Around the crackling bonfire in an off-world mission, amidst the shadows cast by an unfamiliar plant, Jack found himself lost in memories that time had worn but not forgotten. It was a distant moment, perhaps the second or third year of SG-1, marked by change, especially after Jolinar.
Sam, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c sat on makeshift logs arranged around the fire, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. The subtle hum of alien insects and distant sounds of unknown creatures created an ambient symphony that underscored the moment's serenity. The air carried a hint of unfamiliar scents, a mix of alien flora, and the distinct aroma of the campfire.
Two tents were pitched nearby, their silhouettes blending seamlessly with the foreign terrain. The tents were strategically placed to create a sense of security and allow for a quick response if needed. The team's gear was neatly organized around the campsite, and their weapons were within easy reach, a testament to their training and vigilance even in moments of relaxation.
As they lounged around, Daniel, still buzzing from the recent adventure, complained about needing a haircut upon their return to Earth.
Sam, always practical, casually offered, "I could cut your hair if you want."
Raising an intrigued eyebrow, Jack knew her as a woman of many talents, but wielding scissors for haircuts was a new revelation.
His curiosity piqued, Jack asked, "Since when do you do haircuts, Carter?"
Sam, seated on a log, diverted her gaze to her boots. The night on the alien planet was crisp and cool, with a gentle breeze rustling through the alien flora surrounding the campsite. The temperature had dropped to a comfortable level, making the evening enjoyable for the SG-1 team as they gathered around a crackling campfire. The sky above was a canvas of unfamiliar constellations, casting a soft, otherworldly glow on the landscape.
"It was just a suggestion, Sir," she replied in a subdued voice.
Sensing a hidden talent, Daniel said, "Come on, Sam, spill it. Where did you learn to cut hair?"
Sam blushed, her eyes fixed on the bonfire.
"My brother," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
Throwing the long stick of wood he had been playing with to the fire, Jack, still intrigued, prodded, "Pray tell, Major."
Sam hesitated for some seconds, her eyes focused on the flames.
"After my mother died, Mark and I were pretty much on our own. He wanted to save money for a car because my father won't give him one, so he persuaded me to cut his hair," she confessed.
Jack's raised eyebrow prompted her to continue.
She cleared her throat, realizing she might have shared too much.
"I started cutting his hair. I wasn't very good at first, but I got better with practice," she explained, her eyes refusing to meet theirs.
Daniel, adjusting his glasses, inquired, "And?"
Sam cleared her throat again, sensing the story's incompleteness.
"And word spread out, and I started cutting his friends' hair too, and they all saved money," she confessed quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Jack and Daniel exchanged curious looks. Something felt off.
"And what did you get in return?" Daniel asked, his curiosity unabated.
Sam blushed even more, admitting, "Nothing."
Jack and Daniel shared surprised glances.
"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?" Jack questioned, shifting on the log. "Surely they must have given you something—ice creams or whatever," he suggested with a puzzled expression.
Sam felt the heat rising in her cheeks.
"It doesn't matter, Sir," she said, abruptly standing up. "I can cut your hair tomorrow if you want, Daniel, or you can do it when we return to Earth. I'm going to sleep. Good night."
With that, she left for her tent, cutting off any chance for further discussion.
The three men stood in silence, watching her disappear into the tent. Jack stirred the fire, breaking the quiet.
"What was all that about?" he asked hushedly.
Teal'c regarded him with his characteristic stoicism, his bald head signaling a reluctance to engage in the conversation.
"It appears Major Carter does not wish to continue discussing this matter further," he said.
Passing a hand through his long hair, Daniel shrugged.
"I was just curious, but I'll keep quiet. I do want my haircut, though," he added.
Jack got up.
"Fine, no more discussions about scissors and haircuts around Carter. Teal'c, you have the first watch. Call me when you're done. I'll wake Carter, and Daniel will finish with the last watch."
Jack entered the tent quietly as the camp emptied, leaving only Teal'c on duty. Inside, Carter was already in her sleeping bag, turned away. Jack undressed swiftly and slipped into his sleeping bag. Closing his eyes, he found himself drifting into sleep, the image of a young Carter cutting teenagers' hair lingering in his mind until Teal'c woke him for his watch.
The night unfolded without any untoward incidents; the off-world mission bathed in the soft glow of the alien moon. As morning dawned, the team gathered around a makeshift campsite, sipping steaming cups of coffee brewed over the dwindling bonfire. The embers crackled, casting a warm, flickering light on their faces.
Amidst the quiet morning routine, Daniel, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, leaned in towards Sam. In hushed tones, he discreetly asked, "Is the offer to cut my hair still standing?"
Sam, sipping her coffee, met his gaze and silently nodded. Jack and Teal'c, sensing an unusual development, observed in intrigued silence.
Jack couldn't help but marvel at Carter's resourcefulness as the conversation resumed. He often wondered how much she managed to stow away in her backpack beyond the standard military equipment issue. Her efficiency in the field never ceased to amaze him.
Amid the quiet morning, Sam excused herself and gracefully returned to her tent. The team exchanged curious glances as she disappeared momentarily, only to reemerge moments later with a small, unassuming black bag in hand. Jack's eyebrows raised ever so slightly, his interest piqued.
The small bag, seemingly inconspicuous, held an air of mystery as Sam approached Daniel. Unzipping it, she revealed a set of professional-looking hairdressing tools, neatly arranged and ready for use. The revelation drew a subtle nod of approval from Jack, acknowledging the unexpected depth of his Major's skill set.
As she set to work on Daniel's hair, Jack and Teal'c observed the impromptu salon session in silence, a mixture of amusement and fascination playing on their faces. The quiet efficiency with which Sam wielded the scissors and comb showcased a side of her they hadn't seen often—an unexpected blend of military precision and artistic finesse.
The morning continued with the rhythmic snip of scissors and the occasional exchange of quiet conversation. In an alien landscape, under the unfamiliar sky, SG-1 found a moment of normalcy, the bonfire's warmth symbolizing more than just physical comfort.
The discovery of Carter's proficiency in haircuts had been an unexpected revelation for Jack, an uncharted facet of her many talents. From that moment onward, it became an unspoken understanding that she would handle the grooming needs of SG-1 – apart from Teal'c, sometimes during off-world missions when the threat of alien encounters was temporarily subdued—a rarity for the intrepid team.
On Earth, the impromptu haircut sessions evolved into a more regular occurrence. Jack, ever the tactician, made a point of scheduling his appointments on days that didn't coincide with Daniel's. It was a rare and cherished opportunity for him to spend some quiet, personal time with his Major. If Sam noticed the intentional scheduling, she never acknowledged it, her focus on the task at hand and the camaraderie they shared.
However, the routine hit a stumbling block during a period of profound grief for SG-1. Daniel's untimely death from radiation poisoning sent shockwaves through the team, with Sam particularly affected. Jack, understanding the unspoken weight of the loss, opted to seek professional haircuts elsewhere during that time, sparing her from a task that might carry painful memories.
Months passed, and the team faced more challenges, each leaving its mark on their dynamic. Once again, Jack found himself in Carter's capable hands after traumatic events that temporarily halted their routine. The solace of those moments, the gentle touch of Carter's hands, provided a comforting respite amid the chaos that defined their lives.
Years passed, more trauma came, other pauses in the haircuts followed, and they tried to navigate in the middle of unspoken feelings and other matters left tightly secured in a room.
Then came the unexpected turn of events—Jack's reassignment as the Head of Homeworld Security, Carter's broken engagement to a cop Jack refused to name out loud, and the impending dissolution of SG-1. Grappling with the weight of change, Jack mustered the courage to ask Carter for a visit to his cabin, the last time he would ever ask her before moving to Washington, D.C. To his surprise, she accepted.
The drive to the cabin was fraught with tense silence, an unspoken acknowledgment of the impending shifts in their lives. The engine's hum and the passing scenery formed a backdrop to the unspoken emotions that lingered in the air. As they approached the cabin, Jack couldn't help but feel a mix of nostalgia and uncertainty, realizing that this visit might mark the end of an era for SG-1. Justifying being busy with translations, Daniel and Teal'c were slated to join them later, but the moment's weight was palpable in the heavy silence that enveloped the truck.
As the wheels of Jack's truck crunched against the gravel driveway, she couldn't help but marvel at the picturesque surroundings of Jack's cabin. Tall pines stood sentinel on either side, their branches forming a natural canopy that filtered the dappled sunlight. The air carried the crisp scent of pine needles, and a gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, creating a soothing melody.
As he parked the truck, her eyes scanned the tranquil landscape that unfolded before her. The cabin, a rustic haven nestled among the trees, exuded an inviting charm. A small wooden porch adorned with weathered rocking chairs hinted at moments of relaxation and contemplation.
Jack got out of the truck and stretched.
"Welcome to my cabin, Carter," he said, taking his sunglasses.
Sam also stepped out of the truck, her boots crunching on the gravel.
"Wow, Sir, this place is amazing," she remarked, taking in the serene beauty surrounding them.
He chuckled, appreciating her awe.
"Glad you like it. It's my little slice of sanity. Let me turn on the generator, and then I'll show you around." Jack led her towards the cabin, unlocking the door with a familiar jingle of keys.
Sam entered, and the interior revealed a cozy simplicity. The scent of polished wood lingered in the air, and she wondered if he had asked anyone to come before to do any cleaning. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on well-worn furniture and an assortment of memorabilia that told the story of Jack's life beyond the Stargate. Her eyes immediately went to a bookshelf of books and magazines neatly arranged near the fireplace.
"Make yourself at home, Carter," Jack invited as he entered the house again and motioned to the comfortable couch. "Can I get you something to drink? I'll bring the bags later."
Sam nodded appreciatively, sinking into the couch.
"Coffee would be great, Sir."
Jack disappeared into the small kitchen, leaving Sam to take in the tranquility of the cabin. Through the open window, she could hear the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird.
When Jack returned with a steaming mug of coffee, he found her gazing out the window, a serene expression on her face.
"Enjoying the view?" he asked, handing her the coffee.
She turned to him with a soft smile.
"It's just so peaceful here, Sir. I can see why you come to escape."
He settled into a nearby chair, sipping his coffee.
"Yeah, it's my refuge. Away from all the chaos, you know?"
Sam nodded, her eyes reflecting understanding. She knew what chaos was all about. It was her life's description in the past months.
"Thank you for inviting me, Sir. It's a beautiful place."
He raised his mug in a casual toast.
"To finally have you here in my cabin."
Blushing, Sam clinked her mug against his, silently acknowledging that she had refused all the years he had made the invitations.
The morning sunlight filtered through the cabin's windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden interior. Jack, clad in a comfortable flannel shirt and worn-out jeans, was already in the kitchen, the rich aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. The crackling sounds from the fireplace added to the cozy ambiance as he prepared breakfast.
Sam emerged from the guest room, her hair slightly tousled from a peaceful sleep. Jack greeted her with a grin, gesturing to the table set for breakfast.
"Morning, Carter. Sleep well?"
"Like a log, Sir. This place is so quiet and peaceful," she replied with a smile.
Jack, flipping pancakes on a grill, chuckled.
"Yeah, it has that effect. Sit down, and breakfast is almost ready."
Sam sat at the rustic wooden table, appreciating the simplicity of the cabin's decor. The aroma of pancakes, bacon, and fresh coffee enveloped the room, creating an inviting atmosphere.
Jack, a seasoned breakfast chef when he was there, moved with practiced ease around the kitchen. As he flipped another pancake onto a plate, Sam offered, "Need any help, Sir?"
He glanced over his shoulder, a playful glint in his eyes. He knew she meant well, but he would rather have her away from any food preparations apart from MREs.
"Nope, I've got it covered. You're the guest here, remember?"
Sam nodded, realizing that arguing with him about accepting help was often futile. She watched him move gracefully, the familiarity of the cabin evident in every action. After all, this wasn't his first time orchestrating a breakfast in this cozy haven.
Jack placed a plate in front of Carter, loaded with a stack of golden pancakes and crispy bacon. He poured a generous amount of maple syrup over the pancakes, a knowing smile on his face as he anticipated her enjoyment.
"There you go, Carter. Dig in," he declared, setting a cup of coffee before her.
"Thank you, Sir. It looks amazing," Sam replied, genuinely appreciative.
Jack took a seat across from her, sipping his coffee. The room filled with a companionable silence as they enjoyed the hearty breakfast. Jack, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye, remarked, "Not bad for a makeshift cabin breakfast, huh?"
Sam laughed, savoring a bite of pancake.
"Not bad at all, Sir. You've got some serious culinary skills. I thought you only did omelets involving beer and burned burgers," Sam teased, a playful glint in her eyes.
Jack shrugged modestly.
"Well, that is a vicious rumor that someone spread about me. I am an excellent cook, you know."
She continued eating her pancakes, stealing glances at him from time to time.
"Besides, we're off duty. You can stop calling me Sir," he suggested seriously.
Abruptly, Sam swallowed a piece of pancake almost without chewing.
"Ah, that..." she hesitated, coughing, grabbing her coffee, and taking a sip to evade the conversation.
Jack continued to look at her, a question lingering in his eyes.
"Yes, that," he said, putting his mug down. "I would like to talk to you if you want. About a certain room," he added slowly, the air suddenly charged with unspoken tension.
Sam tried to suppress any visible reaction, her gaze fixed on her coffee.
"Oh," she managed to say, setting her mug down. There was no coughing this time.
He seemed unusually determined this morning.
"We'll be in different chains of command when you go to Nevada. I think this is the best opportunity to talk, don't you think?" he suggested.
Sam swallowed hard, feeling a sudden lump in her throat.
"Well, I've noticed that you need a haircut. You can hardly go to Washington, D.C., with hair like that. I can cut your hair outside, and... we can talk," she added, the words hanging in the air like a delicate balance between the present and the imminent future.
Jack smiled, sensing the dual meaning in her proposal. He welcomed the prospect of her hands working on his hair and the opportunity for a meaningful conversation.
"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.
She got up, excused herself, and disappeared into her room. Jack couldn't help but notice the familiar black bag she carried as she reappeared—a silent testament to her versatile skill set and a reminder of the conversations ahead.
Bathed in the sun's warmth, Jack sat comfortably on a deck chair, taking in the tranquil surroundings. Armed with her trusty scissors, Sam approached him, her hands betraying a subtle tremor. She drew a deep breath, attempting to quell the nervous energy coursing through her, and cutting hair required steady hands, not a trembling mess. Jack, ever observant, couldn't help but notice her unease.
"Are you okay?" he inquired, glancing slightly over his left shoulder as Sam prepared to begin. She nodded rapidly, attempting to conceal her nerves, and placed a steadier hand on his neck. Her fingers lingered, gently feeling the strands of hair that weren't supposed to be there. Unbeknownst to him, she secretly relished when his hair grew a bit longer— an opportunity to run her fingers through it before the inevitable cut. Her excuse, always ready, was that she was measuring how much to trim. He never questioned it, and she didn't mind the indulgence.
"So, why Area 51?" Jack asked, almost closing his eyes as her delicate fingers navigated the hairs at the nape of his neck.
Sam decided it was time to dive into the conversation, retrieving a comb and scissors from her bag.
"I needed a change. You're moving; Daniel is going to Atlantis, and Teal'c is leaving. Didn't feel like staying alone at the SGC," she explained, the first sounds of the scissors echoing in the wilderness.
Curiosity tugged at Jack, and with a morbid curiosity, he ventured, "Would you have moved if the marriage had happened?"
Sam's fingers faltered, and she swallowed hard.
"What?" she asked, her hand coming to a sudden halt.
Jack shifted in his chair, sensing the tension.
"If you had married that cop, would you have asked for a transfer to Nevada?" he probed, his voice casual.
She blinked, processing the unexpected question.
"What does that have to do with anything?" she replied in a low voice.
"Just curious," Jack shrugged.
Sam resumed her task, combing through his hair.
"Probably not. Pete wanted to start a family," she admitted, realizing now how that had never been her plan but his.
"Oh," Jack responded, allowing a moment of quiet reflection.
For a while, the only sounds were the birds and the rhythmic snipping of Sam's scissors. She took longer than usual, her mind wrestling with thoughts beyond the haircut.
"Are you leaving me with any hair at all?" Jack quipped, breaking the silence when he received no response to his earlier questions.
Sam's hand abruptly stopped, her mind snapping back to the present.
"What?" she asked, almost taking a step back.
Jack turned around slowly, surveying her confused expression. It was clear her thoughts were miles away. He ran a hand through his hair to check for some left. Indeed, he did. Just shorter.
"Do you plan to cut much more, or are we done?" he asked, returning her to the task.
Sam blushed, shaking her head.
"No, it's done," she stammered, collecting her things.
Jack stood up, allowing her to gather her composure. He noticed her withdrawn face as he cleaned the remaining hairs with the towel around his shoulders. Concern etched his features.
"Hey, are you all right?" he asked, noticing her quick retreat.
She took a step back, her voice almost a whisper.
"Yes, I just... just need some minutes," she said, then quickly left the deck, almost running inside the cabin.
"Shit," Jack muttered, watching her hurried departure, realizing that the conversation had stirred up more than just hair clippings.
Quickly, Sam retreated to her bedroom, her heart pounding faster than the rhythm of her Indian bike. The familiar black bag found its place on the bed as she lowered herself onto the single bed. Unoccupied and waiting for Daniel or Teal'c, the other bed echoed the absence that seemed to permeate the room. Sam had already mentally prepared to relinquish the room to her teammates when they arrived, choosing to move to the living room couch. The more tempting option, once so close, felt increasingly distant as she lingered in the cabin.
She took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure, and after some minutes, emerged from her self-imposed solitude. Jack was waiting for her in the living room, his face etched with concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice revealing genuine worry.
Sam mustered a brave smile, determined to maintain a semblance of normalcy.
"Yes, Sir," she replied, unconsciously reverting to an old habit.
A sigh escaped Jack's lips, and he closed his eyes. Sam inwardly cursed—they had managed to spend the entire morning without the weight of that dreaded word between them. But here it was again: Sir. It felt inevitable; Sam thought of an unspoken barrier that kept things at a distance. Jack ran a hand through his newly cropped hair, a gesture that seemed to symbolize a desire for change.
"Look, Carter, I'm sorry for bringing that subject up. It was stupid," he admitted, the lines of his face showing remorse.
Sam ran her hands along her jeans, a nervous habit that betrayed her inner turmoil.
"It's okay," she assured, though the unease lingered.
Jack shook his head.
"No, you got upset, so it's not okay. Besides, I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about us," he declared, gazing at her.
Sam's complexion shifted, a mix of paling and blushing.
"Us?" she questioned cautiously.
"Yes, us. Like I said, I think it's about time we talk about us. Before the guys get here," Jack asserted, making another attempt to breach the unspoken territory.
Slowly, Sam sank into the couch, her eyes never leaving his. The new, shorter haircut gave Jack a devilishly handsome, very Air Force-style look that she couldn't help but admire.
"Okay," she acquiesced, clasping her hands in her lap.
Jack took a deep breath; the moment had arrived. It was time to address the uncharted space between them.
In the quiet confines of the cabin's living room, a palpable tension hung in the air as Jack gathered his thoughts. The muted sounds of nature outside seemed to accentuate the moment's gravity. He sat, facing Sam, his eyes searching hers for a connection that transcended the barriers they had carefully built over time.
"Carter," he began, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity, "there's something I've meant to tell you for a long time. And I think it's about time."
Sam, seated on the couch, looked at him with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.
"Sir?" she prompted, sensing the gravity of his words.
Jack met her gaze, a resolute expression on his face.
"Forger the Sir, for crying out loud. I love you, Sam. More than a friend, more than a teammate. You're the love of my life."
A breath caught in Sam's throat, her eyes widening with surprise and vulnerability. Jack continued, his words flowing with an honesty that had been kept hidden for far too long.
"I've spent years regretting not saying something sooner. We've been through so much together, and I held back every time I thought about telling you. Because I had to because we had to, but now, with everything changing, I can't keep it to myself any longer."
His words hung in the air, carrying years of unspoken emotions. Sam felt a mix of emotions—shock, joy, and a tinge of regret for the time lost.
"And Sam," Jack continued, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be there for you, to share whatever comes our way. I want to be more than just a friend. I want to be partners in every sense of the word."
Sam's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she paused to compose herself.
"Jack, I... I don't know what to say."
He reached for her hands, his touch gentle yet firm.
"Say what you feel, Sam. There's no pressure, and whatever your answer, I just needed you to know."
A tear escaped Sam's eye as she smiled through the overwhelming emotions.
"After my mother died and Mark left as soon as he could, I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone. You don't make me feel alone, never did, Jack…" she said, gazing at him. "I... I love you, too. And I would be honored to spend the rest of my life with you."
At that moment, the weight of unspoken words lifted, and a profound connection forged through shared experiences and unspoken glances found its expression. The love that had quietly grown amidst missions, crises, and stolen moments was finally given a voice.
As they sealed their newfound understanding with a shared gaze, Jack gently brushed away a tear from Sam's cheek, realizing that the room held not only the echoes of the past but also the promise of a shared future.