WHAT

REMAINS

The air hummed with the low murmur of electronic equipment and the perpetual hiss of the ventilation system. A scattering of personnel traveled the maze of concrete hallways performing the necessary, and frequently mundane tasks relegated to the night shift. Their voices carried through the vents in fits and starts, words and disjointed phrases overridden by the pulse of the mammoth facility.

0130

Jack�s long fingers stilled of their own accord on the keyboard of the open laptop. He stared sightlessly at the scroll of letters and numbers on the screen for a long moment before reaching out and closing it with a soft click.

Pointless�

He sat back in the deep leather chair and drew a shaky breath. Words and images rose unbidden and the exhalation caught in his throat.

The office was dark except for the muted light spilling through the Star map from the security station at the far side of the conference room. Jack preferred it that way. Visually it was healthier to use the desk lamp, but the innocuous amber circle drew his attention to the details of the room and the halls beyond. As if the light itself amplified the sounds and activities of the facility. Paperwork was distraction enough so he kept outside stimulus to a minimum.

Besides, Teal�c�s situation and resulting relocation coupled with Carter�s �news� were almost more than his brain could process.

The muted echo of knuckles on metal made him jump and curse quietly. �What?�

Sam�s blond head appeared around the edge of the door. �Are you busy?�

�Always,� he grumbled sullenly.

�Pete gave me this.�

�People usually wear these on their fingers.�

�I haven�t said yes.�

�And yet you haven�t said no.�

Jack swallowed hard, and pushed the memories of their last private conversation to the back of his mind. �Come in.�

She entered and leaned against the door, forcing it shut with a heavy clunk.

�Something on your mind?� He asked the question with trepidation. The ring should have been expected and yet he had been caught completely unaware. Oblivious, and if he were blatantly honest with himself, intentionally ignorant of the progression of Sam�s relationship.

�Yes.�

He indicated the spare chair in the corner of the room. �Sit?�

She slowly shook her head. �I don�t think I�ll be staying that long.�

�Meaning?�

�I said yes.�

Fear, frustration, disappointment, incalculable pain: all of these existed in layers across his fragile psyche. Placed there by a lifetime of situations beyond his control. The soft murmur of three little words stabbed through their hardened shells and released a tumult of rage and sorrow. Twin flows of cold fire, which colored his world in shades of crimson and gray. Jack struggled to breathe around the thickening lump in his throat and nodded fractionally. �Oh.� There was more. A scream, a sob, a shattered cry, but only an inane monosyllable passed between them.

Sam straightened and pushed off the door. Her face remained in shadow as she approached the desk. �I wanted to tell you myself.�

The laughter clogging his throat was tinged with hysteria. He clamped down hard on the rampart emotions and ducked away. �Uh huh.�

�He�s a good guy��

Really? He repressed the question and waited.

�He understands me like no one else ever has��

No one? The irony left an acidic tang in his arid mouth. Jack fought to keep his breathing deep and even.

�I never thought I would meet anyone who could live with this job��

Never? He coughed and sat forward. His hands sorted through the files on the desk of their own volition as his mind groped for something plausible to say to her endless justifications.

Too late�

�Jack?�

The name sang across his raw nerves and he flinched involuntarily. �What?�

She perched on the edge of the proffered chair. Her eyes were huge, unfathomable wells that glittered when she blinked and shifted in the scant light. She tried to catch his restive gaze and sighed softly when he refused to look her in the face. �Say something.�

�Like?� he managed raggedly.

�I don�t know.�

�How about go away?�

She blinked and stiffened at the biting whisper. �What?�

�Get out.� He reiterated the sentiment in a voice tinged with frost. �Leave me alone.�

Come and gone�

Jack scrubbed a hand across his face. The fingers trembled against his flaming eyelids and he pulled them sharply away. Staring in fascination and mounting horror at the beads of moisture that stained the calloused tips.

Tears?

How long had it been?

Why now and not so many times before?

What had she done except move on? What did I do except let her walk away?

His lips were hard and cold beneath his tongue. The fingers of his hand quivered and the moisture trickled down their length. Jack clenched them into a fist and dropped the hand into his lap. The slap of flesh on clothed flesh reverberated through the stillness. Dull, wet, loud as thunder.

What have I ever done except let them all walk, drift, fade away?

Images of the past and present rose up to mingle in a macabre display couched in dismal silence. Pictures without words and forms, without substance, spun through his muzzy brain. The colors growing more vivid as recollection accelerated through the pages of life.

Jack swallowed audibly and pressed his lean body deep into the chair.

His wedding day, hot and clear, blue skies heavy with promise. Joy and apprehension found in the faces of a smiling, happy Sara clinging to the grayed form of a very young and fidgety Air Force Lieutenant. The eyes of his early self flickered nervously from the priest to the floor as he strove to come to grips with the choices they had made.

The first mistake, the eventual catalyst for a world of pain and simmering regret.

Jack shivered. The leather was cold beneath his arms and back. The hard surface refused to yield to the almost physical desire to hide from the ghosts of experience. In the conference room the light blew out above the desk with a distinctive fizzle and pop. The brief flash threw the office into specific relief, and highlighted the photograph of Charlie and himself situated atop the chest of drawers.

My son slipped through my fingers. A shining light which flared and faded as easily and innocently as the broken bulb.

His clenched fingers uncurled fractionally and began to knead his bad knee. Grinding the flesh into the fragile bones and producing a stab of pain across the joint and up his trembling thigh. Jack grimaced, embracing the pain on a level he could not define. To feel was to know life.

Does it matter if physical sensation is all I have left?

Is it?

Stop feeling sorry for yourself!

Jack released a shaky breath and forced his hand up and onto the top of the desk. The two halves of his shredded conscience warred with unforgiving vehemence, making him feeling weak and nauseous.

Was this how if felt to lose your mind?

Why now? Why should it matter what she says or does anymore? It�s not like we ever had anything of substance�Right?

But it did matter and no amount of denial could smother the burning embers lodged within the deepest part of his sheltered soul.

The pain in his leg gradually subsided to a dull ache. Jack licked his lips and placed both hands on the edge of the desk. His long fingers trembled ever so slightly, tapping an uneven rhythm on the solid cherry. The furniture felt permanent, immovable, a barrier not to be trifled with. What lay beyond was fragile, as tipsy as a house of cards in a summer breeze. He pushed back and stood. Raising his hands with deliberate slowness, until only one pinky remained in contact with the wood.

The world seemed to spin away into the shadows crouched against the walls. Sounds and sights flitted before memory�s eye as he stood poised in front of the chair. Charlie�s birth, his first steps, baseball games, report cards�the glorious fall afternoon, which faded to ashes in a moment made endless by guilt. Sara crumpled in the corner of the hospital waiting room. Her slight frame pressed into the tan vinyl chair and her fingers flitting about her bottom lip. Clenching and grasping the empty air as silent tears streaked down her face.

�There are people on this base who have families��

Family. Do I have the right to expect that with her? Look what happened before.

His left hand settled more firmly on the desk. The fingertips brushed the leather blotter and retracted, pulling long scratches through the wood polish. His knee throbbed insistently and he cursed to the empty air. There was no one to blame.

No one but myself. Then and now.

The memories sharpened and moved ahead.

Sara left. He saw himself standing in the front yard of their home. His eyes were dark, frighteningly empty. Her leaving should have been a relief. There was nothing after their son�s death except two strangers sharing a house for the sake of convenience. But he was numb inside. Not the same sort of desolation left by Charlie. That feeling he could understand and accept. It was his due for being unforgivably careless with the gun Sara had always hated. Her departure wrought a different kind of pain. The empty feeling was tempered by rage and an abiding sense of failure.

How dare you leave me? How dare you prove what I feared the most on that summer day so long ago? You have no right to walk away�

But she had every right to shun the man who had snuffed the light from their lives.

Was Sam doing the same by turning her back on something that seemed to have no hope of coming to fruition? Whose fault was it really? Did it matter?

The recollections came faster now. Jack�s right hand settled over his eyes and he released a shuddering sigh. Rocked by the flurry of images replaying with dazzling clarity.

The Stargate, the Abydonians, Goa�uld, Jaffa: intrigues on and off world. A frenetic mixture of politics fueled by greed, ambition, obsession. Faces of friends well met and enemies well fought blurred together. The flush of individual experience diluted by the volume of encounters. He heard their words couched in kindness and riddled with rage. Weapons both real and figurative touched his quivering flesh. He did not flinch even as spirit and bone were marred by ire earned by a thirst for justice.

The heel of his hand dug into his throbbing eye sockets.

What did it all mean? Why did I work so hard if there was nothing left to win? Shouldn�t salvation be enough for any man�

Or woman?

Doesn�t she deserve what I had, what I lost out of sheer stupidity?

Does he?

Pete Shanahan�s rounded face rushed to the fore of his churning thoughts. Jack bit his lip and savored the warm iron flush of blood in his dry mouth.

What have you done to deserve her attentions? What gives you the right to walk in and take what I have fought for?

The proprietary nature of the thought was a like a slap to the face. Jack gasped softly and dropped his hand. He looked up and through the star map. The room beyond lay in deep shadow. Barely lit by the low lights spilling in from the Gateroom one floor below. He blinked rapidly, dismayed by the haze of barely restrained tears.

It was pure arrogance to assume that Samantha Carter was his for the taking, and yet he had with unfettered ease. Seven and a half years had seen their relationship evolve. From leery commanding officer and assertive subordinate, to a level of friendship and understanding that transcended marital intimacy in many ways. He accepted their situation and the limbo it was forced to exist in. Content to wait out the physical consummation until a more appropriate time. She had always done the same. Or so it appeared until a scant few months prior.

Was I not looking? Not seeing what was right in front of my face? Was it all in my mind?

Jack�s breathing quickened and the blood pounded in his ears. He leaned heavily on the desk and heard it creak in protest.

Time had brought clarity to the discordant jumble of thoughts rattling around his mind after reawakening from stasis aboard Thor�s ship. He recalled the incessant, indecipherable clamor of the Ancients� language. Felt the press of their wisdom and the urgency of the situation at hand. Through it all he sensed Sam�s presence. Close at hand as the ability to speak and understand fled beyond reach. He remembered her speaking his name, begging him not to succumb to the darkness after Anubis� fleet had been destroyed. Her face, her voice, they were the clearest impressions he retained from the experience. The rest he shuttered away. It was too painful to remember what they had not said to one another in the house and on the ship.

Had her hand spreading across the chilled crystal been a dream?

What was the point of sorrow or disbelief if gestures both real and figurative were merely an illusion? Can one miss a fantasy? Certainly a dream can be desired without conscious control. Hungered for with a reckless ravenous abandon that sears the heart to a blackened cinder and leaves a hoar of glittering frost behind. Cold delicate filigree to lie across one�s unfulfilled soul.

A low moan gathered in his convulsing throat. He fought it, infuriated by the lapse. Emotions were meant to be endured, not expressed. Ridden out and put away when their energy had expired. He could not submit.

Fury and disappointment surged in palpable waves, snapping and snarling at his crumbling self-control. His lips moved soundlessly. Cursing Sam�s apparent happiness with shallow puffs of air. To speak aloud was to break, to wallow. He swallowed against the ache in his throat. He could not consciously define the emotions filling the small room. The press of hurt, which made the air feel close and hot against his quivering frame. Like the hunger it simply existed, independent of logic, irreverent of considerations.

The sob broke free of his compressed lips, seeping out in a disgraceful whimper. He fell back into the chair and covered his eyes with a trembling hand. Fresh furious tears forced their way through his lashes and down his cheeks. He pressed his palm into the salty stream, shuddering as they burned flesh and spirit alike.

She owes me nothing, so why does this hurt so much?

Jack wept silently in the darkness, enduring the stilted whispers of his mocking conscience. The sound like dying leaves; crinkled, dry, sapped of life by an early frost.

Seconds, minutes later, he straightened and pulled in a steadying breath. He glanced at his lighted watch dial and nodded absently at the time and day on the display.

0200

Saturday.

Jack stood and pushed determinedly away from the desk. Sam and Pete might have gone out the previous evening. She seemed taken aback by his abrupt dismissal and he savored a brief flush of pleasure. Nothing had been easy for either of them up to this point, why should now be any different?

The selfishness of the thought brought a sardonic smile to his lips. Jack peered around the room a final time before closing and locking both office doors. The feeling was unworthy of an honorable man, but catharsis brought a moniker of independence. He no longer felt the need to pretend disinterest or hide from feeling. She would know propriety, civility be dammed.

0230

A shaft of chilly moonlight bathed the quiet suburban street in front of Sam�s house. Jack pulled past the modest ranch and turned around in the adjacent driveway. Her silver sedan was parked close to the sidewalk and a soft amber light burned above the curtained front door.

He parked behind the car and glanced the length of the street. Pete�s small SUV was not in evidence, which meant one of two things. He had already left or he had come home with her and spent the night.

My, how things have changed�

The smile resting on his lips was undignified and Jack felt a minute stab of guilt. He firmly squelched the emotion and all its accompanying doubt. The impending confrontation was necessary. The how and when was immaterial, as was the man who might bear witness to it.

Screw it�

He removed the keys from the ignition and slid out onto the damp pavement. Closing the door carefully, he proceeded up the walk and onto the stoop.

Silence.

He frowned at the implications and raised a hand to the closed door. The rattle of knuckles on glass sounded inordinately loud, causing him to glance around self-consciously. The entire neighborhood did not need to be party to their discussion.

Once, twice, he started to knock a third time when light spilled into the hallway beyond the door.

Finally! Sleeping Carter, or otherwise occupied?

The errant thought churned his stomach and Jack swallowed bile as a silhouette shadowed the front door.

The curtain lifted on one side and he caught a glimpse of a worried frown before it fell back and the lock clicked. Jack schooled his features in what he hoped was a blank mask as the door swung inward.

Sam stood in the hallway, clad in a creamy silk robe and a pair of thong slippers. The material clung to her soft curves and lightened her skin, gently shading the flush of surprise. Dark, liquid eyes roamed over his frame from sole to hairline. �Sir?�

Concern? Anxiety? No, it wouldn�t be that easy for her!

Jack licked his lips and nodded stiffly. �Carter.�

�What�s wrong?�

The question echoed over and over in a ghastly parody of itself, growing more distorted as the seconds slowly ticked by. �Wrong?� he repeated hollowly.

�Sir, if you�ll forgive me, you look�awful.�

Forgive you? He forced his tone to remain even. �I would like to talk to you.�

�Now?� She blinked and stepped back a pace. �It�s��

�I know what time it is, Carter.� The skin of his cheeks stretched into the ghost of a smile. �Is there a reason we can�t talk now?�

Is he here?

She heard the real question and flinched, clearly shaken. �Pete isn�t here.�

�Good.�

A flash of irritation shone in her dark eyes. �Meaning?�

Jack shrugged. �You want to do this outside where the neighbors will hear?�

�A lot you care apparently��

�They�re not my neighbors,� he pointed out.

She yielded to the logic of the statement and stepped aside. Jack moved past her and into the close confines of the narrow hallway. Her confusion and gathering irritation were palpable. He sampled the emotions, and was instantly overwhelmed by the salt of disdain and the sharp tang of betrayal.

Are these feelings yours or mine? Which of us is the true betrayer? Perhaps it no longer matters�

�Have a seat,� Sam mumbled as they emerged into the small living room.

Jack walked past the indicated chair and stood in front of the large bay window facing the front yard. Heavy curtains obscured the moonlit grass from sight. He picked at the scratchy lace and fingered the fine pattern. Noting the illusion of order and propriety so at odds with the chaos simmering in the dimly lit room.

Now what?

�Is something wrong on base? Why didn�t you call me?�

�There�s nothing wrong at the SGC.�

�Then what�� She trailed off and sank heavily onto the couch to his right. �This is about last night.�

Just like that?

Jack�s head spun with her quiet candor. From his perspective her entire relationship was built in secret. Outright discussion was the last thing he expected. He released the curtain with an abrupt twitch of his long fingers and turned around. He could feel the blood rising in his cheeks and was grateful for the concealment of the thick shadows, which hugged the walls.

�Yes.�

�I see.�

I doubt it�

�Oh?� Jack�s eyebrows climbed towards his closely cropped silver hair. �Do you now?�

�I think so.�

He repressed a brittle laugh and shoved his cold hands deep inside his pockets. �What do you see?�

�That you�re hurting, and I�m sorry about that. It was never my intention.�

Her eyes were huge and dewy soft in the lamplight. He shivered and licked his lips. �What did you think was going to happen?�

�I didn�t know��

�You didn�t�� Jack closed his eyes, shutting out the sheen of sorrow and compassion hovering in her frank gaze. �I don�t believe you.�

�What?�

He shook his head, adding physical denial to growing inner conviction. �I�ve known you for seven and a half years, Carter. I don�t believe you for a second.�

�Sir I��

�NO!� He slashed the air with a clenched fist and watched her draw back and into the cushions. A spark of shock and fear registered in the widening blue eyes. He advanced, pressing the fleeting advantage of having caught her off guard. �That�s all off, not here and not now.�

�This is my home,� she snapped angrily.

�And this is my life!�

Sam ran a hand through her hair and stared up at him. Her lips slightly parted, her gaze naked and pleading. �What do you want from me? What can I say?�

�That you don�t love him.� The words flew from his mouth heedless of all restraint. Jack growled beneath his breath and spun away. The energy of anger and searing grief was a memory. He felt suddenly drained and it was an effort not to stumble as he stepped to the chair across from her and sat down.

�I can�t.�

The whispered reply cut through the dull throbbing in Jack�s head. He suppressed a shudder and looked up. Struggling to meet her searching gaze and deny the emptiness slowly filling his chest with ice.

So simple, so final. Is there nothing�?

Sam sat forward and clasped her knees with white fingers. �I can�t ignore what he brings to my life. Stability, security, a feeling of normalcy�I need, and I deserve, all those things.� She sighed and looked down briefly before capturing his wavering gaze with just the hint of steel. �So do you.�

The urge to laugh at her justifications was almost overwhelming. Brutal honesty had shredded his intentions like so much tissue however, and now only tatters remained. Somewhere in the back of Jack�s mind anger still lurked and betrayal had solidified. There would be no forgiveness, and despite the best of intentions their personal interactions would be forever altered. The Pete Shanahan he had met did not possess the attributes she claimed. The man was arrogant and manipulative. His behavior motivated by a selfish desire to control Sam�s every action. In the end such an individual could not help but show his true colors.

I will not bear witness.

Her qualifier meant little in the harsh light of present reality. Whether he deserved more was immaterial, the chance had slipped away on silent wings. Only sorrow remained.

Continued in What Remains part 2