A/N: Well, here it is. The campfire that inspired the Campfires! I have been blocked on this story for so long! I, for some reason, was really hesitant to write this. I’ve only seen the episode twice, once when it aired and again today at the gym. I’m sure there’s nothing funnier than a short blonde going nuts on an exercise bike (still can’t use my own bike ‘cause of the damned wrist) and laughing out loud at her little iTouch. Great episode, kudos to Brad Wright (he wrote it).

Anyway...I wondered just how Sam got the injury to her hand that tipped Hammond off and reminded him to hand her the note. Now we know. As always, no review is too small, even the simplest “Loved it” can go a long way. Of course, “Hated it” does too. I save ‘em all and answer them all.

Set during 1969.

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Relativity

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Jack watched as Michael led Jenny back into the bus. They’d talked for another hour after the young couple confronted the team with what they knew and then had subsequently agreed to help SG1 get “home.” He’d hated to lie to them but really felt he had no other choice. The two were so young, so trusting...Jack shrugged. Sometimes the little lie was better than the alternative.

“Daniel Jackson. It seems as if your viewing of my favorite films has indeed helped our cause.”

“Sorry Teal’c?”

From her perch beside Jack Sam let out a small snicker. She leaned over Jack’s knee and said softly, “Really Daniel? ‘From a galaxy far, far away?’”

Jack didn’t bother to hide his smile as Daniel ducked his head and his face flushed. Careful to keep his voice low so their hosts wouldn’t overhear, he added, “‘...a place called New York...’?”

At that Sam lost her battle with her giggles. She snorted and then spit her mouthful of soup into the fire with a loud cough. She wiped her eyes and glared at the Colonel, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Sir!” She coughed again, glancing furtively over her shoulder. “Don’t do that! Not when I’ve got a mouthful of soup!” Sam continued clearing her throat as she fought to expel the liquid she’d inhaled.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jack reached around behind her and gently patted her on the back, ostensibly to help her out. He leaned close to her and said, in a voice low enough that only she would hear, “I believe we’ve had our discussion about...giggling...haven’t we, Captain?”

Daniel gathered up his and Teal’c’s mugs and defended himself, hissing at Jack, “Hey, c’mon. I was only trying to go along with your whole, ‘not the establishment of this planet’ thing. How’d you know they weren’t going to freak on us?”

“C’mon Daniel, it’s the 60’s!” Jack glanced from Daniel to Teal’c, then over to Carter. He realized he was still absently rubbing her back and he quickly dropped his hand back into his lap. He quirked another look at Teal’c and received only a raised eyebrow in return. “You know...free love, ‘make love, not war,’ ‘peace,’ ‘love,’ unity’...” Jack trailed off at the blank looks on his teams faces. “Can you dig it’?”

Teal’c looked around in confusion. “What is it you wish for me to dig, O’Neill?”

“Oh for...it’s just a phrase, Teal’c. It means...it means...aw hell. Daniel?”

“I told you, Jack. I was only about four and a half then...er, now.”

Seeing no hope there, Jack turned to Carter. “Captain? A little help?”

Carter, still blinking back tears left over from inhaling her mouthful of tea, merely shrugged. “Can’t help you, Colonel. I’m only...um, I mean, I was only about eight months old now. Then.” She exchanged helpless glances with Daniel.

With a glance at O’Neill, Daniel tried to explain. “Teal’c, it’s just a colloquialism. It was started, I think–”

Jack frowned and reached to refill his and Carter’s mugs. Despite having gone to bed earlier, Jenny had assured them that there was plenty more soup on the bus’s stove. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered to her as he rose. “I only wanted him to explain what it means, not...” He waved his hand toward the man who was not deeply into his explanation. He wasn’t really grumbling, nor was he really irritated, and his Captain’s bright smile up at him told him she knew that. They had a plan, they had local allies, and they had a clear objective. All in all, Jack was feeling better about their whole adventure than he expected.

By the time he returned to the still brightly burning campfire only Carter remained. “Where’d the guys go?”

Carter reached automatically for the cup, then winced as the movement pulled at the stitches of her right hand. “Ouch.” She instead took the mug in her left, cradling her injured hand in her lap as she sipped the hot liquid. “Thanks, Sir. Daniel went for a walk and Teal’c decided to follow him. To ‘keep him clear of trouble,’ I think is what he said.”

“Hmm.” Poking the fire with a small stick, Jack looked pensively at his Second. “So...eight months old, eh?” He shook his head. “God, I really am old enough to be your father.”

Carter snorted softly and bumped him with her shoulder. “Sure, Colonel. If you started having babies at what, age nine?”

Smirking at her, Jack sat back up, tossing his stick onto the fire. “Is that an oblique way of asking me how old I am, Captain?”

She shook her head, dropping her gaze from his. Jack got the feeling she was more than a little chagrined at the direction their teasing had taken. He was too, truth be told. He knew he was older than she, but he didn’t really want to emphasize just how great that age difference was. Still, maybe that distance would help him to keep clear that line that so often blurred between them. He considered her bent head and finally mumbled, “Sixteen.”

“Sir?” Carter’s eyes were wide with surprise. “Really?” Then she stopped and considered, and Jack could swear he could see the math being done in her head. “Yeah, I guess you’d have to have been to have...you were in Vietnam, weren’t you, Sir?”

“I was.”

“God.” Clearly catching his surprised look, she quickly added, “I mean...wow, Sir. You’ve certainly seen your fair share, haven’t you?”

Jack looked at her searchingly, wondering what she meant. For his part, he was simply aware that while he had been off learning the tools of the Black Ops trade, this bright young woman was learning to...God, learning to walk for cryin’ out loud. It wasn’t just the years between them it was a lifetime of experience he would pay money to have foregone. He shook his head, his brain suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of their current situation. Needing a distraction he turned his attention on Carter’s injured hand. “How’s that doing?” He nudged his chin toward the hand she was still keeping tucked out of the way.

“It’s good, Sir. I just sometimes forget and reach...”

“I know.” Jack was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’m really sorry, you know.”

“Wasn’t your fault, Colonel.”

Jack glanced over at her, knowing he’d find her looking back at him. Sure enough, those incredible blue eyes were aimed his way. He swallowed and offered a half-smile, determinedly focusing on the number sixteen.

“Say what you will, Carter, I still feel responsible.” Jack knew her injury was the result of him messing around. Or, not really messing around, just trying to find some way to diffuse what could have been an incredibly bad situation between them. Or a galaxy-sized mistake on his part. He pulled her hand from her lap and gently cradled it in his hands, one finger carefully tracing the edge of the line of carefully placed stitches.

- -

The lights in the hallways were set low, operating per policy of half-level at night. Jack absently wondered who was responsible for that idea, mimicking the daytime and nighttime surface illumination down here inside the mountain. It had seemed weird to him but now was normal. He’d have to ask Sam...‘Carter’ he reminded himself sternly, when he found her. If he found her, that is. She’d probably tell him that it had something to do with maintaining their diabolical rhythms, or something like that. He glanced again at his watch and frowned. It was 0015, she wasn’t likely to be in her lab, but... he stopped and scratched his head, wondering when it had become ‘normal’ for him to expect to find a teammate in their office nearly seven and a half hours past the official end of their duty day. Oh well, since he was almost already there, he continued toward her lab.

As he neared her door he saw shadows moving through the slightly brighter light shining under the door, indicating that someone was indeed home after all. Jack tapped lightly on the door and cautiously eased it open. It paid to be cautious when entering Sam’s–Carter’s–lab, he knew. It only took two near-misses with small UFO’s to convince him of that.

Not seeing anyone right away, Jack called out quietly, “Carter? Anybody home?”

A muffled thump followed by a barely suppressed curse drove Jack’s eyebrows upward. Following the sounds he eased himself around his Second’s desk only to stop in surprise. His normally completely put-together Captain was lying on the floor of her lab on her back, her leg’s spread slightly and bent at the knees. Her boots were unlaced and she was wearing worn cotton shorts and the smallest t-shirt Jack had ever seen on an adult woman. As he watched, she raised her hips and wiggled them slightly as she inched herself backward on the floor. From this angle Jack couldn’t see her head, nor her hands and forearms, as she was reaching above her head and to the left in an attempt to do...well, whatever she was trying to do was lost on Jack, but the effects of her movements were not. Each time she wiggled and inched, her t-shirt rode up a little more until... Holy crap! Jack swallowed hard. Is her...did she pierce her bellybutton?

Jack’s jaw dropped to the floor and he did the only thing he could think of. “Carter!” His snapped out command voice startled them both.

“Ow! Dammit!” Carter’s arms jerked downward and she cursed again. “Sir! Ow! Damn, I’m sorry, Colonel, but...uh oh.”

To Jack’s dismay he watched as she lowered her arms to her belly, thankfully covering up the sparkling bellybutton distraction. Unfortunately that allowed Jack to see that she was cradling her right hand in her left and that she wasn’t very successful at staunching the flow of blood.

Without thinking he grabbed her by the ankles and slid her out from under her bench toward him. He reached for the phone to call for the medics when she abruptly sat up, shaking her head and leaning heavily on his arm.

“No, Sir. Please don’t.” Carter’s face was as red as the blood staining her...very...tiny... t-shirt. “I’m ah...not dressed right...oh God.” She ducked her head and clenched her left hand harder around her right, her already fair skin sliding dangerously toward white.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Carter.” Jack quickly pulled off his BDU shirt and wrapped it over her shoulders, then tried to get a look at the cut on her hand. “C’mon, Captain. I’ll walk you to the infirmary.”

“Please, Colonel. I promise to go, just...please...let me change. I’ll never hear the end of this.” Carter turned her huge blue eyes on him. She glanced down at his overshirt draped over her shoulders, his nametape clearly showing. “That,” she indicated his name with a dip of her chin. “That will only make it worse. Please.”

Jack studied her for a long moment, acknowledging to himself that he really couldn’t deny this woman anything, especially when she pleaded with him. He slowly stood and helped her to her feet. Because her hands were busy, he gently reached around and tugged her t-shirt as low around her hips as he could, sternly telling himself to ignore the sensations that shot through him as his fingers caressed the smooth skin of her back and sides. Once she was steady he pulled his overshirt off of her shoulders and draped it over his arm.

“You’re gonna be okay?”

“I’ll just run back to my quarters...okay, walk,” she amended at the look on his face. “I’ll go change and then hit the infirmary.

Jack was reluctant to let her out of his sight, especially when he could see how much blood she’d lost and continued to lose. However, he also knew that his Captain fiercely guarded her reputation and that something like this could be taken wildly out of context. Finally he agreed, but held up one finger. “Okay, Captain. You go. But...if I don’t get a phone call from you in under an hour telling me you’re clean, stitched, and cleared by medical, then I’m coming for you.”

“I promise, Sir.” She pushed herself away from her desk and stepped toward her door, pausing just before she left. “Colonel? Thank you. I mean it.”

“Shoo, Captain. The clock is ticking.”

- -

“Sir?”

Sam’s soft voice pulled O’Neill from his thoughts, making him wonder just how long he’d been sitting there with her hand cradled between his. He looked up to find her watching him, her gaze warm on his, her expression concerned. “I’m okay, Captain. I was just thinking...you never did tell me what it was you were doing that night.” Jack released her hand but looked significantly at the healing injury.

“Oh.” Carter ducked her head and even in the light of the fire Jack could see her rising blush. “I, ah...well...I dropped something.”

“‘Dropped something’?” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “Carter, you were in your lab wearing nothing but unlaced combat boots, shorts and the world’s tiniest t-shirt! What the hell could you have dropped? And what could it have possibly fallen out of?” Despite keeping his voice low, Jack’s voice was incredulous.

“I...okay, look. I was in bed, or almost anyway when I realized that I dropped something. I mean, I realized that I didn’t have something I always have with me and I...well, I guess I panicked. A little. Then I remembered that I had been...that it was probably on my desk, and...” Carter shrugged one shoulder and looked at him before quickly looking away. She wouldn’t quite meet his eyes and Jack was intrigued.

“Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”

“No, Sir. I was afraid that the cleaning crew would come through and...well, that it would be gone.”

Jack straightened and tried to ease the muscles in his back. They’d been sitting at this fire for hours now and his back was letting him know it. He was, however, still puzzled. “You know, Captain, that any jewelry or personal items found by the crew are always turned in. Remember my OTS ring?”

Beside him Carter nodded, still not meeting his gaze.

“Carter? Was it jewelry?”

“No, Sir.” Her voice was low, almost inaudible.

“But...it was valuable.”

“It was. Is.”

Jack could feel her take a deep breath. They were sitting close enough that when she inhaled her arm rose and fell, brushing against his. It looked to him like she was steeling herself for something painful. Something important. He decided to wait her out, to see what she would say. He hadn’t really intended to push her on this, but he’d been wondering for days about her...interesting...choice of attire for late-night lab work.

After a long moment, Carter set her now cold mug of soup aside and fished inside of the pocket of her long patchwork skirt. She pulled out a worn and slightly tattered piece of paper, one that looked vaguely familiar to him. Silently, her unwavering gaze now locked on his, Carter held it out to him.

Holding her gaze, Jack reached for the slip of paper. He gently opened it, careful of the oft-folded creases that made the paper fragile and was surprised to find his own handwriting.

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

Jack lifted his eyes to Carter’s, noting the barely-checked fear in her eyes. His breath caught as the implications of what she had said, and what she hadn’t said...along with the importance she placed on this tiny slip of paper...slowly sank in. He quite literally couldn’t catch his breath for a moment. She’d kept this note? He’d only meant to buck her up, to encourage her. To find that she’d saved such a tiny piece of paper just because he’d written...oh, ease up, Jack. It was the words that were important, not who gave them to her. Sixteen years, Jack. Sixteen years. Remember that! Finally, his voice gruff with something he wasn’t sure he could identify, he asked her, disbelief coloring his tone. “This...this is so important to you?”

Carter dropped her gaze from his and turned her face away. He could see her blinking rapidly and heard her take in a ragged breath.

“Hey...Carter.... Sam, wait.” God, he hated it when she cried. “Don’t read anything into that, I was just...surprised.”

“You wrote it. I mean, you...the words were...are...important, but you....” She sucked in a breath and straightened her shoulders. “You probably think it’s silly. And girly. And...”

“Sam.” Jack’s voice was still low, but now held the unmistakable note of command. “Look at me.”

As she slowly turned her head back toward him, Jack reached deep into his jacket, pulling out a battered and worn envelope. He watched as her eyes widened in recognition. It was the envelope containing the Father’s Day card she’d given him just a few months back. Jack slowly pulled the card out of it’s almost non-existent protective sheath and silently handed it to her. He studied her face as she opened the card and looked again at what she’d written beneath the message printed inside. As she read, he silently echoed the words inside that he knew were forever engraved upon his heart.

If all the fathers in the world held out their hand in friendship,
yours is the one I'd hold. –Anonymous.

Jack, since I’m going outside the lines and giving you this,
I may as well go all the way and call you by name. I believe
that someday you will be father to another little boy
who will be lucky enough to call you ‘Dad.’ I hope I’m
there to see it.

With love and friendship, SC.

“I...I thought I’d screwed up, Sir. Giving you that card.” Carter whispered. She swallowed hard and looked down, the fingers of her left hand absently playing with the steri-strips on her right. “It’s so far out of line...”

“No more than my dropping notes in your locker, Carter.”

“I guess.” She shrugged again and shivered slightly in the rising evening dampness. “So...you see, Colonel. Why I nee– er, wanted to get it back.” She handed him back his card and he returned her note. “It...I just hated to see it lost.”

“I understand.”

“Really, Sir?” She turned her face toward his, her tone and her eyes asking so much more than the simple question implied.

“Really.” Jack didn’t look away. He watched the firelight play across her face, shading her startling blue eyes and softening her already smooth features. He tried to tell her as much as he was able, without words, just how much he understood her need to keep that small scrap of paper close.

Carter studied his face for a long, silent moment. Jack wondered what she saw there. He knew that in her he had found something he wasn’t quite willing or able to put words to. Not just yet. She was...Carter. His Carter. She was important to him. Necessary, even. But he wasn’t certain he was willing to admit that to himself and certainly not to her. Eventually she carefully refolded her note and returned it to her pocket. She glanced down at her injured hand, then rested it gently on his knee as she rose smoothly to her feet. “Good night...Colonel.” Her voice was velvety soft in the darkness, and the slight hesitation before she said ‘Colonel’ said so much to him.

“Good night...Captain.” Jack’s hesitation matched her own, the unspoken word sliding into the pause before the formal salutation. He watched her disappear into the trees as she headed back toward the bus to curl up on the blankets they’d piled on the benches and seats.

Who did he think he was kidding? Just as he’d kept the card she’d given him, she’d kept his note. It wasn’t the words, or just the words, that were significant to either of them. It was because they’d come from them, one given to the other, that was important. Jack doubted that had anyone else given him that card–with the exception of his son–that he’d have kept it, let alone carry it on his person for every mission since. Just as he was now certain that had someone else given her that note she wouldn’t have been found on the floor of her lab in the middle of the night dressed in nearly nothing trying desperately to retrieve it. A small smile stole its way across his lips as he looked over to where he knew she lay, preparing to sleep in the darkened bulk of the bus standing silently in the darkness. Suddenly sixteen years didn’t seem that great a distance after all.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered into the quiet night.

- -

Afterword: Before I get whapped with comments on the dates, let me just say that my research turned up this: Jack O’Neill, born: October 20 1952; Daniel Jackson, born: July 8 1965; and Samantha Carter, born: December 29, 1968 (which makes her eight months younger than me!)

And...I hadn’t meant to reveal what was in Jack’s Father’s Day card until much later in the series, but Jack apparently had other ideas.

And lastly, I have to add this. The whole Teal’c “What is it you wish for me to dig, O’Neill?” thing was inspired by what I think is the funniest thing I’ve ever read in fanfic. It comes from a story called You Just Might Find by siegeofangels (find the author on LiveJournal). My only nit is that it’s written in first-person, present...an annoying fanfic trend.

“Hey,” Jack says, mock-wounded. “I know plenty of poetry. Kipling, even. You like Kipling?”

“Indeed I know not,” Teal’c says. “I have never Kippled.”

Seriously, I cried with laughter the first time I read that and it has never failed to bring a smile to my face since.