"We're getting company, Sir."

Lang looked up at his second in command.

"Who is it?"

"No code, yet."

The Colonel looked over at Bra'tac – who had been sitting in his office for almost twenty minutes.

"It's probably Earth."

The Jaffa Master nodded, and stood up, reaching for his staff weapon. If it wasn't, he'd rather be armed when someone unfriendly came through the gate.

Lang stood as well, his own hand automatically making sure his sidearm was loose in its holster as the three of them headed outside. They arrived in time to see the gate flare, and as they were walking towards the control center – which was a pavilion type set-up when the weather was good like it was just then – they could see several people listening in on different communications and watching their computer screens carefully.

"Receiving SG-1's code, Sir," their gate operator informed him as they approached the field.

All three men relaxed visibly, as did the armed guard that had swarmed the gate area, weapons out and ready to repel any intruders.

"It's about time," Lang said.

Before Bra'tac or any of the others could reply, a lone form emerged from the gate, and it shut down behind him – telling them that he was the only one coming.

Ian stood there, looking around for a moment, getting his bearing. His dark eyes lit up when he saw Bra'tac standing there, and although he didn't smile, he did give the Jaffa a slight bow to acknowledge him. A bow that Bra'tac returned as Ian walked over to them.

"Where's Colonel O'Neill?" Lang asked.

Ian shrugged, looking back over his shoulder at the gate and then back at the Colonel who was standing by Bra'tac. This had to be Lang.

"He had other things to do. Major O'Neill wanted him to see… her etchings."

"What?"

Etchings? Jesus, that was the best he could come up with?

"He had something else to do," Ian said. "Sam asked him to stay, and he did. You know how Jack is when it comes to Sam lately."

Actually, Lang didn't know. He hadn't seen O'Neil in several weeks – although he'd spoken with him recently – but it was something that Colonel O'Neill would do – and it was obvious that the kid standing in front of him knew that well. Not a lot of people called O'Neill Jack, after all. And not so casually. When they'd discussed Ian Brooks over a radio, O'Neill had said he liked the kid – and now Lang knew that it was mutual.

"Yeah." He held out his hand. "I'm Colonel Lang."

Ian shook it; glad the guy didn't want to be saluted, since he didn't feel like adhering to military protocol just then.

"Yes, Sir."

He would have told him it was nice to meet him, but he hadn't decided for sure that it was – so what was the point? He was glad to see Bra'tac, though, and when he turned his attention from the Colonel to the Jaffa he smiled and held out his hand.

"Master Bra'tac, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"Ian."

Lang looked surprised at the familiar address, and the warm smile on Bra'tac's face when he shook the cadet's hand.

"You do not look as bad as I was expecting you to look," Bra'tac said, looking the boy over. "O'Neill said you were badly injured."

"I was," Ian told him. "But I had a bit of help in the healing, so now they just have to keep me away from the people who aren't supposed to know about it – at least until enough time has passed that I should be better."

Since O'Neill had explained all that to Bra'tac, he nodded his understanding. Although Ian looked healthier than he'd expected, he did look a little pale and shaky.

"You are not completely well, yet, though?"

Ian shook his head.

"Almost. Well enough to be looking forward to lessons from you, Master Bra'tac. I'm honored that you're willing."

"It will be my pleasure," Bra'tac told him, sincerely.

Lang cleared his throat, getting their attention.

"Why don't I show you where you'll be quartered, Cadet Brooks? Master Bra'tac? We have quarters set aside for you as well, if you are planning on remaining here full time…?"

The old Jaffa nodded; there was no reason for him to come and go every day, and he was looking forward to seeing what the boy could learn within the short time he'd have him.

"I will be remaining as long as Ian is here."

Sweet!

Ian couldn't hide the excitement in his eyes, and Bra'tac noticed it and was pleased at the enthusiasm. He slapped the young man affectionately on the shoulder as Lang and his second in command led them away from the gate and towards one of the large tents. He might be looking forward to it, but he was going to be worked hard. As hard as they could without killing him, anyways.

OOOOOOOOOO

"You realize we're going to have to send Ian Christmas presents, don't you?" Sam asked over breakfast the next morning.

Jack nodded.

"His dad and I were talking about that. Nate was actually planning on coming back for Christmas to make sure Ian didn't feel too alone in his 'rehab facility'."

"What did you say?"

It wouldn't be good if Nathan Brooks showed up at the SGC on Christmas day, looking for his son – who wasn't going to be anywhere in the vicinity.

"Told him you and I would make sure he was loaded down with presents and fruitcake."

"I'm not going to make a fruitcake, Jack."

He shrugged.

"We can buy one."

"And send it to the Alpha site? Hammond's not going to like that…"

It wasn't like sending a package Federal Express or anything… operating the Stargate cost money every time it was activated. Hammond knew that better than anyone, since he was responsible for justifying the considerable expenses the day to day operations of the SGC accumulated.

Another shrug.

"He'd like it better than Maggie and Nate showing up demanding to see their son so they can make sure he's filled with holiday cheer. Imagine Nate's reaction if he found out Ian wasn't around…"

That was true.

She smiled, and shrugged.

"Fine, we can buy him a fruitcake – and all sorts of presents. Although I don't think we'll be able to stuff Cassie in a box with enough air holes to keep Hammond from getting suspicious."

Jack scowled.

Sam grinned.

"She's going to grow up sometime."

"When she's 90."

"She'll be 18 in March. Then what are you going to do?"

"Stuff her in a barrel and lock her in the basement until she's 90."

"We don't have a basement."

"We'll dig one."

Sam leaned over and kissed him.

"You're going to be too busy doing Lamaze classes and picking out baby furniture to worry about that."

He smiled, and kissed her back, and then stood up, picking up her empty dishes.

"I'll find the time to get it all done – and still beat Ian away with a stick. You'll see."

"He's not the one you have to beat away, Jack," Sam told him, standing up. "She kissed him, remember?"

Yeah, yeah.

"We'll buy a barrel when we shop for the crib."

Sam laughed, and grabbed up his keys and tossed them to him.

"Let's get going, Colonel. I have doohickeys to experiment on."

Jack caught the keys, and nodded.

He had… paperwork to avoid doing.