"Meridian", "New Order, Part 2"
Life at the SGC gradually returned to normal after General Carter's visit, but it wasn't the same for Sam. While SG-1 continued its missions and Sam's confidence grew with every step through the Stargate, a cloud of unresolved emotions lingered over her. She managed to compartmentalize her thoughts about her father for a while, burying them deep. But everything changed when they were assigned to P9Y-4C3—Langara.
It started as a typical mission, exploring a weapons laboratory on the planet, but it soon became anything but routine. Daniel found himself in the heart of a potential disaster—a malfunction in a high-energy weapon core that threatened to devastate Langara. Without hesitation, Daniel intervened, throwing himself into the fray to stop the impending catastrophe.
But in doing so, he was exposed to lethal doses of radiation.
SG-1 returned immediately to SGC.
Sam stood frozen in the medical bay, her heart pounding as she watched the monitors. Daniel had only hours to live.
Janet had told them. The Asgard weren't answering their distress calls, and every known medical treatment on Earth was ineffective against the radiation coursing through Daniel's body. Sam even tried using a Goa'uld healing device, hoping it could reverse the damage, but it barely made a difference.
"I've tried everything," Sam whispered, her voice tight as she looked at Jack. "He's slipping away."
Jack clenched his jaw, his hand resting on Daniel's bed as he stared at his friend's pale face. He couldn't bring himself to speak. The words were too heavy, too final.
Teal'c stood in stoic silence beside them, his face unreadable but his pain evident in the tight set of his jaw.
Daniel stirred, his eyes fluttering open weakly.
"Jack… Teal'c… we need to talk," he rasped, his voice barely audible.
Jack leaned in, his heart heavy.
"You're not going anywhere, Daniel. We'll fix this."
But Daniel shook his head slightly, a sad, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"No, Jack. It's my time."
Jack swallowed hard, unable to meet Daniel's eyes.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Teal'c stepped forward, his deep voice calm but full of meaning.
"He speaks of ascension, O'Neill."
Daniel nodded weakly.
"Oma Desala… she's here. She's offering me a chance to ascend."
The room fell into a stunned silence. Jack finally looked at Daniel, his eyes filled with disbelief and grief.
"So… you're just going to leave us?"
Daniel's eyes flickered with a quiet sorrow.
"I don't want to. But there's no other way. I can do more out there… help more… if I ascend."
The minutes ticked by, and as Daniel's body grew weaker, Oma Desala's presence became more palpable. The room seemed to hum with an ethereal energy that only Daniel could genuinely perceive. Jack and Teal'c exchanged a few more words with him—about life, death, and everything in between. There was a strange peace in Daniel's voice as he spoke of the possibilities that awaited him.
But Sam… Sam never got the chance.
She waited just outside the medical bay, her hands gripping the edge of a console as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She knew Daniel was slipping away. She knew there was nothing she could do. But she wanted to hear his voice again, to tell him that she was sorry for not being able to save him. Yet, for some reason, he never called for her.
Hours later, Daniel was gone. He had ascended, his body vanishing into a brilliant light, leaving behind only the space where he had once been.
Sam stood frozen in the control room, her mind racing, her heart shattered. Daniel hadn't said goodbye to her. He hadn't spoken to her during those final moments, and she didn't understand why.
Jack found her, his face haggard with grief.
"Carter… you alright?" His voice was quiet, but Sam could hear the weight of his pain beneath the words.
She shook her head, her eyes welling up with unshed tears.
"He… he didn't even talk to me, Sir. Why didn't he say goodbye?"
Jack's expression softened, and he reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe he knew it'd hurt too much. Maybe… maybe he didn't want to make it harder for you."
Sam swallowed hard, her throat tight. "I just… I don't understand."
"I don't either," Jack admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "But I know he cared about you, Carter. That hasn't changed."
Sam nodded, but the ache in her chest remained. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had been left behind—again—first her recovery, now Daniel. The weight of it was suffocating, the loss so profound it felt like she was drowning in it.
The silence between them stretched for an eternity until Sam finally whispered, "I don't know how to say goodbye to him."
Jack's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, offering what little comfort he could.
"Neither do I, Carter. Neither do I."
And as they stood there in the quiet aftermath of Daniel's ascension, Sam felt the emptiness settle deep within her—an absence that no amount of missions, no future victories, could ever honestly fill.
The death of Daniel Jackson left a gaping hole in SG-1, one that was felt deeply by every team member. But it seemed to drive them further apart instead of pulling them closer.
Sam had expected some time to grieve, heal, and understand what life on SG-1 would look like without Daniel. But Jack O'Neill had other ideas. Within days of Daniel's ascension, Jack requested that Hammond keep SG-1 on active duty. Much to Sam's surprise—and dismay—he seemed eager to push forward as if nothing had happened.
"Sir, don't you think it's too soon?" Sam had asked one day after the briefing in the conference room, her voice quiet but laced with disbelief. She couldn't understand how Jack quickly moved on and filled Daniel's space.
Jack looked at her with that familiar, unreadable expression, his jaw tight.
"Carter, we have a job to do. Sitting around mourning isn't going to bring Daniel back."
His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she struggled to keep her composure.
"He was our friend, Sir. We should take the time to—"
"We don't have time!" Jack cut her off, his voice sharp. He paused, breathing, clearly trying to rein in his frustration. "The Goa'uld aren't going to wait for us to have a memorial service. We need to get back in the field."
Sam's heart sank as she looked at him, feeling the growing chasm between them widen with every word he said. When she thought they were getting closer, something happened to draw them apart—every single time.
"So that's it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "We just pretend like he wasn't part of this team?"
Jack's eyes softened for a moment, but only briefly.
"We're not pretending, Carter. We're moving on. That's what we do. That's how we survive."
She left the briefing room with unshed tears in her eyes. The chasm between them only widened.
Within days, Jonas Quinn—the man indirectly responsible for Daniel's death—was introduced as Daniel's replacement. Sam forced a smile when General Hammond introduced him, but the thought of working with the man who had caused Daniel's suffering twisted her insides. SG-1's missions resumed, but the camaraderie was gone. Sam and Jack barely spoke beyond terse, professional exchanges, and the warmth that once defined SG-1 had been replaced by icy tension.
The team operated like a machine, efficient but soulless. The weight of Daniel's absence hung heavy, especially on Sam. One evening, she found herself sitting in her lab, staring at her computer screen, unable to focus. Her thoughts drifted to Jonas, Teal'c, and Jack—the void left by Daniel—until a knock interrupted her.
"Major Carter," Jonas said, his voice tentative. "I was wondering if you could help me with some of the data we collected on P3X-918?"
Sam forced a polite smile, though her heart wasn't in it.
"Of course. What do you need help with?"
He walked in, placing the tablet in front of her.
"I'm just having trouble understanding the energy readings."
Sam nodded and took the tablet, scanning the data. Her mind automatically processed the information, but her heart wasn't in it. Every interaction with Jonas felt like a reminder of the gaping hole Daniel had left behind, and the guilt she carried for resenting Jonas was something she couldn't shake. He was trying—he was eager to be part of the team, but for Sam, it felt like he was a ghost in the place where Daniel should have been.
Jonas cleared his throat, sensing her distance.
"I, uh... I know I'm not Dr. Jackson, and I'll never be able to replace him, but I'm trying. I just wanted you to know that."
Sam stiffened at his words, her eyes still on the data.
"I know you are, Jonas," she said, her voice quiet but cool. "You're doing fine."
Jonas hesitated, clearly hoping for more. But when none came, he gave a slight nod and left Sam alone again.
The tension between her and Jack only grew worse over time. They operated as colleagues, nothing more. Sam had stopped trying to understand why Jack was determined to keep pushing forward without acknowledging their pain. He had shut her out completely, and in return, she had distanced herself, refusing to confront the feelings that had once simmered beneath the surface.
Whenever she looked at Jack now, it was like staring at someone through a veil. She caught his eyes across the room at brief moments, but the connection they once had—fleeting though it was—felt distant, like something she wasn't sure ever really existed. The words they exchanged were clipped and professional, but the silence in between them spoke volumes.
One night, after an extended mission, Sam stood on the observation deck, staring at the Stargate. She had visited this place countless times before, but now it felt different. She felt different. The team was running like a well-oiled machine, but it was lifeless and soulless. Jonas had adjusted to their rhythm, and they efficiently completed missions, but the spark—the heart—was gone.
Jack's voice broke the silence.
"Carter."
She didn't turn around. She knew he was there, but the weight of their strained relationship felt like a barrier she couldn't cross.
"You're avoiding me," Jack said, his tone flat, almost accusing.
Sam exhaled, her breath fogging the glass in front of her.
"I'm not avoiding you, Sir. I'm just... doing my job."
He stepped closer but still kept his distance.
"You haven't been the same since Daniel."
She closed her eyes, feeling the tears prick at the corners.
"None of us have," she whispered.
Jack's silence was deafening, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant.
"I miss him too, Carter. But this is how we deal with it. We keep moving."
Sam turned to face him, her eyes filled with the anger and grief she had been holding back for months.
"Is that what we're doing? Moving on? Because it feels like we're just... pretending. Pretending everything's fine. Pretending Daniel didn't matter."
Jack's expression hardened, his own emotions bubbling beneath the surface.
"I never said he didn't matter. But we don't have the luxury of falling apart, Carter. Not now."
"Falling apart?" Sam echoed bitterly, her voice shaking. "We're not even together! We're... pieces of a team, doing a job, going through the motions. And you—" She stopped herself, biting back the words, but they hung between them.
"And I what?" Jack pressed, his voice low, dangerous.
Sam's fists clenched at her sides.
"You've shut me out, Sir. You've shut all of us out."
For a moment, Jack didn't respond. His eyes flickered with something—regret, pain, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He shook his head slightly, his tone colder than before.
"We're doing what we have to do, Carter. That's all there is to it."
Sam's heart ached at his words, at the finality of them. She turned away, unable to look at him any longer.
"If that's all there is, then maybe that's the problem. And one of the reasons why I said we could never have more than a working relationship."
Jack stood there for a long moment before finally turning and walking away, leaving Sam alone with her thoughts, grief, and the widening chasm between them. As the door slid shut behind him, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to what they once were—or if they had lost that part of themselves forever. Like they had lost Daniel.
Remarkably, her father, Major General Jacob Carter, had kept his distance after his first visit to the SGC. Sam had expected more—more questions, more concern, more interference—but none of it came. General Hammond had confided in her that Jacob still requested regular updates on her well-being, though he never pressed for another visit. Sam was okay with that.
He had returned to SGC unannounced months after Richard had been undergoing the pretrial investigation, the legal step necessary before a case goes to a general court-martial, as he was indeed going. Their last conversation had been painful.
It was hard to believe how everything had unfolded after General Hammond had relieved Richard of his command, placing him on leave as the court-martial process slowly crept forward. Sam hadn't given him much thought then, though she was well aware of the glacial pace of military justice. Richard had been left in limbo, his once-promising career in ruins. But what no one could have foreseen, even she hadn't known, was that Harris still had one last move to make.
It all came to light most shockingly.
One morning, Sam received a call to General Hammond's office, the tone of the summons grave. When she arrived, Hammond and her father were both waiting for her. Jacob looked angrier than she had ever seen him, his face set in hard lines, and Hammond's expression was equally grim.
"Major," Hammond began, his voice low, "there's something you need to know about Colonel Harris."
Sam frowned, already feeling the knot of tension tightening in her stomach.
"What about him?"
Jacob stood abruptly, pacing the room with barely controlled fury.
"His process is stalled because…he's been blackmailing me, Sam."
Her heart skipped a beat. "What? How?"
Jacob's voice was tight with rage as he explained.
"That son of bitch had some… incriminating material. Photographs. Of you. He's been holding onto them for years, and as soon as the pretrial investigation started, he threatened to leak them to the press if I didn't intervene in his court-martial."
Sam's blood ran cold. She couldn't speak for a moment as the weight of her father's words sank in. "Photos of… me?" Her voice trembled slightly.
Jacob stopped pacing, and his hands balled into fists.
"Explicit photos, Samantha. I don't know how he got them, but they're highly inappropriate—deeply compromising. And he made it clear he was willing to destroy your career, your reputation, everything if I didn't pull some strings to lessen his punishment."
Sam's stomach dropped, disbelief swirling through her. How could this have happened? How could someone have such intimate power over her, a part of her life she never imagined would be exposed? Harris's violation was deeper than she could comprehend, and the cold shock of her father's words left her trembling.
"I don't… I don't understand," Sam said, her voice barely whispering. "How did he get them?"
Jacob's eyes softened, but his voice was filled with sorrow and frustration.
"We don't know. It's possible he took them without your knowledge at some point, but we've verified that they are authentic. He's been holding onto them as leverage."
Sam's hands trembled as she tried to process what her father had just told her. The betrayal, the violation—it was almost too much to handle. She could feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them down. She couldn't let herself break. Not now.
General Hammond stepped in, his voice calm but firm.
"Sam, due to your position on the Stargate Program and your father's job at the Pentagon, we've already discussed the situation with the higher-ups. Given the nature of Harris's actions, we've managed to reach a solution that avoids a full court-martial."
Sam turned to Hammond, her voice shaking. "What kind of solution?"
Hammond exchanged a glance with Jacob before continuing.
"We've arranged for Harris to be dishonorably discharged from the Air Force, effective immediately. He will lose his rank, pension, and any privileges associated with his service. But in exchange, he avoids a court-martial and prison time. The evidence he has will be confiscated and destroyed. His military record will reflect the severity of his misconduct."
Sam's stomach twisted at the thought of Harris walking away without facing a court-martial, but at the same time, she knew that the threat of the photos being leaked had forced their hand. The damage those images could do was unimaginable—not just to her career but to her personally. She had already endured too much, and the idea of those photos going public was horrifying.
"Why no court-martial?" Sam asked, her voice tight with a mix of anger and helplessness.
Jacob answered, his voice still simmering with barely restrained anger.
"We could've pushed for it, but Harris was prepared to release the photos before the trial even began. We had to make a choice—one that protected you from further damage. I wasn't about to let him ruin your life, Sam. Not like that."
The tension in the room was suffocating. Sam felt torn, anger surging through her veins at the thought of Harris getting off with what felt like a slap on the wrist. But at the same time, the thought of a public trial of the leaked photos left her feeling utterly exposed.
"So, he just walks away?" she said bitterly, her voice thick with emotion.
Hammond shook his head.
"Not exactly, Sam. Harris's military career is over. He'll be blocked from any government or defense contracts. His reputation will be in ruins, and he'll never be able to serve in any capacity again. He's lost everything."
Sam swallowed hard, trying to wrap her head around it. It wasn't justice, not in the way Sam had imagined it. But the fear of those photos seeing the light of day gnawed at her. She couldn't afford another battle, not after everything she had endured. So she accepted the dishonorable discharge as a hollow victory, even though it tasted like defeat. Harris would be disgraced for the rest of his life, a shadow of the man he once was. It wasn't Leavenworth, but it was still a punishment.
After a long silence, Sam finally nodded, though her heart still ached with the weight of the situation.
"I understand. Thank you… for protecting me."
Jacob stepped forward, his eyes softening as he looked at her.
"I would do anything to protect you, Sam. I know things haven't been easy between us, but you're still my daughter. And I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
Sam looked at her father, the mixture of anger, sadness, and gratitude swirling in her chest.
"I know, Dad. I know. And I'm sorry for all of this…"
Jacob's shoulders sagged slightly, the tension leaving him as he reached to place a hand on her shoulder. There was a flicker of understanding between them for the first time in a long time.
As Sam left Hammond's office, the weight of the situation still hung heavy on her, but there was a sense of closure—however incomplete it might be. Harris was gone from her life, and though the scars of his betrayal would remain, she knew she would move forward.
After that, she picked upher things and went straight home. She knew she still had some remnants from her life with Richard in her basement, and it was time to throw them away. After some searching, she found them tucked away in a dusty box, confronting her like ghosts from the past. Without hesitation, Sam gathered every last remnant of Richard and their wedding—every photo, letter, and keepsake she had once cherished. She carried it all to the backyard, her steps determined. The pile she made felt like a monument to a life she no longer wanted to remember, a chapter long overdue for closure.
"Fucking bastard," she cursed as she retrieved a can of gasoline from the garage, its weight solid in her hand as though it carried the finality of her decision.
She returned to the pile and poured the fuel liberally, watching as the fabric of her past soaked it in. The air filled with the sharp, bitter scent of gasoline, a stark contrast to the softness of her wedding memories.
With a flick of the match, she set it all ablaze. The flames roared to life instantly, consuming the mementos that had once meant everything. Sam stood there, arms crossed, watching the fire grow. The heat licked at her skin, but she didn't flinch. Her gaze was steady, her mind churning with the thought that this was the last act of her relationship with Richard—burning away the physical evidence of a life that had unraveled years ago.
Sam felt a mixture of emotions as the flames climbed higher, turning the past into ashes. Watching the fire rage and die down, she promised herself that Richard was no longer a part of her future; he had been only a chapter in a book she was now closing, never to be opened.
She took a deep breath, the smell of burning paper and fabric filling her lungs. It was time to let go—not just of Richard but of the guilt, the anger, and the unanswered questions that had haunted her. The flames flickered and began to shrink as the fuel ran out. She watched them until they were nothing more than glowing embers until there was nothing left to burn.
Sam turned and walked back into the house, feeling a strange calm settled over her. She left the ashes behind, where they belonged—out of sight, out of mind, and finally, out of her life.
The past was behind her, and she was still standing despite everything.
And that, in the end, was what mattered most.
Some years after
Years had passed since Daniel's death, and the universe seemed no kinder to SG-1. The Goa'uld had been practically defeated; their dominance over the galaxy was reduced to scattered remnants. But just as one battle seemed to end, another rose to take its place—the Replicators.
The tension between Jack and Sam, which had once simmered beneath the surface, grew cold and unyielding in the wake of Daniel's death. Whatever warmth or connection they had once shared seemed to have vanished, leaving behind only the cold efficiency of two professionals working together like gears in a machine. They still operated flawlessly as a team, but there was no longer that spark, that deeper understanding. They communicated with clipped words and practiced movements, doing what was needed to complete their missions but never venturing beyond that into anything personal.
Besides, with the Replicators threatening Asgard's new homeworld, Orilla, the stakes were higher than ever, and SG-1again had to rise to the occasion with their hands full.
Jack stood on the deck of an Asgard ship, the weight of the Ancients' knowledge still lurking in his mind. His body had been awakened from stasis to help the Asgard fend off the Replicators. The knowledge was overwhelming, but it was the only thing between Orilla and destruction.
"O'Neill, can you do it?" Thor, his longtime Asgard ally, asked.
Jack gripped the console before him, his fingers flexing with frustration.
"I can do it, Thor. But we've got a damn narrow window. Once the weapon is ready, the Replicators will come at us full force."
Thor's large black eyes blinked slowly, his calm demeanor unchanged. "We trust you, O'Neill. You are our only hope."
Jack couldn't help the dry laugh that escaped him. "No pressure then."
Just as he was about to initiate the command that would halt the Replicators, he paused, his mind flickering Sam, held captive by Fifth. They hadn't genuinely spoken in what felt like years, not beyond the strict formalities required by duty. The chasm between them still ached despite all the time that had passed. He thought about her more than he wanted to admit, especially now, when everything seemed on the verge of falling apart again.
Major Carter was enduring her ordeal in a replicator ship. Held captive by Fifth, a human-form Replicator who had become obsessed with her, she struggled to maintain her composure as Fifth toyed with her mind, trying to convince her to join him.
"You don't have to fight me, Samantha," Fifth said in an unsettlingly calm voice. His eyes shimmered with something that looked like affection but twisted and wrong.
Sam clenched her fists, her body rigid.
"I'll never be what you want me to be," she spat, her voice sharp with defiance. The weight of her isolation pressed down on her, but she kept fighting, refusing to let the Replicator break her will.
"Join me," Fifth insisted. "We could have everything. The galaxy could be ours. You wouldn't have to face the pain of loss anymore."
Sam's heart ached at the mention of loss, at the ghosts of her past—Daniel's death, the fractured relationship with Jack that never healed, the betrayal from Richard, and the photos. She pushed the thoughts away, forcing herself to focus.
"No," she said firmly. "You don't understand human emotions. What you're offering… it's nothing."
Fifth's expression darkened, but before he could press further, a burst of energy swept through the air, and Sam collapsed, released from her prison as the Replicators were neutralized. She was free, but the weight of everything still bore down on her.
Time passed, and life at the SGC shifted once again. General Hammond was stepping down and moving to a new Head of Homeworld Security role. The search for a new commander of the SGC was in full swing, and Colonel O'Neill and Colonel Reynolds were vying for the position.
Sam sat in her lab, running diagnostics on a piece of alien technology, but her mind wasn't on her work. The tension at the SGC was palpable. Everyone knew the decision was close. Would Jack get promoted? Would Reynolds take the reins?
Teal'c appeared at her door, his deep voice breaking the silence.
"Major Carter, the General wishes to see you."
She looked up, startled. "Now?"
Teal'c nodded. "Indeed."
Sam's stomach twisted as she went to General Hammond's office. When she entered, she was greeted by Jack standing next to General Hammond, both wearing unreadable expressions.
"Major," Hammond began, "I have some news. As of today, Colonel O'Neill has been promoted to Brigadier General and will be the new commander of the SGC."
Sam's eyes flickered to Jack, her heart skipping a beat. She forced a smile.
"Congratulations, Sir."
Jack's gaze met hers briefly, and for a second, something softened in his eyes before he nodded.
"Thanks, Carter."
As Hammond dismissed her, Sam left and closed the door. Reynolds was a good leader, but deep down, she knew the choice would be Jack. As she walked back to her lab, she sat and stared at the empty screen for what must have been hours.
"Are you busy?"
Sam lifted her head and saw him. Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.
"No, Sir."
Jack put his hands in his pockets.
"Without further delayings, I'm promoting you to Lieutenant Colonel and leader of SG-1. Congratulations, Carter. You've earned it."
Sam blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The promotion was the last thing she had expected—especially now, with everything uncertain. She and Jack had barely spoken since the destruction of the Asgard, and the aftermath of her abduction by Fifth lingered like a shadow over her thoughts. This time, she was dealing with it on her own, leaning only on the mandatory therapy sessions required to keep her fit for duty. Outside of that, she had kept her distance, unsure how to process the trauma, let alone share it.
"Thank you, Sir," she said, her voice steady, though the recognition didn't bring the satisfaction she thought it might.
He looked around, avoiding her eyes.
"Well, now I can do what I want. Mostly", he said.
Sam was still looking at him.
"Sir, does this change anything?" she asked, referring to more than her professional status.
Jack hesitated, his expression hardening.
"Nothing's changed, Carter. We've still got a job to do."
And with that, he walked out, leaving Sam alone in her lab, the same cold distance between them as ever.
As Sam sat alone in her lab, the cold hum of the machinery around her was deafening. She had been freed from Fifth's grasp, but the emotional chains remained. She had spent so long running—running from her fears, her past, and her heart. But something had shifted during her time as Fifth's prisoner. Staring into the abyss of her mind had forced her to confront truths she'd buried deep for years.
Jack.
In the quiet hours after the missions, Sam would think of Jack. The memory of what they could have been was a constant presence at the back of her mind, but she had been too afraid—too focused on duty and survival—to confront it. But no more. She had survived the worst, and if there was one thing she had learned, fear could no longer be an excuse. It was time to stop running.
Her time with Fifth had changed her. Something inside her broke free when she thought she could never survive. She realized she couldn't keep living like this, trapped by fear. She had faced enough pain, enough loss. She had been strong for so long. But the one thing she hadn't done—the one thing she had always been too afraid to do—was be honest. Honest with Jack. Honest with herself.
She glanced down at her hands, still trembling slightly from the weight of everything she'd been through. She didn't know if Jack still felt the same wayif the years had worn him down, if the distance between them had grown too great. But she was willing to find out for the first time in a long time. She was done running. If she had survived all of this, she could survive the truth, whatever it was.
Sam stood, her decision made. She wouldn't let fear control her anymore. Not fear of what Jack might say, not fear of what might come next. If she had learned anything, it was that life was too uncertain, too fleeting to live with regrets. And this, whatever it was between her and Jack, had been unfinished for too long.
She took a breath, steadying herself. This time, she wasn't going to hold back. This time, she would be honest—with him and with herself.