Fragile Balance Series

Fragile Balance Series

The Scale Tips

Five years passed. Young Jonathan O'Neill, Brig. General Jack O'Neill's Asgard-built clone, was 21, the age of majority. He had long since left the home he shared with his “Aunt” and “Uncle”, the couple in whose house he had been placed as a 15 year old. He completed high school. At an accelerated pace, he finished college. He enlisted in the Air Force. They were sending him to Iraq.

He had long ago made amends to Sam for his mistreatment of her. He sent her a formal letter of apology right after his unannounced visit when he was 16. He sent her little notes from time to time, when something good came his way, holidays, her birthday. He started emailing her during college. He usually wrote once a week. She kept in touch... an occasional note. She replied to his emails, though not all the time.

Daniel was a little more communicative. Neither Young O'Neill nor Sam had ever told the archaeologist what Jon had done to Sam, how he tried to rape her. And Jack, “the original”, wouldn't have told, even under torture. So, Daniel wrote back effusive notes to Jon whenever Jon wrote him. Daniel tried to encourage the boy to visit, and couldn't understand his reluctance. When Jon admitted he was going to Iraq, Daniel insisted. The boy, young man really, was set to arrive at the end of the week. He planned to stay with Daniel. He asked the archaeologist to keep it a secret, to surprise everyone, and Daniel agreed.

Daniel invited the gang to his place for dinner the night Jon came to visit. It was rare to meet anywhere but at Jack's, but Daniel said he had a surprise, so everyone agreed. They arrived, Teal'c driving his new truck, Jack and Sam coming over together, to no one's surprise.

Since that night, five years ago, when Young O'Neill's actions forced Jack and Sam to admit and act on their feelings for each other, they'd discretely pursued their relationship, maintaining professional distance on missions and on base, taking their downtime together when possible. At least once a month, they went out of town and took a weekend away from Colorado Springs, away from possible discovery. Most of these weekends were spent in bed. And when a mission went awry, and one or the other of them was injured or worse, they ignored the potential for discovery and comforted each other as any lovers would, in each others' beds and bodies.

Daniel and Teal'c knew. Janet, when she was still alive, knew. Hammond, when he still commanded the SGC, knew. Rumors flew around the SGC, but there were no formal complaints, no threats of courts martial. Their discretion, their devotion to duty, their bravery and abilities to get the jobs done won them the admiration of nearly everyone from the President on down. And when Jack made Brig. General, and Sam was promoted to Colonel, their positions, their responsibilities made them even more indispensable to the SGC and to the planet itself.

Then, as Jack contemplated his career, he began to see the end. He never wanted to fly a desk. He never wanted to be a diplomat or a requisition signer. He lived for the fight, and now his only conflict was with caterers, politicians and bureaucrats. He loved the SGC, being on the front lines, but it was time to retire, and he knew it.

He decided he needed a plan, something he was really good at. He began talking to Sam about marriage and children, not necessarily in that order. “I could retire from the military, maybe stay home with the kids.” But she wouldn't hear of it.

She told him, “I can't imagine a day at work without you.” But Jack being Jack, wore her down, and within a few months, he'd all but convinced her to go off birth control, and try to get pregnant. He figured if she were expecting, they could get married and all would be right with the military, the SGC and the galaxy.

The hitch was after 6 months Sam still wasn't pregnant. She was loathe to have a doctor look at her, because of security issues, and the base doc couldn't know because it might put their careers in jeopardy, before she was willing to take the plunge. She just kept telling him, “It'll happen or it won't, Jack. Janet told me I might never be able to conceive, because of Jolinar, so maybe that's the problem. Some couples try for years before it happens. Be patient.”

Unfortunately patience wasn't Jack's strong suit, and it made him nuts not knowing whether or not he and Sam could have kids. He said, “I'm okay either way, Sam, but it's the not knowing that's making me crazy.”

They handled the tension of this unresolved problem the way they handled every situation between them. They talked and then took each other to bed, comfort turning to desire, love and lust intermingled. Jack worshiped her body with hands, lips and tongue. Sam gathered him to her, her mouth claiming his neck, his belly, his cock. And it was good. It was always good when they were together, their love for each other enriching each touch, each thrust, every pulse and shudder.

When SG1 arrived at Daniel's place, they relaxed with beers, Sam and Jack sitting together on Daniel's sofa, their back to his bedroom. They didn't see Jon when he walked into the room, but Teal'c did, and only after seeing the Jaffa's eyes widen with surprise, did they turn and see what caused his response. “What the fuck!?!” Jack snarled angrily, but Sam's hand on his arm stayed him from his original impulse to rise and kick the kid's ass ... again.

“Jon,” Sam said, blinking, “how ... nice... to see you again.” Daniel looked at his friend with some consternation. Sam was rarely so reticent, particularly when family was involved, and the archaeologist considered Jon family. He glanced from Sam's face to Jon's and saw the boy's cheeks redden, while Sam paled. Jack's response concerned Daniel even more. Jack had gone a deep red, fury etched across his features. This was not good, thought Daniel. He stood, trying to defuse a situation he hardly understood.

“Ah, Jon has come for a visit,” he announced.

“Ya think?” Jack spit the words at his friend.

“What I meant to say is, Jon enlisted in the Air Force and is leaving for Iraq soon. So I invited him to see the family... us... before he left.”

“You have grown considerably Jonathan O'Neill,” Teal'c offered, as confused by Sam and Jack's reactions as Daniel. It was, in fact, striking, Sam noted, how much like Jack he looked. Same eyes, same features, same build... same everything. And why not? For all intents and purposes, Jon was Jack, only younger, by about 35 years. Their DNA was the same. Their fingerprints were the same. In nearly every measurable way, excluding age, they were the same. What Sam didn't realize was just how different they had become.

The dinner went poorly. Jack refused to speak, either to the boy or to Daniel. He barely ate, and as soon as he could, he took Sam and left. Sam, for her part, tried to participate in conversation at first, but found herself unable to eat, staring at her plate, her hands shaking and her eyes wide. As they left, Daniel took Sam's hand and squeezed it. “I'm sorry, Sam. I don't understand what's happening here. I just know it's caused you pain and for that I apologize.”

Sam hugged him and said, “You didn't know, Daniel. We never told you. You didn't know.” Jack put his arm around her and ushered her out, his face stony, his eyes hard. As Daniel closed the door, he sighed, then returned to the dinner table in time to hear Teal'c's salient question.

“Jonathan O'Neill, what have you done to so anger General O'Neill?”

“It's between me and Sam, Teal'c,” Jon said evasively.

“Then why was Sam so upset?” Daniel asked.

The boy turned to the remaining members of SG1. “Look, guys, it's been a long day. I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now. We can talk about this in the morning. Okay?” He flashed his best Jack O'Neill smile, the one that charmed the pants off every women he'd ever met ... literally. It made Daniel grin and duck his head, seeing the smile he knew so well on this kid's face. It was a little disturbing, but it was charming.

When Jon went to the bedroom, Teal'c and Daniel sat up and talked. They agreed that something very wrong had happened to have unnerved Sam the way she was. They also knew that anything which upset Sam brought out Jack's protective nature, but they just didn't know what could have brought about such a marked response from either of them. “Whatever it is, Daniel Jackson, we must endeavor to find out as soon as possible. We cannot continue to befriend this boy if he had done something to hurt Colonel Carter.”

Daniel agreed, resolving to question the boy further in the morning. The friends parted, Teal'c returning to his home after helping Daniel clean up. Moving around his apartment, turning off lights, Daniel reflected on the mood this evening. Nope, this was not one of his more successful dinner parties, he thought.

The next morning Daniel woke with a feeling of unfinished business. He showered, dressed and made coffee, going in to wake Jon only at the last moment before he left. He was astonished to see the bed made and the boy nowhere to be seen, a note on the pillow indicating he'd gone for a walk and would see Daniel in the evening. Boy, that kid really knew how to avoid talking, thought Daniel. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, he thought, recalling Jack's comment about how bad he was “at these things”.

At Jack's house, Sam got ready for her day at the SGC. Jack had already left. They made a point of arriving on base in separate cars, if only for the appearance of propriety. She showered, dressed and was sitting at the breakfast table drinking her coffee, eating a blueberry muffin, when she heard something by the sliding glass door, which opened onto Jack's back deck. She wondered if Jack had locked it last night, dismissing the bubble of anxiety, which rose when the noise was repeated. She stood and moved around the table to look through the living room at the back door. Seeing it ajar, she felt for her side arm, alarmed when she realized it was still in her purse, back in Jack's bedroom.

Walking deliberately, making no noise, she worked her way through the rooms, heading for her purse and her protection. When she entered Jack's bedroom, she saw it, sitting on a chair. She moved into the room, reaching for the purse, when she felt a sharp, glancing pain shoot through the back of her head. As she fell to the floor, she had only the most fleeting of glances at her assailant.

When Sam was 20 minutes late, Jack began to pace his office. He tried her cell phone and got no answer. He called the house, wondering if there'd been a problem, but only got the answering machine. Thinking she might have needed to go back to her place for something, he called there and got her voice mail. After an hour, he called the check-in boys. “Colonel Carter get here yet?” he asked. At their negative, Jack felt a tendril of dread. “How about Dr. Jackson?”

“He got here a couple of hours ago, sir,” the airman replied. Not trusting himself to keep his cool on the phone, Jack walked down the metal steps from his office. He nodded at Walter.

“Going to see Dr. Jackson, Sergeant,” he said. Trying to keep his pace nonchalant, Jack moved down, out of the control room and into the corridor, before he started sprinting toward Daniel's lab. Seeing some SFs coming his way, he slowed down, but not much, his long legs carrying him quickly toward Daniel.

As he rounded the doorjamb of Daniel's lab, he was already forming his anxiety-driven inquiry. “Daniel!” he began. He stopped short, mouth open, when he saw the archaeologist with another scientist.

Looking up at his friend, Daniel smiled, but quickly amended his expression, when he saw Jack's face. “Uh, General, to what do I owe this honor?” Daniel finished writing something on a large pad and handed it to his colleague. “Let me know when you're done, okay?” he said, patting the man on the arm. The other scientist nodded at both Daniel and the General, and turned to go. Something about the General's expression made him want to be gone as quickly as possible.

When they were alone, Jack rounded on Daniel. If he'd been a wolf, his hackles would have been up, teeth drawn. Daniel recognized Jack's behavior, knowing his friend would calm eventually, but that it had to be serious if Jack was this keyed up already. “Sam's late, Daniel,” he said, his tone barely civil. “She was right behind me, ready to go, when I left.” Jack took a deep breath, calming himself. “She's nearly an hour and a half overdue,” he said, his voice taking on slight tremor.

“Calm down, Jack,” Daniel responded. “I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Did you try her cell?” Jack looked at him with baleful eyes. “Of course, you did. Your place? Her place?” Jack was starting to get angry again. Suddenly he took a step back.

“Where's the kid, Daniel,” Jack asked, his voice low and harsh.

“I'm sure he's back at my place, Jack. He wasn't there when I got up. Left a note saying he went for a walk. He's probably back there by now. I'll call him.” Daniel's eyebrows raised in silent question. Jack nodded. Daniel dialed. The phone rang. Eventually his answering machine kicked in. Daniel frowned. “Jon, if you're there, pick up. It's Daniel.” He waited. “Jon? Jonathan O'Neill, are you there?” When there was no answer, the archaeologist hung up.

Daniel watched Jack's face during his abortive attempt to locate the boy. When he motioned with the hand set to Jack, indicating that Jon was either not there, or not picking up, he saw Jack's face flush almost purple with swelling anger. Daniel's eyebrows rose questioningly. “What happened between Jon and Sam, Jack?” he asked quietly, hanging up the phone.

Jack turned his back on his friend and paced. “It was ... it was a while ago, about a year after he... came here.” Jack stopped walking and looked at the archaeologist. Daniel was amazed by the stricken look on Jack's face. “That little bastard tried to rape her, Daniel. Truth be told, he did rape her. I got there just in time and beat the crap out of him.”

“Wait, I don't understand, Jack. What do you mean? He... he raped Sam? Why would he do that?”

“I don't know, Daniel. He's obsessed with her. He said he was in love with her. He got into bed with her while she was asleep and ... took advantage of her.” Jack scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to calm himself. “She said she thought it was ... me.” He took a deep breath, the big vein in his forehead pulsing. “But when she woke up and realized it was him, she tried to stop him and he ... he raped her.”

“But you stopped him, right?” Daniel was having trouble understanding. Jack wasn't being completely candid with him.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said, his hand scraping through his already messed up hair. “Yeah, I stopped him, but not before he... he.” Jack couldn't say it. He didn't know how to say it. Daniel looked at him, trying to figure out what his friend was struggling with.

“Not before he... what Jack? Not before he penetrated her?” Daniel's eyes widened and filled with tears as his friend nodded. This was what made Sam so upset during the dinner party, what made Jack so crazy with anger. “God, Jack! Why didn't you tell me! I would never have invited the little shit to my home if I had known!”

“I didn't stop him in time,” Jack said brokenly, not even hearing Daniel's outburst. “If only I had been faster. If only I'd gotten there sooner.” Daniel looked at his CO, his closest friend and his heart just broke.

“You saved her, Jack. You took care of her and you punished him and you saved her. She loves you and you did good. It wasn't your fault.”

Jack looked at the archaeologist, his eyes sad, lost in the past. Slowly Daniel saw a change come over his friend. Jack's shoulders snapped back and then he nearly shouted, “God damn it, Daniel! If that little shitheel has done something to her, so help me God, I might just have to kill him.”

Sam came to, her head painful, her hands tied behind her, her feet bound, lying on her side in what appeared to be the trunk of a car. She was curled into a ball, as much as her bondage allowed, and when she stretched, she found that the space was very limited. It was dark, but the sound and feel of the road beneath the tires was distinctive, so she knew at least where she was, if not actually how she got there, or where she was going. The jostling hurt her head and she was getting stiff from her limited mobility. She wondered how long she'd been out.

She kicked the side of the car, trying to draw someone's attention. She shouted, “Hey! Help!”

The car kept going. She continued to kick and shout. “Hey! I'm hungry! I gotta pee! Come on!”

Eventually the car slowed and stopped. When the trunk opened she was blinded by the low-slanting daylight. As her eyes adjusted she realized that it was probably mid-afternoon. Just how long had she been in this trunk? A man's head looked in, his features shaded because of the bright light behind him... but she knew him... Jon! He reached out for her, his hand shaking, and she lunged at him, her teeth connecting, biting down until she tasted blood. He slapped her hard with his free hand, making her head throb and she let go. “Bastard!” she hissed.

As she watched his young face, she saw the steely look of her Jack slip over his features. It was frightening to watch. “If you don't behave, Sam, I'm going to have to make you behave.”

“Fuck you, you little asshole,” she shouted at him. Her head hurt so badly she thought she was going to puke.

He hit her again, stuffing a piece of cloth in her mouth, securing it with his handkerchief, effectively gagging her. “I didn't want to have to do that, Sam, but you made me. When you're ready to be a good girl, I'll take it out. I'll even untie you. Hell, you can sit up front with me.” He looked at her, running a finger down her cheek. “I'm going to make you love me, Sam. I'm going to make you forget the old man and love me.” She flinched from his touch. He shook his head sadly. “Don't make me do this,” he said. She struggled, trying to loosen the bonds. “I guess that's the way it's going to be, then,” he said grimly, and slammed the trunk closed.

It was a long time before he opened the car again. She supposed she passed out. Her head hurt less, but her cheek felt bruised and there was a definite twinge when she closed her eye on that side. “You can stay here in the trunk tonight, if you want,” he said, “but I'd rather bring you inside with me.” He looked down at her. She could barely see his features. It was full dark outside and she felt how chill the air was. “Are you going to behave?” he asked softly. She nodded. He hauled her up out of the trunk and shut it. He slung her over his shoulder, carrying her a short way to an open door.

Sam barely saw where she was, before they were inside the room... some kind of cheap motel. She hoped this was the kind of place where noise was easily communicated through the walls, and for a moment or two she imagined she might be able to get help, if she was clever.

He tossed her on the bed, looking down at her. “I don't think I can trust you yet, Sam.” She nodded at him, just a little frantic, trying to let him know that she could be trusted. He bent a knee on the bed, leaning over her to touch her face, and she flinched. “Oooh, that looks sore,” he said, regarding the marks he'd inflicted earlier. She watched in horror as he smiled, his finger tracing the bruises.

How could this... beast be the same man, the same biological entity as her Jack? He was nothing like the Jack O'Neill she'd known, respected and loved for so long. She knew Jack had his dark side. She'd awakened with him many a night, his dreams overtaking him as he flailed and moaned. And she held him until it subsided. She knew his moods and even his depression, but this boy, so much like her Jack on the outside, was dark all the way through. She saw nothing of her Jack in him.

Her eyes grew wide as she realized the trouble she was in, how vulnerable she was. She struggled to talk to him, the gag frustrating her. He watched her mounting irritation, and he lay down next to her, a parody of a lover's caress, as he stroked her cheek. “Sshh, Sam. All in good time. I'll take the gag off, when I think you're ready. Now be a good girl.” He gave her sore cheek a light smack, a reminder of his earlier brutality, enough to start the throbbing again.

He moved his hand, Jack's hand, down her face, his fingers splayed, encircling her throat, squeezing a little too much, as she felt her windpipe close for a few seconds. She felt a sob rise in her chest and quelled it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt her. His eyes, so much like Jack's, pupils dilated to turn them black, followed the progress of his hand. Slowly, so she could feel every bit of his hand on her, he moved his fingers onto the skin at the base of her neck, the hollow left bare by the open collar of her shirt. His fingers slid down, encountering her first button, sliding it open, the next and the next and the next, until her shirt no longer fully covered her.

He leaned down and kissed the tops of her breasts, nudging the placket of her shirt open farther, rubbing his face across the lace covered mounds. “I don't think I can wait, Sam,” he said, his voice silky. He stood up, yanking her body into the middle of the bed. She was lying on her hands, still tied behind her. He pulled her legs to one corner of the bed. He moved away from her, out of her line of sight. When he returned, he had several lengths of rope and began looping one around her ankle, tying it to the leg of the bed. Then he looped another length of rope around her other ankle, bending down to slip the rest of that rope around the leg at the other corner of the bed. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a large Swiss army knife. She watched in sick fascination as he slit the rope which bound her ankles together. She knew she might have a chance to kick him if she acted quickly and decisively. Poised to strike, she waited for the slit rope to slacken. She aimed and kicked hard, only to have him grab her leg, his O'Neill speed and strength far exceeding her own. He secured her ankle to the other leg of the bed leaving her legs spread open wide. He smirked at her and waggled a finger in reproach.

With one knee on the bed between her legs, Jon slipped the Swiss army knife into the bottom hem of her jeans, moving up her leg, slitting the material. When he reached the top of her thigh he stopped, looking down at her as her chest heaved with fear and anger. His breathing was similarly labored, but from the flush in his cheeks, the tremble in his hand and the bulge in his jeans, she knew it was arousal affecting his breathing. He switched the knife into his other hand, and slid his free hand along the flesh of her leg. Leaning down between her legs, he put his nose to her crotch, drawing in a deep breath. “I can smell you, Sam,” he said, “and it won't be long before I can taste you, too.” His smile send chills of abhorrence up her spine.

He turned his attention to her other leg, slitting the denim up to her thigh and stopping as before. He looked down at her, lying on her hands. “That can't be comfortable,” he said, pushing her shoulder to twist her onto her side slightly. He slipped his knife in his pocket and straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. He leaned over and began to untie her hands, working efficiently, until the rope was loose. She thought she might have another chance to take him by surprise, but when he removed her bindings, the blood rushed into her wrists, making her hands and arms useless. He easily took her hands and raised them above her head, securing them together, tying them down to the frame of the bed.

“There, that's better.” He said softly. If he noticed the hatred in her eyes, he didn't mention it. Instead he pulled out his knife again and, without warning, slit her bra open, returning the knife to his pocket. He uncovered her breasts with shaking hands. He lay down on top of her, stretching to his full length and took her nipple between his teeth. Willing herself not to react, Sam felt him bite down, gently at first, then harder, until she moaned. It was pain that drove her, but he interpreted it as arousal and suckled at her breast long and hard, before he moved to her other one.

Sam began to writhe, the pain in her breasts forcing her to move, trying to escape his attack. Her movements only made him more forceful, though she was certain he knew he was hurting her. Finally he rose from her breasts, looking from one to the other, his features smug. She'd seen this look on her Jack's face as they made love, his wonderful mouth bringing her such pleasure. To see this familiar expression on Jon's face, so like Jack's, made her sick. Her stomach heaved, and for a moment she feared she'd aspirate into her lungs and drown here in this seedy motel room, this horror with Jack's face on top of her.

“Easy, Sam,” he said gently.

The phone on Jack's desk rang. “O'Neill,” he said crisply. Daniel and Teal'c sat across from him, their concern showing on their faces. Covering the mouthpiece, Jack said, “Colorado Springs PD's found his truck.” Speaking into the phone again he said, “Uh huh... where?” He waited. “Were any cars stolen from the lot?” He waited again, nodding at his friends. “Okay, get everything you can on the missing car... right. Keep me informed.

“He switched vehicles to make it harder to find him,” Jack informed his friends. “Little bastard is using standard Special Forces techniques to throw us off his scent.” There was a knock at his office door. “Come!”

An MP stepped into Jack's office, saluting him. “Sir, I've just returned from the General's home, sir.” The officer was clearly embarrassed, red-faced and a little huffy, as much from his haste to return and report, as from his certainty that his CO was having an affair with Colonel Carter. He'd seen her clothing draped over a chair, her purse, her undergarments in the laundry hamper, her ... things... in the General's bathroom. And the General's bedroom... well, it just reeked of sex.

Jack could see the kind of thoughts which were crossing the MP's face. “Look, airman, whatever you think you saw at my place is secondary to Colonel Carter's safety. I'm reasonably certain that she was kidnaped from my home. What did you find?”

The MP took a deep breath. “Sir, there was no sign of a struggle. Colonel Carter's vehicle was in the driveway, but ... “ The man ran out of steam, fearful of the reaction his next words would bring from his CO.

Jack made a motion to continue. “But ...”

“Well, sir, there was blood on the bedroom carpet. It was fresh, and there was a good amount of it.”

Daniel looked worriedly from the MP to the General. It was clear that the boy had not only taken Sam, he'd hurt her too. Jack's face went dead when the meaning of the MP's report became clear. He turned his back on the officer and waved his hand. “Thank you, airman. Dismissed.” The airman turned and left, his eyes hard.

“I was afraid of this,” Jack said brokenly. “She would never have gone with him if he hadn't hurt her in someway. Fuck!” Jack pounded his fists on the desk. He slumped into his desk chair. “I feel so useless,” he said in a small voice, his hands scrubbing across his face.

Daniel looked at Teal'c. “You're not useless, Jack. You've just got to let other people do their jobs. Let the Colorado Springs police do their job. Let the MPs do their jobs. In the end, they'll find him and they'll find Sam.”

“But they're not going to get to her in time, I know it. They don't know him. They don't know what he's capable of... what I was capable of before I joined the SGC and met Carter. That changed me, made me a better man.” Jack looked at his friends, his eyes impassioned. “Daniel, T, we've got to do something. I can't just sit here anymore.”

“I agree,” Teal'c responded. Daniel looked at the big man in surprise. The Jaffa merely bowed his head toward the archaeologist and stood. “Where shall we start, O'Neill?”

Jon O'Neill looked down at his captive, supporting himself on his elbows. What did she see in the old man, he wondered. He was young. He was strong. He was everything the original had been, and more. Why didn't she love him? His curiosity got the better of him. He needed to hear her explanation. “I'm gonna let you talk, now, Sam, but I expect you to behave. If you don't...” He hauled off and hit her, making contact with her already bruised cheek. “Well, you get the idea.”

She gasped as his blow jerked her head to the side, lights flashing across her eyes. Then the throbbing set up in her cheek and tears started. He untied the handkerchief and loosened it, pulling it from her mouth, allowing her to spit out the wadded cloth from between her dry lips. She drew in a sharp breath, and he clamped a large hand across her mouth, his fingers digging into the sides of her face. His eyes were inches from hers. “I'm warning you, Sam, he said, his voice harsh. “You scream, yell... make any noise at all, you'll regret it.” He gave her face a final squeeze and released her, watching her carefully.

Sam sucked in several large lungfuls of air, before she could speak. “I... I won't scream, Jon,” she said quietly. There was something wrong about his eyes, she thought. He's not right, not thinking straight. Her mind was going a mile a minute as she contemplated the man who overpowered her and now held her captive. Was his psychological make-up damaged in some way, something gone awry in the cloning process, or was it more mundane? “What happened to you?” she asked, keeping her voice calm and soft.

He snorted, a rough, derisive sound. “What happened to me?” he echoed. “You mean after you sent me away? Or when you rejected me and let the old man beat the shit outta me? Or how I was abandoned by my friends, my family, and sent to live with strangers, just keepers who didn't care about me? Or how, when I needed you and you took Jack to your bed instead?” Jon was breathing heavily now, on the verge of tears, his face red. “What happened to me? I tell you what happened. I was the leader of the greatest team in the universe. I was on the front lines of the most important war our plant has ever faced. I stood between the annihilation of Earth and its redemption more times than I remember. And it was taken away from me. I became an insignificant cog in a relentless mediocrity... a fifteen year old high school student.” Her eyes widened listening to him.

“Day after day I tried to balance the man I was with the boy I was forced to be. I kept trying because I realized I really had no choice. I had to be that boy, to give up all the things I worked for, all the things I achieved, the people I loved. I had to give up saving the world and deal instead with bullies and acne and cliques and cockteasers. I had to face adults who treated kids like idiots and miscreants. I had to accept the boy I had become and learn to live with it.” He rolled off her and lay next to her on the mattress. He propped himself up on one elbow, turning on his side to look at her. He reached for her breast, his eyes following the movement of his hand as he flexed his fingers over her flesh.

Sam forced herself not to shudder. She watched him as he spoke, Jack's face, Jack's voice, but not Jack. And she listened to the sounds around her, not only the bitterness in his voice but searching for sounds of other people moving around in the parking lot or in other rooms. Other than Jon, all she heard were the vehicles along the road.

“But I couldn't change my heart,” he said. “I couldn't stop loving you, even if you didn't love me. I couldn't stop wanting you.” His fingers on her breast pressed harder, hurting her. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. “And when you sent me away, when you chose the old man and not me, I knew I had to do something.” Sam whimpered and his eyes flicked to her face, pain evident in her features. His hand stilled, releasing her.

“You know, I saw you with him,” he said, giving her a grim smile. Sam frowned, wondering what he meant. “I've been back to Colorado Springs a number of times over the last few years. Slipped into town and no one was the wiser. I watched you, followed you home, saw you in bed with him. I saw the little game you and he played with the Air Force, pretending to be just friends during the day, fucking each other every chance you got.” Sam winced. He'd been touching her nipple, circling it with him finger, rolling it between his finger tips. Then he pinched her hard and twisted. He was hurting her deliberately.

“So I want to know, Sam, what do you see in the old man? I mean, I'm him, only younger, stronger. Look at me!” He turned her face to him. “Why do you want him and not me?” He'd slipped the knife out of his pocket again and was opening the blade, looking at her speculatively.

This was not good, she thought. She had to be really careful how she responded to him. All of Jack's darkness was present in this boy, his anger, his meanness, his selfishness. But there was something else, something out of whack with Jon. His personality was fueled by Jack's negative features. They weren't ancillary to his greater purpose. His darkness didn't just contrast with his light. It drove his light away.

“Huh?” He prodded her. “Answer me, Sam.”

“I like older men,” she said suddenly. His mouth dropped open. “Maybe it's a daddy complex or something, but I like men who are older than I am. I like Jack's silver hair. I like the lines in his face. I like the crinkles around his eyes. I like the way he's used his body. I can't explain it. That's just the way it is.” As quickly as she started speaking, she stopped. She wondered if she'd been convincing enough, if he bought it.

A big grin spread over the boy's face, and Sam worried if she'd said the right thing. “Well, great!” he said. “I can fix that!” He slipped the knife into the slit in her jeans and ripped the fabric on one side and then on the other all the way through her waist band. “There,” he said, rolling off the bed. He moved down to the foot of the bed, reached for the legs of her jeans and yanked her pants, without ceremony, from her body. He stood looking at her for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, and a little dreamy, “I can fix that.”

Jack, Teal'c and Daniel were sitting in the front seat of Jack's truck speeding through the Colorado night. There had been a sighting of the car the clone stole to replace his truck. The guys were on their way to see what they could learn first hand. It was immediately apparent to Jack, when they arrived at the scene, that the boy had switched vehicles again, so he wasted no time on the abandoned car, preferring to ask about other stolen vehicles, ready to track the new car. He sent Daniel to check on the car the kid left behind, hoping there might be some sign that Sam was still okay, while he and Teal'c cozied up to the cops for more information on the new vehicle.

When the three friends were back in Jack's truck, trying to decide where to go next, Daniel turned to Jack and looked at him. “What is it, Daniel?” Jack's tone was grim, but quiet.


“Well, they found some blood in the trunk of the car, but not a lot.” He looked at his friend speculatively. Jack gestured for him to go on. “I wonder if we've been going about this the wrong way,” the archaeologist said.

“By what method would you have us proceed, Daniel Jackson?” Teal'c asked.

Daniel closed his eyes and put a finger to his forehead, as if he could jumpstart his brain that way. “I've been thinking that we've been at least one step behind the boy this whole time.” He opened his eyes and looked directly at Jack. “Jon is you, right?” he asked his friend.

“Well, yeah, but with obvious differences.”

“But he has most of the same memories, at least up 'til 6 years ago.” Daniel looked at Jack for confirmation. He continued when he saw Jack nod. “You said earlier that no one really knew what Jon was capable of, what you had been capable of, before you came to the SGC. Well, I remember Jack O'Neill in the bad old days, and I think I have some idea what he was capable of, and I'm sure you do too.” Daniel shot a hard glance at Jack, willing him not to build walls between them. He needed Jack to be completely honest here.

Reluctantly Jack nodded again, swiping a hand across his face. “I see where you're going with this, Daniel,” he said. He gripped the steering wheel hard and starred straight ahead. He closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to the top of the wheel, bouncing his head off the edge a little harder than was comfortable.

“You must concentrate, O'Neill. Where would your clone take Colonel Carter? It must be private and secluded, because I fear he intends to do her harm.”

Daniel looked at Teal'c. Although he had not been told about Jon's earlier behavior toward Sam, he clearly understood that the boy was not to be trusted. Jack looked at his friend. “You're so right, Teal'c,” he agreed.

Sam lay on the bed, her breasts exposed, her legs spread open and tied, her hands secured above her head. She still wore her panties, but by the way Jon was looking at her, she didn't think the flimsy scrap of lacy fabric covering her would be much of an obstacle. She began to panic, watching him, his eyes scraping up and down her body, his knife still in his hand. She decided she had to try something, even if he hit her... or worse, killed her ... for it. Her only weapons, if they could be called that, were her voice and her brain.

“Jon,” she said, startled by the hoarseness in her voice, “we don't have to do this.” His eyes flicked up to her face. Good, she thought. I have his attention. “I mean, we don't have to do this... like this,” she said, her voice a little stronger.

“I'm afraid we do, Sam,” he said evenly. “Until I know I can trust you, this is how it's going to be.”

“But what if I want to touch you, Jon,” she said, surprising herself with how natural her voice sounded, making such a preposterous suggestion.

“Plenty of time for that later, Sam,” he responded. “For now, I just got to show you how good it can be for us, how right.” Sam's mind reeled. Good!?! Right!?! How could rape be good or right, she thought. She had to get through to him somehow.

“But if I can't reciprocate, if I can't ... make you feel what I'm feeling, how good could that be?” she asked.

“No,” Jon said, a certain finality to his tone. “Tonight is just for you, Sam.” He slipped the knife blade under the edge of her panties, slicing through them at both hips. He stripped her undergarment off her and moved to the bottom of the bed, his eyes never leaving her exposed flesh.

“Please don't, Jon!” she said, her voice a little louder than she intended. She didn't want to beg, but she couldn't let him rape her without telling him no, no, no. “I don't want this. I don't want you to do this. Please, Jon!”

“Do I need to gag you again, Sam?” His tone was icy, harsh. She shook her head, tears starting in her eyes. A sob burst from her throat, and she couldn't stop herself. She began to cry. He looked up at her face, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Don't cry, Sam,” he said gently, sounding so much like her Jack. “I'll take care of you.”

Jack started the truck and began to drive north. He looked at the digital clock in the dash and calculated the time since Sam went missing. “Jack?” Daniel tried to get his friend's attention. “What are we doing?

“You're right, Daniel,” he said. “We have been going about this all wrong.” He winced. “I think, if I were taking a woman for a secluded rendezvous, I'd head for the cabin, and if I thought we couldn't wait, there are a number of cheap hotels on the way where we could stop.”

“Of course, Jon isn't taking Sam for a rendezvous, is he?” Daniel suggested.

“No... of course not... but in his mind, in my mind, he's in love with her. He wants her and, although she's rejected him, he's can't accept that it's impossible, so he's going to try and... convince her to love him.”

“Is this not unlikely, O'Neill?”

“Yeah, well, my mind could get pretty warped when I was younger.” Jack became lost in thought for a moment. Looking at the scenery as they drove northeast, he said, “This is the route I take to the cabin. We need to look for the most recent car he stole. Hopefully, it's the last, and we'll find him sooner, and not later.” Jack sighed. “He's got a pretty good head start on us, so we've probably got a long drive ahead. I'll keep in touch with the Colorado Springs PD, so if they find the car somewhere in town, we'll know as quickly as possible and be able to turn around and go back. Why don't you guys get some sleep.” He looked over at his friends and smiled, an expression which didn't reach his eyes. “I'll take the first watch.”

Jon stripped off his t-shirt. He sat on the end of the bed between Sam's feet and took off his shoes and socks. When he stood, she could hear his belt buckle clank as he opened it. The sound of his zipper was deafening to her. She watching him slip his pants and boxers off, his back to her. He turned and faced her, his cock hard and twitching toward her. Dispassionately, she appraised his body, so similar to the man she loved, and yet so different. Jon had no scars. His muscles were gym-made, not the ropy sinews of a body used in battle and in life. He was beautiful in his own way, she thought... just not Jack.

He climbed onto the bed, between her legs, his glance predatory. It was a look she'd seen on Jack's face, but on Jon, it was frightening, rather than exhilarating. He leaned forward, settling between her thighs, his face inches from her sex. She couldn't stop the tears which wet her cheeks, turning to the side and closing her eyes, so she wouldn't have to see his face, so like Jack's but not Jack, between her legs. He began to kiss her curls, slipping his tongue into her flesh, tasting her. She flinched and shied away from him, moving her hips, but he brought his arm down across her abdomen to hold her in place, and continued his assault.

He flicked his tongue across her clit. The sensations running through her body confused her. He felt like Jack. He moved like Jack. He worked her body like Jack, and she felt herself respond to him as if he were Jack. “That's it, baby,” he said in Jack's voice. He pressed his long fingers into her, stroking in and out, and she felt a tightening in her belly. He was making her wet. Without her will, her hips swayed, pressing up into Jon's face, and she could feel his lips curl into a smile.

Then he pushed into her too hard, startling her. He scraped his teeth over her flesh and it hurt. He bit down on her clit painfully, her hips rising off the mattress. Like a frigid blast of air from an open door, the haze of arousal in which she'd been floating cleared. This was not her lover. This man had Jack's knowledge and skill, but none of his finesse, his experience. Where Jack brought her pleasure with intimacy and patience, Jon tried to make her respond with memories and technique. Her first time with Jack he had been gentle, learning her needs, making her trust him. Jon was forcing himself on her.

The inevitability of this rape overwhelmed her at that moment. She whipped her head from side to side, struggling. She cried “No, no, no,” softly, afraid of his retaliation, her tears choking her. He continued to invade her body with his tongue, fingers and teeth. Finally she quieted and he withdrew his fingers from her, climbing up her body and fitting his hips to hers. He pressed his cock to her belly.

“Feel that Sam?” She refused to look at him. He took her face in one hand, squeezing, and turning her to look at him. He prodded her with his cock. “I'm going to fuck you now,” he said, looking into her face. She closed her eyes. His fingers dug into her cheek. “Look at me,” he hissed. “Look at me, Sam, or I swear ... “ She opened her eyes, and her look of hatred seared across his features.

“You're not Jack,” she spat at him. “You'll never be him.”

He rose on his arms above her and impaled her, forcing himself into her. “Yeah, but I'm here, and he's not.” He smirked cruelly at her. He lowered himself to his elbows, putting his large hand across her face, covering her mouth. “Hold on, lover,” he said. And he began to thrust, slamming himself into her. Behind his hand, she sobbed, her cries muffled. Jon took her already bruised nipple between his teeth, sucking and biting, as he continued to fuck her.

Sam was rapidly losing herself. She could feel her conscious mind rejecting this situation. She couldn't deal with her helplessness. She who had faced and beaten the Goa'uld, she who bested the Replicators and lived to see another day, she who could blow up a sun was unable to stop this violation of her body, to make sense of what was happening to her. She began to shut down, her emotional conduits, her physical pathways closing to block out the sensations and feelings caused by this misuse of her body and soul.

Jon found his release, filling her with his semen. He moved off her immediately, coming to the side of the bed and taking her chin in his hand. He looked at her blank face and closed eyes. “Was it good for you, baby?” he asked, without a trace of irony. Her eyelids fluttered and a tear slid down her cheek, but she was otherwise still. He squeezed her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. He stuffed the gag back in her mouth, securing it with his handkerchief. Then he stepped into the shower, humming.

Jack pulled the truck into the parking lot of a greasy spoon. He needed coffee. Daniel and Teal'c awoke and joined him at the counter. The waitress came up to Jack. “Sooo, you're back?” she asked. Then she looked at him, confusion twisting her features. “No, not you... your son?”

Jack gripped the edge of the counter. “He came through here?” There was something about the commanding tone of his voice, the way he asked the question which made her respond instantly.

“Yeah, about two hours ago.”

The three men looked at each other, thoughts of coffee forgotten. They rose and left the diner, returning to the truck. Jack pulled back on the road, gravel flying from his back wheels.

When Jon emerged from the shower, he saw Sam, her position unchanged, and he smiled. He looked down at his cock, as it began to stiffen, Sam's open body inviting him. Without a second thought, he climbed on the bed again, shoving himself into her. “Let's take it slow, shall we?” he asked to no one in particular.

Sam roused herself into consciousness feeling him on top of her again. She remembered that he had finished with her, gagged her and gone for a shower. Why was he still on her? She pushed up with her leg and back muscles, hoping to topple him off her. He slammed more deeply into her. He began to grunt, thrusting with force, using her body to get himself off. His movements became more erratic, until he rammed into her a last time, jerking and sweating, his seed filling her.

This time he remained on top of her, crushing her into the mattress. Between the gag and his weight, her breathing became more and more shallow. She was getting light headed, feeling consciousness slipping away from her again. When she was quiet beneath him, barely breathing, he finally roused himself, and moved off her. He sat on the side of the bed and removed the gag, smacking her cheek lightly to bring her back to awareness. “Sam... Sam!”

Groggily she opened her eyes. He was looking down at her, his hand on her cheek. His look was mockingly tender. He rose and took a styrofoam cup from the counter in the bathroom, filling it with water. He brought it to her, putting his hand under her head, raising it and tilting the cup to her lips. She drank deeply, suddenly aware of her thirst. And with her recognition of that need, her consciousness filled with all the other sensations she'd suppressed. She became acutely aware of the soreness of her legs stretched and spread wide. Her arms wrenched above her head were painful. The ache behind her eyes was nearly unbearable. The feeling of his fluids leaking out of her disturbed her the most.

“How could you do this to me, Jon?” she asked.

“I'm not done yet,” he said, smiling at her wickedly. He stood, showing her his rising cock. She regarded it with horror. “That's stamina, Sam,” he said. “I bet the old guy can't do this.”

“Noooo,” she cried, as he slid between her legs again. His hand covered her mouth again, and again he thrust into her, heedless of her refusal.

He began to move within her, pinching her nipples, making her cry out wordlessly in pain. “When I can be sure you'll be good, we'll have to try some different positions, my love,” he said, his face swimming too close to hers. She looked at him horrified. He continued to fuck her, his breathing becoming labored. On the edge of her consciousness, Sam heard a car come screaming into the hotel parking lot, headlights flashing across the curtained windows of the room.

Jon's thrusts were brutal, as if he would split her open with each incursion into her body. He tortured her breasts with his mouth, a sick mockery of lovemaking. “I'm going to come inside you again, Sam,” he said, looking into her eyes. His body stiffened as he pumped into her one more time.

The room door slammed inward. The sound of splintering wood was followed by the familiar, heavy grunt of the man who opened it, his bulky shoulder making quick work of the cheap material. Jon was up and off her more quickly than she could have imagined. It was a relief to have him gone, but her mind refused to process the rapid appearance of Daniel and Jack ... her Jack ... behind Teal'c.

She was exposed, spread open on the bed, beaten, Jon's semen leaking out of her. Daniel, God bless him, opened the closet, found a blanket and covered her. Teal'c and Jack advanced on Jon who stood naked against the back wall of the room. Trying to see what was going on, Sam gasped as she realized that Jon had her gun in his hand.

“Gun!” she shouted. Jon raised it, and pointed it at Jack. “No, Jon!” she screamed. He looked at her, and in that instant, Teal'c launched himself at the boy. Jon's agility and speed allowed him to side step Teal'c's attack. Sam's gun still pointing at Jack, Jon smiled.

“Well, old man,” he said, “you may have her, but at least I got to fuck her... three times!” He held up three fingers, still smiling at Jack. “Best she's ever had,” he said. His eyes flicked over to Sam. “Right, baby?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jon watched calmly as Jack went for him. Jon knew he would get a rise out of the old man.

Laughing openly now, Jon turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. His brains splattered across the hotel room wall. He slid to the floor, leaving a gory smear.

Not giving his doppleganger a second look, Jack moved to the bed. He pulled his knife from the sheath on the outside of his thigh, and he slit the ropes which trapped Sam. He took her in his arms. She began to cry, huge gasping sobs, as if her body would burst open with the pain of her loss. He held her, speaking to her softly, rocking her. It felt like a long time before she quieted.

The local police arrived within 10 minutes of the shot being fired. Daniel explained the situation to them, but they took the three men into custody anyway, bringing Sam to the hospital and Jon's body to the morgue. Within an hour, the incarcerated members of SG1 were released and the clone's body was retrieved, bagged and picked up by a Special Forces van. They cleared the crime scene, removing the boy's blood and paid off the hotel owner. It took a little while longer before Sam was released, insisting that her blood could not be drawn, nor would she allow any tests. The SGC sent the CMO to pick her up in an ambulance, Jack riding by her side, holding her hand. Daniel and Teal'c drove Jack's truck back to Colorado Springs.

For several days, Jack stayed home with her, making her meals and watching her push the food around on her plate. He refused to leave her alone, sitting in the living room with her as she watched mindless daytime television, reading by her side as she flipped through magazines Daniel brought to distract her. He slept next to her at night, spooned to her back, keeping his touches light and undemanding, soothing her when she woke whimpering from nightmares she couldn't or wouldn't articulate. He allowed her to shower alone, at least until he found her crouched in the tub, her arms around her knees, tears streaming down her face. Then he sat on the closed toilet, watching her, as she washed, making sure she was okay, knowing she wasn't. He held the towel for her, covering her, shielding her even from his own eyes, when she finished.

Jack went back to work, when Sam insisted. She was quiet and pale, the bruises on her cheek a livid contrast to her skin, but she'd begun to eat again, and she kissed him before she turned away to sleep. His first day back the CMO came to see him, asking about Sam. “She needs to report in, sir,” the doctor informed him. “She wouldn't let the hospital run tests, because of security, but she also wouldn't let me evaluate her when we brought her back. She has to be examined, General, before I can certify her for active duty.”

When Jack came home that evening, Sam was in the kitchen. She made dinner, surprising herself, as much as she did him. She drank a couple of glasses of wine with her pasta, and found herself relaxing. Jack helped her clean up, putting his arms around her, pleased when she didn't flinch away from him. She sat with him, reading a book as he watched television. She put her feet in his lap and he rubbed them.

When they went to bed, Sam wore her regular pajamas, a small tank top and boxers, instead of the bulky sweats she'd had on ever since her return. Jack took his cue from her, putting on his usual baggy pajama pants for the first time since her kidnaping. She cuddled into his strong chest before sleep, his warm skin her comfort. Both of them felt as if things were returning to at least a semblance of normal.

Jack knew it was an illusion when she awoke during the night, her nightmares ripping her from sleep. He held her to his chest, his long fingers splayed across her upper back protectively. She wept uncontrollably for a while. Eventually her sobs turned into sniffles, and she quieted. “Jack?”

“Uh huh,” he said, his lips brushing her forehead. He could tell she'd been thinking.

Sam drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She was pillowed on his chest, her hand over his heart. “Make love to me?” she asked.

His breathing hitched and he lay quietly, uncertain about the right response to her request. “You're still healing, Sam,” he said. “It's been only a few days. I'd like nothing more than to hold you in my arms and show you how much I love you, but... maybe you should give yourself some more time?”

Sam sighed. ”Jack, when I dream, I feel his hands on me,” she said, her voice quiet. “I feel him inside me.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I see his face above me, and he's hurting me.” Jack tensed, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. “But what fucks me up is that his hands are your hands. His face is your face. His ...” She began to cry again.

“What can I do, Sam?” Jack sounded lost, helpless. He knew he had nothing to do with the creation of the clone, but Jon was, after all, an exact replica of himself. He swallowed a chestful of guilt and waited for Sam to explain it to him.

“I want to be certain again,” she said, calming her tears. “I need to have your hands on me and know they really are your hands... Brig. General Jack O'Neill, the man I love, the man who loves me.” She propped herself on her elbow, looking down at his dear face. She traced the vertical line on his cheek, the scar which ran through his left eyebrow. She leaned down and nuzzled his neck under his jaw, kissing and smelling him. “This is my Jack,” she said against his skin. “My Jack.”

“Oh Sam,” he said shakily, getting it. He moved his torso up, off the mattress, twisting toward her. He held her upper arm, gently lowering her, looking into her eyes, which even in the darkened bedroom glittered with her tears.

“Be gentle with me, Jack,” she said, barely whispering.

“Always,” he murmured. He moved slowly to take her mouth, his lips touching her's lightly. He looked down at her, his fingertips gliding with feathery touches across her cheek. She turned into his hand, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It's me, Sam. I love you.” His breath was warm, and tingled across the skin on the side of her face.

Sam took his hand, turning into his palm. Her mouth found the sensitive center, and she kissed it, her lips hot and soft. She lowered his hand, placing it on her breast, her hand on top of his. Jack groaned and Sam could hear the longing in his voice.

“Kiss me,” she said, tipping her chin up. “I won't break ... at least not as long as I'm here with you.”

He kissed her. Their lips pressed together, the slight suction of their kiss drawing them deeper. A sound rose from Sam's throat, a moan, a sigh, parting her lips, an invitation. Jack slipped his tongue into her mouth, gently stroking, coaxing her, teasing just a little. She responded. She always loved Jack's mouth... Jack's mouth.

Sam pushed him off her. He was startled, cursing himself silently for being too eager, but then she pushed him down on his back, and returned his kisses, her tongue actively seeking his, sweeping into his mouth, tasting him. This time she did moan, a full-throated purr, which emerged from deep inside her chest. She leaned over him. Her hands wandered his bare upper body, stroking across his pecs, finding his hard, little nipples. She tore her mouth from his, drawing in a deep and much-need breath and kissed his breast bone over his heart.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. Her glance was predatory, possessive. She moved to his nipple, using the flat of her tongue to scrape over it, making it tighten. She did the same to his other nipple, pulling it between her lips, flicking her tongue across it until he hissed.

He watched her taking pleasure from his body. He thought he understood. She was reclaiming him, marking him as hers. She would not be passive. She would take him as she wanted and he would let her.

Sam crawled down his body, straddling him, her knees on either side of his head. She reached under the elastic waistband of his pajama pants and took hold of his cock. She shoved his pants down. She kissed the head of his cock and began to swirl her tongue over him, flicking the tip across the broad head.

His hands fisted by his sides. It was taking all his control to keep from touching her. He was maintaining an iron will to keep from bucking up into her mouth. She released him and moved onto one knee, stripping her boxers off and dropping them. She resumed her position over him, taking his cock in her mouth, stretching her lips around him. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he looked up at her pussy, not wanting to take her until he had permission.

She slid her mouth down his cock, allowing the head hit the back of her throat, and then she slid back up. She let his dick slip from between her lips as she pulled her top off, tossing it carelessly to the side of the bed. “Jack.” Her voice was breathy. “Please,” she said.

It was all he needed. As she lowered her mouth to him again, he positioned her hips and pulled her down onto his face, his tongue playing along her folds, swiping into her, flicking across her clit. She swayed over him, following the tiny movements of his tongue, pressing down, filling her mouth with him. He concentrated on her, trying to ignore what she was doing to him, knowing he was close to coming in her mouth if he didn't.

She released his cock, straightening above him and grinding down. Jack was surrounded by the feel of her, her taste, her smell. He thought he could die under her and be happy. Instead, she moved off him, pushing back, until she was sitting on the pillows, legs stretched out on either side of his head. She flexed and raised her knees, opening herself, and he flipped onto his stomach and elbows to re-bury his face between her thighs.

He kissed her, nuzzling her. Her legs started trembling, and he knew she was close. Gently, he sucked on her clit, stroking along her folds with his long, talented fingers. She threaded her fingers through his hair, and then she was coming, her flesh pulsing under his lips. She grabbed his head, pulling him up, and she kissed him full on the mouth, his cheeks and chin wet with her arousal.

“God, Jack!” She looked at him, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her breathing.

“Like that?” he asked smugly. When she nodded, he said, “Me, too.”

He rolled to the side, laying flat on the mattress on his back, and she moved to lie next to him. He slipped his arm around her and she turned into him, putting her cheek on his chest. From her vantage point, she could see down the long plane of his body to his cock, hugged tight to his abdomen. She slid her hand down his chest, his belly, until she reached him, encircling his hard length, stroking him. He let her play, his fingers sliding through the strands of her hair, until the delicious sensations of her hand on him became nearly unbearable. “Sam,” he said, a plea in his voice.

“What do you want flyboy?” she asked him, her thoaty voice making his chest hairs rise like gooseflesh.

“You,” he said simply.

“Good enough for me, General,” she said, gracefully rising to straddle him. This was her show, he thought, putting his hands on her hips to steady and support her. As she positioned his cock at her opening, he pressed the hollows by her hip bones and said her name softly. Her intelligent eyes snapped to his handsome face.

“I love you, Sam,” he said. She nodded, watching him carefully. “Are you sure you're ready for this?” he asked quietly. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Because, I can wait... if you're not.”

Sam's throat constricted a little and she felt tears start. Yes, this was her Jack... noble and loving beyond all logical limits. She was already slick from his talented mouth, poised to impale herself on his cock, and looking right into his eyes, that's just what she did. “I can't,” she said, as he gasped.

With her palms flat on his chest, she rode him, grinding her hips down onto him, bringing him as deeply inside her as she could. She leaned forward slightly, her clit rubbing against him. She could feel him expanding and filling her, lodged within her body, erasing anything, anyone else. This was Jack, her Jack, and she loved him.

“Put your hands on me,” she demanded, and he complied, moving up her sides to cup her breasts. Knowing that her nipples had been badly bruised, he was gentle, sliding his thumbs over them, but not pinching or rolling. She threw her head back and increased her pace, tightening her muscles around him, pulling on him. “Jack!” she cried.

He moved to her clit and began to stroke her. He was close, really close to losing it, but he needed her to come. He would not use her body without giving her pleasure equal to his own. Her breathy exhalations grew louder and higher, matching the movement of her hips. Now, Sam, now, he thought.

As if answering his silent command, she shuddered, clenching convulsively along his hard length, falling forward on top of him. He held her for a moment, then put his hands on her ass. Holding her steady, he bucked up into her heat, needing only a few more thrusts to let go and fill her, spasms of pleasure taking him, with his seed.

They lay together for a few moments, before Sam began to move. “Stay Sam,” he said. “I like having you here, at least for a few more minutes.” He rubbed circles down her back, and then back up, feeling her relax onto him. Within seconds, she was asleep. He held her and snoozed himself, until he slipped out of her, the tiny movement waking them both.

She rolled off him and cuddled up to his side, his arm around her shoulders. He reached down and pulled the blankets up, covering them both. “You drooled,” he said, wiping a smear from his chest.

“Uh huh,” she said, barely audible.

“I love you, Sam,” he said.

“Uh huh,” she responded. “Me too.”

When the alarm ran the next morning, they realized that she'd slept deeply, undisturbed, the rest of the night. They got up and started getting washed and dressed. Over breakfast she told him she was feeling better, and he informed her about the healing properties of Vitamin L. “I'm reasonably sure I never learned about Vitamin L in any science class I ever took,” she responded with a slight frown.

“No, you wouldn't,” teased Jack.

“Why not?” she asked.

“'Cause to learn about Vitamin L, you gotta take upper level courses at Jack O'Neill University.”

“Oh?” she teased right back. “What makes you such an authority?”

“I've got an advanced degree in Vitamin L, baby. I'm a Doctor of Love!”

Sam couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing. Even when Jack gave her a mock glare, which might have intimidated nearly anyone else, she still couldn't stop. It was only when he snagged her toast and started eating it, that she got herself under control and was reduced to occasional giggling instead of outright laughter.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, pointed finger warning. “What did we say about giggling?”

She composed herself, her face suddenly serious. “That whenever you're silly, I get to giggle all I want?” A huge Sam Carter smile broke across her features, making Jack smile right back.

They went into the SGC together than day. Sam returned to her lab, no off world missions for a while. She had lunch with the guys in the commissary. She worked on a number of projects which she'd put off. Toward the end of the day, she looked up and saw the base CMO standing in her doorway. Her heart sank.

“Colonel Carter, you've ignored my numerous messages. I've sent several SFs and at least one nurse to bring you to the infirmary for a check up. You've managed to avoid me and my staff for days. Do I need to order you to come in? Should I get the General to escort you himself? If I asked Teal'c to carry you down, would that do it?” The doctor was smiling slightly, but she was deadly serious.

“I have to go home now,” Sam said. “Can't it wait until tomorrow? I'm tired.”

The doctor walked into the lab and closed the door behind her. She recognized avoidance when she saw it. “What is it, Sam?” she asked. She knew from the nurses that Sam and her predecessor Janet Frasier had been close friends before she died, and she recognized that Sam wouldn't or couldn't open up to her the same way, at least, out of loyalty to Janet.

“You know, I don't expect you and I to be close the way that you were with Janet,” the CMO said. Sam looked at the doctor closely. “But I am your CMO, and more to the point your doctor.” She sat down on one of Sam's lab chairs and leaned forward. “Anything you tell me, which doesn't compromise the security of the SGC, is confidential, Sam.” She saw the Colonel flinch, when she mentioned security. “And you do need to be examined, Sam, particularly in this case, when you've been raped.” The doctor took Sam's hand. “Please Colonel, trust me to do what's best for you.”

Sam looked down at the doctor's hand and then up into her eyes. She sighed heavily. I've got to trust someone with this, she thought. Here goes. “I'm not using birth control,” she said, lowering her eyes, embarrassment flushing her cheeks.

The doctor sucked in a breath sharply. This was against all the rules of female military personnel in the field. Especially at the SGC, where soldiers were put in grave danger among enemy Jaffa, women were required to keep their birth control medications and methods current. How had the Colonel managed to hide this from her? She squeezed Sam's hand gently. She needed to get the Colonel to open up to her, so she could help, because even if she didn't know the exact cause yet, she knew Sam needed her help. “Why, Sam?” she asked.

“My ... boyfriend and I were trying to get pregnant.”

The doctor was shocked. It was the last thing she expected from Colonel Carter, but she kept her professional face on, and asked the one question her position and rank required after such an admission. “Does the General know?”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out. If she was going to accept the doctor's help, she had to be honest. “It was his idea,” Sam said softly.

The CMO digested this piece of information slowly, letting its implications set in. Of course, she thought. That explains a lot of things. “So, you've been avoiding me because you didn't think I'd understand the situation?”

“Well, that, and ... now this thing with Jon... being raped...” Sam could feel tears starting, but she took a moment to calm herself and held on.

The doctor began to understand. “You're worried that your rapist may have impregnated you?”

Sam swallowed a sob, but tears were flowing down her cheeks now. “It's more complicated than that,” she said. “You know about Jon?”

The doctor nodded. “He was made by the Asgard, a genetically exact duplicate of General O'Neill, a clone, but younger.” The doctor stopped suddenly as awareness flooded her. “So if you are pregnant, you have no way of knowing if the baby is the General's or not.” The doctor's voice was soft, gentle, understanding Sam's distress.

Sam nodded. “There's more. If Jon did ... make me pregnant,” it was almost impossible for her to verbalize this thought, “I'm not sure I'd want to keep it.” Sam stood suddenly, turning her back on the doctor. “I mean, what if there was something terribly wrong with him. What if there was something in the cloning process that made him ... the way he was?”

The doctor seized on this question. This was a problem she could solve. “Sam, I've got all of Jon's medical records, his scans, his blood work, everything... even a sample of his DNA. I can determine if he had genetic damage.” She thought a moment as Sam turned to look at her. “But even if we find, best case scenerio, that Jon's DNA is perfect, that still doesn't determine paternity.” The CMO tapped her chin. “Look Sam, I want you to come to the infirmary. This whole question might be moot. You might not be pregnant.”

Sam looked at the doctor, sizing her up. Eventually she nodded. “Okay.”

“How about now? The place is deserted, so we won't be interrupted and no one will be around to see.”

Sam sighed. She was doing a lot of that lately. “Sure,” she said in a barely audible voice.

The doctor did her examination quickly and efficiently. She drew Sam's blood herself, not willing to trust a nurse with it. When the medical evaluation was over, she took Sam into her office and closed the door. “When was your last menstrual period?” she asked.

“About three weeks ago,” Sam said.

“And how long have you been off birth control?”

“Six months.”

The CMO stood and went over to a locked filecase. She pulled out a set of keys and opened one of the drawers. She slipped a thick folder out and closed the drawer. “This is Jon's file, Sam,” she said, opening it. She laid it on her desk and sat back down, reading quickly. “According to Janet's notes, once Thor resequenced the boy's genes, he was healthy and normal. He carried a genetic make-up which was identical to the General, including the Ancients' gene. For all intents and purposes, he was Jack O'Neill, at least genetically. If there was something wrong with him, it wasn't with his genes.

“Now, let's check on that pregnancy test, shall we?” The doctor left the office and returned to the infirmary, collecting a small tube. She looked at it, tucked it in her pocket and went back to her office.

Sam stood as the CMO entered her office. Judging by the doctor's demeanor, Sam knew. Unable to look her patient in the eye, the doctor said, “It's positive. You're pregnant.”

Sam sat down heavily, suddenly unable to breathe. “I knew it,” she said. She scrubbed her hands across her face. “What am I going to do now?” Her voice broke.

The CMO sat back, considering the problem. Her gift as a doctor and a scientist was detachment, but the emotional toll of this situation was hard to avoid. She thought for a moment. “Well, there are several ways to look at this, Sam. Whether it was the General or the clone who impregnated you, the same DNA was delivered. The offspring would still be half Jack O'Neill's.” Sam's eyes darted to the doctor. “I understand that the mode of impregnation differs radically from the General to the clone, and that conception as a result of rape can be emotionally overwhelming... but only you can decide if it really matters.”

Sam thought about it. Could she love a child conceived by rape? Could she keep that secret from Jack for the rest of their lives together? “It does,” she said. “It does matter. I could never lie to Jack about it. And I don't think he could handle knowing the child was Jon's. I'm not sure I could.”

The doctor sat up straight. She snapped her fingers in an almost cartoony way. “Ultrasound!” she said.

“Ultrasound?” Sam asked.

“Come, Colonel!” The doctor hustled out of her office and back to the infirmary. Sam followed, bewildered. The CMO moved an ultrasound machine to the side of one of the infirmary beds and patted it, looking at Sam. Sam shrugged and got on the bed, lying down.

“Take down your pants, please,” the doctor ordered as she adjusted the machine. She walked to a cabinet, and pulled out gel, running hot water into a small basin and putting the gel bottle in it to warm. Sam unbuckled her belt and lowered her BDU pants, finally understanding that the doctor intended to do an ultrasound of her belly.

In moments, the machine was ready. The doctor squeezed gel on her and began to rotate the wand over her womb. At that very moment, the General appeared in the doorway to the infirmary. “What's happening, ki.....” Jack stopped suddenly as the scene unfolded before him.

The doctor, concentrating fiercely, didn't notice his presence. “There!” she said in triumph. Sam's eyes flicked from the ultrasound screen to Jack and back again. He walked in silently, his gaze intent on the screen. “There!” the doctor said again.

“What are we looking at, doc?” the General asked quietly. To him the screen was an enigma, unrecognizable shapes and snow.

The CMO turned, suddenly aware of the General behind her. She turned back to Sam and smiled. “That, General, is your healthy 6 week old fetus.”

Sam looked at the doctor shocked. The General looked at Sam, then back to the screen. “S-s-six weeks?” she asked. The doctor smiled at her again and nodded.

“Well,” the CMO said suddenly. “I have some work to do in my office.” She wiped the gel off Sam's belly and switched off the ultrasound machine. She nodded to her CO. Giving Sam a gentle wink, she turned and left.

Self consciously, Sam sat up and adjusted her clothing. Jack stood there watching her, unable to think, let alone speak. Finally Sam looked at him with a small smile and his inertia released him. He went to her, standing between her legs, and hugged her. “Sam,” he breathed. “Our baby!” He took hold of her upper arms and looked at her, her face blank. “This is good, isn't it?” he asked, his voice rough.

Sam shook her head, her eyes closed, and felt Jack's hands slip from her arms. She opened her eyes to look at him and found him staring at her a flood of emotions, hurt, anger, lack of understanding, crossing his features. “No, Jack!” she said quickly. “I mean, yes... it is good... it's great... it's a miracle!” He was still looking at her, confusion replacing everything else in his eyes. “Jack,” she said urgently, “I love you... and I'm going to have your baby.” She smiled at him, that huge, shiny Carter smile which first caught his heart, and kept it imprisoned ever since.

“Baby,” he said. “We're going to have a baby.” He looked at her, shock setting in. “We're going ... to have a baby.”

“Yes, Jack... our baby.” He took her in his arms again, holding her reverently.

Suddenly he remembered why the doctor had insisted that Sam be examined. He held her arms and looked at her again. “Jon... he didn't hurt you... he didn't hurt the baby... you're alright... right?”

“You heard the doctor, Jack,” she said. “We have a healthy six week old baby.” The meaning of her words did not escape Jack's notice and he heaved a sigh.

“Our baby.” She nodded. He took her hands, held them up to his lips and kissed them. “So, I guess we should get married,” he said, smiling back at her, “or, you know, Hammond will have my hide.”