samandjack.net

Story Notes: EMAIL: stargaterpg@hotpop.com

SEASON: Six

SPOILERS: small ones for Small Victories

FEEDBACK: Welcomed - just try to make any criticism constructive so I can work on it. :)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first fic in about 2 years. It's not much, so what you see is what you get. Thanks to Tiz for doing a quick beta'ing job. And thanks to Alli, Kelly, Sel, Yam, et all for showing me an enthusiasm about the fandom that I haven't seen in a long time.


STATUS: Completed

ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just ask...SJD yes.


Describing Minnesota was not an easy task, even for the most gifted of speakers. For Jack O'Neill, it was even more difficult. He wasn't a man of many words. Sure, he spoke often - usually in banter or when the situation called for it (and sometimes when it didn't) - but the words he used always seemed to be the same. The words in his regular vocabulary would never qualify to properly describe the scene he saw in his mind. But although words failed him, he could always picture the cool ripples of the lake, caused by a light breeze.

"Carter." That was her name - no longer Sam or even Major. Just Carter. Sometimes the term was used as a sign of affection. Sometimes it was just used as a necessary means of gaining her attention. All in all, someone with an untrained ear could really say that it was overused, but O'Neill knew better. It was all about tone. The word could be barked or stated in greeting. It could be murmured or whispered. There were a million different ways…okay, maybe not a million; perhaps a hundred was closer…that `Carter' could be said.

Today it was a term of affection.

"Yes sir?" she replied. Her voice wasn't expectant of anything. There was the possible hint of her wanting a specific response, but she had carefully developed a way to mask that over the years. It just wasn't appropriate - not only for their working environment, but also (reluctantly) in her mind.

His hand reached up and adjusted his sunglasses. The fishing pole rested in its holder, balanced in place between his calves. The sun wasn't particularly bright, but as he had a habit of naturally squinting in any brightness, the shades were a necessity. Jack's left hand rested on his upper leg, fiddling with a loose strand of cotton on his shorts. The right hand cradled the cell phone. He normally abhorred having to keep in contact when he got away from the base, but today it had been out of choice. Where he was sitting wasn't quite Minnesota, but a small, secluded area near the Dillon Reservoir here in Colorado was close enough for today. He paused a deliberate beat before answering. It was his little way of controlling the situation. Carter would never question the fact that he was in control all the time - that was just a given from her perspective. But for Jack, it was a conundrum that cropped up in his mind all too often. "How come you never go fishing with me?"

Even though he couldn't see it (or maybe *because* he couldn't see it), Sam tilted her head and a small frown creased her brow. "I've been…busy, sir," she replied, smirking slightly at her reply. It was an easy way out in the scheme of things, but no one could deny the fact that the SGC was practically a full-time job - one that allowed them to be constantly busy. She shifted her phone from one ear to the other, cradling it in the crook of her neck to allow her hands to be free to work. One palm was pressed against the surface of the car tire she was changing, while the other held steady the lug wrench that she was going to use.

"You've been busy for the past six years?"

"Try the past fifteen, sir."

A small, wry smile crept onto his face. That was Carter all right. She never seemed to stop working or thinking or feeling her way through life. The `feeling' part didn't show up as often as he would have liked though. It wasn't appropriate, of course, but that didn't stop him wanting to see it more. Instead, he watched the fly bob up and down on the surface of the water, lilting softly with the ebb and flow of the water.

Sam waited, listening to the silence. It wasn't uncomfortable by any means. She shifted more weight onto her shoulder to hold the phone in place, while biting the inside of her lower lip. The lug wrench turned a rotation under her force, starting to loosen one of the lugs that kept the tire in place. The amicable silence remained for a good minute. Neither said a word. Words weren't necessary right now. There would be time for that later.

Jack broke the silence. "Carter?" he asked softly.

Removing the lug from its position and placing it on the grass nearby, she wiped her right hand on her pants and reached up with the other hand to hold the phone. "Yes sir?"

"Wanna come fishing?"

It was Sam's turn to smile wryly. There wasn't much more than the upturned corner of her mouth, but it was there. There was a poignant delay in her response. She thought about it for a moment (as she always did - there was never an automatic reaction where this question was concerned) and let her shoulders droop somewhat. It wasn't right yet, as much as she wanted it to be. Jack knew that too, but he was fishing for answers more than Common Shiners.

"Maybe next year," she said, her tone conveying what her words couldn't.

Silence reigned again and the smile on Jack O'Neill's face broadened. He allowed the hand holding the cell phone to drop down from his ear and press the `end call' button. At the other end, Carter did the same, taking a moment to contemplate her own words. She shook her head and allowed a brief slanted smile at herself, before she went back to changing the tire.

Next year. That worked for him. It worked for her. In fact, it was something that all could look forward to.

=fin=




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