DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.
Summary: What events let to Sam's participation in the Stargate Program?
I wish to thank my beta readers Gina, Karen, Michelle, Sally and Sheena who've offered invaluable advice. The mistakes belong to me alone!
Copyright April 2001 by Noda
*Sam's Story: Before The SGC*
~May,1991~
The party was in full swing as Captain Samantha Carter was escorted into the room by her father, General Jacob Carter. Taking in the size of the gathering, Sam felt her face grow warm, and rested her forehead on her father's shoulder momentarily.
"Dad, you really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble! This is too much!"
Jacob patted the hand Sam had looped through his arm. "Hey, it's not everyday my baby girl makes captain!"
"Daaaad!"
Jacob reached over and touched her nose. "And right now you're sounding like that baby girl!"
Sam's blush deepened. "Okay, I'll stop if you promise you will."
"I can't promise I'm not going to brag about you, Sam. What you did, saving those refugees--I don't know if could have done the same. You deserve this, honey."
Sam blinked several times, hoping to keep her emotions in check. She and her father had a shaky relationship at best, and his high praise was a little overwhelming. Of course, if she'd been promoted due to some scientific discovery, she doubted there'd be a party in her honor. However, since her advancement was combat related, Jacob wanted to shout it to the world. It wasn't right, but Sam knew her father, and had finally accepted him the way he was. Too bad he couldn't return the favor.
Sam descended the stairs into the reception room on her father's arm to a short round of applause, then everyone snapped to attention and saluted her. Clearing her throat, Sam returned the gesture, feeling her face grow even warmer. It was one thing to receive the honor from comrades, but the room was populated by more brass than a marching band. It seemed a bit absurd they would be paying homage to her, a mere captain. Then again, she knew most of these men and women. They'd been friends and associates of her father since she could remember.
*The joy's of being a general's daughter,* she smiled to herself as she made her way to the refreshment table. Selecting a glass of punch, Sam hoped someone had the foresight to spike it, as she could use a stiff drink to get through the rest of the evening. Looking about the room, Sam decided she, and possibly the catering staff, were the only guests under fifty.
Taking a sip of her punch, Sam shook her head.
"Something wrong, Ma'am?" one of the uniformed waiters asked.
"Yeah, it's just punch," she said.
He smiled his understanding and pointed her in the direction of a cluster of people. "There's a cash bar in the corner."
Noting the crowd, Sam grinned. "Ah. I should have known. Thanks." She started to make her way across the room when her father caught up with her once more.
"Sammie, this is General Moorman. He's in charge of Peterson Air Force Base. Tom, this is my Sammie."
Sam felt about six inches tall. Did he have to call her that? It was bad enough he knew her new CO, but did he have to make it blatantly obvious he'd helped get her the position? She'd begged him not to interfere, but Jacob had turned a deaf ear. What good was making general if he couldn't use his clout to help out a family member, he'd argued. Of course *he'd* never been on the receiving end of taunts of "daddy's little girl," or accused of getting "plum" assignments because of her father's acquaintances.
*Yeah. Saudi Arabia had been "plum,"* she laughed to herself.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir," Sam said, extending her hand, pasting a smile on her face.
"And you as well, Captain. I've heard some good things about you," Moorman said, casting a glance at Jacob. "Your recent rescue mission was quite impressive."
"Thank you, Sir," Sam said, feeling her face flush once more. Was she ever going to stop blushing when someone paid her a compliment?
"Well, looks like I've run dry," General Moorman said, looking into his empty glass. "If you'll excuse me?"
"Of course, Tom," Jacob said, slapping the man on the back as he turned to leave.
"Dad, was that *really* necessary? It's bad enough you 'managed' this assignment for me. Did you have to flaunt me in my new C.O.'s face?"
"I'm proud of you, Sam! Can't a father be proud of his daughter?"
Sam felt a bit of her anger melting, only to be replaced by guilt. Maybe this was the only way he knew to show how much he cared for her. Lord knew he hadn't expressed much affection for her since her mother had died.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I know you're trying to give me a hand, but pulling strings isn't helping. It makes me look incompetent."
"You want to get into NASA. This posting to the Air Force Space Command is the best way I know to get you there."
Sam rubbed her forehead. How did she make him understand? "Dad, I *appreciate* everything you're trying to do for me, but I *have* to do this on my own. Surly you can understand that?"
Jacob took a large sip from his glass and looked away. "Yeah, I do." There was a silence, then he added, "it's just since your mother. . . . Well, you know, I haven't been much of a father to you or Mark. I guess I was trying to make up for some of that."
"Dad, you can't 'buy' back those years," Sam said quietly.
Jacob looked at the floor, nodding his head in agreement. He raised his gaze to meet his daughter's. "So, you want me to go tell Tom to find himself another theoretical astrophysicist?"
A grin turned up the corners of Sam's mouth. "Well, I didn't say *that,* exactly."
Jacob placed his hand on her shoulder. "Kid, you're going to go far. With or without my help. I'd just like to think I had a little something to do with it."
"You have, Dad."
Jacob cleared his throat. "I wish your mom could have been here to see this. She would have been so proud."
"Yeah, she would have," Sam agreed. "Too bad Mark couldn't make it."
Sam noticed a muscle twitching in her father's jaw as he clenched his teeth. "Well, you know how busy he always is."
"Yeah."
Just then Jacob perked up, pulling Sam toward the bar. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Sam groaned inwardly. *God I hope it's not another 'stepping stone' in my career!* She was surprised when her father stopped before a young man. Well, certainly younger than the rest of the crowd.
"Sam, I'd like you to meet Major Philip Tarkin. Philip, this is my daughter, Samantha."
A smile lit up the man's handsome face as he transferred his drink to his left hand to extend his right.
"The guest of honor! It's a pleasure to meet you, Samantha!"
"Ah, actually, most people call me 'Sam,'" she said, accepting his handshake.
"Well, then, I'll have to call you 'Samantha,' won't I?"
Sam felt another annoying blush creep into her cheeks at the man's smooth words and intense gaze. Well, considering the crowd, she probably *could* lay claim to being one of the better looking women in the room.
"Your father's told me quite a lot about you," he said.
"Well, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Major. I don't believe my father's mentioned you."
"Call me, Philip, please. And I'd be surprised if I was your father's first topic of conversation when you two met up again," he said, clearly not put off by her statement.
"Philip is my assistant, but one hot-shot pilot in his own right," Jacob said proudly, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Well, I don't know about that," Philip said, trying to appear modest. "If I've accomplished anything in my career, I owe it all to your father."
*Oh, brother,* Sam thought. *Another ass-kisser Dad's going to want me to date.*
"Now, Philip, you know that's not true. You led a very successful air-strike in Iraq."
Philip attempted to seem flattered by her father's praise, but it was obvious to Sam he felt he deserved it. How much longer was their mutual admiration society going to continue? God, she needed a drink!
"Would you two excuse me? It's feeling a little dry in here." Sam stepped quickly over to the bar, ordering a beer. Not the classiest of drinks, but *she* wasn't here to impress anyone. Taking a swig from her bottle, Sam kept her back to the area where her father and Philip were still busy talking. She was probably being rude, but she'd already done about as much "schmoozing" as she could handle. This whole party idea was ridiculous. It wasn't for her benefit and she knew it. Oh, she did get some of the residual fallout since she was the token guest-of-honor, but this gathering was for her father. So he could say to the world, "look what I spawned." She'd always thought her father was such an honorable man. It was bit of a let down to discover he had hidden agendas, same as everyone else.
Looking across the small service bar, Sam noticed another young man watching her. *Wow, two under fifty. Must be my lucky night,* she thought. He didn't appear particularly happy to be at the party. Not only did his expression give him away, the parade of empty beer bottles was testament to his attempt at "getting in the mood."
His eyes met Sam's and he raised his bottle in salute to her before taking a long drink. There was something about him Sam found intriguing, although, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Perhaps it was the sad, almost painful look on his face. She was about to introduce herself when her father and Philip joined her at the bar.
"Sam, why don't you and Philip go dance? Someone should enjoy this band!"
Sam looked over her shoulder at the sparse collection of dancers on the small dance floor. She really wasn't in the mood--either to dance or be manipulated--but she felt she should at least try to have a good time for her father's sake. Regardless of his motives, he *had* gone to a lot of trouble to arrange the party.
"Captain Carter, may I have this dance?" Philip invited, holding out his crooked arm.
Sam gave him a weak smile as she accepted his arm. "Of course."
Philip was an excellent dancer, and Sam expected nothing less. She couldn't see her father choosing a man for her that didn't exemplify the term "officer and a gentleman." His hold on her was just enough--not too close or too much pressure on her hand, nor limp either. Text-book Arthur Murray.
Sam looked over Philip's shoulder and saw her father beaming, satisfied with his match-making. She gave him a small smile as if to say, "yes, Dad, he's a nice guy," and Jacob's grin grew even larger.
As they twirled around the dance floor, Sam looked up and saw the other man watching her. At first she thought he was watching the two of them dance as Philip was doing his level best to show off. When she looked again, she saw the man was gazing only at her, almost as if she were on the dance floor alone.
"Samantha?"
Sam was distracted from her staring by Philip speaking her name. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Well, I should be offended your mind is so far away, but I'll forgive you this time," he chuckled. "I asked how you liked being back here at Eglin."
"Um, it's okay," she answered lamely.
"Just 'okay?' Samantha, I'm rather surprised! For a woman practically with a doctorate in quantum mechanics you aren't a little more articulate."
Philip's condescending attitude was beginning to take it's toll on Sam. Obviously her father had talked her up quite a bit if he was aware of her degrees. And the way he kept drawling 'Samantha' was really starting to get on her nerves! Fortunately, the dance ended, and before Philip could offer another, Sam made an excuse about needing to reacquaint herself with Colonel Fitzgibbons.
After winding her way through the crowd, stopping occasionally to chat, Sam found herself suddenly faced with the man from the bar. From his rank insignia, she noticed he was a captain as well. At least she didn't have to apologize for staring at a superior officer. Although, he seemed barely old enough to be a captain. Perhaps he was recently promoted as well.
"The woman of the hour," he slurred as he swayed slightly before her. "Must be nice to come home to such accolades."
"Ah, no, actually not."
"What? Daddy's little girl doesn't like her party? Did he forget to get the pony?"
Sam gritted her teeth. Who the hell was this guy to speak to her that way? And it wasn't because she was General Carter's daughter! He knew nothing about her, but like so many others, he assumed the worst.
"No, I'm pissed off because they ran out of Kool-aid, which you might have considered switching to," she said as she brushed past him. From behind her, she heard laughter, causing her to stop and turn around.
"You surprise me, Generalette. I thought you bought into this whole political scene."
"Obviously you don't know me, so I'd appreciated it if you'd stop passing judgment on me. Especially when you've apparently had too much to drink."
"Now who's passing judgment?" he asked, flashing her a bright smile. In spite of her anger at his audacity, she found him attractive, particularly when he smiled.
"Look, Captain," she said. "Evidently we've gotten off on the wrong foot, and I don't really care to get off on the right one, so I'll just say good night."
"Coward."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I don't think you've got what it takes to get to know me." With that he turned, leaving Sam dumbfounded.
"Well, that was certainly odd," she muttered.
"What's that, honey?" Jacob asked, coming up behind her.
"That captain. I didn't catch his name, but he's certainly peculiar."
"Well, you nailed that one on the head, Sammie," Jacob said, handing his glass to the bartender for a refill. "His name is Jonas Hansen. I don't know what he was like before Desert Storm, but since he's come back I've had people tell me he's changed. Apparently something happened to his unit. I don't know the details. Maybe the doctors do, I don't know. All I *do* know is he's trouble. Currently he's on a medical leave. I swear the man has no friends. Doesn't talk to anyone. I'm surprised he spoke to you."
"If you can call it that."
"What's that?"
"Oh, nothing, Dad." Sam was going to let the subject drop, but there was something about the captain that bothered her. "If he's so anti-social, what is he doing here?"
"The party was open to any of the officers that happened to be on base, besides the people I invited. As you can see, it's mostly the Old Guard."
"Yeah," she smiled. "I noticed that."
"You know, Philip was asking where you'd gone off to . . . ."
"Dad, he's seems like a nice enough guy, but I just got back. Give me a chance to breathe!"
"Okay, Kid. No more pushing. How about a dance with your old man?"
Sam gave her father a huge grin. "Best offer I've had all evening!"
*********
Sam stayed at the party long enough not to be completely rude, but soon made her apologies for an early exit. She still hadn't settled into her temporary quarters, and she *really* wanted to get out of her dress uniform. Reaching up to her shoulder, she stroked the extra bar now pinned there. So much had happened in the last year, she felt she hadn't had a moment to catch her breath.
Stepping out of the Officer's Club, Sam noticed it had begun to rain. "Great," she muttered, knowing she was going to be soaked by the time she reached her base housing. Hopefully, her formal uniform wouldn't be ruined--it was the only one she had. Not that there would be much call for it at her new assignment. She highly doubted dress blues would be required when she was sequestered in some lab.
Sam couldn't wait to get to Peterson. As much as she chastised her father for his interference, she couldn't have asked for a better posting to fast-track her way into NASA. And even if it didn't pan out, at the very least she'd be doing research in her field. Research that had been put on hold when hostilities broke out in the Middle East.
Walking in the light rain, Sam hugged herself to ward off the chill. A car pulled up beside her, and a window rolled down; the driver offering a ride.
"Hey, Generalette, don't they have chauffeurs to drive important people like you home?"
Great. Jonas Hansen. Her father told her he was trouble and so far he was proving him right. "Yeah, but the President needed a ride, so I said he could have mine," she said as she continued forward.
Jonas shadowed her for half a block then said, "get in."
"That's okay. It's not that far. Thank you anyway."
"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Just let me give you a ride, okay?"
Sam stopped and looked into the car. Jonas wasn't a big man, and he'd been drinking. With her combat training, she figured she could take him, should he try anything. Of course, the fact that he'd been drinking was another reason not to get into the car with him.
"Are you getting in or what?"
"No, I don't think I am. Thanks for the offer, Captain, but I think you've had a little too much to drink."
"Fine," he said, and before Sam could step away from his car he went speeding down one of the base's residential streets.
Shaking her head Sam watched his tail lights disappear around a corner with a screech. "What a nut case," she mumbled. Seconds later she heard the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass.
"Ohmigod!" she cried, starting to run in the direction she'd seen Jonas' car traveling. It only took her about a minute to come to the scene of the accident. The car was fully embracing a telephone pole, steam from the radiator joining the mist of the rain.
"Captain Hansen? My, God! Captain Hansen! Can you hear me?" Sam was banging on the driver's side window, trying to rouse him, but he didn't respond. He was slumped against the steering wheel, blood trickling from his forehead.
Sam tried to open the door, but it was stuck. She continued to yank on the handle when one of the residents stepped outside, pulling a coat on over his sleepwear.
"What happened?" he asked as he joined Sam.
"He was driving really fast, I saw him turn the corner back there but he must have missed this one. I heard the crash." Sam was still tugging on the door, but to no avail.
"Let me try," the man said, giving the door a swift yank, getting it open enough that he and Sam could push it open further.
"Captain Hansen? Are you all right?" Sam asked, sitting him up in the seat. The gash on his head was worse than she'd thought, but it seemed to be his only injury.
"You know this guy?" the man asked.
"Not really. I met him tonight."
"Maybe I should call 911," the man said.
"No. . . ." Jonas moaned. "No more doctors. . . ."
Sam exchanged glances with the man, and he shrugged. "He doesn't seem like he's hurt too bad, but there's going to have to be a report filled out."
Sam nodded, helping Jonas exit the car. "Generalette? That you?"
Grateful her embarrassment wouldn't be spotted in the dim streetlight, Sam quietly acknowledged, "yeah, it's me."
"I knew you liked me."
"You're drunk," she whispered as she slid her arm around his waist, helping him to stand.
"And your point would be?"
"I don't think I'd be making any assumptions about my affections if I were you."
"Why don't you come inside, we can call the MPs from there," the man offered.
"No, I just want to go home," Jonas said, leaning heavily on Sam. "It's just around the next corner."
Sam adjusted Jonas' weight and gave the man a apologetic look. "I think I'll just help him home. He's disturbed everyone enough for one night. I'll make sure he calls to have the car removed. Thanks for your help."
"Suit yourself," the man said, pulling his coat tighter as he headed back to his house.
"Hansen, you sure you're up to this? I really think you should see someone about that cut."
"You've had med training, haven't you?"
"Well, yeah, some."
"Then you can look at me."
Sam sighed and tried to get Jonas to move forward. "Where do you live?"
"Take a right at the next corner. Third one down on the left."
His speech was still a bit slurred, and Sam wondered if Jonas' inability to walk straight was a result of the accident or the alcohol in his system.
What should have taken five minutes took nearly a half an hour, and by the time she reached his door, Sam was thoroughly soaked. She tried not to shiver as she delivered him to a kitchen chair.
"You have a first-aid kit in here anywhere?" she asked tersely. This *wasn't* how she'd envisioned her homecoming! It was bad enough her father sprung the party on her as a surprise, but she certainly didn't count on baby-sitting a drunken stranger! Rifling through his medicine cabinet, Sam found some gauze, tape and antiseptic. As she was about to close the door, Sam noticed several bottles of pills. She didn't want to pry, but if the guy had some weird ailment, she didn't want to just patch him up when he should see a doctor. Looking at the labels, she noted several were for depression, each labeled with a bright florescent warning about not combining with alcohol.
"You don't follow orders well at all, do you Hansen?" Sam said to herself as she closed the medicine cabinet. She couldn't say she was surprised he was taking something for depression, most of the people she'd served with suffered from bouts of it. It was only the thought she had a career waiting at home that had kept her head above water.
Thinking of water, Sam reached over to grab a towel to wipe off her dripping hair. She felt a little odd making herself so at home, but she figured he owed her. Not only for getting him home and the medical services she was about to provide, but for being a jerk in general.
"Generalette," she mumbled. God, she hoped no one caught wind of *that* little nick-name! As she entered the kitchen, she saw Jonas slumped over the table.
"Hansen! You okay?"
"Huh? Oh. I didn't dream you up, did I?" He touched his forehead, pulling his hand away to look at the blood on his fingers. "Guess the bit about my car being totaled it true then too."
"Yeah, you did a real number on it. We're going to have to call the base police, but I want to clean that wound up first."
Jonas sat back and allowed her to minister him. Sam could feel his eyes watching her, and it was making her feel uncomfortable.
"So, Captain Nightingale, how is it you were there to rescue me?"
"I saw you speed around the corner, and when I heard the crash, I knew it was you."
"I'm surprised you didn't run the other way."
"Believe me, I thought about it," Sam said, dabbing antiseptic on his cleaned cut.
"Ow! Jesus! Maybe you should have ran the other way!"
Sam pulled his hand away from his face. Why was it men were such babies when it came to minor injuries? They could walk for miles with a bullet in the leg, but a little thing like a cut had them crying like a two year-old.
"Do you want me to finish this or not?" she threatened.
"Do your worst," he sighed.
"Don't tempt me."
"You know, I don't think we were properly introduced," he said as Sam applied adhesive strips to a gauze pad.
"Not properly, no. My father told me your name is Jonas Hansen."
"Asking Daddy about me already? I guess I made a bigger impression than I thought."
Sam tried to hide her grin. "Yeah, you did, but not in the way you think."
"So, I know you're a Carter. What's your first name?"
Sam hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to tell him 'Samantha' on the off chance he'd take a page out of Major Tarkin's book and insist on emphasizing her name. "It's Sam."
He leaned his head back as she pressed the bandage to his forehead. "It suits you." She wasn't sure he meant it as a compliment or not, seeing as it was generally regarded as a man's name. Changing the subject, she said,
"You really should make that call to the base police. You might get into more trouble if you wait too long."
"Well, I've got an ace in the hole. I've got Daddy Little Girl to vouch for me."
Sam slammed the scissors she was holding down on to the table and headed for the door. "I hope you rot in Hell, Hansen." Before she could reach the handle, Jonas was up, blocking the way.
"Get out of my way."
"Look, Sam, I'm sorry. Let's chalk it up to my still being drunk, okay? I'm usually not this big of an asshole."
"So, normally you're just a medium sized one?"
Jonas smiled. "Depending who you talk to, yeah." There was a silence as Jonas leaned against the door, then he stood, walking away as he offered an explanation. "It's just been one hell of a day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."
Sam felt herself soften. Why was it she always had a soft spot for hard luck cases? Her team mates had nick-named her 'Marshmallow,' and she was beginning to think it fit. Truth be told, it wasn't an act a bravery that helped her rescue those Kuwaiti refugees. It was the fact they were suffering and she just couldn't let that happen if there was something she could do about it. Just as she couldn't walk out on Jonas when he was obviously so miserable.
"What happened?" she asked. "I would say this is more than just the car, considering how you were earlier."
Jonas reached out an unsteady hand and touched his face. "Right on the nose."
Sam took a step away from the door. "You want to talk about it?" She could see he was waging an inner battle between speaking or remaining silent, as he practically fell back onto his chair.
Looking out the window rather than at her, he softly said, "one of my buddies died today. The last surviving member of my unit."
Sam was stunned. She knew how he felt. She'd lost count of the people who'd been hurt or killed recently, and the media was acting like they'd gone into Saudi, slapped a few hands and left. It was amazing what the world didn't see.
"I'm sorry." She was aware it was an ineffectual reply, but she knew from experience, words did nothing to ease the pain. Sitting down next to him, Sam took his hand, offering what comfort she could.
"You know," he said, "it's funny, the Air Force gives you this power, the authority to act like God over the people of your unit, but we don't get the wisdom and the foresight to go with it. Something's screwed up there."
Sam squeezed his hand, causing him to look over at her. There were tears in his eyes and she felt herself starting to crumble. How did she get herself into these situations? Did she ask for this whack job to come looking for her?
Before she realized what she was doing, she'd slid her arms around him, giving him a hug. Embarrassed at the tears she found in her own eyes, she pulled back. "You really should get out of those wet clothes," she said, trying to blink away the moisture in her eyes.
"Yours aren't any drier than mine," he said.
"I promise I'll put something dry on the minute I get home," she managed to smile. As she stood to leave, Sam felt Jonas' hand on hers once more.
"Stay? I've got an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts you can use."
"Jonas, I . . ."
"I promise they're clean," he said. Sam looked down, feeling a grin surface despite the tension in the room. "You can sleep on the couch. I'm not the creep you think I am."
"Well, I have to admit, your behavior hasn't exactly inspired me to trust you."
"Please, Sam? It would help just knowing there's someone else here." God, why did he have to turn those sad eyes on her? Did he already know it was her weakness?
"Don't you know. . . I mean isn't there someone who you could . . . ."
"There's no one. I've been here at Eglin for a while, but as you can imagine, I'm not the most popular guy around. Please?"
His pleading was beginning to wear her down. Good, Lord! What would her father say if he found out she spent her first night home with some guy she just met and he'd just warned her about? Well, she kept telling him she could make her own decisions, her own choices. So, if she chose to help this guy out, what business was it of his?
"All right, but you're in there," she said, pointing to his bedroom, "and I'm out here. Deal?"
"Deal. I'll get you something dry to put on and some blankets."
Sam sat down at the table, cradling her head as Jonas left the room. What in the hell had she gotten herself into?
*********
Sam woke to the sound of retching and listening to the noise, she felt the urge to do so herself. She'd never handled her room mate's "morning afters" very well, and today was no exception. Wait a second. She didn't have a room mate. She was in Florida, at her father's base. Opening her eyes she saw a strange living room, which wasn't so odd since she was assigned to temp quarters, but this room looked definitely lived in. Suddenly it all came back to her as she looked down at the unfamiliar blankets and couch. Jonas.
Sam ran a hand through her short hair, remembering how she'd ended up wearing a strange man's clothes and waking up in his house. Before either had changed, she made him call the base police and file his report. She wasn't about to greet MPs dressed in this man's clothes, especially when there was a chance they'd recognize her as General Carter's daughter. It was bad enough she was involved in this mess on some level; she didn't need to add to the rumor mill by appearing to be intimate with him.
Fortunately, there were no questions other than those pertaining to the accident, and the MPs left as soon as they'd filled out their account. Jonas had wordlessly supplied the offered clothing, then changed himself. While she was in the bathroom hanging up her sodden uniform, Sam had heard the sound of clinking glass. She didn't have to wonder what the sound was. How often had she heard the sound in her life? She wouldn't class her father as an alcoholic, but since her mother had died, Jacob Carter had increasingly turned to the bottle for companionship.
Sam remembered how she and Mark had gauged the severity of their father's missions by the number of times the glass was filled. They had a code of sorts, ranging from a "one glass" assignment to a "seven glass" one. From the sound of things, Jonas was going for a record full bottle.
Once she'd rejoined him in the kitchen, Sam helped herself to a tumbler of whiskey, hoping it would help her warm up. Silently, she listened as Jonas recounted tales of his missions, realizing no platitudes she could speak would take away his pain. The best she could do was lend an ear and wait until he'd talked himself out.
The bottle was nearly empty when she helped him to his bed. He was so out of it, he didn't even try to change their agreement on the sleeping arrangements, for which she was grateful.
Now, she wasn't feeling so grateful. She dreaded facing him, hung-over and no doubt embarrassed. That was if he even remembered the events of the night before. Sam didn't have much time to collect her thoughts before Jonas emerged from the bathroom, rubbing hands over his pale, scruffy face. Clutching the blankets to her chest, Sam sat on the couch watching him move to the refrigerator and remove a soda. She watched in fascination as he downed the can in one long gulp. Jonas belched, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Behold the glory that is man," Sam quipped, causing Jonas to whip around at the sound of her voice. His eyes grew wide for a moment, then he relaxed.
"I forgot you were here," he said.
"Yeah, my clothes hanging all over your bathroom weren't much of a clue, were they?"
"I think I was too busy looking down to notice."
"Um, yeah. I heard that. Are you okay?"
"I will be after about two or three more of these," he said, holding up the can of Mountain Dew.
"Ugh. Reminds me of high school," she said.
"*You* were hung-over in high school?"
"There are other reasons for wanting a jump-start other than alcohol," she said. "Besides you have no idea what I was like in high school."
Jonas took a seat at his kitchen table and looked into the living room at her. "I'd say either a hell-raiser or the kid who sat at the front of the class with an answer for everything, and loved to prove the teacher wrong."
"How do you know I wasn't both?" she smiled.
Jonas' eyebrows raised for a moment then resumed their normal position. "I guess I don't."
"Well, I was neither, actually," she said looking down. "I was the quiet kid who sat in the middle. The one you never would have noticed."
Jonas stared at her. "Oh, I think I would have noticed you."
Sam felt uncomfortable with his words, speechless and suddenly unsure of where to look.
"You don't take compliments very well, do you, Captain?" Jonas said, a slight grin coming to his lips. Sam searched for some snappy comeback, but her mind was drawing a blank. Jonas stood, heading to the refrigerator once more. "I'm sorry I dumped all that shit on you last night. Not exactly an ideal first date."
Sam found her voice again. "Well, since it wasn't a date in any sense of the word, I guess it doesn't matter if it was ideal or not."
"I suppose not," he said, sounding a little sad. Now why the hell did she have to sound so waspish? He was trying to be civil and she was being bitchy!
"Look, Jonas, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I think maybe I just better get my things and go." Sam stood, starting to fold the blankets.
"Leave them," he said. "I'll get them later."
She was about to argue when she thought better of it. The sooner she was dressed and out of there, the greater her chances were she'd leave with some amount of dignity still intact.
Crossing before Jonas to get to the bathroom, he smiled at her. "Hey, Generalette, that T-shirt looks a hell of a lot better on you than it does me."
Sam felt herself growing embarrassed once more and quickly ducked into the bathroom. Just her luck out of the few things he remembered, that horrid nick-name had to be one of them.
Sam pulled on her blouse, disappointed her skirt and jacket were still damp. They were mis-shaped from the rain, and the clothing hung askew on her body. There wasn't much she could do about it, but she didn't appreciate the fact she looked like the one who'd gone on a bender. Maybe if she had her uniform dry cleaned. . . .
"Generalette? You just about done in there? I think I need. . . ."
Before Sam could exit the bathroom, she heard the sounds of Jonas vomiting again. Peeking out the door, she saw him leaning over the kitchen sink. It was a disgusting thought, but she guessed it was better than using the floor or a garbage can.
"Um, the bathroom's free," she said, stepping into the kitchen.
Jonas gave a little cough before spitting into the sink "Thanks, but you're a little too late." He ran the water, splashing his face and taking a drink from his hand before rinsing the basin. "I'm really sorry about this," he said. "Usually, I at least sleep with a woman before she sees this side of me."
Sam couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. "Then I *do* feel honored. And don't feel so special. I've seen worse."
Jonas accepted the towel she handed him, burying his face in the terry cloth. "God, I hope that's the last of it."
He looked so pathetic, Sam couldn't help but be moved. It reminded her of the times when Mark would come home from college and she had to "straighten him up" before their father ran into him. "Go lay down," she ordered, pushing him toward the sofa.
"It's okay, really I'll just. . ."
"You'll just lay down. You're white as a ghost." Immediately, she regretted her words, knowing they'd remind him of the friend who'd just died. Quickly changing the subject, she opened his refrigerator, searching for some juice. There was the remains of a twelve pack of beer, and a twelve pack of Mountain Dew.
"Ah, night time pain reliever and day time pain reliever," she commented to herself as she looked for something remotely healthy. "Jonas? Don't you have any juice?"
"There might be some in the freezer," he said, words slurred because his hands covered his face. Opening the door, Sam found one lone can amongst the glacier of built-up frost.
Without asking permission, Sam rifled through his cupboards, looking for a pitcher. Finally, when she was about to give up, she spotted a battered, half microwave-melted container. She smiled to herself, thinking what a typical bachelor he was. In a way, it was a bit comforting to discover he was a regular guy. Even the display she'd been witness to earlier was reassuring in it's own fashion. It usually wasn't at this stage you saw how a person really lived. She highly doubted Philip would have been caught dead puking in front of her! Again, Sam felt herself smile, thinking what polar opposites the two men she'd met last night were.
Retrieving what looked like a relatively clean glass, Sam returned to the living room with the pitcher of juice. "Sit up and drink this," she said, thrusting the glass in front of his face.
"Thanks, but I really don't think I could keep it down," he said, turning his face from her.
"It'll make you feel better, trust me."
Opening his eyes, Jonas stared at her. "You always this pleasant in the morning?"
"Always."
"Good thing we didn't sleep together then, isn't it?"
"You have no idea," she felt herself starting to grin.
Sitting up, Jonas took the glass and took a tentative sip. "Okay?"
"Drink it all," she demanded. Sighing, Jonas downed the orange juice in one swallow.
"Do I get a gold star next to my name now?"
"Yes, you were a very good boy," she said taking the glass from him, placing it next to the pitcher on the floor. "You really should drink the rest of that," she said, indicating the juice.
"I'll see what I can do," he said, laying down once more. There was an awkward silence, as Sam glanced at a clock, noticing it was 0900.
"Ohmigod! I had no idea it was so late! I'm supposed to meet my father for breakfast at 1000!" Sam began rushing around, looking for any items she may have left. "Have you seen my shoes?"
"Under the table?" Jonas suggested. Sam ducked her head but didn't see any shoes. How could it have gotten so late? And why couldn't she find her damn shoes? Looking back out into the living room, she spotted them under the coffee table. She didn't recall placing them there, but she'd been pretty wiped out by the time she'd laid down. Practically running, Sam snatched her shoes out from under the chipped Formica coffee table. She couldn't believe she was late and she was noticing cheap military-issue furniture! Hopping from one foot to the next, she slid on her pumps.
"Hey, it's been fun," Jonas said, starting to rise from the couch.
"Yeah, best night I've had on this base," she smiled. Jonas started to get to his feet but Sam stopped him. "That's okay, I think I can find my way out. I guess I'll see you around, huh?"
"Probably not."
Sam was about to question his statement, but she was in too late to ask him what he meant. "Um, I really have to get going," she said, inching toward the door. "Bye, Jonas."
*********
Sam rushed in the door of the Officer's Club, searching the room for her father. She saw him near the back of the nearly deserted dining room, looking none too happy. His mood didn't seem to change when he spotter her, either.
Walking quickly to the table, Sam had an apology ready, but Jacob cut her off before she could even begin to explain.
"You're late. I would think having been in the service as long as you have, you'd know the meaning of punctuality."
"I know, Dad, and I'm sorry, but. . ."
"Sit down. We need to order before they start serving lunch."
Sam bit off her explanation and quietly slid into her chair. Where was the proud man who'd shown her off to the entire base and his friends? It wasn't like she was *that* late!
"Dad," she began.
"No, Sam. I have obligations and you being late will now cause *me* to be late."
"Fine," Sam said, standing and throwing her napkin on the table. "I'm terribly sorry I couldn't find the Officer's Club and have caused you to be late. General Carter, Sir!" She snapped off a salute, turning to leave.
Jacob grabbed her wrist. "Sit down, Sam. You're making a spectacle of yourself."
Sam looked around the room, noting she was indeed attracting some unwanted attention. Taking her seat once more, she noticed her father had tossed a report on the table.
"Are you sure this isn't the reason you're late?" he asked.
Sam looked at the name on the top of the report and swallowed. Looking slightly further down the page, she saw her own name.
"Did you think I wouldn't see this?" Jacob said, picking up the file, practically shaking it at her. "Jonas Hansen? Christ, Sam, I thought you were smarter than that. Especially after I warned you about him!"
Before she could answer, a waiter arrived with water, taking their order. Sam took a sip to relieve her suddenly dry mouth. "Dad, it's not what you're thinking."
"Oh? And what do you think I'm thinking?"
"You think I sle. . .spent the night with him." There was a silence as he waited for her to continue.
"Didn't you? I tried calling you last night. Make sure you made it to your quarters okay."
Sam paled. "You don't have to check up on me you know!"
"Apparently I do!"
Sam lowered her voice, hoping her father would take the hint. "He was upset, Dad. The last man of his unit died yesterday from battle wounds, and he was a friend. All I did was talk to him. Same as I would do for anyone in that kind of pain."
Jacob sat back in his seat, slightly calmer than he was a moment ago. "I guess I can't fault you for caring."
"I slept on the couch, and he was in his bedroom," Sam said, hoping to lay his fears to rest.
"Why did you have to stay at all?"
"It was late, I was tired," she shrugged. "It made sense at the time."
Jacob placed his hand over Sam's, causing her to meet his gaze. "Sammie, I'm not trying to run your life, as much as you might think. It's just that I've seen men like Jonas before. They're charming, they're needy, and you have the need to give. His like a stray puppy, and I don't have to remind you how many of *those* you brought home!" Sam looked away, knowing her father knew her a little too well. "Sam, all I'm saying is be careful. Jonas Hansen is trouble with a capital "T." I just don't want to see you get hurt."
Sam looked down and nodded. She knew her father was right. Hell, she'd spotted Jonas as bad news at the party, or else she wouldn't have been so rude him. Lifting her eyes to her father once more, she added,
"I know, Dad. I don't think you have to worry. Jonas seemed pretty embarrassed he'd spilled his guts to me. I doubt I'll be seeing him again. Besides, my leave is over in two weeks and then I'll be in Colorado. I would think that would be far enough away," she teased.
"Well, far enough away from Hansen, but a little too far for me. I don't see you enough."
"Yeah, but as you've told me on countless occasions, Peterson is where I need to be to get where I'm going. Besides, I have to finish my thesis for my doctorate. I'd have it if it wasn't for the Gulf War."
"You sure you're going to be able to handle all of that? Your assignment and school?"
"I did it before."
"Yeah, but now you're a captain. You're going to have more responsibilities."
"I'll make it work, Dad. If I don't get my Ph.D. in quantum mechanics, NASA won't take a second look at me," she said placing her hand over his, squeezing gently. "No matter who my father is!"
Once most of the tension had been diffused, they continued to talk amiably throughout their meal. It had always been like that, Sam realized. Well, since her mother died anyway. Her father would start out with an accusation that usually ended up being his concern for her. Why they had to fight before they got to that point was beyond her, but it was the way they were. Even Mark, although, he was slower to forgive than she was. Sam wondered if he realized how like his father he was.
Sam and Jacob stood outside the Officer's Club as he checked his watch. "Honey, I know I promised you a tour of the base, but I really have to get to that meeting with Colonel Fischer. I'm going to have Philip take you."
"Dad, it's not necessary! I can find my way around!"
"No arguments! This way, the next time I invite you for a meal, I expect you to be on time!" he smiled at her. Sam knew it was her father's way of match-making again, but after just getting back into his good graces, she didn't think she should push another fight with him.
"Fine. How about I come with you to your office and we can start from there?"
"Sounds good. I'm sure Philip would love to show you around," he said as he escorted her to his car.
*And I'm sure he'd love to do anything *you'd* like him to do!* Sam thought to herself.
*********
Sam tried to concentrate on what Philip was telling her about Eglin Air Force Base, but found her mind wandering. Basically, it was like all the bases she'd been to, just set up a little differently. And she'd been to many of them. Mostly because of her father's postings rather than her own.
Philip was droning on about the military history of the area when he must have seen how bored she was.
". . .And this is where the Great Kazoo met Fred Flintstone and we made our first interstellar contact." Sam looked up then and Philip smiled.
"Gee, and I didn't think you were listening."
"And I didn't know there was going to be a quiz at the end of the tour," she smiled back. "I'm sorry, Philip, but this excursion was more my father's idea than mine. You've seen one Air Force base, you've seen them all."
"Now, that's not necessarily true," he said.
"Okay, so this is one of the largest bases and it's warmer here than in Alaska. Look, Philip, I appreciate the fact you've gone out of your way to do this for my father, and me, of course, but it's really not really what I want to see."
"And what did you want to see?"
"Oh, I don't know. What's town like? I mean I just got back in the States. I don't really want to spend my leave on a base that could be anywhere."
"Tell you what, how about I take you to dinner tonight and I'll show you the finer points of Valparaiso?"
Now she'd done it. She was trying to find a reason to excuse herself from his attention, and she'd practically asked him to take her out. "Um, that would be nice, except, I. . . ."
"Oh, come on, Samantha! It'll be fun! I should have thought of it sooner! We can go for dinner, maybe some dancing?"
She had to admit, it sounded like fun. More fun than she'd had lately, at any rate. The only trouble was who she'd have to spend time with. What was the big deal? It wasn't like she was making a commitment! And like she'd told her father earlier--she'd be leaving soon anyway.
"Sounds great, Philip. Thanks for the offer," she said, hoping she appeared more sincere than she felt.
"Great! I'll pick you up at 2000?"
"Fine." Sam hesitated a moment then added. "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to head back to my quarters. No offense, but I think I've seen enough."
"Of course I don't mind! I'll give you a lift, then I'll know for sure where to pick you up."
Sam nodded in agreement, wondering how long it was going to take from the time Philip dropped her off until her father knew they had plans for the evening.
*********
Walking Sam to her door, Philip noticed a box waiting by the entrance. It was obviously a flower box, and Sam picked it up, staring at it with confusion. It was addressed to her, but she couldn't figure out who would send her flowers. At first she thought it was Philip, after all, he was the one to notice the package. Plus he'd insisted on driving her back. Maybe he wanted to be present to see her reaction to his gift.
"So, you already have a secret admirer I have to worry about?" Philip joked, looking as if he was waiting for her to open the box and see who they were from.
"Don't be ridiculous," Sam said, looking for any sign on the outside of the box who they might be from. "They're probably from my father," she said, knowing there was no way Jacob Carter would ever waste the money on something so frivolous.
"Aren't you going to open them?" Philip asked.
Sam juggled the box, digging into her pants pocket searching for a key. "I think I'll just wait until I'm inside," she smiled weakly at him. She wasn't about to let him see her response in case he was playing dumb and he *was* the sender of the gift. Maybe she'd ruined his surprise, but she didn't want to have to pretend to be impressed.
"Okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. See you later?"
"Yeah," Sam replied, still a bit distracted by her mystery present. She entered her room, staring at the box. She wasn't sure she wanted to open it. No one had ever sent her flowers. No one. Not even when she was in high school and she should have gone to the prom. Her father had been in the process of transferring bases, and two weeks before the Junior Prom, they moved.
Not that she would have had a date anyway. They hadn't been at the last base long enough for her to make friends, let alone get to know a boy well enough for him to ask her to the dance. She'd tried to rationalize it was for the best, that she'd been spared the pain of parting from a boyfriend when she moved. Somehow, all the "logical" reasons there were for not caring about the prom didn't matter when she'd missed an important part of her youth.
"Just open the damn box, Sam!" she said aloud. Placing it on the bed, Sam removed the ribbon securing the top and pulled off the upper box. Opening the tissue, she revealed a bouquet of wildflowers which took her breath away. The gift wasn't overly romantic as roses would have been, and yet the gesture was so sweet, she felt tears coming to her eyes. Searching through the paper, she finally found a card with a single word on it: Thanks.
Sam sat down on the bed next to the box in total shock. There was no name, but she didn't need one. She couldn't believe Jonas could be so thoughtful, or romantic. This certainly wasn't the same man who baited her all evening with snide comments, calling her "Generalette," or the guy who was barfing in his sink this morning. So which one was the real Jonas? The guy her father warned her once again was trouble? Or this man, the one who already seemed to know how to get to her heart?
Okay, she was getting *way* ahead of herself here. The majority of the time she'd been with Jonas she'd been irritated, taking his sarcastic comments and firing them back at him. There wasn't one thing about the man she found attractive. Well, maybe aside from the physical. His slightly unruly sandy hair and scruffy beard *did* remind her of a stray, especially after the reference her father had made. That didn't mean she was attracted to him. In fact, if she stuck with the "stray" analogy, he was like a dog who'd been mistreated--all teeth and unapproachable. So, maybe he'd let down his guard enough for her to touch him, but that didn't mean he was going to make a good pet.
Sam laughed, and shook her head. "Maybe I should start calling him 'Rover,'" Picking up the box of flowers, she momentarily thought about throwing them out. It would be the smartest move she could make, but she just couldn't do it. No matter what the reason, Jonas was making an attempt to be civil, and perhaps apologize. She couldn't just spit in his face by tossing out his gift. Why in the hell did this have to happen now? She was only thirteen days from her new assignment. Did anything ever go right in her life?
*********
The atmosphere of the restaurant was definitely aimed at romance. From the subdued lighting and soft music playing in the back ground, to the candles on the tables, everything seemed to project intimacy, and it was making Sam uncomfortable. Not that the food wasn't good--it was excellent--but the whole night was turning out to be more of a "date" than she'd planned. And the worst of it was, she couldn't get her mind off Jonas.
She'd lost track of how many times she'd been distracted from what Philip was saying because she was mentally recounting her night with Jonas. Philip was telling her about his air-strike in Iraq, which in turn led Sam to remember how upset Jonas had been when his own mission had ended in failure. It was no one's fault, really, just that the enemy was more prepared than anyone had thought. Listening to Philip brag about his exploits only seemed to underscore how little he'd seen of the dark side of the war. Something she did have in common with Jonas.
"I was lucky," Philip said, pouring more wine into her glass. "I didn't get involved until the tail end, and then it was only the one mission. You saw a lot more action than I did."
Sam was silent for a moment, then lifted her glass to her lips, taking a sip. "Yeah, I did." She was kind of hoping he'd ask her about it. Not so much that she felt the need to get anything off her chest, but it would have been nice if he'd shown some interest in listening to her for a change.
The waitress came by with the check and as he handed her his credit card, Philip smiled. "So, Samantha, how about if we go work off a little of this dinner?"
Somehow the thought of spending any more time with him was the last thing she wanted. "Philip, would you mind terribly if we didn't go dancing? I don't know where this headache came from, but I don't think hitting the dance floor is going to make it go away."
Philip actually looked disappointed, and for a moment Sam felt guilty about her lie. "It must be the wine," she said. I'm not used to drinking, and with the party last night. . . ."
"I understand," he said. Then he shook a finger at her. "But I'm holding you to a night out before you head to Colorado Springs!"
Sam just smiled weakly. Maybe something would come up that he'd be too busy before she left.
The drive back to the base was quiet, with only the minimum of conversation. "I'm sorry I've been such a downer this evening," Sam apologized.
"You haven't at all," Philip answered a little too quickly. No doubt he'd planned on getting lucky that evening and he was trying to show he wasn't disappointed.
"It's just taking me a little longer to get used to things than I thought. It's weird, I wasn't in Saudi all that long; you wouldn't think it would be that difficult to get acclimated again."
"Seeing death, poverty, the utter despair most of the people there live in is bound to have an effect on you, Samantha."
Sam looked over at Philip. It was one of the first genuinely "caring" statement she'd heard from him. Perhaps she'd misjudged him.
"But you have to put that behind you. You're home now. You can forget all about it."
Sam felt her temper flare. "Forget about it? How can we just forget about it? We go in there like gang-busters, bomb the hell out of these countries and then we're supposed to just come home and act like there's nothing wrong? You maybe got to have this 'glory run' of a mission where you come out looking like a hero, but the majority of the people who were there don't have that luxury. We have to deal with what we did and what we saw, and I'm sorry, but one nice Italian dinner isn't going to make me forget!"
Philip was speechless, whether from her outburst or her views of the war, Sam didn't know, but she didn't care. This guy was as big of a pompous ass as she'd first thought. Fortunately, they were close to her quarters and they didn't have to try to fill the uncomfortable silence with useless conversation.
The car had barely come to a halt when Sam had her hand on the handle and was stepping out. Leaning back in the car to grab her purse she said, "Thank you for a lovely dinner. I'm sorry things didn't work out." She was about to slam the door when Philip cried,
"Wait! Samantha! Can't we talk about this?" Shoving the car into "park," he jumped out his door and came around to meet her. "Look, obviously we have a differing opinion on what happened over there, but does that mean we can't work things out?"
"What *things* do you want to work out, Philip? I'm leaving in a little less than two weeks. Why do you even care if we come to some sort of agreement?"
"Well, Samantha, I was hoping maybe we'd keep in touch, once you're settled. I know it's far way away, but people have long distance relationships all the time."
Sam gaped at him. "Philip, we've had *one* pseudo date! Don't you think you're rushing things just a bit?"
"Maybe, but I like you, Samantha. I know if given the chance you'd like me too. Your father does."
There it was. Her father's little hand-picked choice for a mate. What did her father promise him if he should succeed in wooing his daughter? A promotion? Cushy job? The whole idea made her sick. Just the thought her father felt he had to find her a husband made her ill. Wasn't she a good enough person that she could find a man on her own? If indeed that's what she wanted?
Sam's voice was quiet and controlled as she spoke to Philip. "Then perhaps you should see about dating him. I'm sorry you're little plan to win the General's daughter didn't work, but I'm sure you'll get over it. There are a lot of officers on this base. No doubt they have daughters who can get you what you want. Good night, Major Tarkin." With that Sam turned and stalked off to her quarters, leaving Philip completely at a loss for words.
*********
Sam couldn't calm down. God, he'd had some nerve! If there was one thing she couldn't stand it was being manipulated. Her father excelled it and now Philip thought he'd try his hand as well! She was pacing around her room, walking in circles at the end of the bed. She needed to walk where she could move. She didn't care where, she just needed to get out of the confines of her room. Quickly changing into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she slid on a pair of sneakers, tying them as she headed for the door.
She had no particular destination in mind, but soon found herself retracing the steps she'd taken that morning when she'd left Jonas'.
*Why are you going over there?* she asked herself as she lengthened her stride. She was still angry and walking as fast as she could was helping to burn off some of the adrenaline.
*I just want to thank him for the flowers,* she told herself. *If he wanted to be thanked, don't you think he would have signed the card?*
"He's just going to deny he sent them," she said aloud, stopping a half a block from his house. This was absurd! Why did she want to subject herself to his biting comments again? Hadn't her night been bad enough? Besides, it was getting close to midnight. He was probably asleep, or drunk or both.
She started to turn when she noticed a light come on in his kitchen. Okay, so he was up. What was her attraction to this guy, anyway? Just because her father didn't like him? Well, at the moment it seemed like reason enough. Gathering her courage, she walked the short distance and knocked on his door.
"Who is it!" she heard him yell.
Sam started to leave, then stopped on the last step, turning, she called out, "it's Sam!" When he didn't answer, she added, "Sam Carter?"
Suddenly the door flew open. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Taken aback, Sam retreated a step. "Um, well, I was out for a walk and I kind of just ended up here. I wanted to see if you were okay."
"I'm fine. Why would you think I wouldn't be?"
"You weren't looking too hot when I left you this morning."
"That? I hate to disappoint you, Generalette, but that was nothing."
"I guess I was lucky then."
"You have no idea," he almost smiled, quoting her from that morning. They stood there, him inside the screen door, her on the porch, for what seemed ages.
"Well, I guess I'll be going then. Sorry if I bothered you." Sam turned to leave and was halfway across the street when she heard an aluminum screen door slam and the sound of running feet.
"Where you headed, Generalette?"
"I'm just going to finish my walk," she said, picking up her pace. Jonas matched her stride, keeping up with her.
"I don't recall inviting you along," she said.
"And I don't recall asking you to stop over and see if I needed my hand held again."
Sam stopped, placing her hands on her hips. "I wasn't checking up on you. I. . . ."
"What?" he asked, turning and walking back to her. "You were what?"
Sam looked down at the sidewalk. "I guess I was looking for someone to talk to." she glanced up at him, a sheepish look on her face. "I thought maybe you could be my sounding board tonight." Jonas didn't say anything for a long time, and Sam felt herself growing angry again. Only this time it was with herself for letting her guard down long enough for this man hurt her. She turned to walk away, but as she did, she felt a hand on her arm.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go to the beach."
*********
The full moon reflecting off the low surf was breathtaking, and just seeing it, made Sam feel better.
"I like to come here at night the best," Jonas confessed. "It's usually deserted and there's just something about the gulf at night."
Sam had to agree, she was already feeling the tension drain from her body. They walked in silence, but it was a comfortable one. She could tell Jonas was waiting for her to say something, but now, it seemed trivial, almost juvenile to have gotten so upset.
"So, what crisis could Daddy's Little Girl be in that he can't fix?"
Sam turned and slapped him in the face so hard, Jonas took a step back. "God, you really are a bastard!" she yelled. "I thought maybe after listening to you last night you might be able to return the favor, but I guess you're just a little too self-absorbed, aren't you?" Sam started running down the beach, but he quickly caught up with her.
"What the hell was *that* all about?"
Sam wiped at an errant tear. She was not about to break down in front of this asshole!
"Look, Sam, I'm sorry! I was just kidding!"
She looked up at him then. It was the first time he'd called her by her name. "I know you think you're being funny and cute when you call me 'Daddy's Little Girl,' or 'Generalette,' but you have no idea what my life has been like!" Sam took a breath and practically whispered, "and I'm not going to tell you because it's going to sound like I'm some whiny teenager. So, let's just forget I said anything. And I'm sorry I slapped you. I kind of have a tendency react first, and think later."
"I was acting like a jerk, so I'd say I got what I deserved." When she didn't respond, he continued. "If you ask any of my shrinks and yes, I meant that to be plural, they'll tell you it's a defense mechanism." He shrugged his shoulders. "So sue me."
Oddly enough Sam found herself smiling. "We're both so busy pushing the other away, it's amazing we're still standing here."
"So tell me, already."
Sam sat down on the damp sand, and Jonas followed suit. Taking a deep breath she started. "It's not any one thing, really. I'm just so tired of people manipulating me, and I guess the head of that list would be my father." She felt a little traitorous talking about him this way, but he *was* at the heart of her problems. "I love my Dad, I really do, but I wish he'd stop treating me like a child! Christ, even last night he's calling me his 'baby girl!' And that party! Talk about embarrassing! To be trotted out in front of not only a good portion of the brass, but my new C.O. as well! Dad's the one who got me into Peterson AFB," she confided.
"Hey, if I had someone who could pull some strings, I'd take advantage of it," he said.
"But that's the point! I *didn't* ask him to get me in! Sure, it's the next logical step in my career, but I wanted to make it on my own merits, not because my father played golf with General Moorman back in '72! And then there's Philip," she said, shaking her head.
"Philip?"
"Major Tarkin," she clarified.
"Oh, Dadd--your father's right-hand man. I saw you dancing with him last night."
"Yeah, at my father's 'request.' Plus, Dad arranged to be busy so Philip ended up giving me a tour of the base. I guess I can't really blame Dad for ending up going on a date with him, though."
"Oh?" Jonas asked, sounding surprised. "You were out with him tonight? By any chance is he the reason you showed up on my doorstep, ready to chew nails?"
Sam grinned. It was a pretty apt description. "It started out okay, but as the night wore on, I just couldn't take his boasting, and his attitude about our involvement in the war." Sam didn't want to admit to Jonas he also played a part in sidetracking her thoughts. She didn't understand herself why she felt drawn to him. Especially when he'd aggravated her so much the night before.
"Well, isn't that amazing," Jonas said, reaching down to take a handful of sand.
Sam turned to look at him. "Why do you say that? Do you know him?"
"No, not personally, but I've had 'encounters' with his kind before. He comes in, has one easy run that gets publicized because it looks like this war was a cake walk for America. So, he comes out looking like a hero. You never get to hear about the guys who didn't make it because they had faulty intelligence." Jonas turned away from her, angrily throwing the handful of sand held. Sam put her hand on his arm.
"I know," she said quietly. "I couldn't just sit there and let him ramble on about how now we can forget all about our involvement like all we'd done was bust up a school yard fight."
"You let him have it?" Jonas smiled.
"Oh, yeah. I'm sure I'm going to hear all about it from my father tomorrow."
"Not necessarily," Jonas said. You might have embarrassed him enough that he'll keep his mouth shut. I doubt he wants it all over the base how you put him in his place."
"And don't you be the one starting that rumor!" Sam said, poking him in the chest.
Jonas' face was the picture of innocence. "Me?, why Generalette, I'm surprised you'd even think such a thing!"
"Well, I can't claim I know you well, but I know you'd love to have a crack at Tarkin and his kind as much as I did." Sam found she didn't want to talk about Philip anymore. "You care if we change the subject?"
Jonas was a bit surprised by her sudden switch. "Uh, sure."
Sam stood, brushing the sand off her jeans, offering him a hand up. "Let's walk some more." They wandered for a time before Jonas broke the silence.
"Something else on your mind?"
Sam looked over at him, then looked out at the water. She wasn't sure how to bring it up, so she just blurted it out. "Jonas, what did you mean this morning when I said I'd see you around and you said 'probably not?'"
Jonas' eyebrows raised, and he blew out a breath, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, nothing I guess."
"Come on. Tell me."
"I guess I meant that Daddy would find you better people to play with, and he did."
Sam snorted. "Yeah, right." They walked a little further, then Sam stopped. "I don't think that's what you meant."
"Look, Generalette, I think I know what I meant!"
"You were thinking about killing yourself, weren't you?"
Jonas looked away. "Why would I do that?"
"Well, for one thing, the last man of your team died yesterday. And on top of it he was your friend. And you weren't there with him."
"Thanks for reminding me," he said, kicking at the sand.
Sam put her hand on his arm again. "Jonas, I'm not trying to upset you. I just want the truth." She watched him look out at the sea once more, blinking away tears.
"I was their leader, for Christ's sake! I'm the one who ordered them to their deaths! It's not right I should be the one left alive!"
"So, by killing yourself you'll bring them back?"
"No, but at least we'll all be together. Well, maybe not. I'll be in Hell. Can't be any worse than here, right?" He gave her a weak smile, then ducked his head. "I shouldn't be laying all this on you. You already paid your dues listening to me whine last night."
"I didn't listen to you whine," Sam said, her voice thick with unshed tears. She couldn't imagine what he must be going through. It was bad enough when members of her unit had died and she hadn't really known them. She couldn't fathom the despair she'd feel if they'd been friends.
Jonas started to move away from her, but before he could leave, Sam found herself winding her arms around him. It took a moment, but Jonas eventually wound his arms around her as well, almost crushing her.
"Don't kill yourself, Jonas. You really feel you owe them something? Then live. Remember them and the sacrifice they made." Sam felt him pull her even closer. She couldn't hear him crying, but her shoulder was getting wet. After a few minutes, Jonas pulled back, hastily wiping at his eyes.
"Some tough guy, huh?" he tried to joke.
"Tough as they come," she smiled. "Walk me back?" Sam took his hand, as they walked silently though the streets of the base. Upon reaching her door, she turned to him,
"Thanks for listening to me bitch," Sam grinned. "I feel a lot better."
"I think I still owe you one," he said.
"Oh, I don't know. I got something today that makes us even," she smiled, not wanting to embarrass him further by thanking him specifically for the flowers.
"Sam, I'm sorry I was such an asshole when we met, and well, I guess I was tonight, too."
Sam put her fingers on his lips. "It's okay. I wasn't very nice to you either." She was staring into his eyes, and for a moment the world disappeared. She wasn't sure who moved first, or if it was mutual, but she soon found herself kissing him. Her arms slid over his shoulders as his arms slipped around her waist. It wasn't erotic, or mind-blowing, just. . .sweet, with a promise of things to come.
Jonas pulled away and smiled at her. "Thanks, Sam. I'll see you."
She watched him walk away into the night, pools of streetlight illuminating him every block or so. At least with this parting statement, she felt a little more confident. Sam was fairly sure he'd put the idea of suicide off. For now, anyway.
*********
Rolling onto her side, Sam noticing the sun streaming in the front window of her quarters. She was surprised she'd slept at all, let alone so late. Returning to her position on her back, she ran a hand through her hair. What the hell was wrong with her even *considering* Jonas? She'd spent half the night fantasizing about him, and the other half berating herself for even thinking of seeing him again. She was this close to her Ph.D. How could she be so smart and so stupid at the same time? *Because you didn't learn love, or attraction, or need out of a book,* she thought to herself. If she had, she'd recognize the danger signs instead of glossing over them, rationalizing her behavior until it fit what she wanted to believe.
Yes, Jonas was messed up, but all he needed was someone to care, right? Someone who would truly listen to him, be there for him. Wasn't that what she was good at? Taking care of the walking wounded? Look at her father. She may have been a teenager when her mother died, but who was the one who picked up the pieces and kept their family together? Who ran interference between her father and her brother when they fought? Who held her father's hand when he became maudlin and told him everything was going to be all right? Her father might tease her about ministering to strays, but she learned her lessons at home, when her father was the first stray she tried to heal.
Well, she wasn't going to pursue Jonas. If he wanted to see her, that was one thing. She'd just told her father she didn't want to get involved with anyone when she was leaving in two weeks. That was just as true for Jonas, as it was for Philip.
Rolling out of bed, Sam grabbed her shower kit and headed to the bathroom. As she passed the entrance to her room, she noticed a folded piece of paper had been shoved under the door. Opening it, she read:
Meet me at the hangers at 0930. If you don't come, I'll understand.
Again, the note wasn't signed, but Sam didn't have to wonder who'd sent it. Glancing at the clock, she saw she'd have to hurry if she was going to shower and make it on time. Was she going to go? Biting her lip she looked at the note again. He said he'd understand. Would he? And why did she care if he *did* understand or not? She could always say she didn't know who the note was from since it was unsigned. But he knew she'd realize who'd left it, otherwise he *would* have signed it.
Sam remained immobile as she contemplated the note. It wasn't like she had anything else to do. She was sure she could find something to occupy her time, but the request to meet at the hangers meant something to do with flying. Although it hadn't been that long, she missed being in a plane. That decided for her. She might be nuts to see Jonas again, but she was going to have a good time going insane.
*********
It was surprisingly quiet in the hanger, but then most training flights were probably underway. A few repairmen haunted the expanse of the building, looking up when she passed by. Not wanting to attract any more attention than necessary, she'd worn her flight suit, hoping whatever Jonas had planned it wasn't against regulations.
"You made it!" a voice said brightly, coming from behind her. Turning, Sam was surprised by the man now before her.
"You shaved!" She said, surprised at how much it changed his appearance.
Jonas rubbed a hand over his now smooth cheek. "Yeah, it was time to get rid of 'hiatus face,'" he grinned. "So, what do you think?"
"Very handsome," she smiled, blushing at her frank appraisal of his new look. He *did* look good, she thought, and it wasn't just getting cleaned up. The dark circles under his eyes were beginning to fade, and his brown eyes seemed more alive than the day before.
"So!" she said, stuffing her hands into her jumpsuit pockets, "what's up?"
"We're going to be, actually." Sam gave him a quizzical look. "I have to take a flight test. Standard after a medical leave," he said looking down at his shoes.
"Yeah, I know," she said. "What's that got to do with me?"
"Well, I hoped you'd consent to be my navigator."
"Me? Why me? How'd you even know I was qualified?"
"I asked around," he said shyly.
Sam raised her eyebrows. "I suppose I should be flattered."
"But you're not?"
"Well, I find it a little disconcerting you could find out what I do on a strange base."
"Come on! Look who your father is!"
Sam smiled. "Okay. I guess you've got me there. So this is all legit? I mean neither of us is going to get into trouble over this, are we?"
"I checked it out. You've got plenty of flight time in from the Gulf. This'll be fun! Frankly, I'd feel better if you were at my back. And you *are* dressed for the occasion."
Damn, he could certainly be persuasive when he wanted! One flash of his smile and she felt herself crumble. "Okay! All right! I'll do it!"
"Great! I'll finalize things," he said, giving her one last grin.
Sam shook her head. He'd certainly seemed a changed man. Was this the same guy she'd witnessed yesterday? She was almost out to the runway when Jonas came jogging up behind her.
"Are you ready for this?"
"You tell me! I hope you're not still thinking of suicide and you're taking me with you!"
Jonas stopped and made her face him. "You don't really think that, do you?"
Sam shuffled her feet, then looked up at him. "Honestly? It did cross my mind. But then I figured if you were going to go out in a blaze of glory you would have stolen a plane, not gone through proper channels."
"You always this logical?"
Sam gave him a sheepish look. "Yeah, sorry."
"Hey, nothing to apologize for." Jonas stopped then, gripping her arms, staring her in the face. "Sam, I'm not going to tell you in one hour long walk on the beach you've done what months of therapy haven't been able to do. I *do* want you to know though, talking to you seemed to bring it all together. You're right about my men. Killing myself isn't going to bring them back. There's. . .there's this burning pit in my stomach whenever I think of them. I don't know that it's ever going to go away, but you've helped me see there's a chance. I need to get back in the saddle again if I'm going to make it through this."
His face was so earnest, Sam couldn't have said no to him if she tried. "Then let's go, Flyboy!"
They climbed into the cockpit, Sam taking her seat behind Jonas. "So how come you didn't go for being a pilot," he asked, strapping himself in.
"Too much work," she smiled.
"Somehow, I think you would have welcomed the challenge."
"I'm good with numbers, calculations. I know pilots need to be too, but I'm just better at this."
Conversation ended as they went through their pre-flight check. Sam was surprised how good it felt to be back in a plane again, and not as a passenger. When she left the Gulf, she thought if she never saw the inside of a cockpit again it would be too soon, but she'd missed this.
Cleared for take-off and taxing down the runway, Sam began to wonder if maybe she hadn't been a bit hasty in agreeing to navigate. After all, she'd never seen Jonas fly, and he seemed to be taking a rather aggressive approach.
*No need to try and impress me,* she thought as the plane sped up to escape Earth's gravity. Jonas' lift-off was practically text-book.
"Nice, Captain Hansen," she complimented him.
"Thank you, Captain Carter." Sam smiled at his use of her new rank. It sounded strange, but she was looking forward to getting used to it.
As they rose above the cloud level, Sam released a breath. "I don't think I could ever get tired of this, do you?"
"No, it's pretty damn amazing," he agreed. "Once you cross that barrier of clouds, it's almost like going to a whole new world." Jonas was silent for a moment, then he added, "you ever think about that, Sam? What it would be like to see another world?"
"All the time," she said. "Why do you think I'm trying so hard to get into NASA?"
"Yeah, but that won't happen in our lifetime," he sighed. "Going to other planets, I mean. *When* you get in you probably won't even get to go to the moon."
"You never know. I plan on having a *very* long career!"
A voice came over the radio, "okay, Captain Hansen, you appear to be in position. You can start your maneuvers. The on-board computer will record your actions. Good luck."
"Roger that," Jonas replied. Over his shoulder he called to Sam. "Hang on!"
Jonas guided the plane through a series of spins and turns Sam could have sworn were a bit tighter than they needed to be, but she remained silent. If he was trying to see how tough she was, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting sick.
His landing was a little rough, but still within acceptable parameters. Climbing down the ladder Sam felt exhilarated. Nothing got her blood going like flying. Apparently it had the same effect on Jonas as he swept her up, swinging her around.
"Whoo-hoo! Was that something or what! Not bad for a head case, huh?"
"Jonas! Put me down or they won't reinstate you!"
Jonas sobered as the flight instructor approached him with a form. "Good job, Captain Hansen. Take this to your C.O., and pending medical approval, looks like you're back in."
Jonas snapped to attention, giving the major a crisp salute. "Thank you, Sir!" As soon as the officer left, Jonas turned to Sam. "I get my final physical tomorrow, so I have the rest of the day free. You doing anything?"
"Actually, I should spend some time with my father. It *is* the reason I'm spending my leave here."
"Oh," Jonas said, obviously disappointed.
"How about dinner?" Sam offered.
"Picnic on the beach?"
"Sounds good. I'll bring the hot dogs," she smiled.
*********
The stars were just starting to come out as Sam and Jonas split the last hot dog.
"God, I'm full," Sam said, lying back on the sand. "I think that's more hot dogs than I've eaten my whole life!"
"Well, if you'd brought something else, you wouldn't have had to fill up on wieners," he teased.
"I guess I figured you'd bring something."
"I did," he said holding up the remains of a twelve-pack of beer.
"I was thinking of something a little more substantial," she smiled.
Jonas lay down next to her gazing up at the sky. "Well, we're both full, so I guess that's all that matters, right?"
"Mmmmm," she said twisting her head to look at the stars.
"Not quite as nice as your meal last night, I'm sure."
"No, this one was much better," she said. "At least the company is better."
"Aw, Generalette, you're going to make me blush."
"I was talking about the stars," she laughed, turning before he could grab her, but she wasn't quick enough. Or maybe she was purposely slow, hoping he'd catch her.
"I'll make you see stars," he said, closing the distance between them. Jonas' lips descended on hers and Sam stopped struggling, instead, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When they finally broke for air, she smiled,
"Oh yeah, there's a few more stars up there than there were a few minutes ago."
"That's just because it's getting darker," he teased before capturing her mouth once more. His kisses were growing more demanding and Sam knew they had to stop before things started getting of hand.
"Jonas, we have to stop," she breathed.
His hand was making it's way under her shirt as his lips moved down her neck. "Why," he muttered against her tender skin.
"Because I'm leaving soon," she sighed as his hand reached it's goal of her breast. His mouth was moving lower, in an attempt to join his hand.
"Then we better not waste any more time, " he said, nudging her blouse away to kiss her collar bone.
Sam sat up, pushing him away. "Jonas, I'm serious! I'm going to be half-way across the country, and I don't want to be thinking about someone I might see a couple a times a year!
"It's not a lifetime commitment, Sam," he said, reaching for her again.
"And I'm not interested in a one night stand."
"Well, by my calculations it would be a twelve-night stand."
Sam got to her feet, facing away from him. "That was a really shitty thing to say!" Her anger was getting the better of her again. She supposed she couldn't blame him for getting the wrong idea when moments before she'd had her tongue down his throat. Turning back to him, she said,
"Look, I didn't mean to lead you on or anything. I like you, Jonas, as surprising as that may be to both of us. I had a great time with you this morning and tonight, but I'm just not that casual when it comes to sex. It's not like I'm looking for the ring either, I just think it's important to know someone more than forty-eight hours before I sleep with them."
Jonas stood running a hand through his hair. "You're right, Sam. I'm sorry I pressured you. I guess I just got a little carried away. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? How blown away I am that you're even here with me?"
Sam was speechless. No one had ever told her she was beautiful. Although she could count her experiences with men on one hand, none had ever made her feel very attractive, not like Jonas did. The way he looked at her made her insides turn to Jello. So why was she pushing him away when he made her feel more special than anyone ever had?
"No one's ever said that to me before," she whispered, staring at the ground.
"I didn't mean to embarrass you," Jonas said. "but it's the truth." Sam looked up at him then, unsure what to say. "Come on," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I'll take you back to your quarters."
Once again the journey from the beach to her room was made in silence, neither wanting to say the wrong thing to break the fragile balance between them.
Upon reaching her door, Jonas removed his arm from her shoulders. "Okay if I give you a good night kiss?" he asked, seeming hesitant for the first time since she'd met him.
"You better," she said, taking a step closer to him. It started out chaste, but Sam pressed her tongue against his lips, asking for entrance to his mouth, which he eagerly granted. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his. "Stay," she said.
Jonas backed up, clearly confused by her mixed signals. "I don't understand. Ten minutes ago I was a bastard, and now you want me to spend the night?"
"I guess I freaked out a little. It's been a while," she confided.
Jonas held her at arms length. "Sam, you don't know how much I want to come in, but I don't want you to regret this tomorrow. You don't have to prove anything."
"I'm not. I don't want you to go," she said, this time looking him straight in the eye. Without another word, she took his hand and led him into her room.
*********
Sam woke with her head on a man's chest, and for a moment she panicked, wondering how he got into her bed. Then she smiled, remembering how he got into her bed. Fingers were twining in her short hair, causing her to look up.
"Good morning," Jonas said, working his hand through her hair to caress her neck.
"Yes, it is," she smiled, moving up his chest to kiss him.
Kissing her back, he asked, "no regrets?"
Sam pretended to look thoughtful for a moment. "Nope. None that I can think of. How about you?"
"Well, let me think," he said, placing an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. "I'm in bed with a beautiful blonde, whose father happens to be the C.O. of this base. A situation I can ultimately use to my advantage. No, I don't think I regret anything either."
Sam slapped his stomach. "That's awful!"
"Well, it's what you were thinking, right?"
"I guess," she said, playing with the hair on his chest, unable to look into his eyes.
"Sam, I knew if I didn't say it first it's what you'd think. Why can't you believe I'm here because I like you? That I'm incredibly attracted to you," he said, tipping her head up to look at him. "And that you're the sexiest damn navigator I've ever flown with," he smiled, angling his head to kiss her. Sam started to laugh, pulling away to take a breath.
"What's so funny?" he grinned at her.
"I'm just thinking about you in bed with the average navigator. And I guess when you think of it like that, I am quite a catch!"
Jonas flipped her over, pinning her to the bed. "You're quite a catch regardless," he said, lowering his lips to hers. "And I think it's time I reeled you in."
*********