A/N: Sorry for the delayed update. Tough, busy week. One more chapter to come after this.

The advent of Pete Shanahan doesn't hit Jack as hard as he thought it might.

He can't lie and say that he's happy about it, but truth be told, he's been waiting for something of the sort to happen. Even by the standards of their lives, the past few months have been particularly tough. They've all been through a lot, and they've been putting their lives on hold for years now. Time passes so quickly – the blink of an eye and suddenly you're looking back at your younger self from a distance that seems impossible, wondering what happened to the life you thought you were going to have. None of them are getting younger, his fractious knees constantly remind him of that. And Carter… she deserves more, no question, more than just a life spent trudging through mud and sleeping in tents without even the comfort of knowing that she'll be going home to someone who's missing her. He thinks she probably wants it, too, even if it's not an entirely conscious desire. It's not that Jack's spent much time considering it, but he's seen how she is with Cassie and how she's stepped up ever since that terrible mission where Janet Fraiser didn't make it home. She can strip down a P90 in thirty seconds, she can blow up a star, she can lead a full-on assault behind enemy lines on a world at the other end of the galaxy, but it's not hard to imagine her with a family. She wouldn't struggle to find her softer side, to open that part of her heart.

Besides, Jack gets the sense that there was a turning point for her a little while back. Something subtle changed, at least for her. He thinks it happened during those four days she spent trapped aboard the Prometheus, spinning out to a lonely death among the stars. Those days had been terrible for him: the waiting, the fruitless searches, the not being able to do anything. He knows that the seven years of pretence he'd put up that Sam Carter is just another soldier to him were dismantled once and for all in the course of the 96 hours that she was lost. She'd told him herself that it had felt as if she'd been out there for weeks. Weeks on your own, staring death in the face, far away from home. A lot of time to think, to contemplate. He knows first hand what that's like, the perspective it lends. It's brutal, the revelation of one's own mortality, of the constantly ticking clock that's on every life.

And the next thing he knew, she was humming, and there was Pete Shanahan.

Both Daniel and Teal'c have asked if he's OK about it – one tactfully, one less so. He's shrugged it off, unwilling to probe himself too deeply lest he discover he isn't doing as well as he thinks. But he's spent years telling her she needs to get a life outside of her lab. How could he possibly begrudge the fact that she's actually done it? Sure, if things were different, then he'd have hoped for a different outcome to their story. But things aren't different, and these are the cards they hold. Changing them would mean giving up more than either of them would ask of the other – an abandonment of a duty that each lives their life by. All that is left to do is play the cards they've been dealt as best they can, the same as they have for the past seven years. He can't resent her for that. Contrary to popular romantic opinion, love does not conquer all. After all, if it did, he'd never have gone to Abydos in the first place. He'd never have even met Sam Carter.

In some ways, it's made things easier between them. He's spent so long locking everything down where Carter is concerned, shutting off anything that even hints at straying close to a line he can't cross, but now a question mark has been removed, a possibility extinguished. He's always been better at dealing with what's physically in front of him rather than theories, with the tangible rather than the… well, the intangible. At least now there's something real for him to confront, to deal with. Sam Carter is in a relationship with someone else. Presented with that reality, Jack finds himself relaxing a little.

Take right now, for example. It's late. Since SG-1 gated to this planet twelve hours ago they've trekked through some pretty harsh terrain, which included working out how to ford a very fast-flowing river. They've got another ten clicks to go before they reach the ruins that the Tok'ra have suggested, in their annoyingly cryptic way, might be of benefit to Earth. They've pitched camped in the lee of a cliff face, four small one-person tents in a semi-circle under the stars. Carter's taken first watch, to be followed by Teal'c, then Daniel, then Jack himself, because he lost that bet about whether or not Daniel was going to dump himself in the river (he didn't) and the forfeit is that he has to get the first pot of coffee on. By rights he should be flat out asleep out in his tent right now, the way Daniel and Teal'c already are. But instead here he is, still sitting beside the campfire talking to Carter.

"…and I've got a theory that the key to controlling the intake is the way the generator handles the rate of decay in the refined naquada, but at the moment's it's just that, a theory-" he watches as she gestures, blowing out her cheeks in that way she does when something fundamental is eluding her, "and until I can solve that, I'm stuck at this impasse."

"You'll work it out, Carter. You always do."

"Thank you, sir." She smiles at him, and it's bright and warm and genuine, as if his faith in her means a lot. She's just been trying to explain something that she knows he's never going to properly grasp but it never stops her trying, and all the while she's had a smudge of mud across her left cheek that is far more endearing than it has any right to be. The light from the fire glows against her face, and as dirty and tired and bundled up in her gear as she is, she is extraordinary. Despite himself, Jack can't help but feel a very slight pleasure – okay, if he's honest with himself, it's more than slight – that whatever happens with Pete Shanahan, the man will never have a moment with Carter that's quite like this.

She looks down into her mug. "Is there any more coffee?"

Jack reaches for the canister and holds it out. "A little. Tired?"

"Not really, just don't want it to go to waste." Carter pours herself a mug and then offers it back to him. He contemplates not taking it for about a flat second, and then tips the last of the brew into his own mug. When he looks up she's smiling at him again, but there's a question in her eyes. After all, he should have turned in an hour ago.

"Just enjoying the company, Major," he says, quietly, putting down the empty canister and leaning his elbows on his knees.

Her smile widens at that. "Thank you, sir. So am I."

Jack nods, takes a mouthful of coffee and swallows it before adding, "And to be honest it's nice to be on a planet where no one's trying to kill us for a change." He realises what he's said the second it's out of his mouth, and winces as Carter's face takes on a shadow. "Sorry. That was thoughtless. I didn't-"

"It's OK, sir," she says, but it's not. They've all been grieving Janet's loss, but she was one of Carter's closest friends and he knows how hard the loss has hit.

"How's Cassie?"

Sam clutches her mug with both hands and shrugs a little. "She's up and down. Poor kid. She's had to go through so much."

"She's lucky she's got you."

Carter smiles at him. "And you, sir. She said you'd been keeping in close touch. She might not say it, but it means a lot to her. She loves you, Colonel."

He makes a face and looks into the fire. "And there I thought she was growing up to be a smart one."

Sam laughs softly but doesn't answer that, and when he looks at her again she's frowning a little.

"What's up?"

She half shakes her head and screws up her face, as if she's unsure she should say what she's thinking.

"Come on, Carter," he says, softly. "This is me, here."

Sam bites her lip and then says, "Pete doesn't really understand about Cassie. He's trying, but… I can't really explain it to him, not properly, not without breaching security. I mean, he knows about the SGC, he knows what I do, but I still can't tell him everything. And I know he doesn't really get why I feel as responsible for her as I do. We don't get that much time together as it is, and at the moment… When I'm home I just want to be there for her as much as possible, you know?"

Jack nods. "I can see why he'd find it tough, Carter. Not just the Cassie thing, all of it. It's always hard for the ones left at home, waiting. But if he has any sense, he'll work through it. However tough he's finding it, he must already know you're worth whatever it takes."

Carter goes still, fingers still wrapped around the mug as she stares into the flames at their feet. An emotion flits across her face, something sad and powerful and deeper even than grief, and he can't quite identify it but it makes him feel as if his insides have been stuck in a centrifuge.

"Although I have to say," he says, snapping over to humour, instantly trying to head for safer ground, "if he saw you right now he might think twice. C'mere, Carter-" Jack licks his thumb and reaches out, catching her jaw and smoothing his thumb over the streak of mud he's been eyeing all evening. Carter gasps a little and stares at him, wide eyes catching the light from the flames, lips parting in surprise as she pulls in the breath. He's never reached for her like that, Jack realises, not on a mission, not for a non-tactical reason.

Jack drops his hand, wondering what the hell he was thinking, about sitting here with her like this, talking to her like this, as if he isn't still as crazy in love with her as he has been since he first fell and realised he was never getting up. As if a hundred Pete Shanahans could ever – will ever - change that, as if he hasn't just done the unthinkable and as good as told her that outright.

He clears his throat and slugs the last of the tepid coffee. "I'd better get some sleep. There'll be fresh coffee waiting when you get up, Major."

"Yes sir," she says.

Jack dumps his mug on the ground and stands up, heading for his tent. He ducks inside and takes off his boots, trying not to look in her direction. He manages it until he's zipping up the tent. The last glimpse of her he sees, she's still staring into the fire, still holding her mug. But one hand is touching her cheek, the cheek that he'd rubbed his thumb against, and that's enough to send that centrifuge spinning once again.

He gets into his sleeping bag and clicks off his light. Then Jack lies there, staring up into the dark, and he knows there's no chance he's going to sleep.

Maybe it's time to chuck in this hand and ask for a new deck, he thinks. Hell, don't they owe me that? I could retire. All the time that Hammond's in charge, the SGC can carry on without me. If there's still a chance that she-

He stops himself on that note. They're off world, on a mission. If there is ever a time to think about this, now is most definitely not it. But when he's back, he promises himself, he's going to think about it. He's going to think about it seriously.

There'll be time before they ship out on their next assignment to P3X-439.

[TBC]