When Jacob got home that night, Belle was getting ready for bed. As it was tradition for him to tuck her in when he was home on time, Jacob moved to do so.
"No," Belle said firmly. "I want Jack to tuck me in!"
"Honey," Jacob tried to reason with her, "Jack's not here."
Belle shook her head of bouncy, blond curls. "Yes he is. He's in the kitchen, doing his English homework with Auntie Sam."
Jacob raised both his eyebrows in an expression Belle knew well. "I'll be in there in a minute, go pick out a book."
Knowing better than to argue, the little girl ran into her room and shut the door a little noisily. "Sam!" Jacob said in a loud, authoritative voice as he walked into the kitchen.
Sam didn't even look up from the paper she was writing. "Dad."
Jack tried his best to disappear under the table, but Sam wouldn't let him.
"Was Donna sick today?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Why did he give you a ride home?" Jacob was very angry and didn't want to play any word games that night.
Sam met his eyes when he said that, "He has a name, Dad."
"Don't mess with me, young lady!"
"Jack gave me a ride home because I asked for one," Sam said, reminding herself that Jack was still sitting next to her and she shouldn't yell… even though she wanted to. So badly it hurt.
"And why is he still here?"
"Because we're finalizing plans for next week and he needed help with the paper we're writing in English."
"On what?"
Jack looked at Sam, with a frightened look on his face as she answered, "On the rise and fall of Adolph Hitler."
That confused Jacob more than anything. "What?"
Jack explained as Sam caught her breath, "Sir, it was a joint project with our history class. We were supposed to pair off, choose one of the memorable leaders of Europe and write a report on them. Sam and I chose Hitler."
"Why the hell would you want to do a paper on Hitler?"
Sam looked at her father, rolled her eyes and said, "Because we drew our choices out of a hat and I'd rather do a paper on Hitler than one on Churchill."
"What's wrong with Churchill?"
"Hitler had better generals and more control over his country," Sam said plainly.
Jacob scowled at her, "Name one."
"Rommel."
"He was a Field Marshal."
"Started out as a General. He was only promoted after the start of the war," Sam pointed out to her father. She'd studied the battle strategies of WWII very closely while they were in Russia. Sam knew what she was talking about.
"Then why not do the report on Rommel?"
"We were only given an option between Churchill and Hitler."
Jacob nodded, "You said something about your plans for next week. Care to explain?"
"Not really," Sam said. Jack was actually intimidated by the man, and didn't want to get onto his bad side (although he had a feeling he was already there).
"Sir, we're planning on going to the Halloween Dance next week. Together."
"When were you planning on telling me this?"
"Just now," Sam said lightly. She looked down at her watch, "You better be getting home, Jack. It's almost 2030 hours."
"Bye, Sam. Good bye, Colonel."
"Goodnight, Mr. O'Neill," Jacob said in an equally formal voice. Truthfully, he was beginning to like the boy, but Jacob wasn't about to let anyone know that.
Sam just glared at her father before going off to her room. "Don't forget to read Belle her story, Dad," she said with poorly hidden venom lacing her voice.
Jacob sighed again and shook his head, wondering for the thousandth time when Sam had started to hate him.
Jack was quiet as he quickly ate his breakfast - a very unusual occurrence in the O'Neill household ever since he had met that nice Colonel's daughter.
"What's wrong, Jack?" his mom asked softly. Mrs. O'Neill was a housewife, through and through, and had the privilege of knowing all seven of her children very well.
Jack shrugged, turning to his dad, he asked, "So? When did Colonel Carter get reassigned?"
Major General William O'Neill looked at his son carefully as he drank from his coffee mug. "Why, Jonathan, is it any of your business?"
His father was the only one allowed to call him Jonathan anymore, but Jack knew what he really was asking. If he wanted to get the simple question answered, he'd have to do more than he was willing with such a big audience, "I guess not."
"Either it is, or it isn't, Jonathan. There's no guessing involved."
"It's not." Jack got up, with a glare at his father, a kiss for his mother and sister, and a grab for his backpack as he ran out the door toward his car.
William O'Neill sighed, "That boy is way too much like his grandfather."
His wife, Helen O'Neill, looked at him with confusion written all over her face, "He just wanted to know when the transfer came through, William. Was it really so much to ask of you?"
He looked at his wife, telling her silently that the conversation was over.
Pricilla looked down to her plate, not wanting to be caught listening to her parent's conversation. Sometimes she tried to block everything out, but that only made it worse.
Joel looked down at his sister and reached over the table to squeeze her hand gently. When she looked up he gave her a reassuring smile. It was all she needed to get through the meal with her mind in once piece before her father left for work.
Breakfast at the Carter's house, however, was at a completely different end of the spectrum. Jacob spent the entire time trying to coax Belle into wanting to leave for Russia, while Sam spent her time cooking, and then trying to ignore her father without blatantly ignoring him.
Finally, after Dona had arrived, Sam took her father's hand and pulled him into his study. "I want to stay here," she said plainly.
"Sammie, you know we can't do that. I have to go."
Sam shook her head, "No, not us – me. I want to finish out the school year here."
Jacob scowled, "But who'd look after you?"
Sam sighed, sitting down, "I'd look after myself. You could send me money so I could rent an apartment and then, after the year was over, I could join you and Belle in Russia." Her eyes implored him to say yes. "Please, Dad. I'm tired of always moving and never staying in one place long enough to make a friend. I've found friends here – don't make me leave them."
"I'll think about it."
A/N: grins wildly at shocked looks on the readers' faces What did you think I was going to do - make Sam go to Russia?