Part 4

Sam was awakened by someone shaking her. She tried to ignore them hoping they would go away. Nothing could be as important as burying herself further under the heavy down comforter and sleeping for about two more weeks. But the evil person trying to wake her would not be deterred. "What?" she complained, reluctantly pulling the blankets from her head. She glared up at Alma who Sam was quite sure was very close to laughing at her, probably at her wild bed head.

"Himself wishes to see you," Alma told her.

She really wanted to tell her Himself could go to hell, but seeing how she would likely be relying on Himself's goodwill and hospitality in the coming months Sam decided she best get up. It took a good deal of effort for Sam to make it to the edge of the bed. The feather mattress and the rope 'springs' meant that Sam had ended up cocooned in the middle of the bed.

She finally made it out and quickly slipped on the shearling slippers to protect her feet from the cold flagstones. Alma held out an indigo wool robe for her and she pulled it on over the long trailing nightgown she'd been given the night before. Alma handed her a comb and held up a small hand mirror, the surface made of some sort of highly polished metal. Sam ran the comb quickly through her mussed hair and got it tamed more or less respectably.

It was cold in the room, the fire was still banked and she could see the sun had not yet risen outside the window. She pulled the robe tightly around her, the fox-like fur trim tickling her nose slightly. She walked through the door Alma opened into a comfortably furnished sitting room. She shut the door behind Sam. She didn't see Himself at first, though there was a sword and various over-garments strewn carelessly over several pieces of furniture.

Then her attention was drawn by movement at the fireplace. There was a man kneeling there poking at the beginnings of a fire. Sam stood silently studying the man she had been kidnapped to marry. He was dressed in browns and greens in a style similar to what she'd seen others wear here but it seemed slightly different somehow. His grey hair was cut short unlike most of the men she'd seen so far. It stuck up wildly in all directions and seemed in need of a trim if he was going to maintain the short style. He had at least several days growth of beard on his face and it was a darker grey than his almost silver hair.

She must have made some movement or sound she wasn't aware of, because his head turned toward her and he quickly stood. "I didn't hear you come in," he apologized. "I was just starting a fire. It's a bit chilly this morning."

There was something about him that seemed terribly familiar, but she couldn't place it. He must have felt the same way because he stood motionless staring at her equally mystified.

Then she saw the pieces click together behind his dark eyes, eyes that were so familiar. "Holy crap! Carter."

Suddenly she was in a giant bear hug, his arms enveloping her firmly. "Colonel O'Neill? Oh my god." Her arms went around him, holding him just as tightly. "We thought you were dead."

Sam didn't know how long they stood there clinging to each other. At some point tears of relief seeped from her eyes. Colonel O'Neill's long fingers ran comfortingly through her hair, soothing her. She remembered he had always given the best hugs. Finally she began to pull away a little embarrassed by her tears, but mostly after her initial burst of emotion she realized he smelled very strongly of horses and the road.

"You don't know how good it is to see you," he told her huskily, overcome with emotion himself.

"You don't know how good it is to see you alive, sir."

" 'Sir'? C'mon, Carter, I've been AWOL for six years."

"You've really been presumed dead." She smiled at him, "I'm glad you're not."

"Me too." He smiled back at her. It was the first time she could ever remember him truly smiling, not sardonically or smirking. There was something very boyish about it that conflicted with the grey in his hair and the lines etched in his face. "Captain Carter, it seems you've made quite a habit out of getting kidnapped to be prospective bride, haven't you? At least there's no wacky headdress and veil this time."

Sam blushed slightly remember the incident in SG-1's first year and the outfit he was referring to. "Actually, it's Lieutenant Colonel Shanahan," she corrected.

"Lieutenant Colonel. Wow! I'm impressed, Carter. I'm proud of you," he grinned broadly at her.

"Thank you, sir," she couldn't stop herself from blushing again. Her former CO's pride in her meant almost as much as her father's.

"And married too. How 'bout that? I'm kinda surprised you found time for that."

"Me too."

"Don't tell me you got kids too."

"No, we've only been married for about three months."

"Your husband'll be worried sick. Unfortunately, you'll be stranded here until the spring thaw." A shadow fell over his face and he lost his smile. "Ailin defied my strictest rule by kidnapping you and he will be punished. I really am truly sorry. I wish there was some way to get word to the SGC."

Sam knew Pete and her team would be worried, but right now seeing Colonel O'Neill alive overshadowed her concern for them. "I wish I wasn't trapped here, but you don't know how good it is to see you alive and well, sir."

"Ah! Stop with the 'sirs'. I've got enough people bowing and scrapping."

"What? It's not good to be king?" she teased.

"Oh, funny." Jack sighed heavily. "Man, gotta love Mel Brooks. What I wouldn't give to see that movie again. Or the Simpson's. I don't suppose you can give me six years worth a recaps."

"Sorry."

"Oh, well."

The door flew open with a bang and they both turned at the noise. There seemed to be three blurs of motion on a direct trajectory to Jack.

"Da! Da! You're back."

Jack bent down and scooped up the first blur which turned out to be a little boy about four years old. The other two were a pair of dogs along the lines of border collies. One brown and white, the other black and white. The dogs milled around Jack's legs impatiently seeking his attention.

The little boy was clinging tightly to Jack's neck and he tried loosen the boy's hold, "C'mon, Sean, let go a little. You're choking me."

"I missed you, Da. You were gone a long time."

"I know, kid. I'm sorry. I won't be leaving again any time soon." Jack shifted the boy to his hip and brought his attention to Sam. "See, this lady here. This is Sam Carter. You remember me telling you about her."

The little boy was the exact miniature image of Jack from his piercing deep brown eyes to his hair that refused to be tamed, though it was the reddish brown color Jack had had when she first met him. He scrutinized Sam for a moment assessing her and then turned back to his father. "She's the really smart one."

Jack smiled at his son. "Yes, she is. And she's going to be visiting with us for the winter. Won't that be nice?"

Sean glanced at Sam a little warily. "I guess. Are you going to marry her, Da?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "No, Sean. She's already got a husband. Besides what would she want with an old man like me?"

"But Liam said his Da brought her to be your wife"

"Uncle Ailin kidnapped Carter," Jack spoke very firmly. "He took her away from her family and that's a very bad thing."

Sam watched with some amusement as Jack and his son interacted. Sean obviously had Jack wrapped around his little finger. She knew he'd always loved children and she was glad that he'd gotten a second chance to have them. Jack lowered Sean to the floor and gave the two dogs a quick pat each. "Carter, this is my son, Sean," he told her in pride.

Sam knelt down in front of the boy. "Hey, Sean. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," he responded politely taking her outstretched hand. "How are you?"

Sam grinned at the little gentleman. "A lot better since I've found you and your dad." She stood turning her attention back to Jack who was giving the dogs much demanded attention. "The rest of the family?" she asked.

"Yeah, this is Marge," he indicated the black and white dog then the brown and white one, "And Homer."

"Of course," she said giving each dog a scratch behind the ears.

There was a knock at the door and Jack glanced up at Alma. "Would you like me to have breakfast sent up?" she asked.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Then I'd really like a bath"

Sean nodded vigorously in agreement, "You stink, Da"

Jack ruffled his son's already wild hair, "Thanks, kid. I love you, too."