Spoilers: First Commandment, Cold Lazarus, Secrets
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Jack woke fast, as he woke every morning, his eyes springing open and his brain locating the various subtle aches in his body. Knees, yes, calves, yes, a little back ache. Nothing too serious, thank goodness, and nothing that couldn't be attributed to the ten click hike to some god-awful building site in the middle of nowhere and then several hours hoisting up rocks for Daniel's inspection. His arm was a little cold, but that was to be expected as, once again, he'd wrapped it around her.
Thank goodness for sleeping bags, was all he could think of as he regarded the halo of blonde hair just beneath his nose. Two thick layers of insulation kept Jack a far more respectable military distance from his second in command than his sleeping advances usually demanded. She was lovely to hold, of course. Most women were, but Carter especially because he knew what a lovely person she was, bright, chatty, strangely wide-eyed and naive, pretty in a youthful, wholesome kind of way. Very pretty.
It seemed strange to him, a veteran USAF Colonel, that he was trusting his six to a woman who'd only just turned thirty. Thirty! And she'd been adorably grumpy about it, as well. Like it was the end of the world. Okay, maybe that pun didn't work so well considering their current mission objective, but that had been what it was like, all last week. And when she'd finally told him what had put her in such a bad mood... he'd laughed so hard he'd had to sit down. And she'd pouted.
Pouted. He'd gleefully reminded her of that occasion every. single. day since.
'' Hey, Carter, is your dad part Italian?''
He'd known she'd be awake. She always, always, woke up five, maybe ten minutes before he did. And he could usually tell, too, because she started wiggling her feet. Naturally, he'd never told her this - it was too much fun seeming omnipotent.
'' Way back, yeah,'' she whispered in response. '' My mother's family's Swedish.''
'' Guess that explains the blonde blue-eyed look you've got going on.''
'' What about you?''
'' Irish-American. How could I be anything but?''
She shuffled around awkwardly until they were lying face to face. He wondered if he ought to remove his arm, but decided that he would only if she said anything. Up close, he could see the details of her face, the still unlined forehead and eyes, the odd, tiny freckle marring otherwise fair, perfect skin, the fair eyelashes and eyebrows and the clear blue of her eyes. Ah-hah! The dimples. She was smiling. '' Why on Earth did you ask that?''
'' We're not on Earth...''
'' Why on P3W 745,'' she responded swiftly, grinning further, '' did you ask me that?''
He smiled at the way she was able to recall the binary code for the planet just like that. '' When I met him... he looked Italian.''
'' Distantly. His mother's side. How weird that you noticed.'' Her eyes were flickering all over his face now. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. The lines on his face, no doubt. The crows feet around his eyes, the grey in his hair, the age in his eyes.
'' It's the training.''
'' Sure it is.'' The smile faded at the edges slightly, like she'd remembered something sad. Then it was gone again, she'd pulled herself together. '' Are your legs hurting?''
'' Aching. Slightly,'' he added, trying to give off the image that his immortality was only dented slightly.
'' Mine are killing me.''
The spontaneous way she said it had his heart skipping a beat. Not even a quiver of that chip she'd had on her shoulder to begin with. She trusted him, him, enough to admit that she wasn't infallible. '' See, this is what I love about you, Carter, you're so damned honest. Do you ever lie?''
Her perfectly smooth brow furrowed. '' To you?''
'' For starters.''
'' No. What would I lie to you about?''
Oh, this was good. This was so nice. She was so nice. She wouldn't lie to him. '' You're pretty perfect, aren't you?''
'' It's the training,'' she quipped. She leaned forward conspiratorially so that the top of her hair brushed his forehead and made a face. '' Do you think he'll have us hoisting rocks again?''
'' Artefacts, Carter, artefacts.'' He glanced over at her at the sleeping Daniel. '' And no, I hope not, but you never know.''
'' Ever get the feeling your position of leader is being usurped?''
'' Regularly. And not just by Daniel.''
She winced in a non-apologetic way. '' Oh. Sorry.''
His hand reached up and touched her cheek lightly, then went back to her waist again. '' Don't worry. I don't mind it when you do it. You're at least productive.''
'' And artefacts aren't productive?''
'' Only when they explain why we're either under attack or being ferociously ill. Only when they fix something. Otherwise, why bother?''
Carter dimpled again. He loved her dimples! '' Poor Daniel. To forever have you harping on about his chosen career.''
Jack chuckled. '' We should probably get up. Start breakfast.''
She wrinkled her nose and looked down. One of her arms snaked its way out of her sleeping bag and he was too warm and relaxed to wonder what she was doing, just watching her. Finally, a hand emerged and triumphantly she looked at her watch. '' Way too early,'' she decided. '' Why do we wake up so early?''
'' Boot camp training.''
'' Oh God, of course. How could I forget?'' Her arm went back into her sleeping bag and she snuggled down, her eyes closing. '' Why did you join the Air Force?''
'' My parents threw me out.''
'' Oh.'' One perfect eye opened. '' If it's not too personal, what do they think of you now?''
'' I don't know.'' And it was personal, but, for some reason, any questions she had for him he would answer. Which was strange, because Sara had known the barest minimum about his parents, something she'd argued with him heatedly about but he'd never given in too.
Both eyes opened and were watching him intently. '' Would you rather I not ask?'' she whispered gently.
The hand around her waist came up and stroked her cheek again. Then it went back. And Jack had no control over it whatsoever. '' I would, but I'll answer anything you'd like to know.''
She nodded, adjusted her head on its sleeping bag pillow, and her brow furrowed thoughtfully. '' Parents are strange, aren't they? My father spent my whole childhood lying to me about what he did and as soon as I start doing it he acts all resentful. He won't believe me when I tell him what I'm doing is important.''
'' He just wants the best for you.''
'' I know.'' She sighed. '' I suppose your parents thought what they did would be the best for you.''
Jack had spent years wondering about his parents and he was no closer to figuring it out. He knew very little about them now. He knew where they lived, of course. He knew their phone number. He kept in Christmas-card contact with a very strange uncle in Arizona, but that was about it for family.
He couldn't imagine what General Carter could see lacking in his daughter, though. Looking at her now, her features tinted with the green light filtering through the tent, she was just about perfect. '' Is there anything you're bad at, Captain?''
She didn't seem offended by his rather unorthodox question. '' Professionally or personally?''
'' Both.''
'' I'll answer one for each and you have to do the same.''
She drove a fair bargain, so he agreed.
'' Professionally - I don't like being disagreed with about scientific matters. If a fellow scientist disagrees with my theory, I can be quite... difficult.''
He grinned. '' Does that happen a lot?''
'' Not recently, thank God. Right, personally... terrible taste in men count?''
Oh yeah, the lunatic fringe. '' I already know that one. Give me another.''
She rolled her eyes. '' But that's my worst one!''
'' Uh-uh. Gimme.''
'' Slavedriver. Okay, let me think. Ah-hah! I write awful letters. Never ask me to write you letters because I'm terrible at it. Handwriting things, interesting things, about boring everyday stuff just drives me crazy. I can't write postcards either.''
'' That's so.... Hey, I can't do that either. I don't think I've ever written a letter in my life. A couple of sappy ones to Sara while we were dating...''
'' The requisite attempts.'' She nodded understandingly. '' Did you read them later and were extremely embarrassed?''
'' God, yes. She kept them. For years, in fact. In her bedside table drawer, and I didn't know until long after we were married.'' The thought made him feel distinctly sad, maudlin, for the sentimentality his wife had placed in something he'd written for her.
'' She must have loved them anyway. I suspect she'd have loved anything you sent her.''
'' I guess so,'' he said softly, remembering with the utmost clarity Sara's mild embarrassment when he'd confronted her with the letters. And the way she'd tucked them back into her drawer carefully, her hair falling over her flushed face. '' You got any embarrassing letters from exs?''
'' Hundreds.''
He looked at her sharply, but she didn't look like she was joking. '' Okay, clarify.''
'' Most of my boyfriends have been in the Air Force,'' Carter pointed out gently. ''I am the queen of long distance relationships. I have shoeboxes of old letters.''
This was an entire side of her he'd not considered. Was she a romantic? She just didn't seem the type. '' And you keep them? All of them?''
'' Of course. They were thoughtful enough to sit down and write me, I'm damn well going to keep them. I don't read them now. Well, I read Jonas's recently, but that was because.. because... you know.'' She swallowed and her eyes fled to his hair to recover. Her fingers came up and lightly scratched just above her top lip.
'' How did you meet?''
'' Me and Jonas?'' She sighed heavily. '' Yet another family connection. His father was at the academy with mine. We knew each other, vaguely, when we were teenagers. We lived in the same town once when we were eleven and thirteen, then again when we were seventeen and nineteen. We started dating when I was twenty-four, we were engaged by the time I was twenty-six and our fathers were patting each other's backs. Then he... went into special ops and went completely nuts. He got very violent.''
Jack jerked in his sleeping bag, his arm tightening around her waist protectively. '' With you?''
She paused, horribly, and Jack had sudden images of her being thrown down stairs, hiding bruises, but all she said was, '' He would shout at me but he never hit me. He came close on occasion but always pulled himself back, was very apologetic. He started to get paranoid about the men I worked closely with and that was the end of it. I loved him, but I couldn't marry him.''
God, Jack suddenly thought - what if she had married him? They sure as hell wouldn't be having this conversation now. '' Were you miserable?''
'' Yes. Terribly. I mean, everything was going great. We were good together - it wasn't like it was a dead end relationship to begin with. Even Dad liked him, and he's categorically hated every single guy I've dated since I was fifteen.'' Carter shook her head sadly. '' Jonas didn't take the break up well, but then it's not like breaking up an engagement is easy.'' The fingers that had been tapping her top lip moved, her arm coming out of her sleeping bag and lying down next to his around her waist. Her eyes sharpened, and then pinned him down. '' But... now it's your turn. One personal, one professional.''
One day, Jack decided, then and there, Captain Carter was going to be one hell of a commanding officer. If she didn't wrap them around her little finger with those eyes and those dimples, then she would be able to whip them into shape with just a short, sharp glance. Not to mention the size and quality of her brain, and the ease with which she switched between scientist and soldier, the way that both men and women alike took to her. All in all, one hell of a package. '' Professional's easy. I could list loads. I never understand ninety-nine percent of what you say, for instance.''
'' You're not supposed to,'' Carter responded swiftly, with an ease that astonished him.
He laughed. '' I beg your pardon?''
'' Seriously, if you understood all of what I said, you wouldn't need me. I'm here to be the scientist. You're here to be the leader. Next one.''
Jack couldn't help but feel pleased. It wasn't like he obsessed about the fact that she, and Daniel, were waaaay smarter than him - it was just that, he couldn't help but feel a little inadequate when they were around. '' Yes, ma'am. All right, in all seriousness, I'm... very stubborn. It takes a whole lot to move me.''
'' That can be a good thing, sometimes. Sticking to your guns and all that. Personal.''
Easy. '' Holding grudges and...'' he couldn't believe he was about to say this, '' ...being unable to forgive myself for things.''
It would have been foolish to hope that she wouldn't realise what he was talking about, and he saw by the snap in her eyes that she'd caught on fast. Daniel had warned him about what he'd told Sam about Charlie, and in a way it had been a relief. He didn't want to tell Sam that. Not yet. Someday, maybe, he would be able to tell her all about Charlie, about his paralysing months of grief... someday.
'' My mother died when I was thirteen.''
'' I'm sorry,'' he said automatically, not entirely sure why she'd suddenly come out with that. Unless she had somehow killed her mother.
She laughed softly. '' No. She was getting a taxi home, the taxi driver had a heart attack and the taxi crashed. But, she wouldn't have been in that taxi if my father hadn't been delayed at work. He was supposed to go and pick her up, but he put work before family once again.'' Her fingers were running up and down his arm now and he knew it was inappropriate but he couldn't seem to look away from her eyes. '' He's never forgiven himself but he's learnt to live with it.''
'' He had you, though.''
Sam nodded. '' He did. And now you have us, don't you, Colonel?'' She smiled mischievously. '' A rock fanatic, a thirty-year-old know-it-all and a man with a snake in his stomach.''
'' I'm such a lucky guy,'' he said with forced sincerity.
She giggled, scrabbled her fingers affectionately over his arm. '' Yes. You are.'' And she dimpled again.
His heart stuttered in his chest. At first he didn't realise what it meant, what this strange, emotional swelling inside him was telling him. He hadn't felt anything so powerful in several years but if memory served him it felt... felt like...
No. It couldn't be?
Could it?
It was that moment, that one damn moment, that Jack O'Neill realised he was in serious trouble.