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Things Owed–The Tok'ra 1 & 2
I tried SO hard to get this done by Christmas. Oh well. Better late than never? It's also obscenely long. But hey–it's covering two episodes, so I'm going with that as my excuse. Eventually, I'll probably go in and reorder these chapters so that this fits in before "Window of Opportunity", but that day is not today. Ha.
Merry Christmas, and I PROMISE that the next thing I post will be the concluding chapters to "Paradise Reborn". I'm a few paragraphs shy of being done. If anyone wants to beta those for me, hit me up. I could use a second set of eyes to go over it all. LOL. (No, but seriously. . . )
Anyway. . . Here's a Christmas chapter of "Things Owed". Enjoy.
He’d checked her workshop first.
The last few times he’d been here, that’s where he’d found her–elbow deep in grease, surrounded by bike parts, and looking happier than she had in months.
But then her Dad had shown up in the Springs, and she’d lost that smile. Between doctors’ appointments, hospital visits, and her work with the SGC, Carter had been too busy to work on the Indian.
Then, a few months ago, Jacob had followed her through the ‘Gate and moved on. New symbiote, new life, so to speak. For whatever reason, it appeared that the younger Carter hadn’t picked up where she’d left off with the vintage bike yet. The little detached garage was locked up tighter than Cheyenne Mountain.
Jack tucked the large manila envelope he’d brought under his arm, and then rounded the walk to the front porch of the little gray house. Taking the steps two at a time, he took off his sunglasses before reaching up and knocking on the door. He waited, and then knocked again.
Silence.
Leaning forward, he tried to see through the glass at the top of the door, but Carter’s frou-frou curtains were in the way. He knocked again, leaned in close and raised his voice. “Carter?”
Finally-–he heard footsteps. And the door inched open.
She hadn’t been expecting him. That much was certain by the way she squinted a little once she recognized him. “Sir?”
“Is everything okay here?”
The squint deepened. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“It just took you a while to answer.”
“I was busy, sir.” She opened the door wider, shivering a little as the December air hit her.
She wasn’t dressed for the outdoors—from what O’Neill could see, she wore only a nubby sweater that nearly draped off one shoulder and a pair of pants that looked more like tights. A quick glance downward told him that she was barefoot. She had snowflakes painted on her toes. He tried not to dwell on that little tidbit. “I knocked a few times, and when I didn’t get an answer–”
She smiled when he trailed off. “You thought the worst.”
“One of the many hazards of what we do.”
“Right.” She shifted her weight and stepped back and to the side, tilting her head to peer at him in invitation. “Did you want to come in? It’s kind of cold out there.”
With a nod, he stepped across the threshold and into the tiny entryway–far enough that she could move freely behind him, closing the door and locking the deadbolt. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brighter lights in the house. Once they did, however, Jack was struck by the boxes. Stacks of them. Mostly cardboard, but some large plastic totes, as well. All labeled in Sam’s precise, engineer-y block lettering. They made neat rows in the formal dining room, while the living room on the other side of the entryway was filled with opened ones, most of which had stuff spilling out.
“So–uh–Carter? You planning on moving?”
She’d padded towards him, stopping a few feet away. Casting a resigned sort of look around her house, she sighed. “No. This is all my dad’s stuff.”
“Why is it here?”
“Well, sir.” Shrugging, she raked a hand through her already-tousled hair. “Now that Dad is off being a Tok’ra, he doesn’t need his condo in Virginia anymore.”
“That’s where you went after we got back from Hill.” Jack nodded, remembering. “After we took the Touchstone device back to that planet, you disappeared for a week or so.”
“I arranged the sale of the condominium, donated the majority of the furniture, and then packed up the rest of his things.” Sam turned, glaring at the accumulated clutter in her normally neat home. “I can’t just get rid of it. He’s not dead. But neither is he likely to be on Earth very much in the near future. There’s no point in him having a residence, or his apartment here in the Springs, or a car, or–”
He followed her as she stepped into the formal living room, flicking at a box lid as he passed it. “Or all this stuff.”
“Exactly.”
“And he’s not here to deal with it on his own.”
“He left me holding the proverbial bag.”
Speaking of which–Jack hefted the envelope he’d brought, extending it into the space between them. “My guess is that this has something to do with your dad, too. The people in the legal department asked me to bring this by on my way home.”
“You don’t live anywhere near me.”
True. She could take that however she wanted. O’Neill allowed a smile to crease one cheek. “It really wasn’t any bother.”
Carter reached out and grasped the heavy package, holding his gaze as she fiddled with the brass brad that held the flap closed. “I could have gone to pick it up.”
“But that would have deprived me of the joy of seeing your snowflakes.”
Glancing briefly towards the picture window, she frowned. “It’s not snowing at the moment, sir.”
Jack smiled, pointing downward at her bare feet. “Your toes.”
She followed his gesture with her gaze, wriggling said toes in response. The tips of her ears turned a darker shade of pink. When she looked back up at the Colonel, her teeth flashed in a quick, broad grin. “I can’t help it. I like having pretty toes.”
Jack liked it, too. But since he wasn’t supposed to be cognizant of either her toes or how pretty they were, he bit his lips rather than continue on that line of conversation. Moving on. “So, the paperwork needs to be signed and then returned so that they can file it. That’s what the Head Legal Eagle in Charge told me.”
“Major Okonkwo?” Sam reached into the packet and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. They’d been collated into some complex order, each section secured with binder clips. Flipping through the various sections, she skimmed specific pages before moving on to the next section.
While she was occupied with the paperwork, Jack shifted his balance to peer into the box on top of the stack next to him. Clothes—obviously the General’s—and some picture albums with dates engraved on them. And on top, a round tin—the kind that his Aunt Doris’ favorite cookies came in—with its lid askew.
He couldn’t help it—he’d never been able to resist playing with shiny things. With two fingers, he reached in and snagged the topmost item in the tin. A chain of sorts—a bracelet. Attached to its links were half a dozen tiny figurines. Beneath it rested a few photographs—a little blond girl sitting on the lap of a woman, another of the two of them in front of a Christmas tree. If he scooched that one over, there was one of the four of them—a dark-haired Jacob with the pretty lady and little girl, and a little boy who must be Mark.
Happy. They all looked happy. And suddenly, it felt like an incursion of some sort, for him to be seeing this. Too private, too intimate. He hadn‘t been invited into that part of her life. Just as he hadn’t opened up his own proverbial cookie tins to her. Quietly, he laid the bracelet back into the round can and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Apparently satisfied, Carter shoved the papers back into the folder. “Major Okonkwo has been incredibly helpful. In fact, he was the one who suggested that I get my dad’s Power of Attorney before he ‘Gated off with the Tok’ra. That’s saved me so much trouble.”
“I wouldn’t even have thought about that.”
“Me either.” Sam dropped the package on top of a box and folded her arms in front of her. “Who knew that having your dad go off and become half-alien would cause so many legal issues? Like I said, he’s not dead. But he’s also not here to make decisions. He’s not here to deal with the life he left behind. Yes, he’s helping secure the universe, but he still hasn’t paid three parking tickets and his water bill. And we won’t even start to talk about his 401K and investment portfolio. Bank accounts, credit cards.”
“Car registration, canceling the utilities, picking up the dry cleaning.”
“Filing his taxes.”
“Yikes.” Jack pivoted slowly, scanning the various and sundry items and boxes in the small room. “Did he tell you what he wanted done with all this stuff?”
“That’s the thing. Usually, the man can’t go three minutes without giving me an order. But once he got cozy with Selmak, he couldn’t seem to get off the planet fast enough, and he left me with no clue as to his wishes. He signed the POA and ‘Gated off into the sunset.”
“And you can’t ask Mark for help.”
“Because Mark has no idea that our father is currently jetting around the galaxy with an alien stowaway.” She sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if seeking answers from on high. “And I have no idea what to tell him.”
That really sucked. Jack watched as she tapped at the side of one of the boxes with a bare foot. She didn’t seem upset as much as just lost. For the first time since he’d known her, it was obvious that she didn’t have a plan. “Give me a box. I’ll help you sort stuff out.”
She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes, a hopeful sort of expression that he’d never seen before. “You really don’t have to do that, sir.”
“Give me something to do, Carter.” He threw his hands wide, as if showing her the clutter for the first time. “This is as much my fault as it is yours.”
“It’s not your fault, sir.” She shook her head. “Taking my dad to the Tok’ra was my idea. This is all on me.”
“But you shouldn’t have to deal with this all on your own.”
“It’s really not your problem, sir.”
“No, but I had a hand in giving you said problem.”
For several long, full beats, she just looked at him. Then, she arched a single blond brow and worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before exhaling softly. “Do you really want to help me out?”
“Of course.” He wasn’t surprised at how deeply he felt that statement. Nor was he shocked to hear himself say, “Anything. Anytime.”
“Okay.” Nimbly, she stepped over a box and moved past O’Neill, angling towards her hallway. “Stay here. I’ll get changed.”
—----OOOOOOO—----
“The mall.”
“Yeah.” Carter stopped next to him just inside the entrance, pulling her gloves off. It hadn’t taken her long to get ready—she’d only exchanged the exercise pants for jeans and put on some boots and a cream-colored woolen coat he’d never seen before. After grabbing the leather backpack that served as her purse, she’d ushered them both out the door and towards his truck. “One thing that my dad did ask me to do is send presents for Mark’s kids for Christmas.”
“From him. Your dad.”
Nodding, she perused the lit kiosk next to them that displayed the mall map and list of stores as she tucked her gloves into the pocket of her coat. “I’ve already sent both of them gifts from me. So, I just need to get them presents from Grandpa.”
“What did you send them?”
She was searching the list in front of her, but she cocked her head to one side with an astute smile. “I was smart about it. When they were both first born, I got them this cool big wooden box. Inside the box, I put an ornament with their name and the date etched on it. Every year, I give them a new ornament.”
“So—you basically give them Christmas for Christmas?”
“That way, when they graduate from high school and go to college or whatever, they can leave home with a good selection of ornaments to use to start their own collections.” Her grin was brilliant. “And they have a box to put them all in, so that the ornaments don’t get damaged.”
Genius. She was an absolute freaking genius. Jack shook his head a little in wonder. “I knew you were smart, but that takes things to a whole new level, Captain.”
“I wish I could claim credit for the idea.” She stepped back from the map, stopping next to him. “My roommate at the Academy told me about it. It was their family tradition. It sounded like a good way to be able to plan ahead.”
“Especially since you’ve been stationed all over the world.”
“And beyond the world.” Her smile was secretive. Meant to stay just between them. Intimate, yet fleet—it disappeared nearly as quickly as it had appeared. “Anyway. I don’t have any idea what my dad has given them over the years, and I don’t want to make it obvious that I’m doing the shopping now, so—”
O’Neill picked up where she’d left off. “So, you need to get them something that seems like it’s from Jacob.”
“Exactly.”
A somewhat unsettling thought occurred to him. “And you brought me along because I remind you of your father?”
“Oh, geez, no.” She couldn’t have looked more appalled at that notion. “You don’t remind me of my father, sir.”
Well, that was a relief. Jack started walking, unsurprised when she fell into step beside him. They were on a mission, after all. And even if they were in a veritable Temple of Consumerism rather than an alien forest or off-world fortress, he was accustomed to having her at his side. It felt right to have her there. She belonged there. “So, toys?”
“Something fun, yes.” Carter considered. “But I don’t know what they already have. I don’t want to give them something that they’d just return. Besides, Mark is really picky about what they play with.”
“How so?”
They’d entered the mall on the ground level near one of the large anchor stores. The mall was typical to its genre, a giant two-story hall with large anchor stores at strategic bends and at the ends, and smaller boutiques and kiosks in between. The entire place was festooned with seasonal decorations—common enough in places like this. Christmas trees, huge wreaths and the ubiquitous draped garland had transformed the place into a gaudy wonderland. A platform in the largest of the open common areas held all the trappings of Santa’s workshop, including an oversized throne-like chair upon which was seated the Jolly Old Elf himself.
It was difficult to not feel a little twinge of something akin to the Christmas Spirit.
A novel thing, since Jack hadn’t felt anything like that in years. Ever since—well—ever since he’d given up celebrations in general. Glancing towards Sam, however, he felt his resolve waver just a tidge. Her expression was something unbridled and bright. It was exactly the same look that she’d worn the first time she’d seen the ‘Gate’s event horizon. Pure, unfiltered joy.
Sam Carter was a Christmas Person. Huh. Interesting.
She’d found her first objective, and had taken off towards it, talking loudly over her shoulder until he caught up with her. “Mark and my sister-in-law prefer that their kids play with toys that foster intellectual and cognitive development. Nothing that promotes violence.”
Dodging around a pillar, Jack regained his position at the Captain’s side. “Well, that’s boring.”
With a little snort, she veered into him, nudging him with her shoulder. “Hence the reason I thought you’d come in handy.”
“And that would be—”
“Well, sir. You’re kind of the polar opposite of my dad.” She waited to finish her thought until they’d passed through a large group of teenagers. “You have the unique ability to harness your inner youth.”
He snorted. Just a little. “Are you calling me childish?”
“Of course not, sir. I would never say that.”
“You wouldn’t, huh?”
Both of her dimples appeared, then, and her smile was as lucent as the decorations around them. “At least not out loud .”
Smart ass. But Jack couldn’t help but grin back.
The mall wasn’t as crowded as it would be on the weekend, but they still had to duck and dodge around various and sundry specimens of humanity on their way to their first stop. Carter got there first, and waited at the entrance for O’Neill to catch up after having been waylaid by a lady with a stroller. A large placard outside the shop read, “Learn to Play! Play to Learn!”
“Educational toys?”
“I thought I might find something here.”
“Chemistry set. Microscope. Battery out of a potato. Something like that?”
“Yeah.” She nodded towards a display of plastic beakers and scales in the window. “That’s what I liked when I was a kid.”
“But you weren’t a normal kid, were you?”
“Not in the technical sense.” She didn’t even take offense at that. Her expression turned rueful, and just a little self-effacing. “You’re probably right. Mark’s kids aren’t like I was.”
“Let your brother be the one to give them the didactic stuff.” Jack waved at the shop—a little dismissively. “Let the good stuff come from you—or in this case, from your Dad.”
”Okay.” It kind of sounded like she was taking her life in her hands, but that she was prepared to be brave about it. “I’m trusting you here.”
“As you should.” He folded his arms, considering. “How old are these kids?”
“Um—Lucas is six, and Macy is almost four.”
“So, they’re young.”
“They’re kids. By definition, kids are young.”
“They could be goats.”
“But if they were goats, I wouldn’t be buying them Christmas gifts.” She leaned towards him, speaking more slowly—enunciating each word as if explaining things to someone dim-witted. “And besides, they’d still be young goats.”
“Smart ass.” This time, he hadn’t been able to keep it to himself. But the look she gave him told him she didn’t mind. Jack took a quick scan of the mall, considering. “Lucas is a boy, right?”
“Of course he’s a boy. That’s a boy’s name.”
“You never know these days.” Shrugging, Jack turned, then settled his hands on the Captain’s shoulders and turned her bodily, aiming her across the common area in the direction of a different shop. Pushing her gently, he set them off in the right direction. “Regardless, what he wants is over here.”
The LEGO store was packed, but Jack managed to bore his way through to the section where the beginners’ sets were, the Captain following closely behind him. Stopping at the display, he held out his hands as if he were a game show host. “Legos. The best toy of all time.”
“But what if he already has them?”
“The genius of Legos is that you always need more Legos. No matter how many of the same set you have, you can always use another one.”
She was furrowing her brows again. “Why?”
Jack reached out and snagged two boxes off the shelf. “See? You build a kit, and then take it apart and combine it with other kits to make new things. It’s a perfect system.”
“And not educational.” She’d said it as if that were a perk.
“Not true.” Nodding sagely, the Colonel paused for effect. “Building with Lego bricks fosters an imagination, as well as encouraging spatial awareness and engineering skills.”
Skeptical, but interested. She bobbed her head slightly from side to side.
“And,” Jack continued, “Learning how to read the instruction manuals develops attention to detail as well as problem solving abilities.”
“Okay.” Wavering. Teetering right on that edge.
He almost had her. Leaning closer to her, he tilted his head to fake-whisper in her ear. “They’re fun, Carter. Let the kid have some fun.”
“Okay. I bow to your superior knowledge.” Stepping closer to the displays, she reached out and nabbed two boxes. “So—I think that Lucas would like the car. And this little airplane.”
“Get him the dinosaur, too.” When she peered at him, Jack shrugged. “Every kid needs a dinosaur.”
“Dinosaur. Got it.” Fumbling a little with the boxes in her hands, she turned towards Jack and handed them to him. “Do you mind? It’s getting warm in here.”
He balanced the kits in one hand, watching as she laid her backpack at her feet and then shrugged the coat off. Automatically, he held out his other hand, and she draped the warm wool over his forearm before snagging her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. Gathering up her boxes, she surveyed the various dinosaur kits, selected one, and then caught his eye as she nodded in the direction of the registers.
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“I’ll wait at the entrance.”
Making his way back through the crowd, Jack found an empty spot just outside the store. Leaning up against a handy pillar, he settled in to wait.
And watch.
And feel a little guilty about that—but not guilty enough to stop. She just always seemed to end up within his frame of vision. Wherever she was, he found her, whether they be off-world or in the briefing room, the mess, or a toy store in a mall. She was a porch light, and he was the proverbial moth.
He was drawn to her.
Even now, through the window of the shop, past the displays and the packed crowd, he unerringly found her. Tall, blonde. Beautiful. Although—when he allowed himself to think about it, that wasn’t the first thing that he noticed anymore. There was something indefinable about her. Something that made him feel—what? Hopeful? Determined? Alive? Something that made him feel— different .
Hell—there was something about her that made him feel . When he’d spent the past many years in soul-sucking numbness.
So, if he took this moment to just let himself look —now, when nobody who mattered was anywhere around—who the hell was going to care?
“Newlywed?”
He didn’t realize he’d been smiling until he’d been forced from his own thoughts..
The voice had come from his right. O’Neill scanned over until he’d found the source. Receding dark hair, a round face, and a pair of wickedly observant eyes as dark as his own looked back at him. The rotund man stood a few feet away, standing guard over the impressive collection of bags and packages at his feet.
“Excuse me?”
“Husband duty. Holding the coat that’s clearly not yours.” The man shot him a wry grin. “You don’t look bored, so it must be new to you. And you’re looking at her with a smile, so it must be happy as well as new. Therefore, you must be a newlywed.”
“Mmm.” Jack grunted. Noncommittal. Unconfirming.
“Here’s the ugly truth, friend.” The man leaned towards him, as if sharing some sort of great conspiracy. “What they don’t tell you is that after the glow wears off, you’re essentially a pack mule with bedroom privileges.”
A pack mule? With—
Jack’s scowl deepened, willfully refusing to acknowledge the other half of the other man’s theory.
“So?” Leaning closer, the man indicated the throng inside the shop with a jerk of his chin. “Which one’s your wife?”
“I’m not married.” O’Neill hoped he could leave it at that.
Those keen eyes narrowed. “There’s a story there.”
“Not really.” Feigning a casualness he wasn’t feeling, Jack shrugged. “I’m just here with a friend.”
“A friend.” It was a question disguised as a comment. A deep wrinkle formed above the Nosy Guy’s nose.
He glanced into the store and his gaze immediately found Carter again. It wasn’t like he was trying to zone in on her—it simply happened. She was just too bright. Too distinct. Too damned what— Intriguing? Engrossing? Stimulating?
And that was really the problem, wasn’t it? He wasn’t allowed to be intrigued, or engrossed—and he’d end up in Leavenworth if he got anywhere close to ‘stimulated’. So, he’d just stick with thinking about her within that whole damned porch light analogy.
And damn his own moth-like tendencies. Someone should swat him and put him out of his misery.
O’Neill glared down at the coat on his arm and sighed. As if to convince himself, he said it again. “She’s just a friend.”
As if Samantha Carter were “just” anything.
“You know what they say, don’t you?” Nosy Guy’s shoes squeaked on the shiny tiled floor, punctuating the curiosity that flittered across his face. “About men and women.”
Jack glared at his new friend out of the corner of his eye. “Nope.”
“Men and women can’t be friends.”
Pushing away from his wall, Jack turned a quarter turn towards the other man. “Why the hell not?”
“Because of the sex part.”
“The what part?”
“Sir?”
Somehow, he’d missed her exiting the store.
Carter stopped at O’Neill’s side, close enough that her large yellow shopping bag was pressed between his thigh and hers. She’d left the register without stowing her wallet in the backpack, and between that and the bag, her hands were full.
“Here.” With a curt shake of his head, Jack angled himself towards her, holding his hand out for the bag.
It was automatic—as if they’d choreographed their motions. He took the shopping bag in his free hand while she dealt with the purse and the wallet, then she took the coat back and folded it over her own arm. Wordless, seamless—as if it were a GDO or newly-filled P-90 magazines they were handling rather than the mundane accouterments of Christmas shopping at a mundane American mall.
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her voice low. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No.” Except that he was still holding the shopping bag. Her shopping bag. And he couldn’t help but glance over to where the other man was still standing—-watching them with a too-knowing smile creasing his cheek. “Nothing at all.”
A pack mule. With bedroom privileges.
Oh, if only.
Leavenworth, Jack. Remember Leavenworth.
She didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”
“Nope. Just talking.” Shaking his head, Jack forced a semblance of a smile. “Let’s move on.”
And, somehow, it felt natural to fit his hand to the small of her back and apply the scarcest hint of pressure. Completely normal for him to usher her through the melange of people waiting in line for Santa and towards the opposite side of the mall. Her sweater was soft beneath his palm, warmed by her body. She walked easily next to him—familiarly. Exactly the same way as they’d walked through hundreds of miles of alien forests and deserts over the past few years.
And yet, so very, very differently.
With his hand at her waist, she allowed the customary distance between them to winnow down to mere inches. With each step, her hip, or thigh, or hand brushed against him. O’Neill couldn’t decide whether it was a testament to their friendship or something far more dangerous that neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to correct that. Because they should fix it. Even when nothing felt broken. Especially when it felt so perfectly right to be standing so close to her that he could smell her shampoo, that he could feel the warmth of her body against his, that he could hear the change in her breathing when she’d relaxed into their stride.
“That guy seemed to get under your skin.” Her voice dragged him back to the here and now.
“He was a shrub.”
“What was he saying?”
“Nothing.” But Jack knew that wouldn’t suffice by the way her brows lifted. She’d been taking lessons from Daniel. Sighing, he expounded. “He thought we were married. When I told him we were just friends, he said that men and women couldn’t be friends.”
“Ah.” She cast him a sideways smile. “Like the movie. ‘When Harry Met Sally’.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“You weren’t really the target audience.” Nudge. She was getting good at that. Part playful, part wry. “Meg Ryan, Billy Crystal. They start out not liking each other, but keep running into each other in random circumstances and eventually become friends.”
“Sounds like a chick flick.”
“Kinda. But it’s funny. The guy I was dating when it came out liked it as much as I did.”
Moving on.
They’d arrived at the base of the mall’s gigantic escalator, pausing just outside the course of traffic. As was her habit during missions, she turned her body in towards him for a confab.
“So, the niece. Macy, right?” Jack scanned the shop signs he could see on the upper level. “She’s younger.”
“Yes. She’s three.”
“Did you have any ideas?”
“Susan—that’s Mark’s wife—says that Macy loves anything that’s ‘sparkly and dressy-uppy’.”
“Dressy-uppy? Is that even a thing?”
“It’s a girl thing.” Sam lifted her shoulder in a dismissive half-shrug. “I understood what she meant.”
“I thought that you weren’t the typical girl.”
“Maybe not.” She flashed another one of those intimate grins, her blue eyes capturing his gaze. “But I still speak their language.”
O’Neill couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, then ‘sparkly and dressy-uppy’ it is. Whatever the hell that means.”
Her eyes flew wide, “Oh, crap.”
“There’s sparkly crap?”
Carter groaned, shaking her head just the tiniest bit. “My dad wouldn’t know what it means.”
He followed her line of thinking to the only possible conclusion. “And these gifts are supposed to be from him.”
“Exactly.”
“What have you told Mark?”
“About my dad?”
Nodding, he watched as she fidgeted with the coat on her arm, smoothing down the nap, picking fuzz off the fine wool. As much as she complained about his own antsy fiddling, she did a good amount of it herself. “You’ve got to have said something.”
“I did.” She crinkled her nose. “I lied. I told him that the treatment that they’ve used is working, but that Dad’s immunocompromised, and can’t have visitors. I figured that would take the pressure off of Mark to visit—even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t.”
O’Neill let out a low whistle. “Wow.”
Sighing, Carter raked her hand through her hair. “This is really so much more complicated than I thought it would be.”
“You saved his life, Captain.” He leaned towards her, sharing her space. “That’s not a small thing. Besides–the fact that you told Mark that your dad’s still undergoing treatment makes things easier. It’s not like he’s able to go shopping in his frail condition, so naturally, he’d send you. Therefore, you can go ahead and stick with your original plan for the dress-up stuff.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
“All right then.” Carter pivoted slowly, scoping out her options. After a moment, she pointed up in the direction of the second level. “Maybe there’s something upstairs.”
“Lead on, Captain.” Shifting the bag in his hand, he stepped closer to her, towards the escalator. “The mission is under your command.”
The escalator spit them out at the entrance to the food court. As if by some unspoken agreement, they turned to the right—away from the restaurants and past the entrance of one of the large anchor department stores. Jack let Carter set the pace, and she didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry.
To be honest, he didn’t mind. He hadn’t had anything better to do this afternoon, anyway. And really—spending the day just hanging around with her was somehow— good . Besides—it was fascinating watching her outside the confines of their work. She was softer without the P-90 strapped to her tac-vest, less confident about toddler dancing shoes than she was about placing charges and laying out detcord, and surprisingly picky about elastic waistbands versus dresses with zippers.
Once they’d found the right store, she’d wandered for what seemed like hours checking out every conceivable bit of fluff for her niece. And she’d consulted him about everything she looked at–asking for his opinion on the various dresses, themes, and accessories. To Jack, however, the most unbelievable thing was that she actually listened to him, gauging her choices based on his responses. As if his opinions–as completely uneducated as they were regarding the topic at hand–actually mattered.
In the end, she picked out a dress and some shoes, along with a set of sparkly plastic jewels completed by a tiara. Sparkly and dressy-uppy? Check.
And Carter? She’d relaxed. Her body–normally thrumming with a focused kind of frantic energy–had quieted until she looked an awful lot like she was enjoying herself. And then there was the complete breakdown in barriers. That friend thing? Yeah. Well. While they hadn’t moved beyond that, they were definitely tickling the edges. He’d been reminded more than once of that moment in the park, when he’d taken her for the failed hockey lesson after Daniel had risen from the dead. When they’d lain together in the sweet, fresh grass and simply been .
He was a verbose guy–but there weren’t words for what he was feeling. He only counted himself lucky that his inner pack mule had kicked in and he’d thought to grab the mottled purple and pink shopping bag when the clerk had handed it across the counter. That way, both of his hands were occupied and he couldn’t continue to touch her at random moments.
“I think she’ll like them.”
They’d stopped for a cup of coffee at a kiosk at the food court. With the crowds, they hadn’t been able to find a table or even a bench to sit on. So, they’d ended up standing at the balcony railing watching the maelstrom of humanity below.
Jack had been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he’d nearly missed it when she’d spoken.
“Don’t you?” Carter took a sip from her cup, glancing in his direction before returning her attention to the people below. “The dress and stuff.”
“I think she will.” Jack swished his cup around a little, just for something to do. “You chose well.”
Her answer seemed to come from further away than right next to him, though. “Hmm.”
What was it that his mother used to say? A penny for your thoughts. But Jack didn’t like cliches, so he just went with, “Whatcha thinking?”
When she didn’t answer, he followed her gaze towards the people below. In twos, or threes, or dozens–milling around like fish on a reef. The archetypal ebb and flow of humanity in a dance of life. It was so normal . Everyday. Regular. And yet—foreign.
He’d never really thought about it before—the stark difference between his and Carter’s realities and that of the other shoppers in the mall. Hundreds of people around them, just going about their days—walking, talking, eating, shopping, arguing, falling in or out of love. A kid cried on Santa’s lap, teenagers laughed as they stood in line at a pretzel place, two toddlers twirled in lazy circles as their moms chatted over their coffee—none of them with any clue that this life, with all of its foibles and difficulties, was pretty damned charmed.
None of them could even imagine what lay deep inside a mountain just over an hour away.
Or what the two seemingly normal people standing amongst them had seen. What they knew. What they’d done.
O’Neill didn’t know why, but he was as certain that he knew the direction of her thoughts as he was of his own name. “None of them have a clue.”
She leaned in to him, pressing her shoulder and arm against him. Only the knowledge that they were skating that ice-thin edge kept him from brushing his cheek against the gold of her hair. He wanted to–lord help him–but he was profoundly cognizant of the fact that it wouldn’t have been wise. They’d blown apart too many barriers lately. And today–well. Today had been the kind of blessed break from reality that he hadn’t even realized he’d been needing until it was happening.
But so very, very dangerous. Much more so than that detcord and the C4.
“I think about it sometimes. At odd moments.” She spoke just for him, her eyes still focused on the scene below. “I’ll be pumping gas or buying sour cream, and all of a sudden it’ll hit me just how weird it all is. What we do, compared with this kind of real life.”
“Yeah.” The Colonel nodded. “Me too.”
“But it’s why we do it, right?” She’d angled her face towards his without looking at him–her cheek a mere breath away from his. “For all of these people, and for Macy, and Lucas, and Mark. We go through the ‘Gate and do what we do, and these people get to keep living the lives that they’re living.”
It was Jack’s turn for a non-answer. “Hmmm.”
And of course, she interpreted it correctly. “I’m sure that you’ve felt this way for a long time. Since Iraq, and the experiences you had before we met.”
“Nobody really understands it, do they?” His voice scarce, and private. “And I’m glad that they don’t. Let them just be regular people. We can handle the hard stuff.”
“We can.” She smiled. A little, sad thing. Straightening, she turned, leaning back against the railing, her thigh pressed against his. She met his gaze as she raised her cup for a sip. “But every once in a while, it’s nice to pretend to be one of them.”
At that exact moment, Jack looked over her head and saw Nosy Guy staring back at him across the way. He’d acquired a few more packages, and was stopped next to a woman who had to be The Wife. She was literally checking items off on a list, chattering animatedly in her husband’s direction. Nosy Guy lifted his heavily laden hands and showed off the packages, then wriggled his eyebrows suggestively in the direction of his wife, who thwacked him–playfully–with her list before heading off into another store.
Nosy Guy followed obediently.
Pack mule with bedroom privileges, indeed.
Returning his attention to his companion, Jack nodded. “It is.”
For what felt like forever, she merely looked at him, studying his face–his mouth, the stubble on his cheek, the way his hair splayed in six different directions. He’d never felt so exposed in his life—nor so willing to be so.
“Are you ready?”
For what? He could name a thousand things that he was ready to do right now–-all of which would get him court martialed. He swirled his cup around again, though, just to look as if he hadn’t been thinking– things . Clearing his throat, he asked, “For what?”
Oh–that smile. He’d venture across enemy-laden galaxies to have that smile all to himself.
“To go home.” She picked a piece of lint off his jacket sleeve. “I’ve taken up far too much of your time.”
“No worries, Captain. It’s the least I could do.” He finished off the rest of his coffee, then tossed the empty cup into a nearby garbage can. Retrieving the bags, he waited until she’d slung her backpack over one shoulder before aiming them back towards the escalator.
Down the escalator and back through the crowds towards the entrance, they traveled side by side in easy silence. Past the Lego store, then across back towards the large lighted mall map near where they’d first entered. Jack dodged to one side to allow someone in a motorized scooter to pass, and when he looked up again, she was gone.
Well–not gone, just–elsewhere. He found her almost immediately by the shine of her tousled blond hair.
Stepping around a pillar and a pair of giant decorative ornaments, he strode towards where she stood at a display window. The display was draped in dark velvet, illuminated with well-placed spotlights. Jewelry glittered everywhere. Only, not just jewelry, but tiny bits of art. Silver–some with gemstones, some with enamel decorations, some more simply made. Charms, like the six or so he’d seen on that bracelet in the cookie tin.
“Pretty.”
“My mom had a bracelet like this. It was totally filled with the coolest charms. My favorite one was a tiny carousel that actually spun around. There were two horses on it and a dolphin. I would sit on her lap for hours and just spin that carousel around and around and around.”
Jack simply stood there next to her, waiting.
“Eventually, I broke it. She wasn’t mad–she just decided that I needed to have one of my own to play with.” Sam threw him a sideways look, a little shy, a little wistful. “So, when I was around seven, she bought me a bracelet for Christmas. Every year, she got me a new charm. Not just anything, though, it was something meaningful. A star, since I wanted to be an astronaut. One year, I was obsessed with making paper snowflakes, so the charm was a tiny pair of articulated scissors. She gave me a telescope the year that I spent the summer in an astronomy class.”
“I saw it, I think.” He paused, nodding a bit. “At your house. While you were looking at the paperwork.”
“It was in the box with the pictures.” She went back to looking at the display. “It kind of hurt to find it. It was like being reminded all over again that she was gone. Which is ridiculous, since she’s been gone for ages.”
“You just nearly lost your dad, Carter. And then he actually left. That’s got to dredge up some memories.”
“Yeah.” But she didn’t sound convinced. “The year that she died, we went through the motions at Christmas. Dad tried, I guess, but he’d never been like she was. We got gifts. Stuff we needed. Mark got a new baseball glove and bat, and I got a bike.”
“Did you want a bike?”
“I already had one. What I wanted was–” She trailed off, pressing her lips together until they’d gone pale.
You wanted a charm. You wanted to be noticed. You wanted to be seen.
He hadn’t actually spoken, but the truth still floated between them. Communication without any effort. Finally, she turned away from the window and shrugged the purse off her shoulder. Deftly, she pulled her coat on and buttoned it, reaching into her pockets and retrieving her gloves. Tugging them on, she replaced the purse on her shoulder and indicated the exit with a nod. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
And just like that, the lid went back on the cookie tin.
—----OOOOOOO—----
They’d planned on gathering at her house for Christmas dinner, but everyone had arrived before lunch. SG-1 had spent the day watching movies and playing board games as a light, steady snow had fallen outside. They hadn’t planned on exchanging gifts, but everyone had brought presents, anyway. Silly socks and a cowboy hat from Sam for Teal’c, a case of Kleenex for Daniel from the Colonel. Daniel had given them all Nerf guns, which had devolved the festivities into a brief, but entertaining, all-out war.
O’Neill had even corralled the others into helping clear out a dozen or so of the boxes still in Sam’s formal dining room. They’d carried the stuff slated for donation out to the Colonel’s Super Duty right before dinner had been ready, stowing the rest neatly into the closet in the spare bedroom.
Daniel had volunteered to take Teal'c back to the Mountain. Once they'd left, Jack grabbed the last box of donations and headed out to fit it in with the rest of the stuff in the bed of his truck. He tied it down securely, then slammed the tailgate shut before rounding the back bumper and crunching through the snow towards the driver's door.
He'd palmed his keys before he saw her, standing halfway down her walk, watching him. Her eyes were huge, and a private smile curved on her lips.
"I thought we weren't doing gifts."
She'd found it.
Jack bit his lips together with a little grimace. Earlier, while she'd been occupied with part of the dinner preparations, he'd tucked the box amongst the Christmas cards on her mantel. He'd been hoping to get away before she'd discovered it. O'Neill slogged his way through the snow in her yard, stopping a few feet away from her. "We weren't."
“And yet, you did.”
“It’s nothing, Carter.”
“Sir–it’s not nothing.” Smiling, she looked down at the gleaming object in her palm before returning her gaze to him. “It’s really beautiful.”
Yes, she was. But he digressed.
She’d pulled a fluffy blanket around her shoulders, haphazardly bundled against the chill of the night. Her porch light teased at the gold in her hair, causing it to glow just a tidge, while her eyes shone deepest sapphire in the combined light of the moon and the streetlamp directly across from her house.
Jack tore his attention away from her face and looked at the charm she held, instead. He’d gone back to the mall after he’d dropped her off at home that day, braving the crowds again to secure the charm that he’d known would mean the most to her.
It was a globe. Silver, with different colors of enamel highlighting the continents and oceans. Tiny, but exquisite. Kind of like the Earth was when compared with the universe at large. Small in comparison, but still worthy. Something that meant something to her. Like the star, or the telescope.
“I just thought that you’d like it.” He tried to sound dismissive, but knew he’d failed when the dimples deepened in her cheeks. “You can add it to your bracelet.”
“But sir.” She shivered as fresh flakes fell on her hair, her shoulders, her cheek. Even through the wintery darkness, her eyes appeared luminous. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“Don’t worry about it, Carter.” Jack shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “Really. I didn’t expect anything. It was the least I could do.”
“But—” She curled her fingers around the charm and pulled her arm back beneath her blanket. “You didn’t owe me anything.”
“I don’t. Not this time.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “But your dad should have done it years ago. After you lost your mom. And if he were here, I’d probably tell him so. But he’s not, and it’s kind of partly my fault that he’s not. So, if I can give you something back–as small as it may be–well–” he trailed off with a half-shrug.
“You’ve already done so much for me. Helping with the boxes, and the shopping. I feel like I should have gotten you something.”
“Carter.” O’Neill compacted the snow with the toe of his boot. “Sometimes, it just might be that I want to do something. Not because I owe you, or because it’s necessary. Just because I want to do it.”
Those even little teeth worried at her bottom lip for what seemed like forever. When she spoke, it was quietly, through the darkness, through the falling snow. “Thank you, sir. Really.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Far more casually than he felt, he forced a grin, then nodded. “Okay then. See you in a few days.”
He turned on his heel and started back down the walkway towards his truck. He’d nearly reached the hedges when he heard her footsteps in the snow. Stopping, he pivoted just in time to watch her slide to an awkward halt next to him, her blanket billowing around her as she flailed on the slippery walk.
“Sorry–”
“Careful there–” He’d caught her as she’d struggled, steadying her with both hands around her waist. His boots offered better traction than the slippers she wore, and she leaned into his hold until she’d regained her balance. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She straightened gingerly, testing her footing. Her cheeks were pinkened by more than just the cold and wind. “I’m good.”
“It’s freezing out here. You should go back inside.”
But she raised up on her toes, instead, and slid her arms around his shoulders, enfolding him in the warmth of her blanket as well as her embrace.
For the briefest of beats, he resisted. Memories of her sleeping body draped upon his own flooded through his senses. The softness of her skin, the vulnerability in her dream-cries, how she’d knotted his shirt in her fist–how he’d responded–how hard it had been for him to leave once she’d awoken, standing in her kitchen with her feet bare and her eyes so damned haunted–
And now, her , here. Now. With his gift nestled in her palm, and her heart beating next to his.
Ah–what the hell. It was Christmas. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, scrunching the fabric of her blouse in his fingers. His cheek was rough against hers, his eyelashes tangling with the strands of her hair frenzied by the wind.
She was warm, and pliant in his arms, her nose and lips cooler where they pressed against his skin. When she spoke, her breath heated his neck. “You know I’m going to have to find something for you, now, right?”
He made a sound of what he hoped was assent deep in his throat, tightening his hold on her, thigh to thigh, body to body. She sighed against him, relaxing into his strength, and he wanted to turn his head and see if she’d take his invitation—
Damned madness. Stupid. When had he gotten so stupid?
Gently, he let go. Flattening his palms against her lower back, he inhaled deeply before taking a step backwards and away from her. “You should go back inside and get warmed up.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have—” She indicated their positioning with a wave of hand and blanket and a fleeting smile. “I’m sorry–”
“Go on, Carter.” But heaven help him, he couldn’t bring himself to move.
In the end, it was she who was stronger. Clutching the blanket around her, she shuffled backwards until she’d reached a more amenable distance. Her expression was a perfect mixture of wonder and loss. “Drive safely, Sir.”
Get in the truck, Jack. Get in, turn it on, and go. But he found himself speaking instead. “I know that you have your doubts. I know that you castigate yourself and think that you’re not doing as much as you ought to. But I want you to know that, whatever else you might think, you’re enough. You know that, right?”
“Sir?”
“You don’t ever have to get me anything. No apologies, no gifts.” His breath was white in the cold, his eyes dark and earnest. “Because you are a gift.”
“I don’t–”
“You make everything worth it. All of this.” He gestured between them, flailing a little himself in trying to explain. “You’re the gift. So I don’t need anything else. Or want it.”
She didn’t say anything, just bit back a smile as her cheek flushed pink. She shivered, but somehow he knew it had nothing to do with the cold. Tearing her gaze away from his, she refocused on the slippers on her feet, where the snowflakes on her toes were quickly becoming outdone by the ones falling from the night sky.
The snow swirled a little faster, now, blown in a frantic dance by the heightening wind. Jack took another step backwards, towards his truck–both grateful and crestfallen when she finally gathered herself up and headed up the walk towards her house.
He got as far as the hedge before he turned around again. “Hey–what happens in that movie?”
Pausing, she drew a blank, brows furrowing tightly. “Which movie?”
“The chick one. With the people who can’t be friends. Barry and Allie, or whatever.”
“Harry and Sally?”
“Yeah.”
She had to think about it, perched as she was on the bottom step. “Umm–they break up after a one night stand, but they’re both miserable without each other. So, he goes and finds her on New Year’s Eve and tells her that he loves her.”
“And then?”
The blanket rose in a shallow shrug. “They live happily ever after.”
“Only in the movies, right?”
“Maybe not just in the movies.” She ducked her chin, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.
He had no idea how to interpret that look.
One more step backwards and he’d be at the door to his truck. He pulled his keys free, clicking the door open with the button on his fob. In this cold, it would take a while to prime the diesel beast. He’d use the time to mull that over. And to try to decide what her expression meant–the one that was equally poignant and hopeful.
Or, maybe he’d just try to commit to memory how good she’d felt, crowded against him, wrapped between his body and her blanket. How she’d melted into him, her body yielding, restless, and strong. How she’d hugged him with one hand splayed against him, and the other clasped in a tight fist around the trinket he’d given her. How maybe there was more to all of this than he’d previously thought.
Damned if Nosy Guy wasn’t right. Certain parts did get in the way. Maybe she wanted things , too. Things more than friends wanted. Things more than he would ever be allowed to want from her. Things that they couldn’t have. Couldn’t even dream about. Things–well, damn it. Things.
He’d better go before he thought of another excuse to stay. He wasn’t sure that she’d be able to hear him, but he said it, anyway. “Good night, Carter.”
She didn’t answer–probably hadn’t heard him. She just watched as he threw the door open, climbed up into the cab, and turned the key. She smiled, but that haunted look had eked back into her eyes.
Maybe she was struggling with it all, too.
And when the big engine roared to life, she was still there, draped in a blanket against the frigid night. Standing, with the snow whirling around her, as she waited for him to leave. And when he shifted into gear, he could see her in his rearview mirror, watching until he was swallowed by the distance and the snow and the night.
Standing alone in the cold, with his whole world clutched in the palm of her hand.