Beauty In The Broken

Grozing

"Well?"

Nobody said anything. The air in the kitchen sank down upon them—heavy, hot, and oppressive. It felt like a standoff, or at the very least, a stalemate. Jack and Sam near the sink, still close, with his arm at her back. Jacob Carter and the General standing on the other side of the island, both glaring across the kitchen.

Jake alone was oblivious, patting Sam's cheek with his fingers and babbling softly to himself.

Jacob spoke again. "Well, Samantha?"

Damn it.

"Dad," Sam shifted the baby on her hip, angling him towards her father. "This is Jacob. Jacob Charles."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Jacob Charles what?"

"Are you really asking what his last name is?"

"I really am."

Oh, for the love. Sam made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

Jack's hand shifted lightly on the small of her back—calming, somehow, his fingers making soft circles atop the fabric of her t-shirt. She breathed deeply before answering. "We haven't decided yet."

"We?" If possible, Jacob's eyebrows rose even higher. "Who, exactly, is 'we'?"

"All right, people." General Hammond clapped his palm on Jacob's shoulder. His expression had relaxed somewhat—morphing from white-hot agitation to a simmering glower. Still, he sounded more Texan than usual. Never a good sign. "I'm afraid some of this is my fault, Jacob."

Glancing over his shoulder, Jacob deepened his scowl. "What the hell does that mean? Somehow, this baby is your fault? Seems to me that it's Jack's fault."

"It's not Colonel O'Neill's fault. There's a perfectly logical explanation for that part of this situation. At the very least, I should have alerted you to the child's presence." Hammond stepped forward until he was on par with his friend. "I thought, since you arrived back on Earth unexpectedly and under less-than-optimal circumstances, that you might enjoy a nice surprise."

"What nice surprise? This? Seeing my daughter getting indecent with her CO?"

"Dad!" Sam groaned. "Seriously. There is nothing indecent going on here."

"Oh, sure." Jacob's eyes flew wide, his hands flying up into the air. "You're just canoodling with this yahoo—half-naked, in the kitchen, barefoot and—-"

"So help me, Dad. If you say the word 'pregnant', I'll shoot you."

A vein protruded from Jacob's temple, and his jaw tightened until it looked like it was going to burst. He jabbed a finger towards O'Neill. "Yeah? Well, maybe I'll just shoot him—"

"Dad!"

"Major Carter!" The General had used his most General-like voice. "Colonel O'Neill. Perhaps it would be best if the two of you went and found more appropriate attire. Jacob, I should have explained some things to you on the way here. Needless to say, I was not expecting to be confronted with this particular scene when I suggested coming here."

Not waiting to be asked twice, O'Neill nudged Sam towards the doorway with a whispered, "Let's go."

He urged her into the hall and towards her bedroom, grabbing the khakis and shirt he'd washed the night before off their hangers. Halfway to her room, he stopped and shoved his clothes under his arm and held his hands out. "Give him here."

"Why?" Sam turned to look at him. He was close enough that she needed to look up.

"Your floors aren't carpeted. I'll stick him in his crib where it's more comfortable and change in his room."

She hesitated for barely a second before handing Jake over. Once her hands were free, she ran her fingers through the mess that was her hair. Turning, she paced down towards her room, unsurprised when he followed her. "This is a disaster. What a total cluster."

Unbelievably, O'Neill snorted. Biting back a full-blown laugh, he grinned down at her. "Your dad's face, though."

"I don't think I've ever seen that color in nature before." She pressed her palm to her forehead. "He practically exploded. But the General—"

"Leave Hammond to me, Sam." Jack sobered. "I'll take that bullet."

"Divide and conquer?"

"Something like that."

"Sir—I—" Lamely, she shook her head. Too many things. There were too many things that needed to be said. But this was neither the time nor the place for that conversation. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For all of this. I should have thought more about consequences—about how this might seem. What people might think if—"

"If what, exactly? If your Tok'ra father, who visits this solar system—what—once a year?—suddenly walks into your house on the one morning that I've slept over?" It was his turn to lift a brow. "You couldn't have known. Nobody could have known. Besides, what you said was right. Nothing actually happened."

She squinted a little. "Last night."

"What?"

"Nothing actually happened last night." She bit her lip. "But—things have happened."

His pause said more than either of them were willing to admit. "Does he really need to know about that?"

But how could her father not make certain assumptions based on what he'd witnessed? That kiss—-however innocent it had been against her forehead. Jack's arms around her, his fingers in her hair—-their very casual, familiar demeanor. Their state of dress. None of which was standard operating procedure for Air Force officers within the same chain of command.

She sighed, reaching up to stroke the softness of Jake's hair. Numbly, she shook her head. "No. But he's not stupid, Sir."

O'Neill's countenance faltered, his lips drawing downward. "True."

"And neither is General Hammond."

"Like I said—"

"I know." She met his gaze, studying him in the close dimness. "You'll take that bullet."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

She should go now. Shower, change, and prepare herself for what would be a difficult confrontation with her father. She should do what she'd been told to do. As usual.

"It is my honor to serve."

It was just a flash, this time. Alone in a crowd, murmuring the words that had become more of a curse. She'd once chanted them with fervor, but they'd suddenly become grating.

Thera tore her attention away from Brenna, and cast a furtive look at Karlan, standing across the way with his arms folded across his chest, his lips parted, but unmoving. Jonah was close behind her, his hand on her waist. She couldn't see him, but his fingers had tightened when the crowd had intoned the oath. When she'd turned to look at him, his jaw had been clenched tightly.

It had been the mantra of the underground world. But—hadn't it also been the mantra of her life? The obedient child. The compliant daughter. The perfect student. The placating sister. The dutiful officer. And still—no matter how many degrees she'd earned, how many medals she'd merited, no matter how good she'd been, it still didn't seem like it was enough. She still felt like the recalcitrant child being brought to task.

"It is my honor to serve."

She could see over his shoulder. Down the hallway, towards the kitchen. Voices in the great room told her that her father and the General were still there, discussing heaven knew what. Probably what had happened here—their collective disappointment in the events of the morning.

What if?

On pure, savage impulse, she lifted herself and pressed her mouth to Jack's—soft, and sweet, and eager. He responded immediately—warm, and willing, leaning into her body, even as he counterbalanced with the child on his arm. Sighing softly, he raised his free hand to cup her jaw, urging her lips apart as he delved more deeply—as she breathed him in—her fingers on his cheek, tingling against the stubble of his morning beard—-ouch.

Damn. Ow.

Pain—and then a squeal, and then more pain as Jake tangled his fist in her hair and pulled again. With a strangled grunt, Sam jerked backwards, whacking her head on the wall behind her. Stars. She actually saw stars swimming in the air in front of her.

"Geez—Carter—are you—-"

"I'm fine." She couldn't help it. She blustered out a little laugh, squinting up at O'Neill from around her blossoming headache.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Damn." She raised a hand to probe at the point of impact. "Holy Hannah—that was—"

"That was what?" His expression carried both concern and amusement. "I mean—not that I'm complaining. But what was that?"

Gingerly, she rubbed at the back of her head. "I just figure that if I'm going to do the time, I might as well

have actually done the crime."

His lips twitched. "While I admire the chutzpah, I'm not sure that 'smart-ass' is the attitude that we should be taking right now."

"What was it you were saying a few minutes ago? Something about me being a special kind of stubborn?"

"Hey—after all these years, Major Carter, I'm just starting to figure you out. That's just one of the more obvious bits."

Well, that went without saying. "I'm also finally understanding why Doctor Carter chopped off her hair."

"Yeah. He likes to do that, doesn't he? He got my chest hair earlier. The twit." The Colonel frowned at the baby. "You and I need to have a chat, little man."

"Ba." Jake turned wide brown eyes towards Jack, then back to Sam. The very picture of cute innocence. "Ba-ma."

"Anyway. We'd better get going." With a half-turn, Sam reached out and opened her door before looking back at him. "Again, Sir. I'm sorry."

Flashing her an easy grin, he bent towards her and planted another quick kiss on her mouth. He drew back just enough to look at her fully, studying her for the scarcest moment before whispering, "I'm not."

Then, backing away a few paces, he veered into Jake's room. The click of the door closing was loud in the hallway.

—OOOOOOO—-

She'd showered again, scrubbing the dried applesauce and congealed rice cereal out of her scalp. A quick comb-through of her towel-dried hair, appropriate clothing, and a silent self-motivational pep talk had her feeling more like herself.

The house was quiet. When she checked the nursery, the crib stood empty. In the guest room, the Beretta and magazine no longer sat on the dresser, and the boots had disappeared. She traipsed down the hallway to find General Hammond gone, as well.

Her father sat on her little couch, his namesake perched on his lap. The baby's big brown eyes were huge with wonder.

"Dad?"

"Hang on there, Sam." His tone was odd. Somewhere between his own voice and the deep, modulated intonation of his symbiote. "Jake and I are getting acquainted."

"He doesn't usually take to new people easily."

"Not new people, maybe." Jacob spoke slowly. "But he loves the Tok'ra."

Sam stopped at the edge of the couch, watching as her father closed his eyes, and then opened them again with a dull flash. Selmak's voice rang out through the room, "Greetings, child of the Tau'ri."

Jake's eyes grew even wider, and he reached for Jacob's face, patting the older man on the cheek. "Ba. Ba."

"That's totally cheating, Dad."

"I'm improvising." Jacob said. "Using the tools at my disposal."

"You could just play with him." She couldn't quite quell the sarcasm that eked into her words. "Or read him a story."

"He likes it when we do this." Jacob raised an eyebrow, then closed his eyes and opened them with another flash. In response, the baby squealed and bobbled up and down, his little legs kicking. "And honestly, I didn't think about the whole story thing. Do you know how long it's been since I've had to entertain a baby?"

"Have you ever entertained a baby?"

Her question struck a nerve. Jacob pulled his attention away from Jake and looked up at her. "What are you saying? That I was a lousy father?"

"No." Sam shook her head. "Not at all. I just don't remember you as the type to play with children."

"Because I was such a hard ass?" Despite the bland expression his face wore, his tone was biting. "Is that what you're implying?"

She lowered herself to sit on the rug, reaching out to grab the basket of toys she'd accumulated over the past week. "Dad—-let's not do this. Not this way. Not right now."

The man actually had to think about it before letting out a strangled sigh. Leaning over, Jacob carefully lowered the baby to the ground beside his daughter. Resting his elbows on his knees, he nodded. "Okay. Truce."

"All right." Carter drew a few toys out of the basket and placed them in front of Jake. "For the record, I'm sorry about earlier."

"What—when you threatened to shoot me?" One corner of his mouth tilted upwards. "Or that scene that I walked in on?"

Grimacing, Sam steadied Jake when he reached too far for his stuffed dog and nearly lost his balance. "Obviously, I wasn't expecting company."

"Obviously."

"If it makes things any better—I was telling the truth." She glanced at him, quickly, furtively, just to assess his mood. "Nothing actually happened between the Colonel and me last night."

"Well, that's really not the way it looked." Jacob leaned back into the softness of the couch, lacing his fingers behind the back of his head. "And what with all the gossip about the two of you lately, what was I supposed to think?"

"What gossip?" Sam grimaced. "At the SGC?"

"No, Sam. Around the Tok'ra watering holes."

"The Tok'ra don't have anything better to talk about than the Colonel and me?"

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "After the Za'tarc fiasco, the Council had to amend its recommendations about the testing. Anise is tweaking the machine, trying to work the kinks out of it due to its false positive on you two. It's caused something of a dilemma, because false positives can result in innocent lives lost."

"Oh." She ducked her chin, making a face at Jake as she worked through that tidbit. "I didn't realize that you'd have heard about that."

"Martouf sent me a communique during the whole Za'tarc situation. I didn't get the message until later because I was deep in enemy territory."

"He told me that he'd tried." Carter picked at a spot on the carpet next to her. "I know how busy you are, so I wasn't surprised not to receive an answer. Besides—I'm certain that things were in turmoil after Martouf died."

"Martouf was very important to the Tok'ra, Sam." Jacob's tone softened. "His loss was a tragedy."

"Of course it was." Sam watched as Jake rolled a few feet away in search of a different toy. "I feel responsible for it."

"You aren't. It wasn't your fault. Ultimately, your decisive action saved lives, and will help us figure out how to prevent more loss." Jacob waved at her, dismissing her concern. "Still, the fact that you were the one that had to end things was of particular interest. That's largely due to the fact that Martouf had shown a decided partiality towards you."

"He said that?"

"Sam—it was obvious to everyone."

"Really?"

Jacob chuckled. "Seriously, Samantha. He was smitten. And it wasn't just the remnants of Jolinar you carry. It was you."

She could feel the color rise in her face. She'd never felt the same about Martouf—or Lantash, for that matter—as he'd felt for her. She'd felt a pull—some strange, otherworldly draw towards the man, but it hadn't been anything near reciprocal. More like the affection shared between long-time friends—similar to what she felt for Daniel, or Teal'c. Still, being the one to kill him had hurt—another shard added to the mess inside her.

"Anyway, what else is there to do in all of those ugly tunnels? No football, no TV. No comics, even. So, we gossip. It's worse than an old ladies' sewing circle."

Hesitantly, Sam glanced up at him. "What have they been saying?"

He interlaced his fingers and frowned. "Anise reported how the two of you were retested on the Za'tarc, and what had caused the false positive. I heard about it, but I guess it really hadn't hit me what it meant. I mean—when you're in a squad, or a team, you tend to develop feelings that go far beyond the normal camaraderie. I figured it was something like that."

"Right." She grinned at Jake, who had taken a shaky movement forward. Peeking back over at her father, she blanched a little at his expression.

"I'm rethinking that assessment."

"Of course you are." Muttered under her breath, more to herself than to her father.

"Naturally, that led to all kinds of speculation about why Jack refused Freya's advances, which had everyone talking about—"

"What advances?"

"He didn't tell you? She propositioned him. Twice." Jacob grinned. "He turned her down. Both times."

In response, she could only stare blankly at him. She hadn't known. O'Neill hadn't told her anything about that. She'd been the one to suggest leaving it all in the room—which he'd seemed all too willing to do—so they had. The General hadn't been in the room when they'd been retested—only Teal'c, Janet, and Freya had heard, and none of them had said anything, either. So, beyond the debrief, there had been no further discussion whatsoever. But still. Surely, over the course of the past week—when they'd spent so much time alone together—something like Freya trying to seduce him would have come up, right?

Unless he was keeping it private for a reason.

Jacob took her silence as an invitation to continue. "Anyway. Freya has a very high opinion of her own desirability. She insisted that the only reason why he would have turned her down was because he was deeply devoted to someone else, and after the retest, well, her theory seemed confirmed."

"Dad—that's not how it is."

"Then how is it?" Jacob paused, and when no answer came, he pushed. "How is it that I walk into your house to see you two standing there looking like a cozy little family? With this child—who is the perfect mix of the two of you? What the hell am I supposed to think? I'm not an idiot, kid. And I do remember what you looked like as a baby, and you looked like Jake."

Sam stared down at the child next to her. He'd toppled over, reaching too far for his favorite little stuffed dog. Immediately rolling onto his tummy, he'd scooted towards it until he could bat at it with his fist. Okay. Her father wanted an explanation? She'd oblige. "How much do you know about quantum mirrors?"

"What, like the alternate reality stuff? Divergent timelines?" Leaning forward, he frowned. "Those really exist?"

"Yes. They do. And we have one."

"Where the hell did you find one of those?"

"Three years ago, we 'Gated to a planet where Daniel found a large collection of items gleaned from other places. He presumed that the collection belonged to someone like himself—-an intergalactic archaeologist. One of those items was a quantum mirror."

"We've heard about those, but I've never seen one." Jacob's frown deepened.

"Well, Daniel managed to turn it on, and was drawn through it into another reality. It was similar to ours in technology, culture, and development, but there were several important differences."

"Such as?"

Steeling herself, Sam looked at her dad. "For one thing, Daniel wasn't the one who interpreted the symbols and made the 'Gate program a reality. He wasn't involved at all. A civilian named Samantha Carter was the head research scientist in the program, and her fiance General Jack O'Neill was commander of the base."

"Civilian?" Jacob's brows flew upwards once, and then a bit more as he processed more information. "General O'Neill? Wait—fiance?"

"It was a different reality, Dad." Sam reached for a ball that Jake had been playing with, rolling it gently towards him. "Their world was under attack by the Goa'uld. It was already too late to save them. Daniel managed to 'Gate back to where the mirror was, and then 'Gate home to warn us."

"Is that when you four took out Apophis' motherships?"

"All because Daniel had seen them coming in that other reality."

"The Tok'ra weren't too pleased about that."

"I know. There was an operative on the ship who died." Jake managed to bat the ball away, and Sam handily caught it as it careened across the rug. She squeezed it before sending it back Jake's way. "It's not like we even knew that the Tok'ra existed. We didn't learn about their existence until several months later."

"When you were blended with Jolinar."

"Yes." That feeling came back again—the disembodiment she'd felt, looking out through her own eyes, of feeling her own body working around her, and not being in control of any of it. It had been terrifying—humbling—humiliating, in a way. And while some good had come of her experience as a host, she still couldn't reconcile that with how disturbing she'd found it. How unnerving it had been.

The experience had splintered her a bit. Fracturing not only her belief in her abilities, but also her sense of self. And while her father had found a certain kind of peace in being blended with Selmak, Sam still couldn't think about what had happened to her without feeling just a little pained.

"It wasn't right, you know." Jacob's voice had gentled a little. "Taking you as she did. She must have been convinced that it was her only option."

"I know that, Dad." And she did. Intellectually. Emotionally? Well, that had been a bit of a struggle. What was it that the Colonel always said? Don't dwell. "Anyway. We put the mirror into storage at Area 51 along with other artifacts we'd collected. And it sat there, unused, until last year, when more people came through."

"I'm guessing they were from a different alternate reality?"

"Another Samantha Carter, along with an alternate Charles Kawalksy. Our Kawalsky was on the original Abydos team here on Earth. He was taken over by an adolescent Goa'uld and died. But the people in this new alternate reality had never gone to Abydos. They didn't have much of the information that we do about the 'Gate system. Their Doctor Carter had figured out the dialing system and they'd just headed out into the universe."

"Ballsy."

"I guess." Sam looked over at Jake, who had rolled all the way across the rug and was poking at the basket where she kept his toys. "They'd found the mirror, as well. Doctor Carter had used it to reach us, hoping that we would be able to help her and Kawalsky save their reality."

"No General O'Neill in her reality?" A hint of sarcasm, but not any malice.

"He was still just a Colonel, and he'd already died defending the Mountain during the siege." Pausing, Sam met her father's gaze. "A few days after he and Samantha had celebrated their first wedding anniversary."

Jacob sighed. "I'm sensing a theme here."

"Kawalsky and Samantha asked to stay here as refugees, of sorts. The only problem was that she and I couldn't inhabit the same dimension at the same time. She began to suffer from episodes of entropic cascade failure. Her body was literally being torn apart by the entropy resulting from the two of us sharing this reality."

"So, what did you do?"

Jake had rolled his way back to Sam, bumping up against her leg as he reached for a toy just behind her. Sam moved the toy, then watched while he scooted towards it.

"Teal'c, Daniel, and Colonel O'Neill went back to her reality with her in order to try to contact the Asgard." Sam held out her hand for the baby to touch, smiling at him when he gripped her index finger. "They were successful, and the Goa'uld were stopped. But not before the attack had devastated much of the globe and left massive casualties. Still, once the Asgard took care of the Goa'uld, the rest of SG-1 came back through the mirror and that was that."

"Only, I'm going out on a limb here and guessing that it wasn't."

Sam shook her head, absently picking up the ball Jake had been rolling around. "A week ago, she came through again. She had been beaten—tortured, really—-and someone had tossed some sort of explosive at her as she'd escaped through the mirror. The blast, combined with the injuries she sustained during her assault, put her in such a fragile state that the first episode of entropic cascade failure killed her. She died as I sat at her side. I was holding her hand."

"That's a hell of a thing, Sam."

Sam looked down at the ball in her hand, then closed her eyes, remembering the feel of the other woman's palm, the sound of her ragged breathing as she'd struggled. The plea for Sam to take her child. And then, peace when she'd gone. "And, again, she'd brought someone else with her."

"The baby."

"We've been calling him Jake, but she'd called him Charlie."

"Jake is her son."

"Yeah." Sam shifted, leaning back on her arm and crossing her legs in front of her. "She'd conceived just before the Goa'uld attacked."

"But, genetically, that makes him yours." Jacob's expression had grown thoughtful. "Yours and Jack's."

Jake had risen back up on his hands and knees again, babbling softly to himself as he concentrated. He shuffled a knee forward and then was able to scoot a hand forward as well. He got so excited about it that he slid forward onto his belly and squealed, waving his little hands in the air.

Sam smiled, watching him. Pulling her attention back to her father, she said, "I want to keep him, Dad."

"What does O'Neill think about that?"

"He wants him, too. If we do this, we'll do it together. Raise this child together."

"Together as in—" Jacob's chin ducked down towards his chest as he asked the question.

Sam shook her head, passing her tongue over the inside crease of her lips. "I still don't know the answer to that."

Her father assessed her quietly for what seemed like an hour before he sat forward again on the edge of the sofa. "What do you want it to mean?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she pondered her answer to that question. She knew what her heart wanted, knew what felt right. But, actually putting that desire into words was another story altogether. And as for actually making it happen—well, hell.

"I don't know." She'd said it so often lately that it was almost automatic.

"There's more to this, isn't there?"

She steadied herself, worrying a little at her bottom lip with her teeth as she organized her thoughts.

"We were imprisoned on another planet a few weeks ago." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "The leaders of the civilization there were offended by some questions the Colonel asked about a labor force that they kept below the surface of the planet. I had actually discovered their operation. The Workers, as they were called, were unaware of the huge, modern city on the surface. They'd been told that the planet was uninhabitable, that they were responsible for keeping the underground mines and furnaces going in order to save the remnants of their people until the ice receded. But in reality, the Workers were nothing more than slaves providing power and heat to the people above."

"And they captured you?"

"They brainwashed us somehow. I'm not certain how. They gave us new names, new jobs, and new identities. Our personalities remained the same, but we didn't know who we really were."

Her father got there before she needed to explain it. "And without the regs and your knowledge of your ranks and positions, you and Jack—-" he trailed off, his expression meaningful.

She didn't need to acknowledge that he'd guessed correctly. Instead, she just sighed. "So, yeah."

"Yeah. I'd say that complicates things."

She busied herself with repositioning the toys on the rug, offering Jake a new fabric ball that had a jingle bell inside it. "We're all still recovering, I think. It's just taking me longer to get back to normal than it did for the others. There are memories. Dreams. Things that have stuck around in my brain that are proving problematic. And add to that suddenly becoming a—"

"A mother." He finished the sentence for her, throwing a hapless little gesture in Jake's direction. "You're having a time of it lately. And I didn't make it any easier when I barged in this morning and lost my temper."

"Not really, no. I've been sidelined due to lack of medical clearance, so I've taken a few days to try to get used to this, and to break through the other issues." Sam flicked at the ball with her finger, just to hear the bell ring. Jake was trying to get back up on his hands and knees again. "The Colonel returned late from a separate mission last night. He came to visit Jake, and I told him he could sleep in your room. It was nothing more nefarious than that."

"And the medical clearance thing?"

She steeled herself, forcing her voice to behave. "There was the possibility that I was pregnant."

"Was."

Shrugging, Sam tried to pass it off as inconsequential. "Was. I'm not."

"And are you okay with that?"

"Dad. I'm okay. Complications, remember?" She gazed at him steadily. "Besides, you practically went apoplectic when the Colonel was just in my kitchen. What would you have done if he'd knocked me up?"

But from the way Jacob's eyes widened, it was clear that he didn't believe her—at least, not completely. "Still—you have to know how it looked, right?"

"Dad, I'm not an idiot, either."

Beside her on the rug, Jake had grown quiet, rolling onto his side and finding his thumb. His huge brown eyes were intent upon her—as if she were the secret to his universe. And maybe she was, as weird as that seemed.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Jacob's voice was infused with concern. "Because you seem off. Like you're not yourself. I mean—all of this has got to have taken a toll."

"I don't know how I am." That was the most truthful answer she could give. She ran the side of her finger down Jake's cheek, his smile inspiring one of her own. It faded when she glanced over at her father. "I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you, Dad."

"What?"

"The gossip. The way they're talking about the Colonel and me. That has to be annoying."

"It is." Jacob shrugged. "But mostly just because the Tok'ra are such blabbermouths. They don't understand the lives we lead, or how we see things. To them, the Tau'ri are just the less-advanced red headed step-children of the universe. Selmak gets us, but that's due to the fact that he and I are blended."

Sam tilted her chin downward, watching as Jake rolled over towards the fireplace. "I just worry that I'm letting you down. That I'm disappointing you."

Jacob sat silently for several moments before reaching out and touching her arm. "When have you ever let me down?"

Shooting a rueful look his way, she gestured randomly in the air with her hand. "I don't know. Since birth?"

He genuinely looked shocked at that. "Samantha. You have never disappointed me. Ever."

"I've always felt like I have."

Closing his eyes, Jacob bowed his head, his hand heavy on Sam's arm. When he looked up at her, he'd softened, his expression having lost some of the tense brooding it usually carried. "I'm proud of you, Sam. You've always made me proud."

She could see it in her mind—the dream from the night before. Sam was back on that precipice, standing on the edge. As she prepared to make that leap—to cast herself off into the void, the stone lip of the cliff burned coldly into her toes and the balls of her feet.

"Would you still be proud of me if I weren't in the Air Force anymore?"

She couldn't believe she'd actually said the words—-and yet, there they were, suspended in the air between them.

"What? Are you actually thinking of quitting the military?"

"If I keep Jake—how can I keep going through the 'Gate? How can I keep exploring other worlds—-being shot at and captured and possibly killed—-how can I do that when I have this child waiting for me at home?"

"I did it, Sam. All through the years you were growing up."

"You left us behind with Mom." She straightened again, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Her lips curled upwards in a wry smile. "It's just me here. I don't have a wife."

"What about Jack?"

"I would never ask him to give up his career. Besides, he's too important to the program."

"And you're not?"

Not how she was now, haunted by dreams, memories, and visions. Wary and apprehensive. Feeling as if one more blow would be the one that shattered her completely. "I don't know."

"Sam—-what's really going on here?"

He was her father. The most judgmental man in the universe. The man who had constantly urged her onward with nothing more than a cynical look or offhand acerbic comment. She'd wanted so badly to please him. Especially after the accident—when she'd been left to mourn her mother in a house full of anger and brackish blame. The confused, aching daughter caught between an angry brother and a sardonic father.

But he was also her dad. The one who had comforted her when she'd cried, who had damned Theo Jenkins straight to hell for not asking her to Junior Prom, and who had stood in the drug store aisle with her trying to figure out the wild, weird world of tampons. He'd taught her to drive, to make spaghetti, to ride a motorcycle, and to adjust the timing belt in the 1968 Ford Mustang they'd rebuilt together.

"This is terrifying, Dad."

"What's to be terrified about? He's a baby." Jacob threw a hand towards the kid, a rueful, silly little smile on his face. "You figure things out as you go."

"But what if I can't? What if I'm not good at parenting? What if I'm not nurturing enough, or if I say the wrong things, or if I don't give him enough stimulation? What if I'm not good at this?"

"You'll be great, honey."

"Good enough?" She planted her feet and stood, backing away from the couch towards the mantel. "But how is that going to look? I've worked so hard to make rank, to get where I am professionally. How does that look when I suddenly go all June Cleaver the first time I'm handed a kid?"

"Good grief, Sam." Jake rolled his eyes. "Give yourself a break. You're only human."

"Only human?" His words struck a nerve. All the pent up frustration of her childhood, all the pressure she'd felt levied in her direction. After her mother had died, it had only gotten worse. It had been as if all of the fun, the lighthearted joy, had been sucked out of the Carter household. Mark had rebelled against Jacob—had left as soon as the ink was dry on his diploma—but Sam had turned towards her father instead. She'd needed something—his approbation? Maybe, or perhaps she'd just been seeking his love. "I was never allowed to be only human, Dad. After Mom died, it always felt like I had to be superhuman. You expected so much of me. Good grades, extracurriculars, the Academy. You suggested that I fly, so I flew. You told me that I should go for the doctorate, so I did. You pushed me towards NASA—"

Calm. His voice was steady and calm. "I didn't do any of those things, Sam. You did all that on your own."

She snorted, shaking her head. "All I wanted was your approval, Dad. And I never seemed to measure up."

Standing, Jacob made his way around to the back of the couch, his expression tight. Pausing between the sofa and the island, he simply looked at her. "You were the damndest kid, Sam. So driven. Such a perfectionist. You were never satisfied with anything—ever. After your mom died, it was as if fell down a rabbit hole. You worked too hard, studied too hard, hell—you even played too hard. It was never fun for you, it was just practice or something. Like you wanted to improve at playing."

Sam watched as her father crossed his arms across his body. His eyes were dark, and sharp.

"You want to know why I didn't give you tons of praise? Because it just made it worse. It felt like I was urging you to get better at perfection. It was never enough for you. I could have given you trophies, certificates, and awards, and you would have filed them away and then tried to earn more. It was exhausting to watch." He turned away from her, looking out the kitchen windows towards her back yard. "And now, you've literally saved the world. You've rescued entire civilizations, done the impossible. You've done everything that anyone could ever ask of you—and more—and you still don't think that you're good enough. You're still seeking approval."

He looked back at her, softening, maybe, or just resigning himself. "The thing is—you need to approve of yourself. You need to be the one satisfied with you. I can't make you feel like you've accomplished something. You have to be able to see that you have. I didn't put all these expectations on you, you've done that all by yourself. Nobody can make you happy until you're happy with who you are."

Jacob paused, taking a step nearer, fixing his gaze on her, on where she stood backed up against the fireplace. He shook his head. "You want my permission to stay in your perfectionistic comfort zone? You want my blessing? Sure. You've got my blessing. Give this kid to Jack. Ignore what your heart is telling you. Go with that huge, impossible brain of yours and stay safe in that place where you never get touched by anything remotely messy. Or complicated. Or imperfect."

Sam stared down towards where her bare toes made dents in her area rug. She'd never noticed the flowers before, embossed into the nap, or the small bits of blue woven through the beige. It was soft beneath her feet, but substantial. Something on which to focus when it felt as if the rest of her world were shifting around her.

"But as your father, I hope that you get your head out of your ass and go find some happiness. Take a chance. Take this chance."

"Dad, I—" It felt as if she should say something, but no more words came. Just that feeling again—as if she were somehow disembodied. Seeing her own world through another's eyes. Seeing a new truth, somehow, that she'd never realized existed.

Because he was right—damn it. He was right. About all of it. Everything he'd said had been the truth. The painful, awful, artless, strangely liberating truth. Only—what to do with that truth scared the hell out of her.

The house fell quiet, the only sounds the ticking of the clock on her mantel and the quiet noise of Jake sucking his thumb. He was fading. More than ready for his morning nap. One of the books she'd read had advocated letting the baby self-soothe to sleep, so Sam simply watched as his eyes drifted closed, as his little body relaxed there on the rug. As his breathing slowed and his eyelids started to flutter. He was so beautiful.

She wished it were so easy for her. Maybe she should start sucking her thumb again. Get a blankie and a pillow fort and hide away from the world. Sighing, Sam pressed a hand to her forehead before looking over at Jacob. "What do I do, Dad?"

He didn't respond for several beats. "What do you want to do, Sam?"

Lamely, she shook her head. "I don't know."

"Do you love him?" A simple question. Jacob had no reason to elaborate upon it.

Still, it was one that Sam had asked herself a thousand times, had answered to herself a thousand times, but had never once said that answer out loud. She'd certainly never acknowledged it to anyone else. Did she love him? "Yeah, Dad. I do."

He knew that already. That was obvious by the way he smiled at her. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

How the hell should she know? She, whose entire world had just been rocked apart. Sam carefully stepped over the baby sleeping on the floor and crossed to the couch. Plopping down, she drew her feet up onto the seat and sank back into the cushions. Frowning down at her fingertips, she sighed. "What does Selmak think?"

"I'm offended that you'd ask his advice over mine." Jacob made his way back around and sat on the sofa next to her. "But Selmak's something of a romantic, so he thinks that you should go for that whole 'family' thing."

She was splintering again, terror welling up inside as she contemplated what that would mean. She'd spent her entire life with a single focus, a single purpose—only to find out that her foundation had been built on fickle sand. And it was as if she'd just been released from an illusion. As jarring as that moment in Brenna's office when she'd realized who she really was. This was one more hit, one more impact to take.

It was almost a shock when she felt her father's arm curve around her, pulling her close. Even more so when he pressed a kiss to her temple and said, "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, Dad. I know." And she did. She closed her eyes as Jacob squeezed her a little tighter.

"And you know that he loves you, too?"

That was harder to believe. She sighed, shifting to rest her head on her father's shoulder. "I'm not as sure about that one. I don't know for sure how he feels."

"Well, he does." Jacob pulled back a little, gazing at her, his dark eyes earnest. "Anyone with a lick of sense can see that he adores you beyond all reason."

"Are you okay with that?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. He's a good man, Sam. He's good for you. And you have no idea how much I hate saying that. He calms you down, somehow, makes you laugh. You need that."

Thera emerged from Brenna's office, striding purposefully down the darkened hallway.

"She didn't go for it, did she?"

Jonah had been waiting just around the first turn, in a small storage room where the extra piping was kept.

Thera expected that, by now. He always seemed to be around when she needed him. Grimacing, she shook her head. "Of course not. She never takes my suggestions."

"Damned bureaucrats. Never know when a good idea bites them in the butt."

"You'd think that she'd realize the benefits of a higher energy output without added ore. We could have cut down the number of miners needed by twenty-three percent."

"I sure don't think that they'd mind."

Thera had stopped, frowning at him. "What?"

"Mind. Mine. Mined. Get it? The miners wouldn't mind." Jonah's lips twitched upwards. "It was a joke."

"It was?"

"Yes, and it was very punny."

"Jonah." Exasperation tinged the word.

"Or, it would have been if you had any sense of humor at all." Jonah grinned, looking quickly around before dragging her down a dark side-corridor where a long phalanx of locked closets were expressly off-limits to the Workers. "C'mon, Thera. It was funny."

"It was annoying to be brushed off again."

"Yeah." He'd shrugged. "But by now, you should be used to it."

"True."

He'd stepped closer, putting his arms around her and pulling her into himself. "You need to lighten up, Thera."

She rested her palm against his broad chest, shaking her head. "I don't know how to do that, Jonah."

"That's why you need me."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep." He lowered her head towards hers, just a heartbeat away from a kiss. "That, and other reasons."

"What might some of those—"

But he'd taken her lips, stopping any more small talk. His hands drifted lower, from her ribs to the small of her back to—somewhere lower than the small of her back—lifting her up against him.

"You need me, Thera." Between kisses. Between caresses of his lips and tongue and hands. His voice velvety soft and cool in the darkness. "You need me."

"Sam?"

She'd drifted again. Shaking herself back to the present, she clenched her eyes closed and pressed her cheek against her father's shoulder. "Sorry, Dad. It was just one of those moments."

"The visions you were talking about?"

"A memory. Yeah."

"About Jack?"

"About that place where we were held captive." She breathed out heavily. "The memories are fairly potent."

"Ah." Jacob extended his legs out in front of them, crossing his feet at his ankles. "Is he in them?"

"Only everywhere."

He seemed to understand the implications of that. With a hefty kind of sigh, he tilted his chin towards her. "What does it feel like—when you're with him?"

Sam had never really thought about it, but her answer was immediate. "It feels like I've come home."

"That's some powerful stuff."

Yes, it was.

With a chuckle, Jacob spoke again. "You realize that he's closer to my age than yours, right?"

"Shut up, Dad."

"He'll be—-like—seventy when this kid graduates from high school."

She surprised herself when she grinned. "Seriously, Dad. Shut up."

"You really love him?"

She did.

She loved him. But still. "I don't know what to do, Dad."

"Aw, sweetheart." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Smoothing the hair back from her temple, he smiled. "I think you do."