Chapter Text
Sam stood in the doorway of Jack’s D.C. townhouse, a leash in one hand, and a floppy-eared golden mutt squirming excitedly in her arms. Jack eyed the situation with a mix of suspicion and amusement.
“Did you… kidnap a puppy?” he asked.
“He followed me out of the shelter,” she said innocently. “And then into the car. And then home. What could I do?”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Carter....”
She smiled, stepping into the living room. “He’s yours. Well, ours. We’re co-parenting.”
“Uh-huh. Does ‘co-parenting’ mean I get to pick the name?”
“Already named,” she said, placing the puppy at his feet. “Murphy.”
Jack glanced down. The puppy sat with wobbly dignity, then belched loudly. “Murphy,” he echoed. “Of course.”
Sam wrapped her arms around herself. “I know it’s silly, but… he’ll keep you company while I am in Atlantis. And maybe remind you of me.”
Jack reached down, scratching Murphy’s ears. “He’s cute.”
“So was I, once,” she deadpanned.
He stood and pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. “Still are, Colonel Carter-O’Neill.”
They didn’t say goodbye. Married or not, that part never got easier. She kissed him softly, quickly, like it would hurt more if she lingered.
“I’ll be back before he’s housebroken,” she whispered.
Jack’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Even if it takes a year?”
Sam hesitated, then nodded. “Even then.”
***
Jack stepped over the growing pile of toys Murphy had destroyed that week and flopped onto the couch. The dog jumped up beside him, tail wagging, panting like he’d just solved world peace.
“Why are you like this?” Jack muttered.
Murphy licked his face in response.
Jack wiped at the slobber, grinning despite himself. The house smelled faintly of bacon, damp fur, and Sam’s shampoo—something citrusy she’d packed before leaving but lingered here anyway, like her absence refused to fully settle in.
The calendar mocked him with red Xs marking off nearly 11 months.
Murphy dropped a tennis ball in his lap.
“You know,” Jack said, picking it up, “I miss her too.”
Murphy rested his chin on Jack’s knee and let out a long sigh.
Jack chuckled. “Fine. Let’s go wreck another chew toy and pretend it helps.”
They were surviving. Barely. But they were doing it together.
***
The moment Sam stepped through the front door, the chaos began.
Murphy’s bark echoed like an alarm, paws skittering across hardwood as he launched himself at her. Sam barely had time to drop her bag before being tackled, tail thumping against her shins.
She laughed, crouching to hold his squirming body, blinking back tears as he licked her cheek.
“Okay, okay, I missed you too,” she murmured, burying her face in his fur. “You did a good job, huh?”
Jack appeared in the hallway, grayer at the temples, sock-footed and grinning like a fool.
“You come home for me or the dog?”
She stood slowly. “Don’t make me choose.”
He crossed the space between them in two strides, pulled her in, and kissed her like his life depended on it.
Because it had been almost a year. And every single day had left a mark.
Murphy whined between them, tail wagging violently.
Sam leaned her forehead against Jack’s. “You both okay?”
“We made it,” he said. “You were right. He reminded me of you.”
She looked down at the muddy, overexcited, slightly overweight dog pressed between their legs.
“Let’s not tell him that.”
“Agreed,” Jack said, then added, “But we’re keeping him.”
Sam smiled, heart full. “I was counting on that.”
****
The fire had burned low, shadows flickering lazily against the bedroom walls.
Jack lay on his back, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting along the curve of Sam’s spine where she sprawled half across him. Her hair brushed his chest, warm and soft, and the quiet between them felt like something earned.
For a long time, neither spoke. Then Sam shifted slightly, her voice a low murmur against his skin.
“We need to talk about… this.”
Jack’s fingers stilled where they’d been tracing idle circles over her shoulder. “Define ‘this.’”
“You in D.C.,” she said, lifting her head just enough to meet his eyes. “Me at the SGC. And the fact that weekends like this might not be enough.”
He exhaled slowly, already knowing where this was going. “You’re not moving east.”
“Not for the next few years.” Her mouth curved in something between pride and apology. “I am posted to the SGC, official 2IC. And they want me to oversee the Hammond build. Full authority.”
Jack gave a low whistle. “Your own ship.”
“Not yet,” she said softly, but there was that light in her eyes—the one that had always undone him. “Construction, systems integration, flight readiness. It’ll be at least two years.”
He studied her for a beat, his hand brushing through her hair. “Atlantis to the Mountain. You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“I missed it here,” she said simply. “Missed the team. Missed Earth.” Her fingers curled against his chest. “Missed you.”
That last part landed like a punch. Jack kissed the top of her head, his voice rough. “Missed you too, Carter.”
She settled closer for a breath, then said, “You’re not leaving Washington.”
Jack snorted. “Can’t. Not unless someone’s ready to drag me out of the Pentagon. Joint Chiefs still think I’m useful.”
“Long-distance, then,” she said. Not a question—just the shape of reality.
“Long-distance,” he echoed, his voice low. Then he tilted her chin so she had to look at him. “It’s not like we haven’t done harder things.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from her. “True.”
He held her gaze, steady and sure. “We’ll make it work. Weekends. Calls. Surprise visits. Whatever it takes.”
Sam caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm before resting it against her cheek. “Promise?”
Jack smiled—soft, certain, like it wasn’t even up for debate. “Three years in, Sam. You really think I’m backing out now?”
Her answering smile was small and luminous. “Good point.”
“So,” he said, breaking the quiet that had fallen with his familiar drawl, “you ready to start living in a real house again?”
Sam gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it. Your old house in Colorado. It makes sense, with me back at the SGC.”
The thought of that house—the mountains in the distance, the open sky—settled over her like a warm blanket. After Atlantis, after months of feeling like a visitor in her own life, it sounded like peace. “It feels… right,” she murmured. “Like I could actually breathe again.”
“Then do it,” he said softly. “You know it’s still there. Been rented out, but I kept it up. Fixed a few things last time I visited.” His fingers brushed her arm in a touch that was as much reassurance as it was habit. “Go home.”
Home. The word lingered in the air like a promise. She nodded, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Jack kissed the top of her head, his voice warm and certain in the dark. “No thanks needed, Carter. I want you there. Safe. Settled.”
He kissed her then—slow and lingering, sealing the promise neither of them had to say out loud. And when they finally pulled apart, the fire had burned down to nothing, but the warmth between them stayed.