A/N: Thanks to Cags for the flash read-through and comments. As always, input makes the writing better. I do enjoy reading your feedback and comments. Thank you.

Set during and after Fair Game, the latter bit on a planet of my own choosing.

Yin and Yang

Earth

Colorado Springs, CO

Colonel Jack O'Neill's Home

0708 SGCS (SGC Standard Time)

Colonel Jack O'Neill checked his watch for the umpteenth time and grumbled under his breath. Where in the hell was she? Slipping his hand into the pocket of his trousers he fingered the slightly worn gold oak leaves, making sure neither had worked free of the hankie to which he'd clasped them this morning. Hammond's call had caught him just before he'd left the house, and Jack was glad their CO had managed to reach him.

"O'Neill," he barked into his cell phone, not even bothering to check the caller's ID.

"Colonel."

"Sir." Jack stopped in his tracks, one hand the knob of the front door, the other holding the phone. There was no reason for Hammond to call him at home unless there was an emergency, especially considering that he was sure the General knew that Jack would already be enroute to the base at this time of the morning. Unless . . . Jack's heart stuttered for a moment. Carter was due back today, she was flying back with her . . . "Ah, General. Everything okay?"

"Yes. I just wanted to give you a little heads-up, Jack. SecDef will be in-house this morning, so make sure your service dress is handy. No excuses. Also, Captain Carter's, or I should say, Major Carter's promotion came through. Just got the paperwork in the morning's DC packet. Thought you'd want to know."

Jack's dismay at having to don his dreaded service dress was significantly allayed by the news that Carter's well-deserved promotion had finally come through. He'd been pushing for over a year to have her grade increased, she'd long since passed the time-in-grade requirements. "Thank you, General, that's good news. At least the part about Carter. I assume no new orders came with her promotion?" Jack could hear Hammond's chuckle over the phone as he headed back to his bedroom to pull his freshly dry-cleaned service dress out of the closet.

"You assume correctly, Colonel. The President and SecDef see no reason to change the status quo." There was a pause, then Hammond added, "Neither do I."

"Great." Jack paused before leaving the room, then turned back to his dresser. He slid open the top of a small wooden chest and glanced inside. Thoughtfully fingering the worn-but-still-serviceable gold oak leaves nestled against the velvet lining, he asked, "General? Would you mind if I provided the Major with her new insignia?"

Again Hammond chuckled. "I thought you might like to, Jack. I'll see you in ninety minutes in the gateroom. Don't be late."

Jack snorted as he checked his watch again. 'Don't be late,' he tells me. Hmph. I'm not the one who's behind the clock this morning! Finally giving up the restless—and fruitless—pacing of his office, Jack opened the door and strode down the corridor toward the gateroom. So focused was he on thinking up a good cover for Carter's being late that he didn't register her presence on the ramp next to Teal'c until he was a good ten paces inside the room.

Hammond didn't say a word as he entered, merely giving Jack a look that rivaled those given by Teal'c when he was annoyed. Jack did his best to avoid direct eye contact with his CO for the remainder of the ceremony, only looking directly at him when Hammond announced Carter's promotion and indicated that he, Jack, should help him do the honors. As he pinned her new rank insignia to her shoulders, he wondered how long it would take Carter to figure out that the small, golden oak leaves were far from new.

S J S J S J S J S J S J S J S J

P7D-883

10.2k NNE of Stargate

2042 SGCS (8:42 PM)

One Week Later

"Sorry we had to pull you back from leave, Carter." Jack sat back and crossed his arms behind his head.

"That's okay, Sir. We'd pretty much exhausted our conversation topics an hour or so after I got there."

"That bad, huh?"

Carter shrugged. "No too bad, I guess. It's just . . . we don't have much in common, Mark and I, you know?"

O'Neill didn't know, but he offered an empathetic grunt in response. He arched his back, stretching the tired muscles as he settled more deeply into his seat, and lazily watched as the last rays of the setting sun painted the valley in deep purples and yellows. He knew that if he asked, Carter would tell him—in great and sometimes excruciating detail—just why it was the sky on this planet was purple and yellow at sunset, but Jack couldn't bring himself to break the gentle silence of the early evening.

Teal'c nodded as he walked past carrying a rather large pile of wood in his enormous arms. Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise. It wasn't really that cold on the planet, and he was pretty certain Carter had said it wouldn't get much darker that it was now, due to the planet's sun's reflection on the spectacularly large moon that was just now clearing the horizon. "T?"

"O'Neill."

"Not that I don't applaud a little initiative, but . . . do you really think we need a fire tonight?"

"I do not."

Beside him Carter stifled a giggle at the Jaffa's somewhat abrupt response. Jack turned and gave her a mock glare of warning before addressing Teal'c again. "Oh...kay." He glanced over at Daniel who merely gave him a shrug before turning back to his journal. "Let's try this again," he muttered. "Teal'c, buddy. If you don't think we need a fire, why are you building one?"

"Is it not tradition, O'Neill? When we are offworld we have a fire. We are offworld. Therefore, we will have a fire."

This time Carter was unsuccessful at holding back her snort of laughter and, Jack noted, even Daniel was biting his lip as he continued to write. Jack looked at Carter and raised his hands in defeat. "You can't argue with that kind of logic, can you?"

Jack could have sworn he heard a hint of laughter in Teal'c's voice as he replied, "Indeed, O'Neill. You cannot."

As Teal'c built his fire, Jack watched as his Second, now his Major, settled herself beside him. Instead of pulling out her laptop as he expected, she began rummaging in her bag, muttering quietly to herself as she fished around inside for whatever it was she was looking for. Pulling his gaze from her, Jack watched as Teal'c finished laying out his stone ring and began stacking the logs for the fire. Once he'd arranged them just-so, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out the small fire-starters they used when offworld. Teal'c efficiently lit the small peat stick and quickly laid it inside of his tower of logs. Within minutes they had a large, blazing campfire.

O'Neill had to admit that, need it or not, there was something distinctly comforting about having a campfire.

"There's something about an outdoor fire, isn't there, Sir?"

Jack blinked and turned to Carter in surprise as she unknowing echoed his thoughts. He could see the open smile on her face, along with the hint of a twinkle in her eye acknowledging their own special fondness for the fires they often shared, both off- and on-world. "You betcha."

"Major Carter."

Jack smiled as Carter's face lit up at her change in rank. She abandoned her search of her bag and turned her attention to her teammate. "Teal'c?"

"Did your visit with your father go well?"

Clearly surprised, Carter nodded. "Yes, I . . . well, I think so. My part was okay, not sure how he and Mark got along. I got called back early, so I can only assume that . . .." She shrugged. "I hope so."

"I believe our assault on the compound of Seth and our encounter with Mr. Levinson and his son perhaps prompted General Carter to extend toward your brother. Is that not so, Major Carter?"

Her eyebrows now rising to her hairline, Carter nodded. "I think you mean 'reach out,' Teal'c, but . . . yeah. I think that had something to do with it."

Teal'c nodded in satisfaction. "That is indeed good news. It will be good for both General Carter and for you to have made that effort. It is not good for a warrior to be distracted." With another nod to O'Neill and Carter, Teal'c rose and strode off into the gathering gloom.

Across the fire, Daniel looked up at them both, his journal forgotten on his lap and his mouth open wide. "Um . . . what was that?"

Carter shook her head, glancing from Daniel to Jack and then to where Teal'c had disappeared. "I . . . I have no idea. I didn't even know he knew about Mark."

"Teal'c's a wise, wise man, Major." Jack adopted his best Yoda voice. "You can learn much from him, young warrior."

Daniel snorted and closed his journal with a snap. "Sure, Jack. If you say so. Besides, I'm pretty sure you should have said 'Learn much from him you could,' or something like that." He rose and stretched, then with a grin and wave to them both he ducked inside of his tent. Jack had put Daniel on the mid-watch tonight and he needed his rest.

Carter returned her attention to her bag and Jack turned his to the fire. He sipped the last of his coffee and was just considering going for one last walk before turning in when Carter's small cry of triumph stopped him.

"A-ha!" She pulled a small package out of her bag and placed it on her knee.

"What 'cha got, Major?" As he'd intended, his drawled emphasis on her new rank drew a smile from his Second. He watched as she unwrapped the bundle on her knee, then popped open the small, square Tupperware container. "You . . . you actually brought s'more makings, Carter? Off-world?"

Carter shot him a sheepish look. "I know it's an extravagance, Colonel. But . . ." She shrugged, then turned the full force of her blue eyes on him. "I had a feeling about this mission and . . . well . . . it's sort of a special occasion."

"Do tell."

Placing small squares of chocolate on the thin graham crackers she'd pulled from the plastic container, Carter set them near the fire to warm up. She then extracted two slightly squished marshmallows from the box and, quickly spearing them with a stick, she held them over the flames to begin toasting. "I just felt like . . . celebrating. You know, the promotion and all. And since Teal'c was nice enough to provide a fire . . . "

"Ah." O'Neill reached for one of the sticks. "May I?" At Carter's nod he took over the toasting of his own treat. "I like mine crispier."

"I know, Sir."

"I'm sorry we didn't have a chance for a team dinner to celebrate your promotion, Carter. You know I'd have done it."

"I know, Sir. I appreciate the thought." Carter shrugged again.

O'Neill leaned back on one hand as he continued to roast his marshmallow. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Carter settled herself more comfortably, her elbows resting on her knees, carefully turning her marshmallow for maximum toasting effectiveness. He was enjoying the silence, the comfort of the moment when she spoke up again.

"I also . . . thank you, Sir." He merely raised an eyebrow at her, confused. "For coming up with the oak leaves. I guess you were just as surprised as I was by the promotion?" Clearly embarrassed she tapped her shoulders, indicating the spot where he'd pinned his old oak leaves on her service dress a few days ago and shrugged.

"Why do you think that?"

She faced him. "Well, I . . . I figured that since you used yours for my promotion that you . . . I mean, that nobody had time to . . . " Carter fumbled, clearly disconcerted now.

"Nope. Knew about it long before then. Well, not that it would happen with the SecDef there, but, of course I knew of the promotion, Carter. Who do you think filled out the paperwork?" He gave her a comical grimace.

"Oh." Nonplussed, Carter focused her attention on keeping her marshmallow from erupting in flames.

O'Neill watched her as he toasted his own, trying to sort out the source of her discomfort. He'd wanted to give her something, and since he wasn't able to give her the kinds of gifts he really wanted, he had settled for something else. A new badge of office, worn by him and passed on from him to her, had meant something . . . at least to him. He'd wanted to show her how much he admired her. Trusted her. Respected her. Believed in her. Damn it, he knew subtlety wasn't his strong suit, but he figured she might have at least understood it. Maybe not. "Look, Carter. I don't want you thinking I gave you my old rank because I had nothing better. I–"

"I know that, Sir."

"I–what? You do?"

"I . . . well, I think I do. I just didn't want to read too much into–"

"Read away, Sam. I wanted you to wear my oak leaves."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, Sir. Why? I know why it's important to me, but I want to know why it was important to you. Sir." She carefully kept her gaze from his as she eased her marshmallow off of the stick and onto her pre-heated graham-and-chocolate layer. Pressing the top layer of graham cracker gently down she balanced the treat on the lid of the Tupperware container, handing the bottom half to him to serve as his own plate.

Instead of answering, Jack efficiently built his own sugary treat. Like her he set his aside to let it cool for a moment, giving himself a moment. He thought over the events of the last few weeks, especially Carter's struggle to master the power Jolinar's infestation had left in her.

O'Neill watched as Carter stood over the comatose body of the Goa'uld. Personally, he would be quite happy if the snake-headed son of a bitch would just die, but . . . damn it, he needed Carter to heal the man. Carter needed it too, and he hated that. He could see her struggling to summon the power of the device, to access the legacy that Jolinar had left to her. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Jolinar's memories were getting in the way of the genetic ability she'd left with Carter to use these tools.

"Uh, I hate to go all . . . Freudian on you here. The part of you that knows how to run those things..."

Carter shot him a fierce look. "You think I don't want to cure Cronus because he ordered Jolinar's death." She bit off each word, a look of defiance on her face. "I just have the memories of Jolinar, she doesn't control me. I'm well aware of the stakes here."

He answered her fiery gaze with a steady look, not rising to the bait. "I'm just saying."

As they stood silently around the bed, Jack suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He glanced from Carter to the device she held and then back again, feeling his breath catch in the back of his throat at the look of furious concentration on her normally soft features. As quickly as it had begun, it was finished.

The light snapped off and Carter slumped slightly. She looked up in surprise, catching his eyes. "It worked," she said, wonder coloring her tone.

Jack held her gaze and quirked a small smile at her. Of course it did, he thought.

"Carter, how are you doing?" Jack asked, his thoughts still on the memories chasing across his brain. "With the whole 'superpowers' thing?"

Clearly surprised at his abrupt change of subject, she turned to face him. "It's . . . I'm doing better, I think. It's easier, now, knowing I used the device to heal someone. That what Jolinar left me isn't just good for killing."

Jack picked up his s'more and bit into it, closing his eyes as the sweetness of the treat washed over his tongue. He knew, had known really since the first time he packed the Pop Tart s'mores off-world two years ago, that he'd always associate this treat with Sam Carter. He bit into the confection again and realized that that wasn't such a bad thing. Looking over at her he realized she was waiting for some sort of response from him. He took a sip of his coffee to clear his throat and then, turning to face her fully, tried to explain.

"Like it or not, Carter, Jolinar left you with something. Something terrible and something amazing. Like I said before, what you do with what she left you is up to you. It's her legacy to you." He lifted a shoulder and then dropped it, suddenly realizing how arrogant what he wanted to say next would sound. "I . . . I guess I feel the same about your promotion. I wanted you to wear my insignia. Call it ego, call it hubris, but . . . I like to think it's my contribution to your future. My legacy. Like Jolinar, there's a lot of . . . stuff . . . in those little gold oak leaves. History. There are things I did while wearing them that I'm not proud of, things that had to be done. Needed to be done, distasteful as they were. Other things . . . well, it wasn't all bad."

Next to him, Carter just sat, her eyes on his, her half-eaten treat forgotten on her lap. The fire burned beside them, lighting her in the glow that was fast becoming his favorite way to look at her. A log shifted and popped, startling them both.

Jack shrugged again, offering her a pained smile. "Or not," he said, rather lamely. No, he really sucked at this whole subtlety thing.

"Yin an yang," she said softly, her eyes still on his.

"I guess. Sure." Or . . . maybe he didn't suck; he just wasn't great at it.

Jack watched as Carter reached behind her again, her hand disappearing into her bag. There was no searching this time, no fumbling. She withdrew her hand slowly opened her fingers, palm up. Jack could see a pair of metal insignia glinting in the darkness. Was she giving them back to him? Trying to make light of it, he said, "'Course, Carter, if you don't want all that baggage . . ."

"No, Sir." She reached out with her other hand and, sliding her warm fingers around his, pulled his hand closer. She angled her palm and let the small metal pieces tumble onto his skin. She kept his hand cupped in hers, then carefully bent his fingers around the objects.

As he closed his hand around the metal he realized she hadn't handed him back his gold oak leaves, but rather something smaller, finer. With points. He uncurled his fingers and tilted his palm toward the fire, stunned to see two silver stars nestled there, catching the light of the fire and reflecting the bluish-purple of the nighttime sky. "Carter?"

"They're Dad's."

"Ohhh-kay." Confused he looked from the silver stars in his hands to her. "You've lost me, Sam."

Releasing his hand after giving it a little squeeze she sat back. Popping the last of her dessert into her mouth she leaned back on her arms and tipped her head back, her eyes on the spectacular sky above them. "It's like you said, Sir. Legacies."

"Sam, nobody in their right mind will ever make me a General. Ever." He tried to return the shiny stars to her but she refused.

"Colonel . . ." Carter puffed out a breath. "Jack," she said softly, hardly daring to meet his eyes. "Dad gave these to me for safekeeping the last time he was here. It's his dream that I wear them, someday. And . . . everything I learned about being a proper military officer I learned from him. But . . . everything I've learned about being a . . . leader . . . comes from you."

Oh no. No, no, nonononono. Jack's thoughts whirled around in his brain. "Sam, please tell me you don't think of me as another father." Jack tried to keep his tone light, but couldn't quite hide the panic and nausea that flashed through him with that horrible thought.

Carter's soft snort of laughter washed away that fear instantly. "Um . . . no. Sir. Not even close." She flashed him a quick smile, the one he sometimes felt was so full of promise and was reserved only for him.

"When we were gearing-up for this mission I saw these in my locker and I thought, well . . . you gave me something of yours. Something important that meant a lot to you, which makes it that much more special to me. I wanted to do the same. Sort of a . . . pledge. I'll try to live up to the legacy that you've given me and maybe you can add some more experiences to those little pieces of metal." She sighed again, and this time Jack could see the tension she'd carried since their encounter with Seth and later with Cronus finally drain away. "And . . . maybe the promise of doing both will help me deal with the things Jolinar has left behind."

"But . . . Carter. Sam. These . . . these are Dad's. Your Dad's. You should have them."

"Maybe I will, Sir. Someday. But . . ." Now she tilted her head sideways to look at him, her blue eyes clear in the darkness. "You first."

End.

UTC refers to "Universal Time, Coordinated," which replaced GMT (Greenwich Mean Time) in the early '70's. It's always bugged me that when SG-1 go through the gate at 9 AM MST (Mountain Standard Time) it appears to be the same time on the planet to which they have gated. Ugh. So . . . from this point forward in my fanfic, when/if I refer to times I'll try to be clear about just what time it is. For example, 0000 (midnight) in Colorado Springs would be 0700 (7:00 AM) UCT. That means that the time stamp should read: 0000 MST; (-7:00 UCT). Of course, then, that's just nuts and rather confusing. So, I'm going to make an official-looking statement that states clearly what time it is at the SGC and be done with it. Hey, it's not like I'm Sam Carter or anything!

I am, however, leaving the times in the 24-hour clock. If you don't know it, it'll be good for you to learn it.