable naquadah reactor. At this point she’s almost convinced there is some karmic faux pas from her last life that is screwing with her. No matter how nonsensical that sounds, she is completely out of other explanations.
With a sigh Sam turns her back on the end of the lab housing Dr. Burke and the doomed reactor prototype, instead focusing her attention on Dr. Julia Kunis, the newest addition to the lab. Despite being the geneticist’s first day with full clearance, she already seems hard at work, her dark hair pristinely twisted back from her face, printer humming actively in the background.
“How’s your first day going, Julia?” Sam asks.
“Ah, Dr. Carter,” she says, not bothering to look up from her typing. “Perfect timing.” Spinning around in her chair, she snatches a sheaf of papers from the printer. “I’ve spent the morning skimming the database of alien contacts and I already have a few suggestions.”
Sam suppresses a smile and takes the still warm papers from Julia’s outstretched hand. “That was quick.”
Julia shrugs. “From what I understand, there are some rather compelling reasons not to waste any time.”
Most people take a while to absorb the realities of Stargate Command. Sam herself had taken months to wrap her mind around what they are trying to achieve here. But Julia, well, Julia has shown from the earliest moment of their acquaintance to be completely unflappable. When given her first file documenting the existence of alien life, she had simply raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sam for confirmation. Upon receiving it, she had skimmed the file and asked, “What do you need me to do?” It seems she had been quite serious, throwing herself in to the work with relish.
Sam looks over Julia’s list of projects to be considered for funding, coming to an abrupt stop on a painfully familiar name.
“Aris Boch,” Sam mumbles.
“Yes, that is a particularly interesting case,” Julia continues briskly, either unaware or uncaring of the tremor in Sam’s voice. “According to this file he killed eight airmen before being captured and was detained for two weeks at which point he died.”
“Withdrawal,” Sam supplies weakly. “He claimed to need a substance called roshnah to survive. It was assumed to be a ploy to ensure his release. By the time they realized….”
“It was already too late,” Julia says, finally looking up with what might be pity if not for the apparent disinterest in her eyes.
Sam clears her throat and lays the papers down on her desk. “You hope to develop something with roshnah?”
“No,” Julia says, shaking her head. “I’m much more interested in the alien’s claims of imperviousness to Goa’uld blending.”
“You think there might be something there?”
For the first time, Julia smiles, the expression lending softness to her face. “Let’s just say that I have a nose for these things.”
“Oh, really?” Sam asks.
“Just give me time.”
Before Sam can reply to that somewhat bolstering display of arrogance, their attention is drawn by an agitated voice from the other end of the lab.
“What are you doing, Sergeant?”
Sam looks up to find Dr. Burke speaking to a sergeant she only recognizes as someone she has passed in the halls on occasion. The unknown soldier hovers uncomfortably close to the latest naquadah reactor prototype, poking purposely at it, seemingly completely unfazed by Dr. Burke’s inquiry.
Burke reaches for the man’s arm. “That is very delicate equipment!”
But the sergeant carelessly shoves him to the floor with one hand in what Sam dimly registers as a display of superhuman strength. Behind her, Julia pushes to her feet, mumbling “What the hell?” under her breath, but Sam is already moving towards the shiny red button on the wall. She slams her palm against it just as the man looks up at her, his eyes quite literally flashing in anger.
Sirens and red lights fill the lab space, and the sergeant’s face twists in rage as he pulls his weapon from the holster, pointing it towards Sam. Dropping to the floor behind a lab table, Sam drags Julia down with her, the woman clumsily landing on top of her and temporarily knocking the wind out of them both. The sharp retort of gunfire reverberates throughout the room, various objects shattering overhead as the two women huddle together.
What seems like ages later, the sound of heavy footsteps and the rattle of P-90s join the general cacophony in the lab.
Silence falls almost as abruptly as it had shattered only minutes before, but still Sam keeps one hand on Julia’s arm, refusing to abandon their hiding spot.
“All clear,” comes the eventual call, Airman Adams cautiously poking his head around the table. “You all right, Dr. Carter?”
Relief floods her at the appearance of a familiar face. “I think so,” she says, allowing him to help her to her feet. Her eyes travel the length of the room, taking in the damage to her domain. “Is he…?” she asks inarticulately, gesturing towards the place the mysterious sergeant had stood.
Adams eyes dart away from her face before returning. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Uh, Doctor?” another of airmen asks from the opposite end, pointing to the reactor. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”
Adams takes her arm and helps her swiftly cross the lab, stepping around broken glass and avoiding the crumpled, bloody body near the back wall.
Sam takes one look at the cycling lights, though, and takes an involuntary step back. “Out,” she says, her voice breaking on the word. When no one moves she lifts her head and yells louder. “Everyone out now!”
The remaining scientists scatter. Adams grabs Julia by the shoulders, practically shoving her out the door while the other airmen drag the still unconscious Burke to safety.
Once outside the door herself, Sam inputs into the security pad a code she had hoped never to use. The door automatically slides shut, followed by the heavy thud of secondary blast walls falling into place.
She’s barely taken two steps away from the door when the reactor explodes. The next thing she knows, she is across the hall staring up at a cracked ceiling. Black smoke billows out around the door to the lab. People swarm the halls in all directions, the red lights mixing with the smoke to create an eerie otherworldly feeling.
Gingerly sitting up, Sam takes a moment to assess her body, feeling nothing more insistent than a general, all over ache. She casts about for the other members of her lab, just locating Julia leaning against Adams when she catches sight of him.
Jack stands frozen in the middle of the hall less than twenty feet away, his eyes searching the area. She’s never seen him so uncertain, so on edge, like something on the brink of snapping cleanly in two, but then his eyes come to an abrupt rest on her and she feels all air escape her lungs as if she has just been tossed across the hall again.
The look burns into her memory, a latent image that can’t be shaken. Dark, intense eyes meeting hers across the smoldering space, the almost infinitesimal relaxation of his shoulders and the clenching of fists as if willing the traitorous edge of panic to leak away.
One moment of forceful connect between them and he turns away, his voice clear and even as he issues orders.
Daniel’s hand on her shoulder jolts her back to her surroundings. “Are you okay, Sam?”
She’s not sure how to answer that. But she waves off the medic at Daniel’s side and lets him help her to her feet.
“He was a Goa’uld,” she says as she looks around at the damage, remembering superhuman strength and eerily glowing eyes.
Daniel sighs heavily and nods at her news, stepping out of the way of passing personnel. “It seems Apophis is finally turning his attention to the Tau’ri,” he observes, his jaw set.
It feels a bit like a death sentence and Sam’s torn between envy and pity for the billions of humans who have no idea what is coming their way.
“Dr. Carter,” Julia says, appearing at her side with what appear to be files still clutched in her hands.
“Julia,” Sam says with exasperation. “We’ve just shared our first near death experience, I think you should probably call me Sam.”
For the first time, Julia looks slightly shaken. “First near death experience?” she repeats.
“Welcome to the SGC,” Sam says, her eyes of their own accord seeking out Jack once more in the chaos.
* * *
Only three hours after the Goa’uld’s foiled attempt to blow up the Mountain, Jack is completely unsurprised to find Sam ensconced in her office, despite the doctor’s recommendation for rest. She types purposely at her laptop, but her fingers pause the moment his shadow falls across her desk. She doesn’t look up, or resume her typing.
He lets his eyes travel over her, noting that she hasn’t even bothered to change. Black soot stains the pristine white of her lab coat and her hair escapes messily down her back. Jack is filled with the undeniable urge to get her the hell away from this place. He reaches for her hand and she rises from her chair at his gentle insistence.
He expects her to say no, maybe even hopes for it a little bit, but she follows him into the hall, the elevator, all the way to his truck without comment and is silent on the drive, her head resting against the passenger window. All Jack can think of is seeing her across that chaotic room and the way everything had seemed to freeze, fade away.
He remembers nothing of the drive other than the feel of her hand, cool and slender in his own.
His fingers are sure and insistent against her skin before the front door to his house properly closes. He makes short work of the buttons of her blouse, dropping the garment carelessly to the floor. Sam reaches for the surface of the door, leaning her weight against it to slam it solidly shut, stumbling slightly. But Jack is there; his hands pressed against her waist, holding her steady, mouth working avidly along the line of her collarbone.
A small bruise is already forming on her shoulder and Jack stops inches from it, his fingers brushing smoothly across the purpling flesh.
“I’m okay, Jack,” she whispers, the first words spoken between them in almost a week.
His hands betray him for the barest fleeting moment as they tremble. He wants to confess to her, to tell her that he panicked when he first entered that charred hallway. It’s his job to be leveled-headed and objective even in the worst situations, but for a moment he had almost let the panic win.
He wants to tell her about the burning ache in his gut when he thought something might have happened to her. He wants to ask her what exactly she had felt when she thought him lost on Edora. To speak of things never spoken between them before.
To apologize.
But he doesn’t speak, because he’d almost panicked and that is unforgivable. Instead, he lets her lead him to his bedroom and undress him carefully before pushing him back on the bed. He watches her reveal smooth, creamy flesh inch by careful inch as if to convince him of her uninjured state.
And when she reaches for him, pulling his mouth down to hers, he pushes back the horrible feeling that he has already revealed too much of himself. He lets all thoughts and concerns fall away under the spell woven by her hands, her mouth.
No matter how convoluted or confusing anything else is between them, they at least always have the solidity of flesh.
* * *
Sam pushes herself up, leaning back against the headboard, her knees drawn protectively into her chest. Jack lies sprawled on his stomach, having finally succumbed to the lure of sleep. She knows from the deep lines creasing his face even in the relaxation of slumber that he hasn’t been sleeping any better than she has this past week.
She wishes she found that comforting.
Looking back, she can barely remember how this thing between them began. All she knows is that now they are doing their best to destroy one another. When had this ceased to be about lazy smirks and days spent out in the sun?
She knows she should leave, slip away from his bed in the cover of darkness. Cowardly, maybe, but probably best for them both.
Jack stirs restlessly in his sleep and without thinking she presses one hand against the small of his back. He settles down under the touch, his slow, even breathing filling the room once more.
She stares at her hand contrasting against his skin and remembers something Daniel said to her a few days after he first stumbled upon her half-naked in Jack’s backyard.
I’m really happy for both of you. You’re just...good for him, you know? When I first met him, I think he had almost given up. But now...it’s just nice to see him happy.
Sam isn’t ready to be that woman. She can’t be in charge of saving anyone. Not even herself.
She remembers a burning look and the feel of trembling fingers.
She should leave.
But when the morning sun finally creeps into the room, Sam is still there to watch Jack stir to wakefulness. She lets him kiss her and smiles when he offers to make her waffles. She ignores the feeling that her face has become little more than a mask to hide things behind.
Watching him move around the room pulling on clothes as if this were a morning like any other, she finally understands why Jack likes to pretend.
It’s so much easier than honesty.
next
Dr. Samantha Carter joins the SGC and discovers a life she never expected.
Action/Adventure, Drama, Angst, Romance, S/J
Teen: minor language and violence, sexuality
A/N: This one got a lot longer than I planned!
Ficlet 22: Escalation
“Sam?”
Looking up from her desk, Sam finds only Daniel’s head peering somewhat cautiously around the doorjamb of her office as if expecting objects to be thrown at him in response to his simple query. She feels her temper rise in annoyance only to break apart on a drawn out sigh. Has she really been that unbearable these last few days? Daniel’s behavior seems to indicate that she has.
“Come on in, Daniel.”
“It’s safe?” he asks, even as the rest of his body appears in the open door.
“Safe as it ever is,” she notes with a wry grin.
Obviously encouraged by her response he circles around her desk and seats himself in an empty chair. In his casual perusal of her office, she notices him eying the cot piled high with blankets shoved carelessly in the corner.
She meets his eyes across the desk, wordlessly daring him to comment at his own peril. Wisely, he says nothing, instead sinking back further in the chair and casting about for something a bit safer to rest his eyes upon.
Sure, sleeping in her office is probably a little high on the eccentric scale, but around this place, who’s really in a position to judge? Certainly not Daniel. Not that it keeps her from the temptation of confessing to him. The damn man always seems to have that effect on her.
But how exactly does she explain the strange force that keeps her rooted here, spending nights tossing and turning on her narrow cot? Contrary to what Daniel may think, she is not haunting this place in hopes of catching a glimpse of the recently returned Jack. Quite the opposite actually.
She was quite safe when he had disappeared off on some impromptu vacation to God knew where, but ever since he returned she is frozen by the fear that if she sets so much as a foot outside the Mountain she’ll end up on Jack’s porch, lining herself up for another door slammed in her face. Right now, she’s not sure she could deal with that. Hibernation seems a much better option.
“I was wondering if you wanted lunch,” Daniel says with painful casualness, as if he hopes to slip the invitation and the implied company past her without her noticing.
Nice try, Daniel, she thinks, barely resisting rolling her eyes at his pleading look. “Thanks for the offer,” she replies with excruciating politeness, “but I have an appointment I have to keep.”
She crosses to the door, leaving Daniel no choice but to follow. “I’ll see you later?”
“Sure, Sam,” he says, giving her one last penetrating look before disappearing down the hall.
Once on her feet and out in the hall, Sam has no choice but to find somewhere else to hide for a few hours. It’s not really a hard decision.
A few minutes later, she pushes open a door, pausing for a moment to take in the rigorous order and calm that is her main lab on level 19. A few scientists move purposely throughout the space, voices lowered as they discuss various projects. This lab, acknowledged by all as Sam’s domain, has been transformed over the last year into a dynamic think tank populated by professionals personally chosen by Sam. She brooks no laziness, fatalism or, more importantly, divas.
In many ways the air tight secrecy of the place is a blessing, with no hope of public glories many of the scientists are much more willing to share ideas, work projects in tandem, and ask for help whenever it’s needed. It’s a far cry from the super-competitive world of Academia Sam remembers from her years as a student and greatly successful for the most part. Under her direction, scientists from this lab have made leaps in military armor, the integration of advanced alien technology into the weapons used by off-world teams, and even a few breakthroughs in the field of agriculture.
Sam might allow herself a sense of pride if it weren’t for her continuing failure to craft a stable naquadah reactor. At this point she’s almost convinced there is some karmic faux pas from her last life that is screwing with her. No matter how nonsensical that sounds, she is completely out of other explanations.
With a sigh Sam turns her back on the end of the lab housing Dr. Burke and the doomed reactor prototype, instead focusing her attention on Dr. Julia Kunis, the newest addition to the lab. Despite being the geneticist’s first day with full clearance, she already seems hard at work, her dark hair pristinely twisted back from her face, printer humming actively in the background.
“How’s your first day going, Julia?” Sam asks.
“Ah, Dr. Carter,” she says, not bothering to look up from her typing. “Perfect timing.” Spinning around in her chair, she snatches a sheaf of papers from the printer. “I’ve spent the morning skimming the database of alien contacts and I already have a few suggestions.”
Sam suppresses a smile and takes the still warm papers from Julia’s outstretched hand. “That was quick.”
Julia shrugs. “From what I understand, there are some rather compelling reasons not to waste any time.”
Most people take a while to absorb the realities of Stargate Command. Sam herself had taken months to wrap her mind around what they are trying to achieve here. But Julia, well, Julia has shown from the earliest moment of their acquaintance to be completely unflappable. When given her first file documenting the existence of alien life, she had simply raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sam for confirmation. Upon receiving it, she had skimmed the file and asked, “What do you need me to do?” It seems she had been quite serious, throwing herself in to the work with relish.
Sam looks over Julia’s list of projects to be considered for funding, coming to an abrupt stop on a painfully familiar name.
“Aris Boch,” Sam mumbles.
“Yes, that is a particularly interesting case,” Julia continues briskly, either unaware or uncaring of the tremor in Sam’s voice. “According to this file he killed eight airmen before being captured and was detained for two weeks at which point he died.”
“Withdrawal,” Sam supplies weakly. “He claimed to need a substance called roshnah to survive. It was assumed to be a ploy to ensure his release. By the time they realized….”
“It was already too late,” Julia says, finally looking up with what might be pity if not for the apparent disinterest in her eyes.
Sam clears her throat and lays the papers down on her desk. “You hope to develop something with roshnah?”
“No,” Julia says, shaking her head. “I’m much more interested in the alien’s claims of imperviousness to Goa’uld blending.”
“You think there might be something there?”
For the first time, Julia smiles, the expression lending softness to her face. “Let’s just say that I have a nose for these things.”
“Oh, really?” Sam asks.
“Just give me time.”
Before Sam can reply to that somewhat bolstering display of arrogance, their attention is drawn by an agitated voice from the other end of the lab.
“What are you doing, Sergeant?”
Sam looks up to find Dr. Burke speaking to a sergeant she only recognizes as someone she has passed in the halls on occasion. The unknown soldier hovers uncomfortably close to the latest naquadah reactor prototype, poking purposely at it, seemingly completely unfazed by Dr. Burke’s inquiry.
Burke reaches for the man’s arm. “That is very delicate equipment!”
But the sergeant carelessly shoves him to the floor with one hand in what Sam dimly registers as a display of superhuman strength. Behind her, Julia pushes to her feet, mumbling “What the hell?” under her breath, but Sam is already moving towards the shiny red button on the wall. She slams her palm against it just as the man looks up at her, his eyes quite literally flashing in anger.
Sirens and red lights fill the lab space, and the sergeant’s face twists in rage as he pulls his weapon from the holster, pointing it towards Sam. Dropping to the floor behind a lab table, Sam drags Julia down with her, the woman clumsily landing on top of her and temporarily knocking the wind out of them both. The sharp retort of gunfire reverberates throughout the room, various objects shattering overhead as the two women huddle together.
What seems like ages later, the sound of heavy footsteps and the rattle of P-90s join the general cacophony in the lab.
Silence falls almost as abruptly as it had shattered only minutes before, but still Sam keeps one hand on Julia’s arm, refusing to abandon their hiding spot.
“All clear,” comes the eventual call, Airman Adams cautiously poking his head around the table. “You all right, Dr. Carter?”
Relief floods her at the appearance of a familiar face. “I think so,” she says, allowing him to help her to her feet. Her eyes travel the length of the room, taking in the damage to her domain. “Is he…?” she asks inarticulately, gesturing towards the place the mysterious sergeant had stood.
Adams eyes dart away from her face before returning. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Uh, Doctor?” another of airmen asks from the opposite end, pointing to the reactor. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”
Adams takes her arm and helps her swiftly cross the lab, stepping around broken glass and avoiding the crumpled, bloody body near the back wall.
Sam takes one look at the cycling lights, though, and takes an involuntary step back. “Out,” she says, her voice breaking on the word. When no one moves she lifts her head and yells louder. “Everyone out now!”
The remaining scientists scatter. Adams grabs Julia by the shoulders, practically shoving her out the door while the other airmen drag the still unconscious Burke to safety.
Once outside the door herself, Sam inputs into the security pad a code she had hoped never to use. The door automatically slides shut, followed by the heavy thud of secondary blast walls falling into place.
She’s barely taken two steps away from the door when the reactor explodes. The next thing she knows, she is across the hall staring up at a cracked ceiling. Black smoke billows out around the door to the lab. People swarm the halls in all directions, the red lights mixing with the smoke to create an eerie otherworldly feeling.
Gingerly sitting up, Sam takes a moment to assess her body, feeling nothing more insistent than a general, all over ache. She casts about for the other members of her lab, just locating Julia leaning against Adams when she catches sight of him.
Jack stands frozen in the middle of the hall less than twenty feet away, his eyes searching the area. She’s never seen him so uncertain, so on edge, like something on the brink of snapping cleanly in two, but then his eyes come to an abrupt rest on her and she feels all air escape her lungs as if she has just been tossed across the hall again.
The look burns into her memory, a latent image that can’t be shaken. Dark, intense eyes meeting hers across the smoldering space, the almost infinitesimal relaxation of his shoulders and the clenching of fists as if willing the traitorous edge of panic to leak away.
One moment of forceful connect between them and he turns away, his voice clear and even as he issues orders.
Daniel’s hand on her shoulder jolts her back to her surroundings. “Are you okay, Sam?”
She’s not sure how to answer that. But she waves off the medic at Daniel’s side and lets him help her to her feet.
“He was a Goa’uld,” she says as she looks around at the damage, remembering superhuman strength and eerily glowing eyes.
Daniel sighs heavily and nods at her news, stepping out of the way of passing personnel. “It seems Apophis is finally turning his attention to the Tau’ri,” he observes, his jaw set.
It feels a bit like a death sentence and Sam’s torn between envy and pity for the billions of humans who have no idea what is coming their way.
“Dr. Carter,” Julia says, appearing at her side with what appear to be files still clutched in her hands.
“Julia,” Sam says with exasperation. “We’ve just shared our first near death experience, I think you should probably call me Sam.”
For the first time, Julia looks slightly shaken. “First near death experience?” she repeats.
“Welcome to the SGC,” Sam says, her eyes of their own accord seeking out Jack once more in the chaos.
* * *
Only three hours after the Goa’uld’s foiled attempt to blow up the Mountain, Jack is completely unsurprised to find Sam ensconced in her office, despite the doctor’s recommendation for rest. She types purposely at her laptop, but her fingers pause the moment his shadow falls across her desk. She doesn’t look up, or resume her typing.
He lets his eyes travel over her, noting that she hasn’t even bothered to change. Black soot stains the pristine white of her lab coat and her hair escapes messily down her back. Jack is filled with the undeniable urge to get her the hell away from this place. He reaches for her hand and she rises from her chair at his gentle insistence.
He expects her to say no, maybe even hopes for it a little bit, but she follows him into the hall, the elevator, all the way to his truck without comment and is silent on the drive, her head resting against the passenger window. All Jack can think of is seeing her across that chaotic room and the way everything had seemed to freeze, fade away.
He remembers nothing of the drive other than the feel of her hand, cool and slender in his own.
His fingers are sure and insistent against her skin before the front door to his house properly closes. He makes short work of the buttons of her blouse, dropping the garment carelessly to the floor. Sam reaches for the surface of the door, leaning her weight against it to slam it solidly shut, stumbling slightly. But Jack is there; his hands pressed against her waist, holding her steady, mouth working avidly along the line of her collarbone.
A small bruise is already forming on her shoulder and Jack stops inches from it, his fingers brushing smoothly across the purpling flesh.
“I’m okay, Jack,” she whispers, the first words spoken between them in almost a week.
His hands betray him for the barest fleeting moment as they tremble. He wants to confess to her, to tell her that he panicked when he first entered that charred hallway. It’s his job to be leveled-headed and objective even in the worst situations, but for a moment he had almost let the panic win.
He wants to tell her about the burning ache in his gut when he thought something might have happened to her. He wants to ask her what exactly she had felt when she thought him lost on Edora. To speak of things never spoken between them before.
To apologize.
But he doesn’t speak, because he’d almost panicked and that is unforgivable. Instead, he lets her lead him to his bedroom and undress him carefully before pushing him back on the bed. He watches her reveal smooth, creamy flesh inch by careful inch as if to convince him of her uninjured state.
And when she reaches for him, pulling his mouth down to hers, he pushes back the horrible feeling that he has already revealed too much of himself. He lets all thoughts and concerns fall away under the spell woven by her hands, her mouth.
No matter how convoluted or confusing anything else is between them, they at least always have the solidity of flesh.
* * *
Sam pushes herself up, leaning back against the headboard, her knees drawn protectively into her chest. Jack lies sprawled on his stomach, having finally succumbed to the lure of sleep. She knows from the deep lines creasing his face even in the relaxation of slumber that he hasn’t been sleeping any better than she has this past week.
She wishes she found that comforting.
Looking back, she can barely remember how this thing between them began. All she knows is that now they are doing their best to destroy one another. When had this ceased to be about lazy smirks and days spent out in the sun?
She knows she should leave, slip away from his bed in the cover of darkness. Cowardly, maybe, but probably best for them both.
Jack stirs restlessly in his sleep and without thinking she presses one hand against the small of his back. He settles down under the touch, his slow, even breathing filling the room once more.
She stares at her hand contrasting against his skin and remembers something Daniel said to her a few days after he first stumbled upon her half-naked in Jack’s backyard.
I’m really happy for both of you. You’re just...good for him, you know? When I first met him, I think he had almost given up. But now...it’s just nice to see him happy.
Sam isn’t ready to be that woman. She can’t be in charge of saving anyone. Not even herself.
She remembers a burning look and the feel of trembling fingers.
She should leave.
But when the morning sun finally creeps into the room, Sam is still there to watch Jack stir to wakefulness. She lets him kiss her and smiles when he offers to make her waffles. She ignores the feeling that her face has become little more than a mask to hide things behind.
Watching him move around the room pulling on clothes as if this were a morning like any other, she finally understands why Jack likes to pretend.
It’s so much easier than honesty.
next