Both returned to work with their minds more consumed by personal matters than professional ones. Sam spent the morning redoing tasks she had already completed, plagued by numerous calculation mistakes. It was frustrating; usually, she was meticulous and precise. But today, her mind drifted back to her conversation with him in her living room the day before, which was unacceptable.
She had vowed to keep him at arm's length, to focus solely on Grace. She had been too weak to resist the bond with the ten-year-old girl, but she had drawn a clear line when it came to her father. She had requested a transfer, professionally distanced herself as much as possible, and only interacted with him when necessary – such as during the incident in the park. And now, out of the blue, he suggested picking up where they had left off on his rooftop or wherever it was. Sam let out a frustrated groan as she erased another incorrect equation, feeling the weight of her conflicted emotions pressing down on her.
"Like there was anything to pick up..." she muttered under her breath, her gaze fixed on the screen as her fingers flew across the keyboard. She nibbled on her lip, memories of their unexpected kiss on his rooftop flooding her mind. Sam halted her typing, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Damn it," she cursed quietly. If this continued, there was no way she'd be able to focus on work.
Glancing at the clock, she realized it was already noon – lunchtime. Making a swift decision, she drafted an email to General Black, feigning illness and stating she was taking the rest of the day off. With a few clicks, she shut down her computer and gathered her belongings, swiftly exiting the office. Instead of heading home via the subway, she hailed a taxi and directed it to Jack's house, assuming it would be empty now.
As she exited the taxi, she retrieved the garage remote from her briefcase and used it to open the garage door. Looking around to ensure no one was watching, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. The car was ready to go – Sam had been diligent about its maintenance – but she had never dared to take it out of the garage before. It was his wife's car, and she still felt like an intruder.
But today, Sam pushed aside those thoughts. She needed an outlet, and she needed it fast. In her reality, she had her trusty British Racing Green 1971 Jaguar XKE with its powerful 5.3-liter V12 engine – her pride and joy back on Earth, fully restored by her hands. But in this reality, she had to make do with the same Chevrolet model she had considered purchasing while aboard the Hammond to keep herself occupied.
Sam draped her jacket over the seat next to her and inserted the key into the Chevy's ignition, the engine roaring to life. Slipping on her aviator sunglasses, she pulled out of the garage, letting the powerful engine carry her away. She craved physical and mental distance, needing the car's speed to clear her mind and find clarity amidst the chaos of her emotions.
As Sam sped away from D.C. in the 62 Corvette, the powerful engine growled beneath her, eager to unleash its full potential. With practiced ease, she navigated the winding roads, her hands deftly guiding the steering wheel, her foot pressing down on the accelerator with just the right amount of pressure.
As the speedometer climbed higher and higher, Sam pushed the limits, the wind whipping through her hair as she weaved in and out of traffic. She took calculated risks, darting past slower-moving vehicles with precision, her reflexes honed from years of experience behind the wheel. She loved driving cars, but at this moment, she missed her Indian dearly. Maybe what she needed was a bike, not a car.
With each twist and turn of the road, Sam demonstrated her mastery of the car, leaning into curves with perfect timing, the tires gripping the asphalt confidently. She pushed the Corvette to its limits, relishing the adrenaline rush that surged through her veins with each burst of speed.
Other drivers could only watch in awe as Sam displayed her driving skills, her maneuvers executed with grace and finesse. She took advantage of open stretches of road to let loose, the Corvette's engine roaring in response to her command.
Despite the exhilaration of the speed, Sam remained focused and alert, her senses sharp as she navigated the ever-changing landscape. She wasn't just driving to escape – she was driving to find clarity, to untangle the mess of emotions consuming her.
For a brief moment, the world outside the car blurred into a streak of colors as Sam pushed the Corvette to its absolute limit, her heart pounding with excitement and determination. As the miles flew by, she felt a sense of liberation wash over her, knowing that for now, at least, she was free from the weight of her troubles, if only for a little while.
Unbeknownst to her, Sam's speeding had been caught by a handheld radar gun in a highway patrol car. Before she knew it, the flashing emergency lights appeared in her rearview mirror, signaling she was about to be pulled over.
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath as she reluctantly slowed down and steered the Chevy to the side of the road.
With a frustrated sigh, she turned off the engine and sat there momentarily, cursing her luck. "Fuck," she muttered again, her heart sinking as she realized the consequences of her actions.
As the Chevy stopped on the shoulder of the highway, the highway patrol car pulled up behind it, its emergency lights still flashing. A uniformed officer stepped out, approaching the driver's side window with a practiced stride. Sam, or rather Emily Carter, rolled down the window, her expression a mix of resignation and annoyance.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," the officer greeted, his tone polite but firm. "Do you know why I pulled you over today?"
Sam's jaw tightened slightly as she nodded. "Yes, officer. I was speeding. I apologize."
The officer nodded, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Can I please see your license, registration, and insurance?"
Sam reached into the glove compartment, retrieved the necessary documents, and handed them to the officer. He inspected them briefly before returning his attention to her.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, jotting down some notes. "I see here the car isn't registered in your name. Care to explain?" he asked.
Sam blushed. She should have thought of that before taking the car.
"Ah, yes…It's my cousin's car. Colonel Samantha Carter-O'Neill. I have permission to drive it from her husband. Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill, Head of Homeworld Security at the Pentagon", Sam said quickly.
The officer looked at her in her dress blues and her driving license again.
"Do you have any written proof of that, ma'am?" he asked.
Sam swallowed and cursed silently at the same time. "Ah, no", she admitted.
"Please hold a moment, ma'am," the officer said, returning to his car.
Sam closed her eyes and let her head fall over the wheel. "I'm so fucked" she said aloud.
Glancing at her rearview mirror, Sam noticed the officer inside his car, likely checking her story on his computer while speaking. Her cell phone began to ring, and she sighed heavily before reluctantly answering.
"Yes, Sir?" she said in a subdued voice.
"Care to explain why a highway patrol officer is on the phone asking about my wife's supposed cousin, Emily Carter? And does she have permission to drive her car? What the fuck have you done, Carter?" his voice crackled with frustration, almost yelling through the phone.
Sam swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his disappointment and anger through the line.
"I took her car for a drive and was caught speeding. Sir," she said slowly.
Jack sighed heavily.
"Speeding, of course. Can't you drive normally?" he asked.
Sam didn't answer, her eyes on the highway and the passing cars.
"I'll solve this, and then we will talk," he said and hung up.
Sighing, Sam put the cell in her purse.
After some minutes, the officer returned, his expression somewhat between amusement and confusion.
"Well, I clocked you, and you were going well over the speed limit. Is there any reason for the rush?" he asked, not speaking about the registration anymore.
Sam hesitated momentarily, weighing her options before deciding to be honest. "No excuse, officer. I guess I just lost track of my speed."
The officer nodded, his expression sympathetic but firm. "I understand, ma'am. But speeding can be dangerous, especially on a busy highway like this. You are not on a race track. I'll need to issue you a citation."
Sam sighed inwardly, knowing she couldn't argue with the consequences of her actions. "Understood, officer."
After a few more minutes of paperwork, the officer handed Sam her documents back along with a ticket. "Here you go, ma'am. Please drive safely and have a good day."
"Thank you, officer," Sam replied, mustering a small smile as she watched him return to his patrol car. As the officer drove away, she couldn't help but feel guilty for risking her safety and having Jack involved in this. But most of all, for being caught. With a heavy sigh, she started the engine again, vowing to be more careful.
Sam drove back much slower, staying within the speed limit, and wasn't surprised to find the black SUV parked in the driveway. Jack was seated on a nearby box by the garage, still dressed in his dress blues. She parked the car inside the garage, shut off the engine, and retrieved her jacket from the other seat, preparing herself for the inevitable confrontation.
"Good ride, Carter?" Jack asked as soon as she exited the car and closed the driver's door.
Sam handed him the Corvette's keys, her expression tense. "Here," she said, placing the keys on the car's hood. "I'll pay the speed ticket. Send it to me when you receive it. And I'm sorry," she added, avoiding eye contact.
Jack remained silent, his hands in his pockets, as Sam retrieved her sunglasses. "For getting caught, I imagine?" he replied slowly.
Sam started to walk toward the driveway. "This was a mistake from the start. You should have let me get my car," she said, turning back to face him.
Jack tilted his head slightly, his sunglasses concealing his eyes.
"Sure, drive away to Nashville or whatever it was and get lost when the piece of junk broke down on the road. That would be an excellent solution", he said sarcastically.
"I can handle myself," Sam said coldly.
Looking at the car parked in the garage, Jack smiled.
"Clearly not", he pointed out.
Sam almost groaned with frustration.
"My car, my life," she said, determined.
Jack continued to look at her through his sunglasses.
"The only difference would have been that I wouldn't have received that phone call today. You'd still be fined and caught," he said with a faint smile.
"Exactly, I would be fined, but that would be my problem alone. You'd stay out of this. Out of my life," Sam retorted.
Jack removed his sunglasses, holding her gaze. "And who said I want to stay out of your life?" he asked slowly.
Frustration boiled inside Sam, and she threw her briefcase to the ground, not caring about the damage it might cause. "Stop this! Stop pretending! I'm tired of this!" she yelled, her arms in the air.
Jack raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Okay, fine, don't get upset, relax. And I'm not pretending. Can we talk?" he asked softly.
Fisting her hands next to her hips, Sam looked up at the sky, exasperated. "About what? What the hell do you want to talk about?" she demanded.
Jack pulled her briefcase from the ground and slung it over his shoulder, not fully trusting her.
"Let's go inside, Carter. I don't think my neighbors need to watch us yelling and fighting," he suggested.
With a furious glare, Sam reluctantly relented. Jack opened the front door for her, allowing her to enter first. Once inside, he closed the door and placed the briefcase on a nearby chair, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts before conversing rationally with her.
Luckily, Grace wasn't home, so Jack headed to the kitchen and started the coffee machine. Sam kept her distance, lingering near the door as she watched him.
"So, the car works?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Sam rolled her eyes. "Pretty obvious," she muttered under her breath.
Jack turned back to the machine and smiled as it began to brew. He filled two mugs and placed one on the island for her. "Here," he said, taking a sip from his mug.
Sam hesitated before slowly reaching for the mug he offered.
"Did General Black give you the afternoon off?" Jack inquired, curious.
Sam blushed slightly. "No," she replied, sipping her coffee and avoiding his gaze.
Jack raised an eyebrow with renewed interest. Now, that was surprising and unexpected.
"Did you...did you skip work, Carter?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Sam blushed even deeper but remained silent, her expression tight.
Jack chuckled softly. "So, playing hooky?" he teased, still smiling.
Sam set her coffee mug down on the island with a determined thud. "Report me," she challenged, her tone daring.
Jack sighed, his smile fading. "I was teasing you," he admitted.
"Are we done talking?" Sam asked, crossing her arms defensively.
Jack also set his mug down and cleared his throat.
"No. Like I said before, the car is yours. I just completely forgot to transfer it into your name. I've already started the paperwork process," he explained, looking at her intently.
Sam bit her lip furiously. "I don't want it," she exclaimed out.
Jack mirrored her stance, crossing his arms. "Too bad because it will be registered in your name. Emily Carter," he said slowly.
Sam gritted her teeth. "Why?" she demanded.
Jack held her gaze steadily.
"I said the car was yours, and I'm not in the habit of going back on my word," he replied. "Besides, you've spent enough time with it," he added, his tone softening slightly.
A wave of realization washed over Sam, draining the color from her face.
"How do you know?" she asked quietly.
Jack placed both hands on the countertop.
"I would be a pretty terrible Head of Homeworld if I didn't even know what was happening in my own house, particularly in my garage, wouldn't I?" he remarked. "You were very careful, but I've been doing this for many years, Carter. I saw you one night," he admitted.
Sam swallowed hard. "You never said a word," she whispered.
"Why would I? I gave you the remote so you could come and go whenever you want," Jack replied calmly.
Sam swallowed again, feeling relief and apprehension wash over her.
"I still don't want it," she repeated.
Jack let out a heavy sigh. "You sound like a broken record. For someone with a PhD, I'm sure your vocabulary is much richer than those six words," he pointed out.
Sam shot him a glare that could melt steel.
"Anyway, the car will be in your name. I'm sure Grace will be thrilled to ride with you," he said with a smile.
Sam's eyes widened slightly. "Oh... I see. So, this is why you're doing it. It's because of Grace," she said slowly as realization hit her.
Jack looked at her, perplexed. "What?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
Sam smiled, but it lacked any warmth.
"You want me to have your wife's car so I can take Grace on a ride? So, she can almost pretend she's going with her Mom. That's your plan. I should have known," she said, lowering her head and staring at her shoes.
The accusation took Jack aback. "That never crossed my mind, and honestly, I'm at a loss that you even considered that possibility," he said slowly.
Sam lifted her head to meet his gaze. "You're at a loss?" she asked, her blue eyes flashing with fury.
Jack took a few steps closer to her.
"I love my daughter, Carter, and could never play with her feelings. She's a kid for crying out loud! So, that thought would never cross my mind," he said firmly.
Sam shook her head, her gaze unwavering.
"But you have no problem playing with my feelings? General," she added coldly.
Suddenly, Jack grabbed her arms. "What will it take for you to believe that what I said before was true? That what happened up there was real?" he asked, his eyes flickering toward the roof. "That I care about you, that my feelings for you are real?" he pleaded.
Sam swallowed hard. "I would have to trust you. And I don't," she said slowly.
Jack released her, his hands falling to his sides. "You don't trust me?" he asked, incredulous.
"No," she stated firmly.
"Why?" he pressed, closing the distance between them, his gaze intense.
"Why?" she echoed, a bitter smile on her lips. Sam shook her head. "Let's start with what you said to me at the SGC as soon as I arrived. I'm from an alternate reality; I'm not your wife; I had the chance to return to my reality but chose to remain here - God knows why! And you seemed determined to make my life a living hell since I entered this world! How am I doing so far, General?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm and pain.
She also pondered other reasons but opted to keep them to herself. The timing didn't feel right, and perhaps it never would.
Jack's expression faltered, hit by the weight of her words.
"I... I had no idea you felt like that," he admitted.
Sam bit her lip, distancing herself from him. "You had no idea…Yeah, I guess you've been too busy taking care of your daughter and unleashing your hurt on the look-alike of your dead wife. I fully understand that," she said, her tone almost playful, but the pain behind it was palpable.
"I'm sorry," Jack offered.
Sam sighed heavily. "And you say that a lot, too," she pointed out as if his apologies only hurt her more.
Jack gathered himself. "But I am. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. Okay, maybe that's a lie. In the beginning, yes, I wanted to hurt you because it was painful to see you, but not now. Not anymore," he said slowly, sincerity in his voice.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What's the difference? What changed?" she asked, mildly curious.
Jack swallowed hard. "Everything. I've changed. My feelings changed. When I look at you, I no longer see my Sam. I see you. And that changes everything," he confessed, his eyes revealing more than his words.
Sam took a step back, processing his words.
"Like you said before, you would do anything for Grace," Sam insisted, refusing to acknowledge his words.
Jack shook his head but didn't give up.
"It's true. Grace is my number one priority but no longer my sole priority. Things have changed," he said earnestly.
Sam smiled skeptically. "I don't believe you," she said.
Jack moved closer to her. "No?" he asked, his eyes darkening.
"No," Sam replied, though her confidence wavered.
"Let me make a stronger case, then," he said.
Sam's eyes widened as he grabbed her arms again and pulled her closer, his right hand gently finding the back of her neck as his lips softly brushed against hers. The kiss, initially tender, quickly intensified as his lips pressed insistently, seeking entrance to her mouth. Sam resisted initially, her hands against his chest, but eventually surrendered, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.
He pressed her against the kitchen cabinets, their passion escalating, his hands swiftly finding their way under her jacket. And then, as abruptly as it began, they stopped. Both were left panting, their eyes locked, breathing heavily in Jack's kitchen.
At that moment, Grace walked through the front door, her surprise evident upon seeing Sam there. She dropped her backpack on the floor.
"Mom, you've come back!" she exclaimed with a big smile, rushing to hug a panting Sam.
Sam hugged her back slowly, her gaze still fixed on Jack, her mind a rumble of thoughts and emotions. He shrugged his shoulders as if apologizing for the interruption. Sam gently caressed Grace's hair, trying to calm herself down. Jack had already composed himself, stepping away from them. It appeared as though they were returning to business as usual. Sam sighed heavily, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. Emotions she wasn't prepared to deal with.