As before, Jack returned to his cabin intensely frustrated. However, there was also a tinge of sadness as he had thought he had a chance with her. Perhaps she would overcome her barriers and decide to let someone new into her life—him, specifically. But it seemed it was one-sided. She wasn't remotely interested. He had either misread the signs, or there had been no signs, and he felt like an idiot. Instead of staying and enjoying his leave, Jack packed everything, closed his cabin, and drove his truck back to Colorado Springs. Staying in the cabin held no appeal anymore. Right now, it was the last place he wanted to be, which spoke volumes about his state of mind.
Two days passed before Sam decided to visit Jack's cabin and return the casserole he had left behind after their first meal. Taking all her usual precautions, she carefully searched for any signs with her binoculars but didn't spot him or his truck. In fact, his cabin seemed closed, with the stocked wood pile covered with a tarp for airflow. The deck lacked chairs, the windows were all closed, and the shutters latched. Sam sighed; he had left.
She gently placed the casserole on the floor next to his front door and decided to take a closer look. A closed door had never been a deterrent for her. Starting with a glance at his generator, she remembered he had mentioned some problems and a replacement. After a thorough inspection, Sam concluded that with some of her tools, the old generator would work just fine; no replacement was needed. She decided to return and work on it.
Since she was there, she opted to look inside the cabin. He already had been inside hers, so it seemed fair she would look at his, she reasoned. Carefully, she took her professional kit from inside her jacket, and within five minutes, she was inside. Surprisingly, he had no alarm.
"Amateur", she said almost in a whisper.
Using her flashlight, she moved around the cabin, quickly examining the worn-out but carefully kept furniture, probably inherited. An oversized couch in the living room was adorned with a colorful rug in front of the fireplace.
"Interesting choice," she mumbled aloud as her fingers stopped at a picture of a young boy with a cap and a baseball glove. He was smiling, bearing the same eyes as the Colonel. So, he had lied. He had a son. Sam put the photo back in place and picked up another one.
In the next photo, three men stood together—the Colonel, another guy with glasses, and a tall, dark man with a weird tattoo on his forehead. They were all dressed in black military uniforms, with trees behind them. The Colonel sported sunglasses, giving him a nice look. Sam returned the picture to its place.
The cabin had a large bookshelf stocked with several National Geographic magazines. She moved to the rest of the cabin, opening the door to find a large bed, likely a king, with two nightstands and a dresser—all in dark wood. The bedroom, probably the Colonel's, was simple but cozy. Sam pointed her flashlight to a book on one of the nightstands and, upon approaching, read the title of the worn-out book: "Children of Time" by Adrian Tchaikovsky. Sam smiled; she had read this book as a teenager. It was about a dying Earth, with people leaving and a plan to keep some of them safe to ensure the human race's flourishing elsewhere. Things didn't work out so well.
"So, sci-fi novels, Colonel," she said, still smiling.
She put the book down and moved to the next smaller room with two bunk beds and a dresser. The cabin also had a modern bathroom—a luxury she wouldn't mind trading.
After a brief exploration, Sam closed the cabin and left, her mind buzzing with thoughts. At least she had something to keep her busy in the next few days—repairing the generator.
Jack's return to the SGC was turbulent, marked by foul humor and isolation. Teal'c and Daniel tried to engage with him, but Jack's responses were limited to a few words. He participated in missions, returned alive, and continued his routine, seemingly unfazed. When questioned about his cabin during the next leave, Jack dismissed it with a simple "What's the point?" and left for the surface, heading home. This pattern continued for five months until an unexpected encounter in General Hammond's office changed everything.
Passing by Hammond's office, Jack saluted a departing general who barely acknowledged him. Invited into Hammond's office, Jack closed the door, sensing an unusual atmosphere. Hammond, seated at his desk, wore a solemn expression.
"Take a seat, Colonel," Hammond began, and Jack obliged.
"What I'm about to tell you isn't exactly classified but personal, so I would appreciate you not disclosing it to anyone."
Jack nodded.
"Of course, Sir."
Hammond sighed heavily.
"The man that just left my office is a dear friend of mine. We served together in Vietnam, and he just told me that he's dying."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Sir," Jack responded.
"Yeah, me too. But that isn't all," Hammond continued.
The office became silent as Hammond deliberated whether to share what he had been told. Looking at Jack, he began, "His name is Major General Jacob Carter. He has a daughter, Samantha Carter. You probably don't remember, but it was quite a scandal in Washington, D.C., more or less ten years ago. She was charged with murder and deserted."
Jack became very still, his attention fully captured.
"Well, Jacob has been searching for her since then and told me that some time ago, he found out she is alive and well here in the States. He has tried everything to overturn her murder charges but to no avail. And now he has very little time to live," Hammond revealed.
Jack almost stopped breathing.
"Is she guilty?" he asked slowly.
Hammond shook his head.
"According to her father, she vehemently denies any guilt. He claims that her fiancé subjected her to physical abuse and attempted to rape her, and she acted in self-defense, killing him in the process. Overwhelmed by shock, she fled the scene. His thorough investigations suggest they were targeting him due to his significant Pentagon connections and merely used her as a pawn. He was to be appointed Military Deputy in the Office of the Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Space Acquisition and Integration, but there was strong opposition. Nevertheless, he provided her with the opportunity to escape".
"Where is she?" Jack asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"He doesn't know. The person he sent didn't tell him, just that she was alive and well. He was indeed surprised that he came back. Apparently, it was a one-way trip," Hammond explained.
Jack's suspicions deepened.
"So, what does he want?" he inquired.
"After he dies, I'm supposed to continue to try to clear her name and see if she is okay," Hammond said with a resigned tone. "I'm her godfather."
Jack paled.
"You are what?" he asked.
"Her godfather," Hammond repeated.
Jack passed a hand across his face.
"I see. Anything I can do to help, Sir?" His thoughts were already on a particular cabin in Minnesota.
"I know I don't have the right to ask you this, Jack, but your black ops experience makes you unique for this situation. If you are willing to assist me, I would be in your debt," Hammond said slowly.
Jack stood up.
"Don't mention it, Sir. I would be glad to help. Do you have a file on her?" he asked, determined to erase any doubts left in his mind.
Hammond handed him a file from his desk, and Jack refrained from opening it.
"I'll take care of it, Sir," Jack said with determination.
"Thank you, son," Hammond said appreciatively.
Jack saluted and left the office with the file securely tucked under his arm. He entered the first empty office he found and locked the door. With trembling hands, he opened the file, looking at the photo of the deserter Samantha Carter. He was looking at the so-called math teacher Sam Anderson, his neighbor in Minnesota. He had a trip to make.
After his conversation with Jack, Hammond put SG-1 off rotation, and Jack departed for Minnesota without further explanation. Upon arrival, he half-expected to spend the initial days without power until the repairman arrived to fix the generator. To his immense surprise, the generator started immediately and worked like new. Jack took a long shower and, armed with Samantha Carter's file, settled onto his couch, basking in the warmth of the fireplace.
As he delved into the details, Jack learned that Samantha Carter had graduated from the U.S. Air Force Academy at the top of her class. She went on to obtain a Ph.D. in astrophysics, displaying extensive knowledge in quantum mechanics while simultaneously attending the Air Force Academy. She had been on the trajectory to become an astronaut, even enrolling for NASA tests when a fight with her fiancé, Captain Jonas Hanson, escalated into murder charges. Subsequently, she vanished without a trace—a stellar career shattered by a single event.
Jack scrutinized her Academy photo, reminiscing about the woman with whom he had shared a meal. There was no doubt they were the same person, yet there were discrepancies. The woman in the photo appeared young, brilliant, and innocent, her hair cut short. The Samantha Carter he met had no doubt a brilliance about her but harbored suspicious eyes, hardened features, and an elusive quality that Jack couldn't quite pinpoint. And she had much longer hair, which he quite liked.
Hammond had asserted that her father swore by her innocence, but was she blameless? Jack recalled their initial encounter at the supermarket, the moment she aimed a gun at his chest. Those eyes—determined and unflinching—reflected a readiness to kill if necessary. Jack recognized those eyes; they mirrored his own. If he intended to approach her, it had to be on his terms, catching her off guard.
With a heavy sigh, Jack acknowledged the challenging road ahead. He had much work to do before confronting Doctor Samantha Carter.
As time passed, and with no signs of the Colonel, Sam managed to push thoughts of him to the recesses of her mind during the day. However, at night, a shift occurred. Vivid dreams invaded her sleep, and the Colonel became an unexpected nocturnal companion, even if only in the realm of dreams. Despite these nighttime visions, the life of Samantha Carter continued its familiar course—solitary and enigmatic.
Returning from her firing range one day, Sam suddenly felt a sharp pain in her left leg. Glancing down, she discovered a small dart embedded in her skin. Instinctively, she pulled it out, realizing she had been shot. Gripping her Glock, she scanned her surroundings, but her vision blurred rapidly.
"Fuck," she muttered, the darkness swallowing her consciousness.
Since early morning, Jack had been observing her activities. He marveled at her impressive firing range, a professional setup with various distances, and admired her prowess as a markswoman. What truly astonished him, though, was her unconventional training. Carving a figure out of a log, she covered it with a tarp and foam, executing martial arts moves bare-handed and without gloves. Jack watched, exhausted just from witnessing her routine. She would be a remarkable opponent in hand-to-hand combat.
As Sam made her way back to the cabin, Jack seized the opportunity and struck her with a specially modified tranquilizer dart. Within moments, she succumbed to its effects. Jack swiftly carried her to his cabin, opting for the familiarity of his surroundings and already set arrangements.
Jack patiently waited for her to regain consciousness, seated on a wooden chair in front of her. A table separated them in the room, illuminated by a solitary bulb hanging from the ceiling. Behind Jack was a locked door, and she was securely handcuffed to the chair, her legs also restrained. There was no chance of escape.
"Shit," she groaned as she gradually awoke, her head still lowered.
Jack remained silent until she raised her head and met his gaze, anger evident in her eyes. Undeterred, she cursed again while attempting to free herself from the handcuffs.
"You can't get out, so don't try, or you'll hurt yourself," Jack warned.
Despite the warning, she intensified her struggle.
"You are better than Paul Davis, I'll grant you that," she remarked wryly.
"Major Paul Davis?" Jack inquired, his memory trying to place the familiar name.
Sam just stared at him.
"What do you want now, Colonel? Another dinner?" she asked, her expression almost amused.
Jack maintained his composure.
"No, Doctor Samantha Carter. I want to know if you are guilty," he stated plainly.
Sam paled. Her attempts to free herself momentarily halted.
"Who sent you? Was it my father again?" she asked, her frustration causing her to tighten her handcuffs, blood beginning to seep from her wrists.
Jack clarified, "No, your godfather, General George Hammond."
Sam abruptly ceased her struggle.
"Uncle George? Why? Did something happen to my father?" she inquired, breathing heavily.
Jack almost felt a pang of sympathy for her.
"You haven't answered my question yet," he pointed out.
Frustrated, she exclaimed, "No, I'm not guilty. Happy now? Where's my father?" she demanded.
Jack crossed his arms.
"You killed a man with two shots," he stated slowly.
Sam resumed her attempts to free herself, uncaring of the harm she was causing.
"Stop that," he warned, but she persisted, her eyes locked on his.
Jack stood up, walked behind her, and discovered her wrists bleeding.
"Jesus," he muttered, touching her shoulder to stop her. "You are not getting out of this, so please stop," he urged, hoping to bring some reason into the situation.
However, Sam was beyond any reason. In her fury, she resorted to banging her head against the table with all her might. Startled, Jack grabbed her shoulders, but she had already injured herself, blood trickling from her forehead. She passed out from the force she exerted.
"For crying out loud," Jack grumbled as he uncuffed her, released her legs, and carried her in his arms. He quickly unlocked the door, ascended the steps from the shed, and brought her into his cabin. Placing her on the couch, he retrieved the med kit from the kitchen and knelt beside her, cleaning the cut on her forehead while monitoring her pulse. She was going to have a nasty bruise there.
She remained unconscious while Jack tended to her wounds on her forehead, and he carefully wrapped her injured wrists. Deciding against restraining her again, he kept his gun in its holster. The cabin door and all the windows were securely locked, minimizing any chances of escape. He hoped she wouldn't have another outburst.
Remaining seated next to her, Jack waited until she woke up, her hand instinctively going to her throbbing head.
"Oh, fuck," she muttered.
Jack commented, "Not the brightest idea."
She continued to lie with her eyes closed, and she asked in a shallow voice, "Is my father dead?"
Jack swallowed before responding, "No, he's very ill."
Sam bit her lip harder, trying to prevent tears from falling.
Jack continued to watch her.
"He asked General Hammond to take care of you. I'm his 2IC, so here I am," he explained.
Keeping her eyes closed, Sam asked, "Am I under arrest?"
Jack looked at his boots and replied, "No. Your uncle just asked me to find you and check if you are all right."
A tear managed to escape Sam's closed eyes.
"I didn't know who you were before all this. Only when I saw your file and photo did I put the pieces together," Jack admitted.
Sam stayed silent, trying hard to maintain her composure. She didn't want him to see her vulnerability. Her father was likely dying, and she was on the verge of collapsing, but she couldn't let him witness it. Carters didn't collapse in front of other people.
"If I'm not under arrest, can I return to my cabin?" she asked in a low voice.
Jack was startled. She probably had a concussion; her wrists were plain raw, and she wanted to walk back to her cabin.
"No," he firmly said.
Sam bit her lip so hard that it drew blood.
Jack, annoyed, asked, "What is with you and drawing blood?"
"Please let me leave," she requested again.
Suddenly, Jack realized why she wanted to be alone. She was on the verge of collapsing but didn't want him to see. He could compromise and give her some privacy.
"No, you cannot return to your cabin like this. You can rest in my spare room until you feel better," he offered.
Sam swallowed, knowing she had no choice. It was that or had a meltdown in his living room. "Okay," she agreed.
Determined, Jack got up.
"Come with me, then," he said.
Slowly, Sam opened her eyes, praying she could hold on for just a few more minutes. Jack extended a hand, and she got up, swaying immediately as the room spun. He held her, muttering, "God, you are stubborn."
Sam gritted her jaw, letting him lead her to the guest room.
"Here, try to rest," he said as she slowly sat on the bed. "I'll be outside. Please don't do something foolish like trying to run away," he added.
Sam closed her eyes and let the tears flow as soon as he closed the door.