samandjack.net

Story Notes: SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers

WARNINGS: Mention of child death, suggestion of self- mutilation/suicide attempt.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a sequel to `Enough is Enough', message number 74280 on this list. Thanks to Lisa and Tricia for the beta and to Jo B, for saying nice things just when I needed them the most, and to Gwen & Sis. *kisses*


Jack O'Neill gripped the steering wheel of his SUV harder as the Colorado sleet melted into rivulets down his windshield. The intermittent swish of his wiper blades did nothing to improve his view of what was causing the traffic jam, or his mood, which was deteriorating further with each steady swipe.

He checked his watch again. Great. He was now *forty* minutes late. Fingering his cell phone propped in the holder, he considered calling the hospital again. No. He knew they would have passed the message on to Carter, but he was also well aware she would not have acknowledged it.

It was now nearly three months since Carter and twenty-two children had been rescued from a rocky entombment on some God-forsaken planet. They were all starved and near to death, having eaten or drunk very little food and water for three and a half weeks. Well, technically, Carter had `died', but only for the few moments until Fraiser did her Dr. Frankenstein thing and zapped her back to life. Twenty-one of the kids recovered and were back with their parents, happily living on PX-whatever - The Land of the Light.

Yeah. Twenty *one* kids. One died. A little boy by the name of Pavan, of Naquadah poisoning. The alien element in Carter's blood was blamed.

The kids managed to survive by eating and drinking the plant debris and meager water trapped in the cave with them. However, Carter knew that wasn't enough. They needed protein and vitamins; they needed more. So she took out her service knife and cut open her own arms and made the toddlers suck up her blood in an attempt to keep them alive.

By the time the SGC teams dug them out, Carter's physical condition was pretty bad, but Jack was over the moon to see them alive. To see *her* alive. He stuck by Sam's side during the first few days in the infirmary silently declaring: `enough is enough' and promising all kinds of stuff to her.

What a crock of shit.

Doesn't life always bite you on the ass just when you think you are actually getting somewhere? Jack stared out the windshield at the passersby, huddled under their coats as if hiding from the world.

When Pavan had gotten sick, the docs said it was the heavy metal type constituents in Carter's blood that were reacting with the iron- carrying cells in his juvenile blood. His body slowly starved of oxygen and despite transfusions and experimental procedures, he died, two and half weeks after being rescued. Fraiser was adamant that Sam should not be told; her recovery was progressing, but her physical condition was still critical and there was a long road to go. Any stress could be deadly.

Best laid plans of mice and Colonels.

Then, one of the candy stripers accidentally blabbed to Carter about Pavan. Although Carter only got half the story, her tenacious quest for facts revealed the tragic truth. Any hope of building on the progress she managed thus far just crumbled. And Jack's dream of cabins, lakes and futures crumbled along with it. His friend (he couldn't call her anything else, could he?) spiraled downwards into severe depression. Fraiser said it was lack of happy hormones or some damn thing, but that wasn't surprising, as Carter had stopped eating. She stopped talking. She stopped fighting.

Fraiser was patient. The gastric tube went back in and the IV's kept her stable. The psychs were in and out of her ward like busy little bees. It was all keeping her body alive, yeah, but not her soul. He had seen it in her before, after Jolinar. She was wearing a flat, lifeless look. God help him, he knew that look. He saw it in her; he had seen it in himself. It hurt to be awake. Sleep was the only escape and there was precious little of that. Light hurt and mirrors were avoided. Food tasted like ashes and the world was a monochromatic wasteland with no reason to get out of bed.

Guilt - that very `human' of emotions – is an acid that dissolves you slowly from the inside out. Jack fingered the condensation forming on the inside of the truck windows and stretched his left leg; it was cramping again. Letting out an annoyed puff of air, he rubbed his thigh and reached over to turn the heater up.

He also noticed that Carter couldn't bear noise. He remembered that. Of course, he was about to hear the loudest and last noise himself – that of his 9mm going off in his right ear – before General West's henchmen came knocking. The first Abydos mission was his saving grace and a twelve-year-old Cassandra had been Sam's once before. So, Cassandra tried, Janet tried, even McKenzie, hell, *everyone* had tried *everything* to get through to Silent Sam, but with no response.

Well, perhaps not everything.

Jack wasn't actually worried about Carter's physical condition when she was so depressed; Fraiser could IV feed her indefinitely. No. He was worried what would happen once her strength returned. And this worry was vindicated by the previous day's events.

Because Samantha M. Carter, Major, USAF, came close to killing herself. At best, a court-martialable offense and at worst, well, Jack couldn't even begin to contemplate the worst. Yanking out her tubes – God, that must have hurt – she managed to get as far as the nurse's store cupboard and the sharps safe before collapsing, a unused scalpel in her hand.

Yeah, bite you on the ass.

Now, Jack was trying one last thing. He wasn't sure if his visits were doing any good; Carter usually lay like a lump while he rambled on aimlessly. At least Teal'c and Daniel said the same was true for them.

The traffic was moving – about friggin' time. Why does some faceless bureaucrat always decide it will be a good idea to dig up roads in the middle of winter?

Parking his SUV in McKenzie's place, he turned up his overcoat collar to make the short dash to the hospital entrance. One elevator ride later he was at the nurse's station for Carter's floor, announcing his presence and confirming the plans. Signing his name on the appropriate forms, he asked the same thing he always did:

"How is she today?"

"Stable," replied the Piscean faced nurse, her mouth perpetually turned down like a mournful pike.

Jack paused outside Carter's door and peeked in through the viewing window. Carter was lying on her back, straight out on her bed and facing away from him. Checking more closely, he could see some soft arm restraints were in place, securing her wrists to the upraised bed guards. Damn. As proud as Sam was - is - that's gotta hurt.

Deep breath. Courage to the sticking post. Clutching the supplies that Janet left for him, he slapped open the door and practically *bounded* into the room. Shit, her naso-gastric tube was back in place.

"Greetings, Carter! How are you today?" Jack held his hand up to mock-ward off the answer he knew he wasn't going to get. "No, I know, don't tell me: `MARVELOUS!'"

Sam snapped her eyes closed the second he came into the room, pretending to be asleep. Jack felt a pang of memory as a vision of Charlie swam into his mind. He would always lie awake for hours after Jack got back from overseas, waiting for his Dad to come in and straighten out the quilt, but he'd close his eyes tight when Jack opened the door.

He gently tugged at Carter's left arm restraint. A pair of baleful blue eyes shot open and glared at him.

"Yup, I'm springing you, Carter," he stated as he leaned over to untie the other restraint. The hand flopped to the bed sheets. Freeing her remaining hand with a flourish, he fished hurriedly in his pocket for the object he needed before his nerve failed him.

"Well, there ya go; liberation. And here's what you were searching for yesterday, Ms. Carter." He held out the scalpel, handle first.

Staring. He could do that.

Sam was looking at the knife. Jack saw the fingers on her right hand twitch, but she made no move to touch it. So he placed it carefully in her flaccid palm.

Her eyes closed slowly, and she turned her head away.

"Fuck off, Jack," she hissed.

A response. Thank God. "Ooh-err, Major. That would be `fuck off, *sir*', plus, that's insubordination, and over familiarity without permission. Add that to attempted suicide, and you'll be scrubbing toilets with your toothbrush in Alaska to end your career."

Oh, now *that* hurt. Carter squeezed her eyes closed and clenched the fist that *wasn't* holding the knife. She seemed so small, pressed into the bed. The hair that was beginning to grow back spread out on the pillow and flopped over her still-sallow forehead. When her eyes re-opened, that flat, almost shark-like look was back. Christ, it was as if that entity thing possessed her again. There was no further response.

"All-righty! That knife not big enough? What about this one?" Jack took out her service knife from where it was hidden it in his back pocket. He grasped the sheath deliberately and eased the blade out, the metal making a scraping sound against the guard.

Oh, she was *definitely* staring now.

Jack leaned over the bed. "I said, use this." He removed the scalpel and replaced it with her own weapon. Her breathing came faster. Fraiser had better be right when she said that Sam was physically up to this. "I tell you what, use the bathroom. It's easier to clean up, although dang hard to get blood out of grouting." You're a bastard, O'Neill; you know that, he thought.

Sam's mouth was working and she turned her head away, shifting the n- g tube slightly. Her hand was still loose around the hilt.

He steeled himself for the next part.

"Go on, then, Carter. If you are *such* a waste of space, do it now and get it over with. No one cares about you, Sam, that's why your room has more cards than Hallmark, and your flowers could give my local florist a run for their money."

Jack took a step back, his gaze divided between Carter's fingers and her face. There was no response from either. Time for plan B. He leaned over, noticing her eyes flicker closed as he moved, and gently retrieved the knife from her limp hand. Sheathing the knife, he walked over to the door and poked his head out. Janet was waiting outside. "Plan B," he admitted with resignation.

Thirty minutes later, Carter was carefully ensconced on a patient transport headed to Cheyenne, with Doctor-don't-mess-with-me-Sam Fraiser in attendance. As he stared at her glaring out of the window, he noticed Sam's white knuckles and her slightly-too-rapid breathing.

How much did he want to cover that skinny hand with his own again? To put his arm around her bony shoulders once more and tell her over and over again *not* to worry? She apparently didn't remember that he had done that.

Forget it, Jack. Duty before self.

By the time they got her into a wheelchair and down to the SGC, Sam was obviously in some distress and Jack was seriously reconsidering the plans. There was minimal staff present, as was arranged with General George, but Sam was still avoiding all conversation and eye contact. Jack started to change his mind, but Janet was confident, performed some quick obs and gave him the nod. Fortified, he pushed the wheelchair to the outside of the level 28 blast doors and waited for the `gate's dialing sequence to finish. If Carter got a peek at the locked chevrons, her eidetic memory would tell her where they were going, and he didn't want her to know just yet. The familiar `kawoosh' sound told him that all was ready.

Pushing the chair across to the edge of the `gate ramp, he could still see Sam gripping the sides. Her head was hanging so low; it was practically touching her knees. As Jack applied the brake, he could see Hammond lean closer to the window.

~ Good luck, Jack, ~ he mouthed.

Daniel and Teal'c were standing stony faced behind the General. He nodded to them all, then bent down to flip up the footrests and gently placed Sam's slippered feet onto the floor. As he glanced up he caught her expression and his heart lurched; all he could see was pain. Her eyes were wide and her breath was huffing out the few long strands of hair she still had remaining.

As he gently tugged at the blanket covering Sam's legs, she suddenly gripped it with her right hand, while the left shot out, flat-palmed to push him away. "Leave me alone," she whispered, her eyes averted.

Jack ground his teeth and continued to pull the blanket out of her grasp and handed it to Janet. "Carter, it'll be easier if you walk up the ramp. It's a bit difficult to get the chair up the wire grating." He gave her what he hoped was his best encouraging look.

Sam jerked her head around to face her friend and her doctor. "Janet, please, I'm not well, don't make me go," she pleaded.

Before the doc could answer, Jack reached out and gently cupped Sam's chin and moved her face to look at him. "Do you trust me, Sam?" he asked quietly. Her eyes were wide open now, reflecting the soft blue and white ripples of the Stargate event horizon.

The look she gave in reply was full of desperation.

Dear God. How could his strong, smart, sexy-as-hell second-in- command have been reduced to this? How had he allowed it?

He didn't take his hand away. He looked at her. She looked at him.

She spoke. "Yes."

He shook his head. "Then you're coming with me." He reached under her knobbly knees and placed an arm around her shoulders ready for the lift.

Once again, her hand palmed out. "Okay, but under my own steam. Sir."

Jack's stomach just did a somersault, double toe looping, the lot. "Certainly, Major," he grinned, and scooped his arms under hers as she struggled to stand upright. With Jack on one side, and Janet on the other, Sam managed reasonable progress up the ramp to the glowing aperture. He held his hand firmly about his shoulders as they passed through the wormhole, but released the grip as they stepped through to the other side. He heard her faintly gasp as she realized where she was and could see Janet immediately checking over her patient's physical condition.

The Stargate on the `The Land of the Light' had been re-sited; moved from the dense forest within the planet's semi-permanent terminator to the sunny courtyard facing the entrance to Councillor Tuplo's palace. The difference was stunning. Carter's mouth was slightly parted, and her cheeks showed the first real tinge of color he had seen on them in weeks.

"Carter?" he questioned.

"I'm all right, sir. I didn't know the `gate here had been moved," she stammered, her eyes wide with the beauty of the vista.

Jack waggled his eyebrows in return. "Ah-ha. I don't tell you everything, Carter." Ain't *that* the truth, O'Neill.

Sam shook her head. "Then why are we *here*?" The suspicion in her voice was evident, the fear, less so.

Jack signaled to one of the beefy guards who nodded in return and began to pull open the large, ornate atrium door. "There are some people who want to say `hi'," he said simply.

Suddenly, in poured a gaggle of chattering - make that yelling - kids. Twenty-one kids. The `Carter' kids.

He saw Sam's head dip, but the med tech was ready with the chair and so were Janet's arms. Jack helped to ease her down, but any words of comfort were buried amongst the noise of little kids, big kids, kids with dogs, kids with flowers. What was the collective noun for a group of raucous, happy children? Jack smirked as they giggled and chatted and yelled, telling Carter this, showing Carter that, getting her to shake paws with their dogs.

Jack's hand stayed near the top of her shoulders, joining in the kids' conversations and cracking jokes. His attention was actually on Sam; her eyes were like saucers, and her bottom lip was being chewed furiously. He let his hand fall onto the shoulder of the oversized AF PT sweatshirt she was wearing. A puppy was dumped on her lap and as she scratched its ears, Sam turned to look Jack in he eye. He tried to look innocent and failed; she had warned him before about introducing non-indigenous life forms to alien ecosystems. Her admonishing look melted away. It melted away into *that* smile - the one she had used back on the planet. She *did* remember.

Turning her face back to the kids, she continued to answer their questions, accepted all their hugs, and ended up with two little ones perched on her knees. When the chatter started to die down, parents appeared, picking out their children. Then there were more hugs for Sam Carter.

Kiss after kiss. Hug after hug. Tears after tears. They embraced this remarkable woman who kept their children alive through her intelligence, determination and the sheer force of her personality.

Eventually, just one man, one woman and one little girl remained. Jack knew who these people were, and it was obvious Carter had guessed. Jack tightened his grip around her slightly trembling shoulders and knelt beside her, hoping his knees wouldn't creak too badly. He slipped his right hand into hers, and quite enjoyed the gentle look of shock and mild surprise that crossed her face.

The woman came forward with something held fast against her chest. She nodded respectfully and smiled hesitantly, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and unwavering.

Just two words.

"From Pavan."

She took Sam's free hand and turned it palm up, dropping something into her fingers, and as she did so, Jack got a good look from where he knelt. It was a small bracelet; rough hewn from small pieces of wood, each bit carved into a tiny design. Sam shook her head. "No. No. I can't; you must cherish it." She tried to return the gift to Pavan's mother, but she simply kissed Sam on the cheek and stepped back.

The tanned, earnest-faced man then stepped forward, his little tangled-haired daughter clinging happily to his hand. He too knelt, and Jack was suddenly struck by the absurd scene of two grown men kneeling before their queen.

Pavan's father quieted his daughter before addressing Sam. "We cherish our daughter, Samantha, and we are indebted to you for saving her life, and trying to save that of our son. Without you, we would have nothing." His simple but powerful words were definitely having an effect on Janet; she was sniffing into her hanky.

Jack turned to gauge Sam. Her shoulders stopped trembling as she smiled at Pavan's sister. "Thank you. I will treasure this."

After more hugs and lots of sticky-kiddy kisses, the family turned away and retreated through the court gates. Janet and the med tech were gone too; they were alone. Sam was fiddling with the bracelet, her mouth working and her eyes moist. No tears from her - he couldn't remember the last time Carter cried in front of him.

"You okay?" Jack asked. He laughed into the pause that followed. "Geez, I say a lotta dumb stuff."

Sam sputtered out a giggle, but then almost immediately sobered. She bent her head to appraise the bracelet. "He's dead because of me."

Jack pulled off his cap with his free hand. "Carter, twenty-one kids are *alive* because of you." They were definitely getting somewhere. Maybe this would work.

The next words were spoken so quietly, he strained to hear her.

"I don't know if I can live with the one I lost."

Damn.

"We lose people all the time-" he held up a hand to silence her breaking protest. "This is that much harder because it was a child."

She was doing the staring thing again. And nodding. She was nodding.

"Give it time, Carter. Let us help you." He squeezed her hand, which he was still holding. To his astonishment, she squeezed back.

They sat for several minutes while Jack watched the play of emotions across Sam's face. Finally, she expelled a slow breath and looked down at their clasped hands. "I missed this."

Jack was aware he was making a face like a goldfish. This wasn't in the plan. "So you *do* remember."

Heck, she was cute when she was biting her lip. "Yeah."

"Do you remember anything I said to you?" {Please say no, please say no}

"Some. About going to your *cabin*, mostly." She was smiling again, and her thumb was doing a really nice thing rubbing up and down on the back of his hand.

Up and down. Down and up. "Damn you, woman," he grumbled.

Oh my. Her face just lit up with one of her beaming grins. "You know we can't," she said simply.

His thoughts flew back to General George and two pink woolly socks. "Um..we might be able to. But a few things need to change first."

Sam shook her head. "There's no way I'm gonna let you retire, so don't even think about that, but they'll probably kick me off an operational unit anyway, being certified nuts, and everything."

"Oh," smirked Jack, "You too?" He released her hand and picked up the bracelet that she was holding. As he eased the dainty ring over her wrist, he noticed her breath was coming faster.

"Okay, but we need to get… things… sorted." Her voice was slightly nervous, but hopeful.

Adjusting the bracelet on her arm, he nodded. "I know."

She was nodding again. What was this? Nodders Anonymous? `Hi, I'm Jack and I nod when I'm nervous'.

"And I want to talk to my Dad."

A-ha. "I know that too. And that's fine, `cos he's right - over - there." Jack pointed to where Jacob Carter was marching across the atrium like he was on a parade ground.

Sam spun her head back. "You planned this!" she accused, her eyes sparkling.

Jack grinned his best Minnesotan cutie boy grin. "Oh, Yasureyabetcha!"

Her answering look all at once made his heart melt and his mind spin cartwheels.

Ha! Best laid plans, Jack, best laid plans.



The End



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