Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three Hills, Maine
2007

Jack wakes early on the morning of May 14th. The sun is just shooting tendrils of light up over the eastern hills, and said tendrils have managed to find their way to his bedroom window, squeeze through the cracked mini-blinds, and shine directly into his eyes. It’s not a particularly pleasant waking sensation, but as he sits up and swings his legs to the floor, he reflects that by this time in his life he’s experienced enough unpleasantness to be fairly used to it; and at least this way he doesn’t have to rely on the blaring of some god-awful alarm clock.

He stands, walks to the window, and opens the blinds; letting in the full force of the sun and the warmth of the late spring morning. It isn’t entirely unpleasant, after all. The chickadees are calling to each other from the pines across the street, and the beams of the rising sun glow through the untold numbers of apple blossoms that decorate the orchard next to the pines. The air is thick with promises—of warmth, of growth, of an abundant apple harvest.

And it’s his forty-sixth birthday.

His phone rings, and he rolls his eyes when he sees the name on the caller ID. Of course she’s up as early as he is. He picks up the phone. “Morning, Janet.”

“Happy birthday!” His sister’s voice is entirely too cheerful for the early hour.

“Is it?”

“It is if you let it be,” she replies pointedly. “You’re coming over tonight, right? Cassie’s counting on it. She made you a cake.”

“Oh, well, if there’s cake involved…”

Janet chuckles. “I thought that would interest you. Anyway, dinner’s at 6:00 and Daniel and Sha’re are coming. And Teal’c’s here for the weekend, so he might stop by, too.”

Jack actually feels himself smiling. “Assembled the whole team, did you?”

“Just for you. Well, I have to get ready to go, but--Jack?”

“Yes?” He can sense sisterly advice coming, and he mentally braces himself.

“Have some fun today, okay?”

He relaxes. “Okay. Sure.”

“Good.”

Janet hangs up and he stares at the phone for several seconds before setting it down. Fun isn’t a word found in his vocabulary much anymore. The farm takes up most of his time; when he isn’t tending apple trees he’s generally reading about them; and the niceties of life have gotten away from him lately.

But he turns back to the bed where Hathor, his Irish setter, is still comfortably sprawled as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Memories flood him before he can stop them: not-so-long-ago lazy Saturday mornings, Sara curled into his side and Charlie bursting into the room with Hathor on his heels, all boundless energy and the optimism that belongs to the idyllic childhood years. He hadn’t known,back then, how fragile that precious, perfect life had been.

Now he does. Now, when it’s too late to go back.

He mentally pushes the memories away and heads to the bathroom, trying to avoid looking too closely at his reflection as he reaches for his facewash and razor. He knows he looks perpetually tired, that his tanned skin is accumulating more and more fine lines around his eyes and lips, and that his sandy brown hair is slowly-but-surely turning silver.

Not old, he thinks to himself ruefully, but certainly no longer young.

He splashes clean water on his face and goes to get dressed. The duties of farm life are calling, and they are inescapable, even on birthdays.

*

Colorado Springs

“You’re going where?” Pete’s voice hits an octave that grates on both her ears and her soul, although to be fair, the soul-grating feeling is nothing new and is certainly not limited to Pete.

Sam closes her eyes and sucks in a breath. “I’m going to Maine with Dad. We’re leaving on Saturday. He needs a change of scenery and so do I.”

Pete just stares at her. “Sam. I don’t understand.”

She doesn’t know what to say. No, you never do, and that’s why we’re here would only add fuel to the fire, and she doesn’t think she has the mental energy for a full-blown fight.

“What about your job?”

“I’ve taken a leave of absence.”

“Without asking me? Sam, you know I can’t take time off of work right now!” Pete sounds so hurt and she feels a stab of guilt. It’s always guilt with him. She’s never been enough, never present enough, either too busy or not busy enough, too distant or too clingy, and she can’t remember a time before this cursed merry-go-round of emotion that her marriage has become.

She’s sorry he’s hurt, but she can’t do this anymore.

“Yes, without asking you, because you’re not coming.” Her voice is shaking and she stops to steady it. “I’m going by myself with Dad. I’ll be gone until September.”

“Well, I think you’re being really selfish. What do you expect me to do while you’re gone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe go do some of that ‘guy stuff’ you’re always saying you never get to do anymore.”

Pete tries another tack. “Why can’t your dad go by himself? What does he need you for?”

And that does it. The implied words--What could anyone possibly need you for?--sink through her skin and into her bones, and she feels a rage rising that she hasn’t been able to feel in a long time. “My mother is dead, you asshole. My father has cancer. If he wants me to spend a few months with him in a quiet place we both used to love, then I am for goddamned sure going to go with him.”

Pete flushes red. “You can’t just--”

“I can ‘just.’ You don’t own me.” She turns on her heel and heads toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Pete.” She makes sure it sounds just like fuck you.

She shuts her bedroom door behind her, bursting into tears and resting her head against it. The guilt rises up again, choking her. This isn’t just Pete’s fault; she has been distant and preoccupied; nothing has felt real since her mother died. And she just sprung this on him with no warning.

But she doesn’t know what to do anymore. This shadowland existence isn’t sustainable, and she needs a break. From everything.

Even Pete.

She hears him tiptoe in in the middle of the night, and she holds herself as still as possible, hoping he’ll think she’s asleep. But he’s a cop and he can spot bullshit a mile away, and so he sits next to her on the bed and starts talking. “Look, Sam, I’m sorry. Okay? I know it’s been tough for you.”

She sighs and opens her eyes. Tough? It’s been hell. But she doesn’t say it out loud.

“I just don’t think now is a good time for you to take off, you know? Maybe just cut back on your work hours a bit. We’ve been talking about you doing that anyway. We could take a big trip next summer. Like Paris! Haven’t you always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower in person?”

He’s using that wheedling ‘I’m-reasoning-with-a-toddler’ voice that she loathes, and she wants to yell at him but she’s too tired. So she sits up and says, “I’m going with my dad on Saturday, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore. For once in your life, please, please do me the courtesy of backing off.”

Pete stares at her, his jaw clenched. “I don’t even know you anymore,” he says, and walks out.

Sam watches him leave. “You never knew me,” she whispers as the door slams behind him.

On Saturday morning she stands in her doorway uncertainly, the handle of a rolling suitcase in one hand and a toiletry bag in the other. She’s packing light. She wants to take as little of this life with her as possible.

Pete stands at the counter, sipping his coffee and pointedly ignoring her. It’s been like this for the last three days, and it’s become so petty that if she wasn’t on the verge of tears she would laugh. “I’ll call you when we get there,” she says.

He fixes her with a long look, and turns away without responding.

So that’s that. She walks to her car and doesn’t look back. The road east is bright with possibility, and for the first time in years, Sam allows herself to imagine what might be around the bend.

*

Jack pulls into Janet’s driveway at 6:00 sharp, because he is nothing if not punctual, and reflects quickly over the day to think of anything he might have done that could conceivably be called “fun.” Even though Janet is a full seventeen years younger than him, she’s been hovering like a mother hen ever since his life had spiraled into the abyss two years ago. He honestly doesn’t know if he’d still be alive without her.

But heaven help him if he has to go in there and tell her that he spent the entire day pruning apple trees. After a few moments’ consideration, he decides to tell her that this evening is his fun for the day. Although, honking his car horn at Harry Maybourne just as Harry happened to walk in front of him at Hammond’s Market was pretty close to fun. However, Janet’s not likely to approve of that kind of petty behavior, so he thinks he’ll keep that little tidbit to himself.

Just as he’s getting out of his car, Daniel and Sha’re pull up. He smiles, because now he has a buffer between himself and Janet; and also because he’s fonder of them than he is of any other humans besides Janet and Cassie. Daniel had been one of Janet’s best friends, and during his high school years he’d spent more time at Jack’s house with Janet than at his own. And after the accident Daniel and Sha’re had been as instrumental in bringing him back from the brink of despair as Janet had been. As far as Jack is concerned, they are family.

“Hi, Jack,” greets Daniel, as he gets out of the car and stretches. He must have spent the whole day poring over those exhaustingly meticulous archeology notes of his, Jack thinks with a smirk. “Hey, Danny-boy,” he replies jovially, ruffling Daniel’s hair as if he were a child.

Daniel narrows his eyes. “You’re such an ass,” he says mildly, pushing his hair out of his face.

Sha’re rolls her eyes at both of them and then smiles at Jack. “Happy birthday, Jack.”

She hugs him and he kisses her cheek. “Thanks, honey.” He steps back and walks into the house quickly, because he feels emotional all of a sudden, and Sha’re is one of those uncanny people who can look at a person’s face and see into their soul.

He’s not interested in putting his soul on display.

*

“Uncle Jack, did you know the trailer across from your house got rented out?” Cassie asks him just as he is about to take a bite of chocolate cake.

He’s not sure he heard correctly. “What?”

“I heard Chief Siler and Sheriff Harriman talking about it at Hammond’s today. The new tenants are moving in at the end of the week.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Jack sets down his fork with a clatter.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Janet says, putting a hand on top of his. “Maybe they’ll be nice people this time.”

“Oh, yes, because that’s the way my luck always goes,” he replies bitterly. “Besides, when have we ever gotten a nice tenant for that house? Everyone that’s ever lived there has trashed the yard and not just stolen apples, because that’s not bad enough, but actually damaged my trees. God, I hate people.”

“Sorry, Uncle Jack,” Cassie says repentantly. “I thought you’d be happy to have some company next door.”
He manages a smile in her direction. “It’s not your fault.” He knows he’s being childish, but it’s just one more thing in a long line of things and he feels too tired to deal with any of it.

He picks up his fork again and is just about to take a bite when the front door opens and slams shut, and Teal’c walks in. “Hey guys! Happy birthday, Jack! Did you hear who’s moving into the trailer across from your house?”

Jack drops his fork. “That’s it, I give up.” He pushes back from the table dramatically. “No, T. Who, pray tell, is moving into the trailer across from my house?”

“Sam Carter and her dad!” Teal’c’s smile splits his face in two and both Daniel and Janet gasp.

“I haven’t heard from Sam in so long,” Janet says wistfully as she begins cutting a piece of cake for Teal’c. “Have you, Daniel?”

“No, not in ages. I hope she’s doing okay.” He turns to Sha’re. “She was one of my best friends in high school. You’ll love her.”

“Last I heard, she’d gotten her doctorate in theoretical astrophysics and was working at Stargate Labs in Colorado Springs,” Janet muses. “I think maybe she got married, too?”

“Oh, great, so she did become a scientist,” Jack mutters.

“I think you’re just jealous because she’s smarter than you are,” Daniel says, looking sideways at Teal’c, who snickers conspiratorially.

Jack refuses to even dignify that with a response.

Teal’c sits down, pulls the plate of cake toward himself and takes an enormous bite. Jack looks from one beaming face to another, and while he’s glad that they’re happy, he can’t bring himself to feel anything. Not that that’s anything new for him, but the thought of the Carters returning to town is stirring up a host of old memories, memories of those happier days that will never return. He doesn’t want to think about it. He eats the rest of his cake in silence.

Janet finds him later, alone on her deck, staring unseeingly into the woods of her back yard. He startles when she touches his arm.

“Sorry,” she says. She leans against the railing, facing him. “You all right?”

He doesn’t know what to say, because he is decidedly not all right, but right now there aren’t words for what he’s feeling. Mostly he just hates milestones like birthdays and he wants the day to be over.

Janet takes his hand and squeezes it. After a few moments of silence, she says, “Are you really upset about Hammond renting out the trailer?”

“Not so much now, I guess.” He sighs. “You must be thrilled that Sam’s coming back.”

“I am.” Janet can’t contain the smile that lights up her whole face. “I wish we hadn’t lost touch. We used to have such good times, all of us. I miss those days.”

Jack does too, more than he can say. Life was simpler then, with the kind of magic that comes only with being young and idealistic and in love. He remembers being a newlywed, and Sara redecorating the old farmhouse until it looked like something out of a magazine. The long quiet evenings, just the two of them, and more often the evenings that Janet and Sam and Daniel and Teal’c descended on his house, piling on the couches, eating his food and shrieking with laughter. Sara hadn’t been as fond of that, but the house had always felt too big and empty to Jack, and he loved that Janet and her friends felt at home there. He made a good show of acting put out and annoyed, but those kids had always known he was full of shit and played along with all the characteristic smartassery of teenage-hood.

And then, one by one, those kids grew up and went away to college: Janet to medical school, Sam to an astrophysics program, Daniel to Egypt to study anthropology, and Teal’c on a football scholarship. And the house was empty again. And then Charlie had been born, and Janet came back, and so did Daniel, and life had seemed almost perfect.

Until one day, it was all gone.

He realizes Janet is watching him, and that he hasn’t responded. This is why he tries not to think of the past, because it always threatens to pull him under and drown him. He squeezes Janet’s hand. “I’m afraid to go backwards,” he confesses, and he looks away quickly, trying to stem the tide of emotion.

Janet wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his chin on top of her head. “We won’t go backwards,” she says firmly. “I won’t let it happen. Today’s a fresh start, Jack. Things are changing; I can feel it. And at least,” she adds with a chuckle, “you won’t have to worry about your apple trees being destroyed.”

He feels the despair receding and a tiny bubble of hope rising to the surface. He allows himself a smile. “There is that.”

Chapter Text

The last hour of the drive is the longest.

Eleven years have passed since Sam traveled any of these winding roads, and nothing looks familiar anymore. Jacob dozes in the seat beside her, his exhaustion evident in the lines of his pale face. Her heart contracts with worry. The last year and a half has been so much, too much, for anyone to bear. Her mother’s sudden death in a car accident had left them reeling. The family relationships had already been strained, and they had fractured under the crushing weight of grief. Both Sam and Jacob had said terrible things, things they deeply regretted, and with Pete complaining about “the drama” and wanting life to “go back to normal,” Sam had cut off contact with Jacob for nearly a year, and thrown herself into her work. Her research at Stargate Labs was her life, and she clung to it with everything she had in the year after her mother’s death. Even with Pete breathing down her neck about quitting.

He wanted to start a family, and he had never really liked her long hours anyway. And he couldn’t seem to understand that her work was the only thing keeping her body and soul together.

Sam usually gave in when he got an idea he wouldn’t let go of, but this...this gave her the kind of panic that had her waking up shaking in the middle of the night. She couldn’t imagine giving up her work, and as much as she wanted to have a baby someday, that was still way off in the future as far as she was concerned. But knowing she couldn’t give Pete what he wanted was its own emotional torture.

Then Jacob had called her at work one day, out of the blue, and told her about his lymphoma diagnosis. About how there was little, if anything, to be done about it. He hadn’t apologized, exactly, and neither had she, but after that she would call him sometimes on her way home from work; and from time to time he would email her articles about string theory or nuclear physics.

When his health had started to show some improvent, he had called her and suggested going to Three Hills for the summer--the place they had lived the longest, put down the most roots. Sam had hesitated. “I don’t know, Dad. Pete can’t take the time off.”

“I didn’t mean with Pete. I meant just you and me.”

Sam didn’t answer right away. The truth was she wanted it so badly that it was physically painful to think of not going.

How long had it been since she’d done something for just herself? Since she’d taken a moment just to breathe, to process, to grieve? Maybe, if she took this time to relax, to reconnect with herself and with her father, she would be able to fix her marriage, too. Probably Pete needed a break as much as she did.

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll go.”

“Excellent!” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve got the housing all set. Remember the big farmhouse with the orchard, where the O’Neills lived?”

“I remember.”

“We’re in the house right across from it, on the top of that little rise above the lower orchard.”

“The trailer? That’s still there?”

“George Hammond owns it now. He’s had it updated and remodeled. It’s not fancy, by any means, but it’ll be fine for three months.”

Sam had smiled. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you can pack a bag?”

“Funny, Dad.” She thought for a moment. “Let me call the lab and figure out a leave of absence. Maybe end of next week, if I can arrange everything?”

“Sounds good, kiddo. Talk to you soon.”

“Sam?”

She startles, and looks over to see Jacob watching her, a concerned expression on his face.

“Dad. I thought you were asleep.”

“Just dozing. You okay? You were pretty deep in thought over there.”

She grips the steering wheel, realizing she doesn’t remember driving the last few miles. She checks the GPS. “We’re only about twenty minutes away, according to this,” she says. “And yeah, I’m okay.”

“Can I ask you something?” His voice is hesitant, as if he’s afraid of upsetting the careful truce they’ve constructed.

“Sure, Dad.”

“Have you been happy? Really?”

She huffs out a mirthless chuckle. “As happy as it’s possible to be under the circumstances, I guess.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jacob says, his voice a gentle reprimand.

“Well, of course I have been.” She pauses, her thoughts racing. “I mean, I have my job, and a nice house, and everything I could want, and I know you don’t like Pete but you’ve only seen him at his worst. He...he can be very caring and sweet.”

“But do you love him?” Jacob asks bluntly.

“Of course I do. I married him.”

Jacob only looks at her. There isn’t anything else she can say without sounding defensive, and now she’s feeling anxious and irked. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dad.”

“I just want you to be loved, Sammie. The way you deserve.”

He waits. Sam doesn’t respond; she wishes desperately that they could arrive at the house already.

“You deserve better than this.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” she says, and Jacob doesn’t say any more for the rest of the drive.

*

They arrive at the little house on the hill just as the sun is setting. Normally, Sam would stop to admire the fiery red sky, but tonight she is bone-weary and numb. There isn’t much to carry inside, and she drags herself up the wooden steps, finding the key in its spot under the welcome mat. Jacob follows close behind her, his exhaustion mirroring her own.

The inside is simple and cozy, dim in the fading daylight. Two bedrooms, one on either end of the house, a small bathroom, and the living room and kitchen in the middle. A couple of chairs and a loveseat; a gas stove and a deep kitchen sink.

Sam takes in all these little details as she walks through. She leaves the master bedroom for Jacob, and tosses her bag on the double bed in the other room. It’s small, but cozy like the rest of the house. A plain bureau; a small closet; a braided rug on the floor.

Jacob sticks his head in the doorway. “I’m going to bed, kiddo. I know it’s early but I’ve had it.”

“It’s okay. Go ahead. I’ll probably turn in pretty soon, too.”

He smiles and taps his fingers on the doorway. “Night, Sam.”

“Night, Dad.”

Jacob disappears and Sam chews her lip meditatively. She checks her phone.

Twelve voicemails from Pete. Nice of him to decide to talk to her once she had left.

She tosses the phone onto the far bedside table and leans her head in her hands. It’s too early to go to bed and it occurs to her that there isn’t any food in the house. She decides to make a run to Hammond’s market. She writes a quick note for Jacob and leaves it on the kitchen table.

She wonders if anyone will remember her.

*

Stepping through the door of the little store feels like going back in time. She breathes a sigh of something like relief at the sense memory of it, the smells that make her think of simpler, happier times. She’d forgotten how much she had loved Three Hills.

She grabs one of the little carts at the entrance and runs down a mental list of the things they need. Coffee, first and foremost. Milk, bread, eggs, and maybe some TV dinners. She’s not much of a cook, and neither is Jacob. She sees a lot of frozen pizza in their future.

“Sam?” a familiar voice pulls her back to the present. She spins around and finds herself looking into Daniel Jackson’s bespectacled face.

“Daniel!” She throws her arms around him instinctively, feeling a sudden rush of tears. He hugs her back, and when she releases him she quickly dashes away the tears that are threatening to spill over. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she says hastily. She swallows and blinks hard. “It’s just...so good to see you. It’s been too long.”

Daniel only grins and hugs her again. “I’m glad you’re back,” he says. “How have you been?”

She releases a shaky sigh. “You got a few hours?”

“It’s like that, huh?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.” Sam sniffles and then notices the woman standing just behind Daniel, a tall woman with a kind smile and a cloud of curly black hair framing her face. “Daniel--is this--”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Daniel turns and nudges the woman’s elbow. “This is Sha’re, my wife.”

Sha’re steps forward, takes Sam’s hands in hers, and kisses her cheek. “I am so happy to meet you,” she says with a soft, lilting accent, squeezing Sam’s hands. “Daniel has been telling me all about the mischief you used to get up to as children.”

“Ah, yes, the good old days,” Sam replies, smiling back at Sha’re. “Daniel was incorrigible back then.”

“He still is,” Sha’re says with a wink at her husband, and Sam laughs.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” She looks down at her cart. “I should get going. We only just arrived and Dad doesn’t know I left. He went to bed early.”

“We need to get together and catch up. Soon,” says Daniel. “Hey, wait a minute--we’re all going to be at Jack’s on Monday night for a little get-together. You should come!”

Sam hedges. “Oh, I don’t know; it’s been so long and I don’t want to just show up at his house.”

“Come with us, then,” Sha’re offers. “Jack won’t mind, and we’ll stop at your house first and walk over with you. Janet and Cassie will be there, and Teal’c, and George Hammond might stop by, too. They’ll all be so happy to see you and Jacob.”

And there it is again, that warm feeling of home and belonging, a feeling left behind so long ago that she’s almost forgotten it had ever been in her possession.

She feels her shoulders relax, and she smiles at Daniel and Sha’re. “I’ll see you Monday night, then.”

*

Jacob sleeps for most of the next day and Sam busies herself with deep cleaning and looking around the property. There is a small shed with gardening tools, and Sam makes a mental note to ask George about planting some flowers. Around lunch time, she pulls out her laptop and a stack of notebooks, carrying them to the front steps and setting them down beside her.

She intends to go over some equations for her latest project at the lab, but she keeps getting distracted. The midday air is heavy with the scent of apple blossoms, and there is a sense of peace here that she remembers from her childhood. A peace that did not follow her to Colorado Springs.

She hears a door slamming in the distance, and she looks up to see the figure of a tall man standing on the porch of the farm house on the other side of the street. Jack. A dog with reddish fur sits down next to his feet, and he raises a hand in a tentative wave.

She waves back. A flood of memories overwhelms her again, this time of hazy September weekends spent working in Jack’s orchards, harvesting apples with Janet and Daniel and Teal’c, and any other local teenagers in need of extra cash. She remembers how much time they spent doubled over with laughter; how Daniel would teach them curse words in whatever language he was currently studying; how Teal’c would tell stories of the shenanigans the football team was getting up to when they were off at their away games; how she and Janet would trade whatever gossip they had picked up at the general store; how Jack would grouse at them to quit goofing off and do their jobs, all while smiling indulgently at them when he thought they weren’t looking. Janet would just roll her eyes at him, and Sam would mock salute and call him Colonel O’Neill, and he would say, Don’t be a smartass, Carter, and pretend to be offended.

She shakes off the nostalgia and looks back down at the laptop balanced on her knees, knowing it’s pointless to try to continue her work. But she leaves her laptop in its place and tries to look busy while she half-watches Jack throw a tennis ball for the bouncing red dog. She remembers that Janet had told her that Jack and Sara had had a baby, a year or so after she’d left for college. She surveys the big yard and the entryway of the barn, looking for signs of a child living there--a bike, or toy trucks, or athletic equipment--and comes up empty. Weird.

Jack and the dog go back inside, the screen door slamming behind them, and Sam closes her laptop. She hasn’t called Pete yet, and knows she can’t put that off forever.

*

Janet, on her way to Hammond’s Market to buy food for the gathering at Jack’s house the following day, reflects that it’s a damn good thing he has her to look after him because otherwise he probably wouldn’t ingest anything except beer. She’s had to worry about him less this year than the previous one, and on the surface he seems like he’s doing well. So, his reaction to Sam and Jacob returning to Three Hills had surprised her a little bit. Not that it didn’t make sense, but he so rarely expressed emotion of any kind that his outburst on the topic concerned her. He’d had to claw his way back to being a functioning person, and having witnessed the process once, Janet was not keen to see it again. Sha’re had told her once that she tried too hard to carry the pain of the people she loved, but when it came to Jack there was no way she could ever stop. His loss was her loss; his pain was her pain, and even with the large gap in their ages it had always been that way.

Janet had been the surprise result of an anniversary weekend in Key West, born the month after Jack’s 17th birthday. Jack, in spite of being (in his mother’s words) a “shaggy-haired menace,” had taken baby Janet’s arrival very seriously. He had always been a bit of a loner, and life as the son of an Air Force major had only encouraged those tendencies. By the fifth time the family moved, young Jack had stopped trying to put down roots anywhere. He was unmoored, in the way of a toy sailboat in a duck pond: contained, and in no danger, but drifting just the same. And Janet had turned out to be something of an anchor.

That whole year before he left for college, he doted on her. When he was home, he talked to her, played with her, carried her around and flew her through the air like an Air Force jet while she shrieked with laughter, and by the time she could walk she was following him everywhere. Their mother always maintained that that was why Janet learned to walk at nine months old--so she could keep up with Jack and always have him in her line of sight. He went to the college two towns away, and he would come home on the weekends to visit her. As he settled into college life, made friends, and joined a band, he began to bring those friends home. Little Janet would sit on the wide couch, sandwiched between Jack and his band buddies, watching them as they passed a battered guitar back and forth and sang together.

And then, Jack graduated and moved away. A relative had passed away and left him her property, a sprawling apple farm in a sleepy little town in Maine. A heavy responsibility for such a young man--but Jack, having spent many summers there as a child and longing for a place to belong, had jumped at the chance for a fresh start.

Janet had been five years old then. She didn’t understand, at first, that Jack now lived states away. Even now, she could remember that first year, when every time she heard the front door open she would come running, sure that he had come back--devastated when he hadn’t.

The next year their father had retired from the Air Force and moved the whole family to Three Hills, and there they had all stayed until their parents relocated to Florida.

Janet bites her lip as she steers her car around the curve and up the hill that Jack’s house is situated on, blinking to clear away the memories and trying not to desperately wish they could recapture the old days and live inside them for just a little while. The days before real grief, when the worst thing she could imagine was her adored older brother living in another state.

Things are changing. I can feel it. We won’t go backwards. Brave-sounding words spoken in the moment, out of necessity. She doesn’t know if she really believes them.

She’s just passing Jack’s driveway when she glances over to the other side of the street and sees Sam, sitting on the grassy knoll in front of the little trailer, her face tipped up toward the sun. Janet turns into the driveway without another thought, all the sadness of the past receding at the sight of her old friend.

Sam turns toward her as the car comes to a stop and she throws the car door open, calling, “Sam!”

“Janet!” Sam’s face breaks into a grin that, Janet thinks, has the effect of lighting up the air around her, and she feels a rush of tears as she runs toward Sam and realizes just how much she has missed her.

They hug long enough that it would have been awkward if it had been anybody but them, and when they finally step back they are both teary-eyed and laughing.

“How are you?” Janet finally asks when she can speak. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”

“Come, sit down,” Sam replies, gesturing toward the spot on the knoll where she had been sitting. “Can you stay for a little bit?”

“Yes, of course.” Janet sits down on the grass and Sam sits next to her. “I have to pick Cassie up from Daniel and Sha’re’s in a couple of hours, but I’m free until then.”

“Wait--Cassie? Do you have a kid?” Sam’s mouth drops open in happy surprise as Janet nods.

“Yes. Cassandra. I adopted her three years ago.”

“Oh, Janet. I’m so happy for you. Are you married?”

Janet laughs. “I was, briefly, about five years ago. Not one of my better choices, as it turns out.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam mutters, half under her breath, then snaps her mouth shut as if she didn’t mean to say it out loud. Janet decides to let it go.

“So, yeah, Cassie’s twelve and almost done with 6th grade. She’s really smart; very into science and math--you’d get along great with her. She spends Sunday afternoons at Daniel’s, presumably to learn about anthropology, but I’m pretty sure she always ends up in the kitchen making traditional Egyptian food with Sha’re.”

Sam smiles and her shoulders relax, but Janet can’t help noticing how tired she looks; how thin she is. At least compared to the last time they saw each other. Sam looks like she’s been worn threadbare, and Janet’s heart aches at the thought.

“I ran into Daniel and Sha’re at Hammond’s last night,” Sam says. “Sha’re was so kind and welcoming.” She chuckles a little. “Daniel really married up.”

“Oh, he totally did,” Janet replies with a laugh. “And he is well aware of it, too.”

“Teal’c is still playing pro football, isn’t he?”

“Yes. But he’s here as much as he can be. His mother hasn’t been in great health lately and he tries to get back to visit as often as possible.”

“Oh, good.” Sam sighs and wraps her arms around her knees. “I was really hoping I’d get to see him. And how’s Jack? I saw him across the way earlier today, and we waved at each other, but that was it. Actually, Daniel said you guys are having a little get-together over there tomorrow night, and said Dad and I should come. Is that really okay? Because I feel weird just popping over after all this time…”

Janet wants to both laugh and cry; laugh because of how good it is to hear Sam rambling in the way she always used to do, and cry because she realizes that Sam doesn’t know any of what has happened to them in the past two years. Where does she even begin?

She takes a breath, hesitating. On the tip of her tongue are the words You should definitely come tomorrow night! But Jack’s ambivalent response to the news of Sam’s return stops her from saying them. Of course Daniel extended the invitation without asking Jack first. Of course he did.

Sam notices her hesitation. “It’s fine, Janet. I get it. It’s been a long time.” But she can’t hide the disappointment in her eyes and Janet feels wretchedly guilty.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I just need to talk to him first. Jack...well, he’s had a pretty bad time of it recently. We all have, to be honest.”

“Oh no.” The disappointment vanishes from Sam’s face, replaced instantly by concern. She reaches over and takes Janet’s hand, squeezing it. “Did Jack and Sara split up? I thought it looked awfully...quiet...over there today.”

Janet swallows hard. “Yeah, they split up. Just a few months after Charlie died.”

Sam claps her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “Charlie…died? Oh, Janet, no. What happened?”

“It was an accident,” Janet explains, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and clasps her fingers together. “During the apple harvest, two and a half years ago. Jack and Sara had organized a hayride for the community kids, and Jack was driving the tractor through the upper orchard pulling the kids behind it in a wagon. Charlie and his friends were fooling around on the hay bales and Charlie lost his balance and fell out. The way that he landed…” Janet chokes on her words, unable to continue. She was there that horrible day; she was the first one to get to Charlie after he had fallen; she, the doctor, was the first to look at him lying on the ground and know that he was dead.

Sam doesn’t speak, her face pale and still, but she wraps one arm tight around Janet’s shoulders. Janet closes her eyes and takes a long, shaky breath. “Anyway. After that...Jack just disappeared into himself. He blamed himself for what happened. And he and Sara...well, I think they would have split up eventually in any case, but with Charlie gone...Sara left about three months afterward.”

Sam sighs. “It must have been awful for the whole community.”

“It was. All Charlie’s friends were right there and saw it happen.”

“Cassie?”

“She was back at the house with Sara at the time. Thank God.”

Sam only shakes her head, at a loss for words. Janet leans her head against Sam’s shoulder with a little sigh. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away so long.”

“Life gets complicated.”

“Yeah.” Sam chuckles ruefully. “It does at that.”

Chapter Text

Jack, looking out his front window, chews his bottom lip and stares meditatively at the little house across the street. If he wasn’t feeling so apathetic, he would probably be royally pissed at Daniel. And Janet.

Daniel, being himself, had invited Sam and Jacob to Jack’s house without even thinking about asking him first. And Janet, being herself, had seen fit to intervene and disinvite Sam and Jacob, also without asking him first. He appreciates his family’s devotion to him, he does, it’s just gotten to be goddamned exhausting, having everyone run his life without extending even the small courtesy of checking to see if he’s participating.

So now he’s faced with a choice: go over there and mend matters by personally inviting Sam and Jacob over, regardless of the emotional toll it might take on him; or leave well enough alone and risk alienating two people he had once cared a great deal about in days gone by.

He’s generally a “leave well enough alone” type of guy, but something about this situation nags at him. He’d seen Sam from a distance yesterday, sitting out on her front step, typing away on her laptop. He’d known it was her, simply because it couldn’t be anyone else; but even from far away she’d looked so different from the gangly teenager he remembers that he doesn’t know if he would have recognized her if he’d run into her somewhere else.

And she’d looked...tired? Dejected? He can’t put his finger on it; he’s certainly no mind reader and she’d been a good distance away, so maybe he’s just imagining things.

On the other hand, it was strange for her to have disappeared off the face of the earth without a word to any of them, especially Janet. He’d known Sam well enough back in the day to know that was out of character, and he wonders what had happened. And the fact that she’d come here for three months, with her father but without the rumored husband certainly raises a lot of questions, questions that he suspects do not have easy or pleasant answers.

He decides he’s done contemplating. He’s going to go talk to Sam.

He casts a quick glance around his kitchen, looking for something to bring that could reasonably serve as a peace offering, or at the very least a welcome-back-to-the-neighborhood gift. His eyes settle on the still-unopened container of homemade chocolate fudge that Ellen Hammond, George’s wife, had dropped off the day before. In a rare burst of self-control, he’d been saving it for tonight’s get-together with the family, but now it seems like the perfect peace offering. He just hopes Sam is still as fond of sweets as she was eleven years ago.

Jacob is dozing on the couch and Sam is sitting at the kitchen table, drumming her fingers and wondering if coming here was a mistake, after all. The things Janet had told her weigh heavily on her heart; she’s only been here two days and is going out of her mind with boredom; she’d finally called Pete last night and that had gone over about as well as she had expected it to--which is to say that they’d ended up shouting at each other and then he’d hung up on her.

Sighing, she wonders why she even cares anymore, and what it says about her as a person that she still does.

A knock on the door interrupts her melancholy musings, and she feels a rush of relief as she gets up from her chair and goes to answer it. Maybe it’s Janet. Or Daniel, she thinks hopefully. She pulls open the door and finds herself face to face with Jack O’Neill, who is clutching a container of what looks like some type of dessert and looks as nervous as a fourteen year old on a first date.

“Sam?” he says, as if he’s not really sure it’s her.

“Jack. Hi,” she manages to say, blinking in surprise.

Now that she’s seeing him up close, Sam is taken aback. Jack is eleven years older than the last time she saw him, but damn if he isn’t aging like fine wine. He almost hasn’t aged at all. The only notable difference is that his sandy-brown hair is mostly silver now, and if anything, he’s even better looking than she remembers. She mentally shakes herself. Now is not the time for this.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Oh. Sure.” He seems surprised that she asked, and she doesn’t know what to make of that. She steps aside to let him pass.

They both stand awkwardly in the entryway, oblivious to the fact that Jacob is awake and watching them from his spot on the couch. Jacob gets to his feet and approaches Jack with both a smile and an appraising eye. He holds out his hand. “Jack. Good to see you.”

Relief washes over Jack’s face and he shakes Jacob’s hand. “Good to see you, too, Colonel Carter.”

“You know I’m retired,” says Jacob with a grin. “You can call me Jacob, son. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve...been,” Jack says noncommittally, and Sam cringes because she hasn’t told her father any of what she learned from Janet yesterday. She makes a mental note to explain the situation to him as soon as Jack leaves.

Jack clears his throat and turns back to Sam. “I brought some fudge.” He hands her the box. “Chocolate. Sort of a welcome-back-to-the-neighborhood, if you will.”

Sam feels her shoulders relax a little. “Did you make it?”

The corners of Jack’s mouth turn up, just barely, and there is a familiar glimmer of a smile in his eyes. “Oh, you know me. Chef extraordinaire.”

Sam finds herself trying and failing to suppress a grin, and the awkwardness dissipates. “From what I remember, the only thing you know how to cook is omelets with beer in them.”

Jack narrows his eyes at her. “Those omelets are a work of art and you know it. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get the ratio of eggs to beer exactly right?”

“You didn’t make the fudge, did you?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.

He sighs in defeat. “Fine. No, I didn’t. That honor belongs to Ellen Hammond, I’m afraid.”

At that, Jacob takes the box from Sam and heads into the kitchen with it. “I’d never turn down anything Ellen made,” he says over his shoulder with a chuckle.

Jack shoves his hands in his pockets and shoots a sideways look at her and Sam shrugs. “I’ll be lucky if I get to even taste it,” she says, with a rueful chuckle.

Jack clears his throat and looks at the floor, and Sam feels the tension begin to return. She suspects he came for some reason other than just dropping off a dessert, but she can’t imagine what it might be. Jack finally looks up at her and says, “So...Janet told me about a conversation she had with you yesterday--”

Oh god. Not this. “It’s fine, Jack. Really. She...she told me everything, and I understand--”

He holds up his hands. “Just...let me finish. Please.”

“Okay.”

“Look, she and Daniel just...steamrolled over this whole thing and no one said anything to me about it until the damage was done, and so I came to apologize and invite you to come tonight, because...I really would like you to be there. And Jacob,” he added.

Sam doesn’t know what to say for a moment. She wants to say, I understand that weird things trigger old memories you’d rather forget. And I’m not offended if this situation is one of them. But it doesn’t seem like the right thing, and his brown eyes are watching her with an expression that is almost hopeful. So she just smiles and says, “Of course we’ll come. Thank you for coming to see us and...clearing that up.” She laughs a little. “And for the fudge.”

She glances over her shoulder at Jacob, who is on his third piece and seems to have forgotten either of them are there. She turns back to Jack and grins. “You made his whole day.”

Jack’s face lights up and his eyes twinkle at her. “Mission accomplished, then.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets and reaches for the door. “Well, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” He pauses on the step. “Um...if you want, you can pick some apple blossoms from that first line of trees by the road. We don’t harvest from them anymore, and...I remember you always used to like them.”

Sam feels an inexplicable rush of emotion and blinks quickly to hide it. “Thank you,” she says, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “I’ll do that.”

He nods and turns away with an easy half-smile . “See you tonight, Carter.”

“We’ll be there.” She stares after him as he makes his way back across the street and up the inclined driveway.

Jacob appears at her side. “Well that was a thing,” he says, squinting after Jack’s receding form.

“It was, wasn’t it?” is all Sam can say in response.

“Did he call you ‘Carter’?”

“Oh, it’s a joke. From back when I used to work in the orchards.” She smiles at the memory.

“Uh huh.” Jacob gives her a searching look and goes back to the couch.

Sam looks around the living room. It occurs to her that apple blossoms would look beautiful in a vase by the back window.

Jack returns to his house as quickly as possible, praying to the universe that he didn’t come off like too much of an idiot.

He just wasn’t expecting…her. Her being, of course, Samantha Carter the woman and not the skinny kid he remembers. She’d opened the door and if he had been a religious man he might have thought he was looking at an angel. The ability to form coherent thought had subsequently deserted him.

He gives his head a shake as he arrives back at his own front door, stepping through and shutting it behind him; leaning back against it and sucking in a deep breath. Get ahold of yourself, O’Neill. Samantha Carter is off limits. For multiple, obvious reasons that he’s not even going to list to himself because that’s how off limits she is.

Hathor bounds up to him and he scratches her ears absently. This is the last thing he needs right now, and by the looks of things, it’s the last thing she needs too. He’s certainly been around beautiful young women before and been able to keep his head together without a problem, so this shouldn’t be any different.

But the way she had smiled at his dumb jokes, like she always used to; and how, after all this time, she still remembered his god-awful omelets...he’d been so worried that her return would be painful, a devastating reminder of happy times that would never come again, but strangely enough this encounter has left him feeling like a missing puzzle piece of his life has just clicked into place.

Even with Jack having cleared the air, Sam is relieved when Daniel and Sha’re pull into her driveway that evening. Cars have been gathering in Jack’s driveway steadily for the past twenty minutes, and so far she’s seen Janet and Cassie, George and Ellen, Walter Harriman and Sylvester Siler and their wives, and Teal’c and his mother. She feels shy all of a sudden and out of place--this world has kept on spinning without her, and she wonders suddenly if it will welcome her back.

She shouldn’t have worried. The moment she steps into Jack’s warm kitchen, flanked by Sha’re and Daniel and Jacob, a chorus of excited voices greets her.

“Sam! You’re back!” Teal’c catches her in a bear hug before she’s even fully aware of what’s happening. Dimly, she hears George Hammond exclaiming “Jacob! You old son-of-a-gun, how have you been?”

When Teal’c releases her Janet is waiting next in line, and then Ellen and George, and by the time she has made her way through the whole group she is warm and teary-eyed and can’t stop smiling. She watches Jacob greet Jack, shaking his hand and resting his other hand on Jack’s arm for a moment, a silent acknowledgement of a grief he understands only too well. She shoots a look in Janet’s direction, silently questioning whether she’s told Jack the circumstances of her return to Three Hills. Janet meets her gaze and replies with a quick nod, and Sam feels the last of the tension leave her shoulders. That’s one less awkward explanation she’ll have to give.

She watches him for a moment, making casual conversation with Jacob and George, remembering all the evenings she spent here as a teenager. It feels more like home than Colorado Springs ever has.

Janet’s hand touches her shoulder. “So, about yesterday…”

Sam turns to her and chuckles. “It’s all right, Janet. I get it, and Jack came over and brought fudge, so it’s all good.”

“He brought fudge? As in, the fudge that Ellen made for him?” Janet’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Um...yes? Why?”

Janet shakes her head. “Ellen makes it for him regularly, and he never shares it. How much of it did he give you?”

“It looked like...the whole container?”

Janet stares. “Well,” she says finally, looking as if she doesn’t quite believe it, “you certainly lucked out. Boy, is he going to hear it from me about this.”

“Oh, don’t, Janet,” Sam protests, but before she can say any more, Janet has shot a conspiratorial grin in her direction and disappeared into the crowd of people.

Jack finds himself watching Sam make her way around the room, her smile lighting up whatever corner of it she happens to be in. He notices when Janet introduces her to Cassie, and how Sam and Cassie seem to click immediately. It’s when he dimly overhears George and Sha’re telling her about the upcoming town meeting that he decides to join the conversation. They are both on the board of selectmen, so they might have the inside scoop on the topics to be discussed.

It’s a stupid rationalization and he knows it.

“...budget issues,” he hears George finish.

“We may not be able to even replace the playground equipment, much less put in a baseball field,” says Sha’re.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” says Sam, her forehead wrinkling in concern. “And you said one of the kids was injured last year?”

“Not life-threatening, thankfully,” George replies with a shake of the head. “But still, a broken arm is serious business and it’s impossible to keep the kids off the old playground completely.”

Jack feels his jaw clench, and he regrets stepping in. The issues surrounding the town budget are a sore point, because the playground and proposed baseball field are deeply personal to him for reasons he is not going to go into in a casual conversation.

“And of course Harry Maybourne is being an ass about it,” Sha’re says with a roll of her eyes.

“As if he’s ever anything but an ass,” Jack mutters, and Sam turns to look at him with questioning eyes.

“Harry Maybourne still lives here? I thought he moved away not long after I did.”

“Oh, he did. But then he came back,” Jack replies bitterly. “And now he’s on the board of selectmen, too.”

“More’s the pity.” George folds his arms across his chest and sighs heavily. “But anyhow, Samantha, the meeting’s this Thursday and you’re more than welcome to come. Everybody’s going to be there, and some of us go out to the Buck-It for drinks afterward.”

Jack starts to glance hopefully at Sam and catches himself. He hopes Sha’re didn’t notice, but she notices damn near everything and he should have thought of that before he decided to join this particular conversation.

He really needs to get ahold of himself.

Thankfully, Cassie chooses that moment to tug on his arm and ask where the extra chairs are. He excuses himself before Sam answers George’s invitation. It shouldn’t mean anything to him anyway.

It’s two hours into the evening when Sam finds herself sitting on the floor playing Jenga with Cassie, and quite frankly having the time of her life. Most of the guests have migrated out onto Jack’s front porch, where the air is soft and cool, and much less stuffy than the living room. If she’s honest, she’s relieved to find some peace, away from the questions about her life and her reasons for being here. She’s explained so many times over the course of the evening that the words have developed a bad taste. Dad’s sick, and he wanted us to spend the summer here together. Mom died a couple of years ago. Yes, I’m married. His name is Pete. He’s a police officer. He couldn’t get the time off to come with us. Oh, he doesn’t mind. Nope, no kids yet!

Lies and half-truths, told with a pasted-on smile. Because the reality is both none of anyone’s business and too painful to think about. Thankfully, Cassie doesn’t ask those kinds of questions.

She shrieks when Sam’s carefully-planned removal of one of the lower blocks fails spectacularly and the whole tower topples over. “HA! I win again!”

Sam wrinkles her nose. “You really are insufferable when you win.”

“I can never beat Mom at this game,” Cassie gleefully explains as she begins re-setting the blocks. “This is the best night ever.”

“Well, your mom’s a surgeon. I’d be worried if she didn’t have a steadier hand than I do,” Sam says with a laugh. “Are you going to be a doctor like her when you grow up?”

Cassie shrugs. “I dunno. I like studying archeology with Daniel. And I love cooking-- Sha’re is teaching me how to make traditional Egyptian food. Last week we made koshari. Maybe I’ll have a restaurant someday.” She lays the last block on top of the tower. “I really like science and math, too.”

Sam feels a rush of excitement. “Science and math? Those are my favorite things! I’m a scientist, you know. I study the stars...among other things.”

“Really?” Cassie’s face lights up. “That’s so cool! Can you teach me about it?”

Sam smiles, her heart warming at Cassie’s enthusiasm. “Of course! Maybe I can find us a telescope and we can stargaze one of these nights.”

“Uncle Jack has one!” Cassie exclaims. “He loves watching the stars. Maybe he’ll let us borrow it!”

“Maybe I’ll let you borrow what?” Jack’s voice, questioning and quietly amused, interrupts their game. Sam looks up to see him standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the door jamb with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Cassie bounds to her feet and runs to him. “Uncle Jack, Sam’s a scientist! Did you know that? She studies the stars! She’s going to teach me about them and can we please borrow your telescope? Please?”

Jack looks at Sam with twinkling eyes, and she blinks and looks away when she realizes she’s been staring. Jack’s always had a kind of effortless charm about him, but she sure doesn’t remember it ever being so distracting. Of course, there was that one time when she was a teenager that she told Janet, “Your brother is kinda hot,” and Janet had said, “First of all, ew, he’s my brother; second of all, ew, he’s old! What is wrong with you?” and Sam had just shrugged and never brought it up again.

But that was neither here nor there.

Before Jack can answer Cassie’s question, a commotion erupts in the kitchen and Jack spins around to investigate, jumping out of the way when Siler, his brow furrowed in concentration, sidles through the doorway with a broom handle balanced on his chin.

“Ha! This is AMAAAAAZING!!” Walter cheers in an almost-slurring voice, stumbling through behind him. “Twenty bucks says you can’t make it to the porch!”

“Oh, you are so on,” Siler replies through clenched teeth, inching forward and desperately trying not to move his jaw any more than necessary.

Cassie runs to the far corner of the living room and Sam crouches on the balls of her feet, ready to jump out of the way if need be. Jack covers his mouth with his hand, watching the scene unfold with what Sam would describe afterward as ‘annoyed resignation’ settling over his features.

Siler has almost made his way to the front door when disaster strikes. He sets his foot down on a stray Jenga block, and it seems to Sam like the next half a second happens in slow motion: Siler’s foot skates out from under him, launching him backward; the broom flies off of his chin; Walter shouts NOOOOOO, Jack leaps forward to catch the broom and misses; and the brush end lands heavily on the side of Sam’s head before clattering to the floor.

There is a moment of stunned silence while Sam touches her hand to the side of her head, Siler stares up blankly from the floor, and Jack’s furious eyes meet Walter’s mortified ones across the room.

“Sy. Get up. Get up,” Walter whispers, and Siler jumps to his feet, dazed but uninjured. Jack fixes another wordless glare on the two of them before going to Sam and crouching at her side with his back to them.

“Are you okay?” he asks urgently.

Siler, suddenly the most sober he’s ever been, pipes up, “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to--”

Jack spins around and growls, “Siler, I swear to god…”

And Sam can only laugh. Her head hurts a bit and she’ll likely have a bruise tomorrow, and she doesn’t care at all. She covers her mouth with her hands and laughs until she can’t breathe, until Jack and Siler and Walter and Cassie are laughing with her and no one is mad anymore.

Jack rocks back on his heels, his brown eyes twinkling at her with a soft light. He stands and offers her his hand, pulling her to her feet when she takes it. “How about a beer, Carter?”

She sighs and wipes tears from her eyes, hoping her mascara isn’t running down her face. “Dear god, yes.”

Jack sits down beside her on the narrow porch bench and holds out a beer. “Thanks,” she says, accepting it. She takes a swallow and sets it down on the wide wooden railing.

“So,” says Jack, leaning back against the side of the house and crossing an ankle over his knee, “A scientist, huh?”

She narrows her eyes at him, because it seems like he’s baiting her and she’s not sure what his angle is. “Theoretical astrophysicist,” she corrects. “But you knew that.”

“Now what’d you go and do that for?” he asks, as if this news is disappointing to him.

She looks at Janet, who shrugs; and Daniel, who rolls his eyes and explains, “Jack objects to academia on principle.”

Sam turns back to Jack, who meets her gaze unrepentantly. “Why?”

“I’ve seen too many good people get so far inside their heads that they lose all common sense,” he replies, and it seems like maybe that’s a jab at Daniel. Jack’s face is perfectly solemn but Sam is sure she can see a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

“Well, that’s why we have people like you,” she says. “Not all of us have the gift of seeing things at their...simplest.”

Both Daniel and Janet make half-suppressed choking sounds and Jack just stares at her, seemingly shocked into silence. For one agonizing second, Sam thinks maybe she went too far. But then his face relaxes into its formerly neutral expression and he says, “Thank you,” as if she had just picked out his best character quality and he’s relieved that someone finally noticed.

She grins at him and shakes her head, while the laughter of Janet and Jacob, Daniel and Sha’re erupts around them.

“I guess you can borrow the telescope, then,” he says grudgingly. “I can help you set it up, if you want.”

“Yesssss,” says Cassie, from the other side of the porch.

“You’re gonna teach an astrophysicist how to set up a telescope?”

“Well, you never know. You may find I know something you don’t.” He looks at her sideways and casually takes a last swig of his beer, draining the bottle.

She shakes her head again, rolling her eyes at him and failing at suppressing a smile. She doesn’t know if it’s the beer, or the warm spring night, or the way Jack has had her laughing since the moment she set foot out on the porch, but she feels like every cell in her body is singing.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when she finally crawls into bed. The curtains hanging over her single window are thin, and the faint glow from Jack’s porch lights filters through them. She doesn’t mind. It’s comforting somehow, to be back home and be so surrounded by old friends that even their homelights brighten the rooms of her own house.

She hasn’t felt this way in such a long time that at first she can’t even name the feeling. She’s just drifting off when it comes to her. Happy. I feel happy again.

In the morning she wakes to the sun shining through the apple blossoms just below her house.

She doesn’t ever want to leave.

Chapter Text

Sam feels just a little giddy as she steps through the doorway of the Masonic Hall, into the warm light of a large room, lined with rows of wooden folding chairs. She remembers it fondly, this gathering place of bean suppers and wedding receptions, laughter and drinks and community.

“You look happy,” Jacob’s voice says, close to her ear, and she turns and smiles at him.

“I am happy,” she replies. “Remember George and Ellen’s 25th anniversary party here? I was just thinking of that, and how Daniel, Teal’c, Janet and I snuck some of the spiked punch. Daniel overdid it and ended up throwing up in the broom closet and Janet and I were trying to clean it up without anyone finding out.”

Jacob narrows his eyes at her, but fails to suppress the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. He shakes his head. “You four hooligans and the scrapes you used to get into. How did that end up turning out?”

She laughs. “Jack found us. Gave us an absolutely scathing dressing-down and then helped us clean up, got Daniel some water, and took him home.”

Jacob rolls his eyes as they find their seats. “Remind me to thank Jack at some point for being the likely reason you survived your teens.”

Sam is just about to sit when she catches sight of Jack, Janet, and Cassie coming through the entrance. Jack sees her first and he doesn’t smile, exactly, but his eyes soften and the corners of his mouth turn up, just barely. She feels her own face stretch into a smile, completely involuntarily; and the warmth blossoming in her chest takes her by surprise.

She blinks and comes back to earth when she feels Cassie’s hand on her arm.

“Sam! You came!”

“Are you kidding? Of course I did,” she replies, looking down at Cassie with a grin. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything!” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “When your mom and Daniel and I were kids, we’d sit in on the meetings and make fun of everyone.”

Cassie’s eyes widen with delight. “Really?”

“Yep! Sometimes we’d even bet on who would bring the most ridiculous complaint before the board. Loser had to buy ice cream for the group.”

“Did you ever get in trouble?”

“One night we got kicked out for laughing too much when Sandra Busbee complained about the sand on the sides of the road having too many rocks in it.” She chuckles at the memory. “She was extremely offended, and Dad was so embarrassed that it was months before he’d let me go again.”

Cassie dissolves in a fit of giggles just as Janet joins them. “What’s all this about?” she demands, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Just telling Cassie about some of our town meeting exploits,” Sam explains with an innocent shrug.

Janet laughs. “Sam. Don’t go putting ideas in my daughter’s head!”

“Too late, Mom,” Cassie interjects, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Janet just heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Should be interesting tonight,” she observes wryly. “We’re going over the budget and money always tends to bring out the worst in people.” She looks toward the low stage at the back of the room, where George, Sha’re, Harry Maybourne and two older women that Sam doesn’t recognize are seated behind a folding table. George and Sha’re speak to each other in hushed, earnest tones while Harry looks out over the room with a self-satisfied smirk that Sam instinctively feels will lead to trouble before the night is over.

“How in the hell did Harry Maybourne ever get elected?” she whispers to Janet.

Janet shrugs. “He’s an asshole but I guess he knows what to say,” she replies. She takes Cassie’s hand. “Let’s go sit; it’s about to start.”

Janet, Cassie and Jack sit directly across the aisle from Sam and Jacob. Sam observes Jack out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way he turns a pen over and over in his fingers; how his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down. He seems to feel her watching him because he turns his head and shoots her a half smile.

George calls the meeting to order, pulling her attention back to the front of the room. They review the minutes from the previous meeting, which mostly revolve around a zoning dispute, and then George calls on Harry Maybourne to discuss the current state of the town budget.

He stands, a stack of papers in hand, and smiles over the crowded room with a smug sort of benevolence. “Good evening,” he begins. “As most of you know, the budget has been a topic of heated discussion recently. This meeting should clarify things. We’ll start with the expense report on the public works department.”

Sam stops listening somewhere between the cost of sand for winter roads, and the discussion of which roads need re-paving. Harry is droning on like he adores the sound of his own voice, and when she glances across the aisle, Jack meets her gaze with an exaggerated eye roll.

“This is boring.” A childish voice from two rows back interrupts Maybourne’s speech, followed by the scuffling sound of a parental attempt to silence any further complaining. Jack smirks and shrugs, mouthing, She’s not wrong, and Sam chokes back a giggle just before it escapes. Jacob narrows his eyes at her and elbows her arm, and Jack’s eyes twinkle unrepentantly when she looks over at him again. Damn him. She tries to glare and fails.

“...in short,” Maybourne finishes, “given the needs of this town for reliable plow trucks and truck drivers, it is my opinion that it will be impossible to allocate funds for the playground and baseball field at this time.”

“Damn it, Harry!” Jack jumps to his feet, his face red and his eyes sparking dangerously. “You know I’ve offered to contribute significant funds for the playground restoration--”

“You are out of order, Jack!” Maybourne interrupts triumphantly, shaking his finger in Jack’s direction.

“My most humble apologies,” Jack replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He looks past Maybourne to George. “Permission to speak, sir?”

George sighs heavily. “The board recognizes Jack O’Neill.”

Jack pauses for a moment, presumably to pull himself together. Sam shoots a sideways glance at Janet, but Janet’s eyes are fixed on Harry Maybourne and her face is pinched with annoyance and worry, her hands clenched in her lap.

“Look,” Jack begins, his voice much more subdued, “I get that there are real needs here, and limited funds. Obviously the plow trucks take precedence. But the playground and ball field--it’s not just about the optics, you know? In its current state it’s falling apart; it’s a hazard. At least one kid has already gotten hurt on that rusted jungle gym. Isn’t it worth it to at least get started on the project? At least remove the jungle gym and slide?”

A rumble of approving murmurs fills the room, but Maybourne’s eyes glitter with an antagonistic light. “Do you really have so low an opinion of the parents in this town, that you think they won’t keep their children off of hazardous playground equipment? It’s needed to be replaced for years, and we’ve only had one injury. One.”

His smooth, patronizing voice grates on Sam’s ears and anxiety prickles under her skin. This seems personal between Jack and Harry, this poorly-concealed animosity simmering just beneath the surface.

“Meanwhile,” Harry continues, “multiple roads need to be paved, signs need to be replaced, and the bridge on your own road, Jack, needs to be repaired--in addition to the new plow trucks and drivers needed. If you really want to donate money to the town, maybe focus on things that are actually urgent problems and not your personal redemption project.”

Jack’s shoulders tense visibly, and Sam holds her breath, shooting a look at Janet. Janet and Sha’re jump to their feet at the same moment, Janet to grab Jack’s arm and pull him back to his seat and Sha’re to fix a withering glare on Maybourne and hiss, “Harry. Sit down.”

He shrugs and sits.“What? Am I wrong?”

Sam turns disbelieving eyes to Jacob.

“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Jacob mutters.

Through the rest of the meeting, Sam tries to catch Jack’s eye, without success. He stares ahead stonily, his arms crossed over his chest. Janet notices her watching and Sam raises an eyebrow in question. Janet only shakes her head.

Finally it’s over and Jack is the first person out the door, followed by Janet, Cassie, and Daniel. Sam’s instinct is to follow them, but she holds herself back. She’s not a part of this anymore, not really. She sighs and turns back to Jacob, just as Sha’re joins them.

“What the hell was that?” she asks.

Sha’re rubs her fingers across her forehead, exhaustion evident in the lines there. “That was Harry Maybourne hitting Jack exactly where it hurts the most.”

Sam’s heart sinks. “Charlie?”

“Partly. The summer before Charlie died, Jack had begun making plans and gathering funds to fix up the playground. Charlie was very excited about it and had worked all summer mowing lawns and saving his allowance to help. Jack had consulted Charlie and many of the other neighborhood children to find out their ideas, and it became a community project.”

“Then Charlie died?” Sam asks.

Sha’re sighs. “Yes. Jack couldn’t go on, and without him the project was abandoned. It wasn’t until that boy got injured last fall that he started thinking about it again. And Maybourne’s been making it as difficult as possible ever since.”

Sam nods. The bad blood between Jack and Harry has clearly only gotten worse since she left. Even as a teenager she’d harbored a deep dislike for Harry. His perpetual self-important smirk had always gotten on her nerves, and he’d been something of a creep besides, sneakily ogling any young women who happened to be within his line of sight.

“I’m going to go find them,” says Sha’re, and Sam nods again. “I’ll come, too.” She looks at Jacob questioningly, and he shrugs and follows them out through the double doors.

Jack exits the building as quickly and unobtrusively as he can, praying to every god he’s ever heard Daniel mention that no one follows him. He hurries around the corner of the building, where it is sheltered and dark and he can safely fall apart for a few minutes.

He leans back against the cool side of the building, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply. He really shouldn’t be surprised by this anymore; it’s been like this with Harry ever since Jack moved to Three Hills, and it’s gotten worse with every passing year. But that was a low blow, even for Harry.

The guilt in his soul over the part he played in Charlie’s death is the one chink in his armor, but Harry had never used that against him before tonight. Why now?

The blackness on the edges of his consciousness recedes a little, just as Janet peers around the corner of the building.

“Jack?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps, and feels an immediate stab of regret. He runs his hands over his face and holds one out to Janet. “I’m fine. Really.”

She wraps her arms around him and squeezes. “You’re not, but I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he replies, hugging her back. He looks back to where Janet appeared and sees Cassie standing there, shifting from foot to foot uncertainly. Daniel is right behind her, his hands shoved in his pockets and eyebrows pinched into a worried expression. “It’s okay, guys. Don’t worry about me.”

Daniel snorts. “We always worry about you.”

“Well, knock it off.” Jack releases Janet and takes a deep breath. “Let’s go home before I punch Maybourne’s face in.”

The four of them walk around to the front of the building, arriving there just as Sam, Jacob, and Sha’re are coming down the steps. Jack steels himself; he won’t be able to bear it if Sam, or any of them really, look at him with pity.

But they don’t. Sam only smiles and for that moment in time Harry and the playground project and everything else around him cease to exist and he can breathe again. He’s smiling back at her before he even knows it’s happening.

“I was thinking earlier,” she says conversationally, “about the time Daniel got drunk at a party here and you had to take him home. Do you remember?”

“Now, which time was that?” he replies, raising his eyebrows at Daniel. “I remember several.”

“What? That only happened twice!” Daniel exclaims defensively, his face flushing red. Jack chuckles and Sam giggles and they exchange a significant look, because it’s so easy to get Daniel riled. Just like old times, he realizes, and for the first time in years the thought of those far-away days brings laughter without pain. He’d almost forgotten he could feel this way.

“I beg your pardon,” Jack says, lifting his hands in concession. “So it was only twice that you upchucked in the broom closet?” He can see Sam out of the corner of his eye, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing too much at Daniel’s expense. “I really would have thought that once would be more than enough.”

Daniel looks back and forth helplessly at the two of them. “Jack, don’t be an ass,” he finally says, but there is laughter in his eyes, too. “And Sam, don’t encourage him!”

“Why, is that Samantha Carter?” Harry Maybourne’s simpering voice cuts through the air suddenly enough that they all fall silent, stunned out of their joviality.

Jack feels a lurch in the pit of his stomach. He watches as Sam smiles without warmth, her eyes narrowing into an expression that should have struck fear into Harry’s heart. “Yes, it’s me.”

He looks her up and down. “Well, what a sight for sore eyes you are! Certainly filled out in all the right ways while you were away. Am I right, Jack?”

Jack sees both Jacob and Daniel stiffen and feels his hands ball into fists involuntarily. “You rat bastard--”

He’s stopped by Sam’s hand, gentle but firm, on his arm. She steps forward, eye-to-eye with Harry. “Maybourne,” she says, her voice measured and her eyes like ice, “you are an idiot every day of the week. Maybe consider taking a day off.” She backs away without breaking eye contact and takes Jacob’s arm. “Ready to go, Dad?”

“Sure am, hon,” Jacob replies, leveling that same cold glare in Harry’s direction.

“Let’s go then.” She turns her back on Harry deliberately and smiles at the rest of them. “Goodnight, everyone.”

She and Jacob walk back to their car, leaving Maybourne staring after them with his mouth half open. Jack looks at him with an expression that he is certain is insufferably smug. “It’s good advice, you know,” he says with a shrug.

He takes great pleasure in the remaining group of them walking to their cars and leaving Harry standing alone at the Masonic Hall steps.

Janet pushes through the front door, tosses her purse on the nearest chair, and utters an exhausted sigh. “I am never going to a town meeting again.”

Cassie clatters in behind her and drops dramatically onto the couch. “Please tell me you mean that.”

Janet drags her hands over her face. “That was horrible. Maybourne is a raging narcissist and I can’t believe he’s still on the board of selectmen.”

“He was so mean to Uncle Jack,” Cassie says with a sigh. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t entirely understand it either.” She sheds her jacket and hangs it on the hook by the door. “But I think it’s mostly that he’s deeply unhappy and unfulfilled and jealous that Uncle Jack has so many people who love him.” She rolls her eyes and turns back to Cassie. “Go brush your teeth, hon. It’s late.”

Cassie grimaces and pushes herself off the couch, heading for the bathroom. Janet follows her, picking up her coat and tossing it through Cassie’s bedroom doorway, onto the bed. When she arrives at the bathroom, Cassie already has her toothbrush in her mouth, but she pulls it out when Janet enters.

“Uncle Jack likes Sam,” she says, and rinses her toothbrush.

Janet freezes. She’s not sure if she heard correctly. “Um, what now?”

“Uncle Jack,” Cassie repeats, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She sets her toothbrush back in the holder. “He likes Sam.”

“Explain.” Janet crosses her arms in front of her chest. Her head is spinning. This has been entirely too much for one night.

“You really haven’t noticed?”

“Cass.”

“Ugh, fine.” Cassie rolls her eyes and smirks. “So I’ve been...observing. You know how Uncle Jack, like, hardly smiles ever?”

Janet nods.

“Well, he does when Sam’s around. Like, a lot.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Cassie says with an emphatic nod. “And tonight, after the meeting? Did you see his face when Sam said Mr. Maybourne was an idiot?”

“No…”

“He looked at her just like this.” Cassie makes an exaggerated expression that can only be described as heart eyes.

“Oh my god,” Janet breathes. There really isn’t anything else to be said. This possibility had never crossed her mind, which surprises her considering her usual level of interference in Jack’s life.

“Mom?”

“Do you think Sam likes him back?” The question bursts out of her before she can stop it.

Cassie purses her lips meditatively. “Unclear,” she says finally. “But I’m gonna continue observing.”

“For science?”

“Obviously, Mom,” Cassie replies, grinning. “I mean...she doesn’t not like him.”

Chapter Text

Jack pulls into his driveway and parks. He pauses to take a deep breath, and then another one, before getting out of the car. Relief floods his body, relief that the town meeting is over and that he made it through without murdering Harry Maybourne. Harry will never know how closely the Angel of Death was hovering tonight, he thinks wryly to himself.

As he exits his car, the lights from the little house across the road catch his eye. The night air is soft and warm, and through their open windows he can hear the low rumble of Jacob’s voice and Sam’s bright laughter.

He sighs and turns away, mounting the porch steps and unlocking his front door. He glances back one more time, the muted sounds of Sam’s voice tugging at his heart with an almost gravitational pull. He doesn’t remember ever feeling like this before--not with Sara, not with anyone. But as he steps through the doorway of his own house, back to his quiet, lonely reality, he steels himself against the feelings. Her presence here is temporary; she has a whole life and career somewhere else; she has a husband. And he’s had enough heartbreak for ten lifetimes; he would be an idiot to set himself up for more. Even so, he lies awake into the wee hours of the morning, unable to get her out of his mind.

If only hearts weren’t such goddamned stubborn things.

*

Sam wakes early the next morning, just as the sun is peeking over the eastern horizon and lighting the edges of the apple blossoms. She pushes the covers aside and slips her robe over her thin tank top and pajama shorts. It’s another new day, and her anxiety over finding her place in Three Hills has evaporated overnight: the town meeting, the memories, the satisfaction of putting Harry Maybourne in his place, and those shared moments of silent laughter with Jack have soothed her soul and put her at ease. She feels a rush of anticipation as she opens the front door and steps through into the sunshine.

She leans against the railing of the front steps and mentally goes over her to-do list for the day: Apply for a job at Hammond’s Market. Stop at the greenhouse and buy flowers for the backyard. Get Dad out for a walk. Call Pete.

She grimaces involuntarily and sighs. She wishes she missed him, but she doesn’t. There is only relief, only a feeling of being able to breathe again, to relax her shoulders and unclench her jaw and just be.

She hears the bang of a screen door across the street and looks over to see Jack making his way down the porch steps toward the newspaper box at the bottom of the gravel driveway. A smile takes over her face before she’s even aware it’s happening, and she finds her feet carrying her down her own driveway.

Jack glances her way as she reaches the end of her driveway and offers a small wave and a half smile. He doesn’t look fully awake yet, she observes, with his spiky silver hair sticking up all over his head, his sleep-laden eyes, his gray robe hanging open over a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, and a pair of very worn-looking flip-flops on his feet. Sam takes a step back, this moment feeling almost too intimate for the short time they have been reacquainted.

“Morning,” she ventures as she pulls the newspaper out of the box.

This time, he smiles a little wider and she feels a rush of warmth in her veins.

“Morning,” he returns, turning toward her with his own paper tucked under his arm. “You look…”--he pauses and rubs his hands across his eyes–“...awfully energetic.”

She laughs at the disgruntled expression on his face. “Long night?”

“Something like that,” he replies, in a tone that does not invite further questions. He clears his throat. “Any exciting plans today?”

“Got a job interview at Hammond’s.”

He suddenly looks much more awake. “Really?” he asks incredulously.

“What? You don’t think I’m qualified?”

“No, no,” he quickly backtracks, and his eyes begin to twinkle. “I just don’t think Hammond knows what he’s in for.”

She scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He cocks his head at her. “It means, Carter, that you once worked for me and that your inability to cut the science talk long enough to actually pick apples was…problematic. At best.”

She tries to glare at him and fails. “Well, excuse me, Colonel, but I don’t remember that my inability” –she makes exaggerated air quotes around the words– “to focus was any worse than Daniel’s. Or Teal’c’s, for that matter,” she adds, remembering how Teal’c would hurl fallen apples across the orchard, always trying to beat his previous record for distance; and how one time his attempt had resulted in a half-rotten apple hitting Sylvester Siler squarely in the head and disrupting apple picking for the rest of the day.

“Fair enough,” Jack concedes, turning back toward his driveway. “I guess you can put me down as a reference, then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she returns, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Don’t encourage him…

“See you around, Carter.”

“See you later, Jack.”

She makes her way back to the house, steps back inside, and returns to her bedroom to get dressed. Excitement bubbles in her veins. There’s a full day ahead and she’s going to bask in her newfound ability to rest and laugh with old friends and enjoy life. If Pete fits into that, she’ll call him.

And if not…well, that’s a problem for another day.

*

“Sam, I’m certainly not averse to you working here, but don’t you think you’re a bit…overqualified?”

George Hammond, seated at a minuscule desk in the back corner of the little store, looks across it at her with confusion evident in his eyes.

Sam just smiles, confident in her powers of persuasion. “I’m here because I need a break from astrophysics, George,” she tells him. “But I also need something to do, or I’m going to lose my mind. Believe me, I’m perfectly happy to stock shelves or run the register. It’ll be a good opportunity to get reacquainted with everyone, too.”

George rests his hands in front of him on the desk and shakes his head, chuckling. “Well, then, I guess you’re hired. When can you start?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Six AM, sharp.”

“Deal.” Sam grins and reaches out to shake his hand, and his eyes twinkle at her.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sam,” he says as he takes her hand.

She huffs an emphatic breath. “So am I.”

*

Sam is wrist-deep in gardening soil when her phone rings. She peels her rubber-coated gloves off gingerly and pulls the phone out of her pocket.

Pete.

She takes a deep breath and flips the phone open. “Hey,” she greets, with significantly more enthusiasm than she feels.

“Hey, Sam. How are you?”

He actually sounds relaxed and not like he’s in a mood to twist everything she says into a reason to fight. She feels a small flutter of hope in her chest. “I’m good, actually. Planting some flowers in the backyard this afternoon.”

“Making a home for yourself there, huh?” he asks wistfully, and his tone is so lacking any hint of his characteristic passive-aggression that she’s thrown off a little.

“Temporary home,” she reassures him, not because it makes her feel any better, but because he seems genuine and she figures he deserves some reassurance.

“Yeah.” He pauses, and she wonders what he’s thinking. “I really do miss you.”

Sam gulps, scrambling for something to say. I miss you, too, would be the obvious response, but she doesn’t, and she’s so tired of pretending. “The summer will fly by,” she says instead, and it sounds hollow even to her own ears.

Pete tries again, less wistfulness and more determination in his voice. “I know you’ve been having a really hard time. I do see it, Sam, and I get it, and I want things to be better for you. For us.”

Tears flood to her eyes before she can stop them, and the long-buried affection she held for him sparks to life in her chest. For just a moment, she does miss him, the old him that she had fallen in love with and married. She misses them. “I want that, too, Pete. Truly.”

“Will you…” He hesitates, and she holds her breath. “Will you at least think about coming home? Sooner, I mean.”

“I’ll think about it,” she says, surprised that she actually means it. Maybe leaving so abruptly had been an overreaction, after all. Maybe she had been too quick to throw away a good thing.

“Okay,” Pete says, sounding relieved. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she replies automatically. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Sam. Love you.”

“Bye, Pete.”

She sets the phone down on the ground next to her, and presses her hand over her mouth, clenching her teeth against an incomprehensible urge to weep.

A hand rests gently on her shoulder. “You all right?” Jacob’s voice, close at her side, grounds her and she looks up at him, blinking away the tears before they can fall.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, and Jacob sighs as he sits down beside her in the grass. She half-expects another lecture, but he doesn’t speak. He only wraps an arm around her shoulders and lets her rest her head against his, while she breathes past the lump in her throat.

Finally she lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I want. Or what to do,” she admits.

“You will,” Jacob replies with quiet conviction. “And that’s why you’re here, right? To figure it out. Give yourself time, hon.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she says softly, and he presses a kiss against her hair. She lifts her head and attempts a smile. But somehow, it doesn’t seem like any amount of time would be enough to figure out the mess she left behind in Colorado.

*

Jack definitely does not spend the next 48 hours thinking about Samantha Carter smiling in the early morning sunshine, or the way her blue eyes sparkled at him as she laughed, or the way her soft tank top and shorts hugged her curves in all the right places. He does not think about the night before that morning, how he tossed and turned all night and fumed at the universe for taunting him with one more impossible dream, one more person to care about and lose. He absolutely does not, in any capacity, contemplate the coming months: how he will go through the season seeing her face every day and somehow have to resist the magnetic pull of her; the way his heart skips when she laughs; the way everything about her both baffles and fascinates him.

No, he spends the next two days fully avoiding as much introspection as humanly possible, throwing himself into the pruning of the apple blossoms and calculating exactly how much insecticide to buy and how many seasonal workers he’s going to need to hire.

When he comes up for air he realizes that there is neither food nor coffee left in the house, the worst of it being the distinct lack of chocolate fudge, and after he bangs the last empty kitchen cabinet door shut he sighs heavily and goes for his keys. The only remedy at this point is a trip to Hammond’s Market.

He rolls his eyes as he pulls into the too-small parking lot and notes the presence of Harry Maybourne’s oversized pickup truck, complete with those stupid truck nuts that, as far as Jack is concerned, serve no purpose except to proclaim from the rooftops that the owner is a certified douchebag. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel indecisively and chews his bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons of entering the store when he knows his arch-nemesis is in there. On the one hand, he’s exhausted and disgruntled and navigating a battle of passive-aggressive insults with Harry is risky at best. Chances are he’d snap and sock Harry in the nose, and then Walter would have to arrest him for battery and it would be a whole thing. But on the other hand, he’s also hungry and uncaffeinated and his mood is not going to get better if he returns home without getting at least some bread and milk. Besides, skulking back to his house to avoid Harry is a coward’s way out and he knows it. He grits his teeth and exits the truck, slamming the door behind him.

*

The store doorbell jangles, and Sam, working the register, looks up to see Jack entering. She starts to call out a greeting and then holds back. He looks so tired, even more tired than two days ago, and she hasn’t seen even a sign of him since that morning by the mailbox. He glances in her direction and half-smiles, before turning and disappearing down the nearest aisle.

She turns back to the register just as Lou, Walter’s wife, sets a basket of groceries down on the counter. Lou smiles and pulls her wallet out of her purse. “Working in the store, Sam? Does this mean you’re thinking of staying?”

Sam laughs uneasily, lifting a loaf of bread out of the basket. “No, I just needed something to do for the three months that I’m here.”

“Oh.” Lou sounds slightly disappointed, but her eyes are understanding. “Well, I can’t imagine this place is as exciting as studying–astrophysics, is it?--in Colorado Springs.”

“To be honest, I needed a break from the excitement.” Sam sets the bread in a paper bag and rests her hands on the counter in front of her. “Not that it was very exciting there. But it was…tiring.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re getting the rest you need.”

“Thanks.” Sam rings up the rest of the groceries and Lou waves as she exits the store.

Harry Maybourne is next in line.

Sam offers a cool nod by way of a greeting, reaching for his six pack of Bud Light to run it over the scanner.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Um…about the other night…”

“You know what, Harry? Forget it.” She tries to keep the snappishness out of her tone. “We’ll pretend it never happened.”

He looks relieved. “Okay. Good. I just want you to know that I don’t hold what you said against you.”

Sam feels her mouth fall open and she catches herself just in time before dropping the whole six pack on the floor.

“You…don’t hold…” She stops, at a loss for words.

“Nope. You know, I have my shortcomings but I can be the bigger person from time to time.” He smiles benevolently, like a king conferring a special favor upon a peasant.

Sam stares for a moment, then arranges her face into what she hopes is a convincingly neutral expression. “Wow, Harry. You know, I actually really appreciate you showing me exactly what kind of person you are.”

He passes her a few bills with a gratified expression, and picks up the case of beer. “Keep the change, sweetheart.” He casually salutes in her direction and leaves the store.

Sam clenches the money in her fist and then stuffs it into the change drawer, slamming it shut with a bang. When she looks up, Jack is standing at the counter with milk, coffee, eggs, and his own six pack of beer in hand.

Jack takes in her white-knuckled fists and clenched jaw and he doesn’t smile but there’s just a hint of teasing in his eyes. “Real gentleman, isn’t he?”

She runs the coffee over the scanner. “So you overheard all that?”

“I overheard enough.”

“That man is a walking mindfuck.”

“Oh, I am well aware.”

She glances down at the rest of the items on the counter. “Making omelets again?” she asks, gesturing to the beer and eggs.

“Funny. You’re funny,” he replies sarcastically, but his eyes twinkle at her and she feels her anger at Harry Maybourne start to fade.

She begins scanning the rest of Jack’s groceries and smiles, letting the last of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. “Haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”

He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “Orchard stuff. We’re coming up on the busy season.”

“Let me know if I can help. I still remember a thing or two,” she offers.

He hesitates. For a moment she thinks he might decline her offer and her chest tightens. Perhaps she has overstepped.

But then he smiles. “Sure. I’ll give you a shout.” He gathers up his bagged groceries and nods. “See you around, Carter.”

She watches him leave, and tries not to hope too much that he does ask for her help. She shakes her head and turns back to the counter, only to find Siler, leaning nonchalantly against the counter’s edge with an armful of lighter fluid containers. The whites of his eyes stand out starkly against his skin, which is blackened with what appears to be copious amounts of soot.

She chokes back a laugh, reaching for the first bottle to ring up. “How are you today, Chief Siler?” she manages to ask. She can’t look him in the eyes, or she’ll lose it. She knows she will.

“I’m trying to recreate the circumstances of that fire that happened on Terrace Hill last week,” he says, as if that explains everything.

“Oh.” She looks him up and down. “Dare I ask what happened to you?”

“Probably better not,” he answers cheerfully, passing her his credit card.

“Noted.” She runs the credit card and passes it back to him. Wait until Jack hears about this.

She stops that thought almost before it’s fully formed. Whatever this feeling is, it’s beginning to be unsettling, especially in light of her recent conversation with Pete. It feels like something beautiful and sparkling, in her line of sight but just out of reach. She doesn’t know much about fishing, but she wonders if this is something like how a fish feels, right before it bites the flashing lure and is yanked from the water.

“Have a good day, Sam.” Siler’s voice snaps her back to the present and she manages a smile.

“You too.”

*

Jack drives home, feeling a little better but not much. At least he hadn’t run into Harry after all, but this thing with Sam, these unnamable feelings…he feels deep in his bones that this has the potential to torpedo what’s left of his life if he lets it.

But how do you stop a torpedo that’s already launched?