Title: "Future Imperfect"

Author: Sally Reeve

Email: sallyreeve@blueyonder.co.uk

Rating: PG-13 (mostly for language)

Classification: S/J UST, angst, romance, Sam/other, Jack/other

Spoilers: Unnatural Selection

Archive: SJA and Heliopolis. Anyone else, please just ask so I can find you!

Summary: Carter and O'Neill deal with the consequences of doing the right thing.

Thanks: I started this story in March, since when I've had a baby and written another fic that was meant to be short but grew and grew ("Counterbalance"). And so I can honestly say that if it wasn't for the constant nagging (uh, encouragement) from Erika, Sandra and Sharon this story would never have been finished! So thanks to them for reading, brainstorming and commenting over the long-haul.

Many, many thanks also go to Linz; she is the punctuation queen. ;)

And finally, thank you to everyone who has enquired about this long fic that I've been promising for months and months. At last, here it is. I do hope it's worth the wait.

Happy Holidays to all the shippers out there! :)

Author's notes: I'm going to post two chapters a day, but if you want to read the whole thing all at once (it's over 200 UK pages!) you can find it at http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable 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 unrecognized 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.

***

Future Imperfect

By

Sally Reeve
 
 

You smiled, you spoke, and I believed,
By every word and smile deceived.
- Walter Savage Landor

Chapter 1

The late summer sunshine shone warmly through air tempered by a tang of autumn chill. From across the park the shouts and barks of playing children drifted over the rustling leaves and settled on the warm bench where Daniel sat waiting.

He’d arrived early and had his nose buried in the foreign section of the newspaper, determined to enjoy the dying days of summer, when something made him look up. He squinted through the sunshine and saw the man he was waiting for walking across the browned grass. From this distance Jack O’Neill didn’t look any different from the man he’d worked with for so long. But it had been four years, and an ocean of water had flooded beneath the bridge that now separated Jack from Colorado Springs and the life they had all shared at the SGC.

Daniel rose to his feet, folding the newspaper. Waiting. Obligatory sunglasses protected Jack’s eyes - more from scrutiny than from the sun, Daniel suspected - and his hands were thrust deep in the pockets of his dark leather jacket. Perhaps his hair had a little more salt than pepper now, and his tanned face held deeper lines. But, that aside, he walked with the same swagger Daniel remembered, and his mouth was the same uncompromising straight line.

"Jack," Daniel said as his friend slowed and stopped a foot or so away.

A brief nod greeted him. "Daniel. Good to see you."

There was a moment of silence and hesitation. Once they might have embraced, but time had taken Jack O’Neill away and Daniel wasn’t sure their friendship was what it once had been. He settled for holding out his hand. "You too," he said, as they shook briefly. "It’s been a while." Jack simply nodded, gazing around the park as if it were a distant memory. "So," Daniel persisted, "how come you’re here? I was surprised to get your call."

Jack’s attention snapped back and he frowned. "Business. Laura has a meeting with some people in Bolder, so I thought I’d head down here and check on the house."

"Your house?" Daniel was surprised. He’d thought Jack had sold it after the wedding.

"I rent it out," came the explanation, as Jack’s attention drifted towards the horizon again. "Pays for the upkeep of the cabin."

Daniel smiled. "So you still fish, huh?"

A trace of a grimace touched Jack’s lips. "Life’s too short not to." In the silence that followed they started to walk, a lazy meander through the fall-tinted trees. "So," Jack said at last, "how are things with you?"

"Busy," Daniel replied. "I don’t go off-world too much anymore. Which is actually kind of a relief. I think I’m getting too old for the outdoors life." Jack snorted, and Daniel smiled as he carried on. "I’ve got a good team. And some of the artifacts the front-line people are bringing through the gate are amazing. Now we spend less time fighting and more time…exploring… we’re really making some amazing breakthroughs. For example, last week SG-4 brought back a statue from…" He trailed off, knowing that his friend wasn’t listening. Even behind the dark glasses, Daniel could see the way he was studying the ground ahead of their feet. Miles away. But Daniel knew exactly where his thoughts had gone.

Better get it over with.

He took a deep breath. "Teal’c’s doing a great job managing the Tok’ra-Jaffa alliance," he said, by way of introduction. "And Sam--" A slight twitch of Jack’s jaw was the only indication that something was amiss. "She’s doing a great job as second in command of the base. I think General Taylor’s considering making her a…uh…" He pulled off his glasses and tried to remember the military rank. "Some kind of promotion," he explained. "Something more than she is now…I’m not sure what--"

"A Full Colonel," Jack supplied quietly. "That would be the next promotion."

"Right. You’d think I’d be able to remember that."

"Full Colonel," Jack mused. "At what? Thirty-eight? That’s fast. Even for Carter."

"Well, that’s Sam for you," Daniel pointed out. "She was always exceptional." Jack just nodded, and they walked on in silence. "I could give her a call," Daniel suggested after a moment. "We could all get together and--"

"No. No, I’m just here for a few hours."

"She’ll be sorry to have missed you."

Jack’s answering grunt was pure skepticism. "Right."

"Jack, you know she still--"

"Another time," Jack broke in. "Okay?" Daniel just shrugged and let the silence fall again. After a moment Jack pulled off his sunglasses; his dark, impenetrable eyes were no more revealing than the smoked glass. "Is she doing okay? I mean…happy?"

Something in Daniel’s chest clenched at the undertone he heard in his friend’s voice; a sadness and regret that didn’t show on his face but seemed to ache in his words. "She is," Daniel assured him. Although he didn’t know if the assurance would be a comfort or a further pain. "She and Matt--"

"Right," Jack nodded, turning away. "Good."

Blowing out a deep breath, Daniel turned the subject. "So, how about you? Laura sounds like an interesting woman. I’ve seen some of her anthropological photos in National Geographic."

"She’s pretty amazing," Jack agreed, seeming to relax. "You’d like her. She’s taken some amazing wildlife pictures too. She’s just got this incredible way with dumb animals…"

"That’s how come she gets on so well with you, huh?"

Jack cast him a sideways glance. "Very good. Almost funny."

"I’ve been practicing."

Jack stopped suddenly, looking right into Daniel’s face. He gave a sad smile and reached out a hand to clasp his shoulder. "It’s good to see you."

"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "You too."

"Wanna get lunch?"

"Sounds good. O’Malley’s, for old-time’s sake?"

But Jack’s eyes clouded. "Somewhere new."

Somewhere with no memories, Daniel realized sadly. Four years on, and the guy was still hurting. "Okay. Somewhere new. And I want to hear all about your trip to Guyana with Laura."

"Oh, you’d have loved it," Jack chuckled. "Mosquitoes the size of small dogs."

Daniel shuddered. "Sounds like heaven…"

***

Sam stared over the pile of papers on her desk in shock. "He was here? In Colorado Springs?"

Daniel at least had the good grace to look awkward. "Just for a few hours," he explained. "He called me out of the blue and suggested we meet for lunch."

"When?" she demanded, not sure if surprise, shock or anger were the most forceful of her emotions. Jack O’Neill had been in town, and she hadn’t known. Somehow that seemed wrong - she should have known.

"Saturday."

She blinked dry eyes and shook her head. "Why? I mean, why was he here? Why didn’t he come up to the mountain?" Why didn’t he call me? Although she knew the answer to that question.

Daniel blew out a slow breath. "It’s been a long time," he said quietly. "Lots of changes. I think he just wanted to touch base, since he was in town. No big…reunions."

"He’s still mad," Sam sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring down at her fingers laying motionless in her lap. "I thought now he had what’s-her-name--"

"Laura."

"Right." For some reason she could never remember the woman’s name. "I thought now he had Laura, maybe he might, you know… Be okay with it."

"I don’t think he was mad," Daniel assured her, taking a sip of the coffee he cradled in his hands. "More…uncomfortable, maybe?"

Her fingers remained motionless, still callused from off-world missions and over-familiarity with her weapons. "I’d have liked to see him," she said at last. "We didn’t part well." Not that they’d argued. There’d been no heated confrontations, no accusations. Nothing. Just a slow drift away from what had once seemed possible, even probable, towards a silent ending of their hopes. Circumstances had forced their feelings underground, where the pressures and tensions of their unique situation had compressed them until they were as hard and unyielding as diamond. And there they had remained, hidden from the world and each other, as slowly their lives had drawn them apart. And then Sam had met Matt Hutchinson and everything had changed. Matt had--

Matt!

"Damn!" Sam growled, glancing at her watch. She’d forgotten the time!

"Problem?" Daniel asked, not making a move from his slouched position in the chair opposite.

"I was meant to be home five minutes ago!" Sam explained, pushing to her feet and flicking through the paperwork that was piled on the desk. "Damn, Matt’s gonna kill me."

"Oh," Daniel smiled in understanding. "That’s right, you’re off for your dirty weekend--"

"It’s a conference!" Sam objected, hiding a smile.

"Whatever."

"A boring conference," she added under her breath. The ins and outs of the publishing industry weren’t something that could ever hold her attention. But on the plus side, it was in Florida and the idea of the beach was certainly appealing…

Daniel rose to his feet. "What time’s your flight?"

"Eight. But I still have to pack, and you know what Matt’s like about being on time."

"Go," Daniel offered, waving a hand at the paperwork. "I’ll sort this out and tell General Taylor."

Sam glanced up. "Really?"

"There’s nothing urgent, right?"

"No. Just a couple of reports I needed to send. Oh, and some problem SG-5 had on P4G-439 that I need to look into--"

"Consider it done," he smiled. And although she wasn’t entirely comfortable with just abandoning her work with him, she really had no choice.

"Thanks Daniel. I appreciate it."

"Have fun! Come back with a tan."

She smiled. "Oh, I plan to."

Grabbing her coat she dashed from the room, leaving Daniel alone with her paperwork - and her memories of O’Neill. It was easier that way, to leave the memories on base and nowhere near her new home and new life. Besides, with the prospect of an irritated and impatient husband at home, she really didn’t want to remember laughing dark eyes. Or dangerously intense ones either…

By the time she arrived home she had less than an hour to pack and get out of the house. "You’re late," came the abrupt words the moment the door closed behind her. Sam sighed.

"Something came up," she lied, relying on the secrecy of her work as a shield.

Matt appeared from the kitchen, a frown on his round face. "You do realize we have to check-in in less than fifty--"

"I know!" Sam snapped, heading straight for the bedroom. "It’ll take me ten minutes to pack. Stop panicking."

"I’m not panicking!" Matt exclaimed, following her into the bedroom. Her suitcase was already laid out on the bed, and to her irritation it was half full of her clothes. "I thought I’d give you a head-start."

Sam gritted her teeth. "Thanks." She took a brief look through the clothes, and decided it wasn’t worth arguing about whether he had any right to pack for her. She’d just stick what she wanted to take on top. It was only a couple of days, after all. She turned to her dresser, almost colliding with Matt who hovered impatiently behind her. "Why don’t you go and load up the car?" she suggested.

"I have."

Of course. "Well…just stop hovering, will you? This won’t take a moment."

"You know how important this is to me, Sam."

"My packing?" she snapped back.

"The conference. Jesus, why can’t you even be a little bit excited about it?"

She stopped, her fingers curling around a selection of t-shirts in her drawer. "I am," she replied. "I just don’t see why we have to get to the airport so early and--"

"I don’t want to be late."

"We won’t be," she assured him, flinging the t-shirts into her suitcase and going in search of her swimsuit.

"If you’d gotten home when you said you would, we could have had a relaxing--"

"Matt!" she exclaimed, turning to him with her swimsuit dangling from one hand. "Don’t. Okay? We don’t have to do this. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes - less if you just leave me alone."

His frown deepened, and he nodded. A beat of remorse tugged at Sam’s heart, but she repressed it. He was being unreasonable. "I’ll wait in the car," he told her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever."

Once he was gone, she pulled the rest of her things together - remembering a good book and her sun-block - and changed out of her BDU’s into her customary jeans. But she couldn’t help the irritation building inside her, or the feeling that she was spoiling for a fight. Normally, Matt’s hyper-organization was kind of endearing. It fitted with her militarily disciplined mind. But on occasion she couldn’t help but feel stifled. For crying out loud, the man had tried to pack her clothes for her! She sighed and pulled her suitcase from the bed. "I guess that’s what four years of marriage does," she muttered to herself as she left the bedroom. Familiarity breeds contempt, and she was in no doubt that the honeymoon was over. But such was life. Such was married life.

After a silent car ride to the airport and a tense wait in the slow-moving line to be security checked, Sam and Matt found themselves sitting quietly in the airport’s small coffee bar. With an hour to spare before their flight.

"Happy now?" Sam sniped as she watched her husband over the top of her cappuccino.

Matt glared. "We were lucky we didn’t hit traffic. And last time I flew out of here I had to wait over an hour to check in!"

Sam just shrugged and stifled a yawn. Time to change the subject if she wanted to avoid a fight. "So the Hyatt has a private beach, huh?"

"You’ll love it," Matt assured her with a softening smile. "Even if the conference is boring."

"It won’t be boring."

His blue eyes narrowed. "I know you think it’s boring. You complain every year."

Sam frowned. "It’s not. It’s just--"

"I know. It’s not as interesting as deep space radar--"

"I never said that!" she protested. "And anyway, you fell asleep when we went to the USC conference last year."

"I was sick!"

She smiled. "You were bored. But that’s okay. I mean, this is what it’s all about, right?"

"What what’s all about?"

"Being married. In sickness and in health, ‘till--"

"--death by boredom us do part?"

Sam chuckled. "It’s not that bad. Seriously. Some of the exhibits are fantastic."

"And the parties are good," Matt reminded her. "You did bring that black dress with the straps…?"

"Yes," Sam sighed. "I brought the dress. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down."

Matt’s eyes widened and he reached across the table to touch her hand. "You never could," he told her with a warmer smile. "Even in your BDU’s you’d be more beautiful than anyone else in the room."

"Don’t be silly," she chuckled, although the compliment wasn’t unwelcome.

"I’m not," Matt told her, his fingers clasping her hand. "You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known."

"And you’re still the biggest flatterer I’ve ever known!"

He laughed at that. "Just another reason why we’re the perfect couple."

"Yeah," Sam smiled, pulling her hand from his and taking another sip of coffee. "That we are." And if the words rang a little hollow, she knew it was only because of their almost-fight that afternoon. Nothing more than that.

***

The hotel was large, luxurious and anonymous. Decorated in wicker and bright colors, it exuded an artificial tropical charm that didn’t quite work for Sam. But Matt was oblivious to the décor, his eyes already scanning the arriving guests for people that he knew and people that he wanted to know. As he’d explained to Sam, on more than one occasion, the networking he did at the CrossMedia Conference made half the deals of the year. Networking was everything.

As Matt hurried across the foyer to greet someone vital, Sam checked in. Their room was on the ground floor and facing the beach. Perfect. She took the keys, grabbed her suitcase and headed straight for their room. The last thing she wanted to do was indulge in the ubiquitous small-talk that would undoubtedly dominate the weekend. She beckoned Matt over from a safe distance and at last they found themselves in their large, impersonal room.

"Fantastic, isn’t it?" Matt said, at once heading for the large sliding doors and opening them up to the night.

It was dark, but the sound of crashing waves drifted in on humid air as Sam joined him on the patio. They were literally right on the beach. "Yeah," she sighed, taking in a deep breath. "Fantastic."

"We’ve still got time to get down to the mixer," he said then, clapping her on the shoulder. "I’m gonna change."

Alone on the patio, Sam sighed. She was tired and really not in the mood. But what choice did she have? This was Matt’s business and she had a duty to support him. He’d do as much for her and probably with better grace. With a regretful look at the dark beach, Sam headed back inside to search for something appropriate to wear for the evening.

***

"God!" Laura complained, as she hefted her heavy backpack onto the wide hotel bed. "I’ve never seen so many suits!"

Jack grunted as the weight of the pack landing by his side jostled him. He opened one eye. "What did you expect?"

She sighed, running a hand through her long red hair. "This, I guess," she confessed with a smile. "It’s just so…not me."

"No," he agreed, letting his eyes range over her slim figure, still clothed in the khaki shorts and tank top she seemed to live in. "Me neither."

"Still," she said, sitting down cross-legged on the end of the bed, "if I want to get funding for the next expedition I need to find a publisher who’s interested in…" She trailed off, cocked her head to one side. "Okay, I’m boring you already." She smiled. "Thanks for coming with me, Jack. I know you’d rather be fishing."

"Any time," he assured her, willing her to crawl over the bed towards him.

She read his mind. Or perhaps she just saw the lust in his eyes. "We still have half an hour before we need to be downstairs," she suggested with a smile he couldn’t misinterpret. "If you’re not too tired from the flight?"

He reached for her, as always amazed that this lithe, young body was so willingly in his arms. "Tired? I might be old," he muttered as her lips touched his throat, "but I’m not dead yet."

"You," Laura murmured between kisses, "Are. Not. Old."

And at that moment he almost believed her.

***

Almost an hour and a half later, Jack found himself sitting at the hotel’s phony tropical bar with a whiskey in one hand. Laura was away networking and he was quite content to sit and browse the paper while ignoring the excited chatter around him. All-in-all he felt pretty darn good. Even stuck in Florida tourist hell. Laura Hartstone was the best thing that had happened to him in a long, long time and he knew it. Life was good.

"Jack!" Laura popped up at his elbow with a wide grin on her young face. "There’s someone you have to meet!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because he’s huge - and I mean huge - in non-fiction publishing and he’s just asked you and me to join him for drinks!"
 

He gave her an indulgent smile. "Okay, but you did warn him that I’m old and bad-tempered, didn’t you?"

Laura just rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. "Come on. This could really be something."

"So who is this guy?" he asked as she pulled him through the crowd of suits.

"He works for Brock, Cuthbert and Smithson," she called over her shoulder. "They’re like the biggest publishers in the natural sciences and he said they were looking for-- Oh, there he is!"

Jack’s eyes drifted over the heads of the crowd towards a tallish, blond man with features as smooth as his suite. Laura’s hand tightened around his and she murmured, "Now be nice!" before launching into the schmooze she hated so much, yet somehow managed to do so well. "Matt. Hi! Let me introduce my partner, Jack…"

Frozen like the proverbial pillar of salt, Jack stopped in his tracks as the blue-eyed gaze turned on him. He saw no recognition in the look, although the face was abruptly and sickeningly familiar to Jack. The relief at not being recognized by the man was profound. But, as it turned out, momentary. It lasted as long as it took Matt Hutchinson to reach for the woman standing with her back to them, chatting with some of the other guests. Jack watched in a horrified stupor as Matt touched a bare, tanned shoulder and said, "Sam, honey, there’s someone I want you to meet."

Slowly, so slowly he could feel every heartbeat and every shiver of dreadful anticipation, she turned around. And it was her. It was her.

Carter.

"This is Laura Hartstone," Matt said, his voice the only one penetrating the echoing silence in which Jack found himself. "And her partner, Jack…?"

He couldn’t speak.

"O’Neill" Laura said, her voice a vague sound in the distance. Carter jumped, her eyes widening in shock as she stared at him.

And still he couldn’t speak.

But she could. "Colonel! Oh my God!"

Suddenly the room was all around him again, noisy, irritating and loud. "You guys know each other?" Matt asked, smooth features wrinkling into a frown.

"Of course!" Carter babbled nervously. "This is Colonel O’Neill! My CO. Former CO." She cast him an anxious smile. "He was at our wedding, Matt. You remember."

Obviously Matt didn’t. "Sure," he lied. "Good to see you again, ah…"

"Jack," he offered, at last finding the power to speak. "You too, Matt." He could lie as well as the next man. And then, with a resolve he usually reserved for the battlefield, he turned to Carter. "Hey."

She smiled, awkward and obviously embarrassed. He wondered what she was expecting him to do. "It’s been a while, sir."

"Yeah," he agreed, choosing to ignore the ‘S’ word. He’d been retired four years and still she had to call him ‘sir’? Did she really think it still mattered?

"Laura Hartstone," Laura said suddenly, sticking her hand out towards Carter. "You used to work with Jack? In the Air Force?"

"Yes." Carter looked surprised. Perhaps she’d expected him to have told Laura all about her. "We served together for seven years."

Laura smiled. "Right. All that top-secret stuff in Colorado, huh?"

"Yeah," Carter nodded. "That’s right."

"Well," Matt grinned, sliding an arm around Carter’s waist. "How about that drink? You guys can catch up while Laura and I discuss her latest project to-- Where was it?"

"Eritrea," Laura grinned, falling in at Matt’s side as he led the way towards the tables at the back of the bar. Carter walked on his other side, his arm still around her waist, leaving Jack to trail along behind them.

For a moment, he considered bolting for the door and fleeing to the dark beach beyond the hotel. But he dismissed the idea instantly. He was over Sam Carter, he reminded himself. Had been for years. And if a little embarrassment lingered it was only because she knew how he had once felt, and he hated anyone having that much power over him.

But, as he watched Laura’s red hair sway in time with her hips, he realized that perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity to finally end that power forever. Put a few ghosts to rest, and show her that she was ancient history; as irrelevant to his future as one of Daniel’s dusty artifacts. He had someone new in his life. Someone better. Someone as smart and talented as Sam Carter. Someone with a much better sense of fun than Sam Carter. And, he smiled slightly, someone at least ten years younger than Sam Carter.

Oh yeah. He was so over her. And he had to admit he was going to enjoy the hell out of showing her exactly how little she meant to him these days.

How very, very little.

***

Chapter 2

Sam’s heart was racing as Matt guided them towards an empty table and pulled out a chair for her - ever the gentleman. She smiled as she sat, but inside she felt as though her guts were rolling about in a tumble-dryer.

Jack O’Neill. Here. Now! Impossible.

But there he was, looking only slightly older than she remembered, sitting opposite her with his arm draped loosely around the shoulders of a woman who - she couldn’t help but notice - was young enough to be his daughter! Not that it was any of her business.

"So, Carter," he drawled, "how’s the world of deep space radar telemetry?"

She smiled slightly, catching a hint of animosity in his voice. "Full of paperwork."

"Gotta say, I don’t miss it a bit. Not a bit."

Oh yeah, definitely animosity. "Retirement seems to suit you," she replied lightly. "Lots of time to fish, huh?"

An odd look touched his face, his eyes flattening even though he smiled. "Hell, yeah. Laura loves to fish. Don’t you?"

Laura smiled up at him, a little puzzled. "Sure. Actually, we met at Jack’s cabin," she said, turning to Sam. "I was taking some photos up there. Beautiful area. And we kinda, bumped into each other in the undergrowth!"

"Sounds interesting," Matt laughed. "Did you get some good pictures?"

Laura laughed too. "Of the wildlife? Sure. Although not as good as the ones I’ll be getting in Eritrea."

"Yeah," Matt nodded, sitting forward. Down to business. "So, tell me about that? What’s the angle of your project?"

Sam listened to the conversation for a while, but was too distracted by the man sitting opposite her to really pay attention. It was so…weird, seeing him again. The last time had been on her wedding day, and he’d been a blur of regret amongst a crowd of guests. They’d barely had time to exchange two words, and before she’d known it he was gone and her new life had begun.

He wasn’t looking at her now, appearing engrossed in Laura’s conversation, the fingers of one hand stroking her shoulder absently. For some reason Sam found it difficult to look away. He’d always had long, elegant fingers. More artistic than practical; not really a typical soldier’s hands. But then Colonel O’Neill had never been a typical soldier. Aside from in some of his prejudices, perhaps.

She smiled slightly as she remembered how it had been, the banter, the teasing. The team. And a pang of regret sounded deep down inside, escaping as a soft sigh. O’Neill’s eyes were instantly on her, curious and guarded. Sam smiled, catching him and holding him with a look. "Daniel said you were in town last week."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Just for a few hours."

"You should have called."

"I did," he replied smoothly. "I called Daniel."

If that was meant to hurt, it did. Sam looked away, irritated with herself and him. The silence between them was masked by the noise of the room, but to Sam it was as profound as the past. It spoke of everything that had once been, could have been and now would never be. It spoke of regret, above all, and missed opportunities.

"Daniel said things are going well."

She hadn’t expected him to speak again, and looked over with surprise. His face was as grave as ever, but his arm had moved from around Laura’s shoulders and he was swishing the remains of his drink around the bottom of his glass. "They are," she replied slowly. "We’re making good progress."

He nodded, still avoiding looking at her. "You are, apparently," he said. "Sounds like you’ll be the CO of the whole joint in a couple of years."

"I doubt it," she smiled. "General Taylor’s not going anywhere."

He did look up then, brushing her face with a glance before he gazed away into the crowd. "Seems like a long time ago now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

He looked at her briefly before dropping his gaze back to the dregs of his drink. "Funny how things work out."

She didn’t know quite what to say to that. "I--"

"I mean," he added hurriedly, "if I hadn’t left the SGC when I did, I’d never have met Laura. And she…" He laughed softly and shook his head, "She’s the best thing that ever happened to me."

"That’s great," Sam replied, smiling and telling herself that she believed her words. "I’m glad." And she was. She was glad he’d found someone, glad that he was happy. Glad that any feelings he might have once held for her had died. She wouldn’t want him spending the rest of his life pining for her; it wasn’t like she ever thought about him with regret.

"Yeah, we definitely should." Matt’s words somehow found Sam, lost as she was in thought, and she glanced over to see his earnest face talking to Laura. "Tomorrow would be great." He turned to her then, smiling broadly. "We’d love to have dinner with Laura and Jack tomorrow, wouldn’t we hon? Give you guys a chance to catch up!"

There was absolutely no reason why her heart should quail at the prospect, so she chose to ignore the feeling and said, "That would be nice."

Across the table, O’Neill began to fidget. It was a familiar sight; even after all these years she could tell he was uncomfortable. Obviously dinner with her wasn’t something he relished. She flicked a look at his face, deadpan. But he’d obviously been looking at her because his eyes slid coolly away when she met them. Did he really hate her, she wondered. Did he blame her for breaking the unspoken promise between them? She remembered all-too-well his capacity to hold a grudge. All of a sudden, he was on his feet. "Nice meeting you again, Mike."

"Matt," Laura corrected, with an indulgent smile.

"Right," he nodded, holding out his hand to her. "You coming?"

She rose. "We’ll see you in the bar tomorrow night, then?"

"Seven o’clock," Matt confirmed, standing and shaking her hand. "I think this project has legs, Laura."

"I’m really excited about it," she enthused back, tossing her mane of red hair over one shoulder. Or rather, to Sam’s mind, over-enthused. Still, the girl was looking for a deal so she was bound to oversell her wares. So to speak.

And after a few more polite goodbyes and wishes for a good day ahead, Laura turned to leave them. O’Neill said nothing much, just tapped the newspaper he held impatiently against his thigh and kept his eyes fixed on the far side of the room, for all the world as if he were scouting for enemy troops. Sam felt obliged to speak. Or, perhaps, she was simply provoked. "It was good to see you again, sir."

His face flickered slightly and he glanced down at where she sat. "I retired four years ago, Carter. Drop the sir."

Despite her instinct to wince, she didn’t. And she didn’t drop his hard gaze either. "Then you can quit calling me Carter, too. It’s Sam."

He gave a half-smile, somewhere between a challenge and a joke. "Whatever." Taking Laura’s hand, he turned to leave. "Night, Carter."

And with that he was gone, taking the last word with him.

The bastard.

***

She was quiet, Matt thought the next morning, as he and Sam ate breakfast on the patio. Hidden behind her sunglasses, long legs stretched out before her, she seemed relaxed. But he knew her better. And he knew that with Sam, quiet meant trouble.

"Looking forward to a day on the beach?" he asked, breaking the ice. And then sighed; how stupid to have to break the ice with your own wife!

She made a good attempt at a smile. "Yeah. It’s nice to get away for a couple of days. I can’t remember the last time I sat on a beach."

"Have you ever?" he asked, and wasn’t entirely joking. Even their honeymoon had involved what Sam liked to call ‘adventure’ and what he preferred to call not having regular access to a bathroom.

She smiled again, more genuinely. "I lived in Long Beach for a while, remember? I’ve sat on plenty of beaches."

Good point. "Well, I hope you’re not going to be flirting with the guys this time. I’ve heard all about your wild youth."

"Huh," she snorted, taking a sip of juice. "You know you can’t believe half of what Mark tells you."

"It’s the half he doesn’t tell me that bothers me!"

Sam smiled at him, then glanced out over the white sand towards the blue dawn-touched water. "It’s really quite beautiful, despite all the development."

"I know it’s not exactly your scene," Matt agreed, looking along the wide beach at the hotels lining it like a strip-mall. "But you could do with a break. And we’ll have fun at dinner tonight."

If he hadn’t been watching her, he might not have noticed the way her eyebrows drew down or her mouth straightened into a tight line. "Sure," was all she said.

"What? You don’t want to--"

"No, it’s fine."

He was quiet for a moment, pondering. "This Jack guy," he said after a while. "You do get on with him, right? I mean, he wasn’t some kind of monstrous drill-sergeant type was he?"

"No," she said with a smile. "No, we got on fine." And then abruptly he saw the barriers fall away and she turned to him and pulled off her sunglasses. "I guess, seeing him again just brought back memories. You know, just thinking about good times we had. I miss it sometimes."

"You don’t talk about it much," he commented, wishing that she hadn’t chosen this precise moment to open up. He needed to be at the opening session in ten minutes!

"I’m not allowed to."

"Not whatever it is you do down there," he said, finishing his coffee. "The other stuff. Friends. Colleagues. I mean, there’s Daniel and Maggie. But apart from them… This Jack was your CO, you said?"

She nodded. "He came to our wedding."

She’d mentioned that the previous night, although for the life of him Matt couldn’t remember the face. He couldn’t have stayed long. "He’s a friend of Daniel’s?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "They’re still in touch."

"But not a friend of yours?" he pressed, not understanding her melancholy mood. "I mean - you don’t exactly seem thrilled to see him. If it’s a problem, I’ll tell Laura that we can’t make dinner and catch up with her during the day. Lunch perhaps. You can stay on the beach."

For a moment Sam seemed to consider the offer, which surprised him. She really must have problems with the guy! But then he saw her resolved expression descend, and knew that for reasons of her own she wanted to face him. "No," she said. "I’ll come. It’ll be fine."

Matt glanced at his watch. "I really have to go," he apologized as he stood. "You going to be okay?"

"Sure," she assured him with a languid smile. "I’ll work on my tan."

Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss. "Don’t work too hard."

"You know me."

Which he did; she probably had half a dozen papers in her case to either read or write. But that was Sam. And he loved her for it.

***

Jack had woken with the disconcerting feeling that he’d barely slept all night, and the grit in his eyes to prove the point. It irritated him. Not that he had anything to actually do all day, other than doze in the sun. But it irritated him that she had deprived him of one more night’s sleep.

He’d thought that was all in the past, back in the days after he’d come to realize that all his hopes and unspoken plans had been dashed against the hard reality of Carter’s new love. But that was years ago, and he’d moved on. He didn’t care about her anymore, and it irritated the hell out of him that she’d occupied his thoughts all night.

Perhaps it was because she’d looked so much like her old self, like the Carter he’d tried so hard to expunge from his memory. He hadn’t seen a trace of gray in her hair, although he decided that at thirty-seven she probably dyed it. Maybe she had all along? She hadn’t gained any weight or apparently aged a day. She looked exactly, disconcertingly, as he remembered her. And that irritated him too.

He knew the years had touched him, in the gray in his hair and the lines on his face. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Was she surprised at how he looked? Did she think he looked old next to her smooth-skinned husband? Did she think herself lucky not to have tied herself to him after all? Or maybe she didn’t think about him at all. He’d lay money on her not having been tossing and turning all night, failing to keep her memories from resurfacing.

With a sigh, Jack considered hitting the bar. It was early, but a cool beer would go down well in the Florida sun. He might even make it onto the beach, if he could find a quiet spot far from the whale-like tourists who beached themselves within flopping distance of the hotels, incapable, it seemed, of moving any further down the expansive beach.

Or perhaps he’d ignore the hotel bar and head down the beach in search of a little local color. There had to be some, after all. Maybe even some fishing. Having made the decision, he wasn’t the type to delay. And so grabbing his sunglasses and hat he headed out. A walk would be good, take his mind off his disconcertion and exercise his body. Nothing like a little fresh air to clear the fog.

After all, he needed to be as relaxed as possible to ready himself for an evening of small talk with the woman who had broken his heart so many years ago.

***

With a bag full of lunch slung over one shoulder, and her sandals dangling from her hand, Sam meandered along the wet sand close to the waves. The sun was hot and the breeze just cool enough to take the edge off as she passed by the frilly-hatted ladies lacquering themselves in sun-cream and baking their skins to a close approximation of a well-cured hide. Occasionally she was overtaken by spry young girls in barely-there bikini tops as they power-walked through the surf, blond pony-tales swaying in time with their perfectly toned bottoms.

She smiled and gazed out over the sea. If Matt were here his eyes would have been riveted! Men - all men, she had come to realize - were as unsophisticated as slot-machines. Stick in a quarter and they all had the same reaction. There wasn’t a man on the planet - any planet - who wouldn’t have the same reaction to a fit young body. Which, she supposed, was why the colonel had looked so damn pleased with himself the previous night, his arm draped protectively around the slender, youthful shoulders of Laura Hartstone.

Not that Sam was jealous. He could date who he chose and she’d be happy for him. But she couldn’t help feeling a little envy at the girl’s fresh looking skin, her thick hair and youthful enthusiasm. She’d had those things once and sometimes regretted their passing. She’d never been vain - life was too short for that. But sometimes when she looked in the mirror she regretted that youth was fading and that she was heading into middle age with a speed that seemed impossible. Perhaps that was why the colonel had fallen for Laura? Maybe her youth was contagious and held back the beat of time that little bit longer.

Or perhaps they were simply in love.

The thought crunched uncomfortably in her heart, making her frown. But she didn’t pause to examine the feeling for too long, turning her gaze to the beach ahead of her. It was emptier here. The hotels had given way to residential properties, and suddenly feeling the urge to immerse herself in the cool blue waves Sam headed up the beach to claim a spot for her towel and bag.

Stripping off her shorts she dawdled back towards the surf and into the water. It was cool, but the waves were big and she grinned at the sudden rush of adrenaline as she dived through the first huge wave to avoid being beached like so much flotsam. She let out an involuntary whoop as she surfaced, before diving once more under the surf.

For a few moments she thought of nothing but the sea and the hot Florida sunshine. And she was happy.

***

Armed only with a New York Times and a couple of cans of soda, Jack decided that he’d had enough exercise for the day. He could hear the muted chatter from the deck of a small bar just a little further along the beach, but for now he preferred solitude. So he stopped and dropped down onto the hot sand. Hot, but not Abydos hot. That place could flay the skin from your limbs if you weren’t careful.

The memory brought on melancholy thoughts of Ska’ra and the wedding that had never been. He wondered if the Ascended married, but somehow doubted it. They’d have more sense. Shaking the thought away, he opened the paper to read about the world’s latest insanity and cheer himself up.

But the sun was hot and pretty soon he was reaching for his soda. As the can hissed open he glanced up and saw a figure emerging from the waves. He smiled, enjoying the sight of long, limber legs and a body that looked strong, fit and healthy. No whisper-thin girl this, he thought to himself as the woman glanced up and down the beach, obviously wondering where she’d left her belongings.

It was then Jack noticed the towel and bag that lay a few feet along the beach from him and his smile broadened. Not that ogling women on the beach had been his intention for the day, but when the offer presented itself he wasn’t going to refuse.

Settling himself with a soda in one hand, he gazed out at the waves, relying on his sunglasses to hide the fact that his eyes were actually fixed on the woman walking up the beach towards her towel. He had to admit, she looked fantastic. There was something about her silhouetted shape that just did insanely good things to all the right parts. If it hadn’t been so early in the day, he’d have suspected himself of sunstroke. After all, there was no reason that he should have such a strong reaction - not with Laura in his bed most nights, even if she was slightly on the waifish-side of slim. But this woman, ambling up the beach, stooping occasionally to pick up a shell or two, looked like something out of a dream. Or even a memory. It was as if she were walking out of his own imagination, the incarnation of his mind’s most ardent fantasies. Sun glinted on blond hair. A hand reached up to smooth the damp locks from her face and she--

HOLY SHIT!

He was on his feet before the thought slammed into his mind.

Carter.

It was Sam-goddamn-Carter!

He looked around him, desperate for escape. But the emptiness of the beach trapped him. He couldn’t leave now without her seeing. And what the hell would that look like? Like he’d been watching her and then fled the scene of the crime. Shit.

Resolutely he held his ground, doing his best not to notice exactly how fantastic she looked. He was over her, he reminded himself firmly. And so what if every fantasy of the past eleven years had underestimated precisely how perfectly she was formed beneath her uniform? It was just physical. He’d moved on. He had Laura - she was young and beautiful. His body might respond to Sam Carter, but his heart was closed to her.

As she approached her towel, she glanced over at him. Recognition was instantaneous and he saw her mouth gape with a moment of shock before she reached down and snatched up the towel, hurriedly covering herself. Thank God.

He smiled at her and sauntered closer, as sardonic as he could manage. "Well, this is a first. Didn’t think you ever took vacations, Carter."

She blinked at him, clutching her towel to her chest. Not that he was looking at her chest. "These conferences are pretty boring," she said, without a smile. No doubt still pissed from the previous night. Good. He was still pissed from the last four years!

"I’m surprised Mike could pry you out of the SGC. Or are you a dutiful little wife who does what she’s told?"

"Wow," she nodded, eyes flinty, "you really can be a vicious son-of-a-bitch, Jack." Despite his best intentions, his surprise must have shown on his face because she carried on with a half-smile. "You’re not my CO, remember? I can actually say what I think."

"It was a joke," he lied. "I see you haven’t developed a sense of humor in the last four years."

For a moment her eyes flashed angrily, but then they dimmed with sadness as she looked away. "I guess I don’t think this is funny. We used to be friends."

He grimaced but didn’t waiver. "Is that what we were?" She said nothing and he shrugged. "Things change."

Nodding, Sam snatched up her bag and rummaged inside for her sunglasses. She slid them on with obvious relief. Hiding. "Guess I’ll see you for dinner, si-- Jack."

"I guess," he replied, not sure if he was dreading or wanting her to leave.

With a brief nod that was entirely Major Carter, she turned and strode back down the beach towards the hotel. He let her go, but watched every step, sickened by his own desire to race after her and apologize.

I’m over her, he reminded himself silently. I am over her.

***

Chapter 3

Despite the cool shower, the bathroom was steam-fogged and Sam had to wipe a hole in the mirror to see her reflection. The sun had left her glowing, wet hair stripped back from her naked face. Her eyes dark and serious.

And her mind… Her mind was back at that moment on the beach, when she’d seen him watching her through his dark glasses. Watching her all-but-naked in her swimsuit, his expression as laconically snarly as the previous evening. She hated that it bothered her. But even worse, she hated that it…what? Excited her? Shaking her head abruptly, she turned and left the room. That thought was one she didn’t want to pursue.

Matt lay sprawled on the bed, tie loosened and shoes on the floor. Snoring. He’d been back from the conference for half an hour and had collapsed immediately in a heap on the bed. Although, from what little he’d said before he dosed off, she’d gathered that the day had been a success. And he’d certainly been raving about Laura Hartstone. Sam frowned as she dried off, irritated at feeling a few tendrils of jealously for the young woman. Everyone, it seemed, thought she was the best thing since sliced bread.

Slipping into her underwear, she sat in front of the mirror and dragged her make-up bag in front of her. She was determined to make the most of herself this evening - ‘smile’ lines and all. If she had to eat dinner in the company of a willfully sarcastic O’Neill and his young and over-talented girlfriend, she’d at least do it in style.

Behind her on the bed, Matt snorted and rolled over. She watched him in the mirror and decided that he needed a haircut. His snoring grew louder, fuelling a rush of irritation that shot up from her belly to her mouth and turned into a snappy, "Stop snoring!"

He snorted, grunted and rolled towards her. "What?"

"Nothing," she grated, returning her gaze to her own reflection. "You need to get ready. Dinner’s in half an hour."

By the time Matt had emerged from the shower, Sam was ready. The black strappy dress Matt had suggested was hugging her figure, her arms and face still aglow from her hours in the sun. She was pleased with the final effect as she slipped on her sandals and looked herself up and down in the mirror.

"You know, Eritrea is a fascinating country," Matt started saying as he dug around in his suitcase for clean underwear. "I had no idea."

"No," Sam agreed, slipping on her rings. The green stone of her engagement ring looked dull in the fading sunshine. It needed a clean.

"And according to Laura, the people are beautiful. Especially the woman. Tall, slim--" He broke off and glanced over at her. Sam began to smile at the anticipated compliment as he said, "Do you think I should wear that blue shirt you got me last Christmas? Or the sort of green one?"

Her smile faded and she shrugged. "Whichever one is less creased."

Matt moved to the wardrobe with a grunt. "Neither are creased. I actually iron clothes, remember?"

Sam just shrugged, irritated but determined not to get into a fight. "So," she said, turning to him as he slipped on the blue shirt, "what do you think?"

Blinking at her, he frowned. "About what?"

Deep breath. In. Out. In. "Me," she said, forcing a smile. "How do I look?"

His gaze ran over her. "Great. As always. Why?"

"No reason," she sighed, turning away and going in search of her purse.

"Want to impress what’s-his-name?"

She frowned. "Who?"

"Jack." And there was an edge of interest in his voice that made her look around. He was watching her cautiously. "Are you worried about what he thinks of you?"

"No," she protested, smoothing down her dress. "Why would I be?"

Matt shrugged. "I don’t know. You’ve just been…testy since last night."

"I have not!"

"I just thought he bothered you, that’s all. He seemed a bit moody."

"I don’t suppose this is his kind of thing," Sam explained, perching on the edge of her bed and wondering briefly if she should have bothered with nail polish.

"Just like it’s not yours, huh?"

"I told you--"

"I know," he replied with a smile. "You enjoy it. I believe you!"

Sam smiled back, shaking her head. "Come on," she said, rising to her feet. "Don’t want to be late."

"No," Matt agreed, slipping their key-card into his top pocket, "I don’t suppose Jack O’Neill is ever late."

"No. It’s a military thing."

Matt took her hand and they strolled together along the carpeted corridor. "Maybe you can soften him up this evening?" he suggested. "Get him to relax. Last night he looked at me as if I was about to steal his girlfriend from right under his nose!"

Sam felt herself flush at Matt’s comment, but he didn’t notice. And she wondered if that’s how the colonel had seen it, all those years ago. If that’s how he still saw it. And in a way, she supposed, he’d be right.

***

Guilt was an emotion with which Jack O’Neill was intimately familiar. He knew all its different shades, had felt it mixed with remorse, jealousy and even humor. But today it managed to surprise him.

Sitting on the bed, channel-surfing while Laura got herself ready for their dinner-date, his mind kept returning to the brief and unpleasant confrontation he’d had with Carter that morning. He remembered the flat anger in her eyes and, worse, the frank sadness. We used to be friends, she’d said, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. They’d been close, but friendship implied a sort of openness that circumstances had always denied them. But friends or not, he knew he’d stepped over the line with his bitter comment about her being a ‘good little wife’. He’d hurt her, and God help him, but he felt guilty - which was a surprise. He’d spent so long being angry with her - then hating her, then deliberately blotting her from his memory - that he’d expected all softer feelings for her to have been well and truly killed off. But it seemed that one soulful look from her large, expressive eyes had him chewing on his insides as hard as he’d ever done in her presence. He’d once thought that she had made him a better person, and now he remembered why.

He sighed and flicked off the TV. He felt guilty that he’d upset her. And on top of that, he felt guilty about feeling guilty. Because that implied that his feelings for Carter weren’t quite as dead as he’d hoped. And that meant… His gaze fell on the dress Laura had laid out for herself on the bed. He had no idea about fashion, but he remembered her wearing it once before and knew it suited her pale complexion and red hair. He remembered liking it.

The door to the bathroom opened, and she emerged amid a cloud of steam, wrapped in a towel. She shivered, glancing over at the thermostat. "It’s freezing in here."

Jack got up and clicked off the air-conditioning. "It’ll warm up."

Laura smiled, fresh faced and rosy from the shower. And Jack was suddenly struck by her youth. He thought about it sometimes, the gap in their ages - and what she might expect from their relationship. But most of the time it didn’t bother him. She was just Laura. But this evening she almost looked childlike in his eyes. Her body was so slim, almost adolescent, and there wasn’t a gray hair among her auburn locks or a line on her pretty face. Compared to Carter--

He stopped himself with a wince of guilt.

"You okay?" Laura asked, padding over to the hairdryer and allowing her towel to drop to the floor. She had absolutely no inhibitions about nakedness. A conceit of youth, perhaps.

"Fine," he replied, returning to the bed and lying down.

The hairdryer buzzed on and their conversation ceased. Eventually, into the silence that fell when she switched it off, Laura said, "Tell me about Samantha Carter."

Jack’s eyes flashed open and he had the horrible feeling she could read his mind. "Why?"

She turned, running a brush through her long hair, and smiled. "Because you’ve never mentioned her before, and it’s obvious that you guys knew each other pretty well. How come you never talked about her?"

"What’s to say?" Jack asked, staring up at the ceiling. "We worked together. She was my second-in-command."

"Did you like her?"

"Sure."

"And you went to her wedding?"

With a sigh, he sat up. "Everyone went to her wedding. She was very popular on base."

Laura nodded. "So how come you’ve been acting like a bear with a sore head since you saw her yesterday?"

"I have not."

Laura rolled her eyes and stood up. "Come on, Jack. How long have I known you? Eighteen months? She freaked you out!"

He stood and glared out the window. What was freaking him out, he thought sourly, was being given the seventh degree! "Just brought back some old memories," he snapped. "That’s all."

"Bad ones?" He was silent. "Jack?" Her slim hand rested on his shoulder. "Bad memories?"

"Some of them," he said at last, hoping that Laura would put the catch in his voice down to some operational horror, rather than the heartrending pain of seeing Carter pledge herself to another man.

Her head came to rest against his arm. "I’m sorry."

Turning, he slid an arm around her. "It’s okay," he said, letting her pull him close. "Long time ago. I’m fine."

"Good," she murmured into his ear, following the word with a kiss.

"Get dressed," he murmured back. "Or we’ll be late."

He could feel her smile against his neck as her naked body moved enticingly closer. "Would that be so bad?"

"Hell no," he replied, pushing her gently back. "But it would be kinda rude."

She smiled her girlish smile. "Spoilsport."

"Ten minutes," he told her. "No dawdling."

Offering a mock - and very sloppy - salute, she grinned, "Yes, sir" and turned on her heel.

Jack barely managed to keep a smile on his face until she’d disappeared back into the bathroom, the ‘S’ word lingering in the air. It provoked a thousand memories, a mix of nostalgia, regret, anger and longing. Sir. It represented everything he had lost, and he hated it with a passion.

What did that say about his presumed-dead feelings for Samantha Carter?

***

The first thing Laura noticed as they approached the table was the defiant set of Sam Carter’s jaw. She looked as if she was facing off for a fight. For a moment Laura was taken aback, but then she realized that Sam’s aggression was aimed not at herself but at Jack.

Curious.

"Laura!" Matt enthused with a wide grin. "You look amazing."

She smiled. He had to say that, he was trying to cut a deal. "Thanks."

Matt offered his hand to Jack, who took it firmly. At least he wasn’t being rude, she thought, with some relief. "Jack. Good to see you again. Hope you’ve been making the most of the beach!"

For a moment, Jack’s gaze flicked to Sam’s and Laura was astonished to see something dart between them. An understanding of some sort. Her curiosity became slightly green-tinted. "It wasn’t entirely a success," Jack said carefully, his attention returning to Matt. "I got a little burned."

"That happens," Sam interrupted, "when you haven’t been out in the sun for a while."

He looked at her again, and Laura saw a hint of …what? an apology?…in his eyes. An apology? "I should have been more careful."

"Yes," Sam agreed, although her face had noticeably softened.

"Right!" Matt declared, clearly oblivious to the subtext and bored with the apparently banal conversation. "Shall we order some drinks?"

They took their seats, and Laura fixed her attention on the woman opposite. She was suddenly far more interesting than she’d seemed the previous evening. "So, Sam," she said at once, "Jack tells me you used to be his second-in-command. What was that like?"

Sam blinked. Her eyes, Laura noted, were huge. "Umm… What was it like?" Her gaze flicked to Jack, and a self-conscious smile touched her lips. A small smile, but it somehow managed to light up her face. "Well, Colonel O’Neill was a very talented officer. I learned a lot from him."

"She’s being diplomatic," Jack broke in. But although he was speaking to Laura, his attention was fixed on Sam. Her smile seemed to have lit his face too. "What she means is I was a pain in the ass. I demanded the impossible every day, and--"

"No. I--" Sam began, but he spoke over her.

"--and I got the impossible. Every single day."

Sam shook her head in self-conscious denial. "We were a good team," she said at last, her gaze riveted on Jack.

Slowly he nodded. "Hell of a team."

The silence that fell seemed to be between the two of them alone, and Laura felt like an accidental witness to the unspoken communication. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was seeing, but it was enough to make her uneasy. Whatever past Jack shared with this woman, it was intense. And it was important. To both of them. Suddenly she felt very small, very insignificant. And very young.

She didn’t like it.

"Everyone okay with Chardonnay?" Matt asked abruptly, his broad tones shattering the silent moment. Sam glanced up at him with a start as Jack cleared his throat and buried his nose in the menu. Laura simply took a deep breath and said, "Sounds good to me."

***

This was how it should have been, Jack realized, watching Carter dissolve into laughter as they relived - as vaguely as possible, given the company - yet another of their more bizarre adventures. He smiled himself, the closest thing he got to a laugh, and took another sip of wine. This was how it should have been all those years ago. Friends. No sexual tension, no desire for more. Just this.

He understood now that the other feelings and desires had just gotten in the way. Muddied the water. But now that she had Matt and he had Laura, they were free to simply be friends. Which is exactly what they should have been all along. It was ridiculous to imagine them being anything more. It’s not like they had that much in common and he half-suspected that the tension between them had been more a product of the forbidden than of any more profound emotion. Yeah, this was how it should have been. This was easy. This was right.

She cocked her head to one side, her laughter fading. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Just thinking."

"Really? Wow."

He smiled again. "I’ve-- I’m glad we bumped into each other. It’s good to see you. Sam." See? He could even call her Sam without freaking himself out!

Sam nodded. "Me too. I mean, it’s good to see you too, sir." She grimaced. "Jack."

He let his gaze drift to the bar, where Laura and Matt were deep in discussion. "They seem to be getting on well."

"Matt’s very excited about her project," Sam agreed, although he thought he detected a coolness in her voice. He looked over at her, but there was nothing but a smile on her face. "Laura’s very talented, I hear."

"Yeah," he nodded. "She’s got a great career ahead of her."

To his surprise, Sam sighed. "I remember that."

"Remember what?"

"Being young, with a great career ahead of me."

He laughed, for the first time all evening. "You’re hardly over the hill, Carter. You have a great career ahead of you - and behind you. You’re in the middle of it!"

"At the top of the hill, looking down?" she suggested with a rueful smile.

"Prime of your life!" She grimaced at that and he back-peddled. "Okay, forget I said that. You’re what? Thirty-eight? Wait until you’re looking fifty in the eye, then start to worry!"

"Oh," she said, waving her a slightly tipsy hand at him. He’d never seen her drunk before - unless you included the incident on P3X-595. "It’s okay for you," she said, pouring herself another glass of wine. "It’s easy for guys. Gray hair makes you distinguished, lines make you look rugged."

He raised an eyebrow. "Rugged, huh?"

And she blushed. Sam Carter blushed! "I was speaking generally."

"Oh."

She sighed again, and then laughed. "Sorry. Just feeling-- Laura’s very young, isn’t she?"

He nodded. "Yes, she is."

"I miss that."

"You’re young."

"No I’m not!" Leaning forward, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. Oh yes, definitely tipsy. "I’ve got ten gray hairs. And lines."

He couldn’t help but smile. "Matt doesn’t seem to mind."

Her eyes slid towards her husband. "He’s got more lines than me."

"I’ve got more than Matt."

She didn’t seem to have an answer to that, sitting back in her chair. And after a moment she changed the subject. "Is it true? What you said yesterday."

He frowned, trying to recall which stupid comment she could be thinking about. "What did I say?"

"That you don’t miss it. The SGC. SG-1. Is it true?"

Looking at her expressive face, bright eyes slightly fuzzed with alcohol and her smile as ready as ever, he couldn’t lie. He took a deep breath and fixed her with a square look. "I miss it every day, Carter. Every single day."

She nodded as if it wasn’t a surprise. "Me too, sir. Every single day."

***

Chapter 4

It was late by the time Sam sauntered down to the restaurant for breakfast. She wasn’t exactly hung over but she’d let Matt jump out of bed early and eat alone, preferring to give herself a couple of extra hours of horizontal time before she emerged into the bright Florida sunshine.

It was already hot. She could feel the heat outside beating against the air-conditioned windows, and for a brief moment she missed the mountain chill of Colorado. But the thought was soon dismissed as she headed into the mostly-empty restaurant, her step as buoyant as her heart.

Last night had been great. In the few short hours she’d spent with O’Neill - Jack, as she could now call him - she felt as though years of misunderstanding and resentment had been washed away. After the scene on the beach she’d been dreading seeing him again. But something had obviously changed because he’d met her with an apology, if not on his lips then in his eyes, and she’d forgiven him instantly. They’d talked, and laughed and reminisced and there had been none of the tension that had always dogged their relationship. No sparring, no flirting, just pure honest friendship. It had been exhilarating! And she still felt the effects now, as she gave her room number to the waiter and headed to the all-you-can-eat buffet.

She felt as though their relationship had been scoured clean. The debris that had accumulated over their years serving together had been blasted away, revealing nothing but the solid bedrock of their mutual respect and friendship. She felt rejuvenated, excited and not a little surprised. She hadn’t realized that the damaged state of her relationship with the colonel had weighed so heavily on her heart. But she was glad that they’d now reached this perfect state of strings-free friendship. She could think about him now without the sense of unease that had shadowed his memory; guilt and regret were things of the past. Perhaps she could even see more of him? Invite him to stay some time? Maybe even take him up on the offer to fish at his cabin? After all, there was nothing wrong with a couple of friends taking a trip together. And since that’s all they were she’d--

"You call that breakfast?"

The voice at her side made her jump so violently that the slices of fresh mango almost slid from her plate and onto the floor. But she didn’t mind. A grin broke out on her face. "Sir!"

He rolled his eyes. "Carter…"

"Sorry," she corrected instantly. "I mean…Jack." His name still came awkwardly, and she was embarrassed to feel a flush rise to her face. Damn!

If he noticed, he didn’t say anything and turned his attention back to the food. "Do you have any donuts?" he asked the kid behind the counter, and was waved to the far end of the bar. Sam found herself following him. She kind of fancied a Danish anyway.

Picking the healthiest looking pastry she could find (it had apples in it, at least) she cast a surreptitious glance at O’Neill. He still had something, she had to admit. As platonic as their relationship now was, she couldn’t deny that the shorts, faded blue t-shirt and sunglasses hanging around his neck leant him a kind of rumpled sexiness that was undoubtedly appealing. She smiled to herself. Back in the old days, before Matt, she’d never have allowed herself to think such thoughts! But now, everything was different.

Sensing her gaze, he looked up. "What?" His dark eyes speared her, and sent something inside spinning down towards her toes.

She swallowed hard. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh." He didn’t buy it, of course. He knew her too well, even after their four-year estrangement.

"I was just--" she began, then changed her mind. "I enjoyed talking last night. That’s all."

Nodding slowly, he looked away. "We should’ve done it before."

"Yes. We should."

He was lingering over the pastries, but she knew his mind was elsewhere. A frown touched his brow, and she was about to comment when he spoke. His tone was affectedly nonchalant. "You got plans today?"

In a flash Sam was back in her lab, a naquader reactor in pieces on the bench and the colonel hovering awkwardly at the door. Disturbed by the memory, and the emotional jolt it gave her, it was a moment before she could form an answer.

Perhaps his memories were in the same place, because before she could speak he turned away muttering, "No problem. I’m gonna--"

"I haven’t."

He stopped, turning around carefully. "Haven’t...?"

"I haven’t got any plans today." And then, in the new spirit of platonic friendship, she added, "You want to do something?"

He failed to hide his surprise, which made Sam smile. His gaze lingered on her, measuring and appraising. Then, cautiously, he said, "I was gonna head up to Playa Linda beach. Laura says it’s beautiful up there." He glanced significantly around the hotel. "No tourists."

Her smile broadened. "Sounds good."

He studied her for a moment longer, then intrepidly said, "You wanna tag along?"

"Yes," she said immediately. "I’d love to."

***

Funny how life works out, Jack mused, as he sped along the road towards Playa Linda with Carter at his side. Two days ago he’d thought she was out of his life for good. And now here she was - here they were - off to spend the day together.

Years ago, back when everything was intense and complicated and stomach churning, this would have been his fantasy. How often had he imagined that one day she’d take him up on his fishing invitation? How often had he imagined this exact moment, travelling together up to his cabin, with all the formality of their ranks forgotten? Too many times.

And how ironic that now he was living the golden moment, it meant so much less. He had no hope of more, no desire for more - this was no prelude to something bigger. It was no more nor less than it appeared; two former-colleagues - former-friends, perhaps - spending time together and mending some of the bridges that four years of neglect had left rickety, if not completely broken.

"Daniel said you still have your house back in Colorado," Sam said, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced at her briefly, but her eyes were fixed on the road. "Yeah," he replied. "Guess I couldn’t bring myself to sell."

"Never had you pegged as the sentimental type."

Show’s what she knew. "I figured one day you guys would need me to come save your butts, and I might as well have a place to stay while I was doing it."

She laughed at that, then grew serious. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her turn to face him. "You know, if you ever wanted to come back…."

His turn to laugh. "I don’t think so. As much as I miss…it… I couldn’t go back. You can never go back." That was one lesson he’d learned in life; there was never any going back.

"Oh!" Sam suddenly exclaimed. "You need to get over. This is our exit."

He saw the exit sign whip past and growled a curse as he tried to pull into the exit lane in time. But an eighteen-wheeler chose that moment to overtake, blocking his escape path. "You stupid--"

"Too late," Sam told him, turning as she watched them sail past the exit.

"You were meant to be navigating, Carter," he muttered, pulling in behind the truck and then over into the exit lane.

"Hey," she complained, "I told you it was exit 12. Not my fault that you’re not paying attention."

"You were distracting me."

"By talking? Never used to distract you."

"It’s not the talking," he told her, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. "It’s the shorts." Although he wasn’t watching her face, he could imagine her expression. And it made him smile.

"My shorts? What’s wrong with them?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. They’re just…short." He glanced over in response to her long silence. "What?"

Sam’s face was deadpan. But her eyes sparkled with humor. "You just missed the next exit." She paused for a beat. "You want me to drive?"