Stargate SG1 is somebody else's, probably MGM/Gekko Corp/Sci-fi, and I freely admit that whoever's it is, I'm borrowing their show and they retain all rights, etc

Author's Note: Set pre-SG1. Pairing is Jacob Carter/Mrs Carter. Written for the sg_rarepairings ficathon over on LJ. Prompt: he knew he was in trouble the moment he saw her. Mention of adult situations and violence. Thank you to sky for the beta.

Trouble on the Home Front

The chair was metal and uncomfortable, not least because he was naked and strapped to it with plastic bindings that bit into his flesh.

The first blow wasn't unexpected. His lip split open and ached with the sting but Jacob managed to recite his name and number. That was all they were getting. He focused on survival; on making it home...on Kathy.

o-O-o

Jacob Carter knows he's in trouble the moment he sees her standing in the doorway of his hospital room.

Kathy has always been a beautiful woman but never more so when she's angry. Blonde hair long enough to tangle his fingers in, eyes heated to the blue of his uniform, and a look that has his blood humming in a way that makes him simultaneously grateful and regretful that he's no longer sixteen.

She crosses the floor with a grace that gives away the years of ballet practice her middle class, well-to-do parents had forced her to attend. She looks him over with a clear-eyed assessment that has him scowling. She strokes a hand over his battered face and winces. He can imagine what she sees; the yellowing bruises and jagged dull scars from the daily beatings he endured. He sees the anger in her eyes fade to a simmer and knows whatever she had planned has been postponed with the reality of his condition.

And then, her arms are around him and his senses fill up with the lemony scent of her, the feel of her. Jacob doesn't care that he hurts all over.

'I thought I'd lost you.' The words are mumbled into his neck.

He wants to say something but he's never been good with words and what is there to say? He's been gone for a month; two weeks on the mission before his cover went to Hell and, although he'd lost track of the weeks he'd been MIA, he's been told it was two weeks and four days.

She slips off the bed and goes to read his medical chart. She'd wanted to be a doctor once. It's not easy reading; a broken leg on the mend after surgery; cracked ribs taped and healing; malnutrition and dehydration. Then there are the multitude of bruises and cuts. He doubts he'll be back in the field for a while.

She sets the medical chart down and walks back around to sit beside him again, perching on the bed, her hand covering his. His thumb absently rubs at her thin wedding band. He raises her hand to his dry lips and kisses her palm.

'We'll get through this.' She says huskily but as Jacob drinks in the sight of her face, he can see the lingering anger.

o-O-o

The ice cold water smacked into his face; just one more pain amongst the others.

Each cut along his skin stung. He felt the unrelenting hand at the back of his head, holding him down, keeping him submerged, before it roughly caught his hair and yanked him out. He hardly felt the blow that sent his head spinning, the new bruise along his cheekbone blooming to join the others.

He welcomed the darkness as he registered voices demanding answers; demanding information he didn't have and wouldn't give them even if he did.

One name filled his head but he would die before he would let it spill from his lips: Kathy.

o-O-o

Their house looks the same from the outside; as uniform as the house next to it and the one beside that. Base accommodation isn't as fancy as the home she grew up in even if it brings back memories for him. Kathy's always gone the extra mile to make it a home, and he can see the patch of grass in front is trim and the flowerbeds are blooming.

Jacob struggles on his crutches as he makes his way up the path. His leg is healing and the cast removed, but he'll need weeks of physical therapy before he can walk unaided. Kathy unlocks the door and sets down his small suitcase in the hallway. He follows her into the open plan living area and makes for the sofa. He lowers himself gingerly.

The bruises are gone; the cuts healed and faded. His leg injury is the one remaining obstacle between him and a return to duty – that and a psych eval where he already knows what to say to get cleared again.

Kathy hands him some painkillers and a glass of water. Jacob swallows them without discussion unwilling to argue with her so soon after his return. He's only too aware that she hasn't vented the anger that she was brimming with that first day in the hospital. They're walking on eggshells with each other as though there's a truce in place that neither is willing to break.

He glances around at the tidy space; the neat piles of Sam's advanced mathematic books, Mark's computer games and latest Star Wars action figures. 'Kids?' he asks gruffly, unwilling to say that he's been looking forward to seeing them. He'd seen them only briefly during the long weeks of his recovery in the hospital, and only when the worst of his wounds had healed; he'd insisted the kids didn't need to see their Dad that beaten up.

'At my parent's.' Kathy explains as she takes back the empty glass. 'I thought we could do with a couple of days alone.'

Jacob shifts nervously on the sofa. He knows whatever's going down between them will happen in the next couple of days: Kathy's never liked them arguing in front of the kids. He hides his worry and wonders if pretending everything is fine isn't the way to go. He smiles at her. 'Sounds good.'

She pulls away with a tight smile and he watches the sway of her hips encased in the short skirt she wears as she heads back into the kitchen. His body is well enough to respond to hers even if his head knows full well she's mad at him. He doubts whether sex – the other part of being home from the hospital that he's been looking forward to – is in his immediate future either.

As it turns out he's wrong about that. The lights are barely out when he feels her slide up against him in their bed; her hands seeking his flesh.

'Kathy?' He questions it because he can count on one hand the number of times she's initiated their love-making – a hangover he believes from her being a good Catholic girl until she'd met a sixteen year old military brat who had nothing but a cocky smile and an ambition to join the Air Force to his credit.

'I want this.' It's a whisper in the darkness and, despite knowing she's mad at him, he's selfish enough to take it.

He turns to her then, slides his hands into her hair and holds her as he kisses her; long and deep. He tastes toothpaste on her tongue; smells the vanilla of her face cream as he kisses her chin and nuzzles her neck.

They only pause to rid themselves of nightwear.

After, when he regains a sense of awareness, Kathy has already rolled away from him. His body is clammy with the sticky warmth of sweat and sex. The absent thought that all Kathy had wanted was the physical release and oblivion of orgasm slides across his mind but Jacob's too exhausted and satiated to care. He drifts away into sleep.

o-O-o

He'd been woken by a loud beating noise and it took him a moment to work out he was in a helicopter, that he'd been rescued. He stared up at the ceiling, dimly aware of a mask across his nose and mouth. He reached up to take it away and a hand intercepted his.

'You need the oxygen, Jake.'

Jacob looked sideways and met George Hammond's pale blue eyes under thinning red eyebrows. Jacob gestured and Hammond lowered the mask reluctantly.

'Letter...' Jacob managed to whisper, 'for Kathy...'

Hammond leaned over and got in his face. 'I didn't come all this way to rescue your sorry butt for you to die on me, Jake!'

The mask was replaced before Jacob could answer which annoyed the hell out of him. But, damn it; that was probably what his old friend wanted; to get him riled up and fighting to live.

He would have been grateful if he hadn't been so mad.

o-O-o

Jacob's not surprised when he wakes up alone. The faint grey light of morning pokes through the curtains and illuminates the empty side of the bed. He gets up, drags on a pair of pants and carefully manoeuvres his way downstairs with one crutch.

She's in the kitchen, staring out through the small window at the back yard and the sun rising. He knows the exact moment she senses him. Her shoulders straighten before her head snaps to look over at him. She gets rid of the cigarette in her hand, before she turns to face him fully and he knows the time of reckoning is at hand.

Fear he's kept locked up for a long time crawls up his spine; wraps around his throat. It's hard to breathe suddenly. Maybe he's just been waiting since that first day when Kathy let him carry her books home for this moment; the one where she realises what her parents have said all along is true.

Even as a cocky sixteen year old, he'd known she was too good for him just as he'd known she was the only one for him. He looks at his own daughter sometimes and marvels at the fact that his father-in-law didn't just shoot him on sight.

'We need to talk.' Kathy begins, breaking the stifling silence. 'I'm mad at you.'

'I noticed.' Jacob replies coolly. He can't help the way his chin goes up as though daring her to take her best shot. He loves her but he won't beg.

'You left without a word. You disappear for weeks and when you finally do come home...' Kathy sighs and folds her arm over her chest. 'I hate it. I hate the secrecy. I hate the waiting and the not knowing and, damn it, Jake, I nearly lost you!'

The last is yelled at him and he's almost relieved; it's like the crack of thunder before the rainstorm begins and clears away the oppressive heat.

'It's my job...' Jacob begins.

'It doesn't have to be.'

The words punch into him as effectively as if it had been her fist. He stares at Kathy dumbfounded. The Air Force is all he knows; all he's ever wanted besides her.

'Kathy.' Her name is a warning. But guilt is worming into his thinking. She's lived through his tours of 'Nam; more missions than he can count. He knows it's a lot of worry. They wouldn't be the first marriage to feel the strain, and maybe his last mission was the proverbial straw.

She pushes away from the sink and heads to the cupboards, pulling out the ingredients for breakfast; eggs, flour, milk, bacon. Fresh blueberries are added to the stack. She always cooks when she's upset. 'You could...'

'Don't even say it.' He lowers himself into a kitchen chair. 'I am never going to work for your father.'

'I wasn't going to suggest that.' Kathy denies. He sees the truth of it in her eyes as they flash angrily at him.

'Then what?' Jacob demands.

'I was going to say transfer.'

The pan hits the stove with a loud clang.

Jacob runs a hand over his head, through his hair and wonders how to deflect her. 'We need the money.' He needs to provide a home for them; to give the kids a good education; to prove to her folks that they don't need trust funds and charity.

'We need you more.' Kathy shoots back undaunted.

He gazes at her tense back desperately trying to work out what to say to her.

'I love you.' Kathy says. 'I don't want to lose you. I'm not sure how I'd... ' her voice breaks.

He can hold out against her anger; he's helpless against her tears. He gets up and limps around the table. He gently loops his arms around her waist and turns her until she's resting firmly up against him. Her head is under his chin. She raises her arms and holds him.

'I'll talk with the Colonel.' It's an admission of defeat. But nothing has been more important to him than Kathy; not even the stars that he's aiming for.

'Don't.'

He frowns, uncertain and confused. Hadn't she just suggested he transfer?

Kathy shakes her head. Her fingers splay over his bare chest and play with his dog tags before she looks back up at him. 'I'm not quitting.' She states firmly, showing the steel that she usually hides behind her genteel lady upbringing. She lifts a hand to cup his rough cheek. 'I think I just needed to yell at you.'

His eyebrows go up at that but understanding begins to seep in; it's usually her modus operandus when the kids have narrowly escaped some danger; she'd yelled at Mark after he'd fallen and broken his arm after he'd climbed the trellis pretending to be Spiderman; at Sam when she'd almost blown up the TV and electrocuted herself. He guesses it was his turn.

Kathy kisses him; their lips rubbing slowly together until he groans. He pulls open her robe and skims his fingers over her flesh as the kiss continues. He's not sure how they make it back upstairs, but they make love drenched in the morning sunshine, rocking together in a slow rhythm until they fall over the edge together, their hands tightly clasped. It's everything their night before wasn't; tender, loving.

Jacob presses a kiss against her damp forehead as they cuddle in the aftermath; Kathy sprawled over him like a human blanket.

Eventually, she raises her head, and her eyes find his again. 'I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.'

Jacob sweeps her bangs away from her face. He doesn't ever contemplate not having her in his life and he feels guilty that not having him is something she has to face every time he steps out of the door. He's never been good with communicating but he knows he needs to find some answer.

His dark eyes hold hers and he tells her his heart: 'I love you.'

The words are simple and heartfelt. Kathy reaches out to touch his lips as though to catch them. A tear slides down her cheek and he kisses it away.

He's finally home.

The End.