Love Letters

By a. loquita

Summary: It all begins when O'Neill stumbles upon Carter's diary. But for two people who want to get together and make it work, communication is key. Unfortunately, that's never been one of Jack O'Neill's strong suits. (S/J)

Rating: T

Part 1

Jack was bored. He'd already punched the punching bag. He'd already eaten cake in the commissary. He'd already bugged Daniel until he'd gotten himself kicked out of the archeologist's lab. So, up next on his list was Carter.

"Hey, Car–"

Carter's lab, but no one was home. Jack squinted. Where in the world could she be? He'd just made the rounds and not seen her in any of the typical SGC spots. Unless she was in her personal quarters taking a nap? Not typical Samantha Carter behavior but it was possible.

Jack knocked softly. No response. He knocked a little harder, ignoring the voice inside that told him if Carter was actually in there taking a much needed break, he'd be waking her up. When he heard nothing from the other side, Jack cracked the door open a little and peaked inside. No Carter here either. What the heck was this, where's Waldo?

Jack swung the door open, took a step inside and allowed the door to close behind him. It was rare that he'd ever been in here. Hell, it was rare Carter was ever in here. She was much more likely to fall over while working at her lab bench and sleep with her head resting on her laptop. But he had been in here once or twice, usually to wake Carter up when something went wrong that only she could fix.

If the lab was Major Carter, this space had Samantha written all over it. Here, she didn't have any technology except for the digital alarm clock next to the bed. Here, was a fluffy down comforter in a shade of pale yellow and a terry cloth robe carelessly left over a nearby chair. She had some framed pictures displaying family and friends atop the dresser, alongside some candles and girly do-dads.

Jack's eyes settled on something lying open on the bed. A bound, leather book with a pen set down on top of it, just lying where she left them. He took a few steps closer and could see Sam's distinctive small but legible handwriting across the pages. Her diary? Jack's head reeled with the knowledge. Sam kept a diary? He'd never known that about his Carter.

What would she write about? She can't write down details of her missions and then carry it off-base where someone could mistakenly see classified information. Ah, Jack realized suddenly, that was likely the reason her diary was kept here on base, not at her house. Of course, his smart Major would have thought that all through carefully.

Jack's eye caught one word on the page, not intentionally, he would swear under oath if it came to it. He saw his own name, 'Jack,' written neatly and elegantly in Sam's hand. She wrote something about him? And she used his first name? That sent heat through Jack's veins, rushing to parts forbidden to be associated with Carter.

Now he all out abandoned his sense of right and wrong. No way was he going to walk away from this and not read it. He circled the bed, stared down at the journal right side up, and read with interest.

…terrible mission is over. But I'm left wondering and wishing. Does Jack have any idea what I feel? The last thing he would want me to do is sit him down and have a talk about "feelings." It's a nightmare.

Besides, the fact is I'm certain all he feels for me is affection. Oh, I've seen the look in his eyes, I know he appreciates women and that includes me from time to time. He cares about me as a person too. I know that, but beyond that it's not much more than normal male, hormone-filled, lust. Isn't it?

Even if I take the military out of the equation for a moment and we had no rules standing in our way, I have a hard time believing that anything would change between us. So I would only be making it awkward between us if I told him how I feel. I should keep it to myself for the sake of our working relationship and our friendship.

But why is it that I keep having these moments? Like the one yesterday, when I came so close to saying something. I wanted to badly, and it nearly killed me to keep my mouth shut. I want to tell him everything and even if he doesn't return it, I still want him to know. What if something happened tomorrow and one of us was killed? He or I would go on alone, never knowing.

Oh, God, now I'm tearing up. Good Majors don't cry. Especially over their superior officers and what will never be.

Jack's mouth hung open. He hated cliches and yet he was currently living one. Sam Carter had surprised him so much, that his jaw dropped. Talk about another cliché, this was completely out of left field. He had no idea she had feelings evidently stronger than he previously believed. It was almost so unbelievable to him that it was difficult to grasp. He backed away from the diary, in his astonishment.

Should he do something about this? Say something to her? Sam was right about one thing, Jack absolutely cringed at the thought of having to have a big "talk" all about "feelings." But other things she had wrong, the part about how he felt toward her. Oh, lust was in there, for sure. But it was mixed in with a whole lot of other feelings, powerful ones. Stuff that Jack vowed to himself he'd never tell her about. But now he wondered. Maybe he should? Maybe if he did, things would change and they could… nah.

He couldn't do that to her. Even if Sam did share deeper feelings toward him, there was no way he was going to allow beautiful, brilliant, full-of-potential Samantha Carter to end up with dark, brooding, destroy-everything-that's-good-for-him Jack O'Neill. She deserved better. In fact, of all the people he knew, Carter deserved the most happiness in the world.

He was standing next to the chair, absently fingering her terry cloth robe when the door swung open.

"Colonel?" Sam was obviously surprised to see him here. Her eyes glanced down at the journal and then back up at him.

Jack thanked whatever God was up there that he'd backed up quite a bit. So it wasn't immediately clear that he'd been standing there reading her diary just a second before.

"What are you–?" she started to ask but Jack cut her off.

"Where were you?"

"Ladies room," Sam pointed off vaguely.

Ah. Right. Jack suddenly remembered the tears part at the end. She must have needed a tissue. It squeezed his heart that she had been crying over him.

Sam narrowed her eyes, as if she were trying to figure him out. It was the same look that she got when she was poking and prodding an alien device. Jack's mind jumped to, I thought I told you, no pushing buttons, Carter.

Sam asked carefully, "Did you need me for something?"

"I was looking for you. Couldn't find you."

"Ladies room," she repeated. The Colonel was acting so weird. Sam wondered if he was capable of reading someone else's diary? He was usually such an honorable person. He always respected his teammates. He would never… But he was acting so very weird.

"So…" Sam tried to lead him. It wasn't working. "What did you need me for…?"

"Oh. That." Jack couldn't look at her. She was too close, and it was all too much information. Was it hot in here? "I can't remember now. Must not have been important." Get out, get out, get out… Jack scuttled across the room, giving her a wide berth, and escaped out the door.

The wrinkle between Sam's brows deepened as she tried to imagine what that was all about. It was possible that he could have read her thoughts written in her journal, perhaps he now knew about her feelings. On some level, she was sort of glad if that were the case. At least he knew, like she'd wished that he did, but it saved her actually having to say the words out loud to his face.

Plus, the way Jack just reacted, it was clear that he didn't share her feelings. What was she hoping for? Some kind of back-up-against-the-wall hot make out session from him?

It was all for the best. Jack knew and yet the two of them could play a game of pretend that he'd never read it, and that he doesn't know.

TBC…