--

"How quick come the reasons for approving what we like!"

Persuasion

--

To Jack's surprise, Miss Carter not only took him up on his offer, she arrived early the next afternoon. Even more surprising than her prompt visit was her choice of chaperones—Janet Fraiser, the local midwife, and….

"Daniel!" Jack exclaimed, more than a little confused at seeing the man from his past standing unexpectedly on his doorstep.

The younger man blinked, equally taken aback. "Jack."

Miss Carter wrinkled her nose, looking between the two of them. "You two are previously acquainted, I take it?"

"Obviously," Mrs. Fraiser pointed out, looking amused at the men's discomfort. "The question is how?"

The story was long and rather sordid and not really one Jack was fond of recollecting. After all, there were very few polite ways to explain his state of mind four years ago after the death of his son and subsequently, his wife. Luckily, Daniel took the lead and answered the question.

"Jack…sorry, Colonel O'Neill…was the commanding officer of the platoon of soldiers I journeyed with to Africa four years ago," he explained.

As a young man, Daniel had gone through a short period of rebellion where he had utilized his skills in languages to travel and employ himself as an interpreter for wayward citizens of the Crown. The last, and certainly the most notable, of these journeys had been to northern Africa with the Colonel's platoon.

"Ah. When you met…?" Samantha began, understanding dawning in her eyes.

"Sha're. Yes."

"Right!" O'Neill chimed in, remembering the unlikely, but fervent attachment that had developed between Daniel and the young tribal princess. He had left Daniel there and naturally assumed that he would still be there.

Obviously, that assumption was incorrect.

"What happened with…all that?" Jack finished a bit stiltedly.

A flash of pain lit up Daniel's features and Samantha put her hand on his arm briefly in a comforting gesture that Jack was surprised to find himself envying. "She died."

"Oh. I…I'm very sorry." He really was, if that made any difference—Daniel's happiness with Sha're had been a rare and strangely beautiful thing.

"So am I."

Silence descended on them all and Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other, acutely conscious of the awkward air that hung over the group. "Oh! I forgot to introduce Teal'c. Teal'c, this is Daniel Jackson." Teal'c nodded in greeting. "Daniel, Teal'c is from an area not too far from Sha're's village, just further down the Nile."

This information seemed welcome to Mr. Jackson. "Really?"

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson."

The affirmation sent Daniel into a detailed discussion of locations and tribes and cultural practices that filled the air as the group made their way into the garden, where Walter had decided the tea should be served. O'Neill seized this opportunity to insinuate himself next to Miss Carter once again, and because he could immediately see that Mrs. Fraiser was both clever and tolerant, he knew that if he dallied a little behind the group, she would be moderately neglectful of her chaperone duties and allow them to tarry awhile. "There's more to that story, isn't there?" he couldn't help but ask.

The expression that crossed Miss Carter's face was profoundly empathetic. "Yes, although I am afraid I am not informed in every particular of the situation. As you may now realize, Daniel wrote to me quite often on his travels. When he wrote of his marriage I steeled myself against the reality of never seeing my friend again—only to get word nearly a year later that his wife had died and he had not the wherewithal to return home again. I made arrangements as quickly as I could from this distance, and back he came. He told me there was a massacre and more than that he has not said, nor have I asked him. He does not speak of the whole affair often."

O'Neill found himself in the rather unique position of once again admiring this young woman with whom he was only barely acquainted. "You did him a great service with neither explanation nor reason. I fear not many would have done the same."

Her eyes met his own, wide and guileless. "Daniel is as near to a brother as I have, and he was in pain. What else was to be done but assist him in his time of trial?"

A smile played along the edges of his mouth at her sincerity. "What deeds must be accomplished to earn such devotion from you, I wonder?"

At that, she merely laughed. "Perhaps one day, you shall find out."

Strangely, he found himself looking forward to it.

--

An hour later, Samantha Carter found herself as surprised as anyone to realize that they were actually having a nice time. The unlikely company of five had relaxed enough to engage in some real conversation—conversation where nothing like table place settings was even mentioned. And while the tea was as lukewarm as it would have been had she drank any at Lady Travell's house, it was because the tea had been sitting neglected for some time rather than simply being served that way.

While Daniel and Janet quizzed Teal'c on the cultural practices of his native peoples, Samantha took a moment to let the air of Cheyenne Manor seep into her. She had always loved this estate, and visits to it were always looked forward to with great delight because of its spacious layout and welcoming feel. Somehow, the effect seemed enhanced under the purview of its new owner, though admittedly, there seemed to be a bit of an echo now that the house only sheltered two men.

Turning to her host, she was a bit taken aback to find him watching her silently, his intense scrutiny making her feel more than a little awkward. Nevertheless, she pressed on, refusing to let it throw her off her train of thought. "Do you find that country life is everything you thought it would be, Colonel O'Neill?"

Mulling over his response for awhile, the Colonel finally replied, "Yes and no. It's a pleasant change from city life or even life in the military, but not as remote as I initially thought it would be. Walter constantly has to remind me that there is a society to be dealt with, even here. And the house is bigger than I expected—I fear it's a bit extravagant to house just Teal'c and myself."

"I don't know, I think it suits you. But then, I'm probably biased, as I've always loved this house and longed to have a better acquaintance with its occupants."

Abruptly, she realized how forward that must have sounded, but there was no polite way to retract such a statement. Once again feeling a little off kilter, Samantha reached for the sugar as a distraction—only to accidentally knock her arm into the teapot, spilling the remains across the table in a large, sweeping stain that seeped into the cloth below. Without being consciously aware of it, a profanity escaped her lips as she tried to mop up the mess. When she did finally realize her error, she could only be absurdly grateful that the offending word had come out in Russian—only Daniel would know her ill manners.

Then again, considering the mixture of shock and amusement present on Colonel O'Neill's face, maybe not. "I suppose you speak Russian?" she asked, already resigned to her fate as an unseemly wretch of a woman.

"Only words like that," he replied. "I can't believe staid and proper Daniel would teach you such a thing."

"I most certainly did not," Daniel was predictably quick to protest.

"No, he didn't. I picked up that charming little habit from Mr. Narim, I'm afraid."

To Daniel and Janet, this, of course, made perfect sense. However, it certainly did not shed any light on the subject at hand for the Colonel. "Mr. Narim?" O'Neill inquired.

"Yes, Mr. Simon Narim, my ex-fiancé."

"Your…" Bewilderment clouded his features as he puzzled over this new piece of information. "I thought you said his name was Martin?"

"Oh. Different fiancé," Samantha clarified.

"Simon Narim…he was the diplomat, right? The one with political aspirations," Janet asked, trying to remember the man more precisely.

"Yes. Unfortunately, he turned out to be the sort of man who looks lovely in theory and was rather ugly in practice. Had something of a nasty temper, I'm afraid."

"Toward you?" O'Neill clarified.

"Mmm, yes, if I was readily available. He struck me once and would probably have attempted to do so on other occasions, as well."

Yet again, Samantha found herself in the odd position of knowing that she was saying much more than was proper and yet, not really being able to stop herself. Luckily, O'Neill seemed to be the one man in history who was intrigued rather than offended. "Why didn't he?"

Here came the even more sordid part of the tale. "Ah. Well. I…well, you see…."

Janet's face lit up. "Oh, I remember him now! He's the one you chased off with your father's hunting rifle!"

Face aflame, Sam looked down at the table. "Yes. That would be the man."

Again, instead of seeming repulsed, O'Neill appeared to be intrigued. "You can shoot?"

The suggestion that she couldn't was something she found mildly affronting. "Of course I can shoot."

A teasing light filled the brown eyes that watched her. "Let me guess—yet another ex-fiancé taught you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm a General's daughter—my father had me shooting a rifle before I could read a full sentence."

"Is it not unusual for a woman to be taught such a thing in this country?" Teal'c asked diplomatically.

Serenely, Sam nodded. "Quite unusual, I would guess. But then, my father had wanted a boy."

Across the table, Daniel buttered a muffin and bit into it. "She really is a fabulous shot, too. Much better than I am."

"Daniel, that's not exactly difficult," the Colonel pointed out. She had to laugh then, because it was so impolite to say such a thing—but so very true nonetheless.