A/N: Two for the price of one! Two stories that related to Family. I couldn't not do this second one. I don't remember reading any fanfic that deals with Jack's action at the end of Family, his giving a baseball glove to Ry'ac.

Set just after Family, on Earth.

Simple Gifts

Jack paused in the doorway of the guest room, shaking his head as Daniel fell onto the mattress and immediately began snoring. He really had to watch how much the archaeologist drank at these things. Odd as it was to have held a team night without Teal'c, Jack was glad Daniel had insisted on it. Jack had grilled steaks while he and Carter whipped up a salad and the three of them had enjoyed a relaxing evening together. Despite his reservations, it had turned out to be a fun night, even with Daniels getting tipsy. One beer! How can a guy get wasted on one beer! Jack had guided their errant teammate up to the house and into the guest room, already mentally rearranging sleeping accommodations. With Daniel passed out and sleeping in her usual spot, he'd just put Carter in his bed...his room...and he'd take the couch. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept there.

Speaking of Carter... Jack grabbed another beer for himself and a bottle of soda for his Second. He slid open the glass patio door and grabbed the two sweatshirts draped over the back of the chair before stepping out to join his Second. He wasn't sure when it had started, this tradition of Carter being the 'last man standing' after their team nights, but he wasn't going to protest–he secretly looked forward to these rare moments alone with her.

Joining Sam, Jack sat down and bit back a groan as he knees protested the deep bend necessary to get down on the ground. He really needed to come up with better seats around this firepit, especially since it seemed to be Carter's favorite part of his property. At least Daniel had built a decent fire tonight. He'd hauled more than enough logs from the cord of wood Jack kept alongside the house, much more than they'd burn this evening. Without Teal'c, and with Daniel's inability to hold liquor, the fire they had going now was more than two people needed and would burn for hours if Jack let it.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Jack tipped his head back to rest atop the picnic bench that supported them both. God, what a week it had been. He'd hated, simply hated doubting Teal'c boy. He'd seen the anger, the betrayal in Teal'c's eyes when he'd asked Carter to examine Ry'ac. It had been worse when his fears had proven correct, that the boy had, indeed, been sent as a weapon against Earth. Jack sighed again, drawing Carter's concerned attention.

"Colonel?"

"Sorry, Carter. Long week."

"I know, I was just wondering if you were going to share one of the sweatshirts you brought out with you." She offered him a smile.

"Oh. Sorry, sure. Here." O'Neill handed Carter the faded green sweatshirt she had appropriated for use at his house and watched as she pulled it on. He helped her slide it down her back, absently smoothing his hand down her back. Carter smiled her thanks and settled back in against the bench. Jack kept his own sweatshirt bunched on his lap, his thoughts once again returning to Ry'ac.

Standing outside of the small room, Jack returned Teal'c's nod through the barred window. The shock of the Zat gun had done the trick. The hours spent sitting with the rest of his team outside of that small room, listening to the child spew Apophis' lies and hate at Teal'c and Drey'auc had almost undone him. Jack's only comfort had been the brush of Carter's arm against his as she'd joined him on bench, offering her silent support. She'd been amazing, comforting Drey'auc when Ry'ac's anger had become too much for the boy's mother; offering O'Neill a look or a reassuring smile when he needed it.

Jack stood silently, staring through the bars of the small window, watching the now reunited family get reacquainted. As hard as it had been, he envied Teal'c. He had his boy back. Ry'ac was only a little older than Charlie... Jack heard the others leave, everyone except Carter. This time it was her hand brushing his as she stepped up beside him, once again silently offering her support. This time he wasn't sure if her contact was for her or for him. God, Teal'c had his boy back...how he wished...

Carter's soft voice pulled O'Neill back to the present. "You, okay, Sir?"

"Yeah, I think I am." I will be.

Carter sat quietly, absently poking the still-blazing fire with a stick. She studied O'Neill for a moment, her eyes searching his. Finally she set the stick aside and tucked her fingers inside of the sleeves of her borrowed sweatshirt. She asked gently, "That was Charlie's glove, wasn't it?

Jack didn't say anything. He slowly turned to face his Second, his eyes catching hers and holding them. In his turn he studied her, admiring how dark her normally bright eyes were in the dancing light of the fire, the gentle, sympathetic smile that played across her expressive lips. His own quirked in response.

"Can't get much past you, can I?"

"No, Sir." Sam continued to hold his gaze, enjoying this rare moment of peace and companionship, then raised an eyebrow. "Does Teal'c know?"

"No. Well, at least, I don't think so. I didn't tell him. It wasn't something..."

"I guess not."

The fire popped, drawing their attention back to the blaze. Carter handed O'Neill her improvised fire poker and he set about rearranging the logs, his thoughts returning to Teal'c. It was hard not to envy the Jaffa; Jack didn't begrudge Teal'c his happiness, it was just...he sighed again.

"He might want to know, you know...someday."

"It's just a glove, Carter."

"If you say so, Sir."

"I do."

Together they watched the fire burn, O'Neill absently jiggling the logs, causing the flames to flare occasionally. He was glad he'd given the glove to the boy, he realized. It was time. Jack felt Carter wiggle a bit beside him, and he leaned in, offering a warm shoulder. "Cold, Sam?"

Carter's voice when she answered was hesitant, almost cautious. "Um, no, Sir." She cleared her throat nervously, then pulled a bulky package out from under the picnic table. Sam cleared her throat again before hesitantly offering the package to her CO.

With a puzzled frown, O'Neill took it from her, immediately recognizing what it was by it's shape. With shaking fingers he unwrapped the present. Inside lay an older fielder's glove, the lacings worn and stretched with age, the leather darkened with many years of use and care. Jack glanced up at Sam, confusion evident on his sculpted features.

Sam laced her fingers together, but not before O'Neill noticed their shaking. She coughed then slowly lifted her gaze to Jack's. "It's, um, my Dad's, Sir. Well, it's mine now, but it was his. I've had it for years, even used it myself when I was in school. I thought...well, somebody's got to teach Ry'ac that it isn't a hat. Sir."

O'Neill was speechless. Carter's dad? He'd never really thought about it, but she must have one, right? Of course she does, you moron, unless... "Um, Carter, is your dad, um...?"

"Hmm? Oh! Oh, no, Sir. He's very much alive, just waiting to retire."

"I don't know what to say, Carter...Sam. I...thank you." O'Neill was unbelievably touched by the gift. It was just like her to give him something so sweetly generous, so telling–of herself; to give him exactly what he needed. And to him. Why him? He couldn't take Carter's dad's glove. "Ah, Carter, I...you should keep this, you know? It should stay in your family...you know...for someday...?"

"I wanted to." Sam shared a long look with him before returning her attention to the fire. "I wanted to," she repeated quietly.

Jack stared at the glove in his lap, his fingers gently caressing the well-loved leather, his vision blurring slightly. He watched Carter play with the edges of her sweatshirt, studiously avoiding his gaze. Finally he nudged her shoulder, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she did he smiled, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. "Thanks, Sam. Really."

Sam gave him a tender smile in return, then nudged his shoulder in response. She didn't move away, choosing instead to remain against him, her shoulder pressed to his. "It's just a glove, Sir."

"If you say so, Carter."

"I do."