Things had been strained between Sam and her team since the incident – she hadn't come out of her room for the rest of the night, speaking only when Sara took the baby up to her before bed. And while the guys had kept up their presence, making dinner, running errands, and cleaning, the atmosphere had changed. Sam was quiet, reserved, and she rarely let Aimee out of her arms, let alone her sight. She was apparently bound and determined to do this alone.

The problem was, she didn't look a bit happy about it.

Given the state of things, Jack was pretty damned surprised when Sam came down the steps empty-handed and requested softly of Teal'c and Daniel, "Could we have a minute?"

"Uh… sure, Sam." The two men quickly disappeared.

Whatever was happening, she had a plan – she always had a plan – so Jack didn't move from his place on the sofa. Sure enough, she perched on the other end of the couch. "I wanted to apologize, sir, for the other day."

"No need, Carter."

"There is, sir. I shouldn't have freaked out on you like that. You were just trying to help."

"Sleep deprivation does funny things. Don't worry about it."

"I know. It's just…"

"Carter," he interrupted softly, "when Sara and I first got married, there was this big story in the news about a local guy who shook his newborn to death. And I… I couldn't imagine that. I wanted to kill him – I mean, who could do that to a baby?"

The memory almost made him shiver. He and Sara had talked about it for hours, what a monster the man had been, how a good person could never do such a thing. Until…

"And then we had Charlie," he said softly, and Sam's head jerked up at the name. Throughout all of this, he'd never once mentioned his son. "And Charlie had colic, which is a fancy medical way of saying that he cried all the time. And suddenly I understood, a little, how a guy could get so frustrated that…

"A baby crying is like a thousand piercing needles, Carter. And when it's your own kid, it's even worse, because… because you're supposed to be able to make it stop. But sometimes that just isn't the case. Bigger hands, smaller hands, warmer skin – there's no way to know what they want. And it sucks. There were a couple of times that she took him away from me, and I knew it was because she was afraid he was getting under my skin."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Is this supposed to be a pep talk, sir? 'Cause it's a bad one."

Well, that was the thing. He wasn't really sure how she was gonna take this – she might hate him forever for it. "I forgot how hard it was to take care of a newborn, even with two of us. I think the only thing that got us through, really, was that we loved him so much. That we'd wanted him so badly. But you…"

Screw your courage, O'Neill. Just spit it out.

"Carter, I know we said we weren't gonna push you, but I've gotta wonder if we affected you anyway. And you can't… I mean, are you doing this because it's something you want? Are you doing this for you? Or for us?"

Her blink was so long he wasn't sure you could even still call it that. "Sir… are you asking me… if I love my daughter?"

"No. No, I know you do. Just… this is hard enough, right? And it can't be any easier when she just reminds you of things you'd rather forget."

She exhaled as though he'd punched her. "Is that how you see her, sir? As his child?"

"No, but I can understand how you would. If you don't want to do this…"

"I don't delude myself, sir, that I've given myself anything less than a life sentence. But I…" Something on her thumbnail fascinated her for a long moment before she looked up again. "Sir, do you believe that you're you because of who your parents were, or because of how they raised you?"

That was a trick question; he was sure of it. He just didn't know where she was going with it, and so had no idea what the right answer was. "Um, a little of both, I guess."

"How so?"

Crap. "Well… I guess I think that there are certain things that are just in your DNA, and the rest is learned. I mean, they know that alcoholism and stuff like that is in your genes."

"A predisposition for it, anyway."

"Right. But… I think it's mostly learned. How you treat people, that kind of thing – that's learned."

She nodded. "So then you'll understand when I tell you… all the evil this little girl should ever have to know is already inside her. I need her to grow up respecting life. Respecting people. Really, sir, in the grand scheme of things, the best thing anyone can do for society is pass love on to their children, and the only way I can make sure of that is to do it myself."

He'd never thought of it quite like that – that handing her over to a stranger could turn out as badly as giving her back to her father. He nodded.

"And for the record, sir, I love her. More than I ever thought possible. It's just… not what I expected, you know? This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

"I know."

"You know what scares me most?"

For the life of him, he couldn't imagine. She'd been knocked upside the head by so many things in the past year, it was hard to nail down.

"Some day, she's gonna ask me about her father. And I have no idea what I'll tell her."

Jack sucked in a deep breath as his conversation with Sara rolled through his head. There would never be a better opening than this. It was now or never. "Carter-"

Beside her, a small whine sounded through the baby monitor, and Sam sighed. "Go back to sleep, baby," she willed softly.

But little Aimee had different ideas, and the whine turned to a cry that heralded worse things. Her mother sighed and pushed to her feet, but Jack stopped her with a hand on her arm. "I'll go get her."

He half-expected her to stop him, to insist on going herself, but she settled back onto the couch. "Thank you."