"Hey," Jack says. His eyes roam the form of Samantha Carter as she sits next to him, quiet and still on their shared perch of the bench along his back deck. She's staring out over the tree line into the bright stars above. There's the hint of a smile on her lips, but it does not reach her eyes, which are bright as ever, reflecting the stars and the gentle, low light of the tinsel lights strung along his porch railings. Bright, but filled with sorrow.

Team night had been a quiet, easy affair. The comfort of each other being in the same location, being safe, had been enough to make them smile and laugh with the familiar ease of their bonds. A light pasta and salad dinner, a cheesy sci-fi movie, and a few card games had been all they needed. They'd turned on one of the late night talk shows for a while. Jack had noticed Sam get up to use the bathroom and slip out onto the back deck rather than return to the couch. He'd started to get up and follow, but stopped when Daniel and Teal'c stood in unison to say it was time to get themselves to their respective homes. "Night," he'd said. "See ya tomorrow."

So now, he's sitting next to Sam, trying not to be too obvious as he watches her watch the sky, knowing she's not really looking at it. He knows what she's seeing because he's seeing it too.

"You thinking about Elliot?" he asks, and he thinks it might be the softest his voice has ever been.

"Yeah." Her voice is so clear he winces against it, the sharpness of her sorrow ringing in his ears.

"C'mere," he says, reflexively wrapping his arm around her and tugging her close against his side, squeezing her shoulder. She relaxes against him instantly, and Jack relaxes in turn as he feels her lean into the half embrace. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I do," she says, "but I'm not sure what I want to say."

He nods. "Yeah."

"It's a lot, Sir."

"Yes, it is."

"It wasn't just Elliot."

"No, it wasn't."

"I didn't love them, Sir."

"O-okay, Carter." He turns himself just slightly to look down at her more directly.

Her eyes stop any words he might have tried to form just then as she chews on her lower lip and sighs. "I know you heard him telling me about Martouf and Lantash."

"I did."

"It was weird."

He nods. "Was it weird because it was Elliot?"

"No," she says. It's a clear and easy rebuttal. No. Easy. "It was weird because it was Jolinar."

Jack doesn't want to interrupt her and say that, yes, he had heard Elliot telling her that Lantash loved her-Sam, not only Jolinar. He doesn't want to stop her from saying whatever it is she needs and wants to say, but the truth is that he did hear that, and it had upset him. He's been sick inside for feeling a little bit glad that Lantash is gone for real because he knows it's a real douchebag thing to feel, but he can't help it.

"It wasn't me who loved Martouf or Lantash; it never has been. I liked them both-a lot," she says. Sam twists a little under Jack's arm and risks reaching out to press her slender hand against his chest, teasing her fingers against his shirt and looks up at him. "They were kind, courageous, wonderful people. But it was never me who loved them, and I would never, ever have trusted that it was."

"Why?" Jack asks, pretending he doesn't notice his voice cracking.

"Jolinar took my body but she never shared it. I have some memories, feelings, and flashes, but they're not mine." She sighs, dropping her gaze to her hand against his chest and closing her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them wide and staring back up at Jack. "It wasn't a blending. It was a use," she says. "Yes, Jolinar saved me… but only after she'd used me and, you know…"

"Sorta fucked up your life?" he offers, for some reason reaching his hand up to clasp her fingers against his chest and squeeze.

"Yes!" Sam's eyes light up with something not sadness, something almost feral. "Yes, thank you." The light in her eyes drops back into a darker place, but she leans her head against his shoulder and sighs, nuzzling her nose and cheek against his shirt just a little.

"Fuckin' aliens, right?" he asks. She looks up at him with a questioning glance and he shrugs. "I mean you have Jolinar and I got those Ancients downloading shit into my brain." He takes a deep breath before reaching deep into his courage and pulling enough out to lean forward and press a long, hard kiss into her forehead before leaning back against the bench and pulling her with him against his chest. "Let's talk about Lieutenant Elliot," he says.

Sam shoves the surprise and the alarms away and rests against him, reveling in his strength, acceptance, and warmth. She thinks about Elliot and his face the day he'd passed the SGC test, or the times he'd failed. She thinks about how thoughtful he was and how deeply serious he'd been about following through with the mission.

For the first time, she allows tears to form in the corner of her eye, and when they down her cheek and spread into Jack's shirt, she doesn't try to stop it. When more tears fall and he's noticed and starts gently stroking his hand over her back, she doesn't stop those, either. He distracts her by reliving the simulated foothold situation and how Elliot had nailed it, how they'd been proud of him. And how they were so proud of him for what he had just done and how he gave his life. They spend the night on the deck, sharing memories of Elliot and other fallen friends as they clutch each other in a way that feels safe and appropriate because it's therapeutic, because it's necessary.

Hours later, Jack presses a final kiss into the top of Sam's head just as he drifts off to sleep under the twilight. His last awake thoughts are gratitude to Elliot for his service and his life and to the universe for Sam Carter.