When Sam woke, way too early--it was still dark out--she just didn't feel quite right. She tried to brush it off as maybe just that the boar burger she'd had last night hadn't quite agreed with her, so she got up quietly, trying not to bother Jack, and went to sit up for a little while, wrapping up in a blanket even though it was pretty warm again
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This was his chance. He'd lost Charlie because he'd been an idiot but this was random and it was stupid. There was nothing he or Sam could have done to prevent losing the baby and at least, with Charlie, Jack had something to dwell over. Nothing to dwell on here.
"You need anything right now?"
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"No," she said. Her voice was hoarse and felt like it belonged to someone else. "I don't need anything."
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Sam Carter was many things, but fragile wasn't one of them.
"Settling in, then. Poke me if you want something."
Short, sharp, to the point.
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She lay there for a while, curled on her side and looking at the wall. There was pain, and it wasn't pleasant, but she'd felt much worse than this before. She was used to dealing with physical pain of all kinds. It was the emotional part of it that hurt the most. It hurt as much as watching Jack die in that Tok'ra pyramid, but it had the same kind of awful intimacy as Jolinar's death had, and it was all laced with a kind of guilt she'd never felt before.
She'd spent most of this pregnancy not even wanting to be pregnant. Now she was getting that. But this wasn't what she wanted. Not now.
And Jack had wanted this baby so badly. He was hurting, and it was obvious, with the way his expression had gone so blank and hard, and she didn't know what to say to him. She wanted to comfort him, and wanted him to comfort her, but it all felt so empty.
"Jack?"
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That was way she felt so selfish for being somewhere else mentally nearly the entire time. She was back with all of the women she was supposed to help. All of the women she didn't. They'd been hopeful, looked to her to carry them through the entire pregnancy and it never happened. When the cramps started they always looked at her the same, with a fear in their eyes. And as the women died they looked at her and all that Juliet could see was accusation. She'd told them they'd be fine. She'd told them they'd be okay, that she'd take care of them ( ... )
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She was aware that Juliet had stepped out, and aware that she came back again later. There were things she wanted to ask her, things she wanted to know, but she couldn't do it yet. She wasn't sure she could say anything without bursting into tears.
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"You'll need to rest for a couple of days in bed, Sam," Juliet directs quietly, her gaze steady on the other woman.
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"Do you think..." She choked on the words a little, and was quiet for a minute, forcing herself to pull together before she could finish her question. "Do you think I could have done anything?"
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