Baby Mine

Summary: They were waiting for a Christmas miracle. A baby O'Neill. For all those who are wishing it was still Christmas. (Angst warning)

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate or its characters...sadly.

For Julia

"This one's from Mark," Sam said as she picked an envelope off the kitchen table.

"How can you tell?" Jack asked, ceasing his ever-vigilant guard of the roast that was slowly cooking in the oven. He looked over his wife's shoulder at the envelope, on which as written, in very messy handwriting;

Uncel Jack and Anty Sam

"Oh," said Jack. "Mark never passed fifth grade then?"

Sam hit him on the chest. He laughed as he caught sight of her chiding smile. It had been too long since he had seen it. Over the last few months, conflicts with both the Wraith and the Replicators had kept his wife far too far from his side. He had missed her more than he had thought possible. In the last eleven years he had loved her, lost her, left her, killed her and pretended he had never felt anything at all. The last three and a half months without her should have been a piece of cake. A piece of bad cake, but still. He had never expected it would be so hard to lose her again once he had finally gotten her. For good, that is.

But she was here now, and Jack supposed that was all that mattered.

"Dear Auntie Sam and Uncle Jack," Sam read aloud as Jack looked on over her shoulder.

"Merry Christmas. Hoping you are having a safe and happy holiday. Sorry you couldn't make it to San Diego. Maybe next year. All our love, Mark and the kids."

"What's that?" Jack asked, as Sam pulled a piece of paper out of the envelope.

"A picture," Sam said. "I think it's us," she said, pointing out the two stick figures standing by a crayon fire. Jack smiled and snatched the drawing off his wife.

"Hey!" she said and tried to snatch it back.

Jack shook his finger at her. "Nope, this is going on the refrigerator," he said, and with the help of a few handy magnets, the picture became a piece of art for all kitchen-goers to see.

"See?" asked Jack. "Better!"

"Thank you, dear,"Sam mocked and turned her attention back to the alarmingly high pile of letters. "Did you open any mail in the last three months, Jack?" she asked.

Jack shook his head with a wide grin. "Nope," he said.

"Not even bills?" Sam asked.

"Especially not bills," he answered, receiving a roll of his wife's eyes.

"Here's one from General Hammond and the girls," said Sam. She opened the card and tossed it to her husband who was once again, staring intently at the roast in the oven, willing it not to burn.

"There's one from Cam, one from Vala, both saying they won't make it tonight," Sam said. "See Jack, if you'd opened the mail before now, you would have known that."

"But I wanted to wait for you!" Jack whined, racing back from the oven to peck his wife on the head. She chuckled, and turned her attention back to the pile.

She looked over the envelopes, her attention wandering. There were far more important things to keep her attention on than Christmas cards, no matter how lovely they were. Her husband's arse was among them. She remembered the extraordinarily generous welcome-home that she had received only the night before and smiled at the memory. It had been far too long since she had been home. She had missed Jack more than she had thought possible. She thanked her lucky stars that her leave came up just at Christmas. The time of giving. Of miracles. She smiled again as she returned her attention to the stack of mail. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being at home with her family on Christmas.

The feeling left quickly.

"Jack," she said as she ran her hand over an A4 envelope labeled, General Jack O'Neill and Colonel Samantha Carter. "It's from the infirmary."

Jack took off his ridiculous chef's mittens and sat down next to his wife. They had been waiting for this letter for a long time now. Jack took hold of Sam's hand and started to edge off one of the corners of the envelope. With a deep breath in, Sam did the same with the other corner.

Despite being married for over two years, Sam and Jack's dreams of having children still hadn't been realized. During Sam's last visit home, they had decided to get checked out, in case there was anything they could do to heighten their chances. Sam looked worriedly at her husband. He squeezed her hand tightly as they opened the letter together.

There was silence.

Where there had been laughter, flirting and love only five minutes before, there was now silence. Uncomfortable silence. Filled with shame, regret and overwhelming sadness.

They couldn't have children.

Sam looked over the results that Dr Lam had included in the letter. She frantically studied each and every test, till her hands were shaking from flipping from page to page.

She couldn't have children.

It was a woman's right. A woman's duty. But she, Samantha Carter, the woman who had been driven all her life by the concept of duty, was unable to fulfill the one obligation her sex demanded of her. She was barren. Dry. A shell of a woman.

She felt sick.

She felt the arms of her husband around her, soothing her as she shook with sobs that moved her whole body. She hadn't even noticed she had started crying. She didn't feel like she was crying. She only felt numb. And dry. And barren.

"Shh, Sam, shh," Jack crooned in her ear. His own eyes were stinging with the knowledge that he would never be a father again. Never have that second chance he had dreamed of. He was surprised and dismayed when his wife pushed him off her. She moved away from him and stared out the window vacantly. He made a move to reach out to her again, but she pushed him away.

"It was me," she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

"What was you?" Jack asked.

"I'm…it was me. Ican't have children," Sam said.

"How do you know?" Jack asked, softly.

"The report says so, Jack," Sam said forcefully. "My womb isn't suitable. My eggs can't be fertilized. I'm too old!"

Silence filled the air again. Cold silence.

"We left it too late," she said eventually. "After all those god damned years of denying ourselves…we got there too late."

She looked at Jack pleadingly, and he knew that it was alright to touch her again. He held her in his arms as she sobbed quietly into his shoulder. He grew concerned as laughter mingled with her tears.

"Sam?" he asked.

"It's ironic, right?" she said. "We saved the world so that our children would be safe…but we'll never have children to see it."

Jack nodded.

"And," she continued. "If we did have children, if we'd damned the regs five or six years ago, there wouldn't be a safe world for our children to live in in the first place."

Jack snorted. "Ironic."

"Right." She said and slumped into her husband's arms.

It was something they knew was very possible. They had left their run too late and both of them had known it long before they went to Dr Lam. But to hear it so final, so plainly…it was more than either of them could really handle.

Sam slowly edged her self away from her husband and stared out the window. She fiddled with her hands behind her back.

"Sam," Jack started, concerned. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," Sam answered dully.

"Talk to me," Jack said. Sam shook her head. "Just talk to me."

"I can't," said Sam. "It's not…I can't."

Jack held her hands out in front of her face and looked fiercely at her. She avoided his gaze.

"Sam," he said softly. "Just tell me. What's going on in there?" he said, brushing her hair out of her face.

"You don't understand," she said eventually. "You've had a child." She watched as Jack's face grew darker. She looked away. "You had a baby. And no matter how…unhappily that turned out, you know what it's like to hold your child in your arms." She stopped. "I will never know what that feels like." She sobbed again, more quietly this time; shamefully. She took another step away from her husband, ashamed that she was so envious of him, so resentful.

Jack was stunned. He felt pathetic and hurt. But he understood what Sam was trying to say. She hadn't meant to bring back all the guilt and anger that had now been dredged up inside him, to meet the pain he was already feeling. She just wanted him to understand. He watched her as she cried in solitude, humiliation and self-hate oozing out of her with every tear. He had to hold her.

"Sam," he said and waited for her to look up at him. She met his eyes. She looked so sorry, so guilty. "Come'ere," he said and she fell into his arms.

"I love you, Sam," Jack whispered into her neck. She sobbed on his shoulder and he held her tighter. "We'll be ok." And he hoped to God that someday they would be.