Category: Romance, innuendo, humor, angst.
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: You just did Carter. You want that one your Tombstone.
Spoilers: Heroes 2 and my fic.
Season/sequel: Post Heroes 2, Sequel to Dirty irrationality.
Archive: SJ, Heliopolis, my site. Anywhere else, sure, just let me know where so I can come visit.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Promise to put them back in the state I found them.
Author’s notes: I was begged, threatened, pleaded with and coerced to write this sequel. And that was on in the first ten minutes of Dirty Irrationality having been posted. It took me about four months, seven different drafts, and some pain-medication to make it happen, but here it is. I’m happy with it, I hope that you are too.
Feedback: Hell yeah! Don’t make me beg, hit reply and stroke my ego please.
Dedication: For divinejoker, who begged for smut. I hope this is ok, even if it isn’t for the fandom you were expecting. For lavondyss, anr, saramund, meg_pat2000, jellojuicejo, and everyone else who asked for a sequel.
Date: 14/08/2004
Copyright © to Venom, 2003

***

I’m the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside I hope you feel it too

Mr. Big, To be with you.

***

You’ve just fucked your second in command against the dirty wall behind a club.

There are two hundred Air Force officers, inclusive of your own commanding officer and a presidential representative, on the other side of the wall, and you semen is dripping out of your subordinate.

You’d be mortified if you weren’t so happy. You resist the self-satisfied smirk that threatens to manifest on your face.

This is Carter.

*The* Carter. The woman that you work with, love more than your own soul, fight beside, joke with, every day. And she’s almost naked. And you’ve been inside of her.

And damnit if that just does not make your day.

“Do you want to…..?” You gesture wildly towards the back entrance to the bar, knowing that she understands.

She shakes her head, and a drop of moisture escapes her eye, but you doubt she notices. “Not yet.”

You nod, and look around uncomfortably. There is something nasty stuck to your ass, you’re sure of it. She sees your movement. “You ok?”

“No,” You wiggle a bit and finally pull something out from under you. “I had a rotten lettuce leaf stuck to my ass.” You throw it towards a scampering vermin nearby. “Ew!”

She laughs, and you suspect that the action is almost involuntary.

Your disgusting encounter with the rotten vegetable forgotten, you look at her. “So…we’re ok, right?

The question bothers you, but you sense her reassurance behind her flippant reply. “Sure we are.”

You have to say something to her. Something to reassure her that this, whatever *this* was, wasn’t just a knee-jerk reaction to the loss of the best damn Doctor that you’ve ever met. “I’m not going to declare my undying love for you Carter.” She doesn’t look surprised. “Because I don’t think you’re ready to hear it. But…when you are, let me know.”

You walk away, leaving her to think about what you’ve said.

You bypass the bar altogether, and head straight for your truck, taking a moment to just sit in the front seat, keys in the ignition, and a big dumbass smile on your face.

You just did Carter.

*You* just *did* Carter.

Can you get that on your tombstone?

Thoughts of your own mortality return you to the situation at hand, and the smile dissipates from your lips.

Janet’s dead.

You’ll never understand how she could die. She wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to stick around for years, menacingly threatening each and every one of Cassie’s boyfriends, having girlie talking with Carter- whom you just *did*!- and berating you about your horrific treatment of your knee.

You wonder what Janet would think of your activities tonight.

Supporting Carter, by your arms- and not bending your knees like she would have told you to!- thrusting heavily into her against a wall, in a dirty ally, behind a club, with two hundred of the boys in blue not thirty feet from you.

Actually, come to thing of it, Janet would have been quite proud.

She was like that.

She was many thing, dead shouldn’t have been one of them.

Shaking yourself, mentally and physically, you turn your keys in the ignition and pull out of the parking lot, giving one final glance to the trash cans that you can barely see in the darkness of the alley, where you suspect Carter is still sitting.

You also suspect that she’ll be mulling over your words for a while. An almost-declaration of love has to be worth at least an Hour in CarterLand. She’ll think about your words, analyze them, over analyze them, wonder why you even said them in the first place and then, no doubt, decided that they belong in that Room never to be spoken of again.

Really, isn’t that Room getting a little damn full by now?

Because you know her so well, and you kind of know the way she thinks, you’re surprised to hear your cell phone ring and see the called ID read ‘Carter.’

You’re amused as you pick up your cell. And when you hit ‘answer’ you hear the rush of traffic in the background. “Didn’t take you long.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, and you listen to the sound of her breathing, dulled slightly by the honking of cars near her. “No, I guess it didn’t.”

You realize that ‘Big Brother’ is probably listening to this conversation, so you choose your words carefully. “Should I be concerned about that?”

She clearly recognized your tactic. “No, I really don’t think you should.”

Obviously, you could both skirt around the real issue at hand via cell phones all night or….”Hey Carter?”

“Yes?”

“You still have my Creedance Clearwater Revival CD?”

“It’s in my car, actually.”

“Can I get it off you?”

“Sure.”

“Meet you at Dani’s.”

You hang up, knowing that she’ll be there.

***

You turn out of the residential streets of your neighborhood and head back towards town, to a little diner that your team seems to frequent. The drive is, mercifully, uneventful, and you know that you’re probably not in any condition to drive.

After all, you *did* Carter not half an hour ago, that’s enough to render any man brainless for at least twenty-four hours.

Her car is already near the entrance of the diner when you pull up, and your hands grip the steering wheel just a little too tightly for a moment before you tell yourself to snap out of it, turn of the truck, and walk into the brightly lit room.

She’s sitting towards the back, a cup of coffee in front of her, and her feet unconsciously tapping to the rhythm of the radio.

“Been here long?” You ask as you slide into the booth across from her.

“No.”

Silence reigns and you nervously tap your fingers on the table, more to distract you than anything else. “So….”

“So….”

“Awkward, huh?”

She smiles even as she agrees. “A little, yeah.” She looks around, her eyes meeting with anything but you. “Did you mean what you said?”

“When do I ever say things I don’t mean?” You make eye contact with her, and you feel an entire conversation pass between the two of you without a sound being uttered. It’s one of the comfortable idiosyncrasies that define your ‘relationship’ with each other.

“So what happens now?” She finally asks, breaking the enticing spell that’s weaving itself around you and bring you back to reality with a thud.

“Whatever you want to happen.”

“Damnit Jack, this isn’t just my choice!”

“You just called me Jack.”

She sighs, half out of annoyance, half out of, you hope, affection. “Yes.”

“*You* just called me Jack.”

“It is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But *you* just said it.”

“Focus.”

“You just called me Jack.”

“Do I have to flash you to get you to focus?”

Woah! You blink. A lot. And then you grin again, and it’s so much like the grin you gave her after the time loop that you kissed her. “Carter,” You’re trying to be serious. You don’t think it’s working. “Offering to flash me wont help the attention span either, you know.”

She snorts. It’s very un-lady-like, but very endearing. “Okay, fine, you win. Can we at least *try* to talk about this like adults?”

“Sure. Give it your best shot.”

“Ja-ack.”

She whines your name this time, and you have the urge to drag her onto the table separating you two, push your face between her thighs and make her pant it like a mantra until one of you die.

You settle for coughing and trying to adjust yourself discreetly.

“What do you want me to say Carter?”

“How about what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. Anything will do!”

She wants honesty. It’s all she’s ever asked of you, and you feel that you owe it to her. “I’m thinking that you’re going to tell me that, despite the fact I love you, we have to shove this away in some damn room. I’m thinking that the chocolate cake in the display case looks pretty damn good. I’m thinking that you regret this. I’m thinking that you want to forget it ever happened. I’m feeling like a complete asshole because one of our best friends died yesterday and I’m the happiest that I’ve been in a very long time.”

You’ve watched Carter's eyes for years, know their color, which shades they go to depending on her emotions, but you’ve never seen her blink quite so much as she does now. “I don’t regret it.” She says quietly, but it doesn’t make you smile.

She may not regret it, but that wont stop her from doing her duty and ignoring that it happened.

“And I don’t want to forget it.” She adds.

You’ve been wrong before, and you’re glad that you are now.

“So where do we go from here then?” She may not want it to be her decision, but you think that it should be. She has far more to loose that you do. You have everything to gain, she’ll get a dried up, battle scarred, cynical, sarcastic Air Force Colonel with not a lot to offer.

“I suppose we just take it….one step at a time.”

“I can live with that.” And you can, but… “But do we take those steps as friends or lovers?”

She looks down at her coffee, not really seeing it, the weight of the world visible on her slumped shoulders. You wait with bated breath for her answer

Her head rises, her eyes scanning your chest before moving upwards to meet yours, and you have your answer.

***

I’m evil.

Yes, I take pride in that fact.

End.