The following day, back at the base, Sam felt the glow of the night still lingering, her steps light as she made her way through the corridors. She couldn't help but smile as she passed familiar faces, the knowledge of her time with Jack feeling like a sweet, private memory. But she had someone else on her mind this morning, too. Turning toward the infirmary, Sam spotted Janet hunched over a stack of files at her desk, looking exhausted.

"Late night?" Sam asked, feigning innocence as she entered.

Janet jumped, startled, but quickly smoothed her expression, though a faint blush hinted she'd been caught off guard.

"Oh, Sam. I didn't expect to see you here so early. Is everything okay?"

"Me?" Sam leaned against the counter, crossing her arms with a sly smile. "Oh, I'm just here to check on my best friend, who looks like she didn't get much sleep. At all."

Janet sighed, covering her face with her hands for a moment before looking up and meeting Sam's teasing gaze.

"Alright, alright. Go ahead. I can see that look on your face."

Sam grinned, pretending to examine Janet critically.

"Hmm. Let's see. Tired eyes, faint blush… You wouldn't happen to know what that's all about, would you?"

"Sam!" Janet said, swatting at her friend's arm. "It's not like that! We just—well… okay, maybe it's a little like that."

Sam's grin widened.

"A little? Janet, please. Daniel practically had hearts in his eyes last night, and I don't think I'm the only one who noticed."

Janet huffed, a bit flustered, but she couldn't stop the smile from tugging at her lips.

"So you're saying the entire base knows?"

"Not yet," Sam replied, stifling a laugh. "But I'd say Teal'c picked up on it, and Kawalsky definitely did not. Jack, of course, noticed."

Janet shook her head, giving Sam an exasperated look.

"And here I thought you'd be the first to spill secrets."

"Hey, you're one to talk! How long were you planning to keep it from me?" Sam teased, leaning closer. "Come on, spill. Are you and Daniel… something now?"

Janet's cheeks flushed a little deeper, but she shrugged, her gaze softening.

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe. He's… he's a wonderful guy. It's just been… well, nice, you know? Being with someone who really gets it. And, um, he's pretty incredible… in bed," Janet admitted, her cheeks flushing even more.

Sam raised an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

"Well, I'd hope so, considering the research he probably puts into everything. Let me guess—he studied ancient texts to perfect his technique?"

Janet let out a surprised laugh, swatting Sam playfully. "Stop it! You're impossible."

Sam grinned, crossing her arms.

"Hey, I'm just saying. Knowing Daniel, he probably has a whole annotated scroll on the subject."

Janet groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Why am I even telling you this?"

"Because I'm asking," Sam replied, her smile softening. "And for what it's worth, I think it's great. You deserve someone who gets you, Janet. Who makes you happy. And Daniel is one of the best."

Janet peeked at her through her fingers, her blush still lingering.

"Thanks, Sam. That means a lot. Even if you're going to tease me mercilessly about it."

Sam leaned back with a grin.

"Oh, absolutely."

Janet gave her a grateful smile, but she couldn't resist a little payback.

"Speaking of one of the best... how was your night, Doctor Carter?"

Sam felt her cheeks warm as she cleared her throat, trying to play it cool.

"Oh, you know… uneventful. Just, uh, enjoyed some… quiet time."

"Uh-huh," Janet said, arching an eyebrow. "And does 'quiet time' usually involve Colonel O'Neill?"

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but then both women burst out laughing, the shared moment lightening the room.

"You know, maybe we're not so different after all," Janet said, nudging Sam's shoulder. "Seems we both have a soft spot for strong-willed men."

Sam shook her head, still smiling.

"Guess we do. But Janet… don't think I won't be asking you for details next time we go out."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of denying you the full scoop," Janet said with a grin. "But remember, that goes both ways."

Sam laughed, finally conceding. "Deal. We're in this together."

The two shared a look of camaraderie and understanding, their friendship strengthened by their shared secrets and the knowledge that they'd be there for each other through it all. At that moment, Sam realized that no matter what else might come, she was exactly where she was meant to be—at a base where she made an actual impact with her work, with Jack, and with friends who felt like family.

The day Sam both dreaded and longed for had finally arrived—the day she'd learn her fate at the SGC. General Hammond had called a meeting for 0900 sharp, and as the hour approached, Sam found herself taking several steadying breaths in the quiet of her office. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she clenched her hands to stop the faint tremble.

She needed to regain her composure, to pull herself together. Whatever decision awaited her, she couldn't afford to crack. There would be no room for hesitation or weakness. If she stayed, it would mean continuing the work she was so passionate about. If she left... well, she wasn't ready to think about that.

Straightening her blazer and squaring her shoulders, Sam drew one final breath. When she stepped into that room, she would be every bit the unshakable professional they expected her to be, no matter the outcome. Doctor Samantha Carter, the ice queen in the medical society, had a reputation to defend.

The briefing room was filled with a tense, expectant silence as SG-1, Janet, and General Hammond gathered. General Hammond stood at the head of the table, his expression serious. He scanned the room, his gaze resting on Sam, who sat with a composed exterior that belied the rapid thrum of her heartbeat.

"Doctor Carter," Hammond began, his voice low and measured, "when you arrived at the SGC, your position here was exceptional, to say the least. You came to us under extraordinary circumstances—circumstances that, frankly, raised significant concerns since, from the beginning, you expressed your desire to leave."

Sam felt every eye turn to her, but she focused on Hammond. The room seemed to close around her, the weight of old choices pressing down.

"It is no secret to those present," Hammond continued, "that you used highly unorthodox channels to try and remove yourself from this base, including direct contact with the Chief of Staff of the President. This action was viewed as a breach of protocol—an attempt to circumvent command and, as such, it could not be ignored. Initially, I was inclined to terminate your association with the SGC. Your motivations were unclear, and I needed to ensure your intentions here were genuine. So, the trial period you've been experiencing."

The air in the room grew taut. Sam's chest tightened, but she remained silent, refusing to shrink under the weight of his words.

Hammond's expression softened slightly.

"Over these past months, I have watched you closely. I've observed your work with our personnel—your tireless dedication to their well-being and your willingness to face adversity and earn the trust of those around you. You demonstrated a commitment that went far beyond mere obligation. You proved that you weren't here for self-serving reasons but because you truly believed in what we do."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "You turned a difficult situation into an opportunity to help others, and, in the process, you earned the respect and trust of many on this base—including mine."

Hammond straightened, his voice regaining its commanding tone.

"After a thorough evaluation and consultation with the Pentagon, I am authorized to make this decision official. Doctor Carter, you are no longer on a trial basis. You are approved to stay on as the base psychiatrist with the full confidence and backing of the higher ranks. Your actions may have made us question your place here, but your dedication has shown us you belong."

A brief silence followed before Hammond stepped back, his gaze never leaving Sam.

"Congratulations, Doctor."

The room seemed to exhale as one. Relief and pride rose in Sam's chest, but her voice wavered when she spoke.

"Thank you, General. I… I won't let you down."

"You already haven't," Hammond replied, a rare smile breaking through. "Welcome to the team—officially."

Daniel leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face.

"So, anyone else up for a celebratory drink? Preferably not base coffee."

Teal'c inclined his head, his voice resonant. "Doctor Carter, your presence here honors us all."

Janet squeezed Sam's hand under the table, eyes bright with emotion.

"You did it, Sam. You really did."

Sam took a deep breath as congratulations poured in; the tension that had haunted her finally lifted. She met Hammond's eyes again, and at that moment, she knew she had earned her place—not as a visitor, not as a figure under scrutiny, but as a trusted member of the SGC family.

Jack was silently looking at her. No words were necessary. His eyes told her everything she needed to know,

The briefing room buzzed with warmth and laughter, but beneath it all was the recognition of a hard-fought victory—and the realization that Sam had indeed found where she belonged.

The evening was quiet as Sam and Jack sat down to dinner, but the atmosphere felt charged, carrying a tension Jack couldn't quite pin down. Sam pushed her food around her plate, her usual lively conversation absent. She was distant, her eyes unfocused, and Jack noticed she barely touched her food.

"You've hardly said a word since I got back from the base," Jack said, breaking the silence. He studied her, watching for a crack in her composed mask, but she only offered a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, I'm just tired, that's all," she replied, looking down at her plate. "Long day at the office, Hammond's decision, you know..."

Jack set down his fork, leaning forward to catch her gaze.

"Sam, come on. It's me. What's going on?"

She forced a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Though she was relieved and happy about Hammond's decision, something held her back from fully savoring the moment—her moment.

"Nothing, really. I just… I know you have a big mission tomorrow."

He nodded, still watching her.

"Yeah. But that's not exactly new, is it?"

"No, I know." She tried to sound casual, but her voice came out too tight. "It's just… you'll be going off-world with SG-1 again. And it's your first mission since you've been reinstated."

Jack frowned, the weight of her words settling over him. This was her first time watching him leave for a mission as his partner, and he realized it must feel different for her now.

"Sam, I know it's not easy. But you knew what this would be like."

She stiffened, her walls going up a notch, like she was back in D.C., locked behind the same armor she used when life got too personal.

"Of course, I knew, Jack," she said briskly. "I knew the risks long before we were together. It's not a big deal."

Jack's brow furrowed. He recognized this side of her, the hardened professional who shut down anything that threatened her composure. But he also saw through it now.

"Sam, talk to me. Don't go all D.C. on me now."

She looked away, her jaw tight.

"I'm not going 'D.C.' on you," she said, voice clipped. "It's just… I think it's better if I focus on the work here. You don't need to worry about me."

Jack's frustration grew as he watched her, feeling her pulling away.

"I'm not worried about the work here, Sam. I'm worried about you." He softened his voice, reaching for her hand, but she pulled back.

"I don't need to be worried about, Jack. I need to do my job here, and you need to do yours out there. It's how it has to be," she said firmly, her gaze hardening.

He took a slow breath, trying to understand.

"Sam, this is my work. You know that. I understand this is difficult for you because you've never been off-world, but it's my job."

She met his eyes, and he could see the flicker of fear she was trying to hide.

"You're right. I have never been off-word, and it is your job. But it's different now. You're… different to me now."

The admission caught her off guard, and she looked down, visibly retreating. Jack reached for her hand again, holding it gently this time.

"Sam, I understand. But this is the life we both chose. And if we're going to do this, we have to trust each other. Trust that I'll come back."

She pulled her hand away, setting her jaw. "It's not that simple, Jack."

Frustration flared up in him now, and he leaned back, his voice sharper.

"It is that simple, Sam. Either you trust me, or you don't."

She stiffened at his words, and for a moment, they stared at each other, feeling the weight of their unspoken fears. Finally, she stood up, her expression unreadable.

"I'm going to bed," she said, her voice flat, and she walked away without another word.

Jack sighed, watching her retreat down the hallway, her pencil blue skirt swaying slightly, paired perfectly with the tailored dark blue shirt that hugged her figure. She had ditched her heels earlier, opting to go barefoot as they made dinner, a small habit of hers that he'd come to love. Part of him wanted to follow her, to say something that would ease the tension between them, but he knew she needed space. With a quiet sigh, he tidied up the kitchen, turned off the lights, and went to the bedroom. She was already in bed, lying on her side and facing away from him, her body tense and unyielding. He slid in beside her, but neither of them spoke, the silence between them dense and unmoving.

Hours passed in the dark, and Jack lay awake, his mind reviewing their argument, the weight of their new reality sinking in. Since he had met her, he'd been with Sam through countless challenges, but this was different. Now, the stakes were deeply personal. He closed his eyes to ease his mind, but sleep was elusive.

He felt a faint movement beside him in the middle of the night. Sam was shifting closer, her breath unsteady. Then, tentatively, she reached for him, her arm slipping around his waist, and he felt her body press gently against his back, her silk nightgown brushing his skin. Her touch was hesitant at first, as though she wasn't sure if he'd welcome her after their argument, but he covered her hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

A quiet sniffle broke the silence, and he realized she was crying. He turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Her face was buried against his chest, her quiet sobs muffled, and he stroked her back gently, offering silent comfort.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I just… I don't know how to do this."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice soft.

"Hey, it's okay. I know it's hard. I get it. But Sam, I'll be careful. I have a good reason to come back now."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears, searching his face. "Promise?"

He brushed a tear from her cheek, his thumb lingering on her skin.

"I promise. I'll do everything I can to come back to you."

She let out a shaky breath, her hand resting against his chest. Her fingers felt his heart's steady, reassuring beat beneath them.

"I just… I'm afraid of losing you, Jack."

Her voice trembled as she spoke, and she knew it wasn't just the words—it was everything behind them. Sam had never been off-world, but she didn't have to be. As the base psychiatrist, she lived the horrors vicariously through every story she heard, every broken voice recounting the nightmares they still faced. The enemies they described sounded like something from the depths of hell: relentless, ruthless, and utterly alien. She knew about the injuries that left scars far deeper than what could be seen, about the teammates who never came back and the ones who did but weren't the same anymore.

Sometimes, she wished she didn't know. That her imagination wasn't so vivid, wasn't so ruthless. Because the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more vividly they formed. She could see Jack in those stories—trapped, wounded, or worse, the light in his eyes extinguished by some unthinkable force. And her mind filled in the blanks with cruel precision, painting vivid pictures of the horrors he might face out there, beyond the gate.

"Sam…" Jack's voice pulled her back, soft and steady, the grounding force she desperately needed. His hand covered hers, warm and solid, anchoring her to the present. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."

She wanted to believe him, but her imagination—her worst enemy—whispered otherwise. The what-ifs lingered, shadows she couldn't banish, but she held onto the rhythm of his heartbeat, letting it drown out the storm in her mind.

He held her close, and slowly, their breathing fell into sync. Her hands traced light patterns over his chest, grounding herself in his feel, her fear melting away as his warmth wrapped around her. Their lips met softly, tentatively, and deepening, and as they moved closer, she felt the tension between them dissolve.

They lost themselves in each other, their touches tender yet fierce, filled with the unspoken promise that no distance or mission would change what they shared. He was hers, and she was his, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. Wrapped in his arms, Sam found a peace that quieted her fears, if only for a little while.

Hours later, as dawn began to seep through the windows, they lay together in the quiet, her head on his chest, his hand tracing lazy circles on her back. Neither wanted to break the silence, knowing he'd soon have to leave. But as she drifted back to sleep, she felt a new kind of strength within her—a faith in him, in them, that would see them through whatever lay ahead.

When she woke again, the room was empty, but on her nightstand was a note in Jack's handwriting: "Be back soon, Carter. Promise."

The day after SG-1 left for their mission to P7X-639, Sam returned to her usual rounds at the SGC. But despite her attempts to focus, her mind kept drifting back to Jack and the team, picturing them out there facing whatever unknown dangers awaited. She felt a restlessness she couldn't shake, and her usual concentration faltered.

Midway through her third session of the day, she realized she hadn't heard a word the young Captain seated across from her had said. He had been recounting a recent encounter off-world, but her thoughts had wandered. Embarrassed and frustrated with herself, she cut the session short, apologizing and offering to reschedule. The Captain seemed more than understanding, but Sam couldn't shake the guilt gnawing at her.

With her appointments cleared, Sam went to the infirmary, searching for Janet. More than anything, she needed to talk and unload the worry tying her in knots. Janet was seated at her desk, reviewing files, her eyes catching Sam's immediately. Janet raised an eyebrow, sensing Sam's mood.

"Rough day?" Janet asked gently, gesturing for Sam to sit.

Sam heaved a weary sigh as she sat across from her friend, rubbing her temples.

"More than you realize. They've only been gone a few hours, and I already feel like I'm falling apart. This is so... not me."

Janet's expression softened with understanding. "It's never easy when they're off-world, especially when you care about someone on the team. But, Sam… you've been through this before."

"Have I?" Sam looked up at her, a hint of something strange in her eyes. "I mean, yes, I've seen them going off-world once, facing risks, but… it was different. Now that it's Jack, I… I don't know how to handle it. Whenever I think about them out there, something inside me just… panics."

Janet gave her a sympathetic smile.

"It's real for you now; in a way, it wasn't the last time they went. He's not just your patient anymore. He's… well, he's Jack. And it's natural to feel that extra layer of worry."

Sam shook her head, looking down at her hands.

"It's like I can't do anything but sit here, useless, while they're out there facing God-knows-what. I've always been able to compartmentalize, to do my job, but now… I feel like I'm drowning, Janet. I'm still in a world that I don't know or understand half of it."

Janet reached across, placing a comforting hand over Sam's.

"You're not useless, Sam. You're here, supporting them in ways you might not even realize. And sometimes, all we can do is trust them to come back to us."

Sam's voice cracked slightly as she replied, "But what if something happens? What if he doesn't come back?"

Janet squeezed her hand, her gaze steady.

"Sam, there are no guarantees in this line of work, but you know as well as I do that Jack's one of the best. He's smart, careful… and stubborn as hell. And right now, you must trust that he'll do everything possible to make it back. Not just for the mission, but for you."

Sam took a shaky breath, nodding slowly as Janet's words sank in.

"I know. But it's like… like everything I felt for him, all the things I tried to keep hidden, are so much stronger now that we're together. I thought I could keep it separate, but every time I think about him out there…"

Janet gave her a soft, knowing smile.

"That's love, Sam. Messy, complicated, and sometimes painful. But it's also the thing that makes all of this worth it. You're allowed to feel scared. But you also have to keep living and do your work. Doctor Carter, you're still you, and this base still needs you."

Sam looked up, feeling a sense of relief.

"Thank you, Janet."

"Anytime," Janet replied, giving her a supportive smile. "And believe me, I understand. I've had my own share of long nights wondering if they'd make it back in one piece. And now I worry about Daniel, too."

They shared a look of camaraderie, a silent acknowledgment of the silent burdens they both carried for the people they loved. Janet squeezed Sam's hand one last time, her expression a mix of reassurance and strength.

"So, you just focus on what you can control, alright? Jack's out there doing what he does best, and you're here, keeping things together until he's back. You've got this."

Sam nodded, a newfound determination settling in. She had friends here who understood her struggles and supported her in ways she'd never allowed in D.C. And, as hard as it was, she realized she'd found something worth holding on to—even in the uncertainty.

All she could do for now was trust Jack to return safely. And with Janet's encouragement, she took a deep breath, ready to face whatever came next.

Too restless to focus on her work and too worried about Jack and SG-1 to keep herself still, Sam wandered back to an idea that had been at the back of her mind for weeks now: updating her office's drab, sterile atmosphere. She needed something to keep her occupied, something she could dive into to chase away her gnawing worry for a few hours.

By midday, Sam had decided and found herself outside General Hammond's office. She knocked, and when his familiar voice called for her to enter, she stepped in with a determined look.

"Doctor Carter," he greeted with a kind smile, noting her unusual energy. "What can I do for you?"

"General," she began, "I wanted to revisit a request I made when I arrived. It's about my office decor. I think it's time for an overhaul."

General Hammond nodded, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully.

"I remember you mentioning it. You said it needed a more welcoming atmosphere. The budget's tight as ever, though—most of it's already earmarked for mission supplies. But I might be able to get you some basic funding to cover a new coat of paint."

Sam smiled, appreciating his effort.

"That's a start, General. I'd be more than happy to cover the rest from my pocket if it means getting the right pieces in place. I want to create a space where people feel at ease, somewhere that doesn't scream 'military headquarters.'"

Hammond gave her a nod, admiring her commitment.

"Understood, Doctor. I'll approve the request to get you some paint supplies, but the rest…" He paused, glancing at her. "You're sure you want to handle that yourself?"

"Absolutely," Sam said with a nod. "It'll be worth it if it means people feel comfortable enough to open up."

Hammond chuckled.

"All right, Doctor. Good luck with it. And, between us, you might be doing this base a big favor. We could all use a corner that feels a little more human around here."

Armed with approval, Sam dove into her plans. She called the interior decorator who helped her design her D.C. office, surprising her with a new vision.

"Oh, this is quite a change from the formal elegance we went for before," her decorator, Monica, remarked over the phone. "Tell me more about what you're envisioning."

"Monica, this time, I'm looking for warmth," Sam said, leaning forward as she described her thoughts. "Calming colors, softer textures. No more rigid, executive-style furniture. Forget D.C. style and think comfortable chairs, natural wood, and maybe a few plants. I want people to feel like they're in a place where they can breathe."

"Sounds lovely," Monica replied, her tone thoughtful. "You're looking at colors in the warm neutrals, then? Maybe some sage green, soft grays, and touches of warm beige?"

Sam considered it.

"That's perfect. I want it to be subtle but inviting. Something that feels grounding. Can we get samples shipped in? But also send them by email so I can start deciding."

"Of course," Monica replied. "I'll send a few options your way, and we can start brainstorming furniture too. You mentioned something about a complete layout change?"

"Yes," Sam said, her enthusiasm growing. "The current setup feels like an interrogation room. I want a space that feels more open. Maybe a round table instead of a desk. Something less formal. And seating that's comfortable without being oversized. I don't have much space like in D.C., but I know you'll do your magic."

Monica laughed.

"That's a tall order, but we can absolutely make it happen. I'll send some sketches. Let's create an oasis of relaxation in there."

The following day was a whirlwind of decisions, colors, and textures. Boxes began arriving at the base with paint samples, fabric swatches, and furniture catalogs. Sam enlisted a small team to help repaint, starting with a gentle, warm beige on the walls to soften the concrete's sterility. By the end of the first day, the color had already transformed the space, giving it a softness that felt almost like home.

SG-1 was supposed to arrive in two days.

Sam scrutinized each piece as the new furniture arrived, ensuring her vision for the office was coming together. She'd selected two cozy armchairs in a warm gray, upholstered soft, textured fabric that invited comfort without sacrificing professionalism. Their clean lines and subtle curves lent an air of sophistication, striking the perfect balance between welcoming and grounded.

Gone were the cold, impersonal metal chairs; in their place were matching ottomans, offering patients the choice to sit more comfortably, their feet up if they preferred. A low coffee table in rich walnut wood sat between the chairs, its smooth surface adorned with a small vase of fresh flowers and a neatly stacked selection of books—carefully chosen to signal thoughtfulness, not clutter.

Sam had replaced the harsh fluorescent overhead lights with adjustable, warm-toned lamps placed strategically around the room. Their soft glow illuminated the space in a way that felt inviting but still professional, banishing any sense of sterility.

She added subtle touches to soften the atmosphere further—a deep blue area rug under the seating area, a few framed art prints depicting calming landscapes on the walls, and a sleek, modern bookshelf that housed clinical references and a few personal favorites. A small corner table held a tray with a carafe of water and a selection of teas, offering her patients a quiet gesture of hospitality.

Behind her desk, Sam opted for a high-back chair in matching gray leather, offering both comfort and authority. The desk, crafted from the same walnut as the coffee table, was clutter-free, with only a minimalist desk organizer and her computer.

The room exuded calm professionalism, where people could feel at ease while knowing they were in capable hands. As Sam took a step back to survey the space, she felt a quiet pride. It was no longer just an office but a sanctuary—a space where healing could happen.

Janet stopped by as the space came together, a smile spreading as she took in the changes.

"Sam, this is incredible. It's like you're creating a little sanctuary here."

"That's the idea," Sam replied, smiling as she arranged a few decorative items. She had chosen smooth stones and a small, calming fountain that emitted a soft, trickling sound, giving the room peace. "I want this to feel like somewhere people actually want to come to, not just another room they're forced into."

Janet ran her hand over one of the new chairs approvingly.

"I think you've nailed it. I can't wait to see how people react."

As the final touches arrived, Sam added a few personal items to warm the space: a tall indoor plant and a simple wooden clock she had brought back from D.C. The clock reminded her of where she had come from and how far she had traveled.

She had Master Sergeant Siler to thank for helping put everything together—he only managed to cut one finger in the process, which, as Janet pointed out, was remarkable given his usual track record.

Monica called to check in once everything was in place.

"How's it looking, Sam? I hope it's everything you envisioned."

"It's perfect," Sam replied, her voice soft with gratitude. "I think it's going to make a huge difference."

Sam stood in the doorway with everything arranged, taking in the final result. Gone were the stark, unwelcoming surfaces and clinical lighting. Now, her office felt alive and warm, where people could finally breathe. The anxiety that had gnawed at her over the past few days began to settle, replaced by a quiet pride in her work.

Later that afternoon, Janet returned, admiring the completed space with an approving nod.

"This is incredible, Sam. I don't think I've seen anything like it at the SGC."

Sam smiled, a weight lifting from her shoulders. "It's just what we needed. And, you know, if this keeps me busy while Jack and SG-1 are off-world… all the better."

Janet gave her a knowing smile. "Well, you've created a space to comfort many people here. Including yourself."

Sam laughed softly, nodding.

"Yeah… I needed this more than I realized."

In the quiet of her new office, Sam felt something she hadn't felt in days: peace.