The following day, Jack, dressed in his sharp dress blues, was prepared to leave for work when Sam felt the familiar and dreaded sensation she hadn't experienced since her return from the abandoned planet. A panic attack was creeping in. Determined not to let him see her struggle, she held on until he exited through the front door. However, Nurse Fisher had already sensed her distress and was ready when the door closed, finding Sam on the floor, fighting for breath.
"Hold on, Colonel," Fisher said, grabbing Sam's arm and kneeling beside her.
Sam closed her eyes, attempting to battle the attack.
"Breathe slowly and deeply," Fisher instructed, but Sam struggled.
Recognizing the severity, Fisher rushed to the kitchen for her medicine bag.
"Remember, Colonel, this will pass, and you'll feel better," she reassured.
As Fisher searched for the medicine, she continued guiding Sam.
"Let's try to breathe in for 5 seconds, hold for 5 seconds, and then breathe out for 5 seconds." With one Xanax in hand, she returned to Sam. "Take this. It will help you," she said, placing it in Sam's mouth.
After about ten minutes on the floor, Sam collapsed, exhausted. Fisher checked her pulse and then fetched a pillow and blanket.
Once Sam regained her senses, Fisher inquired, "You had a panic attack, Colonel. I believe it was triggered by seeing your husband leave for work. How are you feeling?"
Sam, exhausted and thirsty, admitted, "Tired. My throat is parched."
Fisher fetched a glass of water, and Sam gratefully consumed it all.
"Thank you," she said.
When Fisher mentioned getting Sam off the floor, Sam obliged. In the living room, Sam sat on the couch.
"Don't tell Jack about this," she requested.
Fisher, puzzled, asked, "Why, Colonel?"
Sam explained, "Because if he knows, he won't go to work anymore, and it could jeopardize his career. I don't want that. Please," she implored.
Fisher raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you think he should be the one deciding that?"
Sam shook her head.
"I know my husband very well, Nurse Fisher. After everything that has happened, if he had known this had happened, he would have stayed home. Help me deal with these panic attacks so there's no need to keep things from him. But don't tell him now, please," Sam requested again.
Fisher, moved by Sam's plea, agreed, "Very well. I won't tell him, but we have to start addressing these attacks. If they become recurrent, I will speak with the General," she warned.
Sam nodded gratefully.
"Thank you," she said.
From that morning forward, Samantha Carter-O'Neill began addressing her panic attacks. Nurse Fisher scheduled an in-home session with a therapist friend, and Sam started having regular sessions. It was the beginning of a long journey, but it was a start.
Sam's recovery persisted—gradual, occasionally with setbacks, but never a surrender. Assisted by Tilda Fisher, who had transformed into more of a trusted companion than a mere nurse, Sam successfully began gaining weight. Following her therapist's advice and as a component of her rehabilitation, Sam incorporated yoga into her routine, benefiting her body and mind. The frequency of her depressive thoughts dwindled, although occasional moments surfaced, mainly when Jack found himself immersed in extended work hours or Pentagon crises, unavoidable in his role as Head of Homeworld Security.
A surprise visit from Daniel and Vala at the Pentagon for SGC matters brought a brief but uplifting interlude. However, amid Sam's overall recovery, an unexpected stagnation occurred—one aspect of her life abruptly ended: her intimacy with Jack. Perplexed, Sam attempted conversations, clothed and unclothed, only to receive unsatisfactory responses about Jack's exhaustion from work. Doubt crept into Sam's thoughts, a significant issue considering her mind had always been her fiercest adversary.
Since Sam's health had considerably improved, Nurse Fisher no longer needed to stay at their house but only made occasional check-up visits. With the house to herself again, Sam was determined to unravel the mystery of her husband's distant behavior. Why had he stopped desiring her in bed? Did he no longer find her attractive? Alone in their bedroom, she spent hours gazing at herself in the mirror, inspecting her body for clues, trying to understand the shift in their intimacy. The confusion weighed heavily on her, especially considering that he had desired her even when she was almost skeletal, but now, with her curves back, he claimed exhaustion.
Deciding to take a different approach, Sam, not known for her romantic gestures in their marriage, decided to make an effort. She booked an appointment at a hair and nail salon, treating herself to everything she usually overlooked. Returning home, she called Jack's secretary to inquire about his schedule and learned he wasn't too busy. Seizing the opportunity, she ordered his favorite Chinese takeout, set the table, put on some music, and indulged in a long shower. Adorning herself in one of his favorite dresses, she eagerly awaited his return. Hours passed, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, she called his cell, but it went to voicemail.
"Call me, please," she implored, placing her cell on the coffee table.
Exhausted, she removed her heels, turned the music off, closed her eyes, and eventually drifted asleep.
When Jack finally arrived home well past 0300, he was weary. The sight that greeted him left him speechless – the table set with burnt-out candles, bags of his favorite Chinese restaurant on the counter, and Sam asleep on the couch in the black dress he had gifted her on her last birthday.
Stunned, he moved closer, whispering, "Jesus Christ, Sam," as he covered his mouth. Her hair, shorter now but long enough as he liked, framed her sleeping face beautifully. Kneeling beside her, he gently caressed her cheek, and she stirred, opening her eyes.
"Jack," she said, not moving.
"Hey," he replied.
"What time is it?" she asked, noticing the darkness around them.
"Past 0300," he answered.
"Oh," she sighed, starting to sit up.
Jack noticed the dress accentuating her cleavage, swallowing hard.
"Well, I suppose I'm going to bed," she said, getting up. Her romantic gesture had spectacularly backfired.
He instinctively grabbed her wrist.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know you had this planned," he apologized.
She stood quietly, asking, "Would it make any difference, Jack?" Coldness laced her words, revealing her hurt.
"I had an unexpected call from the Oval Office," he explained, rising.
"Sure," she said, still not moving.
"You look wonderful," he complimented, but she didn't respond.
Slowly, he let go of her wrist as she left the living room and climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Jack heard the door close, and with a sigh, he followed her in silence.
Entering their bedroom, she was already in sleep attire, slipping beneath the sheets. Swiftly, she turned off the nightstand light and faced away from him. Jack grasped the unspoken message. He headed to the bathroom, gently closing the door and resting his head against it. Confusion and frustration filled him. Despite her clear signals to rekindle their intimate connection as her health improved, Jack found himself hesitant to move beyond oral pleasure since her return from the planet. Even with her clean bill of health, an unexplainable fear held him back. He and Sam grew increasingly frustrated, and her improving beauty only intensified the dilemma.
Now, after she had gone to great lengths to create a romantic evening, he hadn't shown up. Worse still, he had no idea how to explain himself. He couldn't admit there were no late Pentagon meetings; instead, he had avoided coming home, unsure how to confront their situation. The realization that their marriage was on the brink of trouble weighed heavily on him, but Jack felt lost on where to start. This wasn't supposed to happen after everything and what she had been through. But it was happening and had caught Jack completely off-guard. Words had never been his forte in their relationship, and they weren't now. Yet, the desolation he saw in her face tonight forced him to reconsider his stance. Maybe he needed to work around his linguistic shortcomings and find a way to communicate with his wife, to assure her that she wasn't the problem—he was.
Closing his eyes, Jack hoped for inspiration, but none came. He changed from his dress blues into his usual T-shirt and boxers and finally went to bed. She remained with her back turned, unmoving as he joined her. Placing one hand behind his head, he stared at the ceiling in the darkness, knowing that sleep wouldn't come quickly that night.
The sound of Jack settling onto the mattress reached Sam's ears, and she felt the shift in the mattress beneath his weight. Sighs escaped both of them, and the room lapsed into silence. She knew he wasn't asleep, just as she wasn't. Hours dragged on until Sam couldn't bear the quiet any longer. Reaching for her bedside lamp, she switched it on.
"Okay, I'm done with this. What the hell is going on, Jack?" she demanded, facing him.
He remained in the same position, one hand behind his head, gazing upwards. Slowly, he turned his face to meet hers.
"I honestly don't know, Sam," he admitted.
Frustration clenched her fists.
"Have you found someone else while I was gone? Is that it?" she asked, the only logical explanation she could think of.
Jack sat up on the bed immediately.
"Of course not," he said indignantly.
Sam's eyes welled with tears.
"Why the distance, Jack? You don't touch me anymore, so you must be getting it elsewhere," she said, a tear threatening to fall.
Jack clenched his jaw.
"I would never do that," he asserted.
Sam opened her arms in total frustration.
"Then why, Jack!? Are you no longer attracted to me? What is it? I can't guess if you don't tell me!" She almost yelled.
Jack groaned, letting his head drop against the pillow again, covering his face with both hands.
"I don't fucking know, Sam! Of course, I'm attracted to you. I love you," he said, his fingers grabbing his hair as if trying to pull it out.
Sam shifted her body, almost straddling him.
"This doesn't make any sense, Jack," she said, her hands on his arms.
He continued to cover his face. Sam pressed her body harder against his, and he reacted as he always did. So, it wasn't physical.
"Jack, look at me, please," she pleaded, her fingers moving to his waist.
Jack groaned more but didn't resist. Sam reached for the elastic of his boxers and pulled them down. Jack moved his hands from his face to hers, stopping her. He was panting.
"Why, Jack?" she asked, her blue eyes not leaving his.
She was breathing heavily on top of him, her chest against his, making things very difficult for him.
"Why, Jack?" she asked again.
He closed his eyes.
"Because I'm afraid," he finally confessed.
Sam looked at him, confused.
"Afraid of what?" she asked, her hands leaving his boxers and moving to his face, cupping it. "Jack? Afraid of what?" she asked gently.
"Of failing you," he said in a shallow voice, almost too quiet for Sam to hear.
Then Sam understood what had been haunting her husband, her heart breaking.
"Oh, Jack," she whispered, slowly kissing him. "You will never fail me, my love, because I love you no matter what," she said, gently brushing his lips.
He continued with his eyes closed, unable to face her. She rested her face on his chest.
"Don't shut me out, Jack, please. We can work through this together like we always did with everything. But please don't shut me out," she pleaded.
Jack finally moved his arms and held her tight.
"I don't know what to do," he confessed.
She kissed his chest.
"We'll figure it out. Together," she assured him, then started caressing his hair.
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
Jack stirred from his slumber as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains. The room was bathed in a gentle glow, casting a warm and tranquil ambiance. He became gradually aware of the weight in his arms and the soft breathing that accompanied it. Turning slightly, Jack saw Sam nestled beside him, still lost in sleep.
The previous night's events lingered in his mind, the vulnerability he had shared with Sam now a palpable undercurrent in the room. Jack couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions — relief for having opened up, yet a lingering sense of apprehension about what lay ahead.
Carefully extricating himself from the tangled sheets, Jack sat up, stealing a moment to collect his thoughts. The air was charged with intimacy and understanding after the heart-to-heart conversation. He glanced back at Sam, who remained peacefully unaware of his contemplation.
As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, Jack took a deep breath, the cool morning air filling his lungs. The vulnerability he had exposed seemed to linger in the room, but instead of weighing him down, it felt like a bridge — a connection forged through honesty and shared vulnerability.
With a newfound resolve, Jack felt ready to face the day ahead with courage. He was determined to navigate the complexities of intimacy with Sam, knowing they could overcome any challenge together. As he tiptoed about the room, the soft sounds of the morning became a backdrop to the unfolding chapter in their relationship.
The sun continued its ascent, casting a warm glow upon the room, symbolizing the dawn of a new understanding between them. The difficult admission of the night before had become a catalyst for growth and a deeper connection. As Jack turned to look at Sam one more time before leaving the room, a gentle smile played on his lips, knowing that their journey together had taken a significant and positive turn.
The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, gently coaxing Sam into wakefulness. As she stirred in the bed, the absence of Jack's warmth beside her became apparent. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she sat up and glanced around the room, realizing she was alone.
The previous night's events flooded back into her consciousness, the weight of Jack's admission lingering in the air. Sam took a moment to reflect, the room's silence allowing her thoughts to unfurl. She felt a mixture of emotions –gratitude for Jack's honesty, vulnerability, and determination to navigate their challenges together.
Deciding it was time to face the day, Sam left the bed, putting an oversized sweater over her tank top. The morning sunlight cast a soft glow on the familiar surroundings as she made her way to the kitchen.
There, she found Jack seated at the table, a steaming mug of coffee in hand. The aroma filled the room, creating a comforting atmosphere. Jack looked up as Sam entered, and a brief smile crossed his face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy from the night before.
"Morning," Sam greeted her voice with warmth and curiosity.
"Morning," Jack replied, gesturing for her to join him. The atmosphere between them held a quiet understanding, the unspoken acknowledgment of the delicate conversation that had transpired the night before.
Sam took a deep breath as they sipped their coffee, breaking the silence.
"I've been thinking about what you shared last night," she began, her gaze meeting Jack's. "I appreciate your honesty and want us to figure this out together. Like I told you before, Jack."
Jack nodded a mixture of relief and gratitude apparent in his eyes.
"I'm sorry I let things get to this point," Jack confessed, his voice tinged with regret.
Sam tightened her grip on his hand, offering silent support.
"We've both been through a lot, Jack. And though I know you're swamped with work, I think spending some time at the cabin would be good for us. Away from Washington, your work, my therapy—everything. Just us," she suggested, her eyes reflecting a thoughtful determination. The idea had sprouted in her mind when he admitted his fear of not meeting her expectations in bed.
Jack set his mug down, contemplating the proposal.
"I might be able to get some days off," he said, mentally rearranging his schedule to make room for the escape.
"It's just a suggestion, Jack," Sam added cautiously.
He met her gaze with a tender expression.
"It's a good suggestion, and I'd like to go with you to the cabin. Just us," he affirmed.
Sam nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. As Jack rose to his feet, a renewed determination settled on his face—the same unwavering resolve she had come to admire over the years.
"I'll shower, get dressed, and care for things. I'll tell you if I have good news," he promised.
Sam smiled, idly swirling her fingers around the coffee cup. As Jack started to leave the kitchen, he paused beside her.
"What?" she asked, looking up at him inquisitively.
He met her gaze and said, "Just this."
Slowly, he lowered himself, cupping her face, and kissed her deeply. She tasted like coffee, a flavor they hadn't shared in such an intimate way since their days at the SGC, and the moment lingered until they reluctantly pulled away, breathless.
"I miss this," he admitted, giving her a small, lingering kiss. Still catching her breath, Sam responded by putting her arms around his neck, reciprocating with equal enthusiasm. They were left breathless when they finally broke the kiss, smiling at each other.
"Go to work, General," Sam teased, wetting her lips.
He winked at her and left the kitchen, the promise of a getaway and the taste of their shared affection lingering in the air.
