Wow, thank you all so much for the many reviews. I haven't fully decided what's to happen in the next part of the story, so it may be a while before my next update - but for the moment, here's Chapter Four -

Chapter Four

"You'll listen to me Samantha Carter, and you'll listen well," he sneered, backing her up against the kitchen counter.

"No – I"

"You what?" He grabbed her wrists. "I'm sorry. Maybe you can get away with acting like this now, but it won't be the case once you're my wife."

He grinned menacingly, as he threw her arms back banging them off the wooden counter top.

There was a wild fire in his eyes and she didn't dare to breath until she had run out the back door, away from him.

Jack sat down in the chair beside her bed. Often he wondered how it was that a person as vibrant and enthusiastic as Sam could look so peaceful as she slept. She had a severe concussion, and had managed to break her right wrist and bruise her ribs quite badly during that tumble down the hillside.

Of course that was only the beginning, he could well imagine the other bruises and cuts she must have sustained. All in all, she'd be very sore for the best part of the next two weeks, and knowing Sam, she'd be incredibly frustrated by her injuries.

"Oh, God. Jonas, No. Let me go! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She felt a slap across her jaw, and a fist brutally knocking her to the ground.

"You," he told her flatly, "are mine."

"No!" She screamed. Why couldn't they hear her? Why didn't anybody help her?

"Sam," Jack frowned.

She'd started moving around in the bed. She was mumbling something that he couldn't quite hear, and her body was twisting, turning torturously.

'She's gonna hurt herself,' he panicked, looking around the room to alert the infirmary staff.

Her distress was becoming more acute. She'd started trying to wave her arms about he could see a look of confusion on her face as her broken wrist hit the side of the bed and pain shot up her arm.

Crap. "Sam," he whispered softly, taking hold of both of her hands. "It's okay."

She seemed to quieten, but her chest was still heaving from whatever it was that she had dreamed. She squeezed his hand, and he returned the gesture. Then, as he watched, her eyes opened slowly.

"Hey there," he let go of one of her hands.

"Sir?" she croaked. He gave her a sip of water.

"I'll just go and – " She gripped his hand reflexively.

Okay, he thought, maybe I'll stay for a while.

Her faced was flushed, an unnatural shade of fear and shock against the pale, pale colour of her skin and the dirty bruises that littered her jaw. Her eyes were watering and her lips trembled, as those of a person caught between a dream and reality.

"You gave us all a fright, Colonel," he chided her softly.

"Pete?" she wondered.

"Oh right," the General remembered, "Pete, in his rush to get you here, apparently left the gas running, and the front door of his house wide open. So he's returned to wherever to fix it, and will be back in the morning."

She nodded, and then winced as the room spun.

"Carter," he continued gently, "We'll be moving you up to a room in the ground floor before then. I know that Pete has clearance to see you down here, but while he knows about the Stargate he's still unauthorised to know the content of any current missions, so it's just a precaution, okay?"

"Sure," she replied feebly, "Understood Sir."

"So," he wondered brightly, in an effort to lift her spirits, "How was your time off.. well, before all this?" He gestured with his hands.

She smiled.

"Well, Pete has a summerhouse…"

"A summerhouse?" he interrupted.

She cringed. His face had that look that signified that he was going to tease her about something. She held her breath.

No, Sir. No. Don't crack a joke about my refusal to go fishing, she begged silently. I don't think I can handle having to think of a response.

"You went to his summerhouse?" he repeated. "Carter," he said with mock seriousness, "You do realise that it's the middle of winter?"

It was then that the bottom completely fell out of her barely maintained composure. She bit back a sob.

"Hey." He rubbed her hand. "I'm sorry. You're right. It was a bad joke."

"No," she protested. "It's just – "

He waited patiently.

"Never mind. I'm okay." She gave him a wan smile.

It's just that they were my exact words to Pete when he asked me to go there.

How can I move on with my life when every time I see you I get one more reminder of why we belong together?

>>>>>>>>

'Of all the stupidest things,' Pete muttered to himself as he drove back. The gas, well, he could have overlooked that, but leaving the front door open – way to go. As a police officer he really should have known better.

He'd set off right away, in the hope that he'd be back before Sam woke up. She seemed to be having a tough time of it injury wise; in fact if he didn't know better he'd have labelled her accident-prone a long time ago.

And then he had to ask O'Neill to keep an eye on her.

Not that the General wouldn't have been watching her anyway, but for some reason Pete thought it necessary to remind the guy exactly where he stood with 'his' Sam. Truth be known, he'd long been of the opinion that O'Neill was harbouring some sort of secret feelings for his girlfriend.

'Quit sugar-coating it, Shanahan,' he told himself, 'The guy has a blatant crush on her.'

At times he really didn't know what annoyed him more – the General's covert drooling, or Sam's seeming enjoyment of his attentions. Thankfully he didn't get to see them together too often, but when he did he was always overcome by an awkward feeling of aggressiveness, coupled with the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

They didn't actually have to say anything, or do anything for him to feel that way. It just happened, as though naturally influenced by the crackle of the tension in the room.

And it drove him absolutely mad.

The sooner he and Sam started their life together away from that mountain, the better.

>>>>>>>>

How long, Sam?

How long has it been since you've remembered him?

Jonas.

How long has it been since he's invaded your dreams, made you cry, terrified you all over again?

She lay in the darkness, afraid to move, afraid to listen. She was over this. She had been over this a long time ago. Sure, it wasn't something she could easily forget, but as time had passed and she'd moved on she'd let go. She'd been happy.

She'd been completely in control.

Her C.O. had trusted her, given her space, allowed her to make her own decisions.

Control was slipping, she was being pulled against her will, making choices that weren't really choices and it scared her because it brought every flashing image back to her.

The helplessness.

The worthlessness.

How close she'd come to giving up completely.

She couldn't go back to being nothing. She couldn't live in a world that wasn't her own to direct. If leaving here were the first move, how far would he go? Would there be any of her left at all?

Stop it, Sam. Stop it.

He's not Jonas. This is you looking ahead because you think you've been down this path before. It won't be as bad as it was then.

But why are you so uncertain? Why does fear claw at your gut?

He's safe. He won't hurt you.

Except that you can never give him what he wants…

>>>>>>>>

The room was dimly lit by scraps of moonlight that penetrated through the clouds. She sat, a lonely figure cast in painful solitude, her face and its mournful expression reflecting palely in the glass of the window.

Her glistening eyes were the first thing he noticed, and immediately he approached her, standing behind and placing both hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, come on," Pete uttered playfully, "You're not upset because you think you've ruined our month of a normal life are you?"

She stood up suddenly, catching him off-guard. Her stance was battered; her face puffy and red bore a look of pure hopelessness.

"Can't you see?" her voice trembled slightly. "Can't you see it? I'm not normal. I can't give you normal."

She took his hand in hers, and opened his palm towards her. When her fingers moved away she met his gaze squarely.

Her eyes, he realized, eclipsed the sparkling diamond he now held in his hand.

"Sam, no." He reached out for her, but she had turned away again.

"I'm so sorry, Pete." Her voice cracked, her body shook.

"Why?"

She took a deep breath. "We're lying to each other Pete. We always have been. You.. you want normal, and today I finally realised that no matter how hard I try, even if I gave up work, it would never be normal because I'm not like every other person on the planet. I've been changed, I've had things happen to me that no normal person could comprehend or even believe…

I can't give up the SGC Pete, because what I do is a part of me and I can't let it go."

"I can change Sam. We can work it out," he pleaded.

"No," she whispered sadly. "Nobody should have to change. I need to be accepted for who I am and what I do. I love you for who you are Pete, but it just wouldn't work -"

"I'm not him, am I," he realised.

"No," she choked out, "You're not."

TBC