Jack lay awake in the warm of the late night, Sam-watching again.
She was taking up quite a bit of their bed, sleeping partially on her right side, with her left leg flung out over the sheets to keep cool. Her right arm was tucked under the pillow, cradling her bed- swept blonde head, and her left arm was resting under her breasts. He watched as her chest steadily rose and fell in a regular rhythm. Jack began to count the breaths and changed his breathing to match her own. Her lashes were spread gently on her slightly pink cheeks and the mouth he had kissed not that long ago, was parted a little as she breathed in and out.
Jack followed the breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
He pulled off his reading glasses, shifted the late-night-reading- report that he had been trying to finish onto the floor, and turned on his right side to get better view of his sleeping wife. He smiled at her, appreciating the fact that she was finally resting and contented. She had been working too hard up until just lately; her knowledge and skills much in demand, now that she was effectively Earth-bound for a few months. He had laid down the law the fourth evening she had rung to say she would be late home. He wasn't taking time off from commanding the Beta site to sit on his own, twiddling his thumbs, but more importantly, he was concerned that she was overdoing it. She hadn't taken much telling though – at seven months pregnant, she was quite ready to slow down.
Sam's chest was covered by a thin, grey tank top (*the* tank top?) that ended where her stomach swelled outwards. Now that her breasts were becoming fuller, she said it felt more comfortable to wear a little support at night. She had felt a bit out of control of her body at first, as it changed and filled out. However, it hadn't taken her long to carry the miraculous alterations in her stride and she responded to her body's needs with care and attention. Jack grinned at some purple streaks down near her panties: the faint beginnings of stretch marks. He reached out and stroked them softly, remembering Sam's horrified reaction when she first saw them in the mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror a lot lately, not something she had previously been in the habit of doing. He had first caught her inspecting her naked side profile at ten weeks when her stomach was still taught and flat. He had kissed her soundly, and teased her mercilessly, but that didn't stop her checking again the next day for any sign of their growing child.
Now, at 33 weeks, her pregnancy was beautifully obvious.
Her baby bump wasn't that big; her height helped to ensure she carried the extra weight well. But this was *Sam Carter*. Sam- kickass-Lt.Colonel-Doctor-astrophysicist extraordinaire-Carter- O'Neill. Sam "I'm too busy saving the world to have a life" Carter. Sam "Oh my God, I'm pregnant at the age of 38" Carter. Becoming parents at their - advanced - age was not something they had planned. They married very soon after their respective promotions, when Jack was posted to command the off-world site. They almost fell into it, a natural progression of their relationship after seven very close, very scary years. No one batted an eyelid when they announced that they were `seeing each other', and most had just asked when they were getting married. So they did. In the base chapel, in dress blues, in a hurry, before Jack left for two months.
When he finally had furlough, he practically ran down the `gate ramp and broke every Colorado Springs speed limit to get home where he knew she was *waiting*. One rather energetic (and pleasurable) sexual limbo dance and a split condom later, a decision had to be made. That decision was *not* to go for the morning after pill. They were in love and married now; this was up to fate. Well, fate was no match against O'Neill Sup-a-Sperm. Wham, Bang, Thank You Ma'am; they were pregnant. Jack was over the moon – he had cried like a baby when she came home early to tell him, but Sam was in shock for a while. She was worried about her age, she was worried about how the Naquadah in her body would affect the baby, she was worried that this was too early in their relationship, she was just *worried*. Long talks with Janet and repeated scans and tests had served to reassure her (and him) that the baby was fine, and with the way it was never still, it was taking after Dad.
He was mesmerised by the subtle movements under her skin – their unborn child was active again tonight. Sam's creamy skin rippled and dimpled as Baby Carter-O'Neill jiggled to find a comfortable spot in the womb. He placed his hand gently on Sam's side to feel the flutterings, only to be rewarded with a sharp jab as an elbow or knee pushed his hand over.
Another hand came to cover his, her wedding ring set glittering in the subdued lighting.
"Don't tell me you woke him up?"
He glanced up at Sam, but her eyes were still closed and a slight smile was playing on her sleep-filled face.
"Nah, *she* was awake already." This kid was *so* a girl.
Sam's eyes snapped open. "*He*."
"*She*." Jack loved this.
"I want to continue this discussion, but first..." her voice trailed off as she began to extract her right leg from under the sheets.
Jack smirked and leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to the bump, "Mommy needs another pee-pee, baby."
His wife shot Jack THE look, and held out her arm. Jack sat up, and with holding her arm and placing a hand under her back, he levered her carefully to a sitting position.
"Yeah, well, you would need to go as often as me, if you had a 30 kg bag of wet sand sitting on your bladder, day and night." Sam swung her legs over the edge of the bed and grunted a little with the effort of standing up. "We've gotta raise the bed off the floor a bit more."
Jack snickered in response but sobered his face when he was thrown another hard stare. His eyes followed her to the bathroom, enjoying her altered gait. At five-foot-nine, a pregnant Sam Carter didn't exactly `waddle', but more `toddled', and he took pleasure in the way her growing body had changed her walk. He was in awe of the entire physical progression and couldn't quite classify the myriad of emotions that both of them had experienced since they knew that Baby Carter-O'Neill was on its - her - way.
Some old wounds had been opened for him after the initial excitement had worn off. He couldn't get Charlie out of his head for a while, and he knew he would have to tell Sara. Supposing they met at the supermarket with Sam and the new kid? He had loved Sara too much to do that to her, but it had been hard enough to write and tell her that he was getting married again. He was nervous about explaining this to Sam, but she totally understood, and even seemed to be waiting for him to say something. She had left him pretty much to his own devices, but had been quietly supportive when Jack and Sara had visited Charlie's grave on the anniversary of their son's birthday just three weeks ago. He had felt indescribably awkward when Sara had asked to speak to Sam, who was waiting in the car in the cemetery's parking lot. He had fiddled with his suit buttons while wife number one had politely hugged wife number two, and was astonished when the two women swapped business cards. Women. He would never understand them.
This opinion was vindicated when he had wanted to go `baby shopping' one weekend soon after they `knew'. Sam had prevaricated, procrastinated and generally avoided the issue until he got out of her that she felt it was too early to shop, and that to do so might tempt fate. Sam `Logic' Carter was superstitious? Then, one Saturday evening a few weeks later, when Sam was having a girl's night out with Janet and Cassie, he was changing the bed linen, as ordered. As he leaned over the mattress, he stubbed his toe on something hard underneath her side of the bed. Hunkering down, he pulled out a dozen baby store catalogues, all well thumbed, marked and indexed in Sam's scrawly handwriting.
He had been distracted at first by a list of baby names that Sam had written on the back – all boys names. He grinned at the `Jack Junior' (no way in Netu would there be a `junior' in there), Jake (he liked that, and he knew Dad would as well), Oliver (Oliver?!) and.. Pavan. But that had been scored out. He sighed, but then grinned when he noticed she had also been writing out her signature. Sam O'Neill. Samantha O'Neill. Mrs S. O'Neill. So much for women's equality, he had mused. They had both agreed that Sam would keep her maiden name in matters relating to work to avoid confusion, but she was quite willing to have their child known as an `O'Neill'. Jack had disagreed. He felt the `O'Neill' tag might be too much to bear, especially if the kid followed their parent's choice of career. He or she would end up enduring an ass-kicking session in the locker rooms. He reasoned that `Carter-O'Neill' would at least indicate the kid might have *some* brains. When Sam saw Jacob Carter's reaction to Jack's ideas, she had relented after much father-daughter hugging. Ha! Off the scale for son-in-law brownie points.
The following week, when Sam was seconded to Area 51 for two weeks, he pulled out the secret baby catalogue stash. With Janet's help, he gave his platinum Visa card a severe bashing when he ordered *everything* Sam had marked. Mrs C-O came back home to a baby wonderland created by the three stooges, `T', Dr Dan and himself. She stood with her mouth gaping and her eyes shining, realizing what he had done. The soldier/mother managed not to cry until she came into their bedroom, only to find a new wardrobe of the maternity clothes that by then, she badly needed. When she pointed out that Jack had bought far more than she, and the baby, would need, he shrugged and simply stated that the extras would do for the next one. Then it was floodgates ahoy.
Jack's attention was drawn to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Ah, good; he could get a front view now. As his wife walked towards him, her baby bump swayed gently to and fro and the odd dark line stretching from her navel to down under her panties was showing clearly. He was aware his face was showing a huge grin as he flung the sheets back to welcome her.
"Don't give me any crap about me being beautiful; I look like a beached whale," she complained as she lowered herself to the bed, an arm outstretched on the mattress to help her balance.
Jack snorted. "You *do* look beautiful, and you know it. Madam has all her male attendants running about after her every whim. Siler and Simmons slave after you."
"Maybe, so long as you don't get Siler to repeat that," Sam quipped, swinging her legs up and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Jack smiled under her lips: Listerine and stretch mark cream – that irresistible combination of scents.
He laid back and raised his right arm. Sam wiggled into a comfortable position, nestling into his side and flung an arm over his chest. He caressed the skin on her limb and noted that she must still be leaving Pavan's bracelet in her jewellery box. He asked her about that one night when they were cuddled up together in front of a roaring fire parked on top of a mound of pillows, their lump only a bump then. She was reluctant to talk about it at first, but after a few tears, she confessed that she felt she had closure on that incident in her life. She felt good, she felt strong, she felt forgiven. The bracelet would be worn on and off and finally `passed down' to baby O'Neill when it was time. Closure indeed, as T would say.
Sam peeped up to his face. "Have you been thinking again?" she asked, as Jack wrapped his arm around hers further.
Jack angled his chin down to meet her gaze, "Yeah."
Sam wiggled her shoulders, "Well don't, that's *my* job."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Jack tightened his caress around her, and let his left hand rest on the bump again. He began to rub her stomach in a circular movement, as he knew it soothed the stretched skin.
He saw Sam's eyes flutter close as she enjoyed the sensation. "You're so good to me, Jack O'Neill, Earth saviour and husband."
"You *so* want me to rub your feet after." He had her pegged.
Sam tried to stifle a laugh by turning her face into his armpit.
He tightened his arm again. "I love you, Samantha."
And, he did, he completely did.
Her head moved. Two very wide, very cerulean-green eyes were staring at him. "I love you back, and *don't* say `I know'."
He smiled *that* smile and watched those eyes sparkle. "Get some rest," he suggested, gently.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, and moved his hand to another spot on her bare midriff. Her head lowered to his chest, and gradually, her breathing evened out.
Jack lay awake in the warm of the late night, Sam-watching again.
******
Story Notes: Enough is Enough 05: SPOILERS: Set S8, but no real spoilers
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fifth and final instalment in the `Enough is Enough' series. The message numbers for the others are:
Enough is Enough - 74280
Best Laid Plans of Mice & Colonels - 75847
Now is the Time – 79644
BC - 85246
Or email me at the address above – I really don't mind :D Dedicated to Jenny L, who may not see this, as at present, she is actually getting a life down under *g*, but she really, really loved it. *smooches*
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fifth and final instalment in the `Enough is Enough' series. The message numbers for the others are:
Enough is Enough - 74280
Best Laid Plans of Mice & Colonels - 75847
Now is the Time – 79644
BC - 85246
Or email me at the address above – I really don't mind :D Dedicated to Jenny L, who may not see this, as at present, she is actually getting a life down under *g*, but she really, really loved it. *smooches*
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]