Pie and the Art of DHD Maintenance

This isn't a sequel to anything, but it does make reference to a story I wrote years ago called, "The Tao of Pie". A specific point in this story reckons back to it. It's not necessary to the plot, but reading "The Tao of Pie" first would help clarify that spot.

Set midway through Season 6.

"Anything?"

"Not yet."

She didn't even glance at him. Not that she could have seen him, anyway. She'd elected to insinuate herself between the DHD and its surrounding foliage rather than yank out the indigenous bush in order to get a better look at the control crystals.

She'd said it just like that, too. "Indigenous Bush". As if it were a sentient being rather than a plant. As if non-indigenous bushes were 'Gating to M5T-wherever-the-hell-they-were for kicks and giggles.

Not that Carter cared about either kicks or giggles. Her attention was fully centered on the control panel at the base of the DHD, where it had been for the entire morning. All that he could see of her were the hems of her trousers and her boots.

O'Neill looked down at the Major. That position couldn't be comfortable. Twisted around beneath a plant whose branches poked and prodded and shed leaves everywhere. Thus far, however, she hadn't complained.

But then, Carter rarely complained. Harsh elements, rough terrain, impossible odds–there she was with a ready smile and willing hands. Ridiculous requests from her superior officers? Sure! No problem. Two years since being forced to admit the inadmissible and then leave it in a room?

Jack frowned, reaching out with his foot to tap the heel of her boot. "So–how long has it been?"

"How long has what been, Sir?" Muffled by the foliage, her voice had taken on a distant quality.

"How long have you been fiddling around down there?"

"Dunno." Carter shifted a little, then rocked her body to one side and pushed herself backwards out of her hidey-hole. Once she'd emerged about halfway, she rose to her knees and scoot-crawled backwards the rest of the way. Turning, she sat, leaning back against the DHD. Sighing, she looked up at him. "How long has it been since the last time you came to check up on me?"

"Oh–about–" he checked his watch, flipping back the little leather cover so that he could see the face. "An hour and a half."

"Really?" Carter's eyes widened. "Seemed like longer."

"Maybe it has been."

"Not according to your watch."

"Well, isn't there something about our time being different on different planets?" He let the glare guard on his watch close back up with a little 'thwick'. "Their years are longer or shorter or something than our years, so that means that their hours are different? So, an hour on this planet isn't exactly the same as an hour back home?"

"Not exactly, Sir." She smiled–gently–before biting her lips to keep the expression from spreading. She only did that when she was trying to spare his feelings. "Besides. This is a moon."

O'Neill exhaled. Heavily.

He was bored. The mission appeared to be a bust, but there was no way to end it, because for some unknown reason, the DHD on this particular planet would only allow outbound wormholes on specific days. Not that they'd known that before they'd set out seventy-two hours ago. As luck would have it, SG-8's scouting mission had lasted the exact number of days that the DHD needed between outgoing calls. It hadn't dawned on them to try to dial out before that.

And now here they were. Stuck. Running low on provisions. Without the ability to call home. And–worst of all—bored.

Grunting a little, Jack lowered himself to the ground next to his 2IC. The grass was surprisingly soft and springy, so it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as he'd imagined it would be. The day was sunny, but balmy with a light breeze coming out of the west that had kept things comfortable. Nights, however, had been wicked chilly. So far, they'd been okay, but if the weather turned, they'd be in a world of hurt.

"So, what's it looking like in there?"

The Major let out an exasperated groan, raising a hand to rake at the leaves clinging to her hair. "I have no idea how to reset this code. I think that one of the crystals was actually programmed to set this schedule, and I don't have the technology we'd need to recode that crystal."

"So we're–"

"Kinda screwed."

"Just kinda?"

She smiled, then looked over at him. "Well, at least we haven't encountered any hostiles. The weather hasn't been unbearable. and, thus far, there aren't any nasty creatures around."

"Okay then." Jack smiled back at her. "So, just kinda."

"How's Jonas coming with the totem?"

Ah. Back to the reason that they were stuck here in the first place. A month ago, when SG-8 had performed their preliminary recon of the moon, they'd mapped a ten klick perimeter of the 'Gate. There hadn't been much to map, to be honest. Forests. Trees. A huge meadow of shoulder-high grasses northeast of the 'Gate split by a hardy little stream. And, surrounding it all, mountains that climbed so high that even their hardiest UAVs would be hard-pressed to survey them.

The only thing that had brought SG-1 back to the moon had been the totem. Standing smack-dab in the middle of the meadow loomed a giant statue that had been so reminiscent of those on Tonane's planet that Jonas and Sam had both concluded that they were likely made by the same people.

And it had been made of trinium. The theory was that, somewhere on this planet, there might be more.

"Still translating it."

"If there's anything to learn, he'll learn it." Carter scratched absently at a splotch of mud on her thigh. "He's nearly as skilled as–" And that was as far as she got.

For a long moment, he just let it hang there between him. Even though it had been several months, the loss was still acute. And Carter still struggled, even though she tried to pretend that she was fine. She missed him.

Truth to be told, so did Jack.

Especially at times like these. Getting towards the end of the year, when certain days loomed large that, in years past, had been when they'd gathered as the dysfunctional, solid family that they'd become to one another.

She'd been the first one to suggest this week for the mission. Not that the Major could have known that they'd get stuck here, but O'Neill suspected that she'd been using the mission prep and then the mission itself as a way to distract herself from those other things. Things that mattered.

What was the cliche about ripping off band-aids? "Daniel would probably have jumped to conclusions sooner. Jonas tends to take his time before making wild-ass guesses."

"Probably." A little sad, a little intimate. Her tone said more than the word had.

For several long minutes, he merely sat beside her, watching the tall grasses wave in the gentle breezes that wafted through the valley. It was quiet. And profoundly beautiful. And with her beside him–well–

Well, hell.

More as a distraction than anything else, he drummed up a question. "Did you have plans for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow here, or tomorrow–"

"Back home. On Earth." He felt her eyes on him, but didn't trust himself to return her gaze. Instead, he merely stared down at his hands, picking at an errant hangnail. "That tomorrow."

"For Thanksgiving?" She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Not really. Kind of."

"Oh?"

"Mark invited me to his house in San Diego." She was back to picking at the mud splotch. "So there was that."

"Were you planning on going?"

"Yes? Maybe." She leaned her head back against the DHD and shook it back and forth. "Who the hell knows? I hadn't really made up my mind."

"Why not?" Jack glanced over at her. "I thought that you and Mark were doing better now."

"We were." Carter nodded. "We are."

But again, her pause spoke more loudly than her words. O'Neill watched as she worked her way into an answer.

"It's just that he and my sister in law have this perfect little life together. The perfect little house, and three perfect, adorable kids. They've even got the perfect little dog. Susan's parents are going to be there, and her sister and husband and their kids. And then there would have been me. And I would have been–just me."

Ah. Jack pressed his lips together, his body perfectly still.

She crossed her arms, as if hugging herself. Or protecting herself. She sighed, heavy and tight. "And don't get me wrong–I love the life that I lead. I don't have any regrets."

But.

It was there. Hanging in the air between them like the Hindenburg. And just as volatile.

Suddenly she stood, swiping at her legs and butt to dislodge whatever leaves and dirt still clung there. "I'm going to go check on Jonas. See if I can help him somehow."

She didn't look at him again. She just fled. Jack watched her until she'd disappeared, as if she'd been swallowed by the tall grasses of the meadow.

—-OOOOOOO—-

"What's wrong, T?"

The Jaffa didn't answer immediately, merely raising a brow as he slowly worked over the fire.

"Still mad?"

"I am not angry, Colonel O'Neill." Teal'c shifted on the balls of his feet, reaching across the fire to dismantle the apparatus he'd rigged earlier. "I see no need to harbor such emotions."

The sound Jack made was more than demonstrative of his skepticism. "Oh, c'mon, Teal'c. I said I was sorry."

"I remember." Teal'c removed the first of the posts he'd constructed, laying it on the ground next to him before moving on to work at the next. "As you might recall, I was present at the time of said apology."

"What apology?"

She'd surprised him, emerging from the meadow from a spot behind O'Neill and to his left. She had a flashlight in one hand, and had four canteens gathered up between her other arm and her body. She'd taken off right after they'd finished with dinner, intent upon getting enough water to both clean up and drink for the night.

To be honest, he'd started getting a little worried about her when she hadn't returned before it had gotten completely dark. The day before, before she'd up and left him at the DHD, had been the last time that they'd really talked. During dinner tonight, she'd barely made a sound other than to comment politely on the food.

He tried not to sound relieved that she was back safe and sound. "Oh, I just peeved Teal'c a little."

"Just a little?" Her eyes caught at the firelight, the dimple in her cheek flashing when she smiled. "That's new."

Jack looked up, his eyes narrowing. "What are you saying, Carter?"

"Nothing at all." But she outright grinned, reaching down as she passed Teal'c to pat him on the shoulder. Supportive. Kindly. Sisterly. "I found more of those berries."

"The purple ones?" Jonas was on the other side of the fire, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Balanced above the embers on a pair of well-chosen rocks was a steel door he'd pulled from the MALP. It had been his idea to use the panel as a griddle of sorts. And, of course his idea had worked. Still warm there on the panel were a few dozen of the little tubers he'd worried out of the ground. "Those were pretty good."

"And since Teal'c's symbiote gave us the A-okay on them, I figured that they'd make a good addition to our breakfast in the morning."

Jonas gestured at Sam. "It's too bad we don't have some butter, sugar, and flour. I'll bet those berries would have been perfect in a cobbler."

"The berries would also have been delicious in a pie." Teal'c looked mildly speculative. One Earth food that he'd embraced wholeheartedly had been pie. "Is that not the customary dessert food for this particular Earth holiday?"

"Yeah, pie is traditional at Thanksgiving." Nodding, Sam made her way around where the Colonel sat towards her spot a few feet beyond. "But I think that we did pretty well for Thanksgiving dinner with what we found here on this moon. We can have pie once we finally get home."

She hadn't been able to fix the DHD. Jonas's translation of the totem had helped to explain why. The planet had been used as a site for something akin to a vision quest or walkabout. Young men and women from the Salish settlement had 'Gated to M5T-767, spent several days surviving on their own, and then gone home. Tonane's Earth-side ancestors had performed this rite of passage via canoes, but once they'd been transplanted to PXY-887, the journey from childhood to adulthood had been taken through the 'Gate, instead. The DHD had been tweaked as a failsafe to prevent the youth from quitting too early.

"Did you find any more of these little moon potatoes?" Jonas poked at one of the tubers on his panel with the stick he'd trimmed for that express purpose.

"A few." Sam stopped next to the stone she'd deemed her own. Shoving the flashlight into her pocket, she methodically took each canteen and placed it carefully on the wide, flat surface of the rock. "I think we've pretty much harvested that spot clean, though. We'll have to look for someplace else if we're going to be here much longer."

Jonas's expression brightened. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Oh?"

"Yep." Reaching out, O'Neill plucked three sticks he'd previously secured between smooth river stones. His contribution to the evening meal had been some fairly nice fish he'd charmed from the stream. Once Teal'c had kicked him out of the hunting party, he'd rigged up a fishing pole and caught himself some moon trout. "Apparently, the DHD should reset tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon. So, we can have those potatoes for breakfast, and we should be home in time for dinner."

Jonas nodded humbly, the action for Sam's benefit. "I figured out that last section of symbols while you were off getting the water."

"That's fantastic, Jonas." Sam crossed to where her pack lay neatly next to her gear. Her BDU overshirt lay on top, and she reached for it as she lowered herself to perch on the edge of her rock. "So, what were you apologizing for, Colonel?"

Scowling, Jack made a show out of tossing the sticks into the fire. "It was nothing. A misunderstanding."

"I would call it more of a difference of opinion." Jonas ducked his head to hide the grin that he couldn't quell.

"Colonel O'Neill and I most certainly differed in our opinions." If possible, Teal'c's expression was even more inscrutable than usual in the light of the fire. "Ultimately, however, the manner of the dispatchment is immaterial to the end result."

"Dispatchment?" Sam leaned backwards slightly, bracing herself on her outstretched hands. "What were the two of you dispatching?"

"Quail."

"Moon chicken."

They'd spoken over each other. Sighing, Jack pointed at the remains of the birds Teal'c had been tending on their spits. "Those. Chickeny things. Whatever the hell those were."

"Quail." Raising that brow of his, Teal'c repeated his previous assertion. He sounded pretty damned certain about it, too. Enough so that he reiterated it again. "They were quail."

"How did you manage to catch them, anyway?" Sam indicated the leftovers with a nod. "Last time I checked in, Teal'c, you hadn't been able to rig a trap."

"It was indeed a more difficult task than I had previously anticipated." The Jaffa inclined his head, ordering his thoughts as was his custom. "I used the thick-stemmed grasses near the stream to weave a large basket. I suspended the basket from a cord that I created from the bark of the trees at the edge of the meadow. I had collected seeds that I suspected that the birds would eat, and set my trap. I positioned myself and waited for several hours."

"I saw it. It was very impressive." Jonas speared one of the potatoes with his pocket knife, raising it to his mouth before adding, "Teal'c told me that his father had taught him how to hunt birds like this."

"My father was an accomplished hunter. It was one of his most cherished activities." The big man looked off into the night, reminiscing. "My father believed in the sanctity of the hunt. Jaffa against beast. Animal instinct in direct contest with the cunning of the warrior. He taught me as a young child that a true Jaffa hunts with the express purpose of only filling one's needs, and never cheapens the experience by overpowering the prey. Honor is infused into the meal when the prey dies fighting"

"So, what did the Colonel do? What did he need to apologize for?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything" They'd been collecting bones and other inedible bits on another MALP door panel. Jack tossed a fish head onto the pile. "I was helping."

"Five of the birds had been enticed into my trap when Colonel O'Neill stumbled upon my operation."

Somehow, the Major managed to look intrigued and apprehensive at the same time. "And?"

The Colonel stood. "And I took care of it."

"Took care of it?"

"I–uh–sped things along a little."

But Carter shifted her attention from him to where Teal'c still crouched, motionless, across the firepit. "Teal'c?"

"He zatted them." Teal'c had finished cleaning the remainder of the meat off the quail carcasses. He gathered up the rest of the mess in his hands and added to the fish bones on O'Neill's panel, his face a careful mask. "Twice."

"Like–en masse, or each individually?"

"From what Teal'c said, Colonel O'Neill picked them off one at a time." Jonas had impaled another of the potatoes. Pointing it at Sam, he continued. "Had a good time doing it, too."

O'Neill caught up his jacket from where he'd hung it earlier in the day from an overhanging branch and folded it over his elbow. "Hey–it seemed like a more efficient way to do things."

Carter grinned outright at that. Still, her tone sounded like something his childhood Sunday School teacher would have used. Affectionately chiding. "Oh, Sir."

Jack didn't even need to look at the Major to know that she was fighting back a giggle. Bending, he grabbed the panel and righted himself. "I'm going to go dump this. You can all continue assassinating my character while I'm gone."

With what he hoped was a pointed look at the people still lazing around the fire, he stalked off into the meadow.

—-OOOOOOO—-

They'd dug a garbage pit a little way from the campsite. Now, five days into their forty-eight hour mission, a path had become firmly established through the tall meadow grasses. 'Gate to totem, totem to campsite, campsite to garbage and latrine pits, pits to stream, and stream back to the campsite. Jack didn't bother with a flashlight as he trudged along towards the garage pit. He couldn't have carried one anyway, with the unwieldy panel taking up both hands.

"Sir!"

He'd heard her footsteps before she'd called out to him. Veering to the side, the Colonel made room for her to fall in beside him on the narrow path.

They'd walked for several minutes before he slanted a look at her. "No flashlight?"

Carter lifted her chin to look up at the stars overhead. "It's not all that dark. I didn't think we really needed it."

"How is that possible, anyway?"

"Sir?"

"We're on a moon, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, at night time on a moon, what kind of light are we getting? At home, we'd get light from the moon. But we're on the moon. Stars don't really give off too much light. They're just little pinpricks up there. So–how is it that we're able to see things? By the light of the planet we're orbiting?"

She shrugged a little, arms crossed in front of her, her hands tucked into her elbows for warmth. "Pretty much. It's basically ambient light. So, the sun of this system is reflecting off the nearest celestial body, which would be the planet we're orbiting."

"That does not make for good music."

"How do you mean?"

"When the planet hits your eye like a big pizza pie–"

She snorted out what might have been a laugh. "Kinda awkward."

"Dancing in the planet light." He tried again, hoping she'd play along.

And she did. "Fly me to the planet, and let me play among the stars."

"Blue Planet. You saw me standing alone. Without a key to my heart. Without a moon of my own." O'Neill warbled this into the darkness. Softly, and very off-key. But he was gifted a real smile for his trouble.

"It is a little more cumbersome." She slowed as they reached the garbage pit, casually reaching between the panel and his body to take his jacket. She held it carefully away from the dregs of their dinner. "But I'm sure that the people who live on moons make it work somehow."

O'Neill stopped at the edge of the pit and tilted the panel he held, allowing the debris on it to slide into the pit. Once the big bits had landed, he gave the panel a good shake to free whatever had remained. Before they 'Gated home tomorrow, they'd backfill the pit with the dirt they'd piled next to it. 'Leave no trace'. Very Boyscout-like.

Behind him, Carter continued. "I know that Daniel always wanted to figure that kind of thing out. That's what he would have been asking all these different people if it hadn't been for the whole 'Goa'uld' thing."

"Probably." Jack turned, holding the panel in one hand so that it dangled at his side. "He did enjoy winnowing things out of folks."

"That, he did."

As if on some unspoken signal, they both moved back down the path. Passing the secondary trail that led to the latrines, they made their way towards the stream.

"Do you think he misses us?"

"Daniel?" O'Neill considered it for a moment. "Me, not a bit. Teal'c? Probably so. You, on the other hand, he misses. I'm sure of it."

Her pause lingered over a few steps. "I'm not so sure about that. He seemed pretty anxious to get out of there. To ascend. Or whatever."

O'Neill pressed his lips together, studying her out of the corner of his eye. In the year or so since Daniel had left, they hadn't spoken about him much. There really hadn't been much to say other than that they missed him, which was a fact that couldn't be rectified. Talking about it wouldn't fix it.

Neither had he told anyone much about his time in the abyss, when Ba'al had tortured, killed, and then revived him more times than he'd been able to keep count. Once he'd been Earth-side and coherent again, he'd written up a report, stating as much as he'd been able to remember. Certain things, however, he'd kept to himself. Honestly, he wasn't sure that anyone would have believed him anyway.

Daniel there. In the abyss with him. Allowing Jack's shoes to pass right through him. Telling him that his team was working to bring him home. Giving him the hope he needed. Daniel, who had always been Jack's biggest critic, reminding Jack of the man he could be.

How did any of that make sense? But he knew that she'd get it. Or hoped she would.

"I saw him." O'Neill hesitated, catching her gaze before continuing. "When I was with Ba'al."

Her brows worried themselves into a furrow. "You saw Daniel?"

"After the fifth–or fiftieth–I really don't remember–time that Ba'al killed me, I woke up in the cell, and there he was. He was wearing a sweater. And these god-awful loafers that made him look like an old man."

Her eyes widened. "Did he stay with you? What did he say?"

"A bunch of stuff. He lectured me a little. Told me to hang in there." Really, he wasn't prepared for how difficult it was to say it. The words stuck in his throat and he ended up forcing them out. "He offered to help me ascend."

She blanched at that. In the dim gleam of the planet?-light, Jack could see her cheeks had lost their color. Her lips worked once–twice–before she could ask, "And?"

"And I'm still here."

They emerged out of the meadow onto the wide bank of the stream. O'Neill strode across the bank, stopping at the water's edge. With a heavy exhale, he dropped the panel to land with a 'pfft' in the soft sand at his feet, and then was surprised when she stopped at his side, letting his jacket slide to the ground before lowering herself into a crouch and grabbing a handful of sand.

"Hey–Carter." He dropped down next to her. "I've got that."

But she'd already started scrubbing at the messy panel. So he just hunched there like an idiot watching as she assaulted the grease, turned to douse the panel in the stream to rinse it, then set back to scrubbing with more sand.

"Carter."

"Yes, Sir?" She was rinsing again.

"Stop."

Another handful of sand attacked the panel, but this time, Jack caught at her hand with his own. "Sam."

She didn't look at him, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the panel. On where his hand touched hers, the cool sand gritty between fingers and palms. It seemed to take her forever to answer him. "What?"

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing." But in the next instant, she contradicted herself. "Everything."

Gently, he extracted the metal plate from her hands and laid it on the ground next to him. He was close to her–inches away–enough that he could watch as she decided on what to say and when. That he knew when she was ready to talk by how her pulse thrummed in the side of her throat.

"Can I tell you something?" Soft, her voice was practically a whisper.

"Anything."

"But not–Major to Colonel." She searched his face, her entire posture a question. "Not that. Can I tell you something–like–me to you."

"Friend to friend?" It was all he could offer, wasn't it? But the words tasted foul in his mouth.

"Friends." She looked away for a breath. "Is that what we are?"

"Sure." Jack tried for simplicity. "At least, for now."

She seemed to accept that for what it was. "Okay."

His knees were complaining. He leaned in to her, grasping her elbow and urging her to rise when he did. Even upright, she didn't move away, but continued to share his space. Why did it have to feel so damned right to have her there? To be able to feel the heat of her body even through the layers of clothes? And how in heaven's name did she still smell so damned good after five damned days stuck on this damned moon?

She shifted her feet in the sand, firming up her position. Making herself more solid. "I didn't want to go to Mark's."

"I gathered that." O'Neill lips hinted at a smile. "Yesterday. At the DHD."

"He's been bugging me about moving on with my life. 'Growing up' is how he put it."

"And that entails–"

She looked at Jack fully, then. Wide-eyed. Open. "Dating. Finding someone. Getting married."

Oh. He had no ready response to that. At least, nothing that wouldn't hurt.

"Anyway, he told me last week that he'd invited a friend of his to San Diego for Thanksgiving. He wanted me to meet this guy. He thought we'd hit it off."

O'Neill closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see the shadows tumbling across her face. Cowardly, yes–but he wasn't sure he had the strength to fight that particular impulse to self-protect.

"I didn't want to go. I didn't want to meet him."

Gravel. His tongue felt like gravel when he went to speak. "Why not?"

"Because what if I did like him?"

It did actually hurt him to answer. Like taking a bullet to a vital organ. Like ripping his heart out of his chest. "It could have been a good thing. You might have been happy."

"And what about you?"

"I don't matter, Sam." He was surprised how quickly that rose within him, and how true it actually was. How much he felt it. "As long as you're happy. I want you to be happy."

"Is it stupid of me to say that I don't want to be happy unless I'm happy with you?"

No, it wasn't stupid. But it was impossible. A dream that wouldn't be–couldn't be–realized until the threat to Earth was diminished. And how long would that be? Months? Years? Decades? When they were both too old for whatever they shared to matter anymore?

"Damn it, Carter."

He wasn't really aware that he'd spoken until she'd responded. Until she'd lifted herself up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Until he'd breathed her in, parting his lips and taking the kiss further. When his hands had pulled her closer to him until they were melded together from chest to hips to thighs.

And who deepened it even further was immaterial, but it was deepened, anyway. Heat and softness and hardness and shivers. Fingers skimming and delving and kneading, under her jacket and over the coarse fabric of BDUs. Jack's hands trailed up from her hips to her shoulders, then framed her jaw, his long fingers tangling in the silken strands of her hair. And her touch measured his biceps, teasing along the rough hair on his forearms before spreading wide on the broad plane of his chest, slowly forging downward until her thumbs hooked themselves in the waistband of his trousers.

"Sam." His whisper was rewarded by a tremor that he felt from sternum to knees, and a feminine little gasp that he felt deep in his soul.

So, he kissed her again, more forcefully, gratified when she purred low in the back of her throat and smiled against his lips. When she tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth and then soothed it with a delicate touch of her tongue. When she opened to him again, fully asking him to join her somewhere beyond where they'd ever been before.

His groan communicated more than he'd thought possible. I could die like this. Wholly fulfilled. Her in my arms, my heart–on my mind, my lips. Peace-joy. Heat-spice. Complete. Cherished. Her. Her. Her.

Her left hand slid around to his back, soothing upward under his overshirt, as if testing the fit of the tee he wore underneath. Her right hand rose to tease at the roughness of his chin, at the day's growth of stubble on his cheek. And then her lips followed, hot against his cheek, his jaw, his throat, nipping gently at the hollow between his collarbones, where his pulse throbbed wildly in his veins.

Her body thrummed beneath his hands, warm and supple. Strength and determination wrapped up in satin and dew. Her muscles tensed as she moved against his body, responding to his touch. Jack angled his lips at her temple, her cheek, her jaw. And then he nudged her chin upward with his thumb, claiming her mouth again, deep and complete.

Suddenly, she paused, drawing back and pressing her forehead against his throat, her hair catching in the shadow on his jaw. Her body rose and fell against him–breathing heavily in the cool night air. Her eyelashes tickled at his skin. And when she spoke, her breath warmed him as much as her words. "Because I don't want to be happy with anyone but you."

Jack wrapped his arms around her, as if he could absorb her. As if he could make her part of himself. More than she was already, at least. As if he could physically take her within. And for the longest time they simply stood there in the light of the nearby planet, as the wind shushed through the heavy grasses behind them and the stream tumbled and sparkled and passed them by.

Her breath stirred again against his skin. "Why didn't you do it?"

"Do what?" His voice cracked. Damn it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Why didn't I do what?"

"Ascend."

To be honest, he'd never really answered this satisfactorily for himself. He'd only allowed himself to rifle through the possible answers, and even then he hadn't come up with any kind of truth.

None except for the obvious. "I'm not really Ascension material, Carter."

"Daniel thought you were."

"Daniel is an idealist."

"Is?"

"I'm pretty sure he's still around." He shrugged, leaning back enough that he could see her face. "And I'm fairly certain that he'd have a lot to say about this."

Her hands firmed on his back, his waist, as she leaned in again to kiss his throat. "About this?"

"Amongst other things."

"Do you think he would have approved?"

Smiling, Jack pressed his lips to the top of her head, her hair smooth and slick against his mouth. "Pretty sure."

"I miss him."

"Me too." He drew her against him for one more breath, holding her tightly before steeling his resolve and letting go. Stepping backwards. Away. Empty.

He bent and retrieved the MALP panel, occupying his hands. A defensive measure, but obviously a necessary one. He busied himself with brushing off the sand.

She'd had the same idea. When he looked at her again, she was holding his jacket in front of her body like a shield.

"Hey–trade me." Jack held out the panel, indicating his jacket with his other hand.

She obliged, tucking the clean panel under her arm as she handed him the garment.

"I brought you something." Fiddling with his jacket, he finally found the right pocket and reached inside.

Carter's brows rose, her eyes wide. "Really?"

"Remember back a few years. Daniel was in Oxford on Thanksgiving, and Teal'c 'Gated home to be with his family. Hammond went to Disneyland or something with his family, and you and I were the only ones left at the SGC."

"Janet went to Wyoming with Cassie to be with her family. You'd wanted to go to your cabin, but you took pity on Hammond and volunteered to stay in the Mountain and watch over things."

"And I was a little out of sorts."

Carter snorted. "You were cranky as all get out."

He could own it. "I was pretty cranky."

"You practically drove Siler to tears."

"I did not." Jack needed to defend himself on that point. "He never actually cried."

"Details, schmetails."

"Anyway." He used his 'Colonel' voice. "So, there I was, sulking in the Briefing Room, mad at the world–"

"Sulking is a good word for it."

"Mad at the world–and in you walked with a pink box and some forks."

"I brought you pie."

"And whipped cream in a can." He pulled a little package out of his jacket pocket. "And we ate the whole damned thing. Just you and I. And then we ate another one later that evening."

Her smile was slow, but beautiful. "That was a good Thanksgiving."

"So, I was thinking about that as we were doing mission prep. The fact that we were leaving just before the holiday. And really–we never know exactly what's going to happen. So I went up to the vending machine on level two and got us a couple of these. Just in case."

He held out his palm, on which were identical rectangular packets. Green and white, with red letters. And he learned yet again that there was nothing more perfect than Sam Carter when she was laughing.

She practically sparkled. "You brought me a pie."

"It's just a vending machine pie. I have no idea how long they've even been in the machine."

Taking one of the packages out of his hand, Sam looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. Her cheeks had deepened a shade. "Sir–I don't know what to say."

"It's just an apple pie, Carter."

But they both knew that wasn't true. There was pie, and then there was pie. This pie. This night. This moment.

O'Neill tore his package open, then reached for the MALP panel so that Carter could open hers. Gingerly, she raised the quasi-pastry to her lips and took a tentative bite. It took her a minute to reach a verdict.

"Not awful." She took another bite. A bigger one. "In fact, it's pretty good. Just how I remember them from when I was a kid."

He started them walking back down the path towards the campsite. Slower, lighter–less encumbered, somehow. Sweeter.

"Hey, Carter?"

"Yeah?" She'd spoken from around a mouthful of apple and sugar.

"About the DHD."

"What about it?" But when she looked at him, her expression was full of larceny.

"You could have fixed it, couldn't you?"

"Could have fixed what?"

"The crystals. The coding or whatever."

"The truth?"

"Of course."

"Major to Colonel, or something else?"

Jack didn't even have to think about that one. "The other thing. Not Major to Colonel."

She regarded him as she took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Um, yes."

"So–not a coding issue in the crystal array?"

"Oh, the crystals were coded." She made a circle in the air with her non-pie hand. "But there are usually redundant systems in the DHD. This one had a second crystal that wasn't coded for the ritual, and I could have replaced the bad one with the good one."

"So, we could have been home for Thanksgiving."

"But then we would have been home for Thanksgiving." Pointedly, Sam leaned sideways to nudge him with her shoulder.

Ramifications hurried through the night between them. What ifs and what weres.

"If it makes anything any better, the crystal array was really dirty. That happens sometimes in units that aren't used very much. I've seen all kinds of gross stuff in there. Cobwebs, rats' nests, mud." She paused to take another bite of her dessert. "Heat from the energy spikes burns away the dirt and dust. But when the 'Gates are inactive for a while, crap tends to build up in there."

"So that's what you were doing in there for hours on end? Cleaning the DHD?"

"Hey–never denigrate the importance of proper DHD maintenance."

"Well, I'll be damned." He watched as the last bite of pie disappeared between Carter's lips. "You're kind of impossible."

"Shoot." Her dimples creased her cheeks as she smiled up at him. "You've found me out."

Jack regarded her as he worked on the last bits of his own dessert. Swallowing, he crumpled up the package and shoved it into his pants' pocket. "Well, I guess there are worse ways to spend the holiday."

"Worse than this? Walking together on this beautiful planet on a beautiful night?" She turned her face upwards, the ambient light limning her expression with a silvery glow. "In the moonlight?"

"Planet light." O'Neill corrected. "We're walking in the planet light."

"You know what I meant."

He sang again. Just because he knew it would make her laugh. "Planet river. Wider than a mile. I'm crossing you in style, some day."

And he wasn't wrong. She giggled before chiding him. "Sir."

He went all rock and roll on the next one. "I see the bad planet rising. I see trouble on the way. I see moonquakes and lightning–"

"Oh, good grief." But she veered into him, so that their arms bumped as they walked.

"I'm being followed by a planet shadow." More warbling. Somewhere, Jack was certain that Daniel was laughing at him. "Planet shadow, planet shadow."

And so was the Major. "You can stop at any time."

He hesitated only briefly before reaching out and grabbing her hand. She curled her fingers around his own, and he serenaded her with a tuneless, "Child of the planet, rub your rainy eyes. Oh, child of the planet, give me a wide-awake, crescent-shaped smile."

"Shut up, Sir."

"But that was the Stones."

She rolled those rainy eyes of hers. "Then you're forgiven."

She squeezed his hand, holding tight until they were close enough to camp that the light from the fire flickered through the grass. And then she looked up at him, a little sad, perhaps, or maybe just thoughtful. She raised their clasped hands to caress against her cheek, pressed her lips to the back of his hand, and then held his gaze as she let go.

"Thank you for the pie, Sir."

And he couldn't keep himself from lifting a hand and touching her again, soothing his fingertips across the fine arch of her cheek, smoothing a wayward tendril of hair off her forehead. "Anytime, Sam."

She hesitated, leaning into his hand before speaking. Her voice was barely audible above the sound of the breeze tangling in the meadow grass. "I didn't fix the DHD because I wanted to be here. Have time. With you."

He allowed himself one more sweep of his fingertips at her temple. "I didn't ascend for the same reason."

It was enough for now. It had to be. But somehow, as she turned from him and walked towards the firelight, it felt different than the other times. Times they'd come close to being something only to step away. Leave it in the room.

It felt like an apex, perhaps, or a cosmic shift. Standing on the summit of a mountain and choosing to take the hard way down. As if she hadn't been asking him to wait for her as much as she'd been asking him to understand.

As if she'd started to learn how to say goodbye.