The crisp autumn air carried the faint scent of fallen leaves as Sara settled onto a wooden bench in the park, a well-worn paperback novel resting in her lap. Around her, children's laughter echoed from the nearby playground, their joyous cries tugging at something deep within her. She glanced in their direction, her heart tightening as memories of Charlie rushed to the surface.
She'd chosen this park intentionally. It wasn't one she and Jack had ever visited with Charlie; it held no personal history, no echoes of better times to haunt her. Here, she could pretend, for a moment, that she was just another woman, not a grieving mother or a wife trapped in a marriage she no longer recognized.
She wasn't reading—not really. The noise of children playing nearby filled the space around her, a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost. Her eyes drifted occasionally toward the playground, but she quickly averted her gaze when the memories became too sharp.
A sudden cry broke through the hum of the park. She looked up to see a little girl, no more than three years old, sprawled on the grass not far from her bench. The girl's big brown eyes shimmered with tears as she clutched her knee, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Instinctively, Sara set her book aside and moved toward the child.
"Hey, sweetheart, are you alright?" she asked, crouching down.
The girl sniffled, her small face crumpling in pain. "I fell," she murmured, holding up her scraped knee.
Sara gave her a gentle smile. "Let me see." She examined the injury, relieved to find it was only a small scrape. "It's not too bad. You're very brave."
Before Sara could say anything more, a woman's voice called out, filled with concern. "Grace? Grace, are you okay?"
Sara turned her head as a blonde woman hurried toward them, her expression a mixture of worry and calm control. She dropped to her knees beside the child, gently brushing the hair out of her face. "Sweetheart, what happened?"
The girl—Grace—pointed to Sara. "She helped me."
Sam glanced at Sara with a grateful smile. "Thank you for looking after her."
"It's nothing," Sara replied, rising to give the mother space. "She's a lovely little girl."
Sam pulled a small pack of tissues from her pocket, dabbing at Grace's knee with practiced ease. "You're a tough cookie, aren't you, Grace?" she said softly before turning back to Sara. "I'm Sam, by the way."
"Sara," she replied, her smile polite. Something about the woman felt familiar, though she couldn't quite place why.
They stood in an awkward silence for a moment before Sara broke it. "Are you new to the area? I don't think I've seen you around before."
"Yes, actually," Sam replied, her tone light. "We just moved here a few weeks ago for my work."
Grace tugged at Sam's hand, her voice small. "I wanna go on the swings again."
Sam chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "In a minute, Pumpkin." She looked back at Sara, her smile soft. "Thank you again for helping her."
Sara was about to respond when the sound of a phone ringing cut through the air. Sam fished her phone from her pocket, glancing briefly at the screen. "I'm sorry, I need to take this," she said, stepping a few paces away.
"Carter," Sam answered, her tone shifting into something more professional. Sara didn't mean to listen, but the deep, familiar voice on the other end of the line made her freeze.
"Sam, where are you?"
Sara's breath caught. She knew that voice. Her stomach churned as a name clicked into place. Jack.
Her heart began to race as she pieced it together—the way Sam had called her daughter "Pumpkin," the fact that she was new to the area, and now this voice, unmistakably her husband's, coming from Sam's phone.
Sam ended the call quickly, tucking her phone back into her pocket and giving Sara an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. I have to go."
Sara forced a smile, though her mind was racing. "No problem. It was nice meeting you, Sam."
Sam crouched down to Grace's level, brushing a few stray blonde curls out of her daughter's face. "Hey, sweetheart, we need to head home now, okay?"
Grace pouted, her tiny lips pushing out in protest. "But I wanna play on the swings more!"
"I know, Pumpkin," Sam said softly, her tone patient yet firm. "We'll come back another day, I promise. But right now, we have to go. Can you be my brave girl and help me pack up?"
Grace hesitated, her little brows furrowing as if weighing her options. Finally, she nodded reluctantly, her small hand slipping into Sam's. "Okay, Mommy."
"Thank you, Grace." Sam stood, giving Sara a polite nod. "It really was nice meeting you. Have a great day."
"You too," Sara replied, her voice calm, though her chest felt tight. She watched as Sam led Grace toward a nearby stroller, efficiently buckling her daughter in and gathering their things.
As Sam began to walk away, Grace's cheerful voice floated back. "Mommy, is your work fun?"
Sam chuckled lightly, her hand resting on the stroller's handle. "It can be, but it's also very important. It's how I help keep people safe."
"Like superheroes?" Grace asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Sort of," Sam replied with a soft smile. "But it's not always as exciting as it sounds. Sometimes it's just a lot of thinking and writing things down."
Grace giggled. "You're a thinking superhero!"
Sam laughed, shaking her head. "If you say so, Pumpkin."
Sara sat frozen on the bench, watching the mother and daughter disappear down the path. Her mind churned with questions she couldn't stop. Who is she really? And what does she have to do with Jack?
Jack's voice on Sam's phone echoed in her thoughts. The pieces felt too coincidental, too aligned to ignore. She stared at the spot where they had stood, her heart pounding in her chest.
Is it possible? Could Jack… could he be hiding something like this? Her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Could he be having an affair?
Her stomach churned at the possibility, the weight of the idea pressing down on her. She had known their marriage was strained, but this... this was something she hadn't expected. And the girl. Grace, with her warm, deep brown eyes.
The realization crept in slowly, almost unwillingly, as she replayed the moment the little girl had looked up at her, her gaze filled with curiosity and innocence. Sara had seen those eyes before. The same rich hue, the same way they caught the light and seemed to hold secrets. Jack's eyes.
Her breath hitched, and a faint chill swept through her. She gripped the edges of the bench as a hollow sensation settled in her stomach. The resemblance was undeniable now that she thought about it. The thought alone made her legs feel unsteady.
The little girl didn't seem to be more than three or four years old, which perfectly matched the time when Jack had started to grow more distant, claiming a promotion to General and a new job he couldn't talk about.
Sam rushed into the SGC, her boots echoing against the concrete floors as she navigated the maze of corridors. She was late—later than she liked—and the weight of Jack O'Neill's likely reaction made her quicken her pace. After ensuring Grace was settled with Liz, Sam had barely had time to catch her breath before heading to the base.
When she entered the briefing room, Jack was already there, leaning casually against the table, arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes tracked her the moment she walked in, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. His expression was neutral, though his raised eyebrow betrayed a flicker of curiosity.
"Dr. Carter," he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. "Nice of you to join us."
Sam straightened her posture, her movements precise as she placed her files on the table. Her voice was steady, professional. "Apologies for the delay, sir. There were some personal matters I had to attend to."
Jack tilted his head slightly, his smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Personal matters, huh? Don't worry, I get it. Wouldn't want to pull you away from…" He paused, gesturing vaguely with one hand, his tone laced with something lighter, almost teasing. "Whatever—or whoever—you were with."
Sam's brow furrowed, her confusion evident. "Sir?"
"I mean, if you were with someone," Jack added, his smirk growing, though his eyes didn't quite match the humor on his lips. "I wouldn't have interrupted. You could've said something."
Her stomach tightened, but her voice remained calm and even. "I wasn't with anyone, sir. I was simply handling something outside of work."
Jack's gaze lingered on her for a beat too long, as if testing the truth in her words. The edges of his smirk softened, and he straightened from his relaxed pose, his arms falling to his sides. "Right," he said, his tone quieter, more measured. "Well, next time, just let me know. No need to be mysterious."
Sam's jaw tightened slightly, though her reply was curt and unwavering. "Understood, sir."
Jack nodded, but the playful edge in his demeanor faded. He turned his attention to the papers on the table, but his mind lingered elsewhere. The idea of Sam sharing her time—her attention—with someone else sat uneasily with him, though he would never admit it out loud. It wasn't his place, after all.
His hand brushed against the edge of the table, fingers grazing the cool surface, before his gaze dropped to his left hand. The gold band around his finger felt heavier than it should, like it didn't quite belong there. The weight of it was familiar, comforting even, but now… it burned, an uncomfortable reminder of promises made long ago that felt increasingly distant.
"Alright," he said, shaking the thought away and clearing his throat. His voice was brisk again. "Let's get to work."
Sam gave a short nod and took her seat, her face composed and unreadable. Jack watched her for just a second longer before forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.
But the burn of the ring on his finger lingered.
Several hours later, Sam and Jack found themselves alone in one of the engineering labs. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of equipment and the occasional sound of Sam's pen against her notepad as she refined the adjustments to a new piece of reconnaissance equipment.
Jack leaned over the table, squinting at the schematics. "So, let me get this straight," he began, gesturing toward the blueprint. "This doohickey is supposed to make it easier to detect Naquadah, but it's also going to need more power. Am I getting that right?"
Sam smiled faintly at his terminology. "Essentially, yes. The increased sensitivity requires additional energy. But I've optimized the circuitry so the extra draw is minimal."
Jack nodded, leaning closer to the table, his shoulder brushing hers. "Minimal, huh? I'll take your word for it, Carter. You're the genius here."
His words were casual, but there was something in his tone—something softer than his usual banter. Sam's fingers froze briefly over her notepad before she regained her focus. "Thank you, sir," she said, keeping her voice professional.
Jack turned his head slightly, catching her eye. "I mean it," he said quietly. "I don't know how you keep all this in your head, but it's impressive."
For a moment, Sam forgot to breathe. His gaze lingered, and the air between them felt heavier, charged with something unspoken. She could see the genuine admiration in his eyes, and it left her feeling both flattered and exposed.
Jack leaned closer to the blueprint, his shoulder brushing lightly against Sam's as she explained the adjustments she'd made. His eyes weren't entirely on the diagram; instead, they followed the precise movements of her hand as she gestured, her voice calm and confident.
He adjusted his stance, standing straighter, but didn't move away. His gaze lingered a moment too long when Sam glanced up at him, her blue eyes catching his. The room seemed quieter than it should have been, the hum of the equipment fading into the background.
"You're good at this," Jack said after a beat, his voice lower than usual, almost casual. But there was a warmth in the words that he couldn't quite mask.
Sam nodded, her lips curving slightly, but she didn't look at him again, her focus returning to the blueprint. "It's just part of the job," she replied evenly, though her voice softened at the edges.
Jack shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of the table as he stepped back slightly. The air between them felt heavier, charged with something neither of them seemed ready to acknowledge.
Their proximity was impossible to ignore, the space between them narrowing with every shared glance and quiet word. Sam could feel the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of aftershave lingering in the air. It was distracting—too distracting.
Jack leaned back slightly, breaking the tension but not entirely dispelling it. "Alright," he said, his tone light again. "I'll leave you to it before I accidentally blow something up."
Sam chuckled despite herself. "That's probably for the best, sir."
He lingered a moment longer, his gaze softer now. "Carter," he said, almost hesitating. "If you ever need… more time for personal matters, just say the word. I'll figure something out."
Sam's breath hitched, but she forced a polite smile. "Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind."
Jack nodded and stepped away, the moment between them fading but leaving an unmistakable tension in its wake. As he left the lab, Sam exhaled slowly, pressing her hands against the edge of the table to steady herself.
The room felt quieter without him, but the energy he left behind was impossible to ignore.