When Sam slowly opened her eyes, she first saw him. She blinked, momentarily disoriented from sleep. As her vision cleared, she realized that Jack was beside her, still asleep on the same bed. His face was nestled into the pillow, one arm stretched above his head. Sam swallowed, her mind racing as she tried to piece together their situation.
Taking a moment to assess her surroundings, Sam recognized the bedroom where Jack had stayed when he first returned from the hospital. The soft morning light filtering through the curtains confirmed her suspicions. She shifted slightly, her hand instinctively checking her clothes, finding herself still fully clothed. Glancing over at Jack, she noted that he remained dressed.
She bit her lip, her gaze lingering on him. It was a familiar scene she had experienced many times during off-world missions when she happened to wake up before him. Watching him sleep had always been a quiet pleasure, allowing her to study his features in detail, tracing every line on his face, every silver strand of hair that added to his rugged charm.
Suddenly, Jack stirred and rolled over, his back now facing her. Sam's breath caught in her throat, but he remained asleep, oblivious to her presence. She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. Instead, she remained still, simply watching him sleep, her breathing soft and steady in the morning.
Unknown to her, Jack was no longer sleeping when he turned over on the bed. He didn't know how to face her upon waking and noticing her watching him. So, he decided to turn his back and buy himself some time. They remained in that silent stalemate for a while; neither moved until Jack's phone rang, breaking the tension.
"O'Neill," he answered, still turning his back to her. On the other end, Adams explained that the police required a complete statement from Colonel Carter at the station and requested her immediate presence. Jack hung up and slowly turned to face her, meeting her gaze.
"Hey," he greeted softly.
"Morning," she replied.
"Sleep well?" he inquired, running a hand through his face.
"I guess," she responded, adjusting her position on the pillow. "Although I remember falling asleep on the couch, not here," she added, teasingly smiling.
Jack glanced at the ceiling.
"Yeah... about that. My couch isn't the best for two people, so I brought you here," he explained.
"You could have woken me up," she remarked.
Jack waved a hand dismissively.
"Nah... you were sound asleep," he insisted.
"Thank you for coming to the hotel so quickly yesterday," she said, her voice dropping.
Jack threw her a glance.
"Of course, Carter," he said. "You were attacked because of me. I wasn't leaving you there."
Sam shifted and looked at the ceiling. "Well, thanks anyway," she repeated softly.
"Always," he responded automatically.
Sam's eyes snapped open, and she bit her lip hard, suddenly rising from the bed.
"Don't... don't say that word! Please, don't ever repeat it!" she pleaded before swiftly exiting the bedroom, leaving Jack stunned on the bed.
"Carter!" Jack called out, quickly getting up from the bed.
But she had already vanished.
"Damn," Jack cursed softly, pausing at the hallway and peering towards the stairs. She was probably in her bedroom, and he didn't want to intrude. Slowly, he made his way to the kitchen and started brewing coffee. He needed a shower and shave, and she had to go to the police, but they could wait.
"Fuck," he muttered again as the coffee brewed. Jack waited, but she was taking her time. Eventually, he finished his coffee and decided to check on her. He climbed the stairs and noticed her bedroom door was closed.
"Carter, are you all right?" he called outside her door.
"Yes," was the only response he received.
Jack sighed and returned to his room, shedding his clothes before showering. After spending time under the hot water, he shaved and dressed in his dress blues.
Still, her bedroom door remained closed, and now Jack was worried. He knocked again, feeling increasingly uneasy. He had only said one word—one simple word. It hardly seemed enough to warrant such an outburst.
"Carter. Open up," he requested. But there was no response, and the door remained shut. He tried the knob and found it unlocked, so he entered.
The room was dark, the curtains closed, and Jack fumbled to find the light switch. When he finally did, he saw her on the floor, knees bent, and head hidden as she silently cried.
"Carter? Are you OK?" he asked, concerned.
"Leave me alone," she said between muffled sobs, trying to control herself.
Despite his discomfort, Jack kneeled next to her.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently.
"I just need a moment," she requested, her voice strained.
"For what? To cry more?" Jack's words came out sharper than he intended, and he immediately regretted them as he saw her shoulders shake.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly.
"I can't stay here," she said, sniffling.
"Why?" Jack asked carefully, concerned that she wanted to leave.
"It doesn't matter. I'll go to another hotel and be more careful," she replied, trembling.
Jack shook his head firmly.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that. We don't know who we are facing, and it's too dangerous. You are staying here," he stated firmly.
The crying had stopped, and Jack heard her taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
"You have my promise that I'll behave, Carter. Nothing will happen," he assured her.
Sam finally lifted her head, her face swollen from crying, her eyes red.
"Yes, you are very determined in saying that," she said softly.
Jack was utterly confused by now. She was the one who had told him they weren't having sex.
"You told me that nothing was happening between us. So, what is your problem?" he asked, trying to understand.
Sam gritted her teeth and avoided his gaze. Yeah, she had.
"None whatsoever, General. I have no problem at all. It was just some accumulated stress," she lied. He didn't seem to have a clue about what had triggered her distress, so as far as he was concerned, nothing was happening.
Jack looked at her with suspicious eyes.
"Stress? You were crying your eyes out because of stress?" he questioned.
Sam slowly got up. The prospect of opening up to him and giving them a chance was fading by the second.
"I had a stressful event yesterday," she reminded him.
Jack continued to regard her unconvinced.
"You had, but not your first. I've never seen you react like this," he pointed out.
Sam shot him a disdainful look.
"Well, you haven't exactly been around, Sir. So, you haven't seen a lot of things lately. We are practically strangers," she said.
Then, she walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Jack stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the closed bathroom door. Eventually, he rose from where he stood and settled onto her bed. She was correct; they hadn't spoken for quite a while before his poisoning, but she was here now. Things had started to improve a bit. The sound of water echoed through the room as it was turned on, then off, followed by the creak of the door reopening. She stood before him in a bathrobe, her expression of surprise, her face still damp.
"Why are you still here?" she inquired, running a hand through her hair and clearing her throat. Jack stood up.
"We need to go to the police. I'll wait downstairs for you," he stated before exiting the room.
Sam closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Would her torment never cease? She let the robe fall and started to get dressed. With a final glance around the room, she left to join him. The sooner they dealt with the police, the better.
Sam walked briskly alongside Jack and Colonel Adams, the weight of recent events heavy on her mind. As they approached the police station, she couldn't shake the unease in her stomach.
When they entered the station, Detective Wills, a seasoned investigator with a no-nonsense demeanor, greeted them.
"Ms. Carter, thank you for coming, " he said.
Jack raised an eyebrow. She wasn't in uniform because it was in her hotel, but both he and Adams were, and last night, the Detective had been informed she was an officer from the Air Force.
"You mean Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, Detective?" Jack said sharply.
The Detective gave Jack an odd look but eventually nodded.
"Right, that", he said.
"I need to collect your statement, Lieutenant Colonel Carter. Are you coming alone or…" Wills asked, looking at Jack and Adams.
Jack moved next to her.
"I'm the closest to her superior officer right now, so I'll attend to her statement," he informed.
Wills sighed while Adams took a seat on one of the available chairs.
"In that case, please follow me," Wills said, leading them to a private interview room.
Once seated, Detective Wills began, "Alright, let's start from the beginning. Tell me everything that happened at the hotel last night."
Sam took a deep breath, steeling herself as she recounted the events of the break-in.
"I was asleep when something woke me up. I tried to turn on the light but was hit by what I suspect was a baton", she explained. "I warned the person in the room to leave and was hit again on my right side. That's when I fired three shots to scare whoever it was off and protect myself."
Detective Wills furrowed his brow, "Three shots seem excessive for scaring off an intruder, don't you think?"
Sam glanced at Jack before responding, "I was in a state of panic. I acted on instinct to defend myself."
Detective Wills nodded, taking note of her explanation.
"I see, but you are a trained military officer. You shouldn't panic. Right?" he asked, looking first at Sam and then at Jack.
Sam swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. Under normal circumstances, she would have remained calm, her training kicking in to keep panic at bay. But these weren't normal circumstances. Her life had been anything but ordinary lately, and the strain was beginning to show. Her nerves were frayed, her usual composure unraveling as the weight of everything pressed down on her.
"I'm a woman too, Detective," Sam asserted, her tone laced with anger and embarrassment. "I woke up alone in a hotel room in the dead of night, only to find an intruder already in my room. What was I supposed to assume? That he was there for a friendly chat?"
Jack fixed the Detective with his most authoritative gaze, a Major-General stare that demanded attention.
"Shouldn't your focus be on investigating who might be behind the break-in?" he inquired firmly.
Detective Wills patted his notebook, a gesture of reassurance.
"We're reviewing the hotel security footage and speaking with the staff. It's a thorough process that will take some time. Do you have any leads on who the intruder might be?" he asked Sam.
Sam shook her head. "No, I don't," she replied.
Wills glanced down at his notes.
"So, you work in Colorado Springs, in Deep Space Telemetry," he stated, lifting his gaze to meet Sam's eyes.
"Yes," Sam confirmed.
"Yet, you're here in D.C.," he pointed out.
"I've been reassigned," Sam explained.
Wills turned to Jack. "Let me guess... she works for you now?" he speculated.
Jack grinned.
"Actually, she works for the President," he revealed with a hint of pride.
"The President?" Wills echoed, his surprise evident. "As in, the President?" he emphasized.
Jack nodded.
"The one and only. Our commander-in-chief. The big boss," he clarified.
The detective's complexion paled slightly. "I'll need to verify that," he stammered.
Without missing a beat, Jack offered his phone.
"Feel free to call him. I have his number on speed dial," he offered.
Sam suppressed a smile as she watched the detective's reaction.
"No, that won't be necessary," Wills declined, regaining his composure.
Jack pocketed his phone.
"So, are we finished here?" he inquired.
"Yes, I have all the information I need for now. I'll contact Lieutenant Colonel Carter if anything else arises," Wills confirmed, clearing his throat.
Sam and Jack rose simultaneously, a synchronized movement from years of camaraderie. They left the room, exchanging bemused glances, and met Colonel Adams, who remained seated in the reception area.
Adams raised an eyebrow at them, silently questioning their encounter with Detective Wills. Sam and Jack exchanged a knowing glance before breaking into faint smiles, their mission now temporarily concluded.
They left the police station and headed toward Homeworld Security offices, but Sam couldn't shake the lingering apprehension. The threats looming over them seemed to be spreading.
At the Pentagon, Sam sat at her desk, attempting to focus on her work. Meanwhile, Jack beckoned Colonel Adams into his office and gestured for him to close the door.
"Yes, Sir," Adams acknowledged, standing before Jack's desk.
"Let's address a few matters, Adams," Jack began. "First, ensure that Colonel Carter's clothes and personal belongings are cleared by the police and retrieved. She'll need her dress blues and regular attire. Secondly, for security purposes, she'll be relocating to my residence. Increase the security detail there. If someone targeted her once, they may try again."
Adams nodded in agreement.
"One more thing," Jack continued. "About Carter's gun. Was it hers, or did you provide it?"
Adams cleared his throat before answering, "I provided it, Sir. She didn't have much time to pack. I gave her ten minutes to gather essentials before beaming up to the Odyssey."
Jack nodded in understanding.
"Understood. That's all for now. Attend to those tasks," he instructed.
Adams nodded and exited Jack's office to fulfill his directives. Jack took a deep breath before picking up the phone and asking his secretary to dial the Oval Office. He needed to brief the President about Carter's attack.
When Adams arrived at her hotel, Sam's belongings were neatly packed and straightforwardly transferred to the General's house. With her gun now in police custody, Adams provided her with a replacement and went back to brief the General on his progress.
Meanwhile, Sam struggled to concentrate on her work, her mind foggy and unfocused. As she sifted through files for review, something peculiar caught her eye. Among the various lists she had compiled of personnel working with Jack, she paused at Colonel Trevor Adams' file, noticing an unfamiliar detail.
Sam discovered that Colonel Adams' father was a British national. Intrigued, she delved deeper into Colonel Adams' background. His mother, a native Bostonian who had pursued studies in Cambridge, had met his father, a Literature teacher, during her time there. Following their marriage, they stayed in England until they returned to the United States several years later. Sam's eyes stopped at the family's registered address: Colorado Springs. Not Boston, but Colorado Springs.
"Colorado Springs?" Sam said aloud, intrigued.
She found this coincidence puzzling. Why would Colonel Adams' father, a Cambridge Literature Professor, work in Colorado Springs? Was he teaching at UCCS? It seemed odd to her.
She printed several pages detailing Colonel Adams' family history and tucked them into a folder for further examination when her mind was more precise. Questions lingered beneath the surface, and Sam was determined to uncover the truth behind Colonel Adams' enigmatic past.
As Jack and Sam returned together to his house, the air inside the SUV was heavy and silent. Once inside, Sam mentioned she was exhausted and headed straight for the bathroom to take a hot bath. Meanwhile, Jack relaxed by opening a beer from his fridge before changing to his bedroom. He hoped for a quiet evening together for a change.
Sam took advantage of the bathtub in her bathroom, filled it with scalding water, and sank in. The bruises from the intruder's baton were already visible on her right side, leaving behind purple marks along her arm and back. She remained there, attempting to relax until the water began to cool. Then, she finished with a quick shower and changed into comfortable, warm clothes. Despite two baths, she still felt chilled.
Descending to the living room, she found Jack watching TV and hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to join him or head to the kitchen for something to eat. He noticed her presence and spoke up, breaking the silence.
"Oh, ready for dinner? How about some Chinese?" he suggested.
Sam nodded in agreement. "Sure," she replied softly.
Jack smiled, his expression warm, as he reached for his phone to place the order. Sam's heart skipped a beat as he effortlessly recalled her favorite dishes after so long apart. As he finalized the order, he noticed her hesitation.
"Something wrong?" he inquired.
"No," she replied, moving to the couch and wrapping herself in an Afghan. Jack observed her action, raising an eyebrow in concern.
"Feeling cold?" he asked, noticing her bundled attire compared to his own.
"I'll manage," she assured him, clutching the Afghan tightly.
Concern etched on his features, Jack rose from the couch and moved to the fireplace, which had remained dormant for quite some time. It was mid-October, and the weather had been mild and pleasant. Within moments, warm flames flickered to life, casting a comforting glow in the room.
"It'll warm up soon," he assured her.
"Thank you," Sam murmured gratefully.
Throughout the evening, Jack continued to steal glances at her, sensing her unease despite the growing warmth in the room.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he finally asked, his voice gentle as he observed her still clutching the Afghan.
"Yeah," she replied hesitantly.
The doorbell interrupted their conversation, signaling the arrival of their dinner delivery. Jack retrieved it, exchanging a brief interaction with the delivery person before returning with the food.
"Dinner's here," he announced, setting the bag on the coffee table. Sam remained on the couch, unmoving.
"Do you want to eat here?" Jack asked from the doorway.
"Could you bring mine here, please?" Sam requested softly, extending her hand.
Jack complied, placing her portion on the coffee table before turning his attention back to her, concern evident in his gaze. Secretly, he was glad that she had seemed to drop the 'Sir' entirely from her sentences. Maybe they were making progress after all.
"You don't seem alright. What's wrong?" he asked gently, sitting beside her on the couch.
Sam shifted slightly, drawing away.
"It's nothing, just a little soreness from the baton," she admitted a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Jack's expression shifted abruptly as realization dawned on him. She had been attacked during the break-in, and he had failed to remember.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked softly, moving closer.
"I'm fine," she insisted, retreating slightly.
But Jack remained persistent, his concern evident.
"Please, let me help," he urged, his voice gentle yet insistent.
As Sam was about to assure Jack she was okay, a sudden wave of pain shot through her body, causing her to clench up and hold her breath involuntarily. It felt like a muscular pain but was still intense despite the temporary relief from the hot bath. Sensing her discomfort, Jack instinctively reached out and took her hand as she closed her eyes, rendering her unable to protest.
"I can call my doctor to come and check if you need anything," Jack offered, his concern evident in his voice.
Sam opened her eyes, finding herself caught between the pain coursing through her body and the warmth of Jack's hand holding hers.
"There's no need, Sir," she managed to say, attempting to maintain her composure despite the pain.
But Jack didn't release her hand, his grip gentle yet firm.
"Come on, Carter, don't be stubborn. Let my doctor check you out," he insisted, his tone pleading.
Sam sighed resignedly, knowing Jack wouldn't relent until she agreed. With a reluctant nod, she acquiesced.
Still holding her hand, Jack promptly dialed his doctor, apologizing for the late hour but explaining the urgent need for a house call. The doctor assured him he would arrive as soon as possible.
"While we wait, how about we eat something while it's hot?" Jack suggested, his gaze drifting towards the untouched Chinese food.
Sam nodded silently, and finally, Jack released her hand to retrieve the food. They ate in silence, the pain in Sam's body a constant reminder of her vulnerability.
Eventually, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of Jack's doctor.
The doctor, a man in his late fifties with a warm smile, arrived with his medical bag, and Jack quickly briefed him on the situation as they made their way to the living room where Sam was seated.
"Carter, this is Doctor Morgan," Jack introduced as the doctor extended his hand to Sam.
"I heard you're not feeling very well, Colonel," Doctor Morgan addressed her with kindness, which was evident in his tone.
Sam cleared her throat, attempting to downplay her discomfort.
"Just a little pain, Doctor. I'm sure it will pass," she assured him with a small smile.
The doctor glanced at Jack, who remained fixated on Sam, before returning to her.
"Is there a room where I can check Colonel Carter, General?" he inquired.
Jack nodded in affirmation.
"Yes, of course. There's a bedroom right next to the living room. Feel free to use it, doc," Jack replied.
"Thank you, General. Shall we, Colonel?" the doctor gestured, prompting Sam to drop the Afghan and rise from the couch reluctantly. They exited the room, leaving Jack alone, pacing and waiting anxiously.
After what felt like an eternity, they returned. Sam reclaimed her spot on the couch and wrapped herself in the Afghan once more. Jack wasted no time in addressing the doctor.
"So, how is she, Doctor?" he inquired eagerly.
The doctor, jotting down notes on his pad, began his assessment.
"Her back and right arm are already showing colorful bruises, and her muscles are sore," he explained. "She'll need to take some painkillers and get plenty of rest. I recommend applying ice rather than heat during the first 48 hours after the injury. Ice can help reduce inflammation, numb the area, and alleviate pain. She should apply an ice pack wrapped in a cloth to the affected area for 15-20 minutes every couple of hours. If the pain persists after 48 hours, she may want to switch to heat therapy, which can help relax the muscles and improve blood circulation."
Jack listened intently, committing the doctor's instructions to memory.
"I'll note these down, General," Doctor Morgan added, noticing Jack's focused expression.
Sam offered a faint smile of gratitude as she thanked the doctor. Jack escorted the doctor to the front door, expressing his appreciation once more before returning to find Sam with her eyes closed, appearing as though she might be asleep.
"I have painkillers for my knees. Would you like some?" he offered.
"Yes, please," Sam replied without opening her eyes.
Jack retrieved the bottle and handed her two pills, which she swallowed with a sip of soda. "Thanks," she murmured.
"Are you still cold?" Jack inquired as he noticed her wrapped in the Afghan.
Sam nodded wearily.
"I can't seem to warm up," she admitted.
Jack settled beside her.
"Well, we've been through this before, although this time I don't have a broken leg and rib," he remarked, recalling their past adventures, including their time stranded in Antarctica.
Sam smiled faintly.
"No, you don't," she acknowledged, reminiscing about their shared experiences.
"Are you comfortable with me doing this?" Jack asked softly as he put his arm around her shoulder.
Sam swallowed, feeling conflicted. Yes, and no warred within her, torn between the comfort of his presence and the ache in her body. But exhaustion settled over her, a heavy blanket that dulled her senses and quieted her thoughts and had nothing to do with the Afghan that currently covered her. She leaned into him, feeling the warmth emanating from his body, and allowed herself to relax.
They sat together on the couch, Jack's arm draped over her shoulder, her head resting against him. Sam's eyes began to droop as fatigue washed over her. A sense of deja vu nagged at her, but she couldn't grasp the memory as sleep tugged at her consciousness.
Where had she seen this before? The last fleeting thought drifted through her mind before she succumbed to sleep. Despite the pain, she finally felt warm and at peace in Jack's embrace.
Jack sat on the couch, his arms wrapped around Sam's sleeping figure, who nestled comfortably against him. He heaved a sigh, feeling the weight of the familiar pattern settle over him again. At first, he hadn't minded the pattern, but now it carried a different weight.
He had promised her to behave and respect the boundaries she had set. Jack always acquiesced to her wishes, even when they left him hurting. It was part of why he had walked away in the first place. When she chose that cop over him, it felt like a betrayal, a sharp pain he couldn't simply brush aside.
The engagement had been broken, but she was on the brink of marrying someone else, ready to start a family with him. It was as though she had erased everything they had shared, every moment, every unspoken feeling as if it meant nothing. And he had agreed to let it all go, to leave it behind in that room.
Jack had reached his breaking point. He couldn't keep pretending that everything was okay, that he was alright. So, he decided to leave to escape the pain and the memories that haunted him. He moved to D.C. and distanced himself from everything and everyone, including those who had helped him through the darkest days after Charlie's death. He decided it was time to distance himself from the past he had held onto for so long, including the woman who held his heart prisoner. It had been one of his most stupid decisions ever.