A few hours later, Sam found Jack at his favorite fishing spot, his hat over his eyes as he rested his back on the trunk of a tree which sat dangerously near the spot where the river opened wide. His fishing pole was held between his knees and his arms were crossed on his chest. Even from a distance she could tell he wasn't sleeping, just resting.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked once she was within earshot.

He didn't answer but moved his hat off his face. Their eyes met and Sam fought the urge to look away. "Grab a seat, Carter," he said, straightening a bit and moving his fishing rod. "Feeling any better?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam answered, sitting down a few feet to his right and looking out at the water. This planet was really beautiful, and Sam could see why Jack loved this particular spot. It was so peaceful.

"Sir… I owe you an apology," she started, stopping as she took in a huge breath.

"Carter…you really don't."

Sam sighed and looked his way. "Sir, I remembered… everything," she revealed.

He looked her way briefly and then back at the water. "Oh."

"Yeah," she said, then swallowed. "I'm really, very sorry for how I behaved."

"You were drugged, Carter," Jack looked at her, "like I said before, there's nothing that happened that I fault you for."

"I… I attacked you. I… I shoved my fingers in your mouth after I had-"

"Carter!" he warned. He felt awkward having to talk about it, felt it was something they just didn't do; didn't need to do.

Sam stopped and bit her lip, looking down into her lap.

"We need to move on," he said, tugging at the line on his pole. "For better or worse we're stuck on this rock with a very strange group of people who are extremely sexually charged and uninhibited… I'm just sorry you were put into that position."

Sam was silent but she did sigh a big, heavy sigh. This was always how it was with him, moving on. Sam wished they could talk, but she knew it was pointless. Jack O'Neill was a master at silencing anything awkward or uncomfortable.

Jack looked at her and saw her disappointment. He felt bad that she was embarrassed, but he didn't feel violated. He had liked it; he liked her. He just didn't believe he should have let her do something she might have regretted had she been sober. Seeing her downcast face bothered him more than he could bare. He cleared his throat and apologetically said, "I mean… we can talk about it. If you want…"

Startled by the change, Sam looked up. She couldn't believe her ears. Was he offering to talk? About the event? About feelings? She looked at him with incredulous eyes.

"What?" he defended, confused.

"Who are you and what have you done to my commanding officer?" she said plainly.

"Oh, come on! You make me sound like a monster," Jack complained. "I talk."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "Sure."

He inhaled deeply, pulling in all the line from the river and then placing the fishing pole on the floor by his side. He sat, looking at her, waiting.

"I just feel so exposed," Sam finally said, and Jack nodded, the tiniest tilt of his head. She continued, "Even more exposed than knowing you watch me get into the waterfall while I'm naked."

"I don't watch you," he denied, immediately.

She looked his way and held his gaze. "Sir."

"Okay… I'm not innocent! I'm definitely not innocent, but trust me in this, Carter. I do not blatantly watch you get into the water. I would never." He always looked away, always tried to look away.

She looked down again. "I believe you… I'm just… upset."

Jack nodded once more. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." After a moment, she added, "and thank you… I know you got me out of there as soon as you noticed… you kept your head, you… kept me safe," she exhaled. He always kept her safe.

"It's my job," he added, his voice like velvet, and their eyes met. Heat sparked and she was the first to look away.

Watching her, Jack was immensely puzzled by Carter, which was no new feeling for him. He understood her mortification about the event, but he couldn't understand why she would open the can of worms even further, let all the worms out, incite a conversation with her C.O. to talk about the worms. She was the kind of human that went deeper with people, that treasured the importance of being understood, respected, and fully known. Everything about her during this debacle on Damin only endeared her to him more and Jack was fully aware that he was as far deep into this thing than he had ever been before. The thing being them. The thing being the unspoken feelings, the heady sexual attraction, the absolute love he had for the woman.

He didn't think she was upset at him for watching her get into the waterfall, he'd watched her looking plenty at him while he came out of the waterfall every day. She always pretended she wasn't watching his delicate situation that barely stayed in the loincloth he had to wear, but he knew she did. Maybe, Jack thought, she felt exposed because here on Damin she was seen as the lead human, a whole woman, who wasn't just woman, body, mind and soul, but was a woman who had brains and showed it, had a beautiful soul and showed it, and who had a gorgeous body, a lovely and active sexuality, and was now, in full color, showing it. Maybe, Jack thought, she felt exposed because the regulations were so damned ingrained in both of them that any concession or expression of need to each other was akin to treachery.

She was still silent, looking out at the water, but he could see her mind going a mile a minute. He thought back to her word, how she felt. Exposed had little to do with it, he thought. She was forced to reveal how incredibly amazing she was in private, yet in a public way and against her will, and that made her uncomfortable. She didn't just feel exposed, she felt bare, out of control; she felt seen in a way that went far beyond nakedness.

He took in a deep breath and spoke, "It isn't natural for your sexuality to be on display for everyone, especially not for your commanding officer, and that made you feel exposed, raw, maybe even a little violated," he said calmly, each word coming out softly from his mouth. "Maybe you feel like you violated me a little too… but I want you to know I don't see it that way, and that I… didn't mind."

She looked up and met his eyes, the furrow on her brow dissipating. "Yeah…" she cleared the roughness out of her throat, amazed how well he could read her. "Yes."

"It won't change how I see you," he said, trying to explain to her that he would never let the moment affect their work, their relationship. Even as the words left his mouth, he wondered if they were true.

"I appreciate that, Sir," Sam said in a melancholy voice, adding the honorific back into the conversation.

He nodded. "You see, I'm a lot deeper than I let on."

Sam smiled, ducking her head, knowing he had to insert levity at the end of his serious revelation of understanding for her feelings. "I already knew that," she revealed as their intimacy grew. He was much smarter than he let on too, and she wondered if he understood that although he didn't want the event to change how he saw her, that part of what bothered Sam was that she felt bereft, robbed of the first passionate intimate moments with him. She still dreamed of a day when they might save the world enough that the reality of a relationship would still be possible. And if that happened, Sam had imagined the first kisses, had pictured the first touches, had longed for the heat, and sparks, and pure passion of their unity. Part of her current mood came from the empty feeling that although she remembered everything, she wasn't in her right mind when it had happened, and she felt like some of those experiences had been stolen from her. And with all the nakedness that happened on this planet, she doubted there was a single spot on her body that Jack still hadn't seen. She sighed as she glanced at Jack briefly and watched him snatch a few blades of grass from around him, playing with the strands in his hands. She was thankful he had left, walked away and not given into her pleas; but, it did make her wonder about his feelings for her. Sam had been around him for seven years now, and knew he sometimes ended up in bed with a local, even though the SGC frowned on that kind of thing. Yet with her, he had refrained. Was is still the regs? Or did he tire of their almost eight years of awkward angst and restraint? She wondered if his interest in her had waned, grown dull by years of tired waiting.

"Is this how you felt with Kynthia?" Sam asked the question that stemmed from her thoughts.

Jack looked up. "Kynthia? The gal that drugged me with cake and gave me the worst case of STDs known to man?"

Sam smiled. "You're right, this isn't anything like that."

"No, no," Jack backtracked, "you're right. I was drugged by the locals and then…" he let the sentence hang.

"At least last night you had the good sense to leave," Sam said, still wondering.

Jack bobbed his head again, his eyes lost at where exactly to look, and he internally decided that they had probably talked enough and that there was no way on Earth he was going to reveal to her how excruciatingly painful it was for him to walk out of that room.

"Now, what say you to a little fishing?" he said with fake cheer, changing the subject and picking up his fishing pole.

Sam smiled, agreeing that it was a good place to end the conversation. "Thank you for talking, Sir."

"Anytime, Carter. Now, have I ever taught you how to dig for the best worms?"

Sam laughed out loud, shaking her head.

That night after evening prayers and during sun down, Miri approached Sam again, asking for a hymn from Earth. Sam said, "Sure, Miri, coming right up," and looked at Jack.

He smiled rolling his eyes, was quiet a long moment, before his mouth opened and he began to sing, "When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me…" Sam immediately smiled wide, her mouth opening to join him.

"…speaking words of wisdom, let it be," they both sang, and Jack turned to her and gave her a lazy smile, his brows warm and pleasant.

"And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be…" they sang the words of the chorus, and Sam was awed how Jack was really leaning into the words, to the music. Miri seemed very interested, nodding along to the words, approval clearly written on her face.

"And when the night is cloudy," Jack sang on alone, as Sam didn't seem to know all the words. It didn't seem to bother him, he kept on singing, until she joined him in the chorus. "Shine until tomorrow, let it be…"

When the song was over, Miri stood and asked immediately, "who is Mother Mary?"

Jack smiled and looked down at his lap and Sam hid her laughter, coming up with something on the spot. "Oh, she's… Mother Earth's sister."

"Ah," Miri voiced, pleased.

"Yeah, she's very important to Earthlings. She guides… and gives counsel," Sam said, thinking that some of her explanation was probably true.

"Fascinating," Miri spoke, "I bid you goodnight," and walked away.

That evening in their cottage, when Jack sat down to spread peanut butter on their bread, Sam gently placed a jar on the table in front of him.

"What's this?" he asked, picking it up and opening the lid.

"Jam," she answered. "The good kind." When he just looked at her, she went on. "So you don't have to eat bread with green goo in the mornings."

"Ah, this is your famous heaven-berry jam!" he exclaimed.

"Yep," she smiled.

"It does look like smooshed beets," Jack commented, peeking inside.

"Here, have some," Sam sat down, and taking a small piece of the cut bread, spread the deep red jam onto it, holding it out for Jack. Their eyes met, a thick awareness passing between them, and he took the bread from her fingers and popped it into his mouth. His eyes closed and he uttered a soft hum.

"I know, right?" Sam voiced, smiling. Somehow, her voice was deeper than usual. It had been less than 24 hours since her fingers had touched his lips in a different way, and they both realized this as it was happening.

Jack said no words, but continued to chew, savoring the intense, mildly sweet and distinctly pleasant taste of the jam. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her, and now he finally knew exactly how to describe the taste of Samantha Carter. She tasted like heaven-berry juice. She tasted like heaven.

"What?" Sam asked when he continued to stare at her. He swallowed and shook himself out of the moment.

"This is really good, Carter. Thank you," his voice carried the same kind of thickness as hers, and she smiled and nodded, getting up and stepping away from the table, pretending to busy herself with other things, trying to escape the intensity of her desire for him.