Inside the hearing room, a row of officials sat behind a long table, their faces impassive, though their eyes gave them away—some curious, some skeptical, and a few openly hostile. The air was thick with tension, and the faint murmur of voices filled the room, blending with the shuffling of papers. Overhead, fluorescent lights cast a harsh, sterile glow, their hum amplifying the room's uneasy quiet. Landry sat off the side, his expression unreadable, but his presence loomed like an unspoken threat.
Sam noticed the faint shuffle of papers and low murmurs between two panelists as she settled into her seat. One, a sharp-eyed woman with a rigid posture, leaned toward her colleague, her lips moving in a tight whisper. The man nodded slightly, his jaw tightening as he shot a glance at Sam that she couldn't quite decipher.
The proceedings began with Sam and questions about her time in the Air Force and her transition to the private sector. Sam kept her answers steady, her voice calm. Still, she couldn't ignore how one panelist—a gray-haired man with a military bearing—tapped his pen incessantly against the table, his gaze narrowing with every response. The rhythmic click-click-click grated on her nerves, a subtle reminder of the mounting pressure.
Rourke countered each point with precision, dismantling accusations of impropriety and emphasizing the originality of CQS's infrastructure.
But as the hearing progressed, the tone shifted. One official leaned forward.
Dr. Carter," he finally said, his tone measured but cold, "can you explain why certain elements of CQS's encryption protocols bear a striking resemblance to classified frameworks developed under Project Phoenix?"
Sam met the panelist's gaze head-on.
"The similarities are superficial. CQS's protocols were independently developed and built on publicly available research." Her voice remained steady, but she noted the flicker of doubt crossing their faces.
The woman who had whispered earlier leaned forward, her piercing gaze fixed on Sam. "Superficial similarities don't absolve you of the potential misuse of classified information, Dr. Carter. We need concrete evidence, not reassurances."
The air thickened, a silence punctuated only by the sharp scratching of pens and the faint shuffle of papers. One panelist leaned toward another, whispering behind a hand, while a younger official glanced at Sam with a smirk, his pen tapping an uneven rhythm on the table. The lead panelist's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a tight line. Every movement amplified the tension pressing in on Sam like a vise.
As she was about to open her mouth to respond, her lawyer, Evan Rourke, interjected smoothly.
"Circumstantial at best. These so-called timestamps are meaningless without proper context. If this is the extent of your evidence, I suggest we move on."
The room grew tense, the officials exchanging glances. One man at the far end of the table scribbled something furiously in his notebook, his movements jerky and aggressive. Sam's eyes flicked to him, noting how his hand clenched around the pen as if trying to strangle it.
Rourke leaned toward her, his voice low. "They're fishing. Stay calm."
But staying calm was more effortless said than done. As the questions continued, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that there was more at play here than just her work at CQS. The way certain officials avoided her gaze, the hushed conversations that paused the moment she turned her head—it all pointed to something deeper, something they weren't saying outright.
Toward the end of the session, as the panel began to wrap up, Sam caught a whispered exchange between two officials at the corner of the table. "We'll need Landry to weigh in on this," one murmured. The other nodded, glancing at Sam with a look that sent a chill down her spine.
The weight of their stares followed Sam as she and Natalie left the room with Rourke. As the door closed behind them, Sam let out a slow breath, the weight of the hearing pressing on her shoulders. The tension in the air felt as thick as the storm clouds gathering outside the Pentagon. Somewhere down the hall, General Landry retreated to his private quarters, his footsteps echoing with purpose. Sam straightened her posture, determination flickering in her eyes. If they wanted a fight, they'd get one.
As they stepped into the hallway, Natalie caught up to Sam, her jaw tight with frustration. "They're gunning for you," she said in a low voice. "Not just CQS—you. What's their endgame here?"
Sam sighed, her gaze distant. "Control. They're trying to box me in."
Natalie's expression hardened. "Then let's make sure they regret it. Whatever you need, I'm with you."
Rourke gave a faint nod, his tone calm but firm. "Let's focus on what we can control. They're pushing for a crack, but we're not giving them one."
General Hank Landry sat on the chair in his private quarters outside the hearing room, his mind racing. He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the dim light of his desk lamp. This wasn't just about Samantha Carter, he reminded himself. It was about everything he had worked for—his entire career, built on carefully managed alliances and secrets. The directives he had signed off on, the compromises he had made—they all threatened to surface if this hearing went sideways.
"Damn it, Carter," he muttered under his breath, gripping the glass tighter. He wasn't proud of his role, but the alternative was unthinkable. If someone like her, with her brilliance and autonomy, succeeded unchecked, it would undermine the very system that had protected men like him.
His thoughts drifted to McCready. The man was ruthless, but he understood the stakes. Together, they could contain Carter's influence and preserve their standing. They had to.
The tension in the hearing room thickened as the panel shifted its focus. A stern-looking panelist, his sharp features accentuated by his wire-rimmed glasses, leaned forward, his gaze locking on Natalie Pierce.
"Ms. Pierce," he began, his tone measured but pointed, "as the current CEO of CQS, do you believe Dr. Carter's decision to step down was in any way influenced by knowledge of potential improprieties within the company's operations?"
Natalie's expression didn't waver.
"Absolutely not. Dr. Carter's decision to step down was based on personal priorities and her desire to focus on strategic guidance for the company. Her leadership during the transition was transparent and above reproach."
The panelist's eyes narrowed.
"Transparent, you say? Yet this transition conveniently occurred shortly before these allegations of misappropriation arose. How do you respond to those who might argue that Dr. Carter abdicated her position to insulate herself from scrutiny while placing the blame on her successor?"
A murmur rippled through the room as Natalie leaned forward, her tone firm.
"Dr. Carter's transition was months in the making, predicated on ensuring the company had the leadership it needed to thrive. As CEO, I take full responsibility for the operations under my tenure. However, I must emphasize that these allegations concern events preceding my appointment and are unrelated to my actions or decisions."
Sam interjected before the panelist could respond, her voice calm but resolute. "If I may, I'd like to address this line of questioning."
The lead panelist, a gray-haired woman with a commanding presence, nodded. "Proceed, Dr. Carter."
Sam turned her gaze to the panel, her expression unwavering.
"As the founder of CQS, I take full responsibility for any decisions or actions that occurred under my leadership. Stepping down as CEO was not an attempt to evade accountability but a strategic decision to ensure the company's future success. My commitment to this organization and its integrity remains unchanged."
Another panelist, a younger man with a sharp tone, chimed in.
"Dr. Carter, under D.C. corporate law, the CEO carries fiduciary responsibilities to the company and its shareholders. By stepping down, you shifted that responsibility to Ms. Pierce. Isn't it convenient to claim responsibility now that scrutiny has fallen on your prior actions?"
Sam met his gaze evenly.
"While the CEO holds fiduciary duties, the role of Chairman also carries significant responsibilities, particularly regarding corporate governance and strategic oversight. I remain actively involved in ensuring that CQS operates with integrity and compliance. The timing of my transition was unrelated to these allegations, and any suggestion otherwise misrepresents the facts."
The panelist pressed further. "Dr. Carter, if you claim responsibility, does that mean Ms. Pierce, as current CEO, should be absolved entirely of involvement or accountability?"
Sam's response was measured.
"Ms. Pierce has already demonstrated exceptional leadership and integrity in her role. However, the actions under scrutiny predate her tenure as CEO and fall under my responsibility as the company's founder. Natalie's focus should remain on leading CQS into the future, not defending decisions she had no part in making."
Natalie added, her voice steady, "I have full confidence in our work at CQS today. This hearing is about addressing the past, and I trust Dr. Carter's willingness to take accountability reflects the company's commitment to integrity. My role is to ensure that CQS continues to operate at the highest ethical standards moving forward."
The panel room was silent momentarily, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. A few panelists exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of skepticism and contemplation. One leaned over to whisper to his colleague, their voices low but intense. Across the table, a woman in a sharp navy suit scribbled furiously in her notepad, the pen's scratching audible in the otherwise quiet room. Another panelist thumbed through a thick dossier; his brow furrowed as he flipped to a marked page and underlined something with a deliberate motion.
At the far end of the table, the lead panelist adjusted her glasses and folded her hands, her eyes scanning Sam and Natalie as if weighing their words. The sharp-eyed panelist who had initially questioned Natalie leaned back in his chair, his lips pressing into a thin line as he glanced at the military officer to his left. Papers shuffled, indicating that the panel was preparing for the following line of questioning.
Seated beside Sam and Natalie, Rourke leaned toward them, his voice low and steady.
"Good job," he murmured, his tone a mix of reassurance and strategy. "You stayed composed and didn't give them anything they can twist. Now, let's keep the momentum."
Sam nodded slightly, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap, while Natalie straightened her posture, her jaw set with quiet determination. Rourke's gaze shifted between them.
"Remember," he added, "the burden of proof is on them. They'll keep pressing, but stay calm, and we'll dismantle this piece by piece."
The lead panelist cleared her throat, drawing the room's attention. "Thank you, Dr. Carter and Ms. Pierce," she said, her tone neutral but firm. "We'll now transition to the technical specifics of CQS's encryption protocols and their potential connection to Project Phoenix. Colonel McCready, the floor is yours."
As the focus shifted to the next panelist, Rourke lightly tapped his pen against his notepad, signaling Sam and Natalie to remain vigilant. He leaned slightly toward Sam.
"This is where they'll try to trip you up with specifics. Stick to the facts. I'll step in if they cross the line."
Sam met his gaze with a faint nod before turning her attention to McCready, who leaned forward with a stack of documents. His demeanor was sharp and methodical. The break in questioning had lasted mere seconds, but the tension in the room was palpable, hanging like a thread poised to snap.
Colonel McCready's tone was clipped as he fired off his questions. "Dr. Carter, can you definitively explain the similarities between CQS encryption algorithms and the frameworks developed under Project Phoenix?"
Sam's response was calm and precise. "The similarities lie in fundamental cryptographic principles, which are publicly documented and widely used across the industry. CQS algorithms were developed independently using open-source methodologies."
McCready narrowed his eyes, flipping through his notes. "What about the timestamps on files flagged by this panel? They suggest a troubling overlap with your Air Force tenure."
Sam didn't flinch. "
The timestamps reflect internal development milestones from CQS's early days. None predate the end of my military service, and our documentation supports that."
Each answer dismantled McCready's accusations with such clarity and composure that frustration crept into the panelists' expressions. One sighed audibly, while another scribbled furiously in the margins of their notepad. McCready's jaw tightened as he leaned back, flipping his dossier shut with an audible snap.
Before he could press further, the door opened quietly, and a young aide stepped inside, his shoes clicking softly against the tile floor. Without a word, he handed a small envelope to the lead panelist. The room stilled as she opened it, her expression unreadable while her eyes scanned the note inside.
After a moment, she passed the envelope along the panel, each member reacting subtly—raised brows, exchanged glances, and one man's pen pausing mid-scribble. The atmosphere shifted, an intangible but undeniable change settling over the room.
Sam, Natalie, and Rourke exchanged brief, questioning glances at the table. Rourke leaned slightly toward Sam, his voice barely a whisper.
"Something's up."
Natalie's eyes flicked between the panelists, her fingers tightening on the table's edge. Sam kept her expression neutral, though her pulse quickened. Whatever had just been delivered was about to change the course of the hearing and not necessarily in their favor.
The lead panelist set the envelope aside, his expression tightening as he glanced down at his notes. When he spoke again, his tone carried a sharper edge.
"Dr. Carter," he began, "let's pivot back to your military career, particularly your time at Stargate Command. Records show that you served under Colonel Jack O'Neill for several years and participated in highly classified missions."
Sam nodded, her expression carefully neutral. "That's correct. Colonel O'Neill was my commanding officer during my tenure at Stargate Command."
The panelist's gaze sharpened. "You worked closely with Colonel O'Neill during your time at Stargate Command. Was there ever a personal relationship between you and your commanding officer that could have influenced operational decisions?"
The insinuation hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Natalie stiffened beside Sam while Rourke's pen stilled mid-note.
Sam's jaw tightened, but her voice was unwavering. "No, there was no personal relationship. Colonel O'Neill and I maintained a professional working dynamic, as required by Air Force regulations."
The panelist raised an eyebrow, flipping through his notes. "Records indicate consistent collaboration and mutual recommendations in mission reports. Some might interpret this as favoritism. How do you respond to allegations that this undermined the chain of command?"
Rourke interjected smoothly before Sam could reply. "Dr. Carter's commendable record speaks for itself. She and Colonel O'Neill adhered strictly to Air Force guidelines, including AFI 36-2909, which governs professional conduct. Any claims of favoritism are speculative and unfounded."
The panelist frowned but said nothing, his frustration evident as he scribbled a note. The room fell silent except for the soft shuffle of papers.
Another panelist, an older man with a stern expression, interjected. "You're asking us to believe that two officers working so closely together for years, under immense stress, never crossed a line?"
Rourke's tone remained even. "That is precisely what I'm stating. Their actions were consistently aligned with military policy and protocol. In fact, their professionalism under such extraordinary circumstances is a testament to their integrity, not grounds for baseless innuendo."
The murmurs grew louder, and the panelists exchanged looks, their frustration evident. The lead panelist raised a hand, silencing the room.
"Dr. Carter, can you personally confirm that no inappropriate conduct occurred during your time at SGC?"
Sam met her gaze directly. "I can confirm that. Colonel O'Neill and I always maintained a professional relationship, driven by our duty to the mission and the safety of our team."
A younger panelist, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward with a smirk. "And yet, you expect us to believe that there was no emotional connection, no influence on decisions made in the field?"
Rourke's voice cut in sharply, though his tone remained measured.
"With all due respect, emotional connections are not prohibited under Air Force regulations. What matters is whether those connections compromise mission integrity. In this case, they did not. The results speak for themselves—SGC's success rate and Dr. Carter's performance evaluations are well-documented and exemplary."
A senior official, gray-haired and stern-faced, leaned forward to address her.
"Dr. Carter, while your accomplishments at SGC are well-documented, there are concerns about certain... choices you made during your tenure. Specifically, your relationship with your commanding officer, General Jack O'Neill, eventually culminated in marriage. Did you consider how this might appear to your colleagues or affect perceptions of your morality and adherence to military regulations?"
Evan Rourke immediately stood.
"Objection, panel members. Dr. Carter's personal life, especially her lawful marriage, is irrelevant to this hearing. Unless you suggest that her relationship somehow influenced the development of classified encryption technology, I fail to see the relevance of continuing this line of questioning."
The panel's chair raised a hand to silence him.
"We're exploring the broader context of Dr. Carter's professional decisions and whether there's a pattern of bending the rules for personal gain."
Sam's voice was steady but laced with an undercurrent of frustration.
"If you're implying that my relationship with Jack O'Neill compromised my integrity or performance, I assure you that's not the case. We operated under strict protocols, and there was never a breach of conduct while we were both in service."
As the tension in the room shifted, Rourke turned to Sam and Natalie, speaking in a low voice. "They're grasping at straws. Stay steady—they're trying to rattle you but have nothing solid."
The same senior official decided to press.
"Dr. Carter, can you unequivocally state that your relationship with General O'Neill did not influence your career advancements or decisions during your time at SGC?"
Rourke stepped in again. "Unequivocally. There is no evidence to suggest any favoritism or misconduct. Let's not forget that Dr. Carter's promotions and commendations were based on merit and her extraordinary contributions to national security. As stated before."
Despite Rourke's rebuttals, the line of questioning grew increasingly personal. They scrutinized Sam's every move, from her decision to leave the Air Force to establish CQS to her use of knowledge gained during her time at SGC. Sam clenched her fists under the table, realizing that the hearing had veered away from corporate scrutiny and was now an inquisition into her character.
When the questioning finally paused for a recess, Sam leaned toward Rourke.
"This isn't about CQS anymore," Sam said, her voice quieter now as if admitting the truth to herself. "It's me they're after—my decisions, my time at SGC, my life with Jack... They're dismantling me piece by piece."
Rourke nodded grimly. "It does seem personal. But if they think they can intimidate you, they're in for a rude awakening. We'll fight back."
Sam's confidence wavered for the first time. She reached for her phone and quickly told Jack: I need your help. Call Landry. Ask him what's really going on here.
Jack sat in his office, staring at the phone in his hand. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan above did little to soothe the anger bubbling beneath his skin. He'd already been livid at being denied access to the hearing, but Sam's message was the breaking point.
He'd fought bureaucrats before—people who hid behind rank and rules to tear others down—but this was different. This wasn't just a fight for Sam's reputation but a battle to keep her from becoming another casualty of their endless power plays. With a sharp breath, he dialed Landry's direct line, his grip tightening on the phone as it rang.
"Hank, it's Jack. What the hell is going on with this hearing? They're not just questioning Sam's company but digging into her personal life. What are you playing at?"
Landry's tone was measured but evasive.
"Jack, I told you before, this is out of my hands. Higher-ups want answers, and they're scrutinizing every angle."
"Cut the crap, Hank," Jack growled. "You knew about this. You were the one that threatened her with treason in that briefing room, so you knew damn well they'd go after her like this. Tell me what they're really after."
There was a long pause before Landry sighed heavily.
"Why the sudden concern for your ex-wife, Jack? As far as I know, you're divorced. Her life shouldn't matter to you anymore," Landry remarked, a thin edge of mockery in his tone.
Jack's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as controlled fury rose in his chest.
"Hank," he began, his voice dangerously calm. "We've known each other a long time, so I'm going to ignore that little comment about my wife." He leaned forward, his tone hardening. "But let's be clear. I'll ask you one last time—what the hell is going on with this hearing? And if I don't get answers, I'm coming to your office, and trust me, that conversation won't end well for you."
Hank swallowed hard.
"Alright, Jack," Landry relented, his tone heavy with resignation. "There are factions in Homeworld Command who see Carter and CQS as a liability—too much knowledge, too little oversight. This hearing? It's not just about encryption. It's a warning shot."
Jack's voice dropped to a dangerous calm.
"If they think they can break her, they've underestimated her. And me. I thought you were the Head of Homeworld, but I was mistaken, so you tell whoever's pulling the strings that they're playing a dangerous game."
"Jack—"
Jack didn't wait for Hank's excuses, so he immediately called Sam after hanging up.
"They're scared, Carter," Jack said, his voice calm but laced with frustration. "This isn't just about CQS. It's about control—yours slipping through their fingers. You're the one thing they can't contain, and they hate that."
Sam's resolve hardened.
"Then they'll learn that I'm not someone they can control. Let's fight this, Jack."
Rourke entered the room, ready to strategize for the next round. Sam glanced at him, then back at Jack on her phone.
"Together," she echoed, her voice steady despite the storm within. "We're going to show them what we're made of."
Jack leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the stack of files across his desk. His home office felt like a war room. Politicians and generals had flocked to him, eager to curry favor or secure funding for their pet projects when he was Head of Homeworld. Jack had kept meticulous records—every deal, every request, and every unspoken debt. Now, it was time to call them in.
He picked up the phone, dialing a number he hadn't used in years. The voice on the other end answered cautiously.
"Senator Brooks? It's Jack O'Neill. Remember that little appropriation you needed to be pushed through in '08? The one I helped you with despite all the red tape?"
There was a long pause before the senator replied. "General O'Neill. What can I do for you?"
Jack's tone was firm. "You can start by calling off the dogs on Samantha Carter. She's being dragged through the mud at the Pentagon, and I know some of your friends are behind it. Fix it."
Brooks hesitated. "Jack, you know how these things work. I—"
"Save it," Jack interrupted. "You owe me, and I'm calling it in. Make the calls, Brooks, or I will start talking about that little favor. Your choice."
Before the senator could respond, Jack hung up and moved to the next name on his list. He made his calls individually, his tone shifting between cajoling and menacing as he reminded his old contacts of past favors and debts. Each conversation left the person on the other end squirming, and Jack relished the discomfort. He didn't care about burning bridges anymore; all that mattered was Sam.
Meanwhile, the hearing continued in the Pentagon. Sam sat at the center of the room, flanked by her lawyer, Evan Rourke, and a mountain of documentation. The questioning was relentless.
"Dr. Carter," one of the panelists began, "you've been accused of leveraging classified information from your time at Stargate Command to develop proprietary technology for CQS. How do you respond?"
Sam took a deep breath, her voice steady.
"The core infrastructure of CQS was developed using publicly available research and my innovations. Any overlap with Project Phoenix is coincidental and well within legal boundaries."
Another panelist leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "And yet, you can't deny that your intimate knowledge of Stargate technology gave you a significant advantage. Isn't it true that without your classified experience, CQS wouldn't exist?"
Rourke interjected smoothly.
"Dr. Carter's expertise was earned through decades of hard work and dedication. To suggest that her success is solely due to her classified experience is both reductive and insulting."
The panelist ignored Rourke, pressing Sam further.
"Let's talk about your relationship with General O'Neill. Do you believe marrying your commanding officer demonstrates sound judgment and integrity?"
Sam's jaw tightened. "My marriage to Jack O'Neill occurred after we were not in the same chain of command and had a Presidential dispensation order. It was a personal decision that did not affect my professional responsibilities."
The panelist smirked. "Convenient timing."
Rourke's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"This line of questioning is irrelevant and inappropriate and repetitive. Dr. Carter's personal life has no bearing on the matter."
Back in his office, Jack's calls were yielding results. He received a text from one of his contacts: We're working on it. You'll see movement soon.
Jack stared at the message, his mind racing. It wasn't enough. He dialed another number, this time to an old friend still active in the intelligence community.
"I need intel on the Pentagon panel members, especially who's pulling their strings. Dig deep."
"Jack, this could get messy," the voice on the other end warned.
"It's already messy," Jack replied. "Just get me what I need."
At the Pentagon, Sam was beginning to feel the weight of the hearing. The questions were becoming increasingly personal, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this was about more than CQS. When the panel announced another recess, she turned to Rourke.
"They're not after the company," she said quietly. "This is about me."
Rourke nodded.
"I've suspected as much. But don't worry, we'll handle it."
Sam pulled out her phone and sent Jack a message: Whatever you're doing, keep going. They're coming for me.
Jack read the message and clenched his fists. "Not on my watch," he muttered.
Sam's patience was thin, but something clicked as the questioning became increasingly invasive. She straightened her back, her voice icy as she addressed the panel. What she was about to reveal was classified, but everyone in the room had clearance. She was sure no one knew since it hadn't been brought up yet.
"I'd like to remind this committee," she began, her gaze locking on the lead panelist, "that Project Phoenix was commissioned under direct orders from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, specifically General Alexander Hayes. I have the original directive in writing, should you wish to review it."
The room fell silent. The panelists exchanged uneasy glances. Rourke seized the moment, leaning forward.
"If you'd like to question the legality of Dr. Carter's actions, perhaps you should take it up with General Hayes," he said smoothly. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to explain his reasoning."
The lead panelist cleared his throat, clearly flustered.
"We… we'll need to review that documentation. Until then, this hearing is suspended."
Sam allowed herself a small sigh of relief as the gavel came down. The hearing room emptied quickly, leaving her and Rourke alone.
"That was a hell of an ace," Rourke said, a rare note of admiration in his voice.
"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to use it," Sam admitted. "But they left me no choice."
The air outside felt lighter as they exited the hearing room, though the day's weight still clung to Sam like a second skin. Rourke walked ahead, his phone pressed to his ear as he coordinated the next steps. Natalie lingered by Sam's side, her usual confident demeanor tinged with a rare softness.
"Sam," Natalie began, her voice low but firm, "you were incredible in there."
Sam offered a faint smile, though her eyes betrayed the exhaustion creeping in. "Thanks, Nat. It's not over yet, though."
Natalie stopped walking and lightly touched Sam's arm, halting her. "Look, I know you're focused on the next battle, but... are you okay?"
Sam blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
Natalie gave her a look—half skepticism, half concern. "Because they weren't just going after your company in there. They were going after you. Your life. Your choices. That kind of attack wears on a person, no matter how strong they are."
Sam sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as the day's tension threatened to spill over. "It's nothing I haven't faced before."
Natalie tilted her head, her tone softening. "Maybe, but that doesn't mean you have to face it alone. I'm here, Sam. Not just as CEO of CQS, but as your friend."
The words hung in the air momentarily, and Sam's guarded expression softened. "Thanks, Natalie. That means more than you know."
Natalie smirked, her usual confidence slipping back into place. "Well, someone's got to look out for you. Besides, if you crash, who will keep me in line?"
Sam chuckled lightly, the tension easing just a fraction. "Good point. We can't have that."
Natalie gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "You're not just carrying this company, Sam. You've got people in your corner. Don't forget that."
As Rourke waved them over from the far end of the hall, Sam glanced at Natalie, her gratitude clear. "I won't. And, Nat?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad it's you leading CQS."
Natalie's smile was warm but tinged with determination. "I won't let you down."
Jack received her message in his office: The hearing has been suspended. They backed off for now. I'm going home.
Jack grinned, his hand still on the phone. "Good job, Carter. But this isn't over yet." He dialed another number, determined to ensure that no one would dare come after her again.
He leaned back in his chair, the moment's weight pressing down on him. He stared at the phone, his fingers drumming against the desk as he considered his next move. The files spread before him held enough leverage to topple careers, but he wasn't interested in revenge—not yet, at least. Right now, all he cared about was Sam.
With a deep breath, he dialed a number he'd sworn he'd never use unless necessary. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
"O'Neill," the man on the other end said, his tone wary.
"General McCready," Jack replied evenly. "I need a favor."
"That's a hell of a thing to hear from you," McCready said. "What's this about?"
Jack didn't waste time. "The Pentagon hearing on Samantha Carter. It stops now."
McCready's silence stretched for a moment before he spoke.
"You realize what you're asking? This isn't just about her company. It's bigger than that."
"I know exactly what it's about," Jack said, his voice sharp. "And I know who's pulling the strings. I've got enough dirt to bury half of Washington. Do you really want me to start digging?"
McCready sighed. "You always knew how to play hardball."
"This isn't a game," Jack snapped. "Carter's done nothing wrong, and I won't stand by while they destroy her to cover their mess. Call it off."
"I'll see what I can do," McCready muttered.
"You'll do more than that," Jack said coldly. "You'll make it happen. And if I hear so much as a whisper about this continuing, I'll ensure every skeleton in your closet sees the light of day."
The line went dead, and Jack set the phone down with a satisfied smirk.
"That should do it," he muttered to himself.
Sam's car pulled into the driveway, and she sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring blankly at the house. The day's events replayed in her mind, each question, each accusation cutting deeper than the last. She'd held her ground in the hearing, but now, with the adrenaline fading, the weight of it all threatened to crush her.
She took a deep breath, her chest tightening as the day's events replayed in her mind.
They weren't just questioning her company—they were questioning her. Every decision she'd made, every relationship she'd built, reduced to ammunition for their accusations. It was as though they'd stripped her life bare and held each piece up to the light, searching for cracks to exploit.
Her fingers tightened around the wheel. Was it a mistake to leave the Air Force? To build CQS? To think I could step away from the Stargate Program and carve out a new path?
The memory of the panelist's smirk burned in her mind. The insinuations about Jack, the relentless prodding into her time at Stargate Command—none of it had anything to do with encryption protocols or corporate governance. It was personal. They wanted her to feel exposed, cornered, and powerless.
But why? What are they really afraid of?
She remembered her years at SGC, the things she'd seen, the secrets she'd kept. Knowledge that could change the world—or destroy it. Was that what this was about? The fact that she knew too much? That she'd dared to take the expertise gained from those missions and use it to help people on Earth?
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Helping people," she muttered under her breath. "That's what got me here."
Sam closed her eyes, the weight of the accusations pressing down on her. They weren't just attacking her—they were trying to rewrite her story, to turn her accomplishments into liabilities, her loyalty into betrayal.
And yet, they underestimate me, she thought, a flicker of defiance igniting within her. I didn't survive alien invasions, Goa'uld mind games, and Replicator traps just to be broken by bureaucrats.
Her mind drifted to Jack, to the steadiness he'd always provided. He'd been the one to remind her, time and again, that she was more than the sum of her mistakes, more than the doubts that sometimes crept in. She could almost hear his voice now, that mix of gruffness and reassurance: You're tougher than they are, Carter. Always have been.
The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. She knew she couldn't let them win—not because of her pride, but because giving in would mean letting them control the narrative. And if there was one thing she'd learned in her years at SGC, it was that control was the most dangerous weapon of all.
She took another deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and removed the seatbelt. She wasn't just fighting for herself—she was fighting for what she'd built, the people who believed in her, and the chance to prove that integrity could still matter in a world so eager to erode it.
After several moments, Sam forced herself out of the car and trudged to the house. The living room lights glowed softly through the windows, and Jack stood silhouetted in the doorway. His sharp, assessing gaze softened the moment he saw her.
"Hey," he said gently, stepping forward as she crossed the threshold. "You're home."
Sam's composure shattered.
"They wouldn't stop, Jack. It wasn't just about CQS. They dragged up everything—SGC, us—they twisted it all." Her voice cracked, and she collapsed against him, tears finally breaking free.
Jack wrapped his arms around her, his steady presence anchoring her.
"It's over," he murmured, stroking her hair. "They're done. I made sure of it."
Her breath hitched, and she clung to him, the dam breaking as sobs wracked her body.
"I can't… I can't do this anymore, Jack. They're trying to destroy everything I've worked for. Everything we've built. They even went after Natalie…"
"They won't," Jack promised, his voice steady and calm. "I won't let them. You're stronger than they are, Carter. And I've got your back, always."
Sam buried her face in his shoulder, letting his presence ground her as she inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smokiness of the fire. Slowly, the storm inside her began to calm, and she pulled back to look at him, her eyes red but determined.
"What did you do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jack gave her a small, mischievous smile.
"Let's just say a few people will think twice before messing with you again."
She managed a weak laugh, shaking her head.
"You're unbelievable."
"You're welcome," he replied, leading her to the couch. "Now sit down, put your feet up, and let me care for you for once."
Sam sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped over her shoulders. She allowed herself to relax for the first time in days, knowing Jack was there to catch her if she fell. The fire crackled softly in the fireplace, casting warm, flickering shadows across the room. Jack handed her a steaming cup of tea and settled into the chair opposite her, his brow furrowed in thought.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet was comforting but heavy, laden with everything left unsaid. Finally, Sam broke the silence.
"I can't shake the feeling that this… all of this is personal," she said, staring into her cup. "It's not just about CQS or the encryption tech. It's about me leaving the Air Force, leaving the Stargate Program. They're punishing me for walking away."
Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He didn't deny it, which made Sam glance up at him, searching his face for confirmation. Instead, he gave her a look that spoke volumes.
"Remember what Landry said," Jack began. "Some people at Homeworld aren't thrilled about your transition to the private sector." That wasn't just idle talk, Carter. They're scared of what you can do. What you know."
Sam frowned.
"Scared? Of what? I haven't done anything wrong. Everything I've built with CQS is above board. I've followed every law and every regulation. They were my programs, my codes."
"You and I both know that doesn't matter to them," Jack said, his voice low. "You're a wildcard, Sam. You've seen and done things that most people can't even comprehend. You've taken the kind of knowledge they'd kill to keep locked away and turned it into something that makes them feel vulnerable. CQS is proof that you don't need them. And that scares the hell out of them."
Sam's grip tightened around her cup.
"I never wanted this to be a fight. I just… I wanted to make a difference differently. After everything we went through with the Stargate Program, I thought I could finally use what I'd learned to help people on Earth."
Jack nodded, his expression softening.
"And you are. But the kind of difference you're making now threatens their sense of control. It's not about you breaking the rules or leaving the Air Force; it's about them losing their grip on the narrative. You're not just some ex-soldier to them, Sam. You're a symbol of what they can't contain."
Sam sighed, setting her cup down, the firelight reflecting her weary eyes.
"So, what do I do now, Jack? Just keep fighting them?"
Jack met her gaze, his expression steady and resolute.
"You do what you've always done. You outthink them. Stay ahead of the game." His voice softened, his hand reaching for hers. "And you let me help. They want to make this personal? Fine. But they'll have to go through me first."
Her lips quirked in a small, tired smile. "Thanks, Jack. For everything."
Jack pulled her close. "We'll get through this, Carter. Together."
Sam rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself a moment of solace. For now, the storm could wait.
Dinner was a simple affair—grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup—but to Sam, it felt like a feast. Jack insisted on taking care of everything, refusing her attempts to help. Jack's footsteps in the kitchen and the gentle clink of bowls being set filled the house with a sense of normalcy that felt like a balm to her frayed nerves.
"You've had enough for one day," he said firmly, placing a steaming bowl of soup before her. "Just sit and eat."
They ate together in companionable silence, the day's tension slowly dissolving in the cozy atmosphere. Jack reached over to squeeze her hand, his touch grounding her.
"I've got you," he said softly.
She nodded, her voice steady despite the lingering weight of the hearing. "Thanks."
After dinner, Jack tucked the boys into bed, their laughter echoing softly from the hallway. He returned to the living room to find Sam staring into the fire, her face softened by the flickering light.
"Ready for bed?" he asked, his voice low.
She nodded, exhaustion evident in her movements as she rose. Jack placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently toward their bedroom. Once inside, the world seemed to shrink to just the two.
Jack turned down the covers, his every movement unhurried and deliberate. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching him, her heart heavy but full of gratitude. When he finished, he knelt before her, taking her hands.
"You're safe now," he murmured. "Whatever happens next, we face it together."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled. "I'm both grateful and ashamed, Jack."
He continued to hold her hand.
"Why?" he asked, his voice tinged with warmth.
Sam swallowed. "Because after everything that happened between us, everything that I've put you through, here you are, taking care of me," she said in a low voice.
He gently kissed her hand.
"I will always take care of you, Sam. No matter what. You are the love of my life," he said, his eyes showing everything his heart felt.
"I love you too, Jack," she said, tears threatening to spill.
Jack helped her lie down, pulling the blanket over her. Then he slid into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her, and she felt truly at peace for the first time all day.
"Goodnight, Carter," Jack whispered, kissing her hair softly.
"Goodnight, Jack," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.
And as the firelight faded, so did the day's weight, leaving only the quiet comfort of their presence together.
Later that night, as Sam lay curled up beside Jack, her thoughts lingered on the hearing and the questions left unanswered. She knew the battle wasn't over—the panel's probing, Landry's veiled motives, and the political undercurrents hinted at a much larger fight ahead. A flicker of determination lit in her chest as she whispered into the quiet room, "They're underestimating me."
Jack's arm tightened around her, his voice a low rumble in the dark.
"Then let them. We'll show them what happens when they do."
Sam closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words settle over her. The fight was far from finished, but she wasn't alone. Together, they would face whatever came next.
As Sam prepared to leave for another grueling round at the Pentagon the next day, her phone buzzed. Rourke's name flashed on the screen.
"Good morning, Dr. Carter," Rourke said, his voice calm but firm. "The hearing's been suspended."
Sam blinked in surprise. "Suspended? Why?"
"Unclear," Rourke replied. "But instead of continuing, you've been summoned to Homeworld Command for a meeting with General Landry and senior Pentagon officials. They want to speak with you directly. And alone, Natalie wasn't called."
Her stomach tightened. "Any idea what this is about?"
"Not yet," Rourke admitted. "But I'll be there with you. Whatever it is, we'll handle it."
An hour later, Sam and Rourke stepped into the imposing headquarters of Homeworld Command. The atmosphere was different from the Pentagon—quieter, more deliberate. Uniformed personnel moved efficiently through the hallways, their faces set with purpose. As they approached the conference room, Sam felt a strange mixture of tension and determination.
Inside, Landry sat at the head of a long table, flanked by several Pentagon officials. The air was thick with unspoken agendas, and the faint hum of the building's ventilation system was the only sound as they entered. Landry gestured for them to take their seats.
"Dr. Carter. Mr. Rourke," Landry began, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp. "Thank you for coming. We'll get straight to the point."
Sam nodded, keeping her expression neutral. "What's this about, General?"
One of the Pentagon officials, a woman with a stern demeanor and a stack of files in front of her, spoke next. "Dr. Carter, while the official hearing has been suspended, our investigation into CQS and Project Phoenix continues. However, we have an alternative proposition for you."
Sam exchanged a glance with Rourke. "I'm listening."
The woman continued, "Given your expertise and the sensitive nature of your work, we're offering you an opportunity to join a classified initiative under Homeworld Command. In exchange for your cooperation, we're prepared to put the current inquiry on hold."
Sam's jaw tightened.
"And what exactly does this 'initiative' entail?"
Landry leaned forward, his tone measured.
"We're developing new security measures for off-world operations and need someone with your knowledge to lead the effort. This is about safeguarding Earth's future, Dr. Carter. Your involvement would be invaluable."
Rourke interjected, his voice calm but firm.
"Let me be clear: Are you suggesting my client join this initiative under the implied threat of continuing this investigation if she refuses?"
The room grew tense. Landry's gaze flickered to Rourke, then back to Sam.
"This isn't a threat, Mr. Rourke. It's an opportunity. But time is of the essence, and we need an answer soon."
Sam's mind raced. This was bigger than she'd anticipated. The hearing and accusations were leverage to pull her back into the fold. She took a deep breath, her voice steady.
"I'll need to review the details and speak with my CEO before making any decisions."
"Of course," Landry said, sliding a folder across the table. "Take your time. But not too much."
As they left the conference room, Rourke turned to her, his expression grim.
"They're not letting this go, Sam. Whatever their angle is, they're playing hardball."
Sam nodded, clutching the folder tightly. "Then we'll play harder."