"This is really good, Carter," Jack said, scooping up another bite of mashed potatoes, heavily garnished with some season he didn't recognize. But damn, it was good. "Goes great with the ham."
She just nodded, silent across the table from him, and pushed her fork through the full plate of food in front of her. He had seen her take maybe four or five bites. Jack rested his fork on the edge of the plate, watching her for several minutes. "Aaroon said you've been great with Sarai. Says he doesn't worry so much with someone with her."
Sam just nodded and turned towards the fire. The glow of the flames lit up her face, but her eyes were dark with thought.
"Said you keep the kids in line pretty well."
She said nothing, just watched the flames.
"You'll never guess what I saw in the field today. A lion, a scarecrow and a tin man with this hot little brunette. They were singing and dancing like a Broadway chorus line."
"Uh, huh..."
"Then this rabbit ran by, screaming that he was late. Then he jumped down this giant hole...Carter!"
Sam jumped, nearly knocking over her cup of water. Jack caught it and set it upright, watching her as she tried to compose herself.
"I'm sorry, sir. I was --"
"Preoccupied?"
She met his gaze for a split moment before looking away again. That's the way it had been for almost two weeks. Sam barely spoke, and when she did it was quick and rushed, usually so she could get away from him. She rushed out of bed in the morning, usually before he even thought about opening his eyes, because he always woke up to an empty house. The fire was always stoked, the native version of coffee boiling on the stove, but no Sam.
He wasn't an idiot, despite what some thought. He knew why. The damn near-kiss. Jack also wasn't blind. The moment hadn't been one-sided. They had both been there. But Sam had been the one smart enough to step back, 'cause he damn well hadn't planned on it.
But tonight, it just seemed to be more.
Sam started to stand, and reached for his empty plate. Jack laid his hand over hers, stopping her. "Hey..."
She sank back down in her chair, but he noticed she didn't pull her hand away. If she wasn't going to bring it up, he wasn't either. Her skin was warm, and despite the work she put in herself during the day, it was amazingly soft. Jack tempted fate and ran his thumb over her knuckles.
"What if they didn't make it through?" she finally said, her voice tight.
"Who? Daniel and T?"
Sam nodded, looking at him. Her eyes were bright with moisture, and he squeezed her hand.
"I feel so selfish that I haven't thought about it until now. The Gate connection was breaking down, and they went through. What if the Ornorean overtook the wormhole and they didn't get home? What if everyone on Earth thinks we're all dead?"
"Carter, they're fine."
"How do you know?"
She stared at him, expectantly. He didn't know the scientific reasons, probably didn't have a clue about any of it, anyway. But Sam never asked him for reassurance. Never looked at him like she needed him to fix things. He'd be damned if he screwed it up when she did.
"Because the alternative isn't acceptable. It connected, they went home, that's it."
"If they made it home, wouldn't someone have come by now?"
"I was on Edora for three months before--" Her gaze dropped away, and Jack mentally kicked himself for bringing up that monumental lapse in judgment. "Point is, Carter. If they can come, they will. One way or another. Daniel will hitch a ride with my buddy Thor, and if they can, they will come. Until then..."
Sam's lips tipped up slightly in a smile. It was not her typical make-his-heart-do-crazy-stuff smile, but it was something. "Until then, we eat cake?"
Jack straightened. "Cake?"
She smiled wider, this time the good smile. "Yeah. I've been helping Sarai with the cooking--"
"I could tell."
"So, I tried one on my own today."
"Sweet! Bring 'er on!"
Her hand slipped free of his, then, and his fingers felt remarkable empty. He leaned back in his chair as she set the dishes in the sink and opened the cabinet he had built for beside the stove. Inside was a plate wrapped in wax cloth which she carefully took out.
"It's a little...uh, crooked. But Sarai assures me it doesn't change the taste."
The cake was incredible. Moist and spongy, and absolutely delicious. Jack devoured the first slice she gave him, and willingly accepted the second. When he was done, and felt like he was about to bust, he stood and went outside, dragging the deep metal tub back in with him. For its size, it was amazingly light and Jack made a mental note to ask Aaroon about the metal in the morning. Sam looked up from wrapping the cake.
"Sir? What are you doing?"
"A cake like that deserves a long, hot bath. Right by the fire. You just..." he swirled his hand around in her general area. "Go about your business. I'll let you know when it's ready."
Her smile was an added bonus to the evening. One would think cake would be enough...
Sam sat at the small table, in her small house, with her small deck of cards that she had nearly worn through. Thank God Jack never went off world without something to amuse him. She flipped three cards over, saw nothing would play, and huffed loudly.
The window near the sink rattled as another gust of wind whipped around the house. She looked up to see a light dusting of snow dance and whirl outside the glass. Sarai told her they never got much snow, and Sam had to believe it was because of the cold. Too damn cold to snow.
With a frustrated groan, she pushed away from the table and took her wrap off the hook by the door. The stack of wood by the mantle was getting low, and they'd need more by morning. Might as well get it now while there was some amount of light.
Sam opened the cabin door, and the wind whipped her hair away from her face, stinging her cheeks. What she wouldn't do for a down field jacket and some winter boots right about now. She pushed into the wind, trying to keep the shawl around her, and moved to the stack of wood Jack had made against the house wall. With four logs balanced in her arms, she headed back for the door.
"Let me get that, Carter." Jack bounded up the porch steps and tried to take the logs from her.
"I've got it, sir."
"Just get in the house. It's colder than a witch's--"
Sam shot a look at him.
"--It's damn cold."
"I've got it, sir."
She wasn't in the mood for another go around about who did what at the cabin. It had been the heated topic of discussion for the last month, especially since the cold had settled into the valley keeping them inside more and more. The arguments were more about what Sam was perfectly capable of doing, but Jack didn't feel she should. Like chopping and stacking wood, or apparently carrying it in the house. Going out at night to close the barn doors when a storm came in suddenly. Yesterday, he got ticked because she shifted the beds closer to the end of the room with the fireplace without calling him for help.
As if she wasn't capable of dragging two beds ten feet!
"Carter."
"I've got it, sir."
She twisted away from him, not realizing he had a grip on one of the logs, and all four tumbled from her arms. They fell to the porch floor with a series of thumps, and Jack yelled out in pain, hopping away on one foot. He stumbled back to the wood stack and leaned against it, holding his right foot off the ground.
"For cryin' out loud!" he yelled again. "Damn it, Carter!""I'm sorry. But, sir--"
"That is it!" he shouted, raising his hand to stop her. "Carter, do not call me 'sir' again!"
"What?"
He stepped away from the log, favoring the foot as he walked towards her, his fists clenched beside him. "I said do not call me 'sir'."
She stared at him, knowing the shock had to be apparently on her face.
"Damn it, Carter. We're a few hundred light years from Earth. We've been stuck here for six months. We're living in the same house, for chrissake. I don't think Uncle Sam is going to give a rat's ass if you don't call me 'sir'!"
Sam drew in her breath slowly, staring hard at him until he stopped rampaging. "Is that an order, General?" she ground out through clenched teeth.
His shoulders visibly dropped and his hands released the tight fists. Sam stepped over the log at her feet and turned to go inside. Jack reached out and caught her elbow, bringing her attention back to him.
"Sam..."
The fury and frustration was gone, like someone had turned on a faucet and drained it away. She looked into his eyes, and saw the warm shadow of something she hadn't seen in a long time. Sam dipped her chin and tried a small, apologetic smile before she pulled back and went into the house.
"Was there anything else you needed, Jack?"
Jack looked up from the round piece of convex glass he had picked up from a small basket on the barter station counter. "Um, yeah. Coffee."
Breana, the woman in charge of the barter station, tipped her head and looked at Jack with a confused look on her face.
"Coffee... uh, dark stuff. Grind it up, drink it. What is it you call it..."
"Your pronunciation is just a little off, Jack. We call it Keva, from the Keva bean."
You call it Keva, I call it Java...
"Yeah, that's it. A pound -- a sack -- of it. Please."
As she went to the back room to retrieve the coffee... keva... whatever... Jack went back to examining the glass. He picked up the basket and fished through the contents, finding a variety of sizes and thicknesses. Some were convex, some concave with different levels of magnification and reduction strength.
"Those are toys for the children. Eman Tennson, our glass and metal craftsman, makes them."
Jack held one up to one eye, testing its strength as he changed distances away from his face. "Could I get some of these?"
Breana looked puzzled. Jack found she often looked puzzled when they talked. "If you would like. Take whatever you need."
"Do you have any squares of leather? About yay big?" He held up his hands in example. She nodded, still looking puzzled. "I'll take two, please. No! Three."
She disappeared again and Jack sorted through the glass to find the closest strengths to what he would need. He piled them on the counter, and when Breana returned she rolled and tied them in a piece of fabric to protect them. The confused look on her face was much worse now. Guess she finally figured he truly was from another planet.
"Anything else?"
"Do you have paper?"
She stared at him.
"Um, you write on it." He held his hand like a pretend notebook and pencil, scribbling on his palm. "Not the slates they use in school. Permanent. Like books."
"Oh, yes! Parchment."
"Parchment! Of course, that word would be the same. Could I have some of that?"
"Loose?"
"Do you have it in book form?" He put his palms together and opened them like a book. She shook her head. "No problem. I'll take it as you have it."
With all the items neatly packaged, Jack thanked Breana and put everything into the leather satchel he brought to hold it all. The entire walk back to Aaroon's and then home, he churned and formed an idea in his head. It might just work...