"A Break From Reality" by AC

Title: A Break From Reality

Author: AC

Status: complete

Category: S/J romance, friendship

Rating: NC-17

Season/Sequel Info: third season, takes place after "The Devil You Know" and before "One Hundred Days"

Spoilers: Tok'ra, Jolinar's Memories, The Devil You Know, Forever in a Day

Archive: SJ & Heliopolis, all others contact me for permission first.

Summary: Carter sprained her wrist on a mission and can't drive, so Jack has carpool duty during stand-down.

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

Copyright (c) 2000 A. Cheek acheek@home.com

Notes: Thanks to Seh for beta-ing. Yes, there will be a sequel. This is a challenge fic, but I'm not saying which one, because I won't give away the plot. Feedback is great; specific, brutally honest feedback is even better. This one's for Mac, who brought a tape of Children of the Gods to a Sunday night RPG three years ago and said, "Hey, there's this cool new sci-fi show on Showtime. Wanna watch?"

* * * *

"I'm coming! You don't have to knock the door down!"

I step back as the door swings open, bringing me face to face with one very irritated Major Samantha Carter. She looks me up and down, exhales in exasperation, and steps back so that I can come in.

"Colonel O'Neill, you're early," she tells me brusquely.

"Yeah, I had to get the oil changed in my car, and it didn't take as long as I thought it would. But we need to leave in about twenty minutes or so anyway." I look at her, dressed in a faded shirt, cutoffs, bare feet, and hair sticking out in ten different directions. "You might want to brush your hair first, Carter."

She shoots a venomous look at me. "Sir, you are two and a half hours early! Didn't you check the movie listings this morning?"

"No, that can't be right. Daniel told me yesterday that it began at one o'clock." I grab the section of paper she waves in front of me, and flip to the middle. "Let's see here, Casablanca, showing....at three thirty in the afternoon. I guess I heard him wrong." I shrug. "Sorry about that."

"No problem, sir. See you later." She gives me a halfhearted wave of dismissal, gestures at the door, and turns back to whatever she was doing when I arrived.

"Carter, traffic's terrible out there. It'll take me half an hour or more to get home, and then I'll just hang out there for a little while until it's time to turn around and drive back here to pick you up. Listen, I won't bug you, just go on with what you were doing and I'll stay out of the way." The thought of going back out into the humid summer afternoon is not appealing, especially when the air conditioner in my car seems to be in a cranky mood. Of course, Carter doesn't look too happy at the moment, either.

"Sir, no offense, but I'm not in the mood to entertain a guest." She stretches, then winces, rubbing at her wrist, which is swathed in bandages. Her right wrist, which is why I'm playing chauffeur today.

On our last mission, Daniel wasn't quite forceful enough in letting our hosts know that we were not familiar with all of their customs. When the chieftain of the village handed Carter a goblet of wine, his senior wife launched herself in an all-out attack against her, claiming that she wouldn't lose rank to some pasty-faced offworlder. Carter lost no time in disabling the woman without actually hurting her, merely keeping her in a headlock until we could explain that where we came from, when someone offered a guest something to drink, it didn't always mean that they were expected to spend the night together. All was mended, we met some new friends, drank some wonderful wine, Daniel went absolutely insane with joy over some of those rocks he loves so much, and Carter didn't reveal that she'd severely wrenched her wrist until we'd returned through the Stargate. It had swollen up quite impressively, and Dr. Frasier had to wrap it in a splint and tell her not to use it for a few days. Of course, since she's not up to the physical requirements, we do get a few days on stand-down, so it's not an entirely bad situation for the rest of us.

Naturally, Carter drives a stick shift. She couldn't drive one-handed, so she had to leave her car on base. Daniel drove her home last night, and I was assigned car pool duty for this afternoon's movie, since Daniel had to go back to base to get Teal'c.

I turn my best pitiful face towards her, and she scowls at me. "Look, Carter, I won't bother you. I'll just read a book, and be quiet as a mouse. You won't even know I'm here."

"Fine, sir. Make yourself at home." With that decidedly unenthusiastic welcome, she walks back into the kitchen, sits at the table, and starts going through her mail.

I grab a biography of Chuck Yeager from her bookshelf, stretch out on the couch, and look around me in appreciation. It's easy to tell who used to have terribly messy rooms before they went to boot camp -- they always overcompensate when they get their own place. Carter must have been bawled out plenty of times for not being neat enough, because now that she's on her own, her apartment is immaculate. There isn't a speck of dust anywhere, everything's shelved away nice and tidy, and a faint scent of furniture polish hangs on the air. I can recognize a reformed slob, especially since I was one myself when I was young.

My stomach groans. I'd planned on just having popcorn at the movie as my lunch, but now, with a few hours to go? "Carter, you got anything to eat?"

She turns back and looks at me. "Sorry, sir," she says, not sounding all that apologetic. "Daniel didn't have time to take me by the grocery store last night. I might have some crackers, or a can of soup."

"Not even a sandwich?" I ask, trying to ignore the rude sounds coming from my belly.

"Nope. There's a deli about two blocks from here -- it's where I had lunch about an hour ago. You could walk down there and get something, sir." The extremely casual and nonchalant expression on her face almost hides how eager she is for me to do just that, to get the hell out of her apartment and leave her alone. Almost.

Something's bothering her, and she doesn't want to let me know. Carter's usually really easygoing, but right now she's so edgy that if I snuck up behind her and yelled, "Boo!" she'd go straight through the ceiling. "Y'know, I'll just order a pizza. I'm not so hungry that I can't wait half an hour, and it's too hot outside right now to go for a walk." I walk over to the phone and grab the telephone directory. "A large pepperoni with extra mushrooms." She hates mushrooms. If she ordered, it would be that dreadful vegetarian pizza with artichokes, tomatoes, onions, and three kinds of peppers, all so hot that they practically leave third-degree burns on your tongue.

Muttering something to herself, she stacks her mail neatly, and turns to the sink, having decided for some reason that she can wash dishes one-handed. I place my order and then, hanging up the phone, I flip through my book, keeping my ears open for the inevitable sound of breaking glass.

"Damn it!"

I set the book aside and stand up. "Carter, let me do the dishes, ok? Did you cut yourself?" That'd be just peachy, her having both hands out of commission.

"No, sir," she answers shortly. She sits down again, frowning.

I take her place at the sink, carefully picking out pieces of broken glass with a damp paper towel. "You know, Carter, you could try talking about it."

"About what, sir?" Her voice is as neutral as she can make it.

"Whatever's got you so jumpy. Have you been mainlining coffee again, or what?" Carter on a caffeine high is a sight to see, especially if she and Daniel are excited about some new scientific find. If I could sell tickets, I'd retire rich. I toss the last of the glass shards into the trash, and start washing the remaining dishes.

"Sir, it's a personal matter. With respect, I'd prefer it if you minded your own business."

Ouch. "It may be personal, but it's not making you much fun to be around."

"Sir, it's not my fault you can't keep to a schedule. I didn't ask you to show up so early. We're off-duty, and I'm not a standup comedian. What happened to 'You won't even know I'm here?'" She stomps past me into the main room, scowling.

"You know, if you keep making that face, it's gonna freeze that way. Frowning makes wrinkles, Carter, remember." Oh, we're getting somewhere. She's always at her nastiest just before she caves. "You're not going to enjoy the movie later on if you don't just chill for now."

"I would have been just fine, Colonel, if you hadn't shown up early! I'd have gotten all this out of my system, and felt better, and been just wonderful, but you're here now, and I don't have any privacy!" She stretches out on the couch, tries to relax, and fails miserably.

Truthfully, I don't know how to respond. Carter's almost always shown her strong side around me. The first time we met, I kept tossing out snide remarks to see how she'd react, and she deflected every single one of them. And she's tons of fun to bait, because she won't take much crap. About the only times I've ever seen her cry were when we thought Daniel was dead, and after she'd been possessed by Jolinar. But the thought of Carter having a good cry and a tantrum to clear her head is unsettling.

I sigh, very uncomfortable. "Ok, Sam. Obviously I ruined your plans, and I'm sorry. But I'm here now, so what do you want me to do, huh?" She's not going to give in and tell me just yet, so maybe ingratiating myself with her will help. Besides, it's better than sitting around and having her glare at me.

She shrugs. "There's a list of things to do on the counter, if you feel like it, sir."

"Okay. You relax, all right? Maybe grab a nap. You look like hell, Carter. Dark circles under your eyes, dressed like a slob...." Ok. I'm bad. But she's just so much fun to tease. I grab the list and scan it. "Do laundry, scrub down bathroom, oh boy, doesn't this sound like fun."

She props her head up with a cushion. "Knock yourself out, sir." Then she closes her eyes, ignoring me.

* * * *

As I toss the last paper towel into the trash after cleaning Carter's bathroom mirror, there's a knock on the door. As quietly as possible, I open the door, pay the delivery guy, take the pizza, and tiptoe into the kitchen. Carter shifts in her sleep, but I don't wake her up. She must be tired, seeing as she slept through me cleaning the bathroom. Fortunately, I didn't break anything when I knocked over her cosmetics tray, but it did make one hell of a racket. Everything looks great, though. Sergeant Johnson taught me well in boot camp, and it's not like she spends enough time here for things to have gotten really dirty.

I open the pizza box and bite into the first slice with a sigh of relief. I'm hungry, so I gobble down the first piece faster than I should, burning the roof of my mouth, and grab a soda out of her refrigerator to cool it off. I want that book I was looking at before, but it's somewhere in the main room, and I don't want to wake Sleeping Beauty out there. There are a few magazines in Carter's mail, but as luck would have it, they're all scientific journals.

I'm careless in tossing them back onto the pile of mail, and succeed in knocking a whole stack onto the floor. Grumbling, I push back the chair and bend down to gather the papers together, and put all of them back on the table, except for one that's so far underneath the kitchen table that I have to get down on my hands and knees and reach for it.

Whoa. What the hell is this? It's a black and white ultrasound. Sara had one when we were expecting Charlie. There's the half-circle curve and the little peanut shape that indicates that there is indeed a baby. Looking at the bottom of the picture, the notation reads, San Diego Memorial Hospital, S. Carter.

Carter's pregnant? She went to California on her last leave, didn't she? Not thinking, I try and stand up, knocking my head up against the table. "Shit!"

"Sir?" I hear her sit up. Great. She's awake.

"It's ok, Carter," I stall, crawling out from under the table. "Just bumped my head."

I stand up to see her right in front of me. "Hey, be careful with that, sir!" She takes it from my hands and fastens the ultrasound to the refrigerator door with a magnet.

I look down at my hands. I know she hasn't been seeing anyone on base, and Daniel would have known if she was dating a civilian, because he always finds out gossip. Oh, hell. We did that mission to Naetu to rescue her father a few months ago! Did Kintar rape her? But then she wouldn't want to keep it, would she? I clear my throat, and take a sip of soda.

"Sam?"

"Yes, sir?" she yawns.

"Why didn't you tell anyone that you're pregnant?"

"What?!"

I gesture at the photo. "The ultrasound. S. Carter. I know you were out visiting your brother recently. Sam, are you ok?"

She shakes her head in disbelief. "You nosy little son of a---- uh, sir," she corrects herself, recalling that it isn't polite to curse at one's commanding officer, even on downtime. She gives me a withering look. "That's from my sister-in-law. Susan Carter. I'm going to be an aunt again."

"Oh. Sorry. Let my imagination run away from me." God, do I feel stupid. So if it's not that, what the hell is bothering her? Aside from having a clueless busybody as a CO.

"Guess so." She looks at her watch. "I'd better clean up, sir, it'll be time for us to head out in about half an hour."

"Sure." I sit down again and eat two more pieces of pizza, feeling embarrassed. I put the rest in her refrigerator -- I'll get it tonight after I drop her off, because she certainly won't eat it. I wash my hands at the sink, and then turn to her tiny utility closet, removing clothes from the dryer. I pile them into a basket, and sit down in front of the television, tuning it to C-SPAN.

Folding laundry's kind of a Zen thing. Watch the TV. Fold. Stack neatly. Let the mind wander. I snort. Here I am, driving my second in command around, cleaning, and doing her laundry. I wonder if she's got a book around here somewhere, "Ten Easy Steps to Domesticating Your Senior Officer." Next thing you know, she'll have Daniel, Teal'c, and me going to chick flicks with her.

Ten minutes later, she walks out of her bedroom, hair in order once again, dressed in jeans and a red silk shirt. She stops dead, and stares. "Sir? Why are you doing that?"

I continue folding. "I have done laundry before, Carter."

She blushes. "Leave it, sir, I'll get to it later."

I wave her off. "With only one good hand? Nah, you'll leave it in the basket and everything will get wrinkled." I wave an article of clothing at her, and she grabs it from me, looks at it closely, then gives me a death glare.

"Sir, quit folding my underwear!" Oh good. She's mad again.

God, I want to smirk, but she'd kill me. "Sam, I've been married. I have seen this stuff before." Not that I've ever seen hers. Maybe I'll start paying closer attention to what I'm folding. I grab a pale blue bra out of the basket and hold it up. "This must look great with your eyes." Yes, I do believe I'm immortal. Why else would I be taking my life in my hands?

"Red light, sir," she growls, and drags the basket back into her bedroom. She darts back into the main room, grabs what I've folded, and runs back. I hear her opening drawers and slamming them shut. "Okay, sir, let's go."

"Carter, we still have a few more minutes."

"No. Let's go now, sir. This is my apartment and you have done quite enough snooping for one day." She grabs her purse, marches to the door, and holds it open. I follow her out, grinning behind her back. I still haven't figured out why she was so tense before, but I've irritated her enough that she's hopefully forgotten about it.

* * * *

I juggle three bags of groceries as Carter fumbles with the keys to her door. "Hurry it up, will ya?"

"Sir, it's not easy doing this left-handed. Just a -- oh, finally." She pushes the door open and we enter her apartment.

I set the bags down on her kitchen table, and between the two of us, everything is put away within a matter of minutes. I grab the pizza box from the refrigerator.

"Looks like you're all set here, Carter. See you in a few days?"

She smiles and stretches. "Yeah, Daniel said he'd pick me up and drive me to base. I'm just going to sit down, and relax, and... oh, wait a minute, sir." She opens the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of beer. "Make yourself useful and open this for me before you head out?" She bats her eyelashes at me.

I twist off the bottle top, and hand her the beer. "Thanks, sir. I can't wait until my hand is back to normal. You and Daniel have been lots of help." She takes a sip of beer and flops down on the couch.

"You know, Carter, you could share." I raise my eyebrows.

She waves carelessly towards the refrigerator. "Help yourself, sir. Just don't get a DUI on your way home."

Opening the refrigerator door, I slide the pizza back in, and grab a beer for myself. "Carter, it takes more than one beer to get me drunk. Now, if it were Daniel..."

"I'd be getting out the tequila and getting him plastered," she finishes for me.

"Wait a minute. You've actually gotten Daniel drunk before?" I'm impressed. I settle into the easy chair and take a long drink.

She sighs. "We had a night out a week or so after Sha're's funeral. He got very drunk, very talkative, then he fell asleep and I had to practically carry him back to his place."

I nod. "I think he's beginning to feel a bit better. It's just such a damn shame. Over two years of trying to find her, and then --"

"Yeah. Life sucks sometimes."

"But hey, he's got us." I raise my beer bottle towards her, and we clink them together.

"Oh, don't tell him that, sir, do you want to depress him even more?"

We laugh, wistfully. "You seem to be better, too, Carter. You were on a real downer earlier today."

She lowers her eyes. "I know. It's just -- sometimes I get -- oh hell." She looks directly at me. "I love my job, sir. It's what I trained for, why the Air Force paid for all my education, and I'd never want to give it up. But sometimes, I just get so frustrated, and I --"

"Want a real life?" I ask her. Hell, I can relate.

She nods. "The Stargate program is my life right now, sir. It doesn't leave room for much of anything or anyone else. And when I got that letter from my brother...."

"Got a bit jealous, did you?" Who'd have thought? Carter with thwarted maternal instincts and a ticking biological clock?

"Yeah. I mean, I hardly have time to date, let alone have a child of my own. And it wouldn't really be fair, with the job I do. I'm offworld on missions most of the time, when would I have time to be with a family?" She takes another swig of beer and sighs.

"You always could ask to be reassigned, Carter." Not that I want her to do that.

Carter shakes her head. "The work I do is important. I can't ask the Air Force to transfer me just because I'm not feeling personally fulfilled. Hell, I don't even know if I could have a child, anymore, since Jolinar. My body chemistry's all messed up."

"But Carter, Sha're had a child, and she had a goa'uld in her."

"Yes, but the symbiote was alive, in hibernation. Jolinar died inside of me, and from what Janet tells me, my body sort of absorbed her remains. It's changed me. I can't even go to a real doctor anymore, because some medicines won't work, and it would raise too many questions. I can only see doctors with high enough clearance." She shudders. "Here's hoping I'm never in an accident off base. I can't believe we're even talking about this."

"Hey, it's downtime. Tonight doesn't count. We can talk about whatever we want to." I smile. It does feel like we're in some sort of limbo -- not at work, but not going on with our outside lives, because there's very little in our lives outside of work at the moment. Just now, if I looked outside the window, I wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the city had just vanished.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, intrepid explorer and part-time psychiatrist?" She's amused.

"Hey, why not? It's not like you could tell this to a civilian shrink." I look outside at the fading sunset, and then back at her. "But Carter, there must be tons of guys on base who'd want to date someone as beautiful as you." I grin. "I could tell Lieutenant Simmons that you've been feeling lonely."

She throws a pillow at me, hard. "That wouldn't be very nice, sir. Besides, I think he's dating one of the lab technicians, now."

My beer bottle is already empty, so I go back into the kitchen for another. "Well, there's always Narim or Martouf. That Tok'ra just about worships you."

"Ooooh!" She groans, dropping her head back down onto the couch. "Martouf is complicated. I mean, the whole situation is."

"So tell me about it." I'm a real glutton for punishment tonight.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because my love life is even more nonexistent than yours, Carter. Let an old man live vicariously."

"Well, sir, I guess it's similar to what happened when Kawalsky and Dr. Carter showed up earlier this year. She looked at you as the closest thing there was to her dead husband. Martouf, Lantash, Rosha, and Jolinar were together for a century." She frowns, and rubs her forehead.

"But I didn't have the memories of a snake in my head telling me how to feel towards her, Carter. You do." I shift uncomfortably. All these alternate universes give me a headache. Besides, if the ones I'm aware of have my counterparts involved with Carter's counterparts, it sometimes makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong here. Okay, stop that line of thought right now, Jack.

"When I'm around Martouf, it's like the real me hardly exists. Jolinar loved him so much that she goes half-crazy, wanting to jump on him, wrestle him to the ground, make mad passionate love, then have long, meaningful conversations with him. But she's dead, so I get those feelings. I won't lie, part of it feels really great, like all of a sudden I found my soul mate, but --" She stands up and walks into the kitchen for another beer. She manages to get the cap off of this one by herself. "They aren't my memories or feelings, but I feel them anyway. I have to deal with them. And it hurts, because I've never had a relationship that comes close to theirs in terms of intensity. And because I know that Martouf doesn't really see me when he looks at me. He sees his last link to his mate. And he doesn't even know that that's what he's doing!" She wipes her eyes.

I take another long drink of beer. "Then he's an idiot, Carter. If he can't see you or appreciate you for yourself, then you can do better."

She laughs bitterly. "Sure. That's why I'm pouring my heart out to my CO, because I just couldn't decide between all the men pounding down my door to spend time with me."

"Carter, if you really wanted to be dating, I don't think you'd be here right now." Hmm. Maybe I am getting drunk. Since when do I talk about feelings? I don't like my feelings, and I don't like getting in touch with them.

"Whatever, sir. It's not so much that I want to date lots of men and have long, involved romances. I'm just sick of coming home and there not being anyone else here." Shrugging her shoulders, she laughs again, not sounding very happy.

"You know, I had no clue that you felt this way, Carter. You always seem so caught up in your work."

"Well, usually I don't get like this. Work keeps me busy, it's never boring, and I love what we do. It's way better than the space program would have been for me. But today, when I saw that ultrasound, I was so jealous of what my brother and his wife have, that I couldn't stand it."

"I know. Seeing kids gets me that way too, Carter." I close my eyes. Every child in the world is testimony to the fact that mine died. I don't want to think about that right now.

She sighs again, and says nothing. We just sit and drink our beers in companionable silence. Just two people, hanging out together, trying to ignore the pathetic states of our personal lives. I set my empty bottle down on the floor, and close my eyes, just for a moment.

* * * *

When I open my eyes again, the only light in the room comes from a small lamp near the window. Carter is sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring off into space, and listening to music that plays quietly in the background.

Seeing me twist in my chair, she smiles gently. "Sir. Enjoy your nap?"

I sit up further, stretch, and yawn. "Uh huh. What time is it?"

"Almost eleven. I fell asleep, too. Woke up about half an hour ago." She grins. "Wouldn't this be fun gossip back on base? We hung out together, and we were so boring that we put each other to sleep."

I snicker in agreement. "Ah, it's typical downtime, Carter. Sleep when you want, do whatever you feel like, because none of it seems real. Out there," I point towards the window, and the stars shining high above the lights of the city, "that's real. This so-called real life, it's just a dream. Doesn't exist."

"How poetic," she says dryly.

I stare at her, not saying anything. In the bright light of day, dressed in fatigues, she's always pretty, but now, in the low light, she's absolutely breathtaking. Her cheeks are still rosy with sleep, her hair is adorably mussed, and her eyes gleam like dark jewels. And once again, I run through the list in my mind of why I cannot be anything more than her commanding officer and friend.

She stands up, and takes our beer bottles to the trash can. "I suppose we should call it a night, sir," she says quietly. "Thanks for keeping me company."

I don't want to leave. This isn't good. Then the music shifts, and another song begins. "Just a moment," I tell her. "I love this song."

/And now the purple dusk of twilight time, steals across the meadows of my heart, high up in the sky the little stars climb, always reminding me that we're apart...../

"Nat King Cole. Stardust," she smiles. "One of my favorites."

I hold out my hand to her. "Dance with me?"

She smiles, but looks somewhat nervous. "Sir?"

"That's an order, Major," I say seriously.

With an enigmatic look, she nods, then takes my proferred hand, and clasps the other around my neck. We draw closer together, swaying to the music. She fixes her gaze somewhere over my shoulder, her face luminous.

/You wander down the lane and far away, leaving me a song that will not die, love is now the stardust of yesterday, the music of the years gone by..../

I can't remember the last time I danced with someone. It seems my feet move independently of my mind, which is painfully aware of my hands resting lightly on Sam's denim-clad hips. Court martial? What's that?

/sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely night dreaming of a song, the melody haunts my reverie and I am once again with you.../

This is a very bad idea. Spending time with my second in command, enjoying her company, being her friend -- all these things are permissible. But my thoughts are straying into forbidden areas, like how sweet her hair smells, how comfortably she fits into my arms, how unspeakably lovely she is in the near-darkness of her living room. She half-sings, half-whispers the words of the song to herself.

/beside the garden wall when stars are bright you are in my arms, the nightingale tells his fairy tale, a paradise where roses grew, though I dream in vain, in my heart it will remain, my stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain/

We stop dancing as the CD moves on to another song, and smile at each other, as shy as teenagers on their first date. I rest my forehead against hers for a moment, then she steps away, uncertain.

"Samantha?" I so rarely call her by her full name, and it suits her.

Quietly, "Yes, Jack?" I can count on one hand the times she's called me that. It's wonderfully intimate.

I take her hand again and clasp it firmly, being careful of the bandages and splint. "I care about you very much, you know."

She takes a deep breath. "I know." Her eyes glitter in the dim light.

I raise her hand to my mouth, brushing the faintest of kisses across her fingers. She closes her eyes. A tear spills down her cheek, and I hate myself for doing this to us.

Miserable, I say, "We shouldn't be having this conversation. The regulations--"

She places a finger on my lips. "It's downtime, Jack, remember? None of this is real." She smiles tremulously. "When we're back on base, reality will return." Moving closer to me, she whispers in my ear, "This is just a dream, ok?"

Wrapping my arms around her, I bury my face in her hair. "You'll get your own command one day, Sam."

She tilts her head to look at me. "Probably."

"We could be together then. Will you -- I mean," I look down at her, tongue-tied, with my heart pounding through my chest. "Can you wait that long? Wait for me?"

She leads me to the couch, and we sit down, still embracing. "You mean, not see anyone else until it isn't against regulations anymore?"

"Yes," I say firmly, kissing her cheek. "That's what I want."

Her arms tighten around me, and her voice trembles. "Jack... that isn't a good idea." More tears fall from her eyes. "Our lives are on hold so much already. What if one of us met someone? If we didn't take chances when opportunity presented itself, I'd --" She looks at me directly. "I'd probably resent you. Or you'd hold it against me, that you could have been happy, and I expected you to not live your life... I can't ask you to do that, Jack."

My chest tightens, and I sigh into her hair. "I know, Sam. I just thought -- damn it."

She soothes me. "I know. And if someday we have a chance together, I'll want to take it. For now, you're my friend." She runs a hand through my hair. "Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper. "But what does that leave us?"

Her hands play across the back of my neck, then pulls my mouth down to hers for a brief, sweet kiss. "Tonight," she murmurs. "Downtime. It isn't real."

I kiss her again. Such soft lips. "Us, one time, before we go back to real life?"

She nods, and I wipe the tears from her cheeks. Drawing her into my arms, I kiss her more seriously this time, trying not to think how hard it will be to give her up.

* * * *

It's a miracle we don't break an ankle or leg on our mad dash to the bedroom. Discarded shirts mark our path, and I'm hobbling along with my trousers around my ankles. My teenage years are long past, and I'd forgotten how exciting it is to lie down with a beautiful woman and make out fully clothed. I'm paying the price now -- I can hardly walk..

She lets go of me, jumps onto the bed, and struggles with the fastening on her bra.

"Let me help you with that," I tell her, and within moments, it's flung to the side, and I'm slowly caressing her breasts. "You're so beautiful." I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin, and she shivers and pulls me down on top of her for another kiss, moaning into my mouth. "Uh, Sam?"

She sits up and helps me untangle my legs from my trousers and boxers. "Yes?" Pushing me back against the mattress, she gazes at my nakedness with straightforward lust.

I bat her hands away from my erection. "Wait!" I grit my teeth and try to maintain control. I feel like I'm sixteen again. "Protection?"

She nods, and yanks open the drawer of her bedside table. "I'm sure there's one in here somewhere.... Aha!" Triumphantly, she holds up a condom. "Let's see, expiration date -- November 1999. Good." She rips open the tiny package, and holds it out to me. "Hurry, Jack."

"Samantha? It's green!" I look at the condom in disbelief. Whatever happened to plain latex beige?

"Does it matter? It's the only one I have!" Frustrated, she growls and touches herself between her legs, then rubs her fingers under my nose. Oh, God. She's ready. "Hurry, Jack. I want you. Now!"

"Okay, give it to me. No, Sam! Wait!" She reaches towards me, obviously planning to put it on me herself. "Don't touch me yet -- Oh, GOD!" My self-control shatters, my eyes squeeze shut, my toes curl up, and I fall back onto the bed, deaf to anything but the roaring in my ears.

When I open my eyes again, panting for breath, she's staring at me, frustrated beyond belief, and disgusted with my lack of self-restraint. Then, without saying anything, she walks into the bathroom. I hear water running, then she comes back out with a damp washcloth. Handing it to me, she examines the condom, which is no longer usable, and shakes her head. "Well, that was interesting."

I clean myself off and groan. Now I really feel like a teenager. Wouldn't this be interesting testimony at our court-martials?

/And what happened next, Colonel O'Neill? Did you engage in sexual intercourse with your second in command, Major Carter?

Not exactly, sir.

And why would that be, Colonel O'Neill?

Because the second she touched me, I came like a Titan missile, sir.

And then what happened?

Well, she started cursing at me.

And did you then get dressed, apologize for the breech of protocol, and return to base to file an incident report?

Not exactly, sir.

Not exactly. Well then, Colonel O'Neill, what *exactly* did you do?

Started thinking about where I could buy condoms at eleven forty five at night, sir..../

She takes the washcloth back into the bathroom, rinses it, then flops down onto the bed beside me. "Shit."

I put my arms around her, being careful not to put any pressure on her wrist. "I'm sorry. Things got just a bit too intense there."

"Ya think?" she shoots back at me.

I stop her tirade with a kiss. "I can do better. There's a gas station with a market a block down the street. I'll go get more condoms. Give myself some time to calm down."

She nods, smiling again. "That's probably a good idea." She snickers. "It's a good thing that we can't tell anyone about this, Jack. We'd never live it down." She rolls her eyes and laughs again. "Now, go. Get dressed and hurry back!" she commands.

I raise my eyebrows. "In just a minute, Sam. I need to take care of something else, first."

"Jack?"

I push her back down onto the bed, kissing her neck, and running my hands down her warm body. She moans, then cries out as I fasten my mouth on one breast while my hand explores between her legs. She's still incredibly soft and wet, and part of me curses my lack of discipline earlier while the other part reminds me gleefully that we still have the rest of the night.

"Oh, Jack, I -- oh, don't stop..." she twists and sighs beneath me, and runs her hands up and down my back. "Oh God, Jack --" I smile and apply the slightest bit more pressure, slide two fingers inside her, then watch in appreciation as she shudders and spasms beneath me.

* * * *

I unlock Sam's apartment door with a huge grin on my face. The twenty-something man at the gas station gave me an absolutely filthy look when I made my purchase. His expression screamed out, "Why on Earth is such an old man buying condoms?" Old being anyone over the age of twenty-five, no doubt. To which my expression replied, "There's a beautiful naked woman waiting in bed for me down the block. I'm going to have sex tonight and you're not."

It's a guy thing. I bought an economy-size pack just to get his goat.

Samantha has been busy while I was gone. Candles flicker along the fireplace mantle, classical music plays softly on the CD player, and she's changed the sheets on the bed. I walk into the bedroom, smiling at her, and take my first real look around by candlelight.

The room is pink. Really, really pink. The walls are a soft rose, the curtains slightly darker, and the comforter, which is bunched up on the floor, is a busy floral design with lots more pink, topped off with eyelet lace.

"Carter, I didn't know you were quite so in touch with your femininity. Whatever happened to good old military olive green?" I toss the package onto the table and take off my shoes.

She smiles gently. "Cassie helped me decorate when I changed apartments. I didn't have the heart to tell her no." Waving her hand around the room, she explains, "This is the result. Besides, it's sort of grown on me. And we had a lot of fun."

Without ceremony, we both disrobe, and slide beneath the sheets to snuggle together. I lie on my back, and she spoons up against me. My arm wraps around her back, and her hand explores my chest hair, idly drawing patterns along my skin. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of her, clean skin and hair, the faintest aroma of sweat, and the stronger smell of her arousal. She drops a kiss on my shoulder, and I can feel her grinning against my skin.

"So, airman. Is that your sidearm, or are you happy to see me?" She moves her hand lower, rubbing against me.

I laugh out loud, delighted at her innuendo. "Oh, that's definitely my sidearm."

"Does it come fully loaded?" She tries to keep up the seductive voice, but can't keep a straight face and giggles instead.

I turn to face her, and kiss her until we're both gasping for air. "Oh, yeah. I've got your gun right here, baby." I never was much for silly sex jokes, and we both laugh harder. The feel of her body shaking against mine is causing some very interesting reactions. "Oh, Sam."

We look into each others eyes, serious again. I can't remember the last time a woman looked at me like she is right now. Desire, trust, love -- it's all there, and I wrap my arms around her even more tightly, hoping that she sees the same thing from me.

"No regrets," I promise her. "I know we can't do this in the real world, but I'll never regret this, Samantha." I press my lips to her collarbone. I wish I could speak poetry to her, do anything to let her know what this means to me, but my head is so full of her that I can't find words, and my tongue feels tied in knots.

"No regrets," she agrees quietly, and there's no trace of tears in her voice. Her eyes shine like azure stars, and her smile is tender.

This time, I manage to keep control. We caress each other, testing boundaries, finding out what the other prefers. She's a bit more ticklish than I'd expect. I have to remind her to be careful with her teeth. But it's perfect. Sweet. We dominate and submit in turn, and there's no part of her that I don't commit to memory. Smooth skin, flat stomach, the wonderful curve of her hips, each callous on the soles of her feet. That elusive mole, found and adored. The feel of her breath against my neck as we join together, and the strength of her legs wrapping around me. The sight of her, as she trembles in my arms and groans my name just before her eyes squeeze shut and we both surrender to the power the other has over us.

Samantha. It's not reality, it can't be, but I'll never forget. Regulations can dictate our future behavior, but I'll keep tonight in my heart. God help any rule-bound military beaurocrat who tells me otherwise.

* * * *

We doze off and on for the next several hours, but most of the night is spent making love, talking, and laughing. As the sun rises, she's on top of me, slowly moving her hips just enough to keep me on the edge of climax, and as the light comes into the room, she looks like a goddess, golden and seductive in the soft rays of dawn. So lovely. Another memory to keep. Then, with a wicked grin on her face, she speeds up and soon I'm no longer capable of coherent thought, only able to follow where she's taking me.

"Oooh," I sigh a few minutes later as we rest in each others arms, catching our breath. "I'm too old for this. You're going to kill me."

"I didn't notice you complaining, Jack."

"Well, I figured it was a good way to go." I can feel her stomach rumble against my hip. "Want me to fix some breakfast?"

"Mmm." She yawns. "Sounds good. I bought some eggs last night, or --" she shrugs. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Just none of that pizza."

I grin. "Hey, cold pizza is wonderful for breakfast!"

"Yeah, but you like fungi on yours. No mushrooms, ok? I'll eat anything else, but no mushrooms!" With that, she rolls over into the pillows and closes her eyes. "Wake me when it's ready?" I pull on my boxers and leave her to her rest.

Opening the refrigerator, I rummage around and select the eggs, some bacon, and some vegetables that we put away last night, and begin making omelets, while not forgetting to grab a slice or three of cold pizza to sustain me while breakfast is cooking. I'm starved. I turn on the coffee maker, and the wonderful aroma of hot caffeine fills the air.

I'm still living in the moment. I know that reality is on its way back, and soon, but I shove those thoughts firmly to the back of my mind, slam the door on them, and turn the lock. I'm going to have breakfast in bed with the woman I love, and that's enough for now.

Love. The thought stops me in my tracks, and I stare off into space until the hiss of the frying pan grabs my attention. Well, I always knew it was possible. And I know this isn't going to be easy. My thoughts once again start to take me towards an area that I've decided can wait until later, and I stop myself, and concentrate instead on putting the omelets on plates, filling up glasses with orange juice and coffee, finding forks, and then a tray to carry everything on.

"My lady, oh she who must be obeyed, your breakfast is served," I announce to get her attention. I'm rewarded with a blinding smile and a hand reaching out for coffee. She takes a quick sip, sets the mug on the bedside table, and props up pillows for us. I set the tray at the foot of the bed, lean against the pillows, and swoop in for a kiss.

"Drink some juice first, mushroom-breath," she commands, winking at me.

"Fair enough." I gulp down half my glass, dripping some down my chin. I reach for a napkin, but she stops me, leans in, and sucks it off. Whoa. I'm suddenly ready for breakfast to be over. She smiles, most likely knowing what I'm thinking, and reaches for her plate.

The next few minutes are filled with the clinking of forks against plates, the sounds of chewing, and appreciative grunts. We military types aren't much for lingering and chatting over our food. It's probably another leftover habit from basic training, where if you ran your mouth constantly during meal times, it meant that you didn't have time to finish your food, and consequently, were hungry while your drill sergeant run you into the ground. Sam's single-minded concentration on the food is a clear compliment to my cooking -- if she didn't like it, she wouldn't be eating as quickly.

When we're finished, she rises gracefully. "I'll clean up." I watch her bare form with admiration as she gathers the remains of breakfast and puts everything in the sink for later. Yawning, she comes back to bed. "Nap sound good?"

I rearrange the pillows, and she pulls the comforter back onto the bed. "Sounds great." We curl up in each others arms, and she falls asleep immediately, worn out by our exertions during the night. After a few more minutes of listening to her soft breathing, I close my eyes. "Love you," I whisper.

* * * *

When I awake, Sam is lying on her side facing me, staring at me intently. The alarm clock confirms my internal chronometer's guess that I've been asleep about six hours. "See anything interesting?"

"Yes," she answers softly, kissing my cheek. "My commanding officer. How on Earth did he get in here?"

"Time's almost up?" I ask, knowing her answer in advance. She closes her eyes, and nods. "Hey," I rub a hand against her cheek. "We knew this would happen going in to the situation."

She opens her eyes again, looking at me seriously. "I know. It doesn't make it any easier."

"Tell me about it." She bites down on her lip, hard, and I place a hand gently under her chin. "I love you, Samantha."

"I love you, Jack." Absently, she wipes away her tears with the sheet. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can. She reciprocates, kissing my shoulder. My heart is pounding, and I don't ever want to let her go.

Reality, however, is almost upon us, and so she gets out of bed. She dresses in front of me without the slightest hint of modesty, only asking my help in fastening her bra, since her right hand is not yet up to the task. She then hands me my clothes, and I put them on. We walk out of the bedroom, and sit on the couch, facing each other.

"So." My voice breaks the silence. "What now?"

She smiles at me calmly. She's already going back into her former mind set, where I'm sir, or Colonel. If she's cried over this, it must have been when I was asleep, because her self-control is fully in place now. "We don't gossip about this, obviously."

"Obviously." I have no wish to let anyone know. One of the most important reasons is that I wouldn't want to see the look on General Hammond's face. The man can pull guilt trips worse than my mother. He might understand why we did it, but he'd be disappointed in us anyway. I don't want that. "Just don't ask me to forget that it happened, ok?" Anything but that.

Her voice catches in her throat. She's not as composed as I thought. "I won't forget either, Jack. I promise."

"No regrets?"

"Only that we can't do this again." She's firm in this regard. If it were entirely up to me, it's possible that we'd end up doing this during every stand-down. But this lapse in regulations aside, Carter has a lot of personal integrity. I won't force her into an affair that would comprise what she believes in. Damn it.

"Same here." I wrap an arm around her shoulder, but it's the friendly touch of a comrade, not the caress of a lover. "We're gonna be ok, Carter."

Smiling and confident, she responds, "Yes, sir, we are."

"And none of this avoiding each other crap that can happen in situations like this, ok?" I remind her. "We'll hang out together like we did before. You'll come with me when I take Cassie hiking, and I'll put up with you babbling on about your science projects, and you'll roll your eyes at me when I'm being overbearing."

"Just like before," she agrees. "Just don't nag at me because I enjoy the intellectual thrill of scientific discovery, and you don't, sir."

The woman is evil, I swear. "And I won't hold it against you when you don't want to help me explain the Three Stooges to Teal'c. We're going to be very good friends, Carter."

"We're already friends, sir."

I smile. "Closer friends. Ok?"

"I don't know, sir." She eyes me with mock suspicion. "You're not always going to be underfoot, getting in the way, are you?"

"You know, Carter, you really will like me once you get to know me." I echo words from one of our first encounters.

She's so beautiful when she smiles. "Oh, I adore you already, sir."

* * * *

After putting the lawn mower away, I stand in the middle of my back yard at dusk, looking appreciatively around at the neatly cut grass and weeded flower beds. It's a lovely night, clear and not so hot as the day before.

The last of daylight is quickly fading from the sky, and I grab a sandwich and some beers on my way up to my rooftop perch where my telescope awaits for a relaxing evening of stargazing. Settling into my chair, I peer through the lens, but instead of the Milky Way, my mind's eye sees Carter's face.

There will always be things about military life that won't be perfect. The pay's not great. Years of punishing physical activity have done a number on my knees. And at the moment, I can't be with the woman I love. But, I can work with her, as a friend, exploring the universe, keeping our home safe, learning new things with each new place we discover. It's not perfect, but it's an acceptable tradeoff. It's all life can offer us right now. And she will get her own command one of these days. In the meantime, I have my memories of our night together.

When I left base on stand-down, I had no idea I was headed for a break from reality, but all things considered, I'm happy how things turned out.

One thing is missing from the night that lies ahead of me. I run downstairs, grabbing my portable stereo, making sure that the batteries aren't dead. Then, rifling through my CD collection, I find what I'm looking for. Sara loved the movie "Sleepless in Seattle," and she bought the soundtrack. But when I went to Abydos for the first time, she left in a hurry, and didn't worry about weeding her things out of our music collection. I flip the case back and forth in my hands, then head back up to the roof.

Turning on the music, I take a bite of my sandwich, then a long drink of beer. Soft violins fill the night air, then the smooth melancholy baritone of Nat King Cole. As he sings, I remember as though she were still in my arms.

/you wander down the lane and far away, leaving me a song that will not die.../

We'll continue being friends. Close friends. We'll take chances on other relationships if they present themselves. She's given me permission to think this way, given freedom to both of us. Because we love each other enough to let the other go. I'd rather she were with me, but I want her to be happy most of all.

/now my consolation is in the stardust of a song../

Samantha. I miss her already. But I'll be ok, and she will, too.

/beside the garden wall, when stars are bright, you are in my arms..../

Looking through the telescope into the heavens, I smile. There's so much out there that we've already seen and appreciated. And there's always more to look forward to. The future. For the both of us, together or not.

/though I dream in vain, in my heart it will remain, my stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain./

fin.

Notes: This was a response to the "Bad Sex Challenge." "Stardust" is performed by Nat King Cole, off the soundtrack to "Sleepless in Seattle." This song was used totally without permission, but no copyright infringment was intended.