CHAPTER 3

CHANGE OF PLAN

"Sonofabitch!"

"Sir?" Sam had been walking by Jack's office and stopped short at the sound of the expletive emerging from within. She stuck her head around the corner. "Is everything all right?"

"No—" Jack slammed his fist down on the desk and immediately seemed to regret it. He mouthed "ow!" and waggled the injured hand, trying to shake off the pain.

"What's wrong?" Sam thought it seemed safe to enter now. Once Jack had real pain to concentrate on, he was easier to talk to. However, instead of talking he thrust a piece of paper in front of her and continued to work the hand he'd so thoroughly pounded.

"This is why I never read my memos," he growled, a look of utter frustration settling on his brow.

Sam took the outstretched paper and ran her eyes over the page. Reading the content twice to make sure she understood, she looked up wordlessly at Jack, still unclear as to the reason for his wrath.

"General Hammond is retiring," she offered, hopefully.

"Yes!" exclaimed Jack, holding up both hands, relieved that now she understood. Except she didn't. Sam was still puzzled.

"So are you," she added, reminding him. It had only been ten days since they'd returned from his cabin. Ten days since he'd told her he was retiring. Ten days since they'd put their ranks aside and taken their relationship to a whole new level. It had been a risk; Jack wasn't due to retire for another month, but after all those years of denying their feelings, it had seemed worth it. It was worth it, thought Sam, with a half smile.

"No. I'm not."

His words hit her like a slap in the face. She felt a strange chill pass over her, a sort of premonition.

"What do you mean…you're not?" she asked, her voice quiet, so as not to let him know the dread she was beginning to feel.

"I mean, I can't." The anger in his voice was real. "At least, not now. The President wants me to take over as head of Homeworld Security. Take Hammond's place. Run the whole she-bang."

Sam did all she could to keep from reaching for the desk for support.

"You're kidding," she managed, instead. Jack glared at her.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" He stood up, the desk chair nearly tipping over, and began to pace. "Jeez! I hate this. I just hate it!"

She knew she didn't need to state the obvious, but she did anyway.

"You don't have to accept it. You can still retire."

Jack stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his hair before locking eyes with her.

"And let them appoint some shrub to run the whole thing? Area 51? The 304 program? The SGC? Do you know how badly someone could screw all this up? It's bad enough we've got the IOC looking over our shoulder every other minute Too many people have worked too damned hard and sacrificed too damned much to let some idiot political appointee trash it all in one fell swoop."

Sam found herself studying the floor. It suddenly held an amazing interest for her. Anything to keep from looking up and seeing the look on Jack's face. Or letting him see the look she was sure was on her own.

"Then you have to accept." She was amazed at how absolutely calm and rational she was sounding when all she wanted to do was rant and rave just like Jack.

Jack's reply was suddenly subdued.

"Yes, damn it. I do."

Pressing her lips together and forcing a smile, Sam somehow got out: "Congratulations, sir."

She turned to go. She had to leave. Now.

"Sam—wait. Shut the door."

Thwarted, Sam couldn't bring herself to look at him, but complied by carefully closing the door, her hand on the jamb until she heard the lock clasp. Even then she still couldn't turn around. Jack had come up behind her. His physical nearness set every sense tingling. She hoped he wouldn't touch her; she wasn't sure she could maintain her composure if he did.

He waited her out, though, until finally she had no choice but to turn and face him. The anger that had been on his face was gone and she saw not General O'Neill but Jack, his feelings for her written all over his face, as plain as anything. Sam swallowed hard to force down the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her. So this was it. Ended before it had barely begun, just as she had feared.

He must have read the look on her face.

"This doesn't change anything between us," he assured her. Sam looked up at him, her eyes moist, in spite of herself.

"How can you say that?" she asked, her voice pained.

"Look, I know DC is a little less convenient than Colorado Springs, but…"

She cut him off.

"It's not the distance! There are rules, Jack. What do you think kept us apart this long?"

"I don't care." His eyes were dark, his voice low and earnest.

"They'll throw you out, Jack. They'll throw us both out. And then some idiot will be put in charge of all of this and we'll be…"

"What? Unemployed? Been there. Not a whole lot different from retirement, as far as I can tell."

Sam shook her head vehemently.

"You'd hate it, Jack. You know you would And so would I. Do you honestly think you could be content to just walk away from this, knowing all the things we know and not being able to do any of it any more?"

He studied her for a moment.

"I thought that's what I was doing."

Sam closed her eyes and sighed.

"I know. But it never felt right. Not for you."

When she looked at Jack again, his eyes were troubled.

"I'm s'posed to have different priorities now, remember?" he told her. "That whole, 'I'm tired of this mess' thing?"

She smiled wanly.

"Yeah. I never did buy that, you know."

Jack screwed up his face and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Really? I thought I sold that pretty well."

Sam shook her head.

"Sorry. Must have been the moonlight reflecting off the pond."

He didn't answer

"Look, Jack…" she began, but he cut her off, an edge of anger or frustration, or maybe both, creeping into his voice.

"I'm not giving you up, Sam. Not for the Air Force. Not for the Pentagon. Not for the fate of the whole damn planet."

The thrill of his words were dampened by what Sam knew was the cold reality of it all. Jack knew it too, he just didn't want to admit it.

"I don't want to lose you either, Jack…" she told him, almost reaching out to touch him, but stopping herself in time. Too many windows into a general's office. "But there's more here than you and me. It was a nice little fantasy to think that we could just ride off into the sunset together, but the reality is, neither of us can. And I think you know that."

He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.

"Too cliché, eh?"

Sam had to nod.

"I'm afraid so, sir."

Jack's eyes clouded.

"Don't…" he voice was husky with raw emotion. He held up a finger. "Don't do that, Sam. Not when we're alone. And just because we can't go riding off into the sunset together doesn't mean we have to end this. I can't and I won't."

"Jack—" What was going to make him understand? "It's not exactly like we have a choice."

"We always have a choice, Sam. Picking the best one is the hard part."

There was only one other option that Sam could only think of—the one she had toyed with before; the one she knew Jack would hate just as much.

"Then I'll leave the SGC," she offered quietly.

"The hell you will!" Jack's eyes flashed. His tone was sharp.

"No—listen," she forged ahead. Now that she thought of it, it seemed like the right solution. "It makes sense, Jack. Look—I really need to spend more time with Cassie—since Janet's death" the word still stuck in Sam's throat, "well, you know, she's been having a lot of trouble. I'm worried about her but I just haven't been able to give her as much time as I know I should. Teal'c's already leaving to be on the High Council. And Daniel…."

Jack sighed.

"I know…Atlantis. If he pesters me about it once he pesters me about it a dozen times every day." Jack was thoughtful for a moment, a look of resignation settling on his brow. "Seems like the ol' gang's breaking up, huh?"

Sam shrugged, trying not to show how relieved she felt. She had never thought Jack would go for this idea. For once, she was happy to be proven wrong.

"I guess we ultimately knew it wouldn't last forever."

Jack's smile was rueful.

"No—I guess not. So—what about you?"

She hadn't gotten around to that part of the plan yet. What would she like to do? Research? There were so many ideas she'd had over the past eight years that she'd had to put on the back burner simply because there were not enough hours in the day. She'd been Soldier Sam for a long time. Maybe it was time to dust off Dr. Carter.

"I don't know. Research, I guess. Maybe I could find something to do at Area 51. So much of the stuff we've collected from other planets has ended up there—I feel like I've barely scratched the surface in understanding most of it."

"You sure about this?" he asked, scrutinizing her carefully, as if trying to see if she was being completely honest with him. Already a little thrill of excitement was building up in the back of her head just thinking of the possibilities being at Area 51 presented. This would be a good thing, all the way around.

"Yeah. I am. Really," Sam assured him.

But—you know, Area 51 still reports to Homeworld Security. So, technically…." Jack started.

"Technically, yes," Sam interrupted. "But not directly. And there are a whole lot of command layers in between. So, I guess, if we're…discreet…"

Jack raised an eyebrow rakishly.

"Discreet. I like that."

Sam had to smile.

"We could still get in a lot of trouble," she warned, her tone not as serious as she knew it probably should be. Jack was grinning now.

"Danger too. I could get into this."

Sam felt her eyes swimming, uncharacteristically. She hoped Jack wouldn't notice, but he did.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and tried blinking them away.

"Nothing—it's just…I mean, I love where this is going, between us. And I know all this would be happening whether you and I had ever—you know—or not. But I still hate to see everything change like this." She smiled sadly. "It won't ever be the same again, will it? You and Daniel and Teal'c. General Hammond. Janet…."

For once Jack didn't have a quick quip with which to reply. He stood rather awkwardly for a few moments and then said what she had found comfort in too rarely in the past eight years:

"Come here."

Sam decided she didn't care about the windows into the briefing room. She moved into Jack's arms and let him wrap her securely in his embrace. For nearly nine years those arms had been there for her. To pull her to safety. To watch her six. To carry her when she'd been wounded. To support her when she'd been down. To comfort her when her heart or her body had been wracked with pain. No matter what more they had become in recent weeks, they were first and foremost the arms of a friend. And it was to those arms that she surrendered herself, knowing that, whatever else changed, they would not.

And knowing that, Sam was ready to move on.