June 2015

It's a good day – something she hasn't had nearly enough of since stepping into Hank Landry's shoes. So far all of her teams have checked in on time and reported that things are a-ok. She's had three debriefings, two of which were with science teams who actually needed her expertise. Her inbox is under control and based on the way the rest of her week looks, it might just stay that way. For the first time, Sam's starting to feel like maybe she might be able to run this place after all.

Much to Walter's chagrin, she's making her way back from the commissary with a fresh mug of coffee in hand. He thinks its unseemly for a general to have to wander the halls in search of her own caffeine supply. She thinks it's nice to get out of her office every once in a while. So far she's winning the ongoing debate, but she's under no illusions. It's the stars on her shoulders he's deferring to; it's got nothing to do with her.

Acknowledging each person she passes with a nod and smile, Sam slowly makes her way back to her office. There are so many fresh young faces in the halls these days. They make her feel old – she can't remember ever being their age.

"General Carter to the control room," Walter's voice pages over the P.A. system.

Sam makes a conscious effort to keep the sudden burst of anxiety under wraps and picks up her pace. Once upon a time, a page to the control room would have sent her running. These days, the sight of her running through the halls would probably spark a base-wide panic and raise the DEFCON level a notch or two.

She reaches the stairs to the control room and jogs up two steps at a time. It's the one concession General Carter allows to the wide-eyed captain she used to be.

"What have we got?" She's mastered the command voice. Her words toe that fine line between a demanding bark and self-assured confidence.

"Ma'am, there's a call for you in your office." Walter's face is lined with tension and his voice is tight with worry. Neither is ever a good sign. Together, they're usually indicative of a looming apocalypse.

Anxiety claws at her stomach. "Who is it?"

"Lieutenant Cavanaugh, ma'am."

The breath catches in her chest even as her rational self insists she's panicking over nothing. There's no denying that Walter's worried though. Given how much it takes to rattle him, her rational self is fighting a losing battle.

"What does she want?"

"I think you'd better talk to her yourself, ma'am."

Sam turns on her heel and resumes her two-steps-at-a-time jog up to her office. The door slams shut behind her but the noise of it barely registers. All of her focus is on the voice coming through the receiver pressed to her ear.

"What's going on?" she demands. Under these nerve-wracking circumstances, Cavanaugh will forgive her lack of manners. The younger woman's capacity to let little things like that slide are a major factor in her continued presence on Jack's staff.

The young woman on the other end sucks in a deep breath. "Ma'am, you need to come home right away."

The statement doesn't confuse Sam the way it should, considering she's been back in Colorado Springs for going on a year now.

"What happened, Alice?"

"General O'Neill was coming back from a briefing with the IOA when he collapsed. He was taken away in an ambulance."

"Where?"

Sam is already stuffing her laptop and a stack of files into her briefcase. She technically doesn't have the authority to grant herself emergency leave, but one of the perks of being the boss is that she outranks anyone who might try to point that inconvenient fact out to her.

"George Washington." Cavanaugh takes another shaky breath. "Ma'am, is there anyone else I should call?"

That's a good question. Cassandra will have to be brought into the loop at some point. So will Daniel and Teal'c, who are off-world with Bra'tac right now. Over the last few years, Cam and Vala, who are currently tagging along while SG-14 makes nice with the Nox, have become family too. It's not a matter of who else needs to be told, but rather when the time is right to tell them.

"Not right now." They don't know anything yet, so there's no point in getting everyone all worked up over something that might turn out to be nothing at all. That's what she tries to tell herself anyway. "I'm going to catch the next flight out that way. Call me if you hear anything – my cell will be on the whole time."

Sam slams the handset back into the cradle and scans her desk. There's nothing else of vital importance at the moment and if push comes to shove, Walter can always e-mail her any must-read documents.

Slinging her bulging briefcase over one shoulder, Sam hustles out of her office. She pounds down the stairs to the control room where a very worried Walter Harriman is waiting for her.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm going to Washington."

Even without doing the math on it, Sam can conclusively say she's spent entirely too much time sitting at the bedsides of people she cares about. It's never fun, but this time is even worse than usual. This time she's stuck waiting in a public hospital where she doesn't know any of the staff, and strange medical personnel flit in and out of the room at random.

She misses the familiar faces of the SGC infirmary staff and the comfortingly rigid schedules they abide by.

It's been a long two days and there's been no shortage of people offering to spell her for a while, but Sam is determined to maintain her vigil until Jack wakes up.

The last 48 hours have been a blur of specialists, medical jargon and statistics that she's pretty sure were meant to be reassuring. She'd arrived at the hospital and immediately been confronted with the news that Jack had suffered a heart attack. Not a severe one, according to his brand spanking new cardiologist, but a heart attack nonetheless. Sam was too overwhelmed by the news to ask how a heart attack could be anything but severe.

There have been several discussions about Jack's diet and exercise regime. The doctors have waxed rhapsodic about his cholesterol levels and sodium intake, lecturing her about all the lifestyle changes he's going to have to make going forward. It became obvious pretty early on that they assumed Sam was his girlfriend and had some influence in these matters. She still hasn't bothered to correct them.

Her phone jitters across the hospital bed, snapping Sam out of her thoughts. She snatches it up to find another text from Cassandra. She's been checking in every hour or so since yesterday, when Sam had called to break the news to her. Cassie had wanted to drop everything and hop on the next flight. Sam had nixed that idea. There was nothing she could do at the hospital that Sam herself wasn't already doing, and she had an important meeting with her thesis advisor this afternoon.

They'd gone back and forth before eventually reaching a compromise: Cassie would make the meeting with her advisor and Sam would pay for her ticket on the next flight out. Sam has already resigned herself to the fact that once Cass finishes her PhD and starts earning a real pay cheque, she'll never win another argument. Until that day comes, Sam's not above resorting to bribery.

Fingers flying across the keypad, she taps out a reply, reassuring Cassandra that there's been no change in Jack's condition. They'd put him under anesthesia for an angioplasty in the wee hours of the morning and he's yet to wake up.

Sam tosses her phone back onto the bed and scrubs a hand across her face. She knows she should probably accept the next offer of a break so she can get some sleep and a shower, but she hasn't been able to talk to Jack yet. Until she does, she knows she won't be able to sleep, no matter how reassuring the doctors try to be.

Giving in to the exhaustion dragging at her, she folds her arms on the edge of the bed and rests her head on top of them. She closes her eyes and just breathes. The rhythmic beeping of Jack's heart monitor is soothing, but she knows she won't fall asleep.

Long minutes later, footfalls approach – a counterpoint to the chirps of the monitor. She doesn't bother straightening up. The hospital staff have made it clear that she's not in the way and she's too tired to move unless it's absolutely necessary.

A warm hand on her shoulder makes her shoot upright and twist around in her chair. Then she's on her feet and being wrapped in a bear hug.

"What are you doing here?"

"You probably haven't slept in two days, so we're all going to pretend that isn't a really dumb question." Cam's loose drawl suggests this is a very magnanimous act on his part.

"We got back a few hours ago and Walter told us what happened." Vala is already flitting around Sam's makeshift camp, clearing the empty coffee cups away to make room for a tray full of steaming ones. "Cameron stepped in and took charge long enough to recall Daniel and Muscles, then handed things over to Colonel Tremblay and here we are."

"How is he?" Daniel asks, worried.

"No change." She squeezes him once, good and hard, then steps out of his arms and into Vala's. "I'm glad you guys are here."

"As are we."

While the others sort themselves out, Sam makes the rounds, hugging each of them in turn. She and Cam are going to have to have a chat about how they got to be here, of course, if only so that the paperwork can reflect that there was a conversation, but that's an issue for another time. Right now, she's too busy being relieved that in situations like this, her closest friends have a habit of doing what they want and to hell with the consequences.

They talk in muted tones as Sam fills the others in on Jack's condition. She's gotten good at rattling off the diagnosis, treatment and prognosis like she really understands what she's saying. They listen and ask questions when they don't follow, and she does her best to clarify. It's not unlike countless conversations about wormhole physics and alien technology they've had over the years, except this time Sam's not certain about anything she's saying.

She has to give them all credit: they bite their tongues for a whole hour before Teal'c tactfully broaches the subject of leaving the hospital and getting a few hours of sleep. She resists at first, but then Daniel and Vala and Cam join in. Sam is stubborn but so are they and when they tag team her four-on-one, she doesn't stand a chance.

Sam lets Cam drive her to the apartment she used to share with Jack. He slaps together some sandwiches while she's in the shower and waits for her to emerge. When he gets impatient and finally knocks on the door to her former bedroom, she's crashed out face down on the bed.

When Sam arrives back at the hospital early in the evening, Teal'c is standing guard at the foot of Jack's bed. Three chairs line the bed facing toward the doorway, with Cassie and Vala occupying seats on either side of Daniel.

Cassandra is on her feet and across the room in a flash. Sam hugs her long and hard. She's so wrapped up in the reunion that it takes a while to register that the source of two days' worth of worry is watching.

Sam smiles at him over Cassandra's shoulder and offers a warm, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself."

His voice is rough and gravelly, but Sam doesn't mind. It's him and he's awake and it's all she's been wishing for over the last 48 hours.

"Let's go get coffee, Cass," Daniel says gently.

Sam flashes him a grateful smile. She needs these few moments alone with Jack to reassure herself that he really is going to be okay. She also needs a chance to scold him about the fact that a man pushing 60 really shouldn't be eating like a lazy college student. Before heading back here, she and Cam had picked through Jack's cupboards in search of anything they could pull together into some semblance of a meal. In the end, they'd given up and ordered Chinese instead.

Cass reluctantly lets the others usher her out into the hall. Once they're gone, Sam crosses the room and perches on the side of Jack's bed.

"You know, there are easier ways to get me to come to Washington."

"You look like hell."

"And you don't?" She slips her hand into his and tangles their fingers together. "You scared me."

"I'm going to be okay." He strokes his thumb across the back of her hand, rubbing small circles on her smooth skin. "I don't pretend to understand more than three-quarters of what the cardiologist said, but I did get that much."

"I thought…" Sam's voice catches on the tears that sneak up on her. She blinks hard and tries to keep them at bay.

"C'mere."

He gives her hand a gentle tug. Sam lets him ease her closer towards him and buries her face in his shoulder. She tries to keep her weight off him, but Jack's not having that. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and holds her to him.

Sam breathes deep, inhaling the faint traces of aftershave still detectable beneath the sharp antiseptic smell of the hospital. Warm fingers rub the same small patch of skin on her bicep, reassuring her that he's here and alive.

"I thought we were going to lose you," she murmurs.

"You didn't."

"This time."

"I talked to the cardiologist, Sam. I'm going to take her advice and start eating better and working out more regularly."

"You're damn right you are." She relishes his chuckle. "Did she talk to you about work?"

Jack is quiet for a few beats and tension crackles between them. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

"She said stress could…"

"My job is to determine the fate of the planet. How exactly am I supposed to reduce stress?" he snaps.

The frequency of bleeps issuing from the heart monitor increases alarmingly. Sam's own heart thuds against her ribs hard. She keeps her face pressed to his shoulder and tries to keep her voice neutral. "You're right. We can talk about it later," she acquiesces.

"Don't do that." Jack's voice is tight and angry, even as his fingers keep up their slow, gentle massage. "Don't placate me."

"Fine. We'll fight about this later, but right now you need to calm down otherwise the nurses are going to come and kick me out."

She can hear him grit his teeth, but he also takes some deep breaths. He's making an effort to reign in his temper. It's something.

Sam's fingers find their way into his hair and her nails lightly scratch his scalp. They're both biting their tongues hard, holding back words that are guaranteed to start a fight. She doesn't want to fight with him – not after the rollercoaster ride she's been on for the past two days. She's wrung out physically, mentally and emotionally and even though it's tempting to take it out on him, it wouldn't be fair. After all, the past two days haven't exactly been a walk in the park for Jack either.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

"You needed the rest."

Sam shakes her head. "I wanted to be here."

"You're here now."

"Always."

It's not the most unusual meeting with the president that Sam has ever had, but it's pretty close. Technically this is Jack's meeting with the president, but he'd asked to have her here and the president had agreed, so here she is. She's perched on an uncomfortable chair across Jack's hospital bed from the president, trying to put the Secret Service agents arrayed around the room out of her mind.

Jack's face is carefully neutral. She almost believes he's as calm as he's pretending to be, but his white-knuckle hold on the bed sheets tells a different story.

"With all due respect, sir, this conversation is a waste of your time. I can still do my job."

"I'm sure you can." The president leans forward and rests his upper arms on his thighs. It's a pose she's seen countless times on televised town hall meetings. "The question is should you, Jack?"

Sam glances to her right and takes in the slight movement of his jaw as Jack grinds his teeth in frustration.

"Yes."

"Jack…" She needs him to keep his temper in check. It's been a long couple of days and she doesn't have the energy to act as a buffer between the two men.

"This is your life we're talking about," the president continues.

"It always has been." The bark of command is sharp in Jack's voice. He ignores the effect it has on the Secret Service agents and plows on. "I risked my life every day in places I still can't talk about on the orders of the guys who used to sit in your office. Then I retired until your predecessor decided to pull me back in and I spent seven years risking my life through the stargate."

"Enough is enough, Jack. You've done more than your share for this country and this planet."

"Look – "

Sam jumps in before Jack can give his commander in chief a piece of his mind. "Mr. President, we both appreciate you making the trip down here to have this conversation in person. We know how busy you are."

She crosses her fingers and hopes like hell the president won't take the brush off as an actual brush off. She prefers to think of it as strategic intervention.

The president looks at her, looks at Jack, then looks at her again. Then he catches the eye of the head of his secret service detail and gives a nod. "I'm afraid I've got a meeting with the NSC so we'll have to continue this conversation later. I'll certainly give some thought to the points you've raised, Jack, and I hope you'll do the same with mine."

Sam can tell it pains him to do it, but Jack responds with a respectful, "Yes, sir."

The president wishes him well with a congenial smile and a warm handshake, pumps Sam's arm a few times, and then beats a hasty retreat. In no time at all, it's just her and Jack listening to the beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor that betrays just how much this meeting has upset him.

"Talk to me," Sam says quietly.

Restless fingers pluck at the pale grey blanket draped over him. Jack is determinedly refuses to meet her gaze. "There's nothing to say."

"I think there is." She eases out of her chair and up onto the side of his bed. "I think the fact that anyone doubts your ability to do your job bothers you."

"I can still do my job."

"I know." Sam slides up the mattress and rests her back against the raised bed. They're shoulder to shoulder, them against the world, just like the good old days. "You can still do your job, but is it worth it, Jack? Is a job you hate really worth dying for?"

"I'll slow down for a while."

"Dr. Watkins said you'll be out of commission for a minimum of six weeks and even then, you won't be up to the kind of schedule you're used to keeping. Plus, it's not like the job is going to be any less stressful six or 12 months from now."

"So what? I retire?"

"You get healthy and take some time to enjoy the planet you've helped save so many times," Sam argues. "You live long enough to see Cassandra finish her PhD and, God help us, get married and have kids for you to spoil rotten."

"I tried retirement. Twice. It didn't stick."

Sam rests her head on his shoulder and twines their fingers together. "The president was right, Jack. You've done enough for this planet. Now it's time to put yourself first and do what's best for you."

"I'm not ready to make any decisions right now."

"Fair enough."

Jack squeezes her fingers. "Thanks for stopping me from saying something I'd regret later."

"It's what I do." Sam is quiet for a while, just listening to the heart monitor that's become little more than white noise over the last few days. "For the record, I think retirement might not be so bad this time around."

Jack scoffs. "How do you figure?"

"Well, there's this really great house in Colorado Springs with way more space than the owner needs, and lately she's been thinking it might be nice to have a roommate." Sam glances at him through her eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

It's not an idea she's been kicking around for very long, but it has a certain appeal. She's missed having someone to come home too since transferring back to the SGC.

"You want me to move in?"

His voice is incredulous and Sam is sure she's overstepped. Embarrassed, she tries to walk back the offer. "Forget it. That was a really dumb thing to – "

"Sam."

Her jaw snaps shut, stopping the flow of nervous words. She presses her forehead into the crook of his neck and wishes she could take back the last 30 seconds or so.

"I'm not saying I'm going to retire, but if I did, there's nowhere I'd rather retire to."

Sam lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Okay."

"Except for maybe the cabin."

"Right."

"Or that planet with the beach that went on forever and the natives who were extremely friendly."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Of course."

"Or maybe…"

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Sam wakes up to the unsettling sensation of eyes watching her. She rolls her head to left and glances over her shoulder to find Jack staring at her.

He's been home for two days and, much to his chagrin, she's been walking on eggshells around him the whole time. Without the reassuring blips and beeps from the heart monitor she grew so accustomed to while he was in the hospital, Sam is on edge. She has an urge to keep checking on him, to keep making sure he's still okay. They'd both gotten so little sleep last night that Jack had invited her to spend tonight with him, where she could keep an eye on him.

She's still not 100 per cent sure he was being sincere but here she is, stretched out beside him.

"Morning," she murmurs.

"Not exactly." Jack shifts up on to one elbow and adjusts his pillow. "Go back to sleep."

Sam rolls onto her back and raises her arms over her head for a stretch. A quick glance over his shoulder gives her a read on the time. Even by her standards, it's too early to really be considered morning. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Just thinking."

They haven't talked about her offer to move in together again, and, as far as she knows, he hasn't debated retirement with the others. For her part, Sam's been reluctant to bring it up again. She understands where he's coming from – she'd be lost without her work – but she wishes she had an inkling of what he's thinking. Usually she can read him like an open book but on this, he's keeping his thoughts locked down tight.

"Do you want to…"

Her offer is cut off by the gentle press of his lips to hers. He's gentle and tentative. It's like he's testing the waters and giving her a chance to shut him down if this isn't okay. Sam doesn't need to think about it – kissing him back is the most natural thing in the world. Their mouths move together gently, taking their time to re-learn once familiar territory.

As she responds, Jack relaxes into the kiss. His left hand comes into play, cupping the side of her face and Sam returns the favour, slipping a hand around the back of his head to rest on the nape of his neck. Time slips away but the kiss remains sweet and slow and gentle.

When the need to breathe becomes overwhelming, Jack's pull back. He rests his forehead on hers and sucks in a slow, deep breath. His thumb brushes back and forth across her cheek, just barely grazing her sking. In reply, Sam scratches her nails lightly across his neck.

"That was nice," she murmurs.

"Mmm."

"But chemistry has never really been our problem."

Jack breaks contact, retreating to sprawl on his side of the mattress. He's flat on his back but his eyes stay locked with hers, assuring her that he's not withdrawing from the conversation. "Sometimes I wonder if we'd waited…"

Sometimes she does too. But if they'd waited, they wouldn't have the relationship they do now. Sam wouldn't trade this for anything.

"Remember when we broke up?" Sam rolls onto her stomach and hugs the pillow to her chest. "You asked if I was happy."

Jack nods. He's being patient, giving her the time she needs to make her point. It's a sure sign of just how important this is to him. "You said you weren't unhappy."

"And I wasn't." Even all these years later, it's important that he understands that. "I was just okay with how things were between us and for a while, I thought that was enough."

His eyes are focused wholly on her and it's hard not to squirm under the scrutiny. Sam breaks away first, shifting her gaze to stare intently at the sheets. One long thin finger traces the swirling pattern that unwinds across the worn fabric as she carefully considers her next words.

"I'm happy now, Jack. This – what we have now – is what I want."

She's afraid to look at him because she really doesn't know what's been going on in his head lately. If kissing her was his opening gambit in trying to rekindle their relationship, she's just shot him down. Hurting him is the last thing she wants to do but she's not wiling to sacrifice a cherished friendship for the sake of a romance that's already crashed and burned once.

It's nerve-wracking to lay there waiting for Jack to react. She's just about ready to get up and fake a very important call with the SGC, even though it's just after 0100 there and he'd see right through the ruse anyway. Then his warm palm slides across the back of her restless hand and his fingers twine around hers, stilling their motion.

She chances a peek at his face. It's a relief to find warmth and understanding there.