A/N: Well. First let me apologize for another delay in Campfire stories. It's finals week and I have a stack of items to grade. This story is...well, it mentions Mother's Day but is certainly not in honor of it. Despite what the ad currently airing on TV says, not everyone thinks of their mother's on Mother's Day. In fact, some of us try hard not to. It's a holiday I dread every year, having struggled for years with infertility and finally facing the fact that I would never have a child of my own. Add to that some abandonment issues...I digress. So...if you're looking for a squishy MD story, this ain't it. I will end this tragic little note with this. I do have two wonderful (grown) step-children who make the day bearable. Thank you.

As always, I answer every review (left with a respondable email) and appreciate each one. Thank you for your continued support and friendship.

Additional note: Damn. I completely missed thanking my wonderful Beta, Cags. As always she provides great feedback on my stories and makes them better. Thanks Cags!

Set after Show and Tell.

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Manufactured Holidays and Broken Dreams

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Samantha Carter slowly eased herself back from the villagers, smiling and nodding until she reached the back of the crowd. Night had fallen quickly in the mountain village, and almost everyone was gathering, as they had each night, around the large bonfire set in the center of the collection of huts. Waving off invitations to join families and new friends at the main fire or smaller ones, Sam carefully made her way back toward the small, domed hut she and the rest of her team shared. After four and a half weeks on the planet, most of that time spent in and around the K'nare village, Sam was almost as comfortable maneuvering between the huts as she was the halls of the SGC at night. There was no moonlight tonight, both of the planet's orbiting bodies were in their dark phase. While that made for better stargazing, it did make it just a little more difficult to find her way. To keep her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sam kept her eyes away from the smaller, more intimate campfires of the tents of the "newly paired," as the K'nare shaman had called them. More than once she or a member of her team had unwittingly stumbled upon one of those new couples celebrating their recent...union. It was more of a cultural experience than she ever really wanted to experience again.

As she rounded the last hut, Sam paused, taking in the lone figure of her CO. He was sitting alone again, as he had done each night since they'd arrived. She hated to see him like this, sitting there, his gaze distant and far away, so obviously in pain. Last night she'd promised herself that if it happened again she would do something about it. Unfortunately the firm resolve she felt the night before had faded with the brightness of today, and now Sam was unsure of her next step. She only knew that she needed to do something...anything...to ease the Colonel's pain. She refused to look too closely at why his pain hurt her so much.

Sam took a deep breath and stepped forward into the circle of light cast by their campfire.

"Hi, Sir."

"Carter."

Sam ducked inside the tent and grabbed her jacket, knowing the night would get much colder before too long. She automatically reached for O'Neill's as well. She paused before ducking back out of the hut, grabbing one more item from her gear bag. She stepped close to the fire and joined the Colonel on the low rock set as a bench. They were both so tall that "bench" was a generous term. The flat surface of the long, low rock sat barely four inches above the ground, just enough to make it comfortable for Sam to fold her legs Indian-style before the fire. Whoever had built the hut had set the rock close enough to the sloping side of the hidebound house to serve as a backrest, something for which Sam was grateful.

"Here, Sir." Sam handed O'Neill his jacket.

"Thanks."

The Colonel hadn't looked up and Sam once again reconsidered her resolve from the night before. She reached into her own jacket pocket, fingering the envelope she'd just put there. Do it, don't do it. Do it, don't do it. The words wound around her brain in an endless circle. The two officers sat together silently, each lost to their own thoughts. The fire before them hissed and crackled, a counterpoint to their studied silence. The layout of the round, domed huts lent an air of privacy to their site, the sounds of the villagers distant and far away.

Just as Sam was deciding to abandon her plan, O'Neill spoke up. "Where are the boys?"

"Teal'c's gone with the shaman. He wanted to learn more about Teal'c's kel-no-reem technique." Sam glanced up and saw the Colonel watching her. "Daniel, ah, is chatting with–"

"Let me guess. The women?"

Sam smiled at her CO. "They do tend to flock to him, don't they, Sir?"

Quirking a small smile of his own in response, Jack nodded. "They do."

A companionable silence fell over them again and this time Sam was reluctant to break it. He seemed more...O'Neill-like...tonight that he had been since they'd arrived. She was hesitant to destroy that new, albeit welcome, mood. The mission here was a cakewalk for the team. While normally SG-1 would have handed off such a simple meet and greet to another team after first contact, the fact that they'd had so many high-risk missions recently had worked in their favor. Hammond, after receiving their initial report, had ordered SG-1 to the planet for as long as six weeks, if necessary. A survey team would follow, but it would be SG-1 who did the initial negotiations for trade. Daniel was over the moon with excitement while Sam was simply grateful for the break. And, if she was really honest with herself, the opportunity to be offworld at this time of year. As hard as the holiday was for her, this year was the first time she had ever given serious thought to how hard it was for her CO. Damned Hallmark and their manufactured holidays. She thought back to the conversation she'd overheard the night before they'd left on this mission.

- -

Sam, her attention focused on the report in her hands, stepped into the elevator, barely noticing who was inside. She nodded absently as she was greeted, her mind still on what she was reading. Behind her the two SF's already in the elevator when she got on were still talking. She tuned them out until O'Neill's name came up. Keeping her head down, she listened carefully.

"...what kind of a guy turns a kid away when he asks that?" The disgust in Sergeant's Evans' voice was clear.

"Crap, the kid really asked him that?" Chief Master Sergeant Lowery sounded almost sick.

"Yeah. O'Neill pretty much blew him off. Miller and I both were like, 'what the hell?'"

"Jesus Paul. You have no idea."

"What?"

"O'Neill. Man. He had a kid once, you know? Named Charlie."

"But...the alien kid...he wanted to be called..."

"Yeah. I know. 'Bout broke me up when the kid asked that, lemme tell ya. Now you say the kid asked O'Neill if he could be the guy's son? Shit. How much can a guy take?"

"Wait...'had'?"

"You don't know? Oh damn. 'S'cuse me ma'am."

Sam looked up and blinked, deliberately acting as if she hadn't been hanging on every word. "Sorry?"

"Oh, never mind, ma'am." The Chief flashed a quick smile at Evans, sharing an eye roll at her distraction. "Anyway, the way I hear it..."

Sam missed the rest of the Chief's story as the doors opened on her floor. Clutching the report to her chest, she nodded to the men and hurried off to her lab.

- -

Sam closed her eyes against the wave of pain she felt again at the conversation she'd overheard. As she drove herself home that night words of the two men went round and round in her head. Determined to distract herself, she'd turned on NPR, only to hear them doing their annual 'tribute to mother's,' and it had all proven too much.

Mother's Day was a holiday she'd hated since she was 14. The hype and over dramatization that appeared every year on television and on the radio made it harder for her to get through the day each year. Add to that the fact that she had begun to feel that...pull...to have children of her own. There was a secret part of the super successful, wildly smart, world-saving astrophysicist Air Force officer that longed to be a member of the club. The logical part of her brain argued that she still had plenty of time, that once things settled down in the war against the Goa'uld that her time would come. Sam refused to let herself consider just who it was she had in mind as a partner to create and raise these fantasy children. There was no going there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Meanwhile, every year in mid-May, Sam Carter found herself ignoring all television, radio and even most grocery stores for about a month. Just until the tide of oppressive pink flowery cards and baskets receded for another year. And, until the night before they'd left on this mission, she hadn't ever thought of how the corresponding men's holiday was for her Colonel. As much as she felt that pull...she refused to consider it an ache...not just yet...she couldn't imagine what he'd lived with since Charlie's death. It was the thought of his pain that had ended her self-imposed exile from the card section during the month of May. She'd snapped off the radio and turned into the nearest store. Sam found herself standing before a dizzying array of cards. It was too soon for the card she wanted, but she was hoping someone had stocked them early.

- -

"Can I help you?"

The overly saccharine voice of the teenaged clerk made her grind her teeth. This was hard enough without an audience. However, since she couldn't find what she wanted, Sam gave up. "Do you have any Father's Day cards?"

The teen looked at her blankly, almost pityingly. Very slowly, as if Sam were simple, she said, "Well, ma'am, you know, it's Mother's Day this weekend. Father's Day isn't until next month."

Sam nodded impatiently. "Yes, I know. But...we're going to be out of town and I need to be sure..."

"Oh." The girl glanced around, then leaned closer and smiled. "First time, eh? Hang on a sec." She left Sam standing in the aisle uncomfortably. Several minutes passed and just as Sam was going to give the idea up as a lost cause, the girl reappeared. "I know how it is, you don't want to miss a first-timer's big day, eh? I could only grab these, you'll have to pick from this pile."

"Oh." Sam did nothing to correct the girl's assumption, she was grateful enough for her extra effort. Swiftly skimming the cards, she finally selected one she thought would work. "Thanks so much..." Sam spotted the girl's nametag, "Tara."

"No prob." The girl cocked her head as she rang up Sam's purchase. "You sure have a rockin' body for a new mom. What do you do?"

Sam quickly shoved the card into her bag as she left. She looked back at Tara and answered, "I run."

- -

Sam winced slightly as she realized true her words to Tara had been. For years she'd avoided the holiday, for her own self-preservation as a child and now as an adult for different reasons. The Colonel's arm brushed hers as he leaned in and added another log onto the fire, jarring her from her reflection. Despite the lateness of the hour, neither seemed willing to retire. Sam thought again of the alien Charlie, wondering how he was faring amongst the Tok'ra. She blinked back tears, ducking her head so her CO wouldn't see.

"Smoke in your eyes, Carter?"

"Ah, yes, Sir."

"Really? The fire's not too smoky." O'Neill bent toward her, catching her gaze. "C'mon, Carter, spill. What's got you down?"

Sam took a deep breath. Four weeks on this planet had relaxed them all, she realized. They still maintained that structure so crucial to military command but she was aware that they, all of them, had reached a new level of comfort together. That new level was especially apparent to her in her relationship with the Colonel. It was that awareness that prompted her to speak. "Well, Sir. It's...I have a...here." Quickly, before she could change her mind, Sam pulled the slightly worn envelope out of her pocket and gave it to O'Neill.

"What's this?"

Sam shrugged and met his gaze. "To be honest, Colonel, it's probably wildly inappropriate, and I'd understand if you want to just toss it on the fire. It seemed like a good idea– "

"Carter. Why don't I open it first, then put it on the fire."

"Yes, Sir."

With a slightly puzzled air, O'Neill slipped a finger under the flap and pulled the card open. The half-smile on his face slipped away as he read the front.

Sam knew the second he realized what the card was for when he stilled. His entire body froze, the only motion she could see was the rise of his chest as he sucked in a surprised breath. Oh crap, Samantha. This was a really stupid idea! She scrambled for a way to recover–for both of them–opening her mouth to say something...anything...when he slowly opened the card and read the rest of the message. Now Sam could think of nothing but getting away. What had seemed to be a good idea on Earth was now a colossally, monumentally bad idea here, hundreds of light-years away. She shoved herself up and away, certain that she'd miscalculated and hurt her CO badly. O'Neill's strangled voice stopped her before she could take a step.

"Why?" His choked question was almost too quiet for her to hear.

Biting back tears of remorse, Sam stuttered her answer. "I...I'm, God, Colonel. This was...I'm..." She backed away from the fire, away from its warmth and light, away from him.

O'Neill blindly reached out and stopped her, his hand wrapped around her leg. "Carter...Sam. Stop." He looked up at her, his brown eyes dark with pain and...something else she couldn't identify. He tugged at her baggy trousers, pulling her back to the fire. "C'mon...sit." O'Neill waited until she was perched on the edge of their rock before asking again, "Why?"

Sam sat, tension evident in every line of her body, on the edge of the rock, poised to flee at the first sign that it was necessary. Now that he'd asked, she couldn't really articulate for him why she'd done it. Why give a man who's lost one son and been so painfully reminded of it with another lost boy, a Father's Day card? She really had no words but knew he was expecting some sort of response. Finally she looked up, her clear blue eyes meeting his dark gaze. "I hate Mother's Day."

Whatever he'd been expecting to hear from her, it clearly wasn't that. "Wh– I'm sorry. Carter?" His confusion was clear.

Sam sighed and eased herself further onto the rock. "I hate Mother's Day. Always have. Well, not always, just since..."

"Yeah, I get it." He glanced away, down at the card he still clutched in his hand. "But..."

Shrugging, Sam gave up trying to sound like an intelligent adult. "I don't know, Sir. I was driving home the other day, right after Char– I mean the Reetu boy left with my Dad. It was the Friday before Mother's Day and the ads were on, and I got to thinking about how much I really hate that holiday, and..." Sam looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Then I thought about how you must feel on Father's Day. It got to me. I was feeling down, and..."

"You hate Mother's Day just 'cause of your Mom?"

"Ye...well, no. Well...yes and no."

"Oh." O'Neill gave her a tiny smile. "That's very clear, Carter."

"I just...last year I had to explain the holiday to Cassie, you know? So she'd get Janet something. And while I was doing it, I was wishing...never mind. Anyway–"

"I thought we agreed that there was no 'never mind' at our campfires, Sam."

"Yes, Sir. That's what we said."

"So, and, therefore?" Once again O'Neill flashed her a brief smile, his earlier pain fading. He waited for her to speak and when it was apparent that she wasn't going to, he continued, surprise evident in his voice. "You wanted Cassie, didn't you?"

"For about a minute. Then I realized how impractical it was."

"Impractical, schmactical, Sam. You wanted Cassie." O'Neill reached out and turned her face toward him.

Sam blinked back tears and just nodded.

"Oh, Carter. If you had said the word...any word...and you know I'd– we'd have–"

Sam shook her head slightly, dislodging his hand. "No, Sir. She's better off with a mother who's not in combat. Who's not gone all the time. I know that. But sometimes...when the ads are on, I get to wondering..."

They were silent for a long minute, Sam aware of the Colonel's warm gaze still on her. Finally he looked away, opening and rereading the card she'd given him. She was beginning to think that perhaps the card hadn't been such a bad idea after all. "Sir?"

"Yeah."

"I'm, ah, sorry if getting the card...hurt. I just thought that...well, I guess I thought that I hate the Mother's Day holiday and I'll bet Father's Day is no picnic for you...and...." Sam trailed off again, not sure how to say what she wanted to. She glanced at him and found his eyes on hers once again. The steady warmth she saw there gave her the courage she needed. Softly she said, "I guess I hoped that maybe if you knew there was someone else who hated their holiday as much as I think you might yours, that... well, maybe we can learn to not dislike those days together. Sir." The honorific was late, an afterthought almost.

"Kind of like a fresh start."

"Kind of, yes, Sir."

O'Neill studied her for a long minute then dropped his gaze toward the fire. He reached out and pulled Sam further back onto the rock until their shoulders were touching, his body warm against hers.

Sam watched as he replaced the card into its envelope and carefully tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Once done he rested his hands on his lap and settled his weight more firmly against her shoulder. The quiet of the settling village crept over them and they were content to sit together, leaning on one another, and watching the flames dance, reaching always toward the stars above.

O'Neill's voice was soft as he broke the silence. "Hey, Carter."

"Sir?" Sam's voice was equally soft in the night. She was feeling the weight of the day's exercise and the evening's emotions pulling at her and was fighting to keep her head from drifting to her Colonel's shoulder.

"D'you know that that's the first Father's Day card I've ever gotten?"

Wide awake now, Sam jerked her head up. "What? Why?" She felt O'Neill's shrug against her shoulder and turned to face him, his profile kissed by the firelight. Charlie had been eight when he'd died, how on Earth could he have never gotten a card?

"I was overseas when Charlie was born, and for the first two Father's Day's after that." O'Neill shrugged again, the movement vibrating through Sam. "Sara really didn't believe in the holiday, said it was made-up. And...the year that...when he was old enough to maybe do it on his own, he...I...lost him before that day."

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I shouldn't have–"

"No. It's fine. I just...thanks, Carter."

The Colonel's voice was low and quiet, the warm tone washing over her like a balm. Sam closed her eyes and gave in to what she needed, what she hoped they both needed. She lowered her head and rested it against his shoulder, for the first time truly taking advantage of the space he'd dubbed their "safe zone." The last of the tension from their exchange slowly drained away, leaving her exhausted it its wake. Sam's eyes drifted shut as she slipped into sleep, secure in the small circle of warmth they'd created between them.

Hours later, when Teal'c and Daniel returned to their hut to retire for the night, both men paused at the sight of the two Air Force officers slumped together, apparently sound asleep. O'Neill sat with his back against the domed hut, Carter asleep with her head upon his shoulder, O'Neill's cheek resting atop her head. The two men silently exchanged glances and Daniel ducked into the tent, returning with one of the bedrolls nearest the door. He handed it to Teal'c who carefully draped it across their two sleeping teammates. With a final glance at the two, Daniel and Teal'c quietly retired.

Outside, the fire burned low and the stars slowly moved across the velvety black sky. As the night breeze picked up, neither officer stirred, save to burrow that much closer under the blanket.

- - - - - - - -

End.

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Afterword: I've had some reviewers ask about the words in the card. I deliberately left that to the reader to imagine. g