Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and wonder what was going to happen next. – Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll


Jack stood on Sam's front porch anxiously waiting for her to answer the door. 'I haven't been this nervous since my first date with Sara,' he thought to himself as he wondered how long he should wait to ring the bell again before it went from appropriate pause to impatient and annoying. Just as he put his face to the window to try and see through the gap in the curtain, Sam pulled it back and smiled at the sheepish grin framed by her door.

He stepped back as she opened the door and held up the bag of pastries he'd stopped for on the way over. "Quick bite before we hit the road?"

"Sounds great. I was just filling us a thermos."

"Great minds, Carter," Jack said following her back to the kitchen.

He tore into a cheese Danish while she readied the thermos and put the rest of the dishes away and she wondered if he could see that her stomach was in knots. Who knew butterflies could fly as fast as an F-16 doing training maneuvers?

It was a beautiful autumn morning and while finishing her coffee, Sam found herself getting lost in the scenery as they made their way out of Colorado Springs.

Jack simply feigned interest in the road in front of them admiring her beauty in stolen glances, something he'd gotten very good at over the last eight years, until he was unable to take the quiet any longer. "So."

She turned and smiled, "So."

"Whatcha thinking about?"

She didn't answer right away, instead turning her view back to the scene outside the window unsure of whether she wanted to admit the conflicting emotions tangling up inside her. Fear, trepidation, excitement, elation, and sadness all took turns vying for the best poll position in the race against the force of her restraint.

Noticing the crease return to her brow, Jack cleared his throat pulling her from her thoughts. "Rock or Pop?"

"Sorry?"

"Music. Rock or Pop?"

"Definitely Rock."

"Classic or Present Day?

"Has to be Classic."

"Okay. Aerosmith or Eagles?"

"Seriously? Both. It depends on my mood. Though Steven Tyler..." He scowled at the dreamy expression that overtook her as she finished her thought. "Mmmm."

"Really?! What is it about him and Bono anyway?"

She giggled. "It's a girl thing, Jack."

"Sha!"

"Alright," she grinned, "my turn. Steve Miller or Styx?"

"No contest, Steve Miller all the way."

"Agreed. I can't listen to Joker without smiling."

"Stevie Nicks or Debbie Harry?"

"Fleetwood Mac all the way."

"Ok," he said, "changing decades, Punk or Grunge?"

"I'm no stranger to the comfort of flannel. You?"

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised in an almost Teal'c-like fashion."Let's just say that one might be able to find a copy of Nevermind and In Utero in my CD collection."

At this she raised an eyebrow.

"So I can surprise you."

She returned the smile he gave her with a laugh.

Their debate continued long after breakfast had been forgotten. Their conversation evolved to embrace many other subjects. It was refreshing to discover something new about one another, something others rarely got to see. For instance, neither of them knew that the other harbored a secret love of the literary world. Sam was unsurprised at his revelation of enjoying all things Shakespeare. While Jack hid his horror at finding out she liked Dickenson, Charles not Emily. And, their mutual passion for poetry led to discussing everything from Wordsworth and Yeats to Maya Angelou and Alice Walker.

They were making good time and having fun, but it wasn't long before they found themselves ready to stop for an early lunch. Jack knew that after their great music debate, Sam would love the 50s themed diner he had in mind and it wasn't long before he pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

"Ok, Carter, prepared to be ama..." his words fell flat as he turned to see the stricken expression on her face.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sam? What is it?"

She stared down at her hands in her lap as the sudden tears that burned behind her eyelids threatened to fall. She cleared her throat trying to answer but her voice wouldn't cooperate. "Sorry," was all she could croak out as he reached for her hand and she looked up at him. The concern pouring from his eyes broke her barriers and she felt the wetness on her cheeks as she nodded toward the windshield.

Jack followed her glance to see the name of the diner flashing in the front window and instantly he wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it earlier. Jake's.

"Ah, jeesh. I'm sorry, Sam." He squeezed her hand but couldn't help himself as he put his arm around her and pulled her closer. "C'mere," he said.

Once again, that one little word was all it took for her to all but fling herself into the comfort of his waiting arms. But this sudden onslaught of grief made her want something more than one of his signature hugs.

He watched as she turned in on herself so that she lay curled in a tight ball on the seat of his truck and rested her head in his lap. Jack stroked her hair and let his hands rub her arm and her back. He could feel her hot tears dampening his jeans and it broke his heart to know that there was nothing he could do to quash her grief. His voice was hoarse from reigning in his own emotions when he finally said, "We can go somewhere else."

His sincerity brought a smile to her face. "No. It's okay. I just wasn't expecting..." she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I wish I could help."

She pushed herself up and let him pull her closer. With her head on his shoulder her arms snaked around his body, and she sighed. "You are, Jack. This," she said burying her face in his neck and breathing in that scent of wood smoke, aftershave, and something that could only be classified as distinctly Jack O'Neill, "this is exactly what I need."


A/N:

We see Sam in flannel in Forever in a Day.

"Sha" is a slang term for "sure" sometimes used in a derisive manner. (Thanks go to Wayne and Garth for that one.)