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Beauty In The Broken

Frigger

"Sam?"

Startled, Sam turned in her seat to find the voice.

"Janet? What are you doing here?"

"I've been trying to call you." The doctor was dressed casually—jeans and a knit blouse rather than her normal button-down and slacks. She had a soft, nubby-looking sweater in the crook of her elbow. Making her way around to the front of the park bench, she stopped just to the side of the stroller, peeking down at the sleeping child within. "It's been a few days since we spoke, and I was getting concerned about you."

Sam scooted over, patting the slatted seat next to her in invitation. "I'm sorry. I've just been lying low lately."

"Okay." Lowering herself to the bench, Janet angled her body so that she could look at her friend. "But I thought for sure that you'd at least answer my messages."

Crinkling her nose, Sam offered a sheepish smile. "I haven't even listened to them."

"Sam." Janet had that whole 'mom tone' down. Probably from her copious experience dealing with a teenaged Cassie. "I've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry, Janet." She leaned back against the bench, sighing. "I didn't mean to cause any concern."

She really hadn't. It had been four days since General Hammond had shown up at her house and sent the rest of her team off to deal with Martin Lloyd. Four days since she'd unloaded some of her internal turmoil on the Colonel. Four days since he'd listened to her, trying to understand—since he'd held her. Since he'd reassured her that she could be fixed.

Did she believe him? She didn't know. But she wanted to.

She wanted to believe him so, so badly.

Her lack of medical clearance had given her a rare excuse to take a few of the thousand or so sick days she'd saved up over the years. So, she'd simply laid low, holed up in her house, figuring out this new life. Still—if she were being completely honest with herself, she hadn't been 'lying low' as much as she'd been 'hiding'.

From what, though—she couldn't have said. It had just felt right to take a step back and focus on herself and Jacob.

"Nevertheless, since you've been ignoring me, I figured I'd need to come and find you. See for myself that you're okay." Janet leaned forward and pulled her sweater on, tugging the sleeves down around the heels of her hands. "It's chilly out here. I hope that baby is bundled up."

Sam glanced at the stroller before nodding. "He is."

"How is he doing?"

Jake was perfect. He was funny and bright and curious. He loved puréed carrots and applesauce, and could hold his bottle on his own. He mimicked her expressions, and liked to grab her nose. He couldn't quite crawl yet, but was working on it. In the meantime, he'd figured out that he could roll to wherever he wanted to go. He could sit up on his own and blow spit bubbles, and laughed whenever Sam pushed the 'button' on the pages of his favorite book.

Just last night, as Sam had rocked him before bed, he'd reached up and touched her cheek and said, "Ma-ma." And Sam had felt things that she'd never imagined possible—things she still couldn't quite describe.

So, yes. Jake was okay. Jake was everything.

"He's doing well. The bruise on his forehead has faded away, and those two bottom teeth have finally completely erupted." She reached into the stroller and adjusted the blanket around his little shoulders. "He slept through the night last night, which was nice."

Janet appraised her for a good long moment before asking, "And you?"

"And me what?"

"Did you sleep through the night last night?"

Ah. Well, of course she hadn't. She smiled down at where her hands splayed on her thighs. "It's getting better."

"What, the sleeplessness?" Janet nudged Sam's calf with her foot. "Or the new 'mothering' gig?"

Sam shrugged. "Both."

Janet made a grunting kind of noise in the back of her throat—at once presumptive and frustrated. Narrowing a glare at her friend, she sighed. "Come on, Sam. Work with me."

The park was usually pretty deserted, but today, it seemed to be teeming with people. Sam had assumed that it had to do with the weather. It was Saturday—a beautiful afternoon in mid-September—one of the last weekends before the weather would start to turn. The Springs weren't known for their snow, instead enduring slushy, wet winters that weren't great for outdoorsy activities. But autumns were spectacular. The leaves usually started changing even before the summer was officially over, and the cooler temperatures were perfect for all things outdoors.

The life Sam Carter led didn't really allow for much time to appreciate Earth in its glory. Bouncing between this world and myriad others, spending so much time within the windowless confines of the SGC, it was difficult to remember what season she should be expecting when she emerged, let alone spend time admiring it. But today, she'd loaded Jake up in his stroller and headed out.

It had been revelatory, in a way. She'd remembered what it was like to simply enjoy autumn.

"I'm not sure what you want me to tell you, Janet."

"Just talk to me."

"All right." She pulled her attention away from the multi-colored trees around her and focused on her companion. "Am I talking to Major Janet Fraiser? Or am I talking to my friend?"

For several beats, Janet just looked at her. "You're talking to your friend."

"Okay." Sam lifted a shoulder in a resigned kind of motion. "What do you want me to talk about?"

"How you're doing." This answer was immediate. "How you're really doing. Not the kind of blather you'd tell the SGC shrink or General Hammond."

"I'm doing better."

"Really?"

To her own surprise, Sam nodded. "I am."

"Because, this whole 'instant baby' thing has got to be a trip."

"You experienced the same thing, Jan." She poked her friend in the shoulder. "When you adopted Cassie."

"No. I didn't." Dark hair bounced around Janet's jaw as she shook her head. "It was nowhere near the same thing. Cassie could feed herself, bathe herself, and tell me what she needed. Jacob is—well—he's still so little. You've got your hands full. And what if you're—"

"I'm not." There was no point in dragging that one out. Sam worried at her top lip with her teeth a little before continuing. The odd expression on Janet's face urged her to go on. "I'm sure."

"Did you take a test? I could have done another—"

"No." She looked down at the park bench, at the paint peeling up from the weathered wood. "I found out the old fashioned way. This morning."

Janet's eyes flew wide. "Ah. The good ol' monthly visit from Aunt Flo."

Rolling her eyes, Carter shook her head. "Good grief. Do people still call it that?"

"I think just us old folks." The doctor grinned. "Cassie and her friends call it 'Shark Week'."

Despite herself, Sam chuckled at that. "That's funny. Gross, but funny."

"My mother used to say that she was 'Visiting the Red Roof Inn'. It always made my sisters and me cringe." Janet smiled again, remembering. "Why do we do that? Why can't we just say that we're menstruating? Instead, we make up so many different ways to avoid talking about something that's simple, normal, human biology."

Having no ready answer for that, Sam merely shrugged again. "Who knows?"

A group of young teens rushed past them on skateboards, dodging around where the wheels of the stroller jutted out onto the sidewalk. One of them lagged behind a little, then maneuvered her board into an impressive kickback flip before smoothly regaining the board and hurrying on after her friends.

"Can I ask who it was?"

"Who what was?"

"This person with whom you—-" Janet made an odd, pulsing gesture with her hand.

"With whom I what?" Sam looked away—off across the park towards where a group of teenagers were shooting hoops on the basketball courts. She was being obtuse, and she knew it.

"Sam."

Okay. She wasn't going to let up. Carter turned back towards her friend. "As friends—-or as my doctor? Or as an official Air Force representative?"

"I've already answered that question." Janet said. Her voice was carefully patient. "I'm always your friend first, Sam."

Carter held Janet's gaze for a long time—until the moment became uncomfortable, and then just a little longer. She was the one who broke first, forcing her focus downward, to where her fingers tangled in the fabric of her sweater. "I'm pretty sure my friend would already know the answer to that question."

Janet's expression fell. It was obvious that she'd hoped for a different response. Hoped that things hadn't gotten as complex as they apparently had. She'd been there, in the room with Anise and her machine. She'd watched the Colonel as he'd been forced to say what he'd said. Listened as Sam had said her piece. She'd witnessed that deeply intimate moment—and she'd said nothing. Kept it in the vault, so to speak.

Carter knew that Doctor Fraiser had, several times, turned a blind eye—purposefully not seen what was clearly evident. She'd come closest to confronting the issue the year before, when Sam had nearly killed herself working to bring O'Neill home from Edora.

"You miss him." She'd said. Not unkindly—just as a statement of fact. "Is that a problem?"

And yet again, as she'd been doing now for what seemed like forever—Sam had looked her best friend in the eye and she'd lied. "No. No, of course not."

This was the first time that the subject had been broached with any sort of openness.

"Oh, Sam." Janet reached over and took Carter's hand, squeezing gently. "I'm so sorry."

"About what?" She pressed her lips together, clenching her jaw. "What's to be sorry about? Things are easier this way, aren't they?"

"Are they?" Scooting closer, she leaned into Sam's shoulder, offering support. Or maybe just a human touch. "Are you sure? Or did you maybe want a different result?"

Carter had thought of little else all day. Seeing the proof that she wasn't pregnant hadn't been the relief she'd thought it would be. Instead—it had felt a little hollow. Empty. As if something ephemeral and wonderful had dissipated right in front of her.

Maybe if she hadn't experienced Jake, she'd feel differently. Maybe if she hadn't gotten to hold his little body close as he'd slept, or giggled with him through his bath. Pressed her lips to his crown and smelled his hair. Or watched as he'd rocked back and forth on his hands and knees and pitched himself forward as he was figuring out how to crawl. His little face had shone in triumph at that small victory—and it had melted her a little. Maybe if she hadn't spent the past—what—not even a week—with this child—then, maybe she would feel as if she'd dodged the proverbial bullet.

But the Colonel's voice kept haunting her—assailing her at odd moments throughout the day.

What if it's amazing?

That's what he'd asked her, right? What if it's amazing? And damned if Carter hadn't discovered that it could be—indeed was—just that.

"I don't know what I wanted." That, at least, was absolute honesty. What she'd wanted had been a mystery even to her. However, she'd told the truth before. It was easier this way. Things could still be denied. Swept away. Obfuscated. They could go back to the status quo.

On the other hand—finally being forced to put a name on this dance that she and the Colonel had been doing for so long—that would have been a profound kind of release. Which would have been better? Sam shrugged for what seemed like the millionth time. "I don't know anything right now. And I really don't know how to feel about it."

"Relieved?"

She had to think about that. Ultimately, she shook her head. "Not really, no. I feel—incomplete. Like something is missing."

"Maybe because you wanted to be pregnant." It was a statement more than a question. The doctor might have diagnosed that one too accurately.

"I don't know." When had she become this person? Indecisive, vague, and adrift? In the end, Sam's response trailed off into yet another sigh.

"Sam—I wish I knew what to say."

"There's nothing to say, Janet." Sam stood abruptly, pulling her hand free of Fraiser's grasp. She took a few steps away from the bench, her boot's heels hard on the sidewalk, then turned to look back at her friend. "Nothing."

Still, Janet pressed. "Are you going to tell him?"

Carter inhaled deeply, making another long scan of the park—of the kids playing, the moms standing by with their coffees and diaper bags. Of the trees and the grass and the bright blue sky. Finally, she looked over at her friend. "Yeah. I'll tell him."

"Good. I didn't know whether he'd realized that this had been a possibility."

"He's not an idiot, Janet." Sam rocked back on her heels, looking down at the sidewalk, at her shadow on the grass. "We've talked about it. He's been as concerned as I've been."

Janet simply looked up at her, watching as Sam pretended to watch everything else. Finally, she spoke again. "Can I ask how it happened?"

Unbelievably, Carter laughed at that. "Do you want the particulars? Or just a basic overview of what positions we liked?"

"Sam, there's no need to be crude." There was that Mom voice again.

Chastened, Carter pivoted to look out over the park again, schooling herself before turning back around. "Are you asking me if he forced me?"

"Sort of."

"No." Sam smiled. "No, it wasn't like that."

"So, it was consensual."

"In every way possible." She wiped at her cheek with her fingertips. The wind had kicked up, drying out her eyes, blowing dust. "In fact, I kissed him first. Or, Thera did."

"Well, that's good, at least." Janet leaned back in her seat, folding her arms against the breeze that had strengthened. "I think."

Jake made a little noise, and the stroller shimmied as he shifted in his sleep. Sam stood by quietly, prepared to intervene, until he suddenly sighed and found his thumb. Within seconds, he was asleep again.

"He's tired." Janet tilted a look into the stroller. "I expected him to be awake by now."

"He's been ornery today. He spent all morning trying to crawl, and then wouldn't nap. So, I fed him his lunch, and then he wanted to be put right back down on the floor. So, I set him down with some toys, and he worked on crawling again."

"He's barely six months old. That's pretty early for crawling."

"He's a determined little cuss."

"Just like his parents." Janet threw a quick glance at Sam before rolling her eyes a little. "You know what I meant."

"Anyway. I'd finally gotten the stroller put together, so we decided to take it for a test drive."

"It's a great stroller." Janet looked it over. "I've never seen one like it before."

"The Colonel chose it." Sam touched the handle lightly. "It's specially made for rough terrain. I can strap Jake in and go for a run. The big tires make it easier to push on grass and dirt, so I can even take my favorite trail runs."

"It sounds like he considered all the options."

Sam smiled, thinking about it. The more she'd reflected on their shopping outing, the more she'd realized how remarkable he'd been throughout the process. By the time she'd finally emerged pee-free from the bathroom, he'd taken care of choosing linens and arranged for a few back ordered items to be delivered later. It hadn't even occurred to Sam until a few days had passed that he must have paid for the entire bill—she'd never been presented with so much as a receipt.

"Are we buying one crib or two today?"

Closing her eyes, she nodded as she chased back the memory. "He's been really wonderful through all of this."

"Underneath it all, I think that he's kind of a wonderful man."

Sam fussed at her hair with her fingers. The wind was making a mess of it. It took a minute before she could find the right words. "He offered to take Jake if I didn't want him."

"Oh?

"He's so great with him." Her voice grew quiet. "I was just a mess—everything went wrong—and he somehow made it all okay."

"He cares for you, Sam."

But to what end? As teammates? Friends? They'd flirted—-the attraction between them undeniable. But now that they knew how that would be—-was there more to it? Or had his curiosity been assuaged and it was over?

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she inched closer to Janet. "Back on the ice planet, when they were introducing us into our sectors, they made it seem like we were being transferred from somewhere else. I—or, rather, Thera—had just graduated from an internship with a senior engineer, Daniel—Karlan—had been brought in from a different food service unit, and Teal'c was a laborer. They'd renamed him Tor."

"And the Colonel?"

"His name was Jonah. They'd told him that he'd been a miner. In order to provide energy for the domed city, they'd created this massive network of furnaces that were fed by a coal-like mineral that was mined out of the ground hundreds of miles away from where we were refining that energy. The mineral was brought to the power plant by subterranean rail. The mining was the most dangerous part of the operation. That's where they sent the least desirable Workers."

"That sounds awful." The doctor frowned. "Was Colonel O'Neill ever actually in the mines?"

"I don't think so. I think that those memories came from our past missions. The stamp was weird that way. I think that it was some form of modified hypnosis. I remembered learning engineering, but I didn't remember anything about the senior engineer I'd been interning with, or any actual schooling. We also knew that we'd been born, but there wasn't any recollection about mothers or fathers. Somehow, I think that the stamp built on your own actual memories, and then overwrote specific details. But—it's really not possible to say for sure." She shook her head, exhaling heavily. "Anyway. Jonah was assigned to a team that was supposed to be helping me retrofit some ventilation systems. This was a day or so after we got there, I think. I don't know. Time was weird down there."

"And that's when you and Jonah met?"

"It was a tricky job, and the rest of the Workers left at dinnertime. But me being me—"

"And the Colonel being the Colonel—"

"We're just so used to working until things are done." Sam ran her fingers along the handle of the stroller. It was bumpy and rubberized—probably to improve the grip. She liked the texture—it felt real. "So, he stayed."

"Is that when you two started—" Clearly, Janet struggled to find the right words for what she was getting at.

"Hanging out?" Sam grinned. "Since we're doing the euphemism thing today."

"Hanging out." Janet smiled back. "We'll go with that."

"We were still us, Jan. We just weren't us." Sam squinted off into the distance, towards the mountains. "So, all of our likes, dislikes, proclivities—they were all still there. He was still funny, and he still made me laugh. He still looked out for me. We still worked the same way together, because we've been doing it for years. And all those things that I admire about him—all of those qualities were still there."

"And you were still attracted to each other."

"And that." Biting her lip, she returned her focus down towards her boots. "Only without the barriers. Without the walls that we've kept constructed around us."

"Ah."

"So, we were working late into the night. A coolant line broke, and sprayed fluid all over me. He took off his tunic and used it to wipe it out of my eyes. And one thing led to another." Sam lifted a shoulder, letting the gesture say the rest. "We were breaking all of their rules, too. The Workers weren't supposed to form attachments, or have relationships. But for whatever reason, that didn't have the same effect on us that the military regulations do."

"None of you have said very much about being down there." Janet played with the hem of her sweater, folding the ribbing over and under. "I thought it might be because it was so difficult. Like it was for you when Daniel got addicted to the sarcophagus that time."

Sam thought about that for a few minutes, memories revolving through her mind. Had it been difficult? Sure. Had it been horrible? No. "It's going to sound weird for me to say this, but I liked being there. It was as if, for the first time in ages, I was a whole person. Completely satisfied."

"Satisfied how? With your work—or with—-" Janet trailed off, leaving an opening for Sam to fill in the blanks.

She arched up against him, her fingers tight on his hips.

"Jonah—-please—-"

His lips stopped her words, and then his mouth caught her soft cries—his body absorbing her shivers—-

Satisfied? Yes. You could call it that. Bone-deep, beautiful, fulfilling satisfaction. And it wasn't just the physical release. It was the languor. The comfort. The thrill that came from being with him, from turning a corner and seeing him smiling at her. From knowing that he was waiting for her behind the steam ducts, or the mineral induction hatches. Looking at him across the dining area and catching him watching her—-that slow, knowing smile teasing at his lips. Satisfied? Hell, yes. But so much more, besides. "It was like I had finally found where I belonged."

"But you belong here." Janet's response was immediate. "With us."

"Intellectually, I know that." Nodding, Carter peeked in again at Jake before turning her gaze back to Fraiser. "And maybe it was the stamp itself that made it seem this way—I don't know. But it was as if I was completely content to be there. I didn't question anything. I didn't want to. I just wanted to exist. Until I realized that something was wrong, I was happy."

Janet's brows rose, her face softening into pure compassion. "And you had him."

That was one way to put it. "Yeah. There was that."

"Have you been unhappy for a long time?" Of course, the doctor had made a diagnosis. "I mean—I know that you've been through experiences that have taken their toll. But you've seemed okay. I'm rethinking my previous assessments."

"Not unhappy." Sam's clear, blue eyes met Janet's dark ones. "Just bent up a little."

"Bent up?"

"Fractured. Broken, a bit." She passed her tongue over her lips, tilting her chin downward. "Jolinar started it. Then, thinking Daniel was dead. Narim with that weird device that let me see his feelings—which was creepy as hell. Antarctica, my dad's cancer, and then losing him to the Tok'ra. Martouf. Edora. So much loss. It just feels like it's all chipping away at me."

"Add to that the fact that you finally had something you wanted, only to have it taken away." Her voice was quiet, and kind. "And then you watched Samantha die, and were expected to take her child."

"I hate feeling this way, Janet. Weak. Like I'm failing somehow."

"No, Sam." Rising, Janet turned so that she could thread her arm around Sam's waist, pulling her in for a hug. "You're human. And humans aren't supposed to experience all these things. Especially not all within so short a time."

She mulled that over. Finally, she nodded, returning Janet's hug with a longer squeeze."So, anyway. Being Thera wasn't all that bad."

"She had less baggage."

That was an understatement of massive proportions. "Yeah."

Stepping back, Janet regarded Carter for a beat before asking. "And now?"

"Now, what?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"Well. I do." Janet drew herself up to her full height, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "Cassie's been asking to see the baby, and I haven't planned anything for dinner tonight. So—let's go out."

That sounded so—normal. Sam barely even had to think about it. "Burgers and fries?"

"The greasier the better."

—-OOOOOOOO—-

She'd bathed him in her bathroom, running a few inches of water into the tub and letting Jake sit up on his own. From some long-buried memory, she remembered how to blow bubbles from between her palms. Her mother had taught her how—when Sam was around six and she'd had pneumonia. The doctor had suggested lukewarm baths to bring down her fever, and her mom had entertained her by pouring shampoo into her palms, rubbing them together, and then steepling them just enough to blow a bubble through the opening.

It had taken Carter a few tries before she'd gotten it right, but Jake hadn't minded. He'd been entranced by the giant bubbles, surprised each time he managed to get his finger close enough to pop one. They'd played until the water had grown chilly, and then she'd dried him off and dressed him in soft fleece sleepers with dinosaurs on them.

The house was quiet, and dim, the only lights on in the kitchen and a small nightlight in Jake's room. If she hadn't happened to look as she'd passed the entryway, she'd have missed seeing the figure at her front door.

The knock was muted—much more so than the doorbell would have been. Shifting Jake on her hip, Sam turned and headed towards the door. It squeaked as she opened it.

"Hey."

"Hey."

He looked tired, but the Colonel brightened when he saw Jake.

The baby bobbled up and down in Sam's arms, reaching for O'Neill with both hands. Carter passed him over, smiling when Jake sighed happily and settled in against Jack's chest.

Wordlessly, Sam moved to one side, swinging the door wide. The Colonel accepted the invitation, his big frame filling up her entry.

"You know," Sam sidled past him, leading him back towards the kitchen. "You have a key."

Years ago—they'd all exchanged keys to their homes for emergency use. Teal'c even had the whole set, even though he rarely left the Mountain.

"I didn't think you'd want me letting myself in." He stopped just inside the kitchen, leaning heavily against the arched opening. Jake had found his thumb and was getting comfortable, his little head tucked against the Colonel's throat. "Besides. I came here straight from the SGC, and those keys are at home."

"I take it you're finished with Mr. Lloyd?"

"Yeah." He frowned. "Not a kook after all. Turns out he was actually from another planet."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding."

"So, you got things sorted out?" She busied herself at the sink, rinsing dishes that she'd already rinsed, shifting silverware from one basin to the other. "That's good."

"You'd have geeked out over his spaceship."

"There was a ship?"

"Well, it was a landing pod."

"Still—that would have been cool." There was nothing else to shift around, so Sam turned off the water and reached for a nearby hand towel. She turned, resting back against the counter top. "I'd have liked to see that."

He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips against Jacob's hair. When he looked back up at her, he'd relaxed, his entire body was more at ease. "We missed you."

She'd missed them, too. But it hadn't been what she'd expected. She thought she'd miss being on the mission—working with her team. More than anything else—she'd missed him. "Jake and I had some time to figure things out."

"I'm glad he's still awake." Straightening, he came closer, stopping just to the side of the island. "I was afraid he'd already be in bed."

Sam wiped her hands on the towel and folded it, carefully hanging it over the handle of her oven. "We went out for dinner with Cassie and Janet, and stayed out a little later than normal. He's ready for his story, and then you can tuck him in if you'd like."

"Happy to."

"I'll get his bottle ready."

As she measured out the powder and warmed some water, she listened as Jack read the book she'd had on the couch. Somehow, the story about barnyard animals dancing sounded much cooler when the Colonel read it. Not that Jake paid much attention. By the time Sam came around with the formula, the baby was pretty much asleep. Standing, O'Neill took the bottle from her and then made his way into the nursery.

Sam tidied some more—clearing up the dirty clothes off the bathroom floor and wiping off the counters. She was opening the accordion door of the laundry closet when she heard him lay Jake in the crib, and then recognized the metallic slide of the crib's side being raised. He exited the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Can I help?"

"I've got it." She tossed the baby's clothes into the machine, then some of her own. Checking, she decided to wait to start the load, so she closed the lid and replaced the basket on the dryer. Turning, she found him watching her.

He was leaning against the wall, fingers tucked into the pockets of his khakis. "Not enough for a full load?

"We're supposed to conserve water and all that, right?"

One side of his mouth lifted in what could have been called a smile. "Right."

"No offense, Sir, but you look tired."

"I am." He craned his head back, stretching his neck and shoulders. "Too much time in a car, in a hotel room with Teal'c, and entirely too much time spent with Martin Lloyd. It was exhausting."

"And the last thing you want to do is get back into your truck and drive another forty-five minutes."

He inclined his head in what could have been assent. "I'd like to come back in the morning. See Jake again before we report for the debriefing."

"You'd get what—" she tilted her arm to glance at her watch. "Four hours of sleep?"

"Five if I drive really fast." His smile lacked humor.

"Just stay here, Sir." Sam had not intended to make that offer, but once it was out there, she couldn't take it back. And frankly, she didn't want to. "I just made up Dad's bed—it's got fresh sheets on it. There are some of his clothes in the dresser that should fit you. I could throw your dirty laundry in with ours, and do a quick load now so you have clean things for tomorrow. There are razors and extra toothbrushes in the cabinet in the bathroom, and clean towels under the sink."

He studied her face for a long beat. "It wouldn't be weird?"

"Stay." Whispered against her temple, the word felt more like a caress. "Stay here. With me."

Thera smiled, turning her head to press her cheek against Jonah's bare shoulder. Her fingers roughed along the hair on his chest, tracing the definition of muscle and rib. Everything about him fascinated her. Thrilled her. "But what if we're caught?"

"That hasn't happened yet."

Tilting her head up to look at him, she was struck by how he was looking back at her. The blatant desire of an hour before had been replaced by something else—something deeper. Something that she couldn't have named had she had a million years to try. "Jonah—I—"

"Stay." His hand was warm on her arm, the calluses on his palm chafing a bit as he stroked up and down. "Just stay with me."

Rolling, she balanced half-way on top of him, her thigh draped across his. She laid her arm across his chest, perching her chin on her wrist as she regarded him. "Why?"

He lifted a hand and cupped it against her cheek—softly, gently—before brushing his thumb along the ridge of her eyebrow, the high arch of her cheek. His voice lowered, husky in the darkness. "Because I love you, Thera."

Sam pressed her eyes closed—her throat had suddenly grown tight, her body felt raw. She was grateful for the darkness of the interior hall—hopeful that he hadn't seen the sudden flush of her skin, the way her breathing had gone ragged. Only when she was sure that her voice would behave, could she shake her head. "No. Of course not."

He'd noticed, damn it. But he was too much of a gentleman to remark on the pinkness in her cheeks, or the way she'd folded her hands together to stop their trembling. When he spoke, his tone was soft. "Okay."

Sam glanced at him before gesturing towards the guest room. "I mean—it just makes sense, right?"

There was that expression again—dark, deep, and nameless. He considered saying no—she knew him well enough to interpret that much—but in the end, he just nodded. "Right."

"All right." She nodded, taking a single step down towards her room before stopping again. "Get showered, and put your clothes in the basket and I'll start the load."

"I can start it."

"No-–it's good. I'll do it." She took another step towards her room, but tripped on god-knew-what and cursed as she fell into the wall. The hall light sconce rattled at the impact.

"Sam." He was right behind her, his hand on the small of her back, supporting her as she turned to face him. "Careful."

"Geez—I'm not sure what happened there."

"You okay?"

"Yes." She turned, surprised at how close he'd gotten. "It's just been a long day."

"Are you sure it's not something else?" Even in the dimness of the hall, his eyes gleamed. His hands were light on her waist and her arm.

Oh, lord. Sam shook her head. "I'm sure."

"Listen—Carter—" His lips thinned as he built up to what he wanted to say. "Sam—"

But she already knew what he was going to ask. "Sir—I'm not pregnant."

He didn't answer immediately, merely taking a long perusal of her face, her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm certain."

"Did you take a test?"

"No." Her hair teased against the wall as she shook her head. His nearness, the situation, the question had her nearly as rattled as the memory that had shook her a few minutes before. "No. But I'm sure."

His brows drew low over his deep-set eyes. "Then—how?"

Even with what had passed between them—how deeply intimate they'd been—Sam found it awkward to say the words. She blurted the first thing that came into her head. "Shark week."

His lips twitched in an almost-grin. "Shark week?"

"That's what Cassie calls it."

"You talked about this with Cassie?"

"No." She relaxed a little, the casual touch of his skin on hers, of his warmth so close to her was soothing. "With Janet."

"Janet knows?" He took a half-step backwards. "How much?"

"Um." She pretended to think about that, unsure as to how he'd take the answer. In the end, she went for honesty. "All of it."

"Ah." His hand trailed down her arm to catch at her fingers, enveloping them in his own.

"She's my friend, first, Sir." Carter explained. "She won't say anything."

"I know."

"Anyway." She exhaled lightly, seeking steadiness. "I thought you'd want to know."

He looked down at their joined hands, at the boring tile of her hallway, at the shadows their bodies cast in the radiant light from the kitchen. "I'd been wondering."

"I only found out this morning."

"And how are you?"

She hadn't been able to answer that question when Janet had asked her, and it was harder now. Standing with him in the dark, their bodies warm against each other, their fingers tangled together. Again, honesty won the fight in her mind. "I don't know. It's less complicated this way."

He understood that, and more. The corner of his lip tweaked a bit as he ran the pad of his thumb along her sensitive inner wrist. His voice was little more than a whisper. "But still."

The rest of that sentence couldn't be said. Not while they were in this world, this situation, when their lives weren't conducive to what a different answer would have been.

But still.

What if it's amazing?

She could sense him pulling away, drawing back from the moment. Sense when he'd reached acceptance, maybe. Or perhaps it was just resignation.

"Go on to bed." He pressed lightly on her hand before letting go, before backing up to the other side of the narrow corridor. "I'll deal with the laundry."

"Okay." She nodded. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah."

She pushed away from the wall, taking the few steps required to get to her own door. Turning the knob, she opened it enough to slide through, looking back over her shoulder as she moved to close it.

But the Colonel was still standing in the hallway. He was leaning back against the wall, one arm crossed over his body, the other hand splayed across his eyes. His head was bowed—as if he were deep in thought, perhaps, or—more likely—prayer.

As she shut the door behind her, the thought occurred to her that she had no idea whether that prayer was in supplication, or if it was in gratitude.