This chapter's a little rough. I don't know about you, but as the pandemic has become more and more prolonged, I've had moments when things I thought had been long-since resolved popped up. Maybe I'm just being insecure (though you've been incredibly kind and I have appreciated every word of it), so I wanted to explain why this sense of loss has been a strong, recurring thread in this story. Besides, in order for Sam and Jack to really rebuild their relationship, they'll need to tackle everything they've suppressed or avoided talking about. Something, they finally have a chance to do now that they're in the same place for longer than a few weeks... And Cassie and her family may be able to ease some of the ache, but she can't solve their problems for them. Just know there will be better times to come. Love to you all. - RS
P.S. On a lighter note, my editor emailed me asking about the next installment of the Lucky Sweethearts series. If you don't hear from me in the next few days/weeks, it's because I need to get my buns in gear on Sweethearts Borrowed, haha!
Sunday, November 29, 2020
Jack just stared at his wife beside him as she slept, her soft, blonde hair splayed out on the bed beside him. When he thought about how close he'd come to losing her... Not just to her illness but also to this chasm which had grown between them over the last few months...
He wanted to tug her close again. Kiss every inch of her. Show her just how grateful he was that she hadn't given in to that dream world she'd described. Not in the end. That she'd chosen to come home to him instead. That she was fighting to come back to him even now. Mentally and emotionally rather than physically, maybe, but just as fiercely as she'd fought him when he'd dared to suggest Hammond let him pick his own team members the day they'd met.
He had to resist the urge to brush her hair back from her face, to let his fingers graze her cheek. She needed her rest, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.
Jack rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
Grace.
Ever since Sam had "named" the baby they'd lost thirteen years ago, ever since she'd admitted to imagining a life where there'd been no miscarriage, he'd felt a more poignant sense of loss.
What would it have been like to see Sam as a mother? To watch some little girl with golden curls and intelligent, blue eyes run down the hallway to jump in his arms?
A little girl as smart as she was funny and maybe even a little irreverent like her dad. Who might have found fishing and baseball just as fascinating as building things and taking them apart to see how they worked.
Not that they knew if the baby they'd lost had been a girl. At this point, it was all speculation.
Still...
Sam shifted beside him, reaching across his torso for him, and he wrapped one arm around her and kissed the top of her head. She wasn't awake yet, and it was the little ways she reached for him while she was sleeping that reassured him that they were getting back to a better place in their marriage. For weeks before he'd started sleeping in the basement, she hadn't reached for him, not even when she'd been half-asleep.
He'd been over the moon when she'd come to Washington, chewed on her bottom lip as she handed him a small, wrapped frame, and watched as he revealed her secret. "Carter, I just picked you up from Andrews. I don't think that's worth a present. More just part and parcel of the 'till death do us..."
The words had died on his lips as he'd turned the frame over, expecting some other photo of the Room o' Carters as Mitchell had dubbed it. Instead, he'd blinked at the black and white scan, his earlier thoughts dissipating like mist in the sunlight. This couldn't be what he thought it was. And yet...
"Sam, are you...? Are we...?"
He'd looked up to find hope and enthusiasm shining in her eyes as she nodded. "Dr. Lam pulled me aside after we got back from picking SG-1 up from Cam's reunion. Showed me the results of my blood tests after we got back from destroying the Ori and did the scan to verify the results."
Even as he crushed her to him, his mind whirled. But how... When?
Then, he remembered the unexpected trip he'd made to Cheyenne Mountain several weeks earlier. To determine how to proceed with Daniel.
How Sam had insisted they go home for dinner while the IOA deliberated on what to do. That they'd call him if they needed him.
How when they got there, Jack had a chance to release his military persona for just a moment and admit how worried he was for Daniel. Not just physically, but for his soul. Like Daniel had been when Jack had been tortured by Ba'al and revived using the sarcophagus. Over and over and over...
How Sam had kissed him, tugged him close. Had whispered that she just needed her husband to remind her everything was going to be okay after all that she'd endured. How this was their first opportunity to be together since she'd been shot, since she'd come home from the alternate reality. That they wouldn't lose Daniel again. That even if they did, they'd still have each other. Something they hadn't had last time.
How protection had been the last thing on either of their minds.
Jack had let his lips raise in a wry grin as he took another look at the first picture they had of their baby. "I never thought I'd have to thank Daniel for something like this."
Sam had laughed as Jack had kissed her, then blinked away tears as he knelt in front of her so he could be face-to-face with her still-flat belly. His thumbs had dusted her smooth skin, gently lifting her shirt. Her hand had rested on his arm, pleased. "I don't know if you have ears yet, little one, but in case you do, just know you're wanted and loved. By your mom and me, for sure, but you were hoped for a long time before you came. And one day, I'll tell you all about your big brother, Charlie. He would have been so happy to hear you're finally on your way."
Sam had let her fingers feather through his gray hair as he leaned in and kissed her stomach.
Aqua pulled Jack out of his reverie as she set her nose on the bed beside him. Staring at him with eyes the color of the wintry sky outside. "You need to go outside, girl?"
Sam sighed into his shoulder again, and Jack was reluctant to let go of her in this moment. But it wasn't going to be good if Aqua didn't go outside.
He leaned down and kissed his wife's forehead. "I'm taking the dog out. I'll be right back."
Sam's grip on him tightened as he tried to extricate himself from her embrace.
One more kiss to reassure her as he pulled her arms from around his middle. Then, he sat up and stepped onto the cold hardwood floor. His toes curled back upward as if to protect against the cold DC air. He steeled himself against the cold and stood, lightly tapping his thigh. "Come on, girl."
Walking down the stairs and into the kitchen brought a host of other memories.
He'd made oatmeal that morning. Set out bowls with fresh berries and nuts in case Sam was feeling queasy. Poured a couple cups of orange juice instead of making coffee.
His thoughts had been quiet, contemplative, as he studied the email his assistant had sent him with his schedule for the day. Taking Sam to the White House so she could brief Hayes on what had occurred during her trip to the alternate reality. Suddenly, he was even more grateful she'd managed to come back from that. It didn't sound like the kind of place he would have wanted his kid to grow up. Even better, that Sam had come back before she'd even known she was pregnant, so he could be with her every step of the way.
At the same time, he dreaded hearing her talk about what he'd read in her report. How she'd been zatted by the Secret Service. Then bound and gagged.
Couldn't be good for an expectant mother.
Wait... His memory snagged on something that felt wrong about that. Daniel had come back after Sam had come back from the alternate reality. She couldn't have been pregnant then.
Only a small relief. But relief nonetheless.
Then, his stomach had plummeted when he remembered what Sam had told him about using the Chimera Optix Projection system. How if she hadn't been quick-thinking, the assassin would have gotten in a likely fatal shot. Even if Sam would have survived that, it was a near surety that the baby wouldn't have.
Sam had padded down the stairs and wrapped her arms around his neck with a kiss to his cheek right about then, almost startling him with her touch.
Almost.
She'd slipped into the seat beside him at the dining room table. "Smells good."
He'd turned to face her. "Thanks. Wasn't sure how you'd be feeling, so I went with simple."
She'd sneaked a couple of the blueberries, then served a heaping ladle of the oatmeal in the white rectangular bowl she'd picked up last time she'd been in town. "I'm great. Starving, actually."
He'd raised an eyebrow. Sara had been sick from morning to night with Charlie. It had been so bad that even oatmeal had made her gag one time out of two for the first six months.
It was one of the reasons Charlie had been an only child.
Jack had set aside his iPad and turned his attention to his own breakfast. "We should probably talk about what happens now."
Sam had tensed. "You mean, what active duty looks like now?"
He coughed, uncomfortably, as he spooned some brown sugar into his bowl. "Among other things."
She'd looked chagrined as she licked some of the gooey residue the oatmeal had left on her thumb. "We can't exactly keep up the two household thing with a baby on the way, can we?"
He'd shrugged as he took his first bite of breakfast. "I'm sure we can, Carter. Doesn't mean I want to."
She nodded. "Me, either."
She savored the breakfast with new relish. "This is delicious, Jack. It's like when we had Urgo in our brains making pie taste better than normal."
Jack had laughed to himself at her childlike enthusiasm. "I'm a little disappointed I'm missing out."
She took a heaping bite of oatmeal. "Lam wants to talk about what active duty looks like when I get back from Washington. Chances are, they'll put me in the science labs until I take maternity leave."
He sipped at his orange juice. "Doesn't exactly fix our problem of living sixteen hundred miles apart."
She'd given him a sardonic smile. "All I mean is that once we know what the Air Force has planned, we can figure out our next steps."
"I could retire."
She'd rolled her eyes as she'd scattered a few walnuts on her oatmeal. "Be serious. We need you right where you are."
He'd let the comment slide, but he'd known even then that he wouldn't do parenthood long-distance. Not this time. If it came down to his kid or his job, he'd choose his kid. Hands down.
Jack sighed as he opened the back door for Aqua. This time, he followed the dog out into the backyard and sat on the step like Sam had one of those first nights after she'd come back. The space had come together a little more. Before she'd gotten sick, Sam had ordered a five-piece couch, armchair, and fire pit coffee table set that had come while she was in the hospital. She'd also upgraded Jack's little one-person grill to a full propane grill set which he'd used a few times over the summer, and which she said he'd need when she invited all the members of SG-1 for a barbecue when the social distancing requirements were finally lifted. Now, however, it was in the corner, covered so it wouldn't be damaged in the winter weather.
After she'd come home (and before he'd gotten a chance to use his new grill), Sam had purchased an outdoor dining set, complete with umbrella to protect against sun or rain.
Jack had tried to encourage her to get some seeds or something, tried to get her to tap into the woman who talked to her plants and liked seeing a little greenery in her windowless, underground lab. She'd politely, yet insistently, declined his offer. "I hardly have energy to do what I need to do to take care of myself, Jack. I'd feel awful if my neglect killed a tomato plant or a geranium."
He suspected that getting her hands dirty, that by doing something more than sitting and thinking about everything she'd lost, she'd actually find herself again. But it hadn't been the right time to say anything.
Otherwise, there might have been a little garden in the corner, fenced off so the dog and other critters couldn't get at the plants.
If it wasn't winter, he might be tempted to try again. But maybe he'd start by ordering one of those little fresh basil or cilantro plants you could order from the grocery store. Something that would stay in the house. Let her grow attached to it. Let her naturally start caring for it.
He glanced over at the space he'd reserved for the telescope. Ever since he'd realized he'd had feelings for her, he'd wanted to spend a night with Sam just looking at the stars. Now that they were on earth together for longer than a few weeks, now that he was working from home as much as he could, he'd hoped this would be the year they could open a bottle of wine, snuggle up close, and let him kiss her every time she started her technobabble. Had hoped she'd have started giggling at some point, the meteor shower forgotten as she melted in his arms.
But a couple of weeks ago, when he'd broached the subject of making a thermos of coffee and bringing out a blanket so they could watch the Leonids meteor shower outside, she'd changed the subject. Even with their most recent marital thaw, he wasn't expecting that she would miraculously be interested in joining him for viewing the Geminids meteor shower.
In fact, he wasn't even sure if he would bring it up this time. Maybe he'd just wait and see. Maybe this time she'd—
The glass door behind him opened, and he looked over his shoulder to find Sam leaning in the doorway, still half-asleep. She shivered, and he couldn't tell if it was just the chill in the air or if it was her persistent tremors from the nebulous neurological toll COVID had taken on her system. "You said you were coming back to bed."
He stood, a couple vertebrae in his spine cracking as he did so, his knee giving a firm pop as well. He bent down and rubbed his knee. "Sorry. Lost track of time. I guess I was woolgathering."
There was the woman he'd married, shining back at him through her blue eyes as they danced in amusement and affection. "Woolgathering, huh?"
He shrugged as he walked back over to her. "You want anything special for breakfast?"
She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek on his chest. "Surprise me."
Her words triggered another round of memories.
He'd driven her to the White House to meet with the President. "I was thinking of taking you out to dinner tonight. Junior in the mood for anything in particular?"
She'd just smiled serenely at him, one hand cradled in her lap protectively. "Surprise us."
He'd taken her other hand in his and kissed her knuckles. "Hey, I love you."
She'd squeezed his hand as he turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue. "I love you, too."
Jack's stomach flipped, and he lost all interest in breakfast. He checked his watch. "It's only seven. I figured we could stay in bed a little longer since it's Sunday. Aqua might complain, but—"
Sam's blue eyes analyzed his expression. "Jack, are you okay?"
He kissed her temple, not really interested in answering the question, then slipped into the kitchen where he pulled out the leftover turkey from Thanksgiving, a few carrots, an onion, and some frozen peas. He'd even grabbed one of the boxes of frozen puff pastry. "Cassie and the kids are coming for Sunday dinner tonight. I was thinking we could have turkey pot pie with the leftover little cranberry brie bites Cassie made on Thursday. It's supposed to be partly cloudy and a little chilly. I think a pot pie would be just right. Then, we can have any leftovers tomorrow for lunch when it gets drizzly."
"Jack..."
He clenched the edge of the countertop with one hand. "Sam, if I wanted to talk about it, I would be talking about it."
She didn't stiffen the way he expected. Just nodded. "Okay. Whatever you need."
But she'd come over and reached for one of the pots under the stove. "At least let me help you with dinner prep. We'll stick it in the fridge until we're ready to preheat the oven."
As they worked together in silence, Jack's thoughts went back to the White House thirteen and a half years ago.
"Forgive me, Colonel, but it doesn't sound all that bad." Despite the seriousness of the discussion over the last two days, Henry Hayes hadn't lost the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "Earth was saved from the Ori."
Sam had blinked at the president. "All due respect, sir, but it was worse than you think. Martial law. Civil liberty violations. What's the point of protecting the planet if we give up everything we stand for? Everything that makes us who we are."
Jack had studied her with a different concern furrowing his brow. She looked pale. A little green, even. "Mr. President, sir, maybe we should take a break."
President Hayes opened his mouth, but Sam shook her head. "I'm fine, General. I only need another minute."
Jack leaned in close to her, not really caring how intimate the moment appeared. "Sam, you look like you're either going to throw up or pass out. We'll convince him together in a minute or two. No shame in taking a break. Especially now."
His gaze had darted to her stomach, discreetly.
She'd just nodded before she looked back at the president. "I'm sorry, sir. I just need a second."
Hayes had stood and walked over to the desk. "No problem, Colonel. I needed to stretch my legs, myself. Let's take a break for lunch and meet back here in an hour."
She'd moved to stand but she went even more pale as she wavered. Jack had grabbed her by the arms and helped her back to the couch, immediately trying to figure out what he could do to help her feel better.
"Colonel?"
She had waved away the president's concern. "I'll be fine, sir. Really. Just stood up too fast, I think."
She'd been a little shaky as she tried again. This time, she'd been able to make it to the door though Jack had hovered closely. He checked his watch. Thirteen-hundred hours. She'd had breakfast at 0700. Maybe her blood sugar had tanked.
If that didn't work, he was calling Carolyn.
"Can you point us toward the mess?"
Henry had pressed the intercom button and asked his receptionist for some assistance. "Colonel Carter, I can have them bring up a tray, if that would be better?"
Before Sam could object, Jack had nodded. "Thank you, sir. She'd appreciate that."
As the receptionist guided Sam to one of the other rooms near the Oval Office, Hayes had waved Jack back. "You'd tell me if she'd been exposed to something off world, wouldn't you, Jack?"
He'd just managed a thin smile. "As far as I know, the last time anything breached containment at the SGC, it was the prior plague. I think she's just got low blood sugar. She'll perk right up after lunch."
The president must have caught something in Jack's expression. "Do you have something else you need to tell me, Jack?"
He'd shaken his head. "No, sir. I'll keep an eye on her, and we'll let you know if anything changes."
The president had nodded. "Okay. I guess I'll have to trust you."
As Jack had predicted, she'd gotten a little better color after lunch. Managed to finish her debriefing another hour after that.
He'd nudged her with his shoulder as they walked out of the Oval Office. "Nice job, Colonel."
He'd expected her to blush with the camaraderie and praise, but her expression had been wan and distracted. "Carter?"
She'd just managed a thin smile as they passed a restroom and she split away from him. "I'll just be a minute."
"Jack?" Her voice pulled him from his thoughts as she motioned to where they kept the salt and pepper grinders.
He handed them to her as she studied him. "You've been a little out of sorts all morning. Is this still about our argument last night?"
He shook his head. "Just thinking."
She gave him a look that seemed to say I knew that much, I'm not an idiot. "About what?"
He sighed as he looked at her. "You said that little girl on the Prometheus was the projection of the gas cloud."
Sam stiffened. "If I remember correctly, my official report said that the Daniel I hallucinated thought that. I never made any speculation in my report."
"But now, you think she was some projection of your kid."
There was a sad look in Sam's eye as she stirred together the pot pie mixture. "What my kid might have been like, maybe. Brown, curly hair. Bright, inquisitive, happy eyes. An easy going demeanor. Fascinated by the possibility of everyday, ordinary things."
"Like?"
Sam shifted as she ladled the creamy mixture into the glass baking dish. "Like surface tension."
"Everyday, ordinary things, huh?"
She chuckled. "She was blowing bubbles at the time, Jack."
Understanding dawned. "Ah."
Affection graced her smile. "She liked to play. Wanted me to take a break from my work and play with her." She reminded me of you that way."
Jack didn't speak, just tried to figure out how he felt about it all.
Sam rolled out the puff pastry over the baking dish as Jack prepared the egg mixture to glaze over the pastry. "Why do you bring her up?"
Jack was quiet as he whipped the egg up with a fork. "Just thinking."
Sam didn't speak for several seconds as he handed her the egg and she brushed it over the pastry. When she was through, he wordlessly lifted the dish and set it in the fridge. "This is because I dreamed we had a daughter, isn't it? That my subconscious named her Grace."
Jack wasn't one to reopen old wounds, but for some reason this one wouldn't leave him alone. He just rubbed his face. "I don't know. I just know that yesterday, I hadn't though about the miscarriage in almost six months. Not much, anyway, and today I can't help but revisit every little thing about that trip."
How she'd come out of the bathroom with a dazed look in her eye. Pale again. I think I need a doctor. I'm bleeding.
How he'd rushed her to the emergency room. Probably run a couple red lights if the way Sam had clutched at his arm had been any indication. Jack, you're gonna get us both killed if you keep driving like that. Slow down.
How he'd known from the look on the doctor's face after the exam that there was nothing they could do. How even as he was going numb, he'd wrapped his arms around Sam and tried to comfort her.
It had been thirteen years ago, and yet it sometimes seemed like it was yesterday. Especially now.
Sam rocked onto the balls of her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jack returned the embrace by holding her tightly around the waist.
Sam's thumb gently caressed the back of his neck as she held him. He'd expected her to apologize, but the silence had been oddly refreshing. Like they were finally going to process the loss together.
His hold on her tightened. He'd been grumpy for several weeks after Sam had returned to Cheyenne Mountain. SG-1 and Landry had only been told the cover story Jack had thrown together: that Henry Hayes hadn't been able to wrap his mind around a Landry Presidency. That it would be another week or so before Sam could return to the SGC.
He'd decided to deal with the fallout if anyone called him on his bluff, but he'd had a feeling he'd be safe.
When he'd gotten off the phone with Landry, advising him to send SG-1 on their next business without Sam, Jack had thrown the phone against the wall in his home office. Then, he'd sunk to the ground with his knees to his chest and his head in his hands.
He'd only had a few seconds to himself before Sam had called his name, weakly, from the other room.
Come to think of it, he'd never actually grieved. Just pasted on a stiff upper lip and kept going.
Then, Sam had gotten the brilliant idea to create a path of gates between Atlantis and Earth. Had recruited Rodney to help with the calculations. Had gotten herself signed to lead a team of scientists building the Midway station. And from there, gotten assigned to Atlantis. Then, after a year, she'd been transferred to the Hammond.
Which had effectively ended any attempts they might have made to try again. No matter how many times they'd whispered to each other in those first days after the miscarriage that they'd try again.
The resentment that reared its head at that memory shocked him to the core. Not against her. But against her commitment to the Air Force. A commitment he'd been sure he completely supported just a moment ago.
But last night, as he'd taken Sam up to bed, he'd taken a moment outside his home office to imagine it as a bedroom. With posters on the wall. A miniature person inside, grumbling about a lack of privacy as they slammed the door shut.
His heart had squeezed at the thought. At the longing, not just for Charlie but for the child that had been a momentary dream for them. The child that hadn't meant to be.
Sam must have noticed the look in his eye because she wrapped one arm around his waist and leaned her cheek against his chest. She'd once told him that she liked hearing the steady beat of his heart when she felt unsettled. That it comforted her. "I guess our problems started a lot earlier than the start of the pandemic. We just had the luxury of pretending we were impervious to everything."
He tried to give her a wry smile. "We're not?"
She snickered against his chest.
He pulled her close so that she was directly facing him. Fully encircling her in his arms. He grew serious again. "We're going to be okay, right? You and me?"
There was a hint of doubt in her eyes before she nodded, emphatically. "Of course."
That was less reassuring than he'd hoped, and she must have seen his reaction because she grew somber herself. "Cassie reminded me the other day that I can be pretty stubborn."
A smile graced his lips as he thought of their first meeting in the briefing room all those years ago. Of how he'd let Ferretti and Kawalsky put her through her paces when Hammond had first introduced her. "I would never have guessed."
She smiled in appreciation before she looked down at his chest. "I'm not letting you go without a fight, Jack. That's a promise."
He put his finger under her chin and guided her vision up to his gaze. Then, he brushed his thumb against her lips before he claimed them for his own.
For the first time in months, it seemed she couldn't get enough of him. Clinging to him, tugging at his lips, pulling at him to get closer. It was different than any other passionate moment they'd shared. He could almost taste her emotions, the desperation, the fear.
They overwhelmed his system, and he pulled away. "I'm sorry, Sam, I can't."
She stilled. "What do you mean, you can't?"
He pulled away from her, his brain going back to that goa'uld force shield. Back to banging on the bedroom door for her to let him in.
He could read the hurt in her eyes. The confusion. He wanted to take it all away, but with these images, he just—
He grabbed the keys to the truck. "I'll be back later."
Sam wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to comfort herself through the rejection. "Where are you going?"
He shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not quite sure, but I'll be back in time for dinner."
And he retreated.
