No Good Deed (1/5) PG-14

CATEGORY: Sam/Jack UST

RATING: PG-14 (for a few racy thoughts and a bit of cussin' that might offend some)

SUMMARY: Sequel to Because You Told Me So. Events unfold that make Sam question the future of the Plan and her relationship with Jack.

DISCLAIMERS R US: You'll recognize all the characters I don't own in this story -- they are the famous, well-loved ones. I didn't ask anyone's permission to take them out for a spin. However, once you read it, you'll realize this is a non-profit venture 'cause no one would actually pay me for writing it . (And now, for the _real_ 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.

ARCHIVE: Yes, SJD

STATUS: Complete

SPOILERS: Specifically, nothing. However, anything up to the end of Season Seven is likely fodder for spoilage. Oh, and while I tried to "catch up" to the Season Seven timeline, the events in Chimera didn't really happen here.

FEEDBACK: Both positive comments and tough critical feedback help to improve my writing. Feedback is very much appreciated and adored: tmpotter@widomaker.com

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First I'd like to thank all of the kind people who have written me encouraging notes and offered suggestions throughout this story. Second, I'd like to offer my sincere apologies for taking so darned long to resolve this little thing. I have had a friend (waves to Carmen) take a look at this for general content but it is pretty much an un-betaed effort. My apologies (and only my responsibility) for any errors that may be in here.

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"Someone said *WHAT?*"

Jack O'Neill stared disbelievingly at the General, sitting across the desk from him, a calm expression on his face, eyebrows only slightly elevated.

Jack swiveled his head around, his eyes goggling just a bit as they fell on the other occupant of the room. Major Paul Davis looked slightly green around the gills, as it were. He was also fidgeting in his chair, playing with some folders in his hands and obviously uncomfortable with the events transpiring in the room.

O'Neill's gaze turned back to the General. His eyes finally met the other, older man's and they experienced a case of deja vu as they both let out a gusty sigh.

It had to happen.

Jack had been waiting for it for a while.

And things had been going *so* well, too. For well over a year, the rumor mill about them had died down to the same dull roar it had been ever since the pre-SGC team had returned from the first mission to retrieve Daniel from Abydos.

It had always amazed Jack how people thought he and Sam had found time to conduct a torrid affair somewhere between losing Sha're, finding Teal'c, discovering that Daniel had the keys to thousands of gate addresses, and losing Kawalsky to the damned snake that had hi-jacked his body.

But he'd learned from years of living in the microcosm of Air Force commands, that the one thing small communities like the SGC most enjoyed doing when they gathered around the water cooler was gossiping about their own. It was reality TV before the Brits had ever stranded that first group of people on the island. And gossip was a blood sport that could be as cruel to the "lucky subjects" as any reality series he'd ever seen.

So the rumors about the supposed romantic entanglement between the brilliant, beautiful 2IC and the grizzled, grumpy CO of SG-1 had started as soon as they'd stepped back through the Gate after their first mission as a part of the same team. He'd been taken aback when he realized what people were saying, but he knew that to protest was just going to feed the gossip-mongers' frenzy.

Not that he hadn't ever looked at her *that* way by that point in their relationship...

He'd looked and noticed and seemed to have ached for her from the moment she walked into that briefing room and offered to arm-wrestle him. Even when she was frost-rimed and losing her lunch on the Gate steps on Abydos, there had been something *so* appealing and *so* challenging about her...

And there had been the dress on Simarka that made her angry eyes an even more intense blue from behind the white lace veil; the Touched virus from the Land of Light that had made them react to thoughts of each other with lusty aggression and define each other with the word 'mate'; the kiss in the control room when he'd resigned and the world had re-set itself in a flash of white light; the confession in the isolation room when the Tok'ra were certain that snakeheads had invaded their minds; and the look on her face when she'd sat in that conference room, bravely told him about the 'recordings' and gave him a glimpse of everything she was on a little silver box that had come from a world far removed from their own...

No wonder people had talked. A guilty little part of him wondered if it was really gossip when there was more than just a kernel of truth under it all.

Despite the now-admitted attraction between them, in the past years they'd managed to avoid most non-mission- or non-team-building-related contact. They'd gotten pretty good at pretending they were *just* good friends. And it wasn't really all a facade, either.

Since they'd identified what was really there between them, stopped dancing around the subject they'd raised in the room and admitted it in a way that left no doubts of what they felt, they'd probably become *better* friends. The honest acknowledgement of their feelings for each other had freed them up to stop playing coy and genuinely enjoy each other's company, even if it could only be in a platonic way.

Of course, there'd been a few shaky times during the last couple of years. When he or she had come home after an assignment where one of them had been banged up pretty bad it had been difficult to remain...casual. When they'd lost Daniel, he'd wanted nothing more than to hold onto her and never let go. But the command had needed them both to be more and so he'd been saved by circumstance when his will alone would have failed him. The looks and the touches that had passed between them at times like those had always had a profound effect on him. They had raised his hopes, laid waste to his fears and given his morale a boost (and, even sometimes, played out as sweet, sweaty fantasies in his nightly dreams).

And if someone had been looking for a sign during those times, if someone had really been looking to catch them out, they'd probably have seen the brief flash of a bright blue neon "NO VACANCY" hanging in the room between them. But even those moments had been fairly private or in the presence of people like Teal'c, Jonas and later even Daniel again, who didn't gossip about such things...

All in all, they'd managed to avoid any indication that their relationship even hinted at going beyond that of a good, solid, close friendship and trust that was common between the CO and 2IC of a C1-readiness rated field team. And, as the overt attraction had calmed to a more subtle and comfortable thing between them, the topic of Jack O'Neill and Sam Carter had passed from favor in the grist mill of who's-doing-what-with-whom at the SGC.

Or so he'd thought.

Jack had figured that eventually their luck would run out, especially because of the way he'd been helping to put pressure on certain sectors of the powers in D.C. who supported and ran the Stargate program management and oversight. But he didn't really think that the inevitable attack on him - them - when it came, would come in quite *this* way.

It had actually taken longer than he expected for it to happen. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while. But then, time was a relative thing...He'd learned that a long time ago. Strapped down in that chair in the Iraqi prison and glued to the wall in Ba'al's prison, minutes had seemed to stretch into hours of mind-numbing pain. Yet holding his newborn son for hours at a time had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye...For him, the wait for someone to mysteriously start trying to discredit them had seemed to take a lifetime.

A lifetime since they'd touched and kissed, since he'd held her close, the warmth of her solid and real, the smell of her tantalizing his senses, the silk of her skin tempting his callused hands to roam, the sounds she made costing him more control than he ever thought he'd had. A lifetime of barely-restrained smiles when he glanced her way, of barely- restrained hands reaching to touch a shoulder or arm, of barely-restrained urges to do so much more. A lifetime of making sure that when he got up from his desk to avoid finishing paperwork, his path around the base wandered past her office or lab. Just so he could catch a glimpse of her sitting there, that little dimple playing hide-and-seek as her mouth quirked over to one side in her concentration on a problem.

Oh, it had been *at least* a lifetime and he'd been *so good* for almost all of it.

And now, General Hammond had just dropped a metaphorical bomb and was staring, expectantly, at him from across his big oak desk. The older man wasn't smiling so Jack had to figure that he had been serious in what he'd just said.

"Sir, do you *really* think I would do that? More importantly...Do you really think *Carter* would do that? C'mon, you know she'd *never* do something so clearly against regulations."

"What I do or do not *think* doesn't really matter here, Colonel. In the past, I've never had to go beyond what I can see with my own two eyes in regards to health of the relationships between the members within *any* of my SG teams. But now I have some unknown person or persons sending me email, providing pictures, and making specific charges of misconduct against two of my officers."

The older man paused, taking a pained breath and running a hand across his jaw and up over his forehead before sighing aloud again.

"You know that I have a responsibility which demands that I investigate every significant allegation of this type. *Especially* one made against my flagship team. I cannot allow the rest of the personnel under my command to believe that I am not holding my officers to the same regulations, merely because of their past or present performance."

Jack looked back at his commanding officer's grim face. Sheesh, this sure as heck had gotten complicated so fast.

"Sir, would it help if I gave you my word as an officer that neither Major Carter nor I are doing anything even close to what those emails say -- whatever it is? That we aren't doing anything that would even be construed as a breech of good conduct or discipline?"

Jack felt the smallest of tugs at his conscience, knowing that he'd once, just that one evening at her house, broken down and broken the rules. He'd tasted her mouth, held her slim, strong body in his arms, touched her smooth, warm skin...

But that was a mere weak moment, not a planned event. And as much as he would have traded for it to become a habit, it never had...And it certainly hadn't happened again since that time. He held onto that fact and knew that what he was telling was close enough to the truth.

Hammond paused, his mouth a grim, set line.

"It means a lot, Jack. But we still have to look at this with an objective eye and make sure the truth gets published to the right people. These allegations haven't been substantiated by a third-party investigator. But you know as well as I do that in a zero- tolerance policy era, the *appearance* of such impropriety is enough to destroy a career. Or two."

"I understand, sir. Really, I do. Can I ask you one favor, though?"

"What would that favor be?"

Jack hesitated, his glance flicking over to the fidgety junior officer in the room and then back to his commander. He knew he was treading on dangerous territory, but shook his head and bulldozed on.

"I'd like you to stay involved in the investigation. You know how gossip travels around here. No offense to the Major, but nothing short of *you* being the one who gives the gag order is going to keep people from blabbing about this as if it were true. Even though it isn't."

He forestalled the General's answer with a quick finger.

"Sir, please. You know as well as I do that if this gets out, Carter's career is over. It doesn't matter if it's true or not, she'll be marked by it, long term. The respect that she's worked so hard to get here at the SGC and in the Air Force in general will be destroyed. This kind of thing follows you, sir. No matter where you go."

"I understand and share your concerns, Jack. And if it is proven to be a lie-"

"*When* it's proven to be a lie."

Hammond's head tilted sideways in acknowledgement when O'Neill interrupted him but he merely continued on.

"Neither the Major nor I want this mess to damage you or Major Carter. The Pentagon has already assigned him as a special investigator because he knows the SGC and he is a field- rated officer with no direct command interests here. There can't be a hint that anything is being covered up. He has The Stick on this and I won't overrule him."

Jack opened his mouth to object and then stopped, trying to consider the implication of Major Davis being in charge. He closed his mouth with a snap, and, after a thoughtful moment, spoke.

"I can see the point, sir. Neutral observer, no promotion interests. I still hope you'll be involved. Understand, sir, that I'm asking this not for myself but for Carter. She deserves more than having her career cut short by the stupidity of some know-nothing loudmouth who has a vivid fantasy life."

"As do you, Colonel."

The General paused, looking down at the papers stacked on his desk, before he looked over at the Major and extended his hand.

"Did you have the files?"

"Yes, sir. Those are the originals on the CDs, sir, and their data is intact. The hard copy printouts in the folder are the only ones created from the files. They haven't been out of my possession or sight since you handed them to me. I can guarantee that no one has had access to these except the experts we had run the analyses."

"Thank you, Major."

Hammond looked at Jack for a moment, pursing his lips in a way that Jack knew meant no good. He started to speak, and then seemed to think better of it, just handing over the envelopes, saying nothing.

Steeling himself for the worst, Jack opened the first folder, his eyes quickly scanning the sheaf of densely typewritten papers inside. After a quick flip through each page, he closed the folder, carefully setting it on the desk in front of him, and opened the second one.

The thick, glossy paper in the second folder was overly shiny in the glaring fluorescent lights in the office. The photo quality was poor, grainy, as if the pictures had been taken through an extreme telephoto lens and enlarged. There were about thirty sheets and he flipped through them at a rapid clip, pausing to flick his eyes across each one before moving on to the next.

Jack closed the second folder and looked up. His breathing had changed as he'd gotten further and further through each folder. When he carefully set the papers back on the edge of the desk, his nostrils flared as his lungs worked like a bellows. His mouth was compressed in an angry white line, his face was set in stone, and his eyes were blazing with heat.

"Is this it, sir? Everything they could come up with, all of my privacy they could invade? Or did they fabricate another load of crap that I haven't seen? Maybe a money laundering scheme I'm involved in? Or a spy operation? Or maybe I'm secretly married to J-Lo and raising our three adopted children?"

The sarcasm dripping from his voice was heavy with venom that, the General knew from past experience with the man, was not directed at him.

"That's everything that was sent, Jack. It's all there. You're upset, I know. I understand that. But I have no choice but to address the charges, even if it is just to prove they're a lie."

"General, please. Can I make a statement off- record before we get all official with this?"

Davis leaned forward, his puckered brow and down turned mouth saying volumes of his opinion of Jack's idea before he even spoke aloud.

"Sirs, this is highly irregular. Except for the fact that you wanted to investigate this inside the SGC, General, the Colonel would already have JAG representation on-hand, right now. If this goes to criminal charges and this type of interview without counsel is discovered-"

"It's not going to go to charges, Davis. And I know its irregular, but I know exactly what I'm doing. General, please. I once told you that *all* I asked was your continued latitude, patience and understanding...I've never needed or wanted that more than right now."

Hammond stared at his officer, a man he'd been through heaven and hell with for seven-plus years. The man he knew was smarter than he let on, passionate about his convictions, and too good a man to do what he'd been charged with in those folders. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out what Jack was leading up to.

"Colonel."

"Sir, I...I need to tell you some things. I don't want this on the official record. I...It's related to the charges but some of it in a more...peripheral way.

"I can't necessarily promise that this will stay off the record, Colonel. And I think for everyone's sake the Major should stay here for this. But I'm ready to listen if you still want to talk about it."

Jack let out a sigh, covering his face with his hands and rubbing at his eyes.

Hammond felt himself sympathize with the younger man's plight. He knew this man, trusted this man, and believed in this man's judgment and character. He deserved the latitude he had asked for.

"Tell you what, Jack. Let's talk about it. Then I'll decide what's appropriate for the record. "

Jack pulled his hands away from his face, his shoulders slumped forward in surrender.

"Fair enough, sir. I'll just have to trust...your judgment. And Davis' discretion."

Jack got up from the chair, his restless hands going straight into his pockets while he stepped to the window looking out over the conference room and beyond that to the embarkation room. With his back turned to the other men, he started to speak.

"When I came here the first time, to the project and the SGC, I was not a happy man. I'd just lost my son, my marriage was in the middle stages of an implosion, and my life had fallen to crap."

"But, somehow, in being back here on the job I found a bit of meaning that I'd lost when everything else in my life went pear-shaped. I thought there was a chance for me to get back my life. I thought maybe Sara and I could find a way..."

He sighed, the gusty sound somehow wistful in the quiet room.

"When I got home after the Abydos mission, Sara was gone, moved out, moved on. I've...its been one my biggest regrets that I never got the chance to make it better..."

"There are things in my past I'll never be able to make up for -- things I can't change. But there are some things that I *can* fix. That I *need* to fix. Before I can truly move on and be happy, I have to make some things right. One of those things is Sara."

"She and I went through so much together. She deserved better than she got...especially from me."

He turned suddenly, pulling the second folder from the desk, flipping through it. Finally finding what he wanted, he pulled a picture out and held it out in front of the Major.

It was 3/4-profile of him standing in a green field, embracing a tall, leggy blonde. Her face was mostly hidden in the crook of his neck, but her arms were wrapped possessively around his neck and shoulders. His own eyes were covered by the sunglasses, but the smile on his face was open, unguarded. The mountains, typical of those around Colorado Springs, were clear in the background.

"Who is that, Major? Describe to me what you see."

The General looked at the photo he'd held up and then back across at him. The older man's expression pretty much conveyed that he thought Jack's little boat'd finally sprung a very big leak, but he gestured to the Major to play along.

"I see you, sir. Out in a wooded area, somewhere here in Colorado, probably. You're wearing only a light jacket and the sun is bright so its probably early Fall or late Spring. You're embracing a woman, maybe 5' 9", blonde hair, slim build but definitely not in her teens. I can't tell anything more about her age or identity."

Jack turned around to Hammond, laying the picture on the desk as he addressed the older man.

"Let's play what if, sir. What if I tell you she's 30-ish? She's blue-eyed? She's one smart cookie and yet she's laughing over some stupid joke I just told? Who am I describing?"

"Jack, have you-"

"Who, sir? Please, indulge me."

"It sounds a lot like Major Carter. Which is exactly what the documentation accompanying the photo said."

"You're right sir. That *could* describe Sam Carter. But it could also describe my ex-wife. Tall, leggy, blonde. Blue eyes. Okay, early 40s but she doesn't look it...I'll grant you that it describes Carter, but it also describes Sara."

Major Davis broke in, grabbing the picture from the desk as he spoke.

"So, you're saying-"

"That the angle from which this picture is taken is very deliberate. That the person who took it knew exactly what they were getting when they took it and exactly what they could make it look like when they sent it to you."

"Sara?"

The General broke in, causing Davis to back off and content himself with listening.

"Sara, sir. We've been...talking. For a while now. Trying to work through some of what happened to us."

He stopped abruptly, his mouth compressed and his eyes concentrated on a spot just over the older man's shoulder.

"Jack, I don't mean to pry, but you're saying that you and Sara are seeing each other? You're back together?"

"Uh, no sir. Not back together. I'm not certain we could ever do *that*. I don't think there's a way back to what we were. Not now."

Jack looked down at the desk and lifted the photograph, running a finger across the surface as he glanced back at the General's face.

"We're back to where we're friends again. We see each other a couple of times a week, have lunch or coffee and talk about things. And she's...ah...kind of *taken*."

"Taken?"

"Yeah. She's been seeing this guy for about a year, now. He even joined us for lunch once. Seems like a decent guy."

"So, you're telling me that you have a full explanation for the incidents described in the email and the photos. And this can all be substantiated by a corroborating witness."

"Yes, sir. I am. I'm telling you that everything in there is a damn lie or an exaggeration of the truth. Not matter what else was going on, Major Carter and I *have not* and *would not* actively participate in a relationship such as the one described in those papers while we are in a command structure relationship. Period. The charges made against us are a blatant attempt to discredit us and our work and perhaps even to get us out of the SCG entirely."

Hammond glanced over at Davis, his eyes taking in the fact that the young man had been taking notes and was already making bullet points for his report.

"Well, Major. Seems like the Colonel here just offered us an interesting explanation. From this moment on, we're not just making a thorough investigation of the charges...I want to know what prompted this entire incident and who made those charges in the first place."

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"Carter."

She picked up the phone on the second ring, dropping the screwdriver on the bench top and resting her grimy hand beside it.

"Major, I'd like you to come to my office, please."

The General's voice was tinny coming through the receiver.

"Sir, I was just in the middle of adjusting the reactor settings. With the new liquid naquada technology we got from P3R-594, I think I've managed to get the buffer design working. This could help us make great strides in getting the Prometheus back in-"

"Is your work at a critical stage, Major? Something that you can't stop right now?"

"Umm, no sir, I guess not. But-"

"Then I'd rather have you leave it and come now, Major."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

She flicked the humming reactor to OFF, picked up a rag and dabbed at the dirty spots on her hands. When she realized the grime wasn't moving, she decided she'd need to stop in the ladies room on the way up and grabbed her BDU shirt off the back of her chair.

----------------------------

He turned at the sound of the knock on his door.

"Come."

She stepped inside, slightly flustered-looking, her hair tousled and pulling at her shirt sleeve, which had ridden up a bit. She closed the door and stopped in front of his desk, coming to a full attention stance that would have looked perfectly comfortable on a parade ground.

"At ease, Major. Have a seat."

She sat down in the chair he indicated, her face changing from the blank of a formal attention stance to a slightly puzzled frown. She was picking up a strange feeling in the room. Almost like the proverbial pricking of her thumbs. She waited for the 'something wicked' to show up...

"Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Major, I've had some disturbing message traffic come across my desk."

"Oh?"

She paused, turning her head as there was a short knock and the door to the right opened. Paul Davis stepped into the room.

"Major Davis, please come in. The Major has been acting as a special investigator for the Pentagon. Looking into some matters here on the base. One such matter, unfortunately, affects you."

The General reached onto his desk and picked up two standard manila file folders. Handing them to her, he indicated she should open them and take a look at the contents.

She inspected the printed emails and as she read, her eyes widened and her breath caught. When she opened the folder with the pictures, she stopped breathing at all.

She looked over at Paul, and he winced when he saw the silent fury in her eyes. His eyes suddenly became very busy, looking anywhere else and not meeting her own. When her eyes snapped to the General, his calm, even glance met her basilisk glare.

"As you can see from the printed headers, the allegations were sent to me via an anonymous email account. The pictures arrived the same way. We've managed to get some of our best technology people on this and have found that this particular account is run through a legitimately licensed anonymous email server out of New Zealand. We're trying to pursue more information from the ISP, but the privacy policies and international laws governing such things have complicated matters greatly."

"Our photographic analysis people at Langley have had a look at the pictures. As far as anyone can tell, they're not fabricated, not composites of other pictures pasted together."

He held up a hand, forestalling her comment while he continued.

"As I said, our experts feel they are not faked. However, new evidence has come to light just this morning establishing another plausible explanation. Major Davis and I will be pursuing this avenue."

"Sir...Surely you don't believe that we would...That I...That this...this..."

"Garbage?"

Davis chipped in the word, tossing a grim, wan smile her way as he said it.

Hammond let the silence hang for a moment, assessing the surprise and concern in her voice, on her face. Her body language spoke of anger, disgust, and righteous indignation...And it advertised that she was most probably as innocent of the charges of misconduct outlined in the emails as he'd hoped she was. He felt something uncurl in his chest, the acid burn in his stomach easing as the final piece of the assurance of their innocence fell into place.

Now all he had to do was find the facts to support what he already knew.

"Major..."

His voice pulled her eyes back to his sober, almost grim face. Her own expression was now shell-shocked and slightly nauseated. He made sure he looked her dead in the eye as he spoke with her.

"Sam. I'm sure you understand why I have to pursue this. It's nothing more than an investigation at this point. But Major Davis and I need to get to the bottom of these allegations."

"Lies."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lies, sir. This, *all* of this, is flat-out lies."

"I want you to know that Major Davis and I are the only ones on the investigative team. All of the personnel questioned in connection with the investigation have been and will be strongly cautioned that any conversations concerning this matter are private. I have made it clear that the first time I hear of a rumor started concerning these charges, I will prosecute the perpetrator for revealing secret need-to-know information."

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand how damaging charges like this can be, even if they're proven false."

"When, sir. *When* these charges are proven false."

"Yes, Major. When."

"Now. We need to get your deposition on record in this matter. I know it's uncomfortable, but we need to address the allegations stated in the documents point by point."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was alone in the gear-up room when he arrived. Getting the pre-mission preps finished was routine by now, but everybody knew it was important to get it right every time.

She knew he was there, he could tell by the way that her shoulders suddenly tensed and then relaxed, from the short intake of breath that whistled slowly out through her teeth.

"You all set, Major?"

"Yes, sir. Just checking that the test equipment is riding correctly in the pack. Don't want to have to stop because the portable chromatograph case is digging into my back, like last time."

He reached behind him, pulling the door to, but leaving 6 inches between it and the doorframe. His voice was low, almost intimate, when he spoke again but he stayed where he was by the door, keeping his distance.

"We need to tell them, you know."

She looked up for the first time since he'd walked in. Her eyes were wide, wary and...vulnerable.

"Tell them what?"

"About the investigation."

"Oh. That."

She looked away too quickly for him to see the emotion that flitted across her face.

"It's already changing how we interact with each other. They're gonna notice. We need to tell them so we can all relax about it."

Her head and shoulders slumped where they were hung over the open mouth of her pack.

"Yes, I know."

"I can..."

"Why don't you..."

Jack left their conversation there, opening the door and then wandering over to check his own pack. The silence between them was still heavy and tense a few minutes later when Daniel and Teal'c walked in.

Their greetings were met with a too-quiet response from their friends, raising eyebrows and eliciting puzzled frowns and shrugs between them. The team went about their pre-mission preparations with the conversation held to a murmur of 'here' and 'hand me that, please' between them all.

Finally, as they were finishing up, getting ready to separate so they could don the unmarked fatigues they generally wore off- world, Jack went over and closed the door. He paused for a moment, trying to frame this in his head so it came out right. He took a deep breath, and, like most things in his life, just dove right in...

"Look, guys. I know we're all in a hurry to get to P..."

"P9Z-486."

Sam supplied the number, her eyes shying away from his.

"Yeah, sounds rockin'. But I...we...There's something going on with Carter and me that you both need to know about..."

Well, *that* got their attention.

Daniel stopped fiddling with his pack straps and Teal'c stopped tying his boot, looking up at Sam then back at him.

"See...Someone sent the General some email. This email, it was pictures and supposed accounts of...uh, that is, it said we were..."

"Having an affair."

It came from Sam, filling in the words that he couldn't. He glanced at her only to see her eyes fall away to the floor. Even now, she was covering his six.

"What!?"

It came out in stereo, no less, with Teal'c's deeper voice echoing perfectly Daniel's surprised yelp.

"Jack, that's...Well, it's not stupid but you guys would *never*, not while you're-"

"Who has made these false charges, O'Neill?"

"Guys, guys...Hang on. Lemme talk, here."

The men both fell quiet, so Jack waded in.

"One: We don't know who sent the mail. They were sent through some sort of anonymous email or something. Ask Carter, she'll explain. Two: The General got descriptions of supposed incidents, times places, and some faked pictures..."

"So, what's the General doing about this. I mean he knows its all lies, right? So what is he-"

"He's investigating."

"What!? But why? He's gotta know-"

"O'Neill, surely he must know that your honor would not allow-"

"Look, guys. The General's in a bad spot. He's been given charges and evidence against two Air Force officers. He *has* to investigate this just to clear us. And I'd rather have him investigating than a JAG team. Or, worse, the CIS. Those bastards don't care about the truth, just their closure percentages."

He paused and looked over at her as Carter spoke up one more time.

"Look...We told you...We had to let you know because it has made things a bit...awkward, understandably, between the Colonel and me. And that's probably going to show up in how we act in the field for...a little while, at least. Plus, the General is probably going to be talking to both of you about...us. About whether you've seen....or know..."

Jack looked at their faces, full of concern and outrage. It was good to have friends. Their support would help to ease the tensions between him and Sam, and it would also give them one place where they didn't have to hide what was going on.

"So, just don't be surprised when you get the call. But for now, we have a mission. We need to get on with our jobs and let the General take care of his. Everybody ready? We've got ten before we have to report to the Gate room."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George Hammond stepped sideways and avoided a collision with a rapidly-moving Sgt Siler. The Sgt bounced off the wall, executed a perfect about-face, and tried to stop and snap to attention. The General waved the younger man on before he could finish killing himself by trying to halt his forward progress.

That man was *always* here and somehow he was *always* in a hurry. Hammond decided he was going to have to speak to Siler's direct supervisor. He was definitely behind on taking some owed comp days.

George turned into the mess hall, thoughts of a danish to go with his morning coffee on his mind. He'd been watching his waistline -- damned yearly physical was coming up soon -- but he had a craving for cinnamon and sugar that wouldn't let go of him today. It had to be the stress. He always craved sugar when he was under undue additional stress...

At the un-Godly hour of 0430, there weren't many people in the mess. He could hear the staff banging pans around in back, preparing the morning meals, getting on with their day.

He always enjoyed getting out and around this command without the trappings of the commander riding his shoulders. He was never anonymous here, but walking around without the stars riding his shoulders did give him a bit of anonymity normally denied him. And, truth be told, he learned an awful lot about the morale and well being of his people on these little jaunts.

Of course, this early, the only thing he'd learn about would be that danish he could already taste.

He grabbed a gooey bear claw from the cold case, plopping it into the microwave for 30 seconds as he grabbed a mug and poured a full cup of thick, bitter, bracing coffee. His first sip was heaven, sheer heaven.

The smell of that first cup of coffee in the early morning always reminded him of Elizabeth. One of the times he missed his wife the most was in the morning, when they used to spend time together reading the newspaper and drinking a pot of coffee between them. She'd always said that coffee was his addition and he'd generally told her it was second in line only to her. He missed the sound of her laughter. The insistent beep of the microwave jarred him from his thoughts of a love too-long lost.

He paused at the aisle of the seating area, seeing a blonde head bowed over a typically thick book at one table. She was oblivious to the half-full cup of coffee in front of her and the untouched bowl of oatmeal that was currently staining the edge of the notebook where she was furiously scribbling notes and equations. There was no one else in the mess, so he walked over and spoke.

"Morning, Major. Mind if I join you?"

She looked up, her eyes blinking owlishly at him from their dark, bruised-looking orbits. She looked tired, and miserable. But then, he would expect her to be. She started to come to attention, her back going stiff as she dropped her pencil to stand, but he waved her back down to her seat.

"Sir. Good morning. Please, have a seat."

She sat back down, suddenly looking at the bowl of cold porridge like she'd never seen it before. He settled himself, taking another sip of coffee before he broke the silence.

"How are you, Sam?"

"I'm...okay, I suppose, sir. As okay as can be expected, I guess."

"I know the last few days have been stressful to the extreme. I appreciate that fact and I do appreciate your patience cooperation throughout this ordeal."

"Sir...I just want to clear this whole mess up and put it behind me. I'm...angry...that someone has tried to smear the Colonel and me this way. But I really just want this whole thing to be over as soon as possible."

The General in him hated seeing a good officer charged with dubious and out-of-character actions by someone too cowardly to come forward and make the charges themselves. The man he was hated seeing this upstanding, brilliant young woman whom he'd known for well over half her life being subjected to the indignities of an investigation, being made to account for her whereabouts and actions and being made to defend herself against vague, possibly misleading, probably trumped-up, evidence.

All-in-all, checking out the details of the sordid stories that called into question the honor and integrity of the two courageous officers was one of the worst things he'd ever been called upon to do in a personal capacity. But the military officer he was knew it was better him than the Criminal Investigative Service any day of the week. He was looking for the truth, not a way to boost his charges- filed ratio. He owed these two the consideration that he could only ensure if *he* was the one doing this distasteful deed.

"Sam, I...Major, I can't say much about it at this time, but realize that since the Colonel informed us of his renewed relationship with his ex-wife...Well, I personally spoke to Sara while you were on P9Z-486. And let's just say things are going to get cleared up sooner rather than later. The proof that the allegations are false has already been secured. As for the rest, we *will* find out who is responsible for the lies and intrusion into your personal and professional lives. And if it is within my power, those individuals will pat for their crimes."

He bit into his danish with some gusto, hot sugary frosting dripping down his fingers. He was quickly using the wad of paper napkins to wipe down his hands when he realized that her wide blue eyes were locked on him. Her gaze actually seemed to have weight. He pushed pastry to the side of his mouth and took a swallow of coffee to wash it down.

"Is something wrong, Major?"

"The Colonel's ex-wife...What does she have to do with this?"

"Perhaps you didn't know...They've been spending time together. You know, I never noticed it until the Colonel pointed it out but you and she look somewhat alike. You have the same general build, blonde hair, you're both around 5'9"...The mistake would be easy to make from a distance...and I believe your similarities were used to mislead this investigation from the beginning. Which was, I think, obviously at least part of the goal. But we need to stop discussing this..."

"You're right, sir. I...I have to go. Get to work. Lots to do today..."

She had gathered her pencil and papers together, closed the book, and in a moment was gone. The General shook his head as she walked away.

He took another bite of danish, watching her retreating back. She was obviously beginning to suffer under the stress of the investigation into her life.

He knew that Jack had been working the investigation side of things in the background, calling in favors and asking anyone he thought might know about who was behind the smear campaign. Hammond also knew that his Colonel had been re-evaluating his career and weighing his options, trying to find an answer to questions that had been put on the back burner for maybe just a bit too long.

The older man paused as he popped the last bite of food into his mouth. It would be so easy to let Jack go ahead and solve the problem, but then he'd never know who was responsible for interfering in his command, with his officers. George Hammond didn't like interference. He wanted to find and punish the culprit. More important, he knew he needed to get this thing wrapped up before it took any more of a toll on his people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's head and stomach were in a race to see which one would explode first. It was a tight contest coming around the second turn, but it looked like it was going to be a photo-finish that would embarrass her before she could get to a conveniently located toilet.

She dashed from the mess hall and into the women's bathroom, dropping her book and papers on the edge of the sink as she pushed through a stall door. Her retching only produced the few sips of coffee she'd had. The dry heaves as her stomach spasmed buckled her frame, bringing her to her knees. The sound of bone meeting the slightly grungy floor in front of the toilet echoed, painfully loud in the deserted room.

Jack and Sara? They were seeing each other again? S

he rested her forehead against the hand she was using to grip the toilet seat as she felt the bile gather to crawl up her esophagus again.

The General had to have gotten it wrong. He *had* to be wrong.

But it made sense. In a sick, twisted, the universe-is-out-to-screw-her way, it made sense. Wonderful, perfectly awful, sense.

She'd only ever seen Sara O'Neill a few times. And in their short meetings her mind had generally been on something else so she'd never really noticed a resemblance between them. But it had made sense when the General'd said it aloud. They were a "type". Both she and Jack's ex-wife were of a similar build and height. They both had short blonde hair, blue eyes...

When she'd seen the pictures in Hammond's office the first thought that had run through her mind was 'When did we do this?! We've never done this!' If she hadn't known that fact, that she'd never been in that field with Jack wearing that smile on his face, she would have thought that she was looking at pictures of herself and him, of them together.

As she flipped through them again in her memory, she realized that the photos had all been the same. No matter what the shot, and there had been several locations other than the mountain shots, the photographer had been careful to always catch the woman with her back to the camera, or her face dipped to one side, or standing in silhouette, against a backing light source, making her features nearly indistinguishable.

She felt a jagged wave of shame run through her as she realized that she envied the woman in those pictures. Jack had looked so happy, his face open and unguarded, his smile wide and backed by silent laughter. She *wanted* to be that woman, would have traded most things in her life to be that woman.

But she wasn't.

It was Sara. He had been "seeing" Sara.

In some ways, it wasn't unexpected.

They'd been married. They would always have between them the memory and the emotional ties of having created and lost a child together. And Sam knew enough of their past to know that Sara O'Neill hadn't left her husband because she didn't love him anymore. She'd left him because he couldn't forgive himself for the death of their child and he couldn't continue to forgive her for loving him, in spite of it.

Sam spit a last mouthful of bile into the bowl and wiped her mouth with a short length of thin, rough toilet paper. A quick self- inventory told her that the worst was probably over so she concentrated on keeping her stomach in its place and pushing herself back to her feet.

Jack had given her a promise. It had been almost two years ago, but he had held her in a fierce hug, with her mouth still burning from his kiss and jags of lightening bouncing across her senses, and whispered to her in a tight, harsh voice.

"Hold onto this. No matter what you might think is happening in the future, hold onto this."

She'd believed him then and she wanted to believe in him now.

She'd spent the time since he'd said those words as they'd agreed that night. Staying away from him, almost never seeing him except for their missions, and maintaining only professional contact was difficult in the extreme. But she'd continued on as she had before that night, taking a small measure of secret pleasure in even the job-related time they spent together. She was just as dedicated to her work as ever. Her life had gone on, pretty much the same as it ever had. Their relationship had gone on, much the same as it ever had.

Except that now she knew that her awareness of him was not unreciprocated. It wasn't an overactive imagination that led her to feel him, like a vibration in her bones, no matter where they were inside the SGC complex or on another planet. He did sneak glances her way. He did make jokes and look to her for a grin. He did look at her, sometimes from across a campfire or from the inside of the tent, a hunger burning in his eyes that made her stomach jump like frogs in a pond.

She knew he had honestly been working on a Plan for their future. She trusted him enough to accept on faith that he was working on arrangements so that they could be together.

But something must have changed. If he'd been seeing Sara...

This wasn't her first time playing the game, as it were. She'd been in love before and she knew that sometimes things got lost. When circumstance and fate combined to make it impossible to be with the person you felt was your soul mate, the feelings sometimes got lost or faded away. If you were really lucky, they transmogrified into a warm memory of what might have been. She'd had it happen that way a few times in her own life when she was younger. But sometimes those feelings were forever a raw reminder of what could never be. That loss had been a foreshadowing of what it would be like to lose Jack right now.

And yet, she knew that what was between them had not ceased to exist. At least not for her. The sizzle of awareness he'd set off in her when they'd met was still there, deep and low in her belly, a burning ember just waiting for the right aerobic conditions to burst into something more...

He seemingly still enjoyed the time they spent together. He still joked with her the same way, he still smiled at her sometimes when no one else could see, he still made her ache to touch him at times when they'd lost another comrade. It was still all there for her -- the sheer enjoyment of being around him, trading quips, solving puzzles, saving the world...

Nothing had changed for her. But what about him? Had he decided that there was never going to be a time for the two of them together? Had his Plan fallen through? Or had he simply given up on the almost impossible and decided to embrace a different future? Had he met Sara on the street and remembered those feelings of love again, fallen for her all over again, recapturing the good memories of the past they'd had together?

He wouldn't be the first man to ever have fallen back in love with his former life and wife.

She ran cool water into the sink she'd plugged with a paper towel. Immersing her hands to just above the wrists, she took another paper towel and soaked it in the cold stream coming from the spigot, pressing a bit of water out before leaning forward and applying it to the back of her neck.

After a few minutes spent braced weakly over the sink, her head and aching stomach stopped churning, giving her a chance to swallow and taste the acrid fire burning in her throat. She unplugged the sink and ran water in her hands, sipping and spitting to rid herself of the sick taste in her mouth. Unfortunately, washing away the physical signs of her illness didn't do much to abate the aching bruise on her heart. She needed to figure out what to do about all of this...

If she asked him about Sara what would he say?

Would he confirm her worst fears and tell her he'd been mistaken about what was between them? That he'd realized it was all some sort of huge mistake and had made a decision to stop fighting for the impossible? Would he tell her that he'd gotten tired of waiting and if she wasn't willing to give up anything to be with him, he'd find someone else to be with? Would he regale her with the tale of how he'd bumped into Sara at the local Starbuck's and they'd gone for coffee and ended up spending the next X-number of days and nights together?

She shuddered and swallowed bile again.

She didn't want to lose faith in his promises. But they had been made so long ago. And in all of that time, she and he had never been back to revisit the future they'd discussed that night. Not once had they talked about that night and what was between them.

She remembered it in loving Technicolor detail and every once in a while she caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes that made her think he did, too. But maybe she was the only one who woke sweating at night, flashes of that kiss in the kitchen having been transformed into so much more by a mind too long left wondering and a body that yearned not just for release but for the taste, the smell, the texture of *him*.

Maybe she was the only one who felt that they were worth waiting for. But he'd never given her any indications that he'd moved on, leaving them behind. Maybe Jack *had* decided at some point that what was between the two of them was over. She knew she would only blame herself if that were true. For the last two years, heck for the last *five* years, they'd lived in limbo. She'd never tried to move their relationship forward but, then he hadn't either. Maybe Jack had looked back at his past and found something that would work for him there. It was a bitter pill to swallow, thinking about Jack with someone else. But she realized that he may have decided he wasn't waiting for her any more.

If it was what he wanted...she couldn't stop him. If Jack wanted to move on, she wouldn't hold him with her.

She'd be happy for him. She owed him that much. She loved him that much. She genuinely wanted him to be happy, even if that happiness didn't include her.

The small, childish part of her psyche that had never liked sharing her toys with her brother screamed for her attention. Noble thoughts of how good it would be for him to be happy were all fine and good...

But damn it all to Hell! He could have told her before now!

He could have told her that he'd decided things weren't going to work out for them. Could have told her that he was giving up on them. Somehow, he *should* have told her. Even if it was a painful thing to do, he owed her the honesty just as she owed it to him. She might one day be able to forgive him for falling in love with someone else. But she might never forgive herself for being deluded into believing that waiting all of this time for something to change had been enough...

But if he wanted Sara, she couldn't go on with her delusion. She'd work things out with him, and end this.

Soon.

----------------------------

The briefing for the newest group of SG team candidates had been long and boring. Jack had spent the time when he wasn't giving his part of the spiel avoiding staring at Carter in her snazzy business suit. Looking around the borrowed NORAD Battle Theater, he spent his time playing "Guess the Country and Service".

Despite the fact that all of these applicants were military, the General had mandated that the initial briefings for all applicants be attended in civilian business garb. The command had been recruiting personnel for a while and on the calls for experienced personnel to the Services in the US and other Nations with knowledge of the Gate, they had found that there were less...issues...between the various Nationalities and Services if the eager beavers showed up out of uniform.

Less chances of the squids and ground-pounders getting into a "whose are bigger" contest while the jarheads and flyboys took bets on who would win the ensuing scuffle. And the problems between certain Nations were beyond even that, bordering on the dangerous when they mixed together in an overheated room and the testosterone and adrenaline cocktails got to flowing in their veins...

But whenever he attended these things, Jack always tried to pick who would be the "winners" just from watching them. He knew from reading their personnel jackets this time that they were a mixed bunch. A handful of Navy Seals and Air Force Special Forces, a few Army Airborne and even a Ranger and a couple of Marine Force Recon had shown up in this particular group. Along with the American forces came three Russian Army and three Russian Navy Spetsnaz, an interesting quad from the Royal Marines and a brace from the British Commando units accompanied a couple of Elite Forces Australians and three Canadian Special Service.

They were the best-of-the-best that the armed services of the currently informed Nations had to offer. Their physical endurance and mental prowess were beyond that of "average" soldiers, just by definition of their special service organizations.

Despite all of this, the fact remained that even with this talented group, only about half of the candidates would make it through to the end of the training program and of that half only a handful would have the right stuff for the SGC. Not everyone in this world was cut out to handle first contact or even follow-up encounters with unknown aliens, cultures, and indeterminate threats. Too many were interested in what Teal'c referred to as 'neutralize all possible threats and then determine intention' -- AKA, shoot first, ask questions later.

That didn't work well when you were looking to make new friends.

Despite the failure rate for candidates, it seemed that the SGC had become a higher benchmark for the special operations troops of a few informed Nations. At the top of the heap of places where the talented folks wanted to work wasn't a bad position for the SGC to be, but the increasing volume of possible candidates made assessing the right ones for the Command's growing needs and wants a bit more difficult.

Jack had honestly been shocked when the memo had arrived, informing him that it was SG-1's turn to play "Master Yoda" again. He could have sworn that it was only yesterday they were escorting a group of Academy snot-noses through to the Alpha site...

He shook his head, sighing over the memory, and glanced across to where Sam was caught up in conversation with five or six of the hotshots who'd just blown into town. No matter where they were from, the Special Ops boys always assumed that the blonde Major had to be some decorative office drone, put into the briefings just to pump up the eye-candy factor. The fact that she would wear those business suits with the short skirts, and the fact that those tremendous legs and the beautifully cut suits showed her off to her best advantage, didn't help to dismiss that impression.

But Jack knew that her long legs, wide smile, and blue eyes were, like many other beautiful things in Nature, a Siren's call, a lure. Those shining eyes and pearly whites brought the foolish to their doom -- three weeks of being taught the lessons of off-world first- contact and surviving Jaffa combat directed in part by the owner of those killer legs. It would take the smart ones less time than the three weeks to figure out that she could out- think, out-strategize, and out-maneuver almost every single one of them.

He ambled over to where they were standing, ignoring the tug at his pride and a sense of male possessiveness he was surprised he still had as they buzzed around her like flies drawn to the sweetest honey. She did look stunning in the austere black suit with the lacy top of the ice blue shell peeking out from under the severely-pressed jacket.

He glanced around the circle of men and paused. For crying out loud -- why was it that these guys were always buff, brawny, toothpaste and beer ad models?! He didn't remember any of his Special Forces comrades looking like something off of the cover of GQ magazine...But these guys were definitely of the eye-catching variety if the comments he'd overheard from several of Janet's nurses meant anything.

Tasty was such a descriptive word.

Maybe not when applied to the beefcake in front of him, but it really did describe Samantha Carter in full professional mode.

He resisted the urge to touch her shoulder, but only just. He found himself wanting to touch her just to demonstrate how well he knew her, to establish his relationship with her. A dark, childish part of him freely admitted that he really just wanted to get one of her killer smiles. Wanted her to give him her favor so he could look around at the suave and debonair young bucks while he still basked in the glow of it, his glance telling each and every one of them that she was his, they had no chance. And if the low hum he let out as he approached them sounded an awful lot like a growl, all the better to warn the other men that if they didn't want to lose appendages they would back away.

Now.

She'd kill him slowly for even thinking of it, he knew. So he schooled his features into a more neutral, slightly less vicious look and entered the conversation with a polite smile and a small nod.

"Major. Gentlemen. Hey, don't you fellas need to go on to the physical exam portion of the in-brief?"

Nodded heads and a couple of heavily accented 'Hope to see you later' comments directed at Sam saw them finally leave. He turned to watch them go and couldn't resist a parting comment.

"You boys have fun now. Mention my name to ol' Doc Fraiser. She likes me. You'll probably get your choice of lollipop flavors."

Turning back to her, he caught the ghost of a smile on her lips and felt his own wane a bit as he realized something was bothering her. The shadows in her eyes and the tightness in her movements spoke to him louder than words. He let her precede him out the door, waiting for her to grab her stack of papers and the pen from the end of the table at the front of the briefing theater.

Walking three paces behind her down the hall, he made a quick survey of that long, lithe figure and acknowledged that the new boys sure knew spectacular when they saw it. He didn't blame them for their attentions but a smug little voice in the back of his head kept repeating that they'd never make any time with the woman in front of him.

Stepping into the elevator with her, he made a quick time-check and noted that his stomach hadn't been lying when it had rumbled twenty minutes ago. A chance for a meal with her as company was too good to pass up...And maybe he could find out what was bothering her...

"Can I interest you in a late lunch, Carter?"

She glanced over at him, then down at her own watch before meeting his eyes again. Their blue was icy and bleak, not warm and inviting as he had hoped. The hard, cold glance emphasized her surgically precise diction when she spoke.

"No, sir. Thank you, sir. I have test plans to finish before we start with the new recruits on Wednesday, sir."

Whoa! Was that ice forming on the elevator control panel?

"C'mon, Carter. You gotta eat. Just grab a quick meal down in the mess and you'll be back with your doohickeys in a half hour, tops."

"Sir, I really need to finish those plans. Without them Siler can't continue testing the new configuration on the naquada generator. And it is important that we make those modifications as soon as possible, sir. So, unless eating with you is an order..."

Oh, yeah. That was ice, all right. He felt frostbite creeping in on his hands and...other extremities. What the *hell* had he done to warrant this?!

He hadn't been around her at all much lately, except on missions. And those had been going like clockwork. They'd been operating as a well-oiled machine of CO and 2IC every time they were in the field.

So why the static all of a sudden?

"No, Major. That is *definitely not* an order. I would never *order* a subordinate to sit and have a meal with me. You-"

He took a deep breath, letting the flash of anger that had heated his words drain away and allowing the hurt show in his eyes as they locked onto her own cool glance.

"What is your-"

He shut up as the elevator stopped and several contractors and a couple of airmen stepped on. The doors shut and the usual odd-quiet that assailed elevators the world over was complicated by the tension singing between the two officers. As they stopped at 19, she stepped around the men in front of her and off the elevator without a comment or a backwards glance.

He growled deep in his throat, causing two of the men to edge away from him. No one dared to speak for the rest of the ride to the mess level.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel was in the mess hall, sitting with Teal'c when Jack stalked in. He broke off what he was saying and gestured for Teal'c to turn and look for himself.

Jack was in a dark charcoal suit, and something about it made him look somehow taller and much more imposing than he normally did when he was slouching around in the more serviceable fatigues or BDUs that he usually wore. Maybe it was the way the jacket made his shoulders look wider, maybe it was the fact that it was so sharply tailored to the other man's lanky frame, or maybe it was the burgundy "power tie" that Cassie had given him for his birthday last year...

Or maybe it had nothing to do with the suit. Daniel watched the short, jerky, impatient motions Jack made as he worked his way through the serving lane. Every line in his body was taut and tense. Even from this far away, Daniel could tell he was upset. Not just angry. Spitting mad, mad as hell, mad enough that it fairly jumped from him in irritated sparks.

If Jack'd had a hockey stick in his hand, Daniel would be looking to move his car someplace far, far away right about now...

Daniel continued to eat his salad, glancing up to see his friend stomp towards the table with his lunch on a tray. He and Teal'c slid their chairs to one side, making room for Jack to plop down on the third side of the little table.

Without a word to either man, Jack picked up his fork and dug into his meal. Daniel looked at Teal'c across from him, feeling his own eyebrow mimicking his large friend's by climbing his forehead.

"So...Jack."

He grunted in response, not even looking up. He didn't pause in shoveling forkfuls of food into his mouth.

"How'd the briefing go?"

Grunt.

"What of the new trainees, O'Neill?"

Grunt.

Teal'c and Daniel's eyes met and Daniel shrugged. They both went back to their lunches, ignoring the fact that they were being ignored.

"What's wrong with her?"

His voice came out of nowhere and was seemingly related to nothing else that had been said. Teal'c looked to Daniel for answers, finding none in the other man's face.

"Who, O'Neill?"

"Carter."

"SamanthaCarter is ill?"

"No. Not sick. She's...angry."

"At you?"

Jack finally looked up, leaning back in his chair, dropping his fork with a clatter and pushing the remaining food on the paper plate away from in front of him.

"I dunno. We were fine on Thursday, after the mission to P-whatever..."

"Mactan."

Daniel chipped in the native name that made it easier for him to remember.

"Yeah, Mactan. We were fine right after that. You remember, we got back in time for lunch and then we all had dinner that night at O'Malley's? She won us beer money sharking pool..."

"Yeah, Jack. We remember. What happened since then?"

His hands flew out to his sides and his shoulders shrugged in eloquent denial.

"Nothing! I dunno. I mean, I didn't even see her on Friday. I just saw her this morning in the briefing and suddenly she's spitting mad. Practically accused me of ordering her to eat lunch with me when I asked if she wanted to grab a bite!"

"That...doesn't sound like Sam."

Daniel's voice paused as he stared holes through Jack, trying to figure out what had gone wrong between his two friends since yesterday.

"You two didn't have words, did you?"

"No! I...we...Words? Words over what?!"

"I don't know. The Tok'ra. How much time she's spending in the lab? The mission report for Genros that she didn't write for you. What's happening with the General...I mean, there's lots of things going on with you two."

"Daniel, we have *not* been arguing. Though, if I'd known she didn't finish that Genros report, I woulda' yelled at her. But, no, we didn't and, no, I didn't. She's just suddenly seriously ticked this morning."

Daniel shrugged, letting it go as Paul Davis walked up to their table.

"Colonel, Dr. Jackson, Teal'c."

"Hello, Major. Have a seat."

Daniel pulled his own empty plate towards himself, making room for Paul to offload his tray and have a seat at the table.

Davis looked around for a moment, taking in the scowl on the Colonel's face and the puzzled expressions on the other two. He shrugged, his expression nothing but neutral, and took a bite of the casserole from his plate...And fairly exploded in a fit of coughing and gagging as the flavor and consistency of heated kindergarten paste hit the back of his throat. He choked the mouthful down, swallowing half of his bottle of tomato juice in the process.

"Ahg, gah!"

He wiped the napkin across his outstretched tongue, as if he could wipe the taste from his mouth. His expression was pure disgust.

"That is..."

"Disgusting? I know."

Daniel motioned at his own plate and then over at Teal'c's.

"Tuesday's always salad day for us 'cause it's tuna noodle day. Only the truly insane and Siler chance the tuna noodle here."

Davis glanced over at the Jack's plate, noticing the half-eaten pile of tuna noodle there. He glanced up into a thunderous expression in Jack's eyes and decided to forgo comment.

Davis' eyes darted away from Jack's, looking around nervously, Daniel thought, for something else to land upon.

"How are *things*, Major?"

It was a growl but not the worst Daniel'd ever heard from the Jack.

"Actually, I went looking for you earlier. I wanted to talk to you, give you a status report..."

Davis paused as he glanced over at Teal'c and Daniel, who had slightly puzzled looks on their faces. His eyes snapped back to Jack, caught by the motion when the Colonel nodded his head.

"Go on, Davis. It's okay. We have no secrets on my team."

"Umm, the General spoke with your wife on Thursday morning while you were gone, sir. She's confirmed everything you told us. So, now it's just getting through documenting the formalities to get that plus the information we've gathered from depositions here at the SGC submitted as evidence and get the whole matter cleared up."

Jack's eyes cut to Teal'c and then over to Daniel. He opened his mouth to say something and then Davis spoke again. At his words, Jack went suddenly still.

"Oh, and, sir? The General already told Major Carter that everything's going to be okay now that we've confirmed everything with Mrs. O'Neill. Your wife provided some very specific details in her account and I don't think..."

Davis trailed off as he registered the look on the Colonel's face. The other man's mouth was dropping open, his eyes were slightly bulged, and his complexion had run to a dangerous purply-red. If he'd still been eating, Davis would have reached over to whack O'Neill on the back to dislodge whatever it was that had gotten stuck. As it was, he got the feeling he might want to stay out of the Colonel's reach...

"You spoke to Carter about Sara?"

"Well, uh...No sir. I mean yes sir. The General did. He told me that he saw th-."

"When?"

It was a deep, rumbling growl of a question.

"Ummm...It was Friday morning, I think. He told me this morning before the new recruit meeting. I didn't really ask..."

Jack looked over at Daniel as the Major's voice stumbled to a halt. Daniel had seen the dawning horror register on Jack's features and now he saw a realization in his eyes. O'Neill got up from the table without warning, obviously on auto-pilot, muttering about something the entire time.

"I...gotta talk...to the General first, then her..."

Daniel looked at Teal'c, who returned his raised eyebrow and shrug with an impassive look. With a furrowed brow, he turned to Davis, the question clear on his face.

Davis threw his hands up, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders at the same time.

"Don't ask me! I didn't even know about the tuna noodle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ StupidStupidStupid!!

That little scene in the elevator had been one of the dumbest things she'd done in a very long time. Sam slammed her lab door behind her, making more noise than she'd intended but still not relieving her ire. She unbuttoned the confining suit jacket, abandoning it on the back of her chair as she paced the expanse of the lab.

She'd sworn she was not going to be angry. She'd worked all weekend on convincing herself that she wasn't angry. She'd spent most of her time trying to figure out what this new information about Jack and Sara meant. And had come to the conclusion that the reality of her relationship with her CO was that it had been doomed between them before it had ever really started.

She'd cried and she'd fumed, imagining all sorts of melodramatic scenes that ended alternately in her slapping his face and walking away and him begging her to take him back. She knew that the truth was going to lie somewhere in the middle. She'd promised herself that she was not going to let him see just how upset she was about him seeing Sara again.

She'd tried to convince herself that she could still be his friend. That she could be just a work colleague. That she could be professional and leave her personal feelings at the entrance to the mountain every day. That she could turn this into a warm what might have been.

And then, on the very first chance she'd had to act like a friend, to be happy for him and for Sara, she'd behaved like a jealous wife who'd just walked in on her man groping another woman. She'd practically snapped at him, in public. Her behavior'd almost bordered on insubordinate.

Stupid. Just plain damned stupid.

And this, all of the insubordinate behavior and anger and guilt, only reinforced the reasons for the fraternization regulations to exist in the first place. They had become poster children for the rules. An example of why it's a bad idea to care more about a teammate than you're supposed to.

She had to get this under control. She had to let the anger go and be happy for him. She had to find a way to live with the pain of her own loss and handle their relationship in a way that didn't alienate him. Because unless she could get past the anger, she'd be unable to work with him. And that would mean she'd have to leave the team, costing her a whole lot more than just the promise of a future with Jack.

She reached into her bottom desk drawer, pulling out the small toolkit there and unzipping the leather case. Inside, wrapped in a shop cloth, was the Tollan device that had accelerated this whole thing between them two years ago.

Hating herself for being weak, she locked the door and plopped down into her chair. This was all she seemed destined to have of him. One perfect, shining moment when what he'd felt for her was real. It was small but it was hers and no one could take it away. And somehow, that made it all the more pathetic...

She knew she couldn't continue to do this - to delude and torture herself this way. But for just a while, she wanted to feel the beauty of what he'd once felt for her. With a deep breath, she held down the button on top and let his feelings for her wash across her senses.

She'd face the reality of who they really had to be in a while, but, for now, the bittersweet taste of memory would help to soothe her battered soul.

----------------------------

"Hey."

She looked up, surprised to hear his voice before she even saw him there in her doorway. Her stomach clenched along with her jaw. She took a deep breath and counted to ten.

1, 2, 3...

Anger drained away, leaving Hurt behind in its place.

4, 5, 6...

Hurt eased as she took her tattered Pride in hand and attempted to pull the shreds around her in some semblance of its former whole.

7, 8, 9...

Her stomach flipped and she silently repeated her promise to see him happy, no matter what it did to her.

10...

She managed to look up at him and not feel much of anything at all.

A small voice of remaining Lust in her head commented on how incredible he looked in that crisp white shirt and those tailored charcoal trousers, but she ruthlessly tamped it down and worked on neutrality as an art form.

"Hello, sir."

There. That didn't sound angry at all, did it?

"Whatcha' doin'?"

He strolled over to her workbench, his eyes looking everywhere but directly at her. She confined her gaze as well, her eyes landing on a forearm, tan and toned, exposed by a rolled up shirt sleeve. The muscles slid and flexed as his ever-restless hands played with a small puzzle ball that she'd bought him as a Christmas present last year.

Ever since the incident with the Tollan device so long ago, he'd generally had a yo-yo or some other toy with him on the rare occasions when he came to see her in her lab. She suspected that it was just so he didn't feel the need to play with anything on her desk.

Snick.

The key-piece came out of the middle of the toy and the ball fell to pieces in his left hand. The right hand came over, helping to scatter the parts around and then he began reassembling the toy in the palm of his hand. She watched the process for a moment, marveling at the economy of each efficient movement. It was when she looked up, suddenly finding herself caught in that warm, brown gaze, that she realized he wasn't even looking at the puzzle as he reconstructed it.

Snick, snick, snap, click.

Her eyes dragged away to his hand and she saw it was back together, being turned over and over as if to tactilely check it was in-round.

Snick.

It came apart, again, and the process started over. In a few seconds he had it together, again, once more without him looking at it as he reassembled it. She shouldn't have been surprised - she knew from experience that he could consistently reconstruct a P-90 while blindfolded.

"I'm working on some preliminary designs for the new sensor installation that we're going to use on the new fleet of UAVs."

"Thought you had test plans to finish?"

"Yes, sir. I finished them. I was just getting a bit more done on this UAV design so Acevado and Bailey can work on the details while I'm off-world, after they finish helping Siler with the reactor tests."

Wow, that actually sounded downright friendly.

"UAVs? You mean the refitted Predators, don't you."

"Well, they may be Predators here on Earth, sir, but remove the targeting system, some of the surveillance equipment, and the Hellfire missiles and the left over bay makes a great space for the new atmospheric monitors and radar array we want to install. We're very lucky that the General managed to work them into the budget. They're much sturdier and with a longer range than our current UAV fleet."

He grunted.

She glanced up again, her eyes narrowing at his mono-syllabic, non-response.

"Sir, was there something you needed?"

Her efforts at calm were paying off -- that sounded less than hostile. She could do this.

"Huh?"

He stopped playing with the ball in his hands and set it down on the table beside her mouse. He batted it across the scarred surface for a few seconds, reminding her of Schrödinger.

"Something you need?"

"Oh, no, Carter. Just thought I'd get out of the office for a minute or two. Give the old knees a stretch. Loosen things up a bit."

He flexed his knees, doing a silly little bob up and down in front of the desk as if to illustrate the stretch.

He smiled in response to her small grin and for just a moment it was all like old times. It was better between them. Then reality reared its ugly head as she thought of the unanswered questions plaguing her mind. He must have seen it in her eyes because his withdrawal was immediate.

"Well, you're busy, so I guess I'll be going. See ya' later on."

"Yes sir."

She looked away from him, staring at the notes scribbled in her shorthand on the pad next to her laptop. The clickety-click of her keyboard played a Sousa march to his retreat from her lab. She continued transcribing the notes for several minutes, her mind absorbed by her work and off of him.

When she next reached for the mouse, her hand brushed something. Before she could see what it was, it had fallen from the edge of the desk and disappeared. Looking down at where the object had disappeared, she let out a gusty, heartfelt sigh. This type of thing never failed to happen on the few days a year that she had to wear a skirt instead of her regular uniform pants. Cursing softly under her breath, she slipped from her chair to find whatever it was.

There, near the back of the table - keeping company with three paper clips, an alligator clip, and an olive green shirt button - was the Colonel's puzzle-ball. She grunted as she reached for it, her fingers closing blindly and dragging it and one paper clip forward. Scooping up the little ball in her hand, she started to back out from under the tabletop. But as the light sneaking under the edge of the desk fell across the object in her hand, she froze.

There, in the crease between two pieces of the ball, was a scrap of paper sticking out. She tugged at it, experimentally, realizing that it was more than a scrap that had gotten jammed in when it fell under the desk.

Snick.

She pushed out the key-piece, letting the puzzle fall to pieces on the floor in front of her as she pulled the odd piece of paper from the inside of the ball. It was small, no more than a scrap, but it had writing on both sides.

'Hold onto it. No matter what.'

It was written in his bold, blocky printing on one side of the paper.

'Diner. 2130.'

Again, his handwriting spelled out the cryptic note on the other side. She took a deep breath, releasing it as a slow hiss as the words bled together in front of her unfocused eyes.

He wanted to meet her. Away from here. Where they could talk.

She quickly folded the paper, fitting it into her skirt pocket as she stood and put all of the ball pieces back onto the tabletop. She took a moment to fit the pieces back together, rolling the reassembled ball over to rest against the stapler before getting back up onto the lab stool and beginning to type again.

As she lost herself in the detailed description of her UAV schematics, she felt an ache in her heart she'd been nursing lessen. The nagging headache she'd been fighting for three days shrunk just a bit. The acrid burning low in her stomach that had remained no matter how much advanced prescription antacid she tossed down after it started to fade away.

They were finally going to talk. For good or for bad, they were going to work out between them what was really going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Diner wasn't even technically the name of the place.

The pink and blue neon sign out front proclaimed it the Blue Star Grill, but it was an actual old metal diner, expanded by several wooden build-outs and somewhat decrepit with age.

SG-1 had started calling it the Diner when they'd started frequenting it a few years back. It wasn't fancy but it was clean and the food was good, and even better, cheap and plentiful.

Daniel, of course, had been the one to find it. A slave to the perfect cup of coffee, he had developed a knack for finding small places like this where the coffee was strong and refills free. Kind of like some bizarre sixth sense for the presence of coffee beans. Jack thought it must have come from all of those years spent as a grad student, living on a shoestring budget.

The little brass bell over the door rang cheerily as he stepped inside, announcing his arrival to the wait staff. He threw up a hand in greeting to Angie, holding up two fingers as he gestured his hello, then drifted back to the corner booth on the back of the place, slouching into their accustomed booth.

He'd changed into a pair of chinos and a sweater and had taken the long way around the mountain, trying to make sure that no one was following him. Call him paranoid, but he was always on the lookout for surveillance. And it actually seemed, from the pictures he'd seen in Hammond's office, that he hadn't been wrong about being watched. But he also realized that those pictures were proof that he'd not been vigilant enough in his efforts to avoid being watched.

This was the perfect place for the team to unwind. The slightly shabby fixtures were comfortable, like a well-worn sofa that fit your butt 'just so'. The booth that they'd adopted as their own was at the back of the seating area, blocked from prying eyes by a structural support wall that had been left during one of the build-outs. The wall jutted into the seating area, creating a small nook that could only be seen from behind the counter and then only if you really looked hard.

Jack had done a bit of poking around and had been delighted to find that the HVAC trunk and attendant water pipes were in the outside wall and another set of potable water pipes graced the common wall with the rest of the diner. This meant that any distance surveillance items like parabolic mikes would be greatly inconvenienced by all of that rushing water noise. Not 100% Tempest secure, but flushing toilets and running dishwashing water helped a lot.

They'd been coming here pretty regularly for so long that Angela and Marty had their regular orders memorized. Monday and Thursday were meatloaf night and Jack never missed a good meatloaf if he had the chance. Once he'd remembered the place after his return, Daniel had been insistent that he'd been waiting for a cup of their coffee for ages. He'd only been back for a few days before they'd just *had* to come out to dinner here. Of course the coffee hadn't been all Danny was looking for on that visit - Angie always seemed to manage to save a piece of the peach cobbler that Daniel loved so much. If Jack didn't know better, he'd swear she somehow knew when they were going to come in, even when they made a last-minute decision to do so.

Angie had also always managed to find one of the apple dumplings that Carter always said she shouldn't eat and Jack would coax her into consuming anyway. When she protested about the sugar, he would produce a comic leer and playfully inform her that the extra calories from the occasional dumplings certainly never showed up in her figure. What he didn't say was that the noise she always made when she tasted the first bite of the spicy-sugary confection had been one of the things that had gotten him through the last few years.

A CO would never say that to his 2IC.

Angie wandered over, a coffee carafe and two heavy stoneware mugs on a tray. She smiled as she set the tray's contents on the table in front of him.

"It's been a while."

"Yeah, I know. We've been...ah...busy, lately."

"Yeah, that's what Murray and Daniel said the other night when they were through. So, what can I get you...and...?"

"Carter."

"Oh, okay. You guys want your usual?"

"Yeah for me, but hold off. She should be here in about ten minutes."

"M'kay. I'll ask her as I send her through and then drop the order."

"Thanks, Angie."

"No problem, Jack."

He shrugged out of his jacket and stuffed it in the corner of the bench seat before pouring a cup of coffee and breathing in the strong, slightly bitter scent before taking a deep draught. Ahhh...the Elixir of Life. He'd never tell Daniel, but there were times when Jack could really appreciate the addiction that the younger man supported with his unerring nose for a good cup of coffee. This place was definitely one of those times.

He glanced up as he heard the bell, rearranging himself in a full-on slouch on the seat and trying to look casual as she came around the corner to the booth. Soft-looking jeans worn under the leather chaps and the little tank top under an open chambray shirt set his heart to beating at a pace that Janet would find unusual for a fit, healthy man at rest. The tight- fitting black leather gloves and jacket and the helmet under her arm told him she'd ridden into work today. He hoped he'd have occasion to get close enough to smell her before he left.

He just loved the smell of Sam Carter in leathers.

She stripped off her gloves and slipped out of her jacket, setting the helmet on the seat next to her. Her movements were controlled, easy. She was seemingly completely calm as she grabbed the mug just as he finished filling it and took a sip before she looked up at him.

There were signs of tension on her face, in the small stress lines somehow unusually prominent around her full mouth and bruised eyes. Those eyes were shielded, telling him nothing of what was going on behind them. She wasn't going to give him anything to go with, here. He couldn't get a read on her. She didn't seem angry but she wasn't happy to be here either. He let out a mental sigh and took a deep breath. There was nothing for it except to dive right in...

"So..."

"So..."

The air hung heavy between them, tense and thick with unspoken words and long-repressed emotions...

"*You* asked *me* to meet you here, sir. I'm here."

Her voice was neutral, her words unhurried and with no impatience, but he could feel the anger, the tension there, defining the sharp, slippery surfaces of the chasm that lay between them right now.

This was one of the few times they'd been actually 'alone' together in over a year. They'd been very careful to always have Teal'c or Jonas and now even Daniel serving as a chaperone any time they were together. They'd been no different in their behavior around one another, but he'd insisted that they be extra careful and never take the chance of being alone together.

"You seemed...upset this morning."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I probably...I mean, I was. But I'm...I suppose it doesn't matter as much...now.

"I...ah...Davis said that Hammond told you about Sara."

This time the deep breath was hers. He studied his coffee cup, waiting for her answer.

"Yes. Yes, he did."

"And?"

"And, I..."

She paused, her eyes flicking up to tangle with his seeking ones and then quickly away, as if that fleeting glance from him burned. He caught a glimpse of turmoil there but couldn't tell from her voice or the bland expression on her face just what emotion was fueling it.

She took a sip of the steaming brew, her eyes closed, her brows drawn low in a small frown. Her voice, when she spoke, was the polite, neutral tone that she used with politicians and superior officers...and it, too, gave nothing away except that something was very wrong if she was using it with him.

"I was...surprised to hear about you...two. I wasn't expecting..."

"I know, I know. I wouldn't...I didn't want you find out about us quite that way. I wanted to be the one- I'm sorry."

Her heart exploded in her chest. She was certain that if she looked down she'd see the ragged edges of a staff blast wound where her ribcage used to be. That had to be what the pain was.

He'd been expecting to tell her about Sara. He'd planned to be the one...To tell her about him seeing Sara again. He'd planned an easy letdown for her but the General had beaten him to the punch.

She felt her eyes pool with tears and pushed them away. She couldn't afford to do this. It would cost her everything. She pushed it all away. She had to be able to move past this. To remain his friend and team mate.

If this was what he wanted, she could be happy for him. She would be happy for him. Really.

"Yes, well, it was..."

She stopped, looking for the words to finish describing what she was feeling. What she was feeling. It was like having your heart carved out with an ice cream scoop. But she couldn't say that to him. Could she?

He waited, a concerned but patient shadow haunting her world for the moment before he moved on to the next. She felt her throat close with the emotion and once again fought her way back to normalcy.

"I just wish you could have told me that things had changed. At the very least, I think our friendship merits that consideration."

Her lifted gaze locked on the top of his bowed head, sweeping over his graying hair and studying the long tanned column of his throat, coming to rest on the top of his ear when he didn't look up. He stared into the tabletop for a moment, for all the world looking like Daniel when he was searching for the Rosetta stone key to some new language.

"Yeah, I know. I should've told you sooner...that I'd been...seeing her again. But you and I haven't actually talked about...things...in a while. I just...I thought..."

"Just answer me one question."

"Anything."

"What made you decide that you wanted this?"

----------------------------

He suddenly looked up from the worn table top, his eyes reaching desperately for hers, hoping to see something there that would let them connect, let them talk about things -- they way they used to before this self-imposed distance was put between them. His lifting eyes caught her off-guard and the edge of pain showing clearly in her eyes confused him.

"It was actually my Mom who did it."

"Your Mother?

"Yeah. I mean it wasn't like she just came out and said...But it was something she said last year that put it into my head."

Sam pulled a lungful of air into her body. She remembered to keep breathing. Nod her head. Make small, encouraging, attentive noises. And not let it show on her face that her heart was shattered.

He glanced up to find her studying the scarred tabletop, her head bowed and her shoulders tense and slumped.

"It all kind of came to a head for me when I went to see her at Christmas this past year. We're sitting down over coffee and her apple crumb cake. You remember that crumb cake she sent me a few years back? With the golden raisins and walnuts and the crunchy stuff on top? Anyway, we're sitting down late on Christmas Day, and she's smiling. Just smiling at me. The whole time I'm talking to her, she is just grinning ear to ear. Finally, I asked her what's going on."

"She shook her head and smiled and said 'You've changed so much over the last few years. I don't know what you've started doing, but keep it up. You're more like my Jackie than you've been in years. It's nice to have you back and happy again.' Well, you know, your Mom says something like that, it makes you think."

She sucked in another breath, a sudden, sharp noise as if she'd run her finger down the blade of a knife.

"And I realized she was right. I'm not the same man who took that first job at the SGC for General West. I'm not the man who threw away his family and life. I've got so many things going right and I'm genuinely happy for the first time in a *very* long time."

"I'm...glad."

Her voice was small and thin. Her breathing had become a bit labored and her eyes danced away from his, refusing to let him capture and hold them with his own.

"I'm truly sorry you found out like this. I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I know you're...upset."

Her short bark of laughter wasn't particularly mirthful. In fact, it almost sounded like pain. Her voice, when she spoke, was still quiet but this time it was rough with some undefined emotion.

"Upset. Yeah, you could say that. I-"

She stopped and he rushed into the void her silence left behind, hoping to work things through so they could talk about what they were going to do. So he could explain the decisions he'd come to in the last few days.

"You...You know how I feel about my life before, with Charlie and Sara. It's still a very real part of me. I live with it every day, regretting so much. Wishing things had been different. I thought you'd be happy for us. I thought you'd be happy."

He realized that his own voice held a hoarse, desperate note. He broke off as the squeak of Angie's shoes announced her approach.

She smiled, making small talk with a subdued Sam as she set plates down in front of them. Another smile and she traded the empty coffee carafe with Jack and delivered a diet cola to Sam. With a final few words, she left them alone with their food.

He watched Sam pushing her food around on the plate, her concentration seemingly focused on segregating the carrots and broccoli into separate camps on the heavy white stoneware. The faint clink of the heavy Oneida pattern against the plate grated on his nerves and he finally reached out to still her hand by covering it with his own.

He felt the soft skin and fragile bones beneath his fingers go wooden, and looked up to see her eyes lifting to catch his again. This time he saw pain and anger in equal parts there.

"Happy?"

She picked up the conversation as if no interruption had occurred.

"You thought I'd be...happy for you? Happy that you were so busy patching things up with Sara that you couldn't even find the time to talk to me about all of this?"

The laugh was a harsh, low sound this time. One that spoke of hurt and made the hair stand up on his neck in a less than good way.

"Happy that we've barley ever talked about what's between us? Or happy that now it's gone? Because we can just be friends now, semi-strangers who work together, sometimes live together, but who never have to worry about the problems associated with actually *being* together?"

He was hearing the words. He knew she was speaking English -- and not even techno babble, which is where she usually lost him. What she was saying seemed to make sense to her. But it was making no sense to him.

Her eyes were now narrowed blue pricks of ice, cold and sharp, shooting sparks of pure icy fire in his direction. The lines recently come to her face stood out in stark relief against the flushed skin that extended down her throat to dip below the shirt collar. Her throat worked again as she continued.

"I *am* happy for you. If this is what you want then I want you to have it. I...care about you...that much. But don't tell me that after waiting all of this time, trusting you to keep your word, that you expect me to be jumping for joy over this?"

Was this what it was like to have a stroke? He tried to speak, somehow surprised when he actually managed it.

"What? What're you talking about, Sam? This isn't a bad thing. And it isn't just about me. I don't-"

"I'm talking about waiting and keeping faith with a rash promise you made. I'm talking about the two years we've wasted pretending to be veritable strangers when all I wanted was to be with you. I'm talking about too many times turning away from *other* possibilities in my life."

Her sense of decorum kept her voice low and her pride wouldn't let her believe that confused little boy look or the wheedling voice he used. She took a cleansing breath of air in as she looked down at her plate. The opposing orange and green forces were poised upon the speckled stoneware battleground, ready to fight for the good cause.

But she was too tired to fight anymore.

"Wait! Whoa! What's between us is *over*?! *Rash promise*?! What you want*ed*. Are you saying you don't want it- You don't want *us* now?!"

He was almost speechless from the gorge rising in his throat. He could feel the acid churning in his stomach and the sweat pop out on his face and trickle down his spine.

"I'm saying that I realize you've changed your mind, decided that there's something else out there for you. I can understand that, accept it, even. We've waited for so long...I guess it was too long. And you must have gotten very tired of living in limbo. I'm glad for you, that you've found a way to get back to a life you wanted to live."

He goggled at her for one more moment before running his hands across his face and leaning in to catch her eye. That she moved the hand he tried to take in his own didn't deter him.

"Of course I'm tired of waiting. But seeing Sara again really prompted me to make some changes in my life. I haven't changed my mind. I know what I want - who I want - and I've finally found a way to have everything I want right now."

Her head snapped back as if he'd slapped her, her eyes widening and her mouth compressing into a thin line.

"Then I sincerely hope you and Sara will be *very* happy."

With that she grabbed her helmet and jacket and in a lightening-fast, parade-precision turn, she was walking away from him. He sat frozen for a split second, watching her don the coat and helmet on her way through the door.

Recovering from his shock, he rose to follow her, only to come to a clanging halt as he collided with Angie, who'd come around the corner with a laden tray in her hand.

He slowly disentangled himself, wiping warm flaky crust and sticky apple filling off of his chest, cursing under his breath at the luck he was having these days. He struggled to his feet and found himself in a puddle of dumpling goo. As he moved, his foot slid, his knee hyper-extended and he felt a distinct burning pop as something gave way in his right knee.

Grabbing the edge of the table and biting the inside of his lip in pain, he struggled to remain on his feet. He immediately leaned down a bit and checked to make sure Angie was okay.

Her assurances that she was fine, coupled with her climbing slowly to her feet under her own power, had him moving on to the problem of catching up with Sam. He clamped his jaw tighter as the loping half-run movement he was forced to use intensified his pain and staggered down the narrow aisle towards the door.

He crashed into the cool night air just in time to see the Cyclops of her brake light disappearing down the road. Double-time limping to his truck, he dug in his pocket for the keys and came up empty. His heartfelt curses rang around the empty lot when he realized they were in his coat pocket - left inside, at the table, in his haste to follow her.

He let out a final wordless growl, venting his frustration at her retreating back, knowing that his voice was lost to her in the fading noise of the Indian's engine.

Jack leaned his weight against the hood of his truck, his heavy breaths clouding the air in front of him as he searched for some inkling of what was going on in her head.

'I hope you two will be very happy?'

What the *hell* does that mean, Sam?! She was angry, that much was sure. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was jeal-

Oh, for crying out loud! She couldn't honestly believe that he and Sara were back together, could she? But they'd talked about making this thing between them into something permanent and real. He'd been working to finally bring this all together...

She seemed to have lost faith in them. Or maybe she'd just lost faith in him.

Oh man, he had to figure out a way to fix this...

He shifted his weight, feeling the lance of pain shoot up through his knee to his hip and steal his breath away for a moment. The knot of pained confusion that had been riding low in his gut turned into an ache that surrounded his heart and made it difficult to breathe.

He'd lost her, it seemed, and he wasn't even 100% certain what had happened. One minute he'd been apologizing to her for letting her find out about Sara like she did and the next she'd been walking out the door.

And out of his life.

The little bit of food he'd eaten hardened into a molten lump and threatened to revisit along with the now-acrid coffee hanging in the back of his throat.

He'd expected her to be mad he hadn't told her about Sara, but this was beyond all good sense. And Sam Carter had *always* been a woman of good sense. She seemed to have gotten the completely wrong idea about what had been going on these past few months. But had she actually gotten the wrong idea about what he was really working at accomplishing all of this time?

He listened for the sound of the bike in the night air, shaking his head when he heard nothing beyond the chirping crickets.

She was gone.

Just gone.

The thought that crept into his head had the tone of his Mother to it.

She's gone, Jackie boy, but are you gonna let her stay gone without even a fight to keep her?

Oh, no, he answered that specter in his head. *That* wasn't very damned likely.

No-way, no-how.

If she was going to drop him on his head, she was darn well gonna look him in the eye as she did it. Over and over again until he believed she really meant it.

Turning back in the direction that she'd disappeared, he let out a futile growl of frustration before yelling at the clear, star- scattered sky above him.

"Great! Fine! Whatever! You can run for now, Sam Carter, but we *will* have this out once and for all! I didn't wait this long and work this hard to lose everything now!"

He limped back into the warm yellow spill of light from the Diner door, and, for a moment, the ache in his chest somehow eclipsed the one in his leg.

###