SJSJSJSJSJSJ

J.J. was fretful that night, or maybe it had been the morning. Sam's night of broken sleep had served to see her blundering into her closet thinking it was her bathroom and she had woken with a stunning headache and a queasy stomach. Leaving her kid (thankfully) sleeping in his crib, she was perched on her breakfast bar stool and half way through a slice of dry toast when her kitchen phone rang.

"I've just read about Sara and Mark," said the voice.

"Morning, Jack. How are you?" Sam abandoned the toast as a lost cause.

"Better than you from the sound of it." Ahh, Jack and subtlety – go together like birds of a feather.

"Mmm," was all she could manage – why wasn't the Tylenol kicking in?

"I just wanted you to know I think you're amazing. How is Mark with you now?"

"Okay. Fine. Pleased about J.J. and I called him to say you had been found." Was she so exhausted that she couldn't even manage a simple conversation?

Jack's corresponding non-committal noises gave her the hint.

"Sorry I'm not being more communicative." Sam regarded the toast before her; perhaps she ought to at least try to eat something else.

"Rough night?" His concern sounded so much like Daniel for a moment.

"Yup." Damn; now the afterpains were kicking in again.

"Well, whadya say I blow this white dress outfit and bunk with you?"

At least that made her laugh – although it hurt to do so.

"By the way, I can totally believe McKay's father was a gynecologist."

Sam twisted the phone cable in her fingers; she really needed to get on before J.J. awoke. "Yeah. He saved our lives, Jack, all three of us."

"I realize that; I'll talk to him when he's back on leave from-" He didn't have to finish. She knew where and could even figure out through her fuzzy-headed haze why he couldn't say it.

"Anyway, I'm finished with this disk – did you say there was more?"

Her heart sank; she hadn't had time to look at the last half of her diary, let alone think about how she was going to broach the subject of adulterous liaisons.

Disconsolate wails sounded through the baby monitor.

"I'll bring it later. Sorry, I have to go. His Majesty is awake and vocal, bye for now!" She hung up before she realized that he hadn't had a chance to answer. Damn. Another apology owed.

After a rushed breakfast for J.J. and a perfunctory wash for them both, Sam was desperately trying to get her laptop to play ball; her head was pounding by then. "Now is NOT a good time to go on the fritz," she hissed. At last it seemed to copy the edited version that she wanted, although she had also managed to reproduce the full diary in error; her life and loves in small shiny, tell-tale circles.

The light from both reflected at the back of her retinas. What version should she give him?

With J.J. grumbling in her ear, her stinging breasts and an undercarriage that felt like it was going to leap up and strangle her; she'd decide later.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

By the time she parked and negotiated the now familiar way to Jack's hospital bed, she felt awful; there was no doubt she was coming down with something; probably a cold by the way she felt, hold and cold, shivering and sweating and everything hurt now. Why hadn't she stayed at home today?

Then she saw just how much Jack was pleased to see her; she had forgotten how dreary hospital stays could be and she felt instantly guilty. Sam watched him cuddling their son and turned to face the relentless rain pounding the windows. He deserved so much more than the couple of hours a day that she afforded him – well, maybe more than a couple, but it still wasn't enough.

It was never enough. She wasn't enough.

Two disks. Two versions.

One choice. Tactical or moral? Close the iris on the coward Alar? Shoot to kill the za'tarc masquerading as Martouf? Leave Fifth behind or not?

He had a choice once. "Just go will you?" And he stayed. He had taught her loyalty.

It would be December tomorrow. Thus beginith the season of goodwill, maybe Jack would show her that when he had read the truth.

It didn't take him long to swap J.J. (asleep again; she would pay later) for the laptop. The hum of the processor pricked at her brain and she fished in her purse for Tylenol

"Damn things," Jack grumbled as he snatched up his new acquisition; a pair of horn rimmed reading glasses courtesy of ophthalmology – though Sam found with his longer hair and bespectacled appearance, that this did funny things to her already-churning insides. He cleared his throat to read aloud:

Saturday, August 25th 2007 – Mitchell Homestead, Auburn, Kansas 1015

..and about to hit the road.

Hey! I got to sleep in! I woke at 0930! Just outside my room was a tray of breakfast things and a note to say that Wendy and Frank have gone into town for supplies but wanted to leave me sleeping. I've had a shower and now I'm off exploring. The land here is mercifully flat (hills are tough when your lungs are being pushed up into your shoulders!), the roads are quiet and it's a gorgeous day!

TTYL!

S

X

He paused to raise his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. Oh boy; the guise of an absent minded professor with the ability to dispatch an enemy with his bare hands in seconds was enough to make her knees go weak.

Damn; no Tylenol – surely she hadn't finished the packet she bought yesterday already? No wonder she felt nauseous. With a quick check on J.J., the decision was made and she grabbed her purse, "I need something from the retail pharmacy in the lobby; I'll be back in five; don't read on without me as I need to be with you so that we can talk about it, okay?"

She didn't wait for a reply as she took herself and her throbbing head past the nurse's station and along the corridor to the elevator –

- only to walk right past it. Her head was pounding, her chest was tight and she could see properly out of only one eye. Retracing her steps on wobbly legs, it was all Sam could do to haul her ass into the elevator cab and press the button for what she hoped was the ground floor.

As the cab lurched downward, she knew something was very wrong; the abdominal pain she was fighting was not normal and with horror she realized that she was bleeding heavily and that her sanitary protection was wholly inadequate; she needed to get to the ladies room ASAP.

The elevator cheerfully announced the ground floor, but Sam barely heard it. Like some distorted Dr. Kildare cliché, spots were swimming before her eyes; she had to get help and fast. She got through the sliding doors and tried to speak – nothing came out! She needed help! The pain was unbearable, but she couldn't work out what was actually hurting.

J.J.! She needed to get back to J.J.! That was what was wrong, she turned to find the elevator again when she bumped into a misshapen blob.

"Hey! Watch it, lady!" came the rebuke as her world dipped and spun.

She knew she vomited on her sneakers.

Daylight.

Where was her son?

Her child?

Tall blue uniform ahead!

Air Force!

He would help her.

Lurching.

People staring.

The uniform turned.

"Dad, " she said before all was silent and black.

SJSJSJSJSJ

Sam became aware of a dim light and... hissing. There was hissing in her ear. Trying to open her eyes required a monumental effort. She was horizontal – there were dark windows off to her left – and swallowing hurt.

"Ah, good evening, Colonel Carter; glad to see you're back with us."

Carolyn Lam's voice.

There was only one question; "My baby?"

"Beside you and shh, he's sleeping." Jack's voice! Turning her head was a slow process, but there he was; in a wheelchair beside her hospital bed – and J.J. was nestled in the crook of her right arm. Jack nodded to the sleeping child. "Carolyn's idea; he wouldn't settle so she suggested we lay him next to you and it worked. Aye Carumba!"

Dark windows. It was late! Sam struggled to sit upright and failed. "I have to feed him!"

Carolyn was at her side in an instant, hands pressing on her patient's shoulders and rearranging IV lines. A red drip. Blood. Hopefully going in. Something was irritating her nose.

"Relax, Carter, he's been fed; I fed him," said Pops, not without a distinct note of pride.

Oxygen; that was what was irritating her nose; she was receiving oxygen through a nasal cannula and by the way her throat hurt, she wondered if she'd been intubated.

Jack continued, "Grandma Organix breastmilk formula – Teal'c swears by it and he should know. A midwife will be along soon to help you express and I'll feed him again later; it's mom's night off, okay? Hey! Don't fiddle with that!" He swatted her hand away from where it was touching the oxygen line.

Sam's vision was clearing a little. "What happened?" she croaked.

"You passed out in the lobby at the feet of a security guard - it was all very dramatic-" Jack began to explain.

Carolyn interrupted, "You had a small amount of retained placenta that was adhered to the uterine wall causing hemorrhaging and infection – weren't you concerned about the amount of pain and post partum bleeding you must have been experiencing?"

Her head was beginning to clear. "I thought it was normal – remember, I've never had a baby before." Perhaps checking symptoms on the Internet was not such a good idea after all.

Carolyn frowned and pulled the patient file from the receptacle at the end of the bed. "Well, you also managed to compound the problem by picking up a low grade pulmonary infection; hence the oxygen – your blood gasses were all over the place during surgery."

She paused while Sam tried to take in the amount of machinery surrounding her. "Don't worry about the oh-two; it's just a precaution – the anti-biotics should clear any nasties up within a few days and I've prescribed one with no contra-indicators for nursing mothers. Anyway, despite the drama, you'll be fine, the surgeon was happy otherwise – getting pregnant again shouldn't be a problem."

"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes," said Sam, with feeling.

Dr. Lam smiled and tucked the file back in its holder. "Well, I'm sure you think that now, but perhaps you'll feel differently in a year or so. Anyway, I'm all done here, get some rest and we'll talk again in the morning." Sam didn't miss the pointed look aimed at the back of Jack's head as she headed out the door.

Jack and Sam regarded each other over their sleeping child.

"You're sitting up," said Sam, lamely.

He tapped the arms of his wheelchair, "Yup; got wheels." Jack paused for a moment, as if considering whether she was strong enough to talk. "I've been talking to the orthopedic gurus. I need physio and so on, but there's no reason why that can't be done at an outpatient clinic; I want to come home and help you with J.J. I should be able to get about on my own soon and all this running to and fro after me – enough already." He tucked a stray gray lock behind an ear.

Sam fiddled with a piece of wrinkled sheet. "I- I sometimes think that I'm so busy caring for J.J., I don't have time to love him."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Sara said something similar when Charlie was little. I wasn't around for them much; I want to be there for you and J.J. That is, if you'll have me."

A sudden thought announced its unwelcome presence in Sam's mind. He obviously hadn't read the last part of the diary. Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

She truly did not feel up to discussing this now, but really, she had no choice, did she?

The sheet corner was completely twisted around her fingers and was actually making the IV port taped to the back of her left hand uncomfortable. "Jack, I need to talk to you about something. While I was pregnant, I… I met someone-"

"-David Pryce. I know, I read your diary. ALL of it. I had to do something while you were being all dramatic in surgery. And I talked to him on the phone. He seemed an okay guy."

Sam was convinced that she must be suffering some sort of reaction to the hallucinogenic drugs they must have pumped her with. "You talked to him?"

Jack's eyes flicked to the silent EKG monitor – her heart rate must have gone up. Guilt can do that to a person.

"Yup. Carolyn got your purse back from the security guard – he thinks he's some kind of hero, by the way – and we went through to see if there was anything you might need in the way of – never mind – anyway, your cell phone rang and it seemed stupid not to answer it and it was him."

Her thoughts nose-dived.

Jack smiled and continued, as if sensing her discomfort. "He wanted to know whether you were seeking a continuance on the proof of paternity determination – you were supposed to call him back?"

Sam nodded; she had totally forgotten.

"Basically, you don't have to worry; I explained who I was, and me being actually alive speeds the application somewhat. He's having his secretary fax the paperwork to the legal eagles at the CMC and Hank Landry will bring it all over tomorrow for me to sign; by noon J.J. will officially be an 'O'Neill'." He smiled that deep cheek crease grin that she adored and then she didn't know what to say, so opted to cry a little instead. Small track-type tears that slid out of the corner of her eyes and dribbled into the hair near her ears. "I don't deserve you," she whispered, her emotions reeling.

"Hey, hey… none of that." Jack found a Kleenex from somewhere and was wiping away the evidence of her gratitude. He grabbed the bed rails and used them to pull the wheelchair closer. "Don't you think I would have wanted you to find happiness without me? And J.J. – a child needs parents even if they are not biologically related. Also, I happen to think Daniel would have made a great dad."

He smiled at her realization. "Don't worry, I talked to him too, mostly to reassure him his family jewels would stay intact and I spoke to Mark and Cassie on the phone. Everyone sends their love and best wishes, yadda, yadda. Oh! Siler and Harriman called – they didn't propose to you as well, did they?"

"No!" Okay, that came out with a little more force than she had intended.

Jack chuckled. "Just checking." He reached over the upraised bedrail to check on J.J. and his hand lingered near hers. His thumbs were smoother than she remembered as he rubbed the back of wrist in slow circles. "I can't pretend I wasn't surprised about Pryce, but he did take advantage when you had already told him no. It actually upset me more about how much you beat yourself up about it."

"I had a lot of time to think when you were in recovery," he explained in response to her raised eyebrows.

J.J. shuffled a little in his sleep and his mouth began to purse and relax in turn. Small fists balled at either side of his face. The parents took a moment to regard their beautiful child.

Sam let the sensations wash over her, reveling in the quiet time, despite the soreness that was beginning to nag. Finally, Jack spoke again. "I can only begin to imagine what you were going through; expecting our baby when you must have thought that I was dead. You are worthy of so much Sam. You deserve to love and be loved."

She stared. It wasn't possible, surely?

"What?" asked Jack, pulling his chin back in query.

Sam blinked a couple of times to clear her vision and her mind. "My dad… my dad said that to me once."

He seemed to relax. "Yeah, well, ol' Jacob and I actually saw eye-to-eye on quite a few issues, especially ones regarding you."

Oh, did they now? Sam turned her hand so that their palms were touching. "He also said it was time to let go of the things that were preventing me from finding happiness." She neglected to mention that it was actually a contusion-induced figment of her imagination that had told her that - or of the searing kiss with his hallucination that came later.

"And?"

"And I'm glad I didn't." She smiled back, the first genuine expression of happiness that she had felt in a long time. Maybe this mismatched, ill-fated relationship with all its misunderstandings, foibles and history could work?

Jack sat back to appraise her fully. "Sam, do you want to go back to work?"

Huh? She wasn't expecting that. "Yes, I do." And she did, she really did. She couldn't wait to get back to her doohickeys and her lab and the buzz.

But…

"Not for a while, however, and then only part-time and after that I'll see how I feel."

He nodded in total agreement. "Well, I don't. I'm way too old for this kinda crap." He tapped his wheelchair again. "How would you feel about me staying at home to look after J.J. as far as mommy's milk expressing holds out? I could be your home help hippy." He shook his spiky mullet at her.

She couldn't keep the grin off her face. "Perfect."

He was on a roll now and held her hand a little tighter. "I'm not sure about all this PC business of 'partner' or 'father of my child' and so help me; I'm way too old to be a 'boyfriend'."

Okay, she'd buy that. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"Husband."

SJSJSJSJSJSJSJ

Daniel was as relaxed as he had been for many weeks – months, even and he kicked off his sandals to revel in the verdant lawn that covered most of the O'Neill's back yard and tried to steady his camcorder to record an elusive bird that was clinging to a well-stocked feeder. How relieved he was that this pretty little blue-green planet was still turning and had not been blasted, overthrown or ripped bare of her wonderful, fragile existence. The Earth had withstood two major offensives by the now defunct bad guys of the galaxy, the Ori. Nasty little buggers He felt so proud to part of the team that had stopped the murderous régime from taking hold although sorry that the two people the planet had to thank the most would remain safely anonymous, at least for now. Sam's ingenuity, Jack's resourcefulness and the combination of them and the earthwide teams had successfully averted a massacre of catastrophic proportions.

And he had come to their house for a barbeque with their many friends. His life was weird. And he loved it.

Laughing caught his attention and he spun his mini-DV to focus on the source of the noise; the man (thankfully bereft of the ponytail he had sported for a while) was blowing raspberries on his squirming son's tummy followed by the inevitable; "AGAIN!" and the woman smiling beside them. Jack reached down to pull his laughing wife's top up to perform the same on her stomach – quite something now that Sam was seven months pregnant and quite frankly gorgeous.

The baby was entirely planned and both were overjoyed when the O'Neill super-sperm worked its prompt and accurate magic with Naquadah tipped warheads (Sam's words, not Jack's) and to discover that the baby was a girl. There were also some indicators that their daughter had Down's syndrome, but Sam had decided that she could not go through any invasive diagnostic procedures again and after a long and private discussion, Jack was more than happy to go along with her; external scans would have to suffice until the baby was born. Daniel was convinced the parents would face the future and whatever it would bring in the way they always had; with resilience and hope…and just a little bit of mutual hero-worship.

They had already named their child, adamant that although her brother bore a solid family name, their daughter would have a name entirely her own and would not be named after any friend, relative or hallucination, living, dead or transitory. Eva Margaret was already very much loved.

Giggling from Sam broke his thoughts – Jack had relinquished his fidgeting son to the sand boxand was now kissing the skin of Sam's swollen stomach while she tried to bat him away with futile flapping. The camcorder's viewfinder caught Jack's 'No giggling!' admonishment and then - the most personal of looks lingered between them, as if a remembrance of things past had been voiced. The couple moved in for an intense kiss, oblivious to the halted conversation and grins of their friends. As the embrace continued, Daniel found it amusing that Jack and Sam seemed to enjoy catching up on the many years of hiding their love, both to others and to themselves. Beginning to feel like a voyeur, he switched off the digital camera, tucked it back in its case and slipped into the seat next to Teal'c who offered him a knowing smile and a cold beer.

He sipped at the cold liquid, watching J.J. playing with his Aunty Cassie and her new boyfriend amongst the buckets and spades, and he remembered the first time he had held Jonathan Jacob Carter O'Neill. He had gazed into the child's eyes then and saw the embodiment of his friends' love and hope.

Some might have called him fanciful, just as they had many years ago when he pronounced that the pyramids had been built by aliens from outer space.

Looking at the tender scene before him, he felt rather smug that it was proven he was right all along on both counts.

Love.

It's the thing that carries the hope.

SJSJSJSJSJ

The End!