All day, Jack found himself unable to shake the anxiety and uncertainty that had lingered since their fight. He kept checking in on Sam through Daniel and Janet, using any excuse he could find to ensure she was okay without needing to approach her directly. As usual, each report reassured him she was focused and immersed in her work. Yet he knew that even on the surface of "business as usual," something more profound and far more vulnerable was simmering, and he had no idea how or if they'd be able to bridge it.
Jack was ready to head home as the workday ended, hoping they could find some way to move forward. But just as he reached for his keys, the phone rang—a call from the Pentagon, one he couldn't ignore as the base's CO. There was a new, looming threat: the Ori. The brass was worried, pushing for every detail they could get on the SGC's preparations to face this formidable enemy.
The defeat of the Goa'uld, with the invaluable help of the Asgard, who ultimately decided to join the fight, marked a monumental chapter in Earth's history. This victory had once seemed unattainable. The Asgard's intervention had come after persistent treaty violations by the Goa'uld, which shattered the fragile peace they had once upheld. Much of this alliance was due to Jack's persuasive efforts and his close relationship with the Supreme Commander of the Asgard fleet, Thor, after he had met the little gray race quite by accident. But the connection had been immediate to Earth's great benefit in terms of safety and some shared technology. The only thing the Asgard imposed was that they wouldn't intervene in Earth's life unless the planet were in danger. Yet even with the Goa'uld defeated, Earth barely had time to savor the peace.
As SGC leader, Jack took immense pride in knowing the galaxy was safer. Yet one moment stood out as one of the most rewarding during his tenure: the day SG-1 took down Asheran.
It had been a routine mission, or so it seemed. SG-1 had been tasked with scouting an uninhabited world that had once been a minor outpost of the System Lords. The mission promised nothing more than reconnaissance—a quick in-and-out to confirm the planet was abandoned. However, as they scouted the ruins, Teal'c noticed the distinct markings of a Goa'uld known for his cunning and cruelty - Asheran. His heart immediately darkened at the recognition, knowing the pain this Goa'uld had caused to all of them.
Asheran had captured SG-1 during one of their missions and subjected them to relentless torture, notably Jack. Those days had scarred them all, leaving Jack physically battered and emotionally torn—wounds so deep they had led him to meet Sam in her role as a therapist. Asheran vanished shortly after being rescued, evading the SG teams and the Jaffa rebellion for years.
But now, by a twist of fate, he was here.
As SG-1 explored further, the familiar hum of a Goa'uld shield flickered into view, revealing Asheran and a small band of loyal Jaffa attempting to flee through a hidden ship. It was clear he hadn't expected visitors. Asheran ordered his guards to attack when he saw them, and chaos erupted.
The fight was fierce but short-lived. With the experience of countless missions under their belts, SG-1 methodically dismantled the threat. Teal'c's staff weapon blazed with precision, Daniel used cover fire to keep the Jaffa at bay, and Cameron's tactical maneuvers outflanked them entirely. In the end, it was a bullet from Kawalsky's P90 that brought Asheran down as he made a desperate attempt to escape through the ship's ramp. His last words were a guttural hiss of defiance before he fell, lifeless, into the dirt.
The team stood silently for a moment, the weight of the moment settling over them. Then Daniel broke the stillness, his voice steady but tinged with relief.
"It's over."
Kawalsky nodded, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. "After all these years, it's finally over."
Teal'c inclined his head solemnly. "Asheran's end is long overdue. He will torture no one else."
The wormhole disengaged with its usual whoosh, leaving the Gate Room in relative quiet, save for the echoing footsteps of SG-1 as they descended the ramp. Jack stood at the foot of it, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The look on his face suggested he wasn't in the mood for surprises, but from how SG-1 carried themselves, he knew this wasn't a routine mission.
Trailing behind Daniel and Kawalsky, Cameron and Teal'c moved carefully, carrying a heavy black body bag between them. The taut material and their weight spoke volumes, even before a word was said. Jack's gaze immediately zeroed in on the bag, suspicion narrowing his eyes.
Daniel was the first to step forward, with a calm voice but edged with pride.
"Jack," he began, "we thought you'd want to see this."
Jack's eyes flicked from the bag to Daniel and back again.
"What am I looking at, Daniel?"
Teal'c answered as he and Cameron lowered the body carefully to the ground, their movements deliberate and measured.
"You are looking at the remains of Asheran, O'Neill. The Goa'uld who evaded us for years has finally been defeated."
Jack's jaw tightened slightly, his gaze snapping back to the black bag.
"Asheran," he repeated, his tone even though tension rippled beneath it.
"Ran into him on what was supposed to be a simple recon," Kawalsky added, straightening up and rubbing his shoulder. "The guy had a few loyal Jaffa holed up on some forgotten moon. Didn't expect to see us, and it didn't end well for him."
Daniel crossed his arms. "It's over, Jack. After all these years, we finally got him."
Jack stepped forward, his gaze hard as he motioned for the bag to be opened. Teal'c reached down without hesitation, unzipping it to reveal Asheran's lifeless face.
The sight struck Jack harder than he'd anticipated. The memories surged—days of torment and pain that felt both distant and immediate. He inhaled sharply, his expression locked in a careful mask as he studied the face of the Goa'uld who had haunted him for years.
"Damn," he muttered after a long silence, the word low but weighted.
Daniel stepped closer, his voice softer now. "We thought it was important for you to see. To know it's real."
Jack didn't answer immediately, his eyes fixed on Asheran's pale, still features. Finally, he nodded, exhaling slowly.
"Yeah. It's real."
A heavy silence followed, thick with reflection, before Jack straightened, crossing his arms.
"Good work," he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge. "I know this wasn't easy."
Teal'c inclined his head solemnly.
"It was a battle that needed to be fought, O'Neill. Justice has been served."
"Damn right, it has," Kawalsky said, his voice lighter as he stretched his arms. "Didn't think we'd ever catch this guy. Felt good to prove myself wrong."
Jack's lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. "Go get checked out. Debrief at 1700."
The team began to file out, but Daniel lingered, observing Jack. "You okay?"
Jack nodded curtly, his tone subdued. "Yeah. Just... needed to see it."
Daniel gave him a slight, understanding nod before following the others. As the room emptied, Jack was left alone with the body, his thoughts churning.
Asheran was dead. The chapter was finally closed. Yet, the scars he'd left—on Jack and others—would remain. A reminder. A lesson.
"Finally," Jack muttered under his breath. The word carried relief and the weight of everything it had taken to reach this point.
With one last look at the lifeless form, Jack turned and strode out of the room, the faintest trace of closure following in his wake.
Later, as the adrenaline of the mission faded and she was told about what happened, Sam reflected on what it meant in her office. Despite the therapy and years that had passed, there had always been a lingering unease about Asheran—a nagging sense of unfinished business. His death didn't erase the scars, but it gave them all a measure of peace they hadn't known they needed.
Jack stayed late, briefing officials, updating protocols, and answering questions about the Ori until exhaustion began weighing on him. By the time he finally left, it was well past the hour he'd planned to be home.
Meanwhile, Sam had left work at her usual time, noting with sadness that Jack's truck was still in the parking lot. She stopped by the grocery store, picked up a few needed things, and arrived at an empty house. She took a long, hot shower, trying to unwind from the stress of the day and the heavy thoughts she'd faced in her office. She dressed comfortably, then went to the kitchen to start dinner, wanting to create something warm and inviting, hoping they could begin to heal the rift between them. She cooked a simple meal, her hands moving almost automatically as her mind raced with everything she wanted to say to him. But as the minutes slipped into hours, there was still no sign of Jack.
She was about to call him when the front door opened, and Jack finally stepped inside, his face shadowed with exhaustion. His usually confident presence seemed worn down, and for the first time, Sam noticed the lines on his face, the way the day had weighed on him. There, under the bright lights of their home, she saw the sixteen years between them in a way she never had before. It didn't change how she felt about him but made her pause.
"Hey," he said quietly, slipping off his hat and setting it aside.
"Hey," she replied, a gentle concern in her voice. "You look exhausted."
"Yeah," he sighed, beginning to unbutton his jacket. "Last-minute phone call from the Pentagon. It took way longer than I thought it would. Sorry about that."
She forced a small smile, trying to keep things light.
"It's okay, but I'll have to reheat the dinner. It's gone cold."
Jack glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen.
"Ah… I'm not that hungry," he muttered, brushing past her. "I think I'll just go take a shower."
Sam bit her lip, watching him disappear down the hall toward their bedroom. She felt frustrated and hurt as he distanced himself even more. She'd gone through the effort of making dinner and preparing for a conversation about the death of Asheran if he wanted, only to be met with silence. She could feel the emotional distance between them widening again; this time, she knew she couldn't let it go on. She had started it, after all.
After giving him a few minutes, she followed him. Jack had just emerged from the bathroom, wearing a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair damp, and the fatigue still evident in his eyes. She took a steadying breath, ready to do what she'd avoided for so long.
"Jack," she said, standing in the doorway as he looked at her, surprise flickering over his face.
"What is it, Sam?" he asked, his voice weary but gentle.
She entered the room, crossing her arms and searching for the right words. "We need to talk. I know you're tired, but this… can't wait. Not anymore."
He sat on the edge of the bed, nodding slowly.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I'm listening."
She took a deep breath, allowing herself to be vulnerable, to open up in a way that felt foreign and uncomfortable.
"Last night… I didn't mean for things to escalate like that. But this is more than just us arguing over marriage, Jack. This is… this is about things I haven't told you. But I also know that tonight isn't ideal to talk about it because of Asheran's death, and if you want, we… we can talk later," she said quickly.
Jack's expression softened, and he leaned forward slightly.
"That snake's gone, and I'm not losing sleep. But you and me? That's a different story. So, let's get into it. What kind of 'things' are we talking about?"
"Things like Jonas Hanson," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. She watched as his eyes registered the name, a slight frown creasing his brow.
"I remember the name," he said carefully, his tone unreadable. "You told me he was someone from your past, but that was all. I never pushed because I thought… well, I thought you'd tell me if you needed to."
Sam nodded, taking a step closer.
"I know. And I know you've never pushed. But… I think a part of me has held back from this relationship because of him. Because of what happened."
Jack's jaw tightened, and he nodded, silently encouraging her to continue.
"He was… he was everything I thought I wanted at the time," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "We were almost engaged, and I thought we had a future together. But over time, he became… controlling. Manipulative. He wanted things his way and expected me to fit his plans, no questions asked."
Jack's face grew darker as he listened, his hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to stay calm. He was hearing some traces that resembled a lot of Paul Whitaker, and he didn't like them.
"Did he… hurt you, Sam?" he asked, his voice barely controlled.
She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"Yes," Sam admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not in ways that were always obvious, but… yes. I left that relationship feeling broken, like I'd failed somehow. Like something was inherently wrong with me for not wanting the same things he did." She hesitated, her fingers twisting together as she tried to summon the courage to continue.
Jack tilted his head, his brow furrowing in concern. He stayed quiet, giving her the space to say what she needed.
"Jonas was one of the reasons I stopped working at hospitals and eventually opened my private practice," she continued. Her voice was low and steady, but Jack could hear the undercurrent of pain in her words. "There was a bit of… a scandal at St. Elizabeths Hospital."
Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity and concern blending in his expression. He'd read her file extensively, but no scandal was mentioned.
"What kind of scandal?" he asked carefully.
Sam bit her lip, her gaze dropping to her lap.
"I was invited to join a prestigious research project led by the senior psychiatrist on staff, Dr. West. It was an incredible opportunity—one of those once-in-a-lifetime chances to work alongside the best minds in the field." She let out a shaky breath, the memory painful.
"When he publicly offered me the position, Jonas pulled me aside. It was during a reception, with everyone from the hospital present. He accused me of… sleeping with Dr. West to secure the spot." Her voice cracked slightly at the words, but she pressed on. "He didn't just accuse me, Jack. He was angry. Loud. Everyone at the party heard the argument. The gossip started almost immediately, and the damage was done."
Jack's jaw tightened, and his hand clenched into a fist on the bed. He didn't interrupt, though, letting her get it all out.
"Dr. West withdrew the invitation the next day," she said, her voice quieter now, as if speaking the words aloud would bring back the shame and frustration she'd felt then. "It didn't matter that I'd worked so hard to earn that spot. His reputation was on the line, and I was seen as a liability. After that, the whispers never stopped. Every meeting, every glance felt heavy with judgment." She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "I left St. Elizabeths shortly after and broke up with Jonas. He didn't take it well."
Jack raised an eyebrow at that. "How not well?"
Sam hesitated before answering.
"I had to file a restraining order against him. He kept showing up, calling, even sending letters. It was… ugly. He didn't just damage my personal life, Jack. The word about what happened at St. Elizabeths spread fast in the medical community. My reputation took a hit. People whispered that I wasn't trustworthy, that I only got ahead because of favors or—" She stopped, shaking her head.
Jack exhaled sharply, anger bubbling beneath the surface.
"But that's not who you are, Sam. Not even close."
She offered him a small, strained smile.
"I know that now. But at the time, it felt like everything I was starting to build was crumbling. I had to work double, even triple, to prove myself all over again. I started my private practice, working first with the military. Slowly, my work started to get noticed. People began to recommend me. Gradually, I went from being an outcast to someone sought after, especially in D.C." Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "But it wasn't easy, Jack. I fought tooth and nail to rebuild myself."
Jack leaned forward, his hand reaching out to cover hers. His touch was gentle but grounding, steadying her as her voice faltered.
"Sam," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.
She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"You know the rest," she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice cracked under the weight of everything she'd just shared.
Jack tightened his grip on her hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles.
"You didn't just rebuild yourself," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. "You rose above it. You didn't let what he did define you. You're brilliant, Sam. Resilient. And everything you've achieved—everything—you did on your terms. No one can take that away from you."
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she smiled faintly as she blinked it away. For the first time in a long while, she felt seen, not just for her accomplishments but for the strength it had taken to reach them.
"Yeah, but I shut myself off from everyone in that process. Men in particular. No relationships, only casual ones, no feelings attached. That relationship taught me to be guarded, to protect myself from getting hurt again. And I think that's why I pushed you away when you brought up marriage. Because somewhere deep down, I'm still afraid.".
Jack's thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand as he listened, his expression one of quiet understanding.
"Afraid that I'd turn into him? That I'd try to control you?"
She shook her head.
"Not consciously, no. But it's like this part of me is terrified of giving up that final piece of control, of trusting that things could be different this time. I've been so focused on keeping my independence, on staying strong, that I've kept you at a distance without even realizing it."
Jack pulled her closer, his eyes filled with a tenderness that cut through her defenses.
"Sam, you don't have to be afraid of me. I want you exactly as you are. I don't want to change, control, or take away anything that makes you… you."
She leaned into him, her forehead resting against his shoulder as she took in the comfort of his embrace.
"I know," she whispered. "And I want to believe that. I think… I think I'm ready to try."
They held each other in silence, absorbing the moment's weight. The barriers Sam had kept around her heart felt like they were finally breaking down, leaving her vulnerable but strangely free.
After a long silence, Jack spoke, his voice steady.
"We don't have to decide anything right now, Sam. I don't need an answer about marriage tomorrow, or next week, or whenever. All I need is to know that you're with me. That you're willing to let me in, as much as I want to let you in."
She looked up at him, a faint smile crossing her face.
"I am, Jack. And I'm sorry for pushing you away."
He gently kissed her forehead, his hand still holding hers tightly.
"We're in this together, Samantha Carter. No matter what. I love you, and that won't change—ring or no ring."
At that moment, Sam felt a new kind of peace settle over her, one that came from finally allowing herself to trust and let go of the fears that had kept her from truly embracing their love. And as they sat together, holding each other close, she knew that whatever came next, they would face it side by side, without walls, without reservations.
They moved back into the kitchen together, the earlier tension replaced with a quiet understanding that lingered warmly between them. Sam reheated the dinner she'd prepared, carefully stirring the dishes as Jack set the table. Once they sat down, their conversation flowed with an ease that had been missing for days. Small laughter punctuated their words as they shared stories, carefully sidestepping the raw places still healing between them.
Jack's hand reached across the table to brush her fingers, a simple gesture that felt like a promise. He leaned into their conversation, watching her talk with a quiet intensity, the weariness on his face softened by his gentle smile. For the first time, Sam felt herself relaxing completely, the old fears retreating as she let herself just be with him, as she had wanted for so long. The shadows of Jonas Hanson, of past hurts, felt distant now—background noise to the real, present connection she shared with Jack.
As the meal went on, Sam noticed his eyes begin to blink slowly, his posture sagging slightly as fatigue crept up. He would fight to keep himself present, his gaze lifting to her with a stubborn determination, and she couldn't help but smile.
"Jack," she said softly, her voice holding a gentle amusement, "you're about five seconds from face-planting into your dinner."
He chuckled, rubbing his hand over his eyes.
"Nah, I'm just… restin' my eyes," he mumbled, his grin slipping as his eyelids drooped again. "Besides, dinner's worth it."
She smiled, her heart warming at his words. She wanted this—this easy companionship, this comfortable love. As she watched him fight his weariness just to sit with her a little longer, she felt a new resolution rise within her.
After they cleared the plates, she tucked a blanket around him, and he settled into the couch. Sam knew it was time to face her fears head-on. She resolved to work through her emotions about marriage, family, and their future together—for good this time. Jack deserved her complete trust, and she was finally ready to give it.
With one last look at him resting peacefully, she whispered, "We'll get there, Jack. I promise."
His eyes were closed, and he was nearly asleep, but he still heard her words before exhaustion finally claimed him, and he drifted into darkness.
The Ori, their new threat, unleashed a wave of unrelenting turmoil for SG-1 and everyone connected to them. Each mission brought new dangers, testing their strength, resilience, and, above all, their hope. There were close calls with every engagement against the Ori, and each return was laced with tension. With the Asgard now pulling back on support, it was clear the burden rested heavily on Earth's shoulders. Having aided in the defeat of the Goa'uld, the Asgard had explained that their dwindling resources needed to prioritize the survival of their own race rather than Earth's defense. They had provided some advanced weapons and technology but had made it clear they could offer no further intervention. They would "monitor the situation" but, for now, would leave humanity to its own devices.
This absence was deeply felt; every close call with the Ori underscored the challenge of facing this alone.
Outside the base, Daniel and Janet's relationship continued to blossom. After giving her the engagement ring, Daniel spent more time with her when he was off-duty in quiet moments that felt like home. One evening, they sat on Janet's porch, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the neighborhood. Janet turned the ring on her finger, a soft smile on her lips.
"You know," she said, "I wasn't expecting this—any of it. You and me."
Daniel reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Neither was I. But now… I can't imagine it any other way."
Janet chuckled softly. "You're such a romantic, Daniel."
He grinned. "Well, I have to balance out your practical side somehow."
As they laughed, Daniel leaned in and gently kissed her temple. In these moments, the chaos of their work at the SGC faded, leaving only the simplicity of being together.
However, with the Ori now present in their lives like a hangman, Janet watched Daniel, her heart skipping beats as he faced one peril after another, each skirmish a reminder of how fragile their moments together could be. Her fear grew so intense that she eventually confided in Sam, admitting her hesitation about marrying Daniel under such dangerous circumstances. Sam listened empathetically, her gaze steady and warm, and reassured her that her feelings were valid—but this was the life they had chosen, and with that came risks and the need for resilience. Janet nodded, though her expression remained clouded with worry.
Sam, in turn, had her mounting challenges. Her workload at the SGC had become a never-ending avalanche as she took on more patients, counseling the soldiers, officers, and scientists affected by the endless battles with the Ori. Each day left her more drained, the responsibilities weighing heavily on her, but she pressed on, pushing herself to the limits as her sessions stretched later into the evenings.
Despite the fatigue gripping each member of SG-1, there was one constant that kept them going: their unyielding determination to end the Ori's reign of terror. Cameron "Cam" Mitchell, the new addition to the team, threw himself into every mission with a fierce tenacity that bordered on recklessness. His unconventional approach to combat, as Daniel called it, often seemed impulsive, but it worked. His ingenuity and courage had saved them more than once from situations that seemed impossible to escape.
Back on Earth, Jack was entangled in endless Pentagon meetings, Homeworld Security phone calls, and more strategic planning sessions than he could count. Every part of their lives felt suspended, awaiting the resolution to this brutal conflict. Nothing else mattered as much as stopping the Ori's advance, a threat that eclipsed even the darkest days they had faced before.
The SGC's budget had been bolstered, steamrolling Whitaker's earlier attempts to cut it. But Jack knew the battle in D.C. was far from over. He might have hit pause, but Paul Whitaker hadn't ended it.
Sam drove home late that night, the dim streetlights casting an orange glow on the quiet road. Fatigue weighed heavily on her, a dull ache thrumming in her head as the stress of the past weeks pressed down on her shoulders. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly, unable to focus. She hadn't noticed the dark SUV trailing her for the past few blocks, its headlights kept at a deliberate distance.
The sudden jolt came without warning.
A heavy impact slammed into the rear of her car, forcing it forward with a violent lurch. Sam gripped the wheel instinctively, her heart leaping as she struggled to steady the vehicle. She glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the massive black SUV behind her. It had no plates.
Another hit. Harder this time.
Her car swerved dangerously, the sleek Mercedes protesting with screeches of rubber against asphalt. Her chest tightened as panic surged through her, her attempts to regain control becoming more frantic with each passing second. The SUV rammed her again, harder, sending her car careening into the opposite lane.
Headlights loomed ahead, and Sam had no time to react.
The oncoming car collided with hers in a loud crash, the sound of shattering metal and glass tearing through the night. Her head slammed against the airbag as it deployed, the impact rendering her unconscious as the mangled wreckage came to a standstill in the middle of the road. Smoke curled upward from the crumpled hoods, marking the site of destruction.
In the distance, a man driving a modest sedan witnessed the entire incident. His hands trembled as he pulled his car to the side of the road, fumbling for his phone.
"911," he stammered, his voice shaky. "There's been an accident. A black SUV—it rammed into her car and drove off! You have to send someone now."
Before hanging up, he raised his phone and snapped a quick photo of the fleeing SUV. The image was blurry, but it captured enough—a shadowy outline of the massive vehicle speeding away into the night.
Jack's truck cruised down the dimly lit road, his mind drifting from the past few days' relentless meetings and strategizing sessions. He was bone-tired, the weight of the Ori threat pressing on him constantly. Just as he let out a weary sigh, his headlights illuminated a line of flashing police lights and ambulances in the distance, clustered around a wreckage that blocked part of the road. He slowed, squinting at the scene. Something was unsettling, but he brushed it off—until his gaze caught the unmistakable sleek, dark shape of a shattered black Mercedes-Benz. His heart skipped a beat. It was identical to Sam's.
Jack quickly pulled his truck to the side of the road, his pulse thundering in his ears as he climbed out. He didn't even realize he was already jogging toward the nearest officer. He noticed the young man's face falter, eyes widening as they landed on the cluster of medals pinned to Jack's chest, the uniform demanding immediate respect.
"Brigadier General Jack O'Neill, USAF. What happened here?" Jack's voice was controlled, but an icy fear had settled deep in his gut.
The officer straightened, swallowing nervously.
"Officer Greene, Sir. A head-on collision occurred after one vehicle forced another vehicle into the opposite lane. Witnesses described a large black SUV without plates as the cause".
Jack's throat tightened. "Who was in the Mercedes?"
The officer flipped open his notepad, glancing down as he read the names.
"A woman named Samantha Carter…and two young men, Logan Porter and Matthew Lewis, in the other car. All three were transported with critical injuries."
Jack's face drained of color. His stomach lurched as he struggled to breathe. A cold sweat broke across his skin.
"Sam…," he whispered, his mind going blank as he processed the gravity of it. The images of her bruised and broken, tangled in a wrecked car, flashed through his mind, his worst fears realized. He didn't even thank the officer as he returned to his truck, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his phone, his thoughts spinning in frantic circles.
"Janet," he managed to say, his voice rough, barely containing the panic clawing at his throat as she picked up on the other end.
"Jack, what's wrong?" Janet's voice sounded calm, but he knew she'd catch the strain in his tone.
"Sam's… Sam's been in a wreck. They're taking her to County General. I'm on my way. Can you—" His voice faltered, thick with fear. "Can you meet me there?"
"I'm on my way." Her voice sharpened with urgency; no further questions were needed.
Jack hit the gas, tearing down the road with one hand clenched around the steering wheel, the other holding his phone with a white-knuckled grip. His heart hammered wildly, his thoughts an uncontrollable storm as he pictured her lying in a sterile hospital bed, barely clinging to life. Memories surged forward: Sam's smile, her quick wit, her stubbornness, the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed. All of it was too much to lose, too precious to risk.
He gripped the wheel tighter, pressing the accelerator as if sheer speed could close the unbearable distance. Every second counted, and he couldn't bear the thought of arriving too late to see her, to make somehow sure she was still breathing. The thought that she might already be gone clawed at him, a terrifying shadow looming beyond his reach.
The officer's words replayed in his mind as he drove toward the hospital—a black SUV. No plates. Deliberate. His grip on the wheel tightened as anger and fear warred within him.
By the time he arrived, he had pieced it together. Paul Whitaker. The thought was like a punch to the gut. Jack had long suspected Whitaker was capable of underhanded tactics, but this—this was a new level of cruelty.
Jack's truck skidded to a stop in front of County General, his hands trembling as he leaped out and strode through the automatic doors into the bright, chaotic buzz of the emergency room. The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic hit him, mixing with the faint tang of blood and the softer scents of clean linens. A flurry of activity surrounded him—paramedics wheeling in gurneys, doctors and nurses moving urgently as muffled voices called out orders.
He approached the front desk, barely able to keep his voice steady.
"I'm looking for the injured from a car accident. Samantha Carter—Doctor Samantha Carter."
The receptionist's eyes flicked over him, assessing his uniform and strained expression.
"Are you a relative, Sir?"
Jack blinked, momentarily stunned, the question hanging in the air as he struggled for an answer. He was many things, her lover, confidant, a friend, yet that last word felt hollow, so far removed from the reality of what he felt.
Before he could stammer out a reply, Janet arrived, her heels clicking across the linoleum as she strode up to him. She wore a white coat on top of her usual uniform shirt and pants, her face tense with worry but focused as she took charge. She quickly spoke to the receptionist.
"Doctor Janet Fraiser, USAF. Samantha Carter is my patient. He's with me—he's her husband," she added, a lie meant only to remove any barrier that might prevent them from reaching Sam as soon as possible.
The receptionist nodded, gesturing down a hallway to their left.
"Follow the yellow line to Trauma 2. She's just arrived, and they're assessing her injuries now."
Janet took Jack by the sleeve, giving him a reassuring squeeze as she guided him through the controlled chaos of the ER. They passed open bays filled with patients on gurneys, some conscious and groaning in pain, others unconscious and wired to monitors, machines beeping steadily as doctors worked frantically around them. A nurse rushed by pushing a cart laden with bandages and IV fluids while another attendant carried a stack of charts, her expression steely with focus. The intensity of it all was like a sensory overload, filling Jack's vision with flashing lights, moving bodies, and the sharp sounds of orders and machinery.
As they neared Trauma 2, the room assigned to Sam, Jack felt his heart clench as he took in the sight. Sam lay on a gurney, her face pale and streaked with minor cuts, her hair disheveled, her clothes bloodied, and her right arm immobilized in a splint. Her breathing was shallow but steady, a nasal cannula feeding oxygen into her nose—a bruise spread along her cheek, a stark, angry contrast against her fair skin.
Two nurses moved swiftly, taking vitals and preparing Sam for X-rays, while a trauma doctor examined her with practiced efficiency. The doctor, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, looked up as Janet entered, his expression both grim and composed.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Hall. And you are?" he asked, offering a professional nod.
"Dr. Janet Fraiser, USAF. I'm Dr. Carter's physician," Janet replied, her voice steady. "Can you tell me her condition?"
"Doctor Carter was lucky, all things considered," Dr. Hall explained, glancing briefly at the chart in his hands. "The car absorbed most of the impact, but she's sustained a fractured right humerus and a fractured rib on the left side, likely due to the seatbelt. She also has a mild concussion, but thankfully, there are no signs of a brain bleed. She'll need surgery for her arm, and we're running scans to rule out any internal injuries. We'll have a better idea once the results come in."
Jack absorbed it all with a grim but steady resolve until Dr. Hall added, almost as an afterthought, "The good news is that the baby is fine."
A cold shock ran through him. He blinked, sure he'd misheard, but the doctor's expression held steady.
"Baby?" Jack's voice came out as a whisper, barely audible as he stared at Dr. Hall, his mind racing. "What baby?"
The doctor's eyes flickered with brief hesitation. He glanced over at Janet, who stood silent and wide-eyed beside him, equally stunned. After a beat, Dr. Hall cleared his throat.
"Ah… I assumed you knew," he said, stumbling slightly. "General O'Neill, your wife is pregnant."
Jack felt the floor shift beneath him, and he couldn't breathe for a second. He looked over at Janet, whose surprise mirrored his own. She hadn't known either.
"Pregnant," he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue as he looked back at Dr. Hall. It took him another moment to process. "You're saying Sam… Sam's pregnant?"
Dr. Hall nodded.
"Yes, Sir. It appears she's in the early stages, maybe just a few weeks along. She'll need to follow up with her OB-GYN for a more thorough assessment, but from the initial scans, everything looks normal. The accident didn't affect the baby, which is very fortunate."
Jack ran a hand over his face, his mind reeling. This was the last thing he'd expected to hear today. Sam—pregnant. It was a revelation that landed between astonishment and joy, blending with the intense worry already coursing through him.
"Can… Can I see her?" he finally asked, unsteady but hopeful.
Dr. Hall nodded.
"She's stable but still under observation in the trauma bay. We'll be taking her into surgery shortly to stabilize her arm. Once she's out, you'll be able to sit with her until she's moved to recovery."
"Thank you," Jack managed, his heart pounding as he followed Janet down the hallway toward Sam's room.
Sam lay on the bed, her face pale and eyes closed, an IV running into her arm and a monitor tracking her vitals with steady, reassuring beeps. Seeing her like this, bruised and vulnerable, cut straight through Jack's heart, but he also felt a strange new sense of awe—one he couldn't have anticipated.
He pulled a chair beside her, taking her uninjured hand in his, his fingers brushing over her knuckles as he whispered, "Hey, Carter. I'm here."
Her eyelids fluttered, and after a moment, her eyes opened slightly. She looked disoriented, her gaze unfocused, until it finally landed on him.
"Jack," she murmured, voice weak but relieved.
He forced a gentle smile, squeezing her hand. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"
She managed a faint smile in return, her gaze flickering over his face, but then a flash of pain crossed her eyes as she shifted slightly.
"Easy," he murmured, pressing her hand gently. "You've got a broken arm, fractured rib… the works. But don't worry—they're gonna fix you up."
Sam blinked, absorbing his words, but he could tell there was something she hadn't yet realized. Taking a breath, he prepared himself to tell her.
"There's… something else," he began carefully, his voice soft. "Something you might not know yet."
Sam looked at him, the curiosity and concern in her gaze unmistakable.
"What is it?"
Jack's heart raced as he struggled to find the right words. He wanted to do this gently, to protect her from added shock or worry, but there was no easy way to say it. So he simply squeezed her hand and whispered, "Sam, you're pregnant."
The color drained from her face, her eyes widening as she stared at him.
"I'm…what?"
"Pregnant," he repeated, his voice filled with a quiet joy that even he hadn't expected. "The doctor confirmed it. You're a few weeks along."
Sam's expression was unreadable, a mixture of disbelief, shock, and something else he couldn't quite place. Her gaze dropped to her belly as if trying to process this new reality, a reality that had seemed inconceivable only moments ago.
"I... I didn't know," she whispered, her hand moving instinctively to her abdomen, her fingers trembling. She looked up at him, a whirlwind of emotions in her eyes. "Jack, I... wasn't expecting this."
He nodded, understanding the weight of her surprise.
"Neither was I. But… I'm happy, Sam. I mean, I know it's a lot to take in right now, especially with everything else, but… I'm really happy."
She fell silent, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as she processed the revelation. Her hand stayed on her stomach, but Jack could tell the shock had frozen her, her mind racing far faster than her body could keep up.
As the nurse prepared to transfer Sam for a CT scan, Janet reached out and placed a hand on Jack's arm.
"She's in good hands, Jack. They both are."
Jack nodded numbly, his gaze never leaving Sam, who hadn't said anything after that. The machines beeped steadily, an anchor amid the tumult of the ER, but the room itself felt like a place suspended in time, removed from the real world. Doctors and nurses moved with quiet authority, their focus unwavering, each one a cog in the relentless engine of the emergency room geared toward saving lives.
"Janet…did you know about the baby?" he asked quietly. He'd seen the same surprise flash across her face earlier but needed to hear it to be sure.
Janet shook her head. She had also been caught blindsided.
"No, I had no idea," she said. "Give me a minute."
Janet moved aside and spoke softly with the attending doctor, ensuring they were up-to-date on Sam's medical history, every detail critical to providing the best care. The room hummed with urgency, the soft clinks and whirs of medical equipment creating a rhythm that matched Jack's anxious heartbeat.
When the nurses finally prepared to wheel Sam to radiology, Janet gently squeezed Jack's shoulder, steadying him as the gurney moved toward the door.
"She's strong, Jack. She's going to make it through this," she said, her voice filled with conviction.
Jack forced a nod, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction as he watched Sam disappear down the hall. He held onto Janet's words, clinging to them like a lifeline amid the uncertainness.