Jack felt exhausted, noticing the clock signaling it was almost dinner time. Despite managing to clear some lingering work from his hospital stay, he could barely keep his eyes open. Just then, Adams appeared at his door, having finally mustered the courage to knock.
"General, are you ready to go home, Sir?" Adams inquired.
Jack shut down his computer and reached for his hat, grasping his cane for support.
"Yeah. Let's head home, Adams," he said, rising from his desk.
Adams patiently waited as Jack exited his office. Looking around the dimly lit and primarily deserted office space, Jack noticed a lone light near one of the walls opposite his office.
"Who's working late?" Jack questioned wearily, too tired to investigate further.
Adams cleared his throat. "Colonel Carter, Sir," he informed.
Jack halted in his tracks.
"Will that woman never leave on time, for crying out loud?" he exclaimed, frustration evident as he struck the floor with his cane.
Adams held his breath.
"Colonel, please inform Carter that working overtime is not permitted at this office, and her hours are already overdue," Jack instructed slowly.
Obediently, Adams nodded and went to Carter's desk, delivering the message. Startled, Sam, absorbed in her work, glanced up to see Jack standing in the corridor, and a blush crept onto her cheeks.
"I'll wrap up in a few minutes, Sir, and leave," she assured Adams.
He nodded and bid her good night. Upon returning to General O'Neill and relaying Carter's response, Jack was even more furious.
"And you believed her? Carter's minutes will extend for at least four more hours!" Jack barked, his frustration evident.
Adams looked at him, taken aback by the revelation. He had been unaware of Colonel Carter's extended hour pattern since he had never worked with her.
"You go there again and shut down her computer personally. Then escort her back here. I'll be waiting, Colonel," Jack ordered harshly.
Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Adams acknowledged the command. Despite the schoolyard-like atmosphere, he complied with Jack's directive. Sometimes, he wondered if it had been a good idea to request a position at Homeworld Security and work with the legendary General Jack O'Neill.
A frustrated Sam Carter swept her belongings into her briefcase and stepped up behind Adams. The words "shove it" echoed in her mind, but she bit them back. The last thing she needed was to stir up tension between the President and the stubborn, maddening General standing before her. However, with each passing day, it became harder to hold her tongue.
"Ready, Colonel?" Jack asked.
Adams sensed Jack wasn't speaking to him, and Sam remained silent as they left together. Jack sighed and led the way towards the exit. When Sam attempted to move ahead, Jack halted her with his cane.
"Not so fast, Colonel. You owe me a dinner," he stated matter-of-factly.
Sam clenched her teeth in frustration, and Adams silently wished he were already home with his wife.
"You can go, Adams. Colonel Carter and I have some matters to discuss," Jack dismissed Adams, reading his thoughts.
Reluctantly, Adams bid them goodnight and hastened to leave. Jack slowly resumed walking, and Sam stepped beside him without any other option.
"I heard you're staying in a nearby hotel," Jack remarked as they exited the Pentagon.
Sam bit her lip, knowing he would find out.
"Yes, I suppose you would also like to have dinner there?" she asked, realizing she had inadvertently invited him.
Jack smiled. "Well, yes, thank you," he accepted.
Realizing her mistake too late, Sam closed her eyes momentarily, trying to compose herself. They climbed into Jack's SUV, and he directed the driver to her hotel address. She closed her eyes, fighting back the exhaustion and unexpected emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
They entered her hotel silently as Sam walked up to the reception desk to request her room key. Too drained to even consider dining in the restaurant, she made a snap decision to eat in her room. He could join her, head to the hotel restaurant, or return to his place for dinner—she really didn't care anymore.
Observing her movements, Jack followed with curiosity, noting her direction toward the bedrooms' elevators rather than the restaurant.
"Ah... Carter, the restaurant is the other way," he pointed out as she waited for the elevator.
"Feel free to go, Sir, and charge it to my room. It's the 2009. I will eat in my bedroom since I'm tired. If you want to come up, come; if not, I'll see you tomorrow," she stated plainly, stepping into the elevator.
Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the sharp edge in her voice. He wasn't used to her being so assertive, which caught him off guard momentarily. Then again, it wasn't like he had treated her gently lately. If he was honest with himself, he'd been acting like a real jerk. The cold distance, the clipped responses, the way he shut down any attempt she made to get close—it was all his way of keeping her at arm's length. He wasn't proud of it, but he didn't know how else to handle things with her. Not after everything they had been through, and certainly not with all the unresolved feelings simmering beneath the surface.
The hurt in her eyes hadn't escaped him, but every time he saw it, he only doubled down on his walls. It was easier that way—at least, that's what he told himself. Yet here she was, standing her ground, refusing to back down despite everything he'd thrown at her.
God, she was really something.
As the elevator doors began to slide shut, Jack acted on instinct. He jabbed his cane between the closing panels, forcing them open again. It wasn't the most graceful move, but nothing about his behavior with her lately had been elegant. With a sigh, he stepped inside, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing between them. He couldn't ignore it forever, and maybe—just maybe—this was the moment he'd have to start dealing with it.
"I'd much rather have dinner in your lovely company," he remarked with a smile.
Sam offered no response as the elevator ascended, leaving their interaction hanging in the air.
As she opened her bedroom door, Jack entered after her and noticed that the place exuded an air of pristine organization and meticulous tidiness for a standard business hotel. The neutral-toned walls provided a calming backdrop, accentuated by the soft glow of bedside lamps casting warm light across the space.
At first glance, the room appeared unoccupied, as all clothes were neatly hung in the wardrobe. The bed, made with crisp, white linens, beckoned invitingly, adorned with plump pillows neatly arranged against the upholstered headboard.
The desk, positioned near the window, showcased a few essentials neatly arranged—a notebook, pen, and the cables where she probably put her laptop. A pair of reading glasses sat nearby.
As she put her things down, Jack peeked at the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, which gleamed with cleanliness. The white towels were neatly folded and stacked by the sink. The toiletries were lined up perfectly, with the labels facing forward, adding to the overall sense of impeccable organization. Jack didn't know whether it was hers or the hotel staff, but if he had to guess, he would pick the first option.
"What do you want to eat?" Sam asked, picking up the room service menu and slipping off her shoes and the dreadful 'Sir' with them.
Jack settled into one of the chairs, seemingly indifferent.
"Whatever," he replied calmly.
Sam rolled her eyes.
"That's not on the menu," she retorted as she reached for the phone to place their order.
Jack couldn't help but almost smile. He missed her sense of humor dearly.
After some deliberation and deciding by herself, Sam hung up the phone.
"Twenty minutes," she announced wearily, running a hand over her face.
"You look tired," Jack observed, his gaze softening with concern.
Sam met his gaze evenly. "So do you," she countered.
"I am," he admitted quietly.
"So, what are you doing here? Why aren't you resting at your house?" Sam inquired as she grabbed her jacket.
Jack idly toyed with his cane. The 'Sir' had apparently stayed in the hotel's lobby, which was okay with him.
"Too lonely," he confessed.
Sam shot him a glare that could cut steel.
"Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me?" she exploded, her hand still gripping the jacket hanger tightly.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Language, Colonel," he chided gently.
In frustration, Sam threw her jacket and the hanger across the room as Jack's eyes followed the unexpected movement.
"Okay, I'm done with this! I'm fucking done with you, Jack! If you want, you can take this to the President, but this stops tonight. And yes, I'm returning to the SGC, not in a week, but tomorrow morning. Because I can't take this anymore. You've won, and I give up. You'll never see me again. But first, you are going to tell me what was the problem! Was it Pete? Was it my engagement? WHAT?" she demanded, tears brimming in her eyes.
Jack was stunned. He had never seen her so furious, so broken, so vulnerable.
"Carter, you better calm down," he tried, feeling unequipped to handle a distressed Carter. Apparently, he had pushed her too far.
Sam shook her head, wiping away the rebellious tears.
"I'm perfectly calm," she lied, her voice trembling with emotion.
Jack raised an eyebrow, sensing her inner turmoil.
"I'm waiting, Jack," she said, sitting on the bed and fixing him with a determined gaze.
"Waiting for what, Colonel?" he asked, attempting to maintain a professional distance.
Sam shook her head vehemently.
"STOP THAT! Stop calling me that! Leave the ranks outside this conversation. Afterward, you can revert to General O'Neill, and I'll be Colonel Carter. Forever. But not now, not NOW!" she practically pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion.
Jack swallowed, sensing the depth of her distress.
"Okay, take it easy," he said gently, realizing he needed to tread carefully with her fragile mind.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Sam cursed under her breath. She quickly wiped her face and rose to collect the room service. When she returned, Jack stood near the window, his weight leaning on the cane.
"Tell me what I did wrong, Jack," she asked, her tone more composed now.
He stood rigidly, his back to her, his eyes locked on the Potomac River as the currents moved steadily beneath the sky. He knew he couldn't keep avoiding this. The time had come to lay it all out—to come clean, to bare his soul in a way he had never been comfortable with. The truth had been weighing on him for too long, and it was time to let her in.
He had to tell her why he had kept his distance for a year and held her at arm's length. He had buried the feelings deep down, locking them away because facing them was too painful and dangerous. But now, with her standing there, waiting for him to speak, he could feel the walls he had built around himself crumbling.
He took a deep breath, feeling the lump in his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, and his words were thick with emotion he couldn't entirely hide.
"You gave up on us," he replied slowly, still not turning to face her.
Sam blinked away the tears threatening to fall and sank onto the bed.
"There wasn't an 'us,' Jack," she pointed out.
Jack pressed the cane against his leg, feeling the pain both physically and emotionally.
"You chose that cop, that idiot," he said bitterly.
"I did. Everyone kept telling me to get a life, and I was tired of being alone. I thought maybe I could be happy with him for a while, but it didn't take long to realize I was only fooling myself. I never really loved him—it was just the idea of being in love, engaged, and having someone to come home to. When I realized it was just a fantasy, I ended the engagement," she said quietly.
His heart raced as Jack slowly turned to face her.
"And I was supposed to be what? The spare?" he asked, his hurt evident in his tone.
Sam swallowed, her pain mirroring his.
"You were never the spare, Jack, but we couldn't be together then. You know that," she said gently.
"Yeah... the damn room," he spat, frustration evident in his voice.
Sam bit her lip, her gaze falling to her hands.
"So, you blame me for the room, for Pete, for everything..." she summarized.
Unable to control himself, Jack nodded.
"Pretty much, yeah," he admitted with a knot in his stomach.
"Wow," Sam breathed, taken aback by his resentment.
Slowly, she lifted her head to meet his gaze. The man she had loved for years would never be hers because he had never forgiven her for choosing another man and making a mistake—a wrong choice. For him, it seemed, life was simply a black-and-white world.
"It seems then, in this universe, we don't end up together," she said sadly.
Jack tried to swallow the knot in his stomach and throat.
"It seems like it," he agreed quietly, the words coming out of his mouth but not from his heart.
Why was he suddenly having difficulty breathing, as there wasn't enough oxygen in the room? Why did the lump in his throat refuse to go down?
Sam was on the brink of collapse, but she didn't want him to see it.
"Can you please go?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
Her hand was pointing to the door.
"Why?" Jack inquired, his pain also evident.
Sam shot him a furious glare.
"Because I want to cry, and I don't want you here!" she exclaimed, furious.
Jack swallowed hard, the weight of his actions settling in his chest like a stone. He realized now just how cold and detached he had been, how his behavior had bordered on cruelty. Every sharp word, every distant glance—he had been shutting her out, keeping her at arm's length because he didn't know how else to handle the emotions that churned inside him. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but in his efforts to protect himself, that's precisely what he had done. And the realization stung more than he wanted to admit.
"Was what we had ever real to you, or was it just an illusion?" he asked, his heart heavy with dread.
Tears threatened to fall from Sam's eyes.
"If you have to ask that, Jack, then it never meant a thing to you," she replied sadly, allowing herself to collapse onto the mattress as the tears finally spilled over.
She didn't care anymore. The pain was too much, and it seemed he didn't mind or care.
Jack moved slowly to the bed, his steps careful, almost hesitant, as he approached her. She lay there, silently crying, her body curled in on itself as if trying to ward off the hurt. He sat down beside her, the familiar creak of the mattress breaking the stillness. Gently, he let go of his cane and placed it on the floor, his eyes never leaving her tear-streaked face. His heart felt like it was in pieces, each sob tearing him apart a little more.
No matter the distance he had tried to put between them, denying the truth that had always been there was impossible—he still loved her. Who was he kidding? She wasn't just someone he cared about. She was the love of his life, the only woman who had ever genuinely gotten under his skin from the moment she had walked into that briefing room, talking about dolls and reproductive organs with that confident, no-nonsense attitude. From that instant, he had wanted her in ways he hadn't fully understood, and now, seeing her in so much pain, the depth of that love was undeniable.
"Don't cry, please," he pleaded, reaching out to take one of her hands.
She recoiled, curling up with her knees drawn to her chest.
"Go away, Jack," she begged again, her voice choked with emotion.
But he couldn't leave her like this. If he were honest with himself, he only wanted to hold her close and comfort her.
"Daniel once told me that in every reality or universe, every Jack and Sam always end up together. So, we can't ruin his theory, can we?" he said softly, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back.
Sam was too consumed by her grief to register his words entirely, but she felt the warmth of his touch, gradually drawing her back from the depths of despair. His hand moved up to her neck, then threaded through her hair, a gesture he always found comforting.
"I'm sorry if I've been a total ass lately, but I was overwhelmed with pain, Sam," he murmured, his voice filled with remorse as he gently stroked her hair.
"Seeing you engaged to someone else who didn't deserve you or loved you as I do was like a punch to the gut. And I was punched every time I saw you with him. I couldn't get over your engagement to that stupid cop. I felt like I had lost something I never fully had, and it tore me apart. I'm very sorry I let my feelings get the best of me and pushed you away."
He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his turmoil.
"I've been carrying this around for … too long, and it's been eating me up. I thought I could move on, but seeing you happy with someone else hurt me much more than expected. I was jealous, frustrated, and lost. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."
Jack's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability.
"I guess I just didn't know how to handle it. I wanted to be happy for you but became miserable and bitter."
He looked at her, his expression earnest and sincere.
"I care about you, Sam. I always have. And I hope we can find a way to get past this, to get back to where we used to be. You mean too much to me to lose."
Slowly, Sam emerged from the haze of her sorrow, the touch of his hand no longer unnoticed. She shifted slightly, her body instinctively gravitating back toward him.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice still shaky with emotion.
Jack's lips hovered close to hers, his gaze intense.
"Rectifying a mistake," he whispered before closing the gap between them, kissing her tenderly.
Sam's eyes flew open in surprise as his lips moved over hers with renewed urgency. She hesitated momentarily before surrendering to the kiss, feeling a rush of emotions flood her as their lips met.
He attempted to deepen the kiss, but she swiftly touched his shoulders, pushing him away. He regarded her with surprise.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his breath ragged.
Sam maintained the distance; her eyes, fiery with anger, met his, which seemed almost dark.
"So, that's it? You ignored me for almost a year, treated me like shit since I arrived, are on the verge of sending me back to SGC, and suddenly, you're kissing me? Is it just the General's prerogative, Jack?" she questioned, her tone frigid despite the turmoil within her.
Jack blinked, confusion etched across his face.
"What on earth are you talking about? I thought you wanted me to kiss you," he said, his expression a mix of bewilderment and concern.
Sam moved away from him, putting space between them.
"Yes, Jack, I wanted you to kiss me—months ago, when my father died, and I was sinking into a dark abyss. When I believed you cared, you relocated to D.C. without a word. Not a single word. Only Cassie, Daniel, and Teal'c cared about my sadness when I moved to Nevada. So, I swallowed my pain and carried on, just like I've always done. I hoped that we would at least remain friends. That's why I rushed here as soon as Colonel Adams called: I'll always be there for you when you need me. But what do I get in return? A reprimand the moment you woke up. You made it abundantly clear that you don't need me, don't want me, and I'm unwelcome. So now what? Do you want a quick fuck? To see what it's like before you sent me away for good?" she spat out, her blue eyes ablaze with anger as she faced him, still seated on her bed.
Jack swallowed hard, realizing she had perfectly articulated his behavior over the past few days and weeks. And it wasn't a flattering portrait. Furious was an understatement; he had truly messed things up.
He cleared his throat, his hand running through his hair nervously. His dress blues, like her shirt and skirt, were slightly wrinkled, a detail he couldn't help but notice.
"Okay, fair enough. I've been a total ass since your father died. I'm truly sorry, but I didn't know how to handle it. I was still furious about your engagement with that jerk, and even though I promised to be there for you, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was a coward, and I deeply regret it now," he admitted in a low voice.
Sam crossed her arms, her jaw clenched in frustration.
"Well, I guess our timing couldn't be worse," she remarked dryly.
Jack attempted to rise, but the cane was on the floor, and he wasn't strong enough to stand without it. Frustrated, he remained seated on the bed since she didn't move from where she was to aid him.
"Fine, you're angry with me. You have every right to be, but can we please talk about this?" he implored, looking at her.
Sam shook her head.
"We don't have anything else to discuss. You've already said everything I need to hear. I'll leave for Colorado Springs tomorrow morning. I'll explain to the President why I had to leave. You can handle the rest," she replied coldly.
Jack sighed and tried to rise once more, this time succeeding.
"Dammit, Sam! Don't be stubborn. I've apologized. I've explained what I've been going through the best I could, and you know how bad I am doing that. Not bad, terrible. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. You don't have to leave," he pleaded, attempting to move without the cane. As he walked, his leg gave out, and he would have fallen if she hadn't caught his arm.
"Stubborn?" she echoed, steadying him.
Holding onto her arm tightly, Jack offered a weak smile.
"I never claimed otherwise," he admitted.
Sam retrieved his cane and handed it to him.
"Here."
Jack took it, and she released him, moving closer to the window.
"I'm sorry, Sam, for hurting you. But I love you; you know that, right?" he asked tentatively, a hint of fear in his voice as he laid himself bare.
Sam remained with her back to him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"No, Jack. I don't know that anymore. I used to believe we loved each other, but now... now I'm not so sure," she confessed, her voice laced with anguish.
Jack swallowed hard. Damn. He had caused more damage than he had realized, but then again, overthinking had never been his forte; it was hers.
"Please, stay in D.C. Let me fix this. Let me try, Sam. Please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with hope and despair.
She wiped her tears discreetly.
"There's nothing to fix, Jack. Even if I report to the President temporarily and I'm not under your chain of command, we know very well that we are on borrowed time. It's best if I return to the SGC and we put this behind us. We move on with our lives separately as we've done so far," she said, her voice heavy with pain.
Jack approached her slowly, his movements deliberate as he set his cane against the chair. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the tension in her body, though she didn't pull away. His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in.
"You're right," he whispered, a blend of vulnerability and determination. "You're not in my chain of command anymore, and the frat rules... they don't apply. By presidential order."
Sam laughed half-heartedly, but it was tinged with something heavier.
"So, I was right," she muttered, her words edged with a hint of bitterness. "Is that all you want, Jack? Just to sleep with me? Take advantage of a loophole while it exists. Wow."
Jack rested his chin gently on her shoulder, his grip on her tightening slightly, though he remained careful not to overstep.
"No," he said, his voice filled with quiet intensity. "It would never just be about sex for me. And I don't want to be with you because some rules aren't in our way. I want to be with you because I love you, Sam."
Her breath hitched, the weight of his words settling deep inside her. She swallowed hard, processing the confession she had longed to hear but feared. Silence filled the room as they stood there, neither moving for several moments. Sam fixed her gaze out the window, the world beyond a blur as Jack held her close.
Eventually, she allowed her head to rest against his chest, her body relaxing just a fraction. Her voice was quiet but firm when she spoke.
"I'll stay, Jack. I'll follow the President's orders," she said, her tone steady but laced with resolve. "But we're not sleeping together. Not now. Not like this. These past few months and weeks… you've hurt me. Over and over again. And that doesn't just disappear because you finally said the words. I need time."
Jack's heart sank, but simultaneously, he felt a slight relief. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was something. A step forward.
He sighed softly, resting his forehead against her for a fleeting moment before lifting it away.
"I get that," he murmured. "And I promise—I'll respect that. No pressure. Just… thank you for staying."
He gently kissed the top of her head before slowly stepping back, reluctantly letting her go. Reaching for his cane, he composed himself as best as he could.
"You look exhausted," he said quietly, a small smile ghosting across his face as he gestured to the bed. "Get some rest, Colonel. You've earned it."
His throat tightened as he turned toward the door, the lump in his chest growing heavier with each step. But as he glanced back one last time, he found a sliver of comfort in knowing that, despite everything, they were still standing in the same room together. And that, for now, was enough.
Sam didn't turn or respond. Only after he had left and closed the door behind him did she collapse to the ground, tears and sobs finally escaping freely.
She was heartbroken. Again.