Jack intentionally headed to the SGC before Sam woke the next day. Since Janet was taking her to her therapy session that day, it worked out perfectly. He'd escaped before she'd said anything about the necklace the night before, and he still wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it. Hell, he didn't quite know what it meant himself. And it had taken all the courage he possessed to give it to her.

He was grateful that SG-1 brought dinner that night, knowing that she wouldn't say anything with the others around. But the delicate white gold chain peeked out from under the neckline of her shirt, and he couldn't hold back a smile.

He managed to dodge her through the rest of the next day, as well – it was harder this time, since that was one of the three days a week that Sam was allowed to come into the SGC for the morning – and the crowd showed up again for New Year's Eve. This time, at Sam's request, it included Mike Robeson, and she watched his interactions carefully throughout the night. It was nearly eleven when she said something quietly to Janet and the two of them left the living room.

The others were still glued to the television (and the appetizers) when a loud, surprised cry of "Holy crap, Sam!" came from the office. Daniel immediately got to his feet, but Jack waved him off with a chuckle, earning several suspicious looks.

In Jack's dining room, Janet stared open-mouthed at the diamond necklace her friend had just revealed. "I don't believe it."

"Isn't it beautiful?" Sam couldn't keep from smiling.

"It's more than that. Do you have any idea what that cost?" Janet hissed.

"I… I hadn't thought about that. How much, do you think?"

"A couple of thousand, at least. Three or four, I'd bet."

Sam was stunned. "I can't take this," she said finally. "That's… No. I have to give it back."

"Oh, you're not giving that back."

"But he shouldn't have-"

"Maybe he shouldn't have," Janet interrupted, "but he did. And a man does not give something like this by accident."

"What do you think it means?" Sam had been puzzling over it for two days, and while she had many theories, they were all a little implausible.

"What do you think it means?" her friend challenged.

"I don't know. I think… I think maybe it's an apology. I know he thinks what happened is his fault."

Janet looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "I think," she said, "it's a journey necklace. You should look that up. And as far as I'm concerned, diamonds like this only ever mean one thing." She left, whistling "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend."

Sam ran her thumb delicately over the curvature of the piece before tucking it back under her shirt. Whatever statement he was trying to make, it was a big one. And he was waiting for her to make the next move.

She just prayed she wasn't getting it all wrong.

~/~

Jack and Sam silently occupied themselves for the next few days. They couldn't very well avoid each other, living in the same house, but they didn't interact much past the usual "how was your day?" and nods and smiles. Both were grateful when the news predicted an unseasonably warm Saturday and Jack invited the team over to grill out before their week-long deployment to P2X-465.

When the doorbell rang early that afternoon, he shot Sam a puzzled look and opened it to find Mike Robeson standing outside. "Y'know, you're the only one who doesn't just barge into my house," he told him.

"I'm the new kid, remember?" the captain teased, and Jack stood back to let him in with a snort.

"Yeah. And the first kid to the party, apparently."

"Oh?" Robeson looked around the living room, apparently surprised by that. "I thought Sam said three."

"Ah." Jack shut the door and said to him softly, "I told her three thirty. Want something to drink?"

"Sure, sir."

The colonel disappeared to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, but stared into it for a long time. "Carter? Where's the beer?" he finally asked.

"In the fridge," she answered automatically, but she was already moving toward him.

"Uh, no, it's not."

"It should be."

"Well, I know it should be." He stepped back to let Sam peer into the fridge for a moment. "Think really hard, Carter – this is beer we're talking about," he ordered, but there was laughter in his voice. "What did you do with it when you put away the groceries?"

"I don't… I mean, I thought…" She closed the fridge and opened the freezer. When she didn't find it, she stuck her head in the garage and mudroom, then finally looked in the oven. "I don't know, sir," she told him, starting to sound upset.

"You know what?" Robeson spoke up, moving toward the open breakfast bar. "I'll just go get some."

"No, you just got here," Sam insisted. "I'll go."

"Hell, no, Carter," Jack said. "I'll go." And that, as usual, was the end of the argument.

Mike took a seat at the bar across the counter as Jack quickly got his jacket and headed out the front door. Carter's eyes, he noticed, followed every step, and when the door closed behind him, she ducked quickly under the kitchen sink and emerged with two brand new six-packs of beer. They had condensation all over them, he noticed, so they hadn't been out of the fridge very long.

"I've been set up," he realized aloud.

She silently took the beer and stuck it back in the fridge.

"You don't think he's gonna notice it when he comes back?"

"Oh, he'll notice it," she assured him. "He just won't say anything. Brain injury, remember?"

He shook his head slowly. "You are a scary, scary woman, Sam Carter."

Quickly circling the counter, she took a seat next to him. "He's just going to the corner. We don't have much time, so I'll cut to the chase. How do you like the SGC?"

He coughed. "That's cutting to the chase? What are you chasing, exactly?" She just looked at him expectantly, so he went on. "I like it. It's probably the coolest job I could ever imagine, and I can't believe I get to be a part of it. What do you want me to say?"

"And SG-1?"

"Good guys. They miss you."

She shook her head. "I'm talking about you. They treat you okay?"

"Considering that every time they look at me they're reminded that you're missing, sure."

Shooting him a derogatory look, she smacked his knee. "Play along, will you? This is important."

"They treat me fine, Sam. I told you, they're good guys."

"So you like the team?"

"Yes!" he said, exasperated. "Will you please tell me what this is all about?"

"I just…" She busied herself picking at the edge of the countertop. "You're probably the best guy I could think of for the job, Mike."

His eyes went a bit wide. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It just means that… if I can't be out there with them, I can't imagine a better person."

The captain rocketed off the stool and into the middle of the living room. "Now, I know you're not insinuating what I think you are, because it's stupid. I had to swear up and down to them that you would get your spot back when you were better to get them to even look at me. As soon as you're ready, I'm gone, or Colonel O'Neill will kill me."

"And you want to leave?"

"Hell, no, but it's not up to me."

"You're right," she clipped. "It's up to me."

His anger faded away, and he bit his lip. "Aw, Sam, look. I know you – or I used to – so I know you probably feel bad about kicking me off the team, right? But I think I've done pretty well. I think they'll put me on another team, if I really ask. I might even be able to get Colonel O'Neill to give me a recommendation, if you'll put in a good word for me. But this is your team. It will always be your team, Sam, and I won't take that from-"

Jack bustled through the front door with a six-pack in each hand and another under each arm. "Bought him out," he declared, "but there's beer."

The deer-in-headlights look he got from both of them was fairly priceless. It made him suspicious. "Everything okay in here?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I was just warning him that you always burn the brats, sir," Sam answered quickly.

Robeson grabbed two of the packs of beers from his CO. Jack got to the fridge first, opened it, and stopped dead at the sight of the two packs already there. He glanced quickly at Sam, then started shoving the other boxes in with it. "Good thing you can never have too much beer," he said cheerily.

When Mike looked up, Sam's warning glare was burning into him. "Creepy, Sam," he mouthed at her silently. "Creepy."