Distant Stars

Spoilers/Timeline: Takes place in season 4, some time after Divide and Conquer. No spoilers for that ep, but minor spoilers for "Cold Lazarus" and the 1994 movie.

Distant Stars

Sam woke with a bit of her start, not sure what had roused her from her sleep. The bed was comfortable, and the palace quiet. Not opening her eyes, she lay still, listening. From the next room, where the others slept, she could hear the slow, steady breathing of men in a deep sleep.

She slid from the bed, shivering a little at the cold stone against her bare feet, and walked to the window, looking out. The moon was new and, on a world lacking in large cities and electric forms of illumination, the stars were brilliant little points of light, more distinct and visible than she'd ever seen on Earth. In four years of travelling through the Stargate, she'd seen so many beautiful sights, but some never got old, or lost their wonder. Even an earthlike alien sky was still an alien sky, after all. Feeling, if not quite awed, at least suitably humbled, she stared up at all those distant suns, lost in thought.

She remembered learning, as a child, that stars were actually suns, which might have other worlds circling around them, that those other worlds might even have other people on them. And now, here she was, standing on one of them. It made her feel tiny, insignificant, but not in any way that troubled her. If she was a mere grain of sand on an infinite beach… well, that just meant that there was that much more to see and explore, so many more things to experience and learn.

She wasn't sure why that awareness hit her so powerfully tonight, but it did, and it felt wonderful. Feeling almost as giddy as she had the first time she'd stared at a wormhole's event horizon, she left the window, tugging on the light shoes that had been provided for her to wear while she was a guest here. It was a peaceful planet, and they'd been asked not to wear their military uniforms while they were guests there, out of respect for the harmony that the locals had worked so hard to establish and preserve since driving off the Gua'old.

So, instead of combat boots and baggy BDUs, she slipped from the palace and into the dark night wearing moccasins and an ankle-length night-dress that, though thin, kept her surprisingly warm in the cool night air. Smiling and wrapping her arms around herself, she moved further from the castle, feeling like the little girl who used to slip outside after dark to stargaze, heedless of how worried her parents would be when they woke up and didn't find her in her bed.

On some planets, wandering around in the dark, unarmed and alone, would have been dangerous, but this was not one of those. The people were friendly, the Gua'old long gone, and the only natural predators in residence were too small to be of any real danger. She watched the sky as she walked, not really taking in her other surroundings, so was surprised when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

"Sir!" she gasped, jumping a little and looking down in surprise.

The Colonel was on the ground, leaning back on his elbows on a blanket he's spread on the hillside for the purpose. He smiled up at her, tilting his head curiously.

"Couldn't sleep, either?" he asked, shifting over to one side and patting the other edge of the blanket invitingly.

"Not really," she answered, sitting down next to him. "Too quiet, I guess."

"Yeah. The peaceful ones can be a lot harder. It's a nice change, but you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

She smiled at that, nodding. After a moment, she murmured, "I didn't expect anyone else to be out here."

He smiled and shrugged. "I do this sometimes. The stars are great on planets without a lot of light pollution."

She bit her lip at that, smiling. It was easy, sometimes, to forget that he was an amateur astronomer. But that quiet intelligence that he tried so hard to keep hidden had always been one of the things she loved about him and its overt manifestations, while rare, were never shocking to her the way they were to people who didn't know him better. She loved that side to him, almost as much as she loved his open, compassionate nature and his willingness to do anything for those under his protection.

"We don't usually get chances like this," he added after a moment's silence.

"Sir?" she whispered, squirming a little.

He couldn't mean the chance to be alone together, surely? It wasn't like there was anything preventing that. They spent plenty of time alone together, although there was always some caution about the situations in which they allowed themselves to be in. Nothing too intimate, nothing too fraught. Nothing that could too easily turn into something else. Nothing, for instance, like sitting alone together on a blanket, stargazing.

"On most planets we have to be on high alert," he clarified quickly, as if sensing her uncertainty. "We can't normally allow ourselves to just relax."

"No. No, we can't," she agreed, relaxing. "Truly peaceful planets are so rare."

"I spent the first two days here waiting for the inevitable dark secret to crop up," he chuckled, shaking his head. "If there is one, it's well hidden."

"Maybe some places really are just this peaceful and idyllic."

"The exception that proves the rule," he murmured, smiling over at her. "So, I couldn't sleep because it was too quiet. I'm used to more noise. What's your excuse?"

She smiled, blushing a little and glad that he probably couldn't tell in the dim starlight. "You'd laugh."

"Try me," he countered.

"I just… looking up. Realizing that those are all alien suns, planets waiting to be visited. The universe is so massive and we're so… tiny," she told him quietly, biting her lip and staring up at the sky instead of looking at him.

Saying it out loud sounded so silly, so dreamy and childish. But he chuckled and, to her surprise, rested his hand gently on her shoulder, lightly squeezing as if to show his accord.

"It gives you a sense of perspective," he told her quietly, fingers still lingering lightly. "It's hard to stay upset about little things when you look up there and realize how much more there is out there. All that promise and potential. All those adventures. All those questions."

"And all those answers." She nodded, glancing down at the hand on her arm for a moment, then smiling up at him. After a moment's comfortable silence, she admitted, "When I was little, I used to look up and dream of visiting every one of those places."

"I hate to tell you, but we'll probably never see them all. Of course, you can still cross quite a few off the old bucket list."

She smiled more widely, full of far too much affection for the man sitting next to her. "I can. I'm so grateful for everything I've seen and done. You know, when I joined the Air Force, they promised me I'd see the world. I told them I was aiming a lot higher than that."

He laughed at that, head tipping back as he filled the night with the rich, warm sound. She felt her blush returning, but she wouldn't have stopped him for the world. He was always a humorous man, although usually more in terms of sarcasm than open, uncontained mirth. Sam leaned back on the blanket, smiling up at him and just enjoying the brief outburst while it lasted.

When it passed, his grinned down at her, his smile wide and his brown eyes glinting merrily in the pale light. There was a tear in the corner of one of those eyes, and he lifted his hand to wipe it away, his smile turning even more impossibly fond. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, a soft sigh escaping him. Before she could let that trouble her, though, his smile returned, full force.

"And here you thought you were settling when you joined up…"

"'Shoot for the moon. If you fail, you'll land among the stars,'" she quoted with mock-gravity. "I used to hate that quote. Now it's an accurate description of my life."

He snorted at that. "Probably the happiest anyone's ever been while looking back on not getting accepted to astronaut training."

"I think so. I can't imagine a life other than the one I have now. Can you?" she asked, pushing herself up on one arm.

He considered in silence, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. "The first Stargate trip was supposed to be a suicide mission for me," he told her. "You've read the files. I'm sure you already know that, and why I was willing to accept it."

She nodded, biting her lip and sitting up. She hadn't meant to turn the conversation to his son but, now that she inadvertently had, he would probably need comfort. To her surprise, though, he smiled over at her. A sad smile, but still a warm and genuine one.

"I do sometimes picture a life with Sara and Charlie and no Stargate," he admitted, clearing his throat. "It would be a good life. I would be happy in it, obviously. But this is a good life, too. It's a life I'm happy leading."

"Do you ever think about getting back together with her?" she asked quietly, watching him uncertainly.

That Jack O'Neill had feelings for Sam Carter was undeniable. That he still loved Sara O'Neill and missed the life he's shared with her seemed equally undeniable; she'd seen them together. It was probably far too personal a question, and he was silent for so long that she mentally kicked herself for having asked it. She was opening her mouth to apologize and retract when he finally started speaking, waving her silent before she'd even managed to make a sound.

"We'll always love each other. And we have tried. After that alien impersonated me and went looking for her… we got together a few times. And it was nice, but it hurt, too. Every time. We realized…" He trailed off, sighing and shaking his head.

"Sir, it's okay," she whispered, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No." He shook her head. "Maybe it's good to talk about. After Charlie died, the Air Force shrinks told me I'd never really heal until I was willing to start talking. So, if you don't mind…"

He trailed off, shrugging and leaving the ball in her court. He would go on, but only if she was comfortable hearing what he had to say. And she found herself surprisingly at ease, not so much with the topic as with the intimacy that he offered by speaking of it openly with her. He was not a man who talked about personal things often. That he was willing to share them with her now meant a lot. She nodded.

"If you want to. If you feel like you can. You can talk to me about it any time. I always want to be there for you. No matter what."

His answering smile, though sad, was warm and fond. He remained silent for seconds that stretched into minutes, then turned his face to the stars again, drawing in a slow, somewhat shaky breath.

"Charlie loved looking through my telescope. He used to wake me up in the middle of the night and ask if we could go look at the stars."

"Sir…" she whispered, resting her hand on his arm and squeezing gently, not sure what else to say or do, but wanting to offer some comfort.

"He was a good kid, the best kid. I'll never stop loving him, and I'll never stop missing him."

"No, of course not," she agreed, nodding.

"The problem with being around Sara is how much of her there was in Charlie. I can't look at her and not see him." After a moment's silence, he added, "She can't look at me and not see him. Being near each other is like ripping off a scab. So, we talked, and we decided. We'll always be friends, but neither of us will be able to rebuild our lives with a constant reminder of Charlie hovering every day. We'll never forget him, but we need to let him rest. If she ever needs me, I'll be there in a heartbeat. But we really can't be seeing each other all the time, either."

"As long as you're still friends. I know I didn't meet her for long, but she's nice. She's a good woman."

"She is," he agreed with a smile, reaching down and covering her hand on his arm with a hand of his own. "I hear she's seeing someone now. That's a relief. She deserves to be happy again."

She felt her heart warm at that honest, loving sentiment from him and, if he'd been anyone else, she probably would have kissed him, a kiss on the cheek at the very least. If more people could be so open and supportive of their exes moving on, the world would be a better kind of place. That he still loved and always would love Sara was obvious now, but she'd never doubted it, either. It didn't mean that his heart didn't have room for anyone else.

Not that she should be thinking along those lines. She cleared her throat and mentally shook herself. His hand was still covering hers on his arm, so there was no way to withdraw it without getting his attention. She squirmed a little and turned her eyes back to the stars, trying to force her feelings onto a more professional, or at least more platonic, track.

When he spoke again, he seemed to have left his thoughts of Sara and Charlie behind. "It's weird to think that I was looking at most of these same stars three days ago, but from here they looked completely different."

"Every planet has its own set of constellations as the perspective changes," she murmured, even though he already knew that damned well.

"Sometimes, when we visit an alien planet, I look up and try to find home," he told her, chuckling. "Not sure I ever actually have. I'd have an easier time with a star chart."

"Probably. Naked-eye observation can only tell us so much, and some of the planets we visit are too far away to even see our sun."

He grinned over at her, a genuine grin, not at all pained from the looks of it. "True, but it's still a lot of fun trying to find it."

"It is fun," she chuckled, nodding and staring thoughtfully up at the sky. "Mmm… maybe that one?" she suggested, pointing.

"Could be," he conceded after a moment's consideration. Gesturing, he told her, "I was thinking that one over there, maybe."

She squinted for a moment, frowning. "I'm not even sure that's a yellow star…"

"Are you saying I need glasses, Carter?" he teased, smirking at her. "Calling me old?"

She laughed at that, shaking her head in denial. "Of course not, sir. You're not old. I mean, you're not young, but…"

He laughed at her obvious shyness and, for a second, for no reason she could have explained beyond the sudden extra warmth in his eyes, she pictured him urging her down onto the blanket, then sliding down as well, kissing and caressing her until…

She pushed that mental image down firmly, shaking herself. That was not what this night together was, not anything that was likely to pass between them any time soon, if ever. He was too professional, too much of a gentleman, and he cared for her too much to let physical desire interfere with everything they had built in the past few years.

Which was a shame but, at the same time, a relief. She was safe with him, safe in a way she hadn't been with any other man in longer than she could remember. Someday, circumstances might alter enough to allow them to be together romantically. Until then, they shared a beautiful friendship and intimacy that wasn't going anywhere. She could honestly say that it was the deepest, most meaningful relationship she'd ever shared with another human being. Which might not have said much for her past relationships, but certainly said a lot about the one she had with him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, glancing curiously over at her.

"Nothing. Just thinking… the stars are beautiful, aren't they?"

He frowned at her for a moment, then grinned widely. "They are, aren't they? Hey, if we're the first people from Earth to see them, does that mean we get to name the constellations?"

She cleared her throat, biting her lip. "I'm pretty sure the people here already have names for them…"

"Nope," he answered, shaking his head. "It's our duty, as explorers, to name them."

She found herself chuckling at that. "Oh, really?"

"Yup." He nodded, expression 'grave' but eyes twinkling. "For instance, that one looks like a tree, so we'll call it… The Tree."

"The Tree," she repeated dutifully, trying not to laugh since he really didn't need any encouragement in his current mood.

"And we can call that one… Teal'c," he added, gesturing vaguely towards a large clump of stars.

"Teal'c?" she repeated, eyeing him in bemusement. "And why are we calling it that?"

"Because it's… big," he explained as if that were only common sense.

She couldn't quite stop herself from laughing at that. Shaking her head and leaning back, she dutifully repeated, "Teal'c and The Tree."

"Sounds like a Seattle Grunge band."

"They were your names for them," she pointed out.

He shrugged at that, smiling down at her for a moment before prompting. "You do one."

"Me?" she repeated, biting her lip. "You want me to name a constellation?"

"Hey, naming things is what scientists do."

"You don't think that's a little bit of an oversimplification?"

"Huge one," he answered placidly, shrugging. "But that's not getting you out of naming one."

"Uh… okay," she murmured, clearing her throat and peering up at the mass of stars for some familiar shape to seize on for this game of his. "That grouping looks a little like the atomic structure of Naquadah," she told him finally.

"You may be missing the point of this game…"

She blushed, less at his teasing than at the naked affection in the smile that came with it. They'd always been good friends, able to joke and tease readily. But, right now, he was betraying more emotion than he probably would have been comfortable with if he'd realized. Or, just maybe, the knowledge that they were safely alone was allowing him more latitude than he'd normally grant himself. Part of her felt like she should warn him against the display. Another part only wanted to bask in its warmth for as long as humanly possible.

For once, she gave in to that small, heedless part of herself. There was no harm in what they were doing after all. What was a little affection between friends, especially affection that only showed itself in a look or a laugh? It wasn't as if he'd reached down and brushed her hair out of her face, or caressed her cheek, or kissed lips hungry to know how he must taste. It wasn't as if he'd gathered her close and satisfied her desire to be cradled against his chest, caged willingly in his arms. It was just a smile, too affectionate to be remotely professional, but ultimately harmless despite that. How many equally fond smiles had she shot his way in unguarded moments? How many more would they share in the coming years?

Many, she sincerely hoped.

She'd rather share one such smile with him for a few moments than be wined, dined, and romanced all night by most other men. It just felt better: more real and… meaningful. Smiling shyly up at him, she reached for his hand where it rested between them on the blanket, covering it lightly with her own. He made a soft noise at her touch, looking up in obvious surprise, but not trying to draw away.

"Do you mind?" she whispered.

He gulped audibly, clearing his throat and slowly shaking his head. "We probably shouldn't, but…"

"But," she agreed quietly, sighing.

His hand was warm under hers, the skin softer than she would have imagined from a career soldier. Definitely not smooth, but invitingly pleasant to touch all the same. Her fingertips tingled just slightly at the barely-there feel of his skin beneath them, and it took very real effort not to let the still touch turn into a restless, exploring caress. Breaking the contact immediately would have been wise, but there was an irrational part of her that wanted to hold his hand in hers forever.

Sighing, painfully aware of the danger that impulse represented, she removed her hand from his, pressing her palm firmly against the blanket they were sitting on.

He bit his lip, clearing his throat and smiling weakly down at her.

"You look exhausted. Maybe we should head back, turn in?" she suggested.

He was silent for a moment, then he heaved a soft sigh. "Probably."

She bit her lip at his obvious reluctance, tried not to think too deeply of the reason behind it. "Come on, sir. It's not that bad, sleeping in a soft bed in a beautiful palace instead of in a sleeping bag on the rocky ground, not having to worry about an enemy attack for once..."

"Hard to sleep when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. Some of us are trained to always expect attacks, even on the peaceful planets."

"I don't believe that," she answered quietly, shaking her head. "That's not who you are."

"No?" he asked, frowning at her. He didn't look upset by her declaration, but genuinely perplexed. "If I'm not that guy, then who am I?"

She blushed a little, squirming and considering how best to answer that. How to describe Jack O'Neill? She sighed thoughtfully at that, turning her eyes skyward and immediately finding the answer to that question up there.

"Who are you?" she repeated, smiling and biting her lip.

"Yup." He nodded. "Who am I, to you?"

She blushed and wondered if he even realized how that question sounded, like he was wondering what she saw in him, why she was interested. Not that there was any harm in honesty. He already knew how she felt. What possible harm could there be in him understanding why?

"You do expect danger, and see conflict, but that's not all there is to you. You're a soldier, but you're not only a soldier," she told him quietly, eyes still on the stars. "There's more to you."

"Oh?" he whispered, drawing his lower lip between his teeth and looking surprisingly thoughtful at her words. "What else am I, then?"

"You're a man who looks up there-" she began, pointing.

"Like a lot of people do," he interrupted, frowning and shaking his head.

"It's not where you look, it's what you see when you do," she explained, clearing her throat and staring down at her hands in her lap.

"Ah. And what do you think I see?"

"Well, I know what you don't see: you don't see a hundred thousand hostile enemy outposts. You see the… the promise and potential, all the good there must be out there to counterbalance the bad. Since I was a kid, I've always looked up there and seen our future. I think you have, too."

He chuckled softly at that, nodding. For a moment, he stared down at the ground in silence. Then he peered up at her with a grin full of understanding and affection, and so much camaraderie that it stole her breath away. Her heart fluttered in her chest and, for half a second, she was tempted to lean in and steal a kiss from those smiling lips.

The moment passed quickly, and he moved to his feet, leaning down and offering his hand. "We should get back."

She nodded in agreement, accepting his hand and hauling herself to her feet. "Thank you."

"Mmm," he answered, giving her fingers a quick squeeze before releasing her and bending to retrieve his blanket. "I hope they don't mind the grass stains. I'd hate to find out that the one thing this planet has the death penalty for is ruining the good linens."

She laughed and shook her head, grinning at him as he folded the blanket. "If they lock you up, I promise to come beat up the guards and rescue you."

"You could do it, too. I've seen your hand-to-hand combat skills. If anyone ever does have to bust me out of an alien prison, I hope it's you."

"Now there's a vote of confidence you don't receive every day."

He smirked at that, telling her, "I can't imagine why not."

Smiling, she shook her head. "Let's go back."

"Yeah, it's getting late," he agreed quietly, nodding. "And we don't want anyone to miss us."

Nodding faintly, she turned and started back towards the palace. He fell into step beside her and they walked in comfortable silence. The warmth and intimacy of their stargazing, and of the conversation they'd shared during it, stayed with her. Better still, there was no shadow of anything inappropriate having passed, nothing to diminish the pleasure and joy she could take in the memory. An outsider might have assumed the worst of their time together, but that didn't matter when no one would ever know about it. No one except the two of them, and who else mattered?

They returned to the palace as unified as ever, not actually closer than they had been at the start of the evening but, she thought, with a deeper mutual understanding. She had known him well, for some time now, but it felt like their connection was a bit deeper, a bit more personal and intimate, than it had been before acknowledging this commonality between them.

A guard on patrol saluted them as they passed, his expression knowing and a bit conspiratorial, as if he suspected them of more than innocent stargazing together. Part of her wanted to stop him and explain that nothing had happened, but the easy expression on the Colonel's face soothed her misgivings. He was correct in his unspoken reassurance: there was no need to feel anything like guilt or secrecy when nothing worthy of those feelings had passed. It didn't matter what a random alien thought. They were still beyond reproach.

She smiled up at him as they approached the palace and returned to the guest quarters. Under other circumstances, with a different man, she would have expected a goodnight kiss now, or an attempt to invite himself inside with her. From Jack O'Neill, a soft smile and a warm look from those expressive brown eyes were a far superior culmination to the evening.

"Have a good night, Carter," he whispered as they reached her door.

"You, too, sir," she answered, smiling up at him. "Try not to let the quiet keep you from getting some rest."

"No, I won't now," he promised, smiling more widely. "I feel better."

"Me, too. Night, sir."

"Night, Carter."

For half a second, he looked like there was something more that he wanted to say or do. Then he shook his head, smiling warmly down at her again for a moment before turning and vanishing into his own guestroom. She watched him go, then slid back into her own room, removing her slippers and sliding under the heavy quilts. Warm and comfortable, she closed her eyes, letting her mind fill with images of the stars and the way they looked reflected in his eyes as they shared pieces of themselves with each other. Warmed by those images, sleep claimed her quickly and, when it did, her dreams were sweeter than they had been in a long time.

The End