Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Next part in the 'Remedied' series, which was last visited in Sam's Socks. Warning: sappy as hell. Spoilers for 'Metamorphosis'. Feedback would be loved.
*
"Jack?"
She was nervous. Really, really, nervous.
"Hmm?"
He wasn't helping.
They were in bed. Specifically, his bed. She was spending so much time here now that her own house was starting to become decidedly neglected - though she had a suspicion that he was officially going to ask her to move in with him soon.
Whenever she finished a mission and left the base these days, she always headed straight to his place, and whether he was in or not she'd make herself at home (the spare key had magically found its way into her purse a long time ago; she'd discovered it while searching for lip balm).
Sam didn't officially 'know' what he did during the day now, but she was well aware that he'd been helping out at a children's charity (she had her own way of keeping tabs on him). He never mentioned it, which was so utterly *him* that she didn't even mind when he told her about the hockey games he hadn't really watched, or the catching up with buddies who didn't really exist.
He'd always loved kids.
Which should have made this less nerve-wracking.
Naturally, it didn't. She'd simply never been in this situation before - quite remarkable really, given her age.
Of course it didn't help that he was flicking through some magazine, currently paying her only the slightest of interest.
She'd been doing just the opposite for the past twenty minutes; faking a fascination with the book she was holding, and she'd only just realised it was upside down.
Amazing how she'd faced armies of Jaffa, pissed Goa'uld's, and various other bad guys over the years, and this was terrifying her more than any of that.
Deciding to just get it over with she closed her eyes, and blurted it out:
"I'm late."
He could have played dumb - he usually did (though since retiring, he was definitely doing it less). But, he had been married and even had a child before; he knew what she was saying.
The magazine he was holding slowly, slowly, inched its way down until it was lying on the covers. He turned his head to look at her; not frowning, not smiling, not really seeing anything. He seemed permanently shocked. "Has there..." *There* was a frown. "Has there been anything at work that could have...disrupted something?"
She shook her head. "No." She'd considered that already, of course, but these last few weeks had been pleasantly quiet compared to what SG-1 were used to. "Nothing." She still hated not being able to share with him what she was doing at - and off - the SGC. It just didn't feel right.
Nodding thoughtfully, one of the rare times when he seriously seemed to be considering what was being said and what he was going to say, he spoke again. "How late?"
"Six days." It wasn't that long *really*, and she'd done her best to convince herself of that. God knew what he'd already suggested had merit - they'd encountered enough bizarre situations. There had even been one occasion when she hadn't had a period for four months.
But...nothing like Jolinar had happened. Nothing even close. And when there were no strange circumstances her periods came reassuringly like clockwork.
She definitely felt relieved when he didn't bring out the old "But we always use some kind of protection," argument. These things still happened, whether you used something or not.
Her mood rapidly plummeted, however, when he cast the covers aside, and shifted until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, with his back to her.
That could *not* be good.
Knowing that she was going to have this face this no matter what, she extracted her own body from beneath the covers and knelt behind him. "Jack?" When he didn't respond, she rubbed her right hand slowly over his back, and then slid it up until it rested on his shoulder. "Please,"
She didn't know what she was asking for, exactly.
But she got it.
"Sorry," He muttered, shaking his head as if to clear it, though he still wasn't looking at her. "This is just...big."
They still had no proof that she was actually pregnant...but he didn't need to tell *her* that. "I know. But...did you never, you know, think about us maybe having a family...?" God, if he didn't say something...
Jack's right arm folded up across his chest, his hand touching hers where it rested on his shoulder. It was a concession he could make, and she understood. "I did. Of course I did."
That was good to know, at least. It was still hard for them to talk about some things - as if almost afraid to jinx their relationship by saying it was going to last that long. "Me too."
"All those little Carter's running around, confusing the hell out of their dad..."
She grinned, which was no doubt what he'd intended.
"It's just," He sighed, then turned his body towards her, forcing their hands to drop away, so he was finally meeting her gaze. "I always figured it'd be a few years from now, you know? I mean I know I'm not getting any younger, but I know how much you love your work, and we still have no idea if sending even a slightly pregnant woman through the gate would be safe."
Sam couldn't help it. "'Slightly pregnant'?"
He didn't even roll his eyes. "You know what I mean,"
She really did: he was worried about her. Lifting her hand up, she rubbed her fingers over the side of his face. "I'm gonna be fine, Jack. And if I *am* pregnant, I won't take the slightest risk. Chicken shit Carter, they'll call me."
He snorted. "Well, Jonas might. And where the hell did he pick that up, anyway?"
She decided not to answer that. Her hand drifted back down to rubbing his back again. "Are you okay with this?"
"No," He turned away from her again, staring at his hands as they began to gesture. "Look at me, Sam. I'm freaking out because the woman I love might be pregnant. What's *that* about?"
Really not feeling quite so freaked herself anymore, she wrapped the arm that had been rubbing his back around him, and rested her head against his shoulder. "Fear? Realism?" After what'd happened with Charlie, she'd be surprised if he *didn't* have issues. "But I definitely know one thing," Thank *God* for the screwed up, emotionally whacked man whose ear she was about to whisper into. "Whether I ever get pregnant or not, you're still a fantastic dad."
He didn't move for a long time, but when he eventually did it was to turn, twist, and push her onto her back.
Surprised, Sam nonetheless reciprocated every kiss, every touch; hastily helping him pull down her pyjama bottoms and his boxer shorts.
When he moved over her he paused, staring. "Look at me," He pleaded, a hand cupping her face. "Keep looking at me."
She did.
~FINIS