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Story Notes: This is the final part of what has become known as the "Art of…" series. I hope you all enjoy it.


Jack stood alone, slightly and purposely removed from the gathered crowds. His preferred bottle of beer had been long since removed from his fingers and replaced with a flute of champagne.

God, he *still* hated these things!

This time, he'd found, "these things," made it a little more difficult than normal to fade into obscurity in a room full of brass. It was a useful tactic that he had developed into a veritable art form over the years since making Colonel. A rank that by dubious honour meant having to attend these amazingly nauseating functions. Most men in his position had learned to dance that special little dance, the one that let you laugh with people you would normally just shoot if given half a chance. Jack could strangely admire the men, and women, he silently amended, who had learned how to play the game. It was just that he could never be bothered to waste his energies on people he didn't even like, let alone respect.

Unlike so many, he wasn't particularly interested in using these occasions as arenas to further his career. However, he was never quite ready to have these occasions be responsible for ending said career either. Thus he'd perfected the art of nodding and smiling while totally tuning out anything else when his sure fire strategy of hiding in plain sight failed him.

But not even his years of dancing his own dance could help him tonight. No matter how hard he tried, someone that he would still like to see come up close and personal with numerous zat or staff blasts (he wasn't fussy) always managed to find him, shake his hand and generally make him want to reach for the nearest available weapon.

Half grimacing to himself he noticed yet another man with more stars on his shoulders than those in the Minnesotan night sky approach, Jack had to concede that the problem with a party in your honour, was just that.

It was in your honour.

Thus you had nowhere to run, duck or generally hide.

Jack had been attempting to make his way to his team when the latest in a too long line of General's and politicians had interrupted his journey and his intentions.

Once again, roughly four and a half seconds into the conversation, Jack had switched off; if he couldn't hide, he could, at least, tune out. He had no interest in the current political wrangling and certainly couldn't care less about whether an uppercut in the fourth round was a better option than a left hook in the third. He had far more important matters on his mind. His body was filled with an adrenaline rush entirely incongruous for the occasion and it made the meet and greets even more arduous than usual, testing Jack's self- control to its limit. He just wanted to make his way across the room, to where his team stood, knowing from years of experience, that their company would settle his fraying patience. It always had, and Jack knew, probably always would.

His eyes involuntarily flew across the gathering and focussed immediately upon his eventual destination.

He smiled inwardly as his eyes fell on the second incarnation of his team. Teal'c was raising an eyebrow at something Jonas had just said, Jonas was wondering why Teal'c was raising an eyebrow at what he'd just said and Carter was smiling at them both.

He felt a ridiculous pang of jealousy at the sight. She was smiling… at them… a totally irrational part of him wanted her to only ever smile for him and because of him.

He almost laughed at himself, he could just imagine how she would respond to that decree… he may have faced tyrannical System Lords with a flippant word and a smile on his face, but he was NOT brave enough to face his Major when she was rightfully pissed.

She smiled again, this time at Teal'c, and Jack's heart missed a beat. It didn't matter how many times he'd seen her smile - it always made him feel… better.

Hell, it made *everyone* lucky enough to see it feel better. She had a smile that made grown men grin like children and kids feel ten feet tall, a smile that crossed boundaries and barriers with ridiculous ease. But the most amazing thing about it was that he was pretty damn sure that she had no idea just how far he, and various other friends, relatives and aliens would go, just for her smile.

But it wasn't *the* smile. The one he had been blessed to receive on a few occasions and every single time it had stopped his heart all over again. Her special smile, the one that killed him slowly in the sweetest possible way. The one that he knew from tangible experience could ease whatever pain he was in, mental or physical, usually both. The smile that he'd go to hell and back for… actually, he'd already done that and he'd do it again in less that half a heartbeat if he ever had to.

Jack lifted his arm and swallowed some of the sparkling liquid, letting his gaze sweep the laughing team-mates once more. As the unfamiliar taste made its way down his throat, Jack realised that the "Three-Star" in front of him was still droning on about something that didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of taking his attention away from his musings.

SG-1 were the best.

He knew that without a doubt and he was damn proud that he had been a part of it. Even now, with a new member, his team was still unequalled and that owed nothing less than everything to the undeniable brilliance of the people who wore that illustrious patch every time they stepped through the gate.

Together, they had travelled the stars, saved the Earth and probably the Galaxy while they were at it, on too many occasions to count. They had discovered invaluable knowledge and allies that would one day save the world for good. But to Jack, nothing came close the discovery that was that there was nothing as funny, on this or any other planet, as a Jaffa with an allergy to PX-whatever's version of a dog.

Jack smiled and wondered at just how he'd managed to get, not one, but two teams, who under normal circumstances wouldn't have made it past the front door, so to speak.

First time, he'd ended up with two scientists and eventually a Jaffa with Junior in his gut. Scientists - 2, Aliens - 1 and a half (if you counted Junior – which, as Teal'c had assured him, you had to). This time around managed to trade in his scientist to alien quota…kinda.

During his time at Cheyenne Mountain, he'd commanded an ex-first Prime who boxed like a champion, hated fishing and was *way* too fond of chat-shows, but knew without a moments hesitation that he'd be right there when the shit hit the fan. An archaeologist/anthropologist/space monkey who had an annoying habit of knowing too much about everything, who he'd thought it impossible to kill until one day his heroism had done the job that numerous bad guys had spent years trying to do. Because of that Jack had been introduced to a new guy who had the determination to win his trust, smiled all the damned time and had an unhealthy attachment to the weather channel and bananas.

But to top them all, Jack O'Neill had be granted the honour and privilege to serve beside a soldier/scientist who had forgotten way more than he'd ever know in this or any other lifetime. A woman who had won everything from his absolute respect and trust to his heart and she could kick the crap outta anything from snakeheads to jarheads while looking pretty spectacular in the process.

Their diversity was their strength, loyalty and friendship their medal of honour and they had, in turn, made his unit special.

He closed his eyes briefly at his mistake.

SG-1 was his unit no longer, and the fact that he was attending this "party" should have been enough to keep it in his mind. The fact that he was still wearing a damn knee brace underneath his dress blues should have meant that he didn't need this party to remind him that he was, as of 13 and a half (zulu) minutes from now, officially retired – for the final time.

His luck, it seemed, had finally run out. Catching a stray staff blast in his bad knee was enough to end his days as a field commander. His absolute apathy towards paperwork had left him with few options. His choice had led him here, to his retirement party, where he had to play nice for one last time to too many people he had spent his career avoiding. A few beers at his place would have been good enough for him. But no matter how much he'd threatened, reasoned and eventually begged, Hammond wouldn't hear of it.

So here he was, just about ready to tell the nameless General before him to shut the hell up and go bug someone else, when a microphone enhanced voice caught his, and everyone else's attention.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," intoned Hammond from the podium. "As you are all aware, we are here tonight to bid farewell and good luck to one of the finest officers that it has been my pleasure to command…"

Jack winced in embarrassment as Hammond continued his speech and as the applause filled the Gateroom, Jack just knew what was coming next.

"Jack, would you come up to say a few words?"

Hammond smiled and Jack could have sworn he read the blatant revenge for the years of "having his hands full" while employing continued latitude and patience, even when Jack had made it oh so difficult for his almost ex-CO.

Muttering several choice expletives under his breath, he made his way up the ramp for what was probably the last time. Only this time, instead of stepping though the event horizon, he took his place before a microphone and cleared his throat while the room silenced.

"As you all know, I am a man of few words," he paused and meaningfully looked skyward in a gesture that only few understood. "So in keeping with that," Jack let his eyes wander through the room. His gaze skittered across crowds and then quite deliberately, he focussed for a moment on his General, a General- turned Tok'ra and then onto a doctor who still scared the crap outta him, in a silent salute of their importance. Finally, his eyes locked onto those of each member of his team in turn. In the midst of a crowded room, his final words echoed for them, and them alone, "it was, truly, an honour."

He could still hear the applause as he left the ramp and as he had on so many precious occasions in the past, he joined his team at its base.

"O'Neill," the Jaffa greeted with a regal bow of the head.

"Colonel," grinned Jonas as Jack joined them and wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Jonas," Jack acknowledged, "are you *still* smiling?" He knew he didn't really have to ask the question, but even after spending nearly two years in his company, Jonas was still just too easy.

Jack knew he should really be listening to Jonas, but his attention was caught by the formation of a perfect curve along lips so full and soft that they just begged to be… He took a long gulp of the drink in his hand in the hope of cooling his thoughts, his grimace at the taste came just as the younger man replied.

"It's just that this is my first formal function…" He smiled again at Jack before continuing along a path that would lead a more paranoid man to think he knew more than he let on.

"Although I do have a question," Jonas continued without so much as taking a breath, "Earlier, Teal'c referred to the Earth custom of dancing, which he believed both you and Sam to be more than capable of demonstrating…"

Whatever the newest addition to their front line family was about to say, it was abruptly cut off by a timely interruption. Actually, to be precise, by two timely interruptions.

Teal'c's "JonasQuinn, I believe that I also mentioned that timing was also of utmost importance in this matter…" came a fraction of a second before Carter's pointed cough and subsequent glare at the young Mr. Quinn.

Jack hid a smile of his own as his Jaffa buddy fairly well dragged the inquisitive Quinn well away from anywhere potentially dangerous to his health. It seemed Teal'c did know way more than he had ever let on, only this time, it wasn't like he needed the hint. He did however make a mental note to take both the guys fishing… or at least invite them…

"Sir," interrupted the one voice that he had sought all evening. "Nice speech."

Jack noticed both the adept change of subject and the involuntary small bite on her lower lip as she continued, "How come Thor couldn't be here anyway?"

"Something about Intergalactic something-or-other's, I dunno," Jack shrugged. "Personally, I think he just bailed when I mentioned that caviar was actually fish eggs." His comment induced the desired effect as his Major's delectable mouth curved once again into a killer smile, this one just for him.

Someone (or possibly something fitting the description of white and glowy) must have been looking favourably on him, as at that moment music began to drift from the string quartet in the corner. It was a tune Jack understood, he didn't have to question it, he just knew. It was slow and harmonious piece that seemed to find its cadence from inside itself, almost waiting for the last note before discovering a path to the next. A deliberate and simple composition anticipating only the right dancers to breathe life from its melody.

Jack knew, with the utter certainty of a man who had finally reached the crescendo of years of patience, that it was the following few moments that would decide his future. Turning his body so that he fully faced her and blocked out all other meaningless distractions, he squashed his nerves and spoke words that echoed a time so long ago when their remembrance had become a lifeline for them when times grew cold.

"Major, a long time ago, you made me promise you something." His gentle whisper, foreign to even his own ears, caught her attention. "As my last act as an officer, I have to keep that promise." Jack noticed that she couldn't quite bring her eyes to meet his as he continued. "Major Carter, would you like to dance?" Her eyes jolted to his, recognition blatant in their blue depths.

Silently holding her gaze, he let her take his meaning and remember a time when he had told her more than he had ever dreamed he would let himself.

He knew she would remember, hadn't she told him as much on a planet a billion light years from home in a moment that although brief, had given him the courage to be patient?

Her answering smile was as deliberate as her words.

"Your way?" Her gaze fused with his.

"Not this time, Sam. This time, *our* way."

He saw her glorious eyes begin to shine with an emotion he'd dreamed of seeing in their depths for an eternity, as she held his own subtly darker gaze for a few moments before answering.

"Then yes, Sir, I would love to dance."

The smile he received stopped his breath and consequently any form of coherent movement.

So as she had done on too many previous occasions to count, she offered him his lifeline. There may not be an enemy army on their six, baying for blood, but it didn't matter. She knew him well enough to know that he needed her lead here. So his Major, his Sam, reached her hand out to thread her fingers through his, leading him to their own private space, totally disregarding outside eyes. Flaunting to any witness who cared to see that their dance and their dream was finally concluded in the promise of discovery.

He felt her arms slide around his neck as his own rested in the small of her back, excluding any and all military etiquette or protocol because this was the dance that he had waited for, the one that made it all worthwhile.

This time, this didn't have to be a dance between a Colonel and his second in command, it could openly be what it always was and what it had always promised to be.

A dance between a man and the woman he loved.

In the place were it had all began, as the clock chimed his final duty, Jack smiled.

The innate rightness of the moment wrapped around his heart, everything that needed to be said, had already been said, right here, many moons ago. They both understood the symbolism of this one final dance and that left Colonel Jack O'Neill, now retired, only one thing to do and as his lips lowered ever so slowly to hers he heard someone, who sounded remarkably 'Jonas-like', utter from somewhere below them…

"It's about damn time."

It may be a cliché, but what the hell… this was one that he'd gladly live with, over and over and over again…

THE ABSOLUTE END!!!!



End Notes: Feedback would be gratefully received.

The Art of Discovery: Copyright Lindsay Allen, July 2002.

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