Attempting to calm his racing thoughts, Jack busied himself with clearing the breakfast plates and cleaning the kitchen. He sensed that she needed some time alone after their recent confrontation. Cursing silently, he scrubbed the dishes, periodically glancing outside at the tranquil lake. With her presence, the cabin had become even more special to him, but he feared their last conversation might have pushed her away.
Finishing the cleaning chores, Jack sighed and thought about his inability to express feelings. He had a history of leaving when things got too personal, with Sara being the only exception, and even that relationship had ended after the death of their son. Deep in thought, he approached the living room, finding it empty. Casually passing the front door to confirm it was still locked, he cleared his throat before venturing towards the guest room. There weren't many places she could be.
The door was slightly ajar, and Jack knocked, asking, "May I?"
Seated by the window, still wrapped in the blanket, Sam continued in the same position without turning.
"Do you want me to fetch you some clothes from your cabin?" Jack asked, trying to be considerate.
Sam, however, remained firm in her desire to return to her cabin.
"No, I want to return to my cabin, not stay here, Colonel," she stated.
Jack looked down and gently insisted, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that. Only after you recover."
Turning to face him, Sam's eyes sparkled with anger.
"And who decides that? You? The vet?" she retorted.
Trying to remain calm, Jack responded, "I know you are upset, but I'm not the one that banged my head against a table, Doctor Carter."
Sam stood up, letting the blanket cascade to the floor like a waterfall.
"You shot me with a dart gun!" she accused.
Keeping his composure, Jack replied, "I needed to talk to you, and you aren't exactly the welcoming type."
Suddenly, Sam's punch landed on Jack's jaw, catching him off guard. He stumbled against the wall, seeing stars. As quickly as she attacked him, she took two steps back, examining the aftermath of her assault.
Holding his hurt jaw, Jack warned, "Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."
Sam, defiant, placed a hand on one of the bedposts, taunting, "Or what? You'll shoot me with a real gun?"
Quickly, Jack advanced, cornering her against the bedroom wall.
"Oh…I won't shoot you again," he declared, his face inches from hers.
The tension escalated, and he kissed her unexpectedly, his lips pressed firmly against hers. The kiss was determined and prolonged, leaving both breathless. Jack's hands held her thighs against his body, and Sam, overwhelmed, arched into him, her fingers tangling in his shirt.
Suddenly aware of her body's intense reaction, Sam groaned, feeling heat and desire coursing through her. His hands pinned her against the cold stone surface, intensifying the intimate moment. When Jack broke the kiss, Sam's breath caught as his lips left a trail of kisses along her jawline. His leg eased the pressure between hers, and she succumbed to the pleasure, writhing against him.
Reality hit Sam like a lightning bolt, and she pushed Jack away, gasping, "What are you doing?"
Her heart pounded, and her breath was heavy. Jack ran a hand through his hair, attempting to compose himself, and looked at her intensely. She closed her eyes, lips slightly parted, chest heaving.
"Sam, look..." he began, but she evaded his touch when he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Leave. Leave me alone, please," she requested.
Jack sighed and reluctantly agreed, "Okay," before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Unexpectedly, their interaction had taken a surprising turn, leaving both of them grappling with the unanticipated intensity of their connection.
Sam collapsed onto the bed, her body still trembling from the recent events. Being in this cabin with him brought a strange mix of comfort and disconcertment. It felt less lonely and safer, yet it added a layer of confusion that she found increasingly unnerving. The realization was dawning on her, driving her to the edge of insanity. For over a decade, Samantha Carter had relied solely on herself, and now, a Colonel from the same Air Force searching for her in connection to a murder had barged into her life without permission, turning her world upside down.
As Sam lay there, she grappled with the uncertainty of her next steps. The desire to return to her cabin tugged at her, a yearning for solitude, a chance to collect her thoughts, and perhaps even to pack and escape. Her instincts screamed at her to create distance from Colonel Jack O'Neill, fearing that she might never be able to if she didn't. This was an unfamiliar feeling, and it frightened her. Pulling the blanket over her body, Sam acknowledged that things were spiraling out of control.
As Jack exited her room, he found himself almost stumbling into the living room, his mind in disarray. Confusion and self-reflection flooded his thoughts. While he had felt a strong attraction to Sam from the first moment they met, Jack had never been one to act on impulsive desires. What had transpired in that room had been an overwhelming urge, a sudden need to kiss her that he couldn't resist. Groaning, he rested his head in his hands, attempting to regain control of his thoughts. One moment, he was interrogating her, and the next, he was pressing her against a wall, kissing her passionately. It wasn't characteristic of him.
Lifting his head slowly, Jack realized he wasn't alone any longer. Sam stood at the entrance of the living room, observing him. Quickly getting up, Jack acknowledged, "I think we need to talk."
Sam agreed, and as she settled on the other end of the couch, a noticeable distance from him, he sensed a shift in the air. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, perhaps recalling the recent intimate moment.
The possibilities of being alone in a secluded cabin swirled through Sam's mind – kissing him, undressing him, allowing him to undress her. Her thoughts ventured into more intimate territory, contemplating a future she wasn't ready for. With him, it could never be just a kiss or a touch. Or one night. It'd be her entire life. Her stomach tightened. She wasn't ready for that. Not as long as she wasn't sure about what she wanted.
Unaware of the turmoil in her mind, Jack continued to look at her, waiting for the conversation to unfold.
She began by stating, "You inquired earlier about my guilt, and I categorically denied it. Since you mentioned that I shot a man with two gunshots, I assume you've delved into my file. Perhaps we should address that matter before addressing anything else," she said tremblingly.
Jack swallowed; he had perused the files outlining the accusations, but there had been no account on her part since she fled—only her father's statement proclaiming her innocence and the events purportedly involving her and Captain Jonas Hanson.
"Well, then tell me your story," he offered.
Sam fidgeted with her fingers as her mind reluctantly rewounded a decade of events she wished to forget.
"I met him while still at the Academy, and he was already a Captain—older than me and a bit reckless, to put it mildly," Sam said, blushing a little. "Things escalated quickly, and suddenly, we were engaged. My father was furious, but I didn't care at that point. Hanson was extremely jealous and disapproved of my friends. I wouldn't talk to anyone except him if it were up to him. One night, he got very drunk and started babbling that I was cheating on him with a fellow cadet and that he was going to teach me a lesson. At first, I thought he was just drunk and ignored him," Sam said, suddenly quiet, her eyes fixed on the fire.
Jack had almost stopped breathing while she spoke, absorbing every word. His disdain for Captain Jonas Hanson was already deep, even though the man was dead. Jack would take great pleasure in dealing with him if he weren't.
Sam took a deep breath before resuming her ordeal.
"Suddenly, out of nowhere, he hit me. One moment, I was on the couch watching TV; the next, I was kicked on the floor. We fought hard. Things got nasty, and then he tried..." Sam closed her eyes, reopening them almost immediately, staring at Jack. "He tried to rape me," she said, her voice filled with defiance.
Jack swallowed hard twice.
"How did you get away?" he asked gently.
Sam bit her lip.
"That day, the gun was in the living room and not in the safe. I fought him off and managed to grab the gun. I shot him twice, once in the head and once in the chest. He died immediately," she said.
Jack cleared his throat.
"It was self-defense," he said slowly.
"It was, but I was bruised, in shock, and had just killed my fiancé, so I panicked. I left the apartment, grabbed my car, and drove around until I finally stopped at a motel and crashed. The gun stayed at the apartment," she said, now looking at her hands in her lap. "When I woke and went home, my father was expecting me, mad with worry, and told me I was now wanted for murder by the Air Force. I explained what had happened; he made some calls, but they all told him the same. I would be arrested and convicted. So, I fled," she said.
Jack could now understand her deep distrust of people.
"I'm very sorry for what happened to you," he said sincerely.
Sam took another sigh.
"Yeah, shit happens, and you have to learn to deal with it. That's what all these years have taught me," she said resignedly.
Jack looked at the fire.
"This might sound like a cliché, and trust me, I hate them, but don't regret a day in your life because good days give happiness, bad days give experience, worst days give lessons, and best days give memories," he said, his eyes fixed on the flames.
Suspicious, Sam glanced at him.
"Well, Colonel, I received an important lesson that day. Don't trust men," she said in a cold voice.
Jack shifted his gaze from the fireplace to hers.
"Not all men are like that scumbag, Doctor Carter," he said.
She didn't avert her gaze but didn't speak, so they stood silently, looking at each other.
"You had a horrible experience, and according to what General Hammond told me, your father suspected that you were used as a pawn due to his impending political nomination. So, you were framed," Jack stated.
Sam swallowed.
"Does that mean you believe me?" she asked.
Jack made sure his eyes were locked on hers when he answered.
"Yes, I do believe you. You shot him in self-defense. You should have never been charged," he said firmly.
Sam just nodded.
"Thanks," she said in a low voice.
He cleared his throat.
"So, this brings us to your father, I suspect," he said, sensing that the conversation wasn't over.
She nodded, confirming his suspicions.
"If my father is dying, I'm leaving to see him."
Jack sighed, realizing the complexity of her situation.
"I understand you want to see him, but it's not wise. The Air Force will be expecting that. You'll get caught," he cautioned.
Sam, determined, asserted, "I'll find a way."
"I can't let you do that," Jack said slowly, expressing concern for her safety.
Sam responded coldly, "I wasn't asking permission."
"And I'm just informing you," Jack shrugged.
He studied her, recognizing her determination. He couldn't keep her locked up in the cabin forever. As they engaged in a tense exchange, he made one last attempt to dissuade her.
"Please don't go to see your father," he pleaded.
Sam stared at him incredulously.
"He's my father, and he's dying. How can you ask me that after everything I've just told you?" she retorted.
Jack, undeterred, pointed out the obvious: "I know, but you are a wanted person."
Acknowledging the truth, Sam admitted, "I know. I'm not asking you to come with me; I'll handle things alone."
They fell into a heavy silence, each grappling with their internal dilemmas. Breaking the impasse, Sam finally asked, "Can you find a way for me to see my father?"
Jack's heart quickened. Was she genuinely seeking his help?
"I might. I have to check his current state, where he is," he replied.
Sam looked down and whispered, "Okay, I'll wait then."
Unable to contain himself any longer, Jack moved closer, grabbing her hand.
"Come with me to Colorado Springs. You can stay at my house, and no one will suspect. If we need to go to Washington D.C., it will be faster," he suggested.
Concerned for his career, Sam hesitated.
"I don't want to put your career at risk, Colonel. Aiding a fugitive from justice is a punishable crime," she warned.
Jack reassured her, "Only if we are caught. And we won't. I'm very good at what I do and have used to do this for years. Please, trust me."
After a moment of contemplation, Sam nodded in agreement. It seemed they were both bound for Colorado Springs. The prospect thrilled Jack in a way he hadn't felt since the birth of his son.
So, she endured two more days of recovery in Jack's cabin, incessantly complaining and pushing Jack to the brink of his sanity. Despite their determination to maintain a safe distance, no more kisses were exchanged. Eventually, the day of departure arrived. Jack allowed her to return to her cabin to collect the most necessary items, and she came back a couple of hours later with a backpack and a large sports duffel. Hands in his pockets, Jack knew she wouldn't appreciate the forthcoming question, but it needed to be asked.
"Are you armed?" he inquired.
Sam met his gaze firmly.
"I have my Glock with me and the HK in the duffel," she admitted.
Jack shook his head, expressing concern.
"You can't travel armed. It would be a problem if we are stopped," he explained.
Defiantly crossing her arms, Sam retorted, "I won't travel unarmed."
Jack attempted to negotiate, suggesting, "What if I promise to give you a handgun when we reach my house?"
Sam eyed him suspiciously.
"Why would you do that?" she questioned.
His gaze intensified, and then he quickly cleared his throat.
"So, you wouldn't feel unprotected," he replied.
She straightened, raising her eyebrows.
"I'd prefer you aren't armed at all, but I know that's impossible, and you'll get a gun one way or the other. Let's try to keep this as controlled as possible," he requested.
Taking a shaky breath, Sam finally agreed. She placed the Glock on his table and started to unzip the duffel. Jack secured both firearms in his arms cabinet, ensuring everything was ready. He loaded the bags into his truck, closed the cabin, and they hit the road back to Colorado Springs, a heavy silence permeating the vehicle.
Sam stared out the window, silently bidding farewell to the forest that had been her home for the past ten years. A premonition lingered—she felt she wouldn't return soon, if ever again.
The journey back to Colorado Springs proved to be long and silent. Sam dozed off for most of the trip, occasionally offering to take the wheel, but Jack assured her it wasn't necessary. Eventually, she stopped suggesting and closed her eyes, attempting to catch some much-needed sleep. Unfortunately, her restless slumber was filled with unsettling images of her father's condition and the haunting prospect of his death. Startled and shaking, she decided to forego further attempts at sleep. Though Jack observed her agitation, he remained silent, recognizing that she was already grappling with considerable stress.
As they neared his house, Jack began describing the place to her.
"Living alone in a modest, single-story home in suburban Colorado Springs might not be very glamorous, I know," Jack admitted, steering his Ford F250 truck towards the street. "But it's a two-bedroom house, so don't worry, you'll have your privacy," he assured Sam as he parked the truck in his driveway.
Sam glanced at the house, sighing inwardly. Compared to her cabin, this place seemed like a luxury mansion.
"It's fine," she said, adjusting her hoodie.
She followed Jack inside as he opened the front door, revealing a cozy living room with a fireplace and a well-equipped kitchen. Sam's eyes caught photos on the wall of a woman and a boy she recognized from the cabin. Strangely, those pictures had vanished during her stay.
"That's my ex-wife," Jack stated matter-of-factly, noticing Sam's gaze.
She nodded, expecting more details, but Jack busied himself with unloading luggage from the truck. While occupied, Sam explored the surroundings, taking note of the familiar comforts of a home. Once Jack had everything inside, he closed the door and suggested, "Want to see your bedroom?"
Sam nodded, and Jack led her down the hallway to a bedroom with a queen-size bed and two nightstands. The room seemed unused for a while.
"All yours," he declared. "The bathroom is here." Jack opened a door. "I'll give you fresh towels in a minute," he added, handing some to her.
However, Sam looked extremely pale.
"Hey, are you all right?" Jack asked, concerned.
Feeling overwhelmed by the luxuries she hadn't experienced in years, Sam nodded and retreated into her new bedroom, closing the door behind her. Jack scratched his head, puzzled by her reaction.
Inside the room, Sam sat on the bed, eyes shut tightly, holding the towels. The sudden presence of electricity, running water, and a heater felt like luxuries she wasn't accustomed to. She needed time to process it all. A knock on the door made her open her eyes, but she didn't move.
"Yes?" she answered.
Jack entered, placing her backpack and bag beside the bed, his concerned expression unchanged.
"Are you sure everything is okay?" he asked once more.
Sam forced herself to stay calm, though her eyes stung. She turned away, hugging the towels tighter, wishing Jack would stop scrutinizing her.
"I'm fine," she managed to say, though Jack could see she was far from fine.
"Is this too much for you?" he asked slowly.
Sam nodded, and Jack moved to the window in her room.
"Look, we've just arrived. I still have one day before I have to report back to base. Let's take this easy. Get used to the house. Please tell me what you want to eat, and I'll go grocery shopping and get other stuff you need. No pressure," he reassured gently.
Sam bit her lip, nodding again in silence.
"I'll be outside. Whenever you want to come out, feel free," Jack said before leaving the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Alone, Sam let two tears escape, quickly wiping them away. Everything seemed slipping away since she had met him, and she knew she had to hang on. That was what Carters did. Hang on.