"Copy That"

Monday

General O'Neill had said it was not her fault, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had let him... everyone down. RepliCarter was free now, and there was no telling where she would go or what she would do. One thing was for sure; she was power-hungry and intent on conquering the universe. Carter felt the burden of guilt weighing on her mind as she turned off the lights in her lab and closed the door. It was 2200 hours, and she was beat. She felt drained, not physically but mentally.

Instead of going home, she decided to sleep in her base quarters for the night. That way she could get back to work early the next morning. She only hoped she could get the Replicators off her mind long enough to get something accomplished tomorrow. There were plenty of new doohickeys awaiting her examination, and she was behind schedule; her work had suffered since RepliCarter had escaped six days earlier. No one had complained or spoken to her about her lack of progress, but she knew. She also knew that it was all her fault, no matter what Jack said.

Jack. She called him Jack only to herself, hardly ever out loud. She wished, for the thousandth time, that she could feel comfortable calling the General by his first name, but that would have been inappropriately familiar, and Lieutenant Samantha Carter of the USAF hardly ever did anything inappropriate. At least not when she was on duty or around anyone in the military. Even during downtime, which she occasionally spent in the company of her teammates Daniel and Teal'c and the General, she never slipped and called him Jack or flyboy or gorgeous, or sexy, even if the thought did occur to her. To her he was all of those and so much more! He was what her dreams were made of each night as she lay tossing in her lonely bed. She fell asleep thinking of him at night, and awoke in the early morning to find herself writhing in release as she imagined Jack sucking her clit or fucking her fast and hard. Masturbating while thinking about Jack had become her usual way to start each day. She was, she decided, pathetic.

After brushing her teeth she put on a pair of flannel pajamas and hurriedly got into bed, pulling up the two regulation-wool blankets. Like all underground facilities, especially those housing tons of computers and other electronics, it was like ice in here.

She missed her warm house, her cozy slippers and fireplace on nights like this, but as a soldier she was used to sleeping in uncomfortable surroundings, many much worse than these.

She had definitely had worse than this metal cot she thought, wondering if the General O'Neill was asleep in his big bed on base or at home. She didn't know what his bed at home was like, but she knew that the commander of the base at Cheyenne Mountain had better quarters than hers. In fact she had seen his quarters once when her father had borrowed them once. The bed was king-sized, and there was a real comforter and plush carpet on the floor!

She liked to envision Jack lying in that bed as she slowly pulled aside the comforter and climbed in on top of him, her body molding to his.

Her body began to tingle, but it wasn't due to the feelings that vision evoked. The tingling got more intense, as she felt her molecules being transported in a beam of white light. Suddenly she was not in Kansas anymore, as Jack would have quipped. She was lying on the cold, smooth floor of a small room that was lined with ... no, strike that. Not lined with but made up of … something she had seen before. Sitting up, she shuddered as she realized the wall was made up entirely of Replicator blocks. Then everything went black, and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Tuesday

General Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill sat behind his desk, a cup of strong, black coffee on his right, and a large stack of folders on his left. The coffee held his attention, the warmth pooling in his empty stomach, the aroma of the Starbuck's house blend filling his nostrils. There was nothing, he thought, like a good cup of coffee in the morning, unless it was the sight of Carter's blonde head as she peered around his partially open office door. And viola! There it was; the object of his desire, and she had come to see him.

"Sir. Am I interrupting you?"

"No, Carter, come on in! I could use another excuse to put off signing all these requisitions," he groaned, motioning her to take a seat facing his desk.

"So, coffee?" He rose to pour her a cup.

"No, thanks." He looked up, surprised. "I've already had mine, Sir."

"Ah, been up since daybreak again, Carter?"

He knew how dedicated she was. Hell, he often had to remind her to go home and sleep, and she was always on base before him. The word dedicated didn't describe her adequately; she was obsessed when it came to her doohickeys.

"So, Carter, what can I do for you? Sign a requisition? Order some more parts, computers, tools, toilet paper?" he asked her, giving her a smirk.

"Nothing like that, Sir. Actually I was wondering if you're free tonight? I have a problem at home that I need your help with, and Daniel and Teal'c are not available. So I thought maybe you wouldn't mind..."

Jack looked confused, but that was normal for him. "Sure Carter. Mind if I ask what kind of help you need?" He could think of a lot of things he'd like to do for her, in her bedroom, in her bed. Naughty things he usually only thought about when he was alone and thinking of her, which was nearly every night. But she couldn't mean that kind of help, so 'O'Neill,' he told himself, 'get your mind out of the gutter!'

"I've been cleaning, and I packed up some things I want to store in my attic. I need help getting the boxes up there. To repay you, I'll make you dinner," she offered.

"You cook," he asked, sure that he had never heard of her cooking anything.

"Actually, I do! I'll make you my Dad's lasagna. I think you'll like it, Sir. See you about 1800 hours?" She got up and turned back at the door to smile at him.

"Can't wait, Carter!" He grinned at her, and found himself smiling as he waded through the stack of documents. With the prospect of dinner with Carter, suddenly work didn't seem so tiresome or tedious. He leaned back in his big leather chair and daydreamed for a few minutes, his face morphing into a slow grin.

If only this were a real date with Sam, he thought. Sam. He hardly ever called her Sam and certainly never Samantha. He loved her name. It was sexy and just kinda slid off his tongue. Saamaan-thaa. The thought made him imagine what he'd like to do to her with his tongue. He'd like to tongue her clit, that's what he'd really like to do. Taste her and make her come. Damn! Well, at least he'd finally get to taste her cooking. So she could cook! Well, why not; she was brilliant at everything else she did.

By 17:45 Jack O'Neill was showered, shaved and on his way to Sam's house. He decided tonight he was NOT going to call her Carter, not once! Tonight she would be Sam, or maybe even Samantha. They were on down time and off base, so why the hell not! Calling her by her name was not breaking any regulations. What could it hurt?

She answered the door so quickly that he knew she had been watching for him. And she looked gorgeous, dressed in tight black jeans and a hot pink sweater that hugged her breasts and revealed the tops of those creamy mounds just enough to be suggestive.

Jack had to force himself to look at her face as she greeted him and took his jacket, hanging it up on the coat tree in the foyer. Jack followed her into the kitchen, where a delicious smell permeated the room.

"Wine? I've got California Merlot or an Italian Chianti."

"I'll have the Chianti," he told her, looking around the room to see the table set for two with china and crystal.

Everything sparkled in the light of the fireplace. Cozy, he thought, thinking that he had only been in this room once before, when Orlin had moved in with Sam and the SGC had wired the house to catch a glimpse of him. They never did, of course, and Jack had come along to see if Sam was okay. She had obviously been upset that even he didn't believe there was really an invisible alien in her house. He had wanted to believe her, and he had told her so. But he still felt he had let her down.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," she said, as she removed the hot casserole dish from the oven. "It has to set before I can cut it," she explained, motioning for him to sit down at the table.

"I could put those boxes up for you now?"

He set his wine glass down on the table and turned back to find her staring at him. When he looked at her, she looked down and continued to pour wine into her glass.

"No, you can do that later. Let's just enjoy dinner first. Besides I wouldn't want you to get all dusty before you eat. It's so dirty up there. In fact, I should have told you to wear old clothes. You look nice, and I wouldn't want you to ruin that shirt," she said, looking at his chest.

He was wearing his usual lose-fitting, big shirt. It was light blue and open at the neck, exposing a small patch of chest hair, the silver hairs glimmering in the firelight. He noticed how long she looked at his chest, and felt a rush of blood move directly to his groin. Now don't go getting any ideas down there, O'Neill, he chastised himself.

"Okay, then sit down with me for a minute and tell me about your house. I just realized how long it's been since I was here."

Jack pulled out her chair, and she lowered her body into it, looking up at him. Jack noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual. Even when she went out with him and Daniel and Teal'c, she didn't usually go all girly on them. Tonight she looked like she was going out on a date. A date! 'Holy Hannah, do you suppose she thinks of this as a date?' That thought made him more than a little nervous as he sat down and waited for her to speak.

"I really haven't had much time to do anything to it. You know I'm hardly ever home," she explained, and he nodded. "But I do like it here."

He knew about her long work hours. He had often told her that she really should get a life outside of work. The truth was so should he. Now the person he wanted that life with was sitting right across from him, looking oh so edible that he was getting a hard-on!

"I know how much time you spend at the SGC. You really work way too much, Samantha."

There! He had said her name. Hmmmm. That was strange; she didn't flinch or even seem to notice. He decided to test the water, as it were.

"You don't mind if I call you Samantha, do you," he asked, looking at her over his wine glass.

"Of course not. It's my name, Jack." She smiled at him, and his pulse sped up, making the blood rush down there again. Naughty, Jack, naughty!

The meal was delicious, and Jack definitely had to rethink that whole she-probably-can't- cook-thing. She definitely could cook! Before the lasagna there was a zesty Italian salad with cherry tomatoes and black olives. And there was garlic bread that melted in his mouth. And more wine, of course!

After dinner they sat in front of the fireplace on the little sofa side by side, thighs touching, as they drank more wine. He put his arm over the back of the sofa and wondered if he were to put it on her shoulder, would she jump. Would she ask him to remove it, or would she let him. No guts no glory, so he put his arm across her shoulder and she let him!

They sat in companionable silence for a long time, just staring into the fire. The wine and a satisfied stomach soon had Jack in a really mellow mood. He began to nuzzle the side of Sam's neck with his nose. The scent of her perfume or shampoo or hairspray or something was different tonight. Not that he had been this close on very many occasions, because he hadn't. She just seemed to smell different tonight. Nice but not the same.

He wondered if he were to kiss her neck, would she protest, pull away or slap his face. He decided to find out. He pushed her hair aside with his nose, and placed a kiss on her neck. She didn't move, and she didn't pull away or slap his face. He waited for her to announce that she was going to file a complaint against him first thing tomorrow, but that didn't come either. So he continued to kiss her neck, working his way around to her chin. Then he kissed her on the lips, and she surprised him by kissing him back!

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but for some reason the doubts and fears that had controlled him for the past seven years didn't seem to matter just now. He also knew that he wanted this woman, had wanted her since that first day in the conference room, when she had stood up to him thinking he was against having a woman on his team. He liked women he had told her, and it was true; he did like women. A lot! He had had a lot of them in his bed over the years, but none since meeting this particular one. She had stolen his heart, and now he wanted no one else. One night stands had become a thing of the past, since Samantha Carter had come into his life.

And now, after years of lusting after her, and thousands of nights spent dreaming of making love to her, he was here with her in her house with his tongue down her throat, and she was allowing it! Their mouths came apart and Jack's lips traveled down her throat and to the tops of those luscious breasts. He placed kisses all along the neckline of her sweater, while Sam clutched his hair till he thought she'd pull it out.

"Rub me," Jack suggested, and immediately her hand slid down to his pants and unzipped his fly. Releasing his rigid member from the confines of his boxers Sam proceed to massage his cock till Jack thought he would blow right there.

"Whoa! Honey, let's take this somewhere more comfortable, okay?" Sam nodded and rose from the sofa, taking his hand in hers. She led him to her bedroom where they took turns undressing one another.

Within seconds they were rolling around on top of the comforter together, lips locked, hands running up and down curves, and legs wrapped around legs. Things were going way too fast even for an alpha male like Jack.

"Sam! Slow down, honey. I'm not going anywhere. We've got all night if you want. I'll stay. Just go slow. I want to make this first time special," he whispered in her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

"It is special, Jack. YOU are special! I want you, Jack! I need you!"

She rolled him onto his back with ease and straddled him, pushing his dick between her legs and into her hot, moist hole. The feel of her around him so suddenly made him forget his intention of going slow, and he lifted his hips up toward her, forcing his erection farther into her willing body. She followed suit, lifting up and slamming her ass down onto his thighs, taking up a rhythm that he was unable to deny.

The intense pressure of her vaginal walls squeezing his dick caused him to come much sooner than he wanted. Dammit! He had really wanted to please her, not come quick like a teenager in the back seat of his first car. And she hadn't reacted, not a moan or anything. He was slightly embarrassed and wanted to do something to make it up to her.

But before he could scoot down her body and take care of her, she jumped up out of the bed and darted into the bathroom. Wow, she must really be mad, he told himself. He went over to the door and listened for a minute.

"Sam? Are you okay?" No answer. "Sam, I'm really sorry. If you'll come back, I'd like to make it up to you. I'm not usually so selfish. Sam?"

Still nothing. Now he was getting nervous. Was she sick? Suddenly he heard the lock turn, and then the door opened and she came out. He stepped aside, and she went about the room and started to pick up her clothing from the floor. Then she dressed, while Jack just stood and watched her in stunned silence.

"Sam, if you're pissed at me, I don't blame you. Just talk to me, will you?"

"It's done. You can leave now," was all she said before turning and leaving the bedroom.

Jack got dressed and went to look for her. He looked all over her house, including the basement, but she was gone! And her car was no longer parked at the curb. Now that was just plain odd! He had had many reactions from women in his day, some bad but mostly good. This was definitely the first time one had just gotten up and left.

Usually they liked to cuddle after sex, which he wasn't opposed to. In fact he kind of liked it, as long as they didn't expect him to talk about his feelings. And they all wanted to come, and he was usually really good about seeing to it that they did. Sam hadn't come, and she didn't even seem to enjoy fucking. She had said she needed him and wanted him. If that was true, then why was she acting like this?

Wednesday

Sam woke up with a headache that started between her eyes and seemed to shoot out the top of her head. After showering she went to the infirmary where Dr. Brightman gave her some Tylenol and asked her how she'd slept.

"I slept like the dead! I don't even remember going to bed, and suddenly my alarm is going off. I guess I really needed eight hours of sleep."

Dr. Brightman's eyebrows rose. Sam knew the Doc was probably thinking that getting eight hours of sleep each night should be the norm not the exception. But the Doc had the good sense not to waste her breath on Sam. Everyone knew what a workaholic Sam Carter was.

TBC