Work Text:
What if…?
“Yeah,” Jack thought, “what if things had been different?” He didn’t know which was more bitter, the now-cold cup of coffee he had just sipped, or his thoughts. He grimaced at the distorted, slightly oily reflection looking up at him from the liquid in the cup. He gave a short bitter laugh as he set it down with a dull thud on the chipped Formica of the old table. Well, things weren’t different. They were what they were and he’d missed his chance, if there had ever been one. The combined acid of regret and too much coffee churned in his stomach. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he pulled out the small bottle of antacids with which he had become entirely too familiar.
He had been in DC for six months. Six months of smarmy, sweaty-palmed, mealy-mouthed politicians with fake smiles and agendas. Six months of gritting his teeth and hoping his own fake smile didn’t crack his face wide open. Six months of … of what? Yeah, let’s be honest here, you pathetic, cowardly, jerk. Six months of missing Sam. You know, he berated himself, you let her slip through your fingers because you were afraid you were pushing her. And now she was back from Nevada, back at the SGC, on a different SG-1, a different team, fighting Ori. And here you are, in a glorified gas station cum diner, in a snowstorm, drinking cold coffee, on your way to spend Christmas alone at your cabin.
His cabin. A place he could forget all the crap going on in his life, and just be. If he could forget all the stuff going on in his head.
“Hey, turn that up!” called one of the truckers who had pulled in earlier to take a break. “Highways closed? Which ones?”
The cashier turned up the sound on the old tv, slammed the till shut and sighed. “You heard. Interstate is closed. So’s the state highway. We’re stuck here until they’re cleared. Hey, Stan!” she pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen, her voice trailing her as she stepped through. “Better get ready. Everyone stupid enough to still be out in this slop is gonna be stoppin’ here.”
Jack looked out the window, watching the snow blowing almost sideways. He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands and surveying the length of the booth seat. No way would his long body fit on that thing. He was gearing up for a long night resting his head on his arms and hoping his back wouldn’t be screaming at him in the morning when two big rigs and a black SUV with snow tires pulled in. The SUV parked in the last space in front of the diner, while the trucks headed toward truck parking next to the attached gas station.
Jack pushed his cup to the side and was just about to drop his head on his arms for a nap when the SUV driver opened the diner door, letting in a gust of wind and blowing snow. Tall, obviously thin, even bundled up in a puffy winter coat, gloves covering her hands, beanie pulled down to cover her ears, and a scarf wound around her neck, covering her face up to her eyes. She pulled the beanie off and shook out her hair.
Blue eyes caught his brown ones, and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes narrowed, just before her teeth caught her lower lip and she looked away. He could see the moment she sucked it up and decided to come over to where he sat.
Unzipping her coat, she slid into the seat opposite him, and threw the beanie and gloves on the table.
“Bad night, sir,” she said, picking up his abandoned coffee and sipping like it was her coffee and she belonged there.
“Car..” his voice was caught in his throat, so he cleared it and tried again. “Carter,” he managed, as he did a deep dive into those blue pools.
“Mmmhmm, sir,” she said, pulling her gaze away from his and looking around. “I need coffee.”
“You still have mine,” he said, reaching for it.
“Hot coffee.” She stood up, shucking her coat before tossing it onto her seat. “Refill?”
“Sure,” he said to her back as she headed toward the counter. “Just what I need,” he mumbled at the table, “more crap coffee.” Only it wasn’t coffee he was thinking about. His brain was caught between I can’t do this and why is she here?
He watched as she stopped at the register and threw a bill on the counter, waiving off change, then headed to the coffee bar. Pulling two large to go cups from the stack, she filled them from the big commercial urn, her movements slightly jerky, as if her brain and the rest of her body weren’t quite in sync. He liked that seeing him there had thrown her off. She put plastic lids on the cups, and, grabbing napkins, stir sticks and a handful of packets, headed back headed back to where he sat in one of the booths lining the wall by the windows.
“Here you are, sir,” she set a new styrofoam cup of black brew down in front of him, throwing down a couple of napkins, a handful of sugar packets and a stir stick next to it. “Smells a bit like JP-8, so I brought extra sugar.”
He pulled off the lid and dropped it on the table, then ripped open a couple of sugar packets and dumped them in, giving the coffee a stir.
“Just the way I like it.” He lifted it up. “Cheers,” he said, sipping. Yup. Just as nasty as the first cup he’d had. The extra sugar hadn’t helped the taste at all.
“So, Carter,” he set his cup down carefully. “Didn’t expect to see you here, in the middle of a blizzard,” he paused, “in my neck of the woods.”
“Yes, sir. Big coincidence.” She took a sip of the coffee she’d been doctoring with enough sugar to induce a sugar coma, and several packets of powdered creamer. The raised cup made an excellent shield, but he could still see the slight dip of her head.
“Yup. Same blizzard, same highway, same state, same whatever,” he muttered, sipping his coffee.
He frowned, tilted the cup and looked inside. Sticking one long finger in the cup, he fished out an imaginary coffee ground and flipped the drop of coffee he’d acquired on a napkin. He looked up just in time to see the ghost of amusement on her face.
“Grounds,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she said, amusement at his much-used diversion crinkling her eyes.
“Everywhere I stop. You know, a coincidence, just like the..”
“Blizzard,” she finished. “Or a conspiracy, sir. Or maybe it’s a plan so you have an excuse to play with your food.”
“Yeah, sure.” He took another sip.
He guessed they both had their little social protections. She ducked her head or hid behind a cup or glass, and he drilled into his coffee for imaginary grounds. He looked out the window at the blowing snow and forced himself not to sigh.
“I think we’re going to be here for a while,” he said, still watching the snow.
“Yes, sir. Both of us here, in the same place.”
“What a coincidence.” This time he looked up just in time to catch her watching him intently before she dropped her head.
“Yes, sir.”
“And therefore, shall we say, awkward?” He set his cup on the table. “Of course, that’s only true if you were not expecting to find me.”
She fiddled with a stir stick before looking up, running her tongue over her lips. “Not here, anyway.”
He let that settle for a minute. There was only one reason for her to be on this road, blizzard or not. She’d been on her way to the cabin.
What if, he thought, what if things had been different? What if she’d just talked to me afterwards? What if I hadn’t gone to DC?
The lights flickered then went out.
“Well, that sucks,” he said, leaning back.
“That might actually fall in the category of what else can go wrong, don’t you think?” Sam said, a hint of laughter tinged with a note of desperation threaded her voice.
“Yes, that!” He lifted his cup to her in agreement before remembering she couldn’t see it.
The swinging door squeaked, muffled voices came from the back, then the hinges squeaked again as the cashier came from the back. “Hang tight, people. Stan’s gonna check on the generator. Shouldn’t take long.”
Jack sipped his coffee, his eyes tracing the outline of her head in the dark. As his eyes adjusted, he could see shimmers of her blonde hair. He heard the back door slam as Stan went outside to check the generator. He watched as a box truck pulled in and parked. He took another sip.
“Sam?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Why are you here?” he heard his mouth say the words before he could stop them and grimaced, glad she couldn’t see his face even with the heavy snow shedding its own muted light through the window.
“I needed coffee, and the highway closed,” she dodged. He could hear her coat rustling against her side as she tensed, her breath hitched slightly. He could almost bet she’d ducked her head and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
“No, Sam. Here. Minnesota.” Damn his mouth anyway. He guessed that conversation they never had was about to happen because his mouth wouldn’t shut up.
“You know why.” He could feel the tension radiating off her now. He could see the outline of her hands gripped together.
“No, I don’t,” he said softly, but his voice was as tense as her posture. “We haven’t talked in six months, not since I left for DC.” He was sure she could hear his heart pounding. He breathed deeply, trying to calm it.
“You really want to do this here?” she whispered, trying to turn it back on him. He wished he could see her face.
“Apparently having it at my cabin is not gonna happen any time soon,” he waved his hand toward the window and the snow, but she couldn’t see it in the dark. He dropped it to the table and leaned back, cursing himself silently. “Do you think it can wait? That we can just sit here and exchange small talk or pretend not to see each other? For how long, Sam? A night, maybe? A day? Or would you rather no just pretend nothing has changed?”
The lights flickered, giving him a glimpse of her strained face before going off again.
“Sorry,” he said, leaning back. “That was uncalled for.”
He could hear her cup scraping on the table as she moved it from hand to hand.
She said softly. “I thought after the cabin we’d, well, we’d find a way to …”. She sighed, letting her voice trail off.
“To what?” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. “That’s the question isn’t it? Right up there with why.”
Her hand slapped the table. “I can’t answer that, sir,” she said bitterly. “Because you pulled back behind that wall as soon as we got back to Colorado.”
“I tried to talk to you, Sam.”
“‘Hi, Carter, here’s your transfer to Groom Lake’ isn’t talking, Jack. You didn’t even ask me if I still wanted it.”
“See, right there.” He pointed at her. “Right there is the problem, Sam. I didn’t put up the damn wall. I asked about it before you headed to San Diego,” he said angrily, pushing down the urge to raise his voice.
“Asked? You emailed me, Jack!” He could hear the hurt in her voice, even if he couldn’t fully see her face.
Jack gritted his teeth. “It was an official request, Sam. As your CO, I needed confirmation. How was I supposed to ask you in person when every time I saw you, you avoided me?
She went silent, and he wished it was one of those times he could look into her eyes and see her thoughts.
When she spoke, her voice was low. “That last night at your cabin, when I asked you what you wanted, you told me it didn’t matter. That I should take some time and think about what I wanted.” Her tense expression was becoming clearer as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Yeah, he’d said that, and he meant it.
“Because your dad had just died.”
“I told you what I wanted, and I tried to tell you again as soon as when we got back.”
“I came by your house. Pete’s car was there. Then you went to San Diego.”
“He was picking up the last of his stuff. My flight was the next morning.”
“You didn’t answer my email about Groom Lake.” He wondered if she could hear the whine in his voice.
“When I got back, you handed me the approved paperwork for the transfer and walked away.” God, he could hear the hurt in her voice just the same now as that day.
“I handed you paperwork for a transfer you had requested and hadn’t pulled back. I walked away because we were in your lab at the mountain, and I had a scheduled telecon with Hammond.”
“You left.” She didn’t mean her lab.
“I didn’t have a choice.” He hadn’t. There was no option to turn down the move to DC.
“You sent me away and then you left.” The stone in his gut felt cold. He hadn’t realized she thought that.
“That wasn’t what I … Sam, moving to Groom Lake took you out of my chain of command.” Please, Sam. Please understand. Please.
“Why didn’t you say something?” She’d been too tired, confused, to listen to her heart when her brain was screaming at her.
“I thought it was obvious.” It was to me.
“Not to me. I didn’t know what you wanted. I thought…”
Because she asked and I gave her nothing.
Her breath hitched. Jack frowned as a truth started to seep into his action oriented brain. They’d always communicated best non-verbally, hadn’t they? Their problems always happened when they tried to use words. Or didn’t talk at all, in any way.
He could see her face now, as she chewed on her lower lip, turning her head away, her brow furrowed, thinking.
His brain told him to give her time, but his heart said no more waiting. No more.
Impulse won and he reached across the table, covering her hand with his, biting his tongue to keep from swearing. His hand and his mouth obviously weren’t communicating. The time drew out. Maybe he should give them both a chance. His hand tightened around hers. Maybe she’d overloaded on errant data and pushed aside her emotions for analysis.
“We weren’t communicating, were we? We let the silence and doubt creep back in.” His fingers laced with hers, and he felt gutted when he saw the tear trailing down her cheek.
She laughed sadly, wiping the tear away. “I couldn’t read your mind. All I could hear was you saying I didn’t know mine either.”
“Why, Sam? Why now after all this time?”
“I needed to know if there was anything left to salvage.” The words whispered across the table to him on a sigh.
The lights flickered, came back on, the heating system whooshed on. He didn’t let go of her hand.
“What do you want?” Please. Please say it. Please.
“It’s not a coincidence I’m here. Right here, on the highway to your cabin, in your neck of the woods. That’s my answer.” Her eyes caught his, held them. “What do you want, Jack?”
He huffed out a breath, reached across the table with his free hand and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. She put her heart on the line just showing up. He couldn’t do less. “I want you to come to the cabin, but if we don’t get any further than this diner, that’s fine, as long as we’re together.” He cupped her cheek. “I want us to be together.”
She turned her face into his palm, kissing the roughened skin. “Yeah, I want that, too.”
Jack stood and pulled her up. He really didn't care that they were stuck in a diner with a bunch of stranded truckers and travelers. His arms went around her, pulling her close, and he smiled against her lips.
“Really?” she squeaked.
“Oh, yeah.” His mouth apparently had better things to do than talking, especially since hers was now enthusiastically joining the conversation. They didn't even hear the hoots and hollers from their captive audience.
Later, as they snuggled on one side of the booth, his mind wandered through the threads of time.
What if…
What if things had been different, and she hadn’t tried to reach out to him? What if they hadn’t found each other in this old roadside diner?
But they had.
He buried his face in her hair and thought about what would come next for them. Whatever it was, they’d be together.