She sits alone, eyes out the window on the falling rain. Mind elsewhere. Oblivious to the group sitting around her. Daniel is the first to speak.
"Happy birthday, Sam. Uh, yeah, uhm, we're looking forward to our next trip. Uh, the uh, oh! The general says hi, you know, General Landry. He says hi. And, you know the uh, the…Walter says hi too. Cassie's in college, she told us to tell you happy birthday. She's met a guy there, and they're really in love. Or, at least, what kids their age call love." He paused, waiting to see if she would respond.
"And, we really miss you." He added lamely. His eyes flickered briefly to O'Neill, who nodded to him.
Daniel let out a breath of relief. "Get better soon." He finished. Gently, he patted her hand lying on the armrest of her chair. The touch does nothing to bring her out of her fog.
"ColonelCarter, I too wish to extend a hope of many returns of your day of birth. You are an honorable warrior, and a most trusted ally. Know that my spirit is with you, always." Teal'c spoke up then.
A routine mission had gone wrong, a small shed of biochemicals had exploded, raining over Carter and three members of her borrowed team. Thankfully, no one was injured.
It was only a few days later when Lieutenant Chrieswald began shaking, unable to stop, leading to a discovery of a neural implant that was grown from the chemicals the group had inhaled. Chrieswald died two days later when his implant exploded, ripping off half his skull. Captain Marks was next, his implant rendering him nauseated and ill as it attacked a cerebral artery and he bled to death.
The only thing the doctors knew for sure about this drug was that it killed slowly, painfully, and never used the same tactic twice. Garner dehydrated until his body was nothing more than a shriveled husk before he put the barrel of his service revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Daniel had found the body in the mens' locker room. And in all that time Sam remained the same. Her normal, technobabbly self. Two weeks after the explosion, Jack came upon her in the hallway to her quarters a dumbfounded expression on her face as she stared at the keycard in her hand, unable to remember how to swipe it through the reader. He knew, then. Knew with every fiber of his being.
As the days progressed and the implant systematically shut down her brain, Jack found himself unable to leave her side.
It was almost a normal occurance to see him walking with her, her arm slipped through his as they strolled in silence.
Both lost in thought.
Until the day she fell into a full on dementia that robbed her of everything she had worked for.
"Carter." Just that one word from Jack snapped her head around, her blue eyes bright with excitement.
"Sir?" and she is back. For just that one split second, she is Sam. Then her eyes dim and she falls back into the chair, once again in her stupor. Jack touches her hand again, squeezes it gently. In that, he conveyed the depth of his feelings for her. She smiles, dreamily aware of something from the past.
"Can't dig our way out, sir." The words from when she was trapped with him in Antarctica in years gone by.
Before too much longer, visiting hours are over and they are taken from her again.
As he leaves, he hears Sam mutter under her breath as if talkiing to an invisible Daniel, telling him Jack was always the first through the gate. Not out of a sense of misplaced male chauvinism, but as a way of keeping an eye on them.
Her ramblings turn to the doohickeys in her lab as if she just left them a few minutes before. She hasn't touched them in over a year, however.
And Jack knows that the creators of the chemical, whatever it was, knew exactly what they were doing when they took his wife from him. Without her he is weak, old.
Sliding into his car, he sighs and lets out a moan of weakness. Any day now, she could go at any time. But still she hung on. Held on against the dementia, the kidney failure, the liver failure.
The medications she was taking kept her out of any pain but alive enough to stay in a chair.
Starting his car, Jack headed for his - their - cabin in Minnesota.
The attendants rushed to Sam when she stood, firm and steady on her feet, one hand reaching out to grasp an invisible hand. "Jack." She murmured, her pulse racing in her weak body.
"I'm coming sir." She called to someone who wasn't there.
Someone who kept her going.
By the time they had gotten to her, Sam was gone. Nothing they did could bring her back. In death, her blue eyes were alight with joy and hope, a smile on her face.
Teal'c found Jack the next morning. Three empty bottles of vodka coupled with two pill bottles of barbiturates had done their job. Jack lay with one arm outstretched, the fingers curled up as if gripping something or someone, a small Jack O'Neill smile of pure contentment on his lined features.
The double funeral was held in a quiet location, much like the wedding. When it came time for the eulogy, Daniel stood and moved to the front with purpose.
"Many of those that knew Jack and Sam would say that they were strong, warriors. Leaders. Brilliant thinkers. Okay, maybe not so much Jack as Sam on the last one. But the general was one in a million. He always headed through the gate, when it was unnecessary for him to do so. On that, he came under more fire than was humanly possible, and always brought us back safely. Now, with his last breaths, he has once again preceeded us through the gate, and is waiting to cover us on the other side."
Jack sat on his dock, looking out over the serene waters of his lake when a touch on his shoulder pulled him from his reverie.
"Took you long enough, Carter." He teased gently, placing the fishing pole in hand to the rough boards and rising to greet his wife.
"Sorry sir." Sam smiled, moving into his arms for a warm embrace.
"Just waiting for me to go through the gate first, huh?" He asked.
She nodded, content to be with him again. They were silent for several minutes, then Jack spoke.
"So, eternity, huh?"
"Yeah. Kinda' nice, I think." Sam smiled.
"Peaceful. I could get used to this." Jack agreed. He held her close, watching the sun go down below the trees.
In death he had found his life again.