Man of Mystery

by trupi & sg-1fanintn

Author's Note: trupi had a dream about Sam and Jack recently. She shared it with me, and we decided to translate it into a story to share with our fellow S/J fans. We hope you like it.

Chapter 1

Shutting the refrigerator door, Jack glanced out the window. She was still sitting on the dock, shoulders slumped down low in her lawn chair, head in a book. Damn! Popping the top on his bottle of beer, he angrily tossed the small piece of metal into the trash. The idea of this trip was to snap Carter out of the depression she had been in since her father passed away. This was their second day at the cabin. Daniel and Teal'c would join them tomorrow. He wasn't going to be happy until she was happier, and if that meant pulling out all the stops, he was prepared to do it.

Setting down the bottle, he leaned on the kitchen counter, watching her while he considered his options. He already had dinner planned. The rest, he'd have to play by ear. Picking up his beer and a drink for her, he headed back outside and returned to the dock. "Diet Coke, Carter?"

She glanced up, a weak smile on her face. "Thanks. That was nice of you."

He sat down in the chair beside hers. "Ya know, I didn't bring you up here to just sit and read a book." He glanced down at the book. "And it's not even fiction, for cryin' out loud! You're reading an astrophysics text book!"

"It makes as much sense as fishing in a pond where there are no fish," she replied.

"Now, see, that's just what I mean, Carter. I brought you up here to get away from all that…to spend some quality time together." He reached out and laid a hand on her oh-so-soft arm. "To talk…about Jake…about everything that's happened…about what happens next."

She looked over at him. "I…I know, sir."

"Jack."

Again, he was rewarded with a small smile. "I know, Jack. It's just…" Her voice trailed off, and she looked down nervously.

"No pressure, Sam," he said softly. "We'll do anything you want, talk about anything you want…and nothing else. This trip is all about you. Things have been tough lately, and the guys and I just want you to feel better."

"The guys," she said. "They'll be here tomorrow, won't they?"

"Yup," he said evenly, taking another swallow of his beer. No matter what, he didn't want her to feel pressured to say…or to do…anything.

She closed the book and turned to face him. "You're right," she said. "You've offered me a change of scenery…good company, a nice, relaxed place to work through my grief over Dad, and instead, I'm just reading and ignoring all the reasons for this trip."

This time, it was she who reached out to place a hand on his arm. "Why don't I go in, get changed, and we'll go into town for dinner?"

"Well, I won't complain if you get all gussied up, but I've already planned dinner here."

Her look was one of surprise. "You've planned dinner? Are we having burned steaks?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Placing his free hand over the one on his arm, he gave it a small squeeze. "But, I'm going to keep that a secret until we sit down to eat."

"Now, I'm getting curious," she said, and he could tell she meant it.

He took another drink from the brown bottle. "All part of the plan, Carter…all part of the plan."

She giggled. Yeah…things were beginning to look up.

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Sam stepped out of the shower and put a towel over her hair. After drying off, she stepped to the mirror and took the blow dryer from her bag. As she started drying her hair, her nose picked up the delicious aroma of food. Whatever the General had brought to heat up, it sure smelled good.

She sighed. The last few months had been tough, and this trip was a welcome change of pace. Between the Goa'uld and the Replicators, the mistake she made in agreeing to marry Pete and her father's sudden death, her emotions had been on edge. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of her father. It was hard to believe she would never see him again. She took a deep breath, resolving to try harder to lift herself out of the blues that had overtaken her since his passing. She knew this trip was all about her, and that her team wanted to help her through the grief. She was going to do her best to make their efforts worthwhile.

A firm knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Carter! Did you drown in there?"

"No, Sir," she called out. "Just drying my hair. It won't be long."

"Well, make it snappy. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Be there in five, Sir."

She heard his footsteps moving away, and she couldn't suppress the grin that began to tug at the corners of her mouth. There was no one who could make her laugh like Jack O'Neill. If only the regs allowed her to tell him how she felt…

The last two days had been light and relaxed. They had talked a lot about his childhood and hers on the long drive up to Minnesota. He had told her anecdotes that, if true, must have given his parents and his teachers all premature gray hair. She was pleased at how easy things had been between them. Over the last few months, he had held her at arms' length, as if trying to distance himself from her. She thought the change in job duties had taken a toll on him, made him more serious, less free to be himself. But since her dad's death, he had seemed more like himself, causing her to wonder if his demeanor with her in the past year had more to do with her relationship with Pete than with the new command. The General had been at her side almost constantly during the funeral preparations and the long, tedious days after her father's death…constantly checking to see what she needed, determining how he could make things easier for her. He had spent so much time at her side that she had begun to wonder who was running the base. But after eight years under his command, she knew Jack O'Neill well enough to know that he hadn't left a detail undone.

He had asked where Pete was, and she confessed that she had broken the engagement. He had said nothing, but she could tell he was processing the information carefully. And even before that, when he sat with her in the moments before her father died, he said he'd always be there. Her stomach did a little flip thinking about that moment and the look in his eyes when he said it. But Dad's condition had changed a few seconds after the word had been said, and since then, there had been no chance to start the conversation again. "Maybe tonight," she told the reflection in the mirror.

"Carter!" came another shout.

"Yes, Sir!" she called in reply. "I'll be right there!"

She stowed her brush and hair dryer back in her bag. As she made room for them, her hand came to the favorite cologne she had tucked in there on some past trip. On impulse, she picked it up and gave a quick spritz to her wrists. Frowning slightly at her actions, she tucked the bottle back in the bag and got dressed.

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"About time, Carter," Jack said as she entered the kitchen. Turning away from the stove, he stopped talking momentarily as he took in the vision before him.

Sam probably didn't even realize how gorgeous she looked, he thought, but he certainly noticed. Clad in jeans, a sky blue velour hooded jacket and a lacy tank top, she wore no makeup, and her freshly washed hair floated softly around her face. "Sweet," he said. Whoops—did he say that out loud? He saw her smile and dip her head as she began to blush. Tearing his eyes away from her, he turned back to the stove. "Have a seat, Carter. Chow's almost ready."

"Smells great! Anything I can do to help?"

"Got it all in hand."

Then Sam noticed that the table was set with a cloth, linen napkins and wine glasses. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble, Sir. I'd be happy with pizza from a box."

Jack took something out of the oven—set it aside, then pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. "First thing, no more 'Sir'. If I'm going to prepare you dinner, you're going to have to call me Jack." He approached with the wine bottle, filling each glass halfway with a white wine. As he finished the task, he sat the bottle into a waiting wine bucket and looked up to meet her questioning gaze. "What? Are we supposed to eat without anything to drink?" He tried not to let on that he noticed her stare as he sat a pair of candles on the table and pulled a book of matches from his pocket.

"Sir…"

"Ah—ah—ah--!"

"Jack," she said. "This is…unusual."

"A little style never hurt anyone, Ca—Samantha," he finished, looking up with a sly grin on his face. "Now, sit down, and I'll bring dinner."

She did as he suggested, taking a sip of the wine to steady herself. What had come over Jack O'Neill?

She wondered even more when he arrived at the table carrying their plates. A small golden bird surrounded by dressing and asparagus was on each one.

She watched as he sat her plate down, then placed his own plate on the table and sat down across from her. "Wow," she said as she looked up. How had he managed to reheat this meal until it looked and smelled so good? And where had he gotten it? They hadn't been back into town today, although they had made a quick stop at the local grocery when they arrived. She didn't remember him even stopping in the deli…

"Are you going to eat it, Sam…or just look at it?" Jack grinned.

She picked up her fork and knife and began to cut into the succulent bird. The first bite was…delicious! "This is wonderful!"

"Glad you like it." She could tell he was pleased at her compliment.

They ate, making small talk as they consumed the delicious meal and the wine. When they were almost done, Sam could stand it no longer. "I have to know, Si---Jack. How did you get this marvelous food here?"

"Whatdaya mean? You were at the grocery with me yesterday. I picked up everything then."

"But you didn't go anywhere near the deli."

His face broke out into a wide smile that reached to the corners of his eyes. "I didn't have to, Sam. I just bought the ingredients."

"But, but…this is…" she stammered.

"This is roasted quail with sage and cornbread stuffing, served with fresh, braised asparagus in a light butter sauce."

"Right…so where did you…?" She gestured around the room…then toward their plates.

He caught her hand as it neared his plate. "Samantha," he said softly, "I know how to cook."

A tingle went through her as his hand touched hers, and at the soft, warm tone of his voice, but her curiosity won out. "You…Jack O'Neill….my CO…the guy who thinks MREs are all a person needs to survive, who loves beer and popcorn and pizza…who…"

"…who was once a Captain under a General who loved fine food. I was waiting to get into the black ops program and I was bored out of my gourd. The job was a cinch. And this guy had his own chef…so I decided to entertain myself by learning a few things about good food."

She stopped, mouth still open, staring at him like he was a creature from outer space. "But I…I never knew…"

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Sam. There's a lot I haven't let anyone see for a long time. I hope we can talk about that while we're here." He gave her hand a small squeeze before letting go. Standing up, he gathered their empty dinner plates and left her at the table, still staring at him with a look of wonder in her eyes.