Jack was sprawled on the couch, Olivia nestled against his chest, her tiny fist clutching a handful of his shirt. He was murmuring to her, his voice a soothing balm that made Sam's heart ache in the best and worst ways.

"Jack?" she asked, standing in the doorway.

He glanced up, a tired but content smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

His expression shifted, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Of course." He gently adjusted Olivia in his arms, settling her into the bassinet nearby before sitting up. He patted the cushion beside him. "What's on your mind?"

Sam hesitated momentarily before joining him on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. She folded her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting nervously.

"I've been… struggling," she began, her voice quieter than intended. "With the move. With everything, really. My workspace, for once. I thought working at the dining table would be fine after we turned my office into Olivia's nursery, but…it's not working, Jack. I can't concentrate there. It's too cluttered, and whenever I try to work, I feel like I'm in the middle of chaos."

Jack frowned, leaning closer. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to add to your stress," she admitted, her gaze dropping to her lap. "You're dealing with so much already—with Whitaker, with your new role—I didn't think you needed to hear about my problems on top of it all. I figured I'd adapt like always, but it's driving me crazy. I'm used to order and precision, and working in the dining room makes me feel like everything's out of control."

Jack's brow furrowed.

"Honey, you're my wife. My family. Do you think I'd rather have you keep this to yourself and struggle alone? That's not how this works."

She sighed, brushing a hand through her hair.

"I've been thinking," she continued, brushing a hand through her hair. "Maybe we could convert the gym into a shared office. I haven't been using it much anyway, and the treadmill and the elliptical can go to the basement for now. It's not ideal, but it's better than feeling like I'm losing my mind every time I sit down to work."

Jack reached for her hand, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. "That's a great idea, Sam. We'll make it happen."

Her lips twitched into a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Hey, you're not in this alone," Jack reminded her with a smirk. "Besides, I've been meaning to reorganize the basement. Moving the machines gives me a good excuse to stop at Home Depot."

Sam chuckled softly, her tension easing for the first time in weeks. "I appreciate it, Jack. I love Olivia—don't get me wrong—but I miss... me. My career, independence, order, even just having it all together. Everything's changed, and I'm struggling to keep up."

Jack's grip on her hand tightened, his voice soft but firm.

"Sam, you're adjusting. And it's okay to need time and space for that. Hell, I'm still figuring out this whole family thing myself. But we're supposed to do this together."

Sam blinked back tears, his words a balm to her frayed nerves.

"I know. And I want to. I just… I needed to say it out loud. To admit it."

Jack pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Well, you've said it. And now we figure it out. Together."

Sam rested her head against his shoulder, the tension in her chest easing for the first time in weeks. "Thanks, Jack."

"For what?"

"For listening. And for being you."

Jack kissed the top of her head, his voice laced with affection. "Always."

Sam leaned against Jack's shoulder, letting his warmth seep into her as she spoke again, her voice quieter now.

"I thought I could adapt like always," she admitted, her voice wavering. "But this? It's like everything's shifting, and I can't keep up."

Jack tilted his head slightly, resting his cheek against her hair.

"Carter, you're one of the most adaptable people I know. But you've had a lot thrown at you in a short amount of time. And, let's face it, you've never been great at asking for help."

She let out a soft laugh, her breath shaky.

"Yeah, asking for help feels like admitting I can't handle it. And I've always handled it, Jack. My career, my life, everything."

Jack turned to face her fully, his hand gently cupping her cheek.

"You don't have to handle everything alone anymore. That's the whole point of this, Sam. This marriage, this life we're building. You're not in this by yourself."

Her lips trembled, and she looked down.

"It's just so overwhelming sometimes. I miss who I used to be, who felt in control. Now I feel like I'm stumbling, and it's not just about me anymore. It's about Olivia, too."

Jack brushed a thumb along her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

"You're still you, Sam. Brilliant, capable, unstoppable. Now you're just... more. A mom, yeah, but that doesn't erase who you were. It's not about losing yourself—it's about finding the new pieces."

She swallowed hard, his words hitting something raw inside her.

"What if I don't know how to be that person, Jack? What if I'm not good at this?"

"You're already good at it," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You love Olivia, and she adores you. That's the most important part. The rest? We'll figure it out together."

Sam let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. "How do you always know what to say?"

He smirked, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Years of practice. Plus, I have a vested interest in keeping you around."

She smiled, her fingers brushing against his as she clasped his hand.

"I don't say it enough, but… I'm glad you're here, Jack. Even when you're driving me crazy."

"Back at ya," he teased, his grin widening. "Although, for the record, I'm not going anywhere. So, if you need to talk—or yell, or throw something—you know where to find me."

Sam nodded, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. "Thanks, Jack. For… everything."

"Hey," he said, pulling her closer, "we're a team even when it's messy, even when you still don't use my name. But we aren't talking about that now, Doctor Carter. Now, I'm going to show how much I missed you today. It's called a full-body demonstration," he started, his lips moving to hers as she began to laugh.

Later that night, as they settled into bed, Jack lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Sam was already curled on her side, her breathing soft and even, her hand resting protectively over the baby monitor on the nightstand. She always fell asleep facing Olivia's room, as though even unconscious, she needed to be ready.

Jack turned his head to look at her, the faint glow of the streetlights highlighting the curve of her cheek and the stray strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She looked peaceful now, but the vulnerability she'd shown earlier lingered in his mind. It wasn't like Sam to let her guard down so completely, not even with him.

He sighed softly, his thoughts swirling. He hated that she felt she couldn't tell him how much she struggled. Hated that she thought she had to carry that weight alone. Jack had always known Sam was stronger than most people he'd ever met, but seeing her cracks didn't make him think less of her. If anything, it made him love her more.

But this was different. This wasn't something he could fight with weapons or strategy. This was life—messy, unpredictable, and unforgiving.

Jack shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, and brushed a hand over her hair. "We'll figure it out, Sam," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "One step at a time."

His gaze drifted to the baby monitor. A soft static hum filled the room, and Olivia's faint breathing came through like a heartbeat. Jack smiled faintly, his chest tightening with pride and protectiveness. That kid has no idea how lucky she is to have Sam as her mom.

As he settled back against the pillow, Jack made a silent promise to himself. He'd do whatever it took to support her, to remind her that she wasn't alone in this. Because no matter how messy it got, they were a team. And he wasn't about to let her forget it.

The early morning light filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. Jack stirred first, his internal clock stubbornly unwilling to let him sleep in, even when he wanted to. He turned his head and saw Sam still curled under the covers, her face serene and her hand resting on his side of the bed. He smiled faintly, resisting the urge to brush her hair out of her face.

The faint gurgles and coos from the baby monitor broke the quiet, pulling Jack fully awake. He glanced at the clock—0545. Olivia was right on schedule. Easing out of bed, he grabbed his robe from the chair and padded down the hall to the nursery.

Olivia was awake but content, her tiny fists waving as she kicked her legs against the crib mattress. Jack leaned over the side, grinning. "Morning, kiddo. What's with the early wake-up call?"

Her bright blue eyes locked onto him, and she let out a delighted squeal, her legs kicking harder. Jack chuckled, scooping her up into his arms.

"Alright, alright. Let's get you sorted before your mom wakes up and decides I've slacked off."

He carried her to the changing table, humming softly as he worked. Olivia wriggled but didn't fuss, and Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that swelled in his chest—these moments—simple, unremarkable to anyone else—had quickly become some of his favorites.

By the time he reached the kitchen, Olivia had tucked securely against his chest; Sam was already there, her hair pulled back and a cup of coffee in hand. She leaned against the counter, her eyes still heavy with sleep but soft as they landed on him and Olivia.

"You beat me to her," she said, her lips curving into a small smile.

Jack shrugged, shifting Olivia into her baby chair.

"She had that 'wake the whole house' energy. Figured I'd get a head start."

Sam stepped closer, brushing a hand over Olivia's hair before turning to Jack.

"Thanks. For this—and last night."

Jack gave her a lopsided grin. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture.

"Seriously, though. I mean it. I needed that talk."

Jack reached for the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup.

"Anytime, honey. You know that."

"I'm still getting used to that," she said, her tone playful.

"Get used to it," he teased, leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee. "So, what's the plan for today?"

Sam glanced at Olivia, who happily was chewing her pacifier, and then back at Jack. "I was thinking… maybe we take a walk later. Just the three of us. No phones, no distractions."

Jack arched a brow.

"You sure you're ready for me to terrorize Georgetown with the stroller again?"

She laughed softly, the sound lighter than it had been in weeks. They used to take Olivia for a walk every weekend when the weather was good.

"I think I can handle it. And besides, it might be good for me. A chance to clear my head."

Jack nodded, his expression softening.

"Sounds like a plan. And if anyone gives us funny looks, like that guy last time who looked at you for too long for my taste, I'll accidentally clip their ankles."

"Let's maybe try not to traumatize the neighbors," Sam said, shaking her head fondly.

"Deal," Jack said, squeezing her hand briefly before grabbing a frying pan from the cabinet. "How about pancakes first? You know Olivia loves watching my pancake flips."

"She's five months old, Jack," Sam pointed out, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Details," he replied with a wink. "She's already got great taste."

The morning passed quietly, filled with the comforting rhythm of family life. Jack flipped pancakes with exaggerated flair, earning giggles from Sam and Olivia alike. The three of them settled at the kitchen table, sunlight streaming through the windows as they ate. Olivia babbled happily in her baby recliner, her tiny hands reaching for Jack's colorful toy clipped to the side.

As they cleaned up, Sam felt lighter than she had in weeks. The weight of her struggles hadn't disappeared, but it no longer felt so crushing. She wasn't alone in this—not with Jack by her side. And for the first time, she believed they could find their way, one step at a time.

The crisp morning air carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass as Sam and Jack strolled down the quiet streets of Georgetown. Olivia dozed peacefully in her stroller, her tiny head nestled against the soft blanket Sam had tucked carefully around her. The click of the stroller's wheels on the pavement was a soothing rhythm, and the world felt far away.

Sam breathed deeply, her steps lighter as they meandered through the tree-lined streets. The neighborhood's historic charm surrounded them—brick townhouses with flower boxes spilling over with color, ivy climbing the sides of stately buildings. Jack walked beside her, one hand resting casually on the stroller handle, his other tucked into his pocket.

"This was a good idea," Sam said, soft but content. "It feels… normal."

Jack glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Normal's underrated. But yeah, this is nice. Just us."

Sam nodded, her gaze drifting to Olivia.

"She's going to grow up in a beautiful neighborhood. It's strange to think about, isn't it? All this stability. I never noticed before…I mean, while I lived here alone."

Jack smirked.

"Weird, yeah. But kind of nice, too. Let's just hope she doesn't inherit my flair for chaos."

Sam laughed lightly, leaning into him for a moment.

"I don't know, Jack. She might need a little of that to survive being our kid."

A few streets away, parked discreetly in the shade of a large oak tree, the black SUV sat idling. The driver wore a headset, his gaze hidden behind dark sunglasses, as he adjusted the camera perched on the dashboard. The camera lens zoomed in, framing the small family as they walked and capturing their every move rapidly.

"Subjects in sight," the driver muttered into the mic, his tone clipped. "No sign of external security. Proceeding with surveillance as instructed."

In the back seat, a figure leaned forward, the faint glow of a tablet illuminating their face. The images being sent in real time flashed across the screen. The figure studied the photos with each click: Jack's relaxed stance, Sam's quiet smile, and Olivia's tiny form cocooned in her stroller. The figure's expression didn't change, but their fingers tapped the screen, approving the shots.

"Maintain distance," came the curt order. "Do not engage."

The driver nodded silently and shifted the car into gear, trailing the family from a safe distance, always careful to stay just out of sight.

Jack's sharp instincts began to prickle as they looped back toward home. A quiet unease settled in his chest, a familiar sense that something wasn't right. His gaze flicked over the streets, scanning for anything out of place. That's when he saw it—a black SUV parked at the corner, its windows darkened, engine idling just long enough to catch his attention before pulling away.

Jack's grip on the stroller tightened, his jaw clenching. His eyes tracked the vehicle as it disappeared down the street, too fast for him to make out the plates. The unease in his chest flared into something darker—an edge of anger and dread.

"Jack?" Sam's voice cut through his thoughts, and her brows furrowed as she noticed his tense stance. "What is it?"

He forced a tight smile, shaking his head.

"Nothing. Thought I saw something, but it's gone now."

Sam studied him for a moment longer but let it drop, reaching over to adjust Olivia's blanket. "Okay. Let's get her home. It's almost time for her next nap."

Jack nodded, his smile fading as they resumed their walk. His mind churned with possibilities, each one worse than the last. Whitaker. He's behind this—I know it.

One thing was clear: this wasn't just work harassment anymore. Whitaker, or someone working for him, had crossed the line. Jack's grip on the stroller tightened even more, his knuckles whitening as his protective instincts surged.

If Whitaker thought he could play games with Jack's family, he was in for a rude awakening. Work politics were one thing, but stepping into Jack's personal space and the life he had built with Sam and Olivia was a whole different battlefield.

When they reached the house, Jack took extra care in locking the door behind them, his movements methodical and deliberate. Olivia stirred in her stroller, and Sam bent down to pick her up, cradling her against her chest.

"I'll put her down for her nap," Sam said softly, her gaze lingering on Jack. "You okay?"

He nodded, but his eyes betrayed him.

"Yeah. Just... thinking." He hesitated before turning back toward the window, his posture stiff.

Sam frowned slightly but didn't press, carrying Olivia upstairs to her nursery. Jack moved to the window as her footsteps receded, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer out. The street was quiet now, with no sign of the SUV or its occupants. But the image of it lingered in his mind, taunting him.

If he even looks at them wrong... Jack's thoughts darkened, the primal fury bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He did not doubt that if Whitaker—or anyone—tried to harm Sam or Olivia, he'd take them down without hesitation. No red tape, no chain of command. Just him and whatever it took to protect his family.

Jack released the curtain, exhaling slowly as he tried tending down the rage boiling inside him. He couldn't let it cloud his judgment. Not yet. But one thing was sure: if Whitaker had sent that SUV, he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Jack returned to the office after ensuring Sam and Olivia were settled for the afternoon. The unease hadn't left him since spotting the SUV. His instincts screamed at him to act—immediately and decisively. Whitaker's games had gone too far. This wasn't just harassment at work anymore; this was an invasion of his family's sanctuary.

Jack sat at his desk, his fingers tapping a deliberate rhythm on the wood as he stared at his secure phone. He keyed in a familiar code and waited for the line to connect.

"Major Kendrick," came the brisk voice on the other end.

"It's O'Neill," Jack said, his tone all business. "I need a team outside my house. Discreet. Surveillance and protection detail."

"Understood, Sir," Kendrick replied without hesitation. "Any specific threat we should be aware of?"

"Just keep your eyes open for black SUVs loitering around the area. No confrontations unless necessary, and report directly to me."

"Got it. We'll be in position by nightfall."

Jack ended the call, his jaw tightening. He hated bringing Homeworld Security into this, hated that it had come to needing someone else to watch over Sam and Olivia. But he'd be damned if he let Whitaker—or anyone—put his family at risk.

Later that evening, after Sam had gone to bed and the house was quiet, Jack sat alone in his study, the faint glow of the Asgard communicator illuminating his desk. He tapped the device, the soft hum signaling his request.

Moments later, the shimmering image of Thor materialized.

"O'Neill," Thor said, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity. "I assume this contact pertains to the earlier situation you mentioned."

Jack nodded, leaning forward.

"Yeah. I've got more for you. Another SUV showed up near my house today and parked a few streets over while my family and I were out. It disappeared before I could look at it, but I'm sure it's connected to the incident I told you about."

Thor's large, black eyes regarded Jack with measured intensity.

"This pattern suggests intentional surveillance. If you wish, I can dispatch an Asgard vessel to apprehend the individuals responsible. Our methods are… swift."

Jack hesitated the weight of the offer settling over him. The thought of Whitaker—or whoever was behind this—being plucked from Earth by an Asgard beam and interrogated aboard their advanced ships was tempting. Tempting enough to make him consider it more seriously than he wanted to admit.

He sighed, running a hand over his face.

"No," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "Not yet. I need to clarify what's going on first. I'm not ruling it out, but if it is Whitaker, I want to ensure he pays the right way."

Thor tilted his head slightly, his expression inscrutable.

"You refer to your planet's judicial systems."

Jack smirked humorlessly.

"Yeah. Justice. Earth-style. But if it comes to it…" He let the sentence hang, the implication clear.

"Understood," Thor replied, his tone steady. "I will expedite our efforts. The latest information you have provided will assist in narrowing the search. Rest assured, O'Neill, the Asgard will see this matter resolved."

Jack nodded, the knot in his chest loosening just slightly.

"Thanks, Thor. Let me know as soon as you have anything."

Thor inclined his head. "Of course. And should the need arise to utilize Asgard intervention, the option remains available."

The communicator dimmed, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The temptation of letting Thor handle Whitaker lingered in his mind, but a deeper part of him balked at the idea. This was personal. Too personal. And if Whitaker was behind this, Jack wanted to look him in the eye and make him answer for everything.

He glanced at the baby monitor on his desk, Olivia's soft breathing and steady reassurance. Sam's words from the morning echoed in his mind: It's almost normal, isn't it?

Jack's jaw tightened. It would be normal, he thought darkly, if Whitaker hadn't decided to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

Jack turned off the communicator and stood, his fists clenched at his sides. Whitaker—or whoever was responsible—would pay for this: one way or another. If Earth's justice wasn't enough, Jack knew the Asgard's could be. And if that still wasn't enough, Jack wasn't above taking matters into his own hands.

As he walked to the window, gazing out into the darkened street, Jack made a silent promise to himself. No one would touch his family. Not while he was still breathing.

Sam lay in bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, as she listened to the faint sounds of Jack moving around downstairs. She had fallen asleep earlier but woke up when she realized he wasn't beside her. An uneasy feeling twisted in her chest as she waited for him to join her.

Something was off.

Jack wasn't the kind of man to let things fester—he preferred dealing with problems head-on, often with his trademark sarcasm to lighten the mood. But lately, he'd been more guarded, his silences stretching longer than usual. Tonight was no different. The moment he walked through the door after their family walk, his entire demeanor shifted, like he was carrying some invisible burden.

The soft creak of the stairs brought her out of her thoughts. A minute later, Jack slipped into the room, his movements quiet but tense. He shrugged off his robe, tossing it onto the chair, and slid under the covers beside her. Sam turned her head slightly, watching him. Even in the dim light, she could see the tight set of his jaw, the way his shoulders remained rigid against the mattress.

He exhaled heavily, staring at the ceiling as though it held the answers to whatever was troubling him. Sam's brows furrowed. This wasn't like him, not at home, not with her.

"Jack," she began softly, her voice breaking the silence. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he replied quickly, too quickly, his tone gruff. "Just tired."

She didn't buy it for a second. Jack might have been a master at deflecting, but after years of knowing him—both as his therapist and wife—she could read him like a book. And right now, that book was screaming that something was wrong.

She shifted onto her side, propping herself on one elbow as she studied him. He didn't move, his gaze still fixed upward. Sam's lips curved into a sly smile as an idea formed in her mind. If words don't work, maybe another approach will.

Without warning, she moved closer, sliding her leg over his and shifting her body until she was almost on top of him. Jack's eyes widened in surprise as his hands instinctively came up to steady her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice rough as he cleared his throat.

Sam leaned in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "It's called body talk, General. And it's your turn."

His groan was soft but telling, his hands tightening around her waist.

"Uh, Carter…"

Sam smirked at the familiar nickname, her fingers threading through his hair as she shifted her weight slightly, making her intentions more explicit.

"What's going on, Jack?" she asked, teasing and serious. "Because I can tell something's bothering you. And you know I don't give up easily."

Jack sighed, his resolve crumbling under her gentle but persistent touch.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not a chance," she replied, brushing her nose against his. "So spill it. What's got you so tense?"

He hesitated, his hands resting on her hips as he considered his options. Finally, he gave in, his voice low.

"It's work. And it's… not work."

Sam raised an eyebrow, her fingers still playing with his hair.

"That's cryptic, even for you."

"There was a black SUV today," he admitted, his tone darkening. "Parked near us when we were out on our walk. It disappeared before I could get a good look, but it's not the first time. And I think it's connected to Whitaker."

Sam stilled, her playful expression fading into concern.

"Paul? You think he's having us followed?"

Jack's jaw tightened, and his hands shifted to grip her waist more firmly.

"I don't know for sure. But it's too much of a coincidence. He's been targeting me at work for weeks, and now this? It's too close, Sam. Too close to you and Olivia."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she kept her voice steady.

"What are you doing about it?"

"I've got a surveillance team watching the house now. Discreet, but they'll keep an eye on things." He hesitated, his gaze softening as it met hers. "I didn't want to worry you. I'll take care of this, honey."

Sam frowned, her hands resting on either side of his face.

"Jack, this isn't just about me. This is about us. Olivia. If something's wrong, I need to know. We're a team, remember?"

His lips curved into a small, reluctant smile.

"You're really not going to let me handle this alone, are you?"

"Not a chance," she said, her voice firm. "And besides, it's not just your job to protect us. We protect each other."

Jack sighed, his tension easing slightly as he pulled her closer.

"God, I love you."

She grinned, leaning down to kiss him softly.

"I know. And don't think you're getting out of this conversation tomorrow. We will talk about this more—without the body talk."

Jack groaned again, his hands brushing up her back.

"You're ruthless, you know that?"

"Only when it comes to the people I love," she replied, settling against him. "Now try to relax, General. You'll need all the energy you can get for tomorrow."

As Jack wrapped his arms around her, the day's weight began to lift. For now, in this moment, he allowed himself to let go. But deep down, he knew the battle was far from over.

The following day, sunlight poured through the bedroom curtains, casting long streaks of gold across the walls. Sam stirred first, her body naturally shifting closer to Jack's warmth. His arm was draped around her, holding her protectively even in sleep. She didn't wake him immediately; instead, she studied his face. Even at rest, his brow was furrowed slightly, the tension of yesterday still lingering.

She sighed softly, brushing her fingers along his arm. "Time to wake up, General," she murmured, her voice gentle but firm.

Jack stirred, his eyes blinking open as he took in her face, his expression softening.

"Morning," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Sam offered him a small smile, but it quickly faded. "We need to finish our conversation from last night."

Jack groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "I was hoping you forgot."

"Not a chance," she said, sitting up and pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

"Start talking, Jack. What's going on with Whitaker? And don't give me the abbreviated version."

Jack propped himself on one elbow, studying her for a long moment before nodding.

"Fine. But this isn't going to be easy."

"I'm listening," she said, her tone steady.

Jack exhaled heavily, his gaze dropping.

"This isn't just about the SUV yesterday. I've been digging into your car accident in Colorado Springs. Something about it never sat right with me. And now, with Whitaker pulling all this crap… I think it might be connected."

Sam stilled, her pulse quickening. "My accident? Jack, that was years ago."

"I know," he said quietly, his hand resting on hers. "But I've got reason to believe it wasn't an accident, Sam. Witness reports, scrubbed records, the whole thing reeks. And yesterday, when I saw that SUV, I couldn't shake the feeling it's the same game again."

Her breath caught memories of the crash flooding back like a tidal wave.

"You think… Paul had something to do with that?"

"I don't know for sure," Jack admitted. "But I can't ignore the timing. Back then, you had already dismissed him again, and we were together. And now…" He shook his head. "If it's him, he's been playing the long game."

Sam's hands clenched into fists, her voice trembling.

"I remember the accident, Jack. I was driving home, and… I felt the impact in the back of the car. It wasn't a side swipe. It was deliberate. It was a black SUV."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "It hit me twice…" She trailed off, her mind connecting the dots.

Her body went rigid as anger surged through her. Without thinking, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and began scrolling furiously. Jack sat up, alarmed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Sam didn't look at him, her hands trembling as she brought up a contact.

"I'm calling him. I'm calling Paul Whitaker and will tell him exactly what I'll do if he comes near us again."

"Sam, no," Jack said, reaching for the phone, but she pulled away.

Her voice rose as tears blurred her vision.

"He's not getting away with this, Jack! He's not going to—"

Jack moved quickly, grabbing her wrists gently but firmly, the phone slipping from her fingers onto the bed.

"Sam," he said, his voice low but commanding. "Stop. Look at me."

She fought against him for a moment before breaking down, the fight draining out of her as she crumpled against his chest, sobbing. Jack held her tightly, his hand moving softly on her back.

"I'll take care of this, Sam," he murmured, his voice steady but laced with quiet fury. "I swear to you, Whitaker won't get near you or Olivia. And if he's behind your accident, he'll pay. For everything."

Sam's fingers clutched his shirt, her sobs muffled against him.

"He almost killed me, Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He could've killed Olivia before she was even born."

"I know," Jack said, his tone hardening. "And that's why I'm going to stop him. You have my word, Sam. He won't win. Not this time."

They stayed like that for a long while, Jack's arms wrapped protectively around her as she let her emotions spill out. When she finally pulled back, her eyes red but determined, she met his gaze.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

Jack brushed a strand of hair from her face, his expression fierce.

"Now, we wait for Thor to confirm what we already suspect. And when we have the proof, Whitaker will face justice. Earth's or the Asgard's, I don't care. But he will pay even if it is by my hands."

Sam nodded, her fingers gripping his hand tightly.

"I trust you, Jack."

"Good," he said, his voice low and persistent, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his own dark and unyielding. "Because I won't let anything happen to you. Or Olivia."

His jaw clenched, the raw intensity of his emotions flickering in his expression. "No one messes with the O'Neill family," he continued, his tone sharpened to steel, every word laced with promise. "No one. Not while I'm breathing."

The weight of his vow hung heavy in the room, the sheer determination radiating off him like a shield. Sam swallowed hard, the strength of his resolve sparking something fierce and protective in her heart.