Chapter 3

Rachel had been sadly accurate in her description of delays at Denver International Airport. The snowstorm seemed to slow everything down to a crawl, including the incoming and outgoing flights. Finally, though, Sam and Rachel boarded a private jet bound for Orange County in California.

"So," Rachel said after they had reached cruising altitude, "you never did tell me why you left. Last time we talked, you sounded like a kid on Christmas about the whole project."

A male flight attendant, one that looked like he had been ripped directly from the pages of a fashion magazine, emerged from the galley with a tray of coffee and sandwiches. Sam didn't bother to contain the amused look on her face at the tall, dark and handsome placing the servings on their table. He smiled at her with dark, sultry eyes. A waft of his cologne drifted over, pleasant and erotic.

When he had finished placing the coffee and sandwiches and had disappeared back behind the galley door, Sam said, "Wow."

Rachel smiled broadly, appearing that the entertainment value of one of her employees had not escaped her friend. "One of the perks of being the boss. He's dumber than a box of rocks, but he certainly is easy on the eyes. And he has excellent taste in cologne. Next time he walks by, drop your fork for the second act."

Sam suppressed the urge to giggle out loud. Rachel had never made it a point to hide her libido, but she always practiced restraint in acting upon it. Ronin had, of course, been an exception to that rule. From the moment they had begun working on the nanite project together, Sam knew Rachel was knocked off balance by his charm and intelligence. With him, Rachel had been completely focused, the habitual window shopping for men over lunch ceasing almost immediately. Ronin had taken control of her heart, and she his. Theirs was a fairy tale come true in a classified government lab.

Sam took Rachel's choice in flight attendants as a sign that she had begun to recover from Ronin's death, although the rings on her finger were still there. It would just take time, Sam decided.

All was quiet except for the hum of the Lear's engines.

"So?" Rachel asked, breaking the silence.

"So what?" Sam answered, her reverie broken.

"So, why leave the job of a lifetime to teach a bunch of greens at Colorado Springs?"

Sam shrugged, dismissing any significance to the career change. "It was just time to move on."

"C'mon, Carter, save the bullshit for someone else. I read the reports, remember? You went from living and breathing the program to walking out the door in less than two weeks. What's up with that?"

Sam felt a pang of annoyance growing inside at the interrogation. "Is this a part of the job interview?"

Rachel smiled slightly, well aware that she was pushing Carter's limits of cooperation. "You might say that. Bottom line is that I have to know if you're capable of going back to the SGC to test the new project. I can't afford to lose development time with someone who's going to put in for a Section Eight at the first sight of trouble. I need to know if there is anything that's going to stand in the way of the testing phase for the new design. That includes the people on the project, not just the machinery or the politics."

"So, this is more a matter of money than personal interest?"

"Would your answer change if it were?" Rachel asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Sam looked at Rachel. "It might. Depends on what you want to know."

Rachel put down her cup. She sat there, sizing up the opposition. "Okay," she said after a moment, "I'll be perfectly honest. I was at a real crossroads with you. I already told you I read all the reports. So, I know you left there a little freaked at the last two missions you were on. On the other hand, my project needs someone like you in the worst way. I need someone who's been through, who has experience in survey and knows the ins and outs of the machinery. That, without a doubt, is you."

"Except?" Sam answered, seeing the proverbial shoe dangling high above, waiting to drop.

Rachel's eyes were sharp and clear. "Except I need to be sure you're the right one to send back to the program for the walk-through tests. I need to be sure there won't be any personal conflicts. I think it's only fair that I ask you in advance and that you give me an answer."

An image of Wheeler's face flashed in Sam's mind, followed quickly by the distant view of Antalus being killed. Young man and old man had died at the hands of the same enemy, the same foe the SGC had faced over the years and had yet to conquer. They had won battles, but they were not any closer to winning the war than they had been when the SGC was conceived, it seemed. Sam had been there for most of the operations through the gate. She had been a part of the elite first contact team, SG1 for six years. She had nearly given her life for the cause, believing it was right and just. She had learned more in that time about the universe and that its rules were not always constant. The give and take of knowledge had turned out to be a gift by percentage. However, the personal loss seemed to overshadow anything material or intellectual that she had received.

Could she step through the gate again? She was positive she could make her feet move in the direction of the event horizon and successfully step through it because it would be her job to do just that. What she questioned was the return of the images and nightmares that had caused her to leave in the first place. She would face an assured return of emotions and memories that she had managed to place on hold for the last month and a half. Never mind the fact that she would probably run into her old teammates, dredging up perhaps some resentment over her departure.

It would be incredibly odd walking back into Cheyenne. She had no intention of explaining her reasons for leaving to everyone. Rachel had asked about personal conflicts. There were going to be plenty of those, but they were demons Sam would conquer quietly in her own mind, on her own time, in her own way. They were not for public consumption, even by those who had been her closest friends and comrades. Not even Janet Fraiser would be privy to the difficulties Sam had been grappling with over the last month.

"It's a fair question," Sam agreed, though she was on alert mentally with the answer. "But it's not something you need to worry about. I feel I left on good terms with the SGC."

"That's not what I asked," Rachel said calmly and directly.

Sam's defenses rose and anger surfaced. "I'm not going to go through a play by play of things, if that's what you're after." Thoughts flitted through her mind, conjuring up the angles of attack Rachel might take to get detailed information. "If you didn't trust me, you wouldn't have gone through this much trouble to get me to California. That means you've already decided I'm the person for the job."

Rachel sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. She said nothing for a while, as though considering her options. Her face softened, her eyes returning to the familiar friendly form Sam had remembered. "Eventually, it's going to eat you alive if you don't confront it."

"What the hell do you want me to say, Rachel?" Sam said with anger, releasing the hold on her restraint. "I left a man to die. Is that what you want to hear? Or how about that I watched an old man have his head bashed until it crushed his skull? Is that better? Or maybe I should review all the other fascinating experiences I've had while I was there?"

Rachel sat impassively, letting Carter's rant pass without argument. Then she said, "It took a long time for me to talk about Ronin, and even now I find it difficult. No one tried to help me because I got so damned angry every time the accident was mentioned. No one asked me how pissed I was that he was gone or how much I cried when no one was looking. You can't explain the anguish and the ache to anyone. So they leave you the hell alone and let you go on your way, thanking their lucky little stars that they didn't have to listen to how much things hurt. They can't see the nightmares, they don't understand what it feels like when the smallest thing reminds you of something you hate."

"The only thing I hate is what 'they' are and what they do to good people," Sam answered adamantly. "I hate a lot of the things I've seen and knowing I had to go back for more each time I went because it was my job. If building a new design will help, then count me in. But don't count me out because you don't think I have my head screwed on straight. The only thing you need to worry about is giving me the resources to get the job done."

Rachel looked bemused. She leaned forward and rested her elbows near the edge of the table. Her hands formed a steeple as she pressed her fingers to her lips in contemplation. When she lowered them to speak, she said, "So, you're saying this is not a problem?"

Rachel's eyes were piercing, reaching all the way to Sam's fears and memories. Dekker sought the truth, and the truth was probably not what she wanted to hear, Sam gambled. "I'm saying that this is not a problem. There's a job to be done, and it will get done to the best of my abilities."

Dekker smiled gently, then nodded. "Okay," she said. "But I want you to understand that I'll pull you out so fast it'll make your head spin if I think for one second you're going to lose it."

Sam's back stiffened at the statement that was sounding more and more like an accusation.

Rachel took notice. "It won't be because you're not good enough, Sam. It's that I'm in the business of pushing the envelope of technology, not human emotion. I'm certainly not in the business of driving friends over the edge in the name of money."

"Can I ask you some questions, then?"

Rachel sat back. "Sure. Fire away."

It was time to see if the door swung both ways in the emotion department. "What happened in the accident?"

"You mean with Ronin?"

"Yeah. The way you were talking last night, there has to be more to it."

Rachel gave a slight shrug. "We were working late, like I told you, seven blocks from home when the guy went left of center and slammed into our car." She paused, and Sam could see the memories flood back as Rachel's eyes drifted off course. "The impact pushed the engine block into his lap. I was knocked unconscious for a few minutes. When I woke up, I looked at him and knew he was gone."

"What about you?" Sam asked softly.

"The dash crushed my left leg, and I was pinned up against him. I remember I couldn't get my seatbelt off because the release was jammed. My arm was caught below me, and I felt trapped." Rachel's eyes closed. "It took them almost an hour to cut me out of the car. All that time, I felt Ronin's body getting cold." Her eyes opened again. "The pain was nothing compared to that. I mean, I knew he was dead. It's that feeling of growing cold that I can't forget."

"And the Air Force?"

Rachel gave a snort. "The Air Force did what it could, including a lot of reconstruction on my leg. In the end, though, there was no going back. I still walk with a limp, in case you haven't noticed."

"Actually, I did," Sam acknowledged sheepishly.

Rachel smiled. "Then at least you're observant. Most don't see it."

"You hide it well enough."

"Stops the pity parties at the company, if you know what I mean."

Sam's ire began to wane. Guilt washed over her of her outburst. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Nah," Rachel answered quickly, dismissing the apology. "I pushed you hard. It's not always easy being on the receiving end of that."

"You do that to all your potential employees?"

"Nope," she answered, "just the ones who can make me the most money in the shortest amount of time." She smiled mischievously and batted her eyelashes.

Sam smiled, and this time it was genuine, knowing that her friend asked the hard questions out of care and not greed. "Yeah," she acknowledged, knowing the battle was over for the moment. She was practically in the employ of Rachel Dekker, thirty thousand feet in the sky. It was back to business as usual.

The door to the galley swung open once more. Rachel sorted through the utensils on the table and held a one securely in her hand. "Okay, here he comes. Get your fork ready."

Sam smiled. Things were definitely business as usual.