Jack emerged from the bedroom several hours later after a restless night. The clock on the stove read 6:09, and Jack looked over at the guest room where Sam had spent the night.

It had broken his heart to hear his wife's cries through the paper-thin walls of the townhome throughout the night. He'd considered many times going in and comforting her, but he'd known it would have been a bad idea. She wouldn't want to see him. Not after how badly he'd hurt her.

He sighed. It was quiet now. Maybe she'd gotten some sleep.

He looked down at the counter to find a small piece of paper with his wife's handwriting on it. "Gone to the gym. S."

He swallowed. Maybe not.

-

"Samantha?"

Sam removed her headphones as she heard her name. "Yes?"

She looked over to see Sonya Martinez, dressed in workout clothes, smiling at her. "Hello."

"Sonya!" She cried, surprised.

"Mad at your husband?" Sonya asked, taking the stair master beside her friend. "Or is the world about to end?"

"Not so much mad as...upset..." Sam said with a faltering smile. "How'd you guess?"

"Look around." Sonya said, motioning to the large exercise room. "It's Saturday morning at the gym. Or as I like to call it "Take Your Spouse to Work Out" Day."

Sam chuckled appreciatively before she looked over at the woman who was obviously alone. "What about you? I don't see a better half..."

"That's because the world is going to end." Sonya laughed. "Congress is in session."

Despite her mood, Sam managed a small smile.

"How's the adoption coming?" Sonya asked after a few moments. Her tone was more subdued, but obviously interested.

Sam inhaled. "Well...."

"That good, huh?"

"Jack just told me that he's not sure we should adopt her at all."

"What?" Sonya asked, surprised. "Why not?"

Sam sighed. "I think he got a little scared. His first wife left him after their son was killed in an accidental shooting."

"Oh." Sonya said, her eyes widening. "I'd be scared too."

Sam nodded. "I was never naive enough to think that it wouldn't affect how much he wanted to have kids, but he's closed himself down in that area so well and so often that...sometimes it sneaks up on me."

"Even though you're expecting it."

"Exactly."

"He probably feels about the same," Sonya said, softly. "I mean, about the subject being closed and then so suddenly reopened."

"Probably." She agreed.

"I assume this happened last night..."

Sam nodded.

"What'd he say this morning?"

"I left before he could say anything," she admitted with a small sigh. "I guess part of me was too afraid to hear what he had to say." She bit her lip. "And...more than a little confused..."

"That his son's death complicated things?" Sonya asked, confused.

Sam shook her head. "No. That when I was crying in the other room, he didn't come in to check on me. At all."

"Ah."

"It's not like him." She said, worriedly.

"Maybe he wanted to give you enough space to deal with the argument. I mean, he hit you with the big guns there..."

"Yeah...maybe."

"Finish your workout, let me buy you a cup of coffee, and then get out of here." Sonya suggested. "And talk to him if you're ready."

Sam grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

-

"Jack, I'm home!" Sam called as she walked into the townhome and placed her keys on the table in the entryway.

There was silence, and she climbed the stairs somewhat worriedly. "Jack?"

She glanced at the living room to find nothing but an empty room. She stepped into the kitchen. He wasn't there either. And she couldn't see any notes except the one that she'd written that morning before she left for the gym.

She swallowed, nervously. It wasn't like him to just not answer her when he was home, and his truck had been in the garage. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

Seeing that the bedroom door had been shut, she inhaled and hurried to it. She quickly opened the door to find him sitting on the bed with his back toward her. The shades were drawn and the lights were off, and he seemed to clutch something in a death grip to his chest as he rocked slowly back and forth.

"Jack?" She whispered, worriedly. The thought of what he might be clutching in his hands had her more frightened than the thought that he'd gone for a walk and might not come back for hours.

Soft whimpers were her only response, and they were so foreign coming from the Lieutenant General that she almost expected to find a yelping dog nearby.

Her heart raced as she stepped quickly toward where he sat. She studied him closely as she knelt in front of him. He was clutching a picture frame in his hands, as if it was his lifeline. There were silent tears streaming down his cheeks, and Sam realized he looked like he was about five years old. "Jack," she murmured, touching his knees with her hands.

He opened his eyes, and looked down at her in utter misery. "He's gone, Sam." He choked as he turned bloodshot eyes to her.

He didn't look like he'd slept much the night before, though his crying had probably aggravated his eyes even more.

"I know." She whispered as she gently touched his arms.

He allowed her to bring them down to his lap, and gently pull the picture from his fingers so that she could set it on the nightstand.

"It hurts," he managed. "To miss him so much."

She had tears in her eyes, angry at herself that she hadn't been able to see his pain. "I know."

"He shouldn't be gone. Not before me."

She leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. A few moments passed before she leaned down and gently kissed his lips as she ran her fingers through his short silver hair. The kiss was slow and tender as she invited him to take her as close to him as he needed in an effort to comfort himself. He deepened the kiss as he accepted her invitation, nonverbally thanking her for her strength and resiliance. She gently unbuttoned his shirt as she prepared to remind him of just how much she loved him and would always love him as they danced the timeless dance of love.

-

Jack was still somewhat languid as they lay naked in one another's arms later. Still, he'd seemed to have taken the comfort he needed from her, and leaned on her reserves of inner strength enough to become more himself. His arm was wrapped, protectively, around her, and she lay her cheek on his chest, content only to hear the steady beating of his heart.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he finally murmured, looking down at her.

She looked up into his eyes. "I forgive you," she whispered tenderly.

"I should have come in to you last night." He sighed regrettably. "But I just..." He paused as he gently rolled over a little so that he could get a better look at her face. He gently brushed away a stray lock of her long blond hair which had slipped down the center of her face. He smiled faintly as he studied the familiar curves of her face. "I just...didn't want to get into it with you again."

"I wanted you to come in," she admitted with downcast eyes. "But I understand why you didn't." She looked back at him, apologetically. "I've been gone for so long, and even though I missed you even more than I've ever missed anyone in my entire life, I forgot how much harder it must be for you to stay behind without even the distractions of live combat."

He inhaled, shrugging his broad shoulders in an effort to shrug her guilt away.

"I shouldn't have pressured you into adopting Grace," she whispered, soberly. "Not that soon after returning for a mere ten-week extended leave."

"She's a cute kid," he admitted softly. "I probably would have done the same in your shoes."

They were silent for a moment, and Sam looked at her hands which were now pressed gently against her husband's bare chest. Her simple engagement ring sparkled softly in the few lazy streams of sunlight which seemed to flow slowly into the room. "Jack," she whispered. "I know and respect that you're not sure about..."

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her as she looked up. "We're too far in to back out now." He said, finally. "In just about every way..."

"Are you sure?" She asked, studying him closely as he pulled his finger back.

He nodded slowly. "She's counting on us to at least try."

She bit her lip before she looked up at him. "What about you?"

"I'll probably have some good and bad days," he admitted. "But I hope they'll be mostly good."

"Me too." She whispered as she gently caressed his cheek.

"What about...trying to get pregnant?" He asked, looking at her soberly.

Sam inhaled sharply.

"What?"

"At this stage in my life, Jack..."

"You're hardly the first woman to want to get pregnant after forty..."

She chuckled softly. "Yeah...Abraham's Sarah did have a little less than fifty years on me."

He managed an appreciative laugh as she inhaled more deeply as they each sobered. "At this point, I'll be happy if it happens, but...I'm not counting on it to happen..."

The telephone rang, and Sam moved to answer it, but Jack caught her hand, gently. "Let the machine get it."

"But..."

"If the world's ending, there's little that even you could do in the amount of time it will take them to leave a message."

"All right. You win this once." She smiled softly.

There was another ring before the machine kicked in. "Hello, you've reached the O'Neills. Also known as General Jack O'Neill and Colonel-Doctor Samantha Carter. Leave a message after the beep, and we'll get back to you as soon as we've saved the world..."

Sam gently swatted her husband.

"What?" He winked, returning for a moment to his playful self. "Plausible deniability..."

She shook her head with a chuckle as the message began.

"General. Colonel. This is Teri Brown from the Department of Social Services."

Sam sobered almost instantly, straining to listen to the message from the bedroom.

"I'm calling in regards to your application for adoption. I'd like to meet with you and go over a few....areas of interest...in your application, and discuss the results of your background checks."

Sam grasped her husband's arm, worriedly.

"I'd like to do that as soon as possible, so if you could please return my call and set up an appointment for Monday morning with my office, I'd appreciate it. My number is..."

Sam rolled over almost instantly, trying to grasp some scrap of paper and a working writing utensil.

When she found only an inkless pen, she groaned. "Damn..."

"It's a message, Sam. You can repeat it." Jack assured, gently.

She nodded, silently as she pulled the sheets around herself and hurried to the kitchen. He understood her urgency to return the call, and quite frankly, he was glad that it seemed everything was coming to a definitive close one way or the other. It was the waiting which was killing them both a little each day.

He reached for his cell, and dialed a familiar number. "It's General Jack O'Neill. I'm going to have to cancel my Monday morning meetings. Something important has come up."