When Jack slid his hand over to her side of the bed, the frigid sheets confirmed his fear. His heart hammering as he listened hard for her in the darkness.

Trying to rationalize while he gritted his teeth against the rush of panic. Attempting to slow it down with reason.

She was probably just in the bathroom or grabbing a quick drink of water.

But when he closed his eyes and concentrated, really concentrated, only silence followed. No echo of movement from the bathroom. No shuffling of feet in the direction of the kitchen. No sipping or swallowing noises from the fantasized glass of water. Nothing.

Nothing.

His eyes snapped open as he searched the dark. Finding the bedroom door slightly ajar, just the way they'd left it. And not a speck of light coming from the other side.

Gone. She was gone.

There was no stopping the terror now, or the jet stream of adrenaline rocketing through his veins as he sat up quickly. Had Knight decided to go back on his word? Had he sent someone else? Some other mercenary to finish the job?

He cursed himself for not bothering to check the perimeter before they went to bed. Hell, for not checking it when they'd first gotten there. Allowing himself to get lost in her. Falling into a false sense of security when they'd been on a homicidal maniac's hit list less than twenty-four hours ago.

The rational part of him nudged its way past the swirling chaos.

No, that didn't make sense. It wasn't possible. Not without him knowing. She would have fought tooth and nail. At the very least he would've heard a struggle.

Right?

Sliding silently from the bed, he grabbed his boxers from the chair next to the nightstand and slipped them on while he waited for his eyes to adjust. Crouching down and reaching out with a hand to feel his way along the crevice between the mattress and the box spring.

When his hand landed on the hilt of his knife, his eyes narrowed as he pulled it free. Lining the back of the blade flush against his forearm with a flick of his wrist.

God help Knight if he was behind this. He would fucking destroy him.

He was through the door in seconds, staying light on the balls of his feet, primed for a fight as he relied on the rest of his senses.

When he got to the end of the hallway, he stopped short. Flattening himself against the wall as he strained to listen for any signs that someone might be waiting for him. Knowing that as soon as he breached the opening where the moon and the sun competed for exposure, he'd be visible to anyone in the rest of the cottage.

Caught in the 'fatal funnel' as they said. A term they used back in his spec op days when they were clearing houses and searching for high-interest targets during the ass crack of dawn.

It usually referred to doorways but it could be used in any place where someone was stuck entering a bigger room. The key was to get in fast. Dynamic entry. Giving him a better chance to survive an ambush on the other side.

Although if someone was there, an ambush wouldn't matter much. His disadvantage was an obvious one. There was a reason why the old adage 'bringing a knife to a gun fight' was a common saying in the Westerns. It spoke of desperation and stupidity. And right now, he was feeling both.

But if there was ever a case where a knife would be beneficial, this was it. The darkness worked in his favor. Not enough time or light for the other guy to aim down his sights at him. And if there were more than two, they'd have to worry about cross-fire. They'd be too worried about hitting their buddy if he got in between them.

That moment of hesitation would be all he needed to seek out his targets.

Most knife fighters were taught to go for the big arteries, the heavy bleeders. Carotid, brachial, femoral. But in Jack's experience, bleeding out took time. Time that they could be fighting back. Not to mention it was messy. Once you've gone hands-on with someone while your feet are sliding in three quarts of blood, it's not something you urge to repeat.

No, he would be going for the instant kill. The spinal cord. Get close, fast. Sink in a one-arm choke from the side and jam the blade into the base of their skull to sever the brain stem. Simple and quick. No muss, no fuss.

His nose flared as he filled his lungs. No matter the outcome, he wouldn't make it easy on them, that's for goddamn sure.

It was that split second before he pushed off the wall that he made his mistake.

Letting his concentration slip as a flash of Sam being held at gunpoint on the plane came flooding back. She'd have to be knocked out or dead for him not to be able to hear her right now. Dead.

The panic attack was brutal and swift, and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

Sweeping him up in a rockslide of terror as his hearing clouded. Eclipsed by the thundering heartbeat rocking his torso and panting as the acid in his stomach churned. His vision tunneling while he struggled to breathe through it, using the wall more for support than a tactical advantage. But it was no use.

His heart clenched and it felt like his chest was splitting in two. Like someone had already put a round through him at dead center mass. No, no, no…not now.

With a silent curse, he forced himself off the wall. It was only going to get worse. Every passing second felt like a lifetime. If he was going to make a move, it was now or never.

He dug deep and held his breath, hurtling himself forward with his knife at the ready.

Rounding the corner in a flash….

Only to come face to face with Sam. Wearing nothing but the black t-shirt from earlier.

Eyes wide, she let out a shriek and stumbled away from him on instinct, her hands flying up to protect herself as he let out a hissed curse. Faltering backward into the kitchen wall, his back thudding hard against it as he heaved ragged gulps of air.

He should have been happy. Grateful. Ecstatic even, that she was fine. But all he could think about was what he would've done if something had happened to her. A cold chill rolled through him. Devastated at the mere thought of it as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

His arms dropped, the knife clattering to the ground as his legs gave up the command to stand.

As soon as his ass hit the ground, worry replaced the shock on her face, and he heard the muffled cry of his name as she fell to her knees in front of him. Her eyes searching his. Her hands spreading over his chest as she tried to meet his glassy downtrodden gaze. "Jack, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

What he must look like. Taking in air but somehow still straining to breathe. Shaking like a terrified child.

Her hands cupped his face, forcing his head up. The fear in her voice unmistakable. "Jack please, you're scaring me."

Once his eyes met hers, he latched onto her steady gaze, letting it guide him out of the storm. She's here, she's fine, she's alright.

He felt his body responding as he fought to catch his breath. Gripping her hands in his clammy ones. The panic finally beginning to fade. "Sorry, I'm…I'm sorry."

Every emotion quickly replaced by embarrassment as he tried to think of a way to explain this. Needless to say, the jig was up.

Caressing her warm fingers, he used her touch to ground himself. Concentrating on the pink hue underneath her nails.

"I'm okay…I just…" He searched for the words. "I woke up and you weren't there, and I just…panicked, freaked out, lost it…got…nervous."

"Got nervous?" The disbelief in her eyes matched the incredulity of her tone as she inched closer and sat back on her heels. A stern look followed. "Jack, tell me what's going on. I want the truth."

Oh God, she was going to leave him.

The pit of his stomach roiled. A bout of dizziness making his head swim as the fabric of his world slowly ripped apart

Of course she would. Who could blame her?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Jesus, what an idiot he'd been. How utterly delusional to think he might've actually been good enough for her. Knowing all along, deep down, that she deserved so much more. Someone younger, stronger. Mentally sound for Christ's sake. Someone who didn't carry a shit ton of emotional baggage with him on a daily basis.

He braced his elbows on his bent knees and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, desperate to push away the harsh reality for just a while longer.

"Jack…."

When he lifted his head, her determined expression said it all. She wasn't going to let this go. She wanted an answer.

And was currently giving him that look. Her, 'Don't mess with me. I'll blow up a sun if I have to,' look.

Just rip off the band-aid Jack, he silently coached himself. Rip it off and pray you don't bleed out.

He took a deep breath and the words tripped over themselves as he blurted them out. The sour taste lingering behind. "It was a panic attack."

Her eyes softened as she leaned forward, a hand settling on his knee.

"How…long? How long have you been having them?" It wasn't the only question she was asking. But he could hear the other just as clearly, evident by the wounded tone of her voice. And how long have you been hiding them from me?

They were both valid questions.

His cheeks puffed out and then deflated with a loud exhale. "Since we picked you up on Knight's plane. I had the first one on the ship when you went up front to talk to the guys."

She was processing his words. He could tell. That genius brain working a mile a minute.

"So, it happened when I left the room you were in….and now when I left the bed?"

His head dipped in a nod and he gave her the answer she was searching for; the trigger. "It seems to be line of sight."

Her eyes flitted side to side before coming back to his, her forehead creasing in thought. "But yesterday, when you started the bath…" He sighed.

"I have a coping technique I learned years ago after Iraq." Shrugging. "Sometimes it works. That time it did."

Her shoulders slumped. And the way her voice cracked when she spoke, reminded him exactly why he hadn't told her. Still didn't make it right.

"Why? Why is this happening?"

That was the million-dollar question.

And he gave her the only theory he'd been able to come up with. "Now, I'm just guessing here. But…well, you know about my issues with…" he looked away as the words possession and obsession tumbled in his mind like clothing in a dryer. Both truths hanging on the tip of his tongue. Embarrassed to speak of either as his hand motioned.

But she nodded in his peripheral, saving him from voicing it out loud as she encouraged him softly. "Yes….?"

"Yeah well, I'm guessing that, combined with almost…" He swallowed hard to work through his sudden dry mouth. Squeezing the difficult words past his lips. "…losing you…had this effect."

She canted her head, trying her best to make sense of the craziness he was spewing. "Because you feel like I'm still in danger?"

He wished more than anything he could tell her for certainty what the root of all of this was. He really did. It was the least she deserved.

But in truth he was spit-balling here. Smashing all the possibilities he could think of together into one big fat ball of guesswork. Using the symptoms and triggers he'd experienced to self-diagnose something he didn't fully understand himself. Not really.

"I don't know, I guess. I mean I think Knight will always be in the back of my mind as long as he's still breathing the same air as we are. But it's more than that." He raked his fingers through his hair. "It won't be long until you're back at work, taking the same risk you've been taking for years every time we step through the gate."

The memory of her first mission filled the small patch of silence. Remembering how he gave her a little shove through the blue shimmer. The wonder in her eyes. That smile. It hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Even then he knew he was in trouble.

"And don't get me wrong, I've always been terrified of anything happening to you…but…"

The rest of the words hung in the space between them until he saw it. The way her lips parted. The hard lines of her face smoothing over as the pieces clicked together. Ever the savior, she rescued him by finishing his sentence with a melancholy quirk of her lips. "But now it's different because we're different."

He tipped his head, looking down and away. Afraid to see the disappointment that was sure to follow. Waiting for him in those big blue eyes.

She surprised him instead by scooting closer, shifting to sit sideways between his thighs. Her knees drawn up as she wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested her head against his chest.

"I knew something was wrong. You seemed a little off. But I just thought you were still decompressing after everything that'd happened."

"Yeah, I was hoping I could use the week to get it under control."

She tilted her head up a tad. "Jack, you should have told me."

A deep-seated ache churned within, his words barely cresting a hoarse whisper. "I know. I'm sorry."

Somehow, within the last week, he had convinced himself that he wasn't broken.

But he was. He'd been broken for a very long time, and he knew there was no amount of therapy that would ever change that.

The air suddenly felt thin around him. His chest refusing to expand enough to take a deep breath. Feeling like he was sipping through a straw as he fought the impending dread, bracing himself for the inevitable.

Any second, she would be saying goodbye.

But when she spoke, departing words didn't come. And instead of distancing herself and pulling away, she tucked into him instead. "Well, we can use this week to work on it…together."

"Together?" he muttered confusedly. Wait…what?

He'd expected her to be smart about this. To acknowledge what was painfully obvious and get herself clear of him before he smothered her. Before he made her life miserable. Was she just trying to be nice about this or was she shielding herself from reality and ignoring the truth?

He curled his finger under her chin and lifted until he found her eyes.

They beamed back, full of hope and kindness and love.

Damnit. As if this wasn't hard enough, he was going to have to be the voice of reason here.

"No, we can't. Sam, don't you get it? I'm…unstable. It's not fair to ask you to be with me when I'm like this. I won't do that to you. Hold you back. Be another burden in your life. You got enough shit to worry about."

"What?!"

The look on her face twisted his stomach into knots. The covetous part of him howling as she pushed away and turned her body around on her knees to face him.

"Not fair? Jack, are you…are you purposefully trying to hurt me?"

His eyes widened as he forced himself not to reach out for her, balling his fists instead.

"What? No!"

Her brows pulled together, and he watched as her shock and confusion morphed into anger. Eyes narrowing as she pinned him back with a glare.

"Then what the Hell is this? What about all of that stuff you said to me last night? 'No matter what. Heart and soul, I'm yours.' Those were your words!"

His jaw shifted as his temper rose to meet hers. "Yes, they were."

"So, what was that? Just…lip service? Some kind of cruel joke?!"

"Of course not," he growled, offended she could even think that. "I meant every goddamn word!"

"Well guess what Jack." Her bottom lip quivered with an incendiary mix of rage and frustration as she leaned forward, her index finger pressing into his chest.

"This, what you're going through right now, is the 'no matter what.' It's the same reason you stuck by my side when Knight came after me, and it's the same reason I'm staying with you now."

His heart lurched at the sight her tears, her voice breaking with the pain he'd caused as she strained through gritted teeth.

"So, listen up Colonel, because I'm only going to say this once. We are going to figure this out together because that's what people do when they love each other!" Her finger jabbed her point home. "So don't even think about leaving me. Not now, not ever! You got that?!"

His mouth opened and closed. In all of his years, no one had ever fought for him like that. Any other time, he would have found the humor in the contradiction between the anger in her voice and the loving, supportive words she spoke. Right now, however, as he watched the silent tears slide down her cheeks, it was all he could do not to beg for forgiveness.

But it wasn't an apology she needed. The power of her words, the hurt in her tone. She was trying to make him understand that everything he felt for her ran both ways. That this thing between them was real and forever. That it didn't matter if he felt like he wasn't good enough. She did. And that's all that mattered.

He tried his best to swallow back the emotion, but the deep quake in his voice gave him away.

"I love you, Sam."

Any lingering frustration in her face faded in an instant. And she let out a huffed sob as she hurled herself into his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and burying her fingers into his thick hair as she slotted her lips roughly over his. He grunted first from the impact and then from her kiss, frantic and messy as she slipped her tongue through his parted lips hungry for more.

He was panting by the time she pulled her mouth off of him. Blurry-eyed and hard. Her fierce determination and unwavering love making his head spin, and his body boiling over with want.

But she wasn't showing any signs of stopping. And he stayed still, his eyes shuttering closed as she peppered kisses across his jawline and down his neck. Insistent and demanding.

She murmured something into his skin but he couldn't hear anything past the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. "Huh?"

Licking and planting open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, she puffed a breathy laugh. "I said, I love you too." Then she sunk her teeth into the meat of it, making him hiss.

"Fuck Sam."

Without a word, her hand fumbled at the waistband of his boxers. But the angle was all wrong, and before she had a chance to voice her frustration, he scooted his ass forward, away from the wall.

His boxers tented immediately, and she gave a heavy grunt of satisfaction as she pushed the elastic over his straining length to free him.

When she gripped the base of him, his hips jerked in response. Groaning as she stroked it with purpose.

He wasn't going to last if she kept that up. But before he had a chance to say anything, she was straddling his hips and rucking up her t-shirt. Sinking down on his shaft right there.

He exhaled a curse to the ceiling as she braced her hands on the wall above his head and rode him hard.

Moaning brokenly as she took what she wanted from him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge within a matter of minutes.

And when her walls clamped down on him, and she cupped his chin, tilting it to meet her gaze, he felt it. The desperation. The want as she rolled her hips, her deliciously pained expression as she took him particularly deep. "Tell me your mine."

He gasped as the coil of heat in his groin twisted and pulled, his breath hitching as he neared the point of no return.

"I am Sam. I'm fucking yours."

Then he came with a strangled groan, clinging to her waist. Fingertips digging in as she ground down on him, pulling him apart.

The friction of her clit against his pelvis finished her off a second later as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, muffling her cry. Wrapping her arms around his neck as she rocked herself through it with Jack's help. His firm hold on her seeing her through to the end; her legs shaking from the intensity.

She slumped against him a moment later, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder as their heavy breathing echoed in the empty room.

Wow.

He was a mess.

Sweaty. Still reeling from the climax. Countless emotions running through him while his body vibrated from the quick dump of adrenaline. He used his hold on her to ground himself as a glimmer of light coming from the full-length dining room windows peeked at them from across the room.

Sam leaned her head down. Pressing her cheek into his chest as her breathing evened out. Her voice sounding relieved and content.

"We'll figure this out, okay?"

He fought back the sudden tears, his attempt to clear the quiver in his gruff voice failing miserably. "Yeah." He had forgotten how good it felt to feel truly loved.

Although he was quite sure he'd never felt anything like this.

They sat there for a moment, and he used the few long minutes to steady himself. Letting his mind wander to the stone left unturned.

There was one last thing. And if she was in for the long haul, it was time to tell her everything. This time was as good as any. He cleared his throat.

"Sam, I'm retiring."

Her head popped off his chest as she straightened, shifting slightly to meet his eyes. A frown pursing her lips. "What? But…Jack…you can't."

The corner of his mouth curled slightly. "Why can't I? It's what I want." He slid his hand along the smooth line of her jaw. "You. This. Us, is what I want. Everything else…," his finger curled one of her waves around the ridge of her ear with a sigh, "everything else is just background noise."

She shook her head. "But they won't let you. You know they won't. The program needs you, Jack. The team needs you. They certainly need you more than me."

Jack sputtered a wry laugh. "Well, that's bullshit and you know it. Come on, let's not kid ourselves Carter. You're the genius here. I'm just an over-the-hill grunt with bad knees."

He looked at her pointedly. "Besides, you were always meant to take over the team when the time came. You've earned it a hundred times over, pulling our collective asses out of the fire time and time again."

Her eyes lightened but the sadness remained as he let out a breath, his voice softening. "I wouldn't trust leaving the team with anyone else you know."

Her eyes watered, drifting away from his. "I knew it was going to come down to one of us leaving but I was thinking I could go to R&D..."

"Not a chance Sam, you belong at the SGC."

"Or maybe we might get a little help from the General or the President. They always tell us, anything we need…."

"Hey." He tilted his head and gave her an easy smile. "It would be great if they could find something for me that works. But if not… Hell, I would've been gone years ago if it wasn't for you."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Honestly. I mean, don't get me wrong. When they yanked me out of retirement the first time, I was ready to help give us a fighting chance against the snakes. But once we had them on the ropes a few years back and those damn bugs were finally out of the picture, I was ready to go."

He huffed a laugh. "I even had my papers drawn up but I chickened out. Knowing I'd lose the chance to see you every day." It sounded pitiful hearing it out loud and he waved his hand to push past it.

"Then you got engaged. And well, things changed. I think Hammond sensed it a couple of weeks ago because he came to me about taking over the base while he headed up to Washington. Along with the plan to follow in his footsteps when he retires in a couple of years." Her eyes widened.

"Jack, they'd make you General." He shook his head, dismissing it.

"I'd be drowning in paperwork and too far away from you. A rank isn't worth that."

She shifted, tucking her face into his neck.

Ignoring the mess they'd made between them, he reciprocated immediately as she sniffled. Caressing the back of her neck while he wrapped an arm high around her waist to pull her in close.

"It won't be the same without you." Her muffled words were barely discernable.

"Yeah well, it's gonna be hard not being out there with you guys. Watching you kick ass and take names."

She huffed a wet laugh against his skin.

He turned his head, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. "But I'll be there for you every day and after every mission Sam…for whatever you need."

There was a pause before she spoke again. Sounding like a bit of the world had lifted off of her shoulders.

"So, does that mean you'll still teach me advanced hand-to-hand?" He grinned.

"Are you kidding? Rolling around with you on the mat is one of my favorite things." Pulling back to look at her, he cupped her face, his thumbs swiping at the faint moisture as he sobered. "I promise, I'll show you everything I know."

There was a gleam of humor in her eyes. And he could feel the hole in his heart mending the moment the smile reached her lips. His breath catching as her fingertips teased the hair on his chest. "Oh, I'm counting on it."