As Sam sits in the seedy bar, she questions the wisdom of what she is doing. She can't believe that she left her injured husband at home to take care of a very active toddler and himself. She also can't believe that Sha'uri actually believed that she had the skills that were neccessary for her to do this. She is a stupid little girl, and she never should have come.

She was fooling herself if she thought she was a resistance worker. She would leave, but she knew there were a lot of people that were counting on her and this money. Not everyone who worked for the resistance had another job like her husband did.

"Sammy?" a familiar voice asks.

"Dad?" Sam exclaims in horror, "You have to get out of here!"

"Actually, Sam, you're the one that has to get out of here."

"Dad, please, I can't explain, but you have to leave right now," Sam says, looking around nervously. She can't even imagine what her dad would think if he saw her doing resistance work.

Jacob narrows her eyes at his daughter, suddenly realizing what is going on, "Samantha, you're not here on behalf of Sha'uri, are you?"

Sam's jaw drops, "Holy Hannah dad, are in you in the...?"

Her father cuts her off with a loud, "Shh! I can't believe they sent you out here without the proper training."

"How do you know they didn't train me?" she asks, insulted.

He laughs, "First of all, it takes longer to train a person properly than you've been married, and I think I would have noticed if my daughter was being trained before that. Secondly, there is no way you almost would have let the word slip that you almost let slip if you'd been trained."

"Ok, fine, I wasn't trained, but I'm just covering for Sha'uri, because she's not feeling well."

"Don't do it again," her father's voice warns.

She's used to taking orders from men. She's done it her whole life. But after just a few days with Jack O'Neill, a man who neither gives nor takes orders well, she's offended by the words. "You're one to talk. I can't believe that you've been doing this my whole life, and I never knew about it."

"Samantha, I don't think this is what you think it is. I'll come over to your house to talk about it tonight," he says, handing her a bag.

"And I'll do this as often as I please," she says.

He looks at her with such pain in her eyes that she feels bad about it. She's about to apologize when he says sadly, "All this time I've been searching for your mother in your face. And I could never have found it. Not until now, it just needed the proper emotion to cross your face."

Sam is confused. He's not describing the mother that appears in the few memories she has of her. Also, not in the stories people told of her. Sam can't help but wonder if she never really knew either of her parents.

-0-0-0-

"Jonathan I-wish-I-knew-your-middle-name O'Neill, please tell me you are alone."

"Sorry," Janet says, coming out of his bedroom.

Sam smiles, "Did the little boy take his medicine?" she asks.

"No!" Charlie says, trailing behind Janet.

"Not you; your father," Sam says with a smile.

"Li'le?" Charlie asks, confused.

"She was teasing; it's a joke," Jack says, walking into the room.

"Jonathan, you should have told me that my father is a member of the resistance," Sam demands.

"He's not, Sam," Jack insists.

"Really, then how come I just saw him at a drop?" Sam accuses.

"What the hell were you doing at a drop?" Jack demands in a voice only a touch below a scream.

"Sha'uri was sick…" Sam begins.

"She's sick, why didn't she send someone for me, some sicknesses are a real danger to the baby," Janet begins.

"No, she says that she was just sick because of the baby," Sam explains, causing Janet to relax.

"You are not trained. You endangered not only yourself but the entire resistance. What if you went up to the wrong guy? You could be being interrogated right now. Do you know what they mean by 'interrogation'? They torture you to death again and again. And you know what, training doesn't even help you with that. You go through six or seven deaths, and you know that that's all you have to look forward to for the rest of your life, and you are going to crack. And then I die, and Janet dies, and Ferretti dies, and Mitchell dies, and Sha'uri dies, and anyone else I have happened to mention the name of since you were here. God, Sam do you realize how selfish you are?"

"I guess I didn't think of all that," Sam stammers, trying desperately to keep the tears out of her eyes. She doesn't need him to think that she's a wuss.

"Well, you need to start thinking, babe! You're an adult now!" Jack screams.

"Jack, give her a break. She's nineteen. She's been an adult for, like, three days," Janet says.

"Would you two quit talking about me like I'm a little kid who's not even in the room? Thanks," Sam says sternly.

"Sam, the resistance isn't some game that little kids play," Jacks says.

"Well, technically, it is," Sam points out.

His look makes her really wish she hadn't said it. "I mean it's not like that. You know, when you die in real life you don't just sit out until the next round. Or if you do get to come back to life, you sure as hell wish you didn't have to. Sam, there are no second chances. You have to understand how serious this is. And you can't do anything you're not trained to do."

"I get it, Jack, I'm not going to run messages anymore," she says.

"Dada," Charlie scolds.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I yelled. Daddy shouldn't have done that," Jack says.

"'Po'gize," Charlie says, pointing to Sam.

Jack smiles at his son, before turning to Sam with cooled eyes, "I'm sorry that I yelled at you."

"Yeah, I deserved it. I'll get better at this. I'm used to being good at things. I'll get there again," Sam says.

"I'll do a better job of helping you. You know, telling you the rules. I haven't explained this whole thing I do to you, and you deserve that, you need that."

"I should probably get lost now," Janet says.

"He checked out all right?" Sam asks her as she makes her way to the door.

"Yeah, I cleared him to go back to work tomorrow," Janet says with a smile. "I could postpone that recommendation if you wanted. They'd believe me if I said a few more days. You didn't get your traditional newly-married downtime."

"We're good," Jack says, trying not to let a blush steal up his face. He has enough trouble keeping his hands off his new wife as it is. If they were actually given four days with nothing to do but stare at each other, the little that was left of his resolve would disappear.

"Sam? I could drop Charlie off with Sha'uri," Janet offers coyly.

"No, we're fine," Sam says, knowing that she wouldn't be able to deal with Jack minus all distractions. The memory of the pleasant feeling his hand gave her this morning steals over her. Although, it just might crack his resolve, and if it did, she would really enjoy that.

She glances at his iron set face.

Nope, no crack in resolve there. And as good as it would get if he finally started acting like a husband to her is as crappy as it would be if he managed to control himself. Which was looking all the more likely right now.

Janet nods her head, confused by the temperature of the room. She makes a mental note to talk to the two of them about their sex life. Not that it's her favorite topic. Not that she should be giving advice on the subject to anyone. When it came to sex, she mostly closed her eyes and prayed for it to be over. But these two, these two could end up with a healthy sex life. She could maybe be part of giving them that.

The door closes behind her. Sam looks at Jack and says, "By the way, Dad's stopping by later."

"Right, Jacob," Jack says. He wonders if it's possible that Jacob is really a member of the resistance, because if he is, he's way better at the Clark Kent thing than Jack himself. "Sam," Jack murmurs, knowing that there is an area of his life that he has to put more of act on in, "We're going to lie to Janet about sex."

Sam looks like a dear in the headlights. She can't do that. She knows nothing about sex except the vague notion that the man had some part which fit into her own never-examined, never-thought-about regions. She was pretty sure she couldn't convince someone like Janet, an older woman, a married woman, that she was actually having sex.

"We won't give her details or anything. I don't think she wants details. We just have to grin and giggle and make it look like we're a happy newly-married couple."

Sam nods. She can probably manage that.

-0-0-0-

"Daddy," Sam says as she opens the door.

"Hey, Sammy, how are you?" he asks, pulling her into a hug.

"Great Dad, and I'm sorry about today. I never should have been there," she looks bashful.

"Right, but you didn't seem to know that then. What happened between then and now?" Jacob says.

"I think I did, sir," Jack says, entering the room.

"Well, Jack, apparently you are better at disciplining my daughter than I ever was. I gave up punishing her at, what… age six, when she dared me to ground her," Jacob replies.

"Jack didn't discipline me," Sam says, hating that they are acting like she's a child, "He just explained why it was wrong, and dangerous, for everyone."

"Jacob, you're the Goa'uld official contact?" Jack asks.

Jacob nods his head.

Jack grins, "I would have sworn I knew who that was, and I did not think it was you."

"If you thought it was me, that would be pretty bad for me and the resistance and everyone, wouldn't it?"

"Right, it's just… you're really good at it. I knew you were undermining the Goa'uld. But I thought you were into purposeful 'mistakes' and losing things. I didn't actually expect you to be making drop-offs in shady bars."

"I have my moments," Jacob says.

"And you've been doing this your whole life?" Sam asks.

Jacob pauses, "You want to sit down for this story?"

Sam obeys, looking at her father with fresh eyes. "It was your mother. Kid, I was twenty and she was a reward for a good year on the job. I didn't even want a wife. I knew what it was like for a woman to be a wife, and I didn't want to be the cause of that. I knew the Goa'uld were bad. I hated them. But I wanted to live. So I did what they told me. And then your mother," he smiles at her, "She was a starter wife, she was already labeled 'rebellious' and 'unresponsive'. And she walked into my house and told me that if I tried to take her to my bed, she'd cut off my balls."

Sam's eyes bulge in shock. She doesn't have many memories of her mother, but she feels like she should have known that her mother was like that.

"I believed her, but I had no intention of doing that even before I met her. She was a resistance fighter. Back then, it wasn't what it is now. All organized and safe. What she did was crazy. You know, she mixed bombs and blew up Goa'uld ships. And you couldn't rely on her. She'd walk away in the middle of a conversation sometimes to go do mission work.

"And she hated me. God did she hate me. She hated all men. And from what I gathered about the first two husbands, she had good reason to. She hated the Goa'uld, too, but she hated humans more. She called us all 'conspirators'. She used to talk about how vast the human population of the galaxy was compared to the population of the Goa'uld. She said that if their slaves – humans and Jaffa – would revolt... you know that word?" he asks, looking at his daughter.

She shakes her head.

"It's a made-up word in the resistance; it means something like hope," Jack explains.

"No," Jacob says, staring his son-in-law in the eyes, "It's more than that. It's the source of the hope. It means fighting back, but more than that. It means winning. It means the majority taking over from the minority. It means crushing them, them not hurting people anymore. It means that they can't hurt anyone anymore, and we are free."

"That's not possible, Jacob," Jack says.

"I know," Jacob says. He pauses for a long time, "But she never knew that. The longer she lived with me, the more surprised that she got that I didn't… attack her when she was sleeping or something. Then she started calling me 'slave'."

"Clearly she was smitten," Jack says sarcastically.

Jacob glares at him, "She was pointing out that while some of the slaves had more power, we were all slaves. And I started giving her stuff I stole from the Goa'uld to help the resistance. And I started 'loosing' slave shipments. And she stopped hating me."

Sam smiles at her father.

"And then she started worrying about why I hadn't raped her. She kept asking if I thought she was ugly or if I was gay or if I was… non-functional down there, or something," he says, shifting awkwardly.

Sam looks at her father with horror. But Jacob's eyes are focused on Jack. "What the hell kind of a world do we live in where we are forced to marry women who get offended when we don't rape them?"

Sam looks at her father in horror. Never had she considered this. Women, they were bought and sold. The men did the buying and selling. But they didn't really have much more power than the woman did. They received woman as rewards at work. They didn't always have a choice either. And it would be worse to be forced to hurt others than it would be to be the one hurt. It would be much worse.

"And then one day I told her, 'Debbie, I love you and respect you, and because of this, I'm not going to touch you until you want to be touched'. And then she kissed me. And eleven months later, you entered the picture, Sammy."

"Daddy, did you lie to me about how Mom died?" Sam asks softly. Death in childbirth seemed tame after everything her father had just described.

"No, that's the ironic part. I was sure that if I ever lost Deb, it would be to fire or torture. I could find whoever hurt her and I could kill them. But it wasn't like that. You know? She just bled out on our own bed. And there was no one to blame. Unless I blamed your brother for existing or… myself," his eyes drop, leaving no question about who he chose to blame.

"Daddy, it wasn't your fault," Sam says.

Jack can't look Jacob in the eye. He knows all too well the look of a bloody mattress and a young wife clutching a tiny baby boy as she died.

"Samantha, you don't understand. I did this to her. I killed her. If men could just keep their hands off women, women wouldn't die so young!"

"But there would be no next generation, dad. If you 'kept your hands off' mom, Mark and I wouldn't exist. And Charlie wouldn't be here, either, Jack," she says, looking at him.

"Sam, you don't get this. You can't get this. You've never killed someone," Jack says.

"You two haven't either," she says firmly.

"Sammy, imagine for a minute we live in a reverse society. Pretend that you and Jack were really married, and he got pregnant. And you loved him. And you wanted that baby so much. And he died because he had your baby," Jacob says.

"Ok, but you put yourself in their shoes. They wanted to be with you. It was their choice, right?" she asks that question of Jack. She can't imagine him forcing his first wife to do anything, when he's refused to do it with her. But maybe he was a different man a few years ago. Or maybe she really didn't know him at all. It's clear that she never really knew her father.

He nods his head.

"They chose you. And they wanted babies, right?"

This time she looks at her father.

Who also nods.

"And they did this even though they knew there was a like 1 in a 100 chance they wouldn't survive. And they died. But there is no way they blamed you. They would hate that you blamed yourself."

Jacob looks away for a long moment. When he looks, back he's focused only on his son-in-law, "I'm just so grateful to you, Jack, that I'm not going to have to lose Sammy that way. I couldn't do that again."

"Hey!" Sam exclaims, "If I do have kids someday, it doesn't mean I'll die! I mean, Janet kept Jack alive when he was shot with a staff weapon. That's supposed to be impossible. I bet it would be easy for her to take care of a simple childbirth."

"She is good," Jack admits, "Much fewer people in the resistance die in childbirth than the general population, but the numbers are still too high."

"What right have you to deny me the joy of having a child? It's one of the most amazing things that a person can ever do. You've both done it. And I never get to? I thought you wanted me to be free! To have choices! It's a load of crap. You may think you're different than the other men, but you're not. You want me to be a china doll, breakable and beautiful, just like all the other men want from their wives," Sam gets up and storms out of the room, slamming the door to her room so hard that a picture frame crashes to the floor. The wood, devoid of the luxury of glass, is undamaged, but neither man makes a move to pick it up.

"I've spoiled her, of course," Jacob admits with a sigh, "There is still much more child in here than most her age. It comes from protecting her from marriage for so long."

"But she's not wrong," Jack says, staring at her door.

"No, she's not wrong," Jacob agrees.

Authors Note: So a note on maternal death rates. During the worst time back when we laid women down in hospital beds, and doctors delivered babies with dirty hands, but we didn't have modern medicine, it was somewhere between 1 and 1.5%. However, if we threw in younger brides, the numbers might go up (no time in history did the perfect storm of dirty hands, bad position, and young mothers come into play. Primitive societies do the first two right, and the last one wrong). But you times that by the five or so children many of them had in a lifetime and the risk jumps up to 5-7.5% risk. Also the way I have both wives die is the most common way that doesn't involve a pre-existing condition (TB, for example).