Entity Epilogue
By Shiaw Mei Mei
He watched as her chest rose and fell in time to the machine noises. He knew that she wouldn’t want this. She had told him before… No extraordinary means. But he couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
Had it only been a few months ago that he truly realized what she meant to him? The sight of her luminous blue eyes staring at him through the Goa’uld force field temporarily replaced the wan face of the woman in the bed. He knew before then. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew that he loved her. He didn’t know exactly when respect and admiration had turned to love. It was gradual, a slow evolution of feelings that, at first, only crept into his dreams at night.
He remembered the first time he woke from one of those dreams. He could almost taste her kisses; feel her body pressed against his. He had chalked it up to a normal male reaction to a beautiful woman. His daily contact with her would account for the details of his dreams, her soft blue eyes, the glow of her face, the smile that rivaled the sun. It was just a normal reaction to what they had been through together. They had just returned from Hathor’s planet. The intensity of their abduction, the sheer joy of finding her alive, the relief at her rescuing him from the cold stasis, the elation of rescuing her from the awful sound of Hathor’s hand device… The memory of her pressed against him as they held each other tightly, relishing the fact that they were alive. That’s all it was.
The next time it happened, he wasn’t so sure. The look of anguish on her face the day he had retired again, when he had told her that he hadn’t been himself since the day he met her. He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth; that he was on a mission to capture those responsible for stealing technologies from Earth’s allies. But the very real pain on her face, which he caused with his words, haunted his dreams for weeks.
The beeping of the machine intruded on his thoughts again. His eyes lifted from the instrument he was toying with to look at her again. So cold, so still… He would welcome even the pain on her face again, just to know that she was alive.
His thoughts drifted back to the past. There had been a coldness in her after his return from Edora that had made it worse. His face scrunched up with irony. Not coldness, that was the wrong word. A stiffness in her back, her smile slightly less brilliant. At the time, he had chalked it up to her being tired. Daniel said that she hadn’t slept much in the three months he was missing.
Later, he wondered had she missed him? Like he had missed her? He had never expected to see her again. Laira was a mistake. He knew that after the first night, but he had never expected to go home. She had opened her home to him, wanted him and he was lonely. If that was to be his life, he didn’t want it to be alone. He had liked and respected Laira and thought, given time, he would come to love her. But his dreams were still of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that rivaled the sun.
And then came Anise with her fancy bracelets. His lips curved slightly at the memory of the host, Freya, as she asked him if there was someone else to whom he was loyal. How could he say yes? How could he admit to the Tok’ra woman something he couldn’t admit to himself?
The vision of troubled blue eyes behind a force field urging him to go floated before his unseeing eyes. How could he leave her to die? He loved her.
And then the Zatarc test… He sighed as he thought about her words. She felt the same way but she said they could leave it in that room. He was relieved when she said it. He didn’t know how to deal with it all. He needed time to think. She was his subordinate. Never in his career had he become emotionally involved with a subordinate. It was something that he had avoided like the plague. In all the times he had seen friends and comrades end up in that situation, it had caused nothing but trouble. Careers, marriages and lives ruined over a moment of passion. He had vowed never to fall prey to that trap. And he had succeeded, until now.
Now, his heart was completely given over to the woman lying so still on the hospital bed. The woman who had no chance of survival once the machines were turned off. The woman he had put there by firing a zat at her twice. His throat caught a gasp of pain before it escaped. He had no choice, his rational side said. The entity could have caused death and destruction to their world. That was its stated purpose.
But the other side of his mind, the one that had felt her eager lips against his and her arms tightened around his neck as he kissed her in a time loop, cried out in silent agony. He had killed her. He had killed the person that meant most to him in the world. For the second time.
Memories of Charlie mixed with memories of Sam as Dr. Frasier entered the room. He heard her words as his mind tried desperately to erase the thoughts.
“Give it a minute, huh?” was the only response to her words. He knew she had the power to do what was necessary without his permission. For all his joking, he knew that as CMO, her power was complete. But he also knew that she had witnessed his confession of feelings for Sam. He appreciated the gentle doctor’s approach. He almost felt as if she were giving him the courtesy of being her next of kin.
***
“We heard.” It was all he could say. He wanted to hold her, pull her close to him, feel her heartbeat against his chest. But all he could do was pat the bed beside her leg. She was back, she was alive, she was whole. And all he could do was pat the bed beside her leg.
***
Sam moved slowly around her house, the afternoon sun warming her mood as well as her body. She was still weak from the whole ordeal but she was glad to be home. She was tired of Janet hovering over her in the infirmary. She needed to be home, to make it feel real. She was alive and she almost wasn’t. She understood what happened, how close she came to being history, being a consciousness without a body. Janet almost pulled the plug on her life support. When Sam asked her why she hesitated, Janet got very closed mouth, turned all business on her, checking machines and vitals. When the Colonel walked in, Janet’s expression said it all. The Colonel… Evidently, he hadn’t left her side the entire time she was unconscious.
When she finally got Janet to talk, she found out that the Colonel wouldn’t let her go. He knew about her living will. Actually, most members of the SGC had them. In their line of work, it was only smart to have them on file. But he couldn’t let her go.
She didn’t know when she first fell for him, her Colonel, her superior officer, her commander. It was something she had vowed never to do. Too many of her friends had fallen prey to that trap. Some had ended happily, sort of, with the woman leaving a promising career path for a man, a husband, a father for her children. But most had ended badly, with reprimands or courts martial, lost careers and pain.
She wasn’t a woman that needed the reassurance of a man in her life. She didn’t have the urge to settle down and have children, at least not yet. One never knew when the urge would hit, biological clocks, not withstanding. But one day she realized her Colonel meant more to her than he should. When he was missing for three months, when she worked herself sick for three months to find him. That’s when she finally had to admit the truth, at least to herself.
And then, to realize through a force field, that those soft brown eyes were filled with the same longing and love… Sam gasped at the memory. She had been about to die and her biggest regret was that she couldn’t touch him, hold him, just once before she died.
The whistling of the teakettle drew her attention back to the present. She took her tea into the living room and curled up on the couch. Her mind refused to leave the subject alone as she thought back to the Zatarc test… Why had she said that it didn’t have to leave the room? She had been disappointed that he had agreed so readily. But then, had he? He asked her if that was all right with her. She had said yes when she really wanted to say no. She thought it was what he wanted. But if they never discussed it, how could either of them know what they wanted?
A knock at the door pulled her back from the thought. She figured it was Janet, coming to hover some more. The good doctor had been reluctant to let her go home but the friend that she was understood Sam’s need to get away from the mountain. Carefully setting her cup down, she moved slowly to the door. Evidently, a double shot of zat did painful things to the muscles. She felt as if she had run a marathon.
Her surprise was understandable as she opened the door to find the Colonel’s retreating back. “Sir,” she said quickly.
***
He had been about to leave. She had taken so long to answer the timid knock he had finally managed that he thought she must be asleep. The sound of the door opening and her soft query caused him to round quickly on his heel.
“Carter,” he said quickly. “Just thought I’d see how you were doing.” He tried to make his voice sound casual, easy going, but he didn’t think he was doing a very good job of it. The soft understanding in her eyes confirmed his suspicion.
“Come in,” she said as she moved out of the doorway to allow him to pass. The small hallway allowed him to pass so close that he could smell her shampoo. “Would you like something to drink? I just made some tea, or I could make some coffee.”
“No, thanks,” he said as she followed him into the living room. “I just wanted, ah… I just…” He took a deep breath. He didn’t know what he was doing here. She was fine. Janet wouldn’t have released her otherwise. “Just checking on you,” he managed in a tight tone.
He turned to face her, to see the life in those soft blue eyes, to see the color that had returned to her cheeks. She was so close, no more than an arm’s length away from him. He couldn’t stop his arms from reaching out to her. He felt as if he were now the one controlled by an alien entity.
***
Sam closed her eyes in relief as his arms circled her, pulling her into a close embrace. This was real, his warmth, the strength of his arms as they tightened around her. This was real. She needed this. She needed his strength. She could feel his breath on her neck, his body trembling against hers. Or was it her body trembling against his? Or both?
He smelled of aftershave, leather and Jack, that unique musky fragrance that haunted her dreams, sleeping and awake. His cheek against her neck felt like a fine grade of sandpaper, a roughness that could never be shaved completely away, that felt so reassuring against her skin. Her arms circled him tightly, her fingers digging into the lean muscles of his back. He felt so good against her, his arms felt so right around her. It seemed to ease the aching of her body.
The sound of her blood rushing through her veins obscured his murmured words but slowly, as he repeated them over and over again, she realized their meaning.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” was the agonized whisper.
Her hands unclenched and began rubbing his back comfortingly. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You only did what had to be done.”
He pushed her away abruptly. “Did what had to be done?” His eyes were wild. “I killed you. I killed you!”
“You didn’t,” she said confused. “I’m here. I’m alive.” Her hands reached out unconsciously for him but he backed away.
“I zatted you twice. You know what that means. I don’t know why you’re alive. You should be dead and it’s because of me.”
Her heart tore at the anguish in his eyes, the self-loathing in his voice. She moved toward him again but he backed up again. It was as if he was suddenly afraid to touch her, afraid of inflicting more harm. But she kept moving forward. Soon he was flat against the wall, her body within inches of his. She reached out to cup his cheek. She knew that this was wrong but she couldn’t stop herself. She needed to reassure him, to let him feel how alive she was. She couldn’t let him beat himself up over this, over her.
***
His eyes closed as he leaned into her hand. It was warm and alive. Her body moved closer, pressing against his. She was so warm and alive. Her breath was hot against his neck as she pressed her face into it. One of her arms slipped between him and the wall, holding him tightly around the waist. His arms stayed at his side, his hands splayed against the wall behind him. He tried to control the urge to hold her, afraid that once he did, he would never let go. That all she had worked for would be lost in his need for absolution. His hands pressed harder against the wall.
“Carter,” he whispered. “Sam…” He groaned as he felt soft, warm lips against the pulse point in his neck. His knees went weak as he felt her breath on his skin. He gave into the need to hold her as his arms wrapped tightly around her. He held on as if his life depended on contact with her. And in a way, it did.
Years of longing welled up in him as she raised her head to look at him. Her blue eyes shone with a passion and desire that he couldn’t resist. All thoughts of consequences fled. He needed her, more than he had ever needed any woman before. Her lips were so close, so inviting. He wanted to taste her breath, the breath that he thought was gone such a short time ago. He resisted for a moment but then gave into the inevitable.
Slowly, his head dipped toward hers. Softly, gently, lips made contact. Sweet, slow contact, nibbling, tasting. Her erratic breath was soft against his mouth. Her warmth pressed against his body, her arms tight around him. She was definitely alive.
***
Sam knew that she shouldn’t be doing this but she couldn’t stop. His mouth nibbled at her lower lip, sucking softly. She found her teeth tugging at his upper lip. She felt his tongue hesitantly move against her mouth. Overwhelmed by the feeling of him against her, her hand pulled at his neck, pressing his mouth firmly against hers. Her tongue slipped between his gasping lips to find his. The numbness that had gripped her since she woke up began to fade away, pushed aside by the heat of the man’s mouth, his arms, his body.
She felt his body shake, with passion or desperation, she didn’t know. His body weighed heavily on her arm, still around his waist. Slowly, they slid to the floor as his knees buckled. His mouth moved to her neck as she knelt between his legs. She could feel silent sobs racking his body. She held him, rocking him gently as she would a wounded child.
“It’s okay now,” she whispered in his ear, her fingers sliding through his unruly silver hair. “It’s all right, Jack…”
***
His name whispered so softly brought him back to his senses. He didn’t remember the slide to the floor or how his tears started. Embarrassed at his loss of control, he tried to move away from her, pull from her arms, but she held him tight. He moved a hand across his face quickly, brushing away the evidence of his emotional outburst.
“Sam…” he whispered, his voice cracking to his dismay. He felt her arms relax around him but she still didn’t move away. “We should probably get off the floor.”
“Only if you promise not to run,” she said softly against his ear.
He almost laughed at her words. She evidently knew him better than he thought. Or she’d taken to mind reading.
“I promise,” he whispered, knowing the effort it would take to keep that promise. He wanted nothing more than to stay in the circle of her arms but he knew he couldn’t. He knew that if he did, he’d be lost. Lost in her eyes, in her smile… in the feel of her body. Her arms tightened briefly, before she released him. She stood slowly, evidence of her aching muscles showing in her movements. He took her offered hand and stood quickly.
Her hand refused to let his go as she pulled him toward the couch. He should try harder to set himself free but what good would it do? He loved her, wanted her, even if it was just snuggling on the couch. As she pulled him down next to her, he gave in to his wants and needs instead of his logic. He would relax his barriers for a moment, just for a moment. Then he would leave. He could stay here, with her, for a little while.
His eyes closed as she pulled his arm around her shoulders and buried her face in his chest. The herbal shampoo she used teased his nose, weakening what little defenses he had left. He felt common sense rear its unwanted head.
“Sam, we shouldn’t be…”
“I don’t care what should and shouldn’t be. You’re here right now and I need you to stay.” Her whispered words blasted through the resolve to leave, to do the right thing by the military regs. He needed to do the right thing by her. She wanted him to stay, so stay he would and the rest of the world be damned.
***
Sam woke slowly, confused. Darkness surrounded her, obscuring her vision. Gradually, her eyes adjusted in the dim moonlight. Her living room formed around her as she realized that she was on the couch. And her senses took notice of the warmth against her, below her. Her ears perked at the slow steady breathing of the man that she lay half on.
She didn’t remember lying down on the couch or when they had fallen asleep. Her emotions had run the gauntlet this afternoon, from loving him to fearing what that love meant. Her body was still recovering from the physical ordeal of the last few days and she ached desperately. Her meds must have worn off.
But Jack… He was still here, holding her close, sleeping peacefully. Her eyes welled up with tears. They hadn’t spoken after curling up on the couch. They had simply sat there, arms wrapped around each other, his breath on her hair and their fingers entwined. Sam didn’t want to move but she needed more pain meds and the call of nature couldn’t be denied any longer.
Slowly, she moved his relaxed arm from around her. Biting her lip against a moan of pain, she slowly rose from the couch. She gazed down at him in the dim moonlight. His face was relaxed and gentled by sleep. The agony that drove him here yesterday was gone for now. She curbed the temptation to lean over and smooth his hair, kiss his lips. She didn’t want to disturb him, not when he had managed to find a few minutes of peace.
Slowly, she made her way to her bedroom for her meds.
***
Jack’s eyes snapped open. He could still feel the warmth of her body although she was gone. She couldn’t have been gone long. The sound of water running gave him reassurance. He didn’t know why he thought she would leave. It was the middle of the night and they were at her house. Insecurity instilled a fear of her vanishing, a fear that this was a dream and in reality she was gone. Dead and gone by his hand…
Moisture stung his eyes but failed to escape as he sat up. He should leave. This setting was too tempting. Alone with her, alone with her in her home, in the middle of the night. He couldn’t just walk out without telling saying something but he should. He wasn’t sure that he could leave if he saw her again. His defenses were in tatters along with his emotions. But he had to leave.
The decision made, he stood quickly. He had to leave now or he never would. He couldn’t let a moment of weakness destroy what she had worked a lifetime to achieve. The regulations were clear and he knew that his career would end but his was almost over anyway. It would be her burden to carry on, trying to live down the stigma of their actions. The military would let her stay but the credibility of her life’s work would be in tatters. She would always have the stain of an illicit affair with her commanding officer following her wherever she went. He couldn’t let that happen to her. He wouldn’t let it happen, no matter how much either of them wanted this to end differently.
***
Sam headed back to the living room with the intention of snuggling up against Jack again. The couch wasn’t that comfortable but she didn’t think that he would agree to join her in her bed, although the thought was extremely appealing. So appealing that it sent tingles of desire coursing through her body. She tried to replay every incident with friends and colleagues that had gotten in trouble over frat regs but it didn’t stop the feelings running rampant through her.
She saw a dark figure moving through the living room, headed toward the door.
“Retreating,” she said quietly.
He stopped his back to her, silhouetted by the moonlight through the window. His head dipped as she heard him take a deep breath and release it. “Sometimes it’s the better part of valor…”
She smiled at his misquoted cliché. “Actually it’s discretion that is the better part of valor…” She leaned against the doorframe looking at him.
“That works, too,” he said softly.
“Or is it cowardice?” She could see the tension in his shoulders as his head snapped back up. He turned to face her quickly.
“Cowardice?” His voice held an underlying anger. “Cowardice? Do you realize how hard it is for me to be here, to be close to you? I nearly killed you…” His voice cracked slightly. The anger had left his voice when he continued. “I can’t stand the idea of losing you, any more now than I could a few months ago. But it could happen… It could happen so easily.” She could hear the sadness in his voice, sadness over their untenable situation. “The idea of losing you when I never really… when we can’t…”
She moved over to him quickly, wrapping her arms around his waist. “When we can’t be together?” she finished for him. He pulled her closer, his arms holding her so tight that she found it hard to breathe. His face dove into her neck, his lips pressing tightly against her skin. Not kissing just there, against her. She felt his nod. “But you’re here now, we’re together now,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave…”
She felt his body acquiesce even if his mind might not. Slowly, she pulled away, grasping his hand firmly. His eyes glittered in the moonlight as she began to pull him toward her bedroom. She walked backwards, her eyes never leaving his face. The dark hallway obscured his features. The dim nightlight in her bedroom gave light to the indecision written across his face.
Carefully, she reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up. His arms rose slowly, hesitantly, to allow her to pull it from his body. She felt as if any sudden move on her part would cause him to flee as an animal freed from headlight-induced stasis. She ran her hands down his bare chest, savoring the feel of the sparse hair that peppered the lean muscled landscape. One hand paused at the feel of a tight bud of a nipple. The soft gasp that escaped him as her fingers lightly teased it confirmed its sensitivity to touch.
His eyes were pools of black obsidian glass, glittering in the dim light, unreadable to the casual observer. But she was far from a casual observer. This was her Colonel, her beloved Colonel. She felt his fingers feather lightly at her waist. So engrossed in her own explorations and the dark pools of his eyes, she hadn’t seen his hands move in the darkness. Her breath caught as his fingers traced the bottom edge of her pajama top. Calloused fingers caressed her bare skin beneath the soft material. The contrast caused her heart to beat quickly.
Hands now moved across her waist, to her back. Slowly, the warm pressure rose to her shoulder blades, pulling the top with them, bunching the material up under her arms. Her eyes closed, her breathing stilted, she felt the rough palms as they moved around, sliding past her sides, below her arms, with excruciating slowness, until they came to rest on her breasts. A low moan escaped her lips. Tears formed swiftly behind her closed eyelids as his fingers did a slow exploration of her sensitive flesh.
Her own hands, stilled upon his chest by his actions, resumed their own journey of discovery. The mutual voyage punctuated by soft moans and gasps from them both. Her fingers found the waist of his pants and slid back from his navel to the middle of his back. One hand inched past the material of his jeans, past the barrier of his boxers and came to rest on hard muscle. Pulling gently until he was firmly pressed against her, body aligned with body. A hard bulge pushed firmly into her stomach. They shuddered together as their bodies reacted.
Her eyes opened as his lips brushed hers. His face was a mask of conflicting desires but his lips continued to nip at hers. She pressed slowly against his mouth, stilling his tender movements, as her mouth demanded more. A groan fled him as he opened to her insistent urging. His tongue danced against hers as it pushed forward, seeking, searching, exploring his mouth.
Sam was afraid she would wake up to find she was dreaming. So many times she had dreamed of the way he would feel, the way he would taste. But no dream was ever this vivid, this electric. She could feel his body tremble against hers.
“Sam,” he whispered softly between kisses. “Oh, god, Sam…” he groaned as he moved from her lips to her neck. His hands fell away from her aching flesh, tugging at the cloth of her top to cover her. “Sam… We can’t… We can’t risk it…”
Sam found herself gasping for air against his shoulder. “No… Don’t stop…” She couldn’t help the tears that rushed to her eyes. He couldn’t do this. Not now. “Jack…”
He raised his head. His eyes met hers. “Sam, there’s too much for you to lose. You know we can’t do this. That’s why we agreed to leave it alone after the Zatarc test.” His hands moved to her face. “I can’t risk you, your career.”
“Jack, I don’t care about that, any of it! I need you!” Her voice was rough and harsh to her own ears. She took a deep breath. “Please,” she said with a softer tone. “I need to feel… I need to…” Her eyes closed against her tears. “I need to feel alive,” she whispered.
***
His hands released her face, falling quickly to her waist as he pulled her tight against him. He understood the feeling. That feeling of having come to close to the edge and been pulled back just as hope vanished. The feeling of needing someone close, of being held and reassured that once again death had been cheated. How often had they had that feeling as SG1? Too many times and this probably wouldn’t be the last time. When would their luck run out?
He sighed against her neck. “We can’t keep… Tonight… Tomorrow we go back…”
He could feel her nodding against his chest. “Tomorrow we go back to what we were,” she whispered. “I just need tonight.”
***
Jack recognized the tell tale signs of pre-dawn through the windows of her bedroom. The warm skin against his, the arm over his waist, the leg over his, urged him silently to stay, to close his eyes and wait until the day had actually dawned. But he couldn’t. He knew that if they woke up together, like this, he would never be able to leave her. His decision to allow his guard down for one night only would vanish with darkness. He had to leave.
Quietly, he slid from her grasp, from her bed and gathered his clothes. Dressing silently in the darkness, he watched her as the light gradually seeped into the room. He had to go now or he would never leave. He had to be the one strong enough to walk away before the sunrise made it too real, too possible....
“I love you,” he whispered. It was all he could say. He wanted to hold her, pull her close to him, feel her heartbeat against his chest. But all he could do was pat the bed beside her leg. She was back, she was alive, she was whole. And all he could do was pat the bed beside her leg.
THE END
