A note from your friendly Akamaimom:

There is nothing in canon that I have found to indicate where Sam attended any institution of higher learning other than the Air Force Academy. I have spent entirely too long this week trying to figure out how someone accomplishes all that Samantha Carter has accomplished in her life at such a young age. My husband, bless his heart, helped. He deserves a shout out. Ha ha.

Canon (this date was pulled from her ID badge during the episode "Entity") sets her birthday as December 29, 1968 (which makes her exactly three years and one day older than I am). Season 4, during which time this story is set, takes place in the year 2000. This would mean that she was 31 (almost 32) at the time of these events.

In order to fit everything in, I had to take a few liberties with how and where she did her schooling. I also researched where she could have gotten these degrees, as theoretical astrophysics isn't a subject widely offered as a whole course of study. I do aim for accuracy in my stories, but beg for latitude with this. I tried. :)

(Also-unlike many people, I really don't hate Pete. I think that he was a necessary plot point that forced Sam to take a closer look at what-and who-she really wanted out of life. So, rest assured. He is not going to be in the story long-term. He's just serving a purpose here, just like he did in the show four seasons from where we are now. :) )

Beauty In The Broken

Cintra

"If I were a betting man, which I am," he took an inordinately long time to butter his bread. "I would put big money on the fact that you didn't know that you were being set up tonight."

Sam picked at the pasta on her plate with her fork, doing little more than moving it around. She hadn't been particularly hungry before coming downstairs. But she'd lost whatever appetite she might have had once she'd realized that she was, essentially, on a date.

Casting a look down the table towards her brother, she sighed. Turning back towards the man seated next to her, she nodded. "You would definitely win that bet."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." Sam shook her head, carefully spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. They were shaped like little bows. She lifted it to her mouth. "I'm just not really in a position to be dating right now."

"Mark told me that you've got a kid, if that's what you're worried about." His expression turned earnest. "But hey—-I like kids. So, that's not an issue for me."

"Not really." Sam laid her fork down and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "My work is fairly intense. I have responsibilities that don't leave a lot of time for a personal life."

"But that will change, right?"

"Why would that change?"

Pete's genial face broke into a wide grin. "You've got a kid now. You can't work yourself to death when you have a baby to care for."

Sam hoped that her lazy shrug would serve as an answer. Just for something to do, she reached for her wine glass. Her silence didn't deter her companion in the least.

"I mean—my sister has—like—four kids, and she finally just quit trying to have a career. My brother in law makes plenty of money, so she doesn't really need to bring in a paycheck. She says that the rewards of motherhood are enough."

"I'm not sure that example is particularly applicable to my situation."

Pete considered, taking a sip of water. "I guess not."

"Anyway." Sam gestured dismissively with her wine glass. "So, Mark said that you're a detective?"

"In San Diego. I started out in robbery, and I was promoted to homicide around six months ago."

"Have you always wanted to be a cop?"

"Nah." He shook his head, taking another sip of water before setting his cup down. "I started out wanting to be something really cool. Like an FBI agent, or a Navy SEAL. I joined the police force thinking that it would be a stepping stone up to one of those jobs. But it turns out that I'm pretty good at solving mysteries."

"So, you became a detective."

"Yeah. It's kind of cool to find the little bits of evidence that you need to put the bad guys away."

"I can imagine that it would be."

"Besides. I grew up watching Kojak, Magnum PI, and Rockford." He scooped up a forkful of noodles. "I might have been a little influenced by all the manly swagger."

Sam thought about that for a moment. "Magnum and Rockford were great shows, but I was more of a Remington Steele fan."

"Ah." He grinned—leered, really, his eyebrows waggling a bit. "You like the pretty boys."

"Not really." She picked up a piece of bread and tore the crust off. "It was just a more intelligent series. More actual detective work, and not quite as many car chases and gun battles."

"Huh." Pete took another bite of his pasta, using his bread to sop up some marinara. "That makes sense. Mark always said you were a real smarty pants."

"Who's maligning my character?" Mark spoke up from the other side of Pete. He and Heather sat at the head and foot of the table, with Pete and Sam on one long side, and Lucy and Brady at the other. Until this point, Heather and Lucy had been deep in conversation about child-related things, while Brady and Mark had been talking business. "Pete? Were you and my little sister talking smack about me?"

Four sets of eyes turned towards her and Pete. Bright, inquisitive, and interested. Nosy, one might have said. Sam ducked her chin, glaring down at her plate, while Pete grinned at their audience.

"We weren't talking about you, Mark. We were talking about detective shows from when we were kids, and I mentioned that I liked the classics."

"Magnum and Rockford, right?"

Brady nodded, gesturing randomly with the wine glass in his hand. "They're everyone's favorites."

Pete shook his head in Sam's direction. "Not Sam's. She preferred Remington Steele."

"Well, of course she did. Pierce Brosnan was hot." Lucy pointed at Sam with her fork. "I loved Hart to Hart, too. Remember that one?"

"Ooh—and Simon and Simon." Heather grinned. "I was such a sucker for Jameson Parker."

"Ladies always like the pretty boys. Am I right, guys?" Pete nodded knowingly. "Anyway, Sam says that she liked Remington Steele better because it was a more intelligent show, and I mentioned that you've always bragged about how smart your baby sister is."

"Smart, huh? Must be a Carter family trait." Brady put his glass down and leaned his elbows on the table. "Mark here puts us all to shame at the office."

Mark chewed the bite he'd just taken, then took a swig of his water. "Seriously guys—Sam is smart. Genius level. Prodigy kind of smarts. In addition to that, she has entirely too many degrees. My little sister is woefully overeducated."

"Oh?" Lucy's brows rose, and her bright blue eyes looked at Sam expectantly.

And damned if everyone else didn't follow suit.

Sam felt like a bug on the business end of an entomologist's pin. Suddenly, it seemed as if the entire room had closed in on her, and she was in some sort of freakishly bright spotlight. Why was it that she could present detailed presentations to alien emissaries or give a dressing down to a ignorant superior officer, but talking to five perfectly normal, nice people made her feel like she was being questioned by the Gestapo?

"Um." She put her fork down, scanning her audience. "It's not that big a deal. I attended the Air Force Academy."

But Mark broke in. "First, she graduated from high school early—well, she skipped the fifth grade and has a late birthday—so she was only sixteen when she graduated from high school. She was determined to follow our dad into the Force, though, so she did a year at the college near our house while she waited to be old enough to be admitted."

"I only took two semesters there and earned my General Studies Associate's. I had college credits from my AP classes, so it's not like I needed many more credits for that degree." Her fingers tightened on the napkin on her lap. "Really, it's no big deal."

"Tell them what you majored in at the Academy, Samalot." Mark gestured at her with a cherry tomato that had been impaled on the end of his fork. Meeting the eyes of his friends, he smiled, his eyes wide. "Check this out. This is good."

She glared at Mark, who only smiled back at her. Again, the knowledge that this was inescapable flooded over her. With a deep sigh, she acquiesced. "I double majored in Physics and Astronautical Engineering, with a minor in Robotics."

"But you actually received degrees in all of those." Mark prodded. "So, two Bachelors' degrees and another Associate's."

"Yeah."

"And she still graduated in four years." Mark was practically beaming with pride. "And then she did her officer training. Then, she went to pilot training, and learned to fly F-16s."

"T-38s, actually." Sam mumbled. "Those are the training jets that we flew first."

Pete let out a low whistle. "Damn."

"After that, she went to some hoity-toity school in Texas for her Master's Degree." Mark leaned forward in his chair, his expression conspiratorial.

"How hoity-toity are we talking?" Lucy paused, her fork halfway to her mouth.

Heather cupped her hand at the side of her mouth, pretending to whisper. As if it were a great secret. "Rice."

"In Houston?" Lucy blinked at Sam. "That's impressive. Rice is consistently in the top twenty."

"What did you study there?" Brady glared at his now-empty glass, then reached for the bottle.

She passed a quick look at Mark, who was merely looking at her with a self-satisfied smile. With a little groan of resignation, she leaned back in her chair. "Astrophysics."

"Why?"

"Why did I choose to study at that university?" This time, everyone was looking at her as if she were a trained seal. Pushing slightly away from the table, Sam rested her hands on her thighs and surrendered. "Rice was close to the Johnson Space Center."

Lucy pointed at the group knowingly. "You know what they say in my circles. Location, location, location."

Finished refilling his glass, Brady shook his head as he put the bottle back down in the center of the table. "No. Why did you study astrophysics?"

With another sigh, Sam elaborated. "My original goal was to work with NASA. So, a Master's in astrophysics made sense. After I completed a few tours in the Middle East, I came back to the States and finished a PhD in Theoretical Astrophysics at CalTech, which led me to my current post in Colorado."

"So, I should be calling you 'Doctor Carter'."

"Yes, although technically, my military rank takes precedence over my educational stratum."

"What are you now, Sam?" Mark was refilling his wine glass, now. "Captain or something, right?"

"Major."

Eyes sparkling, Mark looked at his friend. "Which kind of outranks 'detective', Pete, don't you think?"

The group laughed at that. Not unkindly—just a sort of playful ribbing between friends. Sam could feel the color creeping up her throat and into her cheeks. She really, really hated being the center of attention.

Pete, goodnaturedly, joined in. He rested his arm on the back of Sam's chair. "Well, good thing I'm not the kind of guy who gets intimidated by strong, accomplished women."

"No, Pete." Brady winked. "You're the kind of guy who lets them walk all over him."

"True! Guilty as charged." Laughing, Pete raised his wine glass again, casting a pointed glance in Sam's direction. "But only if they're beautiful, too."

Mark looked from Sam to Pete and then back at his sister. "There you go, Sam. You've made yet another conquest."

With a little smile, she managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes. She hadn't been intending to make anything. Least of all here and now. Especially not as she was contemplating—hoping for—a life with someone else.

"So, tell us, Sam." Lucy leaned back in her chair, picking at the bread in her hands. "What kinds of important things do you do in the military with all those degrees in astrophysics?"

"Well, my team and I use various technologies to scan the galaxy for bodies or entities that might pose a threat to the Earth and its inhabitants." It was funny. The more that she told the cover story, the more it actually described what they did in the Mountain. It almost seemed like a game—getting as close to the truth as she could without actually telling the truth.

"Asteroids." Mark raised another forkful of his salad. "Comets. That kind of thing."

"Right. Or, rogue satellites, space junk, solar flares, and even odd radio signals that might indicate trouble in neighboring galaxies."

Pete tapped her on the back with the hand that still rested on the back of her chair. "So, you're the people that will tell us when we're going to get hit with the next big one. Like when the dinosaurs were wiped out."

"Like that Bruce Willis movie from a few years ago. With the asteroid. Right?" Lucy leaned in, fascinated. "Have you ever found anything that posed a real threat?"

"Yes." Sam's answer was clipped, but simple and truthful.

"Like what?"

Sam shook her head, sipping from her water. "I'm sorry, but I can't elaborate. That's classified."

"Classified?"

Brady frowned. "Why would that information be kept from the public?

"Mass hysteria. Looting. Rioting. Panic." This from Pete. "As a law enforcement officer, I can see where less information is better in that situation."

"Well," Lucy shook her head, her well-groomed eyebrows soaring. "I just think it's kind of a waste of all that education for you to sit in a planetarium somewhere staring off into space."

"I think you meant 'observatory'." Sam picked up her fork again. "But we do a lot more than stare off into space. It's actually a very intense and demanding job."

"Which is why she's spent the last few months here with us." Heather reached out and squeezed Sam's hand. "Sam needed some time to decompress and just hang out with her baby."

"He's a cute little thing." Mark seemed sincere, even with what he'd said on the beach.

"And just as smart as his Mommy." Heather added. "He's entirely too quick for his age."

Lucy picked her fork back up and dug back into her meal. "How old is he?"

"Around eight months."

"Did you do the whole artificial insemination thing?"

"Excuse me?" Sam honestly didn't think she'd heard the question correctly.

"Well, sweetie, I don't see a ring, and if Pete here thinks he has a chance, then there's obviously no father in the picture." Lucy crinkled her nose. "You know how it gets. You want to have it all, but that biological clock just keeps ticking. A woman like you wouldn't have settled for just anyone, so you take matters into your own hands and find a genius donor."

"A donor."

"It's no big deal, Sam." Lucy waved her hand dismissively. "I know lots of women who have had their eggs harvested and frozen for later."

Heather's water glass clunked down on the table, making her plate jump a bit. Turning towards Sam, she offered a pained smile. "You'll have to excuse Lucy. She was born without that filter in her brain that tells her which things might or might not need to be said."

"I have a filter, Heather." Laughing, Lucy leaned back in her seat. "I just choose to ignore it."

With a huge sigh, Heather handed Lucy another piece of bread. "Well, then, in that case, put something in your mouth so that the noise doesn't keep happening."

Another round of laughter. This was obviously a topic that had been hashed over many times over their years of friendship. Sam smiled, but she felt certain that the expression hadn't quite reached her eyes.

"Anyway." Pete reached for the bottle and poured more wine into Sam's glass. His fingers grazed her shoulder blade again. "How much longer do you think you'll be in town, Sam?"

He'd spoken more intimately, the question meant just for her. Sam looked over at him, tilting her head to one side. "Probably just a few more weeks. I really do need to get back to Colorado."

"So, I've still got some time."

"Pete—I—"

"Okay, Sam." He held up both hands, palms towards her. "Hold up. Before you shoot me down. Your brother has been talking you up for a long time—like, years. He thinks that we might be able to make something work. Hit it off or whatever. So, in the next few weeks, what do you say if I come around every once in a while? See what happens?"

He was nice. So very, very nice. And cute, in a puckish sort of way. Sam bit her lips together, trying to pinpoint the kindest—but most firm—way to say what needed to be said. Before she could find it, though, Mrs. Wilkerson had garnered everyone's attention again.

"Sorry, guys, I don't mean to interrupt, but does anyone else hear that clicking noise?" Lucy turned in her seat, scanning the island behind her. "I've heard it a couple of times now."

The group fell silent, but nothing unusual stood out.

Lucy frowned. "It was like a 'ticka-ticka-ticka' sound." She wiggled her hand in the air. "Like something was vibrating against something else."

"Weird—I don't—" Heather stopped speaking, though when a faint clattering noise echoed through the great room.

"There!" Lucy stood, turning towards the kitchen. "It's coming through the baby monitor."

Sam happened to look up at the receiver just as a new sound compounded upon the clicking—-a whimper, and then a cry. Jake had fussed himself awake. Within moments, his cries were amplified around the room through the speaker on the counter.

Standing, she rounded the table and picked up the receiver. Motioning with it, she looked at Heather. "I'm sorry—I'd better go get him."

"Go." Heather laid her napkin next to her plate and rose. "But come back when you get him back to sleep."

"Sure thing." Sam made her way to the back door, slipping through the sliding glass panels and heading across the back patio and up the stairs to the little apartment above the garage.

She hadn't locked the door—it seemed superfluous when she was only just a few dozen feet away. Turning the knob, she stepped into the dark apartment, switching off the baby monitor and laying it on the counter. She made her way across the studio to the crib next to her bed.

Jake had pulled himself up, and was standing and hanging onto the side, wailing his woes into the empty loft. When he saw her, he danced a little, obviously wanting her to pick him up.

"Come here, little man." Sam leaned down and lifted the bereft baby, snuggling him close with a kiss to his cheek. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her with a sniffly sigh, then turned and reached towards his crib. Sam bent and retrieved the blue blanket. He took it and settled back against her.

"Did you have a bad dream?" She wiped at his cheeks with her fingertips, crossing to her nightstand for a Kleenex. Once Jake was booger-free, she headed back to the kitchenette. "What woke you up?"

His big brown eyes shifted between her and the counter next to the sink. "Ba."

"Ba?"

"Ma-Ba." He pointed towards the counter.

"Are you hungry? Do you want another bottle?"

"Ma-Ba. Po."

Po. That was new. Sam surveyed the kitchenette before looking back at the baby. "Po."

"Po. Ba-Bo." He pointed again, then leaned back onto her shoulder and found his thumb.

Turning, she stared through the darkness towards the sink. And the counter next to it—there was nothing there. Nothing different. Nothing that would cause him to have woken up.

Except her cell phone. Which she'd left on 'vibrate' rather than 'ring' when she'd tossed it onto the counter next to the baby monitor's transmitter. Which was, even now, clicking against the countertop as the light on the front screen glowed. It was louder up here, more distinct without being muffled though the baby monitor. She reached for it, flipping it open with her thumb.

"Hello?"

"Sam! Where have you been?"

Janet. Carter adjusted her hold on Jake, pressing the phone to her ear as she bounced in place. "What's going on?"

"I've been calling you for almost an hour!" Janet's tone was a mixture of exasperation and relief. "You're always supposed to have your phone nearby."

"I was having dinner with Mark and Heather."

"And you couldn't have taken your phone?"

Chagrined, she paused before answering that. "To be honest, I was a little nervous when I left the loft, and I forgot it."

"Why were you nervous?"

Sam glanced down at Jake, who had closed his eyes and was humming softly as he sucked his thumb. "They invited some friends over for this dinner party thing."

"Oh? That sounds fun."

"No, it was freaking awkward."

"I'm sure that your brother is just trying to make things entertaining and welcoming for you." Something scraped on the other end—probably Janet's chair on the concrete floor of her office. "When he and I talked about this, he mentioned that he wanted to introduce you to his friends."

"Janet—-it was a set up." With a ragged breath, she glanced at Jake to make sure that he'd calmed down. "He invited a married couple that they like, and then this single detective friend of his."

"Is he cute?"

"Janet. Really?" Sam practically growled her response. "As if I need that kind of complication in my life."

The good Doctor sighed. "I guess you have a point."

"Anyway. What's going on? The phone woke Jake up."

"I'm calling to give you a head's up." Something shifted in the background—as if Janet had suddenly stood. "Damn it. I ran out of time."

"Time for what?"

Her tone changed—shifting from 'friend' to 'doctor'. "I'd love to give you those test results, Major, but first—General Hammond just walked in and needs to talk to you."

"Okay." Sam frowned into the darkness, walking towards the large bay window overlooking the balcony. The ocean glimmered as the waves undulated in the moonlight.

The phone changed hands with a flurry of odd little noises, and then the General's voice boomed through. "Major Carter."

"Sir?"

"How are you?"

In the glass, Sam could see her own reflection against the darkness of the sea. "I'm doing well. Thank you."

"Listen. I know that you've been taking some very necessary time off to focus on your health."

"Yes, Sir."

"However, I'm afraid that your leave is coming to an end." He sighed heavily, shifting the phone in his hand. "I've spoken with Doctor Fraiser, and she tells me that she is prepared to sign off on your medical clearance."

"What's going on, General?"

"Your father arrived this morning, and has asked for some help."

"Really? With what?"

"I'm going to leave it up to him to explain that, Major." Hammond paused briefly, heaving a sigh. "I would really like to give you more time, but based on what he's telling us, I'm afraid that you, and your unique skill set, are required for success on this mission."

"Sir, I don't have a car here, but I can rent one and be back in Colorado Springs the day after tomorrow."

"No need for that. I think that Jacob and the rest of SG-1 are on their way to you."

"I thought that Teal'c was off-world. Isn't he meeting with the Jaffa rebels?"

"He is." Hammond breathed out a sigh. "But your father assures me that you and Doctor Jackson are the ones he needs."

"Is this related to the intel that he and Selmak brought back a few months ago?" She looked down, hoping that Jake was drifting back to sleep, only to find him watching her with wide, bright eyes. "That's why he left so quickly, wasn't it? He needed to get back and brief the Tok'ra."

"Yes, it is." It sounded as if the General had sat down. "Like I said, he'll explain everything when he arrives in Carlsbad."

Sam frowned into the window, pressing her cheek against Jake's hair. "I'll need to make arrangements for the baby, Sir. He's kind of little to go through the 'Gate, and I'm pretty sure they don't make tactical vests in infant sizes."

His chuckle drifted across the connection. "Doctor Fraiser says that she and Cassie would be thrilled to have him for a few days."

"Okay, then." Sam nodded. "I guess I'll get things packed up and we'll talk more once I'm back at the SGC."

A long pause stretched between them, and then Hammond spoke again. "Major Carter?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I can't tell you how much it pleases me that you're sounding so much more like yourself." He let that sink in before continuing. "However, I want you to know that you don't have to go on this mission if you don't feel as if you're fit to do so."

"Thank you. But I'll be fine." She smiled into the phone. "I appreciate your concern."

"When you return, though, we need to have a discussion about your future here."

She'd been expecting that. It almost felt like a relief to know that he'd been anticipating it, too. "Yes, Sir."

"I'll see you soon, Major."

"I'm looking forward to getting back to work, Sir."

"We'll see you soon."

Flicking the phone closed, Sam turned to toss it back onto the counter, but a shadow in the doorway stopped her short. She squinted a little, working to see past the lights that illuminated the figure from behind.

Her heart stalled. "Pete."

Quietly, he hovered in the doorway. "Heather asked me to come and see if you needed anything."

Well, hell. How long had he been there? How long had he been listening? Sam's mind raced back over the conversation she'd had with the General, narrowing in on certain words or phrases Pete might have heard. Damn.

"We're okay." She indicated the baby in her arms. "I just think he had a bad dream."

Pete wandered into the loft, stopping several feet away from her. "So, you're leaving?"

"My commanding officer has called me back to active duty."

Through the doorway, lights from the house caught his expression. "For a mission of some sort?"

Crap. Sam offered what she hoped was a benign smile. "It's slang. That's what we call it when we embark on a new series of deep space search parameters."

"Ah." Even in the darkness, it was obvious that he wasn't convinced. "A lot of the cops I work with started out in the military. I'm pretty familiar with a lot of military terminology."

"Each branch has its own special jargon for things. In fact, smaller, specialized commands will have a language all their own. It's common for one unit to have a completely different lingo than another, even on the same base."

He leaned against her cabinetry, resting his palm on the cool stone of the countertop. "So, what—or who—is a Tok'ra?"

"It's an acronym used for a specialized unit of measurement." She smiled. This kind of conversation was easy. Lying was easy. "Topographical Kinematic Ratio. TOKRA."

"And a Teal'c?" He was good at his job, too. His question sounded as if it were born of vague interest, and not as if he were suspecting anything nefarious.

Dropping the semi-casual veneer, Sam turned serious. It felt as if she were stepping back into her uniform when she gave him an ambiguous smile—both that lofty education and her rank on full display. Her tone made it clear she was done talking. "That's classified."

He had more questions—that was perfectly clear from the set of his jaw, and from the speculative gleam in his eyes. But he also knew he'd hit a wall. He was savvy enough to know that he would get no more easy answers. After a beat, he took a figurative step backwards, dropping his chin in an acquiescent nod. With another of his gregarious grins, he nodded. "Okay. Cool."

"Good." Sam turned, shoving her phone into her pocket. "Jake is not going back to sleep any time soon. Do you think they'd mind if I brought him down?"

He gestured towards the main house with his thumb. "I think that they are beyond caring down there."

"Oh?"

"Lucy finished off the bottle." His eyes widened. "And they've opened a few more."

Sam's brows rose. "More wine?"

"And other stuff. Your brother knows how to throw a party."

"Ah."

Pete shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "My guess is that they're all pretty happy right now. Jake would probably be a fun addition."

Sam looked down at Jake, who was annoyingly awake. If they'd just left the Mountain, her father and her team had at least fifteen hours before they could reach Carlsbad—even if they didn't stop for snacks. She needed to pack—-but she was also suddenly hungry for the first time in what seemed like ages. The dinner she'd left downstairs beckoned.

"Okay. Let's go back down then."

Slipping the phone into her pocket, she followed Pete back out the door. He closed it in their wake and then descended the stairs on her six, hurrying ahead just in time to slide the glass door wide for her.

She had to give him points for chivalry. He even pulled her chair out at the table so that she could rejoin the party. Settling Jake on her lap, she fished around in the basket for some bread, then broke off a bit and handed it to the baby. He was more than delighted to take it and shove it into his mouth.

While Jacob was occupied with the bread, Sam picked up her fork and glanced around the room. In the kitchen, Heather added the finishing touches to what looked like dessert while Lucy watched. The two of them were chatting animatedly, laughing with the comfortable ease of long-time friends. Mark and Brady had switched from wine to what looked like some sort of craft beer, and were deep into a discussion that sounded like business.

"I'll be right back." Pete stood, picking up his own empty plate and stacking it on Brady's. Within a few minutes, he'd cleared the table, leaving behind the utensils and glasses. Ducking in behind Heather, he lowered the plates into the sink and then gave them a cursory rinse. Returning to the table, he removed the platter holding the pasta and the salad bowl, laying them on the counter beside Heather.

Lucy took note of his help, patting him on the cheek with the hand not cradling her wine glass. "You have been trained well, Pete. Your mama must be proud."

"My mom was a formidable task master, Lucy." He smiled at her in return, the expression both charming and self-effacing. He looked out at the table and caught Sam's attention. Winking, he didn't break eye contact as he continued. "Maybe that's where I get my taste for strong women."

Dragging her gaze from his, Sam made a surreptitious examination of the overnight bag he'd dropped on the floor earlier, wondering exactly where he'd been expecting to sleep. The little house only had the three bedrooms, one each for Macy and Lucas and the master for Heather and Mark. From experience, she knew that the pull-out sofa in the great room was hellishly uncomfortable, and the formal couch in the parlor didn't look large enough to accommodate Pete's height.

Fifteen hours were fifteen hours too many.

"Ba!" Jake had finished with the bread and leaned forward, reaching for whatever was on Sam's plate. He managed to grab a noodle before she caught him, cramming it into his mouth.

Little stinker. Sam took a bite, then pushed the plate a little further up on the table. Laying the fork down, she plucked a cherry tomato from her salad with her fingers and popped it into her mouth, then reached for her water.

"Who do we have here?" Lucy's voice had gone up about two octaves. Shuffling from the kitchen, she made her way around the table and sat in Heather's chair, scooting it close to Sam and the baby.

"This is Jacob." Sam wiped at his chin with her napkin. Drool mixed with marinara wasn't an attractive look. "We call him Jake."

"Look at this baby! Heather! I can't stand it! He's so adorable!" Lucy crinkled her nose, putting her glass on the table. "Look at all that hair! And those big brown eyes! And dimples! Where did he get those dimples from?"

Heather leaned over the table and lowered a large cheesecake to the surface. Behind her, Pete followed with a serving utensil and dessert plates. "Isn't he the cutest? We've been loving having another baby around."

Jacob, for his part, preened under the attention. He'd worked at the noodle until he could swallow it, and then grinned up at his audience, clapping his hands together and bouncing up and down on Sam's lap.

"Can I hold him? My twins are too big to snuggle anymore." Lucy scooched even closer, reaching her hands out. "Heather will tell you that I'm not too sloshed to hold a baby yet."

Heather gave Sam a little nod, and Sam turned in her seat, presenting Lucy for Jake's perusal. "Sometimes, he doesn't like new people."

"He's eight months?" Lucy flirted with Jake, making a silly face. "They usually go through a 'stranger danger' phase around then. It's like they suddenly realize that not everybody is their mom or dad."

"He went through that a few months ago." Sam snagged a slice of cucumber from the salad while Jake was otherwise engaged. "I was the only person he'd allow to hold him for the longest time."

"Not even his nanny or the people at his day care?" Lucy had crept closer, and was poking Jake's hand with her well-manicured finger. She pulled her hand back just before he grabbed it, making him giggle. "My girls loved their nanny almost as much as they loved me. I was really peeved when they called her 'mommy' for a while."

Sam faltered a little, thinking about Samantha and what she'd endured as she'd embarked upon motherhood. No nannies for her. No day care centers had likely survived the purge. All she'd had was Jake, and she had been everything he'd ever known. "No, he loved her, too. His nanny, I mean. Other than her, he wouldn't go to anyone else for a few weeks."

Other than Jack, of course. And then, slowly, Janet, Cassie, Hammond, Daniel and Teal'c. All the people who loved her had immediately made room in their hearts for Jake, too. She didn't know what she would have done without them—especially the Colonel. The person who had loved Jake almost as immediately as she had. The person who deserved to be here with this baby—watching him grow and learn.

Sam hadn't allowed herself to feel much during her time in Carlsbad. She'd only existed for the first few weeks, fighting back the dreams and the visions. Lucas and Macy had been there to play with Jake during the worst of it, with Heather and Mark standing near. They'd gotten her through it, and for that, she would be forever grateful. Then, after she'd come back to herself, she'd focused on not thinking at all. She'd simply tried to be present in the moment, not dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.

But the time had come for what came next. The decisions she'd been pushing off deserved her full attention, and the people she'd been ignoring deserved more from her.

Lucy leaned in and tickled Jake's tummy, laughing with him when he kicked his little sleeper-clad legs and bopped up and down on Sam's lap. "I think that Jake and I are going to get along."

And sure enough, when Lucy held out her hands, he happily went to her.

Sam watched them for a minute before turning back to her now-cold dinner. It was obvious that Lucy had plenty of experience with babies. The other woman immediately lifted Jake to stand on her lap, supporting him steadily as he stood on his chunky little legs.

"My goodness! You're a strong one!" She laughed. "Check him out, Pete!"

But Pete was already behind her chair, making silly faces at Jake. He had nieces and nephews—at least four that Sam knew of. If she had to guess, he was most likely the favorite uncle. Using Lucy as a shield of sorts, he expertly drew Jake into a game of peek-a-boo—eliciting more giggles, giving Sam time to finish her meal.

"He's a really good guy, Sam." Heather had sat herself down in Pete's chair, leaning in to speak softly in Sam's ear. "Of all of Mark's friends, he's the one I like the most. And the only one that I'd recommend dating."

"I know, Heather." She nodded, washing down the last of her pasta with a long drink of water. "I'm just not in a position right now to be starting anything new."

Sam's sister in law smoothed a wrinkle on the table cloth, then brushed away some tiny crumbs. "Or maybe, you're already in love with someone else. In all the years that I've known you, I've never seen you as lost as you were when you arrived here. I've never seen you as adrift. I thought that it was the exhaustion that your doctor friend told us about. The work, and the baby. All that, you know?"

Sam simply sat there, clutching the napkin in her hand. Her attention split between this quiet conversation playing out on one side of her, and her child guffawing with glee on the other.

"But now, I'm thinking that it might be something else. You've been hurt, or abandoned. Or you've fallen for someone you can't have." Heather's green gaze narrowed as she studied Sam. "But I hope that you've figured out that you deserve to be happy, Sam. And if any of what I think happened to you is true, then Pete's a good place to land."

"I appreciate the thought, Heather." She looked at her sister in law over her shoulder. "I can't even tell you how grateful I am that you're in my life. Watching out for me."

Heather leaned in, throwing her arm around Sam's shoulders for a quick hug. "We love you too, Samalot."

Carter hesitated briefly before turning around fully to face Heather. "Speaking of which, I got a call while I was up with Jake."

"Oh?"

"I'm being called back to active duty. I'll be leaving tomorrow to go back home."

"So soon?"

"Dad and some members of my team will be here to help get me and my gear back to Colorado. Apparently, there's a project that I'm required to help to complete."

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" Heather drew back, her expression guarded. "You only just came back to the land of the living."

"I'll be fine." Sam smiled—a real one, this time. "I promise."

"Well, we'll miss you." Heather hugged her again, then pulled back with a grin. With a little twitch of her head in the direction of Mark, she said, "And he'll miss you the most."

"I'll talk to him before I go."

"Hey, Mom! Look at me!"

Pete's voice drew her attention, and Sam turned to see Jake being 'flown' through the air, high in Pete's arms. She wiggled her fingers at the baby, but he ignored her, reaching up towards the lighting fixture over the table as Pete walked him past. Lucy kicked off her heels, then grabbed her wine glass to follow as Pete and Jake flew their way into the great room, and then rounded into and back out of the parlor.

Pete was making engine noises—reminiscent of those Lucas had been making earlier while playing with his toy planes—which Lucy seemed inclined to imitate as the two of them entertained the baby.

Sam leaned back in her chair, content to just watch her son enjoy being spoiled for a bit.

Heather busied herself serving the cheesecake—a lovely looking affair with a thick topping of chocolate ganache—as Mark and Brady wrestled with how to deal with a particularly galling business associate between swigs of their beers.

Again, Sam was struck with the normalcy of it all. The simple, utterly uncomplicated normalcy—juxtaposed against the intergalactic chaos of what was sure to be her next mission. What was it that Daniel had said, so many, many weeks before?

Holy buckets. We live weird lives.

Smiling to herself, she accepted the plate of cheesecake, setting it down on the table in front of her.

A weird life, yes. One that she was surprisingly anxious to get back to.

A faint chime rang somewhere, and Lucy left Pete to head towards the front door with a breezy call of, "I've got it!"

Heather straightened, sidestepping around the table towards the parlor. "Who could that be?"

"I didn't invite anyone else, Hon." Mark pushed out of his chair, craning his head towards the front door. "Lucy? Who is it?"

The lamps in the front room were still off, and the porchlight again blazed a swath across the hardwood floors. Pete stopped in place, bringing Jake down to sit on his arm as he watched the newcomers enter.

Lucy led the way, hanging onto the arm of the leader. "Look, Samalot! I found him! He looks just like your little boy—the hair, the brown eyes, dimples, and all!"

Colonel O'Neill came to a stop in the great room, Jacob Carter at his side, with Daniel Jackson hanging a little bit behind.

But Lucy was too giddy in her discovery—and her wine—to recognize that anyone else existed. Motioning at the Colonel with her now-empty wine glass, she snort-giggled, then leaned more heavily on O'Neill's arm, gazing up at him with wonder. "See? Samalot! I found your sperm donor!"