Please don't hate me, but I can't do this. I know I said it was what I wanted, and it was… believe me… But every time I look at our little girl I realise that I'm not fit to be her father. I thought I was ready to be a dad, but I'm not.
Nothing I do seems to make her happy. Every time she cries I want to run away screaming because I can't get her to stop. I can't change her diapers without wanting to throw up. You're so good at being a mom I feel like you don't need me at all. I mean, what can I teach her? How to hold a gun?
It's better that I go away. Not forever, just for a while… maybe. I don't know when I'll be back. I'll send you some money when I can. Don't try to find me.
All my love'
Rereading the note Sam just shook her head. She didn't know what to think, what to feel… not anymore. For one of the rare times in her life, Samantha Carter just didn't understand. The anger she'd felt when she'd found the paper on the pillow had evaporated. She was just confused. Looking down at her daughter, she couldn't comprehend how anyone could leave anything so beautiful.
"And he was supposed to be the safe bet," she whispered to herself.
The little girl in the crib started to fuss. A prelude to a full-blown screaming fit so Sam scooped her baby up into her arms. She was only five weeks old. She'd done nothing to deserve this.
"Shhh…" Sam soothed, rocking her back and forth. Emily… they'd named her for his mother.
Looking, back she realised that she should have seen the signs. He'd never picked Emily up… at least not voluntarily. Sam realised that she didn't have one picture of him with the baby… not even during the post-birth photo frenzy. He'd started working late, not getting home until Sam had put Emily down for the night... To think that she'd actually believed his bullshit about an important case.
Still clutching Emily to her chest, Sam moved to the window, staring out at the street, at the stars. She'd given it all up for the chance to have a child. The Military, the Stargate… her friends. Here she was, living in the Colorado Springs version of Stepford. She had it all, the house with the yellow kitchen, the white picket fence and the dog. All she needed was the other 1.4 child to present an image of domestic perfection.
And it was all so, so wrong.
A car drove slowly down the street. For a second the sight of the dark vehicle made Sam's heart beat a little faster, but it moved past and disappeared into the darkness. How long would this go on, she wondered. She didn't expect him back, and yet… Resolutely, Sam turned away from the window. They were on their own, and it was about time she accepted the cold, hard facts.
"Better get used to it," she said to Emily. The little girl gurgled in reply as she tried to eat her fist.
These moments were so precious, Sam realised as she put her daughter down for the night. Frozen in her contemplation of her daughter's perfection, Sam almost didn't hear the phone. Even when she did, she was tempted to ignore it. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now… her husband least of all.
But it wasn't him.
The voice was achingly familiar and Sam found herself holding back the tears as he offered his sincere congratulations. It was the first time they had spoken since Emily had been born, since Sam had gotten married. But even hundreds of miles away, it seemed that he could sense when something was wrong
"Carter?" he said.
The single word was her undoing.
"I'm sorry, sir," she sobbed over and over.
"Hang in there, I'm on my way."
Sam couldn't stop crying. It had to be the hormones, she decided. The pregnancy had played havoc with her body. And sooner than she could have ever expected, he was there. Standing outside her door, in his dress blues, hair all over the place… and suddenly Sam didn't want to cry anymore.
"Where's Pete?" he asked.
She handed him the note.
"Rat bastard!"
Sam was too tired to care. Pete was gone, and she had no desire to see him back. He'd had his chance and he'd blown it.
"It doesn't matter," she said.
Her marriage vows had been meaningless, she realised. There was only one man who had told her always and actually meant it. That man, Jack O'Neill, was standing right in front of her.
"You look like crap. Why don't you get some sleep?" he said.
"Emily…," Sam offered a weak protest.
"I'll listen out for her."
How could she do this? How could she trust her daughter to this man? He didn't even know Emily. Yet Sam found herself being guided towards her bedroom. It was a reflex action, she decided. Obeying Jack was automatic but she couldn't deny that sleep would be very welcome right now. Pete had never gotten up in the night to see to Emily.
Another sign.
So stupid.
Stupid for marrying Pete…
For letting Jack go.
For breaking his heart.
"I'm sorry," she said again even though there was no one to hear her.