--

"A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment."

Pride and Prejudice

--

Two weeks passed and while there was no definitive change in their behavior towards one another, the intimacy of their friendship increased on a near daily basis. It was rare indeed that some reason was not thought up to travel between the two houses within a twenty-four hour period, even if the excuses were ridiculous in the extreme. Once together, they would just…spend time together. Strangely, Colonel O'Neill seemed to have a bizarre fascination with merely sitting in her lab while she worked. Sometimes he would bring a book, sometimes a yo-yo that looked very well-traveled, and sometimes he would just sit quietly, occasionally asking her to explain what she was working on—and always seeming to regret it when she did.

This arrangement suited her just fine, although it had taken three days and four broken test tubes before she had caught on and moved most of the breakable items out of easy reach.

As she watched him sit quietly near her workbench as he skimmed through the novel of the day, she wondered if anything would come of their somewhat peculiar relationship. The last few weeks had been alternately the happiest and most terrifying of her life, although she could not coherently explain why either emotion was so prevalent. Every time she tried to step back and rationalize the situation, O'Neill would do something upset her precarious balance and set everything asunder once again.

To her eternal surprise, Sam found that she rather liked things that way. At least with this arrangement, whatever was going to happen was free to do so without the added interference of her insistence on overanalyzing every aspect of a situation. It was a freedom she had never allowed to take root in any of her previous relationships, and the uncertainty of if was strangely liberating.

At that moment he looked up from his book and caught her studying him. She jumped, looked down at the paper she was supposed to be writing, and proceeded to blushed profusely, all behavior more suited to a silly young schoolgirl than an old maid of nearly twenty-five.

"Something occurred to me last night," he said conversationally, closing the novel and putting it on her bench.

"What would that be?" she asked, mentally taking a tally of everything on the desk to make sure there was nothing she couldn't live without should his fidgeting once again prove fatal to a piece of equipment.

"You should publish your scientific articles."

Taken aback by that particular pronouncement, Samantha glanced down at her slim stack of reports and findings. "You've never even read them—you don't know that they are scientifically sound."

Judging from the expression on his face, it had honestly never occurred to him that they wouldn't be. "Oh, they're sound. You wrote them, you tested them…I would be willing to lay a very large wager that they would turn the scientific world on its end."

His absolute and unwavering faith in her scientific talents was more touching than any perfectly worded compliment she had ever been paid. "Even so, are you forgetting that I am a woman with nothing more than a self-taught education? Any one of these factors would make publication nearly impossible—combine them and you've created a lovely little hopeless scenario."

Somehow he had found a stray piece of paper and was proceeding to tear it in endless little squares. "So use a pseudonym. Women have done it before, and I am sure will do it again until popular opinion widens the confines of the female's position in society."

Unprepared for such a touching and equally enlightening conversation about such deep issues, Samantha was forced to really consider his proposition. "I wouldn't even know what name to use so as to avoid suspicion."

"Well, Samuel is a common enough first name, certainly, though you could merely use S as an abbreviation and achieve a similar effect."

That was true enough. "Yes, but even though I imagine S. Carter is a fairly common name, it would still be easy enough to track down if someone was particularly insistent."

"So use S. O'Neill."

The words hung in the air heavily, as though they could swing down at any moment and severe the tenuous ties the two had been so carefully building. "Not…I just mean that it would be…" he tried to explain himself, stumbling over his words.

In a moment of peculiar insight, Samantha simply decided not to let the situation become something awkward. He had made the offer to be encouraging and supportive, and it was a very kind thing to do. "I…may take you up on that," she said, feeling at peace with the idea.

Slowly, a smile spread across his features. "I…hope you do."

Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part, but she got the distinct impression that neither one of them were talking about the pseudonym any longer.

While she watched, his hand rose and brushed against her face, the calloused thumb rubbing down her cheekbone with distinct purpose. "You've a bit of ink just here," he said—but his hand remained.

Just when Samantha was considering the idea that for once, she and a potential suitor were on exactly the same page at precisely the same time and that this could mean very good things indeed, the double doors to the laboratory flew open.

"Pardon me, Miss Carter," said a familiar voice from the door's threshold.

Colonel O'Neill's hand fell away and Samantha sighed. "Yes, Mr. Siler?"

"I am sorry for interrupting you whilst you are…working…but, I wanted to warn you that--"

The well-meaning aid didn't manage to finish his sentence before the door hinges were tested once again, this time with enough exuberance to nearly propel the door themselves against the wall with a disconcerting crash. "Sammie!"

That particular (somewhat ridiculous) endearment twisted the colonel's mouth into a disbelieving smirk. "Sammie?"

She could not possibly begin to deal with his amusement and the situation at hand, so she ignored it in favor of the more pressing matter. "…Hello, Dad."

--

Anyone who was well-acquainted with Jacob Carter would freely tell you that the man was a force to be reckoned with—a trait that many believed he had passed on to his daughter. Along with his strong opinions and somewhat domineering personality, he possessed an unshakable and somewhat daunting moral fiber, not to mention the protective streak that could make a territorial bulldog seem like a docile sheep in comparison.

When you combined that particular trait with Samantha's own strength of will, it was not difficult to see why the relationship between father and daughter was alternately close and then taut with friction.

His arrival at Vorash Hall was something of a surprise—he had been home only four months previous and as such, was not expected again for quite some time. Still, as he embraced his daughter tightly and eyed the stranger now standing beside her, he thought that it was not, perhaps, an untimely visit.

"How are you, kiddo?" he asked, pulling away so he could study his daughter more thoroughly. Still as gorgeous as her mother, with a presence that demanded the attention of a lady and a faint ink smear across her cheek that spoke of a more unsophisticated elegance.

"I am fine—surprised to see you! What are you doing here?"

Perhaps his arrival was not as heralded as he would have liked, then. "Did you really think I would forget that my little girl is about to turn twenty-five?"

Her nose wrinkled at the mention of the impending event. "Well, you can't blame one for hoping. Though really, at twenty-five, I hardly qualify for the title of little girl."

"Children are always in pigtails and overalls for their parents," the as-of-yet-unidentified man said whimsically.

"Oh! Dad, this is Colonel Jack O'Neill. He bought Cheyenne Manor a few months ago. Colonel O'Neill, this is my father, General Jacob Carter."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Jacob, and although he was certain that the younger man had never been under his command, he wondered if perchance he had served with his long-time friend George Hammond.

To his credit, O'Neill executed a very smooth bow. "A pleasure to meet you. Your daughter has told me…next to nothing about you."

Decorum dictated that he return the gesture, and so Jacob quickly bobbed a greeting. "I can't say that I am surprised—I have heard nothing of you, either."

At least Samantha had the grace to blush a bit. "Well, you see, I…what I mean to say is…."

Saving her from the discomfiting situation in which they had placed her, Jacob interrupted her stammering. "It is of no matter. Samantha, I have come back solely for the purpose of throwing a ball in honor of your birthday. It has always been my particular wish to lavishly celebrate the day you came into my life, and for once I intend to carry out my full purpose, regardless of any and all objections you may raise to the contrary."

Seeing that she was about to spout some of those very objections, he pressed on. "Good! I shall set Mr. Siler about making the arrangements. After all, we have less than a fortnight."

--

While Jack and Sam had been occupying themselves with the increasing familiarity of their relationship, bonds were also being formed between Janet Fraiser, Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c. As the would-be couple's closest friends, they had formed the social circle around which many events were planned. While all three freely admitted that they had attended more card games and teas in the last few weeks than they had in many months previous, none seemed to mind overmuch.

In fact, they had become so accustomed to one another's company that the three would often meet together for a leisurely lunch or afternoon tea when the fourth and fifth members of their party had taken it upon themselves to come up with alternate entertainment. This particular afternoon, they had gathered at Janet's small cottage, helping her grind some of the herbs and other miscellaneous ingredients needed for her various home-spun medical remedies.

"Did you hear that Jacob Carter is back in town?" Janet asked conversationally.

"Is the man you speak of Samantha Carter's relation?" Teal'c inquired.

"Oh, yes. Her father. Sam must be absolutely thrilled—last time he was here they fought," Daniel shared, wondering what exactly the herb he was crushing was—his eyes were beginning to water. "This isn't some form of ivy, is it?"

"No. Why, did they argue? She never told me."

Daniel shrugged. "Does it matter? If it's not one thing, it's another. What about dandelion, because I simply can not be near them without…."

"No, Daniel, it's not dandelion. I've heard that Colonel O'Neill was there when General Carter arrived. How do you think that meeting went?"

Considering the personalities of the two men in question, Daniel determined that they would either bond together or come to blows. "I honestly haven't the slightest clue. How would you react if you stumbled in on the visit of a man who wasn't courting Cassie?"

Janet looked significantly relieved. "Oh, good. Then I am not alone in thinking that the situation between them is a little…peculiar."

"It certainly is unlike anything I've seen before. But then, neither one of them has had much success with typical romances—maybe this sort of informal formality will end in better results for everyone." He sniffled, and then sneezed, glaring at the white mortar and pestle in front of him. "This is some sort of goldenrod, isn't it?"

"For heaven's sake Daniel, it isn't—"

Their bickering was abruptly put to an end when Teal'c reached over Daniel and scooped up the crushing instrument, handing him a wooden spoon to stir the boiling water instead. "Oh. Thank you."

The switch had honestly never occurred to him. With one last sniffle, he turned his attention to stirring and the subject and Jack and Samantha's relationship was appropriately put to rest.

--

After a few tense encounters and suspicious looks shared between them, O'Neill and Jacob Carter had indeed fallen into a tentative friendship. As it turned out, O'Neill had served with George Hammond, and moreover, the sound of his name had brought forth outstanding praises from the older man. With this assurance, Jacob certainly felt more at ease with the somewhat copious amount of time O'Neill and his daughter spent together.

He had searched carefully for all the usual signs of a courtship—after following the progression of five previous engagements, Jacob was well acquainted with the usual maneuvers preceding a marriage. However, their relationship, whatever it was, seemed free of these signs—no simpering compliments, generic gifts, or contrived dialogue could be detected in their relations with one another. As far as he could see, there was only mutual respect on the part of both parties, so he concluded that O'Neill and his daughter had no designs for one another.

If he perhaps had a fleeting fancy that it was too bad such an attachment had not formed, he did not mention it—he had suffered through five engagements only to be met each time with a returned daughter and a score of irate neighbors and as such, he was not particularly eager to repeat the experience.

In fact, the more he better acquainted himself with Colonel O'Neill, the more he thought that his daughter's new friend might be just the man to help him with the concern that had brought him home in the first place. While his daughter's birthday was certainly a day worth celebrating, this particular year it brought into play several new factors that Jacob feared would leave his daughter in a vulnerable position. He did not wish to retire as of yet, and while Daniel and Mr. Siler certainly did all they could, they were not quite as vigilant about Samantha's security as he might like.

Yes, Jacob was coming to believe more and more that Colonel O'Neill was exactly what he was looking for in a new neighbor.

--

"Why did you not tell me about your impending birthday?" Jack asked Miss Carter as they meandered their way down the lane.

"It honestly hadn't occurred to me. It is usually not such a production, you see. This is the first year in five that my father has even been present for it, and certainly the first time he has insisted on making such a fuss. I really don't know what to make of it."

To Jack, that sounded like Jacob had a very specific reason to pay attention to this birthday in particular, but he didn't mention the suspicion in case such a thought was unfounded. "What do you normally do by way of celebration, then?"

"Nothing, really. Cassie makes me a present sometimes—a painting she's finished or something similar, and often Daniel and Janet have come over for dinner. Our cook makes a cake. It has always been a low-key sort of event when we paid attention to it at all."

"Is the party a nice change of pace then, or an unwelcome one?"

She grimaced. "It is a pleasant change that he's taking an interest—but I do wish he would take an interest in some other way. Sometimes I feel that my own father does not know me at all. I like to think that if I had ever had children, I would have paid more attention to their own personal dispositions."

Now here was an interesting subject, and one they had not touched on since his abrupt personal confessions so many weeks ago. "You thought about children, then?"

She sent a small smile in his direction. "A woman does not get engaged five times without putting some considerable thought into the matter of children," she pointed out. "I remember once thinking that it was a relief I didn't end up marrying Mr. Narim because I wouldn't have been able to stand having children who looked at me with his horrible, beady eyes. Uncharitable of me, I know, but then, he really wasn't a nice man. He killed one of my cats you know, though he claimed it was an accident."

The flight of fancy drew a chuckle from him. "Well, you were certainly more than justified in chasing him off with that hunting rifle." Strangely, he wished he could have been there to see the spectacle that would have made, Samantha indignant in her anger while her beady-eyed fiancé ducked for cover.

He was surprised to find that they had arrived at his drive, and therefore had no excuse to continue walking with her. Considering carefully the open expression on her face and the curious sort of lightness he still felt when with her, he dared to take her hand in his own. "Samantha…" he started a bit roughly. "Do you think you would do me the honor of saving a few dances for me at this ball of yours? I should very much like to…waltz with you."

The question was a precarious one at best, because of the implications he had carefully laced into it. Somehow, the two of them had developed a habit of speaking words that sounded like one thing while standing for another, and this habit was the only way he could find of properly expressing himself to her at times. In this instance, the implication of a man like Colonel O'Neill voluntarily putting himself in the center attention with the woman of the evening at his side was an indication of his much more serious objectives—objectives with life-long consequences.

A squeeze of her hand accompanied by her brilliant smile eased his mind away from the worries about proceeding too fast and rushing her into yet another engagement that she might come to regret—the beam on her face could not be for anything less than an ardent agreement to his silent appeal, could it?

"Colonel O'Neill, if you wish to waltz with me, then waltz with me you shall."