A/N: I've been wanting to do a sort of filler-fic for "Threads" for months and finally an idea came to me that didn't die out after two paragraphs. I should mention this fic has a major spoiler warning label slapped on it (for "Threads" obviously). So don't read if you haven't seen it and don't like spoilers. There. You've been warned. Now please, enjoy, and remember that feedback is always welcomed and possibly even treasured.

Amends

He had requested to be buried in Colorado Springs. That surprised a lot of people; he was a decorated general and a respected man in every circle and if anyone deserved to be buried at Arlington, he most certainly did. Sam knew better though. Her father wanted to be closest to the people with whom he died fighting.

That day, a hero was laid to rest in an unassuming plot of earth marked only by a simply granite headstone and a modest vase of flowers.

The wake was trying. Sam was still working out how she felt about her father's death; naturally, she felt the strong, aching pang of loss, but at the same time she couldn't help but feel a tiny bubble of joy rise in her chest. Her father, her only parent for so many years, was dead. At the same time, their relationship over the last five plus years had evolved into something that went beyond that of father and daughter. It was more than she'd ever hoped for and even though it had only lasted a brief amount of time, she was grateful for the time they'd been allotted. So as she shook hands and accepted many heartfelt offerings of condolences, Sam wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to cry or tell them cheerfully that they were wasting their breath.

Glancing across her living room, Sam could see that Mark wasn't having the same issue. He wasn't doing as much hand-shaking as she was, but when he did find someone he knew and they started to talk, Sam recognized the signs. They were the same ones she'd seen all those years ago at their mother's funeral. He was sad, but he was doing his best to hold it in. Not because of some military bravado like Sam was used to seeing, but because that was the way Mark was. He didn't want outsiders to realize just how far the pain for fear it might hurt them too somehow. In that way, he was so like their father.

Cleaning up was made faster by the extra hands. Mark stayed while his wife took the kids back to the hotel. That wasn't surprising. What was a bit of a surprise was the fact that General O'Neill also stayed behind. It turned out that he was even more helpful than Mark, as the general actually knew where everything was supposed to go. When the house looked tidy once more, General O'Neill took his leave. Sam wasn't sure, but his gaze seemed to linger a moment longer than usual. Before she had any time to give more than a small smile in return, he was gone and she was driving Mark down the highway back to the hotel.

"Where was Pete?"

The question practically blindsided her. They'd been talking intermittently about their father during the ride and then suddenly Mark just asked. With all of the preparations for the funeral and the wake, Sam hadn't had much time at all to think about her second ex-fiancé.

"I don't know," she answered simply. It was the truth, after all. Pete could have been in Nepal or the hiking in the Andes for all she knew.

"You don't know?"

"Nope. We, ummm… we're not getting married anymore."

"What!" Sam could hear an undercurrent of anger running through his disbelief. "What do you mean you're not getting married anymore? Not married at all? Are you just delaying it? Are you still together?"

"Uh, no. No wedding, no more relationship," Sam told him in as few words as possible. She still didn't want to talk about it. Even though it had been her choice to break off the engagement and the relationship, the fact that it was all over still hurt.

"Who broke it off?"

"I did."

"Can I ask why?"

Sam was silent. She really didn't want to get into this. They had finally fostered the brother-sister relationship that had eluded them for so many years. She didn't want to ruin it all, not because of her convoluted love life that had never once made sense since she had started dating.

"What was wrong with him? Pete's a good man, Sam. I should know; he's been my friend for years." Mark was probably better off talking to a stone wall, as Sam was doing a killer impression of one at the moment. Her eyes remained stuck on the road. The only indication that she heard him was her increasingly tight grip on the wheel. "Sam, answer me. What went wrong? This isn't about dad, is it? Because if it is, Pete would support you through this, I know he would."

On the steering wheel, Sam's knuckles slowly turned white.

"Sammie! What happened? I thought you two were happy! What went wrong!"

"He wasn't Jack," she whispered, feeling the tears she'd refused to shed the day of the breakup start to slip out. The lights on the side of the highway started to blur and bleed into the darkness of the clear Colorado evening.

That was the first time she'd admitted it aloud. Throughout the entire relationship, Sam had worked hard to deny that fact, to bury it so deep that it would never resurface no matter how much time passed. Obviously, she'd done a fairly shoddy job. More than shoddy. She never actually accomplished her self-set goal, because every time she spent time with her commanding officer she realized she was and would always be comparing Pete to him. She'd loved Pete, certainly, but she loved Jack more and had for much longer.

What was that line Christopher Plummer said in The Sound of Music?

"You can't marry someone, when you're in love with someone else."

Damn Cassie for getting that line in her head all those years ago. Of course, back when she'd been coerced into watching the sappy musical with Janet and Cassie all those years ago, she hadn't realized just how true that line would ring for her.

"Jack?" Mark's voice broke through Sam's reminiscing, bringing her back to the present in time to stop sharply at the red light. "Jack who?"

"Jack O'Neill."

"O'Neill… 'O'Neill' as in General O'Neill? The guy who was at the funeral?"

"Same one," Sam confirmed quietly, the tires of the car squealing as she accelerated a little too quickly at the now green light. Mark was silent for a few moments and Sam silently prayed that this would be the end of their conversation for now.

"You dumped Pete Shanahan for that old guy?"

Obviously that was too much to hope for. Sam pushed the car a little faster, hoping there were no cops out to delay them from getting to the hotel sooner.

"He's not that old, Mark."

"His hair's completely grey! He looks like he could have been one of dad's old buds from their Air Force!"

"He was one of dad's buds from the Air Force." Sort of…

"You know what I mean, Sammie. But seriously, General O'Neill? What do you see in that guy?"

"You wouldn't understand, Mark." Hell, she didn't even completely understand it. When it came to Jack, there simply weren't a lot of explanations. Jack was Jack, for better or for worse. However unlikely, she'd fallen for him. Hard. So hard she never could completely get up again. There certainly were times when she had wanted to strangle him, but then again there were also times when she'd liked to have strangled her father or her brother (or both). There were far more times when she had wanted to hold Jack O'Neill close, and possibly do more than that if given the opportunity. He was always there (unless he was stranded off-world or something) with exactly what she needed to get by, be it a flippant comment, an extra cup of coffee, or a hug. It was almost scary how attuned he was when it came to her.

"Try me." Sam took a chance and glanced quickly over at her brother. He was sitting rigid against his seat, his mouth set in a thin line that looked too much like their father's for comfort. Mark was upset, possibly even angry. She shouldn't have been surprised he'd take the news poorly; Pete was a friend, after all, and seeing how Sam had dumped him rather suddenly for another man, and a military man at that, she knew Mark would take offense on behalf of his friend for such an action.

"Don't get me wrong, Mark, I loved Pete. He was, he is, a very nice man."

"But?"

"But he's not Jack. I realized that there was no way this marriage would be fair on Pete. I tried to make it work, but I couldn't. I tried for months. I couldn't… I just couldn't stop… I've loved Jack for years, Mark."

"If you love him so much, why did you even agree to marry Pete in the first place?"

"There are so many reasons, Mark, and right now all of them seem pathetic. Did he tell you it took me two weeks to say 'yes'?"

"Yeah. He called me one day after I knew he'd proposed saying you still hadn't given him an answer. He was a ball of nerves. I was going to call you and tell you to make up your mind if you didn't give him an answer, you know. I hated hearing him like that, but I thought it was all going to be fine after you told me you'd said yes."

"He said something similar when I called it off… that he thought everything was going to be worth the risk after I'd said yes."

"Pete really loves you Sam. Even now. You know, it's probably not too late to -"

"Don't, Mark. Don't do this."

"Sam, other man or not, you two were good together! You shouldn't throw this opportunity away! You weren't cheating on Pete were you!"

"Mark…" Sam growled a warning edge razor sharp in her voice. "You know me better than that."

"Fine. Then, do you even know if this O'Neill guy reciprocates your feelings? You can't even tell me why you say you love him and you claim that you've never been together, so how can I expect any better from him? And even if he does return your feelings, can he give you everything Pete gave you and would have given you? If you've loved him for as long as you imply, why hasn't anything ever happened between you two? Because it won't. Sam, there's a man out there who loves you deeply and would probably die for you, and you just dumped him!" By now, Mark's voice had grown almost to a shout. He was gesticulating wildly in much the same fashion he had all those years ago when he used to fight daily with their father.

"What do you want me to do, go crawling back to him, begging for forgiveness!" Sam exploded, her foot pressing down more heavily on the accelerator all the while. "Because I'm not going to do that. I have more pride than that, Mark. I'm a grown woman, and while my love life has been anything but problem-free, I know one thing for sure. There's a man out there who loves me and would die for me a thousand times over, but that man isn't Pete. That man is Jack O'Neill. And I don't care if you like Jack or if you're friends with Jack or if you think he's too old or too stupid or too… too… whatever, but he's the man I'm in love with and the man I want to be with!" Sam could feel the hot, angry tears running down the sides of her face now, and her breathing was erratic at best. She didn't need the stress of Mark's disapproval on top of everything else, but she was most certainly getting it. The car banked sharply as Sam took the turn into the parking lot of the hotel much faster than was safe. She didn't care, though. All she wanted was her brother out of the car as quickly as possible before she gave into her desire to beat the crap out of him.

Neither one said anything as Mark got out of the car. He slammed the door behind him, the loud noise breaking the peaceful stillness of the night. Sam didn't expect to hear from him again until well after he and his family had returned to San Diego, and to be perfectly honest, she didn't really want to either.

Sam remained in the parking lot for some time, trying to compose herself for the drive home but failing miserably. Every time she thought she was good to go, the tears would start back up again. So much had happened to her in such a short space of time; it was amazing she'd held up as long as she had. She couldn't remember ever feeling quite so emotionally raw; even when her mother had died, things hadn't been quite this overwhelming. It was amazing just how many curveballs life could throw at one person at once.

It wasn't until she was almost there that Sam realized where she was going. The route to the general's house was more familiar than it probably should have been to her but she wasn't worried about the way things 'should' be at that particular moment. She pulled up sharply in the driveway, killing the engine immediately. This time, she didn't sit and deliberate for ages. Sam walked right up to the front door, rang the doorbell, and waited.

She rang it again when nobody answered after a minute. And again. And again. And again and again and again until eventually Sam was ringing the doorbell over and over in quick succession.

"What?" came the familiar grumpy voice of General Jack O'Neill from behind the thick wood door. "For cryin' out loud, it's nearly midnigh… Carter?"

"Can I come in?" Sam waited for an answer, barely able to breathe. Jack blinked blearily at her for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. He looked like had been asleep for a while, as he was only in his boxers and sleeveless white shirt. Both looked sufficiently wrinkled and his short hair stood up in patches as well.

"Sam? Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe, maybe not," Sam admitted, her conversation with Mark playing itself over and over too clearly in her mind all the while.

"Come on in." With that, he ushered her inside. Sam instinctively went for the family room, finding a familiar seat on the couch while Jack chose to remain standing. His concerned eyes stayed trained on her the entire time, but he chose to remain silent. He knew Sam would say what she had to say in good time.

"On the way to the hotel, Mark and I had a fight," Sam blurted out after a few oppressive moments of silence. If Jack sensed where that comment was going, he gave no sign. She took a few slow breaths before continuing, doing her best to remain calm and collected.

"He asked about Pete and why he wasn't at the funeral and I told him it was all off. And we fought. Mark didn't understand how I could just throw away everything… I tried to get through to him, but he was being typical Mark and when he gets like that nobody can get through to him-"

"Hey, slow down Sam. Don't forget to breathe," Jack advised, taking a seat next to her. Sam nodded absently and followed his advice, breathing in deeply but finding herself surprisingly shaky. She only realized after her breathing had evened out that Jack had been rubbing slow soothing circles on her back the entire time.

They sat like that for a long while, simply being close. It was their own version of intimate that they'd created over the years; comforting, fulfilling, but at the same time extremely safe in the eyes of others.

"He said you were too old for me," Sam whispered eventually, her eyelids beginning to droop. Jack hadn't stopped rubbing her back and truth be told he was starting to lull her to sleep. If she wasn't careful, she was going to end up spending the night on his couch. Not that the idea was entirely unappealing…

She managed to look over at him, trying to make out a response. Usually the 'old' comment elicited something, if only a snort.

"What did you tell him?" he finally replied.

"That you're not that old," she murmured, her head slowly dropping until it came to rest on his shoulder.

"Sam?"

"Mmmm?"

"I hate to break it to you, but I really am old."

Sam didn't remember getting a blanket and pillow for herself. In fact, she didn't even remember going to sleep. The last thing she remembered was talking with Jack in his family room, which coincidentally turned out to be the place where she woke up the following morning. She felt groggy, her eyes felt a little puffy, and her back was a bit stiff from lying in a strange position all night.

The smell of… something… cooking woke her up. Sam hadn't done any breakfast cooking in ages, so it took her a few minutes to process what was cooking on the stove. Eventually her nose informed her that someone was making eggs, and, seeing as she was still in Jack's house, that someone was naturally Jack. Despite the fact that the dregs of last night's argument with Mark were still haunting her, Sam couldn't help but feel a warm, comforting sensation spread throughout her chest. For once, something in her life felt right. This moment, sitting in Jack's family room, warm and wrapped up in a blanket with the haze of sleep still hanging onto her mind, felt right.

She was loathe to wreck the moment, but eventually she figured she could eat breakfast while sitting on the couch. Stretching, she stood up, smoothing down the clothes she'd changed into after the wake. Her jeans were wrinkled and her shirt was twisted a bit but all in all she still felt pretty presentable, especially since her only company was a man who'd seen her in much worse conditions.

"Coffee's not ready yet," Jack said as Sam came up behind him. She really should have remembered by this time that there was almost no sneaking up on that man. Still, even though the initial surprise was ruined, that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy his proximity.

"S'alright, there's no rush." He'd put on sweatpants and a navy t-shirt and had obviously showered and shaved in the time she'd been asleep. The part of her mind she'd tried for years to ignore was loudly disappointed by the loss of the boxers but as the more sensible part of her mind pointed out, there really wasn't any way for Jack O'Neill not to look sexy.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, scrambling the eggs by pulling them across the bottom of the pan.

"Yeah, I am."

She didn't know what exactly had changed between them since the day her father died, only that something most definitely had. Their conversations still stuck to fairly innocuous topics, but when they strayed to more personal issues, Sam no longer felt a need to bottle the majority of her feelings and tip toe around the others. For the first time in her life, she felt free to discuss anything with Jack, even the most personal aspects of her life. It was strange but at the same time exhilarating. She knew the regulations were still in place with all the threats to their careers that they posed, but somehow it was like they'd transcended the rules, at least for the moment. She didn't feel guilty standing this close to him. She didn't feel that worrisome paranoia that someone somewhere would be able to see that she was enjoying his company more than a subordinate should or that she had stayed the night in his house with only Jack for company.

When he wordlessly reached over and clasped her hand in his, Sam didn't even think twice about the action. It was as natural as breathing.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night. I know it was unexpected…"

"Don't worry about it, Carter. I don't mind the unexpected when it's you. Now, if you'd been a horde of Jaffa, I'd have had a problem with that." He glanced over at her, his slight smile lighting up his eyes. In Sam's eyes, it really was one of the most beautiful sights to behold. She moved closer to him, his hand releasing hers and wrapping itself around her waist instead. Their progression seemed fluid, like they'd done it every morning of their lives.

That was, until Sam leaned up slightly and gently kissed him on the cheek, just next to his earlobe.

He turned slowly, a faintly surprised look playing across his face. He didn't even realize he was dripping egg all over his floor as his scrambling fork moved from its position over the pan. His arm around her waist didn't pull her any closer, but it didn't drop away either.

Their eyes locked, neither possessing the strength to look away. No words were exchanged, and yet somehow they spoke volumes to each other without even moving. That was the way it had always been for them; words were, in their world, superfluous for the most part. There were some things that didn't take words to express, after all.

After a moment, Sam felt Jack's arm tighten against her back, drawing her in closer. His head dropped to hers and they stood that way, forehead to forehead, for a long while. They could feel the other's breath, warm on their faces as they both stood still, savoring the moment and not daring to break it. Eventually, though, it was broken as Sam gave into the pull she'd been feeling for eight long years and finally moved her lips to hover over his. Still, she almost lost her nerve when she felt Jack's lips lightly under her own; a sense of elation rushed through her, but through that feeling remained the nagging paranoid voice that said someone somewhere knew what she was about to do. Sam pulled away slightly, but didn't get very far as Jack's hand on her back pulled her so close to him that her mouth had no choice but to cover his.

It was a glorious feeling. She almost cried out of pure happiness. To finally be able to touch Jack, to hold Jack, to kiss Jack the way she'd wanted to for years was… beautiful. She wasn't disappointed in anything, though really, she was too caught up in the action to worry about disappointments and fantasies.

The moment ended all too soon. One minute Sam was completely surrounded by a scent she instinctively recognized as 'Jack O'Neill' and the next her nostrils were filled with the acrid smell of burning eggs. The smoke detector started blaring a few seconds later. With a few flying oven mitts and even more flying curses, the situation was eventually brought under control.

"You know, usually I don't burn the eggs," Jack explained later as Sam sipped on her long-awaited cup of coffee. She stifled a giggle into her mug and felt Jack's arm tighten slightly around her. "If it weren't for a certain blonde astrophysicist I know, we could have been eating a decent breakfast instead of coffee and a few bruised bananas."

"Perhaps," Sam admitted. "But honestly, I think I like the situation as it stands." Who wouldn't? she thought, leaning into Jack's side. Breakfast, albeit a meager one, curled up on the couch with Jack pressed against her side was not what she was expecting but it was most certainly an acceptable end to the morning!

They had talked after that, going over their options. Both parties made it quite clear that they didn't want the other to sacrifice his or her respective career for the opportunity of a relationship. So they'd expanded their search, exploring as many options as they could get their hands on. When Sam returned to work at the base after her few days of personal leave were up, she was entirely frustrated. She hadn't found any solution despite all her investigative work. It really was a testament to how much she was in love with Jack O'Neill that she hadn't given up trying to work this all out.

As it turned out, things had managed to work themselves out while she'd been away. Jack was being promoted (again) and leaving the SGC for the Pentagon. The news came to her five minutes after she'd locked herself in her lab, determined to find a solution to their relationship problem. She'd almost choked on her coffee before she literally ran all the way to the general's office to confirm the story her lab assistant had told her.

As she talked it out with Jack, one thing made itself quite clear. There was no way he would have even considered becoming a full time paper-pusher in one of his least favorite cities in the country if it weren't for the incentive of a relationship with her. When that point finally hit home, Sam nearly cried. Sure, this man was willing to die a thousand times over for her, but more importantly he was willing to risk going through one of his own personal hells for her. That there spoke more about his feelings for her than anything any man had ever told her.

"You're sure about this?"

"Positive."

"When was the last time you talked to your brother?"

Sam didn't reply, but that didn't mean Jack accepted her silence for an answer.

"Sam?"

"… The night after the wake."

"Are you sure this is such a good idea, surprising him and all? Shouldn't we, maybe… call him first or something? It has been nearly a month you realize."

"No. Surprise is the only way to get to Mark! Besides, if I talk to him beforehand, I might get so mad I'll decide not to go through with this." She paused. "You do realize that a month is an incredibly short amount of time for a Carter to hold a grudge, don't you?"

"Thanks for the warning," Jack muttered as he glanced out the window of their rental car at the house Sam had parked in front of. It was a nice house. From what he knew about Mark and his family, it seemed to suit them just fine. Looking back over at Sam, he recognized the set of her jaw and the glint in her eyes. She was going to go through with this, come hell or high water. He reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He'd be by her side through this, for better or for worse. Her eyes fell to their hands then met his.

It's now or never.

The walk up to the front door had to be the longest walk of Sam's life, but Jack's hand on the small of her back kept her from second guessing herself. She'd spent too many years estranged from her brother; she wasn't about to let it happen all over again.

Sam rang the doorbell with a steady hand. The wait while she heard feet rushing about the house felt almost as long as the walk had, but suddenly the door opened and there was Mark, a look of confusion plastered across his face.

"Sammie? What are you doing here?" His gave Jack the once-over before returning his gaze to his sister.

"Mark, we need to talk. May we come in?"