A/N: Another backfiller story, for the neglected Enemy Within. As tempting as it was to play with the oft-fic'd option of P3X-595, where Carter "took off her..." which is where the team is en route to at the end of the episode, I wanted instead to focus on what happened with O'Neill and Kowalsky.

Set between the last two scenes of The Enemy Within, on Earth.

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Leaning

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Samantha Carter eased her vintage car into the driveway, making sure to leave the sidewalk behind her clear for the little guys on their bikes to continue their racing. Stepping around to the back, she popped open the tiny trunk and pulled out a bulky but neatly wrapped package, weighing it in her hands for a minute, considering. Behind the Colonel's house the setting sun painted the sky in bold azure and red-gold stripes, casting long shadows along the street. I probably should have called first, she thought. She was just deciding to put the box back when nearby voice surprised her.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Sam turned from her car and was lost; her heart tumbled from her chest to land gracelessly at her feet. Sam was stunned to find herself, for the first time in her life, hopelessly in love. So...this is the whole 'love at first sight' thing,' she thought, bemusedly, as she struggled to gather her wits.

At her feet was a small boy of about eight, perched haphazardly on his bike. One foot barely touching the ground to brace himself, the other leg thrown over the seat and dangling so that his foot just rested on the pedal. One knee sported a Band-Aid that didn't quite cover the raspberry that reddened his fair skin, his other knee and elbows bore evidence of past scrapes with, Sam guessed, either trees or concrete. His bright green eyes peeked out beneath a helmet that barely contained the curly strands of fiery red hair, but it was the dusting of freckles on his nose that did her in. In one single glance, Sam Carter was taken in. She squatted to put herself at eye-level with the youngster.

"With what?" She asked

A tiny chin she could imagine was formidable in its stubbornness jutted forward, toward the package she still held in her hands. "That. What's that? Is it a present for Colonel Jack?"

"Ah...Colonel Jack?"

The boy waved toward the house. "Yeah. Colonel Jack." He cocked his head sideways, then impatiently shoved the helmet out of his eyes when it slid forward, an impatient and practiced action. "Colonel Jack comes to our school, sometimes. I brung him in, for Show 'n Tell once, and now he comes to visit lots."

Enchanted, Sam could only smile. She carefully set the package down, reached up to close the trunk and then slowly straightened. As she rose, she brushed her hand along her jeans and adjusted her shirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. "That's nice of him."

"Who're you? I didn't know Colonel Jack had a girlfriend?"

Sam blushed and shook her head. "No, I'm not his...I work with him. He's my boss."

With a move so fast it startled her, the child leapt off of his bike and jumped to attention. He snapped his right hand up in a fairly close approximation of a salute and said, "Reporting for duty, sir!"

Sam chuckled, then solemnly returned the boy's salute. "At ease, airman." She bent to help him with his bike. "My name is Sam, Sam Carter."

"Sam? That's a boy's name!" His tone was scornful in the way that only a little boy can manage.

"Not always. Sam is short for Samantha, at least in my case." As she helped the youngster back onto his bike, she asked, "Since you know my name, and, ah, Colonel's Jack's name, maybe you could tell me your name?"

"Oh!" The boy slapped a hand to his head. He quickly unbuckled his worn helmet and slung it over his handlebars. Then he carefully wiped his right hand along his dirty shorts and held it out to her, his eyes intent on her own. "Yeah! I mean, my name's Miles, Miles O'Hara."

Sam didn't know if it was intentional or not, but she noticed that he'd mimicked her own introduction. She smiled wider and returned his handshake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Hara."

"You don't have to call me mister, just 'Miles.' Please, though, not ever 'Miles Edward O'Hara, 'cuz that's what my mom calls me when I've been really...I mean, when she's mad. Are you a Colonel too, Sam?"

"No." She chuckled at his rapid-fire chatter. "I am a Captain."

"Oh." Miles studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Did I do the shaking okay? Colonel Jack showed me how. He said that a man always takes his hat off and looks another man in the eye when they shake. And I'm s'posed to only squeeze a little, 'cuz it's not s'posed to be arm wrestling. Only you're not a man, but I guess since you're in the Air Force too I did okay. I did, didn't I?"

Unable to resist, Sam reached out and ruffled his damp curls. "Miles, I think you did just fine."

Before he could continue his mostly one-sided conversation, a woman's voice carried down the street. Miles grimaced and waved, shouting loud enough to make Sam wince. "Coming, Miss Katie!" He slipped his helmet on and fumbled with the clasp. "I have to come when Miss Katie calls, or she gets mad. And if she's mad, my Mom gets madder." He frowned, trying to see the clip set below his chin, his tongue pushed out between his teeth in concentration. "I always get stuck in this thing!"

Sam bent down and helped him with it, her fingers brushing the soft underside of his chin as she absorbed the unique 'little boy' smell, a mixture of newly turned earth, sunshine, and freshly cut grass. It was familiar to her, and comforting, but she couldn't quite place it. With a final snick! the chin strap was in place and she tilted the helmet back to see his sparkling green eyes. Miles scrambled back onto his bike and pedaled off, waving gaily at her and shouting, "Bye Captain Sam!"

Sam stood watching him until he reached the woman who'd called his name, already missing his bright presence. She retrieved her package and turned, then jumped in surprise to find herself face-to-face with Colonel O'Neill.

"Oh!"

"Engaging little guy, isn't he?"

Sam's surprise eased as she watched the Colonel watching the small boy chatter happily with 'Miss Katie.' "Yes, Sir. I think I'm in love."

"He's an easy little guy to like."

O'Neill's face was soft as he watched his little neighbor chat with his babysitter, the expression on his face one Carter was unused to seeing. Sam nodded and when he turned his gaze toward her, she said, "He said you taught him how to shake hands?"

"I did." With Miles out of sight O'Neill was suddenly direct, to the point. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

Sam was startled by his abruptness, but understood it. The past week had been...awful. Kowalsky...Sam shuddered, remembering the look on the Colonel's face as he knelt on the ramp at Kowalsky's side.

- -

Sam slammed her ID card into the reader, squeezing through the doorway as soon as there was room, elbowing aside the armed security personnel and running up the ramp. She felt Daniel behind her and heard his swift intake of breath as they took in the scene before them. Kowalsky lay sprawled on his back, and the back of his head...Sam grimaced and looked away, desperately searching for something else upon which to focus. It was O'Neill's face that pulled her. The pain in it.

As she stood there he'd slowly lifted his gaze from the body of his friend, his eyes wandering around the gateroom, searching for something...anything. She watched as they quickly lit on one thing and flickered to another, not resting anywhere for too long. Finally, they landed on her and...stayed. She returned his gaze, pouring her sadness at his loss and as much strength as she could into the look. She didn't know this man very well, her new CO, but she knew in that instant that she would do everything she could to be there for him, to provide some sort of anchor for him as he worked through his loss.

- -

"Carter?" O'Neill's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Sorry, Colonel. I, ah, have something..." Sam hefted the box in her hands.

"Hmm. It's not my birthday..." O'Neill waved her toward the side yard. "Might as well come on through to the back. I was just..." The Colonel's voice trailed off as he lead her around the side of the house, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Sam followed her CO into his backyard, noting that he had a roaring fire going in the firepit at the bottom of the yard. She quickly looked around but didn't see anyone else. "I'm sorry, Colonel, am I interrupting something?"

O'Neill glanced between Carter and the firepit in confusion. "What?" Comprehension dawned. "Oh, no. Nothing going on. I just felt like..." O'Neill shrugged. "Can I get you a beer?"

"Sure."

"Make yourself comfortable." The Colonel waved her toward the roaring fire while he disappeared inside. He emerged a minute or so later holding two full pint glasses, and Sam smiled briefly at the sight, remembering the team bar-b-que a few weeks earlier. Of course he would build her a Guinness. She watched as he carefully set both glasses on the picnic bench behind them and sat himself down next to her on the worn cushion on the ground between the bench and the firepit.

Despite the warmth of the day, the fire was a welcome source of heat. Once the sun dipped behind Pike's Peak, the Colorado evenings were still quite cool this early in the spring. Sam nervously pulled the package she'd brought with her into her lap, fidgeting with the plain brown wrapping, then with the twine tied around it, unsure of how to proceed.

O'Neill sat beside her, sipping his beer and studying the fire. Finally he turned to her. "Carter...I am assuming you didn't come to give yourself a present? Or for my less-than-sparkling company?"

"No, Sir. It's just...well, this isn't from me, Colonel."

"No?"

"No, Sir. See, General Hammond stopped me this afternoon, after the funer– ah, I mean, after we buried Ma­–"

"It's okay, you know Captain. You can say his name."

Sam ducked her head. "I know, Colonel. It's just...I know you two were good friends." She took a deep breath. "Like I said, the General asked me to give you this. Said that the Major asked him to take care of it, but General Hammond felt that...well, he said that it should come from a member of the team." Awkwardly Sam lifted the bulky box off of her lap, handing it to her CO after he'd set aside his glass.

"What is it"

"I don't know, Sir. It was wrapped when I got it."

O'Neill took the box from her and balanced it on his own knees. He tugged at the bow, unraveling it and slowly untangling it from the box, then tossed the string into the fire. Slipping a finger under the tape holding the brown wrapping in place, he flipped the paper off, revealing a plain brown box labeled, 'FIELD RATIONS – 60 – INDIVIDUALLY PACKAGED – B-FAST – HC-OM.' "I, ah, don't recall ordering any field rations."

"Especially not the ham and cheese omelet, Sir." They exchanged a mutual grimace at what had to be the world's worst freeze-dried ration pack.

"Especially that." O'Neill pulled out his pocket knife and cut through the tape holding closed the flaps of the ten by ten box. Lifting one side, he bit back an oath once he caught sight of the box's contents.

"Sir?" Sam watched in surprise as the Colonel almost angrily set the box aside and strode off into the growing darkness. She wasn't sure what to do. Glancing in the direction her CO had disappeared, she leaned forward and peeked inside. Nestled there amongst packets of coffee was a compact Bose stereo. It seemed an odd way to package a gift, and she still didn't know from whom the gift had come. Still seeing no sign of the Colonel she opened the other flap of the box, pulling out the note she found there. As she read it, her eyes filled with tears.

Hey Jack,

If you're reading this, the little snake bastard won in the end. I know you've got to be feeling like crap about now, but I want you to know that I know you probably did everything you could.

We've known each other for a long time, Jack and I want you to know how much our friendship has meant to me. I also wanted you to know that I will look out for your boy. I couldn't be there for my Godson when he – and you – needed me, but I can look out for him now.

You have a good team under you now, don't be afraid to lean on them once in a while. Took you long enough to do that with me – don't wait so long with this group.

I figure Puccini should sound amazing on this thing...enjoy it.

Charlie K.

P.S. The coffee is for Doctor Jackson – I couldn't stand to use what originally came in the box!

"I asked for the damned thing." O'Neill's voice was rough, and it startled her, coming from so close.

"Oh!" Sam was mortified to have been caught reading Kowalsky's note. "I'm so sorry, Colonel, I–"

O'Neill waved at her, brushing aside her words. "Relax, Sam. It's okay." He gently took the note from her and read it as he reseated himself on the cushion. He shook his head as he carefully refolded the note and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. Lifting the box again into his lap, he pulled out the plastic wrapped compact stereo. "This. I joked with him just before his operation...that if he didn't make it, could I have it?"

"I'm so sorry, Colonel."

"Me too."

They sat in silence, Sam again unsure of her next move, Colonel O'Neill just staring at the stereo in his hands, his eyes far away. Finally Sam took a deep breath and began to rise.

"I should go, Colonel." She stopped when O'Neill placed a hand on her arm.

"I...if you have to, Captain..."

Sam studied him for a minute, then sank back onto cushion. "I don't have to, Colonel, I just figured you'd want to be alone."

O'Neill lifted his gaze from the box to her face, his brown eyes warm in the light of the fire he'd built. "No."

"Okay." Sam studied him for a moment. She could see flecks of gold and amber in his expressive eyes, still warm despite his pain. Sitting this close to him, she could smell that scent that was unique to him, an odd combination of earth, sunshine, and...her breath caught. Freshly cut grass. That's why little Miles had smelled so...familiar...to her. His 'little boy' smell reminded her of her CO, although there were deeper overtones to the Colonel's scent than Miles would ever have. Sam took a deep breath and closed her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate. It was dangerous to equate her Colonel with adorable little boys, and even more dangerous to be appreciating...nay...savoring...said Colonel's scent.

Sam opened her eyes to find O'Neill staring at her quizzically. She gave him a brief smile before turning to rest her back against the bench behind her. She deliberately reached for the pint he'd built for her earlier and took a long, soothing drink. Wiping the creamy foam from her lips she asked gently, "Colonel? Would you mind telling me about Major Kowalsky?" She had so many questions, beginning with Kowalsky's comment about 'his boy,' but wasn't sure how to go about getting answers. The direct approach seemed to be something the Colonel would appreciate.

O'Neill set the box aside and reached again for his own drink. He, too, took a long pull from the glass then set it aside in favor of his fire-poking stick. He tossed another log onto the already large fire, poking and sliding it until he was satisfied with its position. He looked over his shoulder to find Sam patiently watching him, waiting for him to begin.

"I met Charlie Kowalsky nearly fifteen years ago..."

Sam pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head atop knees, then turned her face toward her CO and settled down to listen. She let the cadence and rhythm of his voice wash over her while the fire burned and the night crept slowly on, content to simply be there. For him.