Sam arrived at Homeworld without incident the following day and went directly to her desk. She found an envelope beneath her keyboard and immediately recognized Jack's handwriting. She slowly opened it with a sense of resignation, revealing a small notebook page with his name and title engraved at the top.
A simple question greeted her: "Want to have lunch with me?" Beneath it were two neatly drawn boxes, one labeled 'yes' and the other 'no,' filled with nearly perfect black ink. Sam sighed, a wave of déjà vu sweeping over her. Were they really back to this? Shaking her head, she added a third box, wrote 'maybe' beside it, then sealed the envelope and handed it to Jack's secretary with instructions to deliver it to the General. Jack used to do this often when they were back at SGC, and she thought he had gone over this phase after moving to D.C. She had been clearly mistaken.
"From Colonel Carter," she said politely before returning to work.
As she delved into her tasks, Sam couldn't help but multitask, her mind shifting gears to investigate potential adversaries who might seek to remove Jack from office, particularly those with access to toxins like the one he had been infected with. Despite her efforts, none of the leads have panned out yet. A wry smile played on her lips, but she quickly refocused on her work, typing away at her computer.
Suddenly, she sensed someone hovering nearby and looked up to find Jack's secretary beside her desk. Sam sighed heavily as the woman handed her yet another envelope. With a muttered "thank you," she watched as the secretary left, leaving her alone once more with Jack's persistent advances.
Opening the envelope revealed a longer message this time.
"Maybe isn't an acceptable answer, Colonel. Please be more specific," Jack's message began, a hint of playful insistence evident in his words.
He detailed his lunch plans: "I'm having lunch at exactly noon in a very nice restaurant in Alexandria and would very much like to have you with me. The food is great, and I hate to eat alone. Besides, I was told they have a 'blue Jello' substance for dessert. I imagine you are familiar with it."
He then clearly stated, "If your answer is 'yes,' I'll be waiting for you outside in my SUV. I believe you are already acquainted with it."
Sam scanned the office discreetly, relieved to find everyone engrossed in their tasks, unaware of her reddening cheeks. Tucking the note away, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of amusement and flustered surprise at Jack's persistence. With a deep breath to steady herself, she returned her focus to her work, though thoughts of lunch with Jack lingered at the back of her mind.
Near noon, Sam noticed Jack leaving his office and exiting Homeworld with steadier steps. Discretely counting to twenty, she gathered her things and followed the same path. As expected, Jack was already waiting in his SUV, the back door ajar. Sam slipped inside and closed it behind her.
"Hello, Colonel," Jack greeted, adjusting his sunglasses casually.
"General," Sam replied with a small sigh.
"Was it the blue Jello that convinced you?" he quipped as the vehicle started moving towards the restaurant.
Sam tried to suppress a smile, but Jack caught it.
"I knew it," he teased with a grin. "You have no idea how many restaurants I had to call to ask if they had that stuff. It's highly unpopular around here, let me tell you," he added, looking out of the tinted windows.
Sam was surprised by his effort because of her preferences.
"You didn't have to bother, Sir," she murmured, touched by the gesture.
"Not a very busy morning," he remarked, though Sam suspected he wasn't being entirely truthful.
After a few minutes, the SUV parked in front of an Italian restaurant. Jack exited, leaving his cane behind.
"General, your cane," Sam reminded him.
"Leave it," he insisted, beginning to walk slowly but steadily. Sam hurried to catch up.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked as they reached the door. She noticed that the security detail was positioning themselves nearby.
"Yes," Jack replied with a small smile, holding it open for her. He had been doubling his efforts to get back in shape since she had left his house and checked into the hotel.
Inside the cozy Italian restaurant, Jack and Sam sat at a corner table, surrounded by the comforting aroma of garlic and tomato sauce. The ambiance was warm, with soft lighting and gentle Italian music playing. The restaurant wasn't complete, and they were the only ones in uniform, for which Sam was grateful. She didn't want to fuel any gossip. Despite the pleasant surroundings, tension hung between them as they perused the menu.
Sam fidgeted with her napkin, unable to forget the weight of their conversation from the previous night. Both sides said lots of things.
"So... how's your day been so far, General?" she ventured cautiously, searching for a neutral topic.
Jack, drumming his fingers lightly on the tablecloth, shrugged nonchalantly.
"Same old, same old. Just the usual paperwork and meetings," he replied, avoiding her gaze.
Sam nodded, her eyes flickering to his face.
"I see," she murmured, sensing the underlying unease in his demeanor.
Their waiter approached, interrupting the awkward silence with a smile.
"Can I start you with some drinks?" he asked politely.
Jack glanced at Sam, silently deferring to her choice.
"Just water for me, please," she requested, offering a tight smile.
"Same here," Jack added, his tone terse.
As the waiter left to fetch their drinks, Sam cleared her throat, steeling herself to address the elephant in the room.
"About last night...," she began tentatively, trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.
Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Carter, I..." he started, then paused, seemingly at a loss.
Sam kept her hands busy with the tablecloth to prevent her hand from reaching across the table and touching his.
"I know you're sorry, General. And I appreciate your honesty," she said softly, her eyes meeting his with sincerity.
Jack nodded, his expression conflicted.
"I just don't want things to be awkward between us, Carter. You mean a lot to me, and I hate that I've hurt you," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.
Sam offered him a small, sad smile.
"Yeah… And I don't want things to be awkward either," she replied, her tone tinged with resignation.
And for once, the choice was entirely hers. There were no regulations, no lines of command holding her back. If she wanted to, she could be with him—no threat of court-martial, no looming shadow over her career. The weight of the "frat regs" that had once dictated their every interaction had been lifted, leaving the path wide open.
But that was just it. The path was open. The rules were no longer in the way. And yet, Sam hesitated.
The question wasn't about the Air Force anymore. It wasn't about consequences, ranks, or her peers' judgment. The real question was far more straightforward—and far more complex.
Did she want this?
Her heart was still aching from the emotional wounds Jack had inflicted over the past months. The distance he'd put between them had sometimes left her feeling isolated and abandoned. And though he had finally told her the words she had longed to hear—I love you—those words alone weren't a magic eraser for the hurt she had endured. And she had endured a lot coming from him.
She could have him now without any fear of repercussion. But did she want to? Could she trust him with her heart after everything? Could she take that step forward, knowing how easily he had pushed her away before?
The rules were gone, but the scars they collected were still fresh. And while she wanted to close the distance between them, to fall into his arms and feel that warmth and comfort she had always craved, she couldn't shake the nagging question that tugged at her mind.
Was she ready to let him in, knowing that nothing would stand in the way this time except her own guarded heart? Was she prepared to accept his apparent sincere apologies and take a leap of faith?
Their drinks arrived, offering a momentary break from the tension in the air. They sipped in silence, each absorbed in their thoughts. As always, their unspoken words spoke louder than anything they could say.
After a moment, Jack cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"So... how's the search coming along?" he asked, attempting to steer the conversation onto safer ground.
Seizing the opportunity for a change of topic, Sam welcomed the chance to discuss her investigation and move away from much more personal thoughts.
"It's more complicated than I thought it would be," she admitted, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How so?" he inquired, leaning in slightly.
Sam cleared her throat, taking a sip of water before responding.
"You seem to have a lot of people who don't like you here, General..." she began cautiously, her words carefully measured.
Jack chuckled, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"I told Hammond this was a bad idea from the start, but he wouldn't listen, and neither did Hayes. Now they're stuck with me. Yeah, I'm aware I'm not popular. I'm not Daniel, either. Diplomacy is not my style," he admitted candidly, his tone tinged with self-awareness.
Sam nodded, already well aware of Jack's straightforward approach.
"But despite that, you remain Head of Homeworld, so you must be doing something right, or they wouldn't try to get rid of you. And the people who dislike you are mainly politicians and other generals. They don't seem capable of getting their hands on a toxin like the one that disabled you," she pointed out, her voice lowered.
Jack toyed with the bread on his plate, his appetite seemingly diminished.
"So, are you searching for an inside job or someone from the outside? A foreigner?" he asked in a similar hushed tone.
Their conversation was momentarily halted as the waiter arrived with their plates, providing a brief reprieve. Once he left, Sam picked up her fork, idly swirling her pasta as she ventured a glance at Jack.
"I started inside because the President told me he suspected a leak from within, but I'm also exploring other options. Someone who knows about the Stargate since the toxin was of alien origin," she confessed softly.
Jack paused mid-bite of his lasagna, his interest piqued.
"Oh?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.
Sam continued to play with her food, her thoughts racing.
"We've been getting more requests to open the Stargate to other countries and form teams besides the Russians. Maybe this is an attempt to catch your attention," she suggested, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Jack nodded thoughtfully, considering her words.
"So that leaves the Chinese, the French, and the Brits," he mused aloud.
Sam nodded in agreement.
"I wouldn't rule out the Russians either. They may want more involvement," she added.
Jack acknowledged her point with a nod before noticing her untouched plate.
"You know, Carter, there won't be any blue Jello if you don't eat your lunch," he teased lightly, lighting the mood.
Blushing slightly, Sam picked up her fork and ate her pasta, though her appetite had waned. They continued to eat in silence, and each lost in their thoughts as they mulled over the complexities of their situation.
After lunch, Jack and Sam returned to the Pentagon, diving back into their respective tasks. Jack had a series of meetings, while Sam had many connections to make in her ongoing research. As the afternoon wore on, their paths didn't cross again. Sam worked diligently until she realized the lateness of the hour, noticing Jack was likely still ensconced in meetings within the Pentagon.
With a sense of weariness settling in, Sam wrapped up her work and exited the building, opting for a taxi to return to her hotel. Upon arrival, she indulged in a long, hot shower, the water soothing her tired muscles. After ordering room service for dinner, she returned to her laptop, delving back into her research until exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. Eventually, she succumbed to the weariness, drifting into a restless sleep with her laptop still open, its glow casting a dim light over the room.
In the dead of night, a sudden sound jolted Sam awake, her heart pounding in her chest. Instinctively, she reached to switch on the bedside lamp, but something struck her arm with force before she could. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips as her senses went into overdrive, alerting her to the presence of another person in the room. Despite the darkness, a palpable sense of danger hung in the air, sending shivers down Sam's spine as she braced herself for whatever might come next.
"Whoever you are, you better leave before this turns nasty," Sam warned, her hand instinctively moving beneath her pillow where she kept the gun Colonel Adams had given her.
As her fingers touched the cold metal, a surge of reassurance washed over her. She wasn't helpless, even in the darkness. Sensing movement at the end of her bed, she prepared to draw the weapon, but before she could, she was struck on her right side with what felt like a baton. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips, but she managed to retrieve the gun and fire into the darkness.
There was a sudden commotion as the intruder stumbled and hastily fled, slamming the bedroom door behind them. Gasping with pain, Sam flicked on the light switch, her heart racing as she surveyed the chaotic scene. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, her laptop was missing, and the wall bore three ominous holes.
Amidst the chaos, there came a loud banging on her door, accompanied by urgent shouts. Sam holstered her gun at the small of her back and cautiously approached. Opening the door, she found a man in pajamas flanked by another in a suit, accompanied by two security guards from the hotel.
"What the hell is happening here? Were those shots? I've called the police," the man in pajamas exclaimed, his voice filled with alarm.
Sam raised her hands placatingly, not even remembering she was in a tiny tank top and shorts.
"It's okay. I had an intruder in my room. I'm a Lieutenant Colonel of the US Air Force, and I was defending myself. I need to call a superior officer," she explained as the hotel manager looked at her, his expression grave as he took in the scene before him.
Seated on her bed, Sam's fingers trembled as she dialed Jack's number. He answered after the second ring, his voice gruff with sleep.
"O'Neill," he grumbled.
"General, it's Carter. Sorry to bother you, Sir..." Sam began, her voice tense.
Jack was instantly alert, flipping on the light as he sat up.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, sensing the urgency in her tone.
"I...I had an intruder in my room, Sir, and the police are here, and… I didn't want to wake up the President," Sam replied, her eyes flicking nervously to the officer standing nearby, notebook in hand, his expression wary.
"Don't move and don't say a word. I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Pass me to the officer in charge," Jack instructed briskly.
Sam silently handed her phone to the police officer, who listened intently as Jack identified himself and issued a stern warning. With a curt nod, the officer handed the phone back to Sam.
Jack wasted no time. He quickly called Adams, instructing him to dispatch a security team to Sam's hotel and join them immediately. With a tight-lipped resolve, he ended the call and began to dress with haste, his mind consumed with worry and fear.
"She's all right. She's all right," Jack repeated to himself like a mantra as he rushed out of the house, his security team falling into step behind him as they made their way to Sam's hotel.
As Jack arrived at the hotel, he felt relief wash over him upon seeing the surrounding vehicles, a mix of police and Homeworld vehicles. After identifying himself, he swiftly passed the police barricade, striding into the lobby and boarding the elevator to Carter's floor. He found Adams standing by her door, in jeans and a red T-shirt, flanked by the hotel manager and a police officer.
"Sir," Adams greeted with relief as Jack approached.
"Colonel," Jack acknowledged briskly, his gaze scanning the scene. "What happened? Where's Carter?" he inquired urgently.
A man with a leather jacket and a three-day beard stepped forward, blocking Jack's path.
"And you are?" he questioned.
Jack sized up the man before responding firmly, "Major General Jack O'Neill, Head of Homeworld Security, United States Air Force."
The man, Detective John Wills, from the Metropolitan Police Department's Second District, raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Does she work for you?" he queried.
Jack's patience wore thin.
"She works with me, and that's all you need to know right now. Hasn't Colonel Adams answered all your questions already?" he retorted, turning to his junior officer, who nodded in confirmation.
"He did, but now I'm asking you, General," Wills persisted with a provocative smile.
Jack's arms crossed firmly over his chest. He also didn't want to call Hayes because of this.
"Is Colonel Carter under arrest?" he demanded in a frosty tone.
Wills shook his head.
"No, but she fired a gun inside this hotel. We have to investigate," he explained sternly.
Jack's jaw clenched with frustration.
"Investigate all you want, but she's leaving with me. Colonel Adams will provide you with my address and contact information. Now, can I pass?" he stated firmly, his tone brooking no further argument.
Reluctantly, Wills moved aside, allowing Jack to enter Carter's bedroom. Closing the door firmly behind him, Jack turned his attention to the scene before him, his concern for Carter mounting with each passing second.
Sam had changed into jeans and a blue sweater, the color of which perfectly matched her eyes. She seemed lost in thought as she sat by the window, but her expression shifted when she saw Jack enter.
"Jack..." she murmured, then quickly corrected herself. "I mean, General."
Jack took two giant strides toward her without hesitation and gathered her into his arms.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, his concern evident.
Sam gripped his shirt tightly.
"I… I was only hit with a baton," she mumbled against his chest.
Jack closed his eyes briefly, silently cursing the situation.
"Do you need to go to the hospital?" he inquired, still holding her close.
"No," Sam replied softly, shaking her head.
Jack's gaze fell on the three holes in the wall, his worry deepening.
"Did... did they shoot at you?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.
Sam shook her head again.
"No, that was me," she confessed.
Relief flooded Jack's features, and he kissed her head.
"Good girl," he murmured.
"Whoever they were, they took my laptop," Sam added, her voice still muffled against him.
Jack cursed under his breath.
"Can they access it?" he asked, his concern shifting to her belongings.
Sam managed a smile.
"Only if they are a kind of genius, and even then, I doubt it," she reassured him.
Jack's smile mirrored hers.
"Okay, that's good. Now, let's address the practicalities of security issues. You're not staying here. Will you come back to my house? We can discuss things in more detail there, and I promise I'll behave," he said, his heart racing.
Sam swallowed, and Jack felt her tension.
"I'll behave, Carter. I swear," he repeated, his hold on her still firm.
"Okay," she managed to say, noting his racing heartbeat.
"Thank you. I've already informed Detective Asshole outside that you won't be staying here," Jack informed her, noticing her pale complexion.
"He's just doing his job," Sam defended, though Jack's expression turned stern.
"Please don't defend him. I have zero tolerance for cops, regardless of where they come from," he warned, his tone firm.
Sam nodded, acknowledging his stance. Glancing around, Jack continued, "You probably won't be able to take anything, but I can lend you some T-shirts for sleeping. And then you can go shopping, something I know you love," he teased, eliciting a blush from Sam.
"Let's get out of here," Jack said, opening the door.
They were met by Detective Wills, Colonel Adams, the hotel manager, and other officers.
"We're leaving," Jack announced, his hands firmly on Sam's shoulders.
"Don't leave the city, Colonel Carter," Wills cautioned.
Sam nodded in response as she followed Jack and Adams to the elevator, leaving the scene behind them.
The journey back to Jack's house was marked by a heavy silence, with Sam withdrawing into herself and gazing out the window at the city's night lights. Lost in exhaustion, she had no sense of time passing. As the SUV stopped in front of Jack's house, he stepped out and observed her exit. With a silent nod to Adams, they entered the house together, Adams departing shortly after. Jack locked the front door behind them and noticed Carter wasn't no longer in the hallway. Concerned, he began searching for her.
"Carter?" he called out, checking the kitchen, but it was empty.
Moving to the living room, he found her curled up on the couch, bathed in darkness.
"Come on, Carter, you should go to bed," he urged from the doorway.
Sam remained on the couch.
"I don't think I can sleep," she replied wearily.
Jack slowly approached.
"Do you want some sleeping pills?" he offered.
Sam shook her head, and Jack settled on the couch beside her. Sam glanced at him immediately. "I can't sleep, but you can go, Sir," she insisted.
Jack winced at the use of "Sir" but persisted.
"You don't expect me to leave you alone here after everything that happened tonight, do you?" he reasoned, adjusting the pillows on the couch and making himself more comfortable.
"I'll be fine," Sam insisted.
Jack smiled softly.
"Sure. You always say that, especially when you're not fine, Carter. Remember? It's me you are talking to," he reminded her.
Sam leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She felt like an entire building was collapsing over her.
"To be honest, no," she confessed softly.
Confused, Jack looked at her.
"What does that mean?" he inquired.
Sam continued with her eyes closed, fatigue overtaking her.
"I prefer not to remember I'm talking to you. It's less painful," she admitted, her words trailing off as sleep began to claim her.
Jack swallowed hard, grappling with the weight of her words. Before he could respond, he noticed she had drifted off to sleep. Carefully, he retrieved the Afghan and covered her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, his mind weary but also filled with worry.
When Jack woke up, he noticed a peculiar sensation—slightly cold yet strangely warm at the same time. Opening his eyes, he realized the reason for this sensation: Carter's body was pressed gently against his, her head resting on his chest as the Afghan covered her. Jack's heart skipped a beat. This was not good. Despite the warmth of her presence, he knew he had to maintain boundaries, especially after promising to behave.
With great care, Jack slowly lifted her head from his chest and gently placed it back on the couch. As he moved away, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret at the loss of her comforting presence. However, he was determined to honor his promise to respect her boundaries.
Glancing at his wristwatch, Jack noted the time: 0435. It was uncomfortable for either of them to sleep on the couch, mainly for two people. He debated leaving her there but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he resolved to move her to the adjacent bedroom where he had slept before.
With gentle movements, Jack lifted Carter into his arms. She stirred but didn't wake as he carried her to the bedroom next to the living room. He wasn't strong enough to climb the stairs with her in his arms. Carefully, he laid her down on the bed and tucked her in, ensuring she was comfortable. Then, he removed his shoes and settled onto the fully clothed bed beside her.
As he adjusted his pillow and closed his eyes, Jack couldn't shake the feeling of intimacy that enveloped them. While they had shared a bed during off-world missions with SG-1, this felt different—more personal and tender. Sighing softly, Jack attempted to push aside his thoughts and drift off to sleep, hoping Carter wouldn't mind waking up next to him in the morning.