Knocked Up

Epilogue

"So—how's she holding up?"

"Ornery." Jack fumbled with his key in the door. Dodging an attack from his eastern flank, he clinched his phone between his cheek and his shoulder and rebalanced the dual burdens in his right hand—the handle of the take out bag clenched in his fist and the toddler balanced on his arm.

Sadly, the upper burden didn't really want to be balanced. He was ornery, too. "Very ornery. And very hungry. Jake and I were sent to pick up dinner. We have just now returned victorious and will shortly provide delicious and plentiful sustenance to the family."

"If you can get in the door."

He sighed. "Damned lock."

Daniel's voice was carefully amused. "Still sticky?"

"Yes, dammit."

"Sam still hasn't fixed it?"

"She's been a little busy, Daniel."

"Deja vu, Jack."

Grimacing, O'Neill winced when the kiddo in his arms was quick enough to grab something other than air. Leaving the key in the lock, he reached out with his free hand and disentangled his son's fingers from around the temple of his sunglasses. "No no, little man. That'll break."

So, of course the little beggar did it again.

"Ba!" Brown eyes, dimples, strawberry blond hair, and hands and feet like the paws of a gigantic puppy. Jacob George O'Neill took after his father in every possible way—including being in possession of a startling inability to follow orders. "Ba doo!"

Reupping his fight with the key, Jack swore again.

"Stit! O, stit!" Jacob bounced up and down on Jack's arm, giggling as he parroted his father. "Boo stit!"

Damn it. The one thing Jake had gotten from his mother had been a gigantic brain. The kid was too smart by half. Wily. Cunning. Devious, even, in an adorable way. Like a cute, tiny con-man.

He'd been talking more and more recently. Sam said he was in a stage of advanced language acquisition. Unfortunately, most of his favorite acquired words were of the variety that weren't acceptable in polite society.

Jack just thanked the good lord above that the kid hadn't figured out certain and particular fricatives yet. Sam had been less than amused when Jake had yelled "sumbith!" at another child at his toddler class last week. The outburst had resulted in a flurry of annoyed phone calls and text messages from the daycare people.

Apparently, the folks at Happy Camper Learning Land disapproved of toddler profanity, regardless how many stars his father wore on his collar or how many times his mother had saved the planet. Jack couldn't even begin to imagine the carnage that would result should the kid start teaching his classmates the finer points of four-letter-words that began with 'sh' and were accompanied by the mention of large male bovines.

"Have you gotten in yet?" Daniel's voice burgeoned with curious patience.

Miraculously, the key turned this time, and Jack straightened as the door swung wide. "Yes, thank you very much."

"Well, we're anxious to see Cassie while she's here." Daniel squeaked—well, not so much Daniel as that damned ancient squeaky chair of his. "We thought we'd drop by tomorrow afternoon. Vala has been making cupcakes and figured we'd offload them on you guys."

"Cupcakes?"

"She's in a baking phase." A rhythmic tapping accompanied this—he was probably drumming with a pencil on his desk. "That, and someone at the kids' play group told her that she should never arrive anywhere empty-handed."

Ah. Stepping across the threshold, Jack juggled things a bit so that he could turn around and close the door behind him. Making his way down the entry hallway, he dodged his son's little grubby fingers as Jake made another grab at Jack's shades. "Well, I'm sure that everyone here would love some cupcakes."

"And how is Cassie doing, anyway?"

"She's great. She's happy. Married life suits her."

"And Devyn? How's he enjoying the training?"

Chuckling, Jack stopped at the kitchen island. "The guy's in heaven. He spent a week or so at the Alpha Site last month, but got pulled back for some trauma fellowship at the Academy. According to Landry, he's going to be a huge asset for the SGC."

"And Cassie?"

"Her pediatric residency program doesn't start for a few weeks, so she came here to help out until she needs to report to the hospital."

"Ah." A pause, then the sound of little footsteps pattered through the background. At least one of the Jackson hellions had entered Daniel's office. "Well, that's lucky timing."

"Yep."

"Well, I'll let you go." A flurry of giggles erupted on Daniel's side, punctuated by more squeaking. "Ava and Zoe are here showing me their new fingernail polish. They've been playing 'beauty salon'."

"Fingernail polish?" That seemed—unwise. The twins were just barely old enough for kindergarten.

"I'm pretty sure it's just marker." Daniel chuckled. "From one dad to another, Jack. Only buy name-brand art stuff, and only buy the washable ones. It will save you a bajillion dollars on furniture and paint in the long run."

"Good to know." Jack grinned. They'd already had a bad experience with cheap crayons. He wasn't about to make that mistake again. "Well anyway—we'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey—Jack?"

Deftly, he lowered the take-out bag to rest on the counter before bending to deposit his son on the kitchen tile. Jack smiled as he watched the boy scamper into the living room towards where his mom sat on their giant sectional. "Yeah, Daniel?"

For a moment, silence stretched across the line, accompanied by another distant squeak. Jack could practically see it—Daniel sitting forward in the chair, leaning onto the desk, his still-boyish face screwed up in a quizzical smile.

"I was just thinking."

That was a shocker. Biting back a sarcastic snort, Jack smiled. "About?"

"About you and Sam. And about me and Vala." Another quiet beat. Another little thump of a pencil, or a pen—or Daniel's finger—on the top of the desk. "Fifteen years ago, if someone had told me that you'd be where you are—and that I'd be where I am now—would you have believed them?"

Would he? It didn't take Jack long to answer. "Probably not."

"Me either. I'd have said they were crazy."

Crazy. Jack glanced across the dining room—past the family-sized table and the high chair and the sippee cups on the sideboard—through the decorative archway and into the living room. Not so decorative anymore—more functional now, with the toys strewn on the area rug, and the basket of books next to the hearth, and the baby gate at the base of the stairs.

Jake had clambered up onto the couch next to his mom, who was combing through his unruly curls with her fingertips, trying to make it behave. The woman had always been determined to fix everything. Even half-lying on the couch with her feet propped up on the ottoman and her other hand resting on the impressive swell of her belly, she was trying to make sense of the chaos.

Jack, on the other hand, didn't bother trying to make sense of it—he'd finally reached the point where he simply accepted it. Besides—he wasn't in the mood to tempt fate. He and Sam had been given yet another miracle. Jack couldn't help but figure that somehow, someone out in the universe had decided that it owed them something for all they'd done for it.

Finally being together—getting married—living together—had been their first gift. Jacob had been their second.

And now this new surprise—this new gift—due any minute. A few months after Jake's first birthday, Sam had gone for a routine check-up with her doctor, who had run some routine blood tests. This time, Sam hadn't confirmed the results with complex testing methodologies or copious quantities of urine. She'd merely called Jack at his office and quietly informed him that she thought it was probably time for her to retire.

New life. New lives. Miracles, really, for this old, hard, battle-scarred gray-haired General who'd honestly feared that he would live the rest of his life alone.

"Jack? Are you still there?"

Daniel was still on the line, but Jack couldn't answer quite yet. Sam had gathered Jake close and was busy smooching his chunky cheeks as the little guy giggled and wriggled in response. And there was that tightness again—emotion he thought he'd become accustomed to, but apparently hadn't. And maybe he shouldn't even try.

Maybe one shouldn't ever become inured to the miraculous.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Clearing his throat, he turned towards the take-out bag, only to find that Cassie had appeared out of nowhere to take over the task. He let her, walking away from the island towards the dining room. "I'm good."

"I'm right though—it's crazy how it's all worked out, isn't it?"

Ducking his chin to his chest, he smiled into the phone. "Yes. It is."

"Well, anyway." Daniel inhaled deeply. "We will see you tomorrow. That is, if Sam doesn't have the baby before then."

"She was a week early last time, so it's not out of the question." Lowering his voice, he continued. "And not that she'd ever complain, but I think she's pretty ready to get this over with."

"We all can't wait to meet the newest O'Neill. What was the name you chose again?"

"For the baby?" Jack grunted. "We haven't. You know Sam. She says she has to see them before she can name them."

"That's right." Daniel grunted. "Well, it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Hopefully."

"Hey—you know what? I've heard that vigorous sex can cause the cervix—"

And that was enough of that. "Okay. Gotta go. 'Bye, Daniel."

"Good—"

But Jack had already closed the phone and wandered into the living room.

Behind him, Cassie was working at the table. She'd already laid out plates and utensils and distributed the food and was currently in the process of filling glasses with ice.

In front of him, Sam still lay on the couch with Jake nestled close. She'd scooched down further, so that her tummy jutted upwards more. She had one of Jake's hands pressed at a specific spot, helping him feel his little sister move. Both of their faces radiated something other-worldly. Something akin to pure joy.

And he thought about life, and miracles, and how every once in a while, things just worked out.

"Jack?"

Jake had lost interest, sliding down off the couch and racing towards the table and his dinner. Sam, on the other hand, had straightened somewhat and was looking at her husband with an odd expression on her face.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah." Jack walked over and held out his hand to her, helping her lever herself upright. "I was just talking with Daniel."

Scratching at a random spot on the side of her belly, she scrunched her nose at him. "That looked pretty intense."

"No. Not really." He flickered a look at his phone before slipping it into his pocket. "We were just talking."

"About?"

"Life." Simplistic, but accurate. "Just—life."

She reached up and raked her hair back behind her shoulders, tossing it this way and that. She'd dressed for comfort in a pair of leggings and a top that bloused generously over her over-ripe abdomen. She'd gained a little weight—not unusual under the circumstances, and her face appeared a little fuller than normal, her body a little heavier. More voluptuous—sexier—if truth be told.

And she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He knew her face as well as he knew his own—better, probably, since he'd spent so many nights dreaming of it back before he was allowed such indulgences. He knew every expression, every nuance—each smile, each quirk. He could track her mood by the minute variations in the color of her eyes, could read her body and movements.

Was endlessly intrigued, and attracted, and enthralled by every bit of her.

"What are you looking at?"

"Huh?" Jack startled, catching her eye as he refocused.

"You were staring." A half-smile curved her lips. "What were you looking at?"

Deja vu. Isn't that what Daniel had said earlier? Deja vu.

He didn't have to go back fifteen years for this memory—he only had to go back a few. Back to another moment in time when Cassie was visiting and dinner was imminent and things were in flux. He'd been standing in his bathroom with a plastic stick in his pocket and a plethora of questions.

"You." He spoke quietly. Only loudly enough for his wife to hear above the excited chattering that Jake was making in the dining room behind them. "I was looking at you."

Sam rose, more lithely than would seem possible. Stepping around the ottoman, she stopped next to him. She looked up at him with clear, blue eyes and a mischievous smile. "Me? Why?"

"Why would I look at you?" Pulling her close, he angled down to nuzzle her cheek. "Because you're very look-at-able."

With a little roll of her eyes, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, smiling and shaking her head with a whispered scoff. "Good lord, why?"

"Because you're beautiful." He'd never get tired of saying it. He tilted her face upward with his knuckle under her chin. Smoothing his thumb along the curve of her cheek, he studied her. "And perfect. And I'm the luckiest shrub alive."

And she did that thing again, where she bit back a smile and ducked her head and tried to hide the way her cheeks were turning pink and her eyes were going a little misty. Hormones. She'd blame the hormones—but she still rose up on her toes and brushed a kiss against his lips.

"I love you too, Jack."

The touch was too short—but Jack didn't mind. He'd make up for that later tonight. For now, he was content just being here. Being present. Enjoying the moment. Witnessing—hell, being part of—actual miracles.

With Jake slapping his little palms on his tray, and Cassie bustling about getting plates and glasses, and Sam sighing against his throat as he gathered her closer, and closer still.

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