Cork Airport - 1997

She felt stupid. Idiotic. Completely foolish.

Why had she even hoped he would say something? And what did she want him to say anyway?

Samantha Carter wasn't entitled to happiness. She had known that for years and had accepted the idea. So why had she let herself believe that this Irish interlude with Jack could have led to anything more than this very scene?

This scene where she stands alone, in the airport, looking at the screen displaying the next flights so she can return to the United States and resume being the perfect soldier Carter.

Sam was tired of being perfect, tired of always doing what was expected of her. But she also knew it was the only thing she did right.

They would see each other again in two weeks at the SGC and would resume their roles as Captain and Colonel.

The feeling was bittersweet. Knowing that she had found a man for whom she felt something other than disgust, a man whose arms had become a comforting place for her, yet not being allowed to live it any longer. Not being allowed to love him.

Sam knew deep down that she wouldn't sacrifice her career for him. Maybe it was selfish or foolish for others, but she had worked so many hours of her life, sacrificed so much to join the Air Force and advance her career that she couldn't see herself giving it all up for him. That would be the surest way for her to end up resenting him years later. She knew that.

And Jack's tactical knowledge was too important for him to stay retired.

And SG-1 was too important for either of them to be reassigned to another team.

They were at an impasse. Their only solution was to accept the facts and return to their previous lives.

As a result, Sam felt stupid. Stupid for letting herself believe, for a brief moment, that she was entitled to happiness. Stupid for letting that little girl deep inside her—the one who dreamed of a house with a white picket fence, a dog, and children—believe in it for just a moment.

Sam wasn't made for happiness; she was made to be a soldier. An angry soldier, because anger was an easy emotion to manage, an emotion she had mastered for years, a controlled emotion.

The poor little girl who still hoped for a happy ending would have to return to where she came from and never come out again.

Had she been a little less pragmatic, Sam might have wondered why karma was so relentless against her. Why she wasn't good enough to deserve happiness too.

So she reacted the best way she knew how: she fled. She rebuilt all her barriers, resumed her role as Carter, and would never let her emotions resurface again. Because she wouldn't feel anything anymore.

Sure, she could have stayed and spent the last few days nestled in his arms, waking up next to him each morning, but what would have been the point? She boarded the plane, and her face closed off at the same time as her heart.

Ballydehob - 1997

Meanwhile, Jack was sitting in the study of the property, lost in his thoughts. The satellite phone was sitting in front of him, and he had just finished a conversation with General Hammond to prepare for the program's restart. SG-1 was going back into service, and he would once again have to bury his feelings and prioritize national security.

A light knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Nan entering the study and closing the door behind her.
She silently wandered around the room, rearranging a few trinkets, and her gaze stopped on a photo of Seamus with his two children. Nan brushed the photo with her fingertips, and Jack realized that he shared one more thing with her: the pain of a parent burying their child.

Seemingly coming back to reality, Nan set the photo down and finally turned to Jack, cautiously moving to take a seat in one of the armchairs opposite the desk.

"Jonathan," she began.

Jack was about to give her the same response he had given Liz earlier—that now wasn't the time, that he didn't want to talk about it—but she didn't give him the chance. And if there was one form of authority Jack O'Neill never pushed back against, it was the one emanating from his grandmother.

"We won't talk about your work's cover story, which clearly needs some serious revision even if that's none of my business, and I don't want to know." She paused. "What I would like to know, however, is why you're not at the airport, running after Samantha?"

Jack opened his mouth to respond but then closed it, taking the time to think about his answer.

"I met Sam in '92, Nan," he said, leaning back in the chair and seeming to lose himself in his thoughts.
She was so young. He should have stuck to his first decision after that conversation with West and never let her back into his life.
"She'll be a general one day, you know," he finally added, as if that justified everything.

Nan remained thoughtful for a moment and then nodded before gesturing toward the satellite phone with a nod of her head. "And you don't want a relationship with her CO to stain her record, is that it?"

Jack stayed silent for a moment. "She deserves better than an old colonel who carries every demon in the world."

"Don't you think she's big enough to decide that for herself, Jonathan?" she replied.

He shrugged and answered in a voice that suddenly brought his grandmother back years, making her feel like she had a young child in front of her again. "If she had wanted to, she would have stayed and talked it out, Nan. Don't you think?"