Jack flinched and backed away as the shot glanced off his arm. Sam gasped as she fell against the bookshelf. She pulled her hand away from her side in shock, blood staining her fingers. What had he done to her? Sliding down to the floor, she couldn't comprehend why there was so much blood. That was when she saw the knife in Jack's hand.
Sam tried to clear her mind, to focus on saving herself and stopping him. He was slowly advancing on her, enraged by the wound that was now seeping blood through his shirt and down his arm. Sam grasped her handgun, though her fingers would barely hold it up. Her aim was anything but steady as she pointed it at the angry man before her.
"Jack, please!" she begged. "Stop!"
He did stop. His eyes traveled down to her waist and took in the pain he'd inflicted. The fact that he didn't seem sorry at all frightened Sam. In fact, he seemed pleased. "We're not done yet," he taunted, waving the knife teasingly in front of her.
"What are you doing? Jack, it's me!" Shooting pains ran through Sam's abdomen. She clutched her side, her attempts to stop the flow of blood futile.
Jack took another step forward, "You gonna stop me? You gonna shoot me again?"
"I don't want to, but you know I'm capable. I won't miss this time, Jack," she warned. Her voice shook, belying the in control impression she was trying to pull off.
Another step. "You won't shoot me." Her own blood shone on the knife.
Tears sprang to Sam's eyes. "Please don't make me do this." A cold and unyielding stare gave no indication her pleas were having any influence. "Jack?" He couldn't be doing this. The man approaching her was not her husband. This was all a dream. It had to be. It had to be.
Her aim began to falter despite herself. Maybe she couldn't shoot him, or perhaps the adrenaline was starting to wear off. Sam wasn't sure. But as Jack took advantage of her lapse, she saw another way out.
As he rapidly approached, Sam grabbed his ankle between her feet and twisted. As Jack fell, surprised, he couldn't stop his head from connecting with the desk corner. He hit with a sickening thud, then his body finished its descent to the floor.
"Oh, God!" Sam cried in relief. She looked at Jack's motionless form and the gash on his forehead. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily. It was not the time to go into hysterics. She needed help.
Sam scanned the room for the telephone. She found it only a few feet away, knocked to the floor by Jack. She breathed in sharply as she reached for it, her midsection protesting the movement.
Sam's fingers clasped around the phone so tightly her knuckles would have been white but for the blood smeared on them. Her gaze settled on her wedding ring and the dark red that tarnished the diamonds.
That was when the tears came.
When Jack woke, the first thing he was aware of was the dampness of his T-shirt. The next thing he noticed was the quiet sobbing of his wife. Jack could feel the guilt come rushing back and he physically hurt at the sound of Sam's weeping. How many nights had this happened and he hadn't known about it? How could he live with himself knowing he was responsible for this, and that despite the advances he thought they'd made, Sam was still plagued with nightmares?
"Sam?" he whispered, shaking her gently. "Come on, wake up." He rubbed her back soothingly. He wasn't going to run away, even though that was his instinct. Jack had to face this with her, help her through it.
"No," she mumbled, burying her head into his chest. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his T-shirt as she continued to dream.
"Sam. Hey, Sam." Jack spoke more loudly as he shook her sleeping form again.
"What?" Sam's head shot up and she looked around in confusion. Finally, she focused on Jack. Her eyes widened slightly and she pushed away from him.
"It's me, Sam. It's okay." Jack made the mistake of holding on to Sam as he tried to reason with her.
"No!" Her voice was raised and Jack could hear the undertones of terror. "Don't touch me!" Sam shimmied away from Jack and scooted to her side of the bed. Heaving a shuttering sigh, she rested her head in her hands, trying to gather her thoughts.
Jack pulled his sheets back and moved towards Sam. She lifted her hand, stopping him. "Just...don't."
"But…" Jack didn't know what to say. He struggled for words, and when he didn't find any, he made a decision. "Fine."
He got off the bed, the mattress squeaking slightly. Jack couldn't even bear to look back at his wife as he left the room. Leaning against the hallway wall, he crossed his arms, frustrated. Telling himself he could help her through this, help them, what a load of crock. He'd tried to get over his reservations, to open up to Sam and not push her away. Jack wanted this to work out and he was doing the best he could. It wasn't good enough, obviously. He honestly didn't know what else to do.
Jack turned as the bedroom door creaked opened. Shaking his head, he headed down the hall. He needed some air…or something.
"Jack?" Sam's timid voice almost halted him in his tracks. "Jack, wait." He came to a stop at the end of the hall.
He could sense Sam come up behind him. She grabbed his hand, pulling him around to face her. A lump formed in his throat at expression of sorrow and regret on her face. "I'm sorry…I was just confused. I didn't know what…what was going on. Please." Sam's wide eyes studied him, waiting for him to answer, to give her some indication of what to do next.
"I don't want to lose you." Jack choked out the words. The struggle of the last few weeks had worn away at them both. Maybe it was time to say what needed to be said. "I can't lose you."
Sam's jaw dropped slightly. "Jack, no! You're not going to. I'm here." She grasped his other hand, pulling both of them up to her cheeks, resting her smaller hands on top of his. "Right here."
Jack couldn't quite meet her eyes. "I did and said things that…that I can't ever forgive myself for. How many more nights will you have nightmares because of me?"
"So I have a few nightmares. That's normal. But tonight…" Sam closed her eyes and breathed in, then exhaled. "Tonight showed me we're going to be okay. We both have issues, I know. Why do you think it took so long for us to have a real relationship? Why do you think we're taking this so badly?"
Jack nodded slightly. She was making sense.
"I still love you, Jack." Sam could see a spark of hope in her husband's dark eyes. "And the fact that this is affecting you like this…it means you still love me too. Am I right?"
"Yes." He whispered the word.
"I was sure you'd completely shut me out. But you didn't. And that means a lot to me. I know I've not been totally upfront with you. I've been scared, I admit." Sam's hands fell away from Jack's and to her side. Her gaze was downcast.
"Me too," Jack told her. Sam looked up at him, startled. Running his thumbs along her cheekbones, Jack continued. "Scared I'd relapse and hurt you again…that I'd ruin my second chance."
They'd been skirting this issue, and now was the first time they'd really talked about it. Sam leaned in, grazing his cheek with a kiss. "You haven't ruined anything," she replied softly.
Without hesitation, Jack drew her into his arms. "I love you, Sam," he breathed into her ear.
Those three words reached right down to Sam's core. He had certainly told her that before, but never with such intensity and devotion. Jack rocked her, holding her as close as humanly possible. Sam clung to him just as tightly.
Her heart was pounding wildly and sobs threatened to choke her as she struggled to speak. "I love you." She managed to get the words out just before the tears spilled down her cheeks. And though Sam was tired of crying, this was different. For the first time in a long time, her tears weren't tears of grief and hurt, but of joy.
----
8 months later
Jack lay awake watching her, just watching. Her hair was a bit longer now and her bangs fell over her long, dark eyelashes. Her lips were parted slightly and she inhaled and exhaled softly as she slept. She looked so serene.
Throughout her time at the SGC, Sam had accumulated quite a collection of scars. Most were tiny and unnoticeable, but Jack knew where each one was. One, however, had not been obtained on a mission. It was not small or forgettable. Though not as red and angry as it had once been, it still marred his wife's silky skin.
Jack trailed his index finger along the mark and Sam stirred ever so slightly. He rested his hand on her hip, smiling as she fell back into her deep slumber.
It was their first anniversary. A little over eight months ago, Jack had feared he would never see this day. It hadn't always been easy, and sometimes still wasn't, but they were making it-they would make it.
It all astounded him. Being able to be with Sam in the first place, that was a miracle in and of itself. After all the years of waiting and hoping, they'd gotten their chance. But to still be going so strong today…after everything…it never ceased to amaze him.
As his gaze settled back on Sam's scarred side, Jack noticed he didn't feel the guilt he once did every time he saw it. The remorse was still there, yes, but it didn't eat away at him constantly. The scar was a reminder of that night. Yet, it didn't bring back all the horrible memories it once did. If anything, it reminded Jack of how far they'd come and just how far they'd go for one another.
He pulled Sam to his chest and threw the blanket over them. Sam instinctively wrapped her arms around Jack and settled her head beneath his chin. Her hair tickled his nose and he laughed softly.
Jack wouldn't trade this for the world. He wouldn't even go back and trade in the years of longing or keep that fateful night from happening. Their love had been tested and their commitment tried. But what would love be without its struggles, for those had brought them to where they were today.
What is love not tested?
What is commitment not tried?
When it is all said and done
True love will abide.
A/N: Well, that's it. Thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoyed the ride.