"Uncle Jack! You were gone so long," Ashley flung herself into him with two little arms wrapped around his waist. "I thought I wouldn't get to see you again." The joy of that little girl made him forget the wildly uncomfortable conversation he had just had with Jacob for a moment.

"Ashley, don't be so dramatic," Mark told her as he slipped past the pair of them in the entryway with two suitcases in hand. "Of course, you're going to see Uncle Jack again." Mark set down the suitcases and turned his attention upward toward Jack. "When she can get away, Sam usually comes out for Easter. We'll obviously expect you there too, Jack. If you can get away, that is."

"That's, uh... thank you. Looking forward to it," Jack replied, knowing that the smile he had managed was hollow. He gripped Ashley's slim shoulders tighter because the odds weren't good that he would ever see her again. Lying to Sam's brother was one thing. He was being a yenta about Sam's love life. He deserved it, but Ashley was pure collateral damage.

"We don't have hockey at our house though. We do have basketball. Do you like basketball?" she asked him, finally releasing him from the hug. Jack glanced up from the little blonde head at his stomach to see Sam leaning against a barstool with a pained expression on her face, and a lip bitten between her teeth.

"Never played," he smiled dimly at Ashley. "You can teach me a new game nexttime."

"Oh. Yeah, I can teach you. We can be on a team again."

"Come on, Squirt. Get in the car. I'll be right there," Mark told her. Ashley gave a final squeeze to Uncle Jack and Aunt Sam got a hug and a kiss. Michael said slightly more manly goodbyes, leaving Mark alone with Sam and Jack.

With a fond hug, Mark gave Sam a final happy birthday.

"Mark, it was great to finally meet you," Jack offered with an outstretched hand which Mark accepted.

"I can see now why you've been blowing me off every time I tried to set you up for the past few years," Mark addressed Sam, but he threw a regretful glance Jack's way. "I wish you'd just told me what was going on with you, but still, it was great to see you so happy. That's all I really wanted anyway."

They followed Mark outside to say goodbye, and standing on the sidewalk with an arm draped over Sam's shoulders, Jack watched the van pull away from the curb. All reason for pretense drove away with it.

"I'm sorry about Ashley," Sam offered from the bedroom doorway where she stood watching Jack collecting his clothes and stuffing them into a duffel bag. "I guess I didn't really think about the kids, but I'll take care of it. You won't actually have to dye Easter eggs with my family."

"It's okay. I didn't think about it either." He seemed withdrawn since he'd come back from the base, and maybe that had something to do with her dad. Or maybe it was just the way she had made him lie to an innocent girl. Jack had always had a soft spot for every kid that crossed their paths, and it had to bother him to hurt Ashley that way.

"And I'll make sure she knows it isn't your fault. She can be mad at me instead."

"That's..." Jack began before changing his verbal trajectory. "Yeah, okay."

Sam watched him look through the same stack of t-shirts that they had looked through last night in the second dresser drawer.

"I could have sworn I had extra t-shirts," he mused as he slid it shut, and Sam supposed it was time to come clean. She met him at the dresser, pulling open the third drawer and retrieved two standard issue black XL t-shirts.

"Here ya go," she offered, and he eyed her, not suspiciously exactly. Suspicion would imply that he wasn't entirely certain, but he was certain in the same way that she was. She had withheld his shirt from him last night on purpose, and they both knew it. Amusement played at his lips as he took the neatly folded shirts from her hand, and stuffed them into his duffel bag.

"So, what are you up to this week?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her, and trying to look less uncomfortable than she felt.

"Thought I might go for a little trip."

"A fishing trip?" she asked cheerily, taking an expectant step toward him.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Nice! The honeymoon. Should I be packing too?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah. I won't hold you to it, Carter," he dismissed, avoiding any possibility for eye contact.

"What? Why not? We had a deal," she argued.

"It's fine. I know it's not really your thing."

Sam took a literal step back. She felt like an intruder in her own bedroom, watching the new owner quietly push her out while also not taking ownership himself. If he wanted space, she would give it to him.

"Oh. In that case, I'll just let you finish up here."

Carter had flinched. Jack hadn't seen that from her in a long time. He would never forget the first time he had seen it when they were talking to that psycho ex of hers. Jack would never have thought that he would be the one to cause her to flinch,but clearly, something he had said had landed an unintended blow.

Jack muttered a curse as he zipped his bag and dropped it by the front door. He made his way through the house, stopping in the guest room, her office, and the dining room before he saw the back of a bowed blonde head through the kitchen doors. She was sitting on the patio steps, her arms wrapped around her waist.

With no plan, but a lot of motivation, Jack joined her on the steps, seating himself beside her on the concrete. She acknowledged him with a turn of her head that didn't quite make it all the way to him before she returned her focus to the goal net he had set up for the kids.

"You okay?" he asked, knowing that she wasn't.

"Fine," she answered, and sat up a little straighter. It was a lie, and he would know it. But almost every ounce of bravery had leaked out of the cracks in her heart when he had called off their fishing trip. That was supposed to be it—the opportunity that she was going to take to finally ask him for more, for something real. That opportunity was gone now, and with it, she had also lost the feeling that he wanted her to be there with him.

"Don't forget your net," she offered with a nod of her head toward the object, attempting to change the subject.

"Yeah, I might need that," he answered, finally looking away long enough so that she could catch her breath. He looked uncomfortable but determined, and it seemed odd to her that he hadn't just said goodbye to her and left. Something was different about him. "We can't do this, Carter. We can't let things get weird between us. It's not safe. If something goes wrong out there—"

"God forbid something would get weird," she snipped. "We wouldn't wanna do anything to hurt the team."

"You know it's not just that, come on," he coaxed her. Sam could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye, but looking back at him seemed like a big risk.

"Then what is it?" Sam bit out the question before she could stop herself, but quickly reeled herself back. "Just forget it. It'll be fine. It's been fine for years, right?"

"Right. Fine," and then by some miracle, Jack was that blind squirrel who found the nut. "Carter, if this is about the fishing trip, you can come with. I just didn't think you'd really want to," he offered sincerely.

"Don't do me any more favors. I wouldn't want to suck the fun out of it for you."

"Listen, historically, you haven't shown a lot of enthusiasm for the idea, and I thought you could use some space to decompress. It was a chaotic weekend."

"It was," she agreed, finally looking at him for a moment. "But also, it wasn't."

"I just thought you'd be tired of the pretending."

"Is that what it would be if we went fishing? Pretending?" Sam looked away again, leaving him staring at her profile.

"Carter," he warned. "You know that's not—"

"Do I know? Because I thought I did, but now you don't want me to go with you."

"That is not what I said," he insisted, growing obviouslyfrustrated.

"There's a lot you haven't said," she agreed quietly turning her head fully away from him now.

"Do you wanna clue me in on what we're actually talking about here?" Jack scooted forward, trying to see something of her face again.

"Just forget it," she dismissed.

"No, I won't forget it. You're obviously pissed at me, and I think I have a right to know why."

"Not at you. At myself. This was the plan," she explained turning her head slightly back toward him. He looked lost, uncomfortable, and surprisingly a little afraid. "We get my brother off my back, he goes home, we go back to normal."

"But?"

"Do you really need me to say it?" Sam looked at him now. A mist filled her eyes, but she could still see the somewhat overwhelming intensity in his eyes as he refused to let her avoid the discussion in spite of his discomfort.

"I think I do," he confirmed. She looked away again, breathing deeply.

"I wanted to go fishing," she admitted. It wasn't all she wanted, but it seemed like a good idea to take one step at a time.

"I said you could come with."

"But I wanted you to want me to go fishing."

"Oh, Carter," he sighed, and tenderly squeezed her knee. Her eyes landed purposefully on his hand where he touched her, and her lip pulled between her teeth for a moment as she remembered the way he had done that under the table at the restaurant to calm her down.

"Anyway, thanks again for doing this for me. It was really helpful."

"Well, you know how I like to be helpful."

"It was a good plan, wasn't it?" she ventured, tapping into the last drop of hope she had that they could be something even close to what they had been this weekend. And since she still wasn't sure she was invited to go fishing, it was now or never.

"Yeah, he bought it," Jack agreed.

"I don't mean my brother. I mean the retirement. Working together still. Being together. That was a good plan?" she asked still looking at his hand on her knee, but saying it out loud had reminded her of why they couldn't do it. Why she couldn't do that to him.

"One of your best," he answered.

"Too bad we can't have it," she chased the smattering of hope with a hammer of disappointment, and scooted back on the step, shrugging off his touch.

"Why can't we?" he whispered, making a fist with his now empty fingers.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It would have to be your decision. Not mine. I won't ask you to change your life that way."

"Why not?" he wondered a little forcefully, his brown eyes arresting her attention.

"Because it's not fair. You shouldn't have to make that choice."

"And you shouldn't be sitting here thinking that I don't want you to go fishing with me. I've asked you at least a half a dozen times, for cryin' out loud. But somehow, here we are. So, maybe we just accept that life isn't fair, and we make some hard choices instead of letting this go again."

Sam knew she looked a bit stunned at his proposal, but he was usually so controlled that it was unsettling to see him looking like he was about to snap. Frustrated fingers scratched through his hair, and he stood, walking away from her. He spread his arms wide, bracing himself across the top of the goal net, and refusing to turn back to her.

"Or maybe you want to let go," he mused. "Maybe it's not as real as you said it was. Maybe I'm just imagining things."

Jack O'Neill cloaked in uncertainty was not the sight that Sam expected to break her heart. Loving him the way that she did, it surprised her that he could have any doubts about what she wanted. Sam approached him and stood facing his side, seeing his jaw clench as his profile refused to look her way.

"You're not imagining anything," she assured him, letting her fingers rest atop his. "It is real."

That got his attention, and he faced her now, a little too directly, a little too intentionally for comfort.

"Then tell me, Carter," he demanded. "Tell me that you want me to pick you. That's all I need to know, and this is a done deal."

Sam's eyes clouded, and a wrinkle formed between her eyes.

"No!" he chastised her with a pointed finger. "Don't do that again. Don't think about it. Just tell me what you want. What do you want, Carter?"

Sam's expression cleared, and she let herself see him. It was him for the first time in days. It wasn't a lie; it wasn't a false front. It wasn't him taunting her dad or charming her niece. It wasn't him making plans to see her brother again with no intention of following through. It was him, a little too intense and a little too rough, asking her what she wanted. It was real.

"It is a good plan," she confirmed vaguely.

"Very good," he agreed with a raised brow. "No notes."

"I want you to pick me," she managed to get out without her voice breaking, and the thinly veiled joy she saw in his eyes was answer enough. With all pretense for it already miles down the road, Sam let his lips find hers, a starkly warm contrast to the December chill. Reassurance seemed to be all he wanted to give them with this kiss because too soon, he pulled away.

"I picked you a long time ago. Now we just have to tell the others."