This chapter totally got out of hand and ended up being a novella. (Blame Jack and Sam and their angsty angst. This isn't my fault. Ha.)

I have split it into three parts, each labeled as Part One, Two, or Three.

They cannot be read independently, as they are all part of the same story.

Filling the Spaces

Truth Serum

Undercover as a Couple

Forced Marriage

Amnesia

Part One

Set in Season 7 between "Lifeboat" and "Space Race".

Oh—also—angst. There's some here. Like—a lot. Just fair warning.

"Guys, we have to find that ring."

"We know, Carter." Jack rifled through another patch of tall grass, searching for even the merest glint of gold.

They'd been looking for at least ten minutes now, the clock ticking ever closer to the appointed time for their meeting with locals. Jack was annoyed to be on this planet in the first place. Annoyed to be placed yet again in this position, and flat-out peeved to be scrounging around in alien dirt for a diminutive bit of metal. Damn Daniel and his tiny hands.

"Have you looked over there?" Daniel was on his knees on the opposite side of the path. He pointed at a spot just beyond where Carter was crouched. "It could have rolled further than we first thought."

"Indeed I have searched that area." Teal'c had refused to get on the ground, choosing to bend at the waist in order to look for the lost circlet. He was using the butt end of this staff weapon to dig around in the foliage. "The ring was not there."

Carter sat back on her heels, scanning the area. "Well, it has to be here somewhere."

"Why do we even need the damned thing, anyway?" Jack flicked a bug off his trouser leg, then foraged through another patch of grass. "How do we even know that this society uses them?"

"People have been using them since Ancient Egypt, Jack." Daniel crept a little further off the path towards a promising-looking sapling. "And since these people are likely descendents of the Vikings of Earth, my guess is that they brought the tradition with them."

Finding nothing, Jack abandoned the grass, half-crawling along the side of the trail towards another likely spot. He scoured the heavy, dark dirt beneath him as he went, using his fingers to gently sift the soil in search of the article they were missing.

A wedding ring. Sergeant Siler's wedding ring, to be exact. Borrowed as the 'Gate had blazed to life for the weirdest rescue mission SG-1 had mounted thus far.

Captains Mills and Shaw of SG-5 hadn't been allowed to return from their mission to P3X-756. Colonel Nichols had sent Lieutenant Lewis back through the 'Gate for help in negotiating their release. The details were still a little sketchy—Lewis wasn't known for his eloquence—but he'd managed to convey the important bits.

First—the people of Frigganheim were only too willing to share their knowledge of seemingly miraculous plant-based medicines.

Second—they were completely devoted in their worship of their Goddess.

Lastly, the Frigganheim leadership would not trade with people whose moral code was not similar to their own. They feared that sharing their knowledge with those less-than-worthy would anger their Goddess, leaving them without her blessing.

A few other things were true, too—like the fact that it was important that the two captains made it home sooner rather than later. Captain Mills' daughter was graduating from the eighth grade tomorrow, and Captain Shaw's wife was due to have their twins any minute.

This particular mission had been a fluke for SG-5—a spur of the moment thing after another team had returned to the SGC with raving reviews of the herbal prowess of the people here. SG-5 was the only research team with both a botanist and a member with a medical background, so they'd been sent back through to make a more knowledgeable assessment of what the locals had to offer. They'd only been meant to spend the day. Gather some samples. Schmooze with the locals.

"I just don't understand what their problem is." Carter turned, scanning the ground around her for the missing item. "Mills and Shaw are married."

"They're married to other people but working and traveling together without their respective spouses." Daniel stood, stretching his back for a bit before crouching down in a different spot. "That seems to have been the issue. The people of this world worship the Norse deity Frigga. She's the goddess of fertility, marriage, and prophecy. And while the Norse on Earth were more moderate in their reverence towards Frigga, it appears that this society has taken their devotion to another, much more puritanical, level."

"They do not believe that women and men should interact casually in any way." Teal'c nudged aside a small bush with the toe of his boot. "They view Captains Mills and Shaw as adulterers and thus in defiance of their most holy law."

"Which is how they're also going to see us, thanks to Daniel and his spindly little fingers." Jack shot a glare towards his teammate.

"I don't have spindly little fingers."

"Yes, you do."

"I have perfectly fine hands." Daniel held one up, turning it back and forth as if to prove his assertion. "Janet told me once that I have the hands of a pianist."

"Yes, Daniel. You have pen—"

"Colonel."

Carter had perfected that tone. The one that told O'Neill that he really shouldn't say the first thing that popped into his fron—and that he probably shouldn't have been thinking the thing that popped into his fron in the first place. He glanced over just to check—and yep. She was also giving him that look. The one that told him that she was probably thinking exactly the same thing that he was thinking, but was mature enough not to actually say it out loud.

So, alas, his joke about—ahem—pianist fingers which substituted a different (yet delightfully near-homophonous) body part for the word 'pianist' would have to remain unsaid.

Damn it.

Even more reason to grumble as he rooted around in the dirt like one of those pigs that sniffed out truffles.

"Anyway. Why not just send back an all-male team?" Carter went back to her search. "That way, nobody has to pretend at all."

"Colonel Nichols indicated that a positive example of Earthly married bliss would go a long way in swaying the people of Frigganheim." Teal'c prodded around the base of a tree with the butt of his staff weapon. "That is the only justification General Hammond could give for his approval of this subterfuge."

Subterfuge which wouldn't work if they couldn't find the damned ring. O'Neill muttered yet another curse at the ground below him. "Less jabbering. More looking, people."

"We're looking, Sir."

"And once we find the damned ring, we can all thank Daniel for the dirt bath."

"Listen, Jack. This isn't my fault." Daniel shifted a large rock out aside and poked around its base. "Just because you have knuckles the size of walnuts—"

"I do not."

"Guys!"

That tone was recognizable, too. Especially since she'd started using it more and more lately. Ever since Daniel had come back from being Ascended, and Jonas had headed home to Kelowna. Ever since they'd nearly lost Teal'c and she'd had to watch Daniel slowly go insane. She'd flung herself into her work—spending hours poring over engineering specs for the Prometheus whenever she wasn't involved with her tasks with SG-1. He'd had to order her to go home last week, after she'd spent nearly ten full days within the Mountain, living out of the on-base quarters usually reserved for her father.

O'Neill hadn't been able to decide what she was running from—or to—by burying herself in work. It was just obvious to him that she was seeking something that she was in no danger of actually finding.

And Jack had been endeavoring not to wonder where he fit into that search. Where he fit into her life—or even if he still fit in there at all.

That was the main reason that Daniel had been cast in the role of 'husband' for this little jaunt. The question had arisen as they'd geared up, and Jack had pretended not to have been listening, paying inordinate attention to a specific pocket closure on his vest while he tried not to imagine how nice it might be to be able to act out what he actually felt—showing her deference as his woman rather than just as his teammate. He'd immediately been a little ashamed of himself. Still was, really—painfully aware that his thoughts made him seem porcine in a different way. Sexist, rather than truffle-finding.

Thankfully Daniel—being Daniel—had happily volunteered. It was easier this way. Less complicated.

O'Neill dug around an expansive stand of native flowers. They were everywhere on this planet—tall-stemmed with large, fragrant blooms. He'd counted at least a half-dozen different colorations so far. This particular bunch sat a little ways off the path, about halfway between the walkway and the outer edges of the forest beyond. Blue petals and wide, deep green leaves, and—wouldn't you know it—a plain gold ring sitting atop a root ball of the outermost stem.

"Found it!" He snagged the ring between his index finger and thumb, wincing a tidge as he stood. Getting old pretty much sucked. Shaking the worst of the dirt off the band, he moved towards the center of the path, where the rest of the team was congregating. He extended the ring towards his friend. "Now, Daniel—don't lose this again."

"I didn't mean to lose it last time." Daniel took the item from Jack, sliding it onto his ring finger. Holding up his hand, he wiggled it a little, sending the band up towards his knuckle. "It's just so big. Siler has gigantic fingers."

"Maybe you could just keep your hand curled up." Sam made a fist as an example. "We won't be here that long, right?"

"All that needs to be accomplished here is to convince the people of Frigganheim that the people of the Tau'ri believe in the sanctity of marriage." Teal'c kicked the dirt off the heels of his boots. "Once that has been done, they should release Captain Mills and Captain Shaw and we can return home."

"That's the plan, Teal'c." Jack glowered over at Daniel. "As long as Daniel here keeps the ring on."

"I'll keep it on." Daniel gestured towards Jack in exasperation, only to have the ring sail off his finger yet again.

On sheer, lucky, reflex, O'Neill raised his hand, snatching the bit of gold in mid-air. Narrowing a look at the archaeologist, he threw his arms wide, the ring tucked tightly in his palm. "Seriously?"

"I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Sir." Carter nodded meaningfully in the direction of the town, lowering her chin so that she could speak surreptitiously. "We have company."

Muttering a curse, Jack turned his back on the arriving contingent. They didn't have time for this. If Daniel couldn't keep this ring on his teeny piano hands, then the gig was up. With a resigned look towards the Major, he slid the ring on his own finger, stepping closer to her as he turned to greet their arrival party.

"Sir—"

"Sorry, Carter." He leaned in towards her, taking her hand in his own. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

There were five of them. Two men and three women. The older of the men was large—bushy-bearded, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested—wearing a long tunic, belted at the waist, and a pair of baggy trousers tucked into leather boots. The younger man was tall and wiry, his beard thinner, his hair blonder. His tunic just reached mid-thigh, and his leggings fit snugly around his legs before disappearing into his calf-high boots. The women's dresses flowed nearly to the ground—straight shifts split up the sides with longer skirts beneath. While scabbards on the men's belts carried long swords, beautifully ornate sheaths on the women's hips held daggers.

Despite the weaponry, the group seemed friendly, chattering happily with each other as they strode along the trail. As they neared, the eldest of the group raised a hand with a shouted, "Heill!"

Jack reciprocated, lifting his own—newly ring-adorned—hand. "Hey, there."

"We have been expecting you." Again, the senior gentleman spoke, stopping a few yards from SG-1. He slapped his fist against his chest. "I am Gorm. I am the Harald of this province."

"Gorm. I'm Jack." O'Neill smiled at the older man, indicating his companions with a nod. "These are my friends Teal'c and Daniel."

"And you have brought a woman with you." Gorm's eyes narrowed in speculation.

"I have." Jack raised their joined hands, pressing his lips to Carter's fingertips, angling her fingers so that her borrowed ring sparkled in the afternoon sun. "This is my wife Samantha."

"A wife!" Gorm pressed his palms together, his eyes bright. Around him, the ladies tittered between themselves, peeking over their shoulders at Sam. "You have brought a wife!"

"A wife." Jack glanced over to find Sam looking back at him. Her blue eyes were cautious. Unreadable. Her smile seemed genuine, even if a little careful. He skimmed his thumb along her knuckles, loosening his grip on her fingers even as he edged closer to her. His hand made its way to the small of her back, settling there. "I'm assuming this is your family?"

"Indeed it is!" Gorm threw his arm around the shoulders of the woman at his side. "Thurid is my beloved bride. Thirty-three years and nine children. Frigga has certainly been beneficent."

"Nine children!" Jack's eyes widened, and he cracked a grin as he glanced sideways at Sam. "It certainly seems so."

"Come!" Gorm raised his hands into the air. "Come! Let us go and become friends!"

—OOOOOOO—

The women had taken Carter away.

It had been done in such a sweet, persuasive manner that O'Neill had barely even realized that it was happening. One minute Thurid and her two youngest daughters had been exclaiming over the color of Sam's hair and eyes, and the next minute she'd been trundled off to a long, low edifice that Gorm had casually dismissed as the "Women's House".

Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c had followed Gorm and his son-in-law—a brawny young lad named Thorsten—to the town's main building. Situated across the square from the Women's House, the Meeting House was a broad, wooden, round-roofed affair that reminded Jack of a quonset hut on steroids. The interior was dim, but not dark, lit almost entirely by glass windows near the front, back, and side doors and a few well-placed skylights in the thatched roof. An expansive table ran the length of the center of the single room, while a variety of mismatched tables and shelves marched along the walls. Candles had been placed in sconces on the walls and candlesticks on the tables, but none were burning.

There were no chairs at the table. Instead, dozens of densely-padded benches and round stools provided comfortable places to sit. Gorm had led them to the head of the table, indicating that Jack should sit on his left side, while Daniel and Teal'c took seats a little further down. As if on cue, Colonel Nichols had entered through the back door, sinking onto a tuffet next to Thorsten.

"So, your people allow your women to work with the men."

"On Earth, it is common for women to choose their own paths in life." Daniel was making strides with Gorm. "In fact, on Earth, even your distant cousins are quite liberal in their attitudes, and women are equals in their society. They can work how, where, and with whom they wish."

"And how does this affect your families? Your children?" Gorm wasn't quite convinced, but he was certainly more open to the concept than they'd expected him to be. Shifting his attention from Daniel to O'Neill, he asked, "Colonel Jack. How many children has Samantha given you?"

Kids? Aw, hell. Jack shook his head, leveling a cautionary glare towards Nichols. They hadn't had a chance to clue him in on their little act. Jack hoped he'd take the hint. "None. We've only been together for a few years."

"Years?" Gorm's brows flew high. He exchanged a brief glance with his son-in-law before focusing back on Jack. "Years? And still no offspring?"

"Not yet." Jack looked down at his hands. They'd given him something to drink, but he'd been fairly reluctant to imbibe, choosing instead to fiddle with the sealed earthenware bottle. Siler's ring made a satisfying noise every time it impacted the hardened clay. "But we're hopeful."

"Thorsten has been wed to my daughter Bodil for only three years and has already been blessed with two fine sons." The Harald leaned back in his seat. "Is this not the reason that we marry? To produce offspring?"

"Of course we'd like kids." Lying was easy when it was the truth. Even a truth that you didn't realize was the truth yet. Jack put his drink on the table. It landed with a 'clunk'. "It just hasn't happened yet."

"Is there an issue with your manhood?" Gorm leaned close, his voice low and conspiratorial. "We have herbal remedies for that. Or for any failure that might be on your wife's part."

Failure? O'Neill squelched an immediate urge to spit in the man's eye. Of all the freaking nerve. If Samantha Carter was anything, it was not a failure. And as for his manhood—well, hell. There was nothing wrong there. Not that he'd had much of a chance to prove that, lately. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged except for an inauspicious grunt.

Luckily, Daniel was there to take up the slack. "I think that the main point we're making here is that when we marry, when we have children, and the work that we do is up to us. The humans of our world value our free agency. Having said that, the family is still the base unit of our society. Captains Mills and Shaws have families of their own who are very anxious to see them again."

"The wife of Captain Shaw is nearly at her time to deliver." Teal'c glared down the table towards Gorm and Torsten. "I am certain that she would appreciate having her husband back home when that time comes."

"And yet, your two captains were seen in an embrace. As one would hold one's lover. That is the crime for which they are being held."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw briefly before taking a quick breath. "They were hugging?"

"Yes." Gorm nodded. "In the town square. In plain view of all the people. It was most unseemly."

"As I have already explained," Nichols sighed. It was obvious that he'd grown weary of the entire situation. "Captain Mills hugged Captain Shaw when Shaw expressed some anxiety about becoming a father. Mills is a great airman, but she's also just a nice person. She's very demonstrative—she just kind of mothers us all. Hell—she hugged me last week after I told her that my oldest son broke his ankle playing football."

"That sounds terrible." Frowning, Daniel looked over at Nichols. "Is he okay?"

"He broke it seven years ago, Doctor Jackson."

Daniel's mouth puckered into a little 'o'. Flickering a look at Jack, he offered a half-shrug before placing his own earthenware bottle on the table in front of him. "Well, it seems to me that this is all just a lack of understanding between cultures. Surely you can see, Gorm, that no harm was meant by this hug. Captain Shaw and Captain Mills aren't involved in any sort of extramarital affair, and they didn't mean to expose your people to any kind of nefarious example."

"And yet, the offense was committed." Gorm shook his head, a little sad. "As much as we desire trade and friendship with your people, we must be assured that you value our reverence for Frigga and her admonitions."

"So?" He'd had enough. Jack stood, shoving his stool backwards with a little kick of his heel. The table was too low for him to sit comfortably, anyway, and he was in a mood already without adding aching knees and a sore butt to the mix. Sitting around teaching physics to a wall would be more worthwhile than continuing to talk in all these damned circles. "What's it going to take, Gorm?"

"Pardon me?"

"What's it going to take?" O'Neill shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "You have stuff that we're interested in, and we have stuff that would make your lives easier. We'd love to trade. Sure. Our cultures aren't exactly aligned. But we honor you and your way of life, and we respect it. That doesn't mean that we're going to go all out in our worship of Frigga any more than it means that you're going to adopt our ways."

Gorm seemed to acknowledge that with a slow, thoughtful nod. "True."

"Mills and Shaw are not violating the principle of your laws—or Frigga's admonitions—in any way. They are friends. Deeply in love with their own spouses and their families and not guilty of anything other than being friends."

The town Harald squinted up at Jack. "Just as you and your wife are deeply in love."

"Exactly." O'Neill nodded, then paused. Purposefully avoiding the gazes of any of his Earthling contingent, he passed his tongue along the inside crease of his lips. Crossing his arms across his chest, he rocked back on the heels of his boots. "So? What's it going to take for you to release Mills and Shaw and open trade relations with the people of Earth?"

Gorm rose, his broad shoulders straightening. For a long, long time, the Meeting House sat in silence as the Harald considered arguments and options. His bushy gray brows slung low over his eyes as he shifted his attention from Nichols to Daniel to O'Neill. Finally, with one last glance at where Siler's gold band graced O'Neill's finger, he sighed. His sharp blue eyes lifted to pillory Jack.

"It will take a wedding."

—-OOOOOOO—-

"We're going to do what?"

"Get married."

"Colonel—"

"Now, now, Major." Jack was whispering, leaning against the outside wall of the Women's House near the back door. "If you keep calling me that, they won't buy it."

She pivoted away from him, shaking her head. Running her hand through her hair, she grunted—just a little—before making a quarter-turn back in his direction. "This is stupid."

He'd rarely seen her like this—genuinely at odds with both herself and him. She was upset—that was obvious by the way that she didn't quite meet his eye. By the way her chin trembled slightly when she spoke to him. The way her shoulders tilted away from him—as if she were seeking to put distance between them rather than drawing nearer. He hadn't felt that from her since before they'd been captured by Hathor so many years before. When they'd both learned how easy it was to exist within each others' heat. He still thought about that from time to time—taking himself back to the corridor with her body pressed back against his, his hand over her mouth as she'd cried out through painful memories.

They'd stood more closely since then—grown accustomed to each other in ways that weren't quite military-appropriate—but Jack had always considered that moment—being tucked into that alcove between corridors—to be when he'd known it for certain. When she had first become the only person that he'd wanted to hold against himself for the rest of ever.

"I argued with Gorm, but it did no good." Jack crossed his arms, raising one foot to rest against the wall behind him. "He wants us to prove our devotion by reaffirming our vows. As soon as we've said 'I do', Mills and Shaw can go home, and we can open up trade negotiations."

"Have you had a chance to talk to Colonel Nichols about all this?"

"Daniel and Teal'c are with him now." Jack had trusted them to fill Nichols in on the whole plan. "Everyone just wants to get home. If we have to get married to make that happen, then so be it."

"Get married." She faced him fully, her eyes huge. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"It's not like it's binding on Earth." He shrugged, trying to maintain a composure that he didn't quite feel. "And here, it's just a renewal of vows, since they think we're already hitched back home."

"I've been talking to the women, Sir." Her voice grew stronger—something beyond the heavy whisper they'd been using. "Marriage here is more than just a formality. It's more than just a nice little celebration. These people are ritualistic about it. It's what they live and breathe."

"Carter—"

"I don't think you understand, Sir." She edged closer, until her body shared his warmth. Even with her whispering, her voice reached him easily. "We're talking medieval European customs. Handfasting. Animal sacrifices. Witnesses at the consummation kinds of customs. Frida—that's Thurid's youngest daughter—told me that she's already picked the people she wants to be in the room when she's with her husband for the first time. And she's not even engaged yet."

"Then we'll choose our own people as witnesses." Jack's shoulder rose slightly. "Jump up and down on the bed to make things interesting. Or we can come up with some great excuse and leave right after the ceremony."

"Sir—"

Jack pushed away from the wall, stepping even nearer to her. He took a chance and reached for her, his fingers bracing her biceps, then trailing down past her elbows towards her wrists. Taking both of her hands in his, he tugged her close. "Listen, Carter. I know you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Bull." He snorted. "You've been in a crappy mood for weeks. Whatever it is—we need to sort it out."

"And you think marriage is the way to do that?"

"I'm here to listen. I'm here for whatever you need. Or, if you don't want to tell me what it is, that's fine, too."

Her chin was tilted downward, and she shifted her hand in his, until the borrowed ring on her own finger caught the late afternoon sunlight. "I haven't been in a mood."

Ooooookay. O'Neill resisted the urge to call out that blatant lie. Pressing his lips together, he soldiered through. "Sam."

It was her name that did it. Made her meet him in the eye. It was a powerful thing—breaking down that barrier that clearly defined who they were. Moving past rank and file and regulations. Towards something personal.

She bit her bottom lip before answering him. "What?"

"I don't want to have to make this an order."

That little crinkle formed above her nose, and a single dimple flashed in her cheek. "I'm pretty sure that's not allowed."

He smiled, gratified that she'd responded to his lame attempt at humor. His fingers tightened on hers. "Let's get this over with. Do what Gorm is asking us to do. Secure positive relations with this planet and these people. Once that's done, we'll send Colonel Nichols home with his team."

"Okay."

"After that, you and I will take a minute." He studied the depth of her blue gaze for a while. "Get things straightened out."

And it seemed like forever before she exhaled—slowly, through clenched teeth—her entire body tense and tight. "Okay."

To be continued