The sky was pocked with early stars and filling rapidly with heavy black clouds when Beth drove up and parked on the street in front of Jack�s house. She pulled down the sun visor and craned her neck to view the mirror mounted there. Trying to see if the errant strands of hair she had hurriedly combed and sprayed were still in place. Hats were a necessary evil of winter, raising the devil with any attempts she made to look less like a grandmother and more like an active single.

It helped greatly that while Jack O�Neill appreciated the effort, he also understood the practical.

Satisfied, she put the visor back up and sat back in the seat. He would be watching for her. Extended leave or merely a weekend, he was always on alert. The subtle presence of that awareness was both comfort and confusion for Beth. What made Jack so conscious of his environment? What drives a soul to the point of never being able to truly relax?

Not for the first time she wondered about the veil of darkness residing in the warm, brown eyes. Doors were locked, windows barred, allowing only selected portions of his personality to emerge. She wanted to know more, God yes she did! Unfortunately, his guarded demeanor precluded any overt curiosity.

The muted thump of a door closing drew Beth�s attention. Her eyes focused on the tall, lean figure standing on the front stoop. Elegant hands fitted key to lock and then pulled on black leather driving gloves. She smiled at the memory of the gentle, dexterous fingers gliding over the curves of her body, cupping the flesh and stroking the flaws of age in reverence. The smile broadened as Jack turned and trotted easily down the steps.

He was an enigma but at times like this Beth reveled in tingles of a decidedly adolescent nature. Being around him was like tangling with a live wire. A carefully managed blend of restrained energy and passion, his smile a mirror of reflected warmth and channeled pain. She never knew what was next. To some extent the excitement was welcome, easily eclipsing the mysteries.

Jack approached the driver�s side and knocked lightly on the window.

She blushed self-consciously. Just how much had he read on her face just now? Did it matter? Deciding it didn�t, Beth pressed the power button to lower the window. Cold air bled into the car, bringing the scent of coffee and aftershave. �Yes?�

He waved a hand at the steering wheel. �You want me to drive?�

�No.�

The negative reply was obviously not expected. A shadow passed across Jack�s face and was gone, stowed quickly and carefully behind the curtain. �Okay.�

Beth watched him round the front of the car. Control had been a bit of an issue from the start of their association. Not a highly charged one, more on the level of two mature adults comfortable in their own skin and a tad resentful of anyone trying to manipulate their actions. Jack did not like leaving his personal safety to anyone. She suspected it was not a lack of trust so much as a feeling that he should be responsible for himself and those around him. �All set?� she asked as he settled into the seat and shut the door.

�Yeah.�

Dismissing the inklings of discomfort, Beth put the car in gear and backed onto the icy street. The cabin was warm and his crisp scent spread anticipatory tingles all through her body. She shifted in her seat and reached for the radio. There would be time enough for intimacies; right now she needed a distraction.

They had discovered early on that they shared an affinity for classical music. The fact that most stations were playing Christmas carols only made it nicer in Beth�s opinion. She touched the appropriate stud and leaned back as the strains of �O Holy Night� swelled up from the speakers.

Jack punched the off switch and turned towards the window. His jaw worked behind his hand and the click of his teeth sounded inordinately loud in the sudden silence.

�I�m sorry,� Beth murmured. What was that about?

�It�s not your fault.�

�Do you want to�?�

�No.�

She sighed, trying for understanding. �Is it just that song?�

�Beth��

She bristled at the dark tone but suppressed the instinctive urge to snap. �What�s the matter?�

�Nothing.�

�Uh huh.� Her voice dripped skepticism as they rounded the corner at the bottom of his street and shot out onto the main road. �I wish you wouldn�t do that.�

It wasn�t that she didn�t trust him. Beth knew implicitly that no one on earth could protect her the way Jack O�Neill could, at least in the physical sense. The easy grace and economy of movement befit a much younger man and spoke volumes about his personal regimen. His refusal to explain made her edgy though.

�What?�

Beth stifled a sigh. It wouldn�t due to stir the pot, nothing ever came of it. Then again, �What�s wrong with the song?�

He continued to stare out the window, the hand sliding slowly from his jaw and into his lap.

She studied his profile out of the corner of her eye. The skin was remarkably taut for a man his age. Weathered, tanned and mostly free of blemish with only a smattering of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. The face, like the man was a study in contradictions. �What�s wrong?� she repeated softly.

�Leave it alone.�

Something about the tone of his voice pulled Beth up short. Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel as she navigated the crowded streets. Demand or plea? The three words hovered somewhere in the middle which made them all the more unnerving. She pulled off the road and into a half empty lot. �Do you still want to go out tonight?�

�What?�

Confusion? Oh please! She licked her lips and looked at the seat for a long moment. �You�re upset about something. Do you still want to go out?�

�I�m not upset,� he denied.

�I know what I heard.� She touched his arm. �Is this job related?�

�Beth, you know I can�t talk to you about that.�

�I�m not asking you to.�

�Yes you are.�

Beth sighed and let her hand slip down to the seat. �Are you trying to start an argument here?�

�No.�

Sure as hell seems like it�She bit back the retort and shifted until she was facing him. He stared out the window, seeming immune to her scrutiny and deaf to the questions that crowded the space between them.

Who are you�

The clench of his jaw and the unblinking perusal of the Christmas display diagonally across the street were the only indications that Jack was bothered by her attempted confrontation. Beth�s clenched fist became a muffled metronome, spacing out her thoughts on the seat divider between them.

She did not want to know the details of his job. The week after their chance encounter in the library they met for coffee and dessert at a local diner. He sported a fresh bruise on his face and walked with a limp when he entered and sat down. It would have been the most natural thing in the world to ask, but there was something about his carriage and the sadness in the deep-set eyes that stilled her tongue. He was serving his country in whatever capacity suited him best-that was all she ever needed to know.

The song and his reaction were a different matter, however. Beth gathered her courage and touched his arm again, squeezing firmly this time. �This has nothing to do with your work, does it?�

�No.�

Short, terse, not much beyond a grunt. Beth nodded, accepting the victory at face value. �Can you promise me something?�

Jack turned. One side of his face was lost in shadow and the twinkling holiday lights painted the other in garish tones of blue and sickly yellow. �I doubt it.�

Beth turned back to face the windshield. She peered into the rearview mirror and then pulled out into traffic without further comment. Her fingers ached to turn the radio back on, tune it to anything that would drown out the clamor of unspoken truths filling the air. She was convinced that �O Holy Night� would still be playing, no matter how absurd the notion. It was not worth the risk.

Ten minutes of uneasy silence brought them to Horizons. Beth wheeled the car into a spot at the back of the parking lot and sat back with the engine still running. �We don�t have to go in.�

�Of course we do.�

His assertion was affable, even cheery. The change took her aback. You�re a pain in my backside, Jack O�Neill� Beth smirked at the musing and turned off the car. He was out and around to her side before she could gather her gloves and purse from the floor behind the seat.

�Here.�

She blinked and stepped out, taking his arm without hesitation. It was his version of an apology and probably more than most people got. Beth squeezed his forearm as they made their way across the slick pavement to the front door. She would accept it, for now.

Horizons restaurant fell somewhere on the upper end of the scale of local eateries, pleasant without being pretentious. Patrons could be comfortable in eveningwear or casual attire and it was not uncommon to see lawyers dining next to factory workers. It was a place to people watch and a place to blend. Beth loved the atmosphere and she loved the more relaxed side of Jack O�Neill that emerged when they were seated at a favorite window table.

After the diner they decided that truck driver fare did not agree with either of their systems like it once had. It was her suggestion to try Horizons and after some initial hesitation, Jack seemed to accept the idea. It was not a place frequented by Air Force personnel or high society. Normal people ate there. In the privacy of thought, Beth theorized that the latter was the most attractive quality for Jack. She did not know why the idea fit so well and tonight was definitely not the time to explore the possibilities.

The hostess seated them and brought two bottles of Guiness to the table without being asked. Beth grinned at the assumption and raised hers in salute. �Cheers, sweets.�

Jack chinked his bottle to hers and drained a third of the alcohol in one swallow.

�Thirsty?�

�Not anymore.�

She laughed softly. �So what did you think about today?�

�The kid?�

�Jeremy, yes.�

�He�s getting the idea.� Jack began peeling the label off the bottle in long curling strips.

�He�s only five.�

�Uh huh.�

�I�ve always loved to skate and the little ones are so much fun to work with.�

Nod.

�I bet next time he�ll just take right off.�

Another nod.

�Then I�ll pull a strap out and catch him right across his padded behind.�

Absent lift of an eyebrow. �What?�

Beth rolled her eyes. �You�re not even listening to me.�

�Yes I am.�

�Oh really?�

�I bet next time he�ll just take right off,� he mimicked with perfect pitch.

Oh for God sakes! �Okay, you�ve made your point.�

He sighed, a glimmer of relief flashing briefly in his brown eyes. �I was just thinking.�

�About?� Beth prompted before taking a healthy swig of beer. Come on, talk to me!

�Hi, I�m Carol and I�ll be your server tonight. Would you like to start off with some appetizers?�

The relief was more obvious this time and tinged with sadness. Beth cursed quietly to herself as Jack rattled off their usual starters to the waitress. Saved by the server!

The chunky brunette glided away from the table leaving a shattered moment in her wake. Beth contemplated the green linen placemats, her ears tuned to his carefully modulated breathing. Jack O�Neill reasserted control over himself and the situation with iron clad desperation. Gods, that woman had timing-NOT!

She studied his profile through the beer bottle, finding faint amusement in the distortions caused by color and curve. He was looking across the crowded room with an unfocused gaze. Observing without appearing cognizant of the situation. It was a sham he perpetrated quite frequently. He knew that she saw through it, she was sure of that. The knowing did not stop him from doing it. She had decided early on in their relationship that such facades were a part of his character. A defense mechanism built up over years of service to country or a way to conceal the man beneath the persona of the solider? The latter theory concerned her far more than the former.

�Penny?� she offered as he drained the last of his beer.

�Hmm?�

�For your thoughts.�

�I knew a kid like him once, like Jeremy I mean.�

�And?�

�He died.�

There was more. The certainty clenched her suddenly chilly insides into a nauseous ball. Beth put down the beer and folded her hands in her lap. �You knew him well?�

Jack picked up his empty bottle and gestured to Carol who was cruising the opposite side of the room. �Yeah, I did.�

�How did he die?�

�Does it matter?� he snapped. The waitress approached and whisked the empty from the table, replacing it with a full one. Jack�s grin was instant and sugar sweet. �Thanks.�

Carol moved away, the ghost of a smile dimpling her cheeks.

�No, I suppose it doesn�t,� Beth muttered, inwardly railing at the flush of shame that warmed her cheeks. She did not know what drove her to pursue the subject. It would have been infinitely safer to leave it alone. Safer and monumentally frustrating. Schooling her features into a neutral expression, she continued. �When did it happen?�

�Ten years in September.�

His tone was deceptively flat. Beth forced one hand up onto the table and grasped the beer. Her eyes flitted to a bead of moisture sliding down the neck of the bottle. It oozed between her palm and the glass, huge and heart-heavy like a child�s tear. �He must have been very important to you.�

A low murmuring sigh pushed through Jack�s thin lips. He turned and studied a spot on the far wall. His fingers were bone-white around the neck of the beer bottle and for a moment Beth feared it would shatter beneath the pressure. He blinked rapidly and brought the spout of the bottle to his mouth. Half the contents disappeared down his gullet before he placed the bottle in the center of the table without turning around.

There would be no answer. Beth swallowed hard. Her inquiries had come close to something very fragile and precious. Was this a good thing? There could be no growth between them without revelations of some depth. Of course the street ran both ways. Was she ready to unleash some of her darker moments to his unmerciful examination? Jack O�Neill would give no quarter and perhaps she didn�t deserve any.

�I�m sorry I had you meet me there this afternoon.�

�I�m a big boy,� he countered quietly. �I can say no.�

I bet you can. Beth drained her beer and then got up from the table. �I need to use the ladies room.�

�You want the usual?�

She glanced at the menu as she gathered her purse. �No, make it chops tonight with the rice and blue cheese for the salad.�

�Fine.�

Jack�s eyes rested on her back as she crossed the dining room. Beth shivered involuntarily. Was he sorry for reacting defensively to her questions, or offended that she dare to pose them? Were hurt and sorrow a by-product of their conversation? If not, then perhaps the result of actions long past? The possibilities spun through her head as she pushed open the lavatory doors and entered the mini lounge.

A blonde woman with a round face and startling blue eyes was seated on the sofa. Her long legs were bent and a black silk skirt fluttered above the pale skin as she dug in her handbag. The creak of the door caused her to jump and forced a flattering blush high on her cheeks.

She was stunning.

Beth smiled hesitantly and tapped the door jam. �I think they need to get after their maintenance guy.�

The woman nodded, her fingers playing idly in the bottom of the purse. �Yes, I think you�re right.�

�Lose something?� Beth forced down a jealous pang. She had never possessed the natural beauty and easy grace of this statuesque creature. It was galling and the minute traces of maturity around her eyes and mouth did not make it any less so.

�My lipstick.�

�Oh.� She pushed hurriedly through the inner door, swallowing an aggravated sigh. Choke on it sweets, it�s not like you need it!

The outer door closed as Beth was finishing up in the stall. She flushed and walked out to the sinks. The broad mirror above the basin reflected a disconcertingly plain face framed by flattened curls. Terrific. She fingered the strands and sniffed in disgust. There was no hope at this point.

The creak announced a new arrival and Beth shook herself and reached for the handle as the inner door swung inward. It wouldn�t do for another young thing to catch her gawking. Talk about a one-way ticket to the dismals!

A matronly woman wearing a sweatshirt adorned with a sequined Christmas tree entered and smiled broadly as she made her way to the handicapped stall. �Beautiful evening.�

�Lovely,� Beth replied absently before exiting. Getting better all the time.

The decibel level of the crowded dining room was noticeably higher now. Beth sighed. Pasting a happy, plastic smile onto her face, she headed for the far side of the room. Things were not going as planned and the prospect of a nightcap in front of Jack�s large, stone fireplace was looking more unlikely all the time�

What was he looking at?

Jack�s back was ramrod straight, barely touching the padded chair. He was facing to her left and the long fingers of his right hand were tapping an uneven beat on the tabletop. He didn�t blink and his lips parted and closed irregularly. Mumbling a series of what Beth assumed were expletives, judging by the clenching and unclenching of the fist grinding into his upper thigh.

Who was he looking at?

Her eyes followed his line of sight and encountered the blond and a chunky, dark-haired man sitting at a table in the corner. She gasped softly and looked back at Jack.

The fist was no longer clenched. Tapered fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, partially obscuring the mobile lips and grinding jaw. After a moment the hand fell away and his face assumed the same odd expression displayed by motorists gaping at a traffic accident-quizzical and horrified.

He knows her.

The certainty of the conclusion sent Beth�s stomach into a slow roll. She rubbed it absently and resumed walking, albeit much slower. He needed time to pull it together and so did she. Unfortunately, the heightened senses fostered by all those years in the military were not easy to fool. Jack�s eyes swung away from the pair and fell upon her before she could walk more than four steps.

Surprise and crushing sorrow registered in the scant moments before the curtain fell. Beth widened her smile until the flesh of her cheeks ached with the strain. How bad did it look? What does he think? Who the hell is that woman?

Charlie

Jack licked his lips and watched Beth thread her way across the dining room to the restrooms in the corner. Her shoulders were slightly hunched and the spring was gone from her step. Clearly the conversation was taking a toll. Still, never would be too soon to burden her with the sordid details of another lifetime. It wasn�t fair and that was that.

The song was a part of that lifetime. A Christmas carol made special for the when of its playing as much as for the words. Charlie was born on December 20th and Sara had insisted on holiday music for the delivery. A sentimental quirk, which most people who knew her would never have suspected. Jack was happy for the distraction during the 12-hour labor. Sara appeared to be going through more stress and pain in that short time than he had endured in weeks of Special Forces training. He came away from the experience with a heightened respect for women. Creating a life was thirty seconds of elation, bringing it forth was a special blend of pleasure and agony he could never comprehend.

Beth did not deserved the tattered reminders and he felt guilty about his attitude in the car. Remorse, as much as respect, caused him to leap from his seat in an onus display of chivalry. Now things were strained and he could see no way around the situation without offering at least a partial explanation. Beth deserved it and for the first time Jack was beginning to think that he did as well.

He took a sip of water and gazed across the growing crowd, considering how to broach the subject. The restroom door opened and a glimmer of gold caught his eye.

No, it can�t be�

Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter exited the restrooms and cut left until she reached the last row of tables and turned right. Dressed in a cream turtleneck and black skirt she moved with relaxed fluidity. A broad smile lifted her pink lips as she approached the corner table and sat down with her right profile to him.

Jack drained the remainder of the water, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. What was she doing here? What were they doing here? It wasn�t like Beth and he had exclusive rights to Horizons or any other establishment. Nevertheless, his personal qualifier for patronizing this particular restaurant was based in no small part on the knowledge that Samantha Carter and Pete Shanahan didn�t appear to frequent the place. At least according to one usually well-informed archeologist. Hell of a time to develop a memory block, Daniel!

Cold sweat beaded his forehead and dampened the collar laying across his stiff neck. His left hand ached with the strain of clenching his fingers and grinding them into his upper thigh. Jack cleared his throat and rubbed the bridge of his nose. What are you�?

Beth!

Oh God� Heart sinking, Jack tore his eyes from the back of Pete�s head and looked left. Beth stopped mid-stride and stared back. Her hazel eyes were nearly black in the dim lighting and her whole demeanor radiated confusion.

Could this get any worse?

�General.�

Yes, it could and it just did. Jack stifled a groan as Sam�s shadow fell across the table. �Carter.� He managed not to croak, but just barely.

She smiled shyly. �Fancy meeting you here.�

�Yeah.�

�General O�Neill.�

If there were any humor to be found in this unfolding nightmare it would be in Pete Shanahan�s obvious discomfiture. Jack tried not to laugh at the shorter man as he rose and extended a polite hand. He had not seen any reason to offer the courtesy of a first name basis to Pete. The man was an interloper, no matter that nothing concrete had ever existed between Sam and himself. �Shanahan.�

�We were just on our way to the dance floor.� Sam explained with a tilt of her head.

Candlelight glinted off her blond hair and picked flecks of amethyst from her eyes. God�Jack�s heart hammered heavily in his chest. Damn! He dropped Pete�s hand and scrubbed his thigh, dampening the cloth with chilly sweat. Shaking the bastard�s hand was distasteful but he did not rate public rudeness. Or did he? The back of Jack�s mind mulled the question even as he pivoted and eyed the square of polished flooring on the far side of the room. Turning back, he raised a hand and smiled broadly. �Carter, this is Beth Coventry.�

Something unidentifiable flitted across Sam�s pale features. She extended a hand. �We sort of met.�

�Yes, in the ladies room,� Beth confirmed. Her eyes were fixed on Jack as they shook. �Carter?�

�Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter. The general and I work together.�

�Yes, so he�s mentioned.�

Sam tilted her head. �He has?�

Beth nodded slowly. �Yes.�

This was getting worse by the second. Jack glanced at Pete and fought back the urge to slap the burgeoning smirk from face. Screw you Shanahan, you don�t have a clue what the hell is going on here. If you do, well more is the pity.

�Pete?�

�Yeah hon, let�s dance!� One stubby fingered hand came up to rest on Sam�s back as they moved away from the table. �See you around, General.�

Sam paused after a few steps and half turned. Her eyes were bright and dewy soft above a hesitant smile. �Happy holidays, Sir.�

�You too, Carter.� The words nearly choked him but he said them anyway. Watching Pete stiffen and tug firmly on Sam�s elbow was almost worth the dull ache that clutched his heart. You don�t deserve her and you know it as much as I do�

The couple continued towards the dance floor and Jack became acutely conscious of Beth standing beside him. Curiosity and a blossoming sense of hurt permeated the atmosphere. He did not want to meet her eyes. He had done nothing and yet he had done everything to incur the most primal of suspicions. Betrayal of the mind and heart, if not of the body.

�Pretty,� Beth remarked as she slid into her seat.

Jack sat down, grateful beyond measure that his back was to the dance floor.

�Jack?�

�What?�

�The food is here.�

�Oh.� He sat back to allow Carol to deposit the appetizers in the center of the table.

�Another beer, Sir?�

�Yeah, keep �em comin�.�

Beth glanced up at the comment. Her eyes flickered over his face and then drifted across the platter as she picked half-heartedly at the food. �You�re close?�

�What?�

The Guiness landed in front of him and Jack grasped the bottle before Carol could let go. The waitress gasped softly as their fingers brushed. �Sorry.�

�My fault.� He flashed a diffident smile and took a long pull on the beer.

Beth�s eyes locked with his. �You�re close,� she repeated before taking a bite of a chicken wing lightly greased with ranch dressing.

�You could say,� Jack admitted. Not in the way you think, unfortunately. He shook himself to clear the errant thought. Now was not the time, would never be the time. Get a grip!

�You�ve known her a long time.�

Statements not questions. Jack nodded not trusting his voice. The shrimp appetizer turned rubbery in his mouth as he chewed. He swallowed hard, nearly gagging on the gritty breading.

Beth dropped the chicken wing and wiped her fingers on a napkin. �Let�s go.�

�What?�

�Are you hearing impaired?� Anger flared and died. �I�m not hungry anymore,� she finished softly.

Damn it all to hell� Jack stood and waved to catch Carol�s eye.

She sauntered over after a moment, a curious frown pulling at her lips. �Is there something wrong?�

�We�ll need the meal to go.�

�Screw the meal.�

The acerbic comment shot ice through his throbbing veins. Jack struggled for nonchalance. �I guess we�ll just have the check.�

�Whatever you say, Sir.� Carol fished in her pocket and pulled out the small electronic pad common in more upscale establishments. �I could speak to the management about the bill, you are regular customers��

�Don�t worry about it.� Jack reached into his pocket, his eyes never leaving Beth�s retreating back as she made a beeline for the door. God, what have I done?

�If you say so, Sir.�

�Huh, yeah�that�s fine, whatever.� He handed her a ten-dollar bill and took the slip.

�Have a pleasant evening.�

Oh yeah, just terrific. Jack walked to the register and handed his bill and credit card to the cashier.

�Was everything alright this evening, Sir?�

No. Hell in a handbasket was a galactic understatement. He signed the slip and the clerk took his copy without further comment.

The chill wind of late December slapped him across the face as he exited the building. Embedding chips of ice and dry snow in his lashes and the creases of his ruddy cheeks. Jack wiped roughly at the stinging onslaught. What could he say to her? How could he explain what he didn�t understand?

Pete Shanahan�s arrogant face floated through his mind as he crossed the icy parking lot.

The insolent bastard had the nerve to smirk. He knew what Beth was thinking probably better than Jack did, which made the situation even more distressing. Then Shanahan did have the advantage of being �the other�, a victim as much as a perpetrator in the pathetic scenario.

Jack�s foot slid across the treacherous pavement, causing a fresh bloom of pain in his aching right knee. Crap! Righting himself, he spotted a plume of exhaust coming from Beth�s car. She was waiting, though he deserved nothing less than the indignity of a taxi.

He rubbed a hand across his chilled face and proceeded cautiously around the back of the car. The breath caught in his throat as the door creaked open. Jack stood for a moment, letting the warmth of the car�s interior leak around his legs and rise up beneath the hem of his jacket. He was too old for intrigue, too tired to play the games. Whatever happened to simplicity? A man loving a woman� He shook his head, sap utter sap! Beth endured his hesitation in silence. Was she waiting for the other shoe to fall? For the �I�m sorry but I can�t see you anymore because I�m hung up on the office genius.�? Jack sighed and eased himself into the seat, wincing as he bent his knee.

When he was seated, Beth gunned the engine and pulled through the space in front of the car. The rear end slid sideways as she rounded the end of the row and shot towards the exit. Ice and slush glittered an angry crimson beneath the stoplight and Beth stepped hard on the brake, rattling his teeth as the car skidded up onto the snow-covered lawn. Jack kept silent. Resigned to the silent tirade, unsure what he would say once calm reasserted itself in this normally unflappable woman.

�Are you sleeping with her?�

What? Jack shifted in his seat. It would have been better, certainly easier if she left it alone. Allowed him to wallow and walk away before things got too far out of hand. If they weren�t already�

�Jack?�

�No.�

Beth bit her lip. Her hands perched atop the steering wheel were china-white with stress. �Why not?�

Does it matter? He stifled a sigh and reached for the easiest explanation. �Regulations.�

The back of the car slewed across the width of the lane. A horn sounded and a wave of heavy slush rode up and over the driver�s side of the hood. Beth gasped softly and let off the gas, riding out the skid until they bumped hard against the curb.

�Beth, let me drive.�

�No.�

�It wasn�t a request,� he snapped irritably. The roadways were disintegrating into a morass of dirty crystals coated with a sheet of fresh rain. There was no place for anger or hurt behind the wheel.

She dropped her hands into her lap and invited him to exit the vehicle via a blank stare.

Jack shivered and climbed out onto the sloppy sidewalk. The wind was gusting in fits and starts that chilled a body to the core. Still, it was warmer than the charged atmosphere inside the sedan. He stepped down into the trough of slush that hugged the sidewalk. Gasping aloud as water and snow dampened his trousers and flowed over the tops of his low boots. Wonderful! Wet feet to top off a perfectly miserable evening.

Beth slid to the far side of the seat and slumped against the passenger door when he settled behind the wheel. Jack gritted his teeth and shoved the car in gear. What next? God, stop looking at me that way�

�That�s no answer.�

Excuse me? His mind spun backwards, seeking the thread of the conversation, wishing fervently that she would just let it go. �What?� he whispered.

Beth�s hand fluttered down from her mouth to her lap. Pale fingers rapidly folded and twisted the end of her scarf into a sodden ball. �Regulations,� she repeated tightly.

Of course it wasn�t and he respected her too much to play the fool. Unfortunately, the real reasons lay somewhere between logic and desire, heartbreak and consideration. Both he and Carter wore the tatters of a relationship unrealized like some warped badge of honor. What reward for understanding, what medal for old-fashioned fear? Jack released a shaky breath and concentrated on the streets.

Holiday shoppers wove in and around one another amidst an atmosphere of frenetic haste. It was December 23rd, two days until Christmas and people were feeling the pressure. The fact that trawling the malls in such mercurial conditions was eminently stupid did not seem to matter to anyone. Jack made his way down the center of the street, cursing quietly while trying to watch darting pedestrians and moving vehicles with equal vigilance. It was a losing proposition but preferable to addressing the cold front currently occupying the seat to his right.

He could hardly blame Beth for being observant or a realist. Those qualities and many others had attracted him from their first chance encounter at the public library. Jack smiled briefly remembering Daniel�s reaction. It was an odd place for him to hang out, no question about that. Still, it was a quiet haven away from the pressures of the SGC and the unavoidable presence of one newly minted Lt. Colonel. He needed peace, but the idea of being alone was troublesome to put it mildly.

A flash of red foil and a startled yell sent a thrill of surprise across Jack�s frazzled nerves. He jumped on the brakes as the shopping bag tumbled into the street followed quickly by a tiny woman dressed in a long leather jacket. She dashed in front of the car without looking and nearly slid to her knees retrieving the bag, which was lodged neatly beneath the front bumper. �Son of a bitch!� Steely fingers gripped his forearm as Jack reached for the door handle.

�Leave it.�

�I nearly hit her for cryin� out loud!�

�I know, just leave it alone.�

Jack wrenched free and got out of the car. The woman was staring forlornly down into the bag. Her long blond hair was plastered to her head and caught in the corners of her mouth. Her lips moved in a whispered mantra as she slowly reached in and fondled the contents of the bag.

�Was it worth it?� Jack growled.

She looked up, her brown eyes large and glassy with tears. �What?�

�I nearly flattened you for some holiday trinket! We could have all been seriously hurt or worse. Was it worth it?�

�It was my mom�s present,� she stammered. �The wind came up and took it right out of my hand. I didn�t see��

�Stupid commercial bullshit. Has everyone lost their freakin minds?�

�It was the last one�� Her eyes dropped to the bag and she shook it slightly. Glass tinkled above the grumble and spray of passing motorists. �We used to have ornaments like this on the tree�she would have loved it��

Jack swallowed hard. Where was Thor when you needed him? The evening was already the worst in recent memory and distressingly high on the scale of a lifetime. �Look I�m sorry, it�s just that��

The woman seemed to come back to herself in a rush. She wiped awkwardly at the tear streaks and summoned a ghastly, plastic smile. �I should have been more careful.�

Yes, you should have but that�s not really the point. Jack gestured towards the sidewalk, ignoring the irate bark of a passing motorist. �Are you alright?�

�Fine.� She folded the top of the bag and turned away. The clinking glass provided sorrowful counterpoint to her slushy footsteps as she returned to the sidewalk and disappeared into the crowd.

Great, just great. Jack pushed a hand through his sodden hair and trudged back to the car.

Beth had not moved from her slouched position against the door. She waited until they had pulled back into traffic and were through the next set of lights before speaking. �You don�t know why, do you?�

The tone was cool, a determined attempt at nonchalance. Jack heard the tightly contained sorrow and confusion as clear as the mangled glass in the bottom of the shopping bag. He wanted to argue with her logic. God knew he had spent enough time thinking about the situation when he should have been scaling the Mt. Everest of paperwork in the center of his desk. He knew�

Didn�t he?

Doubts pressed in, making Jack�s head throb with a sudden, fierce headache. He massaged his left temple, anxious to keep his quivering fingers from Beth�s line of sight. �I�m not sleeping with her, period.�

Several minutes of uneasy silence brought them into the quiet, suburban neighborhood where Jack lived. He pulled the car up behind his pick up and shut off the engine. �You should stay here tonight.�

�So you can not sleep with me, too?�

It was a snide, immature retort and it took all he had not to laugh. She was certainly entitled to her rancor. �No, because the roads are getting really dangerous.� He pulled out the keys and pocketed them. �I don�t want you out there.�

�Why?�

The word hung in the air, begging for an admission he had not made to anyone in four years. �Because I care about you,� he murmured, feeling something small and frail shatter deep inside. Why do you have to ask? Why didn�t she?

�We�re not done.�

He bridled at the insinuation. Beth was trying to control the situation, to control him, something he did not tolerate lightly. Protests gathered at the back of his throat, vying for voice. Jack squashed them ruthlessly and pressed his lips into a grim line. We�re not? It had taken him a year and a half to tell Carter how he felt. Beth had only been around for four months. Was he slipping into dotage? Brain soft from too much coffee and red ink? We�re not done? Says who? He knew the flash of anger and the stain of resentment were reactions to situations far beyond Beth�s personal experience. That didn�t make them any easier to deny or control.

Jack pushed open the door. �Come on, I think there is some left over Chinese in the back of the fridge.�

Beth closed the bedroom door and plodded to the bed. His bed. Morning was hours and eons in the past. An aura of sounds and sensations permeated the room: his laughter and hers, the heady scent of sex and mingled desire, the texture of his fingers caressing her breasts and rising to cup her cheeks, his moist lips covering hers in a sensual embrace�She sniffed and touched a hand to her hot cheeks, savoring the remembered moment.

Jack O�Neill was not the first man in her life and if things did not work out for them she would survive. While there was no question that the sex was good, the conversation intelligent and the laughter infectious; her personal limits were well established through trial and error. If she could not live with the questions then they would part company. Her preference was friendship but she did not see that as an option this time around. Due in no small part to the complicated man involved.

She was a long way from giving up. One disagreement did not a relationship break.

Beth sank onto the mattress and ran an absent hand over the bedspread. Forty-seven years of ups and downs taught many lessons and she was willing to accept at least a few things on faith. She knew how to be content. Her life was filled to bursting with activities and people that brought pleasure. She lacked for nothing but she was not blind to desire and she preferred companionship to solitude. Even if the companion only wanted an ear to bend over a quiet cup of coffee.

Such individuals were numerous and it saddened Beth to think of anyone experiencing the kind of loneliness that screamed for attention though the room be crowded and convivial. Jack O�Neill was such a man. A solitary figure that exuded confidence even as his deep-set eyes burned with repressed emotions. She recognized the need that day in the library and was drawn to him instantly. Her feelings were not matronly in the least. It was obvious that he resented being looked after in any way, shape or form. Instead, Beth enjoyed his sweet smile and starts of modest laughter as they chatted about the books stacked on the table in front of him.

She smiled sadly and rose to strip off her clothes.

The books were about gardening and her first thought was that his wife had sent him. It was late summer, nearly time to plant bulbs and prune rose bushes. Five minutes divested her of the misconception. The books were distraction. Most of them were open to brilliant pictures of flowering shrubs, European gardens and exotic trees aflame with colorful blossoms.

Beth tossed her shirt and pants onto the foot of the bed and pulled back the spread. Was he thinking about Samantha Carter that day? Drowning a black, broken heart in nature�s rainbow? The thought elicited a spate of shivers. She slipped beneath the covers and turned onto her side. The scent of Jack�s aftershave clung to the pillowcases and the hem of sheets. Sighing, Beth tried to get comfortable.

Moments or hours later the insistent buzz of the telephone sliced through the darkness. Startled awake, Beth sat up and pushed a mass of limp curls off her face. The sound came a second time. She grimaced. Where was the phone? Glancing about, the red light for the answering machine caught her eye. Her finger�s twitched, a hairs breadth from picking up the unit and chewing out the inconsiderate lummox who dared to call at such an hour. Not that she had a clue as to the time.

Jack�s sleepy voice interrupted the third buzz and she fell back on the bed in relief. His words were unintelligible but at the moment Beth did not care. Sleep beckoned and she snuggled deeper into the covers. Tomorrow was soon enough to sort things out�

�What?�

Jack�s exclamation snapped her back to consciousness in a heartbeat. Beth sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She was halfway to the door when the tin like voice issuing from the speakerphone stopped her cold.

�We hit a tree.�

Oh God! Beth leaned one hand on the door jam. The voice was familiar.

�Who was driving?�

�She was.� Faint, tremulous, obviously fearful. Beth stepped into the hallway.

�Shanahan, where the hell are you?�

Jack�s voice, angry, not giving an inch. Helplessly curious, Beth pressed her back to the wall.

�The ER.�

A tree? The ER? The leftover Chinese hardened into a nauseating ball in the pit of Beth�s stomach. She swallowed bile.

�Stay put.� Relief and a vague hint of fear tinged the order.

�She was asking for you.� The line went dead.

Beth cringed at the defeated tone. Shanahan�Pete Shanahan� Sam�s boyfriend calling at her behest. Beth bit her lip and eased herself back inside the dark bedroom.

What have I stumbled into? Is it worth the risk to heart and mind to find out?

Beth rolled up in the blankets and stared wide eyed at the curtained French doors that opened onto the deck. Jack knew the complications of his life. He had to know how frustrating they would be for any unsuspecting party to encounter. She could leave without shame�

No!

The idea smacked of cowardice. Grown women did not walk away from problems, they confronted, even embraced them. The door creaked and Beth stiffened as Jack�s eyes fell upon her back. She opened her mouth unsure of what might spill out. An admission of what she had heard and strongly suspected, an assurance that she would be here whenever he got back, an offer to listen if he felt the need to talk? All of these and none slipped out in an uneven sigh. It was obvious she was not sleeping and try as she might Beth could not summon the will to fake it. The door closed and he padded back down the hall without saying a word.

�Shanahan, you are such an idiot! You let her drive in this slop? What the hell were you thinking?� The muttered assertion smacked of closet sexism, which did not lessen the truth of it. Jack groaned beneath his breath and concentrated on maneuvering Beth�s car onto the lawn so he could take his truck to the hospital. He did not want to think about Beth lying in his bed or the fact that she had obviously heard every word of his conversation with Pete. It was only after the dial tone was echoing through the room that he realized he had hit the speaker button by mistake.

Give him an army of Jaffa, an alien government rift with corruption, a system lord drunk on the excess of power only arrogance can provide-anything but this! Just how much worse were things going to get?

Jack started the truck and pulled on his gloves. Mumbling a half-hearted curse at the cold, he backed carefully onto the icy street. The big V-8 roared as the tires spun to find purchase.

Christ, you should have stayed in� He wasn�t sure who he was griping at-himself, Sam or the world at large. All things considered it was just another inane observation of the obvious, which is all he seemed to be good at lately.

At the intersection, Jack paused to call Cheyenne Mountain and order an officer from the SGC to be deployed to the hospital ASAP. The officer on duty seemed surprised to hear his voice at such a late hour, but he recovered quickly and assured that someone would be in place within the next thirty minutes. Mildly relieved that at least one thing was going his way, Jack jammed the phone into his pocket and pulled into traffic. Carter�s head was crammed with classified information and any slurred comment murmured under physical distress could lead to disaster. No one involved with the Stargate Program could afford to take the chance.

Holiday decorations winked beneath their icy coating, staining Jack�s periphery in rainbow hues. Iridescent icicles hanging from street signs and Christmas carols leaking in through his partially open window lent an air of cheer as he drove through the quiet streets. Jack felt empty, powerless to ignore or enjoy the subdued atmosphere of the sleeping city. He focused on the roads and resisted thinking about where he was going or where he had been. An ambulance crossing his path as he neared the turn for the emergency room parking lot brought reality into specific relief. Jack shuddered at the implications and gripped the wheel more firmly.

His mind was awhirl as he parked, disembarked and locked up the truck. What had Pete failed to mention? Was the accident more serious than he implied? Was his obvious reluctance due to the fact that Sam was seriously injured or that she had asked for him in the first place?

Jack paused by the outer doors and stepped into the lee of the building. He scrubbed a hand over his pallid face and sucked in a series of deep breaths, attempting to curb the runaway speculations. Fear and anger churned his stomach and he spat bile into the snow bunched behind the ashcan.

Losing control of his emotions in front of Pete and in this very public place was not an option. Of course if he chose to pummel the sneaky son of a bitch at least he would be in the right place to fix a busted lip or a broken nose�

�Sir?�

Jack shook his head and smiled gamely at the white-coated figure peering at him from the lighted doorway. The woman smiled tentatively back and withdrew, allowing the doors to hiss shut.

Sweet. He swallowed a groan of dismay and pushed off the wall. Heat blasted down and around him as he walked through the double doors and into the crowded lobby. Conversations punctuated by crying children and the occasional demanding shout filled the small space. Jack tuned out the clamor and wove his way to the desk.

A harried nurse wearing a sprig of holly clipped to her pocket was stationed behind the glass. She paid him no attention for several minutes, clearly engrossed in updating patient information and answering the phone. Jack held his tongue and scanned the sea of ever changing faces moving in and out of the lobby, looking for Pete. Eventually, the nurse looked up. Her blue eyes were dark with fatigue, belying her cheerful tone. �Can I help you, Sir?�

Jack nodded. �A Samantha Carter was brought in here�� He glanced at his watch. �An hour ago� Can you tell me where she is?�

�I certainly hope so,� the woman answered as she turned to read a screen mounted below the edge of the counter. �Are you a friend or relative?�

�What?� A bolt of panic broke fresh sweat across his brow. �I was told it wasn�t that serious��

She smiled sympathetically. �I�m sorry, I didn�t mean to upset you. She was unconscious when she came in,�

�She was?� Jack sighed heavily. Way to share information Shanahan! He pushed a clammy hand through his hair and focused on the nurse. �USAF personnel will be arriving within the next fifteen minutes��

�Sir?�

�Samantha Carter is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, I am her superior officer.�

The nurse straightened self-consciously. �Oh.�

Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The reaction was not totally uncommon, if a bit silly. �The officer will be stationed within earshot of the Colonel�s bedside and will remain in close proximity at all times.�

�I see�Uh, Sir, if you don�t mind my asking, who called you?�

He bit his lip, unsettled by the question and the distasteful nature of the answer. �Her fianc�.�

The nurse blinked at the caustic tone. �I see. Well, she�s in curtain three. You�re welcome to join her for security reasons��

�Sir?�

Jack spun around and returned the salute of the short, sandy haired young man that had appeared at his elbow. You are entirely too awake for 12:30 in the morning� �Lieutenant?�

�Lieutenant William Irish, General. Major Adams said I should report to you upon arrival.�

�You�ve been briefed?�

�Yes, Sir.�

�Fine. Curtain three Lieutenant and don�t let the civvies boss you around.�

�Yes, Sir.� The man saluted again and paused long enough to get his bearings before moving off down the short hall.

�I guess that answers that,� the nurse commented without missing a beat. �Can I page the gentleman for you? Perhaps he has spoken to the doctor in charge�my chart hasn�t been updated in the last few minutes.�

�Gentleman?�

�Lieutenant Colonel Carter�s fianc�.�

Jack repressed a derisive snort at the characterization. �That would be fine.� For spite�s sake, he could push the issue and have Shanahan removed as a security risk. Oh the irony! However, judging by the muted havoc at his back the hapless nurse did not need any more headaches.

A genuine smile lit the woman�s drawn face at his acquiescence. �Okay let�s see�. Shanahan, Pete. Whom should I say is waiting for him?�

�O�Neill.�

�That�s it?�

�Yes.�

She nodded slowly and reached for the intercom. �Would Mr. Pete Shanahan please come to the admissions desk?�

�Thanks. When he gets here tell him I�m outside.�

�Yes, Sir. Is there anything else?�

�Not at the moment.�

�Fine.� She leaned to the side. �Can I help whomever is next?�

Jack walked rapidly back through the sliding doors and into the silent chill of midnight. Waiting rooms were a familiar environment, unfortunately. Holding vigil over one or another of his team in the SGC Infirmary was just another form of the standard. His promotion brought him into contact with the med staff more frequently now, twenty plus teams to watch over instead of one. He hated the smell, the sounds and the sights of such places. A plethora of sensations guaranteed to give him instant gooseflesh.

The arrival of the Lieutenant bled off one modicum of stress and replaced it with another. He did not have to worry about Sam�s nightmares becoming a matter of national security but he did have time to consider a variety of subjects usually not contemplated when completely sober. Including Beth Coventry and how on earth he was going to explain the restaurant incident and his sudden departure. The too stiff posture, the uneven breathing, the atmosphere itself reeked of anxiety when he paused outside his bedroom door. She knew, the question was how much? Would she be there for him to explain? What could he say?

Ultimately it was her choice and he left her car keys in the ignition as silent grace to go or stay.

Jack stopped pacing the icy sidewalk and went to lean against the cement wall of the building. The cold bled through his jacket, chilling the flesh beneath. He shivered and folded his arms, rubbing them absently. �Come on Shanahan��

�General?� The shorter man stepped through the doors and looked right and then left. �Ah, there you are.�

�What the hell happened?� Jack exclaimed, not bothering to shade his anger.

Pete put up both hands and took a step back. �Calm down.�

�Screw you, calm down.� He advanced until their boots nearly touched. �What happened?�

�We slid off the road��

�I got that. How?�

�I don�t know, she was driving,� Pete snapped.

The guy had balls or he was colossally stupid, Jack couldn�t figure out which. He scowled and jammed his clenched hands into his pockets. �When and how did she black out?�

�I think she hit her head on the doorpost. When we stopped spinning and hit the tree I looked over and she was out cold.� Pete sighed and looked at the ground. �I�m not exactly sure when it happened but the bruise on the side of her head�� He sucked in a tremulous breath. �It was the doorpost.�

Bruise? Jack�s heart skipped and settled into a sluggish parody of its former healthy beat. Concussion or something more serious? Speculation ran wild and he clamped down hard. �What did the doctor say?�

�She�s had a CAT scan. He doesn�t think there�s any permanent damage but she�s staying here for observation at least for tonight. Longer if something shows up.� Pete looked up. Bitterness darkened his tone and clouded his wide eyes to opacity. �She woke up saying your name.�

�I�m her commanding officer.�

�Not your rank,� he spat. �Your name!�

Jack dare not look away. �Your point?� he whispered tightly.

�Jesus Christ O�Neill, who the hell do you think you are fooling?�

�Excuse me?�

Pete�s frantic gaze flitted across Jack�s face and up and down his taut frame. Brands of rage and betrayal flared in their wake as words spewed forth in a flurry of gestures and spittle. �Cut the bullshit will you! We both know how she feels. I can�t compete. I sure as hell thought I could but I can�t. Sam played me for a fool and the worst part is that she didn�t even know she was doing it!� A malicious glint lightened the dead eyes. �Are you doing the same thing to that woman? Christ, you two are a pair!�

�Shut up.�

�Why the hell for?� Harsh laughter rent the air. �Does the truth hurt?�

�You don�t have a clue.�

�Oh really?� Pete shook his head, still laughing beneath his breath. �Why don�t you tell me how it is?�

Jack refused to be baited. �Get back in there and help make sure she doesn�t mumble anything important.�

�Yes, we wouldn�t want your precious program to be splashed across tomorrow�s newspaper.�

�Watch it, Shanahan. You open your yap to the wrong person and I�ll be the least of your concerns.�

�Fuck you.� Pete turned away and stomped through the doors.

And the horse I rode in on� Jack cast his gaze to the sky and winced as a raindrop splashed into his right eye. He rubbed it away and stared sightlessly at the wall.

�You don�t have a clue.�

Such a blatant lie had not crossed his lips in a very long time. Jack moved closer to the building, hiding from the fitful blasts of sleet heavy wind. Lies of the heart and soul were plentiful but he had always managed the truth in conversation, at least when it came to Sam and himself. Pete knew the score better than any of the players in this twisted little game. He had nearly a year of experience. Jack sighed and dug his toe into a crack in the sidewalk. The ice within splintered and tiny slivers bounced across the cement. Raindrops made them shiver and dance even as they melted into puddles and dribbled away. Ice devolving into water and finally to vapor that clogged the air and the sinuses. Jack frowned at the metaphor. Emotions were like water. They slipped through your fingers, ever changing, never fixed in a verifiable form for very long. Especially vulnerable when touched by tears.

Pete had exposed a nerve and it throbbed incessantly, raw and bleeding with unforgiving reality. It was the beginning of the end for them and the sadistic, vicious side of Jack�s nature reveled in the idea that the detective had failed to detect the imminent demise of his little house of cards. There had never been a solid foundation for their relationship and the encounter at Horizons simply emphasized the obvious.

Had they been arguing? Was that why Sam had lost control and skidded into a tree?

Acrid hatred rose in waves far chillier than the pellets frosting the winter sky. Jack�s fists balled in his pockets, kneading and tearing at the cloth lining. No, she was smarter than that, the roads were horrid and someone must have cut her off-Son of a bitch! He forced each digit to relax in turn. It was an accident. If he believed otherwise Pete Shanahan would need a doctor in the very near future�

�Sir?�

Jack rubbed a hand over his face, using the concealment to rearrange his features into a suitably bland expression. After a moment, he looked up. �What?�

A young man in nurse�s scrubs stood shivering in the cold. �Are you General O�Neill?�

�Yeah, why?�

�Some military guy sent me out to look for you. The patient in curtain three is awake.�

The patient? Samantha Carter was more than a scrawled set of orders on a chart! He opened his mouth to protest and then snapped it shut. The situation beyond the sliding doors was managed chaos at best, mordant remarks would not help anyone do their job more efficiently. �Thank you,� he acknowledged.

�Welcome.� The nurse blew on his hands and hurried back inside.

Jack walked through the doors and past the milling throng of patients and bystanders. The hallway behind the admissions desk was a teeming mass of scrubs and flapping white coats. Medical personnel of every stripe moved in and out of rooms and curtains rolling or carrying trays loaded with instruments, charts, and specimens. From behind the varied concealments he heard murmurs and soft cries of distress as patients received treatment and consulted with the staff. The white walls and cream-colored floor stank of liberally applied disinfectant. A heady elixir meant to banish the distinct odor of the sick and maimed, a mixture of dirt, smoke, and blood. Jack�s nostrils twitched and his stomach roiled. There was nothing new to be found in this civilian hallway, just more of the same sorrows. For reasons he could not explain it felt different, wrong somehow. He was not uncomfortable, he was angry. Whom would become the target of his misplaced ire concerned Jack almost as much as Sam�s injury.

�Over here, Sir,� Irish called.

Jack approached the lieutenant. �Report.�

�The Lt. Colonel woke up about five minutes ago. Mr. Shanahan and the on duty physician, Dr. Marcus, are in with her now.�

�Has she said anything?�

A pink flush crawled up the young man�s cheeks and disappeared into his hairline. �She said your name, Sir. Your given name.�

What the hell� The urge to speculate was almost overwhelming. Jack firmly cowed it. �Anything else?�

�No, Sir.�

�Fine.�

�General O�Neill?�

�Carry on, Irish.� Jack pivoted and met the tired eyes of an older man dressed in a white lab coat and polo shirt. �Yes?�

The man held out his hand and gave Jack�s a brief, firm shake. �I�m Dr. David Marcus. I�ve been in charge of Colonel Carter�s care since she was brought in.�

�And?� Jack pressed, not interested in small talk.

Professionalism seemed to suit the doctor just fine. He launched into a terse description of Sam�s injuries and the expected consequences. The details reawakened Jack�s earlier headache and he was relieved to hear the man wind up with the ever popular, �A few days rest and she should make a full recovery.�

�I would like to see her.�

�Of course, but I would prefer that she only entertain one visitor at a time. She�s had a bit of double vision and focusing on multiple objects has been a source of nausea.�

�We wouldn�t want that.�

The doctor�s lips twitched at the mumbled comment but he walked away without replying. Jack watched him depart and turned back as Pete was exiting the curtained area.

�I was just leaving.�

�Don�t hurry on my account.�

�Screw you, O�Neill.� He pushed roughly past and headed for the lobby.

Jack winced, feeling the first stirrings of a guilty conscience. In truth he had nothing to do with Sam choosing to date, accept and perhaps now decline Pete�s proposal. Apparently she had suffered an epiphany while marooned aboard the Prometheus and not even the esteemed Doctor Robert McKenzie had been able to make head or tails of her emotional state thereafter. It wasn�t his fault that Pete had shown her kindness and not a little bit of obsessive love shortly after the incident. Did it take a knock on the head to awaken Sam Carter�s emotions? If so, would a second knock shut them down? As ludicrous as the theory sounded, Jack was ready to give it credence. Stranger things had happened and for less important reasons.

��It�s good to see you, Sir.�

Jack flinched at the whispered words and stepped through the curtain. �Can you?� he asked with a soft smile as he pulled the cloth behind him.

Sam grimaced. �It hurts my head to laugh.�

�Driving without your helmet again?�

�Sir��

Jack put up a hand. �Sorry.� Casting about, he found a stool tucked halfway under the raised bed head. He sat down, folded his arms, and tried not to look at the angry mottling on the left side of her pale face. �What the hell happened?�

�I hit a tree.�

�So he said. And?�

�What and?� Sam pushed herself up in bed and promptly turned as white as the sheet. �Oh bad idea��

�You need to��

She swallowed hard, breathing in short, shallow breaths as her skin moved from chalk to green to a sickly gray. �I don�t think there�s much left of dinner,� she rasped eventually.

�Thanks for the visual.�

�Sorry.�

�So?� Jack felt like a traffic cop, picking little details for the sake of a report that no one would ever read. Except these footnotes would hold a permanent place on his withered soul. What had prompted her to say his name not once but twice?

�What?� She coughed and squeezed her eyes shut. �God, that hurts.�

�What happened?�

�I hit a tree, what else do you want?�

�Were you distracted?� he persisted, hating himself for wanting her to hurt at least a little after everything that had happened between them.

�No�I don�t know�maybe.� She blinked and stared at him through eyes bright with physical misery. �Pete and I were talking.�

Jack clutched the fabric of his sleeves and felt the nails bite the flesh beneath. �About?�

�I don�t remember exactly.� She closed her eyes and lay back on the pillow. �Does it matter?�

Yes! Jack ground his teeth. It was insensitive of him to ask and yet he could do nothing less. He sensed her withdrawal from his probing and it hurt. Unfortunately, there was no justification for the pressure of explanation, especially given the situation and the innocent parties yet to be confronted. Against his will, Jack relented and saw her sag in relief. �No, I guess not.�

�Good.�

�I�ll call Daniel.�

�No you don�t have to��

Jack shrugged, striving desperately for levity. �He�s going to wonder where your mincemeat pie is come Christmas Eve.�

Sam cracked a smile but did not open her eyes. �I don�t cook, remember?�

�Yeah, I remember.�

She shivered. �It�s cold in here.�

Jack reached for a spare blanket lying on a rack in the corner. He shook it out and draped it over her, brushing her fingers with his in the process. A tingle passed between them and was gone, as fleeting as wishes. �Better?� he asked softly.

�Yes.� She opened her eyes and caught his restless gaze. �Pete told me about the SF in the hall. Why did you come?�

Dear God� Why did I come? The answer burned a trail of ashes over his tongue and lips, escaping in a strangled whisper. �Because you called.�

Beth sipped from a steaming cup of tea and stared out into her backyard. A wide, open tract dotted by animal tracks and humps of brush, it undulated beneath a crystal blanket from her small housing development to the gray ribbon of the highway, and the mountains beyond. As night�s shadows retreated the scene gradually lightened from matt gray to blue and finally glaring white. Her eyes skipped up and over a distant smudge of scraggly trees and settled upon the horizon. A veil of amber and fuchsia lay over the peaks and formed pastel pools on the metal roofs of the buildings below. All the land lay motionless, resting from the storm now slowly tearing itself apart with the aid of a chilly breeze. She savored the serenity of the quiet dawn and the warmth of the porcelain nestled in her palm and considered what to do.

She had intended to stay at Jack�s house. It felt wrong to give in to unproven assumptions. They both deserved an honest conversation and the chance to let go before things became too complicated. She could not be sure if they had crossed that threshold sometime in the last four months or were still teetering on the brink. Physically, there was no question. The memory raised a warm flush and Beth took another swallow from the cup. Yes, they were as impetuous as teenagers if not quite as energetic. Heady sensation was a far cry from real intimacy, however. The events of the evening proved that in spades.

Who was Sam Carter and more importantly who did Jack O�Neill wish her to be? Beth knew intuitively that the situation was more complex than a handful of words could define. She left Jack�s place between three and four a.m., unwilling to receive the lies anxiety would undoubtedly elicit when he finally returned.

There was an abiding sense of satisfaction at having withdrawn under her own terms, Beth Coventry would pine for no man. Dignity, not anger, urged her from a warm bed and out into the final gasps of the dying storm.

Firm resolve gave her peace of spirit but did not lessen the pain or the pity. Jack would resent the latter no matter how good the intention. Beth expected nothing less. The heart on his sleeve was protected by chain mail. Bright, sparkling, and nearly impenetrable, which made the situation that much more difficult to sort out.

Beth�s eyes dropped to the murky bottom of the cup. She swirled the cooling tea and then swallowed the dregs, grimacing at the bitterness. Had she wasted the last few months in pursuit of a man whose heart remained the property of another? What hold did the statuesque blonde with liquid blue eyes and a secretive smile have over Jack? Beth suspected it was more hope than reality. Even so, how did one combat a figment of the imagination, a phantom made flesh by the strength of conviction?

Wind gusted across the backyard, driving flecks of ice against the windowpane. Beth jumped at the clatter and set the cup carefully on the coffee table.

What was he thinking and feeling at this moment? Her fingers twitched as her hand reached unconsciously for the phone resting atop a stack of magazines and newspapers.

No.

Her hand dropped into her lap and Beth climbed wearily to her feet. It had to be Jack�s choice or the exercise would be pointless. She assumed that such control was foreign to his experiences with Sam Carter, though she could not be sure. The tone of his voice, the content of a murmured phrase or was it the meanderings of a hopeful mind? Common sense urged her not to examine the idea too closely, much as she would like to.

Beth snatched up the cordless phone and walked into the kitchen. She hung the receiver on its base and proceeded to wash the cup beneath a running stream of lukewarm water and a spurt of soap. Her hands moved mechanically as she swiped a rag over the stovetop and stowed the box of tea in the cupboard. The shelves were nearly empty, the result of spending so much time at Jack�s house or eating out. She had grown accustomed to this new pattern of existence and she couldn�t help a stab of resentment towards Sam. By virtue of being herself the younger woman was an unwelcome intrusion. Beth had no use for jealousy or suspicion. The fact that Sam could engender such feelings within her was horrifying and aggravating in equal measure.

It had to be Jack�s choice and yet it was hers as well. She reserved the option to examine the emotional fallout of any conversation Jack might have with Sam and decide when or if to help pick up the pieces. Circumstance deemed her �the other woman�. The moniker had such dirty connotations but it fit as well as any to the situation at hand. Beth was positive that there had never been a formal declaration between them, except in Jack�s heart. That much was painfully obvious.

Beth tossed the dishtowel onto the countertop and flipped off the light. A calendar hung from a tack in the wall. She paused to study the cartoon tableau of penguins toddling amongst ice blocks trimmed with holly and evergreen. It was a cheery, innocuous little scene. Penguins were silly creatures built out of synch with the world, doomed to tuxedo dress and a lifetime of bad breath. Beth touched the beak of �father� penguin with her fingertip. The poor fellow had no idea what his little darlings drawn with blond and red spiky hair respectively would put him through. Was �mama�, huddled upon her ice block with a pair of knitting needles and a gingham apron, thinking of new and interesting ways to spice up the old man�s life? Were troubles of the heart the lot of every stereotypical bored housewife or old maid? Beth dropped her hand and turned away, disgusted at the perversion her brain had managed to conjure from a simple cartoon.

Jack O�Neill was more than an afternoon�s pleasure. He could never be any woman�s plaything no matter the intention. Beth had actively chosen not to examine her reasons for pursuing this odd relationship or for making love to him barely a month after their first encounter. At her age sex was as likely to be about need as it was to be about love. She could see nothing wrong with that ideal and the resulting pleasure. If Jack were opposed he had never indicated as such. He had been a willing participant from the beginning. The thought made her blush a second time.

She walked back into the living room and sank onto the sofa. The mindless distraction of TV beckoned to her sleepy brain. Sighing in resignation, Beth searched through the clutter on the coffee table until she unearthed the remote control. The screen came alive with a static snap. She stretched out, pulling a faded blanket from the back of the couch over her shoulders. The Today show swam into focus, Katie Couric�s high chatter and easy smile piercing the snow of poor reception. Beth closed her eyes and listened without hearing.

Sam Carter was more than a name or a number on a pay roster�Beth rubbed gritty eyes with the heels of her hands. Had she missed something? Were there indications of something deeper than friendship in the sporadic conversations she shared with Jack over the last few months? The hands fell away and she stared at the pulsing tracery of veins running through her eyelids. How many of those conversations had been about the people who made up the rest of Jack�s world? She cringed at the memory of his battered body and the penetrating sadness in the deep, brown eyes. They had seemed to stare right though her that day in the diner.

How many of the admittedly rare personal discussions contained anything of substance? Did the desire for physical intimacy outweigh the fundamental concept of knowing the soul within the body? Beth drew an unsteady breath as she rolled away from the burbling television. Men and women alike had been engaged in such activities for millennia but the idea of using someone for such selfish reasons had always been personally abhorrent. Tears burned her quivering eyelids. Somehow she had managed at least in some small way to do it anyway. Were a few nights of pleasure all that either of them expected?

Escapism? The description hardly seemed apt for the time they had shared.

Beth scrubbed roughly at her throbbing eyes and buried her face deeper into the cushions. The idea sounded so pathetic and shallow. She was too old for that and so was he� Oh the arrogance! As if the young were the only ones to fall prey to their baser instincts! Why cry if that was all there was to it? Why care about what was happening in the hospital across town? If all she had ever really wanted from Jack O�Neill was a roll in the proverbial hay then why did this hurt so much?

Early afternoon shadows were creeping across the carpet when Beth�s eyelids fluttered open. She blinked and turned over, mildly surprised that the television was still on. A Christmas commercial sang out from the speakers. Animated Walmart smileys wearing Santa hats bounced over prices and sent them tinkling to the floor while sleigh bells jingled cheerily in the background. Beth groaned and lay back to stare at the ceiling.

Her stomach grumbled a reminder that her last meal was a stale Eggroll and some rice the evening before. The events at Horizons and afterwards seemed to negate the need to prepare any sort of elaborate dinner for the holiday. The week ahead stretched into a dismal eternity of old Christmas specials, false cheer, and an anticlimactic New Years spent watching Regis Philbin pretend to be Dick Clark. Why did the dear old soul have to have a stroke this year when she needed his effervescence and wit so badly?

Canning the selfish thought along with its brethren, Beth rose and wandered into the kitchen. Minute steak and a handful of withered potatoes were an adequate meal. She prepared the food mechanically, trying hard not to think of the impending conversation. Four times she put down the knife and turned towards the phone mounted on the wall. Waiting for bad news was never preferable to confronting and moving on. It was a logical conclusion that her feet and fingers ultimately refused to act upon.

Thirty minutes later she was back in front of the television with a steaming plate and a beer. A quick flip of the channels found a holiday rerun of a canceled sitcom. Beth smirked around a mouthful of starch. Would that the world�s calamity could be solved in twenty-two minutes of stupidity!

The phone shrilled as she was swallowing the last bite of steak. Beth froze.

Jack.

Anxiety blanketed her chilly body as she stood and walked stiff legged into the kitchen. She grabbed the receiver on the third ring. Her fingers were cold and clammy as she raised it to her ear.

�Hello?� Jack asked uncertainly.

�I�m here.�

�How were the roads?�

�I don�t remember.� She swallowed an anxious flutter. �How is�Sam?�

�Bump on the head, bruises�� his voice dropped into a weary sigh.

�I�m glad to hear it.�

�You are?�

The surprise was genuine and Beth smiled in spite of her discomfort. �Yes.�

�Are you��Jack sighed. �Look, are you okay?�

Am I? She leaned against the wall and stared hard at the floor. �I guess it depends.�

�On?�

�Define �okay�.�

�Beth��

�No seriously.� She cradled the headset and walked back into the living room. One of the actors on the TV wore a maniacal grin and was chasing someone with a turkey baster. Beth reached down and tapped the power switch. �Talk to me,� she murmured. The need to hear his explanation was sudden and overwhelming. She sat down hurriedly on the couch. �Please.�

�Beth, I don�t�talk.�

�To me, or to anyone?�

Silence.

She shivered and hugged an arm to her chest. Was this how it ends? �Jack.�

�What?�

�Was it good for you?�

He gasped softly. �What?�

�Did you have a good time?�

�Doing what? You�re not making sense.�

�I�m not?� Beth shook her head, refusing to believe he was that obtuse. �Was that all it was, a distraction? Is that all we were?�

�What? No��

�If that�s all it was then�� Beth pressed a hand to her cheek and strove for calm. ��Then there�s no point in talking anymore.� What am I doing? What have I done? His breathing rasped in her ear, deep and carefully measured. She cleared her throat. �I�m sorry. Maybe I�m as guilty as you are��

�Beth, stop.�

She blinked rapidly, struck by the words that were both order and plea. Time spieled backwards, memories flashing in the void between heartbeats. Four months filled with a mixture of levity and sensation as intertwined as their bodies had been on those endless nights. Four months compressed into a stilted conversation that neither of them would ever be satisfied with. �Why?� she whispered.

�I can�t tell you that.�

�Yes you can.�

�No.�

�Because I�m right?� she snorted into the phone and felt him wince. �Because it�s all been a farce. I�m not sure who is the bigger fool here��

�That�s not the reason,� Jack quietly interjected.

�Then why?�

�Because it�s not fair to you.�

Beth slapped her thigh and flopped back onto the cushions. �Life�s not fair. We�re too damn old for these kinds of games.�

�Funny, I was thinking the same thing last night.�

�Talk to me, Jack.�

�What do you want to hear?�

�Oh come on� You�re serious, aren�t you?�

�Yes.�

She wanted to be angry. Explaining the obvious had never been a strong suit, which was the main reason she opted out of the teaching track during the second year of college. Beth fought back the insistent tingle of fresh tears. �You haven�t slept, have you?�

�It�s not the first time I�ve gone without.�

�That wasn�t my point.� She stood and walked to the window, drawn by the crisp, white glow of the snow. The glass emanated cold and after a moment she reluctantly drew the heavy curtains, blocking out the glare of the sunlit field. . �Get some sleep,� she advised. �Come for supper and we�ll talk.�

Silence.

�I�ll leave it up to you.� She hit the off button and tossed the handset onto the couch.

Despite the persistent sunlight the roads were treacherous. Beth cursed a thousand times as she made the three-mile drive to the grocery store. Any sane person would have made due, even if supper consisted of Raman noodles, canned peas and a loaf of frozen garlic bread. The menu was laughable but it was not the main reason for leaving the safety of the living room. Danger be dammed, she could not stay inside one more second.

The selfishness of asking Jack to brave the same conditions was not consciously considered until she had returned home, feeling energized at having survived the trip. As she unloaded the groceries the sun dipped towards the horizon, washing homes and business in shades of pink and lavender. The brilliant colors enhanced the profusion of Christmas finery decking fences and porches. The cheerful voices of neighbors arriving home from work and school flitted across the snow. Conversations punctuated by laughter and pitched high with the anticipation of a three-day weekend at minimum. Beth savored the tranquility and resolved to prepare the meal on the assumption that Jack O�Neill would not run from conflict, emotional or otherwise. The remains of a winter storm would pose only the slightest inconvenience.

Three hours later her assumption lay congealing on the stove as she sat in the kitchen and stared at the clock on the microwave. Throughout the preparations of pork roast, sweet potatoes, broccoli, and rolls, Beth had not allowed negativity. He would show. Jack did not know how to walk away without resolution. The pathetic scene of an untouched meal showed just how little she knew about the man.

Beth rose and put the plates and utensils back into their respective places. The roast and potatoes could be portioned later and frozen. She placed both in the refrigerator. Leaving the rolls in their basket, she took a bowl of broccoli and a pat of butter and reheated them in the microwave. Moments later she headed for the living room, a glass of water and the steaming dish in hand. With the residual light from the kitchen she found the couch and the remote control. She ate the food without tasting and stared at the news, oblivious of its content.

Being stood up was not the end of the world and did not have to be the end of a relationship� Beth shook her head. If the circumstances had been different the theory might hold water, at the moment it left her cold.

The light tapping of the doorknocker sounded as she was depositing the dishes in the sink. Beth put a hand to her mouth, physically suppressing the urge to call out. She was not expecting company anymore. A niece and a brother were her only family and they lived in Maine and Florida respectively. There could be only one person standing on the stoop. Did she want to see him?

The air still smelled faintly of pork and garlic, tantalizing reminders of wasted effort. Beth rubbed a hand over her face, frowning at the traitorous heat in her cheeks. Despite the tension, she couldn�t deny the pleasure the thought of seeing him wrought. The sensation raised doubt. Could she be firm? Insist that he reveal at least a part of himself or end their association? Was she ready to walk away if he refused to compromise?

Beth left the kitchen and walked slowly towards the front door. The broccoli was churning in her stomach and her hands were cold against her upper thighs. She licked dry lips and paused in the entryway to glance in the mirror. Wisps of hair were stuck to her rosy cheeks and lay in flat waves across her forehead and down her back. She felt disheveled, unprepared but there was no help for it. On the third, slightly louder knock she opened the door.

The amber glow of the overhead light spilled down over Jack�s bare head and onto his shoulders. The lined leather jacket was dusted with snow, which fell to the slushy stoop at his uneasy shrug. �Can I come in?� he asked quietly.

Beth clung to the edge of the door for support. The lines of his face were sharp with fatigue and the skin was pale and tight around his mouth and eyes. She dug her nails into the aged wood, fighting the urge to touch him. �I expected you an hour ago.�

He had the good grace not to smile or quip.

�Did you sleep?�

�No.�

�I see.� A sudden gust blew a spray of dry snow around their legs. Beth released the door with a jerk and stepped back. �Come in.�

Jack brushed the flakes from his sleeves and stomped his boots clean on the mat as Beth closed the door. He hung up his coat, wordlessly declaring an intention to stay for at least a little while. Beth repressed a flare of anticipation and followed him into the living room.

He stopped in the small space between the coffee table and television. �Did you eat?�

Beth crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. �No point in both of us going hungry.�

�True.�

�I didn�t think you were coming.�

Jack�s eyes flitted across her face and dropped to the floor. �I almost didn�t.�

Speculations tumbled through Beth�s mind as she hesitantly stepped forward. Suddenly his wanting to speak to her was far more important than any answers he might supply. �Sit down.�

�Are you sure?�

�No.�

�That�s honest.�

�To a fault.�

�There is no such animal,� he retorted as he sank onto the couch. �Jesus, I�m tired.�

Beth crossed to the wooden rocking chair she usually kept pushed into the corner. Pulling it forward, she sat down and focused her eyes on his chin. Her next words would be confrontational enough for both of them, there was no need to exacerbate the situation. �You�ve been back to the hospital.�

Jack�s reply was barely audible. �She�s been released. Shanahan took her home around noon.�

�You�ve spoken to her.�

�No.�

Beth swallowed surprise. �I see.�

His short, humorless laugh pumped ice water through her throbbing veins. Jack shook his head and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. �Don�t try and understand it, Beth.�

�Someone has to.� He winced. She ignored the reaction, sensing something important teetering on the cusp. �Have you talked to her?�

Jack�s eyes narrowed suspiciously. �About?�

�About how you feel.� Beth rubbed her arms against the sudden chill descending between them. Thought had found voice and there was no turning back. �I thought we had something special, I never suspected that there was someone else. You never spoke of her in that context��

�What context?� he snapped.

�You love her.�

�No.�

The denial was too quick, too rehearsed. It smacked of lonely nights and smothered hope. Beth searched his face and met his dark eyes without quarter or remorse. �Please don�t lie to me or yourself.�

�Beth, it�s not that simple.�

�I didn�t say it was.� She inhaled a shaky breath and held his wavering gaze for another moment before letting them both withdraw. �It�s truth.�

�You don�t understand.�

�And neither do you apparently.� Beth sat forward and studied her clasped hands. The murkiness of their future was made oddly clear by his obstinacy. �Do you think any woman can just sit by when the man she cares about is in love with someone else?� She swallowed hard. �It�s not in our nature.�

�Leave it alone.�

�No.� She looked up, gauging reaction to the negative. Angles and lines cut deeply into pale skin devoid of expression. The master and yet the cracks were plain enough if anyone bothered to look. She tried to smile and failed. �What did you think was going to happen when you came over here tonight?�

Silence.

Beth gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to lash out. �Why come at all?�

�I owed it to you.�

�What?� she gasped and straightened up. �You owed me? Well if that�s the case is the debt paid by monotone answers? By evading my eyes and my questions? Is that how Jack O�Neill meets his obligations?�

�Shut up.�

His hostility and fear were palpable but Beth could not walk away now. She was too close and so was he. Gathering her courage she plunged in. �I thought I had gotten to know you fairly well over the last few months�how wrong I was. Last night at the restaurant I saw something I know I was never meant to see. You love her, you have for a very long time and her relationship with Pete Shanahan is killing you. Slowly, inch by precious inch. Don�t deny it. At least give me the courtesy of admitting it before we part ways.�

Silence, cold and sorrowful, washed over them in deepening waves.

Beth leaned back and looked over his shoulder to the far wall. She felt weak and shaky yet strangely invigorated. Cleansed of the negativity, all that remained for either of them were facts, however painful they may be. She reached out hesitantly and touched his knee. The flesh quivered beneath the black denim. �Please, give me that much.�

�I didn�t come over here to��

�You don�t know why you came here,� she interrupted softly.

Jack shook his head. �Don�t give me an out,� he murmured.

�Why not?� Was it really him she was letting down easy, or herself? The irony drew Beth up short. Her hand pulled back and landed in her lap. �It�s true, isn�t it?�

�I�m not good at this, in case you haven�t noticed.�

�Totally slipped by me.� He grimaced and Beth forced a laugh. �Oh come on��

Jack flashed her an absent smile. �Carter and I, we�ve been through a lot together. I told myself a million times that it was wrong�I said it so many times that I started to believe it.� He stood and paced to the window. Long fingers pulled back the curtain and he stared out into the darkness. A range of emotions flitted across the milky reflection. Their intensity and the fragility of the soul beneath made somehow clearer by the glass. �Maybe she did the same thing.�

�Have you ever asked?�

He turned glassy eyes on her. �You must have a masochistic streak a mile wide.�

The quip fell flat. Beth rose and crossed to stand beside him. Her fingers entwined with his free hand and squeezed reassurance. She swallowed the lump in her throat, letting go and pushing him forward with all her will. �If it were me�I would want to know.�

�It is you.�

No, it never will be.�

Jack�s hand twisted and clasped hers. He turned, truly meeting her eyes for the first time. �Don�t.�

Beth shivered as she breathed in the tantalizing scents of coffee, aftershave, and snow. He was so close and it would be so easy�. Tears stung her eyes as she pushed him gently, firmly away. �Tell me about the song.�

His jaw dropped and then snapped shut with a muted click. Understanding fled before a mist of regret that darkened his deep-set eyes to obsidian. Jack nodded and reached to stroke the hair from her cheek. �You�re sure�about everything?�

�I�ve never been less sure.� She shivered beneath the tender caress, savoring the moment even as it slipped away. �But this is how it has to be.�

Jack bent and kissed her deeply. Promise and regret, apology and acknowledgment: flowed between them. Beth wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on. Her fingers stroked the soft flesh and tangled in the short silver hair. She inhaled his essence and knew the kiss for good-bye. For a moment she hated him with the same irreverent passion that fluttered and burned like ashes in the silent room. Then it passed and she felt the mutinous tickle of tears on her lashes. She squeezed her eyes shut and slowly pulled free of his warm mouth. Jack held her tighter and buried his face in the soft hollow between her neck and shoulder. The tears pressed free and Beth let them flow. Allowing him to feel the intensity, praying it would give him the strength to confront Sam and her the strength to move on alone.

Eventually, he pulled back and brought his hands to her shoulders. �I�m sorry��

Beth wiped the moisture from her cheeks and sniffed deeply. �No, I don�t want to do that.�

�No?�

�I don�t regret what we had, even it if was too damn short.�

Jack smiled at the qualifier and slid one hand down to grasp hers. He pulled her gently to the couch and they sat facing one another, features barely visible in the dim lighting. He cleared his throat and still holding her hand he began, �My son�s name was Charlie.�

The deserted ice rink behind the Walmart glowed dull silver in the moonlight. Jack leaned against the fence and stared at the fresh tracery of ripples and dashes created by the storm. Behind him the parking lot in front of the store was abuzz with the frantic energy of last minute shoppers. Engines roared and people shouted above the thin, high wail of Christmas carols played over a loudspeaker. He shivered, unnerved by the sentiment, oblivious to the cold.

Across town Beth lay curled up on her couch, a death grip on a faded blanket the only outward indication of her inner pain. For an hour, she sat in silence and experienced the life Jack had wanted so much to hide from her. Sat without judgment, hazel eyes alight with his remembered joys. Listened and bowed her head in empathy as Charlie passed beyond his reach. Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek and watched him stand and walk away. He turned back at the mouth of the hall and caught her pressing a hand over her eyes and sinking down into the couch cushions. It took every ounce of his will not to walk back into the room. Beth had given her heart, her trust, into his care without reservation. The image of her chalky, skeletal fingers bereft of flesh and feeling reaching up to grasp the worn cotton had left an indelible mark in his soul.

A half hour of aimless driving brought him to the ice rink. If anyone were to ask, Jack could not have explained what drew him there. Normal people sought the company of friends or the topical anesthetic found in a stein or shot-glass.

What did that make him?

Jack kicked idly at the snow banked beneath the lowest rail. Chunks skittered across the ice, leaving a glittering trail of powder in their wake. Tiny, hard, cold pieces of a shattered soul. The depth of his pain was an alarming surprise. Jack shivered again and rubbed unconsciously at his arms. He was too old to be hurt again, too cynical to give a damn� The assertions reeked of desperation and did nothing to dissipate the echoes of laughter and the ghosts of spinning children fluttering across his numb heart.

The tinkle of a Salvation Army bell reached his ear, carried between the buildings by an icy blast. Jack pulled the black toque tight over his ears and turned away from the rink. In two months it would be dismantled, never to be the same again. In two minutes he had done the same thing to Beth. The thought flooded his mouth with the taste of ashes. Jack spat into the snow and walked carefully through the ally and out into the lot.

He pressed the remote start for the truck and decided at the last minute to take a quick stroll through the heated foyer in the front of the store. An array of tables displaying handmade crafts and baked goods were laid out. Christmas trees top heavy with ornaments separated the venders and at the end of the row was a big red barrel half full of donated toys.

A little girl hopped from foot to foot behind the last table. Her short arms were hugging the neck of the woman seated there and she kept whispering in her ear. The woman shrugged, evidently trying to free herself long enough to complete a transaction without looking annoyed. Jack smiled at the child. �All ready for Christmas?� he asked.

Startled, she looked up with the same wide brown eyes as her obviously harried mother. �Me?� she asked softly.

Jack reached down and fingered a hand-painted, ceramic angel. �Yes, you.�

�Santa is coming,� she giggled. �I�ve been really good.�

�I bet you have.� He smiled again and picked up the angel. �Did you paint this?�

�Nooo.� She drew out the word and jabbed a finger into the woman�s arm. �Mommy did it��

�Michaela!� The woman mumbled irritably.

�The man likes your angel,� the girl pouted.

�Oh I�m sorry, I didn�t see you standing there.�

Jack shrugged easily. �No problem.�

�She�s bored, we�ve been here for two hours.� She sighed and reached around to hug the little girl with one arm. �Aren�t you, honey?�

�I wanna� go home, Santa is coming soon!� Michaela declared loudly before disappearing beneath the tablecloth.

�Oh please don�t do that. Excuse me a second.� The woman bent and exchanged a series of hissed comments with the invisible child. Michaela popped up moments later looking sullen and sucking on her right index finger. Smoothing the tablecloth with her fingers the mother looked at him hopefully. �Did you want the angel?�

Jack looked at the forgotten item. The halo and wings were painted gold and the flowing gown shaded from gunmetal to navy blue with a tracery of silver for highlights. A rosebud mouth formed an O of song and the pinprick eyes were dots of periwinkle in the nondescript pink face. He clutched the ornament and fought down a tremor. Struck by the innocence across the table and across the town. �Yes, I�ll take it.�

The woman tilted her head at the odd tone of his voice. �Are you sure? I have others��

�No,� he cleared his throat. �This one is fine. How much?�

�Fifty cents,� Michaela piped up helpfully.

�We�re raising money for her preschool.�

�Oh?� Jack watched her gently wrap the angel in tissue and tuck it in a small, brown bag. �What for?�

�Materials.� The woman looked tired as she handed him the bag. �There�s never enough these days��

�Never,� he agreed absently as he pulled out his wallet. The first bill to appear was a twenty. �Here, buy the kids some crayons.�

�Oh no�there are people who need this more.�

Jack shook his head and pressed the bill into her hand. �No, there aren�t.� He turned and walked quickly outside, welcoming the harsh slap of the wind on his flaming cheeks.

As he shuffled carefully across the slippery lot recollections of an earlier phone call whispered at the back of his mind.

�Hello?�

�Daniel?�

�Yes, Jack.� Yawn, �You were expecting someone else?�

�Carter was in an accident last night.�

�What! Where is she, is she okay?�

�County, Shanahan�s with her.�

Daniel huffed into the phone. �Is she okay?�

�Yeah, I think so.�

Pause.

�She�ll be home later on today��

�Jack?�

�What?�

�Are you okay?�

No, he wasn�t� Daniel had waited a full two minutes for an answer before hanging up without further comment. Given the subject, Jack counted himself fortunate.

He reached the truck and climbed up into the warm cab. The whimsical strains of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer spilled out of the stereo speakers as he drew his seatbelt across. Muttering an oath, Jack snapped it off before leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes.

It was nice to be cared for, even if he didn�t deserve it. Unfortunately, that caring was the reason he couldn�t go to Daniel now. The thoughtful young man would never let Jack off the hook, instead he would pester the hell out of him to talk. Upon completion of the pathetic tale, he would tell Jack in the nicest possible terms what a complete ass he was. While the pronouncement was richly deserved, it was more than Jack could take at the moment.

��Last night at the restaurant I saw something I know I was never meant to see. You love her, you have for a very long time and her relationship with Pete Shanahan is killing you. Slowly, inch by precious inch. Don�t deny it. At least give me the courtesy of admitting it before we part ways.�

Beth�s words: sad, resigned, devoid of hostility. How did he rate such understanding? Jack sat forward and rubbed the grit from his eyes. Or was it acceptance of the inevitable by someone who had actually been paying attention? Beth�s contention was correct, she should never have witnessed his emotional dishevelment. Such lapses were reserved for solitude. Time spent sipping whiskey from a bottle and looking out at the stars. Four years of trying-pitiful and ultimately pointless attempts at clearing the clutter from his mind and the pain from his heart.

Jack put the truck in gear and joined the traffic streaming towards the exit. He would go home and try to sleep. There was no other option. Even if he could have withstood the inevitable harassment, Daniel was spending the holiday with Sara Gardner. It was the young woman�s first Christmas since being freed of Osiris� control. A rebirth of sorts and certainly cause for celebration. He squashed the pang of jealousy the thought evoked. The couple deserved happiness. How could he resent Daniel for acting on his future instead of sitting idle and watching it slip away?

Teal�c was offworld, taking advantage of the downtime to visit Ishta, Ry�ac, and Kar�yn He had studied all of earth�s major religions over the last eight years and understood the fundamental ideals of Christmas probably better than anyone Jack knew. He did not partake in the celebratory aspects of the season unless invited, however. Preferring to indulge solely in the traditions of his native people. The Jaffa were very spiritual, a hidden attribute which allowed them to survive thousands of years of Goa�uld oppression. Teal�c continued a form of Kel-No-Reem even though it was no longer necessary for survival. He said it brought him peace and clarity of thought.

Jack had never seen the value of meditation but coming from Teal�c he could believe that there were benefits. Still, he did not have the patience and after Baal�s chamber he could not stomach long periods of silence. There were too many memories clamoring for attention in his mind. He slept with the television on, its volume turned down so low it was nearly inaudible. The buzz and flicker provided cold but adequate reprieve.

What would ole� Doc McKenzie make of the contrivance?

Jack shivered self-consciously. He had no intention of giving the good doctor another peek into his addled wits. The man would have way too much fun.

He drove through the intersection and took a road that would bypass the center of the city. Desperate shoppers equaled unsafe drivers and his mind was too preoccupied to worry about a frantic patron chasing out into the street after some must have item.

The woman from the night before came to mind. Stringy blond hair stuck to the corners of her trembling lips, wide eyes liquid with tears. The ornament had obviously been important to her. Jack ground his teeth and griped the steering wheel tighter. The stranger was just one more victim of his disjointed mental state.

He drove away from the business district and into the neatly laid streets of the suburbs. Cookie-cutter houses, most of them bedecked in lights and garland, slipped by his windows. Two cars parked in the yards, sleds on the steps, children playing in the drifts piled next to the sidewalks. Families. This was how his life was supposed to be. Fate and his own stupidity had changed the course of things and now he was alone. Old and hurting in ways he could never have foreseen.

Why?

Some of the answers were back in Beth�s tidy ranch. Truth laid bare beneath a veil of silent tears. He had held onto her with all his strength, terrified of letting go. They were so close to making things work. If he had given just one more inch�

Jack shook his head. No, there was more to it than that. It wasn�t a lack of desire. He could have loved her and now he wasn�t so sure that he didn�t. Beth had always been honest in voice and action. Her accusations on the phone were logical, though his instinct demanded the pretense of surprise. They were adults with desires and needs. Under ordinary circumstances he could and had managed those feelings. Sam�s acceptance of Pete�s proposal indicated that she was moving on, however. There was nothing left to wait for and giving in became easier than pulling away. Their interactions rapidly progressed to the physical. In hindsight, it went against his grain. Past relationships had been built on a firm foundation of earned trust and emotional intimacy. Jack did not miss the irony. The older he got the less he talked.

Beth had secrets. Most people did not reach the age of 47 without a few dark moments squirreled away. After a handful of aborted attempts early on, she did not offer them for scrutiny. However, there was no question in Jack�s mind that she would have happily revealed the deepest parts of her soul. All he had to do was at least attempt to reciprocate.

Jack pulled into a deserted parking lot and dropped his hands from the wheel. There were so many ripples from that long ago day when Samantha Carter walked through the door of the Briefing Room and snapped off a rigid salute. The road they had traveled, the twists and pitfalls they had both avoided�

What did he have to show for keeping silent?

He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned on the steering wheel. Across the road blue, green, and white motion lights chased around porch poles in an endless sequence. Circling one another much as he and Sam had done for four long years. Their relationship was like an entity locked away from consideration. A creature made frantic by denial and misunderstanding. Confined within regulations, within fear,of what lay in the recesses of intimacy.

Jack straightened and did a quick U-turn in the lot. Not talking to one another had become an art form. No one could catch what wasn�t going on, not even themselves. Now someone else was hurting. Unlike Pete Shanahan, Beth Coventry had not inserted herself into their lives. She dared to speak to him at a time when his defenses lay in a crumbled heap. In the end she was the one left defenseless.

He drove across town to Sam�s neighborhood without consciously thinking about it. The decision to act was fresh and by nature untenable. There were too many opportunities-literal and figurative-to turn back.

Tasteful red candles glowed in the windows and a string of lights ran the width of Sam�s house. The crusty ice that coated the yard was stained crimson, the traditional color of love and the inescapable tint of fresh blood. The dichotomy forced a shiver down Jack�s back as he pulled up in front of the house. Only a soldier would see violence in the innocence of Christmas decorations.

He turned off the truck and looked up and down the street. Pete Shanahan�s SUV was nowhere in evidence. Damn. Settling things between Sam and himself would be easier if Pete were not around. Nevertheless, the alpha side of his nature welcomed the possibility of confrontation.

Shrugging away a guilty pang, Jack stepped out and carefully rounded the front of the truck. The walk had been dusted with salt. He grimaced. What a helpful sort Shanahan was. Bastard! He navigated his way around the remaining ice spots and ascended the stairs.

The hall behind the door echoed with the whimsical chime of the doorbell when he pushed. Jack rolled his eyes. Only Carter would figure out a way to program �Jingle Bells� into the ringer. Through the curtains he could see the glimmer of Christmas lights hanging from a tree limb and outlining a window on the opposite wall. Sam was a traditionalist at heart, much as Sarah had been. A tremor of remembrance rattled across his nerves. Jack pushed the bell a second time. Come on!

The lights abruptly disappeared behind a shadow and Carter�s wan face peeked out from behind the curtain a moment later. She unlocked the door and stepped back, blinking owlishly. �Hey.�

Jack looked her up and down. Pale, tight skin, one eye swollen partly closed by bruising, a slight tremor in the hand that fluttered down near her waist. �You look like hell.�

�Gee, thanks.�

He walked inside and shut the door, not surprised that she did not wait for him in the hall. The house felt calm and oddly domestic. Carols murmured in the background and the air smelled of cinnamon and apples. Jack shed his coat and gloves and proceeded towards the kitchen. Now that he was here words and intentions were a distant memory. How could he talk to her in this state? Months of simmering anger and hurt did not justify kicking her when she was down and defenseless. He cared too much to leave that impression. Nor could he turn around and walk out. There was an urgency to the situation, an undeniable need to listen and to strike out. The conflicting sensations made his head spin.

Sam stood by the stove, stirring a simmering pot with a long cinnamon stick and holding a mug in her free hand. �Do you want some cider?�

Jack sniffed appreciatively. �Is that oranges?�

�Yeah, I put some slices in to float.� She reached for a ladle and filled the mug. �When we were kids my mom made this every year at Christmas time.�

�Nice.� He accepted the cup and took a cautious sip. �You�ve been simmering this all afternoon.�

�Since I woke up, yeah.�

�How�s the head?�

Sam grimaced as she refilled her own mug. �Hurts.�

�What were you doing on the roads, Sam?�

Her back stiffened at the name. �The same thing you were,� she murmured.

And what exactly was I doing? Jack stifled the question and followed her into the living room. Sam sat on the opposite couch and nursed her drink. He tried to draw her eyes repeatedly. She refused, staring obstinately at the patterns of reflected light in the glass top of the coffee table.

He could do reticent, in fact he was a pro. Jack licked the rim of the cup and took another swallow. It had been his idea to come but Sam�s uncomfortable demeanor indicated that he was expected. Where did that leave the situation? He savored the sweetness of the cider in the hollow of his cheek, watching, waiting for something to break.

�Pete brought me home,� she commented eventually.

�I called the hospital.�

�Daniel left a message on my machine while I was sleeping.�

Jack nodded and rested the cup on one knee. �I called him too.�

�Thanks.�

She fell silent again and his eyes shifted away to wander the room. A small collection of Christmas knickknacks decorated the bookshelves and perched atop the TV and stereo. All of them were either glass or wood. A simple cr�che filled with straw and bisque figures bespoke of the true meaning of the season. An angel decked in cream taffeta and cradling a dove topped the artificial tree set up in the corner. Jack dropped his eyes and caught her staring, openly curious. He pointed at the cherub. �Your mom�s?�

Sam swallowed audibly. �Yes. Dad gave it to me the year she died.�

He did not ask if she had heard from the elder Carter. Jacob would most likely use the Stargate to communicate with his daughter. It had been nearly a year since the SGC had been contacted by any of the Tok�ra. �Tough times.�

�Yeah.�

It hurt to see her so low and at the same time Jack could not help a bitter flash of triumph. The door to the past stood open and all would spill out, no matter her wishes. It was petty and hateful and disgustingly human of him to want that pain in any form. He drained the cider and put the mug on a coaster. �Where�s Shanahan?�

She cringed noticeably at his chilly tone. �He went home.�

�Sporting of him.�

�I asked him to.�

Really? Jack refused to show surprise. �Why?�

�Because.�

He shifted in his seat and waited.

Sam shook her head. �This isn�t appropriate.�

�We�re off duty.�

�That�s not the point.�

Jack leaned on the arm of the couch and propped his head against his hand. He had no intention of letting either of them hide behind the regulations after this evening. Truth would win out in whatever form it was meant to have. �What are you afraid of?�

�Excuse me?�

�Why did you ask Shanahan to leave?�

�He has a first name.�

�Why?�

�It�s none of your business,� she replied tightly.

Jack cocked an eyebrow. �Oh?�

�You have a hell of a lot of nerve.�

His whole body tingled, alive with indignation at the suggestion. Nerve? After all that had happened� �Why?�

�What are you doing here? Christmas Eve, you should be celebrating with what�s her name� Beth?�

�We had supper together.� He let the small lie slip without regret. �You just wracked up your car and yourself. Your fianc� should be more considerate.�

Sam�s mouth twitched at the emphasis. �I just told you, he brought me home.�

�And then you asked him to leave?�

�What�s your point?�

Jack stared at her, letting expression repeat the question.

�I don�t have to tell you anything. This has nothing to do with our professional relationship.�

Relationship. The term flared white-hot in the pit of Jack�s stomach. The fingers of his free hand clenched, catching and kneading the fabric stretched across his knee. He gritted his teeth and held silent.

Sam stood and walked back into the kitchen. She stirred the cider and refilled her cup. Jack�s eyes followed her every movement, secure that his actions were at the very least an annoyance. He hoped for more. As disconcerting as the situation was, it would be far worse were he to take the lead. There would be no controlling what he said or how he felt. No guarantee, even now, that he could withstand the truth.

She turned and set the cider on the bar. �I�m fine by the way, thanks for asking.�

Jack nodded and forced his hand to relax against his leg.

�What do you want from me?�

�Were you arguing?� he whispered tonelessly.

She blanched. �Last night?�

�Yes.�

�Not at the restaurant.�

The comment did not warrant reply.

�In the car?�

God, it was like pulling teeth! Jack settled for a fractional nod.

Sam�s eyes turned dark and glassy. She looked past him to the curtained front window and then down at the pattern on the Formica beneath her fingers. �He hates you.�

Jack straightened and felt a dull ache in his cheek when his hand pulled away. �I don�t care.� It was not what he intended to say, but he couldn�t fault conscience for honesty.

�I know.�

�And,� he prompted.

�He said that you don�t respect him.�

�I don�t.�

�And that he hadn�t done anything to deserve your distrust.�

�Stalking is a trustworthy pastime?�

�No, it�s not,� she agreed. �I told him as much. I said that actions went further with you than words. I reminded him that I had forgiven him for interfering with the stakeout at Daniel�s house. I told him��

�What?�

Sam leaned heavily on the countertop. �Why do you want to hear all of this?�

Anger, pain, and fear swirled behind a thin veil only a heartbeat from disintegration. He stood up. �What did you say?�

�I told him I loved him.�

Jack�s heart pounded an uneven staccato against his ribs. The beat blotted out the cheery undertone of the carols and the steady drone of the refrigerator. He caught her skittish gaze and held it fast. For an instant he thought he would hit her. Cross the short distance and slap an open hand across one pale, creamy cheek. The thought struck terror and churned frothy bile into the back of his dry throat. Jack swiped a hand across his mouth and swallowed hard. �He didn�t believe you.�

�No.� She sighed brokenly. �No, he didn�t.�

He spun away and walked to the entertainment center. A Norwegian Santa mounted on a white stallion reared beneath his restless hands. He grasped the statuette and ran careful fingers over it, finding momentary diversion in the colors and texture. �So you got distracted and put your car in a ditch,� he managed hoarsely.

�Yes.�

�What happened this afternoon?� he asked as he replaced the Santa and turned around.

�I gave back the ring.�

�Meaning?�

�It�s over! Is that what you wanted to hear!� Pale, trembling fingers rose to cover her eyes. �Do you feel better now?�

The admission had been the goal. On a subconscious level Jack wanted her to sweat and suffer the way he had for months on end. The tears in her voice caught him off guard. He should have expected an emotional outburst. There were tears for her father, Daniel, and Janet because such intense emotion could not be measured in any other fashion. The idea that she might cry for or because of him was a stunning concept. Jack repressed an anxious shiver. She needed to stop, he needed her to stop!

Sam�s hand fell to the counter and she pinned him with red-rimmed eyes. �You�re a cold bastard.�

�He doesn�t deserve you.� Jack closed the distance to the bar, never dropping his gaze. Everything felt close and hot and he had to force himself to breathe slow and evenly. �He never did.�

�What gives you the right to say that?�

The right? He stared, nonplussed. How could she ask? What could he say that wouldn�t sound petulant or overly dramatic? Jack clenched his fists and jammed them into his pockets. Unsure if it was to quiet the tremors or keep from grabbing and shaking the ignorance from her.

Sam shook her head. �How dare you insert yourself into this situation. As if it�s any of your concern.�

�I had a choice?�

�Excuse me?�

�For Christ sakes, Sam, how am I not involved here?�

She scrubbed roughly at the tear streaks, grimacing when her hand encountered bruised flesh. �Damn, damn, damn!�

Jack placed both hands on the bar. There was more to the story. Sam was looking around the room, seemingly desperate to leave the kitchen and his scrutiny. Comprehension dawned and she turned away, sensing the conclusion before he could speak. �He broke it off, didn�t he?�

Silence.

He rounded the bar and grabbed her wrists, determined to see the truth in the luminous, blue eyes. �Didn�t he?�

�Yes!� Sam screamed and pulled away. He fell back against the bar as she pushed past and stalked into the living room.

Jack groaned inwardly. Shanahan had earned a grudging amount of respect, not that it mattered anymore. Like Beth, he would not stand by while the person he loved remained involved with someone else. The extent of that involvement was indeterminate, which made little difference. The one significant variance from Beth�s more passive, albeit determined approach was that Pete Shanahan was all about control. If he could not master the situation, then he wanted no part of it. Jack shook his head, amazed that Sam had ever fallen for such a man.

�I hope you�re pleased with yourself.�

The rush of self-satisfaction was fading, leaving guilt behind. Jack turned and leaned against the countertop. �Not really.�

Sam sucked in a deep breath. �He said he wouldn�t hang around and be the also ran, that he deserved more.� She sniffed loudly. �He was right.�

�About?� he asked cautiously.

Sam exhaled a shaky sigh and reached for a tissue. �Everything.� She blew her nose and crumpled the tissue into a ball. Dark eyes roamed across the floor and up to his face. Searching the guarded expression for an endless moment before speaking. �You didn�t have supper with Beth tonight, did you?�

Jack crossed his arms. There were two sides to this damaged coin and it was his turn to ante up. �No.�

�Then why did you say you did?�

Confusion, the anger could not be far behind. Jack shrugged stiffly. �Does it matter?�

�You came here looking for truth and you lied about something so small and simple�� Sam closed her eyes, seeming to gather conclusions like leaves upon the ground. �You broke it off with her, didn�t you? Because of me, because of what happened last night?�

�I hurt her,� he confessed. �Beth did not deserve��

�This,� Sam completed.

Jack nodded and crossed to sit on the couch.

The high, sweet sound of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir swelled into the silence. Jack listened to the overlapping chorus of �Do You Hear What I Hear?� and searched in vain for words. Sam pulled her legs beneath her and stared down into her lap, idly fiddling with the hem of her sweater. They had reached an impasse. Months of anger, years of wanting lay exposed, there had to be more.

�Do you ever think about that day?� she asked softly.

�Which one?�

�On the ship.�

Jack rubbed a finger across his lips and leaned back into the couch cushions. �Sometimes.� She couldn�t know that he dreamed about the forcefield. Frenetic recollections filled with the echo of Jaffa footfalls and the ache of desperation as he railed on the control panel. �Sir, just go.��.�NO!�

�That was the moment.�

�What?�

�When I knew for certain. When Hathor had you infested I was scared out of my mind and then when I found you it was like coming home.� She looked up and smiled softly at his embarrassed blush. �You were cold but you hung on just a little longer than necessary, didn�t you?�

Jack gestured helplessly. �Didn�t fool you, eh?�

Sam chuckled. �No.� She shifted and pulled a blanket across her legs. �When we lost you on Edora and then we found you� God it hurt when I saw you with Laira.�

�I loved her.� He would not apologize for the past, there were too many mistakes. The gentle woman did not deserve the distinction of regret simply to clear a muddied conscience. �I really did, Sam.�

�I know.� �She waved off any further explanations. �It hurt but I didn�t give in, not even when we were stuck offworld after Thor�s ship blew up.�

�I remember.� Alone with her and Teal�c it would have been so easy to ignore the rules. The Jaffa would have turned a blind eye if asked. Jack strongly believed that he had for several years now.

�On the ship...� She licked her lips and held his eyes, daring him to look away. Jack did not flinch as she continued: �I was sure we were going to die and I couldn�t, I didn�t want to deny it anymore.�

�And then we left it in the room,� he reminded.

�I didn�t have a choice and neither did you.�

�We could have found a way, Sam.�

A bark of brittle laughter answered the suggestion.

Jack bristled. �We never tried.�

�Would you have given up your career?�

�Not at that time.�

She blinked at the qualifier. �Did you expect me to?�

�God no.�

�Well?�

He rolled his eyes. �What is that supposed to mean?�

�It means this is how it has to be.�

�No,� Jack denied wearily. �That is how it used to be.� He sat forward and regarded his folded hands, seeking words that would accurately express his thoughts and not cast them both into deeper confusion. Eventually, he looked up. �What happened on the Prometheus last year?�

�I don�t remember clearly. You read the report.�

�I don�t want the technical answer,� Jack clarified with a rueful grimace. �I want to know what happened to you during those three days.�

A flicker of fear darkened Sam�s eyes. She looked towards the tree, camouflaging expression in a wash of refracted hues. �I told you I don�t remember clearly.�

�Sam��

�Leave it alone, please.�

�Why, so it can sit for another four years?� Jack pounded a fist into his open palm, secretly gratified to see her jump and shoot him a flinty stare. �I can�t do that anymore.�

�When did this become about just you?� she challenged.

�What happened!�

She flinched a second time and resumed staring at the tree. Several minutes of frustrating silence ensued before words began to seep out in fits and starts, barely audible above the music.

Jack knew about the dreams or hallucinations, they were part of the official report. Sam had never been able to come up with a more plausible explanation for how she worked out the solution. This account contained a notable exception, him.

��I remember sitting in the engine room�I was totally exhausted and I didn�t know where to turn and then you walked in.� She smiled wanly. �Wearing civvies no less.�

Jack�s eyes widened at the description.

�We started talking and...� She licked her lips. �You said we were friends.�

He shrugged. �We are.�

�Friends,� she repeated bitterly. �I asked you what would happen if I quit the Air Force.�

�I would never ask you to give up your career.�

Sam laughed softly. �That�s exactly what I imagined you would say.�

�It�s the truth.�

�I know.�

�But?� Jack prompted hesitantly.

She glanced sideways at him and then dropped her eyes to the blanket. Nervous fingers folded and smoothed the hem and picked lint from the fluffy fabric. Her jaw worked, seeming to taste and reject the next bit of information.

The reaction was more than a little disquieting. Jack shifted impatiently. �Sam?�

�Why did you never ask the question?�

�What?�

�In the dream�God,� Sam groaned beneath her breath. �I said I would let you go right now if I knew.� She turned, face lit with a tight, embarrassed smile. �Pretty presumptuous of me, don�t you think?�

�A bit,� he acknowledged, finding her revelation surprisingly palatable. �What did I say?�

�You asked if it would be easy to do?�

�Glutton for punishment?�

Sam blushed harder. �Apparently.�

�Would it?�

The moment hung suspended. A string of hope made delicate by uncertainty stretched to the brink before she sighed heavily and murmured: �No.�

Jack looked down. Juxtaposing relief with justifiable ire was difficult enough in private. He knew the battle showed openly in his eyes and she couldn�t be trusted, not yet. �What else?� he muttered into his chest.

�I can�t believe I�m telling you this.� Sam pushed a hand through her tousled hair and leaned against her palm. �Why do you want to know?�

�Because.�

�A child�s answer?�

�I�m not that complex.�

�That�s what you said in the dream.�

Jack trembled and his arm moved unconsciously to hug his midriff. �See what hanging around someone for eight years will get you,� he quipped.

Sam closed her eyes and tilted her head. �Hang around,� she repeated slowly. �Is that what I�ve been doing? In the dream you told me that you were the safe bet and I agreed. It was easier than admitting that I was afraid.� She looked up and into his eyes, seeking, challenging, admitting, �I am afraid.�

Of what? Where was this going? Jack studied the red face and dark blue eyes, wondering at the secrets hinted there.

�You told me that my father was right. That I deserved more than living in limbo.�

�Don�t you?� he countered.

�What if I don�t want it? What if��

�What?�

Sam bit her lip and looked away. �I came home and you were the same as always. You were there just as you promised in the dream.�

�Where else would I be?� Jack felt foolish asking the question. Any of the other available responses cut too close to the quick, however. �I think you know me too well,� he added.

�Don�t do that.�

�Do what?�

Sam threw an exasperated glance towards the ceiling. �I don�t deserve your understanding. I came home and you did what you always do, you tried to listen. Except that I wasn�t paying attention. I was too busy flouncing about Colorado Springs with the first guy who gave me more than a nod and a wink.�

�I didn�t know you flounced, Carter.� Jack watched as a genuine smile eased across her weary features. He laughed softly in response. �You did pick a real winner,� he commiserated.

�I should have known better.�

�Maybe.�

�Do you love her?�

Jack looked towards the tree. His eyes roamed across the sparkling halo of lights and tinsel as he considered how to explain. The anger was gone, a memory. He would not try and understand how months of darkness could be dispelled by honest conversation. It was enough to know warmth. �I could have,� he said. �She was bright, open�she cared so easily.�

�Unlike me.�

The comment gave Jack pause. He had never consciously compared the two women. Though he could not deny that his involvement with Beth stemmed directly from Sam�s overt rejection.

�I kissed you.�

He stared, flummoxed by the admission. �When?�

�In the dream.�

�Ah�� Wait a minute� �You kissed me?� His imaginings had always portrayed him as the aggressor and ended with the shrill of the alarm, or Walter Harriman�s clearing throat. The scenario Sam was painting sounded promising. �And?� he encouraged.

�The ship started shaking and I had to get up and go, �save my ass� as you so delicately put it.�

He swallowed disappointment. �Sounds like me.�

�Yes.�

�O Holy Night� drifted out from the speakers. Jack froze, caught by a remembered chill too sharp to be ignored. Sam eyed him quizzically and he looked away. Twice in one day was too much to ask. God� shut it off� She reached behind her and touched the power button. Jack sighed with relief as the music ended abruptly.

�Are you okay?�

�No.� He rubbed a clammy hand across his forehead. �It�s a long story.�

�Maybe some day you�ll tell it to me?�

Jack�s lips quirked into a weak half-smile. �Maybe.�

�I guess I deserved this.�

�What?�

�You not trusting me.�

�Sam��

�Please, just don�t say it. It�s just...� She trembled visibly. �Where do we go from here?�

For the first time she was offering him control of their fate. The �room� was bare to scrutiny, leaving him free to shut the door forever and walk away. Until recently the option was beyond consideration. Pete�s proposal had wrought changes innumerable. The long months following Sam�s acceptance lay flat and ashen on his heart, weighing any consideration in favor of the negative. Jack sighed deeply. When the ball was in her court there were no choices to be made, just acceptance and resignation. He didn�t want to live through another purgatory. �I�m going to retire.�

Sam sat forward, her mouth agape. �What?�

Saying the words gave substance to an idea long considered. Jack lurched to his feet and walked to the window. There was more than surprise in her slack expression. He saw guilt and a fair amount of pity. �It�s not your fault.�

�Yes it is. You don�t have to give up your career��

He interrupted her comment with a wave of his hand. �I did this to myself.�

�You hate being left behind, don�t you?�

God yes! He nodded, unwilling to share the vehemence the concept engendered.

�Don�t do this for me, please.�

The plea spawned an icy shiver. �Why not?� he asked quietly.

�Because.�

He turned, �Why?�

�What if I fail you again?�

�You didn�t fail me.�

Sam stood and walked into the kitchen. She pivoted abruptly and leaned one handed on the bar. �Why did you never ask me to give up my career?�

�Don�t you think you deserve it?� he countered gently.

�Yes and so do you. These last few months should be a clear enough indication that you were never designed to sit behind a desk. You want and need to be out there where the action is.�

�I�ve been there.� Jack extended a hand, gesturing to punctuate his points. �I was in Vietnam when Saigon fell. I�ve been to Africa, Asia, Central and South America. It doesn�t matter if all of those missions were officially recognized or not, I�ve done my time. What makes you think I�m walking away empty handed here?�

She pushed off the bar and walked slowly towards him. �You�re going to give all that up for me?�

He shook his head, taken aback that she could not recognize what had seemed so obvious to him for months. �You�re not the only reason I�m walking away.�

Sam stopped. Confusion and embarrassment chased across her slack features. �I don�t know what to say,� she muttered.

Jack smiled and closed the space between them. Her hair and clothes smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. He inhaled deeply and cautiously took her limp fingers in his. �I�m doing it for myself, not just you.�

Her fingers squeezed and pulled him closer. Their toes touched and she smiled faintly. �Are you sure of that?�

�As I can be.� He bent and tenderly kissed her parted lips. She smiled against his mouth and stretched upwards. Their tongues tangled and parried, slipping easily over flesh and tooth. Tasting, savoring and reveling in taboo sensations. Jack swallowed a moan and deepened the kiss. His skin prickled as burgeoning arousal spread quick fire from core to fingertips. He cupped her cheeks and smoothed the flesh with the balls of his thumbs. Her body pressed against his, warm and pliable. Oh God� �Sam��

His hands moved to her shoulders and down her arms. Sam melted into the embrace and pressed her cheek against his neck. Jack trembled and felt her grip tighten. �Please don�t walk away,� she murmured thickly.

An instant-a lifetime-how long had he waited to hear such words? Jack cradled the back of her head and nuzzled the soft flesh beneath her ear. Tasting and nipping gently, delighted by the tremor that coursed between them. He shifted and kissed one rosy cheek, startled by the salt of tears. �Sam?�

�Please,� she repeated.

Jack kissed her once more before pulling back. He wicked the moisture from her skin with deft fingers and shook his head. �I�m here.�

�For now?�

�For always.�

*THE*END*