The door closed. She didn't bother to look. "Carter?"

She noticed his voice sounded strained and rough, but with the buzz she was feeling, any concern it might have garnered in the past was nonexistent.

He strode toward the couch and stopped. And she could hear him fidgeting with his keys as she tipped her empty glass to her mouth, drinking the droplets of whiskey from the ice; reminding herself a refill was in order.

"So, the silent treatment then?" His voice was softer than she thought it would be.

He knew why she was mad, and she knew by ignoring him, she was bordering on insubordination as it was.

Oh, she thought with a smirk, I'm just getting warmed up.

When she stood and headed into the kitchen...he followed.

"Talk to me."

Opening the freezer, she refilled her ice. "Wanna drink?"

Not waiting for a response, she grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured herself another two fingers.

"No." He had never seen her like this before and it worried him. Part of him had been hoping he would find her lying around in some comfy sweats, nursing a pint of ice cream… but that wasn't her style. He exhaled a frustrated sigh. "Come on Carter, I pretty much cornered the market on the 'getting drunk and feeling sorry for myself' act."

She leaned back against the countertop, huffed a bitter laugh and took a sip, turning to look at him for the first time since he'd walked inside. Noticing he was still wearing the same long sleeve black t-shirt he'd been wearing at work, and had apparently only bothered to switch out his BDU pants for jeans.

Swallowing, her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. "You might want to leave…sir..." The 'sir' was soaked in acid, and she saw him wince slightly at the curt delivery as she took another sip, swallowed and finished, "...before I say something that warrants a court-martial."

He stood there, forehead creasing and jaw tight, obviously at a loss for words.

She went to walk past him and he brushed a finger against her shoulder, hoping she would stop and talk to him. Instead, she turned into him, using her free hand on his chest to push him against the edge of the kitchen counter. He let her, and the lip of the counter dug into his back as she leaned into him. Anger flaring, her lip quivered, "I trusted you."

The past tense made him cringe.

Initially, when he found out about the background check, he was going to tell her. But the more he thought about it, and the happier she seemed to be with the guy, the more he convinced himself that telling her would just be the selfish move of a jealous man. That at the end of the day, all it would do is ruin her chance at real happiness. And as much as he hated the prick, he couldn't do that to Carter. She of all people deserved to be happy.

Looking at her now though, he knew how big of a mistake he'd made. And he couldn't blame her for being mad, he wanted to kick his own ass.

"I know," he managed.

"Get out."

Her response was simple and succinct as she backed away and leaned against the sink opposite of him, draining her glass.

He exhaled roughly. "I didn't want to be the reason why it didn't work out between you two."

She barked out a dry laugh, "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're off the hook, free and clear." For some reason, the look of confusion and realization on his face was comical to her.

"You ended it?"

Not bothering to answer, she just stared back at him…figuring it was better than responding with, 'Yeah, no shit.'

His eyes drifted down in the space between them. "I knew you'd be mad but I didn't think you'd take it that far."

Eyebrows furrowing, she glared at him, "Seriously?" Her head shook in disbelief, "Trust is everything! If I can't trust him or y…" Her teeth gnashed together, cutting the sentence short as she looked away with hurt in her eyes, "...then what's the point?"

His stomach clenched at the inference. She had ended it with Pete because she felt like she couldn't trust him anymore. And now, she felt she couldn't trust him either? He felt panic brewing at the implication. Would she leave him? Leave SG1? Shit…no.

"Carter…"

The sound of his strained voice pulled her heart into her throat, and Sam felt her emotions betray her. Her eyes watered as she turned towards the sink, the sadness and hurt blooming through the anger. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? And now she was going to cry in front of him? Why did she have to be so weak when it came to this man? Her frustration peaked and without thinking, she smashed her glass into the sink with a sharp curse.

Jack flinched at the loud noise. And when Sam pulled her hand out of the sink and he saw the blood dripping from it, his chest tightened as he rushed to her side. "Goddamn it Carter," he huffed worriedly, grabbing her wrist.

Her stomach fluttered at his touch. Even now, as angry as she was, he still could have that effect on her. "Just go," she whispered through her teeth; dropping her head and fighting the tears.

Ignoring her, he turned on the faucet and ran her hand under the warm tap water; inspecting for any glass shards. "I'm not going anywhere." Turning off the water, he snatched her dish towel beside the sink and wrapped it around her hand. Encasing her covered hand in his, he turned her to face him...his eyes dark with concern, and something else. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked down. That's what Pete had said too. It wasn't enough then, and it wasn't enough now.

When she tried to turn away from him, he pressed her wrapped hand against his chest, holding her still.

She looked up at him defiantly as his jaw shifted back and forth. "I should've told you."

Her words lashed out like venom, "You were going to let me marry him, knowing it was all based on a lie." She gritted her teeth, avoiding his eyes as her other fist pushed into his chest. "To think I actually thought…"

She let the sentence hang. Then choked out an empty laugh and shook her head, "never mind, it doesn't matter."

He wrapped his other hand gently around her fist. "Thought what?" he asked roughly.

She lifted her head as the tears seeped past the anger, giving her away. Her voice cracked, "…that you cared about me."

The ragged inhale through his parted lips was immediate. "Carter…"

This time she pushed off of him hard enough that he let go, cutting him off. "Don't…just don't."

She turned to escape to the safety of her bedroom, and when he called out after her, she didn't stop.

"Goddamn it," he growled, raking his hand through his hair.

Sam heard a curse and a distinct bang of a fist against a countertop as she turned the corner into her room.

Slamming the door, she sat on the edge of her bed, trying to clear her mind through the whiskey haze.

The sound of the doorbell was the last thing she expected to hear.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she eyed the clock on her nightstand. Midnight. Who the hell…?

She strode to the door and took a couple of deep breaths before yanking it open. That's when she heard the yelling.

By the time she made the quick jog to the front door, the yelling had stopped.

There they stood, the Colonel and Pete, standing face to face, with their arms at their sides and their hands balled into fists; ready for a fight.

Shit, shit, shit.