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Story Notes: Never Alone 39: Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Never Alone 38: So Not Fair!

Status: Continuing series.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to ImmerRDA for beta reading this chapter and providing some thought provoking comments that I used in this story to, what I hope is, good effect. Thank you for the additional inspirations, my friend! Also, thanks to all of you who are patiently continuing to read this series despite the too frequent long gaps between chapters. I really appreciate all the wonderful, encouraging feedback you have sent to me.


Never Alone 39: The Big Day

Scanning the room in desperation, and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Mark Carter muttered an expletive under his breath and then shouted through the adjoining door.

"Jo, where's my tie?"

His voice held more than a tinge of agitation and his wife rolled her eyes. As if she did not have her own problems! Their two recalcitrant children occupied Jo as she tried to cajole, bribe and threaten them into getting dressed. She had not even started to get ready herself and was becoming increasingly frustrated. Mark's demanding tone pissed her off. Why did she have to do everything?

"I don't know, honey," she replied in a calm manner that belied her irritation. "Take a look in the dresser."

As ever, Mark had left her to unpack everything when they arrived at the hotel, so Jo probably should have known where she put the tie. Distracted by her own problems, however, her usually excellent recall was imperfect.

"Jo!" Mark whined loudly and she cursed softly. The kids overheard and snickered in that irksome childlike way. Jo glared at them menacingly, wanting to knock their heads together. Of course, she would never resort to such extreme measures, even though they had tried her patience ever since waking her up at a far earlier hour than was necessary. Mark, of course, had rolled over and gone back to sleep. Jo wished she'd had that option.

The couple and their children theoretically had some time to spare before the ceremony, but the air had been laden with panic from minute one of those early hours. The kids chose that day, of all days, to act up. They were not always so disruptive. Jo conceded that her children were probably overexcited about their aunt's wedding, but she already felt worn out and they had a long day ahead of them. Her patience was wearing very thin.

Not for the first time did Jo curse her husband's lack of understanding when it came to dealing with the kids. Mark did not have to handle them day in and day out like she did. He lacked empathy and expected her to do all the running for both him and the children. It could be exasperating.

"Get your shoes on," she directed the children. "I'll be right back."

She had no expectation that they would obey, but felt obliged to try keeping things moving. As she slipped through the adjoining door of their suite still dressed in her negligee, Mark eyed her with dismay. "You aren't ready yet," he commented in a slightly peeved tone, and Jo glowered.

"I have three children to attend to, Mark," she retorted acidly, immediately spotting his supposedly missing tie draped over a chair. Jo knew she had not put it there, so her husband must have. Sometimes, men can be so infuriating!

"Three.?" he queried, and she threw him a tart look along with the tie.

"Try looking next time," she added with rancor before he had the chance to reply, and she wondered why men never actually seem to look properly. Or was it just her husband? Probably not, she decided. Did Sam understand what she might be getting herself into by marrying Jack O'Neill? Of course not. Who did? Jo figured it was a little late to be thinking of passing on her life lessons to her in-law.

It took Mark a few seconds to realize what she meant about having three children. He was the supposed third. Although slightly insulted, he sought to lighten the obvious tension. His wife's eyes blazed angrily and he knew this was a bad moment to pick a fight. Sometimes the best option is to back down.

"Hiding things in plain sight, honey?" he quipped, thinking it funny, but his attempt at humor fell flat. In fact, it exacerbated his wife's displeasure.

"Well I didn't put it there, asshole!" she exclaimed emphatically. Muttering "Men!" under her breath, Jo stomped off without further comment, returning to deal with her 'other' children.

Mark stared after her in silence for a while, ruminating and growing crosser with each passing thought. Didn't his wife know he was under a lot of pressure? Talk about lack of empathy, damn it. She had no idea. He had a lot to do today - responsibilities.

Each time he thought about it, Mark had to fight himself in an attempt to quell his nervously rising nausea. As if walking down the aisle wasn't bad enough, then he had to make a witty speech, be on his best behavior, smile whether he felt like it or not. He did not want to let his sister down. This was her big day.

Earlier on, he had tried to shake his increasing apprehension with a long hard swim in the hotel pool followed by a short relaxation in the Jacuzzi. Normally, the exercise might have worked, let the building steam escape, but not this time. He fervently wished his dad was still alive so he could just kick back and relax while watching the nuptials rather than playing such an active role in them.

Mark was not wholly insensitive to the problems his wife was having with their kids, but he did not want to have to handle it. He had more than enough to preoccupy him and he could not understand why Jo didn't get that.

Asshole? Jeez.

Then again, he had left Jo to deal with everything. The kids had been more than a handful this morning and Mark knew it, but he had done nothing to help his wife. Mark intended this time away from California to be a vacation, combining the business of Sam's wedding with the pleasures of Colorado, and his wife deserved a break too.

His initial anger started to subside. On further reflection, he figured maybe Jo was pissed because he was not being more sympathetic. The last thing Mark wanted today was to fall out with his wife. He needed her support just as much if not more than she might need his.

Mark chose to stay in this high-end hotel, and reserved one of their best suites, because he hoped the surroundings would make the vacation special and be a relaxing environment.

Their suite was palatial and sumptuous. There were separate rooms for the kids and parents. The well proportioned and opulently furnished living room had an incredible view and all the modern conveniences. The bathroom was to die for. The hotel had facilities for babysitting, so Mark and Jo could go out alone at night if they wanted to. The food in the hotel restaurants was of excellent quality. There was a large pool, a great spa with massage and many other treatments available, and a well equipped gym.

The place was not cheap, not for a family holiday, and way more than Mark might normally spend on their vacation accommodations. It wasn't that he was broke or parsimonious. He earned a decent wage, but raising a family is an expensive business. Their past vacations with the kids were generally expensive enough without luxury hotels thrown in as part of the equation. He and Jo had not stayed anywhere like this since they'd had the children.

Family vacations could be fraught with tensions - spending all that time in each other's pockets that you did not normally. He wanted his family to enjoy this vacation, did not wish to spoil it.

Jo was right. Sometimes he could be an asshole. Nobody is perfect. As a rule that might make life more interesting, but not today. Not on this vacation.

Sighing inwardly, he started towards the adjoining living room hoping to redeem himself and make it up with her. The day might become even more of a nightmare if he didn't. Besides, he loved her dearly, faults and all.

"Okay you two, up and at 'em before I think of a suitable but irritating punishment," he told the kids as he entered.

Jude and Rick stared at him defiantly, trying to gauge if they could get away with disobeying. His responding glare both outdid and outranked theirs and they exchanged resigned glances, deciding they probably could not. Before they could make a move, however, he spoke again and his words and tone made them shiver with childlike fear and awe at the possible consequences of disobeying.

"You two must want to hold hands," he threatened, and they blanched at the warning. The pair hated when he made them do that.

The kids knew their father could be quite creative with his punishments. Not physically cruel, never that. He had never so much as smacked them in his life, not even in anger, unlike some of their friend's fathers. His punishments, however, could be very embarrassing and usually deprived them of something they really wanted with all their hearts.

The wedding ceremony would probably be as boring as hell, and they had both discussed that in a conspiratorial way, but the reception afterwards was a different matter. Neither of them wanted to miss the fun. They loved parties and were looking forward to it. And both of Mark's kids adored their Auntie Sam, and her husband to be.

Their father's inventiveness might force them to do something really discomforting at the reception, and he had just voiced one of the threats they detested most. Sometimes he would make them sit holding hands, particularly when they misbehaved in front of company. It was just so mortifying. Brother and sister forced to hold hands? Yeech! They were never certain they even liked each other, and they were way too old and grown up for that kind of thing. Beyond mortifying.

The idea that he might do this at the reception was embarrassing in the extreme. Sitting holding hands for endless hours in full view of the rest of the kids and adults. The pair imagined their humiliation if he forced that awfulness on them today of all days. Boy, would their faces be red. And it would cramp their styles big time. No fun at all. The whole notion was totally squirmifying!

Then there was the rest of this trip. They figured their father could deprive them of quite a lot of fun if he wanted to, and they did not want to risk that.

When they quickly obeyed Mark's command, Jo cursed inwardly. It was sooo annoying that they took more notice of their father than her. She knew it was likely because familiarity bred contempt but that was not the point. It was an irksome fact of their lives and she resented it.

Mark probably thought the children were easy to deal with, that she had the undemanding life while he worked hard to support his family. Not surprising when they quickly fell in with his demands, she supposed.

Once the children scurried off to their room, she was tempted to remark on it, but her husband lightly clasped her upper arms and spoke first.

"I'm sorry honey. I guess you've been having a tough morning and I haven't helped."

He smiled apologetically, pulling her closer and lacing his arms around her for a hug. It might have irritated her further that he should be so disarming while attempting to placate her when they were on the verge of the row she was spoiling for. However, it did not. Instead of retorting, she buried her head in his chest and wound her arms around him.

This was her husband, and she still adored him after all their years together. She knew many people who were not in that enviable position and she realized she was lucky. He could make her feel good, even at the height of feeling bad, and this was precisely what he did now. His whispered declaration of love definitely helped.

"Me too," she replied by way of a responding apology. "The kids have been a pain in the ass all morning."

"I know, and I should have intervened before. They're overexcited, but I just needed some calm."

As she held him, Jo felt him trembling and glanced up to look him in the eyes. "You're shaking," she observed with surprise.

"This is my sister's wedding and I want it to be perfect. God, I wish dad was still around so he could be the one doing all this crap."

"You're nervous?" As soon as she said it, Jo realized it was a stupid question. His apprehension was obvious. Mark, the kids, her - they were all anxious in their own ways. This is why they had spent the whole morning in a state of near panic.

"What if I screw up?" Mark asked with a hint of terror. "Walking Sam down the aisle, everyone staring."

"How do you think she feels?

"Happy, I hope." He obviously misunderstood her comment and Jo felt the need to clarify.

"Well of course she's happy. She's marrying the man she loves. But what I mean is, they won't be looking at you, they'll be looking at the bride. She's the center of attention. So imagine how she's feeling right now. Her stomach is probably doing back-flips. You think you're nervous? Try being the bride."

Mark chuckled at that notion. "Seems a little unlikely, don't you think?" he replied with a smirk.

She grinned. "Oh, Mark, I'm sure you'd look adorable in a dress and veil. Lots of lace would so suit you." His smirk broadened and the couple both started to laugh, their tensions easing considerably. Then he kissed her.

As is the way with kids, they returned just in time to sneak a peek. "Oh, gross!" Jude exclaimed, and the couple caught the disgusted looks on both of their children's faces when they hastily pulled apart. This started them off laughing again.

"One day you'll understand," Jo responded when she could manage to squeeze out a few words.

"No way!" her daughter retorted. "Yuck!"

Mark and Jo captured each other's eyes and smiled, the secret kind of smile you might get between couples. Both of them were beginning to wish the kids were not around. Mark's hand roamed to his wife's butt and down her thigh before dropping to his side.

"Wish we had more time," he said softly with a sigh.

"That a promise for later?" She winked, leaning in to peck his neck, which elicited another groan from their offspring.

Mark paused thoughtfully, glancing at the time. "Feel like going through my speech with me before we go?" he asked.

Jo did not catch on to his real meaning. "I'm not even ready yet!"

"Best reason for doing it now," he replied, licking his lips and trying to hint at his real intentions without giving their children any clues.

"Oh!" She grinned thinking that a quick lovemaking session would be one sure fire way of relieving some tension. "Sure."

"Boring," Rick grumbled, pulling a face. "Do you have to?" His tone was dangerously close to a whine. The speeches were the one part of the reception the kids were dreading. They wanted to stuff their faces full of food, drink lots of the sugary pop their parents normally restricted, and mingle and play with the grown ups and other kids.

"Well, we'll go into the bedroom to do it while you two watch TV," Mark suggested with a leer in Jo's direction. They had already been through the speech a dozen times, until it was close to word perfect and he almost knew it by heart already. But their children did not know that.

"Cool!" Jude screeched. The kids loved that TV. The beauties of the luxury suite, a gigantic wall mounted plasma screen and zillions of available channels. Mark had expressly forbidden them to have it on that morning and if he had allowed it earlier, this might have made Jo's day a little easier. Now, with his permission granted and the additional treat factor, the TV would tie them up for as long as their parents needed. It would also act as a good cover for any noise they might make while getting up to some delicious naughtiness in the next room. Good plan.

The kids were already engrossed before Mark managed to grasp Jo's hand and pull her toward the main bedroom.

"Your clothes will get mussed," she said lightheartedly.

"Not gonna get that chance," he muttered, quickly stripping and carefully placing the clothes on the back of a chair so they did not get crumpled. He turned toward his wife and found her staring, her eyes appraising him with naked lust. He so loved when she did that, waiting for him to make the moves. On the other hand, he loved it when she made them too. But she obviously thought it was his turn to do the seducing. This was his idea, after all.

"How much time we got?" he asked, pushing her onto the bed and tugging at her negligee.

"Enough," she whispered throatily.

The sex helped. Quick it might have been, by necessity because of their limited time, but just as satisfying as a long languorous session. The couple felt much better. The tension and stress had all but evaporated in the heated sweat of their bodies, and their deliberately stifled moans of desire and fulfillment. But boy did they need a shower!

When their parents reappeared, spruced up and ready to go, the children were none the wiser about their activities. Jo was pleased to find the kids had not ruined the best clothes they had bought especially for the occasion. Her memory of the hellish morning faded, replaced by more recent and pleasant recollections.

As they checked to ensure they forgot nothing of importance, she whispered in her husband's ear. "You won't screw it up, Mark. It will be fine."

He nodded, grinning broadly. At last, Mark was content. Nothing could beat the support and intimacy you gain with a good life partner, he thought. He hoped his sister would be as happy in her marriage to Jack as he was in his to Jo, and he told his wife so. The kids, as might be expected, sneered.

The Carters were ready for Sam's big day.

Big day was right, and Jo had it spot on about Sam. Her stomach was jittery and she was trembling with nerves.

"That's too much!" she exclaimed petulantly as Betsy applied the final layer of her make up.

Tempted though she was to snap back at Sam in response to her outburst, Betsy took a deep and calm inducing breath and replied in deliberately quiet and reassuring tones.

"Sam, it looks terrific. And believe me, you are going to need this much makeup to stand up to the bright lights of those flashing cameras. Sweetie, when have I ever led you astray?"

Sam looked at her old friend in an ironic way. "Many times," she said in a biting tone, although the leading astray thing had worked both ways she recalled. "I never wear this much makeup!"

"But this is your wedding day. It's special," Betsy countered. "You look beautiful. Jack will have a heart attack when he sees you."

Unable to keep an amused smirk creeping over her face, Sam tittered. "I sure hope it doesn't have that effect."

"No, I guess that would be kind of uncool on your wedding day."

Betsy was trying her best to be a soothing influence in this mad house that was Sam's home. No easy task. Sam was on edge, Cassie was twittering like a school girl, over-excited by her anticipation, and Betsy herself was not exactly the calmest person on the planet.

She was so looking forward to seeing her old and dear friend finally marry Jack O'Neill, but was wishing she had a handful of valium for both Sam and Cassie. Maybe for her too. Then they could all float serenely and dreamily through the day with consummate ease. The thought made her chuckle to herself.

The three women had been getting ready since the early hours. Sam was perched on a chair in her bedroom in front of the dresser mirror while Betsy, who was good at that kind of thing, played beautician. Cassie was elsewhere putting her bridesmaid's dress on, which at least minimized the twittering for now. But Betsy and Sam were excited enough to make up for her absence.

The previous day, Sam had hair extensions put in, so she now sported long blonde locks. Jack knew nothing about this plan. It was a huge surprise for everyone except the people currently at Sam's house. Cassie thought they were the best thing ever, and Betsy agreed they looked fabulous, making Sam appear softer and more feminine. This was exactly the effect Sam had intended. She wanted to make an impact, look different on her wedding day.

Earlier Betsy had styled the long hair into soft curls swept up on top of Sam's crown. Even the highly agitated Sam had to admit it looked pretty good like that. It seemed odd in many ways having long hair for the first time since her late teens. A bit of getting used to but, overall, she liked it and was contemplating growing her hair for real.

Sam figured Jack would be shocked and surprised, but he would love it. She imagined him taking great pleasure from making her long tresses part of his first seduction with them as a married couple. The idea made her shiver with anticipation, and she had pictured the scene in her head quite a few times -Jack's long dexterous fingers reaching up to her hair and slowly loosening it from its captivity while he stared into her eyes and his other hand worked some extra magic elsewhere. The stuff of daydreams, and probably silly, but it would be very Jack like.

She was looking forward to the first time they would make love as Mr and Mrs O'Neill. Logically, Sam thought it might be an overly romantic notion but she envisaged it being special, or seeming that way. She had always considered herself a pragmatic kind of person. She and Jack both were, but daydreaming is not simply for the young or idealistic and it seemed they were equally capable of veering toward romance and fantasy.

Waltzing into the room in her underwear, curious about the raised voices and laughter, Cassie halted at the door upon seeing Sam. She looked fantastic. "Okay, so what are you two screeching about this time?"

Betsy bridled, thinking Cassie could do enough screeching for all of them, but she said nothing. Sam, however, stood up and faced her adopted daughter.


"What do you think?" she asked.

Cassie grinned, approaching and grasping one of Sam's hands. "I was just thinking how beautiful you look. Great job with the makeup, Betsy. Perfect."


"You really think so? Not too much?" Sam asked.

"Too much? No way. Jack will have kittens."

"That's an improvement on a heart attack, I suppose," Sam responded with a smirk.

"What?" Cassie queried, doing a double take at those words.

"We were just kidding around," Betsy replied, patting the young woman reassuringly. "Jack is gonna love it."

Meanwhile, Sam sat again, contemplating her image in the mirror. The makeup was beginning to grow on her, and she had wanted to look different, hadn't she? It certainly emphasized that femininity she was eager to display today.


"Okay, I'll live with the makeup," she said. "Thanks, Betsy." Sam did not wish to appear ungrateful because she wasn't. If not for her old friend, she would just look like Sam Carter. What she saw in the mirror was Mrs Samantha O'Neill. Another romanticized illusion, but what the heck? If you can't be romantic and a dreamer on your wedding day, when else?

"Okay, so now for the dress?" Cassie suggested. She couldn't wait to see the full effect.

"I'll put it on while you finish getting ready, Cass."

Cassie nodded, turning to leave and get on with what she had been doing. She was happy to see the whole look at once when Sam and Betsy had finished.

"So, how are you feeling?" Betsy asked as she helped Sam with her dress. Dumb question, she knew because she had been here and done this herself, but it might help Sam to talk about it.

"Oh, Betsy." Sam responded, her face alight with joy. "Happy, excited, terrified. I don't know! How did you feel when you got married?"

Betsy had been married for quite some time now, but she remembered. She had missed her husband the night before when she left him in the hotel to come here. He still made her happy, mostly. Sure, they had ups and downs, just like everyone else, but she had no regrets.

"Happy, excited, terrified." Betsy replied with a grin. "And a whole lot more."

"It's normal then?"

"Oh, honey, of course it's normal!" She paused while she hooked up the final fastenings on the dress and gently grasped the tops of Sam's arms, encouraging her to turn around to face her and stepping back. "You look fantastic. Radiant. Corny I know, but true anyway."

"Ya think?" Sam said, turning to face the mirror. "Not bad even if I say so myself!" she exclaimed with a satisfied nod.

"Still think you're doing the right thing?"

"I might be churning up inside, but yes."

"Well, Jack sure is a hunk of a man."

"All man." Sam smiled dreamily. "And way more than just a hunk."

"That's for sure!" Betsy replied with a giggly type tone. "Gorgeous, smart, and totally nuts about you. What more do you need?"

Sam bit her lip, and Betsy thought she would have to touch up the lipstick again. "What more? That we work. That he doesn't get bored with being nuts about me."

Betsy knew all about those kinds of doubts. She had been there too. Her expression turned serious and she took Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"There are never any guarantees, Sam. But you two are great together. So, my money is on him not getting bored and staying nuts about you. Bet he's thinking the same thing about you. Pre-wedding jitters. Only natural." Sam said nothing, merely smiling and thinking Betsy was probably right about that.

"Right, so we have the something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. But what about the sixpence in the shoe? I forgot about the sixpence!" Sam said in a panicky tone. Betsy laughed and Sam shot her a disgruntled look. "Oh, Betsy. where am I going to get a sixpence?" Her panicked tone shot into the stratosphere.

"You think your best friend Betsy hasn't thought about that one? I've got it covered." She smiled broadly and reached for her purse, poking around and producing a sixpence.

Sam grinned at her in happy relief. "Oh, you really are the best friend a woman ever had!" she responded, giving Betsy a hug. "What would I do without you?"

"Well, you wouldn't have a sixpence," Betsy retorted humorously and Sam giggled nervously. "This sixpence will ensure a long and happy marriage, Sam. I used it. Many of my friends and family have used it. It's been passed through generations of marriages, all of them long and happy ones. It will bring you luck."

Sam's grin broadened. "If I'm half as lucky in marriage as you, Jack and I are gonna be fine."

"You will be with or without the sixpence. Fate, remember?" She winked at her friend and both of them recalled Sam's adolescent infatuation with the youthful Captain O'Neill. "But this will clinch it for sure." She took one of Sam's shoes and stuck it inside. "Okay. Finishing touch. The veil and headdress. What is this stuff anyway? And what's this engraving?" Betsy asked curiously, peering closely at the trinuim made headband.

Luckily, Sam had prepared for this question. She had discussed it with Cassie once when she asked how Sam would explain the use of an alien metal, and language. Now, Sam used the excuse for evasion as she had told Cassie she would.

"Oh, that? It's a private, personal thing between me and Jack." She hoped her voice hit the right tone for Betsy, who knew her better than almost anyone, after all.

"What? You're kidding." Betsy looked slightly displeased. She did not like her inquisitiveness thwarted, but Sam would stick to her guns.

"Jack will know. That's what counts. No one else needs to know, so I'm not telling."

"That's it? You aren't going to reveal all to your best and oldest friend?"

"Nope."

"Aw, Sam." Betsy whined, but she could tell from Sam's expression that she would not squeeze this secret out of her. Married couples should have their private jokes, she thought. So although a little bit peeved, she knew she would probably have to accept Sam's secrecy. Nevertheless, she was tempted to push it because what else are best friends for? A loud and flustered interruption, however, saved Sam from further prying for now.

"The car's here! Mark's arrived!" Cassie ran in screeching, stopping dead in her tracks once again when she saw Sam was finally ready. "Oh man, I'm gonna cry and ruin all my makeup. You look beautiful Sam." She sniffed with emotion and grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on Sam's dresser. "Jack is going to fall in love with you all over again."

"I hope he doesn't need to," retorted Sam drolly. "You are looking pretty good yourself, Cassie. Give me a hug?"

Betsy rolled her eyes as the two women hugged, hoping Sam's perfect image did not get ruined. Then she reached for the lipstick, touched up Sam's lips, and examined herself in the mirror to make sure she was okay too.

Fine. Done at last.

They were ready for Sam's big day.

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Jack was thinking about the previous night. He woke up to find a hand placed over his mouth and Sam standing over him telling him to "shhh".

"Isn't this bad luck?" he asked in a whisper when she withdrew the hand. She shrugged.

"I'm not superstitious, are you?"

"Not really."

This was not quite true for either of them. They just were not superstitious in that "not walking under ladders kind of way" - unless someone was perched on top of the ladder with a pot of paint or something. Now that was just asking for trouble. Duh! So they did not adhere to what might be considered as normal superstitions, but they did have their own brand. Like if George Hammond failed to say "God speed" before they had stepped through the gate, for example.

"Then give me a hug," Sam suggested and Jack smiled broadly.

"You broke into my hotel room the night before our wedding for a hug?"

"Not really." She could just about make out the arched eyebrow in the gloom. When Jack reached over and pulled her toward him, Sam let herself relax into his arms.

"What is it baby?" he asked with concern, stroking her softly. Jack knew Sam had not come there for a simple hug. Not on the night before their wedding. Something was wrong and it worried him.

"Don't worry. I'm not backing out," she said reassuringly.

"I didn't think you were." It was true. The idea had not even entered his mind, and that pleased him. A few months before it might have. Jack realized his confidence in their relationship had moved a long way in a short time.

Sam snuggled up close to him, sighing at the comforting embrace. "Want to elope?" she whispered. It was not the first time she had suggested it, but Jack knew she had mainly been kidding around, or so he thought. Now, he was not so sure.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" he asked.

"You could say that."

"Me too." He kissed her forehead, continuing his soothing caress, and she whimpered a little in response. "Actually, I'm kind of well, you know. terrified." His tone was jocular, and he chuckled to emphasize the point, but it was partly true. A lot true, actually. What a wuss! Big brave Jack O'Neill. Yeahsureyabetchya.

"Terrified? Really?" she asked, giving him a small squeeze.

"You betchya."

"Then let's just run away. Not have to deal with all the people, the ceremony, the speeches."

"What, and disappoint like a million people?" Okay, a slight exaggeration, but who was counting, right?

Sam snorted. "So what?"

Jack had to admit the notion was tempting. He was kind of dreading all the pomp and brouhaha. "Okay. If that's what you want."

Sam couldn't make his features out in the dim light and wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just for that I'm going to make love to you."

Jack said nothing because her mouth enclosed his in a passionate kiss and she started to stroke him in the places that counted.

Then, he woke to find it was a dream and was severely disappointed. Disappointed because Sam was not actually there in his arms, seducing him or otherwise, and disappointed because he had half been looking forward to leaving all the crap behind and eloping.

"Shit!" he cursed. His nerves had brought on the dream, he supposed. A kind of wishful thinking. A desire to avoid the spectacle of the circus that was a wedding ceremony and all the other nuptial trappings. It had nothing to do with not wanting to marry Sam, of course. He wanted to get married very much indeed. It was that terror he had dreamed about. That part was true, and all too real.

Damp with sweat, he threw back the bed covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit on its edge, head in hands.

"Great!" he exclaimed softly to himself. Jack was thinking he should probably be grateful Sam was not there to see for herself what a ninny he truly was. Muttering under his breath, he decided to hit the shower before even contemplating a restorative cup of coffee. He was still sweating profusely with his stomach tied up in a whole boat load of knots. "Way to go, Jack!"

Quietly, Jack snuck to the bathroom, not wishing to disturb his best man Daniel or good friend Teal'c. The hotel he had dreamed about, that part was not true. He had considered it, but Daniel was so insistent Jack stay at his place. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Probably still was, unless you are a nervous groom feeling like chucking your guts up and not wanting anyone else to witness it.

Company can be a good thing when you are agitated and tense, help to calm those jitters and distract from them. Jack, however, was not the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve with ease. Improved these days, perhaps, but he liked some alone time to contemplate and get his head together when it was in disarray. Now, that head of his was in such turmoil that he could not get his thoughts straight.

A shower would help. Or so he hoped. The hot cascading water, washing away the sweat and dirt, some decent thinking and waking up time, normally did help. If nothing else, at least he would feel clean. Right now, he felt disgusting. Remnants of his dream, and the perspiration it had created. Pre-wedding whatevers.

It was like this when he married Sara. He wanted it so bad but it scared the crap out of him. Maybe it was the wanting it so much that caused that terror.

Jack had been very much in love then too. Sara was like a dream come true. He had never loved like that before, had always been the ultimate bachelor. Never thought he was the marrying type. He and Jimmy. Two single men that took advantage of the fact and of the effect they could have on women. Love 'em, leave 'em, never get serious.

Then Sara came along and wham bam, just like that, Jack was hooked. Like a lightening strike. He hardly believed he could feel like that about any woman, but Sara was not like the rest of the women he had dated. Sara was exceptional - beautiful, brainy, and gutsy with a smile that could melt polar icecaps. His anyway.

Jack knew he wanted to marry her within a few days of meeting her. It took months for him to admit he loved her openly, partly because of self-doubt. In Jack's mind, Sara was worth quite a few of him. She could do better. But he got there eventually, had to, and it turned out she loved him back. Jack was euphoric. Knew what the omnipresent 'they' meant about being on cloud nine like he never had before.

Then, plucking up the courage to ask her to become his wife had taken even more months. He wanted to a number of times, but could not quite make the words form on his lips. It was nothing to do with a reluctance to commit, as he might have anticipated having been such a diehard bachelor. It was outright fear. He was a man trained to look his enemy in the face and fight - someone who had found a niche in special ops, which took a different kind of daring. But he found more terror in his heart than he did when faced with an adversary.

His wedding day was both the worst and best moment of his life. Worst because of the sheer panic he felt inside but kept hidden, best because of his deep love, which he did not attempt to hide. Sara would become his wife. Forever, right? So much for that.

Jack had no doubt it would have been forever if not for Charlie's death. He deeply regretted this had torn them apart, that he had failed on so many levels. Even to this day, he regretted; feelings for Sam notwithstanding.

He still had feelings for Sara. Sure he did. Not like before, but she was the love of his life once upon a time. Unless your love turns into hate, which it had not, it is still there in one way or another. She had been a big part of his life. A happy part, something he had cherished. You never forget that, or get over it.

This does not, however, mean you cannot move on. Forever is a very long time. His love for Sam was just as deep, just as real, just as consuming as that first true love. Possibly more so. He could not really compare them, and did not intend to try. It was different, that's all. No need to over analyze. He loved her and wanted to marry her. Simple as that.

Smiling to himself at a dumb idea for a joke he had just thought of, Jack stealthily snuck into Daniel's den. Grabbing a piece of paper and pen, he scribbled a hasty note and returned to stick it on his bedroom door before heading for the shower. At least he might get a laugh out of it. From Daniel anyway. He could never tell what might amuse his Jaffa friend.

Every noise he made as he showered made him think he was certain to wake one or both of his friends. Jack had to admit he had been pleased to have the company the night before. Just the guys together. It made sense too as they would travel to the Academy Chapel together.

Daniel was probably close to being as nervous about the ceremony as Jack was. He had a big role to play and was worried about screwing it up. Jack did not believe for one minute his best man would make a mess of things, but that did not deter Daniel from fretting.

Teal'c, on the other hand, was a rock. Wasn't he always? His presence was the true calming influence. Jack figured he needed Teal'c to play that role. Keep him grounded like only he could. He guessed Daniel thought so too.

The previous night Jack had acted the part, went through the motions of sociability. He didn't think anyone noticed how much he was churning up inside. Luckily, roiling guts are invisible to the naked eye. If his friends did notice, both of them were too polite to mention it, which was fine by Jack.

Sam seemed to believe that as he had been married before this time was easier for him. A piece of cake. She was wrong. The heart never gets old Sam, he thought. It might wear out and die on you but it loves like the years have never passed, and is just as vulnerable and fearful as it always was.

He might seem tough, and he was in so many ways, but he was also like any other man. Fragile and easily damaged. Okay, so the hard-bitten exterior he'd had to cultivate was more obdurate than many. Jack was a soldier and fighter - a killer who had to be secretive, discreet and unemotional. He needed that protective outer core or he could not have survived for so long in his line of work.

His upbringing had also made him that way, forged him into the person he was, like he had been born and raised to do the things he had done. If he had lacked tenacity, Jack would never have survived the brutality, apparent rejection and absence of warmth during his childhood either.

But what of the inside? He was as capable of feeling as exposed and apprehensive as the next guy. Jack had his soft side, perhaps too frequently concealed and denied. Concealment and denial had their uses and he had good reasons for making use of them. Confessing to those feelings always seemed to make them more real, so he rarely did.

Tiptoeing back to his room, he closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief. Jack did not want to face his friends right now. He still needed to get his head together. He could have murdered a cup of coffee, but making it might wake the others. So, Jack sat in a chair in quiet contemplation, forcing positive thoughts.

Sam. He could always think of upbeat stuff about her to turn his mood around.

It wasn't that Jack was unhappy. Far from it. In fact, he figured he might be the happiest guy on the planet today. His wedding day. He wanted this marriage. He wanted the commitment, to make that public declaration of vows and lasting love. Nerves. Pre-wedding jitters. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

Only a few days before, he had woken up at Sam's with the mother of a hangover. Groaning as he turned in bed, he opened his eyes with the dread of a man who had drank way too much at his bachelor party the night before. It took him a little while to recall everything, but he thought he did.

Jack remembered being in denial about his drunkenness, remembered getting home and Sam's amused and tolerant reaction to his inebriation. She had been thoroughly entertained, it seemed, enjoyed every embarrassing moment. Except Jack was neither embarrassed nor ashamed. He'd had a good time on his stag night just like any red blooded man should. Less of a good time, maybe, given there were no mortifying moments involving other woman - or being tied naked to street lights or dumped unconscious on trains to Timbuktu.

He did, however, remember the bet about sex and slavery. Shit! He had lost that bet, hadn't he? Darn it. The notion of playing slave and master for 30 days with Sam definitely appealed and could be a lot of fun, but he was not so certain about it being him who played the subservient one.

It might make for hot sex but Jack's issue with the bet was anything over and above it that Sam might get him doing. She might force him to watch chick flicks, for crying out loud, do house or yard work. Or worse, go shopping with her. Everything she enjoyed doing that he hated, and everything she disliked doing that he also detested. There were many possibilities. Sheesh!

Still, Jack was not going to concern himself with it too much. They were not even married yet, and then there was the honeymoon. Using the O'Neill charm and charisma, he might wriggle out of the more repugnant tasks she could order him to do. Jack chuckled to himself at that thought.

"Charm and charisma my eye," he muttered. "Still, you must have something, Jack old boy. Sam's marrying ya." A broad grin spread over his face. "Not long now."

Mrs Samantha O'Neill. Jack liked that thought. Always. Never alone. Unlike the dream that had woken him earlier, this was as real as it came. Here at last, their big day.

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TE




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