Sam's relocation to Washington, D.C., stirred a mix of emotions within her. Having resided there before her involvement with the Stargate program, she harbored fond memories and bitter recollections. Despite her father's attempts to control her and her career at the time, she found solace in the city. Navigating Georgetown's social circles came naturally to her, having accompanied her father to numerous receptions in the past, and the city's subway system held no mysteries.
Thus, as Colonel Emily Carter, she felt confident about her prospects in Washington, D.C. She needed to secure a place to live. Thankfully, her new identity came with Air Force assistance to aid her transition, providing financial support to establish herself in this new reality. With no personal belongings, Sam found herself with the means to rent an apartment and begin anew.
Before leaving Colorado, Sam contacted a real estate agent and provided detailed instructions based on her familiarity with the city and preferences. Upon arriving in Washington, D.C., she checked into a hotel and commenced her rounds to inspect the proposed residences. After careful consideration, she settled on a 2-bedroom, 2.5-bathroom condominium in Eckington's heart.
Spread across two levels, the residence boasted a contemporary design and a private outdoor space. Inside, exposed brick and polished hardwood floors lent the space an inviting atmosphere. The open living and dining areas seamlessly transitioned into a well-appointed kitchen with stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and a convenient island with breakfast bar seating. A separate desk area and a powder room rounded out the main level.
Descending downstairs, Sam discovered two spacious bedrooms, each accompanied by an ensuite full bathroom featuring luxurious soaking tubs. Ample reach-in closets lined the length of each bedroom, offering generous storage space. Additionally, a full-size stacked washer and dryer provided convenience, while abundant storage options ensured organizational ease.
The unit also boasted a large covered front porch, exclusively assigned to Sam, perfect for enjoying morning coffee or unwinding after a long day, as the real estate representative had assured her. Situated in a prime location, Sam found herself within walking distance of Metro, bus lines, and the vibrant amenities of NoMa.
Pleased with her choice, Sam now faced the task of furnishing her new home. A week before she commenced work at Homeworld Security, she set to draft a list of essentials. Aware of the impending busyness of the days ahead, she resolved to make efficient use of her time. As she sat on the bed of her hotel room, pen in hand, she began to compile the necessary items, readying herself for the whirlwind ahead.
As the final deliveryman departed, Sam let out a heavy sigh. The past days and hours had been a relentless stream of furniture deliveries and assembly in her new condo. Her bedroom was the only fully furnished space, with a luxurious king-size bed and a blissfully comfortable mattress. Two lamps still perched atop empty boxes, a testament to her priorities—bed first, ambiance later.
An online find at a bargain price, her dresser had arrived, and she had negotiated for delivery due to her lack of transportation. Yesterday, she had painstakingly assembled her office desk and commenced work on the bookcase, which now stood nearly complete. Today, it was the sofa's turn.
Having already tackled the assembly of two armchairs for the living room and purchased two simple stools for the kitchen—each requiring its assembly—Sam was beginning to feel like an expert in deciphering Swedish furniture instructions. Luckily, puzzles were her forte.
Sam began unboxing the sofa with a resigned sigh, carefully retrieving the instructions. Anticipating a two-hour assembly process, she set a timer on her phone and immersed herself in the task, the strains of music providing a soothing backdrop to her efforts as she put good use of the power screwdriver she had bought.
As Saturday dawned, Sam found herself seated in her kitchen, savoring the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The whirlwind week had passed in a blur, and now her condo bore the mark of her efforts. The bedroom, living room, and kitchen were meticulously furnished, and her office was fully equipped. The dining room remained empty, a space she deemed unnecessary since she preferred to dine in the kitchen and wasn't expecting any visitors. It was a consideration for another day.
With furniture assembled and in place, Sam had also received the necessary electronics—a sleek LCD for the living room, her trusty laptop, and her extravagant Italian coffee machine, a costly personal indulgence. In recent years, Sam had realized that her life was consumed by work, leaving little time for personal pursuits aside from occasional leaves on Earth, usually spent with Cassie. With her Indian no longer in the picture and her British Racing Green 1971 Jaguar XKE with its powerful 5.3-liter V12 engine already fully restored, she had no 'toys' to keep her busy when she was on Earth. In the absence of holidays or overseas adventures due to her interstellar voyages, Sam couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness and loneliness creeping in. She was growing older, Cassie led an independent life, and Sam couldn't help but wonder what all her sacrifices had been for. She had saved the planet several times for the good of the human race, yes. What about her?
Yes, the prospect of reaching the rank of General, like her father, had always been a driving force, but was that the extent of her life goals? It seemed like a harsh reality. During one of her leaves aboard the Hammond, she had made a spur-of-the-moment purchase—to invest in a lavish Italian coffee machine that brewed the most exquisite coffee she had ever tasted. Daniel had even joked about divorcing Vala if they didn't acquire the same one for themselves, a notion that had prompted Sam to reassess her priorities. Vala had rolled her eyes and immediately inquired where Sam had purchased hers. This innocent question led to a month-long saga of heated arguments between Vala and Daniel when the credit card bill finally arrived.
Stranded in another reality, a moment of clarity ultimately led her to request an assignment to Homeworld. If the universe offered her another chance, she would seize it. She didn't want to cling to her old life; she craved a new future, including Jack and possibly having a daughter. Though uncertain about the latter, she would embrace it if it meant having Jack by her side. After all, the girl was a part of him, and Sam was determined to navigate this new territory, however daunting it might be.
"Daddy?" Grace sipped her juice slowly, the silence between them stretching.
Jack was absorbed in his newspaper until he felt her gaze upon him.
"Yes, honey?" he responded, setting aside the paper to meet her eyes.
"If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?" Grace inquired, her blue eyes fixed on him.
Jack nodded solemnly, recognizing the seriousness in her tone. "Yes, I promise," he assured her, waiting for her question.
Grace set her glass down, her expression thoughtful.
"Where was she assigned?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and hope.
Jack swallowed, bracing himself for this moment. Since their return from Colorado Springs precisely a week ago, Grace hadn't mentioned Sam.
"Here, in Washington, D.C.," he replied softly.
Grace's eyes widened with excitement. "Here? She's here?" she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face.
Jack felt a pang of apprehension. He didn't want to see his daughter's hopes dashed, but he couldn't deny her the truth.
"Grace, we've talked about this before. She isn't your mother," he reminded her gently, his tone tinged with sadness.
Despite his efforts, Grace's smile persisted.
"Yes, Dad, I know," she acknowledged, her tone surprisingly mature for her age. "But at some point, we'll have to deal with this."
Jack sighed inwardly. His daughter was wise, and he couldn't shield her from reality forever.
"What if she doesn't want to meet you, Grace? Have you considered that possibility?" he asked, a touch of cruelty creeping into his voice.
Grace's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of uncertainty and hurt.
"Oh... Do you think she doesn't want to meet me, Daddy?" she asked, her voice trembling with vulnerability.
Jack immediately regretted his words.
"I don't know, honey," he admitted softly, grasping her hand. "But she didn't have a daughter in her reality. We weren't married. She was single."
Grace paled, processing his words.
"I... I wasn't born?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jack's heart ached at her reaction.
"No, honey. We weren't together in her reality, so you were never born. She never met you," he explained gently.
Grace bit her lip, her gaze dropping to her empty glass.
"I see," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jack felt a surge of sadness as he watched his daughter struggle with this revelation.
"I can ask her," he offered quietly, wanting to ease Grace's pain.
Grace looked up, her eyes hopeful once again. "You can?" she asked eagerly.
Jack nodded, resolving to do whatever it took to bring his daughter peace.
"Give me some time, and I'll talk to her," he promised.
Grace's smile returned, brightening the room.
"Sure, Daddy," she said, her optimism unwavering.
Jack couldn't resist her Carter smile; it had always been his weakness. As they sat together, Jack silently vowed to do everything he could to protect his daughter's heart, even if it meant facing his demons and uncertainties.
Sam prided herself on maintaining a composed demeanor, honed over the years in the military and through three commanding posts. Yet, as she entered the Homeworld Security offices on Monday, she couldn't help but feel a nervous tingle at the sight of the hushed whispers and curious gazes that followed her.
"Good morning. Can you inform General O'Neill that Colonel Emily Carter is here to see him as requested?" she inquired politely to his secretary, Martina Evans.
The woman's shocked expression was palpable, likely due to Sam's shorter hair and darker appearance than the late General's wife, Samantha Carter.
"Colonel Carter?" Martina hesitated, visibly taken aback by the uncanny resemblance.
"Emily Carter," Sam corrected, maintaining her composure.
Martina swallowed, then reached for the phone to announce Sam's arrival. "You can enter, Colonel," she said, her voice betraying her unease as she gestured toward the closed door.
Sam offered a reassuring smile before entering Jack's office.
"Colonel Emily Carter reporting for duty, Sir," she announced crisply, saluting as she entered.
Jack returned the gesture with a loose salute and indicated the empty chair.
"At ease, Colonel," he said, his tone serious.
Sam took her seat, her eyes briefly scanning the room until they landed on a photograph on Jack's desk. Her breath caught in her throat—a picture of her alternate self, holding a blonde girl on her lap, smiling and waving.
Jack noticed her gaze but remained silent, focusing on business first.
"Since you requested this assignment, Colonel, we'll need to use your skills," he began. "Are you familiar with the Icarus base?" Jack inquired.
Sam nodded. "Yes, Sir," she affirmed.
Jack handed her a thick file.
"Here's everything you need to know in addition to what you already know," he stated.
As she flipped through the pages, Jack cleared his throat.
"As you know, since the planet has a unique Naquadria core that is highly unstable, the Stargate deployed there was configured so that it could not receive incoming wormholes. While you work here, your mission is to find a way to safely utilize the Stargate with a DHD, similar to how we do on other planets, rather than drawing power directly from the planet's core," Jack explained.
"That's impossible, Sir," Sam interjected, her tone firm.
Jack raised an eyebrow, his expression challenging. "Already giving up on your first day, Carter? Didn't think that was your style," he teased.
Sam blushed slightly but maintained her resolve. "I'm not giving up. I'm just stating the facts," she asserted.
Jack's demeanor turned cold.
"I'm well aware of the facts, Colonel. That's precisely why this task is crucial. What part didn't you understand?" he questioned sharply.
Sam swallowed, her resolve unwavering. "Very well, Sir. I'll start immediately," she replied evenly.
Jack continued to scrutinize her before dismissing her with a curt nod.
"Good. You can go", he said.
As Sam rose to leave, she deliberated briefly before offering a slow salute. Jack reciprocated, and she exited his office.
Alone, Jack closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.
Sam had been assigned her own office, for which she was grateful. It offered her both respite from the whispers and stares and a conducive environment for work. As she settled in and powered up her computer, she quickly became engrossed in her tasks, losing track of time until she was startled by a knock on her door.
"What?" she responded, shifting her gaze from her screen to the entrance where Jack stood. Correction: her CO stood.
"Let me guess. You haven't left your office since this morning," Jack asked, arms crossed.
Sam looked around, feeling a bit disoriented.
"Ah...I..." she trailed off, unsure if she had taken any breaks.
Jack smiled knowingly. Certain habits seemed to persist regardless of the reality they hailed from.
"It's time to go home, Colonel. I assume you already have a home," he remarked curiously.
Sam blinked, gathering her thoughts.
"Yes, I've rented a condo," she replied, closing the numerous files on her desktop.
Jack cleared his throat, surprised.
"That was fast," he commented.
"I've lived here before," Sam explained absentmindedly as she packed her belongings.
"So, where are you staying?" Jack inquired.
Suddenly realizing they were engaged in conversation, Sam turned to him. "What?" she asked, slightly puzzled.
Jack straightened up.
"I asked where you're staying. In what part of the city?" he clarified.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Why?" she countered.
Jack mirrored her expression. "It's a normal question," he defended.
"Is it? Where do you live?" Sam retorted, her tone challenging. "Sir?" she added after a moment.
Jack swallowed, his demeanor shifting slightly.
"Good evening, Colonel," he said curtly before turning and walking away.
Sam sighed, flicking off the lights in her office. She still had to take the subway and walk a bit to reach her destination. Perhaps it was time to consider getting a car.
Grace lasted precisely three days before she broached the subject again.
"Have you asked her, Daddy?" she inquired during dinner.
Jack swallowed his pasta almost without chewing. "What, honey?" he feigned ignorance, buying a few more seconds.
Grace looked at him knowingly. "Seriously, Dad?" she retorted, setting her fork down.
Jack took a sip of his beer, stalling for time.
"No," he admitted, placing the drink back on the table.
Grace crossed her arms, visibly annoyed. "Why?" she pressed, her frustration evident.
"We've been busy, honey. Lots of work," Jack offered, not entirely lying.
Grace continued to regard him skeptically. "Right, because that's your excuse for everything," she remarked, her tone tinged with irritation.
Jack started playing with his beer bottle, feeling the weight of Grace's disappointment.
"I do work, Grace," he defended himself.
"You also have lunch, and so does she," Grace pointed out, her frustration mounting.
Jack smiled wryly. "Actually, she doesn't," he revealed, recalling how he had observed Carter tirelessly working through lunch breaks.
"She doesn't eat?" Grace asked incredulously, her concern growing.
Jack shook his head. "No," he confirmed.
"She'll get sick," Grace stated, her worry palpable.
Jack sighed, regretting his slip of the tongue.
"She's worse than your mother," he muttered absentmindedly, instantly regretting his words as he saw the concern on Grace's face.
"Why, Dad?" Grace pressed, her tone now tinged with alarm.
Jack met her gaze, realizing he had caused unnecessary distress.
"Shit, Grace. I'm sorry. Don't worry. She's fine, and I'll talk with her about eating. I'll make sure she's taken care of," he reassured her hastily, hoping to alleviate her concerns.
But Grace wasn't reassured.
"If she doesn't eat, she'll get sick, and she's all alone, Dad. Who will take care of her if she becomes ill?" she asked, her voice trembling, on the verge of tears.
Now thoroughly alarmed, Jack scrambled to reassure his daughter.
"Calm down, Grace. I'll speak to her and ensure she takes care of herself. I'll even take her to lunch myself if it makes you feel better," he promised, realizing he had to act decisively to assuage her fears.
Grace's face brightened for the first time. "You will, Dad?" she asked hopefully.
Jack cursed inwardly at his impulsive promise. "Yes, Grace," he affirmed reluctantly.
She rose from her seat and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Dad," she said, kissing his neck.
Jack returned the embrace, feeling a pang of guilt.
"I don't want you to worry, Grace," he murmured.
But Grace only hugged him tighter, seeking comfort in his embrace.
Sam was deeply engrossed in her work when there was a knock on her office door.
"Yes?" she responded without pausing her typing or shifting focus.
"Time for lunch, Colonel," Jack announced as he entered.
Sam's head snapped up as if she had been startled.
"Excuse me?" she queried, her brows furrowing in confusion.
Jack gestured to his wristwatch. "Lunch," he reiterated.
Sam glanced around her glass-enclosed office. The workspace was nearly empty, with only essential staff present.
"Thank you for the reminder, Sir. I'll step out in a few minutes," she replied, returning to her typing.
Jack cleared his throat.
"Sorry to break it to you, but that involves physically leaving this office. You have to leave," he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
Sam paused again, regarding Jack with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.
"I what?" she asked, feeling a flush creep up her cheeks.
Jack gestured toward the corridor.
"You know, actually exiting the office and going to have lunch. Right now," he clarified.
Sam's blush deepened. "I'll go in a few minutes," she repeated, tacking on a "Sir" a moment later.
Jack took a deep breath, his patience wearing thin.
"Come on, Carter. I thought we were past this years ago. I'll make it an order if I have to," he stated firmly.
Sam's embarrassment intensified. "You wouldn't dare," she countered, her voice slow and deliberate.
Jack's expression darkened slightly.
"Colonel, lunch. Now," he commanded, his tone icy.
With a huff of frustration, Sam rose from her desk, snatched her purse, and stormed out of her office, her temper flaring. Jack shook his head, bemused, before grabbing something to eat himself.
Eventually, Sam stepped outside and purchased a sandwich and a coffee from a nearby food shack. Finding a quiet corner, she sat down to eat, still reeling from the encounter with Jack. "Fucking nerve," she muttered under her breath as she sipped her coffee. Taking several deep breaths to calm herself, she resolved to return to the office and hoped to avoid any further confrontation.
Luck was on her side for the remainder of the day, as there were no further interruptions, and she left the office without being ordered to do so. However, the incident continued to simmer in her mind as she ate her frozen dinner in her kitchen. Even as she attempted to distract herself with television, her thoughts kept returning to the confrontation, leaving her unable to sleep.
By 0300, Sam had grown frustrated with her inability to rest. With a curse, she turned on the light and got out of bed. Determined to use her sleepless hours, she showered, dressed, and had coffee before leaving her house for the Pentagon.
General Jack O'Neill was in for a surprise if he thought he could order her around. Upon reaching her office, Sam closed the door behind her and powered up her computer. She found solace in the quietness of the early morning hours—Homeworld was practically deserted at that hour. With a smile, she began typing, feeling empowered as she delved into her work.
