Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Year Six

Jack pulled his truck to the curb behind Sam's car and turned off the ignition, taking a moment to curse the heavy flakes that persistently fell, undaunted by their speedy demise on his warm windshield. He knew, if the six inches already on the ground was any indication, that they were smack dab in the middle of a genuine Colorado Christmas blizzard.

Realizing that waiting only gave him more snow to walk through, Jack pulled the keys from the ignition and gathered his briefcase and overnight bag from the back seat. He climbed out of the truck, cursing as his feet sank into the deep drifts.

The snow was heavy and wet, clinging tightly to the bare trees and shrubs in front of Sam's house. He trudged up her front walk noting that he would have to get out with a snow shovel eventually. Inches of the white stuff covered Sam's car and Jack could barely see signs of her foot prints in the snow, testifying that she had to have been home for a couple of hours at least.

He climbed the short flight of steps onto Sam's porch and shuffled his briefcase to his other hand, digging into his pocket to pull his keys back out, using them to unlock her front door. "Honey, I'm home!" he called out, more to annoy Sam than to warn her.
He closed the door behind him and set his bags down in the hall before sticking his head into the living room.

"Hey," Sam said, walking in from the kitchen a can of Diet Coke in her left hand while her right arm was still encased in the protective sling meant to, according to Doc, help Sam protect the severe burn she'd picked up on her shoulder. "Is it still snowing?" she asked as she crossed over to him giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Like crazy. I hope you have something edible in the freezer, I doubt we're going to get any take out." Jack kissed her back, taking care not to bump her injured arm.

"I'm sure we can come up with something," she said, smiling at him. "May not be gourmet but I doubt we'll starve." She walked past him and sank down onto the sofa, turning so that she could stretch out across the cushions. "Since you're home, can I presume that you guys got rid of Mot?" she asked, taking a sip of her coke.

Jack set his overnight bag down and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the armchair. "Yep. The Marines are still there, along with SG-10. I think Hammond's talking about letting Frasier set up a humanitarian mission once we know things are secure."

"That'll be good," she said. "How's Jonas doing?"

"The same. Frasier's gonna let him go in a few days."

"So, Christmas in the infirmary," she said, sitting up to look at him.

"Looks like it."

"We should do something," she said.

"Like what?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "I don't know. Bring him dinner? Maybe some presents? Last year I think he kinda got forgotten at Christmas because it was…well bad timing. So, technically, this is his first Christmas, on SG-1 at least," she rambled.

"I thought you didn't do Christmas," he reminded.

"This is different," she insisted, ignoring his teasing. Personally he thought she was loosening up a bit on her 'No Christmas' stance. Unless he was sorely mistaken the candle sitting in the middle of her coffee table had a distinct Christmassy look to it, as did the red placemats on her breakfast bar.

"You want to do something, we'll do something," he said. "Although I reserve the right to change my mind if there's eighteen inches of snow on the ground in the morning."

"You're no fun," she said, getting up from the couch. "Do you want to see what you can scrounge for dinner? I want to take a quick bath."

"Not a problem," he said. She smiled and padded towards the back of the house. Jack watched her go, taking a moment to savor the fact that he COULD watch her. To say that the last year had been turbulent was an understatement. In many ways he felt much like he did the first year after the Abydos mission, right before Samuels dragged him back into the SGC. Like he was in a time of renewal and new beginnings. He and Sam were…well they weren't quite living together. In any given week he spent about as much time in his own house as he did hers.

When they were together, they weren't always TOGETHER, but Jack actually found that he preferred it that way. It gave him hope that their relationship wasn't just about sex and had the chance to be more, to become something more.

Realizing that Sam wouldn't be in the tub forever, and that her injuries precluded him from joining her, Jack got to his feet and made his way into the kitchen. He riffled through her cabinets finally deciding on some pasta and canned sauce. He set some water on to boil and got out two plates and silverware then figured that he should let Sam know what was for dinner.

Leaving the kitchen he went down the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, you still alive in there?"

"Why don't you come in and find out?" she invited.

Jack opened the door and stepped in. "Hope you're in the mood for pasta," he said.

"Sounds good," she said. "Wanna scrub my back?"

Jack smiled. He'd been hoping that he'd get an invitation. He walked over to the tub and Sam stretched out her left arm, a dripping scrubby in her good hand. Her right shoulder was bandaged from her shoulderblade on the back all the way around to the front and down her arm. Jack knew that it looked worse than it was. He had absolute faith in Doc. She wouldn't have let Sam go home if she was worried about her.

He dipped the scrubby in the water and gently scrubbed Sam's back, being careful to keep her bandage dry, as well as not to put too much pressure on the bruises he could see on her back. "You just had to get bored and play with the gate didn't ya?" he asked.

She glanced over, glaring at him slightly. "Who was the one that made me stay home?" she asked.

"Hammond."

"You could have talked him out of it."

Jack sighed. "Sam, we were erring on the side of caution."

"I thought you didn't believe in stuff like Jonas seeing the future?"

"I don't."

"Then why-"

"Even if I think it's crap, I can't deny that he nailed it a few times." Jack shrugged. "We made a judgment call."

She shook her head. "Yeah, you did. The water's getting cold."

"Right," Jack said, recognizing a diversion when he saw it. He dipped his hands in the water and carefully rinsed off her back before moving back to give her room to get out of the tub. He plucked a towel off the rack and held it out as Sam got out of the water. She turned around and Jack frowned, catching sight of an odd bruise as he wrapped her in the towel. "Where did that come from?" he asked, staring at her chest. There was an irregular purple smudge between her breasts.

"They've been there all along, as you well know," she said, struggling a bit to dry herself one handed. Jack helped her out, blotting the water off her arms and legs.

"No," he said. "I get the bruises on your back, that's where you landed but, how the hell did you hit yourself there?"

"Oh," she said, trailing the fingers of her left hand over the darkened skin. "I think Janet did it."

"Doc did that? What'd you do to piss her off?"

"I got electrocuted and made her work," she said dryly. "Can I have my clothes now?"
Jack picked up her pajamas and helped her into them, ignoring her glare when he held out the sling. "I don't need that."

She walked past him and opened the door. Jack shrugged and followed her into the kitchen. He could see that the water was boiling nicely and he applied himself to opening the bag of pasta noodles, pouring them into the water. Sam sat down at the table and propped her head in one hand while Jack opened the jar of sauce. He poured it into the sauce pan and turned on the heat. "Do you have any bread?" he asked. "I could make garlic toast."

She shook her head. "Afraid not. I'm gonna go get my robe. It's a little chilly in here." She slid off the chair and went back to her bedroom and Jack picked up one of her wooden spoons, stirring the sauce so that it didn't stick.

'I think Janet did it.'

What the hell did she mean Janet did it? What was Doc doing beating on people? It didn't make any sense. That wasn't any treatment for a burn that he'd ever heard of.

Sam returned wrapped in her heavy robe and with slippers on her feet. She was carrying her can of Diet Coke and pulled a glass out of the cupboard as Jack turned off the burners. He set the sauce aside and carried the pan of noodles over to the sink.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked, opening the freezer door. She dropped a handful of ice cubes into the glass and poured the remainder of the can over it.

"Coke would be good," he said as he drained the pasta and spooned it onto the plates, ladling a liberal amount of sauce over it.

Sam served him up a glass of coke then claimed her seat as he did the same. "It smells good," she remarked, picking up her fork.

"I like this kind that has the meat in it," Jack said, picking up his fork and taking a big bite. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she struggled a bit using her left hand. "I shoulda made something else," he said.

"What?" Sam looked over to him, a couple of the noodles sliding off her fork.

"It sucks to eat with your left hand."

"Trust me, it's not the first time. Besides, I'm motivated. I'm hungry." She punctuated her words by stabbing at the pile of pasta and lifting a full fork to her mouth.

Jack let the topic drop and returned his attention to his own dinner, cleaning his plate in just minutes. He got up and walked over to the sink. "You want seconds?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I have ice cream in the freezer for later."

Jack shrugged and dished up the last of the pasta and sauce onto his plate taking a moment to run some water into the sauce pan. Sam finished her dinner and slid off her stool. "I'll get those," he offered as she set her dirty plate into the sink.

"I'll take you up on that," she said. While Jack finished eating he watched her drink the last of her coke and set the glass on the counter. She retrieved more ice and another can of Diet Coke and made herself another drink. "I'm gonna stick a movie in."

"I need to finish some paperwork for Hammond," Jack said, hitting his limit on the pasta.
He got to his feet. "Go ahead and get started and I'll join you in a bit."

She went into the living room while Jack quickly did the dishes, the task taking him only a few minutes. He walked past the living room where Sam was digging through her DVD racks, looking for something to watch. Jack continued on, picking his briefcase up from where he'd left it in the entryway.

Bringing reports out of the mountain wasn't exactly something that Hammond encouraged, however it was something that he tended to turn a blind eye to. And it was also a case of rank having its privileges.

All in all, Jack didn't have a whole lot to do. He still needed to write his report on the mission to P4S237 and Mot's death. Also his suggestions for a further plan of action. And he needed to catch up on things that had happened while he'd been off world, including Frasier's reports on Jonas and Sam.

Hearing the familiar opening music of one of his favorite movies, Jack pulled the sheaf of reports out of his briefcase and headed back towards the living room. His own report wasn't due for several days so he granted himself the luxury of doing a little reading while he watched TV.

He knew that Frasier had probably given Sam some pain killers and, taking into account that his own body clock was a little off kilter from being off-world, he expected to be awake for several more hours yet. He'd have time enough to do his own writing once Sam headed off to bed.

Jack settled down in the arm chair, rolling his eyes as Cate Blanchett's voice filled him in on Frodo's back story. "You're not going to spend the whole night nit picking the special effects are you?" he asked.

"Only if you refrain from nitpicking their battle tactics," she shot back, giving him a dirty look.

"You just have the hots for Orlando Bloom," Jack teased.

"He reminds me too much of Daniel," Sam said. "I prefer Strider."

"I thought you didn't like grungy," Jack said.

"Shut up and do your work," she ordered, lobbing one of the throw pillows at him.

Jack grinned and turned his attention to the reports, filtering out the sounds of the movie as he caught up on all he'd missed. Frasier's report on Jonas was a lot of gibberish, words way too long to be real so Jack scanned to the summary, pleased to read that, barring complications, she hoped to release him to his quarters in a few days and light duty in about three weeks. Jack knew that it'd probably be a couple of months before Jonas was up to gate duty, of course it'd probably be a couple of weeks before Sam was ready too which meant that he and Teal'c probably wouldn't be pressed to find a temporary replacement but, most likely, kept off active duty.

Jack really didn't mind being on downtime. Maybe, if things worked out right, he and Sam could spend a little time together, maybe even head up to Denver for the weekend. Fireworks erupted on the screen and Jack set Jonas' report down, picking up Sam's instead. Surprisingly, Sam's wasn't much shorter, and it was more than Jack expected for a simple electrical burn.

She really needed to be more careful, this was her third in as many years. Maybe that's what he could get her for Christmas, a pair of rubber electrician's gloves. Then again, she might not get the joke. A string of words leapt off the page and Jack stared, reading them again.

Patient went into v-fib at 1635; after immediate defibrillation at 200 joules she converted back to normal sinus rhythm. Her condition was stable and after treatment of the second degree electrical burn to the right shoulder and upper arm, she was held overnight for observation. After an uneventful night, the wound was checked and redressed. There were no signs of infection and her vital signs remained stable. Major Carter was discharged and cleared for light duty.

"Sam," he said slowly. "How exactly did you get hurt?" he asked.

"What?" She turned to glance at him, her mind clearly engrossed in the movie.

"How did you get hurt?" he repeated.

"Siler and I were overhauling the gate generator. A capicator blew. Siler was rather impressed with my hang time," she grinned.

"You went into cardiac arrest," he said, her humor doing little to improve his mood.

"Yeah," she said slowly, her grin fading. She sat up on the couch, swinging her feet down to the floor.

"Sam, you died!"

"No," she corrected. "Asystole is dead. I was in V-fib. It means my heart was just kinda quivering like jello," she said wiggling her hand.

"God!" Jack exclaimed, running his hands over his hair. "How can you be so damn glib?"

"How can you be so damned worked up over it?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"It never came up," she said, her voice rising to meet his. "Besides you have the reports."

"I don't give a damn about the reports," Jack said, tossing the papers onto the coffee table.
"I care about you."

"Jack, I'm here. I'm fine," Sam said.

"What the hell were you doing messing around with that crap anyway?" he asked, shooting to his feet. "That's what we have techs for."

"Techs that I'm in charge of," she said, getting to her feet. "And techs that you don't want to deal with when you want me to 'fix it'!" She walked over to stand almost toe to toe with him. "And can I remind you that I wouldn't have been doing the maintenance if you would have let me go on the mission in the first place!"

"Hammond and I had a damned good reason for keeping you on the base!"

"Yes, if I recall correctly it was a psychic vision. What's this really about?" she asked. Jack shook his head. "No, don't you deny it. This is about more than me not telling you every little thing I did while you were off playing hero."

"Dying is not a LITTLE thing."

"I didn't die! What the hell are you going to do Jack? Wrap me up in cotton wool for the rest of my life? I was doing my job. Just like you do."

"My job is to keep you alive!"

"NO! Your job is to keep your TEAM alive. All of us. And no single one of us should ever be more important that the other."

"You're not!"

"Bull shit!" she yelled. "Would you have made Teal'c stay behind if Jonas had seen him getting hurt?"

"Yes!"

"Would YOU have stayed behind?" She challenged. "Yeah, didn't think you were going to answer that," she said when he paused. "I am a Major in the United States Air Force. My job requires that I take risks. If you can't deal with that, then maybe you need to find another girlfriend."

She turned on her heel and stalked back to her bedroom. Jack winced as the door slammed. "Great, just great," he muttered.

/\/\/\/\/\

The slamming door echoed behind her and Sam stood there, her heart still racing. How dare he! How dare he lecture her on being careful. Mister 'I'll fly the gate off Earth', 'Teal'c and I will take on a whole mother ship to rescue Coombs', 'We'll go play bait for Tanith', 'Teal'c and I will go rescue Thor, you stay here with Heimdal', 'I'll let them suck my brain, yours is more valuable'.

"Taking deathgliders for test flights," she muttered, kicking petulantly at a dirty shirt on the floor. "Don't lecture me about risking my life, Mister Suicide Mission. Maybe if you weren't spending all your time watching my back you could do a better job of watching your own."

She plopped down on the bed, wincing when the sudden movement jarred her shoulder. "You've been doing it all along," she muttered, memories washing over her.

'All things considered, Samantha, if we have to come back here, it might be a better idea to bring an all male team. No offence.'

'So, can you transport us up?'
'I can --- But --- I'm --- not going to.'
'What is your reasoning, O'Neill?'
'Anybody who comes up --- is NOT getting down.'

'Look, you took a pretty good shot. Why don't you sit this one out?'
'No, I'm fine really.'
'Teal'c and I can handle it.'

'Okay, one of us stays here and uses the Asgard scanner to direct the others away from any guards or patrols.'
'First I must complete my preparations for departure.'
'Okay, Carter you stay here, Teal'c and I will go up.'

"Years," she muttered. "You've been doing it for years." Keeping her on the back lines, giving her the least dangerous jobs. Treating her like she was someone to take care of, someone to protect.

'But you will not. Not now. I have observed. You value the life of one.'
'Yes, we do.'
'This one is important.'
'She is.'
'For this reason, this one was chosen. You will not terminate this one in order to destroy me.'

Hell, even alien computers could see it.

'Sir, there's no time! The C-4's gonna blow, you have to get out of here.'
'NO!!!!!!!!!!'

Fear and guilt warring with the awesome knowledge of just how much he cared.

'Sir, when you wouldn't leave me, are you sure there wasn't something else that you're not admitting?'
'What are you talking about?'
'Something neither one of us can admit given our working relationship, our military ranks…'
'OH!!!! ...'Oh, that.'

Yeah. THAT. The skeleton in their closet, their Achilles heel. The chink in their armor.

'But you still could have saved yourself.'
'I guess.'
'What were you feeling?'
'Like ... someone who was about to die.'
'Sir ...'
'I didn't leave ... because I'd have rather died myself ... than lose Carter.'
'Why?'
'Because I care about her ... A lot more than I'm supposed to.'

He did care about her. She knew that. He'd shown her in a dozen different way. Bringing a sandwich to her lab when he noticed that she missed lunch. Sweet talking the cook into whipping up blue jell-o almost every day. He kept his fridge stocked with Diet Coke and bought feather pillows once he found out that she preferred them.

She knew that he cared. But did he care too much?

'Maybe it'll help Carter. Her brains worth a lot more than mine.'

She didn't want him to die. Not for her. Never for her.

'Teal'c's on Chulak.'
'Apparently not.'

'It's a lethal dose, sir."

'Sir, I'm sorry. But the more I go through this, the more I'm becoming concerned that we might not be able to get Teal'c back.'

'Jonas, it's going to kill you. '
'You don't know that. We don't even know what it is!'

She didn't want them to die either. Not because of her, not for her.

The tinny notes of a trumpet echoing off the cement walls of the gate room. Rhythmic footsteps, structured movements. A heavy cotton folded flag, the feel of its smooth ridges under her fingers. The smell of cut carnations and fresh greenery, hovering on the event horizon, suspended for a split second, breaking the laws of both gravity and time.

Muttered platitudes and nervous glances. People feeling the need to say something but not knowing what to say.

"We can't keep doing this," she whispered, getting to her feet. Before she could change her mind she left her bedroom and walked down the hall. Jack was still in the living room, his laptop balanced on his knees. "We have to stop," she said.

He looked up, his expression wary. "What are we stopping?"

"This, us." She waved her hands, motioning at each of them. "We can't keep doing this."

Jack sighed and leaned forward, setting his laptop on the coffeetable. "We've been through this before."

"And we're not going to go through it again. It's over."

"Where the hell is this coming from?" he demanded, getting to his feet.

"Jack, we can't keep doing this. It's not fair to Jonas or Teal'c."

"What do they have to do with it?"

"Everything."

Jack paused for a second, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Ok," he said, opening his eyes. He reached out and took her arm, guiding her to sit on the sofa. "Spell this out for the dense man sitting across from you. Why do we need to stop being…whatever it is we're being."

"Jack, we can't keep doing this."

"You said that, why."

"Because you care for me more than you're supposed to," she blurted out.

"Ok," he said slowly. "It's been a long time since I've been in a relationship but last I knew, that was a good thing."

"It's not a good thing if it gets someone killed," she said.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"If you had to choose, me or Teal'c, who would you choose?"

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Kinda depends on what I'm choosing him for."

"Jack, be serious."

"I'm trying to be serious. It's hard to be serious when I'm trying to follow a conversation that reminds me way too much of Daniel after three beers!"

"We can't stay together."

"Sam, what is going on?" he asked, reaching out to touch his hand to her cheek. "What's bothering you?"

"You left me behind because of Jonas' vision. You're always leaving me behind." Jack raised his eyebrows, silently indicating for her to continue. "When we're on a mission, you spend more time worrying about me than you do anyone else."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"Sam, for crying out loud. If I leave you behind on a mission I have a damn good reason for it."

"Psychic visions are a good reason," she countered.

"You were the one trying to convince me that he was seeing the future, remember," he shot back. He cocked his head and his eyes narrowed. "You're afraid we're going to get court-martialed aren't you?" he asked.

"I don't give a damn about being court-martialed. If I cared about that we never would have started this."

"Then WHAT is the issue!" he demanded, his temper wearing thin.

"The issue is that I don't think I can live with it if Jonas or Teal'c get killed because you're protecting me, and I don't think you can live with it either."

"So that's it," he said, getting to his feet. "We just throw away a year because you're afraid of what MIGHT happen. Because you think that, when we're out in the field, that I'm going to sacrifice someone else to save your ass."

Sam didn't say anything. She simply closed her eyes and looked down at her hands folded in her lap. She heard Jack sigh and saw him turn away from her. He picked up his laptop off the coffee table and closed the lid with a snap. "You know Sam, one of these days you're gonna stop thinking and start feeling. I just hope it's not too late when you get around to actually living your life."

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the living room. Sam heard him gathering his coat and then the slam of the door as he hurried out into the snowy night. Ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks she picked up the throw pillow and hugged it close, refusing to admit that it did nothing to ease the ache she felt inside.

/\/\/\/\/\

Jack slid his truck to a stop grateful for the low curbs in his neighborhood. He put his truck into park nearly forcing the lever into place. "Damnit!" he cursed, pounding the steering wheel. "Damnit, Damnit, Damnit!"

He should go back over there and make her listen to reason. God, he had NEVER given her preferential treatment. Never! He didn't operate that way. And it wasn't his fault if she was so damned insecure that she thought that he did.

He ran his hands over his hair and leaned back in the seat, his knees bumping on the steering column. He reached for the keys, his hand lingering on them before dropping into his lap. "No." He wasn't going to go back over there. Wasn't going to beg her to listen to him.

She wanted to believe that he was playing favorites, fine, she could believe that. And he'd make sure that she found out just what it felt like to be treated like 'one of the guys'.
He yanked the keys from the ignition and opened the door, turning back to gather his stuff. As he picked up his briefcase he caught sight of a small item in the back seat. Jack set down his briefcase and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He'd forgotten to take it inside with him at Sam's. He'd stopped at a convenience store on the way over, an impulse buy that seemed incredibly prophetic after the whole thing with Jonas.

"So, Magic 8 Ball, is Sam gonna get her head out of her ass any time soon?" he asked, giving the plastic ball a shake before flipping it over. "Maybe? What the hell kind of answer is that?" he muttered as the small box floated up to be visible in the clear plastic window on the bottom of the ball.

Riding a wave of anger Jack spun and cocked his arm. He tossed the toy as far away as he could before gathering his briefcase and locking the truck. He tromped through the snow not caring when it soaked his pants legs.

He entered his house and shut the door behind him, taking refuge from the cold and snow in the solitary warmth of his home.

~Fin~

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