A Thoughtful Fourth

Morning sickness – what a strange name for an affliction that appeared whenever it damn well saw fit. At least that's the way Samantha Carter felt as she recovered from her latest bout of vomiting. Her obstetrician had assured her the nausea would become less frequent as she moved into her second trimester. She could only hope he was telling her the truth.

This time it just happened to be morning, the morning of July 4th. A holiday dedicated to celebrating the country she, Jack and so many others had fought to defend. It was also called Independence Day. Tied to the bathroom as she'd been lately, the last thing Sam Carter felt was independent.

She'd said goodbye to her posting on Atlantis one week after telling Jack the news of her pregnancy. That was Memorial Day. It seemed a lifetime ago. So much had changed.

This was supposed to be a happy holiday, full of family gatherings and celebrations, the high point of the early summer season. But right now morning sickness and recent events conspired to make this day less than joyful. In fact Sam felt downright morose as she sat alone in her front yard watching the sun come up.

General Hammond had passed away unexpectedly exactly one week ago today. A massive coronary they'd said. At least with her dad she'd had a chance to say goodbye. But the General...

"Morning," a familiar sleepy voice called from behind her. "I made coffee, if you're up to it."

It was a testimony to how miserable Sam felt, physically and emotionally, that she'd gotten this far into her day without coffee.

"I think I'll skip it," she said. "I'm enjoying the water and saltine diet at the moment."

Jack pulled up a chair next to her. Casually, he reached over and took her hand in his. Without missing a beat, he joined his wife in silently staring at the slowly rising sun.

"I thought we could watch fireworks tonight," he suggested after the sun had cleared the horizon.

Venturing into a crowd of Fourth of July revelers tonight was definitely not something Sam wanted to do.

"Maybe ...," she said. Jack didn't need to be a mind reader to know she was light years away.

"You don't feel so good, do you?" he ventured.

"Stomach's a bit off again," she answered. "Morning's not my best time of day recently, case you haven't noticed." For the first time since he'd joined her, Sam turned to face him. There were tears in her eyes and her cheeks were wet.

"Hey, do I need to call the doctor?" Jack asked, realizing Sam's high pain tolerance, and worrying there might be a problem with the baby.

"No," she shook her head. "Just let me cry on your shoulder a bit. The hormones aren't making this any easier."

"George?"

She nodded gently, her eyes fixed on his, her grief palpable.

"It's strange," she said. "He'd been trying to get you to call him by his first name the last couple years. Now he's gone, all of a sudden he's George."

"Yeah, strange," he agreed. "I wish that was all it was. We're going to miss him."

"I already do," Sam said. "In a lot of ways he was a second father to me. He reminded me so much of Dad. He was great."

"He was," Jack agreed. "Any other CO, I'd have been out a long time ago."

In spite of herself Sam giggled. It was her first dose of typical Jack levity today. She needed it badly.

"General Hammond did put up with a lot from you, didn't he?"

"You too… no?" Jack stated more than asked.

"Me … I was helpful," Sam insisted, "the foremost expert on the Stargate and all that."

"Right," Jack mouthed teasingly. With that he leaned over and kissed her gingerly, effectively warding off the elbow in the side he knew was coming.

And then she did lean in and cry on his shoulder.

OoOoOo

Several minutes later, Jack had shed a few tears of his own. Never one for long drawn out "talk about our feelings" sessions, he decided to change the subject.

"This is the first time you'll be spending the fourth here," he said. "You know, at the house, our house."

"Your point?"

"The roof is good for more than stargazing you know," he said.

She nodded, cooperating with Jack's attempt to lighten the mood.

"We have done other things there as I recall, " Sam said thoughtfully.

He smirked, that great, close mouthed grin of his where his eyes lit up in boyish mischief.

"Yes, we have," he acknowledged. "But there is a third thing that roof is good for, an unobstructed view of the local fireworks display.

"You mean we can stay home and watch them?"

"And make our own while we're at it if you're up to it."

"That's why I love you, always thinking of my welfare," Sam teased.

They were going to be okay, more than okay. And it would have made George Hammond very happy indeed.

The End (until the next holiday.

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