After breakfast, they continued the following day in fits and starts, with Jack revealing more than he ever had. He spoke of the humiliation, the helplessness, the twisted game Asheran played with his mind. Each word seemed to strip away another layer of armor, leaving him raw and exposed.

"How did it feel when you were finally rescued?" Sam asked quietly.

He hesitated. "Relief. Shame. I hated being the weak link."

"You weren't weak," she said fiercely. "No one could have endured that unscathed."

"Then why do I feel broken?" He met her eyes, his pain unfiltered. "I can't lead like this."

"You can," she replied, holding his gaze. "But not until you accept that you're human. You have limits. Healing doesn't mean pretending nothing happened. It means facing it and deciding how to move forward."

His hands trembled. "And if I can't?"

"Then we figure out another way," she said. "Together."

There was a long pause.

"You really believe that?" he asked, voice breaking.

"Yes," she said, her voice unwavering. "I do."

With the sun high overhead, its golden rays reflecting off the rippling lake, Jack stood on the dock with a fishing rod, his silhouette relaxed and at ease against the bright water. He glanced at Sam, who gripped her rod with what almost looked like practiced confidence. Dressed in one of Jack's flannel shirts over jeans and sturdy boots, she nearly looked the part—if not for the lingering tension in her shoulders.

The sun beat down warmly, and Sam's face glistened slightly from the generous layer of sunblock she'd dutifully applied at Jack's insistence, complete with his teasing warning that there would be no fishing otherwise. Fortunately, he always kept plenty stocked at the cabin for moments like these.

"Okay, Carter," Jack said with an easy smile as he cast his line into the water. "Time to introduce you to the joys of my lake."

Sam's lips curved slightly, a touch of bemusement mixed with warmth.

"I'm still not convinced there's any 'joy' in standing still for hours waiting for a fish that might not even exist."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong." He leaned back, giving her a wink. "It's all about patience. And, you know, getting away from the grind."

She tilted her head, watching him as if trying to decipher some ancient code.

"Patience, I have plenty of. The grind is another matter."

He chuckled. "Touché. Though I'd argue you've had plenty of practice with patience if you're dealing with people's problems all day."

"That's true." This time, she cast her line more confidently, the reel spinning. "But I'd still call it work."

"Right." Jack grinned. "Speaking of work, don't tell me you don't have a single hobby outside of it."

There it was—the dreaded question she often skirted around.

"I… keep up with the latest findings in the medical and psychiatric fields," she said, a little too quickly. She saw his raised brow and tried to recover with a shrug. "You know, staying informed. Continuous learning."

Jack's expression turned into mock horror.

"Sam, that's not a hobby. That's… more work."

She laughed, a genuine one that surprised her with its force.

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"No, seriously," he pressed, settling into a more comfortable stance on the dock. "Not even knitting or collecting weird trinkets?"

"No knitting, no trinkets." She shook her head, the humor fading into something more reflective. "Work's always been… consuming. Especially after moving to the SGC. Before that, it wasn't much better."

His gaze softened. "Did you ever have time for anything else? Anyone else?"

The change in his tone made her pause. "There was someone once. A colleague, Dr. Jonas Hanson. We were… almost engaged."

Jack's eyes flickered with something she couldn't quite read—surprise, maybe, but also understanding.

"You've never talked about him."

"Well, I don't discuss my private life, and there's not much to talk about," she said, her voice carefully measured. "It didn't end well. He became… a different person. Or maybe I never really knew who he was, to begin with."

"Sounds like it left a mark," he said gently.

She nodded, looking out over the lake, her eyes distant.

"It did. It made me question a lot of things. My judgment, my choices. I threw myself into my work after that. It was easier to keep busy."

Jack was silent momentarily, letting the weight of her words settle.

"You know, sometimes it's okay to take a breath. To let yourself have more than work."

She cast him a sidelong glance, her lips curving again.

"Like fishing?"

"Exactly." He lifted his rod, the line still motionless in the water. "Hey, it's a start."

They fished silently for a while, the quiet punctuated by the occasional wind rustling through the trees. Then Sam spoke up again, surprising herself with the question.

"What about you, Jack? Why fishing? Why here? Is it because it brings back the nice memories you had with your father when you were a kid?"

"It's quiet," he said, his voice low. "No expectations, no masks. Just… me and the lake. I guess it reminds me a bit of the time at the lake near our place in Chicago." He turned to her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Plus, the fish and I have a complicated relationship."

She raised an eyebrow. "Complicated?"

"Yeah." He nodded solemnly. "They're shy, you see. Elusive. But they're out there."

"Uh-huh." Her tone was dry, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'll take your word for it."

He grinned, his expression softening.

"Thanks for indulging me, Sam."

"Anytime." She gave him a mock-serious nod. "But next time, I'll pick the hobby."

"Oh?" His eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. "What'll it be? Medical journal club on the dock?"

"Very funny." She nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "You might learn something."

"I'm sure I would." He met her gaze, the humor fading to something more genuine. "You know, you don't have to be just the job, Sam. You're more than that."

Her breath caught at the sincerity in his voice.

"Maybe. I'm still figuring that out."

"That makes two of us." He cast another line, the sun now low on the horizon, casting their shadows long over the lake. "Guess we'll have to see what else this place offers."

"Guess so," she said, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. As their lines bobbed in the water, the tension gripped them both since their sessions began to loosen a bit. They didn't catch any fish, but for a few hours, it didn't matter. It was enough just to be. Together.

Their final session ended with quiet reflection. Jack seemed lighter, though the road ahead would be long. They stood by the lake, the crisp air wrapping around them.

"So," he said, breaking the silence. "Am I fit for duty?"

"As your therapist, I'd say… not yet. But with more work, I believe you can be."

He nodded. "And as… Sam?"

"As Sam," she said, stepping closer, her voice gentle but persistent, "I'd tell you that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. And you don't have to face this alone. SG-1 will heal together, Jack—each of you, in your own time, at your own pace. But you'll heal. You're not the exception to that. You're part of the team, just like they are."

A small, hopeful smile crossed his lips. "Thanks, Doctor Carter."

"You're welcome, Colonel O'Neill." She extended her hand, a professional gesture, but he took it and pulled her into a hug instead. In his arms, she felt the weight of every unspoken word and the promise of healing.

"Let's figure out where we go from here," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said, his voice warm with hope. "Let's do that."

They lingered by the lake, two healing hearts ready to face whatever came next—together.

The hum of the jet engines filled the small cabin, a steady background that underscored the silence between them. Sam glanced out the window as Silver Creek faded below, her gaze shifting occasionally to Jack, who sat across from her, lost in thought. Though they had spoken openly and unflinchingly over the past three days, an unspoken weight lingered between them now, both knowing that they were leaving behind more than the quiet refuge of Jack's cabin.

Jack caught her eye and offered a brief smile, though his confidence was muted. She managed a small smile in return, though her mind was already back at the base, torn between her duty to her professional role and the memory of Jack's vulnerability over the past few days. His trust had been palpable, the intensity of his struggle undeniable. But as she had told him back at the cabin, in a moment as painful for her as it had been for him, she did not believe he was ready. She realized that the weight of this decision was a heavy burden on her heart.

He exhaled slowly, looking at her with a mixture of gratitude and lingering uncertainty.

"Feels strange, leaving it all behind."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, each word measured. "It was peaceful. A place to think."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful.

"Wish we could take it with us." There was a subtle edge to his voice that Sam understood all too well—a longing to avoid what lay ahead, the inevitable confrontation with the scars he wasn't ready to leave behind.

When they landed at Peterson Air Force Base, Sam followed him through the tarmac, watching his shoulders grow visibly tense with every step. Her own heart ached at the unspoken distance widening between them.

Jack stopped just before they exited, turning to her with a carefully controlled expression.

"So, I'll see you at the base? Once the report's in?"

"Yes," she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wanted to reassure him, anything to ease his mind, but the professional in her wouldn't allow it. "It should be on General Hammond's desk by tomorrow."

He nodded, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Thanks again for everything. Guess it's back to real life, huh?"

"Yeah." She attempted a light laugh, but it felt hollow even to her. "Back to reality."

They parted with only a short, professional nod, and Sam watched him go, feeling the pang of separation—more profound and painful than she had expected.

When she finally arrived home, her house greeted her with its usual silence, but tonight, it felt different, more oppressive. Dropping her bag at the door, she went straight to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, filling the tub and letting the scent of lavender fill the room. As she stepped into the warmth, her mind raced with a conflicting whirl of images and emotions: Jack's guarded smile, the weight of his pain, the relief he had shown when he'd allowed himself to trust her.

Though she had gently told him he wasn't ready for duty, the total weight of that decision pressed on her now, thick and uncomfortable. She had spent years learning to separate her professional obligations from her emotions, but the past three days had tested her more than she could have anticipated. Jack wasn't just another soldier, and her assessment wasn't just another case. Every conclusion she would put on paper felt like a potential threat to his future, his pride, and the hope he had held onto.

The professional conflict she faced was palpable.

But she knew the truth. He wasn't ready. A rushed return could harm him and the entire team he led, and she was responsible for making the right call. The internal struggle to balance her professional duty and her personal feelings for Jack was a constant battle, each side pulling her in a different direction.

After a long moment, she pulled herself from the water, wrapping herself in a thick towel, feeling the weight of her decision bearing down on her. She needed to put her emotions aside. This was her duty as Dr. Carter, and she would honor it, no matter how difficult it might be.

Once seated at her desk, she opened her laptop, scrolling through the notes she had taken during their sessions. Each word reminded her of his strength but also his unresolved trauma. The evidence was clear: the flashes of anger, the residual fear, the burden of what he had endured, and the intensity of his struggle to keep it all hidden.

"You're human, Jack," she had told him. "It's okay to feel. Healing doesn't mean ignoring what happened; it means accepting it and moving forward."

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she willed herself to focus solely on what she knew to be true. She forced herself to detach and evaluate him not as the man she had shared these three days with, the man she had started to have deep feelings for, but as Colonel Jack O'Neill, the leader of SG-1.

For hours, she wrote, every line a painful exercise in discipline. She documented his anger, the residual trauma, and his inability to fully let go of what had happened to Eronia. She emphasized his resilience but underscored the areas in which he still struggled, noting that despite his considerable progress, there was a risk in sending him back too soon.

When she finally hit "save," the sun had disappeared already, replaced by a dark sky. She felt drained and hollow yet somehow relieved. The decision was made, the report was complete, and now it was up to General Hammond to decide Jack's next steps. The relief of completing this difficult task was a welcome respite.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, allowing the exhaustion to sink in. Tomorrow, she would hand over her report and face Jack's reaction to her assessment. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of reprieve, feeling relief and sadness, knowing she had done what was right—even if it meant hurting the one person she desperately wanted to protect.

As she closed her laptop, a bittersweet resolve settled over her. She would see him at the base and maintain the professionalism he needed, no matter how much it tore at her. Duty came first, even when her heart rebelled.

She stood, ready to leave her office for the night and head to bed. A faint vibration rattled her desk drawer as she reached for the door. She froze, confusion knitting her brow since her phone was in her hand.

Opening the drawer, she stared at the source of the noise: a burner phone she'd nearly forgotten about. But now, it was lit up, buzzing insistently. Slowly, she picked it up, her heart pounding. He hadn't been able to reach her during the flight, and Jack's cabin had no connection. Yet here it was, an undeniable link between them.

The screen displayed a single message:

"Call me."

Her breath hitched. Sam's grip on the phone tightened as a thousand emotions surged through her—relief, confusion, fear. They'd drawn the line more than a year ago. She had told herself she had contacted him because it was an emergency. That was all, and he said that he understood. But now, the line blurred again, pulling her back in.

Her pulse quickened as she stared at the screen. She shouldn't call. This was dangerous, raw, and far too close to everything she was trying to leave behind. She had left him behind.

And yet, her thumb hovered over the keypad. She swallowed hard, every rational thought screaming to put the phone back in the drawer and walk away. But the soft glow of the screen felt like a rope she couldn't cut.

Before she could talk out of it, her fingers moved independently. She dialed the number displayed in the message.

The phone rang once, twice—each tone like a hammer against her chest. Then came the soft click of the line connecting, and his voice—low and rough—came through.

"Samantha," he said. It was just her name but carried everything he wasn't saying.

She closed her eyes, the resolve she'd clung to dissolving. "I'm here," she whispered.

The morning was barely underway when Sam arrived at SGC, clutching the report that had weighed on her mind through a sleepless night. Her usual calm resolve felt fragile, almost brittle, as she approached General Hammond's office. When she knocked, his familiar, steady voice called for her to enter, grounding her nerves—at least momentarily.

"Dr. Carter," he greeted her, offering a slight nod. "You have the report on Colonel O'Neill?"

"Yes, General." She handed it over, her hands clasping together as he accepted the folder. Momentarily, she wondered if he could see the tumult inside her, the inner conflict she desperately tried to conceal.

General Hammond's eyes scanned the pages, his expression shifting slightly as he read her conclusions. When he finally looked up, his gaze was penetrating, assessing.

"I'm sure this wasn't an easy report to write," he began.

"No, it wasn't." Sam's voice was steady, even as her heart clenched at the memory of Jack's vulnerability in the cabin. "But my findings are clear. Based on what I've seen, I believe that Colonel O'Neill isn't yet ready to return to full duty."

General Hammond nodded thoughtfully but asked, "And do you believe that in his current condition, Colonel O'Neill might be a danger to himself or his team?"

The directness of the question caught her off guard, though she knew it was his duty to ask. She took a moment, gathering her thoughts carefully.

"General," she replied, "honestly, yes—I think there's a risk, particularly in high-stakes situations. His trauma is unresolved, and his reactions can be unpredictable, especially when it comes to aggression."

Hammond's face was impassive, but Sam could feel the weight of her words filling the space between them. She took a steadying breath and continued.

"However," she added, leaning forward slightly, "I want to be clear about something that might impact my assessment. My experience is limited to Earth-based operations. I know how to evaluate professionals who work in crisis, but here, on this planet. Colonel O'Neill and his team are in an entirely different reality on other worlds, dealing with threats and conditions that I can't even imagine."

General Hammond listened intently as she struggled to articulate her hesitation.

"My report is grounded in my knowledge and training," she began, her tone measured but candid. "However, I'll admit that evaluating someone who regularly confronts unknowns presents challenges. There are aspects of his work that I can't fully grasp without experiencing them firsthand, which introduces an unavoidable uncertainty into my conclusions."

She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts before continuing.

"To provide context, I've included his response during the Tenarii attack at SGC as my sole direct experience with him in an alien engagement scenario. It's the only instance I've observed how he operates under such extraordinary circumstances."

Hammond's eyes softened slightly as he processed her words.

"Thank you, Dr. Carter, for your honesty and your professionalism. It's a complex situation, and your honesty is appreciated."

The tension in her shoulders eased somewhat at his response, though a new question formed in her mind, one that sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over her. She took a deep breath, hesitating, before she spoke again.

"General… if I may… do you know what will happen to Colonel O'Neill now?"

Hammond's expression grew somber, and he shook his head slightly.

"That will be a matter for consideration. Your findings, as are Colonel O'Neill's service record and unique contributions, are crucial. We'll evaluate all options carefully."

Sam nodded, though the vague answer left her stomach in knots. She had hoped for more clarity, but Hammond's words confirmed her worst fear—Jack's career was hanging in the balance, and there was no clear path forward.

After a beat of silence, she spoke again, this time with a quiet resolve.

"General, as my work with Colonel O'Neill is complete, I request permission to excuse myself as his therapist. I will continue with the rest of SG-1, however."

Hammond's eyebrows rose, clearly surprised. "May I ask why, Doctor?"

Sam hesitated, weighing her words. She could feel her pulse quicken, her professionalism fraying as she chose the path of honesty.

"I've found myself becoming more attuned to Colonel O'Neill's challenges and the complexities of his role," she said carefully. "While I've made every effort to maintain professionalism, I recognize that my increased understanding of his struggles may affect my ability to remain completely impartial in my evaluation. Given this, I believe it's in the best interest of fairness and accuracy to have someone else take over his assessment moving forward."

Hammond's surprise softened, replaced by a look of understanding tinged with caution. He studied her closely before he spoke again, his voice low.

"Well, Dr. Carter, that's quite an admission. But I understand your decision, and I respect it. You've done a remarkable job here despite the personal difficulty, and I thank you for it. The rest of SG-1 is fortunate to have you."

Sam swallowed, feeling the weight of the conversation settle over her.

"Thank you."

"Take some time, Dr. Carter," he said finally. "Consider your next steps here carefully. You've earned that."

Sam left Hammond's office, her heart a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She had followed her professional instincts, but she was painfully aware of the finality of her words. Excusing herself from her role as Jack's therapist was the right choice; a hollow ache remained as she returned to her office.

The moment she entered, she stopped short. Jack was waiting, leaning against her desk, arms crossed, his face unreadable. The air felt suddenly thick as she closed the door and faced him.

"I assume you just delivered the report," he said quietly, his gaze unwavering.

"Yes, I did," she replied, her voice steady but distant. "And… I'm very sorry, but my conclusions stand. Colonel, you aren't ready for active duty just yet."

He studied her, his expression neutral but his eyes full of questions she could feel as keenly as if he had spoken them aloud. She struggled to hold his gaze, forcing herself to remain detached, to remember that she was Dr. Carter in this moment, not simply Sam.

"Is that all?" he asked after a beat.

"No." She took a breath, her voice trembling slightly. "I told General Hammond that I would no longer be your therapist. The work we've done together—it's finished."

His gaze sharpened. "Why?"

Sam forced herself to stand straighter, her voice soft but firm.

"Because I'm getting too close to your problems and struggles, Jack. I've tried, but I can't be your therapist and..." She didn't finish the sentence. "My professionalism would be compromised."

Silence hung heavily between them, and she could see the impact of her words etched in his expression—a mixture of pain, frustration, and something deeper, something raw. He was silent, but his gaze never wavered, pinning her in place.

After a long moment, he pushed away from the desk, taking a few steps toward her. Sam held her ground, her heart hammering as he closed the distance between them. He stopped inches away, his eyes searching hers as if looking for something he hadn't been able to find in their sessions.

"Jack…" she started her voice barely a whisper, the control she had fought so hard to maintain slipping.

Before she could say another word, he closed the remaining space between them, his hands reaching up to cup her face. The moment seemed suspended in time, and her heart pounded as she felt the warmth of his touch and the intensity of his gaze.

Then, without another word, he kissed her.

Her mind went blank, shock mingling with the surge of emotions that she had buried for so long. For a brief moment, she was frozen, caught between the professional boundaries she had adhered to and the feelings she had fought to ignore. But as his lips pressed against hers, her resolve shattered, and she found herself responding, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders.

The kiss deepened, both pouring weeks of unspoken emotions into that moment, the tension and struggle dissolving in the warmth between them. She could feel his heartbeat under her fingertips, steady and reassuring, grounding her in a way nothing else had.

Finally, they pulled back, breathing heavily, the gravity of what had just happened settling over them. Jack's hands lingered on her face, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks as he held her gaze, his expression a mixture of relief and vulnerability.

"Sam," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I… I didn't plan for this, but I couldn't… I can't keep pretending I don't feel something. Not after everything."

She took a shaky breath, feeling the same truth in her heart.

"Neither can I," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "But… I don't know where we go from here."

He nodded slowly, his gaze softening as he squeezed her hand gently.

"We'll figure it out. Together. Just… let's not lose this," he said, his voice low, his vulnerability bare. "Whatever this is, it's real."

Sam felt a surge of warmth, and for the first time since she'd entered Hammond's office that morning, she allowed herself to hope. She nodded, leaning her forehead against his, feeling the quiet strength of their connection—a connection that neither her professionalism nor his military stoicism could break.

"Then we'll find a way," she whispered, her heart steadying as they stood together, finally, in the truth they had both spent so long denying.

Jack closed Sam's office door, still reeling from the surge of emotions her kiss had stirred in him. That brief moment with her—so raw and honest—had broken down walls he'd kept fortified for years. But now, he had another task that required all the strength he could summon. Taking a deep breath, he went to Hammond's office, his mind set on the difficult conversation he knew would happen.

As he entered, Hammond looked up from his desk, his expression calm but attentive.

"Colonel," he said, gesturing for Jack to sit.

Jack shook his head.

"I'd rather stand, Sir. This won't take long." He cleared his throat, feeling the weight of his words before he'd even spoken them. "I wanted to tell you myself, General. I've given it a lot of thought—and after these past few days, I can't ignore the truth. I'm still not ready to lead SG-1. Not yet."

Hammond's gaze was steady, a glint of understanding in his eyes.

"Go on, Colonel."

Jack swallowed, his throat dry as he spoke.

"Look, Sir, I want to be there for my team more than anything. But if I go back like this—while I'm still… processing what happened—I'd be putting their lives at risk. That's something I won't do. I'm not risking their safety for the sake of my career."

Hammond nodded, the slightest trace of a smile on his face.

"Colonel, I'm not surprised by your honesty or your unselfishness. You're putting your team first, as you always have."

The words hit Jack with unexpected force, softening the tension in his shoulders. Hammond's voice was both steady and reassuring as he continued, "Dr. Carter's evaluation, your commendable service record, and now, what you've just told me—these are all part of the bigger picture here. You've given so much, and we will consider everything. But for now, the decision stands. You'll remain on administrative leave."

Jack nodded, his relief mixed with disappointment, and Hammond's tone softened slightly as he leaned forward.

"I'd also advise you to continue therapy, even if it's with someone other than Dr. Carter. She's laid the groundwork, but there's still work to be done. Get well, Jack. You're part of this team, and we're here, waiting for you."

A lump formed in Jack's throat, the weight of Hammond's words settling over him.

"Thank you, Sir," he managed, his voice thick. He gave Hammond a nod, then left the office, feeling a strange mix of resolve and sadness.

The lump in his throat persisted as he went to the briefing room, where he had asked Daniel, Teal'c, and Kawalski to meet him. They were already seated when he arrived, and their faces lit up as he entered. But when they saw his serious look, their expressions shifted to concern.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, his brows furrowing. "Is everything alright?"

Jack took a deep breath, looking at each of them.

"Look, I'll get straight to it. I met with General Hammond, and… well, I'm not returning to SG-1. Not right now, anyway."

A heavy silence filled the room, each of his teammates processing the news in their way.

Teal'c inclined his head, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"Is this your decision, O'Neill?"

"It is, Teal'c," Jack replied, his voice steady. "It's not that I don't want to be back out there with you guys, but… I'm not ready. And I won't put any of you at risk."

Kawalsky leaned forward, his expression full of empathy.

"Jack, we understand. I mean, we're all here for you. Whatever you need, man."

Daniel nodded in agreement, his gaze softening.

"We're just glad you're taking care of yourself, Jack. You're not alone in this. After all, we are all attending therapy sessions with Sam," he said with a half smile.

Jack's throat tightened as he took in the support and understanding from his team. He'd spent his life giving orders, putting on a mask, and charging ahead no matter the cost. But here, with his team, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability.

"Thanks, guys. I mean it." He looked at each of them, his voice low and raw. "I know I've been… distant lately. But you all kept me going more than you'll ever know."

Teal'c stepped forward, placing a strong, steady hand on Jack's shoulder.

"O'Neill, your strength and loyalty have always been evident to us. It is wise to seek healing before returning to battle. We will do the same and return better."

Jack nodded, feeling a small glimmer of hope rise within him.

"Thanks, T. I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll be back. Just… need to sort some things out first."

They exchanged a look, a quiet, unspoken understanding settling among them. For the first time in months, Jack felt a weight lift, and as he left the room, his heart was lighter, bolstered by the loyalty of his team.

Meanwhile, in another part of the base, Sam was heading to the infirmary, her emotions a tangled mess she could no longer ignore. When she found Janet, the doctor gave her a warm smile that faded as soon as she saw the turmoil in Sam's expression.

"Sam?" Janet asked, her voice gentle as she led her friend into her private office. "What's going on?"

Sam closed the door and sank into a chair, pressing her palms to her face.

"I don't know, Janet. I thought I could handle this—keeping things professional, making the right calls—but it's… it's harder than I expected."

Janet sat across from her, her expression understanding.

"You mean with Colonel O'Neill?"

"Yes," Sam replied, her voice thick with emotion. She dropped her hands, looking up at Janet, her eyes full of conflict. "I told General Hammond I can't be Jack's therapist anymore. My feelings… they're too strong. I can't keep them out of the way."

Janet's expression softened, and she reached out, covering Sam's hand.

"Sam, you've done everything you could. No one could ask for more. You were his therapist, but you're also his friend… and more."

Sam's throat tightened as she struggled to find the words.

"I don't know what I am to him anymore. I want to help him, to be there for him, but… I'm terrified that I've done something wrong. That my decision to step back will hurt him even more."

Janet shook her head firmly, her voice steady.

"Sam, what you did took courage. It would have been easier to keep trying to do it all, to push your feelings aside and pretend. But you respected him—and yourself—too much for that."

Sam looked down, her fingers twisting together.

"But what if I made a mistake? What if he thinks I'm abandoning him? Because I'm going to be SG-1 therapist and not his?"

"Sam," Janet said gently, her voice full of conviction, "you didn't abandon him. You're giving him space to heal, to process. And that's exactly what he needs. The guys are another matter." She paused, watching Sam's face closely. "Do you love him?"

Sam's breath hitched, her heart pounding. She looked away, her mind a whirlwind.

"I don't know, Janet. Maybe. I think I do. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about him. I can't stand the thought of him going through this alone."

Janet gave her a warm, understanding smile.

"Then trust that he knows that. Jack isn't the type to misunderstand loyalty, Sam. He's seen it in you. And whatever comes next, he'll know you're there for him."

A small tear escaped Sam's eye, and she quickly brushed it away, offering Janet a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Janet. I just… I needed to hear that."

Janet squeezed her hand.

"You're welcome, Sam. And whatever happens, remember—you don't have to do this alone either. I'm here for you."

Sam felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, the familiar comfort of Janet's presence a balm to her aching heart. For the first time since she'd written that report, she felt a glimmer of peace, a quiet reassurance that maybe—just maybe—she hadn't done this all wrong.

Sam had spent the rest of the day avoiding any potential run-ins with Jack, focusing on her work and ensuring her schedule didn't overlap with his. Between the tension of the report, their kiss, and Janet's probing question—Do you love him?—she needed space to think, to sort through the feelings she had spent so long trying to bury. Love was a complicated word, and Sam wasn't even sure she wanted to find out how it applied to her and Jack.

She'd excused herself from his therapy because she couldn't deny her growing feelings, but did that mean love? Love was the sort of commitment she'd once imagined with Jonas, a memory that only reminded her why she kept relationships at arm's length. It hadn't ended well. The risk of getting hurt again was a wall she had reinforced for years. So far, it had worked; her relationships stayed casual, and nothing lasted more than a few months. And that was always because of her—she was the one who ended them as soon as things started feeling too serious.

Maybe I'm just a lousy patient, she thought wryly. She'd diagnosed her fear of commitment long ago, but admitting it hadn't made confronting it any easier. The idea of Jack breaking through that wall was something she hadn't expected—or was even sure she wanted.

But she knew she had a serious problem—one she had unwittingly resurrected from her past through her recklessness. Desperate to leave the SGC, she had made the call, knowing the consequences. And now, he was edging his way back into her life—unwelcome, yet unyielding, like a shadow she couldn't escape.

Jack couldn't know. He wouldn't understand—and if he ever found out, he'd feel betrayed. She had to deal with this before anything could begin between them—if it would even begin at all. This had to be resolved quickly and definitively.

Pulling the burner phone from her bag, she typed a message with steady fingers:

"I'm staying. There's no we."

Without hesitation, she hit send, then powered down the phone and shoved it into a drawer of her desk as though silencing it could bury the past along with it.

As the day wound to a close, she gathered her things, her mind still spinning as she headed toward the elevator. She'd just reached for the button when she saw him standing there, waiting, his hands in his pockets.

"Carter," he greeted her with that familiar, casual tone that sent her heart racing despite herself.

"Colonel," she managed, her gaze suddenly very interested in the elevator's button as they waited.

"So…heading home?" he asked, his voice light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

She felt her throat tighten.

"Uh…yes," she managed, keeping her eyes fixed on the elevator door.

The doors slid open, and he gestured for her to enter first. She stepped inside, feeling the tension simmering in the small space as he joined her. Silence filled the elevator as they ascended toward the surface, both caught in a battle of thoughts they weren't quite ready to share. But as the doors opened and they stepped out into the cool evening air, Sam relaxed slightly, relieved to make it to her car without another awkward word passing between them.

She had almost reached her car when she felt his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Startled, she turned to face him, finding herself at eye level thanks to her heels. His intense gaze and the faint smile playing at the corner of his lips were nearly enough to make her forget how to breathe.

"Want to have dinner with me?" he asked, his voice soft but sure.

Her eyes widened in surprise, her grip loosening on her bag as she tried to process what he'd just said.

"What?" she blurted, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"Dinner, Carter. You know—food, like we had at the cabin," he said, trying—and failing—to hide the hint of amusement in his voice. "I could give you another cooking lesson."

Sam felt a blush spread over her cheeks as she struggled to composure.

"Ah… a lesson?" she stammered, suddenly feeling about as eloquent as a teenager.

Jack's grin widened, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction more than he should.

"Yeah. You told me you don't cook but didn't mind learning. And I'm an excellent teacher," he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Plus, this time, I actually have ingredients. So…what do you say?"

Sam swallowed, her brain scrambling to catch up.

"I… I guess…we could…"

She could practically feel her brain grinding to a halt, the words catching in her throat as she tried to devise a coherent answer. Jack's eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched her stumble over her reply.

"Good," he said, giving her a satisfied nod. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' So…do you want to drive separately, or we could go in my truck?"

She blinked, the spell breaking as she looked down at her shiny black Mercedes.

"Mine. I'll drive mine," she said quickly, straightening her shoulders.

Jack chuckled, clearly entertained.

"Alright, Carter. How about you follow me?"

She nodded, her face heating even more as she made a quick exit toward her car. She climbed into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. She glanced up, catching a glimpse of Jack in his truck just ahead.

"What the hell am I doing?" she mumbled as she started the engine and followed him.