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When he finds her, she is exactly where he knew she’d be: stretched out on the bench in the park that they had once brought Cassie, head buried in her hands, fingers running through her hair in agitation.
Jack sighs and mimics her movement, running his hand over his messy hair. He’d known this moment was coming from the moment they’d escaped a mine beneath an ice planet, the taste of each other still on their tongue, and a final Sir echoing between them.
They’d been on a search and rescue mission. For once, it was SG1 working together to rescue a stranded SG5 team. The planet’s inhabitants were fierce and violent and, armed with SG5′s confiscated weapons, were more formidable than SG1′s intel had previously indicated. Perhaps it was this unpreparedness that had jarred her, made her forget who she was and what she was doing, but he’d never, ever forget the way Sam had grabbed his tac vest and yanked him back behind a column with a frightened, “Jonah, no!”
She’d fled after the debrief, refused to talk to him or meet his eye, ignoring his calls of Carter from down the hall. He’d watched her disappear with wide, desperate eyes up the elevator and let her go--for now. But her panicked call for Jonah had his heart aching and he’d quickly changed out of his civvies and chased after her.
He sighed and crossed the dark park to take his seat next to her, stretching back and slinging an arm comfortably along the back of the bench, the heat of his arm a presence behind her. She stiffens beside him, pulling her face from her hands and looking at him from the corner of her eye, mouth opening and closing softly without saying anything.
He doesn’t say anything; just waits for her.
She sits back against his arm, scoots a little closer to him so that their thighs brush and he tries not to think about how not so long ago, she--Thera--would turn into his side, slide an arm over his waist and press her cheek to his shoulder.
“I forgot who you were,” she starts, voice hoarse and thick in the night air. He curls his hand around her shoulder, strokes his thumb over her arm. She shudders beneath his touch--something so simple eliciting such a strong reaction from her.
“Wanna talk about it?” he offers quietly, tone matching hers.
Her bottom lip wobbles and his heart aches for her, wants to wrap her up and keep her safe, keep her warm and protected where she never cries, never feels pain. The need to protect her--love her--like this isn’t new, but it’s growing stronger and stronger and their time as Jonah and Thera have left them both feeling exposed and vulnerable, the lid on their feelings blown.
Sam looks down at her hands, picks absentmindedly at a scab on her hand. He tuts at her softly and covers her hand with his, stopping her movements and squeezing softly. The touch seems to break her and it comes spilling out in a rush.
“I don’t know who I am, sometimes. I-I forget. Sometimes I’ll look up from my lab and wonder why the hell I’m not wearing orange and why I can’t find you nearby. I look at you and I see him, sir. I see Jonah, not you. And I want you--Jonah?--the way Thera--or, I--did. And I can’t touch you but I remember touching you and feeling feelings. And we,” she gestures wildly between their bodies, voice rising hysterically. “We can’t feel those things and it drives me crazy and I find myself wishing I was Thera, that we were back in that mine and--”
She lets out a little sob, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands. “I’m so confused,” she mumbles into her hands, voice muffled but Jack can hear the despair.
“Hey,” he says softly, hand falling to her back and rubbing in soft circles. “Look at me,” he commands. “Breathe, okay?”
She takes in a deep, shuddering breath and goes willingly when he tugs at her shoulder, pulling her into his side. She fits easily in his arms, lets him put his chin on top of her head and shakes when she feels his lips press gently to the top of her head.
“Sam,” he says, voice rumbling through his chest. “Jonah, Jack, Colonel, Sir, I don’t give a damn what you call me. Just make sure you keep pulling me away from stray bullets, okay?”
She laughs and pulls away, wiping at the stray tears that have formed at the corners of her eyes. It’s been too much of trying to keep this under wraps, trying to bottle up her feelings and stop herself from loving him.
His fingers brush across her cheeks, catch the tears she misses, and smiles softly at her. It’s a side of him she wishes she had the right to see more often--brown eyes soft and open, face relaxed, touch gentle.
“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she confesses, tilting he head into his hand, sighing softly at being touched by him once more. “I don’t know how to stop loving you.”
He sucks in a breath at the word love and he groans, eyes falling closed, savoring the word. Her hand slips into his by his side and squeezes. “I’m sorry,” she starts. “I don’t mean to make it harder on you. I don’t--”
“Stop,” he interrupts, eyes opening and locking with hers. “Never apologize for telling me that.”
She offers him a tentative smile before frowning. “So,” she starts. “What do we do?”
He sighs and uses the pads of his fingertips to stroke over the curve of her cheek. He wishes he could lean forward and kiss her, taste the salt from her tears on her lips and take her pain away. But they can’t. It’s dangerous enough they’re touching this much, saying this much.
He draws on every ounce of strength he has and withdraws his hand from her face and lets their joined hands be the only point of contact between them.
“We said we’d leave it in the room, Sam,” he says gently. She sucks in a breath, turning wide, pleading eyes on him. “We have a lot of good left to do in this war--a lot of good to do together. And when we’re done, we’ll rip the fucking door to that room off it’s hinges, if that’s what you want.”
“So, in the meantime we just...” She trails off helplessly, looking adrift and lost and so, so like Thera that his heart skips a beat in his chest and he can’t help himself, not when she’s looking at him like that.
He leans forward and brushes his lips against hers, gentle and soft, just a reassurance that what they feel is real, that their future is uncertain but that they are a certainty.
“In the meantime,” he mumbles against her lips, pulling away. “Don’t stop loving me.”
His heart races, feels momentarily foolish for vocalizing his request. And then Sam smiles at him, darts forward and steals another soft kiss. “Back at you, flyboy.”
When she settles against his side, hand still in his, his arm wrapped around his shoulders and their heads tilted back and taking in the twinkling stars of the sky. They breathe together, let Thera and Jonah settle deep beneath their skin. She remembers what it’s like for her, Sam, to love him, Jack.
They stay in the park, softly holding one another, a promise of someday letting them close the door temporarily on a room full of feelings.
When he pulls away with regret and tells her goodnight and that he’ll see her in the morning, she looks at him for a long time and then nods, flashing him a thousand-watt Samantha Carter smile.
“Yes, you will, Jack.”
He grins and nods at her.
They’re going to be okay.