The following morning, Sam sat at her desk, mentally steeling herself for the impending session with Jack. She anticipated resistance, perhaps even antagonism, but she had resolved to press through and confront the unresolved questions he continued to evade.
Jack entered, his presence tense but self-assured, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He sat down, crossing his arms.
"Colonel," she began in her usual calm, clinical tone. "I want to revisit some of the questions we discussed last time."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sure, Doc. But I've got some questions of my own."
Samantha paused, taken aback by his assertive tone but intrigued.
"Usually, this is not how it works, but alright, Colonel. Go ahead."
His gaze was sharp, and he leaned forward, surprising her with his bluntness.
"You've got all these files on me. You read through them, analyze every detail of my life, and I get it—that's your job. But here's a question for you, Doc. Why don't you have a life of your own?"
Her professionalism wavered, a flicker of irritation rising.
"I have a life, Colonel, as you can see."
"A life filled with files and therapy sessions," he countered, voice laced with challenge. "But I don't see anything here that looks… lived in."
Samantha stiffened, gripping her notebook.
"You assume a lot, Colonel. But we're here to discuss you."
Jack wasn't backing down.
"Let me guess: You spend your days listening to other people's problems, but God forbid you let anyone close enough to see yours."
She was silent, the accusation stinging in a way she hadn't anticipated. He had hit something buried, something she kept hidden even from herself.
"That's irrelevant to this session," she replied tightly, pushing down the sudden vulnerability.
"Is it?" Jack's voice was dangerously calm. "Because it seems like you hide behind this 'professional' mask and dig into other people's lives so you don't have to face your own."
Sam's eyes flashed, her professional detachment crumbling as her frustration surfaced.
"And what would you know about facing yourself, Colonel? You've spent years burying yourself in military missions to avoid dealing with your son's death, your broken marriage."
The words hung in the air, and she immediately regretted them. Jack's jaw clenched, his expression darkening, but she wasn't done.
"Or maybe," she continued, her voice quieter, controlled, "you hide behind sarcasm and deflection because you're afraid—afraid to confront the things that hurt you the most."
He let out a humorless laugh, his face hard.
"Afraid? You think I'm afraid?" He stood, looming over her, his anger barely restrained. "I've lost people. I've faced death more times than I care to count. And maybe I carry a lot of anger, but don't pretend you know what it's like to live with thosechoices."
A silence settled between them, thick with tension. Sam realized she had crossed a line—yet she couldn't back down now. She forced herself to look him in the eye, meeting the raw anger there with a steady gaze.
"Maybe I don't understand, Colonel," she said softly, her voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. "But that's why I'm here. To help you find a way through the pain you refuse to acknowledge."
He stared at her, a flicker of something unnamable in his eyes before he spoke again, his voice dangerously soft.
"And who's going to help you?"
The question caught her off-guard, and she felt a surge of defensiveness.
"That's not part of this discussion," she replied sharply, rising to regain control.
"Maybe it should be," he retorted, stepping closer, his voice barely a whisper. "You push everyone away, hiding behind your work. But I see it, Sam. You're just as scared as I am—maybe even more."
The use of her name, so raw and unexpected, pierced through her defenses. She could feel her composure slipping, a rush of emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years bubbling up, threatening to break the surface. Her voice shook as she answered, "That's enough, Colonel. I think we're done for today."
Without another word, she turned and walked to the door, passing the card with a trembling hand. "Please leave."
Jack paused, his gaze lingering on her momentarily as if contemplating saying something more.
"One of these days, we're going to talk about that painting in your fancy office back in D.C.," he said, his eyes holding hers. "You know, the one with those sweeping lines and muted, stormy colors… I think it'll make for an interesting discussion, Doc."
Sam stood by the open door, waiting silently.
Jack gave a slight nod, then turned and walked out, leaving her alone in the quiet echo of his words.
The moment the door closed, Sam let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the edge of her desk as she struggled to regain control. The session had unraveled everything she had tried to keep tightly controlled, and she felt the weight of his accusations pressing in on her, refusing to be ignored.
After a moment, she composed herself enough to head to General Hammond's office. The turmoil inside her demanded an escape, so she knocked on his door, her voice strained as she spoke.
"General, I need some time away from the base. Just… a few hours."
Hammond took one look at her and nodded.
"Of course, Doctor. I'll have Dr. Fraiser accompany you."
Later, as she and Janet walked through the nearby gardens, Sam's mind replayed the session, her heart still pounding from the tension between her and Jack. Janet glanced at her, eyes full of concern.
"You don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to," Janet said gently, "but… Sam, what happened?"
Sam shook her head, a bitter smile crossing her face.
"I lost control, Janet. He got to me—he tore down every wall, and… I couldn't keep it together."
Janet put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Sometimes that's what it takes, Sam. Maybe… maybe it's what you both needed."
They sat on a nearby bench, the fresh air soothing Sam's frayed nerves as she tried to make sense of the unexpected rising emotions between her and Colonel Jack O'Neill.
After a while, Sam and Janet continued their walk along the perimeter of the park, silence settling between them as Sam took deep, measured breaths to steady herself. The crisp air felt refreshing, a welcome change from the stifling tension of the session that had just rattled her. Janet watched her friend with a careful, assessing gazebutheld her tongue, respecting Sam's need for quiet.
After a few minutes, Janet spoke, keeping her voice gentle.
"I'm glad you took some time, Sam. Whatever happened… it looks like you needed this break."
Sam nodded but didn't meet Janet's eyes.
"I didn't expect… I didn't expect things to go this way," she murmured, her jaw tightening.
Janet gave her an encouraging smile, but her curiosity was undeniable.
"Sounds like things got intense."
Sam took a breath, holding it for a moment.
"Intense isn't the word," she replied, eyes narrowing as she looked into the distance. Her lips pressed together, and Janet saw that familiar wall rise in her friend's expression, making it clear Sam wasn't ready to talk.
They walked silently for a few more minutes until Sam stopped, squaring her shoulders, determination returning to her eyes.
"I think I'm ready to go back."
Janet nodded, and together, they returned to the SGC. They rode the elevator in silence, but the moment the doors opened, Sam's heart dropped as she saw Jack standing just a few feet away, talking to an officer. He looked up, his expression morphing from surprise to concern as he saw her.
For an instant, Sam froze. She couldn't face him, not now, not with everything still simmering beneath the surface. Without a word, she turned sharply, striding down the corridor away from him, her heels echoing loudly.
Jack's brow furrowed in confusion as he watched her retreating figure. He turned to Janet, who was lingering nearby.
"Doc… what just happened? Why is she…?" Jack's words trailed off, concern etching deep lines in his face.
Janet gave him a patient look.
"She asked to go outside for some air. I think she needed a break."
Jack's frown deepened. "From what? From… our session?"
Janet didn't answer directly, but her expression softened.
"Jack, I think she just needs a little space right now. Whatever happened, maybe give her some time to cool off."
Jack's expression shifted, an unusual mix of worry and frustration crossing his face.
"Space. Yeah, sure. I didn't think it was… that bad. We just chat."
Janet didn't offer more, and after a hesitant moment, Jack turned and left, glancing back once as if hoping Sam might still reappear.
Meanwhile, Sam made her way to General Hammond's office, her mind still racing. She took a moment to collect herself, then knocked briskly and entered at his acknowledgment.
"Doctor Carter," Hammond greeted, his calm demeanor reassuring. "Is everything alright?"
She gave him a tight smile.
"Yes, General, as good as given the circumstances. I wanted to ask about my accommodations. How soon will I be able to relocate off-base?"
Hammond looked at her, sensing the urgency in her question, and he nodded slowly.
"If all goes well with the paperwork, by the end of the week, Doctor."
Sam felt a slight sense of relief. "Thank you. I… appreciate it."
With a nod of acknowledgment, Hammond watched her leave, a glint of concern in his gaze.
Returning to her quarters, Sam closed the door behind her, exhaling slowly as the silence settled over her. She glanced around, her thoughts still churning from the intensity of her exchange with Jack. She wanted nothing more than to bury herself in work, but her mind was a mess. Every word he'd said, every glare he'd thrown her way was still fresh, her frustration mingling with emotions she wasn't ready to confront. And he had even talked about the painting she had in her office. What the hell?
A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts, and she tensed as she heard Jack's voice on the other side.
"Sam, it's me. Can we talk?"
Her jaw clenched, and she remained silent, hoping he would take the hint and leave. But he knocked again, his tone more insistent.
"Sam, just… just hear me out for a minute."
Finally, she opened the door, her expression stern.
"Colonel, I think we've done enough talking today. I'm done."
The coolness in her tone took him aback, but he quickly masked his surprise with a forced smile.
"Look, I know I… I probably went a little overboard back there. But you were pushing, and I… I pushed back. That's all."
She held up a hand, cutting him off.
"Well, that's not what a therapy session is. You are not in a boxing fight with me, or apparently, you think you are. So now I need some time to think. Alone."
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but the steel in her gaze silenced him. With a frustrated sigh, he nodded.
"Fine. I'll… leave you alone."
He turned and walked away, and Sam closed the door firmly, leaning against it as she took a shaky breath. She needed time to sort out the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She was angry, but there was something else beneath the anger—something unsettling that she wasn't ready to face.
Jack clenched his fists down the hall, his heart pounding as he processed her words. Had he really pushed her that far? Did he go too far this time?
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. Finally, he headed toward the infirmary, hoping Janet might explain what he should do.
Janet looked up as he entered, a hint of surprise on her face.
"Colonel O'Neill. Something I can help you with?"
He leaned against the counter, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Doc, I think I… messed up."
Janet's expression softened with understanding.
"Sam's still shaken up?"
He nodded, running a hand through his hair.
"She told me to leave her alone. Said she's… done."
Janet folded her arms, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
"Jack, Sam is one of the strongest people I know, but… well, she's only human. Sometimes, that strength has limits."
Jack shifted, clearly uncomfortable.
"I didn't mean to upset her like this. I just… she kept pushing, and I pushed back, and now… she's practically giving me the cold shoulder. I just didn't think it would hit her so hard."
Janet nodded slowly.
"Maybe she wasn't ready for what came up. Sometimes, it's not just what we say in these situations—it's when we say it. The two of you have… a unique dynamic, and it looks like it just got out of hand today."
Jack sighed, glancing down at his hands.
"So what do I do? Just… give her space and hope she comes around?"
"Maybe," Janet replied gently. "And maybe… take a good look at what you said and why. Sometimes, we say things to protect ourselves, not just to defend against someone else's words."
Jack looked at her, absorbing her advice with a serious expression.
"You're saying I overreacted?"
Janet offered him a sympathetic smile.
"Just think about it, Jack. Sometimes, the things that hurt us most are the ones we feel we must guard the hardest."
He nodded slowly, her words sinking in. "Thanks, Doc. I… appreciate it."
As he turned to leave, Janet called after him, her voice softer.
"Just… give her time, Jack. She'll come around when she's ready."
Jack nodded, and with one last look, he left, his heart heavy with the realization that he might have to wait a while before making things right. As he walked through the halls of the SGC, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of the emotional storm ahead.
Sam's absence from their next scheduled session was no surprise to Jack. He'd been half-expecting her to cancel after their last exchange, but her excuse of "priority files" for General Hammond was weak at best, and he saw right through it. It wasn't like Sam to avoid confrontation, yet here she was, making herself scarce—and it was starting to get under his skin.
Later that day, Jack joined Daniel, Kawalsky, and Teal'c in the mess hall for lunch, but the mood at the table quickly shifted as Daniel, with his usual curiosity, brought up Sam.
"Have you guys seen her office?" Daniel mused, pushing his glasses up. "I swear, she's the most organized person I've ever met. Every file is color-coded. I think she's even got her pens arranged by ink level."
Kawalsky grinned, shaking his head.
"Yeah, and it doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes. I mean, come on, she's got that whole icy blonde scientist thing going for her. Smart, sharp, legs to die for—what's not to like?"
Jack's hand tightened around his fork as Kawalsky kept talking, and he forced himself to focus on his food, feeling a mix of irritation and something else he didn't care to name.
"And it's not just that she's got brains," Daniel added, oblivious to Jack's growing frustration. "She's got this… presence. She's tough, sure, but there's something more to her. You get the feeling that she's seen things, lived things. Like there's a lot more under the surface than she lets on."
Jack's jaw tightened, and he slammed his fork down, drawing the table's attention as he stood abruptly.
"I've got things to do," he muttered, barely keeping the edge out of his voice. Without waiting for a response, he stalked out of the mess, leaving his half-eaten meal behind.
The men at the table exchanged looks of surprise, except for Teal'c, who raised an eyebrow, watching Jack's retreating figure with mild interest.
"Apparently, O'Neill is starting to become… overly concerned with the reputation of Doctor Carter," Teal'c observed, his tone as calm as ever.
Kawalsky laughed, leaning back in his chair.
"Yeah, looks like the Colonel's got it bad. Maybe he's finally met his match."
Daniel looked thoughtfully toward the door.
"I wouldn't be so sure it's that simple," he murmured. "But something's definitely up."
Throughout the rest of the day, Jack couldn't shake the simmering frustration from earlier. He'd been looking for Carter at every turn, hoping for a chance to confront her, to talk this whole mess out—but it seemed she was determined to avoid him. He checked the labs, her office, andeven the commissary, but she was nowhere to be found. By late evening, he'd practically given up, resigning himself to head home and get some sleep.
But as he turned a corner on his way out, he caught a glimpse of her. Carter was walking down the hall, wearing dark athletic leggings and a fitted navy tank top that hugged her form. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she held a water bottle in one hand, her eyes focused forward, unaware of his presence.
Curiosity—and something else—drove him to follow her. He kept his distance, shadowing her as she made her way to the base gym. It was past midnight, and he was sure the place would be empty. Sure enough, when she pushed open the door and walked in, there wasn't another soul in sight.
He slipped inside quietly, hiding in the shadows, and watched as she put on her earphones, selected some music, and mounted one of the treadmills, setting her pace to an intense sprint. She started running, her stride strong and relentless, each step pounding out a steady, unyielding rhythm. Her face was focused, her jaw set in a way that spoke of determination—but something in her expressionmade Jack's chest tighten.
He didn't leave. He stood there, watching as she ran for over an hour, sweat trickling down her forehead and arms, her breathing labored but steady. She seemed to be pushing herself to the limit, determined to outrun whatever weighed her.
As the minutes dragged on, Jack's unease deepened. This wasn't just a workout. She was punishing herself, each step carrying a weight beyond physical exhaustion. And then he noticed it—her eyes were glistening, and as she slowed to a stop, stepping off the treadmill, he saw a tear slip down her cheek.
His stomach twisted, guilt hitting him with unexpected force. He turned quickly and left the gym, feeling like he'd intruded on something deeply private. But even as he walked away, her expression lingered in his mind, the memory of her silent, solitary pain haunting him.
The following morning, Jack found himself wandering the halls in a daze, unable to shake the guilt and worry from the night before. He needed advice, someone who could help him understand what to do next. Finally, he went to the infirmary, hoping Janet could shed some light. Again.
Janet looked up from her paperwork as he approached, her eyebrows rising in surprise.
"Colonel O'Neill, two days straight? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Jack ran a hand through his hair, looking more frustrated than usual.
"Doc, I think I might've… screwed things up with Carter."
Janet's expression softened. "Is this still about what happened in your last session?"
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably.
"She canceled our next session, then disappeared. I found her in the gym last night—alone, running like she was being chased. And, uh…" He hesitated, but the memory of her tear-streaked face gnawed at him. "She was… crying, Janet."
Janet's face grew serious as she watched him, her gaze searching.
"Jack, Sam's a strong woman, but she's been through a lot. She was forced to leave her practice, patients, and house and ordered to be here. Maybe things just hit her harder than she expected."
Jack's eyes dropped, guilt and frustration evident in his voice.
"I didn't mean to push her so hard. I was just… defending myself like I always do."
Janet nodded thoughtfully.
"Sometimes, defending ourselves has consequences we don't see immediately. You're in therapy with her, Jack, not sparring with Teal'c. Sam's resilient, but that doesn't mean she's immune to being hurt. Maybe give her some space—let her come to you when she's ready to process things."
Jack nodded slowly, taking in her advice, though it didn't ease the knot in his chest.
"I just… don't want to make things worse."
"Then tread carefully, Jack," Janet said softly. "Sometimes, letting someone know you're there is enough."
Jack swallowed hard and took the advice. He had seen Sam's vulnerability, maybe for the first time, and it had shaken him in a way he wasn't prepared to deal with.