AN: Ok, I figure the end of this chapter qualifies my status as a member of the Evil Writer's Guild for the next six months. Bwahahaha ...

AN: I'm still having trouble writing new stuff on this story, though I have gotten a scene or two written since last week's post. I know exactly what needs to happen in the end, just not how to get there from here. Aargh. Anyway, here we go.

AN: We're not going to meet Michael for a few chapters yet, just so you know.

The next day, Sam was in her lab when the "unscheduled offworld activation" claxon started up. She wasn't on the flagship team anymore, and the Gateroom staff was very competent. If they needed her help, they'd call, but she wasn't about to go running every time her boyfriend came back from a mission like some overgrown school-girl with a crush. And with limited hours again now that Jack was probably back, she couldn't afford to lose any time.

Jack wandered down the hall, having just escaped the briefing room. He needed to see how Daniel was doing; this mission had been a doozy for him. But first, he hadn't seen Sam in a couple of days. He had a sneaking suspicion that while he'd been gone she'd barricaded herself in her lab and worked way harder than she was supposed to. Her work ethic was incredible, but she needed to learn how to take care of herself.

The door to her lab was open, as always. He stuck his head in. "Hey."

"Hey," Sam replied distractedly, fiddling with something.

After a second, she glanced up at him and smiled. Was it just him, or did the room brighten up? Okay, that was a horrible cliché, but what the hell. Sam Carter's smile really was at least 100-watt. Maybe more.

"How was the mission?" she asked, sitting back and rubbing her neck. And, yeah, she really did look like hell, smile not withstanding. On the other hand, if he brought up the subject of her work habits while he was gone, she'd probably kill him just on general principles.

"Oh, you know," he said, picking up a—well, he wasn't too sure what it was—from her desk and turning it over in his hands. "We came, we saw, Teal'c and I fought a mythical monster, Daniel destroyed a weapon meant to take Goa'uld out of their hosts, we left."

"What? Why?"

Jack shrugged. "It had captured Teal'c and me. Teal'c couldn't leave without it killing his symbiote, but he'd die without it. It was either destroy the weapon or leave him there in the cave it brought us to."

"And you made Daniel destroy it?" She shook her head. "God, that must have been hard."

"I didn't make him destroy it," Jack protested. "I gave him the staff weapon and told him it was his choice. Teal'c had already volunteered to stay there until we could either find a way for him to leave safely or until we brought Sha're there and freed her."

"And Daniel would never put his own personal feelings above someone else's life," Sam said, shaking her head, "and since we have no idea even where to find her…"

Jack shrugged. "Yeah. And if it was his decision, there's less chance of him resenting me or Teal'c for it. Anyway, I haven't had a chance to talk with him since we got back, I thought I'd check on him, see how he's doing. Wanna come along?"

Sam paused, head tilted to one side. "Okay," she said. "I just finished a group of tests, anyway." She flipped a few switches and slid down from her stool.

Jack escorted her out the door. "And then, since it's already a quarter to five, I figured we could head on out."

Sam shook her head. "I want to get the data compiling in the computer before I go. It shouldn't take long—twenty minutes, tops. I can catch a ride home with Janet, though."

Jack thought about insisting on waiting for her, but figured she wanted to spend time with the only female friend she had, so far as he knew. Far be it from him to interrupt 'girl talk.' "Okay. Do we need any groceries, anything?"

"Just milk, I think."

Daniel was sitting hunched over his desk, writing furiously away in a notebook of some kind when they reached his office. Sam figured it probably wasn't his report—he'd use the computer for that. Did he keep a diary or something?

"Hey," Jack said softly.

"Hey, Jack," Daniel said without looking up.

"How are you … doing?" Jack said, shifting.

Daniel stopped writing, though he still didn't look up. "I'm fine," he said, seeming to find his pen infinitely more interesting than them.

"Sure?" Jack said.

Sam elbowed him in the side. "I'm really sorry, Daniel."

"Yeah, so am I," Daniel said, looking up at them for the first time. To Sam's surprise, there were no tears in his eyes. But from his haunted look, maybe it would have been better if there were.

"Look, you wanna come over to our house tonight?" Jack asked. "Maybe have a beer, maybe crash in the spare room. Watch the Simpsons."

"Isn't the spare room still full of boxes?" Daniel asked.

"No, it's cleaned out and packed away," Sam said, fighting down a twinge of annoyance that she knew wasn't pure selfishness. Jack's first night back and he was inviting Daniel to come on over and camp out, including beer that Daniel didn't like but she couldn't have because of the pregnancy. Daniel looked pretty out of it, and if that helped, she could live with it.

Daniel considered it for a moment, glancing between them. Sam hoped he hadn't picked up on her first reaction. "No," he said. "Thanks, but I kind of want to be alone, right now. Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay," Jack said, nodding.

"You never know," Sam said. "Maybe we'll find the race who created that weapon and they can build another one for us, or take Amaunet out a different way."

"Maybe," Daniel said, going back to his notebook.

Jack noticed a car parked in the road with a man in it. The car was generic but relatively new; the guy was in civvies, a bit older than Jack. He seemed to be reading a book of some kind. Maybe waiting for someone; he didn't look too suspicious, but maybe Jack should keep an eye out. Jack pulled his truck into his driveway and grabbed the milk. He glowered at the garage—that was going to be the next project, Sam said. She wanted it cleared of boxes and organized enough so she could at least put her Volvo in it, and possibly his truck as well. Jack had no clue what all was in there; it was filled with a combination of stuff left over from the minor renovation he'd done when he bought the place and yet more boxes from his life with Sara that he'd never bothered to unpack. Truth be known, he hadn't packed them in the first place, either—Sara had taken care of that. Jack hated packing, and unpacking was even worse.

He set the milk jugs down on the step and fumbled with his keys. That was the other thing. Sam insisted on keeping the door locked when they weren't there, which was so much more hassle. He opened the door and picked up the milk again.

"Excuse me."

Jack turned around to see the guy from the parked car standing there. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I thought Sam Carter lived here," the man said with a frown. He was several inches shorter than Jack and balding, and he carried himself well despite a slight middle-aged spread.

"She does," Jack said. "In fact, she's supposed to get here in a couple of minutes. Wanna come in and wait?"

The guy looked him up and down before nodding. "Sure," he said, still studying Jack with a hint of suspicion. Jack wasn't sure why; after all, Jack was the one inviting a stranger into his house, not the other guy.

Jack headed into the house. The guy followed, closing the door behind them. Jack put the milk in the fridge. Sam must have gone shopping while he was gone, because it was fuller than he remembered. He rearranged stuff to make room for the milk. It was a pretty small fridge; with the two of them in the house and a baby on the way, maybe they should get a bigger one.

"You gonna tell me who you are?" the guy said as he finished.

Jack raised an eyebrow. Considering it was his house and the other guy hadn't introduced himself, either, that was a pretty belligerent tone. "Jack O'Neill. With two 'l's." He turned to face the guy more directly, arms crossed. "And you are?"

His question was ignored. "Colonel Jack O'Neill? Air Force, Cheyenne Mountain, Project Blue Book?" The guy looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, sourness and outrage warring for control of his face.

"Yeah, that's me," Jack said. "And again. You are?"

They were interrupted by the door opening. "Honey, I'm home," Sam chirped, sounding much more cheerful than she had on base. "Guess what! I think I might have felt the baby move!"

Movement caught Jack's eye, and he turned back to the stranger just in time to see a fist swinging towards his face, too late to do anything about it. He was knocked to the floor, hitting his head on the fridge as he went down.

"Dad!"

Oh, crap.