Playing with Canon a bit because I'm really not sure what Sara does for a living. This story is very rough, but still enjoyable. I hope, lol.

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Sara O'Neill arrived home from the hospital at 8 pm, tired and ready to soak in the tub with a good paperback in her hand. Three scheduled days of twelve-hour shifts in a row, with two days of working 8 hours for someone else was enough to make her embrace the weekend with uncommon vigor.

I'm not coming into work for the next four days unless one of the girls is dying.All of the nurses working on Martin De Porres Hospital's Med-Surg. floor were in good health, though, and she did not expect to have to come in before her time. Knowing her DON, she would probably actually get a few extra days off because she had gone "above and beyond the call of duty."

Sara hated sayings like that. They reminded her too much of Jack.

Sara juggled her lone grocery bag as she searched her purse for her house key, only to come up empty. With a sigh, she lowered the paper bag to the ground so she could search the stubborn handbag more thoroughly.

"Mrs. O'Neill?"

In spite of the fact that she hadn't considered herself a Mrs. for the past three years, Sara's head jerked upwards in response. She couldn't see the speaker and her hands froze within her purse. "Hello?" she called out tentatively.

Maybe it was someone whom she had known during her marriage with Jack, but she didn't recall giving her new address to any of those people. Her hands resumed their search for her house key. Irrationally she considered the possibility that she was being stalked.

"Who are you?" Sara demanded, her voice shaking a little, "I'm sorry, but I can't see you in this darkness."

Sinister masculine laughter answered her. "That is because I don't want you to. I'm here about your husband, Mrs. O'Neill." Maybe her fears weren't so irrational after all.

Sara shook her head, searching in vain for her invisible communicator. "I'm not married anymore. Jack and I divorced three years back. He decided that he preferred to die than be there for me." Some bitterness came out in her voice in spite of herself. It still hurt that Jack chose to wallow in his own pain over Charlie than mourn their son with her.

"I want you to contact him, Mrs. O'Neill," her visitor continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I want you to warn him. Tell him that he will be in trouble if he doesn't back off. Tell him that we know how to reach his team and we know how to reach you. Tell him that there is no place where you can be safe. Tell him he better back off – or else."

Sara drew back toward the door, her hands now viciously searching for her house key. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It sounded like a remarkably badly written thriller. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"This is no joke, Mrs. O'Neill. We are serious. Contact Colonel O'Neill, Mrs. O'Neill and don't involve the police. It would be a shame if you were to join your son, wouldn't it."

Sara had found the key finally, but her heart jumped into her throat at the mention of Charlie. Even three years later, thinking of him still hurt. "You jerk," she whispered and she shoved the key into the lock, swiftly letting herself in and slamming the door between her and her verbal assailant.

For what seemed like the longest time she stood there, leaning heavily against the door, her heart beating in her ears as she listened to the terrible man laughing at her.

"Remember what I said, Mrs. O'Neill," the evil voice finally said. "Remember."

As soon as Sara was sure he was gone, she stumbled toward her kitchen, letting her grocery bag and purse drop where they would. With trembling fingers she reached for the phone, but as soon as she gripped the handset, she couldn't stand it any more.

Sara O'Neill, a nurse who offered strength and smiles to her patients for hours on end, burst into tears on the kitchen counter.