A/N: This ficlet was not technically part of the Valenship challenge, but was rather a request from a fellow shipper in honor of Valenship. The prompt was a shippier version of the scene where Sam and Jack meet up at the cabin in "2010". This is what came out of it.


"I'm happy with the way things are. No more saving the world, just a nice pond, with no pesky fish in it… and the single most pressing issue in my life is whether or not to get a dog."

The words came so smoothly, it was hard to believe they came from the man sitting in front of her. He had never been so sedate in her memory; the cadence of his speech had always been lilting, humorous and not a little lofty. But this tone, these words… they came from a stranger.

Sam stared at the him, saw his eyes so pointedly avoiding contact with hers, and anger sparked. Jack O'Neill was judging her; he judged her marriage, her commitment to learning Aschen technology, and her desire now to fix everything. After everything she'd shared with him, even her inability to get pregnant, he sneered. She might have been wrong, but at least she had the guts to admit it—and do something about it.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Sam spat the words at him, disgust climbing in her throat, burning as it went. Indignation burned in the pits of Jack's eyes, and for a moment, Sam could almost see the man he'd been before. Beneath the scruffy, unkempt—uncaring—bear, the legendary Jack O'Neill still lingered.

"What the hell do you think happened?" he fired back, bristling. His finger jabbed sharply at her. "You turned your back on me—"

"God, is that really what you think happened? You think that because for once in my career I didn't snap to and trip over myself to fall in line that I abandoned you? That it was some sort of personal attack?!" A very un-ladylike snort told him exactly what she thought about that. "I didn't realize you were that insecure—"

Before she could finish, he was there in front of her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. "You should have trusted me." She always had before. "You should have backed me up."

This was not on her. Not entirely. "You had no proof, Jack. There was nothing to suggest they intended any harm—"

"But I was right!" His finger jabbed again, nearly poking her in the chest.

Sam batted it away forcefully, knocking his arm far to the side. "But we didn't know then! You had nothing back then but your damn gut! One man's misgivings weren't enough to sway the decision of the President, not when there was so much to gain!" They glared at each other, neither refusing to back down. "You were right—and you were the only one who suspected anything. But you had nothing to back it up, and your unfounded protest wasn't enough for us to turn our back on the one alliance that could turn the tide in the war against the Goa'uld. You know that."

Something shifted in Jack's gaze, and Sam caught it. She saw it, and her anger instantly tempered into the steely chill of realization.

"You knew that," she repeated, stepping away. "That's why you were so vocal, but did nothing to dig up the proof we needed to believe you. You must have known you wouldn't be taken seriously. So you became the martyr, so you could afford to … You got to resign, come out here to live here in peace. Just so that when you ended up being right, you could just say 'I told you so' and be done with it? And if you were wrong, then no harm, no foul, right? You still get the retirement you always wanted, and Earth gets all the tech it could ever want." She swallowed painfully. "Must've been a win-win for you…"

Tears burned at her eyes, and Sam swiped at them bitterly. For a long time, she'd been Samantha Carter—the brain behind the Stargate Program. At this moment, though, she couldn't have felt more foolish. Jack had used the Aschen to wash his hands of the SGC… of SG-1, of her.

Her anger dissipated in a whoosh, replaced with nothing but the ache of hurt. Sam sat heavily on the firewood stacked so neatly beside the cabin. She'd thought she'd moved on, left this anguish—left him—behind. Joe had helped. He made her happy, respected her. But never did he make her feel like this. Jack might spark the very worst of her emotions these days, but the intensity of them… Only Jack could do this to her, and she was exhausted from it all.

After a moment, Jack sat next to her. His shoulders were slumped, and Sam let herself believe that he was as discouraged as she was. "I was tired," he said. There was no apology in the admission, nothing but acceptance. It was done, and maybe he was even relieved that the truth was finally out. He sighed. "But this wasn't the retirement I wanted."

Sam closed her eyes. It wasn't the retirement she'd envisioned for him either. Back when she was in a position to have those kinds of thoughts, he'd never been alone at this cabin, and it hadn't been a dog that had kept him company. Being here now; it was cruel kick in the chest, wasn't it?

"What happened to us, Sam?" The acid in his voice had vanished, and now Sam almost wished for it back. Angry Jack was something she could battle; Gentle Jack had the power to melt her completely. "We were happy, and then… you were gone."

She thought about getting up, leaving… but in the end, she surrendered. "It didn't happen overnight," she countered. "Nothing does. But, one day I woke up and realized… you weren't the man I'd fallen in love with, anymore." She didn't turn her head to look at him. She didn't need to. "You were so quick to write us off, wipe your hands of us… It was like I didn't even know you anymore."

His hurt radiated from him in waves, though his voice, when he spoke, was steady. "It wasn't just me."

"No," she agreed. "I know that."

She pulled her hands to her lap and let them rest there, studying her fingers. Her nails and cuticles were carefully trimmed; the grubby hygiene that had passed in the field offworld had no place in the Aschen's new society. Now, somehow, they were more ugly than when they'd been dirty and torn.

"Maybe we would have been able to work through it… But when that day came, and I realized I was with a stranger—I didn't want to try."

She'd have rather cut ties and preserve her memories of good times with Jack, than take the gamble and lose any sense of fondness for him at all. And that's what she'd done. Maybe it was selfish of her; maybe she'd been wrong to let him go. But it was over.

For long minutes they sat there in quiet. Slowly, the silence following their heated argument gave way to the sound of birds singing in the forest. Peace determinedly restored itself in the serenity of the idyllic scene, and it eased the burden on Sam's shoulders. For years, she'd wanted the chance to have some kind of resolution with Jack. Not forgiveness, not even understanding. She'd simply wanted him to know. And now he did.

It had taken too long for them to grow up, it seemed. It had all came too late.

"You're going to go through with this with or without me, aren't you?" he asked finally.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"And if you succeed, we all, what? Disappear?" His head turned, and she felt his eyes on her. "It all gets rewritten?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. Some people theorized that an event like the one they were trying to engineer would simply be the spark that fueled an alternate reality. But it had never been done before; they wouldn't know for sure until they did it. "Time travel gives me a headache."

"Well, we wouldn't want that." Jack's drawl was light, and for a moment, he was almost like the man she remembered. There was another pause, and then, "Y'know, if this all gets unwritten when you go through with your plan… I don't want our last words in this world to be a screaming match."

Against the warning voice in her head, Sam huffed a soft laugh. When Jack reached over, she let him entwine his fingers with hers. Their palms pressed together, and she squeezed it gently.

"You're my biggest regret," he uttered softly.

Finally, Sam looked at him, her brow creeping upwards. "Gee, thanks."

His eyes rolled, but then his features grew serious once more. "I shouldn't have let the regs stand between us so long. I should have retired sooner, transferred to another team… anything. You were worth it. I only wish I'd been man enough to do it."

"Jack…"

"I shouldn't have let you go."

Darkness pulled at the corners of her eyes. For almost a decade, a tiny ball of resentment had sat in her heart. It had been such a constant companion that she hadn't noticed it until this moment, when it unraveled into nothing. On some level, she'd wished he'd come after her. He hadn't.

Sam sighed, and the last of her energy slipped away with her breath. Her fingers tightened over his hand, and let her head rest on his shoulder. He smelled of sunshine and pine, and the musky scent of the lake. "I loved you, Jack." A part of her perhaps always would.

"Faxon makes you happy." It wasn't so much a question as a statement, and it didn't disrupt the quiet they it would have if he'd mentioned the same while they were still angry. She answered.

"Yes. He does." She squeezed his hand, until he turned and met her gaze. "So did you."

They didn't say anything else. When the sun began to fade, Sam got to her feet. Jack released her, his fingers slipping from her grasp like so much ether. Only their lingering warmth assured her that it had truly happened—she wasn't dreaming.

Without a word, she began to walk back towards her car. Halfway there, just before she turned the corner of the cabin, she turned back. His eyes were watching her, and she met his gaze with a serious stare. "What would you name it?"

Jack blinked. "What?"

"The dog. What would you name it?"

Salt-and-peppered eyebrows lifted in amusement. His lips almost curled upwards, but not quite. "Danny-boy, probably." He shrugged.

Sam grinned. "Daniel would never forgive you."

"You got a better name?"

She considered it for a moment, and in an instant the answer hit. "I've always liked Homer."

A cricket chirped absurdly close, as though mocking her as Jack simply absorbed the response, not making a sound of his own. Then he smiled, and nodded.

"Take care, Sam."

Regret washed over her, but in an instant it was gone, swallowed by the contentment in her soul. If her plan worked, then somewhere, somehow she and Jack might have another chance. If not in this reality, then another one. She could only hope they'd get it right.

"Good bye, Jack."