Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Next in the 'Remedied' series, following on from Four Times Two. Feedback would be loved.
*
For the first time in weeks, he pulled on more than just a pair of boxer shorts.
For the first time in weeks, he shaved properly. This wasn't some brisk, cursory movement of the razor over his face; he took his time, turning his chin towards the mirror at different angles and eliminating every trace of facial hair.
For the first time in weeks he cared enough to look at his reflection, both surprised and not surprised at the darkness beneath his eyes.
He started the laundry. Well, her laundry - his was just boxer shorts.
They'd discussed the possibility of Sam taking some time off work (well, more than the time she'd been forced to take off by Fraiser) to give them a decent amount of time alone together, but it hadn't quite worked out. There was a situation at the base - which he couldn't be told about, naturally - that required her expertise.
There were the occasional moments when he really did regret packing it in. When she had to suddenly leave and couldn't tell him why, or when she came home drawn, exhausted, looking like she'd just taken on the universe.
Knowing their line of work, she probably had.
Of course there were the other times, when her face was alive with joy, when she was almost *bursting* to tell him of some new discovery.
When she'd stride into the house, grinning for no apparent reason.
That'd bugged him, at first, but then he decided that Sam grinning was Sam *grinning*, and he really shouldn't complain.
Smiling to himself, he separated the whites from the coloureds...
Then realised he was smiling.
His hand paused, wrapped around a bra.
The guilt at finding something to smile about - anything to smile about - pounded through his skull. They'd lost the baby and he was...shit! He hurled the bra into the machine and slammed the door, not much caring about separating anymore.
He knew, rationally he *knew* that the world hadn't changed. Life went on, he'd find something to smile about, and various other clichés. But at the moment, it was just wrong.
*
Kids were everywhere.
He'd turn on the TV, and there was a commercial for diapers. He'd change channels, and someone called 'Brandi' had just given birth on some soap. He'd flick through the latest National Geographic, and there was a picture of a pregnant woman in Africa.
Shopping. Shopping was good. They needed groceries. He'd been living on not much more than water these last couple of weeks and - as per usual for her - she'd been eating only when she had to.
Grabbing the keys to his truck and shrugging his jacket on, he gladly left the house. The drive to the supermarket was fine - if unmemorable - and almost before he realised it he was grabbing a shopping cart and walking inside.
Jack moved up and down each aisle swiftly knowing where everything was, pausing only when he had to pick something up from the shelf. The last time they'd been in there, together, it'd taken three times as long as it should have. They'd teased, cajoled, spent an inordinately long amount of time with the diapers, trying to determine the best brand (it'd been a while since his last baby).
It was a good memory. A happy memory. One of many, with her. But now...
He was almost done, striding along the last aisle, when he heard the voice:
"Jack?"
He recognised it instantly of course, but he didn't hesitate, didn't pause, more eager than ever to-
"*Jack*!"
Crap. There was no way he could pretend to ignore that. Slowing until he stopped completely, he turned to face her, pulling the best fake grin he could. "Madeline! Hey!"
Madeline Lloyd - originally a friend of Sara's, and now a kind of friend of his - smiled as she walked up to him. They didn't see each other very often, though it was a genuine pleasure whenever they did. "How's retirement treating you?"
Like he hadn't heard *that* line a million times since retiring. "Fine, fine. I get to do all the shopping," He indicated the cart.
Grinning, she nodded. "Obviously that Sam of yours knows what she's doing. Speaking of which, how is she?"
He didn't want to answer this question because when he did, he knew the very next one that would follow after it. "Fine. She's fine."
If she noticed the 'please shut up' tone he was trying to convey, she ignored it completely. "The pregnancy hasn't been too difficult? My first was a *nightmare*."
And there it was. Carefully licking his lips, he tried to ignore the tightening of his throat. He couldn't even look at her as he said it, his gaze instead focusing on the handle of the basket she was carrying. "We ah...we..."
She figured it out. "Oh God...I...I had no idea!"
The handle shifted as the basket pressed closer to her body.
"Jack, I am *so* sorry."
Everyone always was. "I-"
"But Sam's okay, right? There were no...complications?"
Sam was okay.
Was Sam okay?
That was the 64,000 dollar question.
*
She looked surprised after she closed the door, hung her jacket up, and walked further into the living room, but Jack had to admit she had good reason. In fact, he was actually a little pleased that she had good reason. It was just as well she'd phoned him earlier to let him know she'd be home by eight.
The sofa, chairs and coffee table had been moved aside; in their place stood a table, resplendent (had he actually even just *thought* that word?) with a tablecloth, cutlery, candles, and the fanciest plates he could find.
Still staring at the table, she spoke. "What's this?"
"It's a table."
She didn't even roll her eyes, though she did look at him. "Why?"
He could have kept going; could have launched into some metaphysical theory on why a table *was*, but as she - they - had mentioned before, he should really try some of that talking stuff. Scary as it was. "I saw Madeline today." He watched her head tilt in recognition of the name. "I had to tell her about the baby."
Eyes widening in obvious empathy, she stepped towards him. "Jack..."
He shook his head, though he didn't pull away when she touched his arm. "It's okay." Ha. "Actually it's not okay, but that's not what this is about. She asked me if *you* were okay, and I started thinking..."
"What?"
It occurred to him that before they lost the baby, she probably would have made fun about the fact that he was thinking. Glancing down, he focused on where her hand touched him. "As hard as it was for me to tell her today," And really, he hadn't told Madeline anything - she'd realised herself. "That must be nothing compared to what you go through. I mean you see everyone at the SGC every day. They *know* you. Yet every single day you have to go in there and deal with the sympathy, their expectations about how you're going to act, and the people who just don't know how to treat you." Though admittedly he hadn't been aware of much at the time, he'd had his own experience of that after Charlie died.
"So...what?" She asked eventually. "You thought making dinner would make it all better?"
Damn. She didn't seem to be taking this as well as he'd hoped. "No. No, of course not. Nothing can 'make it all better'. I just wanted to do something to, you know, show you how much I..."
Smiling (much to Jack's relief), her hand moved until it squeezed his own. "You do, Jack. Just by being here. I don't need romantic meals or flowers and frankly, we both know that's not your style anyway. Just be you."
Her hand was so warm, her face smiling up at him with an expression he'd never been able to identify but loved anyway, that it slipped out - the scariest thing that he'd ever admitted:
"It doesn't feel like enough."
Her eyes widened again in surprise, though her face was still tempered with a smile. "I can officially say that it most definitely is, Mr Low Self Esteem. Come on," Hooking her arm around his, she led him to the sofa, now far on the opposite side of the room.
"Where we going?" He asked.
"You're sitting down," She instructed, waiting as he did just that. "And I'm putting my head on your lap." Sitting down next to him, she soon slid her body down until the back of her head was resting comfortable against his legs.
Jack sighed, thinking she was still too damn wise for him. "So how was work today?"
Her hands clutched at each other. "You were right, kind of. Some of them still don't know how to act around me and as a result are actually avoiding me. The rest are mostly past the sympathy stage and keep offering their advice."
That totally wasn't what he'd been asking about, though he was definitely glad she'd told him anyway. Besides, the Earth hadn't blown up. That was a pretty good indicator as to the success of whatever it was she'd been doing. "Advice?" He studied her face.
"How to 'move on', how to get back into the swing of things. You'd think we were the first couple this'd ever happened to."
His mind immediately locked onto a specific word, and despite himself and the situation, he smiled.
She noticed of course. "What?"
"It's stupid," He shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed.
"Never stopped you before,"
Ouch. She was definitely feeling spunkier. "If you *must* know...you called us a couple. First time you've done it."
"It is?" She asked. "We've been together for a while now...that's really the first time I've said it?"
"Really is," He nodded. "Trust me. I'd have noticed if you'd done it before."
"Couple," She repeated, grinning up at him. "I like how that sounds."
His right hand moved to her hair, stroking gently, surprised when the humour evaporated and there were suddenly tears in her eyes. "Sam?"
"It's okay," She shook her head, sniffing. "I just...I feel *guilty* when anything makes me happy. I feel like..."
"You shouldn't be," Something else he understood, but had come to alter his view of. "I know," He murmured, still touching her hair, staring at the candles on the table. "But at least we can feel guilty together."
Turning onto her right side, she snuggled up against him.
Still touching her hair, still staring at the candles, Jack sighed again as she quietly fell asleep.
~FINIS