Janet's footsteps echoed down the corridor as she went to General Hammond's office. The conversation she'd had with Sam weighed heavily on her, and while she had offered comfort, she knew Sam needed more than words. Something deeper was going on, something even Samseemed unsure how to confront.
Knocking on the door, Janet stepped in as Hammond waved her inside.
"Doctor Fraiser, what can I do for you?" Hammond asked, glancing up from his desk.
Janet hesitated for a moment before sitting down.
"I wanted to update you on Major Carter," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I went to visit her, Sir, and it's clear she's under significant emotional strain. I think it would be best if she took more time off. Perhaps a change of scenery, somewhere away from Colorado Springs."
Hammond's brow furrowed. "A change of scenery? What are you suggesting, Doctor?"
Janet thought momentarily, then hesitantly replied, "I thought she could visit family. Maybe that would give her the break she needs."
Hammond sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"Major Carter doesn't talk much about her family, does she?"
Janet shook her head.
"No, I always assumed her parents were… gone. She's never really mentioned them."
Hammond looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking.
"Her mother died in a car accident when Sam was young. That tragedy left deep scars on the family. Major General Jacob Carter, her father, is a difficult man—strict and deeply embedded in his military career. Sam… well, although in the military, chose a different path, and that caused friction between them. To my knowledge, she hasn't spoken to Jacob or her brother Mark since leaving the Academy."
Janet's eyes widened in surprise.
"I had no idea. I always thought she was close to her family but just didn't talk about it because, well… she's very reserved, Sir."
"No," Hammond replied, shaking his head. "Jacob tried to pull some strings to get her into NASA, and when she didn't even respond to him, he was deeply hurt. To this day, he believes Sam is wasting her talents on 'deep space telemetry.' He's unaware of the Stargate program. Mark lives in San Diego, and, as far as I know, they haven't spoken in years. Carters are…complicated."
Janet felt a pang of sadness for Sam. She'd always thought her friend had a strong support system, but the reality seemed different.
"That explains a lot," she said quietly.
Hammond nodded.
"It's complicated, Doctor. I can't force her to reconnect with them, especially not now."
Janet considered her options, biting her lip before a new idea struck her.
"Actually… my sister runs a small bed-and-breakfast near a lake. It's quiet and peaceful this time of year. Sam could get away for a while, and I'd still be able to check in on her through my sister. It might be just what she needs."
Hammond's face softened at the suggestion.
"That sounds like a good idea, Doctor. If you think it will help, I'll approve the time off."
Relieved, Janet smiled. "Thank you, Sir. I'll make the arrangements."
Janet left the office and headed to the nearest phone, quickly dialing her sisterLisa's number. After a few rings, she heard her sister's familiar voice.
"Hey, Janet! Long time no talk. What's up?"
"Hi, Lisa. I know it's short notice, but I need a favor. Do you have any open cabins at the B ? A friend of mine could use some time away."
"Of course!" Lisa replied without hesitation. "We're not busy right now, so she can have the cabin closest to the lake. It's quiet and peaceful, just what she might need."
"Perfect," Janet said with a sigh of relief. "Her name's Sam Carter, and she's been through a rough time. I'll send her your way in the next day or so. Thanks, Lisa, I owe you."
After hanging up, Janet made her way back to Sam's house. As she entered, the air felt heavier than before. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cup of cold coffee. The signs of weariness etched deeply into her features.
Janet sat down across from her, offering a gentle smile.
"How are you holding up, Sam?"
Sam didn't meet her gaze, her voice quiet.
"I don't know anymore. It feels like I'm unraveling."
Janet reached out, placing a hand on Sam's arm.
"I've been thinkingandhave an idea that might help. You need a break—a real one. I've spoken with General Hammond, and he agrees. There's a bed-and-breakfast near a lake, run by my sister. It's quiet, peaceful… maybe the change of scenery is what you need right now."
Sam looked up, the suggestion catching her off guard.
"A bed-and-breakfast?"
"Yes," Janet said softly. "It's not too far from here. I've taken Cassie there once for vacation, but now itis practically empty. You can drive thereandget away from everything for a while. Maybe even clear your head."
Strangely, the idea appealed to Sam more than she expected. The thought of escaping, even for just a little while, gave her a glimmer of relief.
"I don't know," she hesitated. "I don't want to be a burden."
"You wouldn't be," Janet assured her. "Besides, it's close enough that I'll be just a call away if you need anything. And you'd have space, time to breathe."
Sam's gaze drifted to the window. A lake, the sound of water, the quiet away from everything she was drowning in here—it sounded like exactly what she needed. Maybe some distancefrom her overwhelming thoughts and Jack would help her sort through the chaos inside her.
"I think I'd like that," Sam finally said. "It might be what I need right now. To get away… from everything."
Janet smiled. "Good. I'll help you get packed."
The bed and breakfast was everything Janet had promised. The small wood cabin sat at the edge of a pristine lake, the water reflecting the early morning light in soft ripples. Tall pine trees lined the shoreline, and the quiet was almost deafening in its serenity. Sam stood on the small porch, taking in the view. She hadn't felt this calm in weeks—maybe months.
The modest cabin by the lake, nestled in a grove of tall pines, exuded a peaceful simplicity. The living room, with its low-beamed ceiling, was bathed in soft amber light that streamed through the large picture window facing the lake. The walls were paneled in rustic cedarwood, giving off a faint, warm aroma mixed with the crisp scent of fresh linen from the neatly arranged furniture.
A small stone fireplace occupied one corner of the room, its hearth scattered with wood shavings and kindling, ready for a fire. In front of it, a deep brown leather armchair sat beside a matching couch, both worn but comfortable, with throws in earthy tones of sage and cream casually draped over the arms. A wooden coffee table, smooth with age and use, bore a single, old-fashioned lantern and a few scattered magazines. The thick, woven rug underneath was a swirl of muted blues and greens, echoing the colors of the lake outside.
The kitchenette, tucked into the opposite corner, was simple yet functional. Pale blue cabinets lined the wall, adding chipped paint to the rustic charm. The countertops were a speckled gray, clean except for the lone coffee pot and a ceramic bowl filled with fresh fruit. The scent of cedar mingled with the faint aroma of brewed coffee that Sam had prepared earlier.
Large windows dominated one wall in the small bedroom, offering an unbroken view of the serene, shimmering lake beyond the trees. The bed was covered with a quilt in soft hues of lavender and gray, the pattern delicate yet functional as if it had been lovingly crafted by hand. A simple pine dresser stood beside the bed, its surface bare.
Sam knelt beside her duffel bag, unpacking her things slowly, methodically, as though she was trying to ground herself in the routine. She placed a few folded clothes into the dresser drawers, her movements purposeful but heavy with thought. Her hands lingered over a small box she pulled from the bottom of her bag. Inside, a few personal keepsakes—an old photo, a worn journal, and her military dog tags.
Sam was drawn to the dock by the water, where an old rowboat was tied up. She hadn't been fishing in years, but the sight of the water stirred something in her. Fishing had been one of the few things she and her father used to do together, back when things were simpler before everything had fractured.
Over the years, Jack kept insisting on asking her to go to his cabin and fish, and she always said no, even giving him the impression she didn't like fishing. It was quite the opposite. She loved it. The problem was that she didn't trust herself in a cabin with her CO, even if Daniel and Teal'c were around.
Sam returned to the cabin without thinkingand dug out an old fishing pole she'd brought. It had been ages, but muscle memory guided her as she cast the line into the water, the familiar rhythm bringing a strange sense of peace.
As she sat on the dock, waiting for a bite, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Jack. She had pushed him away, convinced herself she didn't love him—or rather that she couldn't allow herself to love him. The fear of loss, the fear of failure, had been too much. But here, in the quiet stillness of the lake, she wondered if she had made a mistake.
The water lapped gently against the dock, and Sam allowed herself to feel the total weight of her emotions for the first time in a long time. The fear, the love, the longing. She wasn't sure what the future held, but for now, she let herself just be in this moment of stillness.
Jack had been on edge since his last conversation with Sam. Something just didn't sit right, and the knot in his stomach tightened when Walter informed him that Sam had been granted an extended leave. His brow furrowed. Extended leave? Sam Carter never took leave—let alone an extended one—unless something was seriously wrong.
Feeling uneasy, Jack drove to her house to check on her. But when he arrived, his heart sank. The driveway was empty, with no car, no lights, andnothing. The place was eerily quiet as if it hadn't been touched in days.
He knocked on the door, a part of him still hoping she was inside, maybe just avoiding everyone, avoiding him. But there was no response. The silence was deafening. The reality hit him hard: Sam was gone.
Frustrated and desperate for answers, Jack stormed through the halls of the SGC, his destination clear: Janet Fraiser's office. If anyone knew what was happening, it was the base's Chief Medical Officer. His fists were clenched as he approached the door, and without bothering to knock, he barged inside.
Janet looked up from her desk, startled by his abrupt entrance.
"Colonel?" Her voice was a mixture of surprise and concern.
"Where is she?" Jack demanded, his voice sharp and unwavering. He wasted no time in pleasantries.
Janet raised an eyebrow, standing up slowly from her chair. "Excuse me?"
"Carter. Where the hell is she, Janet? I went to her house, and she's gone. You put her on leave, didn't you?" His frustration boiled over, his voice grating with emotion. He was trying not to lose it, but the uncertainty gnawed at him.
Janet squared her shoulders, her eyes narrowing.
"Yes, I did. Major Carter needs some time to recover, Colonel. She's been through a lot, and forcing her to stay here only worsens things."
Jack's jaw tightened.
"You sent her away? Where?"
"That's none of your concern." Janet's voice was calm but firm. "Sam needed a break. She wasn't healing here, and staying in Colorado Springs was only weighing her down. She's somewhere peaceful now, where she can rest and get her head on straight."
"Where?" Jack repeated, his voice low and dangerous.
Janet crossed her arms, standing her ground. "I'm not telling you that, Colonel."
"You don't get to decide that!" Jack snapped, taking a step closer, his frustration tipping over the edge. "I'm her CO, and I have a right to know where she is."
"No, you don't," Janet shot back, her voice rising. "If you care about her, you'll give her space. Sam's health is my top priority, and right now, she needs time away from this base—and from you."
Jack blinked, momentarily stunned. Janet's words cut deeper than he expected. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Why suddenly was everyone telling him to back off, especially when it came to Sam?
Janet stepped forward, her tone softening slightly but still unwavering.
"Jack, I know you care about her. Deeply, and I know you're hurting, too. But she's been through so much. She's trying to cope with everything— Orlin and… everything between you. Sam needs to figure things out on her terms. If you really care about her, you'll give her the space to do that."
The silence between them was thick with tension, but Jack could hear the truth in Janet's words. After the discussion with Sam, he knew the wisest thing was to let her go, close that chapter, and move on, but he couldn't. He loved her, even if she said she didn't love him back.
Finally, he cleared his throat, regaining a semblance of composure.
"I'm not trying to hurt her," he said quietly. "I just want to know if she's okay."
Janet's expression softened, though the determination in her eyes didn't waver.
"She's in good hands, Colonel. Let her have this time. If you care about her… let her breathe."
But Jack wasn't ready to walk away. Not yet.
"And what if she doesn't come back?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Janet paused, understanding the weight of his words.
"She will," she said quietly. "But on her terms."
Jack stared at her for a moment, processing everything. He didn't respond. Without another word, he turned and left the office, his mind racing with a plan.
Back in his quarters, Jack sat at his desk, staring at his laptop. He wasn't about to sit idly by. He wasn't one to follow the rules when they didn't suit him, and he damn well wasn't about to start now. His fingers tapped away as he pulled up Janet's personnel records. It didn't take long to find the name he was looking for: Lisa Fraiser, Janet's sister. A few phone calls later, Jack had the name of a bed-and-breakfast near a lake run by Lisa. That was all he needed.
The following day, he packed his gear—a tent, sleeping bag, binoculars, and enough supplies to last the weekend. He wasn't planning on making contact with Sam. No, that wasn't the point. He just needed to see her. He needed to know she was okay.
With his truck loaded, Jack set off toward the bed-and-breakfast. The drive was short, and he barely noticed the passing scenery as his mind raced. He kept thinking about Sam—how things had spiraled between them, the hurt she had tried to conceal in her eyes the last time they spoke. He didn't know how to fix any of it, but seeing her again might help him find a way through the fog.
The bed-and-breakfast was nestled in a quiet, wooded area by a lake. Tall pine trees surrounded the property, their branches swaying gently in the cool breeze. The lake's water shimmered under the midday sun, reflecting the deep blues of the sky. The B was charming, a quaint wooden building with small cabins scattered along the shoreline. Only three cars were parked in the parking lot, and one was Sam's Volvo.
Jack parked his truck a reasonable distance from the main building and carefully went through the trees, staying out of sight. With the binoculars around his neck, he scanned the area, searching for any sign of Sam. It didn't take long. One of the cabins near the edge of the lake had its windows open, and through the lens, Jack spotted her.
Sam was sitting on a chair by the water, her legs stretched out in front of her, a book resting in her lap. She looked… peaceful. More relaxed than she had in weeks, though Jack could still see the shadows under her eyes.
His heart twisted painfully in his chest. Seeing her like this, out of uniform, away from the weight of the SGC, was strange. She wasn't Major Carter here. She was just Sam, clearly trying to find herself again.
Jack settled into his makeshift camp a short distance away, hidden by the trees but close enough to keep an eye on her. He wasn't going to interfere. He just needed to see her to know she was okay.
Hours passed as he watched her routine. She'd sit by the lake, reading or staring over the water. She took long walks through the woods, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets as she wandered. And then there was the fishing.
Jack smiled as he watched through his binoculars. Sam stood at the edge of the dock, casting her line into the water with practiced ease. He watched as she caught a fish, reeled it in, examined it briefly, then gently released it back into the lake.
Of course, Jack thought, a small smile tugging at his lips. That was such a Carter thing to do—catch the fish, then give it back. Even out here, alone, she couldn't help but be kind. He didn't know she could fish, but it suited her.
For the next two days, Jack watched from his hidden vantage point. He saw Sam in a way he rarely had before—unguarded, away from the chaos of their lives. She was quieterandmore introspective, but a peacefulness about her made him feel better, even if it didn't take away hispain.
He never approached her, never revealed himself. He simply watched, taking comfort in the fact that she seemed more at ease. But as Sunday afternoon rolled around, Jack knew it was time to leave. He couldn't stay here foreverandforce his way back into her life—not like this. She had made her decision, and somehow, he had to learn how to live with that.
Jack paused one last time as he packed up his gear and prepared to head back to Colorado Springs, looking back at the cabin where Sam sat by the lake. The ache in his chest was still there, and he didn't know if it would ever go away. But at least she seemed to be finding some peace. That was enough for now.
With a heavy heart, Jack turned and began the drive home, the quiet hum of the truck the only sound accompanying him back to the life he wasn't sure he'd ever fully return to.
As the sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the serene lake, Sam stood at her cabin window, watching the water ripple in the soft evening breeze. Her retreat was ending, and while her body felt rested, her mind was still far from at ease. She had spent these quiet days doing what she always did best: connecting the dotsandanalyzing everything until she could understand it.
Her father was the first dot that stood out, stark and painful.
Sam clenched her jaw as her thoughts circled back to Jacob Carter. Her father had always been a powerful presence in her life, but it had taken her years to realize that his influenceand expectations had also been a shadow she could never quite shake. She still felt the deep sting of their fractured relationship, and despite the years that had passed, the wounds had never really healed.
Jacob Carter was a force to be reckoned with—a decorated Air Force Major General, respected by his peers and feared by his subordinates. But to Sam, he was something more than just the man in uniform. He was the father who had missed her wedding because some crucial matters at the Pentagon couldn't be avoided. Fine, she had told herself at the time. Let it go, Sam. It's just how he is.
But it wasn't just the wedding. It was everything. He had always been more focused on his career than his family, and Sam had finally had enough when he tried to interfere in hers.
The memory of that conversation still burned. Jacob had called her one day, his voice full of pride, telling her he'd spoken to the "right people" and had gotten her a spot at NASA. Just like that, as if it were a gift he could hand her. As if she hadn't spent her entire life carving out her path, working harder than anyone else to prove that she wasn't just "General Carter's daughter."
Sam had felt her blood boil at that moment. She remembered gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white as she fought to keep her voice steady. But the hurt and frustration had been too much.
I didn't ask for this, Dad, she had said coldly before hanging up and never returning his calls.
She'd been done, done with his interference, done with his control. That was the last time they had spoken—years ago now. And she hadn't missed him, at least not consciously.
She had wanted to prove, not just to him but to herself, that she could make her way. And she had. When the SGC came calling, Sam grabbed it with both hands. She'd found her place, her purpose. SG-1 had become more than just a team—it was her family, her home. The Stargate program had been the defining moment of her career, something Jacob Carter had no part in. It was hers, and she had never looked back.
But that, Sam realized, was one of the reasons why it had hurt so much to say "no" to Jack O'Neill.
As she folded the last of her clothes into her suitcase, Sam felt the weight of that decision settle over her once again. She had said "no" because she couldn't let her feelings for Jack destroy what she had fought so hard to build. Jack represented something more than just love; he represented risk. Risk to her career, risk to her independence, and risk to the life she had crafted for herself.
Her father had been her first Quimera—the ever-present force pushing her, shaping her, and ultimately wounding her. She had fought too hard to escape his shadow, and the idea of letting love—even love for Jack—derail her was terrifying. It might have been a mistake to push Jack away, maybe even a stupid one, but it was her mistake. She'd spent her entire life paying for her decisions, and this one would be no different.
As she closed her suitcase, another dot came to her: her marriage to Richard.
Sam hadn't regretted it at the time. It had felt like the right thing to do—or at least, like something. They had gotten swept up in the heat of it all, the lust, the passion. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was exciting, exhilarating, intoxicating. But looking back now, with the clarity that only comes from adistance, Sam could see how insane it all was—getting married after just two months? It was impulsive, reckless, and purely physical. Sex in every room of the house, in between deployments, in the heat of passion that neither of them could resist.
For a while, the passion had been enough. They would barely leave the bed when Richard returned from his long deployments, making up for lost time. But sex wasn't enough to sustain a marriage. Eventually, the lust faded, and Samstarted to see the cracks in their relationship.
Richard was ambitious. He had plansandcareer goals that took him further and further from her. Months would pass with him away, chasing his ambitions, while she stayed behindandleft to her career and research. At first, it didn't bother her—she understood ambition. She was ambitious, too. But soon, it became clear that their ambitions weren't aligned. Richard didn't see her as an equal partner in this life they were building. He was married to the idea of success, rank, and power. And while they still had their moments, when he returned home, and they barely left the bed for days, Sam began to realize that love wasn't enough. Lust wasn't sufficient. Their marriage had been built on passion, but passion was fleeting. What was left between them was a hollow shell of what it could have been.
The arguments started, the fights escalating with every return from deployment. The sex turned angry, fueled by resentment, frustration, and all the things they couldn't say aloud. It wasn't long before they both realized it was over. Divorce was inevitable. Sam didn't regret it. In many ways, it had freed them. But it also made her afraid—afraid of commitment, of repeating the same mistakes.
And that fear, the fear of committing again to another military man, was what held her back from Jack.
Jack wasn't like Richard, she knew that. He wasn't consumed by his career the way Richard had been. But Jack was still her CO, and that complicated things in ways that terrified her. Would he accept her ambition if she let herself fall for himand allowed herself to love him truly? Would he resent her for it later? He had been married before, but to a civilian—a woman outside the military. Could he handle being with someone like her, who was just as dedicated to the Air Force as he was? Someone who wouldn't walk away from her career for love?
As she started to pack, Sam felt the weight of her choices settle on her shoulders. She had fought to make her path, to be more than just "the general's daughter" or "the brilliant scientist." She was Major Samantha Carter, a member of SG-1, and she had earned that title through blood, sweat, and tears. No one—not even Jack—could take that from her.
But as much as she tried to rationalize her decision, there was a hollow ache inside her chest that she couldn't ignore. She had pushed Jack away because she was afraid, and now, the silence between them was louder than any argument they could have had.
Sam stood by the window one last time, staring out at the calm, reflective surface of the lake. She had come here to find peace and clear her head, but all she had seen were more questions. More dots connected, but no easy answers.
Still, it was time to go back. She couldn't hide out in this cabin forever. The SGC was her home, SG-1 was her team, and Jack… Jack was something she still needed to figure out.
Packing her things felt like a final goodbye to the retreat, the quilted bed, the cabin's familiar smell of cedar and coffee. As she folded the last of her clothes, Sam paused, staring out the window at the water one last time. In that moment, she let herself feel the fear that she had kept at bay—the fear of returning to the SGC, of seeing Jack, of facing the consequences of their broken connection. But running wasn't an option anymore. She had a duty to her team, and more than that, she had a duty to herself.
With a heavy sigh, she zipped up her duffel bag and exited the porch. The air was crisp, biting gently at her cheeks. Sam inhaled deeply, then walked toward her car, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. She wasn't sure what awaited her back at the base, but she knew one thing—she couldn't keep hiding.
The time for clarity had passed. Now, it was time for action.