Don't Ever Let it End: Part 3/4
Title: Don’t Ever Let it End
Summary: Jack and Sam spend some unexpected time together during Thanksgiving weekend.
Timeframe: Post season one’s ‘Solitudes.’
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Sam, Daniel, Janet
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Holiday, UST to RST, Friendship, Romance, Whump
Rating: PG
Part Three
Friday
Jack was still dead to the world when she woke the next morning, and Sam was still pressed against him, enjoying the shared warmth from their close contact. She wanted to just stay there forever if she could, but was afraid that Jack might wake up, and wasn’t so sure how clear his memory of the previous night would be. Sam didn’t want things to be more awkward than they had to be.
With a soft sigh, Sam reluctantly disentangled herself from Jack and slid out from under the warm pile of blankets. She carefully crept into the hall, returning to the spare room where she’d left her clothes from the previous day and mentally cursing herself for not having anything else to wear. Sam knew she’d need to run home at some point to pack a bag since she’d be staying with Jack for the next couple of days.
Wanting a hot shower, even though she had nothing clean to change into, Sam gathered her clothes and went into the main bathroom, letting the Colonel sleep. He was still huddled under the lump of blankets in bed when she got out of the shower and re-dressed in her previous days clothes.
Approaching the bed, she peeled some blankets back and placed her hand on his t-shirt clad shoulder, leaning over the bed. “Colonel?” He made a noise and his head shifted slightly. “Jack.”
“Hm?”
“I’m just going home to get a few things and I’ll be right back. Will you be okay?” Sam whispered.
“Mm-hm,” Jack mumbled sleepily in reply and she pulled the blanket back up when he started shivering.
“I won’t be gone long,” she promised, bending over to kiss his forehead without thinking about it. When she realized what she did, Sam froze by Jack’s bed, staring at him to see if he’d open his eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t, and she made a hasty retreat.
.
It was snowing again, and pretty heavily, so Sam took Jack’s truck to her place and quickly packed a bag with a few days worth of clothes and anything else she might need. She changed her clothes and made a quick stop at the market for a couple of things, knowing Jack hadn’t had much in the refrigerator when she’d looked last. They still had a bunch of leftovers from Janet’s, but would need some basics to last for the next few days, especially considering the thought that it was very likely that they would be snowed in.
After making her way in Jack’s front door with two grocery bags and her duffle, Sam kicked off her boots, dropped her duffle by the lounge steps, and trudged into the kitchen with the food. She found Jack at the table eating a bowl of Froot Loops and nursing a cup of coffee. He was wearing his flannel robe, with the fleece throw from the living room over his shoulders.
“Want some coffee?” he asked, glancing at her for the first time since she walked into the kitchen. He furrowed his brows as she began to put away the groceries she’d bought. “What’s all that?”
“You needed some real food in the house besides Janet’s leftovers. I think we might get snowed in, sir.” Sam winced at the ‘sir’ at the end of that sentence, especially when the title produced a grunt of disapproval from Jack. “Sorry.” She bit her lower lip.
Jack glanced toward the big kitchen windows to his left. He hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “Snowin’ hard.”
“Yeah.” Sam finished putting everything away and got herself a cup of coffee before sitting across from Jack at the table. She was oddly pleased-at least for the moment-that he wasn’t talking about last night, or what happened in Janet’s kitchen. If he could ignore it, than so could she. But they couldn’t ignore it forever, and that’s what she was worried about.
.
He was snowed in. Alone. With Carter. Jack didn’t really know what to think, or do, or how to act. He was driving himself nuts as the snow continued to fall and all he could think about was curling up next to Sam on the couch under a pile of warm, heavy blankets. To stave off those thoughts, he did everything he could possibly do to distract himself.
He lit the fire in the fireplace-with Sam’s help-then turned on his PlayStation so they could both play Call of Duty. Which they did-for nearly three straight hours. And it worked, distracting Jack enough for him to stop thinking about snuggling with Captain Samantha Carter, stop thinking about the feel of her soft, supple lips against his, her body warming his own.
“Maybe we should play in ‘Co-Op’ mode,” he muttered softly with a frown when Sam killed his character with a headshot for the umpteenth time.
“Ha! You only want to play ‘Co-Op’ because I’m kicking your butt.” She turned her head and flashed him an unbridled Brilliant Carter Smile.
“Do not,” he denied.
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Not.”
“You totally do.” Sam grinned triumphantly.
Jack opened his mouth to continue with the bantering, but an uncomfortable twinge in his chest made him stop as he inhaled sharply. He kept himself from letting a groan escape and set his controller down on the coffee table, easing his leg off the pillow that rested there. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want somethin’, Carter?” he asked casually, hiding his grimace as he reached for his crutches.
Sam eyed him suspiciously for a moment, probably just figuring he’d taken the easy way out of the argument. “No thank you, si-uh…Jack. I can get it if you want.” She started to get up but he quickly waved her off.
“Naw, it’s okay. I needta move around a little.” Jack flashed a swift, disarming grin and hobbled toward the steps.
“Okay.” He heard her tentative reply as he laboriously navigated the three steps up from the lounge.
Jack went to grab himself a glass of water in case Carter caught him. He paused at the sink, leaning against the counter as he set one crutch against it. He sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t make the pain in his chest subside; if anything he felt worse. Sam had made him take a painkiller not too long ago, and it was too early for another dose. His leg wasn’t acting up yet, so Jack figured he could do his best to ignore the flares of pain in his chest for now.
Taking his glass of water, Jack left one crutch behind and hobbled back to the lounge and Sam. To his surprise, she was in the hallway, pulling on her coat and boots and reaching into the hall closet for his snow shovel. “Ah… What’cha doin’?”
“I’m going to shovel your walkway,” she answered as though it were obvious.
“You don’t hafta do that.” Jack hobbled over to stand in front of her, leaning as casually as possible against the one crutch he had with him.
“Oh yeah?” Carter rose an incredulous eyebrow at him. “And who’s going to do it? You?” She gave his cast a long look.
Jack grimaced sheepishly and sighed with a shrug.
“You should lie down while I go shovel,” Sam suggested as she reached for the door handle.
He rubbed a hand across his stubbly face. He’d changed clothes earlier, but hadn’t really washed up yet. It was such a long, taxing process, and he wasn’t really feeling up to it, but Jack didn’t want Sam to think he stunk. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go wash up a little.”
.
Sam finished the walkway and made a path to Jack’s truck, clearing it off as much as she could before trudging back inside. There was already another inch on the ground where she’d shoveled.
Taking off her snowy boots, coat, and the gloves she’d borrowed from Jack, Sam quickly made her way to the fireplace in the living room to warm up a little. She threw a few more logs in and then looked around, not seeing Jack anywhere. The door to his bedroom was open, so she crossed over to the closed door of his en suite and knocked, figuring he was still in there washing up; it had taken him quite a while the previous day, and he’d needed her help.
“Jack?”
“Yeah. Be out in a minute, Carter,” he called back through the door.
“Do you need help with your hair again, sir?” Sam remembered him awkwardly trying to lean over the sink the other day, his clunky cast getting in the way.
“Nah, not gonna bother this time.”
Sam just nodded outside the door. “Alright, sir. I’ll just be in the kitchen to start on lunch.” She realized she’d called him ‘sir’ again, and quickly amended with, “Any requests, Jack?” She liked calling him by his name, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she didn’t want to stop. She liked hearing him call her ‘Sam,’ too, though he still mostly used ‘Carter.’ Jack had always made even her last name sound almost like a term of endearment.
“Nah, I trust you, Carter.”
Sam smiled to herself and left him alone to figure out what they’d be having for lunch.
.
Glancing up from eating her sandwich, Sam noticed Jack’s face was looking a little more pale than before and he had stopped eating. She watched him rub one hand across his chest and sigh softly before putting his food down to take a drink.
Sam got up silently and went to grab his painkillers from the bathroom. When she gave them to him, he took them silently and she sat back down across from him. Biting her lower lip for a moment, she hesitantly asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath and pulled a hand through his hair. “Just tired I think.” Jack bent over to pick up the crutches on the floor and levered himself upright. “I’m gonna go lie down for a while.” He began a slow hobble out of the kitchen and Sam watched him go with concern.
Realizing that he hadn’t really rested all day, Sam was sure that Jack must have been exhausted. Once he disappeared down the hall, she rose from the table and started to clean up their remnants from lunch.
When she was finished in the kitchen, Sam added a few more logs to the fire and then went back outside to shovel again, seeing how heavily the snow had come down. She found some ice melt in the closet and took it with her so she could spread it over the walk after shoveling, worried about ice build up. She definitely didn’t want the Colonel slipping with his broken leg if he had to go out for any reason.
By the time Sam was done with the walkway, she could stand the cold no longer. Ditching her extra layers of clothing, borrowed or otherwise, she made a beeline for the fireplace and the warm fleece blanket from Jack’s couch. She huddled on the rug in front of the fire for a long while until she’d warmed up sufficiently, then got up to check on Jack.
She found him lying on his bed with a pile of blankets over him, but he wasn’t asleep as she would have expected. He was flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Striding toward him, Sam sat on the edge of his bed and smiled tenderly when he turned his head in her direction, blinking slowly. He looked tired, and she had to wonder if he’d slept at all since he’d gone to lie down. Before she could say anything, he spoke.
“I keep…having these dreams,” he whispered, staring up at the ceiling again.
Sam’s brows furrowed as she waited patiently for him to go on.
“They’re usually more like memories.” Jack blinked slowly. “Of Antarctica. Either while we’re there, or after we get back home. Things always start out the way they really happened, then…” he breathed in deeply, “it changes.”
Her eyes remained fixed on his face, and he turned his head to look at her again.
Jack’s voice petered out to a whisper, his eyes pained-haunted. “You always disappear.” He swallowed audibly and took in another steadying breath. “Like poof, gone like vapor. You don’t just leave, you’re…gone.”
Sam smiled sympathetically. “I’m not going anywhere, Jack,” she assured him, reaching out a hand to place soothingly on his head, since every other part of him was buried in blankets. Her thumb brushed his forehead, and she frowned.
“What?” he murmured, his frown now matching hers as she removed her hand.
“You feel warm.”
He managed a shrug beneath all those blankets. “I’m okay.”
She shivered suddenly as a chill ran up her spine, and then Jack was pushing his blankets up for her.
“C’mere?” he asked softly, a little unsure.
Sam hesitated for half a second before crawling beneath the heavy blankets and curling up to Jack’s warm side, tucking her face into his shoulder. “You can sleep now; I’m right here.”
.
The painkillers he’d taken after lunch were really knocking him out, and with Sam so close to him, he allowed himself to finally sleep, hoping that her presence would stave off the nightmares for now.
Jack woke up alone sometime later, but he knew Sam hadn’t been gone long because the spot next to him was still warm. He pushed the layers of blankets off and dragged himself to the edge of the bed, gently lowering his injured leg to the floor. He rubbed his chest at the uncomfortable twinge that came when he sucked in a deep breath. Jack grimaced as he heard himself wheezing; he felt a little short of breath.
He looked up when he heard Sam’s voice, and she walked into the room, talking on her cell phone. “Okay, yeah I will. Thanks, Janet. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Jack rasped, fighting the urge to rub his chest again.
Sam grimaced apologetically as she looked at him. “I called Janet. I’m sorry, but you still feel warm and you’ve been wheezing. I got worried.”
He sighed and frowned briefly. “What did Doc say?”
“She thinks you have a little chest cold. Janet can’t get here because of the snow, but she told me to make sure you rest and get plenty of fluids, and she thinks it should go away on its own.”
Jack grunted. Great, just add another ailment to the list. The universe must love kicking him when he was down.
“Janet said your immune system is weakened because of the hypothermia you suffered. Actually she said that was true for both of us and wouldn’t be surprised if I got a little sick, too, but your case of hypothermia was worse than mine.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jack looked at her with concern. “Are you? Feeling sick I mean.”
Sam shrugged. “Not really. I mean, the chills are coming and going, but I’ve felt that way since we got back from Antarctica, just like you.”
Jack rubbed at his forehead and nodded. He reached for his crutches and stood with more effort than he expected. Hobbling into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him, pausing by the sink to rub his chest as the breath wheezed out of his lungs.
.
The fire in the living room had just about burned out, a few glowing embers remaining, so Sam added a few more logs from the enormous pile near the hearth. She stabbed at it with the iron poker hanging nearby until there was a decent flame. When she was satisfied, she went into the kitchen and smiled as she saw Jack hobbling down the hall to the lounge. She got two glasses of orange juice and then met him on the couch.
“Here, drink this,” Sam told him as she handed him the glass.
“M’not thirsty,” Jack insisted, his voice low and groggy. He leaned forward to prop his leg up on the coffee table, struggling to stick a pillow underneath it.
“Janet said you need fluids, Colonel,” she reiterated, giving him a stern look when he pushed the glass back at her. Sam had to take it otherwise it would’ve ended up spilled on the sofa.
Jack frowned, slumping down further in the couch cushions and crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. He heaved a weary sigh, his breathing rasping noisily again.
Sam turned on the TV and then sank back against the cushions, leaning against his right side and still holding his juice and her own. “How’s your leg feel?”
“Fine.”
Wondering at his fowl mood, Sam just figured he was grouchy because now he was sick on top of everything else. Her mood wouldn’t have been the best if she were in his shoes either.
They just sat for a long while, staring at the television without really watching what was on, neither saying a word. Sam slowly finished her juice, but still held onto Jack’s. Finally, he turned to her, lightly plucking the glass from her hand with an appreciative nod and drinking slowly. Sam smiled over at him and then got up, gently touching his cast. “You want dinner?”
He made a face. “Not real hungry, Carter.”
She smiled thinly. “I know, but it’ll be better if you eat something with the meds you’re on. I’ll just heat up some soup, alright?”
When Jack finally nodded in agreement, Sam got up and draped a blanket over him while she went to heat up their food. As she poured the can of soup into a saucepan and turned on the stove, Sam allowed her mind to rehash the last two days. She and Jack were still avoiding talking about the kiss at Janet’s, or the night they shared in his bed; they were still pretending like everything was just all okay, like it didn’t matter. But it did matter; it mattered a lot.
.
It had gotten late after they finished their small supper of soup and crackers, neither really feeling very hungry. Jack had fallen asleep on the couch shortly after eating, but Sam wanted to wake him up, figuring he’d be more comfortable in his own bed.
“Jack?” Sam firmly pressed her hand against his shoulder as she called his name.
“Hrm?” he grunted without moving or opening his eyes.
“Let me help you to bed; it’s late.” She waited patiently for him to rouse himself enough to start to get up, then handed him his crutches and helped to pull him upright.
Once they got to Jack’s room, Sam turned down the covers as he set his crutches by the night table and sat down, coughing and rubbing his chest. She frowned sympathetically at him. “Do you need some help getting changed?”
“Nope. Not gunna,” he murmured tiredly. He was already wearing baggy sweatpants and an old t-shirt anyway, and if he was comfortable that was fine with her.
“Okay.” Sam nodded and went to get his medication while he attempted to get situated in bed.
She came back with a glass of water and a double dose of pain pills to get him through the night. He took them silently, and when she tugged the blankets up over him, found him staring deeply into her eyes. She felt trapped by his brown-eyed gaze, but it was entirely a bad thing.
“Why are you doing this?” he breathed, his eyes never leaving her face.
Sam’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Doing what?”
“Staying here. Taking care of me.” Jack’s voice started to rasp.
She smiled tightly and waved a hand in a vague gesture, refusing to look deeper into what he was asking. “Janet said-“
He looked disappointed; forlorn. “Is that the only reason? ‘Cause Doc told you to play babysitter?”
Taken aback by his words and the dejected expression on his face, Sam chewed her bottom lip and stared down at her hands that were fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “No,” she murmured finally, unable to look at him.
“Then why?”
“Because I-“ she started out strong, but then lost the courage to continue with that train of thought. You’re not supposed to have these feelings for him! Sam mentally cursed herself. She swallowed convulsively when he managed to pull an arm out from beneath the blankets and grasped her fiddling hand.
“Sam.”
“Sir.” She instantly regretted purposely injecting that word. It was a barrier, and she knew it. “I’m sorry… I can’t.” Feeling like a coward, which she knew she was, Sam fled from the room and didn’t look back.
.
Jack struggled to sit upright in bed in his attempt to go after her. He cursed the fact that he was dosed up on painkillers that were slowing his progress drastically as they began to take effect. He barely made it to the edge of the bed before a wave of dizziness swept over him, the meds trying to force him into sleep.
Grabbing for his crutches, Jack got himself upright, swaying precariously and hobbling forward a few steps as he tried to catch his balance. The effort already had him breathing hard and wheezing, his chest aching. He was so afraid that she’d leave, and he needed to tell her that it was okay, that he felt the same way about her and that they could find a way to work things out. He didn’t want to let her go; he couldn’t.
“Carter,” Jack called out once he made it to the door. His voice was choked and barely there. He doubted she could even hear him. He had to go to her.
Hobbling unsteadily down the hallway, Jack stopped at the top of the lounge steps, not sure he could make it down there right now without falling flat on his face. Peering into the dark room, he didn’t see any sign of Carter so he turned precariously and hobbled toward the spare room, afraid she might be gathering her things.
Through the barely-open door Jack could see Carter sitting on the bed with her face in her hands. It felt even harder to breathe than before, and taking several deep breaths as he moved into the room only resulted in a coughing fit that nearly knocked him on his ass.
“What are you doing?!”
He heard Sam’s shriek of alarm a second before her arm slid around his waist. Jack dropped one of his crutches as Sam guided him to the bed, wheezing and barely able to catch his breath. “I didn’t…want you…to go,” he confessed, gasping.
Sam sighed as she sat him down, taking his remaining crutch and putting it off to the side. “I wasn’t going to leave,” she admitted softly, folding her hands in front of her and staring down at them. “I just… I feel…” she sighed again, frustrated. “I feel too much for you.”
Jack blinked at her, confused. Or maybe it was just the drugs. The last time he’d had a double dose it had left him quite out of it. Actually, he looked as though he would drop off to sleep at any moment.
“Sir-“
“Carter,” he growled with all the energy he could muster. “Don’t.” There was a deep sadness swirling in his eyes that made Sam’s heart stutter with grief for thinking that she could ever deny herself this man.
“I have never felt for anyone…the way I feel about you,” Sam finally confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.
Jack turned his head, their eyes meeting, his heavy-lidded and hopeful. “Sam.”
Only then did Sam realize how noisy and labored his breathing was. “Just lie down, okay?” she instructed, helping him get his legs up on the mattress and tucking them carefully beneath the covers. She adjusted the pillows at his back so he would be slightly reclined to help his breathing, then turned off the lights and got changed in the dark.
When she crawled into bed next to Jack, Sam heard his breathy voice before the drugs pulled him to sleep. Very softly, he said, “I love you, Carter.” Sam had difficulty getting to sleep after that, thinking about Jack’s words and wondering if he’d remember in the morning.
.
Part Four
Summary: Jack and Sam spend some unexpected time together during Thanksgiving weekend.
Timeframe: Post season one’s ‘Solitudes.’
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Sam, Daniel, Janet
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Holiday, UST to RST, Friendship, Romance, Whump
Rating: PG
Part Three
Friday
Jack was still dead to the world when she woke the next morning, and Sam was still pressed against him, enjoying the shared warmth from their close contact. She wanted to just stay there forever if she could, but was afraid that Jack might wake up, and wasn’t so sure how clear his memory of the previous night would be. Sam didn’t want things to be more awkward than they had to be.
With a soft sigh, Sam reluctantly disentangled herself from Jack and slid out from under the warm pile of blankets. She carefully crept into the hall, returning to the spare room where she’d left her clothes from the previous day and mentally cursing herself for not having anything else to wear. Sam knew she’d need to run home at some point to pack a bag since she’d be staying with Jack for the next couple of days.
Wanting a hot shower, even though she had nothing clean to change into, Sam gathered her clothes and went into the main bathroom, letting the Colonel sleep. He was still huddled under the lump of blankets in bed when she got out of the shower and re-dressed in her previous days clothes.
Approaching the bed, she peeled some blankets back and placed her hand on his t-shirt clad shoulder, leaning over the bed. “Colonel?” He made a noise and his head shifted slightly. “Jack.”
“Hm?”
“I’m just going home to get a few things and I’ll be right back. Will you be okay?” Sam whispered.
“Mm-hm,” Jack mumbled sleepily in reply and she pulled the blanket back up when he started shivering.
“I won’t be gone long,” she promised, bending over to kiss his forehead without thinking about it. When she realized what she did, Sam froze by Jack’s bed, staring at him to see if he’d open his eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t, and she made a hasty retreat.
.
It was snowing again, and pretty heavily, so Sam took Jack’s truck to her place and quickly packed a bag with a few days worth of clothes and anything else she might need. She changed her clothes and made a quick stop at the market for a couple of things, knowing Jack hadn’t had much in the refrigerator when she’d looked last. They still had a bunch of leftovers from Janet’s, but would need some basics to last for the next few days, especially considering the thought that it was very likely that they would be snowed in.
After making her way in Jack’s front door with two grocery bags and her duffle, Sam kicked off her boots, dropped her duffle by the lounge steps, and trudged into the kitchen with the food. She found Jack at the table eating a bowl of Froot Loops and nursing a cup of coffee. He was wearing his flannel robe, with the fleece throw from the living room over his shoulders.
“Want some coffee?” he asked, glancing at her for the first time since she walked into the kitchen. He furrowed his brows as she began to put away the groceries she’d bought. “What’s all that?”
“You needed some real food in the house besides Janet’s leftovers. I think we might get snowed in, sir.” Sam winced at the ‘sir’ at the end of that sentence, especially when the title produced a grunt of disapproval from Jack. “Sorry.” She bit her lower lip.
Jack glanced toward the big kitchen windows to his left. He hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “Snowin’ hard.”
“Yeah.” Sam finished putting everything away and got herself a cup of coffee before sitting across from Jack at the table. She was oddly pleased-at least for the moment-that he wasn’t talking about last night, or what happened in Janet’s kitchen. If he could ignore it, than so could she. But they couldn’t ignore it forever, and that’s what she was worried about.
.
He was snowed in. Alone. With Carter. Jack didn’t really know what to think, or do, or how to act. He was driving himself nuts as the snow continued to fall and all he could think about was curling up next to Sam on the couch under a pile of warm, heavy blankets. To stave off those thoughts, he did everything he could possibly do to distract himself.
He lit the fire in the fireplace-with Sam’s help-then turned on his PlayStation so they could both play Call of Duty. Which they did-for nearly three straight hours. And it worked, distracting Jack enough for him to stop thinking about snuggling with Captain Samantha Carter, stop thinking about the feel of her soft, supple lips against his, her body warming his own.
“Maybe we should play in ‘Co-Op’ mode,” he muttered softly with a frown when Sam killed his character with a headshot for the umpteenth time.
“Ha! You only want to play ‘Co-Op’ because I’m kicking your butt.” She turned her head and flashed him an unbridled Brilliant Carter Smile.
“Do not,” he denied.
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Not.”
“You totally do.” Sam grinned triumphantly.
Jack opened his mouth to continue with the bantering, but an uncomfortable twinge in his chest made him stop as he inhaled sharply. He kept himself from letting a groan escape and set his controller down on the coffee table, easing his leg off the pillow that rested there. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want somethin’, Carter?” he asked casually, hiding his grimace as he reached for his crutches.
Sam eyed him suspiciously for a moment, probably just figuring he’d taken the easy way out of the argument. “No thank you, si-uh…Jack. I can get it if you want.” She started to get up but he quickly waved her off.
“Naw, it’s okay. I needta move around a little.” Jack flashed a swift, disarming grin and hobbled toward the steps.
“Okay.” He heard her tentative reply as he laboriously navigated the three steps up from the lounge.
Jack went to grab himself a glass of water in case Carter caught him. He paused at the sink, leaning against the counter as he set one crutch against it. He sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t make the pain in his chest subside; if anything he felt worse. Sam had made him take a painkiller not too long ago, and it was too early for another dose. His leg wasn’t acting up yet, so Jack figured he could do his best to ignore the flares of pain in his chest for now.
Taking his glass of water, Jack left one crutch behind and hobbled back to the lounge and Sam. To his surprise, she was in the hallway, pulling on her coat and boots and reaching into the hall closet for his snow shovel. “Ah… What’cha doin’?”
“I’m going to shovel your walkway,” she answered as though it were obvious.
“You don’t hafta do that.” Jack hobbled over to stand in front of her, leaning as casually as possible against the one crutch he had with him.
“Oh yeah?” Carter rose an incredulous eyebrow at him. “And who’s going to do it? You?” She gave his cast a long look.
Jack grimaced sheepishly and sighed with a shrug.
“You should lie down while I go shovel,” Sam suggested as she reached for the door handle.
He rubbed a hand across his stubbly face. He’d changed clothes earlier, but hadn’t really washed up yet. It was such a long, taxing process, and he wasn’t really feeling up to it, but Jack didn’t want Sam to think he stunk. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go wash up a little.”
.
Sam finished the walkway and made a path to Jack’s truck, clearing it off as much as she could before trudging back inside. There was already another inch on the ground where she’d shoveled.
Taking off her snowy boots, coat, and the gloves she’d borrowed from Jack, Sam quickly made her way to the fireplace in the living room to warm up a little. She threw a few more logs in and then looked around, not seeing Jack anywhere. The door to his bedroom was open, so she crossed over to the closed door of his en suite and knocked, figuring he was still in there washing up; it had taken him quite a while the previous day, and he’d needed her help.
“Jack?”
“Yeah. Be out in a minute, Carter,” he called back through the door.
“Do you need help with your hair again, sir?” Sam remembered him awkwardly trying to lean over the sink the other day, his clunky cast getting in the way.
“Nah, not gonna bother this time.”
Sam just nodded outside the door. “Alright, sir. I’ll just be in the kitchen to start on lunch.” She realized she’d called him ‘sir’ again, and quickly amended with, “Any requests, Jack?” She liked calling him by his name, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she didn’t want to stop. She liked hearing him call her ‘Sam,’ too, though he still mostly used ‘Carter.’ Jack had always made even her last name sound almost like a term of endearment.
“Nah, I trust you, Carter.”
Sam smiled to herself and left him alone to figure out what they’d be having for lunch.
.
Glancing up from eating her sandwich, Sam noticed Jack’s face was looking a little more pale than before and he had stopped eating. She watched him rub one hand across his chest and sigh softly before putting his food down to take a drink.
Sam got up silently and went to grab his painkillers from the bathroom. When she gave them to him, he took them silently and she sat back down across from him. Biting her lower lip for a moment, she hesitantly asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath and pulled a hand through his hair. “Just tired I think.” Jack bent over to pick up the crutches on the floor and levered himself upright. “I’m gonna go lie down for a while.” He began a slow hobble out of the kitchen and Sam watched him go with concern.
Realizing that he hadn’t really rested all day, Sam was sure that Jack must have been exhausted. Once he disappeared down the hall, she rose from the table and started to clean up their remnants from lunch.
When she was finished in the kitchen, Sam added a few more logs to the fire and then went back outside to shovel again, seeing how heavily the snow had come down. She found some ice melt in the closet and took it with her so she could spread it over the walk after shoveling, worried about ice build up. She definitely didn’t want the Colonel slipping with his broken leg if he had to go out for any reason.
By the time Sam was done with the walkway, she could stand the cold no longer. Ditching her extra layers of clothing, borrowed or otherwise, she made a beeline for the fireplace and the warm fleece blanket from Jack’s couch. She huddled on the rug in front of the fire for a long while until she’d warmed up sufficiently, then got up to check on Jack.
She found him lying on his bed with a pile of blankets over him, but he wasn’t asleep as she would have expected. He was flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Striding toward him, Sam sat on the edge of his bed and smiled tenderly when he turned his head in her direction, blinking slowly. He looked tired, and she had to wonder if he’d slept at all since he’d gone to lie down. Before she could say anything, he spoke.
“I keep…having these dreams,” he whispered, staring up at the ceiling again.
Sam’s brows furrowed as she waited patiently for him to go on.
“They’re usually more like memories.” Jack blinked slowly. “Of Antarctica. Either while we’re there, or after we get back home. Things always start out the way they really happened, then…” he breathed in deeply, “it changes.”
Her eyes remained fixed on his face, and he turned his head to look at her again.
Jack’s voice petered out to a whisper, his eyes pained-haunted. “You always disappear.” He swallowed audibly and took in another steadying breath. “Like poof, gone like vapor. You don’t just leave, you’re…gone.”
Sam smiled sympathetically. “I’m not going anywhere, Jack,” she assured him, reaching out a hand to place soothingly on his head, since every other part of him was buried in blankets. Her thumb brushed his forehead, and she frowned.
“What?” he murmured, his frown now matching hers as she removed her hand.
“You feel warm.”
He managed a shrug beneath all those blankets. “I’m okay.”
She shivered suddenly as a chill ran up her spine, and then Jack was pushing his blankets up for her.
“C’mere?” he asked softly, a little unsure.
Sam hesitated for half a second before crawling beneath the heavy blankets and curling up to Jack’s warm side, tucking her face into his shoulder. “You can sleep now; I’m right here.”
.
The painkillers he’d taken after lunch were really knocking him out, and with Sam so close to him, he allowed himself to finally sleep, hoping that her presence would stave off the nightmares for now.
Jack woke up alone sometime later, but he knew Sam hadn’t been gone long because the spot next to him was still warm. He pushed the layers of blankets off and dragged himself to the edge of the bed, gently lowering his injured leg to the floor. He rubbed his chest at the uncomfortable twinge that came when he sucked in a deep breath. Jack grimaced as he heard himself wheezing; he felt a little short of breath.
He looked up when he heard Sam’s voice, and she walked into the room, talking on her cell phone. “Okay, yeah I will. Thanks, Janet. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Jack rasped, fighting the urge to rub his chest again.
Sam grimaced apologetically as she looked at him. “I called Janet. I’m sorry, but you still feel warm and you’ve been wheezing. I got worried.”
He sighed and frowned briefly. “What did Doc say?”
“She thinks you have a little chest cold. Janet can’t get here because of the snow, but she told me to make sure you rest and get plenty of fluids, and she thinks it should go away on its own.”
Jack grunted. Great, just add another ailment to the list. The universe must love kicking him when he was down.
“Janet said your immune system is weakened because of the hypothermia you suffered. Actually she said that was true for both of us and wouldn’t be surprised if I got a little sick, too, but your case of hypothermia was worse than mine.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jack looked at her with concern. “Are you? Feeling sick I mean.”
Sam shrugged. “Not really. I mean, the chills are coming and going, but I’ve felt that way since we got back from Antarctica, just like you.”
Jack rubbed at his forehead and nodded. He reached for his crutches and stood with more effort than he expected. Hobbling into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him, pausing by the sink to rub his chest as the breath wheezed out of his lungs.
.
The fire in the living room had just about burned out, a few glowing embers remaining, so Sam added a few more logs from the enormous pile near the hearth. She stabbed at it with the iron poker hanging nearby until there was a decent flame. When she was satisfied, she went into the kitchen and smiled as she saw Jack hobbling down the hall to the lounge. She got two glasses of orange juice and then met him on the couch.
“Here, drink this,” Sam told him as she handed him the glass.
“M’not thirsty,” Jack insisted, his voice low and groggy. He leaned forward to prop his leg up on the coffee table, struggling to stick a pillow underneath it.
“Janet said you need fluids, Colonel,” she reiterated, giving him a stern look when he pushed the glass back at her. Sam had to take it otherwise it would’ve ended up spilled on the sofa.
Jack frowned, slumping down further in the couch cushions and crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. He heaved a weary sigh, his breathing rasping noisily again.
Sam turned on the TV and then sank back against the cushions, leaning against his right side and still holding his juice and her own. “How’s your leg feel?”
“Fine.”
Wondering at his fowl mood, Sam just figured he was grouchy because now he was sick on top of everything else. Her mood wouldn’t have been the best if she were in his shoes either.
They just sat for a long while, staring at the television without really watching what was on, neither saying a word. Sam slowly finished her juice, but still held onto Jack’s. Finally, he turned to her, lightly plucking the glass from her hand with an appreciative nod and drinking slowly. Sam smiled over at him and then got up, gently touching his cast. “You want dinner?”
He made a face. “Not real hungry, Carter.”
She smiled thinly. “I know, but it’ll be better if you eat something with the meds you’re on. I’ll just heat up some soup, alright?”
When Jack finally nodded in agreement, Sam got up and draped a blanket over him while she went to heat up their food. As she poured the can of soup into a saucepan and turned on the stove, Sam allowed her mind to rehash the last two days. She and Jack were still avoiding talking about the kiss at Janet’s, or the night they shared in his bed; they were still pretending like everything was just all okay, like it didn’t matter. But it did matter; it mattered a lot.
.
It had gotten late after they finished their small supper of soup and crackers, neither really feeling very hungry. Jack had fallen asleep on the couch shortly after eating, but Sam wanted to wake him up, figuring he’d be more comfortable in his own bed.
“Jack?” Sam firmly pressed her hand against his shoulder as she called his name.
“Hrm?” he grunted without moving or opening his eyes.
“Let me help you to bed; it’s late.” She waited patiently for him to rouse himself enough to start to get up, then handed him his crutches and helped to pull him upright.
Once they got to Jack’s room, Sam turned down the covers as he set his crutches by the night table and sat down, coughing and rubbing his chest. She frowned sympathetically at him. “Do you need some help getting changed?”
“Nope. Not gunna,” he murmured tiredly. He was already wearing baggy sweatpants and an old t-shirt anyway, and if he was comfortable that was fine with her.
“Okay.” Sam nodded and went to get his medication while he attempted to get situated in bed.
She came back with a glass of water and a double dose of pain pills to get him through the night. He took them silently, and when she tugged the blankets up over him, found him staring deeply into her eyes. She felt trapped by his brown-eyed gaze, but it was entirely a bad thing.
“Why are you doing this?” he breathed, his eyes never leaving her face.
Sam’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Doing what?”
“Staying here. Taking care of me.” Jack’s voice started to rasp.
She smiled tightly and waved a hand in a vague gesture, refusing to look deeper into what he was asking. “Janet said-“
He looked disappointed; forlorn. “Is that the only reason? ‘Cause Doc told you to play babysitter?”
Taken aback by his words and the dejected expression on his face, Sam chewed her bottom lip and stared down at her hands that were fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “No,” she murmured finally, unable to look at him.
“Then why?”
“Because I-“ she started out strong, but then lost the courage to continue with that train of thought. You’re not supposed to have these feelings for him! Sam mentally cursed herself. She swallowed convulsively when he managed to pull an arm out from beneath the blankets and grasped her fiddling hand.
“Sam.”
“Sir.” She instantly regretted purposely injecting that word. It was a barrier, and she knew it. “I’m sorry… I can’t.” Feeling like a coward, which she knew she was, Sam fled from the room and didn’t look back.
.
Jack struggled to sit upright in bed in his attempt to go after her. He cursed the fact that he was dosed up on painkillers that were slowing his progress drastically as they began to take effect. He barely made it to the edge of the bed before a wave of dizziness swept over him, the meds trying to force him into sleep.
Grabbing for his crutches, Jack got himself upright, swaying precariously and hobbling forward a few steps as he tried to catch his balance. The effort already had him breathing hard and wheezing, his chest aching. He was so afraid that she’d leave, and he needed to tell her that it was okay, that he felt the same way about her and that they could find a way to work things out. He didn’t want to let her go; he couldn’t.
“Carter,” Jack called out once he made it to the door. His voice was choked and barely there. He doubted she could even hear him. He had to go to her.
Hobbling unsteadily down the hallway, Jack stopped at the top of the lounge steps, not sure he could make it down there right now without falling flat on his face. Peering into the dark room, he didn’t see any sign of Carter so he turned precariously and hobbled toward the spare room, afraid she might be gathering her things.
Through the barely-open door Jack could see Carter sitting on the bed with her face in her hands. It felt even harder to breathe than before, and taking several deep breaths as he moved into the room only resulted in a coughing fit that nearly knocked him on his ass.
“What are you doing?!”
He heard Sam’s shriek of alarm a second before her arm slid around his waist. Jack dropped one of his crutches as Sam guided him to the bed, wheezing and barely able to catch his breath. “I didn’t…want you…to go,” he confessed, gasping.
Sam sighed as she sat him down, taking his remaining crutch and putting it off to the side. “I wasn’t going to leave,” she admitted softly, folding her hands in front of her and staring down at them. “I just… I feel…” she sighed again, frustrated. “I feel too much for you.”
Jack blinked at her, confused. Or maybe it was just the drugs. The last time he’d had a double dose it had left him quite out of it. Actually, he looked as though he would drop off to sleep at any moment.
“Sir-“
“Carter,” he growled with all the energy he could muster. “Don’t.” There was a deep sadness swirling in his eyes that made Sam’s heart stutter with grief for thinking that she could ever deny herself this man.
“I have never felt for anyone…the way I feel about you,” Sam finally confessed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.
Jack turned his head, their eyes meeting, his heavy-lidded and hopeful. “Sam.”
Only then did Sam realize how noisy and labored his breathing was. “Just lie down, okay?” she instructed, helping him get his legs up on the mattress and tucking them carefully beneath the covers. She adjusted the pillows at his back so he would be slightly reclined to help his breathing, then turned off the lights and got changed in the dark.
When she crawled into bed next to Jack, Sam heard his breathy voice before the drugs pulled him to sleep. Very softly, he said, “I love you, Carter.” Sam had difficulty getting to sleep after that, thinking about Jack’s words and wondering if he’d remember in the morning.
.
Part Four