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Friends and Obligations
The first scene is set in the middle of "Threads"--after Jacob meets Pete, and before we see Jack waking up next to Kerry.
The second scene is set a little later. . .
“So, I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Sam sighed, closing her eyes as she fit the phone closer to her cheek. Hearing Pete on her cell was dicey on a good day. But like this? Between his tendency to call while he was driving in his car and the notoriously crappy reception in the mountain, it was next to impossible.
“What can I say, Pete? ‘Maybe’ is all I’ve got for you right now.”
Sam heard him groan, then the unmistakable sound of the turn signal being flipped and the subsequent tick-tick-tick of the blinker. She waited for him to complete the turn, figuring that he’d have something to say once he got back in gear.
And she wasn’t wrong.
“Listen, Sam. I know you’re up to your elbows in drama over there.”
“Drama? I told you, Pete. My dad’s not feeling well.” Sam bit her lip, a frisson of guilt working its way up her spine. He’d only told her he was tired—but she had the sinking suspicion there was more to it. It wasn’t like Jacob Carter to admit to any kind of weakness—let alone something as lame as exhaustion. “I don’t want to leave him until I know he’s okay.”
“Doesn’t that thing in his head have super magic healing powers?”
She glared down at her plate. “Selmak’s not a genie, Pete.”
“Of course not. I knew that.” His voice had gone up a half-octave. “It’s just that there are things we need to do for the wedding.”
The wedding. As if she’d even given that a second thought lately. She’d been far too concerned with the state of the universe. Daniel missing—again. Replicator ships. Worries about the Jaffa and their singular possession of the intergalactic doomsday device. Anubis—at large and nursing a fairly profound grudge. Trying to make heads or tails or tails of what her life was these days.
And then there had been that moment earlier—where she’d stood in the briefing room looking through the window into the General’s office and seen— something .
“Who was that?”
“Um—Kerry Johnson. CIA.”
It’s what he hadn’t said—and the way in which he hadn’t said it—that had stung.
“Sam?”
Pete’s voice pushed at her thoughts. An intrusion, when she knew he should be welcome there. She picked up her abandoned fork, using it to push at the mystery pasta she’d let congeal on the plate. “I’m here, Pete.”
“Hey.” He fumbled with his phone—switching it from one ear to another?—swearing under his breath before getting it situated again. “Listen. I know that things are kind of crazy. But the wedding’s only a few months away. If we want to make it perfect, I need your input.”
“I know.”
“I mean—I love you and all that, right?” He’d slowed to a stop. He sounded more focused. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Yeah.” The fork felt leaden in her fingers, impossibly heavy as she dragged the tines in the dregs of her uneaten lunch. She shouldn’t have bothered with it in the first place—she hadn’t really been hungry. Just—needy. Hoping to find something to fill her empty. “Sure.”
“Okay then.” Pete had turned the car off—the low, constant static of the police radio wasn’t taking up the background anymore. It only made it easier to hear the tint of frustration in his voice. “Get stuff taken care of there and I’ll meet you back at my place when you’re done.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Sam.”
“Yeah.” Spoken through clenched teeth. She hoped it sounded convincing. “Me, too.”
Sam closed her phone and laid it carefully on the table next to her plate. It wobbled a bit on the table top—the consequence of a semi-rounded back panel. She watched for a moment as the fluorescent overhead lights caught at the metallic top panels of the device. She’d have designed it differently. Flat on the back so that it didn’t loll back and forth. Static, rather than a flip-fold. Fewer components to outsource, fewer things to break. She’d seen early renderings of a cellphone with a touchscreen that had intrigued her—some promising new doohickey in development out in Silicon Valley—
“Do you mind if I share your table?” The voice was pleasant. Light. straightforward, in a mellow kind of way.
Sam looked up to see a woman standing on the left, next to the table. Shiny curls bouncing around a decidedly attractive face. Dark gray suit over a burgundy silk blouse that did nothing to hide a spectacular figure. She had a tray in her hands and a frank sort of expectation in her expression. The same look she’d worn earlier, as she’d chatted with the General in his office.
“I mean—feel free to say no.” Her pretty face brightened with a self-effacing sort of grin. “It’s just that this entire place seems to be full of men at the moment, and I’d love some girl time.”
Girl time? Sam couldn’t remember the last time she’d any of that. Last August, probably, when she’d spent a week moving Cassie into her dorm. And before that, it had been a movie night in the Fraiser household. A few days before Janet had—
Don’t think about that. Clearing her throat, Sam attempted a smile. “Sure. Of course. Sit.”
Kerry set the tray down on the table, then flopped down into the chair. “I don’t know how you do it. I mean—the CIA is very testosterone-heavy. But it’s nothing like this.”
“Testosterone heavy?”
“You know—far more men than women in the ranks. It’s easy for us chicks to get outnumbered.”
Oh. Of course. Sam turned the fork in her fingers. “I guess I’m used to it.”
Keen caramel-colored eyes studied her for a moment. “Colonel Carter, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re Colonel Samantha Carter.” Agent Johnson leaned in, one eyebrow quirked upward. “You’re kind of a legend in my circles.”
“I am?”
“Damn straight.” Kerry freed her utensils from the napkin in which they’d been wrapped. Setting her fork and knife in their appropriate spots on her tray, she reached for the container of salad dressing at the top of the tray. “Are you kidding? The beautiful kick-ass genius who’s been saving the planet almost single-handedly for nearly a decade?”
Sam could feel heat start to creep up her throat. “There’s a team of us, actually.”
“But you’re the one who usually ekes out the win.” Kerry shrugged as she squished the dressing around a little. “I know these things. I’ve read the reports.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“Oh, sure.” Agent Johnson made a sound that was half-snort, half-chuckle. “Gallivanting around the galaxy armed to the teeth. Being taken over by alien symbiotes, retro-engineering extraterrestrial technology, figuring out the ‘Gate system, knocking off alien bad guys. Blowing up suns. Totally normal nine-to-five.”
“Well—”
“All I’m saying is that you’re an amazing woman, Colonel Carter. You should own it.”
It had been so long—too long—since Sam had just talked with another woman. She hadn’t had a friend since Janet had died, and Cassandra had needed comfort and advice more than friendship. Even now, whenever she called from college, Cassie tended to chat more about her classes and roommates than ask Sam anything pertinent about life back in the Springs.
And by mutual agreement, they didn’t discuss Pete. Cassandra Fraiser had opinions on that subject that weren’t fit for polite company.
So, while in the presence of estrogen, she may as well improve the shining moment. She held out her hand. “Call me Sam.”
Kerry finished tearing the top off the salad dressing packet and took a moment to discard the torn piece of plastic packaging before taking Sam’s hand in a firm shake. “Kerry.”
“You’re in the CIA?”
“Special Agent. Blah blah blah.” Refocusing on the dressing, she proceeded to squeeze it in a neat spiral over the top of her salad. “It’s not nearly as interesting as it sounds.”
“I’m sure your work is vital to the security of this—”
“Oh, bull.” She laughed, shaking her head in a movement that sent her curls bouncing again. “Any idiot with half a brain could do what I do.”
“Still—”
“So, Colonel.” Whatever other qualifications the woman had, she was quite adept at interrupting without being rude about it. Tilting her head to one side, she picked up her fork, brandishing it like a sword. “Tell me about yourself.”
Sam frowned, momentarily stymied. Herself? She wasn’t sure she could talk for any length of time about anything anymore without a power point presentation. She opened her mouth, then closed it again—only to open it once more and suck in a timorous breath. “I honestly wouldn’t know what to tell you.”
Kerry wrinkled her nose as she chewed. Swallowing, she raised her glass in Sam’s direction. “Are you married?”
Why did it feel so unnatural to say the words? “I’m engaged.”
“Engaged.” The word rolled around Kerry’s tongue like a foreign curse. She squinted at the wall on the other side of the mess and said it again. “Engaged.”
Where was the misunderstanding? Sam lifted one eyebrow. “Yes. Engaged.”
Kerry smiled, her eyes going wide before darting to take in Sam’s left hand. “No ring?”
“I don’t wear it while I’m on duty.”
“Why not?”
Sam glanced down at her finger. Because it made her feel conspicuous. Because it was constantly getting caught on wires and covered in grease. Because a diamond sparkling in the sun could give your location away to the enemy. That’s what she’d been telling herself, at least. But for some reason, she didn’t think Agent Johnson would believe any of that. “I just don’t. It feels weird.”
“Have you ever been married before?”
“No.” Sam shook her head. “I almost married someone a long time ago, but it didn’t work out.”
Kerry’s lips pursed together as she thought about that. “Jonas Something. Not the alien Jonas—the other one with the god complex. He ended up getting himself killed off-world.”
Sam sat up a little straighter. Damn. She was good. “Right.”
“But this new guy—” Trailing off meaningfully, Kerry stabbed another forkful of salad and raised it to her mouth. “This new guy is the right one?”
“Sure.” Sam glared down at her phone. He was. She’d made the decision. It had been the first conscious choice she’d made about her own personal life in ages. It was natural to feel frustrated from time to time in a relationship, wasn’t it? To wonder if she was just fooling herself—telling herself she was happy while simultaneously ignoring the tendrils of dread that flittered around the periphery. But no. Pete was her future. She’d told him she would marry him and that was that. “Yes.”
If Kerry had picked up on her hesitation, she didn’t show it. She’d busied herself with her meal, using the times of her fork to put some order to the components of her salad. Once she was satisfied, she speared a chunk of chicken. “When are you getting married?”
“In a few months.” Sam picked up her own fork again—gripping it like a talisman. “In June.”
Kerry grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “What’s that they say about June brides? That they’re lucky, right?”
“I don’t really know.” Sam absently tapped the fork on her plate. “I’m not very superstitious.”
“Ah.” Kerry plucked a piece of cheese off her salad with her fingers, popping it in her mouth and chewing slowly. “What day?”
“For what?”
“Your wedding.”
Frowning, Sam imagined the calendar affixed to the wall next to her desk. She’d marked the date when they’d decided on it. After all—she’d need to take time off. It was a Saturday—she was sure about that, at least. And it was somewhere at the bottom of that page. So— “The twenty-third, I think.”
Kerry’s smile stalled, her eyebrows rising high. She blinked exactly three times. “You think?”
“It’s a Saturday. At the end of the month.” Laying the fork down, Sam sat up straighter and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sure of that.”
“A Saturday.” Kerry reached for a cherry tomato, rolling it between her fingers before pointing it at Sam. “The twenty-third is a Thursday. I have a dentist appointment that day. So, the following Saturday would be the twenty-fifth.”
“That must be it.”
Kerry took her time chewing the tomato, making a not-so-surreptitious study of Sam before she swallowed. “June weddings are lovely.”
“Yes.” Sam nodded, but couldn’t summon a smile. “So they tell me.”
“I’ve always thought that I’d like to get married in the fall, if I ever liked a guy well enough to commit.”
“Oh?”
“It’s cooler, for one thing. Nothing worse than being all sweaty in your album photos. There are fewer people getting married then, so, theoretically, I wouldn’t have to compete for vendors or venues.” She’d leaned forward, and was ticking off her points in the air with the business end of her fork. “And with my coloring, fall tones are more flattering, so my bridesmaids’ dresses would complement me more than them. I’m completely vain that way.”
“I see.”
“You’re a classic summer—blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion. So, June works for you. You’ll look amazing in all those colors.”
Sam squinted down at her neglected meal. Classic summer? She had no idea what that even meant. Consequently, like the scientist she was, she had to know. “What colors?”
“Berry tones. Ice cream colors.” Kerry laid her fork down and picked up her glass, swirling the water around with a subtle flick of her wrist. “Lilac. Fuschia. Lemon. Turquoise. Aqua. Cornflower blue. Not pure hues—but shades just off of the primaries.”
She couldn’t help but glance down at her current outfit. Black shirt tucked into navy blue BDU trousers. Black combat boots, for heaven’s sake. And beneath it all, white granny pants and a military-grade sports bra. No berry ice cream here. Nothing but plain, boring vanilla. “Well, I’ve never been one for all that stuff.”
“Too busy?” And then Ms. Johnson answered her own inquiry with a half-shrug and a nod. “Have you picked your flowers yet?”
“No.”
“Linens? Centerpieces? Decor?”
“No.” Sam laid her fork on the plate and pushed it towards the center of the table. “Or rather—I haven’t picked those. They’ve been picked, though. Pete—that’s my boyfr—or my fiancé—or whatever. He and his mother are taking care of most of that stuff.”
Kerry frowned, setting down her glass with a decided clunk. “His mother?”
There went the warmth again. Sam ducked her chin to hide the color she knew was tingeing her throat and jaw. “I—uh—I think they’ve chosen green. And some shade of orange. Coral? No—peach. I think that’s what it was.”
“Sounds nice.” Agent Johnson had the good grace to try to sound sincere.
“They’re Irish.” Sam bit her lips together, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her midsection. “Hence the green.”
“Irish.” Sincerity had faded into dubiety. Still, she nodded as she picked up her fork again. “I guess that makes sense.”
The mess was crowded for so late in the day. Sam made a quick scan of the place, only to see a sea of BDUs and random, featureless faces. She’d only come here for something to do while she waited for her father to rest—having asked for the afternoon off while he was on Earth. Going home was a no-go. Leaving the base defeated the purpose of spending time with Jacob.
And really, there wasn’t much else to do at the moment. She was stymied by a problem in her lab, and Teal’c was busy on Dakara with the Jaffa. Daniel was still missing. She’d already hit the gym this morning, in the hopes that wearing out the treadmill or going round after round of hand to hand with a bunch of ornery Marines would temper her nerves.
But it hadn’t—just like nothing else she’d tried had taken the edge off her nerves. To be honest, she’d been tense for weeks. Months, maybe. She’d thought that introducing Pete to Jacob and Selmak would offer some respite—reassurance, maybe—but her father’s tepid reaction to her chosen groom had left her feeling worse rather than better.
An airman bumped into the back of Sam’s seat with a hasty “Sorry, Colonel Carter” before moving back into the melee. It wasn’t much of an impact, but enough to jostle Sam forward in her seat and make her bump her knee on the underside of the table.
“Damn it.” She sat up straight, scooting her seat in closer. Leaning forward, she balanced her elbows on the table.
“Engaged.” Kerry’s tone held a bemused air to it. She’d collected a couple of cucumber disks on her fork, and was nibbling around the edges as she stared off into space. “Engaged.”
Sam narrowed a look at her. “Excuse me?”
Agent Johnson squinted into the aether, rolling the word again on her tongue before seizing both bits of vegetable off the fork and chewing with what seemed like a purposeful focus. “Engaged.”
Ridiculously, Sam felt the need to clarify. “As in—to be married.”
“Yeah. I got that.” Taking a quick sip from her glass, Kerry dabbed at her lips with her fingertips. “I’ve just always thought that it was an odd word.”
Sam frowned. “How so?”
“It sounds so—sterile. So—perfunctory. Like a doctor’s appointment, or a work meeting.” She tapped the fork against her lips as she collected her thoughts. “Like you’ve got some sort of obligation.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“An obligation.” It was back in full force, now. The nervous sinking in her stomach she’d been fighting for weeks. Sam felt as if her mouth were full of sand as she continued. “If you say you’re going to marry someone, you should follow through on that promise.”
“Maybe.” Kerry lifted a hand to tuck some curls back behind her ear. “But couldn’t we find a better term for it? ‘Attached’. ‘Beloved’. Or something super old-fashioned like ‘betrothed’.”
“Does it really matter what we call it?”
“I guess not. But wouldn’t it be nicer if it didn’t sound like homework?”
She had a point. “Maybe.”
“I just think that, if you really love someone, it shouldn’t feel like an obligation. It should feel like a privilege. Like you don’t even want to wait for something as mundane as an engagement period before you marry them.” Her eyes widened. “Like you want your future to begin as soon as possible with this person that you love more than life.”
“It’s not as easy as that.”
“It’s not. But maybe it should be. I mean—I haven’t found the right one yet.” That pretty face went a little wistful. “But if I had, I think I’d be more focused on just starting my life with him rather than obsessing over wedding flatware or a reception playlist.”
There was nothing Sam could say to that, so she simply sat there, staring at the cold, disgusting mess on her abandoned plate and wishing she were anywhere else.
“I’m sorry, Colonel. Just ignore me and my verbal ramblings.” Kerry reached out and placed her hand on Sam’s arm. “I’m in that weird iffy beginning stage with someone, and that always makes me a bit ridiculous.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sam forced a smile. “It’s no big deal.”
“But I’ve made you uncomfortable, and that’s not okay.” Setting her fork down on her tray, Agent Johnson wiped at her mouth with a napkin. When she was finished, she crumpled up the flimsy bit of paper and tossed it onto her mostly-empty plate. “Just disregard everything I’ve said. I’m really good at sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Hazard of the job?”
Despite everything, Kerry chuckled. “Something like that.”
For a long beat, the noise of the mess filled the space between them. Glasses clinking, and metal utensils scraping along serving pans. Doors opening and closing, bootsteps tromping along polished concrete, and the omnipresent hum of the ventilation systems. A table across the way erupted into laughter and cheers, and somewhere behind the serving line, someone dropped a trayful of something, eliciting groans and a spate of creative cursing.
And through it all, Sam’s mind couldn’t stay quiet, churning at the dross.
“It’s all just choices, isn’t it?” Sam pressed her lips together, glaring down at the table—or the spoon she’d forgotten existed, tucked beneath the outer edge of her tray. Or at her phone, sitting askew next to her elbow. She hadn’t intended to speak again, but hadn’t been able to stop herself from blurting it out. “You choose the best thing from the options given. And then you stand by that decision. You follow through and complete the mission.”
“Sure.” Kerry frowned, her lips going thin as she studied Sam’s expression. “Unless it’s the wrong decision.”
“Well—naturally.” Sam sucked in a shaky breath. “But how do you know for sure?”
“I guess that’s the real question, isn’t it? If what you’re choosing is actually the right thing.” Kerry jumped a little, reaching into the front pocket of her jacket. Pulling out her cell phone, she angled the device so Sam could see the blinking screen. “Oh, crap. I’d better take this.”
“Of course.” Sam watched as Kerry flipped open her phone and angled her ear into the receiver. She didn’t speak much—mostly listening as she tidied up her place. The woman’s movements were graceful and intentional, even accomplishing such mundane tasks as standing and pushing in her chair. And, as she had so often lately, Sam wondered what it would be like to be so free—so open. Able to just be without having to worry about the fate of the galaxy or the expectations of others or the demands of honor and duty.
Kerry flipped her phone closed and groaned as she slid it back into her pocket. “Gotta go.”
“Hot date with the new guy?”
“Oh, lord no. I wish!” Kerry rolled her eyes. “My director needs me to send him some stuff.”
“Ah.” Sam pushed her chair back, rising in one fluid motion. “Well, I guess I’d better get back to my lab, too.”
Bending, Agent Johnson grabbed her tray. She paused for a moment before turning back to face Sam. “Hey.”
“Yes?”
“About what you said. About completing the mission.”
“What about it?”
“It’s okay to change your mind, you know.” Kerry wrinkled her nose, tossing her hair a bit as she found the right words. “It’s okay to not follow through on something if it’s merely a chore and not what your heart really wants.”
Sam picked up her own cell phone, clasping it in her fist.
“And I know that we’ve just met, and that I really don’t know you at all. And you don’t know me, either.” This time, her smile was a little sad—a little rueful. “But I just need to tell you that you’re remarkable, and I don’t think that you should settle for someone you just feel some sense of obligation towards.”
There was nothing to say to that, so Sam simply stood silently—her phone in her hand, and her heart in her throat.
“You deserve to be ridiculously happy, Colonel Carter.” Those rich caramel eyes went completely sober for a moment. “After all—if you end up with anything less, what would all this have been for?”
XXX
“Colonel Carter?”
Sam rubbed her eyes, yawning as she answered. “Yes?”
“Hey Sam—it’s Kerry.”
It was early—close to dawn, judging by the color of light filtering in through the curtains. The air in the room was cool, but not cold. The ideal temperature for lying in bed, curled up beneath the covers next to this man as the sunshine teased at the windows and the sound of his breathing filled her soul.
But then, everything about Minnesota had been perfect. Perfect weather. Perfect breezes blowing across the pond to tease at her hair and kiss her skin. The perfect wedding venue—as they’d stood on the pier with Teal’c officiating and Daniel and Cassie standing as witnesses. Flowers she hadn’t had to pick—tables she hadn’t had to decorate. Jack grilling steaks as they’d all laughed at Daniel getting sloshed on champagne.
The perfect day. Wriggling her fingers experimentally, Sam watched as the sunlight sparkled on the diamonds in her rings before tangling them back into the hair on her husband’s chest. She snuggled back down into her pillow, knowing that she was probably smiling again. It was becoming a habit. “Hi.”
“I just heard.” Kerry breathed out a laugh. “And I must say, I really love it when I’m right.”
Sam rolled closer to the man in bed beside her, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “What were you right about?”
“About you and Jack.” A smile tinged her words. “The moment you showed up in his backyard that day, I knew that you two belonged together.”
“You did?”
“It was fairly obvious.”
“Mmm.” Sam squinched her eyes closed, running her hand through the mess of her hair. “I wish you’d clued me in earlier.”
“I told Jack.”
“You did?”
“In his office.” Kerry’s voice radiated a certain amount of smug satisfaction. “I waltzed in there and told him to get his head out of his ass and go fix things between the two of you. I’m romantic that way.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It was the best I could do, under the circumstances.” An engine revved in the background. Something big. Kerry waited for it to pass before she started speaking again. “I mean—I had to break up with him first, but I knew he’d make things right.”
“Well—thank you.”
“Of course.” Footsteps—indistinct voices—and traffic sounds. Kerry muttered something unintelligible as she juggled the phone. “Anyway. Who the hell am I to stand in the way of true love?”
Sam winced, biting her lip for a moment. “For the record—I’m sorry for how it all happened. I’m sorry you got caught up in it. That you got hurt.”
“Oh, pshaw.” She’d overemphasized the words, making it clear that she was teasing. “I’m okay. There’s a guy at the NSA that I’ve been talking to. He’s smart, hot, and he’s totally not in love with someone else.”
Beside Sam, Jack stirred, reaching for her and curling his arm around her waist. He opened one eye, noticed that she was on the phone and frowned as he whispered, “That better not be work—”
Smiling, Sam lifted her finger to her lips, shushing him as she responded to Agent Johnson. “Sounds like a catch.”
“He is.” Kerry fumbled with the phone again, and then the space behind her became noticeably quieter. “But hey—I’m heading into a meeting. I just needed to tell you that I’m so, so happy for you and Jack. If there’s anyone on the planet who deserves a happily ever after, it’s you two.”
“Thank you, Kerry.” A quick glance at Jack’s expression had her grinning. It was the perfect mix of horror and intrigue—and it was obvious that he had questions. She shifted so that she could clamp her palm across his mouth to keep him from verbalizing said questions. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” The low hum of humanity rumbled in the air around her, punctuated by a series of systematic beeps. “And now I have to go get groped by security, so I have to hang up. But hey—give me a call sometime. Let’s have a drink when you’re around. I’d like to think we’re friends, regardless of how everything shook out, right?”
“Yes.” Sam’s eyes drifted closed as Jack’s hands wandered beneath the covers—as shivers worked her way up her body that had nothing to do with the cool air or early hour. “Yes, we are.”
“Good.” She paused. “‘Bye, Sam.”
“‘Bye, Kerry.” Flipping the phone closed, Sam tossed it towards the foot of the bed. It was fully light outside now—so much so that the room seemed too bright. Sam turned in towards Jack, pressing a kiss to his chest—his throat—his jaw—until he’d wrapped his arm around her and sunk himself into the pillows facing her.
His dark eyes studied her for a beat. “So. Kerry Johnson?”
“She’s a friend.”
“Huh.” It was clear he wasn’t sure what to think about that.
“It’s a good thing, Jack.” Levering herself up on one elbow, she touched his face.
This might be her favorite part of this new life she’d chosen. Waking up next to him—feeling the new growth of beard on his cheek. Smelling her soap on his skin—shared in last night’s shower—and seeing the sunlight glint off the gold of his wedding ring. Feeling the deep, delicious satisfaction that came from being truly and deeply loved.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“We don’t, really.” Sam traced his nose—the strong line of his temple—the scar in his eyebrow—with the tip of her finger. “We had lunch back at the SGC one day. Before I knew my father was dying.”
“So—before—” his voice trailed off meaningfully.
“Before I found out you two were sleeping together.”
“And—” lifting an eyebrow high, Jack twirled a finger in mid air. “That’s okay?”
“It’s fine, Jack.” And she meant it. Because for the first time in months—hell—for the first time in years, she felt good. Peaceful—calm. Like the tension that had tied her soul into knots for so long had finally been soothed away.
And maybe it was finally defeating Anubis. Maybe she’d found some closure with her father. Maybe getting Daniel back—or getting rid of Pete—had done it.
But she thought it had more to do with getting herself back. With finally admitting to what she wanted and then seizing it. Seizing the opportunity to finally be happy.
Being here, in this place, with this man. Being loved by him—and loving him back, ready and willing for whatever was coming next.
Speaking of which—
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Sam sighed. She kicked off the quilts, sliding out of her husband’s arms and off the side of the bed.
“Whatcha doing?”
There had to be some clothes around here somewhere. They hadn’t been tidy about shucking out of them the night before. Turning on the ball of her foot, she finally spied her undies hanging off a dresser knob. “I’m going to go start the coffee.”
That had been his job over the past few weeks. He narrowed a look at her. “I can do it. You should come back to bed.”
“No—I want to.” Turning the panties right-side-out, she pulled them on. “Besides. I have that conference call with the Groom Lake people in a few hours. I still need to look over the packet they sent me.”
“You sure?”
Padding back over the bed, Sam bent down and framed his face between her hands. Good lord, she loved this man—loved everything about him. She kissed him—light—quick—before straightening up again. “Yep.”
“Well.” The bed creaked as he settled back against the pillows, crooking his arm behind his head. “Don’t feel obligated.”
“It’s all good. I want to do it.” Making another neat pirouette, she finally spied what she’d been looking for. A few steps took her to the shirt—lying half-way beneath the bed. She snagged it off the floor and tugged it over her head before heading for the door.
Where she stopped, turning just enough to see him there. He’d been watching her, his eyes dark and intent. And she couldn’t help but think about choices. Duties and tasks. Responsibilities. Engagements. Things expected and things desired—and the blissful freedom that came from choosing joy.
Damn it—she was smiling again. “It’s no obligation, Jack.”
His brows rose, a lazy smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh?”
“It’s a privilege.”