Just a quick note. . . This chapter makes direct reference to a story I wrote a while ago called "Cracks in the Glass". I wrote it as an episode tag to "Point of View". I quote that story in the body of this chapter. So no, that conversation between Jack and Sam didn't actually happen in the series, but it probably should have. ;)

Beauty In The Broken

Striking

"Well, that bit you right in the butt, didn't it?"

Sam sighed, glaring at the box on the counter. It had been sitting at her island ever since the night before, when the Colonel had placed it there.

Reaching into the laundry basket, she pulled out another towel, unfurling it with a satisfying 'whumph' before folding in half, in half again, and then in thirds and putting the neat packet on the pile of other towels she'd already folded.

"Might need stitches."

She glared harder, pressing her lips together and reaching for another towel.

"You probably need some antibiotics. Maybe even an IV drip."

Silence. Stubborn silence.

Teeth-clenched, tight-lipped, stubborn, narrow-eyed silence.

"Stitches and IV antibiotics. You know, to deal with the wound you got from this whole stupid situation biting you directly—"

Janet poked Sam on the arm. "In."

Poke.

"The."

Poke.

"Butt."

"Thank you for that thorough medical assessment, Doctor Fraiser."

But Janet had a little bit of a mean streak in her. "All I'm saying is that you probably should have put a little faith in me—your best friend and your doctor—before blowing your entire life straight to hell."

Sam set the next towel on the pile and reached into the basket anew. This time, she turned up with a crib sheet.

"Have you looked at it?"

Shaking her head, she nested one elasticized corner into another, then repeated the motion on the other side. Deftly, she folded the sheet in fourths, nested all four corners, then laid the sheet on the counter to complete the process. Hems inward, fold in half, and half again. Voila.

"I don't know how you do that, Sam." Janet glared over at the neatly folded linen. "Fitted sheets are the bane of my laundry existence."

"It's really not that difficult."

The doctor's snort was decidedly unladylike. "For you, maybe. You probably have a degree in 'Advanced Linens Folding'."

Sam dove again into the hamper. Hand towels. "Oh sure. Look at the genius who can't get her own freaking life together. But she can fold sheets! Amazing!"

Rolling her eyes, Janet looked at the little black box again. "Can I look at it?"

"No."

"Because it might be a good idea to look at it." Janet pointed towards the box. "You know, just to make sure it's worth all this trouble."

Carter didn't grace that with an answer.

"Sam."

She didn't answer that, either.

"Samantha."

Ugh.

"Samantha Jean Carter."

Jean? Another hand towel hit the pile. "I don't have a middle name, Janet."

"Well, you should." The doctor sounded just the least bit petulant. "Middle names let you know just how much trouble you're in."

"But—seriously—Jean?"

"Would you have preferred Maude?"

Despite the situation, Sam's lips twitched into a brief smile.

"Sam."

She stopped folding just long enough to peek over and see her friend looking back at her. "What?"

"What the hell happened?"

What had happened?

He'd arrived. They'd argued, and he'd left.

But not before he'd put that damned little box on her damned counter next to her damned basket where she kept her damned keys.

And then, he'd told her to grow up.

She'd stared at the box for a while—until Jake had made it clear that he wasn't happy with being ignored while cooped up in his high chair. So, Sam had taken care of business. Dinner. Bath. Story. Bed. For the first time, the chore had felt just like that—-a chore.

Through the rest of the night, she'd replayed the entire fight in her head, over and over and over. His questions, her denials. His assertions, his frustrations, his reasoning. Her fears. Her repudiations. Her—well, more of her fears.

Because that's what it had all boiled down to.

She was afraid. Was still afraid. The dream from the night before had done more than shake her awake, it had shaken her confidence.

Searching. Wanting. Seeking. That had been the theme of it. Hell—that had been the focus of all of her dreams lately. A frantic search for something—or someone—vital to her. She was intuitive enough to understand what it all meant. And, now, she was far enough removed from the terror to know what—or rather, who—the subject of that search was.

Why was it that she could face any enemy that was put before her—except one that made her question her own life choices? One that would mean the upheaval of everything she'd thought she'd been working towards?

For the second night in a row, she'd lain awake, staring at her ceiling, or out the window into the night. At one point, she'd wrapped her quilt around her and trundled out onto the back patio, her breath frosty in the frigid night air.

More than a year before, he'd joined her there one spring evening. After he'd helped Samantha back to her own reality.

He'd kissed Doctor Carter before coming back through the mirror. Well—she'd kissed him. It didn't really matter other than that Sam had witnessed it, awkwardly biting her lip and looking away. She could still remember what it had felt like to see him do that—kiss the other her—the not her—and how she'd avoided touching the Colonel's hands when he'd handed her his weapon once he'd come back through the glass

And then, he'd come to her—to this little house to which she'd escaped from Cheyenne Mountain, and he'd tried to make it better. As if he'd needed to. As if he'd known that Sam—his Sam—had felt conflicted to her soul.

Even so long ago—nearly eighteen months, now—he'd been so closely in tune with her that he'd known that she'd lost her ability to watch him kiss another woman and not feel it eat at her, just a little.

So, they'd talked about it. It had been the first time that they'd ever confronted the thing that they'd assiduously denied. But, there was no way to justify or rectify that particular experience other than meet it head on. And then he'd met her lips, touching her almost reverently as he'd shown her that there was, indeed, a difference for him between Doctor Samantha Carter from that ruined other reality and the Sam Carter from his own.

"If I'm going to kiss a Carter, it's going to be the right one." He'd stood on her rickety back steps, his shoes scuffing against the peeling paint, his hands warm against her body. "And damned if you aren't the right one."

Even then, he'd known.

Still knew. And she—the muddled, lunatic mess that she was—she knew, too. But it seemed that Sam was incapable of following her heart, even when that was exactly what she needed to do.

What was it that Jack had said? He'd been mixing pancake batter and carrying on a one-sided conversation with Jake. He hadn't known that she was listening, but even if he had, he probably still would have said it. Because it was true.

"Your mom is a special kind of stubborn."

He knew that. Just like he knew that she was fighting herself more than she was fighting him right now. Just like he knew that she'd needed a push last night. She'd needed for him to be brutally honest.

Sam groaned, pushing the now-empty hamper aside. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked at her friend. "He called me a coward."

Janet's dark brows rose. She set her jaw, breathing in through her nose before shrugging. "Well, Sam. That shoe most definitely fits."

"He said that I was both arrogant and insecure." She looked down at the counter top, steepling her fingers against its smooth surface. "And he said that I was simultaneously a mess and a miracle."

Janet's expression softened—melting a little. "That's really kind of sweet. Except for the arrogant and insecure part."

"And the coward part."

"Right—but that coward part was still accurate."

Heat built up behind her eyelids, and she blinked rapidly, trying to quell the tears that threatened. Tears born from anger, rather than desperation. "When did I become this? I used to be strong. I used to have some guts."

Janet leaned close, curving her arm around the small of Sam's back. "Sweetheart, you've been through the wringer. The experiences that you've had were bound to leave some marks."

"I think that I need to talk to Doctor McKenzie."

"I'm certain that you do." Janet's eyes widened. "In fact, I've already spoken to him about it, but he'll be gone through Thanksgiving. His daughter is getting married on some kind of cruise thing, and they won't make port until the following Wednesday."

"So, what do I do in the meantime?"

Janet let Sam work things through for a while before offering a further prompt. "What do you think that you should do?"

"Do what the Colonel said. Grow up. Fight for what I want. Make the damned decisions I've been tiptoeing around." The answer came more automatically than Sam had thought it would. And more forcefully. "I've thought about nothing else since he left. The things he said."

"Like what?"

Sam rifled through her memories. "Like—he told me that I couldn't control what had happened to me, but that I could control how I responded to it."

"He's right, you know."

"I know that. I've known all this for my entire life." Sam nodded, flickering a glance back over towards that black velvet box. "It's just hard to pivot away from one dream and focus on another. I'm having to readjust everything I thought about what I wanted in life."

"Sometimes, giving up one good thing allows you to gain something better, Sam." Janet leaned on the counter next to Sam, balancing on her elbow. "And sometimes, one choice isn't necessarily better than the other, it's just different."

"Like how I gave up on NASA in order to join the Stargate program?"

"And joining the Stargate program has brought Jake into your life. And the Colonel." Her dark eyes studied Sam. "Some might call that kismet, or serendipity."

"Do those things really exist?"

Janet pursed her lips, looking down at her fingers. "Have I ever told you why my marriage ended?"

It had been one subject that had been expressly off limits. Sam had never asked the questions because Janet had made it clear that she wasn't willing to answer any. With a subtle shake of her head, Sam focused on her friend. "No."

"James was a good guy. We met and married young. Too young, probably. I wasn't even twenty-one yet, and he was only a year older." She smiled at the memory, sighing. "Anyway. We were both pre-med—we met in a chem lab—and after college, we started applying to medical schools. I'd decided to pay for med school by joining the Air Force. I was accepted into the program and went to boot camp. It wasn't easy, but I was persistent and determined. James didn't do well on the MCAT, didn't make it into a medical school, and decided to go into research instead. We figured that, once the kids came, he would be able to stay home with them while I completed my residency and fulfilled my obligations with the Air Force."

Carter dragged a stool over with her foot and sat. "What happened?"

"The kids never came." Her shrug seemed forced, somehow. "We tried for years. After the first year, we diligently tracked ovulatory signs—taking my basal temperature each morning, charting cervical mucus and all of that stuff. Nothing. The second year, we tried medications—Clomid, medroxyprogesterone, and some others. After four years, we started doing IVF. It worked a few times. I had three miscarriages before I finally told James that I couldn't do it anymore. It was just—too hard. Emotionally, physically, financially—I was absolutely drained."

Sam reached out and laid her hand on Janet's, squeezing gently. "I'm so sorry."

"Anyway. James wanted children. His own children. He didn't want to adopt. He tried to be nice about it, but was obviously disappointed at how things were going. And, one day I came home from the hospital, and he was gone. He'd packed up and left. The one time I heard from him after that was when he sent me the divorce papers."

The loudest sound in the small kitchen was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Far off in the distance, someone was using a weed whacker or a leaf blower—the mechanical hum hazed through the walls and cut through the quiet.

Janet steadied herself, turning her palm to meet Sam's and interlocking their fingers. "I decided to get myself as far away from there as I could. And, as a Wyoming girl, I wanted to get closer to home. So, I applied for this weird post in Colorado and got it. Who knew that within a year of me being assigned to this crazy place I'd meet the little girl who would give me what I'd wanted for nearly a decade?"

Cassandra. Sam watched Janet's face relax into a peaceful sort of satisfaction. "Kismet?"

"Or serendipity. Fate. Destiny. Whatever." Janet's smile broadened. "Going through the 'Gate is an incredible experience. Being part of a front-line team that's literally saving the world is something that most people can't even imagine outside of science fiction. But I was there the first time that you held Jake. I saw how that changed you. And I was there in that room when you acknowledged how you felt about the Colonel. I've literally tracked your physical responses to him. I know how much he fulfills you—and how you affect him. I'm in a unique position to know that the two of you share something very, very special."

Sam couldn't argue with that. Any of it. Still, for some obstinate reason she needed to explain something of what she'd been feeling. "I never expected any of this. I never wanted it."

"And yet, here it is. Here he is. Here they are." She punctuated each point by tapping her finger on the counter top. "Maybe it is fate. Maybe this is all exactly how it was meant to be. This is the universe telling you that this is how it's supposed to be."

"Why am I fighting this so hard? Why is this so damned difficult for me?"

"Because you're stubborn, driven, and you've been hurt in the past?" Patting Sam's arm, Janet pushed away from the counter. "And because finally accepting that these feelings that you've been having are real means that you have to confront them and everything else that you've been sublimating."

"I have been so stupid, Janet." Sam straightened, pivoting on the seat. "He was right. I've been such a coward."

"Well, like I always tell Cassie. When you screw up, you've got to own up. Then you shake up and make up."

Sam met that with a wry kind of smile. "And I have, indeed, screwed up."

Janet didn't answer—other than dipping her chin towards her chest and fixing Sam with a pointed look. It was an 'I told you so' of epic Janet proportions.

Extending a hand, Sam touched the little box, rasping the pad of her index finger on the soft nap. "He came over here that day. Eighteen months ago. After Samantha went back through to her own reality."

"Oh?"

"She was so sad, and she had to say goodbye to him—someone who was so like her husband—for the second time. As Colonel O'Neill was preparing to come back through the mirror, she kissed him goodbye." Sam sighed, bracing her feet against the bottom rung of her bar stool. "Anyway, after the debriefing, he came over here. I think that he felt like he needed to explain himself or something. He told me that he hadn't wanted to kiss her. He did it because she'd have wondered for the rest of her life if it would have been the same between the Colonel and her as it had been between her and her husband."

"That's probably true."

"And then—he kissed me." Sam looked up at Janet, meeting her fully in the eye. "He told me that if he was going to kiss a Carter, he wanted to kiss the right one."

Janet could not have looked less surprised if she'd tried. "I think that he may have needed that same confirmation. He'd have wondered about it too, if he hadn't done that. And so would you."

She hadn't thought about it that way before, but it, too, was true. Despite herself, Sam grinned—a slow, sweet thing—raising a single brow. "Janet—it was a really, really good kiss."

"And?"

"And then he left." Standing, Sam turned away from the counter, leaning back against it. "And we never spoke about it again."

"That's kind of your modus operandi." Janet's sigh came from deep down. "You two have been dancing around this for entirely too long."

"He's waited so patiently, Janet." Sam stared down at her shoes, at how the hem of her jeans just grazed the laces of her sneakers. "He's invited me to his cabin—invited me fishing—given me opportunities for more. I was the one who told him that we could just move on after the Za'tarc testing. I've been the one throwing up all these barriers. There have been so many moments when I could have done things differently and pulled us out of this damned holding pattern—but I've been too pig-headed—too afraid of failure, or change, or hell—afraid of life—to do it."

"Understandable, given your history. Given what you've had to sacrifice in order to achieve what you've achieved."

"It's more than that. Yesterday, I told him that I wanted things back to how they were. And even while I was saying it, I knew that it was impossible and stupid. Childish, even. And all I could do during the night was ask myself why." Turning, she leaned against the counter again, bent over, resting her weight on her forearms. "Why would I want things to go back to how they were? Would I really give up Jake? Send him back to his own reality? Would I really give up knowing what it's like to be with the Colonel? I blathered on and on about logic, and reason, when those are the last things that I actually care about."

"If he were to ask you again." Janet settled in next to her, mirroring Sam's perch at the counter. "What would you say?"

Again, her eyes went to the box. "That it's time to stop dancing."

Moving sideways, Janet nudged Sam's shoulder with her own. "I could not possibly agree more."

"Mom?"

They both turned at the voice.

Cassie was propping the front door open with her hip as she scooted the stroller into the entryway. "Sam? You guys here?"

Straightening, Sam walked into the hallway, intercepting the stroller as Cassie turned to close the door behind her. Unbuckling the restraints, she lifted Jake out of the vehicle.

"We played on the swings for a while, but it got pretty chilly. I think it's going to rain." Cassie unzipped her jacket, slipping it off her arms and tossing it over the back of the bar stool that Sam had just vacated. With a nod towards the box, she asked, "Have you looked at it yet?"

"Nope." Sam shook her head. She'd unfastened Jake's coat and was pulling it off him. "And I'm not going to."

"What?" Janet held her hand out for the little coat. "Why not?"

"Because it's not important." Sam dropped the jacket into Janet's hand, then tugged the knitted hat off Jake's head. His hair immediately fluffed out in an impressive display of the effects of static electricity. Grinning, she tried to smooth it down, only to watch it puff back out. "It won't influence my decision."

"I must not speak 'genius', because that makes absolutely no sense to me." Janet rolled her eyes, folding the little coat neatly and placing it next to the box on the counter. "Aren't you at least a little curious?"

Cassie took off her own cap, reaching up to assess her ponytail. "It's like that movie, Mom."

"What movie?"

Tugging the elastic band out of her hair, Cassie peeped up at her mom from beneath her lashes. "You know. That super long one with the British people that you inflicted on me. All the sisters who are looking for husbands. With the mother that you seriously want to bitch-slap. And it has that actress from AbFab."

"Pride and Prejudice?"

"That one! The main girl—Lizzie—I think she's the prideful one—she goes to see that guy's house like on a tour or something, and she says, 'Dude—all this could have been mine' because it's—like—a really great house with a great location—and then Lizzie decides that the guy's not so horrible after all, even though she totally kicked him to the curb when he asked her to marry him before—because he's—like—the prejudiced one." Smoothing out her hair, Cassie quickly regathered her hair into a ponytail and started wrapping the elastic around it again. "And then later when she's talking to her sister—the blonde, vacant one—the sister asks when Lizzie had fallen in love with him. Lizzie says, 'like—when I saw that great house and realized what I was missing'. But she really loved him because he was nice to his little sister and he made that skeezy dorkbreath guy marry the girl from Absolutely Fabulous."

"To be fair, Cass, Elizabeth Bennet fell in love with Mr. Darcy because she realized that he was a good man. Not because of his great house." Janet lifted a hand and fixed a spot that Cassie had missed.

"Exactly. That's what I said. Sam knows that Jack is her lobster, so what the ring looks like doesn't matter."

Sam frowned. "Lobster?"

"It's a Phoebe thing." Cassie shrugged, tucking a stray hair back behind her ear. "She says that Ross and Rachel are lobsters because lobsters mate for life."

"'Friends'." Janet explained. "That one's from 'Friends', and not Jane Austen."

"But lobsters don't mate for life."

"They don't?"

Shaking her head, Sam wiped at some dirt on Jake's face. "They're monogamous for a few weeks at a time, and then they find new mates."

"Dude." Cassie's eyebrows scrunched down over the bridge of her nose. "That's totally janked."

Whatever that meant. She cast a rueful look towards Janet. "I'm worried about our country's educational system if she's getting her biology facts from Must See TV."

Janet raised her brows, exhaling heavily. "That crazy homeschool Mommy doesn't seem so crazy anymore, does she?"

"Ooooh—speaking of which." Cassie stuck her hand into the pocket of her jeans. "That lady was there."

"Francie?"

"Yeah. Dark hair in those tiny braids, glasses. Super pretty. Pregnant. Right?"

"Right. And?"

Handing a piece of paper to Sam, she pointed at it while Carter read what was written on it.

"She said that she's interested, but not until after Thanksgiving. Her husband's family is coming into town for the holiday, and she has to get past that craziness first. That's her cell phone number. She says to call her."

"What's this about?"

Sam smiled down at the paper in her hand. "Francie is part of the Mommy Brigade. She's been trying to figure out how to put her Master's degree to work and still stay home with her kids. Jake and I ran into her this morning at the grocery store."

Janet quickly followed the trail to the correct destination. "You asked her if she'd be interested in doing some in-home day care."

"And her husband is in law enforcement."

"So she sort of gets it—your life and the demands there."

It felt like progress. A step in the right direction. Maybe—maybe—she could still salvage something from this mess.

With another glance at that damned little box, Sam took another tentative step back into her own life. "Hey, Cassie."

"Yeah, Sam?"

"How would you feel about hanging out here with Jake for a few hours? I need to go to work and talk to some people."

—-OOOOOOO—-

He was still in the briefing room. SG-9 had returned from M6Y-776 a few days late, and the debrief had dragged on far too long. Sam shifted on her feet, looking through the window at where General Hammond sat, deep in conversation with the other team.

"Any idea how much longer this will go?"

Walter shook his head, tightening his grip on the clipboard in his hands. "No clue, Ma'am. They've been at this for more than two hours."

Sam chewed at her lip a little, sighing. "Okay. I'll be up in the infirmary, then. If you could page me when the General's free, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure." The little sergeant nodded. "Are you going up to see Teal'c?"

"I thought I would."

"Because I think he's been released."

"Oh?"

"Colonel O'Neill was hanging out with him when Dr. Wright decided that Teal'c was good to go." The techie marked something off on the papers he held. "I only know because I had to go up and deliver some paperwork for the Colonel to sign."

"Is he back in his on-base quarters?"

"Who, Teal'c?" The overhead lights winked off the lenses of Walter's glasses. "Probably. Or maybe in the mess."

She hesitated, forcing her tone into benign casualness. "And the Colonel?"

"He was already on his way out, Ma'am. He spent all morning in Hammond's office with the door closed." Walter glanced at his clipboard, as if he had a running chart there of where everyone on base was at any given moment. "I'm pretty sure that Teal'c was his last stop before he left the Mountain."

Ah. Sam nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant."

With a little wave, Walter turned towards the hallway. About halfway there, though, he pivoted back to face her. "How's the baby, Ma'am?"

Sam relaxed into an easy smile. "He's doing well, Walter."

"Good." He aimed for the door again, throwing another wave back at her over his shoulder. "He's a cute little guy. I can't wait to have kids of my own. You and the Colonel are lucky, Ma'am."

Sam's gaze found the General again, still deep in discussion with the other team. Luck. Kismet. Serendipity.

Well, maybe with all that on her side she could still pull something amazing out of this whole fiasco.

—OOOOOOO—-

Sam hesitated briefly before crossing the threshold into the mess hall. She'd tried his quarters first, but nobody had answered the door when she'd knocked. So, she'd hoofed it up the stairs to Level 22, stopping just outside the commissary door.

The mess wasn't overly busy, so it was easy to spot her friend. He sat alone at one of the smaller tables, with several empty dishes to his left. Head bent, he appeared to be reading. Even alone in stillness, talking to no one, he was conspicuous. The hazards of being the only Jaffa on base.

Dodging around tables, she approached his table, rounding the edge and pausing until he noticed her. "Hey, Teal'c."

"Major Carter." Smiling, he closed his book. Setting it aside, he motioned for her to sit opposite him. "I was not expecting you."

She pulled out a chair, lowering herself into it. "I was hoping to talk to General Hammond, but he's still debriefing SG-9. Sergeant Harriman told me that you'd been released from the infirmary, so I decided to come find you."

"I have just finished eating dinner." Indicating the plates to his left with a nod, he smiled over at Sam. "I have been ordered to 'take it easy' by Doctors Wright and Fraiser, and so I have been reading."

"What book is it?"

"The fourth installment of the Harry Potter series."

"I haven't read those. Are they any good?"

Teal'c considered the book for a moment before answering. "Indeed they are, Major Carter. They remind me very much of a tale my mother told me when I was a child. It was the story of a young Jaffa boy who had been orphaned at a young age. He had nobody to care for him or protect him, yet through hard work and discipline, he grew to be a mighty warrior."

"It's a very common theme, isn't it?" Sam reached out and touched the book, turning it so that she could look at the cover. A young teenager smiled back at her from the dust jacket. He had dark hair and glasses and was holding a wand. "I'm sure that most cultures use such stories to inspire their children to become something greater than they might otherwise be."

"That is most likely so, Major Carter." He looked off across the mess, musing upon that thought. "As parents, we hope that our children grow to become more than just good warriors, or people. We endeavor that they should become better warriors or people than we are, do we not?"

"I guess." She tilted her head to one side with a little sigh. "At this point, I'm just trying to keep Jake alive every day. I'll worry about the rest once I've figured out this whole Mom gig a little better."

"Then it is fortunate for young Jacob Charles that he has not one, but two such devoted parents."

Sam nodded, looking back down at the book. "Yeah. It is."

Teal'c's bottomless gaze studied her for a long beat. "Is there something regarding your child about which you are concerned, Major Carter?"

"No. I'm good, Teal'c. He's great." She pushed the book back towards Teal'c, who set it aside before interlacing his fingers and resting his forearms on the table. Sam used the moment to inspect him, pleased to see no visible injuries lingered from his time in Heru'ur's torture chamber. That didn't mean that he wasn't still experiencing residual effects, however. "The important question is how you're feeling."

He inclined his head with a smile. "I am much recovered."

"When you're back to one hundred percent, you'll have to tell me what happened."

"I am able to tell you now, although there is not much to relate. I was betrayed." His eyes gleamed with anger for a moment, and then softened. "And then I was rescued by my betrayer."

"How did that happen?"

"I had arranged a meeting with several of the rebel Jaffa. We intended to recruit more to join our cause. However, instead of joining with us against the Goa'uld, Rak'nor captured me and delivered me to Heru'ur." His expression hardened a little, his jaw tight, his eyes thin. "One of the lieutenants of Heru'ur, a lesser Goa'uld known as Terok, intended to use torture as a means to elicit my confession, and to entice me to recognize Apophis and Heru'ur as gods. When I refused, Rak'nor was convinced of the righteousness of our cause. He killed Terok and helped me to escape."

"Teal'c, that's terrible."

"Yet I survived." The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a satisfied sort of leer. "And Heru'ur did not."

"Still, I'm so sorry that you had to endure that."

"Just as I regret all that you have endured recently."

Self-consciously, she looked down at where her hands rested on the table. With a little smile, she ducked her chin. "I am, like you, much recovered."

"And for that, I am glad."

Sam sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her midsection. "I hear that you and the Colonel went to Antarctica."

"Colonel O'Neill intended for us to go fishing at his cabin in Minnesota. But when the opportunity arose for us to travel to find the Ancient weapon of which Doctor Carter spoke, we traveled there, instead." He leaned forward on his elbows, his brows lowered. "Have you not discussed this with Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond?"

"No." Shaking her head, she glared down at the table cloth in front of her. "Not yet. Things have been a little—odd—around here."

He simply waited for her to continue, his face impassive.

"And things have been a little odd between me and him."

"Between you and General Hammond?"

Tossing a look at him, she realized he'd been teasing. With a wry shrug, she smiled. "That, too."

Around them, the commissary bustled. Personnel—both military and civilian—went about their business, eating, or talking with their cohorts. The mess had been decorated for the season. Each table had been festooned with pumpkins and leaves in beautiful autumnal shades. Colorful paper leaves had replaced the usual signage on the food service line, and some creative soul had fashioned a paper cornucopia on the wall, out of which spilled various fruits and vegetables. Paper letters spelled "Give Thanks" out on the far wall. A worthy admonition.

It was the one place on base where such frivolity was encouraged, or even allowed. Sam had spent so many years focused on her work that the commissary was often the only indicator of what time of year she was passing through—let alone what major holidays were approaching. A glance at the large, festive base calendar on the wall reminded all and sundry that Thanksgiving was only a few days away—someone had been counting off the days with exaggerated red Xs.

With a start, she thought about Christmas—in a little over a month. New Years' and Valentine's Day came next, and then it would be Jake's first birthday. Time was passing, and Sam had hardly even noticed. The only reason she'd participated in Halloween activities was that Heather had bought Jake a costume and insisted that Sam accompany her, Macy, and Lucas as they traversed the neighborhood Trick or Treating.

Jake had been an astronaut. His little suit had been adorable. And Jack had missed it.

She'd sent him a picture, but now she could see just how paltry an effort she'd made of including him. Yet something else for which she needed to atone.

Somehow, Teal'c seemed to know the direction of her thoughts. "Colonel O'Neill is also much conflicted over the current predicament in which you find yourselves."

Sam couldn't hide her surprise. "He talked to you about all of this?"

Teal'c smiled—his expression gentle. "No."

Frowning, Sam leaned forward in her chair. "Then how do you know he's conflicted?"

The big Jaffa tilted his head in her direction, that one eyebrow edging upwards. "It is what he did not say that demonstrated his concerns."

"I'm sorry, Teal'c. I'm not following you."

"During our conversation today, he made no mention of the upcoming holiday."

"What, Thanksgiving?"

Picking up his water glass, Teal'c paused to answer. "It is the first year since I have come to dwell amongst the Tau'ri that he has not organized some feast in celebration of the day."

Sam considered that, thinking back over the preceding years. The first year they'd been a team, they'd gathered at O'Neill's house. He'd provided the bird and the drinks, while Daniel and Sam had brought the rest. Teal'c had thoroughly enjoyed the meal, and had even patiently listened as Jack had explained football to him. It had been a good day, in a very "team building" way.

The second year, Teal'c had gone to Chulak to visit his family and Daniel had flown to the UK for a conference at Oxford. That had been just as well, since General Hammond had gone to visit his daughter in Arizona for the holiday and left O'Neill in charge of the base. Still, as soon as they were all in the Springs again, they'd converged again for a meal. That time, Sam had hosted. She'd outdone herself—basting the turkey with butter and lemon juice, then stuffing it with halved onion and bundles of thyme. It had been completely delicious, even if she did say so herself.

Last year, they'd gathered at O'Neill's again. They'd voted on it—deciding that Sam would provide the turkey, but since Jack had the larger TV, the football would be better at his place. Daniel had brought along a few board games, and between the three Earthlings, they'd introduced Teal'c to the joys of Monopoly. The Jaffa had taken far too quickly to world domination, and had roundly defeated the rest of them. Thrice.

And this year?

"He hasn't made any plans with you and Daniel?"

"When he visited me in the infirmary, I asked him what I could provide for the meal, and he said that nothing would be necessary." Teal'c reached over and picked up the book again, setting it in front of him and leaning back in his chair. "He informed me that he was not 'feeling it this year'."

Sam's heart sank. Dipping her chin towards her chest, she clenched her teeth, her hands tightening into fists on the table's surface. "That's mostly my fault, Teal'c. I've managed to screw a few things up lately."

"Neither is he blameless, I am sure."

"No." Sam smiled at that. No, O'Neill wasn't perfect. Sam was judicious enough to acknowledge that. "Still, I've hurt him, and that's not okay."

"In what way do you believe that you have done this?"

It was unusual for Teal'c to ask such questions. He was typically content to allow people their secrets. Stalling, Sam smoothed the pad of her thumb along the smooth nap of the tablecloth. It was gold with tiny flecks of green and brown in it. The colors of the season. Something that someone would use on the family table for the holiday—not the kind of institutional cloth that she would have expected in an Air Force commissary.

Just as this conversation wasn't one she'd normally have in public, or within the Mountain. But nobody was paying them the least bit of attention. Steeling her spine, she looked up at her friend. "He wants more than I've been willing to give."

"He cares very much for you, Major Carter."

"I know."

"Has he lost your affection?"

"No." Shaking her head, Sam leaned forward, lowering her voice. "No. Nothing like that."

"I am aware that the feelings that you have harbored for each other are not encouraged amongst those who serve together as you do." His voice was quiet enough that she could only just hear him. "Doctor Fraiser explained this to me following the Za'tarc testing."

"Yeah. It's been problematic."

"And, with the arrival of young Jacob Charles, your situation has become even more so."

"Yes. Kind of."

"Do you not believe that you would be happy were you to enter into a dedicated relationship with him?"

Sam studied her fingertips for a long breath. Her nails were longer than normal, pristine, and clean—her palms and fingers softer than they'd been in ages. Usually, callouses and odd injuries marred her hands, but weeks without regular target practice, and without the dings and scratches that came from tinkering with various sorts of technology had allowed all those wounds to heal.

Just another way in which the current situation had changed her.

"What would you do, Teal'c? If you found someone that made you want more than this life?"

"I am not a woman, Major Carter. I cannot answer in the same way in which a woman would answer that question."

"Don't Jaffa women fight alongside their men?"

"Not in the same way as do the women of the Tau'ri, Major Carter." The corner of Teal'c's mouth lifted. "I have heard rumors of Jaffa women who have trained as warriors, but I have not yet encountered any such."

Okay. Sam stared down at the tablecloth. "But if you met someone who made you want to settle down. What would you do?"

"As a man, I continue to battle against the Goa'uld while Drey'auc remains at home with Ry'ac. My main priority is defeating the enemy so that my family can live in safety."

So not helpful. With a haphazard little laugh, Sam scanned the room. Seeking inspiration, maybe, or strength.

But Teal'c had understood her. "However, I believe that the question that you are truly asking is whether I would think less of you, or consider you less of a warrior should you choose to remain on Earth and raise your son, rather than to traverse through the 'Gate and battle the Goa'uld as a member of SG-1."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Do you not remember what I said to you? Just after you took Jacob Charles into your care?"

"I do. I was worried that I wasn't going to be able to care for him adequately."

"And I told you that a warrior son requires a warrior mother." Teal'c folded his hands in front of him on the table.

Sam smiled, glancing from his hands to hers. "Around here, mothers don't seem to be considered warriors. In fact, usually, they aren't given very much respect at all. I've always thought that I needed to be something more than 'just' a mom. That's what I've worked so hard for all my life."

"And therefore, what you desire is at odds with what you believe you should desire."

"I've never wanted the whole 'hearth and home' thing, Teal'c." She grimaced. "And now, it's kind of all I want. Finding a balance there is a struggle for me."

"We all choose the ways in which we fight. You, Major Carter, with your knowledge of Goa'uld and Ancient technology, your wisdom, and your cunning would be an asset wherever you decided to assert yourself." He shifted, drawing her attention to his face. "Nobody who knows you would ever consider you any less of a fighter for choosing to abstain from combat, or for choosing to impart that wisdom, your knowledge, and your cunning to a new generation."

A shoe squeaked against the concrete behind her, and Sam looked over her shoulder to see Walter approaching, holding a cup of what passed for coffee at the SGC. He stopped just to one side of her. "Uh, Ma'am?"

"Yes, sergeant."

"General Hammond is ready for you." He took a sip of the swill, grimacing as he swallowed. "He's waiting in his office."

"Thank you, Walter."

"You're welcome, Ma'am." With a salutatory kind of nod at her and Teal'c, he headed through the door into the hallway.

"I have very much enjoyed your company this evening, Major Carter."

"Me too, Teal'c." Casting a quick glance across the table at her friend, Sam stood. "You'll have to excuse me. This meeting with the General has been put off for far too long."

Rising, Teal'c tucked the book into the crook of his elbow before gifting her with a smile. "I understand."

"We'll talk more later, okay?"

"I would find that most amenable."

Okay then. Standing, Carter scooted her chair back under the table and stepped around the table..

"Major Carter."

She'd only made it a few steps. Turning back towards her friend, she angled a look up at him. "Yeah, Teal'c?"

His voice was quiet—only loud enough for her to hear. "I know that things will most likely be different from this day forward."

Oh, so intuitive. Sam nodded, a tiny smile gracing her lips. "Probably."

"However, I wish for you to know that, even if you are no longer a member of my team," The gold in his tattoo gleamed in the overhead lights as he inclined his head towards her. "I will always consider you to be a most cherished member of my family, as well as a much beloved friend."

"Me too, Teal'c."

"As I said before. Jacob Charles is fortunate to have two such devoted parents." Teal'c's arm settled around Sam's shoulders, and he pulled her close, his voice low in her ear. "And I am yet hopeful that you and Colonel O'Neill can find that happiness for which you both have fought."

Sam returned Teal'c's hug, lingering a little against his strength. Stepping away, she smiled up at him. "Indeed."