Rating: All Ages
Summary: Episode tag for Beneath the Surface; songfic, I guess.
Classifications: S/J Romance
Content Warning: None
Season: 4
Pairings: Sam/Jack, but of course
Spoilers for: Emancipation, In the Line of Duty, Divide and Conquer, Beneath the Surface
Archive: Please, just ask!
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. I just like it :) All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: The song's by Richard Marx.
Copyright (c) 2006 SJ Author
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It had been a week since SG-1 returned from that ice cube of a
planet--it was winter in
team still had another week of downtime to spend trying to
re-familiarize themselves with, well, themselves. Sam had finally gotten to the
point where she was thinking of herself as “Samantha” again, rather than
“Thera.”
It had been so strange when they first came back. Everything that had
happened on the planet since they’d been stamped was crystal clear to
Sam, but the false history beyond that was only reluctantly fading as
her real life slowly revealed itself to her mind. Memories would come in
spurts, as some phrase, or sight, or just a sound or smell triggered
them. The biggest shock had been when she’d first emerged from the
Stargate. So much had come back to her upon seeing the ‘gate room, but
there had still been disturbing blank spots that needed to be filled in.
At least now, everything seemed to be back in place.
Sam’s largest challenge had been trying to act “normal” around Jack.
The foremost thought in her mind whenever she’d seen him was of their
last night together as “Jonah” and “Thera.” When she tried to conjure up
memories of a comfortable working relationship, she only got as far as
the Zatarc detector, and their forced confessions. He was just as
uncomfortable as she, as far as Sam could tell. They had both behaved as
if they were standing ready for inspection whenever they were within
close proximity of each other. Their eyes never met as they each initially
debriefed
she’d caught Jack’s eye as he looked her way, and was nearly overwhelmed
at the sadness she read there. He’d glanced back down at his hands as
soon as he’d realized she’d seen him, and she’d pretended to be
listening with rapt attention to the general and her other teammates.
A few times since then, the team had gathered to try and help each
other piece things together. Once, they’d all gone over to Jack’s house
for pizza and movies. Although they’d talked about a lot of things, past
missions, friends on and off base (and on and off world), and anything
else they could come up with, there was still only one thing on Sam’s
mind—and it was the one thing she wasn’t about to discuss with the
group. Jack had looked as though he wanted to keep her back after the other
two left for the evening, but before he said anything he seemed to
retreat within himself, and wished her a good night. Sam had just nodded
sadly and walked out, steeping in her own whirlwind of thoughts as she
drove home to try and find some comfort in dreams.
As Sam puttered around her house on day eight, she couldn’t help but
glance at the phone every time she passed it. Twice that morning she had
almost picked it up to call her CO, but chickened out before she even
touched it. It was now ten o’clock. She’d watered all of her plants,
done all of the dishes and laundry she could find, dusted every room of
the house, and even swept the snow from her front walk (there wasn't
nearly enough to shovel). Now, she was sitting at the table, resting her
chin in her hand, and just staring at the phone debating with herself.
“None of this has to leave this room,” she heard herself say in her
mind. Yeah, right. As if she hadn’t been praying with every fiber of her
being that he’d say, “forget that!” or words to that effect. It had
been a sweet kind of torture before then, working with him day in and day
out, knowing a secret that they hadn’t even openly shared with each
other. After leaving it in the room, she’d told herself that it wasn’t as
big a deal as she’d been making it, and that he only thought of her as
a very, very close friend. But no longer. She couldn’t convince
herself that he didn’t feel a whole lot more for her than “friends,” whether
they’d admit it professionally or not—not after that night. . . .
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her screen door opening
and closing, followed by a ring of her front doorbell. Trying to
remember ordering any packages, she made her way to the front hall. She
couldn’t see anyone, so she opened the door, and picked up the manila
envelope that lay at her feet. Instead of an address, it simply said
“Carter,” in familiar handwriting. She walked into the living room with it,
sitting down on her couch before finding the courage to open it.
Inside was a CD jewel case, with a Post-It note on the front. It read,
“just throw this in the trash right now, if you want it all tucked back
in that room.” Did she? It would make working together easier. . .
for a while. They were pretty good at pretending; but was that how she
wanted to live her life? Was she just obsessing, or did they really
have an opportunity to make something of all this? Well, she decided,
he’d taken a chance, she might as well take one, too. She opened the
case, took out the CD-R, and put it in her stereo. There was another note,
a folded sheet of notebook paper, inside the front cover that simply
said, “after the CD.” She set up the disk to play, and sat back down on
the couch, holding the second note in anticipation.
Soon enough, the sweetly sad tones of the song began:
“Just when I believed I couldn't ever want for more.
This ever changing world pushes me through another door.
I saw you smile
And my mind could not erase the beauty of your face
Just for a while,
Won't you let me shelter you?
“Hold on to the night
Hold on to the memory
I wish that I could give you something more,
That I could be yours
“How do we explain
something that took us by surprise
Promises in vain
Love that is real, but in disguise
What happens now
Do we break another rule, let our lovers play the fool?
I don't know how to stop feeling this way
“Hold on to the night
Hold on the memory
If only I could give you more...
“Well, I think that I've been true to everybody else but me
And the way I feel about you makes my heart long to be free
Every time I look into your eyes I'm helplessly aware
That the someone I've been searching for is right there
“Hold on to the night
Hold on to the memory
I wish that I could give you more....
Hold on to the night”
The stereo stopped playing once the track was done. Sam sat hunched on
her couch, looking down at the unopened note in her hands through
tear-filled eyes. She couldn’t yet be sure how much of the song he meant
for the two of them, but every word seemed to strike a chord within her.
She would have stamped her feet in frustration, if she were given to
tantrums. As it was, she just hit “play” again, trying to approach the
situation as analytically as she knew how. If she could finally pin
down her own thoughts and wishes and expectations, then she could
straightforwardly compare them to whatever Jack had written in his second note.
Sam hit “pause” just before the words began playing, and reached for a
notepad and pen lying next to her phone. She then let the CD play,
pausing again after every few lines to make a note. After another
run-through, she looked at what she’d written:
1. Admitted physical attraction from first introduction. Grown to
admiration and infatuation at the least. Really, really tempting to give
in.
2. No way I’ll ever forget that night. Pure, simple, honest,
affection from the core of my being without any outside constraints to make us
pretend to be something other than ourselves.
3. A part of me wishes for so much more of it. It would never be as
simple as in that world, but being our true selves, it could be so much
better—or complicated and harshly realistic.
4. I certainly wasn’t expecting or trying for this. It just snuck up
on me, as I gradually came to live for the chances I got to be near
him, and to miss him every moment he wasn’t with me. His phrases come to
my mind at the most inopportune times. I think of him any time another
woman asks me how “hot” I think one of the guys is. I sneak pieces of
pie or cake at chow just to remind myself of him—but never when he can
see! I dream of moments I’ve spent with him, of possibly being with
him, of losing him.
5. “No matter what happens when our memories come back, I promise you
we will be together. We have to be.” Yeah. The best intentions. . .
.
6. Okay, so I do love him. But I’ve managed, for the most part, to
disguise it as admiration, friendship, camaraderie. I’m pretty sure I’ve
fooled most people (except maybe Teal’c and Janet). I might even have
had him convinced, if it hadn’t been for that night.
7. What do we do? Pretend like some irresistible forces drawing us
together somehow put us above the rules and regulations of our service?
No, no sneaking. There are only three options that I can see: A., We
forget it, act like there’s nothing between us, and move on. B., We
remember what we had, but put it behind us for the sake of our
professional relationship. . . maybe keeping it locked away until “someday” comes
and we’re not as busy fighting this war. C., We come right out and
face it, throwing ourselves on the general’s mercy to help us figure out
what to do.
8. Feelings are just feelings. But facts are facts. I might be able
to forget how I feel, but the more time I spend with him, the more my
whole personality seems to mold itself to him, to drink in every aspect
of him. It just seems so natural now, I’m not sure I could stop it
even if I tried.
9. Ouch. “True to everybody else but me.” I certainly have tried to
be the dutiful officer, the good daughter, the dependable, astrophysics
miracle worker. But I’ve followed a lot of my own dreams, too. I
didn’t have to serve a tour as a pilot before grad school; they were
actually begging me to go straight into research out of the Academy.
I could have stayed behind a desk instead of fighting for a spot in the
field. Unfortunately, the goals I’ve achieved come with a measure of
obligation that’s keeping one man from me. I do wish it wasn’t so
complicated somehow, that I could be free to have it all.
10. Is he the one? It sure seems like it to me, sometimes. Through
my past boyfriends, wannabe-boyfriends, fiancé, even, I’ve always felt
that I was being tolerant of someone else’s affections because they kept
me entertained and I could help them with something they were lacking.
But he brings out so much in me that I never new existed. We seem to
compliment each other’s strengths and challenge each other’s weaknesses.
I’m still just guessing at how he really feels, but if he were to
confess the same to me, then yes, I’d have to say he’s “the someone I’ve
been searching for.”
Sam read and re-read her notes. “Wow,” she said aloud to herself. She
had it bad. She was 100% in love with her commanding officer. She
picked up his note, still unread, and held it tightly in her left hand.
Setting down the pad and pen, she took a deep breath. This could be it.
What he said on this page could break her heart, or make her dreams
come true. “A, B, or C,” she said, glancing at item #7 as she unfolded
the paper.
“Dear Sam,
“You know I’ve never been good with words. I think that’s why we work
so well together, because you can almost read my mind and I don’t need
to say anything. But I need to say this.
“If you’re reading this, then I hope there’s a chance that you want us
to be more than “friends,” if that’s all we are now. If I’m honest,
I’ve wanted you since I first met you. I started worrying that I loved
you after that Abu guy kidnapped you to trade to Turban.” Sam chuckled
at his re-naming of Turghan, but was surprised at how early on he was
admitting he’d had feelings for her. “I was so relieved when we found
you, then terrified again when you fought him, but more proud than I
could imagine when you beat him. It took me a long time, living in
denial, but I finally knew for sure that I loved you when you were taken over
by Jolinar. I think Janet’s known since then, too, when I couldn’t
leave your side after the ashrak got to you.” He’d said it. He loves
her. Wow.
“You’ve done something to me that no one else ever has. I don’t know
if I can put my finger on it. Your presence just makes me, well, happy.
You care so much for people, and for some reason, for me. You throw
yourself so whole-heartedly into whatever you do. You have a smile that
shines through your eyes and lights up my soul. Before I met you, I
lived life because I didn’t have anything more to die for. Daniel and
Skaara had helped me get over that. But you, for you I’d cling to life
with every ounce of my strength, even if I had every reason to die, just
so that I could live to see you again. And I’d give my life without a
moment’s hesitation, if it meant that you could live.
“If I’d succeeded in hiding behind just ‘caring’ for you,” Sam turned
the page over, “then I hope you know how I really feel now. ‘Jonah’ was
me, in every way I wish I could be for you now. Except in ‘Thera’ he
only had a glimpse into the wonderful person that you are. He couldn’t
know the depth of your compassion, dedication, strength, or courage,
anywhere near as much as I do. I can’t make your choices for you, but if
there’s a chance you want a life with me, then I’ll do everything in my
power to make it happen. I don’t know what or how long it will take,
but please don’t doubt me. Hold on to what we had together, and believe
me that we can be so much more—if you want it.
“‘Jonah’ promised you that we’d be together no matter what, and I’m
holding to that. It’s up to you to tell me how. I couldn’t ever ask you
to just ignore the rules, or throw away your career. If you want me to
forget us, and just work together like nothing happened, I’ll do it for
you. I could never stop loving you, but I’ll respect your decision as
much as I respect you.
“Like I said, I’m not good with words, and I don’t think I’ve come
close to saying everything I meant to say. If you’ve changed your mind
after reading this, then you can still trash it and I’ll never mention it
again. But if you think we’ve got anything near a chance, just call my
cell. I don’t know what to do, but I know you’ll figure something out
like you always do.” Sam looked back at her notepad, and smiled. She
had already been trying to do just that. He knew her so well.
“Love,
“Jack”
Sam read the note twice more. Here it was, everything she’d dreamed
he’d say to her. She laughed to compare the two compositions: her
analytical breakdown of the song, versus his heartfelt motivation for
choosing it. So different, and yet, so “complimentary,” as she’d said in her
notes. She wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes again.
She knew she had to call him now, and she didn’t want to look like a
mess if they were going to meet and somehow talk through all this.
Sam got up and walked over to the phone. Resolutely, she picked up the
cordless and dialed Jack’s cell phone. She paced nervously as it rang.
She was debating whether or not she could leave a message if his
voicemail picked up, when he suddenly answered.
“—Eill,” he cleared his throat, “O’Neill,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir, did I wake you?” asked Sam. It was just after noon
now, and she’d thought he’d dropped the package at her house himself.
“Carter! No, I mean, I must have dozed off. . . . What’s up?”
Sam felt her courage slipping away, so she charged ahead before it left
her altogether. “Um, did you send me a package today, sir?” she
probed.
“Yeah,” said Jack. After a while, he asked, “did you read it?”
“I did,” she replied. Finally, she continued, “and I’d like to talk
about it, if we can.” She closed her eyes, dreading whatever response
he’d give her. He may have reconsidered. . . or he might want to come
right over.
Jack didn’t answer right away. At last, he asked, “is it alright if I
come in?”
Come in? Don’t you mean come over, thought Sam. “You mean come over?”
she asked aloud.
“No, actually, I fell asleep in my truck outside your house, hoping
you’d call.”
Oh. “Oh.” He’s here already! Sam looked herself over, wondering if
she should change. A sweatshirt, blue jeans, some tennis shoes. Then,
she almost laughed out loud, remembering her glamorous outfit as
“Thera.” “Sure, sir, that’s fine.”
“Okay,” he said. She could hear him unbuckling his seatbelt. “I guess
I’ll see you in a few, then.”
“Right. Bye,” Sam said, hanging up the phone. She took a quick look
out of her front window to see if she could spot the truck she must
have missed earlier when she’d come to the door. There it was. He’d
parked two houses down the street. She could see the driver’s door opening
now. Turning back to the living room, she made a quick visual sweep to
make sure everything was in order. She turned off the stereo, slipped
the CD’s jewel case back in the envelope, and tossed it on the kitchen
counter, then folded his note back up and stuck it in her notepad,
flipping it closed over her remarks. She left it on the table, in case she
worked up the nerve to show him what she’d written.
Just as she was finishing, she heard a knock on her door. She took a
calming breath, then opened it. He was standing in the snow, without a
hat, wearing a jacket over a button-down shirt and black jeans. Sam
thought she’d felt “in love” before, but seeing him here, now that she’d
read his heartfelt confessions, took her breath away. She managed to
stand aside to let him in the house, closing the door after him.
He seemed calm, as he stood in her living room brushing some snowflakes
off of his leather jacket. “Hi,” he said at last.
“Hi,” Sam replied, and then she saw it. He was trying to act composed,
but his eyes gave him away. He was desperately scanning her face,
trying to determine which way this conversation was going to go. Sam
realized, as far as he knew, her curiosity could have just gotten the better
of her, and she’d asked him here to try and let him down easy.
Realizing she’d have to get into it sooner or later, she picked up her
notepad, and gestured to the couch. “Would you like a seat? Can I get you
anything? Beer?”
“Water’d be good, thanks,” Jack said. “Can I help you?”
“No, thanks, I’ll be right back.” Sam turned quickly to the kitchen to
grab a couple of glasses of water. Jack eventually moved over to the
couch, and shrugged out of his jacket. He tossed it over the arm of the
sofa as he waited.
After a few moments, Sam came back in with the glasses. “Here you go,
sir,” she said, handing Jack his water. She saw his brow furrow, and
mentally kicked herself for the appellation. She knew she was just
nervous, but he probably felt like she was distancing herself. “Please,
sit down,” she said, sitting on the couch next to where he stood, trying
to make him see that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Jack finally sat, looking at the coffee table, rather than at her. He
set his glass down after taking a small sip. He drummed his fingers on
his knees. Sam placed the notepad on the table, and tried to figure
out where to begin. She took a drink of her water, and then placed it on
the table as well. This wasn’t going nearly as well as she’d hoped.
She loved him so much, but what should she say?
“Thank you,” came out at last. At least it got his attention. “The
song, it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah?” He looked her in the eyes, waiting for her to give him just a
little more of a clue.
“So was your letter,” she said, smiling. She was relieved to see him
smile a bit, too. He was so handsome when he smiled! Okay, she thought
he was always handsome, but man!
Worry came back into his eyes, as he asked, “what did you think, about.
. .,” he broke off, searching for the right words.
“Us?” Sam supplied.
“Yeah, us,” he said, his hands now stilled on his knees.
Sam reached for her notepad, hesitating slightly before she flipped it
open and handed it to him. “I wrote this after I heard the song,
before I read your letter. It’s not much, but. . .” she let her sentence
trail off, as he reached out and took the pad from her.
Sam sat back into the couch as she watched him read. She saw him
reread a couple of the lines as he went, and his smile grew as he did. He
seemed even more encouraged by the glances he stole of her sitting there
next to him, smiling more and more broadly. At last, he finished, his
mouth slightly open in silent astonishment. “Wow,” he said, finally.
Sam beamed at his reaction, then plowed ahead. “Your letter was
everything I’d hoped for. I was so scared that it was just me. . . .” She
stopped as Jack’s hand came up to her face. Closing her eyes, she
leaned into his touch, just enjoying being close to him again.
“Sam,” he said, turning more fully towards her, having set down the
notepad. She looked at him, and was amazed at what she saw. It was the
same face, the same eyes that had looked at her when she’d been with
“Jonah,” but the love she saw went so much deeper and was so much stronger
than what they’d shared on the planet.
“Jack,” she said quietly, feeling herself reach for his free hand.
They would have to talk. But right now, she let herself be drawn to him,
if she wasn’t the one leaning into him. Thoughts of rules went out the
window, as she felt his lips on hers. This was too right, being with
him, feeling his hands on her neck, her head, her arms, melting into
him. . . they’d make it right. She slid her hands around his waist as he
leaned over her, pulling him more tightly to herself as she explored
the delicious territory of his mouth. It felt like the strongest case of
déjà vu she’d ever experienced. It was physically familiar, but
emotionally brand new. She suddenly realized her hands were on the bare skin
of his back beneath his shirt, as he trailed kisses along her neck from
her ear to her clavicle. She really, really didn’t want this to stop,
but at the same time she was hoping he might find some of the willpower
she was apparently devoid of.
Sam began kissing his neck behind his ear, as he found a particularly
sensitive spot near her shoulder. With a moan that turned almost into a
growl, Jack pushed himself up on his arms. As they both caught their
breath, Sam saw the regret in his eyes that he had to pull away. “Thank
you,” she said. Jack raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for her to
clarify. “I didn’t think I could have stopped,” she explained, with a
shy smile.
“Oh, Sam,” he said, quickly kissing her neck again, before rolling into
the back of the couch. At least he was lying next to her, instead of
on top of her. She might be able to think clearly enough to talk to him
now. Jack looked in her eyes, then kissed her nose and leaned his
forehead against hers. “So, what’re we gonna do?” he asked.
“I don’t want to try and forget this,” she said, mentally going over
the options she’d written down.
“Agreed,” said Jack, smiling.
“And I,” she hesitated, hoping she wasn’t going to sound selfish and
impatient, “I don’t want to wait, either.”
“I noticed,” Jack said, with an evil grin. Sam gave him a fake jab in
the ribs. “Hey!” he laughed.
“So,” Sam said.
“So, we talk it over with Hammond,” Jack finished for her.
“Yeah,” she replied.
They were both silent for a while, and lay there holding each other.
Sam was excited and terrified. She closed her eyes as all sorts of
scenarios began playing out in her mind. Jack would try to retire again.
She’d try to resign and work as a civilian. Hammond wouldn’t let them
do anything, but would send them away with a stern talking to. She’d
get transferred to another SG team. She’d get sent back to the
Pentagon. They’d get court-martialed.
“Stop thinking so much,” she heard him say.
She knew she was being silly and just overreacting, but she couldn’t
help but feel nervous. On the other hand, here she was, lying on her
couch with Jack O’Neill in her arms. She opened her eyes and looked into
his, and suddenly knew she had nothing to worry about.
“That’s better,” he said, as he saw her smile. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too,” Sam said, happily snuggling into his neck.
“Thank God,” he said, hugging her tightly.
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