Work Text:
Sam enters the living room, looking impeccable as usual. Hair tied up in a standard braid, dress shirt ironed, uniform immaculate and fitting, shoes polished; she represents a textbook example of the dutiful officer. Her schooled expression slips once her gaze falls upon him and his dress blues.
Jack gets up from the sofa and meets her halfway. “You’re ready?” he chokes on the question, his throat clogging up. Since the day he opened up his heart to her, he’d never be ready to see her depart.
Sam nods and blinks back tears.
He opens his arms and invites her in to have one last moment all to themselves before her driver picks her up. Her arms loop around his neck. Her fingers toy with the short hair at his collar whereas he anchors himself at her hips. He draws out the moment and commits her face to memory, her expressive blue eyes, the elegant curve of her nose, the rosy complexion of her skin. Not that he needs to; her razor-sharp image appears whenever he closes his eyes.
He hovers over her lips. The infinitesimal distance of a breath separates them. Soon it’ll be the vastness of a galaxy.
They both agreed that her appointment as commanding officer of Atlantis is a necessary step if she wants to rise through the ranks - from full bird colonel to brigadier general - in the foreseeable future. Two years of shared command on SG-1 do not look good on paper. The bureaucrats from the IOA have been all over her, questioning her leadership skills and political ambitions. They are blinded by their own ignorance and bickering to see the gem that makes up Samantha Carter. Without her, none of them would even be alive. Either a black hole would have swallowed them, or an asteroid would have eradicated all life on the planet ages ago. Or worse, snakes would house in their heads.
An invisible shiver runs down Jack’s spine.
Against his initial intention, he pulled his weight to convince the committee members to approve her, not because he’s emotionally compromised, but because she’s the most qualified individual to walk the fine line between military and scientific mandate.
And if she picked up the one or other artifice of diplomacy from him, she’ll manage the task looming ahead of her just fine.
Still, saying goodbye drains him a lot more than he expected. He knows that the assignment won’t last forever, two or three years tops, with the occasional visit in between. Given his position and influence, he could schedule an intermediate inspection or conduct an audit. However, in their line of duty the worst can happen in the blink of an eye. They faced the prospect of an untimely death way too many times. At one point, their luck may run out.
From the beginning, they promised themselves that their feelings and personal relationship would never interfere with their duties, and the oath they swore, to protect the people and the country. In their case, it expanded to encompass the entire planet. They are Earth’s first line of defense.
He’s proud of her and her accomplishments.
Despite knowing all the reasons she’ll thrive in her new position, nagging thoughts rear their ugly head and torture him.
What if he never feels her luscious lips again?
What if he never hears her whispering his name again?
What if he never holds her in a sweet embrace again?
What if he never looses himself in her warm depth again?
What if this is the final farewell?
Against his will, a lone tear runs down his cheek.
Her gentle thumb wipes it away. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me,” Sam states with a wistful smile.
“I’m gonna miss you the moment you step over the threshold at the front door,” Jack confesses in a trembling voice.
Her fingers cradle his face. She bridges the yawning gap and numbs his mind. They drink from each other like two wanderers lost in the desert. He pours all the feelings he can’t express and all the worries he won’t admit into this messy declaration of love. His hands cling to her frame and crease her uniform. She answers him in equal measures and digs her fingernails into his flesh. The welcoming bruises will help him get over the spatial separation. At least for a while.
After a minute or two, their frantic movements slow down and become tender, almost reverent. They relish in the intimacy and closeness. Reluctantly, their unmoving lips disengage while their foreheads rest against each other. “Wait for me,” she whispers on an exhale.
“Always.” Even if it’s the last thing his heart will ever do.