The turn of the road was hidden from view behind huge, gnarled trees, oaks by the look of them. Jack O'Neill stopped to ponder the memories that had brought him to this spot. He wasn't ready just yet to continue past that turn, hoping nothing would be altered yet sure it would be.

Things never stay the same.

He had always planned to come back to this peaceful house on the lake that shone so brightly in his mind out of a dark, difficult childhood. Its beauty had been a solace to him during the sad days after his father's death. But he hadn't imagined it would be over forty years before he returned. Three days before, he had received a phonecall, sitting at his desk in his office at the SGC, that had brought back scenes and people long forgotten.

"O'Neill," he'd answered in a monotone.

"Is this Jonathan O'Neill from North Inlet, Minnesota?"

Jack froze for a moment. North Inlet wasn't even on a map any more these days.

"Who's asking?" He responded guardedly.

"Jonathan? This is Miriam Bennett. Do you still remember me?"

Miriam Bennett. His mind was flying down a mental wormhole through the past. His neighbor, four years younger than him. They'd been in the same school, but with their age difference they might as well have been on different planets. She had grown up and stayed in North Inlet, one of the very few who didn't get out of town the day they graduated. Miriam had become good friends with Jack's mother, and in his mother's last years had been her nurse and caretaker.

Guilt fell heavily on him as he recalled those years of his mother's illness. He'd visited rarely and for only a day or two at a time. His mother had not been an easy woman. Miriam, however,had always treated Jack as an absentee son who had ignored his mother during her years of need.

"Miriam. Of course I remember you. Is there something I can do for you?" Jack was intensely curious about why she had called him of all people.

"No, Jonathan, but there's something I need to say to you. I called to tell you I'm sorry."

"What?" Jack was getting wierded out.

"When your mother died five years ago, I told you she left the house and her possessions to me. I lied to you. I thought I deserved them after all I went through with your mother. I forged the will you saw. I hid the will she executed. The truth is, she left everything to you."

"I- I don't know what to say." He really didn't. He should be angry at this woman and her betrayal. Press charges perhaps. But...he didn't want his mother's house. He didn't want her stuff. He just wanted to live in his present-day world and forget the past.

"I'll give you my phone number, and you can call me back if you decide to come see what is rightfully yours, here in North Inlet. I just wanted to say...I'm very sorry I lied to you."

"Why now?"

"My conscience won't leave me alone. I'm sick, Jonathan, and a lot of things I didn't used to think about have come back to haunt my mind. I haven't lived a very good life. I want to make things right."

Finally softening, Jack took down her phone number, spoke a few words of encouragement and hung up.

There was no way he was getting any more work done today. Jack got up and left his office, deeply troubled by the unexpected call and not at all sure how to react. His mind raced in fruitless circles and his head was hurting.

Somehow he ended up outside Samantha Carter's lab.

Relieved to find her still in her lab, Jack knocked politely on the doorframe to alert her to his presence because the door was already open wide.

"Come in, sir, I'm just finishing up this laser beam spectro-analysis..."

Sam, wearing absurdly large plastic safety goggles, was completely absorbed in the task before her. Jack grinned openly at her geeky-scientist appearance, mentally contrasting it with an image of her soldier persona neatly blowing away hundreds of replicators while sporting the same sort of goggles.

Jack walked over to her table and sat on a stool to watch her finish up.

"Something I can do for you, sir?" Sam asked distractedly.

"Just was hoping I could run some stuff by you."

Sam, finished with the laser and straightened up, now intrigued, fastening her full attention on him. Jack wanted to talk? Wow, this didn't happen very often.

"Sure. What's up?"

"Actually, not here. Would you be interested in grabbing a bite to eat somewhere?"

Even stranger.

"If 'somewhere' means 'anywhere other than the SGC cafeteria', then yes!"

"Great. Umm, thanks, Sam." They walked to the elevators in a comfortable silence.

Ever since the SGC and Tok'Ra had defeated the Replicators, and the rebel Jaffa had taken out the Goa'uld, Sam and Jack had been growing closer. All that had happened during that mission had changed them from coworkers to friends, and even something more. Their interactions were casual and full of playful banter, a far cry from the stiff military framework they had almost always kept in place before now. Jack found himself thinking of Sam at odd moments all throughout the day, and Sam was now in the habit of stopping by the General's office to walk with him to lunch on a daily basis. Somehow, the thought that others would see them together every day in the crowded cafeteria didn't matter all that much to either of them any more.

"So, what's going on?" Sam asked, once they were in his car and on their way down the highway.

"I received a call today from someone I haven't heard from, or even thought of, for more years than I'd like to admit. Woman named Miriam Bennett. She was my mother's nurse for a long time. She says she has some things of my mother's to give me."

"Okay," Sam said tentatively. "So what's wrong with that?"

"Well, there's more," Jack answered, his voice hesitant and conflicted. "She says she should have given it to me when my mother died, and that she forged a will so my mom's estate would be hers. Now she suddenly has grown a conscience."

"Wow," Sam responded.

"She says she wants me to come home so she can show me the house and whatever else there is that is rightfully mine."

"So... by 'some things' you mean a house? Where's home, Jack?"

"Well you know, upstate Minnesota. We've talked about this, haven't we?"

"Actually no." Sam hoped she didn't sound accusatory. But in spite of the years they had spent working side by side, closer than family, she knew next to nothing about Jack's past.

"I never told you I was raised in North Inlet, Minnesota? Huh! Well it's not even a place any more, just a handful of houses and a gas station on the lake's edge. I left to enlist when I was seventeen and only went back for visits from that time on."

"Is it pretty?"

"It's, uh, cold," Jack said after a moment. "It was pretty in its own way."

He'd never considered the aesthetics of North Inlet before. As far as Jack was concerned, in his later teen years it had mostly been a place to get away from.

"Yeah," he continued after a pause, "it's pretty I guess, sitting right there on the lake and all. In the summer, that is. Is this okay?"

Jack had pulled into a parking space at a tiny diner that had seen better days. They were on the edge of town, and the city lights were few and far between out here.

"Sure. You been here before?" Sam asked dubiously.

"It's better than it looks. Come on."

Once they had slid into a small booth in one corner of the little restaurant and placed their orders with a matronly waitress who gave Jack a familiar smile and greeting, Sam gave him a purposeful look and pushed on with their previous conversation.

"So, have you decided to go and claim your inheritance?" she asked curiously.

Jack looked up suddenly, catching her eyes with an intense, almost desperate gaze. Sam was shaken to see a touch of fear there.

"Well, look into it, at least. I'm going to take a week's leave."

He broke eye contact and studied the metal fork in front of him, turning it over and over in his hands, a signal Sam knew well, and she began to be even more concerned for him. Jack O'Neill was a lot more disturbed by this turn of events than he was letting on.

"Diet Coke for the lady here, water and a beer for you, General," the waitress announced in a soft, worn voice.

"Thanks Donna," O'Neill smiled charmingly.

"You two ready to order?"

"Why, here's my favorite waitress again. Reuben, Donna, with-"

"-extra kraut, yes sir, General." Donna's smile was childishly pleasing. Sam tried not to smirk at this added evidence of the General's legendary charm on women.

"House salad for me," Sam interjected.

"Jack? Tell me about your parents. About North Inlet."

Sam managed to sound a lot more confident than she felt as she asked the question. She'd known this man for eight years and knew virtually nothing about his past, having always just accepted that he was a fiercely private person. But now he'd suddenly and surprisingly shared a few tantalizing details with her about his childhood. It was a beginning.

Jack leaned forward onto his crossed arms on the table. "My father was a pioneer, I guess you could say. He could do a little bit of everything. He loved the outdoors and he was strong as an ox. He was honest to a fault. If Dad said he'd do something or be somewhere, well, you could count on it. He met my Mom when they were in grade school, and I guess they just grew up destined for each other. He used to say he was 'born married.' I was eleven when he died. He died in a hunting accident. My Mom was never the same after that."

"What about you?" Sam prompted when he stopped talking and stared at his hands pensively.

"Dad and I were hunting deer up on the mountain beside the lake and we'd just spotted a big buck, probably 5 or 6 points. We crouched down and Dad aimed his rifle, and he just... slumped over. Never moved again. A hunter behind us was aimed at the same buck. Dad was in his line of fire. I don't remember hearing a shot... I just saw him fall."

Sam's eyes widened, stunned and full of heartbreak. This wasn't the answer Sam had expected when she had prodded him for his feelings about his father's death.

"Oh, Jack! That's awful! You were with him!"

Jack was silent for a long time, and Sam stole glances at him. He was turned away from her, looking out the diner window, and she could see him swallow hard a few times.

"Yeah," he finally continued, looking at her again. "First time I ever saw anyone dead. And it was my father. He never wore those orange vests. Said they scared the deer. I was this far away-" Jack held up his hands to demonstrate.

"Could have just as easily been me."

Sam couldn't resist reaching out to put a hand on his arm, almost crying herself. "That must have really scared you."

"I had nightmares. For a long time. The man who shot him was never discovered. I used to dream he was coming after me. I'll never forget his face."

"You saw him?" Sam asked gently.

"Yeah." His voice was little more than a whisper. He suddenly wiped an unsteady hand over his face. "He was a stranger to North Inlet. I'd never seen him before. But he was real close to us, too close for it to have been an accident...I'll never forget what he looked like." This was said with the vehemence of a grieving little boy.

Sam's heart twisted for him.

"He's been dead over forty years," Jack exclaimed in wonder and grief.

Sam wanted nothing more than to hold him close in comfort.

After a few minutes, Jack began speaking again.

"After that, it was just me and my Mom. She was afraid something was going to happen to me, too. So afraid she couldn't ever let go of it. I didn't respond too well to that. The more she hovered, the more risks I took. It's a wonder I grew up, come to think of it. I left home right out of high school and was into the service and then black ops soon after that. The more dangerous the assignment the better I liked it."

"So I'm guessing your Mom didn't hear from you too much."

"Nope."

"I'm really glad you told me all this," she assured him quietly.

"I'm really glad you're here with me," he replied quietly. He caught her eyes then with a sincerity that warmed her inside. The little boy was gone now, and in his place was the General, the capable man she had grown to know and love so well.

They were quiet for a long time after that. This was one of the things Sam loved most about him: how comfortable she felt with him with or without words. Seeing relief and contentment... peace, now creeping across his face, she knew Jack felt the same, enjoying being with her even during long silences.

Jack pushed his plate away.

"You ready to go?"

"Sure. When will you be leaving for Minnesota?" Sam let him help her slip on her quilted corduroy jacket and they headed out.

"As soon as I can clear out my in-box. Or get Walter to do it for me," Jack smiled impishly.

"Uh... thanks, Carter." He didn't elaborate further, but the warmth in his eyes said the rest.

"Anytime. I could come with you?"

"You could...if your boss gave you some time off."

"Does that mean he will, or he won't?"

"Sam, I really appreciate it. But this is something I should probably do alone. But thanks. I mean it."

"Call me and let me know how it's going, okay?"

Sam held onto his sleeve, not allowing him to escape just yet. After a pause he slowly turned and faced her, his expression a mix of gratitude and cautious relief that he had chosen not to hide from her any longer.

"I will, Sam."

Two days later, Jack was shivering in the cold breeze blowing off the lake in North Inlet. Making a sudden decisive turn, he continued down the path and around the bend, finally laying eyes on the quiet, clapboard house he had once known so well. Walking up to the door, he found it locked, and looking in the window saw the interior, dark and somber. A note was taped to the door jamb instructing him to call Miriam Bennett upon his arrival.

Jack flipped open his cell and placed the call immediately.

"Miriam, this is Jack O'Neill."

"Welcome home, Jack. I'll send Teddy over to the house with your key right away. How was your trip?"

"Trip was long, but okay. How are you, Miriam?"

"I'm not feeling well today. Teddy will help you with anything you need. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow."

"Uh, okay. Feel better. So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, Jack."

"Good night."

She sounded as cold as ever, Jack thought bitterly as he hung up. He had barely settled on the front steps, however, when a tall, skinny boy in his late teens came loping up the path from the direction of Miriam's house, carrying a lantern in one hand and a paper sack in the other.

"Teddy, I presume?" Jack stuck out his hand before he awkwardly retracted it, realizing Teddy had no hands with which to shake.

"Yes, General O'Neill. Aunt Mim said you'll need this oil lantern. Electricity been cut off for months now in there." He gestured at the dark Victorian structure. And she sent you some supper, in here-" he handed Jack the paper bag with a shy grin. Jack liked him immediately.

"Thank you, Teddy. Tell your Aunt that the supper is greatly appreciated."

"I fixed the bed in the front room for you, General. Oh- and Aunt Mim said to call her in the morning so's you and her can meet up for breakfast at our house. Good night, sir!"

"Night. Thanks again."

Teddy was gone as fast as he had arrived, leaving Jack alone in the deepening twilight, standing on the threshold of a house that seemed eerily dark without electrical lights.

Suppressing a shiver, Jack hurried in to set the lantern on the table and light it, anxious to dispel the gloom around him. As the light shone out and his body visibly relaxed, he had to laugh at himself.

Big, bad, Goa'uld-busting, black-ops trained General O'Neill, afraid of an old house.

But he was afraid. Afraid to stir up the memories he had so carefully locked away all these years.

TBC