As Sam settled into her new role as the SGC's psychiatrist, she grew increasingly frustrated. Each day seemed to bring another vague reference to classified encounters or cryptic phrases like "off-world stress factors" and "hostile encounters." Still, no one had explained exactly what these terms entailed. Her background briefing, led by Doctor Daniel Jackson at the Pentagon, had covered only the basics. She understood she was dealing with elite personnel and high-stakes situations, but the specifics remained maddeningly out of reach.

Finally reaching a breaking point, Sam took her concerns directly to General Hammond. Entering his office, she felt a wave of anticipation and impatience building up inside her as she approached his desk. Hammond looked up, and she saw a spark of curiosity flash in his eyes.

"Dr. Carter," he greeted her, gesturing for her to sit. "What can I do for you?"

Sam took a seat, her tone respectful but determined.

"General, I came to talk to you about my position here at the SGC. Since I'm left without a choice but to work here, I have a job to do, but… well, I feel like I'm working with one hand tied behind my back."

Hammond gave her a steady look, allowing her to continue.

"I'm being asked to treat people dealing with severe trauma, yet I don't even know what they're going through." She paused, frustration evident in her voice. "I've been briefed on the essentials, but everything feels vague. Doctor Jackson covered the basics at the Pentagon, but there's clearly a lot I'm not aware of. If I'm going to be effective here, I need more information—more than just the surface-level details."

Hammond nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious.

"I understand your frustration, Doctor. You're absolutely right; your role here requires a thorough understanding of what our people encounter daily. That oversight is on me."

He paused, considering her carefully before picking up the phone on his desk. "Wait here a moment."

Sam watched as he dialed, his tone turning brisk. "Colonel O'Neill, I need you to gather Doctor Jackson and Teal'c and bring them to the briefing room. We'll be conducting a full disclosure briefing for Doctor Carter."

Sam's heart pounded as she processed Hammond's words. Full disclosure. Whatever she was about to learn, it would change everything.

Minutes later, Sam was back in the austere setting of the SGC briefing room. General Hammond stood at the head of the table, with Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c seated nearby. Her eyes landed on Teal'c—the broad, powerful man with an inscrutable expression who exuded an air of authority and quiet strength that immediately caught her attention. She recalled seeing him briefly at her first meeting, though she hadn't paid him much notice then.

Hammond cleared his throat.

"Dr. Carter, I'd like to introduce you to Teal'c formally. He's not only an integral part of our team but also… our resident alien."

Sam's eyes widened as she processed Hammond's words, her gaze shifting back to Teal'c, who inclined his head solemnly.

"Dr. Carter," Teal'c began, his deep voice carrying a gravity that seemed to fill the room. "I am Teal'c of Chulak, former First Prime to Apophis, a Goa'uld System Lord."

Sam's jaw dropped slightly, struggling to reconcile the information with everything she had known before. An alien. Sitting across from her. And he had served… some kind of lord?

Teal'c continued, "The Goa'uld are a race of parasitic beings who have enslaved many worlds, including mine. I defected from their ranks to join the Tau'ri and fight against their tyranny."

"Goa'uld," Sam repeated slowly, her mind racing to process the term. She looked at Daniel, who nodded, encouraging her to ask questions.

"They're a parasitic species," Daniel explained. "They control hosts by taking over their bodies, using their advanced technology and the fear they instill to pose as gods. That's… primarily what we're up against."

Sam was speechless for a moment. She'd expected maybe high-level intelligence work or covert missions—anything but this. The weight of what she was learning felt enormous, a reality so foreign that it almost seemed surreal. She took a deep breath and turned back to Teal'c, who remained stoic, patiently watching her.

"So… you're from another world?" she asked, trying to wrap her mind around it.

Teal'c inclined his head in affirmation.

"Indeed, I am. The planet Chulak, where the Goa'uld rule with fear and deception, was my home. But now, I stand with the people of Earth, the Tau'ri, to free others from the Goa'uld oppression."

Sam struggled to find words, glancing from Teal'c to Daniel, then to Jack and Hammond, observing quietly.

"And… these Goa'uld, they're actively threatening Earth?"

"Yes," Daniel said, his voice sober. "The Stargate program exists to explore and defend Earth from this threat. Every off-world mission carries the potential for conflict with the Goa'uld or their allies. Using his knowledge and skills, Teal'c joined us to help in this fight."

"Which," Jack added with a half-smile, "comes in handy more often than you'd think."

Sam's pulse quickened as she took it all in, realizing that the SGC was at the forefront of an intergalactic struggle she'd never dreamed existed.

"So… my patients—everyone here—they're all dealing with threats from… other worlds?"

"Yes," Hammond affirmed. "And more. Our personnel's pressures are unique; they're often exposed to the unknown, to unimaginable dangers. This is why we need a psychiatrist, Doctor Carter—someone who can understand what they're facing and provide support."

Sam nodded slowly, her mind spinning with questions.

"And you think… I can help them? Even with all of this?"

"Of course," Daniel replied, his tone encouraging. "Your job is to help them process their experiences. And with a better understanding of what they're facing, you'll be able to help in ways they—and we—need."

Sam swallowed, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle over her. Her previous frustrations now seemed small compared to the enormity of what lay before her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For trusting me with this information. I will… process it."

Jack nodded with a look of respect as he observed her. "Welcome to the real SGC, Doctor Carter."

Sam managed a small smile, aware that her life had changed forever. The reality of her new role sank in as she realized she was no longer just a psychiatrist. She was part of a team defending Earth against an unimaginable threat.

As she returned to her office—the stark, windowless quarters that never felt like home, no matter how hard she tried—the cold concrete walls and harsh fluorescent lighting took on a new dimension. It was still a world away from her life in D.C., from her elegant office and the gentle morning light streaming into her Georgetown townhouse. But now, at least, she understood what she was up against, what they were all up against. A parasitic race called the Goa'uld could take over beings as hosts, seizing complete control of their bodies.

However, as that matter was settled, her stay at SGC continued to remind her too well of all the things she had left behind.

The arrival of her belongings from D.C. did little to ease the ache. Her tailored suits and select work materials—handpicked by Martha—had finally made it to Colorado Springs, but unpacking them only reinforced her sense of confinement. The familiar elegance of her wardrobe seemed out of place here among the BDUs, dress blues, and standard-issue uniforms everyone else wore. Still, Sam found comfort in routine, and dressing in the same manner as in D.C. was a part of that. So, every morning, she slipped into her expertly tailored charcoal or steel-gray suits, paired with a silk blouse and her favorite Louboutins, the striking red soles a silent reminder of the world she was eager to return to.

Soon enough, her transformation did not go unnoticed. The atmosphere around the base shifted whenever Dr. Samantha Carter entered a room, the unmistakable click of her heels echoing through the corridors. Her blonde hair, styled in a practical yet professional ponytail, along with her subtle but polished makeup and tailored outfits, stood in stark contrast to the standard military attire around her. The effect was… striking.

People noticed her. Everyone noticed her.

As she walked into the mess hall one morning, theconversation seemed to die down, heads turning as she passed. She was oblivious to it all. However, her mind focused solely on her plan to expedite her clearance so she could leave the base. She grabbed her coffee and spotted Janet, who waved her over.

Janet's eyes widened slightly as Sam approached, admiring the transformation with awe and envy.

"Well, look at you," Janet said with a grin, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Seems the base has a new fashion icon."

Sam gave her a blank look, glancing down at her suit. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on," Janet teased, "you've turned half the men here into lovesick puppies. Did you really think no one would notice you strutting around in Gucci and Louboutins?"

Sam looked genuinely surprised, glancing around as though she'd just realized people were watching her.

"I didn't think it was that noticeable," she said, frowning slightly. "I'm just dressing the way I always do."

Janet chuckled, a hint of admiration in her gaze.

"Well, it's noticeable. And by the way, I hate you just a little for making me feel like a slob in my business casual attire and white coat."

Sam smiled faintly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Janet, that's not my intention. I'm just trying to… feel like myself." Her gaze dropped, a flash of frustration in her eyes.

Janet softened, picking up on her friend's mood.

"I know, Sam. I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. And for what it's worth, you're doing a good job keeping it together."

But the base wasn't as low-key about Dr. Carter's transformation as she was. Rumors started swirling, as did more than a few crushes among the base personnel. Some men tried to be subtle, stealing glances as she walked by, while others openly admired her. Even Teal'c, usually stoic, raised an eyebrow when he encountered her in the corridors one morning, observing her with silent respect.

"Dr. Carter," Teal'c greeted her, nodding politely. "I find that your appearance is… distinguished."

Sam blinked, unsure if she should take that as a compliment or an observation.

"Thank you, Teal'c. I, uh, appreciate that."

He inclined his head.

"You have chosen attire that commands respect and attention. It is… an effective strategy."

Sam nodded, though she was barely listening, her mind still focused on her plans to leave the SGC. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Teal'c watched her walk away, then turned to Daniel, standing nearby with an amused expression.

"I believe Dr. Carter is a most… intriguing individual," Teal'c stated.

Daniel smirked.

"You're not the only one who thinks so, Teal'c. She's causing quite a stir around here."

Later, in the locker room, Daniel shared this observation with Jack as they hadchanged after a workout.

"Have you noticed the effect Dr. Carter's having on everyone?" Daniel asked, his voice tinged with amusement. "The entire base has turned into a high school crush fest. People can't stop talking about her."

Jack glanced up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Jack. You can't tell me you haven't noticed. The heels, the tailored suits, the whole D.C. power look—she stands out, to say the least. The red Louboutin soles alone have half the guys on this base tripping over themselves."

Jack frowned, feeling an odd pang of discomfort as he pictured the buzz of attention surrounding her.

"Well, it's her choice how she dresses. Not like it's any of our business."

Daniel chuckled.

"True, but it's hard not to notice. She's… different, Jack. And a lot of people around here seem to like it. Some guys are already making bets on her."

Jack shrugged, though he couldn't entirely ignore the strange feeling in his gut.

"Whatever floats their boat, Daniel. I've got enough on my mind without worrying about office gossip."

But despite his dismissive tone, Jack couldn't shake the thought as he walked down the hallway later that day. He caught snippets of conversations as he passed groups of airmen and staff.

"Did you see Dr. Carter today? Damn, that woman could make a uniform jealous."

"Is it just me, or is she getting more gorgeous daily?"

"Forget gorgeous—did you see those heels? Now imagine her wearing only those!"

Jack rolled his eyes, uncomfortable with how people talked about her. He knew it wasn't just admiration—they were talking about her in a way that felt far too personal like she was some mystery they were all eager to solve. And whether he liked it or not, it bothered him. Dr. Carter was professional, driven, and stuck here because of him and the military's need for a psychiatrist. It was evident to him that she wanted nothing more than to leave.

As he continued walking, he spotted Sam ahead of him, speaking with an officer in the corridor. Today, she wore another impeccably tailored navy suit again, her heels giving her a tall, commanding presence. Her hair was perfectly styled in a ponytail like he had seen back in D.C. in her office, and as she turned, she exuded a confidence that Jack had to admit was striking. It was no wonder she'd caught everyone's attention.

Clearing his throat, he approached her, ignoring how his gaze lingered for too long.

"Dr. Carter."

She turned to him, surprised.

"Colonel O'Neill," she greeted coolly, her expression carefully neutral.

Jack shifted, feeling the weight of the attention she was getting and knowing she had no idea just how much of a stir she'd caused.

"You, uh… settling in okay?"

She raised an eyebrow, her voice flat. "As well as can be expected, Colonel."

He cleared his throat.

"Look, I know you didn't ask for this, but, uh… it might help if you tried to blend in a bit. People around here aren't exactly used to, well, heels and designer suits."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Is this some kind of critique of my appearance, Colonel?"

"No, no," Jack said quickly, holding up his hands. "Just… maybe a suggestion. You know, less attention, less gossip. Makes life easier."

Sam's gaze hardened, and she crossed her arms.

"I don't recall asking for your advice on how to dress, Colonel. I dress this way because it's who I am. I don't see why I should change that just to fit in."

Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not about changing who you are, Doc. It's just… well, you're causing a bit of a distraction. The guys around here aren't exactly subtle."

"Perhaps that's their problem, not mine," she replied, her tone icy. "If my presence is that much of an issue, maybe I don't belong here after all."

"Doc, no one's saying you don't belong here," Jack said, exasperated. "Look, I'm just trying to give you a heads-up. You're getting a lot of attention, and some of it's… not exactly professional."

She raised her chin, her voice steady.

"Then maybe you should be talking to them, not to me. I'm not here to make myself smaller or less noticeable to accommodate anyone else."

Jack opened his mouth to arguebutfound himself at a loss. She had a point, and he had to admit there was something about her defiance that was oddly… impressive.

"Alright, fair enough," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Just thought you should know what people are saying."

"I don't care what they're saying, Colonel. In fact, I couldn't care less about the entire base's opinion of me or my appearance. My priority is finding a way out of here so I can get back to my practice in D.C.," she replied firmly.

Jack nodded, giving her a small, admiring smile despite himself.

"Well, good luck with that, Doc. Though, if I'm being honest, I think the SGC would miss you."

She raised an eyebrow, a faint, wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"You're assuming I want to be missed, Colonel."

With that, she turned on her heel, the sharp click of her Louboutins echoing down the hall as she walked away. Jack watched her go, torn between admiration and frustration. Dr. Samantha Carter at SGC was not what he'd expected, and as much as he might deny it, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that the base—and maybe he—was just a little more interesting with her around.

Much to his frustration, Jack sat stiffly in Dr. Samantha Carter's office, his gaze fixed on the clock on the wall as if he could will it to move faster. He'd been back from the Tok'ra mission for nearly a week, and while he'd hoped the field report would be the end of his evaluations, General Hammond had other ideas. Apparently, the General wanted a "full report" from Dr. Carter—one that went beyond his recent performance off-world. And that meant another therapy session.

Jack clenched his jaw, glancing around her office with barely concealed irritation. She was behind her desk, flipping through his file with a level of composure that he found infuriating. Her tailored black suit and those damn Louboutins made her look every bit the untouchable professional like in D.C., and the contrast between them couldn't have been starker. Here she was, elegant, composed, and annoyingly relentless, while he, in his black BDU, felt like a caged animal, ready to bolt at any second.

Sam closed the file and looked up, her expression unreadable. "Colonel O'Neill, thank you for agreeing to return today."

He scoffed. "Didn't exactly have a choice, Doc. Orders are orders."

She tilted her head, giving him a small, knowing smile. "True. But I'd like to think you're here for more than just that."

"Believe what you want," Jack muttered, crossing his arms. "So, let's get this over with. What do you want to know now?"

She leaned back, studying him carefully.

"I think we need to start with what I couldn't ask in D.C. Now that I have clearance, we can cover everything."

Jack's jaw tightened.

"You've already got my entire life in that file, Doc. What more could you possibly want to know?"

She didn't flinch.

"I want to understand why you retired the first time. And what brought you back."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "It's all in there. I retired. My reasons are my own."

"That's the thing, Colonel," she replied, calm but unyielding. "I need more than just 'it's in the file.' I need to hear it from you."

He stared at her, his expression hardening.

"It's none of your business, Doc. And I'm not about to lay it all out for you."

Sam folded her hands in front of her, her gaze steady.

"You may not like this, Colonel, but as long as I'm your assigned psychiatrist, it is my business. If I'm going to clear you for duty, I need to know what brought you to this point."

Jack let out a low, humorless laugh.

"What brought me to this point? You really want to know?"

She nodded, unfazed by his sarcasm. "I do."

He leaned forward, his voice a low growl.

"Fine. I retired because my life was falling apart. My marriage was in shambles, my son… my son was gone, and I couldn't do it anymore. So, I left. Satisfied?"

But Sam didn't flinch. She met his gaze head-on, her voice softening slightly.

"No, I'm not. Because I don't think you've ever really confronted any of it, and that's why you're still carrying all that weight."

Jack clenched his fists, his voice laced with frustration.

"Listen, Carter. You can sit there and analyze me all you want, but nothing you say will change what happened. My son died. My marriage ended. And I returned to the only thing I had left—my career. The end."

She didn't look away, her eyes sharp and unrelenting.

"It says here it was a suicide job. Is that true?" she asked.

Jack clenched his jaw and didn't answer. Sam let it pass for now.

"So you think burying yourself in your work will make it all disappear? Do you really believe it'll go away if youignore it?"

His eyes flashed with anger.

"You don't get it, do you? I've been in situations you can't even imagine. I've lost people—my men, my friends—hell, even Daniel! I've been through it all, Doc, and I don't need to rehash it for you."

But Sam held her ground, her tone firm.

"Maybe you dobecause you're still carrying all of it, whether you admit it or not. And you're not as invincible as you think, Colonel."

Jack's voice was ice.

"I'm not here to talk about my feelings, Carter. And you're wasting your time if you think I'm going to."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not wasting my time," she replied, her voice equally cold. "I'm here to do my job, and my job is to ensure you're fit for duty. If you don't cooperate, then maybe you're not as ready for the field as you think you are."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"So that's it, huh? You're going to decide if I'm fit to serve? You, who's never even been in combat?"

She met his gaze, her voice calm but cutting.

"That's right, Colonel. I'm here to evaluate you. And your deflection isn't going to work with me."

Jack's fists tightened as he fought to keep his composure.

"You think you're going to fix me, Doc? Is that it? You think you can dig up all this crap and make it disappear?"

"No," she replied evenly. "I think you need to confront it, or it will keep controlling you. You're holding onto so much anger, so much guilt. And until you face it, you'll never be free of it."

Jack's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I do," she countered, her voice steady. "I've read your file. I know about Abydos. I know you left Daniel behind there the first time. And I know why you came back."

Jack's face twisted with fury. "You have no right to bring that up."

"Actually, I do," she replied, her voice unrelenting. "It's part of your historyandpart of who you are. Leaving Daniel, your son's death, your divorce… these are all things that define you, whether you like it or not."

Jack's voice rose, his tone sharp and cutting.

"You don't know a damn thing about my son. Or my marriage. Or Daniel, for that matter."

Sam's gaze softened, but her voice remained firm.

"You're right. I don't know the full extent of it. But I can see what it's done to you, and I can see that you're still carrying it around, letting it tear you apart piece by piece. And if you don't let some of that go, Colonel, it will destroy you."

He let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair.

"Let it go? That's easy for you to say. You think you can waltz in here, pick apart my life, and fix everything with a few therapy sessions?"

She leaned forward, her gaze intense.

"No, but I can help you confront it. And if you don't start facing some of these things, you'll never move forward. You'll stay stuck in this cycle of anger and guilt."

Jack's fists clenched, his voice barely a whisper.

"You think talking about it is going to bring my son back? Or fix my marriage?"

"No," she replied quietly. "But it might help you find a way to live with it. To move past it."

He stood abruptly, his face set in a scowl.

"I'm done here. I'm not your damn project, Carter. And I don't need you digging around in my past."

But Sam didn't flinch, her voice calm but steely.

"One way or another, Colonel, you're going to have to face this. And I'm not giving up until you do."

He glared at her, his jaw set in anger.

"You want to play therapist? Fine. But I'm not here to bear my soul to you. So you can keep pushing, but you won't get anything out of me."

Her gaze was unwavering.

"We'll see about that, Colonel. Because until I'm satisfied, you're not going back into the field."

His eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl.

"You're playing with fire, Carter."

She raised an eyebrow, her voice calm but unyielding.

"Then let it burn, Colonel."

Jack stormed out of her office without another word, his anger simmering just below the surface. He didn't see Daniel walking down the hall until he'd nearly barreled into him, causing Daniel to stagger back in surprise.

"Whoa, Jack! Watch it!" Daniel exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in Jack's dark expression. "What happened in there?"

Jack didn't stop, his voice a growl. "None of your business, Daniel."

Daniel watched him go, exchanging glances with a passing officer who seemed equally taken aback.

"Well… she really got to him, didn't she?" he muttered to himself, wondering just what kind of battle had taken place behind Dr. Carter's office door.

Sam took a slow, steadying breath inside her office, watching the door close in Jack's wake. She knew she'd struck a nerveandpushed him to confront the very things he'd spent years avoiding. But if he wanted to move forward, he would have to face it all, and she wasn't about to back down.

She leaned back in her chair, her mind still replaying their intense exchange. Jack O'Neill was a formidable opponent, a man accustomed to walls and defenses that no one could penetrate. But she knew she'd cracked those walls today, even if just a little. And while she felt the weight of the tension between them, she was also determined.

Because, like it or not, Jack O'Neill would have to confront his past, and she would be there every step of the way. She'd started this work back in Washington, D.C., and she would finish it here in Cheyenne Mountain. If they forced her to stay,she'd do her job—no matter what.

Jack stormed out of Sam's office, a whirlwind of emotion twisting within him as he made his way down the hall, not caring about the curious looks his brisk exit drew. By the time he reached his car, his anger had reached a boiling point, and he gripped the steering wheel hard, knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to punch it. As much as he wanted to let go of his frustration at that moment, he knew this was about more than just one conversation. It was about all the walls he'd built to keep the past buried—walls that Carter had just tried to break through. Again.

Jack's mind spun with Carter's probing questions and that analytical look she'd given him. She'd gotten under his skin, touched a nerve that no one—not McKenzie, not even Daniel—had managed to reach. And that made him furious. He was used to controllingand keeping people out, and he wasn't about to let anyone—especially her—pull him apart like some case study.

"No way," he muttered to himself as he drove home. He wouldn't let her get in his head. He wouldn't give her that power.

Back at his house, Jack grabbed a beer from the fridge and sank onto the couch, letting the familiar bitterness of the drink soothe him. But even here, in the quiet of his living room, Carter's words echoed in his mind, stirring up memories and wounds he'd thought he'd buried. It wasn't just what she'd asked—it was how she'd looked at him, as though she could see right through the facade he'd carefully maintained for years.

"No one gets to pry into my life like that," he muttered, taking a long drink and trying to drown out the anger simmering inside him. But even as he tried to push it away, his mind raced with thoughts of her. Now that she had clearance, she'd dug into his fileandused his own history against him. Well, he thought, two could play that game. He remembered that she, too, would have a file; after signing the NDA, he'd have access to it.

Jack set his beer down and powered up his computer, navigating the personnel records until he found Dr. Samantha Carter's file. After a few tries, he pulled up her profile, scrolling through the neatly organized entries that painted a polished, almost flawless image of her life. Graduating from Harvard Medical School at the top of her class, she'd quickly distinguished herself in psychiatry, specializing in trauma and psychoanalysis. Her record showed advanced certifications in forensic psychiatry and combat-related PTSD. This rare combination had made her a valuable consultant for the Pentagon before her time at St. Elizabeths Hospital. There, she'd built a reputation for her meticulous, almost clinical professionalism, earning respect and a certain degree of distance from colleagues who viewed her as intense, even cold.

Her transition into private practice had been no less impressive; she'd quickly established a client base of high-profile patients in D.C., including politicians, military officers, and executives who trusted her with their deepest secrets. She'd published papers on the psychological impact of high-stakes decision-making under pressure, gaining recognition in her field for her work. Yet, despite the accolades and polished resume, aspects of her story seemed absent. Her father and mother were deceased, and she had no siblings. She was single.

Her bank statements revealed that she had more than enough to support her daily lifestyle: tailored clothes, a posh office in D.C., and a fully paid townhouse in Georgetown. Dr. Samantha Carter clearly had no financial concerns.

Jack couldn't shake the feeling that there were gaps, missing pieces she had intentionally left out. Just like him, she'd built walls and carefully curated her image. Jack's initial anger flickered, replaced by a strange curiosity. What was she hiding behind that controlled exterior? He was determined to find out, to expose the cracks she'd gone to such lengths to conceal.

Jack felt the edges of his frustration sharpen with each new piece of information he uncovered. He knew he was reaching that digging into her past wouldn't change what she'd tried to find in him, but he didn't care. He'd ensure he was armed with everything he needed to push back if she thought she could break down his walls.

For no reason he could pinpoint, his mind drifted back to the painting in her office, the lingering sense of familiarity clinging to him.