A/N: This is yet another backfiller for Season One. I think when I originally conceived this series I was determined to only write stories for eps that actually campfires in them, or the suggestion of same. However, there was just simply too much good stuff in other eps to pass up. This was one of them.

Right now this is listed as the latest of the Campfires for Season 1. Due to FF dot net's funny updating, it'll sit here at the end of the line for two weeks, then I'll shuffle it to where it belongs in the seasons. FF dot net really messes with you if you originally posted stuff out of order. ::sigh:: As always, reviews are answered and saved.

Oh, and a note to the faithful "dp" who always reviews and to whom I am never able to respond because I have no email addy for you. Thanks so much for your faithful and kind reviews.

Set after The Torment of Tantalus on a planet of my own making.

Within Reach

Colonel O'Neill watched as Daniel quietly closed his journal and, with barely a nod to the rest of the team, disappeared into the tent he shared with Teal'c. He'd been like that all day, for the past several days, really. Jack shook his head. Damned scientists.

"He still mad at you?" Carter's voice was soft as she returned to her seat at his side. She handed him a steaming mug and then carefully picked up her own. With a long, deep sigh she sipped appreciatively, apparently savoring her nightly cup of hot chocolate.

"Yeah. A bit." Jack sipped from his own mug, nodding his thanks to Carter for the warm drink. "The more he gets into Ernest's notes the madder he gets."

"Daniel Jackson is a man of deep feelings, O'Neill."

"I know, Teal'c. But..." Jack shrugged and gestured vaguely with his mug. "You'd think the guy would be grateful to be alive, wouldn't you?"

Teal'c's only response was a nod of agreement. He said no more as he rose and, with one last nod to them both, disappeared beyond the edges of the firelight to begin his nightly kel-no-reem ritual. Jack watched him go, slightly in awe of the big man's equanimity. Nothing seemed to shake the Jaffa.

"I, for one, am glad you forced him back, Colonel." Carter glanced back at the tent into which Daniel had disappeared. "He'll come around. Eventually."

"I'm not worried."

"How do you think he's doing?" Carter's voice was pensive, her attention on the fire.

"Who, Daniel?"

"No. Doctor Littlefield. Ernest. I wonder how he's settling in."

"Oh, Catherine'll take good care of him."

"I'm sure."

Jack shifted on their makeshift seat, reaching behind him to unbunch the canvas he'd set down for both of them to sit upon. Glancing over at Carter, he fidgeted for a moment with his mug before asking the question that had been bugging him for days. "Carter? I didn't know you knew Catherine. I mean...before."

"Hmm?"

"You know." Jack shrugged. "The day that Daniel brought her back to the SGC...and God, didn't Hammond just love that? Anyway, you seemed really happy to see her. I didn't know you two knew each other."

"Oh. Hmm." Carter turned toward him, taking another sip from her mug before setting it aside. The night air was growing colder, and with the cold air came the dampness that seemed to be on every planet. She closed her jacket, tugging the zipper up to settle right below her chin before picking up her mug once again. When she spoke Jack could hear just a hint of...something...in her voice. "I...ah. Well, it's really no secret. She came to Oxford, attended a lecture I was giving, actually, and afterward...well, she was really the reason I was pulled into the project at the Pentagon."

Jack turned to her, his coffee forgotten halfway en route to his lips. "Uh...Oxford?"

Carter shrugged, clearly surprised by his reaction. "Yes, Sir. I got my Master's and Doctorate there."

"Huh." O'Neill was silent for a moment, lost in thought. He supposed he'd never really though of her getting her post graduate degrees at any particular place. He hadn't really thought about it much at all, now that he...well...thought about it. "I guess I always assumed you...well, I guess I never really thought about the school side of things."

"Oh." Carter shrugged again. "It's no big deal, Sir. I was actually too young to attend the Academy when I finished high school, so I did some prelim coursework while I waited to turn seventeen. Then later, after the Academy I..." Sam trailed off, looking at him. "You don't really want to know this, do you?"

"No. I mean, yes. Yes I do." Jack set his mug down and stretched his legs out toward the fire. He leaned back until his head was pillowed against his gearbag and he could see the stars. "C'mon Carter, tell me where you trained your brain." He felt more than saw her gentle laughter as she stretched out beside him to watch the stars move across the sky.

"Not much to tell, really. I went to the Academy–"

"Knew that."

"Okay, so, when I finished I had the option to do as most of my classmates did and take a duty assignment or to continue my research. I chose to extend my committment to the Air Force by continuing my research. I pretty much knew I was a lifer anyway, you know?"

"Mmh hm." Jack murmured encouragingly as he zipped his own jacket. The movement brought him into contact with Carter's arm. Well, until she moved it, that is. Even lying on her back she gestured to make her point.

"Major Kennedy was really excited about some of my theories–"

"I'll bet," muttered Jack, his darkening expression invisible to Carter in the darkness of the night that enveloped them.

"And he...excuse me?" Sam turned her head and pinned him with a sharp blue-eyed stare.

There was just enough light from the fire for him to see the spark of anger in her eyes. "Um, sorry, did I say that out loud?"

"Yes. Sir." Carter's voice had a bite to it and her eyes narrowed just a trifle.

"Oh." Jack shifted again, then blew out a breath. "I know Mike Kennedy. He's...well, no disrespect to your math professor, but he's..."

"An ass. Yes, Sir. I know."

"Oh."

"And a womanizer of the first degree." Carter's last comment was almost too soft for him to hear.

Almost.

Jack jerked upward, all of his weight on his elbow and he leaned over her. "Carter," he growled. "Did Major Kennedy ever..."

His Second was quiet for a long moment, longer than he was comfortable with. She also, he noted, didn't quite meet his eyes as she answered softly, "Not...no. No, nothing I couldn't handle."

"Captain, I know you can handle just about anything, but that wasn't, if you recall, my question. I asked you if Major Kennedy ever stepped over the line." Jack enunciated each word carefully, then held his breath as he waited for her answer. He knew that if she entered the Academy in 1985 or so, which is about when he figured she had, she was there at what many considered the height of the sexual harassment and sexual assault period. Or the height as it was reported, anyway. O'Neill shook his head. Damned idiots who thought with their dicks. As he felt his anger rise, Jack realized that Carter still had not answered his question. He locked his eyes on hers and deliberately softened his expression, asking as gently as he could manage, "Captain?"

She held his gaze for another moment before finally looking away. Her response, or lack thereof, told him everything he needed to know. Jack's anger quickly boiled over into something more elemental, something more fierce. The urge to...destroy...something, or someone, overwhelmed him, startling him with its intensity. When she returned her gaze to his, Jack wrestled his emotions back under control. She didn't need his anger, she needed his friendship. His support. Very slowly he reached out and rested a hand on her arm. "Carter? You don't need to–"

Carter shook her head and lifted herself onto one elbow, careful, he noticed, not to dislodge his hand on her arm. She seemed to unconsciously mimic his pose. She ducked her head and bit her lip, then looked up at him. The dancing flames of the forgotten campfire cast vivid shadows across her features, making her always startling blue eyes nearly clear in the moving light. "No, Sir. It's fine. It's not really what you think."

"What do I think?"

"You probably think he...I mean, well, he did try. One night, in the lab. Late. I...it was my fault, really–"

Jack squeezed the arm still reseting under his fingers. "No."

Carter looked up at him, startled. "I thought you wanted to hear..."

"I do. What I meant was, 'no,' it wasn't your fault." Jack squeezed again, making sure he had her complete attention. "I mean it, Sam. No. Whatever happened, and I do want you to tell me what you're comfortable telling me, but you cannot ever tell me that anything like that is ever the fault of the vic–" Jack cut himself off at the look in her eyes. No, Carter was never a victim. "It wasn't your fault."

Carter simply lay there, propped up on one elbow, her arm gripped by O'Neill. She met his gaze, absorbing his words, her expression so open and vulnerable that it made Jack's heart ache. He was about to say more when she haltingly continued her story.

"I...um...anyway. I was there late, and I knew that there had been other...incidents. My roommate dropped out just before our Firstie year because... Anyway. Like I said, I was there late and he, the Major, stopped by to say goodnight. We'd always been friendly, probably moreso than was appropriate. I never really thought..." Carter stuttered to a halt, then met his eyes once more. "It never got further than him trying to kiss me. I was so stunned, I just...just...I don't know. I blanked I guess. Then he tried to touch me and...well, let's just say that Major Parker's hand-to-hand training kicked in. Hard."

"Ooh."

"Yeah." Carter's face had changed, now an almost feral smile settled on her lips. "That was it."

"Ah." Jack released her arm and sat up and rubbed his eyes, then ran a finger through his hair unaware that his actions had captured his Captain's attention and that her gaze lingered on his now rumpled hair while he stared into the fire. He absently tossed another log onto the flames and then poked the pile to get the blaze going a little higher. He reached for his coffee and took a sip, making a face at its temperature. They'd been chatting long enough that the drink had grown cold and there was nothing worse than cold coffee.

Beside him Carter remained propped on her elbows, her head now tipped back and her eyes closed, exposing her throat to him. O'Neill glanced over his shoulder at her, mesmerized for a moment by the fire-kissed length of her neck, at the almost symbolic vulnerability she was showing him. It was a sign, he knew, of how much she trusted him. He wondered if the growing feelings he had for his young Second made him just like Kennedy. He didn't think so, God he hoped not. He had never in his life forced a woman to do anything, just the thought made him ill. How long he sat, looking at her over his shoulder, he didn't know. After a while she spoke, her quiet voice pitched low to match the night, her face still pointed toward the sky.

"Want to hear the rest?"

Rest? There was more? For an instant Jack panicked. God, if she'd been one of those raped during that era, he didn't think he'd be able to...no, no, wait. We were talking about...school. Oxford. Jesus, Jack, get it together. To cover his lapse, Jack cleared his throat. "You betcha, Carter."

Carter tilted her head back so she could see O'Neill again. "Like I said, my theories got me an interview. I really wanted MIT, but they don't have an astrophysics program, just math. I was approached by the team at Oxford and they invited me to join them. I did."

"Did you like it?"

"Oh yes. Loved England. Loved it. Could have stayed forever, I thought...well, yes. Loved it."

"Surprised you ever left your lab."

"Oh, I managed." This time Carter's expression was soft, her thoughts obviously far away.

Jack wasn't sure he liked seeing that expression on her face. He was sure that he didn't like the unexpected surge of jealousy that shot through him at the thought of what, or whom, could be responsible for that expression. He spoke up, his voice a bit tense. "So...that's when you met Catherine?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. As I said, she came to a lecture I was giving as a part of my dissertation. She introduced herself, asked me a few questions, then...I don't know, really. Just sort of swept me up into her circle of people."

"She's good at that."

"Yes."

They'd come full circle in their conversation, back to how Carter knew Catherine. Jack wasn't sure why, but he felt a bit...left out...at the thought that Catherine had known Carter before he had. He leaned back again, matching Carter's relaxed pose, and crossed his legs at the ankle. It was late, well past time for them to turn in, but Jack was reluctant to end their evening. He shifted again, then nudged her knee with his own. "That was nice...what you said to her...about the heart never growing old."

"I didn't know you heard that." Carter sounded embarrassed.

"I did." Jack didn't mention the other conversation he'd overheard between Catherine and Ernest.

Ernest was explaining the myth of Tantalus as Jack rounded the corner. The two were talking, really talking, for the first time, and Jack was loathe to interrupt them. When Ernest finished, Catherine shook her head. "Everlasting, unending temptation."

"He was reaching for something that was…um…out of reach." His gaze on her was intense, as if he were trying to tell her something.

Jack saw the elderly woman raise her head to meet the old man's gaze. "That sounds familiar. Some might say that's what makes a man great. If we all accepted what was within our grasp—"

Ernest interrupted her anxiously. "Sometimes what we have is of more value. It takes a great man to recognize that. I didn't. I was a fool."

Carter had pulled him away then, needing help with the heavy cable she was securing around the gate, and Jack hadn't heard any more.

Jack thought of Ernest's words as they sat together in the gathering darkness, pondering the meaning behind the old man's confession to his long-lost love. He thought to himself, What kind of love survives forty years of limbo?

Beside him Carter stifled a yawn. He watched as she stretched and rose, gathered up her things and dusted off her trousers. She nodded to him, murmuring her good-night's and headed off toward the tent they shared. As Jack watched her go he considered Catherine's summation of Tantalus' story. Everlasting, unending temptation.

Indeed.

End.

Afterword: When I was seventeen I turned down an unconditional appointment to the USAF Academy. My grandmother didn't speak to me for a month afterward, but I felt in my heart I was doing the right thing. Years later the stories began to come out about the assaults and rapes that were (and probably still are) so prevalent at the Academy during that time. I would have been a member of the Class of '90, placing me–at my most emotionally vulnerable–at the Academy during that era. Sam Carter (and Amanda) is a year older than I; therefore, she would have been the Class of '89.

New Aftwerwod: I'm two sentences into a review and realized I forgot to say this (forgive me, I posted the story late last night). I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men and women of the armed forces. I served (just didn't do the Academy), had my share of harrassment, but that was balanced by some of the most incredible experiences of my life. Please don't take this story as a slam in any way against any military branch or Academy (I'm the granddaughter, great grandaughter, and great, great granddaughter of West Point grads). Trust me...I think they're amazing places. But they, like any other organization, have some issues. Thanks.