Three months later
An eye appeared at the other side of the magnifying glass, then the view shifted to show a pair of thin but mobile lips. Sam smiled and shook her head.
"Whatcha doin'?" the lips asked.
"Just examining this Replicator block." She held up the inch long piece of metal that had been salvaged after Thor's ship had gone down. She'd never met the Asgard, but knew that Colonel O'Neill seemed to like him and trust him. The Colonel didn't give his trust easily, so this told Sam the little alien could be trusted.
The Colonel straightened his long form. "Is that wise?"
"Well, there's no discernible energy being emitted. I think it's safe to say it's dead."
A small smile tipped his lips. "Well … have fun." He plunged his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.
"Still going fishing?" she asked.
"Yep. What about you?"
She stared into the magnifying glass. "This." She waved the Replicator part.
"Didn't I once order you to get a life?" he said.
Sam closed her eyes. "Yes, sir," she said neutrally. She'd tried to get a life, but hadn't done too good a job at it. "But – and you might think it's lame – I like my job. I love math and I love science. I like the unpredictability of science and the dependability of math – ten and ten is always twenty."
The Colonel smirked. "You'd be surprised …," he taunted. He went over to her white-board and rapidly wrote a long equation.
She looked at it. "Sir?" she said.
"Just a little something for that super-brain of yours to puzzle over for when you get sick of that … bug," he said. "Well, I'm off," he added. "Have fun, Carter!" he said and strolled out of her lab.
She went over to the white-board and put her hands on her hips, her lips pursed as she tried to follow the complex equation. To the layman, it would have looked like gibberish, but enough of it made sense for her to realize that the Colonel was a lot more intelligent than he liked to act.
She gave up on the complex equation for now, and returned her energies to examining the Replicator piece.
Twelve hours later, and she was back at the white-board. She tapped her finger to her lips, then sipped absently at the now cold coffee. Yuck.
"Hey, Sam."
Daniel walked in with his ever-present cup of coffee in his hands. She'd only known him a couple days before she realized that he was addicted to the stuff. "Hey, Daniel," she replied with a smile.
He waved to the equations. "What are those?"
She sighed slightly. "I … don't know," she admitted. "Seems it's my turn for one of the Colonel's practical jokes."
SG-1 had been placed on stand down for a week after the fight against the Replicators, and had been confined to base to catch up on their reports. Well, more accurately, the Colonel had been ordered to catch up on his reports. And after about two days, the strain had gotten to him.
The man who could come out of a vicious fire-fight with a squad of Jaffa smirking and cracking wise became a snarling antsy dangerous man after just a couple hours of paperwork. Subordinates would scuttle out of his way as he stormed along the corridors and the punchbag in the gym would get the hammering of a lifetime.
Once the worst of the grouchies was out of the way, he would begin to pick on his team.
Daniel's coffee had been switched for gravy and Teal'c's kelno'reem candles for trick ones that wouldn't blow out. Kawalsky had learned to examine his boots after discovering oatmeal in the left one. Even Janet hadn't been spared – her penlight had been taken apart right down to the smallest wires and all of her syringes had shown up sans needle.
And it seemed it was now Captain Samantha Carter's turn.
"That's … good," Daniel said slowly.
"Excuse me?" Sam's eyebrows rose.
"Well," Daniel back-pedaled hastily, "it's not good that you're being tortured by math, but … if Jack didn't like you – didn't think you were part of the team – he wouldn't include you in his idiocy."
She snorted with a laugh, then was surprised when a tear dropped onto her cheek. God … she thought she was done with crying! But … she was pretty touched to find out that the Colonel actually liked her. She'd known he respected her – it was mutual – and that he cared about her welfare. That was the mark of a good superior officer. But liking was a whole other ball-game.
"Sam?" Daniel's brow beetled with concern. "What's the matter?"
She shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "Just a little hormonal right now." She knew that Daniel had been married – he would make the inference she wanted.
Seems he did. "Ah," he said. He folded his arms over his chest. "Anyway, I'm off to the commissary." He patted his trim stomach. "Must eat, or I'll die. Wanna come with?"
Sam shook her head with a smile. "I'm not hungry," she said. She hadn't been hungry for months – since before … She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the ugly word. "But thanks. Maybe I'll see you later?"
Daniel smiled at her, then shoved his glasses up his nose. "Okay," he said, and strolled away.
Sam jerked awake, her neck stiff from her position slumped over her keyboard. "Oh … uhhhh," she muttered, trying to shake off the nightmare. She'd spent the last four days vacillating between the Replicator blocks and that equation the Colonel had left for her.
She'd gotten a greater understanding of how the Replicator parts communicated and had written up her findings for General Hammond. As for that equation … She moaned her frustration. If that man was here, he'd be in for a world of pain right now!
She dug out her cell, wondering if she still had the Colonel's number – would anyone truly have that man's 'number', she wondered irrelevantly. "Yes!" she whispered. She was ready to admit defeat – even if she was going to be subjected to a round of gloating.
She closed her eyes, praying to a God she didn't believe in that the Colonel would go easy on her, and dialed.
His cell rang several times before he deigned to answer. "O'Neill," he said gruffly.
"Sir; it's Carter," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. Please, oh please, don't let him gloat …
"Hey, Carter!" he said, sounding remarkably chirpy all of a sudden.
Oh, God, I'm a dead woman.
"Sir; I wanted to ask you …"
"Carter; I'm disappointed in you," he nearly purred. "I wouldn't have figured you'd crack yet."
She stiffened indignantly. "I haven't cracked, sir," she replied. "I just … wanted to see if you were having a good time."
She could actually hear the smirk. "Of course," he said. "Would you like a little hint?" he taunted.
"I don't know, sir," she said warily. "What will it cost me?"
"Carter!" he whined. "I'm shocked. Don't you trust me?"
"With my life, sir? No question. With math …?"
He chuckled and she enjoyed the sound, only now realizing how rarely he laughed. She knew he was damaged goods. He'd been through so much in his life; the dirty, secret things he'd seen and done – for his country, for the world – torture, death. All of this nibbled away at a person's soul, taking away their sense of self. She knew. Yet he managed to still enjoy the little things – could be sweet, gentle and giving. If a tad eccentric at times. "Okay," he said. "Just for you. Ten equals eight."
Ten equals eight? Okay, so that was beyond eccentric. That was just plain weird. "Never mind, sir," she said. "Enjoy your leave."
She ended the call and sighed, running her hands through her hair. She'd go have a shower, then come back to the wretched board when she felt less like dog shit.
Strolling out of her lab, she stuffed her hands in her white lab coat and smiled at Doctor Fraiser. "Hi, Janet," she said.
"Hey, Sam," the other woman said. She eyed Sam's wayward hair and keyboard creases. "Fall asleep at your desk again?"
"Blame the Colonel," Sam grumbled. "Before heading off to his cabin, he left me a math riddle."
"Ah. And that necessitated you drooling on the keyboard?"
Subtle. "You know I like a challenge, Janet," Sam said. "But I have to admit; I don't think this is one I'll be solving for a while." She yawned and dug her fists into her eyes. "I'm going to hit the showers, then back to the lab. You?"
"Just going to catch up on some paperwork, then I'm going home." Janet touched Sam's arm. "I'm making lasagna tonight – you want to come round?"
"Not tonight, Janet; I've still got a lot of work to do."
"A-ah!" Janet said impatiently, sounding strangely like the Colonel. "Sam; you haven't left the base in God knows how long. You're not sleeping properly, eating strange stuff at weird hours, and subsisting on commissary sludge." She patted Sam's hand. "You need a night off. That's my prescription for you – both as the CMO and your friend."
Sam smiled. "How can I refuse, then?" she said, touched by the petite woman's concern. It might do her good to get off the base, blow away some cobwebs.
"And the first part of my prescription. Go shower, put in some time in the gym, and don't go back to your computer till at least 0800 hours." Janet put her hands on her hips, her tiny foot tapping. "Am I understood, Captain?"
Sam chuckled. "Absolutely, Major," she said, flipping her a cursory salute. "0800 hours; no sooner. Then off the base at …?"
"1400 hours, Sam," Janet replied.
Stepping out of the shower stall, she felt something closer to human. She automatically took in her reflection, pleased to see that the latest cuts were beginning to heal. She'd always been a fast healer, but her system was pretty depleted lately – even she knew that. Maybe if she could choke some food down, it would help.
Dressed in blue BDUs, she ran a comb through her short wet hair, then stuck her tongue out at her reflection. It was as good as it was ever going to get.
She left the locker room and bumped – literally – into Daniel. His hands came up to her shoulders and she stepped back quickly, her heart pounding. "Hey," she said breathlessly. Funny how the smallest things could rattle her.
Sometimes she could fool herself that she was dealing with the … she closed her eyes … the rape. She'd tucked it away in her sub-conscious and it would sometimes stay there for days at a time. Then, all of a sudden, it would decide to come out and bite her in the ass. Like last night. She was a lot more wary around people than she'd been before the attack, which she figured was natural, but when the nightmares came she became nervous and jumpy. Even around her friends.
"So … how goes the math?"
Sam sighed. "Getting nowhere," she admitted. "And Janet's kicked me out of the lab till 0800 hours."
Daniel chuckled. "Me too," he said. "She's tiny, but very scary. So … neither of us can hit our base till eight. Want to go get some coffee?"
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, and they headed into the elevator. No base until eight – damn Napoleon! Base … eight. Oh my God. "Base … eight, Daniel!" she said.
Daniel looked fogged – not unexpectedly. "Sam?"
She snagged his notebook and pen and scribbled '10 8'. "God; it's base eight math!" she said.
"Okay," Daniel said slowly. "I'm just going to pretend I know what you're talking about."
Sam barely heard him; her brain clicking away. "What time is it?" she asked, impatient to get back to her lab.
Daniel checked his watch. "Seven o'clock," he said. He chuckled. "I know you're itching to get back to your lab but trust me, Janet will have locked you out. She's done it to me often enough."
"The Colonel understands base eight math," Sam said, still in shock. "He's nowhere near as dumb as he acts, is he?"
"No," Daniel agreed as they entered the commissary and snagged a coffee each. "Hey; did you know he had a Masters?"
"Of course," Sam said. "You can't progress past the rank of Major in Special Forces without at least a Masters," she said.
"Oh."
Daniel helped himself to a regular mountain of waffles while Sam contented herself with a small bowl of oatmeal. After weeks of not eating properly, she knew she'd likely hurl if she tried to eat too much in one go.
Whistling tunelessly and supremely content after a week of fishing in an empty lake, Jack O'Neill strolled out of the elevator to find Sam Carter waiting for him, her hands on her hips. "Base eight math, sir?" she said, an eyebrow tipped upward.
Jack smirked. "Knew you'd get it, Carter," he said. "Good on ya."
"Yes, sir," she said and fell into step beside him as they went to the elevator. "I've been doing some reading – old SG-1 mission reports, that sort of thing."
"Yes …?"
"More specifically, your interactions with an alien database – an Ancient repository."
Carter was almost purring by now and he had the sudden feeling that he'd become the prey. "Yep. I stuck my face in, it grabbed my head and made me talk weird."
She smiled and that uneasy feeling increased. "Yes, sir. The thing is; your report indicated that the Asgard cleared your mind of the Ancient knowledge."
"A-ah!" He held up his hand. "I never said that," he temporized. "I said that they sorted me out."
"Which means …?"
Crap. So dead. "Uh … that the knowledge is still there," he said quickly. "But most of it's blocked off so it doesn't overwhelm me again." There. One of the things he'd been sitting on for two years was out.
"So … you still possess the knowledge of the Ancients," she said. "Like base eight math, Fibonacci sequencing, quantum mechanics …".
She looked at him assessingly, and he could almost hear the cogs of her giant brain spinning. "Carter; this is exactly why I didn't tell anyone the truth," he said. "We both know the NID would be all over me, and I don't fancy spending the rest of my life as some goddamn lab rat."
Carter nodded her head. "I can understand that," she said, and he realized that she truly did. The NID had tried to get to her a couple of times since her return to Earth, for her Goa'uld memories, but General Hammond had set a large and heavy foot on their ideas. "But something else puzzles me."
He aimed a sarcastic but – in his eyes – quite charming smile her way. "You, Carter?" he said.
"Teal'c, Daniel and Kawalsky also looked into the device," she said. "And they weren't affected by it. I can understand with Teal'c – he's Jaffa and the Ancients were enemies to the Goa'uld. But Kawalsky and Daniel are both entirely human. I don't get why it picked on you as opposed to them."
He smirked. "Just part of my mystique, Carter," he said. He'd spent some time himself wondering why that doohickey had grabbed his head. He'd asked Thor a couple times, but his little gray buddy had been less than forthcoming, stating simply that it was better that Jack didn't know yet.
He looked at her carefully. She'd lost a lot of weight since being freed from the snake – he could understand that – and had been approaching emaciated when he'd come back from Edora. But now … she was still thin, but her blue eyes held a sparkle and a faint pink tinged her cheeks as she laughed. "Lookin' good, Carter," he said lightly. "Heard the evil Doc kicked you out of your lab a couple days ago."
"Yes, sir," she said, her cheeks now a brighter pink at the casual compliment. "As Daniel said, she's tiny but she's scary."
He shuddered. Was she ever! He bent down to secure his boot lace, then saw a foot in a court shoe. A tiny, tiny shoe. And that tiny foot was tapping.
"Colonel … welcome back," Fraiser said.
He got up, wondering how a woman a foot shorter than him could be so damn intimidating. "Hey, Doc." He aimed his most charming smile at her – the one Sara had told him she'd fallen for before she even knew his name. "How's it going?"
Her eyebrow tilted, and he realized how often they all did that now after nearly four years of the all-embracing Jaffa lift. "Oh, very well, Colonel. Nice of you to ask," she said. "Especially now that my new hypodermics have arrived." She put a hand on his arm, clearly indicating that he wasn't going anywhere. "You're overdue for your medical, Colonel," she said sweetly. "You know you can't be released for active duty until I perform a full work-up."
Colonel John J. O'Neill squared his shoulders. Once more unto the breach.
"Bye, Colonel," Carter said sweetly, flashing him a grin.
"I'll want to see you next week, Sam," Janet said as she took a surprisingly firm grip of the reluctant Colonel's arm and steered him to her lair.
The grin dropped rapidly away and Jack smirked. Heh. Revenge – gotta love it.
Two weeks later
Hard painful hands grasping at her thighs, her breasts. Teeth tugging at her skin in a vicious parody of love-biting. A knife cutting into her bruised flesh.
Sam wiped the stupid tears out of her eyes, then headed to the shower. No use crying over something she couldn't change. She had to get clean, then head to the mountain.
She stepped into the shower and took up her scrubbing brush, applying it roughly over her sin-soaked body. So dirty … she was covered in the blood of innocent people. Another useless tear slipped down her cheek.
She closed her eyes, hating the Goa'uld with a passion. He had broken her – had left her afraid of everything … She opened her eyes and slammed her fist into the mirror. "I hate you!" she screamed, hoping that wherever he was, he would hear her. "I hate you!" she sobbed, sinking down to the floor.
How long she sat there, sobbing and mumbling, she couldn't say. But she gradually became aware of a stinging pain in her hand. "Ow," she muttered, picking up a shard of glass – evidently from the mirror. She looked at it, then at her cut hand, the blood oozing outward and taking her sin with it.
God, all that blood …
She drew the glass softly over her upper thigh, surprised at how much it stung. "Son of a bitch!" she cursed. The stinging soon ceased, however, and she watched with a morbid fascination as the blood leaked slowly out, being washed away in the sharp spray of the shower. Washing her sins away …
She got up, feeling a little better, and stepped out of the shower, pulling a fuzzy robe around her. She yawned widely, nearly breaking her jaw. Damn; she had to be on form today. She'd finally plucked up the courage to ask to go off world, and Hammond had agreed to send her out with SG-5 for a follow-up visit to P2J 741.
She'd stopped taking the sleeping tablets a couple days ago, in preparation for this mission, and had noticed an improvement. True; she hadn't slept particularly well, waking up often, but she wasn't as sluggish and heavy-headed anymore. But she had to be alert today – she was going out with an SG team at 1100 hours. And General Hammond deserved nothing less than her best.
She eyed the other bottle thoughtfully. She might not be a medical doctor, but she was a scientist. She knew her body well; knew exactly what she could handle. Besides, it was only this one more time. Two little tablets certainly wouldn't show up in the post-mission physical. Just one more time, then she would definitely stop. Besides, she hated how shaky the stupid things could make her.
But … damn it all to hell … the large stinging gash on her upper thigh would show up. Janet had commented on the scars all over Sam's breasts during the physical, but Sam hadn't wanted to talk about it. Janet had accepted that, but had stated that she was there as a friend if Sam needed her.
She quickly grabbed her razor and ran it carelessly up her legs, deliberately nicking in several spots near the cut area. She could claim that something had startled her in the shower – she just hoped Janet would buy it. That bullshit detector of hers was one finely-tuned instrument.
She applied some iodine to the wounds, her vision graying when the yellow liquid hit the largest gash. Don't hurl, don't hurl, she chanted to herself. She sucked in a deep breath, surprised at how badly she was shaking, then splashed some cool water onto her face.
She eyed the bottle once more, then uncapped it, palming two of the pills and dry-swallowing them. Then it occurred to her how easily she could now swallow pills. God … what did that say about what she'd become? She opened both bottles and, with a calm deliberate motion, poured the contents down the toilet.
No more, she vowed. She had to get off the horrible things. Even though they made her feel really good for a short time, the annoyingly logical part of her brain knew that she was setting herself up for trouble somewhere along the line.
"Fair day, Jack!"
"Fair day, Garan," Jack said, clapping the youngster on the back. "How's it going?"
"It goes well." The young man blushed. "I am betrothed."
Geez; he was just a kid! "Oh?" said Jack. "To whom?"
"Naitha – you remember her?"
"Yeah," Jack said. He shook hands with Garan. "Congratulations." He looked around. "Uh … where's your mom?"
Garan smiled. "She is in the house – she'll be pleased to see you again." He eyed Jack. "She has missed you."
"Yeah, I've missed her too," Jack said gruffly. "I wanted to come back sooner, but …".
"Your superiors wished for you to explore new worlds; not revisit old ones," Garan said. "Mother understands this. And so do I. Go to her, Jack."
Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled away from the 'gate, nodding to the people he'd gotten to know so well during his months on this planet. Even Paynan had finally warmed up to him after he'd spent hours helping the grouchy old coot fix up his house.
He headed up the path to Laira's pleasant little house, pleased to see that little had changed. He wasn't a big fan of change. He opened the door and peeked through, catching the delicious smell of home-made bread. "Laira?" he said.
"Jack!" Laira said, sounding muffled but delighted. "You came back!"
He stepped into the kitchen, seeing her small frame bent over the stove, whence the gorgeous smells issued. He went over to her. "Fair day, Laira," he said.
She turned and put her hands to his shoulders, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Fair day, Jack," she replied.
He wrapped her up in a giant hug, nearly lifting her off her feet, then felt something press into his abdomen. He set her down, and moved away slightly. The swell of her stomach was now quite obvious. She was pregnant.
"Yes, Jack," she said, her hand resting on her distended abdomen. "I'm with child. And it is yours."
Pregnant. He was going to be a father again. A hard fist of panic settled over him, constricting his breathing. He loved kids, sure, but he'd not done a great job at the dad thing the first time round. What made him think he'd do any better this time? "I … see," he said slowly. "I'm happy for you," he said.
She smiled radiantly, then linked her fingers with his. "I don't expect marriage," she said. "My place is here and yours is on Earth. But I would like you to be part of our lives – mine and the baby's."
"Uh …". Jack had never found it easy to open up – this flaw contributing to the final collapse of his marriage – but knew he had to give Laira something. For cryin' out loud, she was expecting his kid! "You know I lost Charlie," he said. "What if I …" – he gulped, surprised to find tears in his eyes – "what if I harm this kid? I can't go through that a second time!"
"Jack." Laira pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, then led him to a large comfortable chair. They sat down and she slid her arms around him. "I know you'll never believe this, but I've seen you with children, and you're wonderful with them. And I know you were a good father. You will have taught Charlie not to play with weapons, correct?"
"Yes," he admitted, a tear now sliding down his cheek. "But he was just a kid, and kids are curious. I should have made sure the safe was locked." He heaved a sigh. "I can't … forgive myself."
"I know you are scared to let yourself love again, Jack, but you deserve peace. And love," Laira said. She took his clenched fist and unfurled the fingers. Then she put his hand on her abdomen, letting him feel the life tumbling around within. "This is your child. And you will love him or her, because that is the type of man you are." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "And I love you – scars both within and without."
"God." Jack felt the icy fist round his heart ease slightly as his hand rested on the new life. "I'll do my best for you, Laira," he said.
"Good." She gave him another sweet kiss. "That is all anyone can ever do." She sat up. "And now … will you help a fat pregnant lady up off this chair?"
He got up and drew her gently to her feet, dropping a kiss to her lips. "You may be a fat pregnant lady, but you're still beautiful," he told her.
She smiled against his lips, then swept her tongue between them to tangle with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss intensified. Both were breathless when their mouths finally separated. "Holy c … buckets!" Jack said.
Laira smiled. "We're still good together," she said. She linked her arm with his and led him into the bedroom. "And it is time to remind you of just what you've been missing while you've been exploring the planets."
Nothing loath, Jack allowed her to push him gently onto the bed and she slid her hands inside his black tee shirt, pulling it over his head. "I've missed this," she said softly, exploring his abdomen – first with her hands, then with her lips.
"Yeah …," he grunted and she chuckled. Hell; he'd never been the most eloquent guy around!