Akamaimom Note: To everyone who has been kind enough to leave me a message, kudo, or comment—-THANK YOU!!!
I've been writing in between some pretty stiff work deadlines, so that's taken precedence over responding to y'all. I'm so sorry that I haven't been answering individually to each of you. Please know how much I appreciate each and every bit of support and encouragement! I am so grateful for each of you!
Beauty In The Broken
Fining
It almost felt like old times.
They'd relaxed back into the easy banter from before -118. From before they'd put on those damned armbands. Pre-Anise and her Za'tarc testing machine, when they'd been forced to confront their deeper selves.
He'd teased her and she'd smiled. She'd explained things and he'd pretended to listen. They'd worked as well together as they always had—practically reading each others' minds as well as anticipating each others' needs and actions.
It was like going back in time. As if they'd reverted. It felt comfortable. And normal.
Almost.
In fleeting moments, she'd felt as she had while sitting across from Samantha at the briefing room table so many months ago. The copy with the offset carbon. Just accurate enough to be a good facsimile, but with the faintest hazing around the edges.
Before -118, she'd been able to look him in the eye. He'd been able to touch her without pulling back at the last moment. She'd been able to be near him without flinching away.
Now? He'd reached for her and she'd felt a surge of awareness. Of cautious unease that she'd lose the tenuous control she'd garnered and would devolve back into what had been.
If Sam were being perfectly honest with herself, she was more than wary. She was afraid. Afraid of him? No. Afraid of the resurgence of the dreams and virulent memories from a few months ago? Hell, yes.
Over the past eight weeks, Sam had finally achieved some semblance of normalcy. Some remnant of herself had reemerged. But when he'd pulled her out from under the mine, his touch had seared through her core. And when he'd literally put himself between her and danger, she'd wanted nothing more than to melt into him. To feel how she'd felt beneath the ice—-connected to another human being with such ferocity that she'd rather die than be separate again.
It had been terrifying. Like losing that part of herself that was Sam Carter. As if, in giving herself wholly to him, she'd no longer be the woman who prided herself so greatly on her perfect self-control. The thought of that—-of admitting that she might not be quite so independent—actually brought her pain.
Logically, she knew that he wasn't the issue. Jack O'Neill the man wasn't dangerous to her. It was the need she felt for that man that petrified her. With all she'd been through lately—all that she'd lost—-the act of giving up one more bit of autonomy felt like self-betrayal. She couldn't descend back into that special kind of sensual madness that had nearly erased her. It would kill her.
But at the same time, she wanted him. Deeply. Intensely. Desperately.
And so she'd reverted back to how it had been before they'd discovered how it could be. Easy banter. Casual flirtation. Work. Focus.
It was almost like old times, but still so far removed from what had been that it had left her hurting, and hollow.
She was just good at hiding it.
She'd had lots of practice.
—-OOOOOOO—-
"That did not go well."
"No." Sam shook her head, shifting on her feet. "It did not."
She leaned against the wall next to the front viewport of the flight deck, staring out at the rush of space. They were traveling quickly—hurrying towards home after having collected Teal'c from his rescuer on the third moon of Tichenor. Between the four of them, they'd gotten their Jaffa friend situated and comfortable in the cargo hold. He was in rough shape, but between Sam and Selmak, they'd tended to his wounds—and those of his larval symbiote—as best as they could before charting a course back to Earth. Now, they just needed to get him home.
Not that Selmak was flying the Tel'tak at the moment. Jacob had set the cargo ship on whatever equated to autopilot for the Goa'uld and gone into the hold for a break. Which had left Sam alone on the bridge, until Daniel had appeared.
Daniel stepped closer, stopping just behind her. "Well, at least we survived to fight another day."
Sam frowned out into the darkness. "I guess."
"Hey." Daniel put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. "What's up with you?"
She'd been asking herself the same thing. Usually, the conclusion of an operation brought a feeling of completion, at least. Exhilaration if they'd succeeded, or frustration or anger if they'd failed.
Right now? Sam just felt—numb.
And maybe that was because they'd fumbled their original goal. They'd made things worse rather than better—-given Apophis an edge up against the System Lords.
Perhaps it was because Teal'c's condition was tenuous, at best. She was worried about him. She feared that the damage done to his symbiote would be too much, and that it might succumb to its injuries, taking her friend along with it.
But mostly, she just felt strangely at odds with herself, or perhaps with her place in the world. As if a hole had opened up inside her, and no matter how much she tried to patch it up, parts of herself were escaping through it to lose themselves in the void beyond.
"I don't know, Daniel." She turned her head to look at him, meeting his blue eyes with a hinted smile. "I can't really explain it."
He pulled her towards him in a brotherly hug. "I think that you're just missing that baby of yours."
That was true. She did miss Jake. She'd dropped him off in the wee hours of the morning at Janet's house, grateful that he was tired enough to simply nestle back down in the portable crib and hum himself to sleep. She'd spent most of the trip from California to Colorado writing instructions for his care on some pages that she'd ripped out of a journal that Heather had given her several weeks before. It had been intended for Sam to record her 'thoughts and feelings' during her convalescence, but it had turned into a catch-all notepad of sorts, a place for doodling random geometric designs, shopping lists, and ideas she'd had for improving her design for the Naquadah generators.
As she'd been scribbling the detailed notes, she hadn't been able to help but think about The Schedule. It was still probably hanging on her fridge in her little house in the Springs. She and Doctor Samantha Carter-O'Neill weren't so different, after all.
"I never thought that taking care of someone so small would consume my life the way that it has."
"Babies tend to do that." Daniel chafed at her upper arm with his hand. "I mean, I've never had one of my own, but growing up in foster care gave me more than a passing understanding of what it takes to keep the little beggars alive."
Carter grimaced at that. In all honesty, she'd never really considered what it must have been like for Daniel after his parents died and his grandfather had abandoned him. The tragedy of him growing up without a family meant more to her now that she'd experienced motherhood. She grieved for the child he'd been, scared and alone without anyone to offer him any kind of affection or stability.
She'd lost a parent, too. But she'd still had her father after her mother had been killed. And even though Jacob Carter had been far from the nurturing soft spot that her mother had been, he'd given Sam a home—a place of permanence—and he'd cared for her. Regardless of how stern, overbearing, and judgmental he'd come across to her, she had never doubted that he'd loved her.
Maybe that's why she'd wanted to keep Jake so immediately. It had taken her head a little longer to decide than it had taken her heart. While her methodical oh-so-logical Sam Carter brain had rifled through the pros and cons of taking on the child of her alternate self, her heart had wanted Jake since the moment she'd seen that chubby leg and the little red socks.
The decision had been made before his mother had begged her to love the child. Before she'd seen his wild hair and dimples. Before she'd realized how he would change her. Before she'd even understood that she wanted him, her heart had already dug in its heels. She could admit that, now.
Similar to how she felt about the Colonel. Logic be damned, her heart was determined. So much change, all at once. No wonder her fight or flight instincts were fully engaged.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" Shaking herself out of her own musings, she tilted her head to look at her friend.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Of course."
"Back when this all first happened." He moved so that he could see her from the side, look her in the eye. "Before you went to California."
"Before I lost my marbles and went nuts at the SGC?" She offered him a wry smile.
He squinted, searching for the right words. "Before it became evident that you needed a break."
Okay. That was a much kinder way of saying it. She watched him formulate his next sentence.
"Janet refused to give you a medical clearance."
Ah. That's where he was going. "She did."
"Can I ask you what happened?" His jaw went tight. "I mean—you and I didn't hang out during our time under the city. I don't know what might have happened to you while we were there."
She had to dance around that a little, extrapolating his meaning from both his words and his body language. "Are you asking me if something or someone hurt me while we were there?"
His chin dipped towards his sternum. "I heard what the other Workers said. Even Karlan was pretty good at listening to people without them knowing he was listening."
"And what were they saying?"
"Just—stuff. Rumor. Innuendo." He pursed his lips, sucking in a tense breath. "I initially took it as speculation on their part, but once we started to remember things, I began to wonder whether what they were saying had any merit."
Sam managed to keep her tone even when she repeated herself. "What were they saying, Daniel?"
His pause told her that he was sterilizing things for her benefit. "Just that Thera hadn't gained such respect from leadership without doing a few favors along the way. Or without letting herself be used somehow."
For a long beat, she just thought about that, sorting through the memories that she'd tried to file away. "Did Kegan say that?"
"Mostly. And some others. Not that they really understood what they were whispering about, right?"
Sam reflected back on her conversation with Janet regarding the relative innocence of the other Workers. Their sexual education had been rudimentary at best. Daniel would have been able to clearly envision what the naive Workers had only imagined in the most vague of possible ways. When they'd made their innuendos, Karlan's mind would have filled in the blank spots. "Right. Okay."
He looked away—out through the viewport into space. "It's just that you've changed so much since we returned. You've become more withdrawn. More closed off. We used to talk, Sam. You used to call me just to shoot the breeze. I miss that. We haven't spoken to each other in months. And I know that you were supposed to cut ties with us for the sake of your health, but you just disappeared. You didn't answer my text messages, or my emails. You didn't even open them. I thought that we were better friends than that. I kind of feel like I'm not sure who you are anymore. Like I've lost you."
She let that sit, absorbing his words. Deciphering exactly what he'd been trying to say. "And you thought that maybe something terrible had happened to me underground—I'd been assaulted, or raped—and that trauma is what has caused me to change."
"Kind of." He nodded, the lights from the flight deck reflecting on the lenses of his glasses. "It's the most likely conclusion I could draw from what I've seen."
Reaching out, she took his hand, entwining their fingers. "No. It was nothing like that."
Relief gushed across his expression, and he exhaled in a rush. "Oh, thank god. I've been beyond worried."
"I know. And I appreciate your concern." Tugging on his hand, she pulled him closer. "And I'm sorry that I never thanked you for getting me to the infirmary that day that I passed out."
"I never understood exactly what happened." He shook his head. "Was it the mind stamp? The nightmares? Exhaustion?"
"I was hallucinating. It's the best way to describe it." At his grimace, she continued. "It was like I was reliving specific events. I would get lost in the memories to the point where reality just faded away."
"Like battles we've fought? Missions? Or was it like the visions we had when we were forced to take the Blood of Sokar?"
"It was similar to Netu. Only, they were memories of being down there. Under the ice." She tilted a look at him, catching his eye. "But more real. To the point where I could see it—smell it. Feel it. It was the same with the dreams. It wasn't just seeing things in my mind—it was experiencing them. I would wake up disoriented and exhausted."
"But Janet didn't know all of that, did she? When we talked the morning that Doctor Carter came through the mirror, you told me that you hadn't discussed either the insomnia or the dreams with her."
Damn Daniel for being so smart. And for being so persistent. But he was right—she'd withdrawn from his friendship since their return from -118. Just like she'd withdrawn from everything that had once felt vital to her. With a rush, she realized that she'd missed him. Missed his insight, his stolid support, his constant, kind understanding. More than anyone else in the SGC, he understood the dichotomy that she lived within—the split in purpose between assuaging her scientific curiosity and applying that same scientific curiosity to protecting the planet.
"Janet didn't know about the dreams." He deserved her honesty, at the very least. Sighing, Sam glanced over her shoulder before leaning closer to him. "When we returned from -118, there was the possibility that I was pregnant."
It was like watching the workings of a slot machine. When the rollers all finally lined up, understanding dawned. His mouth tightened into a little "oh".
"I wasn't. But Janet wouldn't allow me back on active duty until we were sure."
"So—you and Jack—" He ended up just twiddling his fingers in the air.
"Jonah and Thera." A distinction without a difference, but one Sam felt compelled to make. "And yes."
"I didn't realize that things had gone that far."
She shrugged, the corner of her mouth lifting in the tiniest hint of a smile.
His eyes flew wide, and he rocked back a little on his heels. "I mean—we all knew that you two were chummy, but—"
"That's why the whole oxytocin thing was an issue."
"Because intimacy causes the body to release more oxytocin, which messed even more with your mind."
"The memories were jarring."
You were reliving—" his fingers twiddled again. "That. Between the two of you."
Sam nodded. "Among other things."
"So, when I was prodding you that day in your lab. Asking why you and Jack just didn't figure out how to make a go out of being together—"
"It hit a little close to home." Turning, she leaned back against the viewport frame, crossing her arms across her chest. "It spurred on one of the hallucinations, and—well—you know the rest."
"Sam—" He scrubbed at his cheek with his hand. "I am so, so sorry."
"You couldn't have known, Daniel."
"Well, that certainly does complicate things." Shoving at the frames of his glasses with his index finger, he sighed. "And it explains why it's been so weird ever since."
They were alone. The bridge of the Tel'tak wasn't roomy—only large enough for the pilot and a few other people. As far as Sam knew, her father was still in the bathroom, or getting something to eat from the cooler that O'Neill had lugged aboard. When she'd left the cargo bay, the Colonel had made himself a make-shift pillow from his pack and was trying to get some shuteye. It was unlikely that she and Daniel would be interrupted.
"He wants more." It sounded strange to say it out loud, even though she'd only just more than whispered. "He wants to be a family. Him, Jake, and me. To make a go of whatever it is that we are."
For the longest time, Daniel simply waited, studying her face, her body language. "And? What do you want?"
"I'd like to continue working with the SGC. I'd like to continue being useful in this fight." She paused, shaking her head. "But I also know what will happen if and when something like that comes to light. You saw how General Hammond reacted to the news about our insomnia, and about the hallucinations. How do you think he'll take the fact that the two officers on his flagship team have done—"
"What you've done." Daniel exhaled heavily. "Sam—I think that you're underestimating General Hammond a little."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for one, do you really think that he doesn't see what there is between you and Jack? He's a smart, insightful man who has a far deeper understanding of his people than we think he does." Daniel let that sink in. "And secondly. You're the one that said that they wouldn't just let you walk away. You're necessary to this command."
"I also said that there was no leeway for this kind of thing in the military."
He grunted a little at that. "So, we figure out a workaround."
"To what end?" Sam raked her fingers through her hair. "So that one or both of us can get killed off world and orphan this child all over again?"
"You wouldn't have to go off world, Sam." Daniel's voice remained calm. "You could stay on Earth and still contribute."
"Oh right. Get stuck in a lab for the rest of my career staring at alien tech or processing soil samples." She snorted. "That sounds like a lot of fun."
"Sure, it's not running scared through alien forests being shot at by Jaffa—but at least you'd be home with a family—-your family—-every night."
"That sounds like a great time." Sarcastic, and a little bitter. She knew how she sounded.
"Sam—what's wrong with that?"
"It wasn't enough for you, was it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"After Sha're died. You left the SGC."
"And then I came back."
"Because you missed it." She leaned forward in her chair, searching his face. "You missed the excitement. The fight."
"No." Daniel's voice rang through the cockpit. "I came back because I wanted to find her child."
"And what would you have done?" She winnowed a glare at him. "If you'd been allowed to bring him home from Kheb?"
His face relaxed a little. He'd obviously thought about this. His answer was both immediate and sure. "I would have found a teaching position somewhere. Settled down. Raised him. Maybe found someone to share a life with us."
"Really?"
"Yes." Nodding, he smiled. "Absolutely."
"You wouldn't have missed this at all?"
He glanced off towards the viewport, his eyes scanning the darkness of space. "Maybe a little. But ultimately, you can't do this forever, can you? Don't you want more?"
Yes. And no. But for some maudlin reason, Sam needed to ask what he'd meant. "More than what?"
"More. More than this. More out of your life." Daniel crossed his arms in front of his body, looking down at her. "For years, now. I've watched you. You wake up alone. You eat alone. You work out alone. Unless you're with us, or with Janet and Cassie, you're alone. You don't date. You don't go out to bars or clubs. You don't have friends. You don't even go to church, or a book club. You work, and you work some more. You tinker on your car and your bike. You ride your Indian too fast, too hard. You don't sleep, let alone sleep with anyone. You pride yourself on this fierce independence of yours that you wear like a badge."
"I'm very focused on my career." Even to herself, it sounded lame. But she felt some need to defend her choices. "I've always been a hard worker."
"But Sam." He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. "Doesn't it get lonely?"
Yes. Damn it. Yes. Hadn't she already said this to the Colonel? When they'd been standing in her kitchen with the blanket that General Hammond had given to Jake. And it felt the same now as it had back then. Shameful, somehow, to admit that she always felt as if she were one spark away from imploding. Because if she were to scrape away all of her carefully fabricated illusions, she'd been fracturing since long before -118. She'd been questioning her life since she'd stood in an elevator holding an unconscious Cassandra wondering where the hell those maternal feelings had come from.
So yes. Yes, she got lonely. But she could hardly admit that when the solution to her problem was to lose everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. She had to clear her throat to speak. "You live alone too, Daniel."
"Yeah. But I have friends outside of work. Did you know that? I date every once in a while. I do my guest lectures at archaeology clubs and forums. I do belong to a book club. In fact, I spent part of my time while you were gone reconnecting with some old friends."
She lifted a single brow. "Janet told me that one of them died, one was nearly killed, and the last one was taken as a host."
To his credit, Daniel crinkled his nose in a self-aware kind of smile. "She told you that, huh?"
"She did." Sam shrugged. "Although, she was pretty stoked to be able to go to Egypt with you and Major Layton."
"Yeah. That was a time." He arched his brows, sighing. "I really wish that Teal'c had been there, rather than off on that other assignment with Jack."
"I probably could have helped, too." Sam reached out to fiddle with one of the crystals on the control panel. "Maybe I could have saved your friends if I'd been there."
"Maybe." Daniel raked his hand through his hair. "And maybe you would have been hit with the hand device and rendered useless just like Janet, Major Layton, and me."
She wasn't indispensable. She wasn't irreplaceable. She wasn't the be-all-end-all. That's what he'd meant. It was a dig. A subtle one, but a dig, all the same.
And one that Daniel barrelled past in order to change the subject. "Speaking of which, has anyone told you about the X-301?"
Sam didn't trust herself to answer just then, so she merely shook her head.
"Well—turns out it's a good thing that you had an opportunity to take another look at the schematics for the ship."
She'd forgotten about the test flight. Just another example of how far gone she'd been. "What about it?"
"Well," Daniel took a step backwards, scuffing his boot on the floor of the Tel'tak. "When you told Jack that you'd encountered something off in the control relays, he mentioned it to the engineering team. They put the test flight on hold and started searching for what you'd seen."
"The blip." She nodded. "It was a weird little jog in the backend of the Goa'uld tech. I'd never seen it before, and I hadn't noticed it before I had that down time to really delve into it."
"Right. Well, it's a good thing that you had that down time, because it turns out that blip was a new Goa'uld recall device. A computer virus of sorts."
"What did it do?"
"According to Groom Lake, it would have removed control of the ship from the pilot and put the Death Glider on a direct, irreversible course to Apophis' home world."
A chill shivered its way down Sam's spine. Pushing off of the pilot's seat, she angled herself away from the control panel of the Tel'tak. "That would have been devastating. That would have drawn the X-301 out into space without any hope of reaching Apophis' planet before the occupants had died of oxygen deprivation and starvation."
"Can you imagine if you hadn't caught that blip before Jack and Teal'c made that test flight?"
Flashing a quick look in Daniel's direction, she pivoted again, staring straight ahead through the viewport. Mutely, she shook her head.
"So, you could say that even within your delirium—-and well removed from the front lines—you were able to save their lives."
She considered that, looking down at where her hands rested on the smooth finish of the control panel. "But if I hadn't come on this mission, you never would have known to count the zero. You would have run out of time, and this ship—-and all of you—-would have exploded."
"All I'm saying, Sam, is that there might be other ways in which you can continue working with the SGC that would allow you to stay closer to home and raise your child. Maybe have a little more of a life."
"All of which would take me off the team, stick me in a lab, and keep me from progressing in my career."
"Janet stays on base most of the time, and you and she are the same rank."
"I guess. But she has Cassie to take care of. She needs to be Earth-bound." Too late, she realized what she'd said. Biting her lips together, Sam ducked her chin towards her chest. Damn it.
"Sam." Daniel stepped closer, his voice quieter. "What's really going on here?'
"Nothing, Daniel." Sam stretched out her legs, rolling her ankles back and forth. She'd been sitting too long on this trip. "I've got Jake now. And I'm closer to Mark and Heather, so it's not like I'm a complete hermit."
He studied her, his jaw tight, his brows low. "And what about Jack?"
It took her too long to answer. When she did, her voice wobbled. "What about him?"
"I just thought that you were ready for more, is all."
More? Sam pressed her eyes closed, covering them with her palm. More. Of course she wanted more. She'd thought of little else. Jack O'Neill filled her like nobody else ever had—made her think of futures, and possibilities, and ever afters. She'd never felt about anybody like she felt about him. Hell, she'd never felt like she did when she was around him. She thought she'd given up that ability long ago.
And his words still echoed through her heart and head whenever she thought of him. Of what might be.
But Sam, what if it's amazing?
But logically. . .
Logically. Logically, it didn't make sense. It didn't make sense to give up her career—to throw away her training, her experience, and her education—for what? For whatever they had to go down in flames? For her to be forced to concede ignoble defeat? For the opportunity to know for certain how hopeless she was at maintaining relationships? She'd failed at every single one she'd ever tried. Nothing was guaranteed—least of all success with the Colonel. Sure, Jonah and Thera had managed to be happy together—but—
But she and the Colonel weren't Jonah and Thera.
It was illogical to believe anything different.
"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." Sam looked up at her friend, breaking a little at the compassion in his gaze. "I know what I want—but what I want isn't possible."
"Why not?"
"Because it isn't." She moved towards him. "I want my old life back. But I also want Jake. I want to keep progressing in my career, to keep going through the 'Gate and exploring new places. I want to fulfill the objectives of our mission and rid the universe of the Goa'uld. But I also want to go home every night to that family you were talking about. I want the fairy tale."
"You might have to take some time and really look at your options. Decide what's really important to you."
"What do you think I've been doing for these past two months?" Sam laughed, but the sound was without humor. It was harsh, and brackish, and mean. "I've been sitting on my ass in a tiny apartment, or park, or at the beach. I've been watching—listening to—-normal people as they've lived their normal lives, and I've been wondering how the hell I could possibly do that or be one of them. How can I complain about property taxes, the price of organic eggs, or the incessant barking of the neighbor's dog when I know what's out there? On the other hand—how do I return to this when I'm raising an infant? When I want that 'more' that you're talking about? I've done nothing but think about it, Daniel."
"You've been healing." Daniel's voice was calm, but fervent. "And up until now, you really haven't been back in the land of the living. Maybe you should give it more time. Talk this out with someone."
"How much more time? Talk to whom?" She gestured towards him with her upturned palm. "No offense, Daniel, but nobody knows more about any of this than I do. I've run through all my options. There is nothing that anyone can tell me more than I already know."
Daniel waited a moment before answering her. "That's a little condescending, don't you think?"
She looked away—back out into the expanse of space. "I'm just calling it like I see it."
"Is that fair?"
"None of this has been fair." Sam shook her head. "Not one damned thing."
Daniel stepped closer to her, leaning his hip against the control module of the Tel'tak. When he spoke, his tone was careful. "I'm not saying that it's equitable, Sam. But sometimes, you have to be willing to sacrifice something good in the hopes of something better."
Sam frowned down at the lights blinking on the control panel. "I know that."
"Do you really?" He paused. "Because I really don't think that you do."
Stubbornly, she stayed silent, refusing to respond to him.
"Are you certain that you're okay, Sam?"
She thought about that for entirely too long before nodding. Lie. She could still lie. And that's exactly what her answer was. A lie. "Yeah."
And, it was obvious that he knew that. "It's just that I've never seen you wishy-washy before. You've always been so decisive and controlled about your decisions. This—" he gestured towards her briefly before sighing. "This isn't like you."
"What isn't like her?" Jacob was back, hurrying towards the controls of the Tel'tak. Moving past Sam, he sat in the seat and perused the panel in front of him. After a moment, his gaze lifted to flitter briefly between Sam and Daniel. "What's not like you, Sam?"
"Nothing, Dad." She forced a smile, schooled her expression into something resembling passivity. "Everything's fine."
"Right." Daniel looked away, his jaw set tight. "Just fine."
"Good." But Jacob had barely spared them another glance. He dialed in a few commands and then adjusted their positioning, his hands quick and steady on the crystals. "It looks like we're just about home, guys. Daniel—hang out here. I might need you to help me land this beast."
"Yes, Sir." Daniel bellied up to the control console.
"Sam?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"You might want to go and help Jack get Teal'c ready to disembark."
Backing towards the cargo bay, she nodded. "Sure."
But Daniel turned right as she was crossing the threshold into the rear of the vessel. "Hey—Sam?"
"Yeah?"
His gaze narrowed, and he tilted a meaningful look towards her abdomen. "What would you have done? If—"
She flickered a look towards her father, but he was completely immersed in his tasks, and oblivious to their exchange. Focusing back on Daniel, she shook her head. "It would have been more complicated."
"Yeah." He nodded. Then prodded ever-so-gently. "And?"
Her honesty surprised even herself. "And it would have made things easier."
—-OOOOOOO—-
"Hey, Major Carter."
Sam turned to see Siler hot stepping down the corridor towards her. "Sergeant."
"Have you been to your lab yet?"
Shaking her head, she waited until he was closer to continue on through the corridor. He fell into step at her side.
They'd landed the Tel'tak in the parking lot, still cloaked. It had practically taken an act of God to finagle Teal'c into the infirmary without everyone topside realizing that Jacob and SG-1 had pretty much appeared from thin air. Some of the civilian personnel weren't cleared to know everything about the command, and so a certain amount of subterfuge had been necessary. Luckily, they'd landed near dusk, and the outer reaches of the lot had been fairly empty.
But it looked as if both Teal'c and his symbiote would pull through. Doctors Wright and McElvaney had called to consult with Janet, and all three of the regular on-base physicians had agreed on a course of care that relied heavily on Teal'c's ability to kel'norim, and to a lesser extent on wide-spectrum antibiotics and intravenous fluids. Daniel had taken up residence on one side of Teal'c's infirmary bed, while the Colonel had pulled up a chair on the other. They'd settled in for the long haul.
Just like old times.
And while Sam would have stayed close in days gone past, her first inclination now was to whisper some words of encouragement into her friend's ear and then gather her things to go to Janet's house.
If she hurried, she could get Jake home before bath time. She could read him his story and sing him his song, and cuddle and kiss him before she tucked him into his crib. She quite literally ached to hold him.
But first—there was Siler.
"Um, no." She shook her head, rounding a corner and aiming towards her lab. "I'm on my way there now. Why? Should I have?"
"No, I guess not." The lanky sergeant grinned. "Except that you haven't seen it yet."
"It—what?" She slowed her pace. "What are you talking about?"
"Didn't they tell you?"
"Didn't who tell me what?" She stopped, stepping back towards the wall to allow SG-14 to pass. Reaching out, she grabbed Siler's sleeve, dragging him with her. "I've been gone for a few months, Sergeant. I don't know what you're alluding to."
Siler's eyes flew wide. "I thought for sure they'd have at least told you that they went. And what they found there, Ma'am."
Oh, good grief. She sucked in a patient breath. "Start at the beginning, Siler."
"Antarctica." He pivoted until he was facing her again, leaning against the concrete of the corridor. "Teal'c and Colonel O'Neill went and found that thing in Antarctica. That artifact that Doctor Carter talked about in her video. You know—the one that she left before she—"
When his voice trailed off, Sam supplied the ending. "Died."
"Right." His face blanched a little. "They took a few teams down to do recon on the place, only they found that it wasn't operational."
"They found the weapon?" She started again, turning the appropriate corner towards her laboratory.
"Only, like I said, the power source is basically dead."
"So, it's useless."
"Not really." Siler pushed his glasses up on his nose. "We all think that the module can be replicated, or maybe even fixed. It's kind of similar to that thing that you and Doctor Carter tweaked from that thing that Colonel O'Neill made when he got that Ancient stuff in his head that time."
Sam translated that in her head. "The power modulator that allowed us to contact the Asgard?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Siler nodded. "And Doctor Carter even had a whole slew of notes about the device in the papers that she brought through. She'd been studying the thing before she escaped and came here through the mirror."
"And all of this stuff is in my lab?"
"We've all been itching for you to get back so that we could get to work on it. Colonel O'Neill said that you're the only one that could possibly understand it, so he made the science geeks—I mean—scientists—wait until you got back to check it out. Doctor Lee's been pretty much foaming at the mouth wanting to get at it, but the Colonel left his orders, so we've all just left it alone."
The door was closed tight, although she'd never gotten into the habit of locking it. Sliding it wide, she flipped the light on and headed towards her work table.
Siler got there first, gazing lovingly at the device, an expression of awe on his face. "Isn't it beautiful?"
It was crystalline. Large—over a foot in height and at least half that in width. Someone—probably Doctor Lee—had rigged a stand for it so that the power module hung suspended from the wire—seemingly in mid-air. There was a dull, throbbing glow emanating from it that cast a golden shadow across her work space.
It was, indeed beautiful.
Sam walked around her work bench and towards her desk. Pulling the top drawer open, she rooted around until she found the motorcycle key she'd tossed in there so many weeks before. "Is my Indian still up top?"
"Ummm—yeah. I've been keeping an eye on her for you." Siler stammered a little. "But don't you want to start studying this device? I'll be happy to stay here and help you start, Ma'am."
Smiling, Sam shook her head. "I'll be back tomorrow, Siler. Or maybe the next day."
"But—"
"I've got to get home to the baby." She found her helmet on her chair, shaking off the thin layer of dust that had accumulated on it. She was halfway to the door before she turned and looked at him again. "Can you close the door when you're done in here?"
Siler's eyebrows slung low over confused eyes. Shaking his head a little, he shrugged. "Uh—sure, Ma'am."
"Thanks." She took the floor in long strides, exiting and hurrying down the hallway towards the elevator.
If she really hurried, she could make it in time to feed Jake his dinner.
And it didn't even occur to her until she was halfway down the mountain that this wasn't anything like old times. In old times, Sam Carter would have holed up in her lab and studied that enigmatic, fascinating device until she'd exhausted herself. In the past, she'd have ignored anything and everything that got in the way of discovering every last secret that there was to learn about the Ancient weapon in Antarctica, the power module, or the expedition that had brought it home. Not so long ago, she'd have lived in her on-base quarters until she'd plumbed its depths, written the report, and given the briefing.
But now? There was a little boy who needed a bath, and a story that needed to be read. She needed to smell his hair and smooch his cheek and tickle him until he giggled. She needed for her child to look at her with his huge brown eyes, pat her cheek, and call her "Mama".
Science—work—could wait. Jake couldn't.
So, maybe it wasn't anything like old times after all.
Maybe there was hope for her yet.