Setting: The night before the fishing trip in Threads (8x18)

Pairing: Sam/Jack

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Jack, or anything Stargate-related. If I did, this scene would have been in Threads.

The stars were just becoming visible in the darkening sky; specks of light in a deep red sky.

"Well, you know what they say... Red sky at night, shepherd's delight..." Jack muttered to himself, as he pulled the cover gently off his telescope. He shook his head slightly, as if reprimanding himself, but spoke aloud again. "Must be going wacko, talking to myself. Maybe it's time to retire."

Aiming the telescope at a random patch of sky, he glanced through. It was a clear night, albeit a chilly one, but still a little too light to do any stargazing yet. He didn't even know why he wanted to. No, that was a lie. He knew why. General Jack O'Neill might not know a lot of things, but he knew more than he let on... and he knew why he needed to lose himself in the stars on this particular evening.

Letting out a sigh, he began to climb down the ladder. A beer might just clear up this odd state of mind he was in. Or maybe not. Again, he was lying to himself. Only one thing - one person, to be precise - could help him make sense of his mind right now.

He spun at a sound from behind him as he reached the ladder, nearly falling as he jumped off the last rung. The source gave a nervous smile as she made her way across the grass to him.

"Jesus, Carter! You couldn't have called?" He remembered her last visit, and couldn't help but grin. "Ah, but you're not in the habit of doing that are you? Come inside, it's freezing." He gave her no chance to reply before he opened the sliding door into the house. "After you, Carter."

"Thank you, sir." She seemed calmer than before, but on edge nevertheless. Who could blame her after the day they'd all had?

"Si'down" he said, as he walked to the kitchen. "I think we could both use a beer."

The second he was out of sight, Jack leant against the fridge and took a deep breath. 1, 2, 3... the seconds ticked away on the wall clock Daniel had bought him last Christmas. It had Egyptian hieroglyphs instead of numbers, and a pyramid at the 12 o'clock position. Danny had no doubt thought it funny, so Jack had hung it up for the next time they had a team night. The ticking bugged him, though, when he was at home alone to hear it, and he kept meaning to take it down...

Returning to the living room, after making extra clinking noises in the fridge to cover his long absence, he handed Sam her drink. She was perched on the arm of his couch, looking unsure as to whether to sit or not. She'd been here hundreds of times before for SGC barbecues and team nights, but always with at least one other SG-1 member - usually Teal'c; Daniel had opted out of the last few Star Wars marathons. She smiled, murmured a 'thanks', and lifted the bottle to her lips. Jack stood against the armchair. They couldn't have been more than 2 feet apart. Hastily, realising he'd been watching her, he took a swig of beer too. Except he was still focused on her and the bottle missed his mouth, spilling a good third of the drink down his Air Force t-shirt and causing him to mutter a few choice expletives. Sam laughed, thankfully having just moved her own drink away from her mouth. It rested against her leg as she fixed her round blue eyes on him, her whole face lit by a playful smile.

"No giggling, please." he said, in a mildly-exasperated tone as he inspected the remaining liquid in his bottle. The phrase, casually thrown in without a thought, just seemed to

make her smile more.

"Why not, sir? We're not exactly on an ice planet now." Her words were badly timed. A gust of wind crept through the still-open screen, causing Sam to shiver and Jack to frown.

"Here," he said, tossing her a blanket that had been draped across the armchair. "You'll never manage to say what you came here to say if you're sitting there freezing your ass off." He slid the door shut, then put a few fresh logs on the fire as she draped the blanket around herself and sat on the couch. He was right: she was freezing from waiting outside - again - and it wasn't helping her work up the nerve to tell him. But then, if he knew why she was here, why didn't he start? She sighed, and he cocked an eyebrow at her as he sat down at the other end of the (admittedly quite small) couch.

"Something wrong, Carter?" As soon as he'd said it, he regretted it. Her dad had died today, for Christ's sakes! Of course something was wrong. Hell, maybe she wasn't even here to carry on saying what had been interrupted by Kerry earlier. Maybe she just needed someone to talk to about Jacob.

"Sorry." The word came out quietly. "I meant... how're you doing?"

"I'm fine, sir." She took a nervous sip of her drink. Jack could see she wasn't done speaking, and he just watched her, waiting for her to continue, even as she lowered the bottle and stared at it in her lap for a moment. "Dad, he said something, before..." She winced, turning her head a little - not quite looking at him, but looking just past him. "He said... he said I could still have everything I want." She looked directly at him, her blue eyes fixing on his deep brown ones, and said, in an even quieter voice "I broke it off with Pete."

A second passed, in which Jack, unsure of what to say, searched desperately in her wide eyes for the right response. He found none.

"Good... I guess he wasn't what you wanted then?" The hint of a question hung at the end of his sentence. The corners of her mouth twitched up.

"No. You're what I want... sir."

The old soldier's face crinkled into a smile. Not his usual grin, but the one he reserved for her. This time, however, it wasn't subtle, or hidden from superiors, or short-lived.

"And you're still going to call me 'sir'?" he teased.

"Jack..." She was smiling, leaning closer.

"Carter?" He replied, his eyes dancing in the firelight, gaze flickering across her face. She laughed again, leant her whole body across to him... and the beer, left forgotten in her right hand, spilt across them both.

She jumped up to rub at her jeans where it had soaked in, and he followed suit, grabbing the now empty bottle and watching as it seeped between the leather couch cushions. A damp patch on his right thigh now matched the trail down his shirt from earlier.

Sam looked up apologetically. "Sir, I'm so sorry. I forgot it was there..." She broke off as she caught him shaking his head at her, grinning.

"Sam, he paused to further emphasise her name, "I told you not to call me sir."

She smiled then looked away for a second, before she realised nobody was there to see it except face had changed when she next met his eyes.

"Jack, maybe I should..." there was a reluctant pause "Go home and change. We should probably get some sleep for this fishing trip tomorrow."

In that moment, just before she looked away again, he recognised her expression. He'd seen it only a few times before. She was scared. This was new ground, technically still against the rules, and yet...

"C'mere." he said, pulling her towards him - for the second time that day - and letting her press herself into his chest. Only this time she did what she'd wanted to do earlier but couldn't, steeped in grief and terrified of discovery, and tipped her face towards him. He cupped her face with one hand - the other had slid down to her back.

"Are you sure?" she said, in a voice that was soft, but no longer afraid.

"Always."

The stars could wait. Jack wouldn't be needing them tonight.