Sam never expressed a desire to meet with him again, but gradually, she showed signs of improvement. While she still refused to participate in the group therapy recommended by Dr. Williams, she agreed to jot down her thoughts on paper on the condition that there would be no discussions about her writings. Sam avoided verbal communication entirely. However, she adhered meticulously to the remainder of her treatment regimen. Dr. Williams remained unaware that Sam had embarked on her form of therapy. As her mind cleared and the effects of her depression medication alleviated the overwhelming thoughts, Sam initiated her introspective analysis. Being unforgiving to herself, she became her own toughest therapist, delving deep into her psyche with remarkable proficiency.

Sam confronted some harsh realities about herself and her life as time passed. These were truths she needed to acknowledge and embrace to progress. She found herself stuck in a reality she had chosen, refusing to return to her original one. She hadn't wanted to return because it didn't feel like home anymore. She was still searching for her sense of belonging. That was the painful truth she faced: she still didn't have a place she could truly call home, neither in her former reality nor this one. She was still on a quest to find it.

Initially, Sam had hoped that Jack and Grace could fill that void and become part of her newfound home. However, she had come to terms with the fact that it wasn't meant to be. Another version of Samantha Carter had seized that opportunity and found happiness, and while Sam felt happy for her, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. Nevertheless, she understood she had to let go of Jack and Grace to preserve her mental well-being. Dwelling on "what ifs" would only perpetuate her anguish, and Sam was weary of living in perpetual pain. She had endured such heartache in her original reality and had hoped for a different outcome in this one, but it hadn't materialized. She had failed.

As the days passed at the clinic, Sam accepted that sometimes, despite her best efforts, things weren't meant to be. It was time to move forward, to continue her search for a place to call home, and to strive for some semblance of happiness, or at the very least, to alleviate her sadness. She needed to find her home.

Two months had elapsed since the trip to the cabin and Carter's admission to the clinic. Throughout this time, Grace hadn't once inquired about her. Jack refrained from divulging Carter's condition to his daughter, yet he couldn't ignore Grace's evident sadness. Despite continuing her daily routine of attending school, completing homework, and participating in occasional social events, Grace remained melancholic. Jack found himself torn between protecting Grace from the harsh reality and alleviating her suffering by disclosing the truth about Carter.

The situation was resolved unexpectedly one Saturday while Jack was in the shower, and his cell phone rang incessantly in the living room. Aware of the rule against answering her father's phone, Grace hesitated initially, but as the calls persisted, she decided to respond when she saw the caller's ID. It said 'Carter's clinic.'

"Hello?" she ventured cautiously, only to be met with silence on the other end. Sensing the caller's hesitation, Grace persisted, "Are you looking for my father?"

Surprised by Jack's daughter's revelation, Dr. Williams replied, "Depends on who your father is," she said slowly.

"Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill," Grace said without hesitation.

"Yes, then I'm looking for him. Can I talk to him, please?" Dr. Williams asked.

However, Grace, intrigued by the caller's association with Carter's clinic, inquired, "Why does your number say Carter's clinic?"

Before Dr. Williams could respond, Jack intervened, snatching the phone from Grace's hand with a stern expression.

"What have we discussed about this, Grace?" he admonished, his tone chilly.

Despite being reprimanded, Grace's curiosity overtook her. "What happened to Sam?" she demanded, her eyes reflecting concern and curiosity.

Jack's glare softened, but he maintained his authoritative stance.

"We'll discuss that later. Now, go to your room. You're grounded," he instructed firmly.

As Grace left, disgruntled yet determined, Jack reluctantly answered the call.

"General," Dr. Williams greeted, a hint of amusement in her voice. She wondered who Sam was.

"Doctor," Jack said as he settled onto the couch.

"I hate to intrude on your Saturday, but I've just been informed that Colonel Carter is being discharged today," she said, slowly rolling off her tongue.

Jack shot up from the couch. His surprise was evident.

"Today?" he echoed, eyebrows raised.

The doctor nodded, gesturing towards the paperwork in front of her.

"Yes, her treatment here at the clinic has been concluded, and the board has approved her release. She's chosen to continue her treatment as an outpatient," she explained.

Jack began pacing the living room with concern etched on his face.

"So, she just walks out? On her own?" he queried.

The doctor let out a sigh, mirroring his worry.

"I've voiced my concerns about her living situation, particularly with no family or close friends nearby, aside from her emergency contact in Colorado Springs," she revealed.

"Yes, that's correct," Jack confirmed.

"But despite my concerns, she signed a document asserting her well-being and taking full responsibility, and it was accepted," the doctor informed him.

"I understand," Jack murmured, still pacing back and forth.

"I just wanted to inform you," Dr. Williams said softly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Jack replied.

When the call ended, Jack closed his eyes, a troubled expression lingering. Despite the daily updates on her progress, his worry for her hadn't abated. They hadn't spoken since her admission, but now he realized how much he cared. She had consistently occupied his thoughts, and he acknowledged her growing importance.

Sam hesitated as she inserted her key into the front door, almost fearing it wouldn't turn, as if these past two months of being confined to a clinic had somehow changed everything. But the key turned smoothly, and the door swung open as always. Stepping inside, she was greeted by the familiar darkness of her apartment. Fumbling for the light switch, she flicked it on, half-expecting the lights to remain stubbornly off. Yet, to her surprise, they illuminated the room. Electricity. Someone had paid the bill. She didn't need to ponder too hard to figure out who that someone was.

Dropping her bag to the floor, she kicked off her sneakers, taking a moment to appreciate Jack's small gesture of care. Glancing down at her clothes, the same ones she had worn when she had last been at the cabin, she made a mental note to deal with them later. For now, all she wanted was a shower and her bed.

With the lights guiding her, she went to the bathroom, shedding her clothes. Turning on the water, a smile spread across her face as it cascaded down. All the little things, like running water and electricity, seemed like blessings at that moment. She'd figure out the logistics later; for now, she just wanted to revel in the simple joy of a warm shower and the prospect of sleeping in her bed.

Standing beneath the stream, Sam realized she was learning to take things one step at a time. It was a slow process, and she was still finding her footing, but she was determined to embrace it. The rest could wait.

Jack knocked gently on Grace's door before entering. His daughter sat on her bed, engrossed in a book.

"We need to talk, Grace," he said, his tone serious.

Grace placed her book on the nightstand, sensing the weight of his words. Jack settled himself on the edge of her bed, his expression grave.

"What you did was wrong. You know you're not allowed to answer my phone, Grace," he said firmly.

Grace swallowed, meeting his gaze. "I know, Dad, but it said 'Carter's clinic.' I had to," she explained.

Jack cleared his throat, preparing to divulge something he had hoped to shield her from.

"Yeah, about that... I didn't want to worry you, but Carter has been unwell," he began gently.

Grace's eyes widened with concern. "Sick? With what?" she asked anxiously.

Jack ran a hand over the comforter.

"She's struggling to adjust to this reality...to everything that's happened. To us," he confessed, deciding there was no use in sugarcoating the truth.

Grace bit her lip, processing his words. "Us... you mean me?" she ventured slowly.

Jack shook his head. "No, honey. Us, both you and me. I said some things to her at the cabin that were... very hurtful. Unfair. I was mean," he admitted, his gaze softening as he saw tears welling in Grace's eyes.

"Me too, Daddy," she murmured.

Jack reached for her hand, offering comfort.

"Things got complicated, Grace. It's not your fault," he reassured her gently.

Grace wiped her tears, her guilt evident. "But she got sick because of me," she whispered.

Jack shook his head firmly.

"No, Grace. It wasn't your fault. She was already struggling. Things just escalated, and she couldn't cope," he explained, hoping he wasn't misleading her. They had never discussed what had truly transpired.

"Can I see her, Dad?" Grace asked tentatively.

Jack hesitated, swallowing hard.

"Not now, Grace. She just returned home, and I think she needs some time alone," he replied.

He, too, longed to see her, but he understood the importance of giving her space. Grace bit her lip again, disappointment evident in her downturned gaze.

"Okay," she acquiesced quietly.

Jack squeezed her hand reassuringly.

He said, "I promise I'll let you know as soon as she's ready to see you."

Grace nodded, her expression still somber. Jack pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"I love you very much, kiddo," he whispered.

Grace suddenly hugged him tightly.

"I love you too, Daddy," she murmured, closing her eyes.

They lingered in the embrace momentarily before Grace released him, requesting to be left alone in her room. Jack closed her bedroom door softly, retreating to the living room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts that needed sorting.

Sam awoke, feeling more rested than usual, though still reliant on sleeping pills. Nevertheless, it was a relief to wake up in her bed without the presence of nurses. She lay there momentarily, staring up at her ceiling, her mind wandering through the labyrinth of her thoughts.

Although she had never directly spoken to Dr. Williams, she had poured her heart onto paper. Every detail, every emotion, she hadn't held back. Beginning with the loss of her mother, she chronicled her journey—her time with Hanson, her experiences with SG-1, her growing feelings for her commanding officer, the complexities of her relationship with Pete, the bitter disappointment of what had happened with Jack, and the surreal events surrounding the crossing of realities. Grace, this Jack, her hopes, her profound disappointment—all laid bare. All the truth that, if read by Jack, could alter many things.

As she packed her belongings, Dr. Williams had returned the pages filled with Sam's innermost thoughts. She had handed them back, wishing Sam a speedy recovery and assuring her that her door would always be open. Sam had been distant with the doctor, but she didn't care. She had become numb to the feelings of others, realizing the toll it took on her well-being. She was done with allowing herself to be hurt and tormented by the pain.

Glancing at her nightstand, she saw the stack of papers she had left there. They represented her vulnerability, and her raw emotions spilled onto the page. They were also a risk. For now, they would stay there, untouched. Perhaps one day, she would set them ablaze or tear them to shreds, but they remained a silent testament to her struggle and determination to move forward, one step at a time.

Sam sat in her living room, the second movement of Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 5 filling the air as she struggled to focus her scattered thoughts. The sudden interruption of the doorbell stirred her from her reverie, and she approached it with curiosity. Opening the door, she was met by a delivery man who addressed her with a question.

"Emily Carter?" he inquired.

Sam nodded silently as he handed her a tiny envelope, her fingers sensing its contents before she opened it. Glancing at the delivery man, she closed the door and tore open the envelope, revealing Jack's garage remote. A folded note accompanied it, and she unfolded it with anticipation and trepidation.

"Carter,

I hope you are feeling better.

As promised, I'm sending you the remote for my garage so you can enter and leave whenever you want.

The car is yours.

All the best,

Jack."

Sam sat back, her heart pounding. Since their last encounter, she hadn't thought much about the car or the garage remote. Was he expecting her to return to his garage and work on the car as if nothing had happened between them? The thought incited a surge of anger within her, and she clenched the note tightly in her hand before crumpling it up and tossing it across the room.

Who did he think he was, assuming everything could return to normal? With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed the remote and shoved it into a drawer, slamming it shut. Raising the orchestra's volume playing in the background, she sank back onto the couch, and her eyes closed as she tried to push aside the flood of conflicting emotions coursing through her.

Jack wasn't taken aback when he received the papers requesting her transfer. She had forewarned him about her intentions, and as he glanced at the date, he noticed it was signed the day she departed for the SGC. That was before their trip to the cabin and her subsequent nervous breakdown. She had already made up her mind for a new assignment back then. With a decisive nod, he affixed his signature and authorized it. She would be moving to the Science Department, nearly on the opposite end of Homeworld's offices. She sought distance, and he would grant her that. Her new commanding officer was an old friend of Jack's, Major General Richard Black. Jack intended to converse with him regarding Colonel Emily Carter. She could move forward with her life. If she desired, she knew where to find him and Grace.

Returning to work and embracing her new assignment proved smoother than Sam had anticipated. Her new commanding officer was a gentle, straightforward man with a profound passion for science and the universe, akin to Sam's. While Major General Richard Black was unaware of Sam's true story or the existence of the Stargate, he welcomed her expertise with open arms in his department. Understanding her health situation due to his sister's similar experience, he ensured Sam felt at ease. He assured her that she could work on her terms, and if she ever felt overwhelmed, she only needed to inform him, and he would handle everything. Sam expressed her deep appreciation and pledged to give her best effort. His demeanor reminded her of General Hammond.

Thus, Sam began her work gradually, for the first time, without committing to full-time hours. Still under the influence of certain medications, she alternated between working mornings and afternoons. However, it didn't take long for whispers and gossip to circulate. General Black seemed to have a new favorite: Colonel Emily Carter, the cousin of the late Colonel Samantha Carter-O'Neill. Despite the rumors, Sam chose to ignore them all.

During downtime, Sam resumed a habit she had abandoned upon entering this reality: physical workouts. She began with leisurely walks around her condo and the neighborhood, feeling somewhat weak after spending two months in a clinic. She steered clear of the gym, preferring the outdoors and the fresh air. As her muscles reacquainted themselves with her former routine, which she never ceased even during her time at the Hammond, her walks gradually evolved into short runs. Eventually, she returned to her regular running sessions.

One evening, returning home sweaty and slightly out of breath, her cell phone began to ring. Not recognizing the number, she hesitated but ultimately answered.

"Colonel Carter," she greeted, but there was only silence on the other end. After a moment, she repeated her name, but the line remained quiet. Deciding it was best to end the call, she hung up.

As she headed to the fridge for water, the phone rang again. Raising an eyebrow, she saw the same unfamiliar number and answered again.

"I can trace this call, you know?" she warned. Again, silence. "Fine, I'm hanging up," she declared, finger hovering over the button when she heard a voice.

"Don't," Grace said.

Confused, Sam blinked. "Grace? Is this you?" she asked slowly.

"Yes," Grace replied softly.

Sam sank onto the nearest kitchen stool. "Why are you calling from a different number?" she inquired.

"I was afraid you wouldn't answer if you saw my number," Grace admitted.

Sam bit her lip. "I'm not angry at you, Grace," she assured her.

"Really? Even after what I told you at the cabin?" Grace questioned, her doubt evident.

Sam passed a hand over her sweaty neck.

"No, honey. Things at the cabin became complicated, but it wasn't because of you. I was the problem," Sam explained.

Grace fidgeted with the cover of her science book.

"You? I don't understand," she admitted, confused.

Sam cleared her throat.

"I don't think this is a conversation to be held over the phone. How are you?" she deflected.

Grace bit her lip hard. "I miss you," she confessed.

Sam closed her eyes.

"I miss you too," she admitted. She had failed miserably despite her best efforts to keep the little blonde girl away from her heart.

"Are you ever coming to our house again?" Grace asked.

Sam cleared her throat again. "I don't know, honey," she replied honestly.

Grace clenched her hand.

"Are you and Dad mad at each other?" she asked. "He never talks about you," she added in a low voice.

Sam half-smiled. "We aren't mad at each other," she said, realizing that 'mad' wasn't the best word to describe their feelings. Sam was still trying to figure that part out.

"Can we meet?" Grace asked, her voice hopeful.

Sam's heart almost stopped.

"Oh, Grace... sweetheart... that's going to be difficult. You have to talk to your father first," Sam gently explained, cautiously avoiding meddling in the Carter-O'Neill family dynamics. She had learned her lesson. She wasn't her mother.

"Oh, okay," Grace said, disappointment evident in her tone.

Sam took a deep breath. "And Grace, you can call me from your phone, honey," she added.

Grace hummed, her fingers almost shredding the book's cover.

"Okay. I have to go," she said abruptly and hung up.

Sam found herself listening to the dial tone. "Oh boy," she muttered, placing the phone on the kitchen island and closing her eyes.

Grace never disclosed the details of that initial phone call to her father, but she gradually resumed contacting Sam, this time using her phone. Their conversations weren't as frequent as before, but they slowly resumed their talks. Sam also initiated calls, often after Grace returned from school, presumably when her father was less likely to be around. While Sam had assured Grace they weren't upset with each other, Grace remained skeptical. Nonetheless, she didn't mind. Having Sam back in her life, even if only through phone calls, brought her immense joy. She missed her dearly.

Suddenly, Jack observed a shift in Grace's demeanor. She appeared happier recently, though when he asked, she brushed it off as nothing significant. However, Jack knew his daughter well, and suspicions began to form in his mind. So, in an unprecedented move, after Grace had fallen asleep, he quietly retrieved her phone and settled in the living room to peruse her call history.

There it was: repeated calls to a certain number he knew well. Grace had been in contact with Carter, and evidently, their conversations had contributed to her recent contentment. Jack swallowed hard as he stared at the pink cell phone.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath.

Aware that Carter was flourishing in the Science Department, just as he had anticipated, and that rumors circulated about her being General Black's newfound favorite, Jack wasn't exactly jealous. Richard Black was nearing retirement, happily married, and a grandfather of four. Jack saw no reason for concern. Rising from his seat, he returned to Grace's room, placing the phone back on her dresser. He kissed her gently and closed the door behind him, pondering how to address the situation.