"You know, with this kind of lure you're not supposed to let it just sit there."
"Mmhmm."
"You're supposed to reel it in, make it look like baitfish."
"Mmhmm."
"So… you're not going to catch any fish if you don't."
"There are no fish," she sighed.
"Well, gee, Sam, I didn't know it bothered you so much."
A bitter bark of a laugh spilled suddenly from her lips, cynical and very un-Sam.
Jack faltered, letting his lure dangle in the air as he watched her – perfectly still, eyes unfocused on the horizon, fishing rod held in limp fingers – before lazily tossing out another cast. It landed with an audible "plop" and sank for a few seconds. He set his jaw, eyes roaming the sky and occasionally catching her rigid figure in his peripheral vision. "You OK?" he asked quietly.
"Fine," Sam shrugged, gaze dropping down to her fingers as they began to fidget with the reel.
"You miss him, don't you?"
"Hmm?"
"You miss him. Martouf." He kept reeling in his lure, flicking the rod back and forth, even when he felt her eyes turn sharply towards him for the first time since they'd sat down. "Fifteen years ago today he died."
Sam frowned. "How did you remember—"
"We all know that my intellectual prowess pales in comparison with that beautiful blond noggin…" He nodded in her direction, allowing himself to steal a glance if only to gauge her reaction. "But on occasion I've been known to make a particularly astute observation."
It pleased him to see one corner of her mouth turn upwards in spite of herself.
Jack could almost feel her itching to say something – to justify, to qualify, to calculate – so he finished reeling in his lure, hooked it onto the rod's guide rings, and got up to set it by the lawn chair on the grass behind them. He took her rod and did the same.
Finally, when he returned to her side and sat down, a little closer than before, she began to speak.
"I've understood for several years now that Jolinar's memories will never leave me," she began tentatively. "They might fade. Sometimes I forget about her for months at a time. But something happens and I get a flash, a memory so vivid I can't always tell right away whether it's hers or my own. They'll always be there somewhere. She, whether we like it or not, has become a part of me. And because of her…" She took a deep, steadying breath. "Part of me will always love Martouf."
If she noticed the flicker of hurt on his face, she didn't show it.
"Jolinar was in love with him and Lantash, just as they were with her, and I became fond of them in my own way." She shook her head, biting back a thin line of moisture lining her eyes. "I guess it's just ironic that I was the one who killed him."
"Come on, Carter, we've been over this. You didn't have any other choice."
His use of her last name after so long startled her a little. When she spoke again, her voice was meek and almost childish, as if reverting to military protocol had humbled her in some way. "I know I didn't."
Jack ran his tongue back and forth across the back of his teeth, letting silence overtake them for the moment. "If you need some time to yourself…"
"Jack," she shook her head quickly. "It's not that. I'm fine, really. I just… today I found myself thinking about him and my dad and the Tok'ra and the za'tarcs…" She reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together almost shyly. "I'll be OK. We'll be OK."
He smiled tightly and scooted closer, bringing his free hand around to rest on her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple.
Again they fell silent, but this time the stillness was comfortable, broken only by faint birdcalls and the sound of Sam's toes brushing the surface of the water. His arm lowered to curl loosely around her hip; her head came to rest in the crook of his neck.
"Do you remember what else happened that day?" Sam asked quietly, bashfully, biting her lip as she looked up at him. "The day of the za'tarc incident."
"I care about her. A lot more than I should."
Jack smiled softly, lacing his fingers tighter between hers. "Yeah. I remember."
Her smile matched his expression and her gaze dropped from his searching, penetrating eyes to his lips. He tugged her closer by the arm around her hip and lowered his mouth to hers, letting the movement of their mouths coax away their fears and failures.
When her lips parted beneath him, suddenly there was nowhere — of all the many places in this world and others — that they would rather be than sitting on the edge of the dock. Together.