DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright August 2001 by Noda

Note: This story is a sequel to How Could You?

As always, special thanks to my beta readers (in no particular order): Gina, Jo, Karen, Michelle, Sally and Sheena.

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How can I not love you?
What do I tell my heart?
When do I not want you here in my arms?
How does one waltz away, from all of the memories?
How do I not miss you when you are gone?

~chorus, "How Can I Not Love You," love theme from "Anna and the King"~

*How Could I Not?*

The Colonel was at my door, breathing hard as if he'd run all the way from the parking lot and up the stairs.

"Don't marry him," he said, eyes locked with mine. I'm speechless. Obviously he got the message I'd left on his machine.

Finally, we broke eye contact and without invitation he pushed his way into my apartment. "Sam, we need to talk."

*No,* I thought, *we needed to talk months ago. But you shut me out. Angry over my decision to leave the SGC. What gives you the right to come to my door with some eleventh hour plea?*

"It's too late, sir."

"I saw your lights on, I know you weren't asleep." he said.

"Don't play dumb with me, Jack. You know what I'm talking about." He's surprised to hear me call him by name. Almost as surprised as I am that I used it.

I'm trying not to be affected by his presence in my home. What I wouldn't have given to have seen him standing there three months ago, when I'd given my notice at the SGC. Why hadn't he come looking for me then? Why didn't he ask me to reconsider? I hadn't meant for him--or the Air Force for that matter--to beg me to stay, but was a little show of emotion too much to ask? Instead all he'd managed was a "we'll miss you, Carter."

Oh, there was the pretense we were still friends. I'd call and get his machine, he'd call and get mine. In truth, I think we both called when we knew we'd miss the other, that way we could still maintain the illusion we were friends. It was obvious he wasn't comfortable going out with Craig, so I stopped hanging around with the rest of my former team. Craig seemed happier too, so, I guess, in the end, I was happy as well.

Now, after all the weeks of false friendship, he appeared at my door, issuing a command, as if he can still give me orders. There was something different about him, a determination in his eyes I hadn't seen in ages. He used to get that look when he was in the role of defending the underdog. Whether it was a specific cause or an abused population on another planet, if Jack O'Neill found it worthy of his attention, heaven help the other side.

Suddenly, I had the feeling I was the cause this time, and Craig the oppressor. I felt a small trickle of fear for Craig settle in my stomach, knowing Jack was a force to be reckoned with. And, for just a moment, I allowed myself to feel a bit of warmth. That Jack cared enough to show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night proved to me the emotions we never spoke of were still there, smoldering just below the surface.

"Get a bag. Pack your things," he demanded. "We're getting out of here."

"You're crazy!" I laughed. "It's one in the morning. I'm going nowhere but to bed." I started to walk past him, as he grabbed my wrist in a strong grip. Not enough to hurt, but enough pressure to let me know he was serious.

"Have you been drinking?" I accused.

"I've never been more sober in my life." Again his eyes bored into mine and I saw he was telling me the truth. There was nothing cloudy about their brown depths but they did darken slightly as he released my wrist. "Please, Sam, just do it."

"Sir, this is ridiculous! I'm not going anywhere at this time of the night." I backed away slightly and added in a softer voice, "especially not with you."

"I was Jack a minute ago."

"And then you started ordering me around as if you were my CO again."

"There's times I wish I was," I heard him mumble before he gave me a gentle shove towards my room. "Pack. Or I'll do it for you."

I continued to just stand there, staring at him, wondering what on Earth made him think I was going to follow his directive.

"Time's running out, Sam," he said, tapping the face of his watch.

He was right. In more ways than one. I tried another tactic. "Look, can't you just tell me what this is about? Why do I have to pack?"

"We can't talk here. We need some place where there isn't evidence of your life with. . .him."

He didn't say his name as if it was painful for him to speak. And Craig was the precise reason I wasn't going anywhere with him. Particularly at this hour. I started to speak but I was unsure how to address him. Did I call him Jack? Sir? I guess I'd called him "sir" when I left the message, but I was nervous and subconsciously fell back on old habits. I wasn't any less nervous now, but some how "sir" seemed a bit too formal considering we were supposedly friends. Plus, he'd addressed me as Sam. Didn't that allow me to call him by name? Finally, I made a decision.

"Jack, what's the point? Craig and I are getting married. I was hoping as my friend you'd be happy for me." Actually, only part of me was hoping that. If I was honest with myself, there was a portion of me that was flattered he still cared enough to come to my apartment, to tell me he was whisking me away to talk. To settle things between us. But to what end? It wouldn't change the fact that I was getting married.

"Sam, if this guy truly made you happy, I'd be the first in line to congratulate you," Jack said, his gaze flicking to me then sliding away. "Okay, maybe not the first, but I'd find a way to live with your decision. But I know you're not happy. I heard it in your voice when you left the message on machine."

Wrapping my arms around myself I tried to play at nonchalance. "I was nervous. You know how I hate answering machines. That's all it was."

"You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me," he said. This time his eyes didn't move away from mine and he knew he struck a nerve. One I've been trying to bury since Craig proposed.

I *wanted* to love him. I *needed* to love him. Craig was 2.5 children, white picket fence and a dog. I craved normalcy in my life, especially since I'd never had it. Not as a child, and certainly not since I'd joined the Air Force. It was my main motivating factor in leaving the service. I wanted kids, and I wanted them to grow up in the same house they'd known since birth. Attend the same school for more than a year or two. And that's what Craig was. Stable, reliable, normal.

"Please, Sam," Jack said. The tone of his voice finally convinced me.

Throwing up my hands in resignation, I replied with more anger than I really felt. "Fine! Can you at least tell me how long this is going to take?"

"A week should be enough time."

"A week!" I cried. I was expecting overnight--in separate rooms--somewhere, but a week? "You're insane if you think I'm going to just drop everything and go off with you for a week!"

"Probably," he said, prodding me towards my bedroom once more.

"How are you going to get a week off?" I asked, knowing I was stalling.

"I've got leave saved up. I told Hammond it was a personal emergency." Looking at him now, I was tempted to agree. As happy as I was initially to see him at my door, upon further scrutiny, he looked like hell.

I hadn't moved and he brushed past me, heading for my closet, rooting around for a bag. Before I could protest, he'd found one and he'd opened my drawers about to grab a handful of my underwear.

"Jack! Stop it!" I yelled, quickly intercepting the hand about to violate some of the more intimate articles of my clothing. I could see I wasn't going to talk him out of this. "All right! I'll do it! Just give me the bag." I snatched it from his grasp with such a force, I surprised both of us. A small smile of victory began to creep across his face as he exited my bedroom.

"Bring something warm."

*********

The sun was coming up when I opened my eyes, making me realize I'd fallen asleep. I was a little surprised I had, given I was determined to stay awake. My main motivating factor being I wanted to know where we were going. Jack was as tight lipped about our destination as he was about anything. I pretended to still be asleep so I could watch him, hoping he might give away some clue as to what this whole thing was about.

Jack's eyes were focused on the road, blinking back sleep. I knew he had to be tired as he'd been up all night. The radio played softly, no doubt so it didn't disturb me. His fingers on the steering wheel moved in time to the music, and from his expression, I could tell he wasn't even aware he was doing it. I almost smiled. Jack's hands were never still, just like his mind. I knew at times he gave the impression of being slightly out of step with what was going on around him, but I knew he understood more than he let on. His thoughts raced at the speed of a person going through the wormhole.

So why had he essentially kidnapped me? It didn't seem like a particularly well-thought out plan. It was rash, but then, that was Jack O'Neill as well. Go with the gut feeling and damn the consequences. I'd always thought him a complex man, but never more so as I watched him drive. To look at him you'd think there was nothing going on in that head of his, but I knew better.

And that startled me. When had I gotten to know Jack so well? I recognized his habits from having worked with him so closely for years, and I actually knew him better than my fiancé. I knew pretty much in any situation how Jack was going to react, but I couldn't say the same for Craig. Maybe it was because we hadn't know each other as long, or worked with each other. Life and death situations had a tendency to make you bond a little faster than polite dinner conversation.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the road. Damn! I should have realized he'd know I was awake. Not much escaped his notice even if he didn't always comment on it.

"Okay," I said, sitting up. It was pointless to try to pretend it was the sound of his voice that had awakened me. "You going to tell me now where we're heading?"

"No," he said simply. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

I looked around at the landscape and realized we were no longer in the mountains, but crossing an endless stretch of grassy prairie. Given that we were driving into the rising sun, there was no doubt in my mind we were heading east. East. Plains. Oh God.

"You're taking me to Minnesota?!"

Jack's face broke out into a grin. "You haven't lost you're touch, Carter. Got it in one."

Not that any other possibility crossed my mind when it was the only other spot he'd ever spoken of. "Isn't this a bit excessive?" I asked. "I mean couldn't we have just gone down to the diner and had a cup of coffee to talk about old times?"

"This isn't about old times," he said, turning to look at me. "It's about new ones."

I tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. "There are no new times, Jack. I'm getting married." He didn't say anything, only gripped the steering wheel tighter.

We rode in an uncomfortable silence for several miles before I broached the topic of why he'd insisted I come with him. "You said you wanted to talk. Why can't we do it now? Do we have to wait until we get to your cabin before you'll tell me what this is about?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to talk about it in the car," he snapped.

"Well, I think a bit of an explanation is in order! Craig's probably going crazy wondering where I am. And since you wouldn't let me bring my cell phone, and yours seems to be absent as well, is there any chance we could stop so I can call him?"

Jack looked down at the instrument panel. "I need to get gas soon. You can call him then."

The conversation ended and we slid back into the tense silence once more. Why couldn't he just come out and say what he wanted to talk to me about? Why the theatrics of practically breaking down my door and taking me away in the middle of the night? He might as well have clubbed me over the head and dragged me back to his cave by my hair. The mental image caused a smirk to cross my face, and I know Jack saw it. He maintained his stoic demeanor, and I thought he looked even more resolute than Teal'c, and that thought caused my grin to grow wider.

Finally, Jack cracked. "What is so damn funny?"

"You. Hauling me off like some Neanderthal. I'm surprised you didn't just throw me over your shoulder."

"I would have, but my back's been bothering me." Now it was Jack who was fighting a grin. The tension in the car seemed to melt away, and for that, I was grateful. I still wasn't happy about his tactics, but I hadn't exactly put up a big fight, I realized.

Why was that? I wondered. Shouldn't I be a little more upset he'd taken such liberties with me? I had to admit, there was a part of me that was charmed by the romantic side of this--Jack showing up at my door, telling me I couldn't marry Craig--but as of yet, he hadn't suggested an alternative. Had he offered me the same deal? No. He just said I wasn't supposed to marry Craig. Why, so he could keep me dangling as he did now? He never actually told me he loved me, or said I should marry him instead. I was just supposed to remain "Carter" so I could be around at his beck and call when he needed an ego boost.

I found myself growing angry once more at how he'd never said the words, or gave me any indication he'd felt more than he'd shown. If I'd had any notion there might have been a future for us, I wouldn't have accepted Craig's proposal. I probably wouldn't have even accepted his first invitation for a date.

"There's a gas station coming up," Jack informed me moments before he exited. Pulling up to the pump, he asked, "You feel like some breakfast?" Earlier I was starving, but now my appetite was gone as I realized I'd been over-romanticizing his actions. He didn't want me. He just didn't want Craig to have me.

"You go ahead. I'm going to find a phone." I was surprised he allowed me privacy to make my call, but then again, what could Craig do when we were six hours away from Colorado Springs?

Dialing the number I braced myself for Craig's anger. I knew he was going to be pissed. Who wouldn't be? If the situation was reversed, I would be livid. I spent the greater part of the phone call listing to him rant before I tried to calm him down. I couldn't believe I was justifying Jack's actions to him. I told him in no uncertain terms did I know this was going to take place and I wasn't "running off with him," but still, I didn't reveal where we were heading, claiming instead Jack hadn't told me where we were going. I wasn't sure why I didn't tell him. I suppose a part of me wanted to see what Jack intended to do or say, and I didn't want to be interrupted. Perhaps that's why he chose Minnesota; who would find us there?

Again Craig's voice was ringing in my ear as he used every swear word I'd ever heard in conjunction with Jack, before he apologized for not spending the night with me, and stopping this before it happened.

I reassured him I was fine and would be home in about a week, which started another string of swearing. I placated him one last time before returning to Jack's truck. He was munching on some kind of pastry and he offered me one, along with a cup of coffee.

"I know you said you weren't hungry, but you will be and it's a long way to the next stop."

"In that case I better hit the bathroom." I placed my breakfast in the truck before entering the restroom. Looking in the mirror I was surprised at how tired I still looked. Obviously, sleeping in the vehicle hadn't done much for me.

Jack was leaning against his truck when I returned and he gave me a tentative smile. "Everything go okay?"

"In the bathroom?" I asked, finding it a rather personal question.

"No, with Craig," he said with a smirk.

"Well, I think you're off the Christmas card list." Jack just nodded. "What did you expect?" I asked.

"Did you tell him where we were? Where we were going?"

I felt my face start to flush. "No, I didn't think it would do much good. It would only rile him further. The gone for a week thing did enough damage."

Jack looked pleased for a moment, as if he'd scored a second victory with my silence. "I'm surprised he didn't keep bugging you about it."

"Why's that?" I asked as I climbed into the truck.

"Because if someone had taken you away from me, you can bet your ass I wouldn't be sitting on mine in Colorado." He pushed my door shut before walking around to his side. I was stunned. It was probably the closest thing to a confession I'd gotten out of him since the za'tarc incident. Was that really how he felt? Would he come riding to my rescue? Actually, I could see him in that capacity. A lot more than I could see Craig, and that was a sobering thought.

*********

The road stretched on for endless miles. In my tired state, I was mesmerized, watching the heat waves shimmer over the asphalt. I began to wonder if he intended to drive the entire distance in one day. Not that it wasn't possible, especially given the way he was speeding. By my calculations, give or take, we wouldn't be in the vicinity of his cabin until midnight, which might be a good thing, I decided.

He still hadn't spoken, and it was starting to bug me. Certainly we were far enough away that he could tell me what he'd been thinking when he'd come to my apartment nearly nine hours before. Maybe he hadn't been thinking. I have to admit, the Jack O'Neill who showed up at my door was not the same man who merely wished me good luck in my new profession and new life. This was a man pushed to the brink, who'd finally realized his time was up.

Was it egotistical of me to think he'd finally realized what he was about to lose? A part of me desperately wanted to believe that that had been his motive, perhaps he really was playing the knight on the white horse and saving me from an unhappy life with Craig. But things like that only happened in fairy tales, or girlish fantasies. Jack had never seemed the type to do something wildly romantic. His statement of "don't marry him" was the most emotion I'd recently gotten out of him. Finally, I could stand the silence no longer.

"Are you going to remain quiet the entire way there?"

"I've talked," he said, gaze locked on the road.

"Oh, yeah. Offering me the rest of your coffee was really some deep conversation."

Jack concentrated on passing a truck before he answered. "I told you we'd talk when we got there."

"Fine," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest, settling deeper into the seat of the pick-up. But I couldn't let it go. "Are you intending to drive all the way there in one day?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you getting tired?"

"Yes," he said again. His one word answers were grating on me as much as his silence.

"You want me to take over for a little while?" I couldn't believe I was actually offering to make this easier for him. Apparently he was surprised as well, as he turned and looked at me for the first time since we'd stopped for gas.

"You're volunteering to drive? That's not going to do much for your alibi when Craig finds out you were 'aiding and abetting' your kidnapper."

"I didn't know you considered yourself to be kidnapping me."

"Your words, not mine."

"I'm just concerned about my safety," I said, neither acknowledging or denying the term he used. "You're obviously tired. I don't need you falling asleep and killing us before I find out what was so damn pressing you couldn't have told me hours ago!" My voice had risen in anger and frustration at his continued obstinacy.

Why had I ever agreed to come with him? Probably because I thought we'd go somewhere a few miles down the road and actually *have* the conversation he seemed to think we now needed to have. Had I known this was his plan, I would have called the cops, Craig, anyone if Jack had refused to leave my apartment. Or would I? Wasn't there a side of me that found the whole scenario flattering?

"Next rest area we can switch," he said at length. He had to be tired, I guessed. Normally Jack would have insisted on driving. But then again, maybe it was some kind of test. To see if I would turn back while he was sleeping. Even if he was testing me, I felt better having something to concentrate on other than his silence.

*********

Minutes after I pulled out of the rest area, Jack's head lolled against the passenger door, snoring softly. I don't know how I could actually feel sorry for him when he was the one enforcing this little road trip, but I did. For a moment I did contemplate turning the truck around and heading back to Colorado, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. It was obvious Jack wasn't going to talk before we crossed the boarder into Minnesota, and I already had too much invested in this--whatever it was--to turn back now. Craig had already pitched his fit, and other than making excuses at work why I wouldn't be in, nothing was standing in my way to finding out what Jack was thinking when he showed up at my door.

I tried to imagine myself in his place. What would I do if the situation was reversed? Wouldn't I have felt some kind of need to do something rash? Could I have accepted his marrying someone any more than he was accepting my decision? Is this what our lives were going to be? Still doomed to the same limbo that kept us apart at the SGC? It wasn't regulations keeping us apart now. It was the ring on my finger.

Glancing down at my left hand resting on the steering wheel, I looked at the ostentatious ring gracing my finger. It had always seemed too gaudy to me, but I knew it pleased Craig when I wore it. When he'd first given it to me, I tried to tell him I would have been just as happy with something a little more practical--especially considering the type of work I did--but he insisted nothing was too good for me and he wanted to show the world how much he loved me. Well, the show the world part was right. Craig was always trying to prove he was equal to or better than the men he associated with.

I was rather surprised Jack hadn't made some comment about the size of the stone, considering the snide comments he always worked into the conversation about Craig's car. We'd been out one night--the last night we went as a group with my former team--and Jack had had too much to drink, which really wasn't anything new. Craig had left to get another round when Jack had leaned in closer, talking over the volume of the jukebox.

"You know what they say about guys with flashy cars, don't you? They're compensating for deficiencies in other departments. Most notably physical ones." I'd been shocked at Jack's words. Not that he'd actually *said* anything crude, but I knew exactly what he was getting at. Normally, I wasn't one to stoop to "locker room" talk, but his audacity had me fuming. I had lifted the remains of my beer to my lips and taken a leisurely swallow. "Well, that blows that theory," I smiled. "He's got absolutely *nothing* to be ashamed of."

Actually, as a lover, Craig neither disappointed me, nor truly moved me. It was like everything I associated with him: stable, normal, average. So why was I in such a hurry to marry him? Was my biological clock really ticking that loudly?

Jack sat up with a groan, interrupting my thoughts. "Where are we?"

"We just got into Iowa."

Jack checked his watch. "You're making pretty good time." Leaning over, he checked the speedometer. "Now I know why. Good job on avoiding the cops," he said, lounging in his seat once more. Rubbing his hands over his scruffy face, he tried to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.

"You didn't get much of a rest," I pointed out.

"It was enough. Next town, pull off. We'll get something to eat and I'll drive again."

"I'm fine, really."

"Don't argue with me, Carter. This is my operation."

There was a slight smile on Jack's lips and a hint of humor in his voice. At least his nap had relaxed him enough to joke with me. The thought of spending a week with him in his former mood hadn't exactly thrilled me.

*********

I must have dozed off again as I was startled to find the truck in a brightly lit supermarket parking lot. I contemplated trying to find Jack, but judging from the size of the building, I'd probably miss him. So, I settled back in my seat, closing my eyes once more.

It wasn't long before I witnessed him pushing a heavily laden cart towards the truck.

"Hungry?" I teased.

"Actually, we would have been if I hadn't stopped. There won't be anything open when we get to the cabin and we're going to need some breakfast."

"This is a little more than breakfast," I stated as I helped him unload the bags into the back of the truck. For the first time I noticed he had a cooler in the back, which he loaded with perishables and ice. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Jack was nothing if not prepared. A cooler ready and waiting for beer would be something he would have considered essential equipment in his truck.

Jack hefted a particularly heavy bag and it contacted the bed of the vehicle with the thunk of canned goods. "I thought as long as I was here I'd get what we needed for the week."

Looking at the multitude of bags, I thought we'd have enough for a month, but again, Jack was probably covering all his bases. Helping him secure a tarp over his purchases, I was struck again by how willing I was to aide him. Shouldn't I have been dragging my feet a little instead of assisting him? But something had changed as Jack relaxed a bit. The closer we got to the cabin, the more I noticed the tension draining from his body. I found myself relaxing as well, and actually looking forward to finally seeing the cabin he'd spoken so fondly of. Although I didn't want to admit it, I was even anticipating spending the time alone with him. What kind of thoughts were those for a woman who'd just announced her engagement?

It was just that I had missed him, I told myself. Missed his company, just as I missed Daniel, Teal'c and Hammond. Janet and I had remained in contact; my only real connection to the SGC. It wasn't the fact it was Jack, I tried to tell myself. I'd be anticipating spending time with any old friend.

The further we drove, the more remote the area became. The road narrowed, trees were closer to the pavement, until the highway turned into a gravel path through what appeared to be a tunnel of trees. Fortunately Jack had slowed down as we narrowly missed hitting two deer. The headlights reflected off the dense forest lining the road, spurring a mental image of the truck being swallowed.

"I thought you didn't like trees," I commented, breaking the silence that had settled once more.

Jack grinned. "Kinda ironic, isn't it?" I didn't really expect him to elaborate, so he surprised me when he continued. "I don't know what it is. It's different here."

Turning my head, I studied his profile. He seemed almost shy with the admission, probably because it had become the standard joke when we were on SG-1. "Different how?"

It took a few moments for Jack to answer, then he said, "I don't know. They seem friendlier or something."

"Friendlier? How can trees be friendly?"

"Maybe I mean familiar. I guess when I see *these* trees, I know they're on Earth. They mean home. Trees on other planets just remind me they're not 'my' trees."

It was kind of convoluted logic, but I could see his point. "So, how much further to the *really* friendly trees?"

Jack blew out a breath, graciously accepting my intentional dig. "It's about ten miles from when the gravel starts, so not that much further."

My stomach started to tighten as we came nearer to our goal. I didn't know why I was nervous. By all rights I should have been more agitated at the beginning of our journey, but the closer we came to Jack's cabin, the more fidgety I became. Maybe because I saw this dwelling as being the elemental Jack. His house in Colorado Springs certainly reflected his personality, but from the way he described the cabin, this was the man he truly was. Void of his commitment to the military and any other obligations. Here he could be truly himself, and on one level I found that a bit intimidating. I knew what to expect from Jack the soldier. I wasn't sure I was ready for Jack the man.

Still, the fact he'd chosen to bring me here spoke of a level of trust. That he believed in me enough to reveal his true self, and I was honored, despite the method he'd used to finally get me to join him in his retreat.

The headlights touched on a building and in the distance, I could just make out its shape. It was larger than I had imagined. Jack had regaled us all with tales of how his grandfather had built the place in the forties, by himself using only hand tools. I had to admit, if the stories were true, it was quite a feat.

As we pulled up to the cabin, motion detectors turned on lights that suddenly illuminated the surrounding area.

"So I upgraded the place a little," Jack said with a bit of a smile as he turned off the engine.

"It looks nice," I said, not wanting to seem overly curious. I could see Jack was proud of the place, even through the exhaustion evident on his face in the harsh outdoor lighting. He was striding towards the cabin as I climbed down from the truck. Jack was right, it was cooler here and I was glad I'd brought a sweater. Until I was able to retrieve it, I managed to ward off the chill by wrapping my arms around myself as I made my way to the door he held open for me.

Stepping in behind me, Jack shut the door as he flicked a light switch, but nothing happened.

"Right, the generator," he mumbled, crossing the dark room. I could barely see the outlines of furniture with the light seeping in from outside, but Jack moved with confidence around the cabin. I heard more than saw him descending a staircase to the basement.

It was only a matter of minutes before Jack returned, and he tried the switch once more. This time the lights did come on and my breath caught in my throat. It was almost exactly as I'd pictured it. A large living room dominated by a huge fireplace made out of native rock with a small kitchen area more or less separated from the rest of the main room by a rough-hewn table and benches. Apparently cabins weren't the only thing Grandpa could make.

Looking up at the high ceiling, I noticed a loft, presumably where Jack stayed. The ladder and railings had the same homemade look to them, adding even more charm to the building. I could feel Jack's gaze on me, as he gauged my reaction to his get-away. I swallowed, finally finding my voice.

"It's beautiful, Jack. I can see why you kept asking me."

"Too bad it took something like this for me to get you here," he said quietly before turning his back to me. I wished I could have seen his face, to know what he was thinking. Granted, most of the time he didn't give away much, but sometimes a look would come into his eyes and I would know exactly what he had on his mind. He must have realized it too, and it prompted him to look away.

"We should probably get the groceries in," I said, hoping to break the tension that seemed to follow us at every turn. Jack nodded, heading for the door. Trying to start a conversation that lasted more than a few sentences, I asked about the outdoor lights. Battery operated he informed me, but made no effort to take the bait I dangled before him. So, again in silence, we worked in tandem to move the food into the cabin.

Helping him store our supplies, I didn't realize until we were done how easily we slipped into our old routine of communicating on some non-verbal level. Most of the time I knew what he wanted when he extended his hand towards me, like a surgeon waiting for an instrument. I was even tempted to play along with the thought and repeat the name of the item as I slapped it into his hand, but I was too tired to make the effort.

"Looks like we're done," I said when he suddenly turned to face me. He was scrutinizing me with an intense look and I realized this was one of the times I couldn't read him. His gaze was making me nervous, and I found myself backing up towards the door. "I'm going to get my bag," I mumbled, practically running from the house.

For a few minutes I stood in the cool, damp air, taking a several deep breaths. He hadn't pointed out a spare room when he'd given me the tour of his cabin. Surely he didn't expect us to share his loft? At least the couch looked comfy, I thought.

"He said 'talk,'" I said aloud. "He's not going to force himself on you. That's just not the kind of man he is and you know it."

"Carter?"

I turned to see Jack's frame silhouetted in the doorway by the warm lamplight spilling forth from the cabin.

"Who ya talkin' to?"

"Um, no one, " I admitted, feeling foolish that he may have heard what I'd said.

"You didn't sneak a cell phone in that bag, did you? Because even if you had, it wouldn't work here."

I was ashamed to say the idea of smuggling a phone after he told me I couldn't bring mine had never occurred to me. Some hostage I was turning out to be!

"No, I was just talking to myself."

"Still doin' that, huh?"

"Jack," I said, my hands coming to rest on my hips. "You make it sound like you haven't seen me in years. It's only been six months since I left the SGC."

"Is that all? Feels like years to me."

I was taken aback by his openness. It was probably one of the more revealing things Jack had ever said to me, and I didn't know what to say. Instead I grabbed my bag off the passenger seat, and headed for the house.

*********

Lying in bed I tossed and turned, no doubt because I was over tired. Surely it couldn't be because I was in the bed Jack usually occupied? He'd done the chivalrous thing and offered to take the sofa as he insisted I use the bed in the loft. There was only one problem with that--I was surrounded by memories of the man who normally slept here.

Jack had kept a night light burning in case I needed the bathroom which was off the main room, but it was bright enough that I could make out certain objects. A fishing pole rested in a corner near an ancient tackle box. Probably another legacy from his grandfather. For a moment I let my mind drift, imagining Jack as a boy coming to visit during the heat of late July/early August. I could envision his enthusiasm, and how he'd leap from the car as soon as it had stopped. Leaving a trail of discarded shoes and clothing in his wake as he raced to the end of the dock, where he'd fling himself into the still cool water of the lake.

Even now a trace of that boy remained. Not that he'd made a mad dash for the lake, but his excitement at being here again was evident. A part of me was honored he wanted to share that with me. But another part of my conscience was nagging me. I shouldn't be here. I should have refused, or at the very least put up more resistance, I thought. But instead I helped him bring me here. *Craig is probably going crazy with my absence and I'm thinking about the man asleep downstairs.* Something obviously wasn't right.

Giving up on the pretense of sleep, I crossed my arms under my head, and stared at the ceiling. I tried to think what it was about Craig that I loved, but before I could get past the usual "stable and reliable," I found myself picking out patterns in the wooden ceiling, wondering what pictures Jack had imagined there.

This was a bad idea. Away from my apartment and Craig's house, I'd lost what little connected me to him, and I realized that's exactly why Jack chose to bring me here. To totally occlude thoughts of my relationship with Craig. It was almost like a form of immersion therapy. Surround me with enough Jack O'Neill and sooner or later I'd forget I wanted to marry Craig.

But why was he so bent on getting me to change my mind? If I thought he loved me, that would be a different story, but so far Jack hadn't said anything--in any capacity--and it was driving me nuts.

*********

I woke to the sound of someone calling my name, along with the bitter scent of coffee. Looking around the room, I was disoriented for a moment, then I remembered where I was, and why.

"Carter!" his voice called again. "You gonna sleep till noon?"

Rubbing a hand over my tired eyes, I stifled a yawn. "I thought about it," I yelled down to him, my voice hoarse from sleep.

"Well, it's time to be up and at 'em."

I groaned and rolled over, hoping the action would block the sound of his voice. In the loft, the smells of breakfast cooking had intensified, and I found I was hungrier than I thought. Flinging back the covers, I resigned myself to getting up, running fingers through my messed up hair. *Well, he's the one who dragged me up here, he's just going to have to deal with my morning look.*

The cabin had cooled off during the night, and upon reaching the last rung of the ladder, I found myself wishing I'd grabbed my sweatshirt. Shorts and bare feet were fine, but my arms always seemed to be cold.

As if reading my mind, Jack turned and said, "I've got an old sweatshirt you can borrow if you want. Top drawer of the cupboard in the bathroom. I hate to start a fire or the heater when it's going to warm up later."

Simply nodding in agreement, I went in search of warmer clothes. The sweatshirt looked like it would be big on Jack, and consequently, I found I was drowning in it. After several turns of the sleeves, I saw my fingers emerge. It was so long, it completely covered my shorts and it looked as if I had nothing on underneath. Great. Just the sort of respectable image I wanted to project.

Re-entering the kitchen area, Jack took note of my appearance and tried not to laugh.

"What?" I asked, growing defensive, knowing full well how ridiculous I looked.

Jack managed to keep a straight face as he poured me some coffee. "Nothing, it's just a new look for you, Carter, that's all."

I was about to comment that if I was to call him 'Jack,' I thought he could manage 'Sam,' but I stopped myself. The way he said my last name was almost affectionate, and I realized he put more emotion into his pronunciation of it than he did my given name. It was almost as if it was a secret way of revealing himself within the bounds of what was considered proper. And to be honest, I liked it.

"Feel like eggs and bacon?"

"Ugh," I said, taking a sip of coffee. "I can't eat something that heavy in the morning. Especially when I've just gotten up."

"Well, if you'd gotten up at a respectable hour. . . ."

"I didn't know there was a briefing to get to," I flung back at him. "Besides, I think I was too tired last night. It took me forever to fall asleep. What time is it, anyway?"

"09:00. Couldn't sleep, huh? Probably fantasizing about me," he joked. Fortunately he'd turned back to the stove and didn't see the blush I was sure had blossomed across my face. "There's yogurt and fruit in the 'fridge. I didn't figure you'd want 'fat food.'"

"There is nothing wrong with watching my intake of fat," I said, reaching into the refrigerator for a cup of yogurt and a peach. "Something you might want to consider. At your age and all," I added, smiling sweetly at him.

"There's nothing wrong with this body," he said, his innuendo not lost on me. Of course it did send my thoughts into overdrive, just as he'd no doubt planned.

Sitting back down at the table, I was impressed he'd chosen my favorite brand and flavor of yogurt. When did he notice what kind I liked? It wasn't that it was merely a coincidence that we liked the same brand, because Jack refused to touch anything that proudly proclaimed it was full of bacteria. Craig didn't like yogurt either, so maybe it was a guy thing. However, I knew without a doubt, if I'd sent my fiancé to the store, he wouldn't have returned with the kind I liked.

"More coffee?" Jack offered breaking me from my thoughts.

"Please." He topped off my mug then joined me at the table. "I have to admit the service here is great. I think if you ever get sick of the SGC you'd have a great future at running a bed and breakfast."

"I think the location is a little remote," he said, digging into his meal.

"I hear that's what's so great about it."

Jack looked up, his gaze meeting mine. The same intense look from the night before came into his eyes, and I found I couldn't look away. "I think it's pretty great here. I'm glad you think so too."

Finally, I looked down. The stare had probably lasted only a few seconds, but it seemed to go on forever. "Well, I can't speak for the lake or the surrounding area, but this cabin is pretty amazing."

"Well, once you get some clothes on, we can find out."

Looking down, I realized I must be a sight--hair sticking every which way and swathed in a sweatshirt several times too big. "I think I look rather ravishing," I teased, knowing I looked anything but.

"You always look great," he said, then quickly covered up by pretending to need more coffee. I knew it was an excuse since neither one of us had had a chance to drink more than a few sips. As long as the camaraderie had been burned away by his last statement, I took things a step further.

"So, when do we get to have this little chat? The one you said had to wait until we were here to have?"

"Now is not a good time."

"Then when is? Jack, I think I've been pretty patient here, considering how you barged into my apartment and demanded I accompany you. And just so you know, the only reason I came was out of respect for our former relationship."

"Because I ordered you?" Jack was fiddling with something near the sink, his back to me.

"Well, more or less. Yeah." I watched Jack's body stiffen at my words, and wondered what he'd expected me to say. There was a pained silence between us before I announced, "I think I'm going to take a shower."

*********

My hair was still damp as I stepped out onto the porch and the warm sunshine. Jack was right--the day was shaping up to be a hot one, and I was glad I'd selected shorts and a tank top. Thinking of Jack, I noticed when I left the bathroom, he was no where in sight. Looking around the clearing, I saw him standing at the shore of the lake, stooping now and again as he picked up a rock, then flung it across the still surface of the water. I couldn't see how many times he'd managed to make the stone defy gravity, skipping over the lake, but it was some time before he picked up another rock.

He was frustrated by something, but I didn't know what. I hadn't worked with the man for over four years without learning his body language. Watching Jack's actions had always proved more accurate than listening to what he said. There were so many times his words were at odds with what his ram rod straight posture told me.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped off the porch. I wasn't going to get my answers by standing there watching him.

"Hey," I said, startling him as I came up behind him.

"Hey," he returned, giving me a shy smile. Apparently he was trying to put the awkwardness of breakfast behind him as well.

Still slightly nervous, I slid my hands into the pockets of my shorts. "So, what's on the schedule?"

"Nothing concrete," he said. "How about a walk? Would you like to see the rest of the area?"

I smiled at his almost bashful invitation. Seeing this side of Jack was something I hadn't expected. Especially with the forceful way he'd "invited" me to his cabin. I wasn't sure what to think. He'd been so impassive on the drive here, I thought he'd never relax. But he'd changed once he'd been surrounded by the atmosphere of the cabin. It was easy to believe the rest of the world did not exist beyond the barrier of trees.

Maybe that was another reason he brought me here. He could pretend my engagement to Craig didn't exist here, and I had to admit, I was having a hard time remembering myself. What did that say of my commitment to the man I was going to marry?

"A walk sounds great," I said. "I could use a little exercise after all that sitting yesterday." I looked down at my sandals and added. "I think I better change my shoes. I'll be right back."

The path leading around the lake had started out wide enough that we could walk side-by-side, but soon narrowed until we were single file; Jack leading the way. We slid into an easy conversation that reminded me of the banter we'd exchanged while on a mission and I realized with a pang of regret how much I'd missed that. Not only conversing with Jack, but Daniel and Teal'c as well. Why had I let Craig talk me into leaving the Air Force and the SGC? Part of it had been his argument that we'd have more time to spend together if I had a "regular" job, but the biggest factor in leaving had been Jack. It had become increasingly difficult for me to work with him. Knowing our relationship--such as it was--and our mostly unspoken feelings for each other were going no where. When Craig and I became more serious, I knew I had to channel my feelings into a different direction, and I'd done a pretty fair job of it, if I did say so myself.

But now, walking amongst the pines and rocky path circling what I'd come to think of as Jack's lake, I wondered about that decision. If I was so God-damned smart, why had I given up a life I truly loved?

"You're awfully quiet," Jack said, turning slightly to look back at me. "Something wrong?"

Wrong?* I thought to myself? *Other than feeling like a traitor to my fiancé for my thoughts and actions of the past day and a half?* "Just thinking," I said aloud in a noncommittal tone.

"About why you left the SGC?" he asked?

I stopped dead in my tracks. How had he known that? I could have been thinking of anything, but he seemed to pick up on the focus of my thoughts, as if he'd read my mind. Craig probably wouldn't have even been aware I was quiet, let alone had a clue as to what I was thinking about.

Jack stopped several paces ahead of me, once he'd realized I wasn't following him. Turning to face me, he questioned, "Sam?"

"I'm just surprised you'd noticed," I said, catching up to him once more.

"I was right?" he asked, seemingly pleased he'd gauged my mood. "You know, I never really did understand why you left."

Why couldn't he have been a mind reader at that point? I wondered. It was hard enough for me to comprehend, let alone try to explain it to him. "It just seemed the right thing to do. Craig was pushing me to take one of the civilian jobs I kept being offered. He said we'd have more time together, and I agreed."

"Doesn't sound like you to be bullied into giving up something you obviously loved," he said, and I wondered if he was talking about my job or him.

"I wasn't 'bullied,'" I said, growing defensive at his statement. "I'd actually been considering it. Craig just helped me see that I had options beyond the Air Force."

"Bullshit, Sam! I've never met anyone more dedicated to the service than you! You should have been running their recruiting campaigns! I don't know what he said to get you to quit, but it was the wrong thing to do, and I think you know it!"

"Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can or cannot do? I'm not saying I didn't love the Air Force, but people's attitudes can change! It was time for me to leave so I left!" I had started shouting when he had, and as my last sentence echoed across the water, I realized how childish we both sounded, and started laughing.

Jack's eyebrows rose in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"We are," I said, once I'd managed to control my mirth. "Why are we even arguing about something like this? Look, I'll admit there are times when I wish I was back on SG-1, but for the most part, I'm happy. Really." He didn't look convinced, and I have to say, I hadn't totally persuaded myself, but I couldn't let my mind dwell on the fact that maybe I *had* made a mistake in leaving. I'd made my decision and now I had to live with it.

Jack cleared his throat, apparently willing to let the subject drop. "Wanna keep going?"

"I assume you mean keep walking and not arguing," I said, giving him an impish grin.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. I didn't bring you here to fight, Sam."

Thinking it a perfect opening line to get him to tell me what this entire trip was about, I asked, "Then why did you bring me here?" He just smiled and said,

"You'll see."

Damn the man was frustrating! I had the feeling I still wouldn't have a clue what was going on with him a week from now when he dropped me back off at my apartment. Leaving me to explain to Craig what had happened--or hadn't happened--in my absence.

We continued on, and my anger at his intractability melted away as I took in the beauty of the area. It was hard to stay mad when I was surrounded by such gorgeous scenery. The path swerved to the left, avoiding a huge boulder, but Jack started to climb the rock.

"There's a great view of the cabin from up here," he said, before I had a chance to ask. Climbing the rock with the self-assurance of someone who'd done this before, he quickly reached the top, leaning over to give me a hand up.

"There's a hand hold to the right," he instructed. "When you get a little higher, you can put your foot there."

With a bit of a grunt and his coaching, I managed to climb high enough to grasp his hand. I gripped it tightly as he pulled me up, almost more than I used my own limbs. For a moment we stood face to face and my breath caught. His eyes were inches from mine and I felt the same fluttering in my stomach I'd always felt when I gazed into their depths. I was unaccountably pleased I seemed to be having the same effect on him as well. Stepping back, I broke the close contact, turning to look at the view, hoping to get my emotions under control.

"Oh, Jack," I breathed, taking in the scene in front of us. "It looks like a postcard!"

Jack's grin was as big as I'd ever seen. "Worth it?" He asked, and again I wondered if he was talking about the climb or the moment we'd just shared.

"Oh, yeah!" The sun was shining from behind us in a cloudless sky, making the cabin stand out against the backdrop of dark trees. It looked so idyllic, I wanted to carry the image with me forever.

Jack sat down on the rock, reaching up to take my hand and pull me down next to him. I moved almost mechanically, not even realizing I'd sat until I noticed our hands were still joined. The sensible part of me thought I should remove my hand, but the emotional part wasn't letting go. Jack's hand was warm in mine, and as his fingers curled around mine, I found mine reacting in kind.

"I could kick myself," I muttered, almost more to myself, but Jack had heard.

"Why's that?"

I still hadn't taken my eyes from the vista before me. "All those times you asked me to come here and I never did. I didn't know what I was missing." This time my words definitely had a double meaning. Besides the tranquillity of the area, I knew I had missed out on this as well--sharing the beauty and peace with someone I loved.

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I vehemently tried to deny it. I didn't love him! I couldn't! I was marrying Craig! I was going to live happily ever after and have the family I'd dreamed of. The *normal* life I'd always wished for.

I disengaged my hand from Jack's, standing and moving as far away as I could on the small outcrop.

"Sam?" he asked, his brows knitting in confusion and I realized we'd spent the morning alternating between fighting and confusing each other. What happened to the easy relationship we used to have? Or had we? Had there ever been a time we were truly relaxed around each other?

"Sam?" Jack asked again, pulling me from my speculation.

"We should probably head back," I said, moving towards the edge of the rock. To his credit, Jack didn't question my decision. Although, I didn't know what good it was going to do to return to the cabin. It would only emphasize the fact we were here alone, away from everyone and everything that constricted our daily lives.

"Let me go first," Jack offered. I nodded, knowing it was probably best if he stood at the bottom in case I missed a step. He'd made it down the rock face as easily as if he were descending a ladder, and I found myself over confident in my abilities. Losing my footing, I found myself sliding down the rough surface of the boulder until I felt Jack's arms around me.

"It's okay! I've got you!" he called as he stopped my rapid slide down the rock. Setting me on the ground, I realized I was a bit shakey from the sudden rush of adrenaline. "Sit here," Jack ordered, and I instantly obeyed as he ushered me to a fallen tree. "Let me see your hands."

I held them out to him, shocked at the blood and scrapes on my palms and knees. The undersides of my forearms had taken a beating as well, but my hands had gotten the worst of it.

"These need to get cleaned up," Jack stated, picking a fragment of rock out of my palm.

I nodded, starting to rise, but my legs still betrayed me. Jack pushed me back to my seat, pulling a bandanna out of his back pocket, heading towards the lake. I watched as he bent down, soaking the material with water. God, I felt stupid! There was a time I could have scaled or descended a rock like that with a full pack and not missed a step. Could I really have lost my edge so quickly? Maybe it *was* a good thing I wasn't in the military anymore. I didn't want to admit I was distracted by the thought of Jack standing beneath me, watching my backside as I made my way down the rock. But it was the last thought I'd remembered having before I'd slipped.

Jack returned, and began gently wiping at my scrapes. "Doesn't look like any of them are too deep," he announced. "Probably going to sting like hell, though."

"Well, I guess I got what I deserved," I said, flushing with embarrassment. "I should have been paying more attention."

"It's not an easy climb," Jack said, making excuses. I smiled at the thought of him rationalizing my stupid accident. This man wasn't my CO, ticked off because I'd slowed up the team. And I realized this man *was* part of the one I remembered as my CO. The anger he used to show to Daniel or myself for minor injuries was born of concern, and as commander of our unit he wasn't given many options on how he could express that concern. "Grumpy Jack" was just as telling as the gentle man in front of me now.

"We can clean these up better once we're at the cabin," he said. "You up to the walk back?"

"It's not like I broke anything," I said, climbing to my feet. I was still a little wobbly, but I wasn't going to let him see that. In truth, the walk would probably do me some good. Keep my sore joints from freezing up as well as working off the last of the adrenaline.

I was grateful Jack didn't make me walk in front of him. That he trusted me enough to stay on my feet. I was feeling self-conscious enough over my silly fall; I didn't need him adding insult to injury by playing mother hen. Again it invited a comparison in my mind. Craig would have been fussing over me as if I was going to bleed to death, while Jack did what he could to briefly cleanse my wounds until we got back. No doubt Craig would have been trying to call 911 from his cell phone.

When had I started stacking the two men against each other? Naturally neither was going to come out the winner when they were nothing alike. And isn't that what drew me to Craig in the first place? The fact that he wasn't military? That he couldn't pitch a tent to save his soul, but he could navigate the streets of Manhattan like a native? Even physically they were nearly opposite. Craig was just barely my height (if I was barefoot), on the slightly hefty side with thinning blonde hair. And a perpetual tan. Not the kind a person got from being outside. Instead, his skin had the tell-tale artificial color that came from hours spent in a tanning bed.

But that didn't make him a bad person. In fact, he had some very likable qualities. He was passionate about his work, which was something I could definitely relate to. At least I used to be able to. The kind of work I was doing now, I could do in my sleep. In the past, I probably would have found it fascinating, but it was a little hard to work up enthusiasm for Earth-based physics when I knew what more was out there. While most people debated the existence of extra-terrestrials, I'd met them. Even helped them win a major battle against a superior enemy. It was a little hard to get excited about finding a new star after that.

Craig had wined and dined me, treated me like the woman I'd neglected over the years. Oh, I didn't regret my choice of the Air Force, or trying to fit in with the guys, but until Craig saw me as a woman first and a soldier second, I hadn't realized how single-minded I'd been about my identity. There was still too much of the tom boy in me to ever get excited about nail polish, but there was a more feminine side to me that I'd never let the Air Force, or Jack see. Only with Craig had I been brave enough to let my guard down to let another person see I had a softer side.

"Carter, how you doin' back there?" Jack asked, no doubt wondering at my silence.

"Just fine, sir," I answered automatically, not even realizing what I'd said until he started laughing at me. I laughed too, shaking my head at how much this man was still ingrained in my life.

*********

After that first day, we seemed to settle into a bit of a routine. I'd helped him with meals, we'd eat, clean up, then head outdoors. He'd pretend to fish, and I'd pretend I didn't notice him looking at me more than the lake. I was flattered by his attention. Not only because I'd never stood out in the crowd in olive green, but because it was *him* noticing me.

He still hadn't broached the subject of why we were here, and I decided it was pointless to continue bugging him about it. If he had any intention of talking, he'd do it when he was ready. Of course I was dying of curiosity, and no doubt he knew that, and was part of the reason for his continued reticence. I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to explain what this was all about.

The trouble was, I was enjoying myself. Oh, I'd tried not to. I'd tried to tell myself I was just going along for the ride, but it was more than that. I liked our forced domesticity. We worked well together, same as we had when I'd been on SG-1. The silent communication we'd always seemed to have had extended into household matters as well. Unfortunately, it was just another reminder how mis-matched Craig and I were over certain things. We couldn't agree on the same type of food for dinner, let alone share the task of preparing it together.

Jack actually turned out to be quite a good cook, which surprised me, but then again, there wasn't a lot of skill involved in heating up an MRE. Even Daniel could be a gourmet when it came to rations.

The more time we spent together, the more I found myself wondering what I was going to do when I got back home. Surely Jack wasn't just toying with me, trying to get me to admit maybe I'd jumped the gun in accepting Craig's proposal. And would he go back to being my occasional friend? That thought was too painful, and I swallowed unshed tears at the idea. Had he done all this just to prevent me from getting married? Only to leave me alone in the end? He couldn't be that cruel, could he? I knew he didn't like Craig, but was my being here just about getting back at him?

I was lying on the dock, eyes closed, hopefully giving the impression I was asleep.

"Hey, Carter, hand me another beer, will ya?" I pretended to not have heard him, but I felt him nudge my arm with his foot. "Come on, I know you're not asleep. Just grab me another beer. You're closer to the cooler."

If I'd been in a better mood, I might have made some crack about not being his beer wench, but given where my thoughts had been, the idea struck a little too close to home. Realizing he wouldn't leave me alone until he had his damn beer, I sat up, pulled a bottle from the ice and handed it to him.

"You okay?" he asked, twisting the cap off.

"Peachy," I replied, lying down once more.

"Kinda looks like you were crying or something."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Why the hell did he have to be so observant sometimes and so obtuse at others? "It's the sun. It was making my eyes water." I knew he probably didn't believe me, but I couldn't come right out and ask him where this was all heading. I was still supposed to be indignant that he'd kidnapped me, not wondering what kind of a future we had once we were home.

*********

It was a warm night, but I still felt like making a fire. Jack had left on a beer run, leaving me to wander about the cabin, and I figured no trip to the northwoods was complete without a fire, even if it was August.

After the small blaze was lit, I checked out the bookshelves. At the time he told me to pack a bag, bringing a book hadn't been a priority. Perusing the titles, I smiled at the old volumes lining the shelves. Assuming the weathered books were Jack's grandfather's, I smiled at his choice of literature. Bambi, Call of The Wild, Last of the Mohicans. I was detecting a certain theme. I'd only seen the Disney version of Bambi, so I removed the book from the shelf, curious to find out if the original was as cutesy as the cartoon.

I hadn't gotten far into the book when I felt my eyes drooping. The day in the sun, combined with the heat of the fire was really doing a number on me. I didn't want to fall asleep on Jack's "bed," but I couldn't keep my eyes open.

The next thing I remembered was hearing Jack's voice calling my name. It seemed like it was coming from far away, but then closer as a felt a hand in my hair, that moved to stroke my cheek. *God, this has to be a dream,* I thought, and I didn't want to wake up.

"Sam, come on. Wake up."

I opened my eyes to see Jack sitting next to me, hand still resting on my face. Once I focused, I felt his hand slip away and I cursed myself for awakening.

"A fire with as warm as it is outside?" he asked, smiling at me.

"It seemed liked the northwoods thing to do," I smiled back, still sleepy.

He picked up the book that had fallen to the floor. "Bambi?" he questioned. "Trying to get the entire experience in one night?"

"We go home soon," I said, trying to sound neutral at the prospect.

"Yeah," he sighed. "We do." Jack turned his attention to the fire, watching the flames. I could tell he'd come to some decision when he'd turned back to me.

"Want the whole northwoods experience?"

"Uh, I guess that would depend on what you had in mind," I answered cautiously.

"A canoe ride."

"Now? In the middle of the night?" I asked, wondering what other kind of strange customs they had around here.

"Why not?" he asked, seemingly animated by the idea. "It's not that late. Besides, there's a full moon, it'll be great!"

I was a little less than enthusiastic about the idea. "I've, uh, never been in a canoe. Couldn't we do this in the daylight or something?"

"Come on, Carter? Where's your sense of adventure? Is this the same woman who kicked replicator asses?" he teased.

"Now that's not fair!" I said, trying to pretend I was offended.

"Your hands up to it?" he asked as he began looking around the room.

"They're fine," I said, looking down an my still somewhat sensitive palms. Now that he'd challenged me, I wouldn't back down over something minor like a few scrapes. Jack was still searching the room when I finally asked, "What are you looking for?"

"The little cooler, have you seen it?"

Sighing I walked over to the refrigerator and reached on top. Of course it was in plain sight. "You know Jack, sometimes you're such a guy!"

"Ah, what would I do without you?" he asked. His tone was teasing, but when I met his gaze, his eyes were serious. Something was up, I could tell, but I wasn't sure what it was. "I'm taking a couple of beers. You want some?" he said, quickly trying to cover up whatever I'd seen in his eyes.

"Sure, put one in for me too. Do I need my sweater?"

"No, I don't think so. Hey, grab the flashlight, just in case."

Almost before I knew what I was doing, Jack and I were trooping down to the dock. He was right--it was a beautiful night and I was glad he'd convinced me to come on this impromptu boat ride.

"Need any help?" I called, watching him drag the canoe from its resting place on the shore over to the dock.

"I got it," he said, freeing the craft with one last grunt. He pulled it over to the pier, holding the side for me while I climbed in. "One thing you gotta remember is to keep your weight low and centered," he said as the boat rocked when I stepped in.

"Low and centered," I repeated. "How do I do that?"

"Hang onto the sides with both hands and kind of crouch as you step over the thwarts--the middle bars. You seat is up at the front."

I half crawled my way to the front of the canoe, proud I hadn't capsized it. Of course the fact Jack still held one side to the dock might have had something to do with it.

"Uh, Sam? You're facing the wrong way."

I was grateful the moonlight didn't illuminate the blush that had crept into my cheeks. Turning around I realized it probably *would* make more sense if I was facing outward. Even though Jack didn't tease me now, I knew this would come up at a later date. No doubt at a time when he saw the greatest potential for teasing me.

Finally settled, I felt the boat rock once more as Jack stepped in, pushing us away from the dock. Once free of its stabilization, the canoe swayed gently with Jack's setting movements. At first I was clutching at the sides, sure that at any moment I'd find myself in the lake.

"Here's your paddle," Jack said, tapping me on the side with the piece of wood. I dipped it into the water, but apparently there was some kind of protocol I hadn't been briefed on.

"No, no!" he said, sounding irritated. "If you're going to paddle on the right, your left hand goes on top like this, and your right is down here, near the blade."

I turned to see his demonstration, and realized it made sense. "Sorry, canoeing wasn't exactly covered in my training for Desert Storm."

"I can't believe you've never been in a canoe," Jack said.

"Well, moving around like we did, I didn't get the chance to do stuff like this. Plus, most of the bases Dad was assigned to weren't too handy to rivers and lakes."

"I suppose. I guess I was pretty lucky to have this place to come to in the summers."

"You have no idea," I sighed.

For some time, the silence was broken only by the sound of our paddles making slurping noises as they passed through the surface of the lake. There was a slight breeze, but it wasn't chilly. The moon was about half-way to its zenith, casting slight shadows along the shore as mist began to rise from the lake. The effect was magical, and I couldn't resist pretending we were the only two people in the world. Two people who would be parting company in a day or two. Again a feeling of sadness washed over me. I should have been looking forward to being reunited with Craig, but I was ashamed to say the only time I'd thought of him was when I'd been comparing him to Jack. Never once had I envisioned him here with me, because I couldn't see him in a setting like this. Any more than I could see Jack comfortable in a five-star hotel in some metropolis.

Suddenly a loon called out, mere feet from where we floated. I was startled by how loud it sounded. I'd heard them, of course, serenading me to sleep as I'd laid in Jack's bed, but this was the first time I'd actually seen the bird. I could make out its silhouette in the moonlight as it tipped its head back and called again.

"Did you see that?" I whispered, excited as a kid at Christmas.

"Yeah. Aren't they beautiful?" he whispered back. "So, what do you think of your first canoe ride?"

I turned slightly to look at him over my shoulder. "This was a great idea, Jack. Thanks."

"I knew you'd like it. You want a beer?"

"No, not yet. I like the peace of just sitting here." I was quiet for a moment, then asked, "How come there aren't any more cabins here? It's a pretty big lake for you to be alone, especially in this day and age."

"I own all the land around it," he said. I could tell from the sound of his voice he'd just taken a swallow of his beer.

"All of this?" I asked, overwhelmed he could afford a place like this. His hazard pay must have been better than mine!

"Grandpa had a thing about keeping this place private. He'd actually had quite a bit of money when he died, and he'd made provisions in his will that it was to be used towards taxes, and upkeep and stuff."

"Wow. That's quite a chunk of change," I said appreciatively. "How come your mom or dad don't own it?"

"I dunno. I guess they know how I've always felt about the place and they're not that attached to it. They still come up here, but not very often."

"It's too bad you live so far away. I'm sure you wish you could come more frequently."

"Yeah, I do. Most of the time I catch a transport headed this way so it's not too long of a journey. Rent a car and in a few hours, I'm here."

I heard Jack's empty beer bottle roll in the bottom of the boat as the canoe rocked with his movement. I jumped when I heard his voice right behind me. "Sam, turn around. I've got something I want to talk to you about."

"You couldn't have done it from back there?" I asked, nervous at turning around in the unstable craft. He obviously didn't feel uncomfortable moving around, but I still hadn't gotten used the way slight shifts of weight would send the boat rocking.

I managed to swing around, and was surprised how close he was, sitting on one of the crosspieces of the canoe. Depending on which way the boat drifted, I could see his eyes glinting in the moonlight, and he looked more serious and nervous than I could recall having seen him.

"Jack, is something wrong?"

"I guess you could say that."

"What is it?" All sorts of scenarios raced through my head. He was going to tell me he was dying or that he was being cut from the program, which, to him was akin to dying. Or that he was retiring off world and I was never going to see him again.

"You're getting married," he said. I blinked. That was it? His big revelation was that I was getting married?

"Yessss. I thought that was what we were doing here. We were supposedly going to talk, but we never did."

"Well, I am now. Talking that is." I was about to comment, but he stopped me by pressing cold fingers to my lips, letting them linger a moment, then softly stroking my mouth as his hand fell away.

"I know I've been driving you nuts this week, telling you 'now isn't the time.' I still don't know if it's the time, but what time we have is running out."

I could see he was really struggling with what he was trying to say. I wanted to help him out, but he wasn't giving me any clues about what he was attempting to convey.

"I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together here, Sam. No, I take that back. It's probably the best time I've ever had here."

"You don't get a lot of excitement here, do you?" I joked, hoping if I lightened the mood, the tension in my stomach would ease up.

"Enough," he smiled, then turned serious again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, we're good together, Sam. We've always been."

"Look, Jack, if this is about me coming back to the SGC after I'm married. . ."

"No! It's not about that. Although, I have to say, I'd be pretty happy if you did come back."

"Really? You sure didn't say much about me leaving," I said, not caring that I sounded hurt.

"What did you expect me to say? Beg you to reconsider in front of Hammond? You're a grown woman, you can make your own decisions. I assumed you'd given it a lot of thought. I was hoping by appearing to accept your decision I was making things easier for you. I didn't want you to feel guilty. But God, Sam, you don't know how hard it was to just let you walk out that door. Sure I was hurt, but I had no right to be. I was just your CO, your boss, you didn't owe me any explanations."

My throat grew tight as I blinked back moisture that tried to fill my eyes. "That's not true," I said, my voice husky.

"I tried to stay friends, Sam, but even that didn't work. The further we drifted apart, the more I blamed. . .him. He's the one who made you stop seeing us, isn't he? It wasn't that you were too busy, was it?"

I looked down, ashamed I'd let Craig talk me out of seeing my friends. "No, I wasn't too busy," I admitted quietly.

"The call on the answering machine was the last straw. I've seen what he's done to you, how he's changed you, and it hasn't been for the better."

Jack was right, and I knew it, but who was he to say what was best for me? Wasn't this whole thing presumptuous of him? "You had no right to interfere, Jack. It's my life."

"Maybe, but what about my life?"

"Your life?"

"Yeah, mine. What am I going to do without you in it?" he'd spoken so softly that even in the still night air I'd barely heard him.

"Well, we'll stay in touch and. . ."

"And what? Send Christmas cards? Oh, I forgot. I'm off the list now, aren't I?"

"What do you expect me to do? Call off my wedding just because you don't like the guy? If I'm not mistaken, *I'm* the one who has to live with him!"

"You don't like him either. At least not as much as you like me."

I was speechless. Where did he get off telling me how I felt about Craig?

"Sam, you know I'm crap with this 'hearts and flowers' stuff. Why do you think I kept putting off talking to you?"

"How should I know? You're the one with all the answers tonight!" I snapped at him. He had struck a nerve about Craig and I didn't what to acknowledge that. Jack took a deep breath and picked up my hands. "What I'm trying to say, although badly, is I love you, Sam. I thought maybe if I showed you how much I care for you, how great we'd be together, you'd change your mind about marrying him."

I was in shock. He loved me? Why the hell hadn't he ever told me? If I had had *any* clue his feelings were deeper than 'caring more than he was supposed to' I would have held out. Waited until a time we could be together. But he'd given me no indication, no clue he loved me. No, he waits until I'm in a relationship with someone else. *Engaged* to him before he says anything. And what did he expect his last minute revelation to accomplish? Something inside of me snapped. All the guilt I'd felt, sleeping with a man I convinced myself I loved. All the endless nights I'd spent trying to exorcise Jack O'Neill from my soul. He could have stopped it with three little words, but they seemed impossible for him to say until his back was up against the wall. Now he expected his declaration to change things?

"You bastard!" I exploded. "How dare you wait until I'm ready to commit myself to someone else before you say anything! Do you have any idea how hard I fought to get over you? To convince myself I could love another man and have a life with him?"

Now it was Jack's turn to gape at me. "You could have said something to me, too, you know!" he shouted back.

"Oh, no! Don't you go putting the blame on me! If just *once* you'd been honest with me this never would have happened!" I pulled my hands from his, and shoved him backwards, but he didn't land in the center of the boat. Instead he fell to the left, wildly clutching for the sides. The last thing I heard was his strangled cry of "Sam!" before I was engulfed by cold, dark water.

I didn't have a lot of clothes on, but their weight still pulled me down. I kicked off my shoes, starting to feel a bubble of panic when I hadn't broken the surface. I couldn't tell what direction I was facing, but I knew if I could relax for a second, I'd float up. Flailing my arms, I felt them break the surface, and my head soon followed.

Gasping for air, I pushed back wet hair, wiping the water out of my eyes, and looked around for Jack. I couldn't see him and I noticed the canoe had drifted further into the middle of the lake.

"Jack!" I cried, wondering how the hell he could be missing. Had there been something in the water that he could have hit his head on? Could the canoe have knocked him out? "Jack!" I yelled again, starting to seriously worry when he didn't answer me. I heard coughing, then a strangled,

"Over here. I've got the canoe."

I swam as fast as I could, breathless by the time I reached him. "Are you all right?"

"As well as can be expected, considering I wasn't planning on swimming tonight. Ah, hell," he said, starting to swim toward his dock with the half-immersed canoe.

"What?" I asked, thinking he *was* hurt.

"I lost my cooler. It was my favorite."

"That's it? You scare me like that and all you're concerned about is your damn cooler?"

"What are you so pissed about? I didn't push you and capsize us!"

"What am I so pissed about? Jack O'Neill you are the most frustrating, pig headed, *man* with the worst sense of timing of any guy I've ever met!" Before I knew what I was doing, I launched myself into his arms, kissing him so hard I thought I'd hurt him.

Jack's grip on the canoe slipped a little. "Um, Sam? What was that?" he asked, as breathless as I still felt.

"This is what we both get for not being honest, with ourselves or each other," I said, staring at him. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go, but now it was his turn. His choice.

"This is honest, Sam. I love you." He leaned in, capturing my lips, but with none of the ferocity with which I had attacked him. I released my hold on the canoe, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him so deeply we both forgot one of us needed to hang onto the boat. It wasn't until we'd sank below the surface again that we realized we'd lost all sense of where we were. Jack made another attempt at trying to drag the canoe towards shore.

"Come on," he laughed. "Give me a hand before we both drown."

Between the two of us, we managed to get the canoe far enough on shore that it wouldn't float away during the night. Neither of us was willing to take the extra time necessary to stow it. I'd barely exited the water when I felt Jack pull me into his arms, pushing wet hair from my face as he bent to kiss me once more.

"Do you know how long I've waited to do that?" he asked, moving his mouth down my neck.

"Probably about as long as I have." I pulled his mouth back to mine once more. "You taste like the lake," I teased.

"I wonder why," he mumbled against my throat as he began pushing my wet shirt from my shoulders.

"Jack, we can't do this here," I said, feeling my own excitement growing as his lips left a fiery trail on my skin.

"Who's going to see us?" he asked, starting to strip off his shirt.

"Let me," I said. "You wouldn't want to deprive me of one of my fantasies, now would you?"

"You've had fantasies about me?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Haven't you about me?" I asked, wondering where this new boldness was coming from.

"Well, yeah, but that's different."

"Different? Why?" I questioned as I pulled the sodden material from his chest, pausing only to run my hands over his damp skin.

Jack sucked in a breath. "Well, I'm a guy. We do stuff like that."

I laughed. "And you think women don't?"

"I suppose," he said, gritting his teeth as I replace my questing hands with my lips. "I guess I just never thought I'd be the subject of them."

"You'd be surprised," I grinned.

"I'll bet," he said, pushing me away slightly. "My turn."

Jack had made removing my shirt and underwear an act of torture, but I wouldn't have hurried him for the world. Slowly we inched our way towards the cabin, leaving bits of discarded clothing like a trail of breadcrumbs. For a moment Craig's image flashed through my mind, but I pushed it aside. I knew I was going to have to deal with the consequences of this evening, but as the saying went, tomorrow was another day.

*********

I woke to the feeling of someone's finger drawing patterns on my shoulder, and I knew immediately where I was--in Jack's bed, with the man himself. I smiled at the memory of how we'd started out making love in front of the fireplace, only to eventually end up here in the loft, repeating our earlier performance.

Realizing he'd woke me, Jack leaned over and kissed me. "Good morning."

I shifted slightly so I could see him better, and pulled his head down for a proper greeting kiss. "Good morning."

His fingers had moved to tracing my collar bone, sending shivers down my spine. How had he discovered in one evening all my most sensitive spots? It had taken weeks before Craig. . . . The sudden intrusion of him into my thoughts caused me to go rigid, and Jack removed his hand.

"Craig?" he asked gently. It was the first time he'd called him by name.

I bit my lip and nodded. Looking back at Jack, I knew he could see the guilt written all over my face. "God, Jack. What kind of a woman am I turning out to be? I never thought I'd be someone who's life could double for a soap opera!"

"You're the woman I love," he said, pulling me close. It seemed with each admission, it became easier for him to say the words. I lost count how many times we exchanged the endearment throughout the night.

I kissed his neck, rubbing my hand across his chest. "I love you too. I just don't know what to do." He held me, rubbing my back as I clung to him.

"I wish I'd had the courage to tell you how I felt before this," he said as he kissed my ear. "I could have saved you so much pain."

"We could have saved each other pain," I corrected. "The worst of it is, we've hurt someone else as well. I never meant to hurt Craig, but I've used him in the worst possible way I could. He's a good man and he doesn't deserve what I've done to him. What I'm going to do to him."

Jack's hands stilled on my back for a moment. "You know what you're going to do?"

I sat up away from him, pulling up the sheet. It seemed silly to be so modest after the night we spent, but I felt exposed enough without baring my body as well. "I can't marry him, Jack. You know that. Not after last night. Maybe I would have realized my mistake before we actually said, 'I do,' I don't know." I looked him in the eyes and added. "All I do know is I can't imagine my life without you in it. I don't want to. I don't know where this leaves us--lovers or maybe just friends--but I'm not letting you go."

"No more than I'm letting you go."

I looked down at the ring I still had on my finger. I should have taken it off when I'd come here, but I'd left it on to remind me of the man I'd promised to marry. Now it was a symbol of my infidelity, and it mocked me. I slid it off, carefully placing it on the nightstand. I only wish it was going to be as easy to return it to Craig. I knew his temper and the awful things he was going to say to me. The names he'd call me. The only trouble is, he'd be right. I'd have nothing to say in my defense. Again, as if reading my mind, Jack said,

"I'll go with you when you tell him, if you like." I smiled at his generous offer, laying my head back on his shoulder.

"I know you would, but this is something I have to do by myself."

Jack nodded his understanding. "So, you still going to stay at that civilian job you 'love' so much?"

"If I want to see you, do I have a choice?"

"Of course you have a choice. Come back to the SGC, Sam. You know Hammond will take you back in a heartbeat."

"But what about us?" I asked. Now that we've admitting how we feel, I wasn't willing to let him go. "Hammond isn't going to want us on the same team now any more than he did before."

"There's not a whole lot he can do if you're still a civilian."

"No, I suppose not officially, but what about unofficially?"

"I think we can handle being professional, don't you? Besides, once you're reinstated we can spring it on him that we're getting married."

"I suppose that. . .WHAT? Did I miss something here?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I thought I had. Well, here's the plan, Sam. You come back, everyone's happy, you marry me and everyone's happy again."

"I see," I said, unable to contain my smile. "So I take it there was a proposal somewhere in all that?"

"Oh, you women," he sighed with mock exasperation. "You need everything spelled out for you, don't you?"

"Just in this instance."

Jack flipped me over, pinning me to the mattress. "Say you'll marry me, Sam, or I'm not going to let you out of this bed."

"If that's the case, it would be pretty stupid of me to say yes," I laughed. Jack started to tickle me before his caresses became more amorous and we made love once more. Later, lying in his arms, moments away from sleep, I breathed a single word in answer to his question.

"Yes."

The End

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