Chapter Ten

Many, Many Hours Later:

Jack had never gone hoarse in his life. But there was a first time for everything. He also realized something else. Samantha Carter had one honking set of lungs. Like the Duracell battery bunny she kept yelling and yelling . . .

What had happened to the disciplined officer who, when angry, would quietly retreat to her laboratory and exercise her rage by building a naquadah bomb? He almost wondered if this furious beautiful blonde was a clone. Yeah, that made sense. Nirrti pulled a fast one and made two dimwitted clones, but then where was his sweet, gentle Sam?

"Holy Hannah!" She stomped into the bathroom where Jack sought refuge with a toothbrush in his mouth. "I am no dimwitted clone!"

Jack calmly removed the toothpaste-coated brush from his foaming mouth and shook it at her. "Nay—ah. No head-hop-ping." He spit into the sink, rinsed and spit again, before wiping his mouth with a towel and glancing her way.

Not a Carter smile to be had.

"Maybe if you stopped withholding Intel that affects me, from me, I wouldn't risk entering that muddled mess you call a brain." She turned and stormed back into their bedroom.

Jack winced. That was a first. Sam occasionally teased him about his easy confusion and Jack was the first to downplay his smarts, but Sam had never insulted them—his smarts. Never. He felt hurt and yet knew he deserved a lot worse, considering. In all their quarrelling tonight, they'd not personally attacked the other, until now.

Ironically, they'd long gotten past the Pete Shanahan clone issue, of which there'd been no defined conclusion other than Sam was still ticked off and humiliated over being left in the dark while everyone else who knew the truth. To worsen matters, the know-it-all list was far longer than Jack suspected. It'd even reached Kerry Johnson's ears, with whom Sam got to share a solo elevator ride at the SGC today. On the upswing, Kerry was dating a popular senator twice her age. Yep older than dirt or Jack. He wondered if she had a father-lover complex? Oy, now that was just sick.

Back to Sam. He had apologized so many times he'd lost track. For all he knew she could have tossed a, "I forgive you," into their tirade and he hadn't heard. Then again, he'd remember anything that meant they'd progressed beyond name-calling. They hadn't.

Jack pressed his lips together and blew out his nose. Okay, he could handle this. Or not. So far they'd sort of played fair. No mention of past transgressions, especially against the other. He tried to reign in his anger, really. Okay, so he lost.

Slamming the medicine cabinet shut, he switched off the light and marched into their bedroom to find Sam climbing into their bed --naked. She had to be kidding! This was war!

Carter/O'Neill ground rule #1: Clothes always off in bed during peacetime. On during wartime.

Some nerve she had, to act as if they weren't fighting. Had he missed something here?

"Whatcha doing?" He gestured, still wearing his boxer and white v-neck t-shirt as he dragged his weary butt toward the bed.

"Going to sleep." She shrugged and reached for a tissue then blew her red nose as a lone tear trickled down her pale freckled cheek. The said action caused her naked breasts to quiver-several times. Jack swallowed. A crying, naked Carter could be his downfall. She played dirty.

"Nude?"

"Um, sure. If you've got a problem with my nudity, face the wall," she said in a snippy voice. "I sleep better this way."

"You can't break the marriage bed regs, Sam."

"Watch me." She huffed.

"I'd rather not." That should have nipped her butt good. He glanced over to meet her icy glare. Okay then, maybe not.

Struggling for control, he told John-John to chill, walked to Sam's dresser, rummaged around and hauled out her flannel P.J's, then flung them at her.

He made a direct strike against into her beautiful size C chest.

Startled, Sam gawked. "I'm hot." She tossed the pajamas onto the floor, and slipped under the covers, punching her pillow hard.

"Oh, you're hot all right, Carter, and I'm not that muddled to know when I'm being setup."

"Don't you dare address me as Carter when we're fighting, O'Neill."

"Ah hah! Gotcha!" He jumped in place like Daniel would. Geez, now he's thinking like Daniel. Sick.

"What does that mean?" She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior.

"We're fighting and you're breaking our agreement to not go to bed naked when mad."

"Fine then. We're debating, General O'Neill." She stuck out her tongue.

Jack scratched his head and waved his arms at her like a wild baboon. "Now see—that's just so dang confusing."

"How?"

"Like are we debating as husband and wife or fighting as General and Colonel? Coz if it's the latter, you're about to be written up for insubordination, Colonel Carter, and the list is long!" He stretched out his arms.

"Both. So write me up, General." Then to his surprise she charged out of bed and went to the closet and hauled out a large suitcase – butt naked.

"Now whatcha doing?"

She gave him a duh look.

"Okay, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to move on base." Sam stalked to her dresser and snatched out lingerie and threw them into the open suitcase – still naked.

"Which base?" He stomped over and blocked her path as she turned back to the dresser, his gaze traversing over her hot body.

"The SGC of course. SG-1 is slotted for a 1500 hour mission that should take two days to complete."

"There is no SG-1, Carter." He decided this was a military debate.

"Um, yes there is." She snagged her lower lip and avoided eye contact.

"Excuse me." Jack's mouth dropped open. "I would have known. Hank would have told me."

"We've been officially active since Baal's return. Maybe if you read your memos from Hank . . ." She turned her bare back to him.

"Are you lonesome tonight, do you miss me tonight . . ." Elvis sang in the background. Jack lifted the remote and hit the off button for the CD player.

"You have a decision to make, Sam."

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" She stared wide-eyed at him.

"Yeah, maybe. God Himself knows you're all talk and no follow-through when it comes to personal relationships. Soon as the ship starts to rock, you jump ship." He pointed to her luggage.

"That's cruel and unfair!"

"And not consulting me about rejoining SG-1 isn't?" He snorted and made a crude gesture.

"Because I knew we'd be right here arguing if I did. I knew you say no."

"As a genius, Carter, what is it about no you don't understand?"

"Don't talk down to me, Jonathon O'Neill."

"And don't pull the, 'I got to save the world' crap on me." He stalked out of their bedroom, down the long hallway and toward the sunken living room. "The Shanahan bull crap aside, we agreed your stint at the SGC was temporary. Comprenez?"

"Jack?" she asked nicely walking up behind him—naked.

Relieved by her tone, he turned and smiled. He knew she wouldn't sleep without him—So far, no matter what they'd argued about, it had never carried over to their sleeping together or their sex life.

Oh, she'd followed him all right, but not without a weapon. Halting on the landing she launched his pillow hitting him square in the face. Before he could recover, she turned, stomped down the hallway and into the bedroom.

"Screw you!" he yelled.

"In your dreams!" She shouted.

"Dream solo, Babe."

"Wear your hand out!"

A more vulgar reply burned his lips, but Jack held his tongue. His throat hurt and to be honest he didn't have a fighting bone left in him—at the moment. He was angry and hurt.

This wasn't their first lover's quarrel since settling in together. However, it proved to be the crappiest. He should never have agreed to let her help Landry. Coz, it'd come back to haunt him. Jack slumped onto the hard sofa, jammed the pillow beneath his neck, and shut his bloodshot eyes. Sam wouldn't come after him anymore than he would knock on their bedroom door and plead insanity. This would be a long lonely night and he had a 0900 meeting at the Pentagon, then a very long afternoon. Thank the stars he had the Asgard shells to transport his tired body. And double thanks, that TPTB hadn't caught him using them, yet.

Dropping the pillow, he shoved to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen. He flipped on the light and glanced at the clock. Crap. 0213 hours. They'd been at it since 1800 hours, no wonder his throat hurt and he felt exhausted. At least it wasn't a full moon. Coz, fighting or not, they'd be doing the nasty. Great, now he felt horny! He motioned to walk toward their bedroom then remembered why they weren't sleeping together. Nope. He wouldn't give in. Not this time. Not on this matter. He yawned and stood staring into the refrigerator scratching his six-pack and wishing he'd worn more than his boxers and t-shirt on his hasty exit out of the bedroom. Eventually he removed two beers. He opened them and flung the caps on the fireplace hearth as he returned to the couch. He dug the remote out from the sofa cushions and stretched out rubbing his bare feet together, thinking how Sam's feet were always cold and he'd have to warm them for her.

Hitting the power on-off button, he channel surfed and downed a beer, glancing every few seconds at the silent dark hallway. He tried to mind merge with Sam but hit a wall of resistance. She was mad. So was he. Welcome to married life, Jack O'Neill.

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Samantha Carter-O'Neill.

"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into, O'Neill." He yawned then smiled briefly when he found a rerun of the Simpsons.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam sniffed back spent tears as she shrugged into her flannel pajamas. She felt cold, especially her feet. Her cold feet. Jack always had warm soles. She flopped onto their bed and naturally rolled onto his side hugging his extra pillow, wishing she could undo the last few hours. She hated this part of marriage. Maybe, she shouldn't be here, married to the most wonderful, loving, and mule-headed jackass in the world?

"Sure, he's a jackass, but . . .You love him. He loves you, said her heart."

"Great now I'm having a telepathic conversation with myself."

'That's because you're brilliant.'

"He lied!" She wrestled with the bedding and yanked them over her shoulders, realizing the sofa afghan was in the washer. Jack didn't have a blanket.

'To spare you.'

"That's always his excuse. He treats me just like he does Daniel, like an overprotective mother hen. He's not my father. Even Dad would have told me about Pete being a clone."

'I don't think so. You've no idea all the stuff Dad kept from you, Sam. And wouldn't you have done the same were the circumstances reversed?'

"What about the fact I'm needed at the SGC?"

'He's got no problem with you working at the SGC. It's the going off through that big circle thingy that he doesn't like, Samantha.'

"Excuse me, but I was going off world without him for over a year. Now, because we're living together, I can't—Um, big circle thingy? Hey, wait just one minute! Man, oh man! Jack?"

'Um, you rang?'

"You tricked me! Get out of my head, now!"

'Don'cha think we should talk about this, woman-to-man? I'm just saying.'

"So help me you better be on the opposite end of the galaxy or I'll . . ."

He was gone.

"Jack?" Blanket in hand, she padded out into the living room. No Jack. She hurried to the hallway closet to discover his briefcase and the Asgard shell were gone. In the kitchen she found a post-it note tapped to the refrigerator.

'Sam,

Seems we're at a gridlock. I couldn't sleep so went to work. I don't want to fight about this. We agreed, just one time. You had that time and then some. If you value our marriage, please let this go.

Always,

Jack'

Emotions overwhelmed her. He'd actually walked out on her, on them. She supposed she deserved his angry reaction. Yes, she did. Now what was she willing to do about it?

"Hah!" She fumed, hurried to the bathroom and showered.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

Pentagon: Jack's office, 0820 Hours

They hadn't spoken since their telepathic conversation last night. He still felt rather smug that he'd made her think she was talking to herself. He'd also taken advantage of his Ancient gifts and if he wanted to save his marriage, he couldn't do so again, at least not for a long, long while.

Jack yawned and cracked his stiff neck. He'd not slept a wink and felt the physical repercussions. Even Ancients needed shuteye. He glanced at his open Day Timer calendar and the slot that had 'Sam' penciled in.

Oh, he knew why Colonel Samantha Carter had requested through his secretary, Bertha, a formal meeting at his Pentagon office on his busiest scheduled day of the week.

He told Bertha to squeeze in a fifteen-minute meeting and then spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out how to avoid the imminent argument that meeting would re-ignite.

To ease the mounting tension he wondered what telephone booth Sam had beamed into. No doubt she'd had the Prometheus transport her and her car into the underground parking ramp of the Pentagon City mall, then she'd driven here like any other military personnel. This was one time he wished she didn't have the advantage of Asgard technology at her fingertips.

Jack shoved to his feet and poured himself more coffee, then glanced at the stack of paperwork on his desk.

"Let's be honest, Jack, you envy the fact your wife is going off world?"

"Ya think?" he answered himself. Yeah, he didn't hate his present job, but he sure didn't love it. Not like being at the SGC, especially on Mondays.

Most Mondays at the Pentagon sucked. Today, he had to oversee a military powwow with Russia, Britain and China that would no doubt drain the rest of his gray cells dry by mid-day. The subject for debate, Baal, of course. At least Landry would attend this 'how to fix' meeting. Jack's plan A was Jack-simple. Capture all the mutated Baals and determine behind which door hid the real McCoy. Then interrogate the bastard, castrate, and fry him with a zat!

The desk phone rang, which meant his secretary had screened it first. Jack had a list of callers she let through without alerting him. He pondered changing that special list. Recognizing the ID Jack hesitated then answered.

"The answer's still no." He held the phone away from his sore ear as Hank ranted on before Jack interrupted.

". . . Look, Hank, I know how valuable Sam's brains are. Why she's a national treasure. . . ." More defense arguing. "And no, I'm not confusing personal feelings with what's best for the SGC or earth!" He slammed the phone down and cursed. Next thing he knew Daniel would—His phone rang. He glanced at the ID number and flinched, well, it wasn't Daniel.

Far more menacing, the United States Air Force Chief of Staff. At least it wasn't President Hayes—yet.

"General O'Neill." He swallowed hard.

"Jack, John Jumper here. I'm calling on behalf of President Hayes. It's regarding Colonel Carter and . . . "

"Oh, for crying out loud – General, sir! Um, sorry, sir." Just shoot me, he thought, shaking his aching head.

"Jack, I'll make this an order if I have to. Believe me, I'd rather not have to incorporate such extreme measures. Furthermore, the Russians, Brits, and Chinese want Carter back at the SGC, pronto."

"With all due respect, sir, she'll be back under my direct chain of command, again."

"Ah, heck, Jack. Off the record, you've been married to the woman for over five years, at least, according to Chulak law. And the chain of command boloney didn't affect your military decision regarding Carter before, so why now?"

Jack drew a long deep breath. Jumper had no idea how wrong he was about that last statement. Carter had always affected Jack's judgment calls, especially when he'd done the right thing for earth. Had she ever died during one of those decisions, he'd never have forgiven himself.

"Hey, Jack?" Jumper's irritated tone roused him from his musings.

"Still off record, sir?" He set the phone on speaker to rummage through his desk drawers for his yoyo.

'Of course, son."

"I left the SGC command post so Sam and I could be together as in legally married. And that's the same reason she went to R&D."

"I believe you threatened me with retirement, Jack."

"Yes. And times like this, I wish I had followed through." Ah, missing yoyo recovered. He wound it up and 'walked the dog,' to ease his present stressed state of mind.

"That wouldn't have changed things, Jack. She wants this and we both know Sam won't stay happy forever flying a desk, even designing battleships at R&D or running the SGC Science Department. Of course, you understand, now that I know the scenario, she doesn't need your approval. Although, it'd still look good on paper for everyone concerned."

"Yep." Talk about getting kicked while you're down. "Just so I understand, Colonel Carter went over my head and called you or was it Landry?"

"Neither. Let's say a little bird told me."

"Doctor Jackson?" Jack snorted.

"No and I'm not releasing that information because in all honesty, you should have consulted me on this matter firsthand."

"Yes, sir. I should have." He leaned back in his chair and reconsidered retirement as he rocked the cradle.

"Jack, far as I know Carter's never gone over your head, even when you were her CO. So don't think she'd pull that now. She didn't. I called her and we had an enlightening exchange."

"Bet you did." He muttered under his breath.

"Chill, Jack. She's younger and smarter than both of us. But she's no greenhorn captain either. If you deny her this last opportunity to rejoin SG-1, this could affect your marriage and not for the better. Besides that, she's had every right but didn't ask to relieve Mitchell of the team command. She said she's content to work as his equal or 2IC."

"Is that so?" Jack straightened in his chair and set down the yoyo.

"Yeah, when I asked why, she said, 'I led SG-1 for over a year, sir. It was one of the most rewarding and terrifying experiences of my life. I realize I wouldn't have had that honorable position if General O'Neill hadn't believed I was capable. However, I messed up a lot, sir, and presently don't feel I should be SG-1's CO. Perhaps in time, but not now. Furthermore, I hope General O'Neill will be more easily swayed with my reassignment to SG-1 if I am not leading, sir.'"

"D'oh!"

"Oh, it gets better, Jack. I then asked why. She said and I quote, 'We, that is General O'Neill and I want more children. It'd be in the best interest of SG-1 when I become pregnant to replace the science officer during maternity leave than the team's leader. And I don't know if I will want to return after said future pregnancy, General.'"

Jack dropped his boots off the desk and they hit the floor with a bang.

"Jack?"

"Um, sir?"

"You still with me?"

"Yes, sir. I just . . . we didn't . . . she never mention that to me."

"Maybe if you hadn't been fighting. . ."

"She told you?" Jack's face warmed.

"Of course not. Call it experience, but I know you two probably had a knockdown argument. Not to mention the whole Shanahan fiasco.

Jack, I've been married over thirty years to the same wonderful woman. Ellen, as you've come to know, is a lot like Samantha. They're both strong independent women. Sometimes I wish differently, but God help me, Jack, I wouldn't want my wife any other way. And because we occasionally butt heads, our marriage is not dull." He chuckled. "So take some advice from an old married man, 'You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away and know when to run,'" he sing-songed to Jack – off key.

Jack grimaced and stuck a finger in his right ear. "Why, sir, are you a Kenny Roger's fan?"

"Yep, a wise man, if you ask me."

"Yes, he is." He sighed out contemplating his boss's wisdom.

"Now as the CO of HS, I expect you to put your emotional baggage aside and tell me who is best fit to be science officer of the newly re-instated SG-1?"

"Crap! That's so fricking unfair, sir."

"Jack, you can deal with me or President Hayes, which will it be?"

"Fine, you sir. Carter, of course."

"Good, then I know you'll stop being a pain in the rear to everyone, including Landry and sign those reassignment papers, ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

"And, two more things, Jack?"

"What?" he tried not to whine.

"One, you and I never had this conversation."

"Right. Thank you, sir." Jack reached to disconnect the phone, but his hand orbited the button as he heard Jumper.

"And two, you have some major kissing up to one Mrs. O'Neill."

"Yes, sir." Just peachy!