Grace

by Aria

Chapter Twelve

Rating: Same as the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own them; if I did then I would be a hell of a lot richer. No one's paying me to write this, so I'm not making any profit from writing it. I'm just killing time.

Spoilers: Divide and Conquer, Beneath the Surface, Point of No Return, Tangent, Serpent's Venom, Grace, The other guys, Heroes.

Synopsis: Grace arrives through the Stargate, and it's not just Sam that can see her. Set a couple of months after Heroes, and Lost City.

Just in case anyone is still confused, I'm telling two stories that will eventually intertwine here. Even chapters are one story, odds are another. It'll become obvious quickly how they join.

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She had thought long and hard about this. She had tossed and turned so much thinking about this that even Simmons had said that she looked a little tired. So this was why she was taking another look into the mirror in the women's locker room and debating whether to add another layer of concealer under her eyes.

She'd asked a passing leuitenant whether it was too much. She'd replied, "No, ma'am" in a way that initially Carter had found reassuring, but then wondered if it was merely a quick and polite fobbing off of a superior officer. If she'd asked if she looked pregnant in her BDUs with a mug perched on her bump, the same reply would probably have been forth coming.

At least under the mountain the lighting was all the same. She needn't worry about applying makeup under natural light because there'd be none of the pesky stuff to show up her flaws, her poorly blended lines wouldn't be more obvious under one fluorescent desk lamp rather than another.

Samantha Carter was stood in front of the largest mirror in the women's locker room wearing a black wrap around maternity dress with a deep neckline. Her swollen maternal breasts were placed into a supportive bra, and a hint of cleavage was visible above v of the neck. To point it out, she was wearing a gold necklace with a small horn pendant, her growing and thickening blonde hair sat just about her shoulders, blow dried - to look slightly messy - but still in place. She wore makeup. She didn't think it was enough to be too obvious, a dash of black eyeliner on top of her usual coral lipstick and mascara. Not too dissimilar to dress uniform choices, hopefully enough to turn half an eye. She was wearing heels – not too high, her fattening ankles wouldn't allow much, but enough to remind her with each step that she looked good.

One of the enlisted personnel had accidentally asked her if she was going out with 'daddy' tonight, earning a mixture of giggles and stunned silence from the other women in the room, depending on their knowledge of the SGC rumour mill.

She certainly wanted to impress him.

It was Friday. Daniel had held the party for Colonel O'Neill's birthday six nights ago, and she hadn't slept one of them. She'd made pro and con lists on paper before she momentarily lost one under a stack of reports and realised how horrible it would be if one made itself into the wrong hands. She'd toyed with opening a wormhole just to throw the scrap in and be sure no one would see it.

Pro – Keeping quiet that is – No pesky problems with fraternisation 'reg's. No one would question if she'd earnt her promotion last year.

Con – Jack O'Neill would never get the chance to be a father again. Well, perhaps not never, but certainly not with her.

Pro – Colonel O'Neill wouldn't be angry with her for hiding the truth, as he'd never know it.

Con – He would never know the truth, and thus continue believing she was pregnant with another man's child.

Pro – she wouldn't have to have this discussion.

She always found it difficult to think of a negative argument after that one was aired. Her father was right, Jack O'Neill had a right to know. After all they'd been through together, lying to him felt wrong and the idea that the product of them having been together was a very good reason why it couldn't happen again, tore her apart.

She knocked on his door.

"Come."

It wasn't that they'd been avoiding each other since the weekend, as much as she'd not been in his presence. She would have avoided him if it'd been awkward at some point when she'd seen him Monday, but that never happened, so she'd planned to avoid him if it was odd on Tuesday, but that never happened either. It was only after he'd let her in that she realised he could have been avoiding her.

It was too late now, she could hardly run – there wasn't a turn or open door down the corridor for twenty yards, and pregnant feet in heels would hardly help her make it unless her life depended on it.

The door was yanked open in front of her, and O'Neill probably looked as deer-in-the-headlights as she did at that moment. Eventually they found their voices. "Carter, you…do you want to come in?"

She nodded and he moved aside for her. Not far enough as her back and bottom slid against his side.

Jack O'Neill peered down the corridor in both directions as he shut the door. Whilst it wasn't directly true that he'd been avoiding his Major these last few days he hadn't found as many benign causes to trip down to her lab this last week and as such had realised about an hour ago that he hadn't been to her lab all week. He'd made the trip only to learn from Felger that she'd stepped out dead on five today and headed for the women's lockers. He assumed she was long gone and returned to his desk and yo-yo.

Even pregnant, Carter was still a soldier, and so when he shut his office door, he saw her stood at ease between the two chairs at angles in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Carter." He offered and she sat in the one furthest, and slightly facing the door, which had been cleared of paperwork by Daniel earlier in the day. A stack of paperwork half a metre high sat centrally on the next. Jack debated taking his desk chair, with wheels and a padded leather back, on the opposite side of the desk, but that would create a barrier between them. It would also affirm his sense of power and create a feeling of security, but Jack didn't think that would help Carter's mood, which was, at this point, unreadable. Instead he took a chunk of blue folders off the top, and in three piles moved the chair's contents onto his table, before slumping down opposite her. Their knees touched on one side.

"What can I do for you, Carter?" He finally begun, after what, to Sam at least, felt like an eternity.

No more 'Sam' she thought. Drawing conclusions from two instances was ridiculous, like a mathematician drawing 3 from 1 and 2 – she had to remind herself, and forged on with her semi-rehearsed conversation. "Sir, I lied to you, earlier in my pregnancy."

Jack O'Neill was a smart man. Depending on whether he wanted to, or not, he would draw the necessary conclusions from her single statement. He remained silent, and Samantha had to remind herself to count the seconds since she finished talking.

She saw a small smile appear on his lips before he banished it. His face remained straight for the remainder of the ten slow counts in her head. She searched for other indicators in his posture that she wasn't to continue. His hands were palm down on his thighs, his feet were flat on the floor, one slightly inside her leg where the chairs were closest. When her gaze rose to meet his face he was watching her similarly, and she found she needed to focus between his eyes to continue to speak. "The baby, it's…"

"Mine." He finished for her.

She nodded meekly and dropped her head at the end of the short motion. Somehow a 'yessir' didn't seem appropriate at that point.

They sat in silence. And Sam didn't count.

It felt like forever before Jack dropped his head into his hands and scratched at his salty head. Eventually Sam heard what she thought was a chuckle, and then he rose to his feet. He paced the room, around behind his desk and back to behind her chair, and then another circuit of the room. He plucked his yo-yo up from the shelf in his desk and after a single string caught it, and began to transfer it from hand to hand, feeling uncomfortable. His pace quickened, and to Sam it felt as though the tension in the room was mounting. She became irrationally scared of what he would say when he stopped pacing, how he would say it, being shouted at, threatened. She had to interrupt, to ask him something.

"You suspected?"

He was behind her, and she angled in her seat to see his face as he responded. "Yes, we did the necessary things, but then, No, because you've never lied to me." He scratched his face and ran his fingers through his hair again. For another second a smile spread across his lips. This one larger than before, but it was quickly banished. It was an absurd reaction, and Samantha wasn't sure how to react to him.

"You told me it wasn't mine." He leant over the back of his leather chair, hands still absently passing the yo-yo between them.

"I did, sir." It just slipped out. She felt like she was in trouble, rather than this being a conversation between two people who had, at one point been lovers – even if the physical and emotional side were separated.

Jack looked at her, exasperated. She hung her head again, a look of penance playing across her features. The tension grew and then abated in the silence that drew out between them.

"Carter…" a pause, "Sam…I'm gonna head up to my cabin this weekend. Clear my head. Even if I suspected, this is a surprise, and we should probably decide the best step forward now, whatever that may be, together."

Sam opened her mouth to speak, she was about to tell him she didn't need or want anything from him, not if he didn't want to be involved, but the statement died in her throat. He noted the motion and allowed her ample time to say what she wanted to say, before starting again. "I just have to ask, who else knows about this?"

Samantha rose to her feet. She was still at a stage where she could do so without relying on the arms of the chair, but the lightheaded, surreal sensation she had right now demanded their use. She placed faced him and placed her hands on the top of her bump, stroking gently. "My father"

"Jacob knows?" She nodded and he winced. He came to perch on the corner of his desk. "No one else?"

She shook her head and moved for the door handle.

"Sam," he called, as she felt fingers touch the edge of her limp hand. She turned to him, and the momentum allowed the fingers to scurry across her palm and gently hold her hand. She didn't try to extract hers, and Jack gently tugged her towards him.

It had felt like the appropriate moment to leave. Now, stood between his knees, holding hands, she felt ridiculously awkward, and her free hand flew to her bump to protect it. He released her hand and made a motion to touch her belly before pulling his hand away. He looked completely at her volleyball bump, eyes bulging with awe. "He? She?"

Sam was surprised. She suddenly realised that whilst questions about dates and the sex, pregnancy cravings and name suggestions had been freely flowing from Teal'C and Daniel as well as Janet, Harriman and other members of staff at the SGC, Jack O'Neill hadn't asked. The only comment he'd made was a few months ago, when he'd joked she might start to crave strange jello – an illusion to the red-blue war that had been a part of their relationship for the last few years.

She struggled not to give the same response to him that she gave everyone else, and felt guilty. "She, we think. They thought they could see something on a few scans, but the last few have definitely been girl. You know it's a negative finding, rather than a positive finding, so…" She trailed off when she realised he looked a little confused. "When the ultrasound tech says it's a boy its because they see a penis, where as with a girl…"

"They don't, but it could be the position of the baby's hand and…got it."

Sam smiled encouragingly.

"How many scans have you had?"

"It was weekly, at the beginning." Sam had been glad not to have had anyone accompany her to the early appointments, regular transvaginal ultrasounds with someone holding her hand? No thanks. "Now it's fortnightly. The obstetrician doesn't know about the Stargate or Jolinar, but knows I have some proteins with an uncertain effect on a baby. I think he thinks they're from chemical testing or something…" Jack nodded.

"Do you have pictures?" She nodded. "Can I see them?" She nodded again. "If I'm on earth, next time, could I come?" Sam nodded again. She found it hard to suppress the part of her that was doing back flips at the idea he would want to be involved with the child.

"Can I?" He raised a hand to touch her bump. Sam nodded, Jack placed his hand square top and centre, flattening the fingers out to maximise contact, even so, it wouldn't allow him to feel very much. She reminded herself Jack had had a pregnant wife before, so Sam knew this was awkwardness about them, and guided his hand south to find somewhere with a foot.

Her stomach was still. "Does she kick much?" Sam smiled and nodded.

"Apparently I was pretty docile, so that must be you." She ventured. They shared a grin, and their eyes met. "I'm sorry." She eventually admitted, her gaze dropping. He started as though to comfort her, but stopped. He reached a hand out, possibly to lift her chin, but stopped.

A soft push from inside was felt against his hand and his hand moved as though to pull away, but Sam held him still. "A little fidget before she moves." She muttered as explanation.

"Why did you…" His question was cut off as he felt a stronger pressure against his hand that rippled across his Sam's belly, through the soft material of her dress movements could gently be seen. "Wow!"

The movement stopped and the sense of amnesty between them faltered. Sam took a step back. "Right, I'd better get going if I want to be at the cabin before it gets too late."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Have a good weekend, sir."

He didn't stop her. Sam didn't realise she hadn't exhaled until she was on the other side of the wall. She didn't feel she could breathe without them.