Chapter Text
I've never seen
Something quite like you
I try to look away
But something's in the way
I think I'm going blind
I hope it doesn't change
'Cause I've never seen
Something quite like you
blind - Role Model
He came through the Stargate wearing that easy grin of his with his tense shoulders and funny jokes, but Sam could see straight through his facade. Maybe because of what he’d said to her on the planet—about her morality, about killing Jonas. He had been vulnerable for just a second, vulnerable enough to comfort her, and in doing so, he’d cracked himself open too.
He was sad. Deeply, devastatingly sad.
When Daniel had told her about Charlie’s death, her heart shattered for him in a way she hadn’t expected. Because Colonel O’Neill hadn’t gone to Abydos looking for an adventure. He’d gone because after Charlie died, he had nothing left to lose.
And today had dragged all of it back again.
Which was how Sam ended up on his doorstep despite a part of her brain insisting that this was a terrible idea. But she was his second-in-command. It was practically her duty to make sure he was okay.
At least, that was what she kept telling herself.
The door opened almost immediately.
“Captain!” he said, eyebrows lifting slowly.
He looked rough around the edges. His hair was tousled, as though he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours, beer bottle hanging loose in one hand, and exhaustion radiating from his body.
“Uh— Hi, Sir.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Sam became acutely aware of how ridiculous this probably looked—her standing on his porch at night with no plan whatsoever.
“Can I come in?” she asked finally, twisting her fingers together.
His whiskey-colored eyes flicked over her face like he was trying to decide something. Then, he stepped aside without a word.
The house was dim and quiet. No television. No music. Just the low hum of the refrigerator somewhere in the kitchen. Sam also noticed the absence of takeout containers or any other sign that he’d eaten. Only empty beer bottles scattered across the counters.
“I’m not really in the mood for company, Captain.”
“You let me in anyway.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
One corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile, but it was a small step toward… something Sam didn’t know yet. “I have manners.”
“Yes, Sir.”
A silence settled between them, stretching long enough that she knew he’d be retreating into it. Into the darkness.
“You—uh—left the SGC in a hurry,” she tried.
“How observant.”
“Are you okay?”
There. She had said it.
He became tense. Like every muscle anticipated staff blasts coming his way. He glanced away, scanning the room for something to do with his hands.
He always needed motion. A weapon to clean, a memo to complain about, a Daniel to annoy, a finger on the trigger. Restlessness lived under his skin. Sam understood. She could clearly see that they were alike in that regard. The difference was that she buried herself in equations and simulations while he picked fights and deflected with sarcasm until people brushed him off as dumb and stopped looking.
Sam couldn’t stop looking even if she wanted to.
In some messed up way, it was beautiful.
“I’m fine, Carter,” he said with an even tone.
And maybe anyone else would’ve accepted it.
Sam didn’t.
“No,” she said softly. “No, you’re not,” she blurted out quickly. “I mean—you don’t have to be okay right now. After today. After…” She exhaled sharply. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
He snorted.
“Sam,” he said, voice lower now. “Relax.”
She took a step closer. “Seriously, Sir.”
Only then did she realize how close they already were, how long they’d just been standing there looking at each other without speaking. The room felt strangely small around them.
Outside, something scraped against the door—probably an animal. The sound broke whatever had settled between them. The wordless encounter that contained more questions than answers.
“I’ll be okay, Sam,” he said quietly. “Promise.”
Promise.
Such a simple word.
But in that moment, it felt like it carried a million tiny words that Sam couldn’t decipher.
However, Sam remembered what Daniel had told her. Remembered the look in Colonel O’Neill's—no, Jack’s—eyes when he thought nobody was paying attention.
And yet, she believed him. Or maybe she just wanted to.
She gave him a small nod. “Okay. Good,” she said softly.
She moved toward the door, suddenly aware of how late it had gotten. “Goodnight, Sir.”
He opened the door for her, warm summer air flowing into the cold quiet of his house. She stepped onto the porch, digging her keys from her pocket.
“Carter.”
She turned back.
“Thanks.”
The word caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to say it.
She wanted to tell him always.
Wanted to say ‘you don't have to do this alone.’
But that felt too honest. Or dangerous.
So she smiled instead.
“Anytime.”