Note: Set in an AU where Janet is still alive.
Part One
The present
Paint? Check.
Dust covers down? Check.
Paint brushes and rollers? Check, check.
Ancient jeans and ratty sweatshirt? All check.
Oddball friends? Check.
"Hi-ho, the gang's all here," I mumbled as two of the most important people in my life made themselves comfortable on my settee. They'd shown up ten minutes ago with beer, soda and snacks, showing every intention of sticking around.
Even my declared intention of redecorating the whole house hadn't stirred them. But, then again, did I really want to do this alone when I had two seemingly willing slaves? No way was Doctor Colonel Carter that dumb!
The door opened. "Lucy; I'm home!" said a familiar voice.
My eyes closed and I took a sip of soda to hide the stupid smile that had appeared on my face.
Sexy USAF General? Check.
Perhaps I should explain ...
Three weeks ago
"There are two of us."
"If only!" came the quip from behind me. I turned to look at the source - one Brigadier General Jack O'Neill - and he cleared his throat before offering me an abashed grin.
I swung back to the visual from the MALP's white light sensors, trying to ignore the self-conscious flutter in my stomach. My CO was a handsome, charismatic man, but I thought I'd set to rest my feelings for him a long time ago.
But occasionally something would remind me of the attraction I felt for him. He'd recently taken to wearing his sleeves pushed up, showing off his tanned, muscular forearms. He didn't have Teal'c's body-builder frame or Daniel's solid muscle, but was possessed of a hard rangy elegance that was ... well, it was sexy. Admit it, Sam!
I breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the woodsy - vaguely spicy - scent of his aftershave, and began speaking to the other 'me'. She was a Replicator, having been created in my image by Fifth, but had run away from him.
And now she wished to be destroyed - by the Ancient weapon the General had devised. I arranged to meet with her at the Alpha Site.
Four days later
I shut down my laptop on which I'd been trying to compose my mission report. How to say "Total screw-up by one gullible Air Force Colonel" in a military way ...
Repli-Carter had been on the run from Fifth, but she hadn't feared him. She'd tricked us into creating a cipher that would render her immune to our weapon, and had used this to destroy Fifth. Now she'd taken control of the Replicators and seemed intent on carving up this galaxy.
God; what have I done?
I closed my eyes against the stupid tears, then took a gulp of my now cold coffee.
"Carter!" came a familiar bark.
My CO strolled in, arms folded across his chest and hair all on end as usual. I smiled slightly; for a man pushing fifty, he could look amazingly boyish at times. "Sir?" I said.
"Ya know; I could swear I'd kicked you outta here two hours ago."
"Yes, sir," I replied. "I just wanted to finish the mission report."
"Tomorrow, Carter," he interrupted. "Get off this base for a few." He gave me a cheeky grin. "I could make that an order."
"No need, sir," I said. "I'll go." The image of Repli-Carter killing the General flashed into my mind and I shuddered. Yes, she'd hesitated due to my - our - unresolved feelings, but had done it anyway. Which brought to mind a disturbing question - if she was modeled on me, could I gun down a man in cold blood?
His eyes softened suddenly. "Carter; quit beating yourself up over this," he said. "She's not you."
"She was made in my image, sir," I said. "She learned about betrayal from Fifth, who learned it from me."
"A-ah!" He held up a long-boned hand. "I gave the order, remember?" he said. "You know we had to leave him on Hala."
"But I was the one who tricked him, sir," I said.
"Hey, he was flawed," the General said. "Anything he created was bound to be just as flawed."
He really could be sweet at times. Then at other times he was hard and frightening - like when he'd closed the iris against the Eurondan Alar years ago. I gave him a small smile. "Thanks, sir," I said, appreciating the attempt at comfort.
General O'Neill was lousy with words, but he was by no means as stupid as he pretended. You didn't get a star by being dumb, and it drove me nuts when he feigned ignorance.
He wasn't a scientist like me, or a linguist like Daniel - doctors, both - but he was brilliant. He had a slightly offbeat style of leadership, but commanded great respect from the lowliest Airman right up to President Hayes.
"Welcome," he said. "C'mere." He tugged on my shoulder and pulled me into a big comforting hug.
I sighed and allowed myself this rare contact. The General had a knack for hugging me just right, and the thought occurred that he'd probably been a great dad. I'd witnessed him with Skaara, Cassandra, Reetou Charlie, Merrin and Rya'c - they'd all loved him.
I just hoped he'd get a chance to be a dad again - my heart ached for his loss. I tucked my head into the crook of his neck and gave myself permission to enjoy his warm body ... if only for a brief time.
The hug didn't last long - we were both all too aware of the fact that we were on the base, the frat regs and ... oh yes, I was engaged to another man. A good, kind man who loved me and whom I loved in return.
Right?
The General - I didn't allow myself to think of him as Jack - pulled back first. "Well, you'd better go, Carter," he said, giving me a grin. "Don't want Pete to forget what you look like."
"He's got a case in Denver, sir," I said, not sure why I was telling him this.
"Ah." He bounced lightly on his toes. "Well, have a good night - whatever you end up doing. Me; I've got a new Simpsons DVD to watch."
"The wild life, huh, sir?" I teased lightly.
He shook his head with a grin. "Gettin' too old for the wild life, Carter," he said. "Well ... better go. Big important General stuff to do, ya know." He rolled his eyes. "What's your position on the color scheme for the conference room?" he asked suddenly.
"Uhh ... I don't care?" I offered.
"Thank you!" he exclaimed dramatically.
"Good night, sir," I said with a small laugh.
"Night, Carter."
I dreamed of him that night - for the first time in a long time. I won't go into details, but let's just say it featured blue Jell-O and one very naked, very energetic USAF General.
I breathed in deeply, trying to slow my heart rate. I hadn't had one of those dreams about him for a long time - since my experience on the Prometheus in fact. I'd made the conscious decision to let him go, and had allowed Mark to set me up with Pete.
I couldn't seem to let go entirely, though. When he'd taken the Ancient download last year, I'd gone to his house to tell him how I felt, but had been interrupted by Teal'c and Daniel.
Then I'd tried on the way to Praclarush Taonas, but he'd cut me off, stating simply that he knew. Finally, we'd managed to defeat Anubis, but the effects of the download had taken a nearly fatal toll on him.
I'd touched his face, pleading with him. "Jack, please," I'd whispered painfully. I would have done anything if he'd responded.
Instead he'd muttered "Dormata" - sleep. We put him into stasis, and I allowed myself to grieve for my lost love; a love that was unspoken but no less real.
It was oh six hundred now. I growled and swung my legs out of bed, knowing I had no chance of getting any sleep now. My R-rated dream pounded in the back of my mind. I dressed rapidly in sweats and sneakers - a long hard run would work for me right now.
I shut my door behind me, wincing inwardly at the crashing noise in the quiet street, then headed off in a steady ground-eating jog toward the nearby park. I did love a good run - there was nothing like beating feet for shaking off the fidgets.
"Incoming!" someone shouted. I looked up and saw two pre-teen boys skating quickly toward me. "Can't stop!" one of them hollered.
I skipped quickly out of the way - God bless my military-enhanced reflexes! - before I was mown down. "Hey, sorry, Carter!" someone else called, emerging from behind a large tree and skating over to me.
"General!" I said, astonished. Since when did he skate?
"Hey," he said, his face flushed and sweating and his hair all on end. He wore grungy yet nice-fitting jeans and an old gray USAF tee shirt that clung to his form. He looked ... sexy as hell and thoughts of blue Jell-O filled my mind once more. "Better grab 'em," he added, setting off quickly. "God; I'm getting too old for this," I clearly heard him mumble.
"I came for a run, sir," I said. "I'll grab one; you get the other." I ran alongside him, enjoying the bizarre moment in a life that epitomized bizarre. We caught up to the young boys, and the General grabbed one, flinging him over his shoulder, while I caught the other's arms.
"Hey," my captive said, raising his eyebrows in an unmistakable Jack O'Neill waggle - just how much time had he spent with my CO?
"Hey," I said.
"You Jack's girlfriend?"
I blushed and was immediately annoyed at myself. "No; he's a friend," I told the young boy. "We work together at Cheyenne Mountain."
"Oh, right. Deep space ... whatever," the boy dismissed with an eye roll.
"So, sir, when did you take up roller-blading?" I asked as he released his own captive with a friendly thump to the shoulder.
"I've always been able to skate, Carter," he said. "Used to play a lot of street hockey and when those two found out ... they're too big for the pee-wee leagues and too young for the juniors ...". He gave me a sheepish grin, then shrugged as if him giving up hours out of his precious free time was inconsequential.
I couldn't help myself. "That's actually pretty sweet, sir," I commented. And here it comes, folks ...
"Ah, fer cryin' out loud, Carter!" he grumbled on cue. "Ya tryin' to make me blush?"
Like that would be such a challenge, I mused but didn't say. For all his cocky attitude, I'd learned that Jack O'Neill could be quite bashful in some ways. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir," I told him now, suppressing my grin.
He smirked. "That isn't back chat, is it, Colonel?" he taunted. He sat down on a nearby bench and leaned down to massage his leg. His experience three years ago in Baal's fortress had healed his chronic bad knee, so I figured he'd probably just skated too hard.
"No, sir," I said, sitting down next to him, enjoying the rare opportunity to just sit and chew the fat with him. Although he, Daniel and Teal'c had become like family in some ways, we didn't hang out that much. The last time had been just after he'd taken the Ancient download and we'd spent some time in his house debating the parallels between The Simpsons and the Goa'uld. The then-Colonel had so not been in a serious conversation mood.
"Good." He stretched out his long legs and tilted his head back with a deep sigh. "Geez; I really am getting too old for this."
"Crap," I said bluntly.
His head shot up and he eyed me with another smirk. "Carter?"
"Uh ... sorry, sir," I said. "But you know the old adage - you're only as old as you feel."
"Then I'm about three hundred," he said with a rare wide smile. He had a nice smile, and it was a shame we didn't get to see it very often. We usually got sarcastic quirks or a smirk. But a full 1000-watt Jack O'Neill smile was something to see. I think the last time he'd smiled like that was when I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. He'd worn a broad proud smile that day - more proud of me than of himself.
"Come off it, sir!" I gave an inelegant snort and took the bull by the horns. I might regret it later, but now I was a little punchy from lack of sleep and the rather hot dream. "You're not old."
He eyed me thoughtfully. "Carter; I'm fifty in a couple years," he said. "That might not be so old in years, but I've put my body through thirty-odd years of punishing physical abuse. If I hadn't made General, I would've had to come out of the field within the year anyway."
And that hurt, I realized. For a man who prided himself on his physical fitness, he probably felt like time had betrayed him. "Are you ... thinking about retirement, sir?"
He shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "I accepted this position for one year - with the option of renegotiating at the end of that time. I've only got a few months left till the year's up."
I couldn't believe it. Jack O'Neill leave the Air Force? Although he had done it before. But that was after the first Abydos mission, when he'd been grieving badly for Charlie. The SGC - and his bond with Daniel, Teal'c and myself - had saved this man from spiraling downward, had given him a renewed joie de vivre. "J ... sir; you've still got a lot to offer the SGC," I told him. "I know you hate the paperwork, but you're still the best man for the job."
He snorted in amusement. "That does not speak well for the other Colonels and Generals of this great nation, Carter," he said.
I closed my eyes. The man would never realize how important he was - what a difference he'd made. And, in a way, that was a good thing. There was little ego about him, and there was so much there to give him an ego. The alarm on my Air Force issue watch beeped. "Crap!" I blurted out, jolting to my feet. "I'd better go, sir. Mission briefing at oh eight hundred hours."
He stood up and fixed his skate. "Surely your CO will understand you being late?" he said.
"Maybe, but he can be a real bear at times," I said cheekily. "See you at the ranch, General?" Oh yeah, I'd spent way too much time with Jack O'Neill.
Several days later
"Just ... focus your mind."
I chuckled to myself as I recalled our mission to rescue Maybourne - aka King Arkhan the First - from a former Goa'uld stronghold. We'd found an Ancient vessel and had needed an Ancient or someone with the Ancient gene to power it up. And that was where the General came in.
It had been the first time he'd gone off-world in the months since his promotion, and he'd been like a kid in a candy store. Baseball cap firmly in place, shades covering his eyes, P90 clutched lovingly to his chest, he'd been in hog heaven.
And the hard muscled arms displayed by the black Air Force issue tee shirt ... mmm. No; don't go there, Sam!, I chided myself hastily. Since our impromptu meeting in the park, I'd had several more R-rated dreams starring Brigadier General Jack O'Neill. Why now, dammit?
The 'focus your mind' comment had earned Daniel the look from the General and I ducked my head to hide a grin. Although the General could display amazing powers of concentration when necessary, most of the time his nervous energy could power a Goa'uld mothership for a year. He was like the Energizer Bunny - just wind him up and watch him go bouncing off the walls. Even when sitting.
He was rarely still - constantly fiddling with pens, paperclips, anything that came to hand - and I'd learned to block it out over the years. The first few briefings I'd attended with my CO had been an ... experience. In one particular briefing, he'd started making paper balls out of his notepad. I'd fully expected him to start juggling them and had given him a meaningful stare before General Hammond could notice him. As his 2IC and a junior officer, I couldn't glare at him or stomp on his foot, but he'd gotten the meaning of my stare quickly enough. We'd only known each other a couple weeks at that point, but he'd learned rapidly how to read me. Nowhere near as dumb as he acted.
I massaged the tiredness out of my eyes. Dealing with Maybourne had worn me out, and I still couldn't understand how the General had stood being stranded with him for a month without killing him. Yet the former NID operative had come through for us on a few occasions, thereby earning the General's grudging respect, if not trust. Jack O'Neill had never trusted easily, and the NID and the Trust had screwed us one too many times.
Time to go home. I closed my laptop and headed out of the mountain that had occupied my life for more than seven years. God, Sam; you need a life, girl!, I thought as I got on my bike and set off home.
Several days later
Pain. Ow. I blinked and stared at the source of the pain. He glared back at me. "You and your precious General again?" he sneered. "Geez, Sam; need I remind you that you're marrying me, not him?"
I shook my head. "I'm not marrying you, Pete," I said. "Pack your things; I want you gone." After what I'd gone through with Jonas, I was damned if I was going to let Pete get away with hitting me - even once.
"Sam?" His eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Sam - you ... I got mad. We can still make it work."
I shook my head again. "No," I replied. "We could have before you hit me. You were lucky there - you caught me unguarded. Try to lay a hand on me again, and I'll hurt you."
I could do it too. I was a Lieutenant Colonel in the US Air Force and had spent seven years in the field with a former Special Ops soldier as my CO. I'd learned a lot about defense and offense from said Special Ops soldier - some of which had frightened me. Jack O'Neill was a trained killer, maybe even an assassin - who knows what he did during his murky days in Black Ops?
I turned away from him and grabbed my coat. "I'm going," I said. "When I come back, you'll either be gone or I'll throw your ass out myself."
"Sam?" He grabbed my arm.
I swung round and dropped him easily. He fell to the floor, gasping and wheezing. "Never lay your hands on me again," I said, then strode out of the house.
I pulled on my coat as the chill night air mussed my hair. My cheekbone was aching, but it was nothing compared to the ache of self-recrimination. Had I been so desperate for a 'normal' life that I'd blinded myself to Pete's character? For crying out loud, he'd tailed me when we'd only been together a couple of weeks and had nearly blown the op to save Daniel from Osiris. It was only pure luck that had stopped things from going to hell in a hand-basket.
But he could be so sweet and charming. He did things on impulse, like taking me to dances - a far cry from the rules and regulations that governed my working life. I'd enjoyed flexing my femininity and the romance. And we'd been good together - most of the time. But now ... now it was over.
Rain spattered down and I zipped up my coat, plunged my hands into my pockets and carried on walking.
Cold. I was so cold. I blinked and sat up unsteadily, wondering why my face was throbbing. My vision swam and I realized that I was lying under a tree.
I got up, ignoring the curious stare of a passing dog, and braced myself against the tree as a dizzy spell hit me. Cold. Was I ever going to feel warm again?
I remembered General O'Neill holding me in a brief comforting hug. He was warm. He could make me warm again. Had to find the General.
I made my way to his house, slogging through the puddles and shivering as another wave of cold rushed through my bones. Jack ... Jack would make me warm. I knocked on his door. "Jack ...," I muttered. God; what if he wasn't home? How would I get warm?
I knocked again.
And again.
"Ah, fer cryin' out loud!" I heard him grumble. "Hold your bladder!" The door swung open. "Carter?"
"C-cold," I got out through my chattering teeth.
"Get your butt in here, Carter," he said. I just looked at him. Black tee shirt, gray sweats, hair sticking up all over the place and creases on his face from hugging his pillow - he was the most adorable thing in the world right now. "Carter!" he barked. "In here - now."
I followed him into his house. "C-cold," I jerked out again.
"Yeah; that happens when you're soaked to the skin," he shot back. Then his hand shot out, pulling me closer to him. "What happened to you?" he added.
"Huh?" I was fogged.
He brushed a gentle hand against my cheekbone, and I turned my face gratefully into the warmth he offered. Then I flinched. "Ow," I muttered.
"Okay; questions can wait," he said. He took my coat off, settled me gently on his settee, then headed quickly up the stairs, returning with a large towel, a robe and a blanket. "Let's get you warmed up."
"Warm ...," I said longingly and inched closer to him, wrapping my icy hands around his forearm.
"Damn, woman - you're frozen," he mumbled. "Carter; I'm gonna fix you some soup. Dry off and wrap up."
He thrust the towel and robe into my hands and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me staring vaguely into the fireplace. My body shook with the chills and I couldn't seem to get my limbs to move. The firelight was so pretty ...
"Carter!"
I winced. "Don't scream, sir," I protested.
"Carter! Get out of those wet clothes or - so help me - I'll do it for you!"
My eyes widened. He wouldn't dare ... would he? "Sir?"
Never play poker with Jack O'Neill. He gave me a bland look. "What the hell," he said. "At least I'd die a happy man." His hands went to my sodden blouse and began to tug at it.
I slapped at the naughty, yet warm, hands. "I can do it, sir!" I said, going bright pink. Finally, I was warm!
"Better," he muttered, flushing slightly also. "Go and take a shower, get warm, then I'll run you home. Okay?"
"Yes, sir," I replied.
I stepped out of the shower and rubbed myself briskly dry before pulling on the robe the General had lent me. I was feeling closer to human now and was embarrassed at the way I'd just turned up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. I would've gone home right now, but the General had offered to wash and dry my clothes while I warmed up.
I clutched the robe tightly to me, well aware of the fact that it swamped me. The General liked his clothes baggy anyway, and when you factored in the six inch height difference ...
"Carter!" he yelled.
I winced, glad that he lived in a detached house. "Sir?" I replied.
"Come get some soup," he said.
"Yes, sir," I said and made my way to the kitchen. His kitchen was very neat, but tended to be let down by his fridge. Things grew in there - alien life-forms. I could recognize a reformed slob - I was one too. "Sir; I ... uh ... wanted to apologize for showing up like this."
"Carter," he interrupted. "What happened to your face?"
I brought a hand up to my aching face, realizing it must look pretty ugly. "It looks worse than it actually is, sir," I said. It did hurt, but not as much as the fact that someone I'd loved and trusted had done it to me.
"A-ah! That's not what I asked," he said. "Hell, I've seen you lookin' a helluva lot worse!"
Not one for flattery, are you, Jack O'Neill?, I mused wryly. I flushed and looked down into the bowl of steaming soup. "I ... I broke up with Pete," I admitted.
"He did that to you?" The General muttered an oath in what sounded like Arabic - shades of his Black Ops days, no doubt. "So, you left him?"
I smiled slightly. "Not before punching his lights out, sir," I replied.
He smirked. "Good on ya, Carter," he said approvingly. "Drink your soup," he added.
I took a cautious sip, pleasantly surprised to find that it was delicious. "It's good," I offered, taking a larger spoonful and feeling the warmth seep into my bones.
"Then quit yakking and drink up," the General ordered gruffly.
"You don't have to, sir," I protested as the General pushed open my front door and shouldered his way in. "This isn't some lame movie of the week - I'm not a battered girlfriend."
"Humor an old man, Carter," the General said, fingering his nine-mil lovingly.
I smiled slightly and followed him in and up the stairs, my gaze drawn almost of its own volition to his rear. It was a nice rear - firm, well muscled. Looked squeezable. I coughed slightly and went red. I couldn't even blame hallucinations or weird alien viruses this time - I wanted Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.
"No-one's home, Carter!" he called.
"Yes, sir," I said and went into my bedroom with a yawn.
"Huh; never figured you for pink, Carter!" he teased.
I shook my head. "Cassandra's choice," I said, regarding the very feminine bedroom with a new awareness that I hadn't felt around Pete. "She was about seventeen and going through a girlie phase - I didn't have the heart to say no." I shrugged my shoulders. "I've got some down time next week - I was ... Pete and I were going to redecorate then."
"Ah." The General stuffed his fists into his pockets. "Well ... hit the sack, Carter," he ordered as I gave a jaw-cracking yawn. "I'll lock up after myself."
I yawned again. "Thanks, sir," I muttered sleepily.
"Night ... Sam," he said and left swiftly.
Sam?
The present
"Sir?" I queried.
He shrugged his shoulders, not needing to hear the rest of the implied question. "The work'll go quicker if there's four of us," he said. "Besides, if it was up to these two, you'd have nothing but chips and pretzels for lunch."
"Daniel Jackson brought cake, O'Neill," Teal'c said with a small smile.
"Cake? Sweeeeet." O'Neill clasped his hands to his heart in a choirboy expression that sat ill with the rumpled hair and devilish gleam in his brown eyes. "Daniel; I take it all back."
He was wearing dark blue jeans and a paint-spattered black tee shirt - he was clearly prepared for a messy day. I sighed. "You win, sir," I said.
"Excellent!" He clapped his hands together. "Well, first off ...".
"A-ah!" I cut him off abruptly with his own impatient exclamation. "This is my house, sir; I give the orders." I paused suddenly as I realized just how like Jack O'Neill I'd sounded there. There was already a second Jack O'Neill in the world, thanks to Loki and his cloning experiments - the world couldn't cope with a third one. And, besides, the idea of being a female Jack O'Neill was truly horrifying.
He looked at me and waggled his eyebrows. "Easy, there," he muttered. Then he stretched hugely, causing his tee shirt to ride up. That gave me an intriguing glimpse of a flat tanned abdomen, and I looked away quickly before my mind slipped into the gutter it seemed to inhabit lately around this man.
"Where would you like us to begin, Colonel Carter?" Teal'c inquired. He'd gotten his own place off base recently, and had become quite good at picking out just the right things for the apartment. Who knew that a bargain hunter hid beneath the warrior heart?
"Bathroom," I decided.
"And will Pete Shanahan be helping with this redecoration?" he added.
"We ... uh ... we broke up last week," I admitted.
Daniel's eyes narrowed and he touched his hand gently to my bruised cheekbone. "This happened last week," he said.
Teal'c reached the same conclusion - never could hide anything from him. "Pete Shanahan hurt you," he added.
"Guys; it's okay," I said with a smile, amused at, yet touched by, their concern. "It's over; he's gone. And if he shows up again, I'll kick his ass."
"As will I, Colonel Carter," Teal'c offered. "On Chulak, if a man lays hands on his woman in violence, she is entitled to castrate him with a blunt knife."
The General winced and crossed his long legs. "Way too much information there, T!" he complained.
I put my hands to my lower back and stretched with a grimace. Although I was very fit, my muscles were unaccustomed to the particular stretching and bending necessary for painting. "Guys; let's take a break, huh?" I said.
The General rolled his eyes. "Finally!" he said. "Who knew you were such a slave driver, Carter?"
"Uh ... we did," Daniel said, pointing to himself and Teal'c. "You should see her in the field!"
I glared at him and he gave me his best innocent blue-eyed stare in return. "Kidding," he said hurriedly. "Ya know we love you, right?"
No more beer for Daniel, I mused, taking the empty Guinness bottle from him. "Pizza?" I suggested, driving my slaves out of the newly decorated bathroom.
I couldn't believe we'd managed to entirely strip and redecorate my whole bathroom in just three hours - talk about teamwork! The previously bland bathroom was now decorated in a subtle blue, with accents in cream and banana. Teal'c had moved some of my things into more logical locations whilst giving stern advice about not confusing color schemes. Daniel had grouted and painted. And the General had willingly re-tiled my shower and sink areas.
The man himself got smoothly to his feet. It was a good thing Baal had healed his crappy knee - we'd've been hearing some choice language from him by now otherwise. "Sir; you want to do the honors?" I said, passing him a leaflet from a local pizza house.
"Carter; we're on down time," he said. "The name's Jack."
I blinked. Last names and ranks weren't obligatory outside work, but I'd made such a determined effort not to think of him as Jack that it was hard to do so now. "Yes, sir," I said, "but my name's Sam; not Carter."
"Sam," he repeated softly. "I can do that."
I blinked again - how the hell did he make my boyish name sound sexy?
"Gimme that leaflet," he added, one hand making its way under his tee shirt and rubbing at his stomach. "Gonna starve to death," he muttered. He pulled out his cellphone - one of the latest ones, I noted with amusement. Boys and their toys - and hit the speed dial. "What?" he asked when Daniel chuckled.
"Nothing," Daniel said, giving his patented Who, me? expression.
The General had known him too long, though. "The cell was provided by the SGC," he said. "You know me and technology."
There he went with the dumb act again. The guy who could master almost any type of weaponry - alien or Earth-based - and could fly anything claiming not to know how to use a cellphone. I didn't buy it.
Daniel wasn't buying his dumb act either. "So ... what? You got someone to show you how to set up a speed dial?" he taunted quietly.
The General smirked. "Got me there," he admitted. "Speed dial is one of the few blessings of the 21st century." He placed the call to the pizza parlor.
Twenty minutes later, the pizzas (plus) had arrived. Knowing the way we could chow down pizza, the General ... Jack ... had ordered four. I watched Jack tear into his pizza with a small smile.
He looked over at me. "What?" he mumbled, mouth full of cheese and pepperoni.
"Nothing," I replied. I still didn't know just why I enjoyed watching him eat. Maybe it was the way he dove into things so enthusiastically - like helping a Lieutenant Colonel decorate her house.
"Uh-huh," he said skeptically. "Then quit eyeballing me."
"Yes, sir," I said with a smirk. Did I ever smirk before meeting Jack O'Neill? I didn't think so, but couldn't be sure.
"Damn insubordinate subordinates," he said, flashing me a grin.
"Perhaps now you have more empathy with General Hammond, O'Neill," Teal'c said.
I'd been in the middle of sipping my soda when that comment emerged. I laughed, choked and the soda came out of my nose. Score one for the big guy!, I mused, grabbing a Kleenex.
It was now 1400 hours and the sun was at its zenith, baking us as we toiled in the living room. I swiped my arm over my sweating face and thought longingly of the beer that currently resided in my fridge. "Guys; I'm getting a drink," I said. "You want?"
I received three grunts of assent from my slaves and headed into the kitchen. I opened the door to the fridge, took out three beers and a soda, then rested my head against one of the beer bottles, enjoying the coldness.
"Carter!" Jack hollered, seeming to forget the first name agreement. "What's a guy have to do to get a drink round here?"
Whoops. I closed the fridge door and went back into the living room. "Sorry, sir," I said, then skidded to a halt.
Damn! Now, there was a sight! My three slaves had taken off their tee shirts, revealing three very different but very nice bodies. If I wasn't their friend, I might have found this quite a show. Oh, hell; it was one hell of a show! I had to admit that much.
My gaze was drawn helplessly to the General. Although he didn't have to satisfy the same fitness requirements as when he was in the field, he worked out rigorously every chance he got - to work off some of the frustrations of his desk job. And damn, was he ever fit.
Broad shoulders, firm chest with an intriguing smattering of gray hair, flat stomach, lean hips. I'd seen him in a similar state of dishabille before but now ... Had any man ever affected me like this with just a bare torso?
"Beer," the General exclaimed, snatching one of the bottles from my hand and draining half of it in several long gulps.
"Uh ...". I shook my head to clear it of the inappropriate thoughts and handed a beer and a soda to Daniel and Teal'c respectively. I opened my own beer and took a grateful swallow of the ice-cold liquid.
Daniel sneezed and wrinkled his nose. "I gotta get out of here for a bit," he said apologetically. "Fumes, you know."
"The garden," I suggested. It was a gorgeous day, and I felt guilty that the guys - my guys - were giving it up to toil in my house.
"Nice!" the General said. He headed straight for my little garden and appropriated the bench, casting his long form down and closing his eyes.
"This is indeed restful," Teal'c said, sounding pleased. He sank gracefully onto the grass and crossed his legs, adopting his old kelno'reem position.
We sat quietly in the sun, drinking and enjoying the little breeze that cooled us off.
"This is very agreeable," Teal'c said suddenly. "Why do we not do this more often?"
"Dunno, T," Jack muttered sleepily. "Probably trying to get a life outside the SGC."
I snorted and took a deep gulp of my beer. "Yeah; my attempt at getting a life worked out really well," I said scornfully.
"Hey!" Jack sat up and regarded me with a piercing stare. "You were happy for a while, weren't you?"
I closed my eyes and sighed. "Yes," I admitted.
"Then remember that," he advised. "It'll help you when things get rough."
A shadow fell over his brown eyes and I recalled just how much this man had lost. "Does that work for you, sir?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Sometimes," he said, his hand tightening around the bottle. "And quit callin' me sir," he grumbled.
"Sorry; force of habit," I said.
The day drew to a close, and we began packing up the equipment. "Well, guys," I said with a huge stretch, "I believe I owe you dinner. You've done such a great job!"
"Dinner?" The General's eyes lit up. "And cake?"
I shook my head in disbelief. The man had inhaled an entire apple pie at lunch time and now he wanted more? How the hell did he stay so trim? "And cake," I said. "But not for me; some of us have to watch our shape, you know!"
He chuckled. "I don't mind watching your shape, Sam," he teased, then his face fell. "Sorry, Carter," he added quickly.
"It's okay," I said. I'd missed this. We'd turned off the flirting for a long time after the Zatarc fiasco, barely talking except in a professional context. Things had changed after Janet had nearly died last year. I'd been distraught at both that and the fact that I'd nearly lost the Colonel, too. Things had started to get back to normal, then my relationship with Pete had turned serious.
The flirting had definitely ended after he'd asked me to marry him. But now ... now it was back. I chuckled. "I don't mind watching your shape either ... Jack," I said.
"What; this old wreck?" he said with a grin.
"Uh ... guys?" Daniel said plaintively. "Sam; you said something about a meal?"
Right. I blushed slightly and turned to my friends. "Go home and change into something spectacular. Only the best for my three super decorators!"
I tugged at the red dress that hugged my figure a little more closely than I recalled, especially the small curve of my stomach that I couldn't eradicate no matter how many crunches I did. I put a necklace on, then examined myself closely, wishing for a little more cleavage. I'd always been small, which was a good thing in a female soldier, but sometimes I would've liked my curves to be a bit fuller.
Then again ... a handsome, sexy Brigadier General had admitted to enjoying watching my shape. I smiled and sprayed on some perfume, then checked my watch. 1900. Time to leave - I was meeting the guys at Alessandro's at 1930.
I'd invited Janet but she'd cried off, pleading tiredness. Although it had been over a year ago, she still tired easily and had yet to come back to the SGC full time.
I left the house and got into my vintage Volvo. I turned the key in the ignition and released the clutch slowly. I got nothing for my trouble but a whine. "Oh, come on!" I muttered and tried again. Another painful whine. "Crap!"
I pulled out my cellphone and hit the speed dial. The phone rang several times. "What?" my CO barked, sounding pissed.
"Sir?"
He exhaled heavily. "Sorry; thought you were another damn telemarketer," he complained. "What's up, Sam?"
"I just wanted to let you know; I might be a bit late," I said. "My car's just died. I'll call a cab and get there as soon as I can."
"Don't worry about it, Sam," he said. "My own cab's due soon; we'll pick you up in ten."
"Okay," I replied.
"See ya."
I ended the call, then got back out of my now-dead car. Oh God, the General was collecting me from my house! That was ... quite date-like. No; don't start over-thinking this, Sam!, I warned myself. That way lay madness. He was my CO and my friend - that was all.
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