A/N: I re-uploaded chapter five with minor changes that bothered me. I'm totally exhausted after five days of horseback riding multiple times a day and dealing with kids. I'm sore all over. Anyway, this is the last actual chapter of "Changing Circumstances", mostly because I think the last should be considered an epilogue.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Stargate franchise.

Changing Circumstances – chapter six

Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances – Viktor Frankl

"Now you take good care of your mom, right? I'll be back in no time."

"Of course."

The two hug, the sort of hug between relatives and people who truly care about each other. His voice gets gravelly like he is holding back manly tears. He tousles her hair and smiles.

"Be good, Ellie."

"I will miss you, Jack."

He looks at her, his foster child (as good as) and smiles nonchalantly. "Yeah, me too."

"Where is she? I demand to see her, she's –."

The petite doctor stares shocked at the stretcher before her eyes, the paramedics who flew across the country with her having backed off once they heard the threat in Janet Fraiser's voice. Oh God. Fearing the worst and being shocked beyond imagination is a thing she would not wish on her worst enemy. Perhaps the ones who did this to her best friend. Swallowing throatily, she tries to remain calm and stoic and professional when all that goes through her head is how did she survive this?

The smiling Sam, who she rendezvoused with just last week, is lying, covered in tubes and medical equipment and returning paramedics following her instructions, awaiting orders.

Janet acts quickly, like she always does, but she cringes every time she catches a glimpse of blonde hair or Sam's unconscious face. Medical terminology flows from her mouth, and her mind operates with speediness previously unrivaled while the more private person in her worries not only for Sam's physical state but her mental one. The baby is a secondary concern, as much as she hates to admit it after weeks of girlfriendly talks and chit-chatter with Sam about it. Not it, she corrects herself, forcing back tears that threaten to come, a him. Sam seemed so ridiculously happy about it last week when they had lunch together and went shopping on one of those rare occasions where Cassie had done all of her homework and had no trouble staying at a friend's.

There are so many factors when it comes to Sam that Janet can't even begin to list them down and check them. The pregnancy. The previous hosting of multiple symbiotes, the protein marker, the previous pregnancy, the suppressants. She wants to scream and wake up from this nightmare, but she cannot risk Sam's life to act childishly immature.

She orders the paramedics around, knowing these guys are the very best. Top of the line. And Sam shouldn't be needing them. She is not Air Force any longer, she should be safe, Janet thinks bitterly. But now she will have to work on her best friend like were she an injured soldier and not mother of two.

Hours later, she is still in the operation room with her staff who fulfill their job requirements. Janet must stand back and let the doctor in her work like this is just another patient. She cringes mentally when she sees the blood and the bruising, the paleness and the shadows on her body. Can this really be her friend? It is so surreal; she has treated Sam before on many occasions before she quitted the Stargate Program. Before she came to rediscover Sam as a mother. Now she is family. To assess the injuries and to try and fix things that shouldn't be wrong is frustratingly hard. Maintaining professionalism is so easy that it scares her.

They work past dawn, colleagues joining the corridors with worried faces, their expressions painted with fear, concern and utter fright for Sam's condition. Vala, Teal'c, Daniel. But who surprises Janet the most once she steps into the corridor is a face she has not seen in months. Once again, she swallows deeply as she makes her way to the group of family. The kind of family that transcends death. Going over the list of injuries – and surely forgetting some – in her head, she looks down at the medical chart, equally eager and unwilling to return to Sam's side.

She glances at Jack O'Neill, seeing the changes off-world deployment has made. His beard is scruffy and day-old, his skin tanned by a harsh sun, his eyes the same troubled and upset he would grant every member of SG-1, who he no longer leads. Despite this, his leadership has not changed. The fact that Sam is retired changes nothing. To him – to them – she is one of their own. To Jack, however, she is more than that. The term girlfriend seems so belittling to define what they have been through. When she thinks of Ellie, Sam and Jack, she sees a joyful family. Everything has now fallen apart.

She opens her mouth to speak but can form no words when she sees the despair on their faces, mirroring her own. This is Sam. She is off-limits. So, when she begins to cite the wounds and injuries, Janet sees the relief that she is alive fall because of the many proofs that she shouldn't be.

Cracked ribs, swollen face, broken wrist, broken collarbone, sore chest, contusions, dislocated knee, internal bleeding. The list goes on, mercilessly painful, but when she reaches the end of her list, she pauses, looking at Jack, then catching Daniel's gaze. The baby. Jack doesn't know, Sam told her that. Should she be the one to tell him? He deserves to know, but now is not the time nor the place. She has survived the first surgery, but will need reconstructive once her body recovers from the first. Sam is so swollen that Jack won't be able to tell the difference – due to her height, Sam is not showing yet, that much at least.

As soon as he is informed of the injuries and allowed to see Sam, Jack brushes past Janet into her room. Janet closes her eyes painfully, holding back tears as she hugs the medical chart, damning this day.

Because not only is Sam in danger, but Elara is gone.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Elara?"

"I wanna be a pilot; like Jack and Mom."

Not for the first time, Sam halts her breath and subtly wonders if Ellie meant to add her father to that statement, while she glances at Michelle's mom and pretends everything is alright.

Three days later, Janet is working the night shift when Sam stirs in her bed. Her swelling has dimmed, her temperature broken. This afternoon she sent Jack home, ordered the rest of the team out of there. Sam has yet to awake. Tubes cover her, monitoring her condition while Janet tries, unsuccessfully, to distract herself with reports. Even Cassie is worried for Sam, and if she doesn't awaken soon, odds for slipping into a coma are severe.

Jacob Carter has been contacted. The healing device will help Sam's natural healing ability, but Janet fears for the life of the baby. Technically, it shouldn't be a problem, but since the user of the device must be certain of what wounds to heal, Jacob must be acutely aware of every inch of his daughter's body and the state he should return it to. If he does not know upon healing, the baby might be seen as a threat, an injury to be absorbed into the body. There is also the slight possibility that the device might not work because of her state of pregnancy. Janet has done her best to fix her friend, but the waiting is killing her.

A groan confirms that Sam is, indeed, waking. She storms out of her office and into the infirmary, knowing exactly which bed the groan originates from. To see Sam stir and her eyelids move is a blessing she has waited for with held breath. Relief fills her face as she sees Sam's eyes blur and recognize Janet.

"Sam, sweetheart, it's me, Janet. You're in the infirmary. You were attacked," Janet says calmly, trying not to cheer, "Are you in any pain?"

As if running through her body, Sam winces slightly yet shakes her head. Panic rises in her, but Janet instructs her to calm down while she removes the tube from her throat. After a few coughs and a sip of water, Sam takes in the room with exhausted eyes not willing to fall asleep. With a hoarse throat and pleading eyes, she looks up at Janet. "Ellie?"

Janet cannot bear to tell her the news. Apparently, her silence does. A violent sob escapes Sam's throat as she leans into Janet, her weak body quivering in hopelessness. Janet can't even begin to imagine the loss of a child. Even though she is certain that SG-1 will get Ellie back, her words fall empty on deaf ears. Sniffles and sobs continue throughout the night, and Janet is sure that she has never seen her friend this devastated, this hopeless, this weak. She doesn't speak, and into the early hours of dawn, tears fall on her cheeks until she can't anymore.

Curled up in a fetal position, Sam disappears from the world, detaching herself from even Janet's reassurances. Truthfully, Janet cannot blame her. Retreating to herself has been Sam's defense mechanism since Pakhet. At least then she had Ellie; now she is alone even amongst friends. She doesn't wish it on SG-1 and Jack to see Sam like this, but has no choice. Eventually, she will have to inform them.

"Sam," Janet whispers, then, upon receiving no response, she raises her voice. "Sam. We need to talk. About the baby."

Magically, Sam's head shoots up, her eyes rimmed red by tears. Her eyes nearly pierce Janet, who attributes any uncharacteristic traits to the current situation. It seems as if Sam had forgotten. Another tragedy. "How is he?"

"Worsening, I'm afraid. Sam, I'll need to perform further surgery to improve the odds of his survival. The blows you suffered didn't hit him directly, but caused enough damage for his niche to fail. Seeing as you're barely five months along, it will mean bed rest for the rest of your pregnancy."

Janet watches Sam absorb the words and their meaning with withdrawal. Like she is slipping. Grasping straws. Janet doesn't know how to treat Sam. With care, yes, but with fragility? Everything she held dear has been ripped away. "Do I have your permission?"

Sam looks down, the movement obviously causing pain, caressing her stomach. Bruises cover her body, so Janet knows that every time she moves, it is with great agony, but Sam doesn't let it show. Amazingly calm – as opposed to a few hours ago – Sam's reply surprises her. "No."

"What do you mean, honey?" Janet asks carefully.

Sam looks up, her eyes determined and set on a mission. "I said no."

Flabbergasted, Janet tries to find words to express herself, but calmly, Sam asks for a pencil and a piece of paper. Delivering it to her, watching her draw while she voices her concern, Janet is awarded with a simple drawing and a look from Sam.

x STARGATE SG-1 x

Janet spends a day trying to explain Sam the consequences of her refusal to undergo surgery again. It will be the third and hopefully last, this one for the baby but officially to check internal bleeding. Her left eye is surrounded by blackish skin, but she is so lucid and calm that it frightens Janet. Her persistency and channeled anger is another thing. Her oath one thing, her loyalty to her friend another, it does matter to Janet. She reminds Sam of the joys she felt last week at talking about this baby, but her friend has now resorted to using the word 'it' and not a 'he', merely asking every hour if somebody has been sent to go after the Jaffa. To find Ellie.

Daniel seeks her out when she leaves Sam's bed. Jack goes to watch her sleep, but as usual, Daniel's observations prove right. He knew about her pregnancy. His tender eyes, his worried expression his care, it all shows in his movements. "She won't save the baby?"

Shocked, Janet widens her eyes but lets her face fall. "No. She is refusing the surgery that will help its survival. I think she is too focused on Ellie."

"There is never anything too focused for Sam," Daniel reminds her with a sad face. "I saw her four days ago. A mere hours before they came and did this." He glances in the direction of the infirmary while stirring his cup of coffee with a spoon.

"You did?" Janet didn't know this. Then she is not the first to notice Sam's change of behavior. Changed priorities. Changed circumstances.

"She was so happy. They both were. Ellie was smiling like she knew a secret we didn't. It turns out, she did. The baby. I reckon it's Jack's?" It is more a statement that an actual question, but Janet nods, confirming it.

"She had been seeing a civilian doctor before she came to me. Wanted to be sure, I guess. She was so happy a week ago, discussing births and names. It is so surreal now."

"Jack doesn't know," he realizes. His eyes fall disapproving, awaiting, on Janet.

"I can't tell him," she admits. "Sam made me swear. And now, I simply can't," Janet adds, her throat suddenly hoarse. It is incompetence as a doctor, but loyalty as a friend. "And if she decides to make the baby go away, why should she?"

"He deserves to know," Daniel states with a hint of anger, his fingers fidgeting with his cup, not having sipped it yet. She doubts he will.

"Who are we to even phantom this play-out?" She sighs. "None of this is right. She has suffered so much. I thought this was her salvation. Their final happiness. And now, nothing is right."

"Agreed."

They sit there in silence, trying to figure out which wrongs and rights they can correct in this world, but always coming up short. By the time Jacob arrives to see his girl and let Selmak heal her, they have not decided who to tell. But when Sam is healed, the first she does is to shun Jack from her bed, falling back asleep and refusing to speak to anyone, letting Janet and Daniel ponder over their decision.

Two weeks later

"Under no circumstances am I willing to allow this! Ms Carter, we're doing our best to –." Landry tries to remain calm and authoritative, but fails miserably and knows this once he looks into the blue, persistent orbs of Samantha Carter.

"It's Major Carter, sir," she corrects him mockingly, her straight back never leaving the military posture. She is dressed in her dress blues, a fading bruise on her eye socket making her eye look even paler than usual. He has expected this, even been warned of its coming from higher-ups – General Hammond – and SGC personnel, especially the ones in the infirmary who have been treating and subsequently dealing with Major Carter.

Newly reinstated Major Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force stands before him, gaze unwavering, fiercely determined to be allowed back on one of the SG teams. It has been eight years since she was an active member, but Landry does not doubt that she is capable of anything the galaxy throws at her. Her mental state, however, isn't something he wants to vouch for. Hell, he doesn't want to be near her in her deadly state. She has grown lethally silent during the last couple of weeks where she has been healing. Visits from Jacob Carter and the rest of close friends haven't done anything to talk her out of her (suicidal) new mission in life.

Landry thinks of Caroline when he looks at Carter, who he knows is brilliantly suited for the stress and mental as well as physical challenges. Caroline, who doesn't wish to speak to him, but whom he cares for greatly. God knows everybody is aware of what happened to Carter's daughter. Abducted in the middle of the night by Jaffa who nearly beat Carter to death. Carter putted up a fight, her body proves that and the trashed house as well as the report. He knows it by heart, even though he doesn't have to, to see the haunted look of determination, the shadows of injuries and the marred guilt. He pretends not to notice the slightest limp in her walk, but Dr. Fraiser has reluctantly given her a clean bill of health, her eyes begging him not to allow Samantha to do anything stupid. Frankly, Landry is equally worried what will happen if he does and what will happen if he doesn't. Carter has outright refused any help, distancing herself from Colonel O'Neill, who had rapidly been called back from the delta site upon news of the tragic incident. Even the General knows the grapevine that Carter and O'Neill were playing house with her daughter. Having read of Carter's deeds, he wants her fighting the battle, but recognizes the hazardous ways of a grieving mother.

Six days ago, Daniel Jackson identified the drawing Carter handed medical officer in charge Dr. Janet Fraiser. It turned out to be a symbol for a Goa'uld named Erebus. The amount of intensity focused on bringing back the harcesis child and the team effort from SG-1 have been fierce and unstoppable. Shortly after the incident where Elara Carter was taken and Carter herself beaten, a Tok'ra named Lantash arrived. It was he who identified the symbol, upset by the news of Carter's injuries. Collaborating with Jacob Carter and his symbiote, Selmak, they made a certain identification of the Goa'uld responsible for tearing Carter's life apart. They had to depart soon after, Lantash fiercely promising to aid in any way possible and that the Tok'ra would be informing Earth of any possible locations of Erebus.

Only after the fact was Landry able to recall that Lantash – or, at least, his former host – had fathered Ellie, Carter's child. He obviously held great care for the child that is now missing.

"Major Carter," he corrects, "I am aware of your wishes to rejoin this program, and the fact that you have been discharged from the infirmary, but there are no spots available on SG teams currently."

Bluntly, she doesn't batter an eye. "Then create one, sir. I may have been inactive for the last eight years, but I don't need to remind you of my continuant assets to this operation. Four years ago –."

"–I know, Major. I will consider this, but even if Dr. Fraiser has given you the medical clear, I don't want you anywhere near the gate the next two weeks. Then I will assess the need for additional SG teams and if you are in any mental state to be leading one."

She nods reluctantly, obviously dismayed but sated at the result of her argumentative side. Landry hopes these two weeks will make her reconsider. He doesn't want a reckless and careless Carter to go out avenging on the galaxy. Not if it means compromising her and any team members. She has been brutally blunt when it comes to her new agenda. Physically, she has hardened, cut her hair short to reach just below the shoulders, and dressed in assigned BDUs. She has finished all her projects in the lab, leaving detailed notes on how to proceed with further testing and research for developers at Area 51. It is more than obvious what her intentions are. Getting her daughter back and if not, dying to avenge all who took her away. Waging war with the galaxy is not on Earth's agenda, and as supervisor, he is responsible for all of her actions.

"Dismissed, Major."

x STARGATE SG-1 x

She feels cold as she steps out of General Landry's office. Previously, it belonged to Hammond, and it has taken much inner correcting to adjust to the change of thoughts. She exhales deeply, closing her eyes. Two weeks. Swiftly, she begins to walk down the corridor, reminding herself that she is now a soldier. So much has changed in two weeks. The mere fact that everything is now different has been shocked into her. She is glad to be out of the infirmary, but reluctant to go home. Reluctant to face Ellie's room and the living room, afraid to relive the horror and terror in her daughter's eyes before her own world went dark in pain. Her recovery has been swift because of alien healing devices, but it does not help. It took Janet forever to let her leave her sight.

She looks down at her flat stomach. Aaron is no more, that her last medical check-up showed. Gone. She forces herself to look at it with a positive attitude; this means she is capable of searching actively for Elara. The last of her extra weight is gone thanks to working out in the on-base gym.

"Sam!"

She spins around unceremoniously, catching sight of Jack. Sighing internally, she puts on a fake smile. She has done her best to avoid him, not knowing what to say. Obviously she doesn't want him to know about Aaron; no need to add another failure for a child to his burden over Charlie. Did she fail him by allowing them to take Elara? It is a question she asks herself every night.

"Jack," she says, a little too soft for her new distance. She still loves him, still flashes back to tender moments, moments in bed, moments with Ellie. Moments of the life that can never be. She knows he will try to talk her out of this. But how can he claim to understand? Even though they pretended to, Ellie isn't his daughter. The heartache and blame is to be putted on her solely. However, when she looks at him, wincing at him stepping closer, she nearly cries. All she wants to do is lean against his chest and wake up to Ellie making pancakes. But it won't happen, and every morning that devastates her.

"What were you doing in Landry's office?" he asks, even though he doesn't need to, because he should know her well enough to be aware of her new mission. He will try to talk her out of it. Now he tries to be casual, but she can visualize the disapproval. He wishes to be there for her, even took time off from the delta site, but he reminds her too much of Ellie. Of the what-ifs.

She straightens her back. Technically, he is a superior officer. "We were discussing future positions," she says cryptically. Lowering her gaze, she swallows, trying not to face him.

"You want back on a team," he replies in disbelief. It angers her, so she responds flippantly.

"Any reason not to?"

She immediately regrets her remark upon seeing his hurtful face. But as always (at least for the two weeks), he is not angered by her words, able to put it aside and blame it on circumstances. "Sam, we need to talk. I know this seems so helpless, but we are going to find her."

Common sense and rationality should tell her that what he says is true. But after two weeks of waiting, being restrained to a hospital bed, has done nothing to assure her. She wants out there to save her daughter, because if she doesn't, it will be like admitting that Ellie is lost.

"I can't, Jack, I can't sit back and let it tear me apart. You know what they're like. They have her! They have my daughter," she whispers viciously, tears threatening to fear. He reaches to caress her in comfort, but she shies away. She doesn't want his comfort; she wants his support for her going out there.

Finally, her blue eyes reaches his brown ones, and she identifies the despair in his eyes. But she can't let herself fall back into safety and comfort. Into his arms. She remembers every touch of his fingers on her skin as if it was yesterday and not four months ago. She hasn't been with him since he deployed. She has focused her attention on getting better, on getting out of the infirmary and Janet's nice gestures, on getting Landry to get her back on an SG team. She will even be sated with a reconnaissance team, or a meet-and-greet team. Anything that will allow some exploration and search for Erebus.

Haunted by memories of Ellie, she faces Jack, memorizing every feature. Her words are harsh, but she needs a clean start. Clean slate. Tabula rasa. "I'm sorry, Colonel."

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