Sam's fingers tightened on the handlebars of her Indian motorcycle as she sped down the empty stretch of road. The engine's deep rumble reverberated through her, a steady hum that drowned out the noise in her mind. The wind whipped against her face, calm and sharp, but it was the quiet—the silence she found in the speed—thathelped her think.
For weeks, the weight of everything had been pressing down on her—the attack, the nightmares, the guilt that clung to her every thought. But out here, on the open road, it all felt distant, like it was chasing her but never able to catch up.
The solitary rides had become part of her recovery. She didn't have to talk to anyone, didn't have to deal with the concerned looks or the awkward silences. It was just her, the bike, and the road stretching before her. Sometimes, she'd ride for hours, pushing the bike faster and faster until the world around her blurred, and all that mattered was the here and now.
Sam's breath steadied as she stopped at a scenic overlook. She cut the engine and sat there momentarily, staring out at the mountains in the distance. It was quiet. Peaceful. And for a brief moment, she could almost forget.
Almost.
Back at the SGC, things were anything but quiet. General Hammond sat at the head of the conference room, reading over the orders that had just come in from the Pentagon. His expression was grim as he glanced over at Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c, who sat around the table, waiting.
"I don't like this any more than you do, Colonel," Hammond began, his voice laced with frustration. "But these orders come directly from the Pentagon. They've made it clear—they want SG-1 back in the field."
Jack scowled, leaning back in his chair.
"With all due respect, Sir, we're not ready. Carter's still recovering. SG-1 without her isn't—"
"I know that, Jack," Hammond interrupted, his tone sharp but understanding. "But we don't have a choice. The Replicators are gaining ground, and the Goa'uld are still a significant threat. SG-1 is needed."
Daniel frowned, glancing between Jack and Hammond.
"Can't we push back? Ask for more time?"
Hammond shook his head.
"We've already delayed as much as we can. They've made their position clear. They expect SG-1 to be operational again, with or without Major Carter. A temporary replacement will be assigned for offworld missions."
Jack's jaw clenched.
"We're not a damn machine. You can't just swap out parts and expect us to function similarly."
Hammond sighed, his eyes softening.
"I understand, Colonel. But the Pentagon has already accommodated us once by changing the frat regs. Now, they're expecting us to follow through. They need SG-1 in the fight."
The room fell into a tense silence. Jack's anger was palpable, but Hammond's hands were tied. Orders were orders. The SGC was needed more than ever with the growing threats, and SG-1 was at the center.
Teal'c, who had been silent, finally spoke.
"Major Carter's absence will be felt deeply, but we must continue the fight. It is what she would want."
Jack glanced at Teal'c, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface. He knew Teal'c was right. Carter wouldn't want them to stop, to wait for her. But the thought of going offworld without her, with some temporary replacement, made Jack's stomach churn.
Meanwhile, SG-3 was rising in prominence at the SGC. Colonel Richard Harris had been taking on more missions, filling the gap left by SG-1's limited activity. Harris was ambitious, and it didn't go unnoticed—least of all by Jack.
Jack had seen how Harris positioned himself, stepping into the spotlight as SG-3's role grew more significant. Harris had always been competitive, and now, with SG-1 in temporary limbo, it seemed like he was ready to push his team to the forefront. And Jack hated it.
It didn't help that Harris seemed unaffected by the fact that his ex-wife, Sam, was still recovering from one of the most traumatic events of her life. Jack couldn't understand it—how could Harris be so focused on his career when Carter was still struggling?
It all came to a head one afternoon at the SGC. Jack was passing through the corridor when he saw Harris emerging from General Hammond's office with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Colonel Harris," Jack called out, his voice tight.
Harris turned, his expression cool and unreadable. "O'Neill."
Jack closed the distance between them, his body tense with barely contained anger.
"You seem awfully busy these days. Enjoying all the attention?"
Harris's eyes narrowed slightly.
"SG-3 is filling a critical role, O'Neill. We're doing what needs to be done."
"Is that what this is about?" Jack's voice was low, his eyes hard. "Your ambition? Because while you're busy pushing your way to the top, maybe you should remember that your ex-wife is still trying to put herself back together."
Harris's expression darkened, his voice cold.
"I'm well aware of what Sam is going through, and I've been there to help her as much as I can, and she let me. But she's not the only one with responsibilities. We have a war to fight, and I intend to ensure SG-3 does its part."
Jack's jaw clenched.
"This isn't just about doing your part; you know it. You're using this as an opportunity to climb, and you don't give a damn about what it's costing her."
Harris stepped closer, his voice a quiet warning.
"Don't pretend to know what's best for Sam. I'm the one who married her, so I know she's stronger than you think. And if you really cared about her, you'd let her handle this on her own terms."
Jack's fists tightened at his sides.
"Don't lecture me about caring for her. You might be able to compartmentalize through this, but I won't stand by while you act like she's just another obstacle in your way."
Harris's eyes flashed with irritation and something more—a dare.
"You think I don't care? I've been there for her, Jack. More than you know, more than you can even dream of, and certainly more than you ever will be."
Jack stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. "Then maybe you should start acting like it."
The tension between them was electric, the air thick with barely restrained anger. But before either could say another word, a passing airman interrupted them, clearly sensing the hostility in the air.
"Colonels, General Hammond is expecting you both in the briefing room," the airman said nervously.
Jack shot Harris one last heated look before turning on his heel and walking away. But the anger lingered, simmering just beneath the surface. He didn't trust Harris—neither with SG-3 nor with Carter. And something told him this wasn't the last time they'd be butting heads.
Back at her home, Sam took another long ride. The speed, the wind, and the isolation were her way of processing everything. She could feel a semblance of control returning, even if it was just for a little while. She still had a long way to go, but with each ride, she felt stronger and more like herself.
But as the days passed, she knew the world was moving on without her. SG-1 was going back into the field. And even though she wasn't ready yet, she felt the pull. She knew she belonged out there, fighting alongside her team. And one day, she would be prepared to join them again.
But for now, she had to keep riding. Keep healing. And try to ignore the storm brewing back at the SGC.
The mission briefing was tense from the start. General Hammond laid out the details: a Goa'uld, calling himself Ashtar, had been harvesting humans from a planet designated P2X-475. The planet had sent a distress signal, its people being decimated by the Goa'uld's forces. SG-1's orders were clear—save as many of the planet's people as possible, take out the Goa'uld if possible, and return safely.
But there was a twist: SG-3 would be accompanying them as backup. Hammond had a plan, and he wanted to test it. Colonel Richard Harris stood beside his team, his posture tall and self-assured, while SG-1 listened intently. Jack was already on edge. The idea of SG-3 playing backup made him itch, especially with Harris's ambitions clear for anyone to see.
Hammond's voice cut through the room.
"SG-1 leads this mission. SG-3 is to provide cover. Your priority is to ensure the survivors' safety and, if possible, eliminatethe planet of Ashtar. Get in, save as many as possible, and get out. Godspeed."
The room fell silent as the Stargate whirred to life, the event horizon shimmering in the Gate room. Jack exchanged a look with Daniel and Teal'c. Captain Emily Tollen, the young but capable officer temporarily replacing Carter, shifted nervously, her hand resting on her P-90. Jack gave her a nod, trying to instill some confidence.
"Just follow our lead," Jack said to her, his voice steady despite his misgivings.
Tollen nodded, trying to keep her nerves in check.
"Understood, Colonel."
With a flash of light, both teams disappeared through the Gate.
The planet was in chaos the moment they arrived. The sky was dark, filled with smoke, and the sound of staff weapons and gunfire echoed through the air. Fires burned in the distance, and the bodies of fallen villagers littered the ground.
Jack's instincts kicked in immediately.
"Move! Get the villagers to cover!" he barked, his voice sharp over the noise.
SG-1 rushed into action. Daniel was already at the side of a wounded villager, trying to pull them to safety. Teal'c, stoic as ever, provided cover fire as Jaffa gliders circled overhead, raining down destruction. Jack scanned the area, his mind racing about securing the villagers and defending against the incoming Jaffa.
Captain Tollen moved with them, but her inexperience showed. Her movements were sharp and jittery as she tried to keep pace with Teal'c's methodical steps.
But then Jack noticed Harris.
Colonel Harris and SG-3 weren't following his orders. Instead of securing the area and helping the villagers, they disappeared into the forest, heading in the opposite direction of the fight.
"What the hell is he doing?" Jack muttered under his breath, fury already bubbling up inside him.
"Harris! Get back here!" Jack bellowed, his voice sharp and angry, but Harris didn't respond. He and SG-3 vanished into the thick trees without a word or a glance to Jack.
Teal'c's voice cut through the chaos.
"O'Neill, the Jaffa gliders are approaching."
Jack cursed under his breath, returning to the immediate threat.
"We're on our own," he said, frustrated but focused. "Tollen, with me. Daniel, Teal'c, cover the villagers!"
Tollen nodded nervously, following Jack's lead as they moved to take down the incoming ships. The sounds of battle were deafening—the roar of the gliders, the crack of gunfire, and the screams of the terrified villagers. But SG-1 held their ground, picking off Jaffa soldiers and shooting down the gliders with precision.
Jack's orders were clear and rapid-fire.
"Take out the gliders. Cover the exits. Keep them away from the civilians!"
For the next several minutes, the battle raged on. SG-1 fought hard, destroying several Jaffa gliders and providing cover for the surviving villagers. Captain Tollen, though inexperienced, kept her focus and followed Jack's lead, doing her best to support the team.
But the mission was messy and brutal. They couldn't save everyone.
As the dust began to settle, Jack regrouped with Teal'c and Daniel. They had managed to evacuate a small group of survivors, but the cost was heavy. Bloodied and battered, SG-1 stood among the wreckage, their expressions grim.
That's when Harris emerged from the forest, dragging a man in tattered robes, his hands bound by a rope. His face was bruised, his hair matted, but he had a distinct air of arrogance.
"O'Neill!" Harris called a smug grin on his face. "We've got him. Ashtar."
Jack's eyes narrowed, his blood boiling. Harris had left the mission, left SG-1 to fend for themselves, all to go after the prize—the Goa'uld himself.
"You abandoned the mission," Jack growled, stepping toward Harris, his voice dangerously low. "We were fighting for our lives while you—"
"I captured the Goa'uld, O'Neill," Harris interrupted, his tone cold. "That was the objective."
"The objective was to save these people!" Jack shouted, gesturing to the surviving villagers behind him. His fists clenched at his sides. "You left us. You left them."
Harris's jaw tightened.
"Someone had to get Ashtar. And we did."
The tension between the two colonels was electric. Jack's eyes burned with fury, but before the situation could escalate further, Teal'c stepped forward, his voice calm but firm.
"Colonel O'Neill, we must return to the Stargate."
Jack's chest heaved with barely controlled rage, but he nodded.
"Let's move out."
The tension was palpable as they stepped through the Stargate and back into the SGC. Jack's uniform was smeared with dirt and blood, Captain Tollen looked shaken, and Teal'c and Daniel were helping several injured survivors.
Hammond was waiting at the bottom of the ramp, his face unreadable as he watched SG-1 and SG-3 return. Janet was already at the Gate room entrance, coordinating triage for the injured villagers.
Harris stepped forward, pushing Ashtar toward the guards, pride in his voice.
"Here he is, Sir. Ashtar, the Goa'uld."
Hammond's eyes flicked between Harris and the battered SG-1 members. His expression hardened as he looked at Jack, who barely controlled his anger.
"What the hell happened, Colonel Harris?" Hammond demanded, his voice cold and authoritative.
Harris swallowed, clearly sensing the shift in tone.
"Sir, SG-3 captured the leader. Mission accomplished."
Hammond's eyes narrowed.
"And SG-1? They look like they've been through hell."
Jack stepped forward, his voice tight with barely restrained fury.
"SG-1 completed the mission, Sir. We saved as many as we could."
Hammond ran a hand over his bald head, the tension in the room thick. He stared at Harris, then back at the injured survivors being led away by medical personnel.
"Get to the infirmary," Hammond ordered his voice hard. "Then we'll debrief."
Jack didn't respond, his gaze still locked on Harris, his anger simmering beneath the surface. Harris, for his part, stood stiffly, his earlier confidence now replaced with uncertainty as the weight of his decision began to sink in.
The mission had been a disaster in more ways than one. And Jack wasn't about to let Harris off the hook for what he had done.
The briefing room was suffocating with tension. General Hammond sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable but displeased. Across from him, Jack and Harris took their seats, flanked by Daniel, Teal'c, Captain Tollen, and the rest of SG-3. Hammond's gaze swept across the room before locking onto Harris, the weight of the impending decision pressing down on everyone present.
"Colonel O'Neill, Colonel Harris," Hammond began, his voice low but commanding, "explain what happened out there."
Jack was the first to speak, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.
"Sir, SG-1 was tasked with protecting civilians and neutralizing the Goa'uld threat. We were combatting with Jaffa forces, working to save the villagers when Colonel Harris and SG-3 went AWOL. They disobeyed orders and abandoned us to chase down Ashtar."
Hammond's jaw tightened slightly, but his expression remained neutral. He turned to Harris, who sat up straighter in his chair, his face betraying no emotion.
"Colonel Harris, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Harris cleared his throat, his voice measured and professional.
"Sir, I made a tactical decision. Our primary objective was neutralizing the Goa'uld, and SG-3 located Ashtar in the forest. Capturing him was critical to weakening the Goa'uld's presence on the planet. I believed it was the best course of action."
Jack's hands balled into fists under the table, but he said nothing. Hammond's gaze remained steady on Harris, not reacting to his words as he let the weight of Harris's statement settle before turning to Daniel and Teal'c.
"Dr. Jackson, Teal'c—what's your assessment of the mission?"
Daniel's voice was sharp as he leaned forward, not hiding his frustration.
"Colonel Harris disobeyed orders, plain and simple. We were in the middle of a fight for our lives, trying to protect civilians, and SG-3 was supposed to be backing us up. Instead, they disappeared. We were left undermanned, trying to handle the Jaffa and save whoever we could."
Teal'c nodded, his voice calm but razor-sharp.
"Colonel Harris's decision placed SG-1 in jeopardy. He abandoned the mission's primary objective—protecting the people of the planet. His pursuit of the Goa'uld was reckless and jeopardized his team's and ours' lives. It was very unbecoming."
Harris's face darkened, but before he could speak, Hammond cut in.
"Enough," Hammond said, his voice low but commanding. The room fell into a tense silence. Hammond's eyes locked onto Harris, unflinching.
The General leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table before him.
"Colonel Harris, your orders were clear. You were to provide cover for SG-1 while they evacuated civilians. Instead, you abandoned your team in the middle of a firefight to pursue your agenda."
Harris opened his mouth to speak, but Hammond cut him off, his tone sharp. "Your decision not only put SG-1 in unnecessary dangerbutalso compromised the mission. Lives were lost because you chose to pursue personal glory rather than follow orders."
The air in the room felt heavy, the tension palpable as Hammond's words settled. Harris's face flushed slightly, but he remained silent, his jaw tight.
Hammond stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving Harris.
"In the field, disobedience costs lives. This command will not tolerate reckless ambition and ignoring direct orders." His voice dropped, taking on a dangerous edge. "Effective immediately, you are relieved of your command of SG-3 and placed under investigation for gross insubordination."
The room went dead silent. Harris blinked, visibly shocked.
"Sir—"
"I'm not finished, Colonel," Hammond snapped, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. "Your actions have jeopardized the lives of your team, SG-1, and innocent civilians. You will be confined to quarters pending a formal court-martial. If it were up to me, you'd already be going to Leavenworth."
Harris's face turned ashen, his earlier bravado wholly shattered. He opened his mouth to protest, but Hammond's cold, steely gaze stopped him in his tracks.
"You're dismissed," Hammond said, his voice final. "You have 24 hours to file your report before being placed in isolation."
Harris stood, his posture stiff, his face pale as he gave a sharp nod. Without another word, he turned and left the room, his team trailing behind him in stunned silence.
The door shut with a heavy thud, and the room remained still. Jack exhaled slowly, his jaw still clenched, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. Hammond turned his attention to him, his expression softening.
"Colonel O'Neill, I apologize that you and your team were put in this position. Harris's actions were unacceptable, and I assure you, this will be handled to the full extent of military law."
Jack nodded, his voice quiet but firm.
"Thank you, Sir."
Hammond sighed, sitting back down in his chair. "Get some rest. You've earned it. We'll debrief more thoroughly tomorrow."
As the rest of the room slowly emptied, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c exchanged glances, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. The conflict with Harris wasn't over, but they had done all they could for now.
Sam stood in the hallway outside the infirmary, her mind racing. Janet's words echoed in her ears. "Court-martial… Richard… SG-1… Jack." It all felt surreal as if she were watching someone else's life unravel.
As she processed everything, her mind kept drifting back to Jack. His injury, though minor, felt like a symbol of something deeper, something wrong between them. She needed more details—more than what Janet had shared. But what she really needed was to see Jack. To know he was okay, not just physically but emotionally. This entire mess with Richard was bound to have left wounds far more profound than any cut on his finger.
But then there was Richard.
Her ex-husband was confined to quarters now, awaiting his fate. The man she had once shared a life with—someone she had thought she'd moved past—was now at the center of a storm she couldn't avoid. A part of her felt responsible. What if she could have helped him, steered him away from this path? She shook the thought away, knowing itwasn't her burden.
Sam drew in a shaky breath, torn between the two men who had each, in different ways, shaped her life. She could go to Richardandtry to make sense of his actions. Maybe she owed him one last conversation before everything crashed around him. But it wasn't Richard she wanted to see.
It's Jack. It's always been Jack.
The weight of the decision hit her, and without thinking further, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Within minutes, she found herself parked outside Jack's house, heart pounding. The moment she killed the engine, the silence enveloped her, pressing down on her.
She walked to his front door, nerves tightening in her stomach. Before she could knock, the door opened, and there he was. Jack stood before her, wearing a faded basketball t-shirt and shorts, his injured hand loosely wrapped in a foam support.
"Carter?" he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Sam swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat.
"Sir… I, uh…"
Jack leaned against the doorframe, studying her carefully. "Are you okay? Do you need something?"
"I… I heard about what happened," she finally managed, her voice faltering slightly. "Janet told me about Richard. About everything."
Jack's expression darkened slightly, though he tried to mask it with a casual shrug.
"Yeah, well… It was bound to happen sooner or later."
Sam shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
"I was worried… about you." Her gaze flicked to his hand, then back to his face. "How's your finger?"
Jack glanced down at his bandaged hand and gave a half-hearted smile.
"This? It's nothing. Just a scratch."
The tension between them hung heavy in the air. Her small talk didn't fool Jack. He could see the worry etched in her eyes, the unease in her posture. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he watched her.
"Sam… what's really going on?"
Hearing him use her first name, the walls she had carefully built around herself began to crumble. She breathed, feeling the raw vulnerability bubbling to the surface.
"I heard about Richard… that he left you. I didn't get the full storybutcouldn't stop thinking about it. I needed to know if you were okay."
Jack's jaw clenched slightly. He looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again.
"It wasn't pretty, Carter. Harris made a call—a selfish, dangerous call. He left us in the middle of a fight to go after a Goua'ld called Ashtar. He risked everyone's lives for a damn power grab."
Sam's chest tightened at his words. She could hear the anger simmering beneath his calm tone. She took a step closer, her voice soft.
"Why would he do that?"
Jack gave a bitter chuckle, his eyes flickering with frustration.
"Why do you think? Harris has always been ambitious, but this… this was something else. He's been gunning for something bigger ever since you… since you got hurt. Hell, maybe he thinks that by doing this, he'll get some redemption. Or maybe… he wants you back."
Sam froze at those words, the air between them growing colder. Her heart skipped a beat, the implications of what Jack had said sinking in. Richard had told her exactly the same thing. Why was Jack saying that?
"What… what do you mean?"
Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"He told me. Flat out. He said he wanted you back. He's been using this whole situation—everything that's happened—to worm his way back into your life. That's what this is really about, Carter. Harris doesn't just want to be a hero; he wants you."
Sam's breath caught in her throat, a wave of discomfort washing over her. She knew Richard had feelings for her—he'd made that clear—but hearing it from Jack like thiswas too much in the middle of everything else.
Jack observed her reaction, his eyes softening just a little.
"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not your fault. I just… I didn't expect to hear that. From you."
Jack's eyes flickered with a mixture of concern and frustration.
"Carter, he's out of line. You don't owe him anything—especially not after what he pulled out there. And whatever he thinks is going on between you two… it's his problem, not yours. Unless…you want that too."
Sam shook her head, trying to process the emotions swirling inside her. She didn't know what to feel—anger, sadness, guilt. But above all, she felt the weight of the unspoken tension between her and Jack. How he looked at herand their conversations danced around the truth of what they meant to each other.
"Jack," she began, her voice trembling. "This whole thing… it's messy. Between Richard, the mission, everything. I don't know how to make sense of it."
Jack stepped closer, his eyes locking with hers.
"I get it, Sam. I do. But you can't let him mess with your head like this. You don't owe him anything."
They stood silently for a moment, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging heavy between them. Sam felt the pull, the gravity of what she felt for Jack tugging at her heart, but the fear of crossing that line held her back. Again.
"Feelings," Jack said suddenly, breaking the silence. "They mess everything up. They complicate things, especially when trying to keep it professional. And Harris? He crossed that line a long time ago."
Sam's heart pounded, her mind swirling with thoughts she had long buried. She nodded, her throat tight. This was precisely why she had told him no when he asked if they could be together. Because the feelings—God, the feelings—were too messy, complicated, and dangerous. Working side by side with her commanding officer while being… together? It was a line she couldn't cross. Not then, and not now. There was too much at stake.
And yet, standing here now, face to face with him, that old fear gripped her chest again.
"Yeah… they do."
Jack gave her a small, almost sad smile, his eyes searching hers for a moment longer before he stepped back.
"You should get some rest, Carter. We'll deal with all of this in the morning."
Sam swallowed hard, and the lump in her throat made speaking difficult. She nodded, knowing he was right but feeling the weight of everything left unsaid between them. As she turned to leave, Jack's voice stopped her.
"Sam," he said softly, his tone different this time—more personal, more vulnerable. "You're not alone in this. Just… don't forget that."
She turned back to him, her eyes meeting his. And for a brief moment, the unspoken tension between them was all that mattered.
"I won't," she whispered before finally walking away, leaving Jack in the doorway.
As she walked back to her Volvo, she could feel his gaze on her, lingering, even as the door gently closed behind her. The ache in her chest felt heavier than ever, knowing they were still worlds apart despite everything.
When she reached the car, Sam paused her hand on the door handle. She wanted to turn back, to say something more, something real, but the walls between them—his love, her determination, duty, their own fears—were too tall, too thick. With a resigned sigh, she opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, the weight of the unsaid pressing down on her as she drove away from his house, the echo of his voice still in her ears.
Jack watched from the window, his good hand resting absently on the bandage as he stood silently.
"Damn stubborn woman," he muttered under his breath, a flicker of something unspoken in his dark eyes.