A/N: At the beginning of the episode Jack says, "Captain, any signs of radio traffic in the last twenty-four hours?" I choose to believe that they 'gated in the day before and spent the night. Of course, that means a camp and therefore, a campfire.

Set the night before the opening scene in Prisoners.

Oh, Captain, My Captain.

O'Neill straightened with a groan, placed his hands on his lower back, then slowly arched backward to work out the kinks. He tugged at the neck of his T-shirt in a futile attempt to keep it from sticking to his body. God, how he hated being damp. That's all that seemed to be here, dampness. Lots and lots of dampness. And moss. And, of course, trees. Their campsite was shrouded in the unending mist that had been their constant companion since stepping through the gate twelve hours earlier. Twelve endless hours of tramping through soggy fallen leaves, feeling the pervasive moisture soaking slowly through the layers of his uniform to finally settle against his skin.

O'Neill sighed and glanced over at Carter as she helped Daniel set up his and Teal'c's tent. Switching from the large four-man tents to the smaller two man versions may have made more sense logistically, as it allowed for a more even weight distribution in the packs, but it made things a bit harder for him. He'd put himself it yet another impossible situation. Not wanting to make an issue of who slept where, and with whom, O'Neill had simply made a decision. He told himself he'd chosen the tent pairs based on logical reasons; Teal'c could keep the most field-inexperienced member of their team safer, and he and Carter usually took the last two watches of the night. He'd keep telling himself until he believed it.

Over near the small depression in the ground, Teal'c was building their campfire, slowly adding more fuel to what O'Neill thought was the beginnings of a healthy bonfire. It really was rather larger than what they normally built, but hell, maybe it would help dry them out. With a final groan to accompany the popping of his back, O'Neill joined the Jaffa.

"Nice fire."

"Thank you, O'Neill. It seemed a wise idea to increase the size of our campfire tonight, as the dampness does not seem to be abating."

"Yeah." Jack looked around and shook his head. "Moss and trees. God, you think the Ancient's could put Stargate on more planets with tropical beaches. Or at least in southern continents."

Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow in response as he silently continued his task. Jack slid his pack closer and, glancing over to where Carter and Daniel were just finishing up, opened his Second's pack as well. He fished out two MRE's from his bag and the small collapsible pot from Carter's. Teal'c did the same, pouring water into his small pan for his and Daniel's dinners.

Sam and Daniel silently joined their teammates, settling onto the slowly drying logs Teal'c had placed around the fire as impromptu seats. Sam saw that O'Neill had laid his rain poncho over the wet moss on the log, then smiled as he moved over and made room for her. At least her bottom would stay dry. Daniel's quiet groan as he eased down onto his seat reached Jack, and the Colonel had a hard time biting back a smile.

"Sore, Daniel?"

"Yeah, Jack. Sore."

"I told you it'd be a longer walk if we followed the ridgeline."

"Yes, Jack, you told me. You were right. I was wrong. Mea culpa."

Sam watched the exchange between Daniel and her CO with a small smile. She tuned the others out as they chatted and joked, absently eating the meal O'Neill placed in her hands. Her first trip through the gate since Jolinar was going better than she'd thought it would. Than she'd hoped. She thought back to earlier in the day, as Harriman began to dial up their present location.

"Chevron six, locked."

Harriman's always-calm voice echoed through the 'gateroom, sending an involuntary shiver of fear racing down Carter's spine. She ducked her head and fiddled with the clip holding her P90 to her vest, hoping no one–especially the Colonel–had noticed. Damn these nerves. Taking a calming breath, Sam slipped a hand inside the small upper breast pocket of her vest, fingering the small note she'd found in her locker this morning. It had been tucked into the top of her boot and she'd glanced around the locker room in surprise, trying to figure out who left it. Adjacent to her, Daniel, Teal'c, and the Colonel had all been in various stages of dressing, each intent on their own preparations. Keeping her back to them, Carter had unfolded the slip of paper, her fingers trembling slightly. Written in the Colonel's familiar block letter style, she read the single line.

"Brave, brave were the soldiers...who lived through the fight."

Sam had closed her eyes, barely stopping the tears that welled within from spilling down her cheek. She took a deep breath, then carefully refolded the note and tucked it safely into the pocket of her combat vest.

The loud kawoosh! of the event horizon forming pulled her thoughts back to the present, and she was once again faced with the fearful reality of walking through that puddle of blue into the unknown. She heard Hammond's traditional sendoff and watched as Teal'c led Daniel through. Woodenly she followed, automatically stepping up the ramp in time with the Colonel's stride.

"Ready?" The Colonel kept his voice pitched low, for her ears only. He watched as she nodded sharply, her hand once again reaching up to touch the pocket of her vest before settling on her weapon.

"Yes, Sir. I am."

Slightly more than twelve hours later Carter sat, lost in her thoughts. Seated next to the blazing fire, she enjoyed its fierce heat as it held back the dampness that grew heavier by the hour. A gentle cough startled her and she glanced around in surprise. Daniel and Teal'c were nowhere to be seen, leaving only the Colonel at her side. He studied her, waiting for her to regain her equilibrium.

"Um, sorry, Sir. I guess I...where are Daniel and Teal'c?"

"Daniel's off to bed, could barely keep his eyes open through dinner. Teal'c is off somewhere, said he wanted to find a quiet place away from camp to kel-no-reem for a while." O'Neill shrugged. "More tramping through damp woods, go figure."

Sam smiled gently, knowing that Teal'c sometimes preferred to be away from all of them for his meditation. Despite claiming that he could kel-no-reem just about anywhere, she knew that every so often the banter between the Colonel and Daniel grated on him. She ducked her head a bit deeper into her jacket, trying to keep the moisture from dripping down the back of her neck. The fire was helping to her to dry, and the food, even if it was an MRE, had warmed her insides.

"Thanks for making dinner, Sir."

"No problem, Captain. Next time it's your turn. Remember, I like my steak rare and the wine at room temperature."

Carter snorted, a soft giggle escaping despite her best efforts. "Yes, Colonel, I'll remember."

O'Neill grinned into the darkness, secretly delighted to hear that sound from his Captain. He'd taken a chance this morning, slipping that note into her locker. Oh, there was nothing to incriminate either of them, but it was the act itself that could potentially raise some eyebrows. Commanding officer's did not, as a rule, leave little notes for their officers to find. He'd seen her tuck the note into her vest, and several times that day had watched her pat that same pocket, as if to check that the note was still there.

"So..." He waited for her to face him, the smile sliding from her features as she anticipated his words. Jack had intended to ask how she was doing, but the expression on her face stopped him. He immediately changed his tack. "...ready for dessert?"

"Um...dessert?" Carter glanced at the fire then back at her CO, her eyebrows raised. "Don't tell me you carried...

O'Neill reached into his bag and pulled out a flat, foil-wrapped package. Slightly worse for wear from having been in his pack all day, he was pleased to feel that its contents were relatively intact. Careful to keep quiet, he gently opened the wrapping.

Sam's eyes lit up as he handed her the treat, and she grinned up at him, enjoying the thrill that shot through her as his brown eyes shined in the light of the fire. "A s'more Pop-tart? I can't believe you brought this!" She watched as her Colonel carefully laid his portion of the desert on two sticks, then gently eased his contraption over the fire. She held her breath as he jiggled the sticks slightly, barely stopping the sugary treat from falling into the fire.

"Um, Sir? If you drop yours, I'm not sharing." She gently held her treat to her chest.

"Now, Captain, is that any way to treat your CO? The man who hauled this special treat all the way across the galaxy...just for you?"

Carter studied O'Neill as he focused on his task. He'd done this for her, brought a little bit of home along on this mission...for her. She'd served with other officers, other charismatic commanders before; she'd even dodged a few fumbled attempts at against-regulations relationships with some of them, even while at the Pentagon. Especially while at the Pentagon. She knew that what he was doing now, and what he'd done before, were different. The small gestures of comfort, the quiet chats by the fire, the note...these weren't subtle attempts by a senior officer to seduce a junior. These were the actions of someone who cared, and cared deeply, despite all outward appearances. They were honest reflections of the man himself, and Sam let the affection she felt for him slowly fill her, warming her very soul. She reveled in it.

O'Neill handed her his now-warm s'more and took her cold one in return. He carefully heated the second as he had the first. When his was ready, he turned to Carter, catching her staring at him intently. The lightness of the moment before was gone from her face, replaced by a pensive look.

"Carter? Don't like your desert?"

Sam bit into her treat and smiled in response. "Umm. Thank you, Sir. This is a nice surprise." She watched him return to his toasting, then added softly, "So was the note. This morning. I didn't know you were a fan of Whitman."

Very softly Jack responded, "O Captain...my Captain. Our fearful trip is done." His eyes caught hers and held them, his pride in her strength at facing her fear clear in his gaze.

Sam caught her breath at the expression on O'Neill's face, the fierce pride glowing in his eyes. She whispered the next line automatically. "The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won." She couldn't help but quirk a small smile at O'Neill's surprised look. "Hey, I read something other than science journals. Sometimes."

"Mm." Jack turned his face away, afraid that he was losing the hold he kept on his emotions. God, this woman was dangerous to him.

"You know, don't you, Sir, that...um..."

"That each of those particular poems ends with death?"

"Well...yes, Sir."

"Hmm."

O'Neill was quiet for a moment, letting the crack and pop of the fire fill the silence. He and Carter watched as Teal'c returned to camp and nodded to both officers before taking up his position for the first watch of the night. Jack gave Teal'c a brief nod and turned to Carter. "C'mon, Captain. Teal'c's got the watch, it's time to turn in."

He held out a hand and pulled Carter to her feet, both of them heading toward the small tent he'd set up earlier. He waved Sam inside first, giving her a minute to get herself settled–giving himself a moment too. In the smaller tents it was easier to only have one person moving at a time, and Jack didn't think it'd be a good idea to be bumping into Carter right now. Once inside he removed his boots, belt and BDU overshirt, then slid into his empty sleeping bag. He was still considering Carter's comment on Whitman as he settled himself down for the night. Finally, he said, "It's not how they end, Carter." Jack's voice was soft, carrying through the cool night air to his companion.

"Sir?" Carter's query was equally soft. She rolled over to face her CO, tucking an arm under her head. The glow from the fire outside allowed her to see the faint outline of the Colonel against the darker sides of their tent. He was close enough in the small space that she could feel his breath against her arm, imagined she could feel the heat of him. Close, but so very far away.

"Whitman's poems. It's not about how they end, it's...they're about...for me anyway...courage and dedication. Sacrifice for duty. Honor." He paused. "Love."

"Oh," she breathed. Sam lay frozen, the implications of O'Neill's words surging through her. Maybe she was tired, her senses on overload after a long day of hiking. Maybe it was the leftover tension of going through the gate again. Maybe it was all of those, maybe it was just...her, but her Colonel's words opened a floodgate within her and for a moment she was swamped with emotion. Her eyes filled and she quickly freed her other hand from her sleeping bag to wipe away her tears.

"Carter? You okay?"

"Yes, Sir. I will be."

O'Neill heard her soft sniffle and closed his eyes. Every instinct he had told him to reach out and offer comfort, but he knew he couldn't. He wouldn't be offering comfort as her CO and he couldn't offer comfort as a friend–or anything else. So he lay there, waiting while she regained control. He knew she was tired of being afraid and that she wanted the chance to stand tall again, on her own. She'd achieved a victory today, the moment she'd stepped off of the ramp and into the event horizon, and he was intensely proud of her.

Carter wiped her eyes again, grateful to the Colonel for his quiet support, for knowing when to leave her be. She remained as she was, facing him, taking comfort in his silent strength, his nearness. "Goodnight, Sir," she murmured, allowing her eyes to slip closed again.

As Sam slowly drifted to sleep, she heard him quote quietly, "The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; from fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won." Then, so softly that she almost missed it, he whispered, "Goodnight, Captain...my Captain."