Daniel called her on a Sunday morning, just as she was blearily measuring grounds into her coffee maker.
"Five minutes too early," Sam barked into the phone.
He laughed. "So I take you haven't read the paper yet?"
Her stomach dropped. What snafu awaited them today? Was some congressman clamoring about clandestine programs? Had an alien virus escaped confinement? Was another Goa'uld wreaking havoc on the local population? Or, perhaps Anubis had…
He must have heard the panic in her silence. "Sam, the crossword."
"Oh!" Relief washed over her. She pushed the button to start the drip and walked to her front porch. "Hang on, I'll get it."
She opened her front door and bent down to pick up the paper. She'd long ago stopped the daily edition, as her jaunts off-world often meant a soggy pile of goo on her stoop when she returned. But she couldn't quite give up the Sunday morning Gazette. It reminded her of Sundays at the breakfast table watching her parents argue over who was done with which page while she pored over the comics, having just barely learned to read.
Thoughts of comics made her automatically glance at her refrigerator, where she'd remounted a now complete puzzle next to the photo of Janet and Cassie, their last official family portrait. Anxious to banish another round of sadness, she set the paper on her table and reached to pour a cup of coffee.
"That sounds promising," Daniel said as liquid sloshed into her mug, but he wisely waited to continue until she'd had a sip.
She flipped open the paper and thumbed a few pages until she found the "Cryptic Crossword." Those were her favorites, as there was always a hidden trick to the clues. To be honest, she hadn't thought of springing one of those on the Colonel.
"Find it?" he asked.
"Yeah, Daniel, but I don't know…" She trailed off. It wasn't that she thought her CO was dumb, he just didn't have that much patience.
"Look at 21 across."
She scanned the page and read, "Earth god writhing in grass time and time again." The answer wasn't immediately apparent to her, but when she read the clue beside it and noted they shared a first letter, she snorted. She counted the letters to confirm.
"Groundhog Day."
Daniel laughed. "You got it faster than I did, and you haven't finished your coffee yet."
"Yeah, well, he was regaling SG-7 with tales from the time loop in the commissary, so I guess it was fresh on my mind."
"Does it pass muster?" he asked, the amusement in his voice a healing balm for her sorrow.
She was amused now, as well. She breathed in the scent of her coffee and the voice of her best friend. "I like it, look at all the science clues. He'll hate it."
"Ah, the real test." Daniel laughed.
"Thanks, Daniel." And there was a weight to her words, that she meant more than thank you for recommending a crossword puzzle for a ridiculous bet. If it hadn't been for his call, she might have gone all weekend without speaking to a soul.
"You're welcome, Sam." She heard it in his voice that he'd needed the chat, as well.
P=100.584/400
Jack looked down at the date on the report in front of him – February 26. It was no bigger than any of the other words on the page, but it enlarged itself in his mind's eye, overtaking the paragraphs about minerals and samples and ruins until it was all he could see. He glanced across the briefing room table at Carter, who sat stoically back in her seat, eyes trained on Daniel as he spoke about a near-future follow-up on P3X-439 when the current raging storms had cleared. He could tell those eyes of hers weren't actually taking anything in, clouded over as they were with thoughts of recent days.
Yesterday had been the deadline for their crossword challenge. Yesterday was also three days after Janet's memorial service. It had always been a silly game, but today it felt especially trivial. But then why did it also feel so important? He'd fully expected her to best him, even though cartoons were his specialty and not hers. He also knew her high moral standards would make it nearly impossible for her to cheat. He wouldn't even care if she had if she would just mention it. Taunt him. Tease him. Treat him like she did a week ago before a battle that changed everything.
He failed to look back at the report before she glanced in his direction and caught his eye. Her gaze cleared, focused on him intently, and he didn't look away. They were accustomed to sharing meaningful eye contact – in the heat of battle, when strategizing a complex solution, when communicating silently in front of the enemy, when tragedy befell their group, and even occasionally when sharing an inside joke or passing moment of flirtatiousness. But their unspoken agreed upon limit for the past eight years had been approximately 3.2 seconds, armband disaster notwithstanding.
Usually she was the first to awkwardly look away, but today she stared unabashedly into his soul. He breathed it in for a moment but broke contact first. And then, in his periphery, he caught the tiniest hint of a smile ghost across her features, as though she'd just realized she had an absurd upper hand. She wet her lips as she prepared to speak.
"Daniel, if this planet isn't on the mission roster yet, why did we move up the briefing?"
It was a question Jack himself might have asked, albeit with much more snark. Daniel might be the resident diplomat, but Carter was the broker of diplomacy within their team. General Hammond nodded his agreement. By now their base commander trusted if a member of SG-1 asked for a meeting, it was usually for good reason, but even he had grown restless, likely owing more to recent events than true impatience.
Daniel looked bewildered that no one in the room realized the importance of the impromptu gathering. He adjusted his glasses, flipped wildly through his report, and scanned a latter page with his finger, muttering under his breath about UAVs, interference, and military obstinance.
"Aha! Here it is, the appendix on page 26. The image is grainy, but on the ruins of the colonnade there appears to be ancient writing and potential artifacts."
Even Teal'c sat up straight at the mention of ancient technology.
"Daniel," Jack said, drawing out the second syllable, "You're gonna bury the lead in an appendix?"
Daniel glanced around the room, but only received a sympathetic look from Carter, whose reports were typically as long or longer than his.
"There's a reference to it in the summary…" Daniel stopped himself, perhaps realizing Jack hadn't read the report at all. He did usually at least skim them, but well, life had been a little chaotic lately. A staff blast to the chest would do that to you.
Hammond saved Daniel from further scrutiny. "Considering that Colonel O'Neill still has to get medical clearance, I will authorize P3X-439 for SG-2's schedule for now. Major Carter can assist in reviewing the atmospheric conditions, and if they find something of value, it will be the first mission on your roster."
A series of nods around the room confirmed the General's decision, but Jack had a new distraction. His first medical clearance at the SGC without Fraiser. He barely stood in time to acknowledge Hammond's exit from the room, eliciting a groan from his still healing ribs. The new vest insert had saved his life, but not his pride.
"Are you alright, sir?" Carter asked as she relaxed her at-attention posture.
"Just peachy," he grimaced.
Daniel shot him a look of concern as he collected his papers. "When do you have to see Dr. Brightman?" A heaviness hung in the air at the formal mention of a doctor, rather than a friend they all knew on a first-name basis.
"Next Monday morning, bright and early," he responded with false enthusiasm.
"We look forward to your return, O'Neill." Ironically, Teal'c was often the member of their team most likely to express what others were feeling but couldn't bring themselves to say. His directness was refreshing, but that didn't mean he was ready to hear truths from everyone else, especially Carter.
"Thanks, T," he said with a nod. He usually had a snarky quip or inappropriate comment to break the tension, but nothing came to mind. They all exchanged a final look before turning to retreat to their respective workspaces.
Carter glanced back at him once as they were descending the stairs. He'd seen that look before. Each of them had done it at least twice since the previous week's mission. It was as if the disbelief of Janet's death and his own near death had them subconsciously checking to confirm he had indeed made it. It was unnerving, but they probably didn't even realize they were doing it. Heck, he'd probably done it for months after Daniel's return.
Jack typically roamed the halls looking for distractions, which usually led him to either Daniel's or Carter's lab, to the gym with Teal'c, or to the mess hall. Today, however, he retreated to his rarely used office. He had a computer and a filing cabinet and a few photos, but he typically preferred to carry his reports to other nooks and crannies in the SGC where he could people-watch and overhear the latest scuttlebutt. An unusual choice for the second-in-command of the nation's premier, albeit secret, military project, but it often provided surprisingly useful intel. He sat in his desk chair and fiddled with the mouse. Solitude was his preference on this day. Or, he thought it was until he saw a blond head peak around the door frame.
"There you are, sir," she said, a little out of breath.
"So shocked to find me working, Carter?" he snarked, then immediately regretted it when he saw her relaxed demeanor start to backpedal.
"Of course not, sir, I just…"
He waved off her apprehension. "Relax, Carter, I was just kidding." He didn't get as much enjoyment out of pushing her buttons these days, as it only served to highlight her unease and the chasm of military protocol that lay between them. The closer they got, the farther they were away from each other. Still, her brow relaxed as she attempted a smile. This used to be easy, right? When you didn't care about her more than you were supposed to. His brain supplied the unhelpful answer.
They'd actually managed to return to a semblance of normal when Daniel had returned. Would they grow apart again? Because Janet's death was permanent. It occurred to him then he was mostly at fault for their separation, as he'd refused to mourn Daniel and had shut her out. Or tried, anyway.
"I can hear you thinking," she broke his train of thought.
He chuckled. "That's my line."
"Yeah, well, you seem to be doing enough overthinking for the both of us."
He was a little shocked and a lot pleased at her lack of formality. He motioned to the chair across from him against the wall. "You were looking for me?"
He caught her quick glance down each end of the hall, a military tactic permanently etched into their psyches, before she moved to sit. She reached into the chest pocket of her BDU jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. He held his breath and dared to hope. When she passed it to him, the tips of his fingers smoothed along the tops of hers. In days past one or both of them might have snatched their hand away too quickly from the electrical contact. But today, it was familiar and intimate, drawn out more slowly and free of awkwardness. Still, neither made eye contact, because touching and looking at each other at the same time might be their undoing.
He unfolded the paper and, once their hands were a safe distance apart, smiled in her direction.
"You finished it." He was beaming with pride rather than defeat.
"Well, sort of." She was fidgeting.
"What do you mean?"
She picked imaginary lint from the knee of her pants before she answered. "Janet helped me with the last clue."
He scanned the puzzle, then recognized the softly slanted letters in the middle of the page. He swallowed, unexpectedly emotional over something so simple.
"She did, huh?" He grinned when he read the corresponding clue. "Well, that's okay, I'm sure you would have gotten it, anyway."
She furrowed her brow at him, clearly not expecting him to be this absolvitory about her cheating on their bet, even if it did happen to be due to their dead friend.
"I still lost, sir."
And there was too much weight to her words. Layers of meaning better left buried rather than excavated by people like Daniel who wanted to strip them away to examine every last detail. He pushed forward to clear the air.
"Does that mean you're taking us out for steak, then?"
He saw a flash of disappointment cross her face before she replaced it.
"Sure, if that's what you want, sir. You won, fair and square."
She was being entirely too rational about this. Which, she was typically the most rational of the four of them, but it didn't seem like she'd come looking for him just to admit defeat. He decided to cut to the chase.
"What else ya got, Carter?"
And it was like he had flipped a magical switch that restored the luminescent grin to her face that had been absent in recent weeks. That alone made him want to agree to whatever she had in mind, no questions asked. She reached inside her other BDU pocket, unfolded another piece of paper, and handed it to him. A blank puzzle. He reverently placed the completed one on his desk to examine this one more closely. Well, crap. It was one of those cryptic crosswords that he swore only actual cryptographers could solve. Maybe that's how the CIA secretly recruited their people. But, the idea of saying no to her beaming face was not an option.
"I figured we could go double or nothing," she finally said, a note of challenge in her tone.
"Oh?" He was intrigued, pushed her to elaborate.
"Double dinners, maybe? Or dinner and a movie." She shrugged her shoulders.
The idea of dinner and a movie with Carter stirred up something inside him, but before he could analyze it, she continued.
"We'll poll the guys."
It was then he remembered he had included their team members in this wager, for better or worse. Daniel and Teal'c were his brothers, but at the moment, they were cramping his style and they weren't even in the room.
"Double or nothing," he repeated. She nodded. He decided to up the ante. As though delirious with ancient knowledge, he was powerless to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
"You have yourself a deal, Sam."
The quick intake of breath and shocked look on her face before she schooled her features became such an immediate source of pride that he realized he was an idiot for not eliciting it sooner.