Chapter 3
Samantha
O'Neill née Carter hummed underneath her breath Saturday morning as she
mounted the steps to her Alexandrian townhouse. She was relishing with
anticipation the coming weekend with Jack that they had long been
planning, having coordinated some of their downtime to coincide.
Living
in different states and not being able to see each other for months at a
time, had her sharply missing her husband. Especially this past year
had brought quite a change in their lives; from seeing the man she loved
every day—even if it was only professionally—to being married to him
and seeing him only once in a while…
Slipping the key into the
doorknob, she unlocked the door and entered their house. She raised a
blonde eyebrow at the pair of shoes her husband had left square in the
entrance way before neatly setting them to the side with her own
sandals.
Hanging her jacket and purse up in the closet Sam called
out to her husband as she proceeded into their home. She had only called
out his name twice when the sound of the shower registered from
upstairs, and now that her husband's location was known to her, she
stopped calling out.
Further evidence of her husband's occasional
sloppiness presented itself when she entered the living room to find an
empty whisky bottle and glass on the coffee table with his open
briefcase and scattered papers. Sighing at the sight of crumpled blue
cloth, Sam walked behind the couch to pick up the discard clothing item.
Her sigh turned to a frown as she picked it up and realized it was
Jack's Class A jacket. She had never known him to be so careless with
any piece of his Class A's for all his carping about having to wear the
uniform.
Folding the jacket more formally, her fingers smoothed
out creases in the fabric and her attention turned to the coffee table
and what she now realized were photographs, mostly stacked together
underneath a large magnifying glass.
Frowning at what appeared to
be the rather pornographic image of the topmost photograph, Sam rounded
the couch and after sitting on the cushions, placed Jack's jacket beside
her. Reaching forward she curiously moved the magnifying glass to get a
clearer look at who was in the photograph and froze.
It was herself and Cam.
Blood
draining from her face and a faint tremble afflicting her hands in
disbelief at what she was seeing, Sam picked up the stack of photographs
and slowly flipped through the collection.
It wasn't the sudden
absence of the sound of the shower running that had her twisting in her
seat towards the hallway to the second floor, but the proximity
awareness of her husband that most considered paranormal.
Still
damp from the shower he had just vacated and clothed only in a white
towel, wrapped around a waist thickened by two years at a desk and
baring the knees he considered too boney, Jack stood in the hall
archway.
Blue eyes sought brown, seeking loving reassurance and
instead found devastating confirmation. Sam's pale face turned stark
white at what the depths of her husband's eyes told her.
He had believed.
And
a part of Sam, a small part that wasn't screaming in denying anguish
like the rest of her soul at what she saw in Jack's eyes, was terrified
that he still believed.
"How could… I would never…" Sam's
anguished response was barely above a whisper. The faint tremble of her
hands became full shakes and she was unable to hold onto the photographs
in her hands any longer as they dropped in scattered groups around her.
The
last glossy image had barely settled when Jack's long legs finished
covering the distance between them. He rounded the couch and sat on the
cushion beside her, his strong hands reaching out to frame her face as
his eyes held hers.
"You don't think I don't know that Sam? I know
you. I know your loyalty," Jack exclaimed passionately as his thumbs
rubbed at the trailing tears from her blue eyes that threatened to
become a stream. "Once you give your word, you will rewrite the laws of
physics to keep it."
"Then… then why?" was all Sam could plead
brokenly as her hands came up to desperately grasp at his forearms;
desperate to find an anchor in the emotional storm.
"God Sam, I am
sorry." Jack groaned as he brought their faces closer together. "It's
my fault. My failing, not yours. Don't you ever believe it is yours," he
said fiercely.
Sam choked back a hiccupping sob as the tears began to flow more freely.
"I mean it Sam," Jack avowed. "Promise me that. Promise me that you won't blame yourself."
Sam
could only look at his fierce face, which was increasingly blurring
because of the tears she couldn't stop. How could she keep from blaming
herself? If Jack really believed in her then he would never have believe
in the pictures.
"Sam," Jack said sharply to keep her from closing her eyes when they threatened to close and close out his demand.
"H-how?" Sam finally sobbed, unable to give the promise he was demanding.
"By
blaming me," Jack muttered as he hauled his wife into his arms and they
rocked together. Sam burrowed against his warm skin, seeking succour in
his touch that she had not found in his eyes earlier. "By blaming me
and my stupid ass Sam, that's how."
"But, but you haven't done anything," Sam's voice was muffled against his chest and distorted by the tears she still cried.
"Yes
Sam I did—I have. I let my demons believe and didn't trust even though I
know, beyond any other belief I have in this world, that you will do
the impossible to keep faith."
"How could you?" Sam still couldn't
grasp how he could believe in the first place and Jack knew he would
have to tell her the demons he had kept from her. For her own peace of
mind of course, which as this had shown, had backfired spectacularly and
hurt her even more than sharing them in the first place would have.
Jack
only allowed himself a few more moments of private chastisement before
forcing his guilty demons into words. Whispers of insecurity that had
strengthened with his move to DC three months ago because of the stress
of the demands of his new position, the irrefutable knowledge that he
was now really riding a desk, the weight he had put on, and above all
that he was no longer a man of action. 'A man of action' was how he had
defined himself for decades and as much as he was loath to admit to even
himself, all those changes had changed how he viewed himself and not
for the better.
"Sam," Jack began, "I know we've talked about this
before, but I know that you still don't understand how I see our age
difference. All those years we served together, even after the zatarc
detector and we almost gave voice to an unspoken agreement between us to
be together if we had the chance, I never really believed we would have
that chance. I do not know how many times with your other… and then
with Pete… Sam, I was certain then that that was how things were meant
to be."
Sam's sniffling had eased enough for Jack to be certain that she was listening so he forged onwards.
"You
are so young and vibrant Sam and I know I could never keep up with your
brilliance. And I knew someday, you would find someone who could give
you everything I wanted to. Everything I wanted to, but couldn't. And
I've lived with those demons for so long that even though I know you,
even though I know you would never betray me, when given what looked
like evidence—with someone younger and fitter—my demons ruled again. And
you will never know how sorry I am for that."
Still sniffling Sam
stiffened her arms and pushed away from Jack. Her blue eyes, swollen
red with tears, snapped with fury as she levelled her gaze at her
husband.
"You are an ass Jack," Sam said each word with
distinctive forcefulness. "Yes I have screwed other men since we've met
but you've fucked other women as well. But to get this straight, I've
never had any interest in Cam, and certainly none in anyone else since
our marriage. You are what I need. And by God, Jack, by the end of this
day, you will believe I love you."
Chapter 4: http://akarswyll.blogspot.ca/2012/07/extortion-ch-4-short-story-jacksam-m.html
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