The Pursuit of Happiness
Title: The Pursuit of Happiness
Summary: After putting off decorating for the holidays with Jack, Sam comes to realize what she’s been missing.
Timeframe: Post-series
Characters/Pairing: established Sam/Jack
Genre: Fluff, drama, hurt/comfort, (some) whump, romance
Rating: G
Note: Written for the sj_everyday Advent Calendar. :)
The Pursuit of Happiness
It’s been easy, Sam thinks, lulling herself into a false sense of security. Since Jack’s retirement and her own command shift to the SGC, she’s become quite complacent in thinking she no longer has to worry about Jack’s safety now that he’s home and out of immediate danger. Even when he was leading Homeworld Security that fear had been there, knowing that the Pentagon could be hit at any given time. But at home, at home she thinks he is safe. Which is why it comes as such a shock to Sam when she gets a call from the hospital on Friday night to inform her that her husband is in the hospital with a broken arm.
She’s precariously making her way across the cold, icy parking lot, ready to head home for the evening when the call comes. The doctor informs her that it’s a clean break, and she shouldn’t worry. Once Jack’s arm is set and plastered, she can take him home.
Still not feeling quite okay about the whole thing until she can see her husband for herself, Sam starts her car and carefully drives down the snowy mountain to get to the Academy Hospital.
.
The nurse at the front desk directs Sam to an exam room just off the ER. Jack’s sitting on the gurney in old jeans and his snow boots, and his navy blue fleece pullover with the sleeve of his left arm slit all the way to his shoulder. There’s a bright orange cast covering his forearm from below his elbow to about the tips of his fingers.
“Hi, Sam.” Jack waves at her with his good hand, smiling sheepishly and ducking his head just a little. He swings his feet at the side of the gurney. “How was work?” he asks casually like nothing’s wrong.
“Fiiiine,” she draws out the word, steps directly in front of him, hands at her sides. “What happened?” Her voice is softer, patient.
Jack makes a face, his eyes squinching up as he raises his head. “I fell off the ladder.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Doing what?”
He clears his throat and grimaces. “Hangin’ Christmas lights.” Jack shrugs, moving his broken arm slowly into his lap.
Sam sighs, reaches up and rakes her fingers through his already-mussed hair. It’s sticking out at crazy angles, probably because he’d been wearing his watch cap. “You should have called me right away.”
“Didn’t exactly…have my phone on me at the time.”
Her brows furrow. “Did one of the neighbors call the ambulance?”
“Ah…no. No ambulance.”
Sam’s eyes narrow. “Did Mrs. Roberts from across the street drive you?” She knows the answer the moment the question is out of her mouth. Old Mrs. Roberts would have called her right away if she’d known what happened.
“Uh…”
“Jack?” she presses, hands on her hips now.
Jack scratches at the side of his head and doesn’t look her in the eye. “Idrovemyself.”
He mumbles his answer so fast that Sam almost doesn’t catch it. Almost. “Jack!” she exclaims, scolding.
He clears his throat and shrugs again. “I was driving to the SGC, but halfway there I thought I was gonna pass out, and the Academy Hospital was closer, so…” Jack gives her his most pathetic look that he always uses when he knows he’s done something pretty stupid and probably a little reckless.
Sam pulls a hand through her hair and then grasps Jack’s face between both of her hands. “That wasn’t a very good idea, Jack.” She sighs loudly and bends forward to plant a kiss on his head. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah.” Jack slides off the gurney. “Let’s go home.”
She helps him get his coat on and firmly pulls the watch cap down over his head. They check with the doctor on their way out, then stop by the pharmacy to get Jack’s pills before they go home.
.
Sam has to admit that the white icicle lights around the edge of the roof do look nice all lit up. She tells Jack he did a good job, but seeing the ladder lying in the snow-covered bushes out front makes her cringe as she imagines him falling.
“I should’ve been here to help you,” she tells him as they make their way up the walk.
“It’s okay. You were busy.” Jack pauses at the door and reaches in his pocket for his keys. “Dammit.”
“What?” she asks as he takes out his keys and stares at them in his hand, glowering.
“My truck’s still at the hospital.”
“I’ll see if Daniel and Teal’c can pick it up tomorrow, okay?”
He nods and unlocks the door, shuffling inside. By now he’s tired and his arm is probably starting to really hurt because he hasn’t had any painkillers since the doctor set it for him. Sam’s just glad he didn’t hit his head or do any serious damage. The ground is covered in a mixture of snow and ice out there, and he’s lucky he didn’t break his neck when the ladder slid out from under him. They’re both lucky, she thinks.
Sam bites her lip and follows Jack in, stopping herself from imagining worst-case-scenarios. She helps him out of his coat, then reaches for his shoulder and steers Jack toward the bedroom when he starts to go to the couch in the living room instead.
“What?” he grumbles in protest although he’s already moving where she wants him to now, anyway.
“Go to bed, okay?”
He stops to glance at his left wrist where his watch normally is, but encounters the bright orange cast and frowns. “Where’s my watch?”
“I put it in your jacket pocket before we left the hospital,” she answers patiently, still trying to nudge him toward the bedroom. “Go get changed for bed and I’ll be right there.”
“What time is it?”
She checks her own watch. “It’s almost eight.”
“Sam,” Jack grumbles as he shuffles over the threshold to their room. “It’s too early for bed.”
She gives him a look and then leaves to grab the pills she’d set down by the door. She hears him shuffle to the dresser before she disappears down the hall.
In the lounge she notices their half decorated tree, just the lights and a few ornaments strung up, the box open on the floor. It’s been like that for almost a week. Jack’s been itching to decorate, but he wants to wait until she can do it all with him. It’s just not the same decorating alone, he tells her.
The outside lights have been half strung up for as long as the Christmas tree hasn’t been finished, and she figures tonight that Jack just about gave up on waiting for her. Her throat suddenly feels tight with emotion. She’s been so busy getting everything straightened out at the SGC that she hasn’t had much time for Jack, for their home life. Sam feels incredibly selfish for putting work first. Maybe she’s only realizing just how much she’s been neglecting real life because Jack hasn’t been retired very long yet. It’s the first time in a long while where they haven’t both been working this time of year, busily scrambling to get everything done before the holidays snuck up on them.
It makes her sad how much she’s missed because of her work, how much time has gone by. Now that she finally has Jack all to herself, Sam doesn’t want life to pass her by anymore, doesn’t want work to be her everything, because now family is her everything, Jack is her everything. They haven’t even been married a full year yet, though they’d been together for what feels like a very long time. They’ve been “official” since Jack moved to Washington. It’s been hard, because Jack was so far away, because she was even farther away when she joined the Atlantis Expedition, but they made it work. Sam feels like everything they’ve been through has been worth it, and she knows it’s time she stops taking that for granted.
.
Jack’s lying in bed on top of the covers when she walks in. He’s managed to dress in flannel pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt, and has his broken arm propped up on a pillow. Sam finds it amusing that he’s sleeping on her side of the bed, knowing him well enough to know that he’s done it so she can curl up to him without his injured arm between them. She thinks it’s considerate and sweet.
He turns down the volume on the TV as she walks over with his pills and some water. Jack grunts in thanks and she goes to change, putting on some comfortable sleep pants and one of Jack’s old t-shirts.
Sam turns off the light and lies down next to her husband, not going beneath the covers because she knows neither of them are really ready to sleep yet. She does pull up the throw blanket at the end of the bed, though, covering them part way as she rests her head in the crook of Jack’s arm.
“Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, we’ll finish decorating the tree and hang up the stockings on the mantel,” she says softly, her right hand lightly plucking lint from his shirt.
“Don’t you hafta work?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday, and Mitchell’s in charge for the weekend. He can handle things,” she tells him with finality, letting him know that whatever emergencies crop up over the weekend, she isn’t going anywhere. Sam turns her face into the side of his neck and kisses him there.
Jack emits a low hum and his right arm tightens around her. She can feel him grinning. He nods. “Okay.”
They watch TV for a while, talk about holiday decorations, and what they’re going to do for Christmas dinner, who’s coming over and what they’ll have to eat. Sam doesn’t want turkey or ham, and Jack suggests steak or a roast. When they get to discussing presents for their friends, Jack’s voice gets low and a little fuzzy. He’s tired and the painkillers are doing their job, making him drowsy.
Sam turns off the TV when Jack falls asleep, and she doesn’t bother waking him to get beneath the covers. She’s comfortable where she is and just curls closer to Jack, not wanting to get up.
.
The morning is sunny, but very cold, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Jack is first to wake, and by the time Sam decides she just has to get up and crawls out of bed, she finds him in the kitchen sipping coffee and staring out the window into the backyard. There’s still a few inches of snow on the ground from days ago, and she’s half hoping that it snows once more just for Christmas, because Christmas day is always better with a fresh layer of snow.
Sam makes them toast and scrambled eggs while Jack gets her coffee, putting in just the right amount of sugar and cream. She calls Daniel to ask if he can get Jack’s truck with Teal’c later, then she and Jack sit down to eat.
Once they’re both full from breakfast, showered and dressed, Sam and Jack dig into the ornaments boxes on the living room floor and carefully decide which ones to put on the tree.
Sam picks out the stained glass snowflake ornament that Jack made for her last year, while Jack goes for the Wayne Gretzky one that Sam gave him as a present during their first Christmas together as SG-1. They’re a little more picky about the type and placement of the other ornaments they add to the tree after their first choices, and enjoy talking about their upcoming holiday plans.
Sam’s topping the tree off with a porcelain angel in a periwinkle dress with sparkly feathered wings when Jack announces he’s going down in the basement to get the stockings and trim for the mantel.
She’s standing on a chair, trying to adjust the angel on the tip of the tree just right when she hears a loud crash and a curse from downstairs. Quickly getting off the chair, thinking Jack just knocked down a bunch of boxes and has made a huge mess, Sam goes to the top of the steps and calls down. “Hey, do you need help down there?”
Sam’s already making her way down the steps without waiting for an answer. She finds Jack holding a hand to his bleeding scalp and scowling at the broken step ladder and pieces of the wooden shelf nearby. There’s upturned boxes and various odds and ends-including the mantel decorations-all over the floor. She doesn’t ask what happened, as it was pretty obvious. “Come here.” She waves him forward and gently peels his hand back so she can examine his head.
Jack doesn’t even wince, but the gash is kind of deep and bleeding a lot, as head wounds tend to do.
“This’ll need stitches,” she tells him with a sympathetic grimace. Her gaze shifts to the orange cast on his left arm, her other main concern. “You didn’t bang your arm, did you?”
“No. My ass broke my fall,” he mutters with a hint of dry humor.
“What is it with you and ladders lately?” Sam teases, then tells him to keep his hand over the gash on his head and leads him back up the steps. “Let’s go get that taken care of,” she says softly, feeling bad that Jack’s having such a rough time when all he wants to do is finish decorating for the holiday.
.
On the way to the Academy Hospital, Jack’s quiet, holding a dishtowel to his bleeding head. When they get there a nurse that attended Jack yesterday makes a joke about seeing him again and then they’re directed into an exam room.
Once it’s determined that Jack doesn’t have a concussion, he gets three staples in the wound on his scalp and then they’re on their way. He refuses the prescription for more painkillers, since he already has the pills for his broken arm at home.
He’s tired when they get back to the house, and Sam doesn’t mention the remaining decorations, sure that he’s no longer in the mood. She gives him his meds and he goes to lie down in the bedroom for an hour or two.
While he’s sleeping, Sam goes back downstairs to clean up the mess in the basement. She brings up the boxes of remaining decorations and puts them down in front of the fireplace. She won’t finish decorating until Jack’s ready to, because this is his thing, and it’s important to him that they do it together. He’s never really told her why. She only knows that is has to do with Charlie, but he doesn’t talk about it, and she doesn’t ask.
Sam sits on the couch for a while and is watching White Christmas when Jack settles beside her, his right arm going across her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she says suddenly, lifting her head from the crook of his arm.
Jack doesn’t pretend like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He sighs, turns his head toward her so he can look in her eyes. “Sam,” he starts, but doesn’t finish when she puts her hand on his chest.
“No. I know decorating on Christmas together is important to you, and I don’t want to put work first anymore. I shouldn’t have put if first then and I don’t want to now.”
“Sam,” he tries again, but she interrupts him.
“I’m going to retire, Jack.”
He leans back a little, but doesn’t look all that surprised. Jack’s brows furrow slightly. “But you just made General.”
“I don’t care.” She sighs, and his arm slips from her shoulders to come to rest on her thigh. “I’m not going to quit my job cold turkey, Jack, but I don’t want to continue with the Air Force. I’m almost positive they’ll let me stay on as a civilian scientist. I don’t mean to be arrogant, but I’m too important to the program. I want to get back to the science part of things. I miss studying artifacts and technologies from other planets. I miss astrophysics.” Sam smiles at him a little, convincing him that this is what will make her happy. “I don’t want to command anymore, Jack. I want more time with you.”
He cocks his head to one side. “Yeah?” There’s a pleased look on his face, a sideways grin forming.
“Yeah.” Sam nods, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him full on the mouth.
Jack takes in a breath when they finally break apart. “Okay, then.”
She brushes a hand through his unruly hair, careful of the staples about an inch inside the hairline over his left eyebrow. “How’s your head?”
He shrugs. “S’okay.”
Sam gestures toward the box on the floor by the Christmas tree. “Feel like finishing with some decorations?”
“With you?” Jack grins. “Absolutely.”
Sam gets off the couch with him, feeling suddenly like an enormous weight has been lifted. She feels completely happy, more than she’s felt in a long time. She can tell Jack’s feeling it, too.
Her husband grins mischievously, his eyes lighting up as he reaches into the box. “Hey, look, mistletoe!”
Yeah, Sam thinks with a smile, spending more time with Jack is going to make the both of them much happier in the long run, and she looks forward to it.
.Fin.
Summary: After putting off decorating for the holidays with Jack, Sam comes to realize what she’s been missing.
Timeframe: Post-series
Characters/Pairing: established Sam/Jack
Genre: Fluff, drama, hurt/comfort, (some) whump, romance
Rating: G
Note: Written for the sj_everyday Advent Calendar. :)
The Pursuit of Happiness
It’s been easy, Sam thinks, lulling herself into a false sense of security. Since Jack’s retirement and her own command shift to the SGC, she’s become quite complacent in thinking she no longer has to worry about Jack’s safety now that he’s home and out of immediate danger. Even when he was leading Homeworld Security that fear had been there, knowing that the Pentagon could be hit at any given time. But at home, at home she thinks he is safe. Which is why it comes as such a shock to Sam when she gets a call from the hospital on Friday night to inform her that her husband is in the hospital with a broken arm.
She’s precariously making her way across the cold, icy parking lot, ready to head home for the evening when the call comes. The doctor informs her that it’s a clean break, and she shouldn’t worry. Once Jack’s arm is set and plastered, she can take him home.
Still not feeling quite okay about the whole thing until she can see her husband for herself, Sam starts her car and carefully drives down the snowy mountain to get to the Academy Hospital.
.
The nurse at the front desk directs Sam to an exam room just off the ER. Jack’s sitting on the gurney in old jeans and his snow boots, and his navy blue fleece pullover with the sleeve of his left arm slit all the way to his shoulder. There’s a bright orange cast covering his forearm from below his elbow to about the tips of his fingers.
“Hi, Sam.” Jack waves at her with his good hand, smiling sheepishly and ducking his head just a little. He swings his feet at the side of the gurney. “How was work?” he asks casually like nothing’s wrong.
“Fiiiine,” she draws out the word, steps directly in front of him, hands at her sides. “What happened?” Her voice is softer, patient.
Jack makes a face, his eyes squinching up as he raises his head. “I fell off the ladder.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Doing what?”
He clears his throat and grimaces. “Hangin’ Christmas lights.” Jack shrugs, moving his broken arm slowly into his lap.
Sam sighs, reaches up and rakes her fingers through his already-mussed hair. It’s sticking out at crazy angles, probably because he’d been wearing his watch cap. “You should have called me right away.”
“Didn’t exactly…have my phone on me at the time.”
Her brows furrow. “Did one of the neighbors call the ambulance?”
“Ah…no. No ambulance.”
Sam’s eyes narrow. “Did Mrs. Roberts from across the street drive you?” She knows the answer the moment the question is out of her mouth. Old Mrs. Roberts would have called her right away if she’d known what happened.
“Uh…”
“Jack?” she presses, hands on her hips now.
Jack scratches at the side of his head and doesn’t look her in the eye. “Idrovemyself.”
He mumbles his answer so fast that Sam almost doesn’t catch it. Almost. “Jack!” she exclaims, scolding.
He clears his throat and shrugs again. “I was driving to the SGC, but halfway there I thought I was gonna pass out, and the Academy Hospital was closer, so…” Jack gives her his most pathetic look that he always uses when he knows he’s done something pretty stupid and probably a little reckless.
Sam pulls a hand through her hair and then grasps Jack’s face between both of her hands. “That wasn’t a very good idea, Jack.” She sighs loudly and bends forward to plant a kiss on his head. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah.” Jack slides off the gurney. “Let’s go home.”
She helps him get his coat on and firmly pulls the watch cap down over his head. They check with the doctor on their way out, then stop by the pharmacy to get Jack’s pills before they go home.
.
Sam has to admit that the white icicle lights around the edge of the roof do look nice all lit up. She tells Jack he did a good job, but seeing the ladder lying in the snow-covered bushes out front makes her cringe as she imagines him falling.
“I should’ve been here to help you,” she tells him as they make their way up the walk.
“It’s okay. You were busy.” Jack pauses at the door and reaches in his pocket for his keys. “Dammit.”
“What?” she asks as he takes out his keys and stares at them in his hand, glowering.
“My truck’s still at the hospital.”
“I’ll see if Daniel and Teal’c can pick it up tomorrow, okay?”
He nods and unlocks the door, shuffling inside. By now he’s tired and his arm is probably starting to really hurt because he hasn’t had any painkillers since the doctor set it for him. Sam’s just glad he didn’t hit his head or do any serious damage. The ground is covered in a mixture of snow and ice out there, and he’s lucky he didn’t break his neck when the ladder slid out from under him. They’re both lucky, she thinks.
Sam bites her lip and follows Jack in, stopping herself from imagining worst-case-scenarios. She helps him out of his coat, then reaches for his shoulder and steers Jack toward the bedroom when he starts to go to the couch in the living room instead.
“What?” he grumbles in protest although he’s already moving where she wants him to now, anyway.
“Go to bed, okay?”
He stops to glance at his left wrist where his watch normally is, but encounters the bright orange cast and frowns. “Where’s my watch?”
“I put it in your jacket pocket before we left the hospital,” she answers patiently, still trying to nudge him toward the bedroom. “Go get changed for bed and I’ll be right there.”
“What time is it?”
She checks her own watch. “It’s almost eight.”
“Sam,” Jack grumbles as he shuffles over the threshold to their room. “It’s too early for bed.”
She gives him a look and then leaves to grab the pills she’d set down by the door. She hears him shuffle to the dresser before she disappears down the hall.
In the lounge she notices their half decorated tree, just the lights and a few ornaments strung up, the box open on the floor. It’s been like that for almost a week. Jack’s been itching to decorate, but he wants to wait until she can do it all with him. It’s just not the same decorating alone, he tells her.
The outside lights have been half strung up for as long as the Christmas tree hasn’t been finished, and she figures tonight that Jack just about gave up on waiting for her. Her throat suddenly feels tight with emotion. She’s been so busy getting everything straightened out at the SGC that she hasn’t had much time for Jack, for their home life. Sam feels incredibly selfish for putting work first. Maybe she’s only realizing just how much she’s been neglecting real life because Jack hasn’t been retired very long yet. It’s the first time in a long while where they haven’t both been working this time of year, busily scrambling to get everything done before the holidays snuck up on them.
It makes her sad how much she’s missed because of her work, how much time has gone by. Now that she finally has Jack all to herself, Sam doesn’t want life to pass her by anymore, doesn’t want work to be her everything, because now family is her everything, Jack is her everything. They haven’t even been married a full year yet, though they’d been together for what feels like a very long time. They’ve been “official” since Jack moved to Washington. It’s been hard, because Jack was so far away, because she was even farther away when she joined the Atlantis Expedition, but they made it work. Sam feels like everything they’ve been through has been worth it, and she knows it’s time she stops taking that for granted.
.
Jack’s lying in bed on top of the covers when she walks in. He’s managed to dress in flannel pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt, and has his broken arm propped up on a pillow. Sam finds it amusing that he’s sleeping on her side of the bed, knowing him well enough to know that he’s done it so she can curl up to him without his injured arm between them. She thinks it’s considerate and sweet.
He turns down the volume on the TV as she walks over with his pills and some water. Jack grunts in thanks and she goes to change, putting on some comfortable sleep pants and one of Jack’s old t-shirts.
Sam turns off the light and lies down next to her husband, not going beneath the covers because she knows neither of them are really ready to sleep yet. She does pull up the throw blanket at the end of the bed, though, covering them part way as she rests her head in the crook of Jack’s arm.
“Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, we’ll finish decorating the tree and hang up the stockings on the mantel,” she says softly, her right hand lightly plucking lint from his shirt.
“Don’t you hafta work?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday, and Mitchell’s in charge for the weekend. He can handle things,” she tells him with finality, letting him know that whatever emergencies crop up over the weekend, she isn’t going anywhere. Sam turns her face into the side of his neck and kisses him there.
Jack emits a low hum and his right arm tightens around her. She can feel him grinning. He nods. “Okay.”
They watch TV for a while, talk about holiday decorations, and what they’re going to do for Christmas dinner, who’s coming over and what they’ll have to eat. Sam doesn’t want turkey or ham, and Jack suggests steak or a roast. When they get to discussing presents for their friends, Jack’s voice gets low and a little fuzzy. He’s tired and the painkillers are doing their job, making him drowsy.
Sam turns off the TV when Jack falls asleep, and she doesn’t bother waking him to get beneath the covers. She’s comfortable where she is and just curls closer to Jack, not wanting to get up.
.
The morning is sunny, but very cold, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Jack is first to wake, and by the time Sam decides she just has to get up and crawls out of bed, she finds him in the kitchen sipping coffee and staring out the window into the backyard. There’s still a few inches of snow on the ground from days ago, and she’s half hoping that it snows once more just for Christmas, because Christmas day is always better with a fresh layer of snow.
Sam makes them toast and scrambled eggs while Jack gets her coffee, putting in just the right amount of sugar and cream. She calls Daniel to ask if he can get Jack’s truck with Teal’c later, then she and Jack sit down to eat.
Once they’re both full from breakfast, showered and dressed, Sam and Jack dig into the ornaments boxes on the living room floor and carefully decide which ones to put on the tree.
Sam picks out the stained glass snowflake ornament that Jack made for her last year, while Jack goes for the Wayne Gretzky one that Sam gave him as a present during their first Christmas together as SG-1. They’re a little more picky about the type and placement of the other ornaments they add to the tree after their first choices, and enjoy talking about their upcoming holiday plans.
Sam’s topping the tree off with a porcelain angel in a periwinkle dress with sparkly feathered wings when Jack announces he’s going down in the basement to get the stockings and trim for the mantel.
She’s standing on a chair, trying to adjust the angel on the tip of the tree just right when she hears a loud crash and a curse from downstairs. Quickly getting off the chair, thinking Jack just knocked down a bunch of boxes and has made a huge mess, Sam goes to the top of the steps and calls down. “Hey, do you need help down there?”
Sam’s already making her way down the steps without waiting for an answer. She finds Jack holding a hand to his bleeding scalp and scowling at the broken step ladder and pieces of the wooden shelf nearby. There’s upturned boxes and various odds and ends-including the mantel decorations-all over the floor. She doesn’t ask what happened, as it was pretty obvious. “Come here.” She waves him forward and gently peels his hand back so she can examine his head.
Jack doesn’t even wince, but the gash is kind of deep and bleeding a lot, as head wounds tend to do.
“This’ll need stitches,” she tells him with a sympathetic grimace. Her gaze shifts to the orange cast on his left arm, her other main concern. “You didn’t bang your arm, did you?”
“No. My ass broke my fall,” he mutters with a hint of dry humor.
“What is it with you and ladders lately?” Sam teases, then tells him to keep his hand over the gash on his head and leads him back up the steps. “Let’s go get that taken care of,” she says softly, feeling bad that Jack’s having such a rough time when all he wants to do is finish decorating for the holiday.
.
On the way to the Academy Hospital, Jack’s quiet, holding a dishtowel to his bleeding head. When they get there a nurse that attended Jack yesterday makes a joke about seeing him again and then they’re directed into an exam room.
Once it’s determined that Jack doesn’t have a concussion, he gets three staples in the wound on his scalp and then they’re on their way. He refuses the prescription for more painkillers, since he already has the pills for his broken arm at home.
He’s tired when they get back to the house, and Sam doesn’t mention the remaining decorations, sure that he’s no longer in the mood. She gives him his meds and he goes to lie down in the bedroom for an hour or two.
While he’s sleeping, Sam goes back downstairs to clean up the mess in the basement. She brings up the boxes of remaining decorations and puts them down in front of the fireplace. She won’t finish decorating until Jack’s ready to, because this is his thing, and it’s important to him that they do it together. He’s never really told her why. She only knows that is has to do with Charlie, but he doesn’t talk about it, and she doesn’t ask.
Sam sits on the couch for a while and is watching White Christmas when Jack settles beside her, his right arm going across her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she says suddenly, lifting her head from the crook of his arm.
Jack doesn’t pretend like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He sighs, turns his head toward her so he can look in her eyes. “Sam,” he starts, but doesn’t finish when she puts her hand on his chest.
“No. I know decorating on Christmas together is important to you, and I don’t want to put work first anymore. I shouldn’t have put if first then and I don’t want to now.”
“Sam,” he tries again, but she interrupts him.
“I’m going to retire, Jack.”
He leans back a little, but doesn’t look all that surprised. Jack’s brows furrow slightly. “But you just made General.”
“I don’t care.” She sighs, and his arm slips from her shoulders to come to rest on her thigh. “I’m not going to quit my job cold turkey, Jack, but I don’t want to continue with the Air Force. I’m almost positive they’ll let me stay on as a civilian scientist. I don’t mean to be arrogant, but I’m too important to the program. I want to get back to the science part of things. I miss studying artifacts and technologies from other planets. I miss astrophysics.” Sam smiles at him a little, convincing him that this is what will make her happy. “I don’t want to command anymore, Jack. I want more time with you.”
He cocks his head to one side. “Yeah?” There’s a pleased look on his face, a sideways grin forming.
“Yeah.” Sam nods, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him full on the mouth.
Jack takes in a breath when they finally break apart. “Okay, then.”
She brushes a hand through his unruly hair, careful of the staples about an inch inside the hairline over his left eyebrow. “How’s your head?”
He shrugs. “S’okay.”
Sam gestures toward the box on the floor by the Christmas tree. “Feel like finishing with some decorations?”
“With you?” Jack grins. “Absolutely.”
Sam gets off the couch with him, feeling suddenly like an enormous weight has been lifted. She feels completely happy, more than she’s felt in a long time. She can tell Jack’s feeling it, too.
Her husband grins mischievously, his eyes lighting up as he reaches into the box. “Hey, look, mistletoe!”
Yeah, Sam thinks with a smile, spending more time with Jack is going to make the both of them much happier in the long run, and she looks forward to it.
.Fin.