Sam glanced up at a tentative tap at the door to find Jack standing there, fidgeting. "Come on in, Jack," she said.

"Hey." Jack glanced around the lab, and made a beeline for a magnifying glass she'd left out on a counter.

Sam watched in bemusement as he turned it over in his hands and squinted through it in a manner more reminiscent of a four year old than a forty-something year old. The way he was studiously not looking at her square on completed the illusion of a naughty child in the principles office. "So, how are the files going?" she asked, as it became apparent that (once again), Jack wasn't going to talk on his own.

"Well, not as fast as General Hammond might like," he said, wincing. "I can't decide if we need veterans who know how to handle themselves on Earth but have no clue how to handle aliens and scientists, or young kids we can train specifically to handle the wacky things that we're finding out there. And the eggheads, too."

Sam raised an eyebrow in amusement. "As an 'egghead,' Jack, can I say thank you for lumping us in with megalomaniac body-snatching aliens and caveman viruses? You really don't like scientists." She took pity on his distress as he realized what he'd said and waved it away. "Maybe we need some of each."

"Yeah. I thought of that," Jack said, still fiddling with the magnifying glass. "I'm giving Hammond a wide selection to choose from." He fell silent again.

Sam, figuring that since he was interrupting her work it was his job to keep the conversation going, opened the next folder. The sooner she got this done the sooner she could go back to work that was actually interesting.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Jack played with the magnifying glass, entertaining her when she happened to glance up from the paperwork.

"Sam?" Jack said at last.

"Yeah?" she asked, not looking up.

"About Sara."

Sam froze, every muscle tensing. "As in, your ex-wife?"

"Yeah."

From Jack's voice, this wasn't any easier for him than it was for her. Sam carefully marked her place in the file she'd been reading and set it aside so she could give Jack her full attention. "What about her?"

"I have to tell her about this," Jack said, waving at her stomach and its as-yet imperceptible resident. "I have to tell her myself, in person. It wouldn't be fair to her to have her find out about this through the grapevine."

Sam nodded. She'd tried to avoid thinking about this. "Yeah."

"I'd rather do this sooner than later," Jack went on. "Would you mind if I told her about this over the weekend?"

"No, that sounds fine," Sam said, looking down. "Do you want me to come along?"

"No, thanks," Jack said. "I think I need to do this by myself."

Jack pulled up to a stop in front of the two-story suburban house and stared straight ahead. This was not going to be pretty. He just hoped Sara's dad wasn't there; the older man had never thought he was good enough for his little girl. Well, Jack couldn't really argue that point, but having him hang around sure as hell wasn't going to make this any easier.

He sighed and got out of the car, and made his way over the treacherous snow to her front door. Shoveling the snow had been his job, when he was home during winter; Sara hated the cold. The only thing that had reconciled her to the Springs was that his posting to Peterson—that had been before the SGC, of course—meant he was no longer in covert ops and had been supposed to last a long time, long enough to buy a house and settle down. The only thing that could have kept her in the area, now that his career was no longer a consideration for her, was Charlie's grave.

He knocked on what had once been his front door, and steeled himself to the task ahead of him. After a few minutes, he heard feet behind the door and a lock being turned. Sara opened the door and stood there before him, just as beautiful as he remembered her.

When she saw who it was, she frowned in suspicion and looked him up and down. "You're not some weird clone thing that is going to start shooting off electricity, are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"No." The carefully planned speech froze in his throat. They stood there staring at each other while he tried to figure out what to do next. "Your walk needs shoveling," he said at last.

Sara frowned, a pinched look covering her face. "We are not getting back together, Jack," she said.

"I know," he replied quietly.

She studied him some more. "You know where the shovel is." She disappeared back into the house. Jack went around to the side of the house, grabbed the shovel, and got to work.

When he was finished he knocked on the door again. Sara had been expecting him, for she opened the door quickly and handed him a mug of hot coffee as she gestured silently for him to come in. When they were seated in the living room he glanced around, stalling for time. She'd repainted, he saw, and though the furniture was mostly the same it had all been rearranged …

"Okay, Jack," Sara said, interrupting his thoughts. "Thanks for shoveling the snow. What's this visit about?"

Jack looked down at his cocoa. "I'm seeing someone," he said quietly. As the silence stretched out, he played with the mug she'd given him. He didn't recognize it.

"I kind of figured," Sara said. He looked up to find her staring out the window blinking rapidly. "What's she like?"

He considered what to tell her. "She's in the Air Force. A captain. She's an astrophysicist; works in Cheyenne doing Deep Space Radar Telemetry."

"A captain?" Sara asked in some surprise. "So she's younger than …." She trailed off, and Jack winced internally. Yeah, she was younger than Sara was, and women were sensitive about that; he shouldn't have mentioned Sam's rank. "An astrophysicist, you say? Well, you always did love astronomy and such things. I suppose you two have some fun with that telescope of yours."

Jack studied his coffee some more. If he didn't say anything, he couldn't say the wrong thing again.

"So, she's smart," Sara said, evidently deciding that she needed more detail. "What else is she like? Does she have a good sense of humor? Is she nice? Does she have any family? What's her name? What does she look like? What's her favorite color, for God's sake!"

Jack sighed. "She can be funny, and she can also be very enthusiastic. Blonde, blue-eyed,"

"Tall and leggy?" Sara interrupted.

"Yeah." Jack gave a short nod.

Sara gave a mirthless laugh. "Why am I not surprised. Go on."

"Her dad's Air Force. She likes blue jello, but she won't eat the red kind." Jack paused. There really wasn't any good way to say this. "And she's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Sara stopped abruptly and bit her lip, staring at him. "God, you really didn't waste any time replacing me and Charlie, did you?"

"What?" Jack yelped, so angry and ashamed it felt like a physical pain in his chest. "No, wait, Sara, it wasn't anything like that. God, we were married for over a decade! No one could take your place, and sure as hell no one could take Charlie's. Do you really think that little of me?"

"Well, that's sure what it looks like from this angle!" Sara shot back. "The divorce was finalized what, four months ago? And you've already replaced me with the newer, smarter model and not only that, you've knocked her up already. Well, I'm sorry to interrupt your game of happy families, Jack, but the wounds are still a little too raw for me to smile and say 'congratulations.'"

"It's not like that," Jack repeated. "We didn't plan this, it just sort of happened. I didn't approach her; she came to me." From what little he remembered through the haze the virus had left, that was true. "And it wasn't supposed to develop into anything serious." He clamped his mouth shut. That was all more than Sara needed to know. They were no longer married. He was not cheating on her. He did not have to justify his actions to her.

"So what was it, a one night stand?"

Jack tried to keep his face still but after years of marriage Sara knew him too well. "It was, wasn't it?" she said in wonder. "I never figured you for that type." She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window.

The silence stretched out and Jack began to fidget. He wasn't about to break it; there were too many things he could say wrong. He didn't want to hurt her, but it seemed like that was all he'd done to her for the past two years. It was why he hadn't contested the separation and divorce. He'd wanted to stop hurting her more than anything else, and giving her the divorce she'd asked for had been the only way he could see to do that, even though it had felt like it tore his newly rediscovered heart out. "I'm sorry, Sara," he said at last. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," she said, still looking out the window, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry, too. About a lot of things. Including what I said just now. It was cruel and uncalled for. Thank you for telling me, and I hope you will be very happy. I'd like to be left alone, now."

Jack put his mug down, knowing that Sara would not accept any comfort he could give her; not now. It wasn't his right, any more. God, he wished it was. But all he could do was leave her to her grief in peace. "I'm sorry, Sara," he said again.

He let himself out the door. Once back in his truck, he rested his forehead on the ice-cold steering wheel for a while before starting up the car and driving away.