A late Valentine's Day special for everyone. I was going to do something more dramatic, but none of my subverses are really developed enough and I kind of got busy with other things and didn't have time anyway. I wrote this when it was really late and I was really tired, so it may have come out rambly and disjointed. I apologize in advance.

Stardate 1754489880
Demeter

Jack spun the crank on his fishing reel, knowing exactly what would be on the end of it- nothing. This pond, though a zillion lightyears away, was exactly the same as the one he had back in Minnesota. It was of a decent size, not too big, not too small. It was surrounded by trees, although these ones weren't as pointy, and they were a darker shade of green. Even the climate was the same- except a bit wetter.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly the same, but the most important part was the same- there were no fish.

He had moved out to Demeter a few years after it had been colonized- seven years in a month, if he remembered correctly. It was just after the end of World War Three, during the second wave of colonization. He was still a hero- always would be- but there were new tales of heroism, bravery during the War and the expansion efforts that followed. So he sold the Minnesota cabin and left before people started remembering again.

He wasn't the only one, but he was the only one from the small group of people he still considered his team. Colonel- now Lieutenant General- Carter ended up heading Alliance R&D. Professor Daniel Jackson divided his time between delivering lectures, studying dusty old artifacts, and... professing. Teal'c had gone back to Chulak and entered politics, taking over the Liberation Party after Bra'tac stepped down. Cameron Mitchell had moved up the ranks- last Jack heard he was a Rear Admiral.

He liked Demeter. It was named after some Greek goddess- Daniel was always talking about the etymology but he never paid any attention. It was one of Earth's first colony worlds- well, one of the first of the second wave, anyway. It wasn't as old as the first-wavers, like Reach or New Abydos or Gagaringrad.

It wasn't a big colony like Bekenstein or Nova Heliopolis either. There was exactly one city on Demeter- New Athens- which had grown to about ten thousand since he moved onto the world. The total population was about twice that- twenty thousand people, mostly humans with a smattering of serrakin and the occasional jaffa, spread in various hamlets and settlements around the countryside. Modern VTOL turbograv hoverthingies- he forgot the proper term- made transportation a cinch, and the planet was ringed with communications satellites.

But no, it was a small, quiet colony, a place where everyone seemed to know each other yet didn't ask too many questions. An ideal retirement community, where he could withdraw from greater society.

He was a hero, there was no denying that. But after fighting for so long, after so much struggle, so much loss, he just wanted to sit back and retire. Like he was about to thirty years ago- God, was it that long? He was too old for this shit.

Not physically, of course. In fact, he was in better shape than when he joined the SGC. His bones didn't ache, his muscles were taut and springy, and hell, even his mind was still sharp.

"Guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite," Jack muttered to himself, casting out his line again.

In truth, he was lost. The glory days of the SGC were over- as one journalist had so eloquently put it, "the day of the hero is over". After- hell, when was it? 2012? 2016? It was some time after World War Three, after the Lucian Intervention, after the Second Space Race, after Disclosure, after the Systems Alliance, after the world had been turned upside down more times than he could count.

The old enemies were gone. Oh sure, there were the Wraith, but not only were they a galaxy away, but they were also a shadow of their former selves. All that was left was pirates and smugglers, zipping back and forth across the Alliance's massive territory, and the occasional uprising on a colony. They were sending out explorers, but all they found was empty space.

It wasn't like the old days.

It was time for a new generation to take the reins. The reality of the situation was completely different. In some ways, he was a relic from not one, not two, but three generations ago. But on the other side of the coin, he was conflicted. There was still plenty of life left in him, he just didn't know what to do with it. There was an invitation waiting- well, there were invitations from everyone but there was a specific one he was thinking of- back into Earth's- well, not Earth's anymore- military.

No, until something big happened that could bring him back into the fold again, he was content to just sit and wait. Let someone else handle the world's petty issues. If some big space monster came back to haunt them, hell yeah he would come back. It was so ingrained into his psyche that he couldn't not come back. But until there was some galaxy-shattering event, he was content sitting by the alien pond, casting for nonexistent fish, and occasionally peering through his telescope up at the stars humanity was now reaching further and further toward.

Or was-

A loud buzz and annoying vibration from his pocket brought Jack out of his thoughts. Demeter's excellent 6G DSA coverage was as much of an advantage as a disadvantage. He removed the slim, reassuringly hefty phone from his pocket. The Systems Alliance logo was visible on its semi-holographic screen, and a push on the active tactile screen was enough to answer the call.

He was all business. "O'Neill."

"General, sir," a voice replied. Major General Davis, formerly USAF, now part of the Systems Alliance Joint Forces Command. They were snapping up everyone and everyone even remotely involved with the SGC after its dissolution, he recalled. Davis was one of that group of men and women. "We have a situation that might warrant your attention-"

"First, it's Jack. I've been retired for seven years. Second, I'm not interested." There were several situations that warranted his attention, forwarded to him at a rate of about two a month. There had never been anything more major than the discovery of a pocket of Lucian resistance, or a particularly nasty terrorist group.

"Just hear me out, sir," Davis insisted, refusing to drop the formality. That was part of the game, too. He would insist, Jack would say no again, and eventually he would give up.

"No. I don't need to hear about the latest pirate attack. I have ANN for that."

"This isn't a pirate attack, sir." Davis' voice was stone cold, dead serious. Seemingly more so than usual, in fact. Jack ignored it, but a small doubt crept in at the back of his mind.

"So the Lucian Alliance is rearing their ugly head again?"

"No, sir!" He was indignant, insistent, indecent- nope, now Jack was out of long words. "Is your line secure, General?"

"Good question, ask GalTel."

There was a slight pause, before Davis told him, "Sir, we've made contact with an alien race. They're hostile, and they've attacked one of our outer colonies."

O'Neill arched an eyebrow, digesting the information. He was split between an urge to return and counter the threat and a cold indifference, a feeling that it would be better off in someone else's hands. "Oh really? Just the one, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

Turning more serious by the second, he asked, "And what kind of threat do they pose?"

"They seem to be fairly formidable on the ground, sir. The colonial garrison- it's around the size of Gagaringrad's- is being pushed back hard. Casualties are mounting, sir."

Well, that was unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected. Their ground forces weren't very good- they just kept cheaping out. It made Jack sick to think of those who were dying because of some penny-pinching politician. "And what about your much vaunted space fleet?"

Another pause. "Their stellar forces are significant, sir. Equivalent in size to one of our fleets."

"And?"

"The George S. Hammond, along with a cruiser and a frigate, engaged the enemy battlegroup with heavy losses." There was something not quite right about that statement.

"Two out of three?"

A sigh. "No, sir. Heavy losses for the enemy fleet."

"Then I don't see how this concerns me," Jack replied. "Seems like our boys- and girls- will ride in and save the day before the week is out."

"Aren't you a least bit interested, sir?" Davis pleaded.

Jack sighed. "I'll tell you what. When we win this war and we're celebrating our victory, you can invite me to the party. I might even come."

A sigh, deeper this time. "You're not the Jack O'Neill in the history texts. What happened, sir?"

"Not a day goes by when I don't ask myself the same question." Before the Major General could formulate a reply, or he had to think about it, he hammered the "end call" button, cutting the other man off mid-sentence.

He considered tossing the phone- a thousand-credit Samsung Andromeda X- into the pond, but thought better of it. Instead, he shoved it back into the pocket it came from.

Who was he kidding? He knew damn good and well what was really keeping him on Demeter, away from the Alliance and away from his friends.

There were a few items that Jack O'Neill always carried with him. The aforementioned phone, his wallet with ID and usually around two hundred American dollars and about the same amount of wealth in Hebridanian vouchers, a Kel-tec PBl-32, and the Little Black Box.

Silently, he removed the box from his coat pocket. It was a small, rectangular box, covered in felt, considered old-fashioned in this day and age. He flipped it open, the hinges giving a stout snap.

Inside was a gold ring, inset with a single crystal-clear diamond. The gold was as brilliant as the day he bought it, and the diamond refracted and reflected the light in strange, oddly beautiful patterns.

He sighed as he put the case away, struggling to visualize the smiling, blue-eyed face framed by short blond hair, a face rapidly fading from memory.

Maybe, someday.