One

The sun was warm, the air was cool, and though the bottle in her hand wasn't her preferred type of beer, it tasted better than she thought it would. Of course, the company wasn't too bad either. The Colonel - General - she still had to correct herself, was stretched out in his lawn chair beside her, looking relatively smug.

She set down her bottle and picked up the fishing rod that the General had designated hers. The lure was already attached so she crossed one leg over the other and cast it across the pond. It landed with a delightful plunk several metres out. She smiled at the sun shining across the water as she reeled the line back in. Happiness settled on her shoulders like a warm blanket after a cold walk.

"This is great," she remarked, glancing over at the General.

He turned his eyes up at her and smirked, corners of his mouth lifting at her own surprised smile. "I told ya," he teased lightly, his mouth widening into a shit-eating grin. She scoffed, looking back out at her bobber as it sped towards her.

"I can't believe we didn't do this years ago," she added, turning her face up once again to the sun.

"Yes, well, let's not dwell…" the General faded off momentarily and she looked over at him. She really did prefer him with the silver in his hair. He looked almost the same as he had those eight years ago she had walked into the briefing room with a million things to prove. The lines around his mouth were a little deeper, and the stress had added some darkness to his gaze, but with that cap on his head, you'd never know he was eight years older.

He gives her that eyebrow quirk and she laughs softly, biting back the 'yes, Sir' that comes so easily to her lips. As her bobber comes out of the water, with no fish in tow, she has a fleeting sensation in the back of her mind. But then a fish jumps in the water in front of their perch and she blinks.

"Didn't that tape say there were no fish in your pond?" she asks, partly confused, but mostly suspicious. There's a beat as she hears Daniel and Teal'c setting up chairs on the lawn behind them. She looks over at the General as he looks over at her.

"Close enough," he replies with a hint of exasperation. She half-rolls her eyes, trying to hide her smile as she glances over her shoulder to acknowledge her teammates' presence. The General brings his fishing rod back and casts the line far out towards the other edge of the pond.

"T, grab me a beer, would ya?" he calls over his shoulder. Sam can practically feel Teal'c's eyebrow rise, but within a second he is behind them, handing a brown bottle over the General's shoulder.

"I apologize it is not chilled, O'Neill," he deadpans, but she can detect the tease in Teal'c's deep voice.

"Not a problem," the General replies with mock affluence. He salutes Teal'c with the bottle before taking a large gulp. He leans over between them to set it on the dock, balancing his reel between his knees.

"Colonel Carter, would you care for some refreshment?" Teal'c asks her and she smiles up at him.

"No thanks, Teal'c, I'm all-Sir!" she yelps as the General's beer bottle collides with her own. He has been watching her, instead of where he's aiming his drink.

"What! Oh, dammit!" he complains loudly as he scrambles in his chair to prevent both bottles from falling, but dropping his rod in the process. It cascades across the wood dock and rolls into the water. Sam looks down at both bottles spilling beer, the liquid foaming through the cracks. She giggles and the General raises dark eyes at her.

"Ah!" he reprimands, raising a finger.

She closes her lips with the aid of her fingers, hiding her smile. "Sorry, Sir."

Annoyance flashes over his features, but he glances down as he rights both bottles. He picks his own back up and drains the last few drops. He doesn't look at her, though his fishing rod floats hopefully right in front of them. She knows she's created tension by using his honorific in this relaxed setting. It's just habit, so sue her.

She clears her throat awkwardly, casting her line out again as the General picks at the paper label on his now-empty beer bottle. Teal'c speaks suddenly behind them, startling them both.

"May I offer you both another refreshment?" he asks pointedly, as if looking for an excuse to leave.

The General picks at another corner of the label. Sam keeps her eyes trained on her bobber. No one speaks, but Teal'c has already retreated to his safe spot on the grass. Sam sighs, chewing on her lower lip. She notes, with a bit of irritation, that there are clouds looming on the horizon, about to block the sun. It will effectively end their fishing, the sun the only thing between them and the cold north wind threatening the trees.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," the General complains suddenly, pushing himself off his chair to retrieve his fallen rod. He lifts his shirt and uses the material near the hem to dry off the handle. She keeps her gaze away from the brief glimpse of his tanned stomach.

She should say something. Crack a joke. Anything to bring them back to moments before.

She tightens her grip on the fishing rod, frowning at its sudden insistence that it pull out of her hands. The General is still moodily drawing his line back in, lips pursed and eyebrows frowning. She nearly falls into the pond as her line gives a violent jerk.

"Sir!" she shrieks, and he looks up abruptly as if expecting the next Goa'uld terror to be attacking.

"What?!" he demands, mouth open slightly at her in irritation.

"Something…" she is pulled off her chair as her line tugs sharply again. The pond suddenly seems ominous as she skids to the edge of the dock, her sneakers not providing much grip on the worn wood. The General grabs her around the waist before she can take a nosedive into the water.

"You've gotta bite, Carter!" he whoops excitedly. "Pull it in!"

"I'm trying!" she grits through clenched teeth, her rod jerking violently again. The General keeps her rooted solidly on the dock with one hand tight on her waist and the other turning the reel's crank as she holds onto the handle with both hands. She can see a ripple on the water's surface and the brief emergence of a very large trout. It struggles against the line and the General pulls them back a step as he slowly brings the fish closer.

"Hey, T, Danny Boy! We got dinner!" the General yells, his face caught between a wide grin and a grimace as the fish gives him a considerable fight. "C'mon, you little bastard," he mutters as the fish flops across the water's surface. Finally, or maybe too soon, the fish has flopped onto the dock and is writhing helplessly. The General drops Sam's waist without ceremony, pulling a hunting knife from his back pocket and giving the fish a hard swift crack on its head with the handle. It immediately goes still.

The General takes the lure off and hooks his fingers through the fish's mouth, lifting it up. He looks back at Sam, eyebrows raised. "Nice job, Carter," he says, feigning surprise. "Thought you never fished before."

"I haven't…" she blinks, giving him a small shrug. "Beginner's luck."

"I'd say. This guy's probably… 15 pounds, give or take." He takes a step toward her and Sam takes a step back, eyes on the dead fish hanging from his hand. He tilts his head.

"You're not afraid of a little fish, are you, Carter?" he asks, looking amused.

"N-no," she replies, swallowing heavily.

"It's just a fish, Carter." He points to the fish gaping openingly in her direction. "How could you be afraid?" He starts to push it towards her and she shrieks again.

"Don't touch me with that!" she yelps, bringing her arms up in front of her face. "You know I don't do dead fish. Give it to me on a plate, sauteed in butter!" She laughs nervously as the General waggles the fish at her and she tries to turn to run, but he's grabbed her around the waist.

"Carter!" he commands. "Carter." His voice is softer and she abruptly stops squirming. His face is close, so close she can see the clean line in his eyebrow where the scar separates it. She can smell the beer on his breath and… the fish in his hands. Oh, God. His hand is so low against the small of her back. He looks at her sternly, but his lips lifting in amusement. "Carter, if you call me Sir one more time, I'm gonna smack you with this." He brandishes their catch at her and she shrinks back slightly.

"Okay, Gen-"

"Ah!" he interrupts. "Don't even think about it." His eyebrows are in danger of staying permanently etched in his upper forehead. He gestures to himself with the fish, accidentally smacking his t-shirt with it, leaving a bit of slime and pond scum on the material. "Jack."

"But-"

"Carter," he repeats, somehow managing to sound patient and desperately impatient simultaneously. Her gaze, in an attempt to avoid his, flickers to his lips, chapped from the wind. There's a growing layer of stubble coating his jaw and neck and she tries not to think about it.

"Jack," she repeats slowly, the word foreign to her lips. "Are you-"

"I'm sure, Carter," he replies before her question is finished. "We're on vacation, for cryin' out loud. Try not to be such a buzzkill."

"Okay… Jack," she finishes with just a hint of curtness.

"Good! See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He gives her a tight-lipped smile before pulling away, exhaling heavily as he looks up at the sky. "Okay, boys!" He turns on his heel with considerable flourish for a man his age. "Turn on the barbeque!"