A/N: So...for my birthday, I thought I'd share a story with you (although it seems I'm posting after midnight). Some of what happens below happened to me, you decide which part it was. As always, and it bears repeating, reviews are appreciated, saved, and always answered (unless you answer anonymously, as some of you do).

Set after A Matter of Time. This is an Earthside campfire, for reasons that will become clear.

How To Be

"All right, people. Dismissed. You're all off duty until oh-eight-hundred Wednesday. See you then." After giving his premier team a sharp nod, General Hammond turned and left the briefing room, closing his office door behind him.

Jack O'Neill glanced at his team as they began to gather their notes and paperwork. The debrief had been a long and difficult one; everyone was still mourning the loss of Major Boyd's team, not to mention the additional loss of the abrasive Cromwell. Jack was himself still sorting through his feelings about Cromwell's death. Looking over his team, he felt again the tension between himself and Carter and he knew it was affecting Daniel and Teal'c too. Making a decision, he tapped his papers on the table to even them out. "Hey," he called, stopping them before they could leave. When he had their attention he quirked a small smile and continued, "Team night? My place? Nineteen-hundred?"

Teal'c simply nodded once before leaving, just as Jack expected. The big Jaffa was nothing if not predictable. He watched as Daniel glanced once at Carter before answering.

"Ah, sure, Jack. Can I bring anything?"

"Nope." Jack waited until Daniel left before he deliberately turned to Carter, knowing she couldn't and wouldn't avoid a direct question. "Carter?"

"Yes, Sir." She met his gaze for a brief second, then looked down at her notes. "Do you, ah, want me to bring anything?"

"Guess you didn't hear what I told Daniel? Just bring yourself, Carter."

Her attention once again firmly on her notes, Carter nodded. "Yes, Sir. Nineteen-hundred."

Jack watched as his Second fled the room as fast as decorum allowed. He dropped back into his chair, notes forgotten. Pensively he leaned back, swiveling the leather seat around so that he faced the windows. From here he could see just the top third of the gate. Jack propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand, his thoughts far away.

SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ

Jack stood in the doorway and watched as Daniel's taillights disappeared around the corner. Stepping back, he closed and locked the door, walking through his darkened house toward the patio doors. As he slipped outside, he paused on the deck and watched Carter pull her sweatshirt over her head and settle herself in her usual spot beside the blazing fire. Truthfully, he was surprised that she'd stayed. Happy, but surprised. As tense as things had been between them since Fraiser had released him from the infirmary, he had fully expected that she would leave long before they lit their now-traditional after-dinner fire in his backyard firepit.

Easing his own sweatshirt over the barely healed scabs on his arms, Jack strode across the lawn to join his pensive Second. He stepped around the picnic table and stopped near his usual spot. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "This seat taken?"

Carter glanced up at him, her normally bright blue eyes clouded. She offered him a brief smile and nodded. "Sir? Oh, sure. Have a seat." She returned her gaze to the fire, her hands in her lap restless, fiddling with something Jack couldn't see.

Jack eased down beside her. He tucked his hands into his pockets and stretched his legs out toward the fire. With a deep sigh he leaned back, tipping his head to rest on the bench seat behind him. It was a typically beautiful spring night, the cloudless sky alive with the twinkling lights of the stars. It was still early enough in the season to warrant their sweatshirts, and Jack would truly be sorry to see the weather warm up enough that the fire wouldn't be necessary. Beside him he heard Carter catch her breath once and then sigh. He gently bumped her shoulder. "Look, Carter. I'm glad you stayed tonight. I...I wanted to apologize."

Carter turned to him, her eyes wide. "Sir?"

Jack pulled one hand from his pocket and scrubbed his face. "I came down on you rather hard, Carter. About wanting to...keep the 'gate open. I–" Jack stopped as Carter's eyes slipped closed, but not before he saw the flash of pain in her eyes.

She ducked her head and bit her lip. "No, Colonel. I'm sorry. You were right. I..." She turned away, her hands fidgeting faster with whatever it was she was holding. When she lifted her face toward him again, he was stunned at the look in her eyes. "God, Sir. You were right to...you were right. I lost sight of what was important, and I apologize. To be honest, I've been working up the guts to talk to you for days."

Reacting instinctively, Jack reached out, enveloping both of her hands in his. "Working up the...oh, for cryin–" Jack shook his head, echoing the movement by shaking her hands slightly, pulling her gaze to his. "Carter. Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because you thought I'd chew you out again?

Carter pulled her hands free and frowned. "No. Not because I thought you'd chew me out again, though I deserved it. I was...well, Sir, to be honest...I was embarrassed. Ashamed." She paused, swallowing hard. "I...God, Colonel. There I was thinking it was this 'great' opportunity to watch this amazing phenomenon, and I'd simply forgotten about Major Boyd and his team!" Carter's voice rose, shattering the peaceful stillness of the night around them.

Jack reached again for Carter's hands, firmly catching them. Her fists were clenched around whatever it was she'd been fiddling with, but he simply covered hers with his. "We all sometimes lose sight of the big picture, Sam. You're no different from anyone else." Jack absently caressed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, bending his head to force her to meet his gaze. Even in just the light of the fire he could still see the pain in her eyes.

"But, Sir." She shook her head and looked away, still unable to hold his gaze. "It's like I just...dismissed them. I mean, I've known Sally Westcott for years. We did our graduate work together. And Tom Johnson...and I just...discarded them." Carter turned toward Jack, her eyes wide and anxious. "What kind of an officer does that make me, Sir? What kind of a person?"

Jack sucked in a surprised breath. The full force of her blue eyes was turned on him and she was so desperately seeking reassurance. Redemption. For the first time, he allowed himself to acknowledge what those eyes did to him. What they made him feel. She was hurting and all he wanted to do was make it better for her. And he would, his own fear of talking things out be damned. Finally, his voice low and rough, he answered her. "Human, Sam. It makes you human. No more, no less."

"No, Sir. With all due respect, I think you're wrong. That doesn't make me human. It makes me a...scientist." She uttered the last word as if it was something dirty before shaking her head and closing her eyes.

Jack immediately felt the loss of that connection. He watched as she took a deep breath and slowly gathered herself. She slipped one of her hands free of his and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, allowing him to see for the first time what she'd been holding in her hands. Dog tags. His dog tags. Sam followed his gaze to the tags and she glanced up at him. Opening her hand, she let the tags fall from her fingers into his waiting palms. "I...I've been meaning to get these back to you since Janet let out you. I was just..."

Jack nodded as he closed his hand around the rubber-edged metal. He remembered handing them to her as he and Cromwell geared up to climb down the ropes. Remembered feeling as if he were entrusting to her something so much more important that a couple of scraps of metal. That somehow, if she were to hold onto them, she'd be holding onto him. Gathering up the chain, he liked that the tags still held some of the heat they'd absorbed while being held so tightly in her hands. "I wondered where these had gone to. Thanks." Jack settled the tags around his neck, tucking them into his sweatshirt. He turned back to the fire, giving Sam time to collect herself.

Sam, too, turned away, her shoulder just barely resting against his, and Jack decided he liked it there. He liked the connection with her, despite knowing just how closely they were skirting that nebulous, uncrossable line.

"Sir?" Sam's soft voice eventually broke the silence.

"Carter?"

"I...well, I don't really know how to ask this. How do you...when will..." Sam huffed out an impatient breath. "I don't really know how to be any different."

"Why on Earth would you want to be different, Carter? I mean," Jack waved his hand vaguely. "You're pretty different now, Carter." When she turned he simply raised an eyebrow. "How many theoretical astrophysicist doctor-galaxy hopping-female flagship Second-US Air Force Captain's do you know, Sam?"

Sam shook her head. "No, Sir. I mean, I don't know how to be different than I am."

Jack turned to face her, crossing his legs, and stretching his arm to rest on the seat bench behind them. His fingers played idly with the smooth wood of the seat while he studied her profile. She looked so serious. "Carter. I don't think I understand. How can you be different from who you are?"

Mirroring his actions, Sam turned to face him, tucking her knees up in front of her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knee and for the first time that night, unwaveringly met his gaze. "That's just it, Colonel. I am a scientist. I will always be a scientist. I was a scientist when I joined the Air Force; they simply made me a better one. Along the way they made me a soldier. Or an Airman...whatever." She gave him an intense look. "I don't know how to...turn that off. The scientist."

Quirking his head at her, Jack gave her a puzzled look. "Why would you need to?"

Sam blew out a frustrated breath. "Because...because being a scientist first sometimes makes me less human! Don't you see?" Sam gestured sharply toward the sky. "It was the scientist in me that wanted to keep that wormhole open, Colonel. Forgetting about the Major, about Sally and the others...Sir, that wasn't me being human, it was me being a scientist!" Sam reached up to wipe her eyes again, angrily brushing aside the tears that snuck past her guards. "I don't know how to turn that part off, Sir!"

Jack reached out and captured Sam's hands, stilling her gestures and trying to calm her down. "Easy, Sam. Easy. It's okay. I get it." He grasped both of his hands in his right, resting them atop her knee, and he raised his left to gently wipe away another errant tear. When she sniffled, he simply tugged her forward and caught her as she toppled against him, her knees still tucked beneath her chin and now trapped between their two bodies. As she cried he slid his hands around her back and held her, his hands absently patting her, comforting her.

When her crying eased he continued to hold her, his cheek resting against the top of her head, his eyes on the fire. Softly, he began to speak. "Did you know Hank Boyd at all, Sam?" She shook her head against his chest. "Hank Boyd was someone I'd met years ago. He was new to my unit back in Iraq. God, he couldn't have been more than twenty, twenty-one then. He was so green, but damn...he really wanted to know everything there was to know about...well...everything." Jack chuckled softly, his arms tightening their hold around Sam at the memory. "Anyway, one night when we were in camp, I was stretched out behind the mess tent, the darkest spot in camp, just gazing up at the stars. I hear somebody walking past, muttering about times, and schedules and...oh hell, I don't know. I didn't really care, I just knew some idiot was in my spot, messing with my downtime."

Sam's voice was muffled against Jack's sweatshirt, he had to bend to hear her. "What happened, Sir? What was he talking about?"

Jack tipped his chin to rest it atop Sam's head, his eyes far away. "That's what I asked him. 'Sergeant Boyd,' I said. 'Just what the hell are you doing, wandering around at night and muttering about declination angles...' and whatever the hell else it was. Well, young Mr. Boyd stopped, blinking his eyes like he was surprised as hell to find anyone else out in the desert with him. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he flopped down and stretched out next to me, then began telling me the biggest load of waffle I'd ever heard. How if I looked in the sky at just the right place and the right time, I could see satellites going overhead. And, if I was really lucky, I could even see the Space Station." Jack chuckled again, his mind on that night. "Then he proceeded to tell me that that was the reason he'd joined the Air Force. To go into space. That he'd just finished his degree, in math, I think. He took night classes to get it. I remember him looking me square in the eye and telling me that someday he was going into space."

Sam pulled away, not too far, just enough that she could see Jack's face. Still resting just within the circle of his arms, she wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks. "How'd he become an officer?"

Jack slowly pulled himself back to the moment, letting the whisper of those long-ago desert winds fade in his memory. He studied her face for a moment before answering, seeing the sadness in her eyes as she understood the depth of his loss. "I, ah, recommended him for OTS."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Turning, Jack grabbed a stick and began poking the fire, warding off the evening's growing chill. He said, softly, "I told Cromwell that Hank reminded me of you...a little."

"Me, Sir?"

Jack slung his arm along the bench seat and rested his head on his fist, facing Sam again. "Yes, Carter, you." He shrugged. "Hank loved space. He loved to travel. He loved learning how it worked, you know? Figuring it out. God, the number of times he asked me to explain how the 'gate worked..." Jack trailed off at the look on Sam's face. She had en eyebrow raised that would have made Teal'c proud. "He just did that to mess with my head, I know, but...it was who he is. Who he was." He tilted his head, making sure he had Carter's full attention. "It's who you are, too, Sam. You can't ever not be who you are." Jack's voice dropped so low that he nearly whispered his last words, "I wouldn't want you to be any other way, Carter."

His breath caught again as she studied him, her wide blue eyes pale in the flickering light of the fire, her gaze intent upon his own, searching. It wasn't often that she lowered her guard enough that she would look so directly at him for so long, and he reveled in it. Celebrated it. Absorbed the moment and stored it away.

Eventually she nodded and sighed, turning her head again to rest her cheek on her knees, her eyes on the fire. Softly she said, "Thank you, Sir."

For his part, Jack continued to watch her, enjoying the rare opportunity to look at her without fear of reprisal or censure. After a long moment he, too, turned to watch the fire. The night moved in ever closer as the fire burned lower within small stone ring. With the darkness came the predictable dampness of night, and Jack finally turned to where Sam sat, her attention still focused on the glowing embers before them. "Ready to head in, Carter?"

Sam glanced at her watch and shook her head. She glanced up at Jack with an almost sheepish smile. "If you don't mind, Sir, I'd like to...well, we're off duty tomorrow so it doesn't really matter how late we up, right?"

Jack just shrugged, puzzled.

Stretching her neck slightly, Sam twisted and glanced over her left shoulder, toward the west. She checked her watch again and said, "If, um, we wait another thirty minutes, Sir, we should be able to see the Space Station as it goes overhead."

Jack said nothing for a long moment. He turned and looked in the direction she indicated, then turned back to Sam. What he saw in her eyes took his breath away. Again. Oh, O'Neill. You need to nip this now, son. Step away. Step very far away. His eyes on hers, Jack slowly shook his head. Not this time...no. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, and he had to cough to clear his through. Trying again, he said, "No, Carter."

The flash of hurt and disappointment in her eyes struck him like a physical blow. She blushed and turned her face away, then made as if to rise. Hastily, he grabbed her arm. "Wait. What I meant was...no. I don't mind. Not at all." Jack tugged Sam back down to her seat, and together they waited for the man-made star to slip across the dazzling night sky.

SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ

Afterword: I've had one or two folks email me regarding my consistent capitalization of "Sir." At least when Sam says it. I do that because I feel that, from very early on in the show, Sam uses "Sir" synonmously with "Jack." Therefore, "...sir..." becomes "...Sir..." almost a proper name.

Note to Sally (to whom I can't respond directly 'cause she didn't leave an email), and to a few others who have sent me notes. The "new" version of MRE's have a nifty little chem packet - sort of a mini stove - that allows users to qucikly heat their food. Back in the "day," ie, when I was still eating them, MRE's had to be heated by carefully pouring hot water into a plastic bag (thick enough that I could withstand tornado's-or so I thought) to reconstitute the "meat" inside. Spaghetti with "meatballs" was the best, the "ham" and cheese omelet...well, let's just say, going hungry was often better. Anyway, just thought I'd add that note, and I truly appreciate the commentary I'm getting on my stories, and God bless the engineers who are making the field rations better and easier to heat and eat. ~Pol