Sam's point of view. Late season 3, epi. tag to Shades of Grey.

Never Really Knew

Sam walked up the walkway to her commanding officer's – ex commanding officer's house, damning the short straw over and over. When she had drawn it, she'd gone so far as to beg so she wouldn't have to face O'Neill. Daniel or Teal'c surely would gain more by this, in terms of figuring him out. O'Neill practically called her pond scum when she'd offered to help before; what was to say she'd get anywhere now?

But being the fair, trustworthy, and woman of integrity that she was, Sam went. Left, right, left, right – she counted her steps in her mind. Climb stair one, stair two, stair three, reach out hand, knock on door. Orders she could follow, even self-inflicted orders.

O'Neill opened the door, a beer bottle in hand. The man drinks too much, she thought briefly. "Sir," she greeted, shifting awkwardly, her coat tucked under her arm.

O'Neill's eyes fell to the floor and wandered a bit before settling back on hers. She could practically hear him say, "Oh fer cryin' out loud, damn it!"

"I'm retired, Carter. Lose the sir."

And what do I call you meantime? she wondered, a bitter anger creeping into her thoughts. Jackass? Idiot? Moron? "What do you want me to call you, then?" she asked. Try as she might, she couldn't muster a smile.

"I don't want you to call me anything. There a reason you're standing on my porch?"

Sam contemplated telling him she was there because she had the damn bad luck to draw the short straw, then envisioned a snide, "Shame," and the door slamming in her face. "Ir don't know why I'm here," she settled for. "Can I come in?"

"What for? I'm not your commanding officer anymore, Carter, and I don't need a babysitter," he said.

"I'm not your second in command anymore, either. Lose the Carter."

"What do you want me to call you then?" he mimicked harshly.

"Sam," she said softly. "Same as everyone else. Sam."

O'Neill sighed and looked down at his beer before stepping away. "Come in," he said gruffly.

He grabbed another beer from the kitchen and shoved it in her hand without asking if she wanted one. If he'd asked, she would've refused, but it seemed that even though he wasn't her commanding officer anymore, she was still following orders.

"Drink," he said, easing into an armchair.

She sat on the couch in front of a chessboard. Apparently, he'd been trying to battle himself. "Little hard to play chess with only one person," she said, pointing the unopened beer at the chessboard.

"Your point?" he asked, taking another swig of the beer.

"I guess I don't have one."

"So why are you here, Carter?" O'Neill sighed. His face was a dark mask; she didn't even recognize those eyes anymore.

"Sam," she corrected, staring down at the beer she was given and didn't want.

"Don't you have a new commanding officer to break in?" He took another swig of beer.

"We haven't been assigned a new commanding officer, sir," she replied steadily, piercing his eyes with her gaze. "But even if we were, I doubt very much he'd need my 'breaking in'."

"Why's that?" he asked nonchalantly, as though he didn't care.

"I didn't do so great the last time. I don't know you and never did, remember?" she asked harshly.

Those foreign eyes didn't waver under her hurtful words – or rather, the words she'd tried to make hurtful. "That's right," he said.

Sam snorted bitterly and looked down at her beer bottle. It seemed to mock her simply by being in her hands. "Well, I'm wasting my time," she said, putting it in the middle of the chessboard. "We're no different than that chessboard, you and I," she said, standing and waving at the neglected one-person game. "I told Daniel and Teal'c that they'd be better off doing this than me."

"So which am I?" he asked with light, silent sarcasm. "The black or the white?"

Sam looked at the chessboard, and then back at O'Neill. "Your eyes look pretty black to me," she said quietly, and walked out of his room, his house, and what she assumed would be his life.