Chapter Text
Jack had always been a man of action. He could plan, strategize, lead, but when it came to the things that mattered most, like feelings, he had a tendency to overthink himself into a corner. This time, he didn’t let himself.
So, instead of debating whether or not it was too soon, instead of wondering if Sam would think it was too much, he just did it.
He packed up the truck, loaded C4 in the back, and drove straight to her house on a Friday afternoon, arriving just as Sam was wrapping up work for the day.
She opened the door to find him standing there, wearing that casual, almost smug expression that usually meant he was up to something.
“What did you do?” she asked suspiciously, one hand on her hip.
Jack held up his keys. “Pack a bag, Carter. We’re going on a trip.”
Sam blinked, caught off guard. “A trip?”
“Weekend getaway. You, me, the kid, the dog. Fresh air, no responsibilities, no SGC.”
Grace, who had been quietly listening from the couch, perked up at the word trip. “Are we going to space?!”
Jack smirked. “Not quite, kiddo. But close.”
Grace frowned in thought. “The moon?”
Sam huffed a laugh, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Jack, you can’t just—”
“I can,” he interrupted, stepping inside like he already had her answer. “And I did.” His voice softened, nudging her toward agreement. “Come on, Sam. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks. You need a break. And Grace deserves a weekend of fun. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Sam hesitated, glancing toward Grace, who was now practically bouncing in excitement. She exhaled, already feeling herself give in. “Where are we going?”
Jack grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach flip. “Silver Creek.”
Sam’s brows lifted. “Minnesota?”
“Yep.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s… oddly specific.”
Jack shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just happens to be a beautiful spot. Great views. A lake. Oh, and I may or may not own a cabin there.”
Sam gaped at him. “You have a cabin?”
Jack’s smirk deepened. “You sound shocked.”
Sam shook her head in exasperation. “I am shocked.”
Grace grabbed onto Jack’s sleeve, eyes wide with curiosity. “Does it have a secret bunker?”
Jack grinned down at her. “No bunker, kid, but it does have a firepit. You ever made s’mores?”
Grace’s face lit up. “No, but I wanna!”
Jack shot Sam a look that clearly said, 'You can’t say no to that face’.
Sam sighed, defeated but smiling. “Fine. We’ll go.”
Jack clapped his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear! Pack for a couple of days, bring something warm. It gets chilly at night.”
Grace squealed and ran toward the stairs. “I’m gonna pack my astronaut suit!”
Jack chuckled, watching her disappear. Then he turned back to Sam. “And you, Carter?”
She crossed her arms, smirking. “I’ll pack. But if I find out this was just an elaborate plan to get me alone in the woods—”
Jack put a hand over his heart. “Samantha, please. I’m a gentleman.”
She rolled her eyes but laughed, and Jack felt something settle in his chest.
Maybe this was too soon. Maybe he should have overthought it a little more. But as Sam turned, shaking her head fondly, and Grace shouted from upstairs about needing to bring all her stuffed animals, Jack knew he took the right decision.
The drive had been long, but the excitement buzzing from the backseat had made it anything but dull. Grace had spent most of the ride bouncing between singing, rattling off every fishing fact she could remember, and asking how much longer until they arrived. Sam had kept up with her enthusiasm, answering as best she could, while Jack mostly smirked at the chaos unfolding in his truck.
Now, as the familiar gravel path crunched under the tires, Jack tightened his grip on the wheel, exhaling softly. It had been a while since he had brought anyone here—longer still since a child had set foot on this land.
The cabin stood just ahead, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, nestled perfectly between towering pines and overlooking the quiet lake beyond. The moment Jack shifted into park, Grace let out an excited gasp.
“Mommy! Look at all the trees! There’s so many!”
Before Jack even had time to kill the engine, Grace was unbuckling herself, fumbling to get out.
Jack chuckled, stepping out and grabbing their bags from the back. “Easy, kid. We’re not going anywhere.”
But Grace was already taking off, C4 bounding excitedly at her heels, both of them kicking up dirt as they raced toward the porch.
Sam slid out of the truck more slowly, stretching out her legs before looking up at the cabin. She turned to Jack, her voice softer than before. “It’s beautiful.”
Jack gave a small, almost self-conscious shrug. “Yeah.”
Sam studied him for a beat, noting the way his gaze lingered on the porch, the subtle tension in his shoulders.
It hit her then. This was his place. His sanctuary.
And this was probably the first time he had ever shared it.
Her chest tightened slightly, but before she could say anything, Grace’s voice rang through the crisp air.
“Mommy! Can I pick my room?”
Jack swallowed, eyes flicking toward the cabin. His chest constricted. He knew exactly which room she’d want.
And suddenly, this all felt very real.
Sam must have caught the shift in his expression because when she turned back to him, her brow furrowed slightly. “Jack?”
He blinked, forcing a small smirk. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, let’s head in.”
He led the way, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The inside smelled just as it always had—wood, faint traces of pine. The space was warm, familiar. A stone fireplace sat at the far end, flanked by well-worn furniture. The kitchen was small but functional, and large windows let the natural light flood in.
Grace hesitated only for a second before darting inside. She paused, spinning slowly as she took everything in. “It’s so cool!”
Jack let out a breath, his shoulders easing just slightly at the sheer excitement in her voice.
She took off toward the hall, C4 close behind, and Jack barely had time to react before she threw open the first door on the left.
“This one!”
Sam inhaled sharply. Jack stilled.
It was Charlie’s room.
Or at least, it had been.
His chest tightened, but he forced himself to move, stepping into the doorway. The room was just as he had left it years ago—simple but comfortable. A wooden bedframe, a small dresser, a desk near the window.
Grace stood in the center, her little hands on her hips as she examined it with critical excitement. “It’s perfect.”
Jack swallowed past the lump in his throat.
Sam’s hand brushed against his arm, just the faintest touch, but it grounded him. He turned to find her watching him carefully, searching his face.
“You okay?” she murmured, her voice just for him.
He hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah.”
And surprisingly… he meant it.
Because for the first time in a long time, this room wasn’t just a reminder of what had been lost. It was something new.
Something good.
Grace spun back toward them, beaming. “Mommy, can I stay here?”
Jack finally exhaled, nodding once. “Yeah, kiddo.”
Her grin widened, and she threw her arms around his waist in a quick, excited hug before running off to explore the rest of the house.
Sam lingered, her gaze still on him. “Jack…”
“I’m fine,” he assured her, softer this time.
Jack had barely set his bag down when he noticed the stack of mail piled up near the kitchen counter. He never forwarded anything here—there wasn’t much point since he didn’t spend enough time in the cabin to bother. But over the years, letters and notices had stacked up, a reminder that some part of him had always considered this place home.
With Grace still exploring the house and C4 excitedly following her every move, Jack took the opportunity to start sorting through the mess. Most of it was junk—old flyers, outdated bills, a few military correspondences he’d never bothered to open. He was about to toss half of it when Sam’s voice broke through his focus.
“Jack.”
Something in her tone made him pause.
She was standing near the counter, sifting through a few envelopes he had set aside. Her fingers hovered over one in particular, her expression unreadable. Jack barely looked at the envelope as he tore it open, his focus more on clearing out the pile than whatever useless notice had been sent to a cabin he rarely used.
Sam, however, had gone still beside him.
Her eyes tracked every movement as he unfolded the letter, but she wasn’t sure what she was expecting—she didn’t even know why the logo had unsettled her in the first place. It was a lab. A fertility clinic. One of many.
And yet, something inside her twisted when Jack’s expression shifted, just barely.
“Huh.” He exhaled through his nose, brow furrowing slightly as he skimmed the contents.
Sam swallowed. “What?”
Jack shook his head, looking almost amused. “Nothing. Just… didn’t expect this.” He glanced at her, oblivious to the way she was holding her breath. “It’s from a clinic I went to years ago. Long before the SGC.”
Sam’s fingers twitched. She kept her voice even. “A clinic?”
Jack handed her the paper absently, already moving on to the next envelope. “Yeah. Sold some swimmers when I was young and broke. Needed cash.” He smirked faintly. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d hear from them again.”
Sam arched a brow, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. “So, let me get this straight. You donated your genetics to science… for beer money?”
Jack smirked. “I prefer to think of it as an investment in the future.”
Sam let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Well, it must’ve been a hell of a beer.”
Jack shrugged, completely unbothered. “Kept me afloat when I needed it.” He gestured to the letter. “Guess they finally ran out of little O’Neills.”
Sam hummed, glancing at the clinic’s name again. “Small world. I used the same place.”
That made Jack pause. His brow lifted, intrigued. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “When I left the Air Force, I knew I wanted Grace. That’s where I went.”
Jack let out a low whistle. “What are the odds?”
Sam smirked. “Statistically speaking? Low.”
Jack tilted his head. “And here I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”
Sam gave him a look. “I don’t.”
Jack chuckled, tossing the letter onto the pile of discarded mail. Then, with an easy grin, he leaned against the counter beside her. “Well, if you ever need, I can always make another donation. Save you the trip.”
Sam snorted, rolling her eyes. “That’s generous of you.”
Jack tapped his chest. “I’m a giver, Carter.”
She shook her head, still laughing, before nudging him playfully. “Good to know.”
Jack grinned, pleased with himself, but before he could come up with another quip, Grace’s voice called from the other room.
“General Jack! C4 found a squirrel!”
Jack sighed, already pushing off the counter. “Gotta make sure he doesn’t start an interspecies war.”
Sam watched him go, her amusement lingering even as something in her chest tightened. She shook the thought away, turning back to the counter. Just a coincidence. That’s all.
The room was bathed in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, the soft rustling of the trees outside the only sound breaking the quiet. Grace was sound asleep, curled up in her room, exhausted from a day spent chasing C4 through the woods. The cabin felt like it existed in a world apart, far from reality, far from responsibilities—just the two of them, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came with certainty.
Jack had never thought of this place as anything but his own retreat, a sanctuary that he kept closed off from the rest of the world. And yet, now, with Sam pressed against him, her warmth sinking into his skin, her breath mingling with his, it felt like something more. Like home.
He traced a slow path down her spine, reveling in the way she melted into his touch, the way her lips curved against his shoulder as she exhaled his name in a quiet murmur. They moved together in unspoken rhythm, a dance they had waited too long to share, built on something stronger than just need—something neither of them could walk away from anymore.
Sam’s fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring him, her touch both gentle and desperate, as if she wanted to memorize every inch of him, to remind herself that this wasn’t just another stolen moment, that this was real. Jack met her gaze in the dim light, and what he saw there stole what little breath he had left—an openness, an intensity that mirrored everything he felt but had never dared to say aloud.
His hand slid up to cup her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek. “Sam,” he murmured, his voice raw, almost reverent.
She stilled slightly, searching his expression, waiting.
Jack swallowed, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with their closeness and everything to do with the weight of the words sitting on his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say them, not yet, not like this. But they were there, undeniable.
“I love you.”
The words hung between them, fragile and infinite all at once.
For a heartbeat, Sam just looked at him, her eyes searching his, her breath catching. And then, a slow, breathtaking smile broke across her lips.