"The exam went pretty well," Sam said, having handed out the graded exams to her students. "There were some rough spots across the board, but in general, I think you got a good handle on the material."

She reached for her glasses and put them on the bridge of her nose before she looked back up at the crowd. "Is there anyone in this class who made arrangements to take a makeup exam?"

None of the hands went up, and she exhaled in relief. "Okay. Problem number one..."

"Dr. Carter?"

Sam looked up, surprised at the interruption.

"Yes?"

Tunisia appeared in the doorway of the lecture hall. "There's an urgent call for you."

Sam's brow furrowed. Life had returned to normal after Jack had closed the investigation into Kerry Johnson's death. What could have changed? "I'll be right back. Tunisia, can you start going over the test?"

The TA nodded. "Sure."

Sam took off her glasses, quickly making her way toward her office. "Carter," she answered, quickly.

"Is this Grace O'Neill's mother?"

Sam's heart began pounding in worry. "Yes."

"This is Linda from Cheyenne Mountain Junior High. We have Grace here in the office."

"Is she okay?"

"She assaulted one of the substitute teachers in the building."

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

"Your husband is already here, but we feel this is the type of matter that is best addressed with both parents."

"Of course." Sam said, nodding.

"The principal wants to meet with you and with Mr. McNamara as well as the School Resource Officer."

Sam swallowed. "The School Resource Officer?"

"I won't lie, Mrs. O'Neill," Linda said, soberly. "This could go on her criminal record – especially if Mr. McNamara chooses to press charges."

Sam's heart plummeted into her stomach. "I'll be right there," she said, soberly.

Instantly, she reached for a pen. Dr. Carter's Applied Science Classes Canceled Today, she scribbled. Then, she walked back into the lecture hall. "I need to cancel classes for the rest of the day," she announced, gravely. "I'll see you all on Thursday."


"Mrs. O'Neill," the principal greeted from the doorway to his office before Sam could sign in at the front desk. He motioned for her to follow him, and Sam could see her husband standing nervously at the other side of the room from the door.

She walked into the office before she noticed a tall, lean man with dark, curly hair, sitting with his back toward the door. "Mr. and Mrs. O'Neill," the principal began from behind the desk. "This is Aaron McNamara. Mr. McNamara, these are Grace O'Neill's parents, Jack and Samantha O'Neill."

Despite Sam's experience in the field, she felt herself get somewhat weak in the knee somewhat sickened at the unexpected sight of the impressive purple coloring that had already begun around the Caucasian man's bandaged nose.

"Mr. McNamara," Jack greeted solemnly, extending a hand as if the man's bruised face was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Mr. O'Neill," the teacher said, rising and accepting the retired general's hand. He turned his attention to Sam, gently shaking her hand. "Mrs. O'Neill."

"Mr. McNamara," Sam said with a somber smile. "How's the, uh," she pointed to her own nose though she looked at his.

"Broken," Aaron said with a slight grimace. "Your daughter's obviously seen Miss Congeniality, and improvised on the "S.I.N.G." method of self-defense."

Sam winced internally. "Sorry about that."

The young man shrugged her apology off. "It seemed like she was afraid of something. I served in Iraq, and I'd seen the look in her eyes a thousand times before. It was like when she started hyperventilating, she was having some sort of post-traumatic flashback."

Sam tensed, thinking about all the flashbacks she'd experienced, and that her friends and family had experienced, and that she'd witnessed. She'd hoped to save all of her children from any of those experiences, especially her tenderhearted thirteen-year-old daughter who'd already seen so much.

"Miraculously," the principal interrupted. "Mr. McNamara has declined at this time to press charges."

"Thank you," Jack murmured, gratefully.

"Like I said," Aaron said with a shrug. "It seems like she's really suffering. Has something traumatic happened to her recently?"

Sam looked at her husband, knowing instantly that unless they were careful about what they said, they could either endanger their daughter's life or give the school officials a reason to question the O'Neills' fitness as parents.

"As retired Air Force generals, we both made a lot of enemies," Jack said, carefully. "As I was trying to explain this morning to both the SRO and the School counselor, my wife's life was threatened by a rogue group of individuals with ties to the NID and the CIA. The threat has recently been neutralized, but it's been hard on all of us."

Sam turned to the principal. "She's begun seeing a therapist recently, and I think it's time that we made another appointment."

"Perhaps it would also be wise if she refrained from attending school until she is capable, once again, of conducting herself appropriately in the classroom setting."

The O'Neills instantly recognized the statement as an order and not a mere request, and Sam swallowed down rage. "You may be right," Sam admitted, coolly. "But I think we'd like to consult her therapist before we make any definite plans."

Jack nodded his agreement.

Knowing that the retired Brigadier General's answer was a both a diplomatic compromise and a veiled threat that legal action would be taken if there was any sort of discrimination against the student, the principal nodded. "Of course."

"Where's Grace?" Jack asked, almost ignoring the game of hardball his wife had just won.

"Right now, she's with the school counselor."

"We'd like to take her home," Sam said, simply. She stood, though she almost didn't remember sitting down. She turned to the substitute with a warmer smile. "Thank you very much, Mr. McNamara, for understanding."

"You're very welcome," he said with a charming smile of his own.

She and Jack stepped out of the principal's office to find their daughter, sitting on a chair just inside the reception office. Sam crouched down in front of her. "Hi, angel," she murmured, studying the teenager carefully.

The diminutive young woman's brown curly hair was hanging limply around her face as though it was as worn as the rest of her. Her eyes, blue like her adopted mother's, were hooded and almost unseeing. She didn't even react when her mother touched her tepid hands.

The sight of Grace sitting with her hands clasping the armrests of the chair as if her very life depended on it, made Sam think of when she'd walked into the VIP quarters to find Daniel catatonic after one of his encounters with Hathor. She shuddered involuntarily at the memory.

"Grace," Jack said, crouching down beside his wife. "We're going to take you home, okay?"

Grace's lower lip trembled and her hands began to shake.

"Grace, honey," Sam whispered, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's arm.

Instantly, Grace threw her arms around her mother's neck, pressing her face into the crook of Sam's neck to muffle the sounds of the sobs that came pouring out of her. Sam held her tightly, looking over at her husband before she lifted the thirteen-year-old up like she would have picked little Jacob up if he'd been sleeping in the backseat of the car.

Suddenly, she was grateful that Grace was not much heavier than her muscular younger brother. Sam carried her toward the reception desk. "We're signing her out," Sam said, her voice leaving no room for discussion.

"Yes, ma'am," the receptionist said, offering Jack the sign-out record to fill out.

Jack quickly did so before he turned to his wife. "Do you want me to..."

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I've got her."

Jack nodded before leading her back out to the car, aware that the other teenagers in the junior high who were going to their other classes were staring at them. He ignored the looks, opening the door for his wife and daughter.