Title: BrigaDOH!

Author: Polly Lynn

Email: polly_lynnxx@yahoo.com, Feedback keeps evil leprechauns at bay

Status: Complete

Category: SJR, Action/Adventure, Team, Friendship, Challenge

Spoilers: Mention of Grace, Window of Opportunity, General Sam and Jack Shippiness

Season/Sequel Info: S7 After Grace, before Chimera

Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex near the end and some naughty language throughout (not excessive, I hope)

Content warnings: Sex, language, but of a happy, silly sort

Disclaimer: Ah, I really don't think any of the very talented owners of these characters and this universe would use the word jello-esqe. That's how you can tell this pitiful tale is mine.

Author's Notes: Inspired by Apophis Queen's St. Patrick's Day Challenge (Green beer, clovers, off-world, S/J Kiss), I got an image of Jack sculpted in Jell-o and then the muse tied me to a runaway train car. This very nearly also qualifies for Sam Petersen's "Keep it Clean" challenge, but I'm not sure how she feels about one word that I do use. If it makes you feel better, I use it fondly.

Acknowledgements: To the fic writers and readers who continually inspire me with their intelligent comments and insight, To Great Big Sea whose lyrics inspired the idea of "Consequence Free," As always, to my Hun Beta who offers more encouragement than I probably deserve. Oh, and sorry for my bad Gaeilge and the unequal sizes of the parts. I tried to use real breaks in the story.

Archiving: SJD yes, Helio when I get around to it. My site: http://www.geocities.com/polly_lynnxx/Pollyfic.html later today when I format it, and anywhere else, you betcha, just lemme know.

The wormhole closed behind SG-1 with its characteristic chunk. An idyllic landscape stretched before them: Impossibly green, rolling hills dusted with the white of the soft morning reflecting off the dew-drenched blades of grass.

Given the opportunity, O'Neill might have wondered in retrospect why they hadn't turned around and gone back through the gate (one-way wormholes, be damned) the minute they spied the three-story sculpture of him. Then again, it was too weird to pass up, and the members of SG-1 were, to a (wo)man, suckers for weird.

"Whoa!" O'Neill slipped his sunglasses off and took in the statue, "That's . . ."

"You!" Sam looked from the original to the rendering in disbelief.

" . . . that's . . . Jell-o," Daniel added, fascination and horror vying for control of his expression.

Sam reached up and prodded O'Neill's giant boot. "It's not actually jell-o. It's some kind of elastic, translucent resin."

"So it's . . . jell-o-esque." O'Neill stepped back to consider the statue, holding the tips of his thumbs together as if framing a shot. "Do I look fat?"

"Although green, it is a most faithful likeness," Teal'c offered noncommittally.

"Hey!" Jack hunkered down to peer more closely at something on the pedestal. "That's my name! Two Ls and everything!"

"There's writing?" Daniel scurried around to the other side of the statue, shoving Jack out of the way as he practically pressed his nose to the plaque. "seachd deug Maàrt . . ."

"What's it say?" Jack asked impatiently.

"It's . . . a kind of Celtic language. But it's . . . wow, this is fascinating. It has elements of both the Gaelic and Brythonic variants, which means it must date to before the two groups split. See, here, these characters . . ."

"Daniel!" Jack rapped sharply on the back of his head. "What. Does. It. Say?"

"OW! All right, all right. It's got your name in English . . . that's odd," Daniel batted away Jack's hand without looking back at him, "and a date. Seachd deug Maàrt is the seventeenth of March."

"That's today," Sam said, crouching beside O'Neill.

"It is?" O'Neill shot to his feet. "Goddamn it! How did we get saddled with a mission on St. Patrick's Day? Didn't Hammond promise us downtime today?"

"He did. SG-3 wished to exchange mission schedules, O'Neill, and you agreed." Teal'c reminded him.

"Why'd I do that? I don't think I'd do that. It's like . . . dishonoring my ancestors." Jack turned away from the statue in a sulk, joining Teal'c in keeping a lookout.

"Hockey," Sam said absently as she studied the area next to the plaque. The sculpture's pedestal was covered with a series of carvings, each enclosed within a frame of Celtic knot work. She inched around the base of tracing the outline of a carving with her fingers.

"Hockey? Oh, hockey. Damn you, ESPN Classic!" Jack shook his fist at the sky.

"Daniel, is this what I think it is?" She pointed to the top of the figure she'd been tracing.

"It's a symbiote!"

"What?" O'Neill whirled around. "Why's there a snake on my statue?"

"Hang on," Daniel snapped impatiently, fumbling an artist's pad and a piece of charcoal from his pack. "This plaque is in pretty bad shape. I need to make a rubbing of the inscription."

Sam continued to scuttle around perimeter of the statue, following the string of carvings. "Oh for . . . " she sputtered. A moment later she stomped into view from around the far side of the statue.

"What is it, MajorCarter?" Teal'c asked taking a firmer grip on his staff weapon as he caught her expression.

"It's the carvings. Sir, It's some kind of story. I think it's about us." She folded her arms over her weapon and turned away with a sour look.

"Hey, neat!" O'Neill bent double, squinting at the carvings. "Like my own comic book!"

Having finished his rubbing of the plaque's inscription, Daniel began making his way around the statue. Completely engrossed in his analysis of the drawings, he plowed into Jack's legs, tumbling on to his ass.

"Ow! Jack! Watch where you're . . . " his sentence hung in mid-air as he looked up to see an uncharacteristically still Jack O'Neill with a very strange look on his face.

"Daniel," Jack said, his voice cracking slightly, "is that . . ."

Daniel turned to follow Jack's gaze and burst out laughing. "Sam! Sam you've gotta . . ."

"I've seen. Fuck you both." Sam snapped from the other side of the statue. "Assholes," she muttered.

At this, O'Neill lost his tenuous hold on his composure. "Ow!" he howled as he fell to his knees beside Daniel, weak with helpless laughter. "She's got . . . she's . . ." he collapsed on to his side, pounding the ground with his fist, putting Daniel, who was rolling about on the ground nearby, in considerable danger.

"O'Neil. DanielJackson. Are you well?" Teal'c asked as he appeared around the side of the statue, one eyebrow, predictably, cocked.

Daniel composed himself long enough to point to the source of their amusement: What seemed to be the final panel showed four figures clustered in front of the Stargate. Daniel, recognizable from the blocky glasses etched on his face, was hunched over the DHD, in the act of pressing the center circle with one hand, the other clutching his side arm to return enemy fire. Teal'c (one assumed more from sheer size than any real resemblance) was crouched next to him, his staff weapon aimed heavenward.

As in the main statue, the artist had clearly taken the most care rendering Jack's form in careful detail, down to the fingerless gloves he favored. He stood atop a huge boulder to one side of the gate, just in the foreground of the backsplash of the recently established wormhole. A massive, stylized weapon bearing more resemblance to a Goa'uld canon than a P-90 was tucked jauntily under his right arm as he nonchalantly blew away the serpent guard flying through the air toward him.

His left arm was looped manfully about Sam's waist, pulling her to him. The conclusion that this figure represented Sam was reached primarily by process of elimination: The three others were represented and the fourth image was clearly a woman. Very clearly a woman. Any further parallels one might draw were likely to get one smacked. Or possibly court-martialed in Jack's case.

She was naked, save for the GDO strapped to one wrist. One hand was pressed to her mouth, which gaped open in terror. The other clung to Jack's hand on her waist. Jack's arm was barely visible below the curve of gigantic, yet comically firm breasts. No comic book artist had ever over-endowed a heroine in that department quite so shamelessly. Unlike your average animated heroine, however, the artist had given Sam a lower body to match: One knee was pulled up slightly in the act of pressing closer Jack, turning one ample hip toward the viewer, the arc of a well-rounded belly just visible in profile.

"These images depict a great victory on this planet. Yet SG-1 has never been here," Teal'c said finally, realizing that a convenient break in hysterical laughter would not be forthcoming anytime soon.

Daniel pulled himself to a half-reclining position as he wiped his eyes. "Maybe they've just heard about us?"

"The level of detail and the accuracy of the depiction . . ."

"Accuracy? ACCURACY?!" Sam's fury was almost palpable, even with the statue between them. Jack, who had been panting into the grass and showing signs of recovery, was off again at this.

" . . . the depiction of O'Neill." Teal'c finished hurriedly. "I believe that whoever created this statue and pedestal knew us well."

Daniel's professional curiosity began to get the better of him. Pulling a trowel from his pack, he crawled to the base on hands and knees and began digging the vegetation away.

Out of a partner in hilarity, Jack began to calm himself. He rolled on to his back, slipping his glasses back on against the intensity of the sun. As the pounding in his head from lack of oxygen faded, he became aware that Carter was making quite a racket.

"Carter? Whatcha doin'?" He called tentatively.

"My job, sir." She snapped.

"What part of your job?" He winced in anticipation.

There was a long pause followed by the clatter of equipment being hurled from pack to ground at great force. He thought he made out the words "Soil samples" somewhere, but he wasn't going to risk questioning her any further, figuring she was pretty pissed if she was abusing her precious instruments,

"Carry on, then, Major," he gestured to Teal'c to join her on the other side and keep an eye out.

He turned back to the panel, pointedly avoiding the portion of it that depicted him and Sam. "Daniel, why does Teal'c have a . . . that is Teal'c, isn't it?"

Daniel glanced up, "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Why does he have a fishbowl on his head?"

"I think . . ." Daniel shifted back on to his heels as he pointed with the tip of the trowel. "I think it's actually a halo."

"A halo? Like an angel?"

"More like a saint in this artistic tradition . . . or at least the artistic tradition of this part of the panel." Daniel said. "Now over here . . ." Jack grabbed his elbow and shook his head furiously as Daniel's trowel moved to circle the figures representing him and Sam.

Mercifully, Daniel picked up on the cue. For once.

"The iconography is fascinating . . ." he continued, moving back toward the figure of Teal'c. "See, these markings around the eyes and abdomen are a shorthand for a Goa'uld or a Jaffa. Teal'c has them here, but the halo seems to indicate that the artist recognized him as a friend . . . a warrior for good."

"Secret's out, Teal'c!" O'Neill called. "That badass Jaffa routine's gonna get you nowhere with these people. If there are . . . people. Are there people?"

"There must have been at one point. The statue was definitely constructed here, not moved," Daniel was about to launch into an explanation of how, exactly, he knew this.

"What about now?" Jack interrupted hastily. "Carter? You got anything?"

"Fire," she said shortly.

"What?" Jack was on his feet and hurrying to the far side of the statue in half a second, relieved to see her holding a vial filled with soil up to the light, some of her anger, at least, dissipated as she became absorbed in her work.

"Fire pits. Several. Some relatively recent."

"So, that means people."

"I don't know, sir. The UAV didn't show any architecture or other signs of human habitation . . ."

"Carter, the UAV didn't show a 30-foot statue of me made of green . . ." he stopped short. "Carter, why didn't the UAV show that?"

She was clearly at a loss. Jack hated that. He took a firmer hold on his weapon, "Daniel! Gather 'round, kids!"

Daniel joined them, rolling his rubbing of the plaque into a tube.

"So," O'Neill clapped his hands. "What do we know? We've never been here, am I right?" The other three nodded in agreement. "And that," he gestured to the statue, "was either not here yesterday when we sent the MALP and the UAV through or someone's pulling an Urgo on us."

"Not likely, sir. The rest of the MALP and UAV data fit with what we're seeing. Topography, soil content, everything."

"But the statue was originally constructed here," Daniel insisted. "The pedestal's foundation is set well into the ground and there's no evidence that the below-ground portions are a secondary burial."

"Then how do you explain both the MALP and the UAV showing us nothing?" Sam demanded.

"Perhaps the inscription will provide further information, DanielJackson.." Teal'c suggested.

"Right!" Daniel unrolled the sheet. "So we know it says something about Jack, and there's lots about snakes. Transporting them?"

"Transporting snakes? Goa'uld? Jaffa?" Jack scanned the horizon nervously.

"No, transporting isn't quite right. This is freedom or liberation. The diacritics are hard to make out . . . driving! That's it. Driving out! 'On this the seventeenth of March'," Daniel unclipped the dark lenses from his glasses and peered more closely. "There's more on the date, but I can't make it out. Something something . . . 'and his loyal warriors liberated us by driving the snakes out of . . . Ireland'?"

"The legend of St. Patrick!" Sam exclaimed. "But that doesn't explain anything! We've never been here."

"Perhaps the carvings are merely a representation of our victories against the system lords elsewhere. Such epic tales are often used to instruct Jaffa children in the history of their people."

"A teaching device . . . some kind of ritual storytelling?" Sam scowled wondering what lesson her mammoth breasts might be used to teach.

"I don't think so," Daniel shook his head. "Yes, the figures are . . . stylized . . ." he unconsciously flinched away from Sam as he groped for the word, "But the events seem specific.

"Which brings us back to the fact that we've never been here, Daniel." Jack's head was beginning to throb again.

"Yes . . . we've never been here . . ." Daniel glanced at Sam who shrugged. "But we know that we're not always the only we out there . . ."

"Harlan?" Sam suggested.

"Harlan?" Jack shouted, "You mean our robots have been running around playing St. Patrick with the locals?"

"No," Daniel said, "He was devastated when they died. Besides . . . he'd need new copies of our consciousness, right?"

"He could have stored them, I suppose." She shook her head, "No, Daniel's right . . . he wouldn't put himself through that again."

"So, one more time. What do we know?" Jack looked around expectantly.

"Well," Daniel began. " Someone bearing a striking resemblance to . . . most of us has some big fans here. And they're probably not robots."

"Could we not have entered an alternate reality in which we have liberated this world?" Teal'c asked.

"No," Sam said, chewing on her lip thoughtfully, "The gate itself can't transport to parallel realities. The quantum mirror works on entirely different principles."

"Could they have made it to our reality?" Daniel suggested.

"There'd have to be a quantum mirror on this planet, then. The UAV should've picked up the energy signature." Her hand snapped up to stave off O'Neill's inevitable question, "Yes, sir, I know the UAV didn't pick up the statue."

"Well. I had a follow-up question, as it happens, Carter," Jack replied testily. "What's with the name? Aren't we not on Earth."

"Oh . . . no," Daniel said, exchanging a tense look with Sam. He dropped to his knees, scooting rapidly toward the plaque.

"Daniel?" Sam peered nervously over his shoulder.

"What?" O'Neill looked from one to the other.

"When's the last time we ended up back on Earth when we went through the Stargate?" Daniel brushed hurriedly at the plaque, trying to feel the characters out with his fingers.

"1969," Teal'c replied grimly.

"But we're not on Earth. There's naquidah in the soil, vegetation unlike anything found on Earth. We're on P3X-1708."

"Then how is it that this statue is dated 2010." Daniel tapped a well-worn spot on the plaque.

"No no no no no no," Jack shook his finger. "This is not happening."

"Oh, but it is! The UAV didn't show the statue yesterday because the statue wasn't here in 2004." Daniel said excitedly, still caught up in archaeologist mode.

"And what happens if we just dial home and . . . whoa!" O'Neill whipped around, the rest of the team half a beat behind him, as the sound of human voices suddenly rang out in the distance.

They instinctively drew together in a tight circle, back to back, scanning the horizon for the source of the chorus twining around them from all directions. Their defensive posture began to seem silly as the indistinct voices resolved into words of greeting.

The morning sun had grown steadily warmer since their arrival, the last stubborn wisps of morning fog long since burned away. Now, the hilltops were, once again, suddenly wreathed in gently rolling mist, lending an even more ethereal quality to the call and response of joyful laughter surrounding them. A lone figure suddenly broke through the mist and began running full tilt toward the group.

"Jack! Jack! Jack!" The little girl tumbled to the ground in her excitement, a jumble of red hair, black boots, and blue skirts somersaulting carelessly down the hill. She righted herself without missing a beat and launched herself at O'Neill's legs. "Did you miss me? I missed you?"

O'Neill froze for an instant. In the next moment, he unclipped his weapon, wordlessly handing it to Teal'c as he stooped to pick her up.

"How could I not have missed you, eh?" He laughed, holding her high above his head as she shrieked and drummed her fists on his head.

"Put me down!" She insisted, trying her best to look cross, "I'm too big to be picked up! Where is Grace? Is she bigger than me? Where is the new baby? I wanted a boy! When will you have a boy for me to marry? Colin says he'll marry Grace someday. I don't think she'll want to marry him, though."

"Danann! Danann!" A woman's voice rose above the bright chatter.

"Sir?" Sam asked under her breath as O'Neill bent to place the girl on the ground. She paused only to stick her tongue out at Daniel, turning immediately to run back the in the direction of the voice.

"Not a clue, Carter," he said just as softly. He straightened, nervously taking in the crowd appearing out of the mist, "Anyone? Bells ringing?"

"No . . .," Daniel said through a tense smile, lowering but not holstering his gun. "But they seem friendly."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed, his grip on his staff weapon relaxing a bit.

The little girl skipped to the front of the approaching group again, urging the adults onward. Finally, she and a dozen or so friends could no longer contain themselves, breaking off from their parents and older siblings and descending the hill at a rapid clip, shouting and laughing.

Daniel found himself on the ground wrestling with twin boys for the contents of his pack, while Teal'c was informed by a solemn-looking boy near Rya'c's age that he had promised to teach him to use his staff weapon when he was old enough. Sam and Jack were pulled away from the statue into the circle of a large hearth, a group of children joining hands as they pranced in a ring around them. Finally, the adults reached SG-1, disentangling them from their children with fond smiles and words of welcome.

As if a fanfare had sounded, the riotous group suddenly quieted. Adults and older children whisked the youngsters to them, stepping aside to open a path. As the last child was shooed to the sidelines, a woman began making her way slowly through the crowd. She supported herself with a gnarled staff in her left hand, waving off a handsome young man who hovered by her right elbow.

The stiff, deliberate pace of her movements bespoke great age, but her eyes were lively and bright in a freckled face that had only just begun to show a network of fine lines around her mouth and across her forehead. The sun glinted off her coppery hair, disguising the slender threads of white threaded throughout until she was quite close.

Leaning on her staff, she held out her hand to them. "My friends! What is this? Have you no greeting for me?"

Jack shot a glance at Daniel who raised his eyebrows urgently, indicating that Jack should be the one to make the first move. With a roll of his eyes, Jack stepped forward and took her hand.

"My, Jack! How is it that I creak with every step and yet you look a dozen years younger than when we last met?"

"Ahhh . . . well, that's a funny story. See . . ." he had the uncomfortable feeling of being teenager stuck at a family reunion comprised entirely of great aunts he didn't know.

She beckoned to him, running her fingertips over the furrows in his forehead as he leaned closer to her, "Younger, yes, but weary. What cares burden you, my friend?"

"Oh, fate of the Earth, Goa'uld threatening to take over the Universe. You know, the usual." Jack laughed uncomfortably as he involuntarily backed away a step.

"The Goa'uld!" The young man behind her suddenly exclaimed, "But they . . ."

"Collin!" The old woman rounded on him, dropping Jack's hand. "Not another word."

"But, seanmháthair! The Goa'uld are . . ." he began to protest, breaking off as he caught the expression on her face. "Can it be time? Do they not know us?" He studied each of the team members in turn, disbelief clear on his face.

"No, we don't know you," Daniel stepped forward, adding with a wry smile at the statue, "Yet, apparently."

"I am Cara. You once called me seanmháthair, as my people do." She took his hand.

"Grandmother," Daniel translated. "You're the leader of these people?"

"Yes," she laughed. "Though we have little need of a leader in this happy times. It is strange that you would not know that, Daniel, and stranger still," She smiled a little sadly, as she took his hand, "to see such confusion in the eyes of a dear friend. But we have expected this. Come. We must take you to the village. The draoi will be waiting."

"Draoi? That's . . . magician? Wizard?" Daniel asked.

"Yes," the woman nodded, looking over his shoulder to Jack, "We can say no more at present, but know that our people have only love for you. You are all most welcome guests."

"That timeline thing again?" Jack's eyes shifted to Sam.

"Yes, sir. I get the feeling she knows what to do."

"Well, then. We're off to see the drood, I guess," he said grabbing his gun back from Teal'c.

"Draoi, Jack," Daniel said testily over his shoulder.

"Whatever." Jack sighed falling into step beside Carter as they headed westward into the hills.

*****

The village could have easily doubled as a movie set. Snug-looking cottages with thatched roofs ringed an open plaza in which crude wooden benches were clustered around a well so quaint it bordered on kitschy. They passed through a low wooden gate swinging jauntily from a stone wall just crumbling enough to make it picturesque.

The trek to the village had started off tense. Teal'c had taken point, walking silently alongside Oscar, the serious-looking boy who had approached him earlier. By unspoken agreement, they Cara was kept to the center of the group. She and Daniel had easily fallen into a harmless conversation about the Celtic dialect spoken by her people. She'd had to interrupt their discussion repeatedly to remind the others to keep the children from bombarding the rest of them, particularly Sam and Jack, with dangerous questions.

Jack, clearly chagrined at his unwilling role in the incessant scolding, had saved the day by initiating a game of I Spy. The children had run in circles around him, laughing continuously as he made a great show of mispronouncing the native terms.

As they reached the gate, Danann tugged on Sam's shirt tail, watching carefully as the rest of the group, save Jack, who lingered just on the other side of the stone wall, moved into the village proper.

"Sam!" She called in the loudest whisper possible.

"What is it, Danann?" She asked matching the young girl's serious tone.

"Is there another baby in there yet?" Danann asked hopefully, pointing to Sam's stomach.

"No!" Sam yelped, more loudly than she had intended, instinctively shielding her abdomen with her P-90. She looked up to find Jack listening in, amusement mixing with something unnamable in his expression. She gave him one of her more murderous glares. "Danann, I don't think we can talk about this. Cara is worried . . ."

"Seanmháthair doesn't want me to have any fun," Danann pouted and flounced off.

Sam stalked hastily through the gate without a glance Jack's way, annoyed as he easily caught up with her. He leaned close, murmuring into her ear, "Another baby, Carter? That would explain the . . ." he traced a cartoon silhouette of a woman in the air in front of him.

Furious, she grabbed his lapel and spun toward him, planting herself in his path, "When I figure out how to get us home . . ." she held up a warning finger as he opened his mouth to speak, " . . . and we both know I will, I am leaving you here."

"No, you're not," he laughed, mimicking her by grabbing a fistful of her jacket.

Sam's angry retort never made it past her lips as she suddenly seemed surprised and disconcerted to find his face just inches away from her own.

"You'd miss me, Carter," he said more softly. He seemed to consider something for a moment, then added a bit nervously, "And those kids are gonna need their Uncle Jack."

"Kids," she repeated, unable to quite suppress the proud, foolish grin that threatened to break out on her face.

Jack nodded silently, a lop-sided smile forming to match hers. He released her lapel, his hand drifting to touch her shoulder briefly, "Hey, we're not . . ."

" . . . supposed to be talking about this," Sam finished, her eyes sliding away from his.

"Right." He caught her hand in his as she uncurled her fingers from his jacket.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c called from the plaza, his deep voice slicing through the air.

"Right," Jack whispered again, dropping her hand and gesturing for her to lead the way.

Sam met his eyes again briefly, turning away with a reluctant smile as they headed to join the group. The wooden benches had filled up quickly with children showing signs of weariness from the long walk. The adults and teens dragged barrels and other makeshift seats into a semicircle within the plaza and began settling in.

Daniel and Colin emerged from the nearest cottage struggling with a massive rocking chair. Jack hurried to lend a hand as they wrestled it through the crowd, finally setting it down directly in front of the well. Sam took Cara's arm and helped her into the chair.

"So . . . where's the guy? Wizard. Person." Jack said, glancing around for anyone that might fit the bill of 'wizard.' The adults and older children burst into laughter. "What? What?" he asked.

"Your impatience is famous, sir," Colin smiled from his post behind Cara's chair. "The draoi will be along soon."

"One hopes," Danann's mother said skeptically. "In the mean time, our friends must be hungry and thirsty. And it is a day of celebration. Surely there can be no harm in sharing a meal, seanmháthair?"

"Bridget, we must take care until the draoi can assure us that all will be well." Cara found her serious frown impossible to maintain against the sea of eager faces suddenly turned her way.

"We need not speak of the past," Bridget insisted, the stubborn set to her jaw bringing to mind Danann's features. "Good friends can surely find much in the present to enjoy."

"Very well," she said, feigning reluctance. "But keep the beor uaine, away from Daniel."

"Green beer?" Daniel said, pulling a face. "No thanks!"

"Green beer!" Jack repeated in reverent tones, crouching in front of Cara, "Grandmother, I could kiss you."

"Shoo, boy! You help Oscar with that table before he kills himself trying to impress Teal'c," She said with a laugh, menacing him with her staff.

"Sam!" Danann called to her, "You must help the women bring out the feast!"

"Hey! I'm not . . ." Sam began loudly, trying to drown out three all-too-familiar chuckles. She was about to relent in the face of Danann's big, tear-filled eyes when Jack laid a hand on the little girl's head.

He stooped to speak in her ear, "You don't want Carter anywhere near the feast. Trust me on this one." He winked up at Sam. "So what if I helped out in there?"

Danann looked at him skeptically for a moment, "You shall need an apron. You shall have my red one." Sam laughed at the horror-stricken expression on Jack's face, doubling over helplessly when the girl added, "But only to borrow!"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said solemnly. "Carter, go do something manly, will ya?"

"Will do, sir," she said with a grateful smile as Danann led him into a cottage.

So much gaiety accompanied the setting of the feast that almost before anyone knew it, they were shouldering in at the tables, good naturedly snatching food from one another. The green beer was neither pleasant to look at nor appealing to taste. Jack alone said he enjoyed it and everyone seemed to agree that the claim was made purely on principle.

"After all, sir," Oscar said, laughing for the first time that day, "You are the one who first brought it here!"

The table quieted at his slip, all eyes shifting to Cara, who looked stern. "Oscar . . ."

"I am sorry, seanmháthair." The boy flushed bright red and made as if to leave the table.

"Oscar has revealed nothing of consequence," Teal'c said, laying a hand on his shoulder, "O'Neill's poor taste and affinity for strangely colored foodstuffs are well-known throughout the galaxy."

The table erupted in laughter. Even Oscar smiled as the men near him thumped him cheerfully on the back.

"That hurts, T, it really does," Jack called from his seat at the head of the table. "And if it wouldn't mess up my apron, I'd show you who has bad taste," he added making a show of smoothing the tiny swath of fabric he still wore about his waist.

"Speaking of aprons," Bridget said, rising from her feet. "We should clear the table. There is music to make," as she passed behind Daniel, she whispered to him, "I claim you for the first dance!"

"Dance?" Daniel blanched. "Uh, I don't . . ."

"You can't fool these people, Daniel," Jack chided. "They know us better than we know ourselves. He'd love to Bridget."

"The firewood must be brought from outside the village wall," Cara said, hauling herself to her feet. "The hearth must remain lit from dusk until dawn on this night."

Sam steadied the older woman, glancing at her watch in confusion. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was already late afternoon. "We can gather that, Cara," she said with a significant look toward Jack.

"Yes, I think I'm done with my womanly duties for the day," Jack said untying his apron and pressing it into Danann's hand. Taking Daniel by the elbow, Jack glanced down the length of the table at Teal'c who nodded. Sam led them quickly away from the villagers, pausing to be sure they were alone when they reached the wall.

"Carter, if something bad's about to happen I just don't want to hear it." Jack warned her. "Can't we just . . . take this crisis off?"

"I think we already have, sir. Do you realize that we've been here for over 9 hours?"

"What? We just had breakfast," O'Neill scoffed as he peeled the flap off the face of his watch. It read 15:55, "Ho----ly . .." he held it up for Daniel and Teal'c to see.

"How is that possible? We got here at . . . what . . . 6:00?" Daniel shook his own watch next to his ear.

"We have traveled some distance into the future," Teal'c replied. "Surely a difference of some hours should not be surprising."

"But it was early morning when we arrived. I just don't see how it's possible that it's almost evening now," Sam argued.

"Time flies, etc., etc.?" Jack suggested, bracing himself for the glare he was sure to get from Carter.

"Not literally. But it does behave differently here."

As one, they turned rapidly to see a man just stepping clear of the nearest copse of trees. He smiled as Teal'c leveled his staff weapon at his chest.

"It's that time, is it?" He moved slowly towards them,. hands carefully raised in plain sight.

"Bad day to ask us that. Who're you?" Jack asked,

"Sitchean. One day you'll call me Sid. And, unfortunately, so will everyone else," he replied with a wry smile. Here, the man reached the wall and stopped, folding his arms over his chest. Teal'c shifted tensely as his hands disappeared into the voluminous sleeves of the robe he wore.

"It's ok, Teal'c." Daniel said calmly. "You know us."

"I do," he quirked an eyebrow at Jack, "You're about to say that I don't look like I'm from around here. I don't. But I am."

O'Neill's mouth snapped shut in surprise, provoking an amused snort from Sam.

"Well, he doesn't!" Jack said defensively.

Sid's shaggy, jet-black hair and pale, unfreckled skin contrasted sharply with Cara's people in whom family resemblances could be easily traced. Likewise, his embroidered robe, although simple, was a far cry from the sturdy work clothes favored by the villagers.

"You're the draoi!" Daniel exclaimed suddenly.

"That's me. Sorry I'm late. Time has a way of . . . slipping away from you around here," he flashed a smile at Sam.

"So you're the one who's gonna tell us what the heck's goin' on around here?" Jack said looking him over skeptically.

"Eventually. I need to talk to Cara first. She'll be worried about doing the wrong thing." Sid said, swinging the gate open and walking through. Sensing that Jack was about to protest, he turned and held up a hand. "What I can tell you now is that everything is going to be just fine. In the mean time, enjoy yourselves. All of you. This is your day."

He started off in the direction of the village without glance backward. Jack shouldered his bundle of firewood with a shrug, motioning for them to follow.

*****

Dusk had fallen in earnest by the time they made it back to the plaza. The older boys anxiously relieved them of their firewood before they'd passed the farthest cottage, racing to build up the meager fire they'd started in the common hearth. The younger boys had abandoned their intention to sulk over being forbidden to help with the fire when the girls enlisted their help in scattering small green leaves over a large, freshly swept area ringing the hearth.

Sid joined the group of men at the far end of the plaza who were clustered around a barrel containing something far more potent (and, presumably, better tasting) than the green beer. Seeing the enthusiasm with which the village men greeted Sid, immediately pressing a mug into his hand, Jack began to relax for the first time since Carter had led them away from the feast.

Instinctively he scanned the crowd for Sam, smiling as he found her crouched beside Danann behind an overturned bench. Inevitably, a battle had erupted among the children as they realized that the greenery they were meant to be scattering over the dance floor made for excellent fistfuls of ammunition. The older boys had pinned Danann and her group back against the cottage, but under Sam's direction, the girls had retaliated with a brilliant flanking maneuver and were now steadily forcing the enemy back toward the well.

Jack had become so engrossed in the game that he jumped a bit when Colin appeared at his elbow with a mug of whatever strong-smelling stuff had come from the barrel.

"Colin! Thanks. Sorry, I was just . . ." he motioned toward the laughing children.

"And I am sorry to interrupt, but Seanmháthair would see the four of you now. Teal'c is already with her."

"Oh . . . sure." Jack looked around. "I'll grab Carter. Seen Daniel anywhere?"

"I need only find Bridget," Colin smiled. "I will send him on, sir. Seanmháthair is resting in her cottage."

Jack stooped to gather a handful of leaves from the ground, edging casually along the cottage walls to stay out of Sam's direct line of sight. He hardly need have bothered. She was so engrossed in commanding her team that he was dumping his fistful of leaves down the neck of her jacket before she even registered his presence with a high-pitched shriek.

Jack only just managed to step out of the way of the rising block she instinctively threw as she whipped around to face her 'attacker,' eyes flashing. The unwelcome thought that she was unbelievably hot when she was on the offensive flashed across Jack's mind. He forced it back with a laugh.

"Couldn't resist, General Carter," he said, extending a single clover as a peace offering. She gave him a withering look as she reached back to shake the leaves out of her clothing, "Awww. . . c'mon, it's a four-leaf clover! For luck."

"They're all four-leafed," she said, with more annoyance into her voice than she felt, "And not clover. They cut the shapes out of other leaves by hand. Can you imagine?"

"Then they're man-made luck," Jack insisted, tucking the shamrock behind her ear. "Best kind."

She looked up at him in surprise, one hand brushing over the clover, as if she didn't quite believe it was there. He grinned back, pleased out of all proportion when she made a point of arranging it more securely. "Man-made luck? You're gonna need it tonight."

"Oh am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile turning wicked.

Sam blushed, but didn't look away. "Count on it."

"C'mon," he said, reluctantly breaking the moment. "Grandma's waiting."

Jack and Sam were stopped dead outside of Cara's cottage by the unfamiliar sound of Teal'c's laughter.

"Whoa!" Daniel skidded to a stop behind them, "What is that?"

"That, Daniel, is the endangered Happy Jaffa in its natural habitat," Jack said, pushing the door open and sticking his head inside, "Knock knock!"

"Come in! Come in," Cara beckoned, wiping her eyes. "Teal'c was telling me some Jaffa jokes."

"Teal'c!" Jack tossed a handful of clover over the Jaffa's head, "Why would you do that to this nice lady?"

"It was Cara's wish that I should entertain her, until your arrival, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, brushing the greenery from his head as Daniel took a seat on the bench next to him.

Jack dragged a chair over next to Teal'c's, motioning for Sam to sit before pulling up a crate for himself. "Well, Teal'c, as a fun a guy as you are, I'm guessing that Cara had something in mind other than giving you notes on your vaudeville routine."

"Always in a hurry, Jack, even when there is nothing but time," Cara shook her head fondly, "I wished only to tell you that the draoi brings good news. All will be well."

"I . . . didn't even see Sid come in here," Daniel said, craning his neck toward the door. "I thought he'd tied himself to that barrel of . . . whatever it is."

"He has," Cara said with a slight frown, "Sid's being in his cups is the surest sign that all is well. Now, you must have questions for me, friends."

"Ooh, me first," Jack waved his hand. "Where the heck are we?"

"P3X-1708," Cara replied innocently.

"You see? She's funny. This is how I know we're gonna be good friends." Jack told the rest of his team. "Seriously . . ."

"You also called our village Brigadoon once . . ."

Daniel spewed a mouthful of alcohol, prompting Teal'c to pound him on the back. Sam stared at Jack in disbelief.

"Teal'c!" Jack pointed accusingly, "Sometimes . . . on movie nights . . . he insists on Gene Kelly."

"Indeed I do not, O'Neill!" Teal'c indignantly thumped Daniel a bit harder than intended, nearly knocking him to this floor. "It is you who admire this actor. I find his tendency to break into song and dance at inappropriate moments most unrealistic."

"Anyway," O'Neill said pointedly ignoring Sam who was clearly storing away the information for later blackmail, "What do you call this place?"

"For some time, we have called it Eire. Before that . . . until you came . . ." her face darkened, "The Goa'uld called it their last stronghold. It was not ours to name."

"The last stronghold?" Jack blinked in surprise.

"Wait . . ." Sam glanced toward Jack with a brief, apologetic smile. "Cara, as much as I'm dying to hear all of this, should you be telling us? The timeline . . ."

"You must trust us, Samantha." Cara leaned forward to touch her hand. "All will be well." Sam frowned slightly as Jack threw her a questioning look, then shrugged and held her peace

"Cara, what year is it?" Daniel asked, still wheezing slightly.

"2030 in your reckoning."

Jack let out a long, low whistle.

"And by your reckoning?" Teal'c asked, a trace of suspicion in his tone.

"That is a more complicated question," Sid said from behind them. "Seanmháthair, you should have called me."

"I was . . . fairly certain you would arrive just when you were needed," Cara said with a disapproving glance at his mug.

"Time behaves differently . . ." Sam repeated, almost to herself.

"Indeed," Teal'c nodded, "It passes more quickly here than on Earth."

"But not always," Sam turned in her seat to catch Sid's eye. "I'm right, aren't I? The children here know us. Danann can't be more than 10 years old. But the statue is dated 2010 . . . "

"The year you 'drove the snakes out'," Sid replied noncommittally, settling himself on the other end of Jack's crate.

"On this day," Daniel said slowly. "So it's been exactly twenty years for us . . . how long has it been for you?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you," Sid raised his mug cheerfully toward Daniel.

"Wha . . . hey!" Jack sat up and looked around excitedly, "It is like Brigadoon, isn't it?"

"Jack," Sid set his mug on the low table next to him with a deliberate thump. "I know you don't remember any of this, but that analogy tends to get you punched."

"Fred Astaire man, are you, Sid?" Jack said, eyeing him warily.

"The movie is a cultural nightmare, Jack. And for a Celtic culture that identifies with Earth's Ireland, comparing them to Scots . . ."

"I meant the 'outside of time' 'appears only every 100 years' thing, Daniel, " Jack snapped.

"Oh," Daniel said sheepishly. His eyes widened, "Oh!"

"The Colonel's right." Sam looked up from the floor.

"It happens, Carter," Jack grumbled. "Don't have to sound so surprised."

"The village is only accessible----what---every ten years? Twenty?" Sam ignored him, looking from Sid to Cara.

"Ten-ish," Sid said. "Haven't really repeated the experiment enough to say for sure, but in 2010 we defeated the Goa'uld, 2020---very big party. And now, here you are."

"Then we have never before traveled out of our own timeline to reach this place," Teal'c gave Sid a sharp look, "Are you not concerned by this?"

"Not especially. I've seen the final reel," Sid took another swig from his mug. "I've known this was going to happen. I've made the necessary arrangements. Like I said, it's all gonna be ok."

"But time here . . ." Sam cupped her hands together, a sure sign that a complicated analogy was on the horizon.

"Ah! Carter! Me first," Jack interrupted, turning to Cara. "When do we go home?"

"You will return to Earth 18 hours after you left it." She replied carefully.

"With respect, Seanmháthair, that . . . doesn't really answer the question," Daniel said hastily, silencing Jack with a sharp look. "How long will we be here with you?"

"When the full moon wanes," Sid replied.

"So, when's that? Two, three days?"

"The full moon here lasts as long as it needs to. You will be with us as long as you need to be." Sid peered into his mug, then stood. "Now, I need a refill," he took a step toward the door only to find Jack blocking his path.

"Um . . . excuse me, you're planning on keeping us here?"

"Jack," he spread his arms, his sleeves unfurling like wings. "Do I look like I could keep you here if I wanted to? I'm just a guy in a robe."

"Who happens to know the future," Sam said moving to Jack's side.

"It's the past for me, Sam, so not that impressive." Sid smiled. "No one comes to this place who doesn't need to. And no one leaves before they're ready. Cryptic-sounding bullshit, Jack, I know. But it's all I've got."

Jack looked over his shoulder to Cara, "So we'll be back before anyone at the SGC expects us?" She nodded.

"And nothing we learn can alter our future?" Sam directed her question to Sid.

"Not a thing," Sid said without a trace of the playful expression he normally wore. "I promise."

"But I don't see how . . ." Sam began to protest.

"And I'm sorry to tell you that that's going to drive you crazy Sam. And I'm not much help. I just tell it like it was," Sid cast another impatient glance at his empty mug. "Your time here is completely consequence free. Which, if anyone's asking me, might be part of the point. But that's really Daniel's department."

Stepping around Jack, Sid flung open the door to reveal every last one of the villagers slinking guiltily away from what had obviously been a huddle outside the door. "Very subtle," he said, shaking his head as he made a beeline for the barrel.

"You can trust him, Jack. You will trust him one day." Cara rose from her chair with a broad smile, "Now, I think we should join the celebration before Oscar falls through the roof," she added as an ominous scrabbling sounded from above.

Jack motioned for the others to stay behind as Cara made her way through the door.

"So, what do we think, kids?" He looked from Teal'c's impassive face to Sam and Daniel's thoughtful expressions.

"It's impossible, Sir. Time just can't fluctuate the way Sid describes . . . it's . . . I . . . " Sam stammered.

"Carter?"

"Yes, sir?"

Jack held his fingers an inch apart, "Little picture, ok? Do we trust this guy or try to find our own way out of here?"

"I don't see what choice we have," Daniel said with a shrug. "There's no telling where or when we'd wind up if we tried to go through the gate."

"DanielJackson is correct, O'Neill. Our options are limited." Teal'c said after a moment.

"Yeah," Jack looked thoughtful. "That should bug me, shouldn't it?"

"Sir?"

"Options. Big fan. Gotta have 'em. Usually I'd be getting cranky right about now. Mostly, I just want a beer, though. How about you, T?"

"I, too, find myself strangely . . . unconcerned."

"Ok, anyone see any lava lamps? Disco balls? Anything that might explain our sudden zen-like state?"

"The Light!" Sam chewed on her lip thoughtfully, "I don't know sir . . ."

"It's not like that," Daniel cut in, "The light was an addiction. It took away the will to do anything at all. This . . . this place! It's the opposite, really. I feel . . . I want to know everything. Study everything."

"That's true, sir." Sam gave a firm nod. "I'm curious. I have so many questions. I'm don't feel apathetic. I'm just not . . . worried."

"Me neither," Jack caught Teal'c's eye. "Weird, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"So . . . we think it's safe to enjoy ourselves?" Jack looked around as the others nodded. "Good enough," he stepped toward the door.

"Jack? I'd still wouldn't accept cake from any strange women if I were you . . ." Daniel said with a sly smile as he followed him through the door.

"Good thinking, Dannyboy. Try to remember that when Bridget offers you her pastry."

*****

Hours later---how many he didn't know, he was even slowly getting used to not caring----Jack sank on to the nearest bench, leaning heavily against a cottage wall. He and Colin had finally wrangled Danann, the last hold out among the young children, into her bed with a real chance she'd actually stay there this time. He hoped.

Surveying the plaza, he smiled with contentment. A small knot of villagers (Mostly men, Jack's subconscious noted briefly before he smacked down. Stubborn to the end, it had risen from the dust to remark that at least she'd finally had Sid surgically removed) clustered around Sam, listening with rapt attention as she gave her Stargate for Dummies lecture.

He recognized the hand gestures, having been on the receiving end of it more times than were strictly necessary. He'd gotten into the habit of asking some stupid question to provoke it every few months or so. The glow of the firelight couldn't compete with the flush of excitement on her cheeks. After seven years, her recitation of what, to her, were the simplest of facts had lost none of its sense of wonder.

Jack's musings were interrupted by the arrival of a rather desperate-looking Teal'c.

"You must help me, O'Neill," he begged, dropping on the bench beside him.

"Trouble?" Jack asked, sitting up straight.

"Indeed," Teal'c gasped. "Oscar is relentless. We have been training for hours, yet he does not grow weary."

"I don't see him . . ." Jack said, looking around the fire.

"He is outside the wall of the village. He believes that I have hidden myself in the woods as part of an exercise in tracking."

"He's good at it," Jack gestured across the plaza. Oscar was headed toward them at a jog. Teal'c groaned.

"Master Teal'c!" Oscar knelt in front of the bench. "I did not complete your task quickly enough. I am sorry."

"Oscar, Master Teal'c needs a break. He's 104, you know." Jack said with a grin. "How 'bout you grab us a couple of mugs of whatever's in the barrel, ok?"

"But, sir! A Jaffa laoch does not consume alcohol!" Oscar looked scandalized.

"Of course. You've learned well, young Oscar," Jack said with mock seriousness, " But today is special . . . today there are no Jaffa. Only Irish. And today, the Irish most definitely drink alcohol."

Oscar looked to Teal'c for confirmation. He nodded, and Oscar scampered off.

"Good kid," Jack remarked.

"He is a fine young man," Teal'c agreed.

"Any reason he's stapled himself to you?"

"Staples are not involved. He has apprenticed himself to me, O'Neill." Teal'c closed his eyes wearily, adding after a long pause, "He does so to honor Master Bra'tac."

"Bra'tac?" Jack asked, an uneasy feeling settling over him.

"He fought beside us in the final battle against the Goa'uld. He fell trying to save the lives of Oscar and his father."

"Teal'c . . ." Jack had no idea how to go on.

"I can think of no better death for my friend, O'Neill. And Oscar will be an apprentice worthy of the ways in which he trained me." Teal'c smiled gravely, "To regret his death would be to dishonor him."

"Ok," Jack said quietly. He spotted Oscar making his way through the crowd, two mugs held carefully over his head, "So we'll drink to him."

"Indeed," Teal'c said, clinking his mug with Jack's. "To Master Bra'tac."

Jack's eyes began to tear up from the fumes before his mug was halfway to his lips. He watched in awe as Teal'c drained his in one gulp without blinking.

"Your ancestors were a wise people, O'Neill," he said rising swiftly from the bench as if newly invigorated. "Come, Oscar, you must learn stories of the Jaffa as part of your training." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and led him closer to the fire.

Jack turned his attention back to where he expected to find Carter. To his disappointment, she was nowhere in sight. His eyes moved around the square alighting on Daniel, who was talking animatedly to Bridget, oblivious to the adoring look on her face. Smiling to himself, Jack closed his eyes tried to remember the last time he'd felt so content. Seeing his little family happy and active was doing wonders for his own state of mind.

"How do you like our version of whiskey, O'Neill?" Sid asked.

Jack jumped. He hadn't even sensed the man sitting down only inches away from him.

"Smooth," he said, deliberately taking a huge swig and immediately regretting it.

"Damned sight better than that nasty green beer," Sid laughed.

"Sure," Jack replied shortly, making no overtures to continue the conversation.

"You haven't asked me anything," Sid said after a while.

"Looks like your dance card's been full anyway," Jack downed another slug. It wasn't so bad once most of your windpipe had been burned away.

"Oh yes! I had to sic Bridget on Daniel to get him off my back."

"You bastard!" Jack smiled reluctantly, "And what did Young Jackson want to know?"

"Culture. Language. How things got to be so . . . tacky around here."

"Tacky?"

Sid held up a patch of embroidery on his robe, "Shamrocks, green beer. The whole faux-Irish thing."

"Ah . . ." Jack nodded. After a moment, he looked worried, "Oh, god. It's not like this all the time, is it?"

Sid threw his head back and laughed, "No, no . . . Other than the statue . . ."

"My statue is not tacky!" Jack retorted. He thought a minute, "Well . . . the green's a bit much. What's the story with that anyway?"

"Lost a bet," Sid said, wincing.

"You? You! You gave Carter the . . ." Jack cupped his hands in front of his chest.

"No!" Sid replied hastily. "Sculpture only! The pedestal's actually a serious effort to record the story . . ."

"Ah . . . boobs as a narrative device," Jack tipped his mug back, looking surprised to find it empty.

"We blame Daniel for those. Him and his Venus figurines. People have to be ready before you spring fertility goddesses on them."

"And Sam was . . . yeah. Gotcha." Jack scanned the crowd, hoping to find someone to bring him another drink. "Colin! Another?" He shook his empty mug, relieved when the young man nodded.

"Yeah." Sid continued after a moment. "Rebuilding a cultural identity's a bitch. Day to day around here, it's mostly kind of a Celtic jumble, but they've talked themselves out of the leprechauns and other Americanisms. Other days, it feels like Langarra all over again."

"Langarra?" Jack frowned with the effort of bringing up the memory. "Oh! Kelowna . . . Is there anything you don't know about us?"

"Factually? Not really." Sid admitted. "I don't think I know much about you, though, if it makes you feel any better."

"Man of mystery, that's me," Jack muttered. "Ah, Colin! Good man!" He gratefully accepted the mug.

"You like it?" Colin looked pleased. "I distilled it myself. Sid taught me!"

"Did he now?" Jack raised his eyebrows and Sid had the decency to look ashamed. "Well, it's excellent. Thank you."

Colin bowed slightly and ran back to his friends, excitedly chattering over Jack's seal of approval.

"You really don't want to know anything?" Sid asked, watching Jack carefully.

"Nope. I know what I need to know." Jack couldn't suppress a proud smile. "We win. The rest? I like surprises."

Sid snorted, "Well, Sam had enough questions for both of you."

"Bet she did," Jack said into his mug on his way to another large gulp.

"Wanna know what she asked?" He asked innocently, his eyes on his drink.

"Time bubbles. Relativity. Why you can't get here from there. Bunch of stuff you can't answer, I bet," Jack was annoyed by the smug satisfaction in his own voice.

"You got it!" Sid laughed, to his surprise. "But damn! She makes you wish you could, doesn't she?"

"Yes she does," Jack agreed quietly.

"Jack, we really are going to be friends one day,"

"Oh, yeah. I can see that," Jack rolled his eyes.

"And in honor of that friendship," Sid continued, ignoring him, "I'm gonna give you one freebie. I'll tell you the one thing you want to ask me worse than anything else."

"Oh really? Tell me, what is that I wanna know?"

"I'm not in love with her," he said simply, looking Jack in the eye.

"Sid, buddy. A blatant lie? This is not the beginning of a beautiful friendship . . ."

"Ok, ok," Sid conceded, "Is it even possible not to be in love with her?" Jack made no response as he stared into his mug. "Uh . . . not really the right guy to ask, I guess," he finished lamely.

"Yeah, this has been swell, Sid. We should do this again sometime," Jack slammed his empty mug down on the bench, pushing himself up off the bench.

"Grace will be the first Tau'ri child to go through the Stargate."

"Grace? Sam's kid. Hot damn! " He grinned in spite of himself.

"And yours."

Jack froze, his back to Sid, "What?"

"Ask Sam."

"You told her that?" He turned back toward the bench.

"She asked," Sid shrugged.

Jack drew a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden thudding in his chest, "I assume you placed her on a suicide watch after delivering the news?"

"Drop the dumb act, Jack. She's waiting for you."

"Where?" He asked, a little too quickly.

"I left her at the gate to the village."

"And she said she was waiting for me?" Jack sounded skeptical.

"No, actually, she said she wanted to be alone," Sid said as if dealing with an unusually slow child.

"Sid!?" Jack made an impatient motion with his fist.

"She doesn't know she's waiting for you." Sid drained his mug.

"But the Great and Powerful Dreidl knows?" He sneered.

"No, no super-draoi powers. Just the instinct of guy who's gotten laid in the last decade." Sid raised his mug. "Refill time."

"Right," Jack stood for a moment and watched him wander away.

"Sir?" Colin was standing a few yards away, eyeing him curiously. "Are you well?"

"Oh yeah." Jack broke into a wide smile as he strode across the plaza. He stopped halfway and retraced his steps back to Colin, snatching the still-full mug from his hand. "You're not using this, right?" He drained it in one go, pressing the empty mug back into his hand a moment later, "Thanks, kid."

*****

Sam was sitting on the wall facing away from the village, half the contents of her pack lying either in her lap or scattered on either side of her. The full moon was just rising over the trees, its pale light tumbling through the canopy to scatter columns of light bright as midday among the pockets of darkness. Sam shoved her pack to the ground, with a frustrated sigh. Tilting her chin upward, leaning back on her elbows to study the night sky.

Jack had broken into a run the minute he'd been confident that the cottages were between him and anyone's line of sight from the village. He pulled up to a stop about 5 yards behind her, suddenly wondering what the hell he was doing.

Her face was pale in the moonlight, the usual warm, inviting flush of her cheeks bleached to icy marble.

Goddess in BDUs, Jack thought, swallowing a hysterical laugh. No boobs required. Well some. I think. Not that I've looked. Oh boy.

His borrowed courage failed him. He turned back toward the village.

"Leaving so soon, sir?" She said just loudly enough for him to hear.

He whipped around to face her. She was still staring up at the sky.

"Hey, how'd you . . ."

"You're loud. Which means you've been drinking." He could hear the smirk.

"Some," he admitted.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No," he said quickly, definitely.

"You asked him about Grace." Her voice was almost inaudible now.

"He told me that you did," Jack answered warily, taking a step or two closer. "First kid through the Stargate. Not too shabby."

"I saw her."

"You saw her? Um . . . have you been drinking, Carter?"

"No. On the Prometheus," Sam replied.

"Oh. Huh?"

She turned to him at last, "It's not important. I'm stalling. Sorry."

"No, no. I'm bugging you. I'll just . . ." he started backing up, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Jack."

Jack? Ooh, dirty pool, he thought.

"Sam?"

"Why are you here?" She was pleading with him for something, although her tone remained carefully neutral.

When in doubt, Jack always told the truth.

"Sid said you were waiting for me."

"Ah," She looked away, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as she always did when she was aggravated with him.

Most of the time, the truth was the worst possible strategy.

"I wanted you to be waiting for me," he closed the distance to the wall and vaulted over it, shoving more of her equipment to the ground and settling himself next to her.

"Better answer," She said smiling into the distance.

Unless it was the whole truth, of course.

"What's she look like?" He asked after a minute or two of companionable silence.

Sam thought about it for a moment, "Cute. Bright. Kind of impossible."

"Ah, her mother's daughter," Jack tried to keep his voice light.

"Other than the impossible part," Sam said with a chuckle.

"What do we do with this now, Sam?" He asked staring down at his boots.

"I don't think we have to do anything with it. I'm guessing that whatever Sid does to get us back, we won't remember any of this. It's the only way there can be no chance of us affecting our own timeline."

"Consequence free," Jack said with a bitter laugh.

"Is that why you're here?" She turned on him, suddenly furious.

"What?" He pulled back in alarm.

"No regs? No consequences? No actually having to deal with any messy emotions or . . ." She pushed herself off the wall stalking into darkness.

Jack's feet hit the ground with a thud. He reached for her shoulders and spun her around, pulling her to within inches of him. "No consequences? Carter, are you nuts?"

"Wouldn't be the first," She snapped. "The time loop? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He flinched, releasing her shoulders. "Fine, you caught me. One kiss. I resigned for one single kiss."

"You resigned?" She stared blankly at him.

"Oh yeah, typed, signed, dotted line and all."

She burst out laughing. "You. Resigned?"

"Yes, I resigned. So glad to amuse. Goodnight, Carter." He turned and began feeling along the wall for the gate.

"Jack!" She gasped, trying to recover her breath. "Wait, I'm sorry! You resigned? For a kiss?"

"Had to. Never knew when the damned loop was gonna spit us out." He slumped against the wall.

"But what if it was terrible. What if . . . you kissed me . . . and that was it?"

"Never happen."

"But how can you . . ."

"I'm not a kid, Sam. Been married. Had a kid. Lost him. Been divorced . . .and that's the PG version," He looked up to see her staring intently at him, "which is all you're getting for now. I know what I want."

"Oh."

"The only reason," He took her hand as she stepped within reach, smiling as he realized she still had the clover tucked behind one ear, "the only reason I think maybe I shouldn't be here is no consequences."

"Why?" She asked frowning, "I mean I know we won't remember . . . probably won't remember. But I think . . . it's silly, but I feel like it would be easier to wait . . ."

And suddenly, she was kissing him. He stooped to meet her, easing her back off her tiptoes as he slid his arms around her waist. She locked her hands behind his neck, holding him to her as if he would try to break away the minute she relented.

"Sam," He wrenched his mouth from hers, his hands moving up to either side of her face as he pressed his forehead to hers, panting, "Sam . . ."

"No, Jack, I don't want to think about this. Please." She slid her hands from behind his head, running them over his chest and stomach as she raised pleading eyes to his.

"Sam," He pressed his lips to each of her cheeks, and her mouth, "Sam, listen. I just wanna know if you . . . please god . . . have your bedroll here anywhere."

She threw back her head and laughed, releasing him from her grasp as she bent to rifle through the clutter at their feet.

He caught her arm, holding her fast until she looked up at him with a puzzled expression, "And also if you're sure . . ."

"Tricky!" She smiled.

"Black ops." He shrugged with mock modesty.

"I'm sure."

"Me too."

If he hadn't been, the smile she gave him---full of familiar affection sharpened by something altogether darker----would have obliterated any remaining objections. He nudged her aside, snatching the bedroll from her hands. He whisked it open, laying it flat with a snap.

He leaned down to kiss her again, clumsily maneuvering her through the tangle of equipment back toward the wall. If she just happened hit it with an indelicate "Oof!" it was really no one's fault but her own for doing such incredible things with her tongue. Chuckling against her neck, Jack set his hands on her waist, lifting her slightly until she could scoot backward, to seat herself more securely on the wall.

He knelt in front of her and began unlacing her boots, the knots seeming to become more and more complex as she dragged her fingers through his hair and along his jaw line. He ducked to the left, as one finger dipped trace its way along his ear, trapping her hand between his head and shoulder.

"Carter!" He barked, trying to look commanding from what was, objectively, a fairly ridiculous position. "Do you want me to undress you or not?"

"Well who could resist an offer like that," she laughed.

"I'll take that as a no?"

"No," she smiled sweetly, "I just want you to do it faster."

With something akin to a whimper, he returned his attention to the laces, tugging furiously. She nudged him away with one toe. "Let me," she said, pulling her knee to her chest.

"Control freak," he murmured, as he plopped down next to her, his tongue memorizing the curve of her ear lobe.

"No, I . . . hi hi hi hi hiiiii . .. I just . . . don't have your problems with focus," she breathed with a shiver.

Where he found the agility to clamber to his knees behind her on the wall, she'd never know, but in a flash, he was tugging her jacket down her arms as he nipped the back of her neck, never giving her time to anticipate where he'd attack next. One boot hit the ground with a thunk and he seized the opportunity to pull her elbows back, sliding her arms out of her field jacket and tossing it aside.

Unsurprisingly, the second boot went much more slowly, given the newly exposed expanses of bare flesh he had to work with. She'd been on the verge of surrendering entirely and begging for help when a well-timed taunt whispered low in her ear reignited her determination. The second boot clattered to the ground, warning him to brace for her counter-attack. To his surprise, she simply leaned back into him, arching closer to his hands as they ran up her sides.

With considerably more effort and care than his previous daring move, he shifted to straighten out one leg, then the other, settling them on either side of Sam's hips. His hands crept into the waistband of her pants, tugging the hem of her shirt free. She hissed her approval as fingers skimmed across her belly. Crossing his wrists over her abdomen, he grabbed a fistful of cloth in each hand, slowly pulling her t-shirt upward. His fingertips just grazed her skin, raising goosebumps as he went. He hesitated just below her shoulders as if needing a minute to convince his mouth to part with her neck. With a final nibble, he coaxed her arms up, pulling the t-shirt over her head.

Jack reached up for her hands, twining his fingers through hers and bringing their arms down to wrap tightly around her. He nuzzled her bare shoulder, fascinated by the contrast between the textures of their skin and more so by the ripples it seemed to be sending through her.

"Cold?" He asked, settling her more closely against his chest and pulling his jacket around her shoulders as best he could.

"Hmmm . . .?" She tilted her head back lazily. He suddenly had a clear line of sight to her. She wore a simple, black sports bra. He saw similar items all the time at the gym and when out running----those things whose purpose was to squash and flatten, rendering the wearer virtually sexless. This one was different. This one was clearly the result of advanced alien technology. It had a zipper.

"Uh . . ." he mumbled, his hand creeping up from her belly toward the pull. "Something about the . . . Sam?"

"Jack?" She kissed the underside of his chin with a laugh.

"Have you been seeing evil aliens without me?"

"Hmmm . . . ?" She worked her way back along his jaw line, waiting for her moment to attack his ear again.

"This . . . this is," His fingers reached their prize and tugged gently, whimpering as the fabric parted, revealing a millimeter or two of cleavage. He cleared his throat, purposefully averting his eyes, "Let's just say we shouldn't let these fall into Goa'uld hands."

"Sports bras?" She frowned against his neck.

"Well, they'll need a snappier name. Something with apostrophes. We'll get Teal'c on it."

In one fluid motion Sam turned halfway around, one arm snaking behind his head to hold it firmly as her lips closed over his earlobe. She laughed as he squirmed in her hold, trying to escape her relentless tongue.

"Carter! That tickles!" He panted.

"Does not." She murmured. Her other hand roamed up his thighs. Centering on his belt buckle as her landmark, her fingers dove beneath his waistband, yanking his shirt free. She raked her nails along the skin just above his pants, enjoying the twitch of his stomach muscles under her touch. She nipped the skin behind his ear once before sliding out of his grasp.

"Hey! Where ya . . . erm . . ." His question trailed off as she ducked her head to plant a kiss on his stomach. Dodging the hands that reached for her, she made short work of the laces of his boots, tossing them to join her own.

"Down," She commanded, tugging him forward by his belt buckle.

He braced himself with one arm, obediently sliding from the wall to the ground. She gave another tug and he followed helplessly in her wake to the bedroll. She batted his hands away as he reached for her, walking around behind him to slide his field jacket off, then taking an unconscionable amount of time sliding his t-shirt up and over his head.

Jack craned his head around looking for her, winning him a cuff to the side of the head followed by twin sets of fingernails skimming down either side of his spine before he could complain. Her hands ran possessively over skin as she circled around in front of him again. Rising unnecessarily on tiptoe, she pressed her body along the length of his and kissed him. Not giving him a chance to regain his equilibrium, she stepped back and sank to the bedroll, flipping the top back invitingly as she lay on her side, head propped on one hand.

Jack dropped to the ground beside her. Rolling her swiftly to her back, he braced himself over her, one arm on either side of her shoulders. A protest died in the back of her throat as his tongue and teeth traveled furiously over her neck and shoulders, the stubble on his chin rasping over the tops of her breasts. Hooking one foot behind her calf, he pulled their bodies side by side, his hand instinctively making its way to the tantalizing zipper and yanking it downward. Impatiently shoving the fabric away, his hand closed possessively over one breast as he shimmied downward to take the other in his mouth.

Her fists closed around handfuls of his hair, clutching his head closer to her. Jack smiled against her skin, enjoying the helpless, incoherent sounds she made as he varied the pressure of his hand and mouth on her breasts. Running the flat of his tongue roughly over her nipple one last time, he moved to press his mouth to the valley between her breasts. He bit lightly on the side of one breast, then pulled back to admire the tiny marks that blossomed against her fair skin.

Sam took advantage of the momentary lull to flip him on to his back, clambering over him to plant one knee on either side of his hips. His eyes widened, a strangled gasp coming from his throat as she deliberately ground against him.

"The ground's cold," she said with an innocent shrug as her hands went to work on his belt buckle and fly.

"Is it?" He smiled, deftly reciprocating with one hand. "I think you're just a top, Carter."

"Given this a lot of thought, have you?" She arched an eyebrow as her hand made its way inside his pants.

"You have . . ." Jack stilled as her hand closed around him outside his boxers, "no idea."

"Maybe some," she said grabbing the waistband of his pants and dragging them and his boxers along as she moved down toward his feet.

"Really?" His head popped up to examine her face. "You've thought about this?"

"No. I went from never giving you a second look to half naked in the last 10 minutes." Sam's heart fluttered painfully as the pleased expression melted from his face. "Jack, don't be an idiot. Of course I've thought about this."

"You know, you didn't call me so many names when I thought about this," He said resting his head back on the ground, a sweet smile spreading over his face.

"Well, when I thought about this, you didn't talk so much," she said working his pants free of his feet and tossing them aside, quickly shedding her own plus underwear a moment later. Dropping to hands and knees, she crawled back up the length of his body and propped her chin on her hands, an elbow planted on either side of his head.

"I'm nervous," he said, avoiding her eyes. "I babble."

"Nervous?" She kissed him, "I'm a safe bet."

"Sweet," He wrapped his arms around her back, easing her weight on to him. He groped for the top of the sleeping bag with one hand, spreading it over her back as she squirmed pleasantly against him. Bracing herself on one hand, she pushed herself up a bit, dragging her knees upward and straddling his hips.

At the same moment, they reached down between them, their hands bumping together awkwardly. They drew back simultaneously, reaching forward again in unison, resulting in another clash.

"Thumb wrestle?" Jack whispered against her lips.

"Better idea," She chuckled, moving his hand up to her breast.

"Mmmm . . You get to be the top from now on."

"Thought you'd see it my way," Steadying his erection underneath her with one hand hand, she lifted her hips slightly the head sliding easily between her already wet lips and forward. She moaned, jerking slightly as her clit ground against him.

Jack fought to keep his hips still, wanting to let her set the pace. He willed his thoughts above the waist, concentrating on her breasts. His teeth scraped lightly over one nipple while his fingers played over the other, enjoying the way the contours shifted as the skin puckered under his touch.

She settled into a rhythm, her hips circling slowly, stroking the head of his penis against herself, lingering longer and longer each time with it just pressed against her opening. Abruptly, she pushed down, sliding him halfway inside her and drawing his attention forcibly back to his groin. His teeth closed over her skin harder than he'd intended, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

He pulled his head back quickly, eyes wide, "Sam, I'm . . ." the rest of his apology was lost amid a rush of incoherent gabbling as she crushed her mouth, breasts, and hips to his. She rocked furiously against him, coaxing him deeper with each movement. His vision flashed brilliant white behind his eyelids.

Somewhere in his mind where coherent thoughts cowered away from the sounds she was making against his ear (God! The sounds!), he knew he was on the verge of bringing their first time a woefully premature end. Just when he felt completely powerless to stop it, some kind Angel tucked an image of the ridiculous green statue through his mind. This proved to be a more effective orgasm dodge than dead nuns, dead puppies, and his mother combined.

Something much closer to a giggle than he cared to contemplate broke from his lips as he grasped her hips firmly, slowing them. She pulled back slightly, an outraged pout on her lips. He leaned up, catching her lower lip between his teeth briefly before gently urging her into a sitting position, arranging the sleeping bag carefully over her bare shoulders. He arched his hips up, shifting her slightly backward to make room for his hand between them.

She held her breath as his finger traced an agonizingly slow path from her belly button, down to her clit, expelling it in a long moan as the tip of one finger just barely grazed it. Leaning back, she braced her palms on his thighs, arching closer to his touch. Jack closed his eyes, hardly able to bear the sight of her, pale, naked, and beautiful above him. Breathing deeply he settled two fingertips against her and began moving in slow, lazy circles.

He opened his eyes again, pleased to find hers shut tight. He stared up at her shamelessly, fascinated by the silent working of her jaw muscles as she, too, struggled for control. A wicked impulse seized him and he grabbed for her hip with one hand, thrusting upward hard. Her eyes flew open in surprise, the blanket falling from her shoulders with the sudden movement. The fingers of one hand dug into his thighs as she instinctively ground against him. The other hand lashed out to grab his wrist, pressing his fingers harder into her clit.

He obliged her silent demand, increasing the pace and pressure of his movements,. Her head dropped back, her mouth slightly open in a futile attempt to catch her breath. Muscles rippled under the smooth skin of her stomach as the rise and fall of her hips reached a frantic pace.

Sensation collapsed in on itself gathering and gathering until nothing existed save his hands on her. Something near pain cut through her for a moment as he pressed just that much harder, her movements bringing him that much deeper inside her. With a cry, she bucked forward, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as every nerve unspooled.

Jack had been watching her intently, enjoying the hell out of watching her fall to pieces. She so consumed his attention, he was utterly unprepared for the sudden shock of her nails digging into his skin. A single whimper in his ear as she slumped forward on to his chest, and he was gone, hips surging madly upward as he came.

They lay together, weary and shivering. He reached blindly for the sleeping bag, breathing a sigh of relief as his fingers found it. She pressed a grateful kiss to his jaw as he yanked it upward, gently smoothing it over her back.

"Sam?" He said faintly after a while.

"Hmm?" She could barely force the syllable out.

"If I fall asleep, how hard are you going to hit me?"

She gave a sleepy chuckle as she shifted halfway off him, one leg thrown across his, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. "I'll let you know after my nap."

*****

They'd woken a few hours later and helped (or hindered) each other dress quickly in the chill night air without a trace of the awkwardness they'd each feared might plague them. The moon had risen high in the sky, leaving them with much less light to work with than earlier. After a few attempts to stow her gear in her pack had devolved into make-out sessions, they abandoned it altogether and ran for the village, gasping with laughter.

The plaza was empty when they arrived, save for Oscar and Teal'c who had stayed behind to mind the fire until dawn. Oscar had clearly been trying to imitate Teal'c in his kel'no'rim, but at some point had slumped over, his cheek pressed against the barrel.

"We missed the dancing!" Sam said, with a trace of disappointment.

"Darn!" Jack snapped his fingers.

"You don't dance?"

"Uh . . . White guy here, Carter. Not pretty."

"It's easy!" She insisted, stopping and tugging on his arm.

He turned toward her, his face resigned, "Ok. One dance. And you'd better hope that Teal'c isn't peeking."

She smiled up at him, reaching for his shoulder. He grabbed her waist, pulling her close with a dramatic flourish. Taking her other hand, he pressed her fingers to his lips as she laid her head against his shoulder. They shuffled in slow circles, mostly in silence interspersed with quiet chat, both too aware of the sun climbing over the horizon.

Sam lifted her head as she heard a door open behind her. Jack held her a moment longer, pressing a deliberate, possessive kiss on her brow before releasing her. "Morning, Sid."

"Jack. Sam." Sid shielded his eyes even from the weak dawn light as he scuffed his way to the well. With effort, he released the crank, wincing as the pulley squealed loudly and the bucket hit bottom with a thump and a splash. .

"Little help?" Jack wandered to peer down the well.

"Go 'way. You're an abomination."

"Because I'm not hung over?"

"Yes. Bastard. Get thee behind me."

"Sid, you look like hell. Sit. Jack'll bring you water," Sam took Sid's arm, walking him to the nearest bench.

"Oh, will I?"

"Be nice," She hissed, moving toward him.

"Fine." Jack drew the bucket up, rinsing an abandoned mug thoroughly and filling it with fresh water. As Sid accepted it from him, he looked up at Jack, sympathy evident in his face, in spite of the greenish hue. Jack looked away, "Waning moon, eh?" he asked in a low voice. Sid nodded.

"Can we . . ." Sam's voice wavered just slightly. She laid a hand on Jack's back as he put his arm around her shoulders. "Can we ask you some more questions?"

"Yeah, we've got time," Sid winced with the effort of swallowing. "Provided you ask quietly."

Jack dragged another bench over and settled in next to Sam, holding her hand tightly.

"Grace . . ."

Sid smiled through the hangover. "She's a great kid. Gorgeous, smart. You said she's Jack's so I assume she is, but you wouldn't know it to look at her."

"But what's she doing here," Sam broke in before Jack snap a reply back. "I mean . . . why would be bring her here if we knew it was Goa'uld occupied."

"You didn't. You didn't know it was occupied at all. And as far as the Tau'ri knew, the Goa'uld had been completely eradicated."

"So we were exploring?" Jack asked, wanting to hear the details in spite of himself.

"Scouting. Once things settled down and post-Goa'uld alliances shook themselves out, SG-1 was charged with scouting out habitable planets as potential colonies."

"And the Goa'uld were holed up in a time bubble licking their wounds?" Jack looked skeptical.

"They thought they could manipulate the time dynamics here. Thought they could rebuild their empire in the one nearly undetectable place in the universe. As far as they knew, the people they'd relocated from Earth millennia ago had just up and disappeared. They were just tickled when they stumbled on to thousands ready-made slaves and potential hosts."

"Thousands?" Sam's mind was busily making calculations. At most the villagers numbered about 100.

"Yeah," Sid took a long gulp of water.

"Not much of a victory, then," Jack mumbled thinking about that fool statue.

"It was, Jack. No one thinks otherwise. Cara's people were sick, exhausted---broken when you got her. You guys freed them. Gave them a chance. There's a reason they tell stories about you all."

"Sid . . . about the time dynamics," Sam began.

He clutched his head, holding a hand out to her, "Please, Sam. No physics. I'm begging you."

"No, no physics. Just a hunch---time doesn't behave the same way for any two people here, does it? Danann is just a little girl, but Colin's already a young man . . . they must . . ."

"Time does what it needs to do here, that's all I know." Sid added hastily before she could jump again, "And yes, I know it doesn't make sense. I know it redefines physics and makes it rain toads. All I can tell you is what I see."

"Ok," Sam smiled, clearly reining her curiosity in with difficulty. "Do you . . . want to lie down? You don't look good."

"No time," Sid sighed, looking very put upon.

As if on cue, Teal'c roused himself from his meditative state. A moment later, a cottage door opened and Daniel stepped through, squinting as he slipped on his glasses and looked stealthily around the plaza. He needn't have bothered, given that Bridget pushed past him almost immediately, making her way toward Sam and Jack with her arms outstretched.

"Sam! Jack! We missed you last night!" She hugged each of them in turn, then glanced coyly over her shoulder at Daniel, "For a while."

"Bridget! Indoor voice, please!" Sid begged her, holding his head in his hands.

"Oh, you," She swatted him good-naturedly with her apron, linking her arm through Daniel's as he wandered up.

Jack raised an eyebrow, casting a significant look toward Bridget. Daniel blushed slightly, then made a similar gesture to where his and Sam's hands were laced together, resting on the bench. Jack coughed and looked away. Teal'c approached and beamed at the four of them with his characteristic subdued approval.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, Sid?"

"Can you count people for me? I think there are too many."

"Three Tau'ri, one Jaffa. Three of you guys."

"That's . . ." there was an extended pause. "All of SG-1?"

"Yup."

"Ok. Time to go."

"What? Now?" Daniel looked distraught.

"Yup. Gotta be at the gate by noon."

"But . . ."

"Daniel!" Sid said sharply. "Have you got another 10 years to spare right now?"

"No . . . but," he gestured helplessly toward Bridget, who was looking stoic.

"Bridget will be here. You will have fat babies. It's all good." Sid said impatiently. "Now, someone whose head is not going to fall off please lean down and grab the small keg that is stowed artfully under this bench."

Teal'c handily fetched the small barrel, balancing it on his shoulder. "I have always liked you best, Teal'c" Sid said, rising with difficulty and patting the Jaffa on the arm, "Are we all geared up?"

"My pack's all ready. Sam's . . ."

"I'll . . . run ahead and get it packed up, sir."

"Yeah. C'mere first." He held his arms out to her. She stepped into them and they held each other tightly, "Not too long now, right?" He said quietly in her ear.

"No, not too long at all." She whispered back. They broke apart reluctantly, oblivious to Daniel's uncomfortable fidgeting and Teal'c's positively beatific smile.

"Can we say good-bye?" Sam asked a little tearfully.

"Sam, don't be cruel. Pretty much everyone except Bridget is as bad off as I am." Sid rolled his eyes. Adding more gently, "They know, Sam. You'll all be back."

"I just wish you'd have told me," Jack said sourly.

"Hammond knows. It's not a problem. It never occurred to me to mention it to you." Sid snapped back.

"Jack, what's the big deal? We bring strangers back all the time." Daniel said.

"And who has to fill out the ARFs in quintuplicate, Daniel?"

"ARFs?"

"Alien refugee forms," Sam said in a low voice, hoping to deflect the conversation in a duller, less contentious direction.

"I'm not a refugee. I'm a tourist. Also not an alien if you want to get technical about it . . ."

"What?" Sam and Jack asked in unison.

"Well, we're all Tau'ri under the skin, right?"

"Actually, in Antarctica . . ." Daniel began.

"It's rhetorical, Daniel. Sid's gotta secret." Jack said.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c said sharply, impatient with the arguments and delays. "It is very nearly twelve hundred hours. We should dial the gate."

"Yeah." Jack stole a glance at Sam. She smiled bravely. "Ok. Dial it up, T." "Ok, folks, we dash on my signal." Sid tucked his keg more firmly under his arm as the gate splashed out toward them. "And . . . "

"Hey," Jack looked around suddenly, "Where's my . . ."

"Now!" Sid shouted, making a break for the stairway.

"Statue?" Jack finished as he stepped out on to the gate ramp. He scanned the room, making sure his team was all present and accounted for. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the bottom of the ramp where he knew Hammond would be and met his CO's eyes.

"General!"

"Colonel. Did you enjoy your holiday?" Hammond asked in a neutral tone.

"Immensely. Court-martialably. But I'm guessing you knew that." He turned to Sid, his eyes wide. "Why do I still know that? Not that I am not really really glad to still know that," he added hastily to Sam in a low voice.

"Give it a bit, Jack. No worries," Sid made his way down the ramp to shake the General's hand. "Good to see you, George."

"It's been too long, Sid. Not for you, I suppose," Hammond said with a smile.

"General. Permission to debrief in the morning?" Jack looked from one weary face to another. "It's been a weird . . .mission."

"Denied, Colonel. I'm sorry, but SG-1 will need to accompany me and Sid back to my house."

"Your house, sir?" Daniel asked.

"A belated St. Patrick's Day gathering, SG-1. Attendance is not optional. There are cars waiting on the surface."

Daniel and Teal'c pointedly ducked into the same car and slammed the door. Sam blushed, averting her face from General Hammond as they waited for the next vehicle to arrive.

"You two go on ahead," the General said, trying to reassure her with a smile, "Sid and I have some business."

Jack held the door open for Sam, sliding in after her. He leaned forward to the driver, "Hey, can you put that thing up?" The driver wordlessly punched a button and the divider rose smoothly.

"Excellent," Jack said, rubbing his hands together as he realized that it was a one-way mirror.

"So," Sam said, reaching for his hand and staring straight ahead.

"So. I guess this is gonna be it. Whatever happens'll happen at Hammond's place."

"Yeah," Sam smiled sadly. "Guess so."

"Wanna make out?"

"God, yes," She clambered into his lap.

The mood at Hammond's was surprisingly upbeat, given the knowledge hanging over everyone's heads. They traded stories about Cara, the villagers, the feast---and of course, the statue. Sam was horrified to learn that Daniel had video footage of the pedestal that he insisted on sharing with the General who only just barely maintained his disapproving scowl.

Sam and Jack shared a loveseat, tentative glances and stolen touches having grown bolder throughout the night as they realized they had the General's tacit approval for the evening. Daniel mooned over Bridget a bit, but it was a cheerful, self-conscious kind of melancholy. The saddest note of the evening came when Teal'c raised a toast to Bra'tac, extending his honorary Irish status until . . . whatever happened.

In the early morning hours, Sid caught Hammond's eye and signaled for the General to join him in the kitchen. He was tapping the barrel when Hammond made his way in.

"That time already?" He asked.

"''Fraid so, George."

Hammond looked wistfully out over the comfortable scene in the living room.

"It seems a shame. They've been through some rough times these last few years. I haven't seen them this content . . . well, I've never seen them this content, I suppose."

"And there's a lot ahead. It's up to you to keep them on track, George. Thank God you're good with this time stuff."

"Right," the General replied grimly.

"Chin up, George. In the grand scheme of things, it won't be long before you're telling Grace the story."

"That's what gets me through, Sid. Hope. But what have they got?"

Sid smiled, "Maybe more than you think."

Hammond eyed him warily, knowing he'd never get a straight answer if he asked. "All right, Sid. Let's do this."

They each grabbed three mugs and made their way into the living room. A hush fell as they handed the mugs around.

"This is it, then?" Jack asked. Sid nodded. "Okie dokie. What do we drink to?"

"Hope, George?" Sid suggested.

"To hope," Hammond agreed.

"Hear, hear!" They chorused, clinking their glasses.

THE END.