A/N: Wildly AU to the point of madness, so please keep that in mind ;) I think these two would make a great couple, and couldn't resist pairing them after I watched the Stargate: SG-1 episode Heroes. You can find a vid of these two at YouTube!

Even after so many missions, he still got that same thrill as he stepped through the gate. The knowledge that he was the first one to go through always made his chest swell with pride, even if something that lay beyond was waiting to kill him. Usually he got to kill whatever it was first, though. He got to explore new worlds, meet new people, and sometimes he even got to shoot something; as far as he was concerned, this was the best job ever.

"Try not to kill anything today, huh, Dave?"

He twisted around to give O'Neill the finger, grinning as he patted his weapon. "Only unless it's thinking about killing me first."

"How exactly would you know ….never mind." His friend shook his head and headed off – probably to obsess over Mary Steenburgen – while Colonel Dave Dixon rounded up his team and gave Hammond a sketchy salute before walking through the shimmering surface of the gate. They emerged into what he considered a standard world – 'standard' being the same boring crap he'd seen about a million times already. There were probably your run-of-the-mill ancient ruins sitting around somewhere, but no aliens in sight.

"What's your wager? Ruins?" he yell back over his shoulder. "I call sexy alien women."

"You said that last time, Colonel…"

"If you want something bad enough, you've gotta wish for it more than once," Dave joked. Glancing around the meadow – why'd it always have to be a meadow? – he started to send the rest of SG-13 off to scout around when a tremor came up through his heels. "You feel that?"

"Maybe the sexy alien women are wearing really big shoes," one of the wiseasses on his team muttered.

Dave dropped to a crouch, motioning everyone else down as well as the tremors grew stronger, and a strange whining noise filled the air. His fingers tightened on the trigger of his rifle as he raised it slightly, just in case whatever it was didn't take too kindly to humans in its meadow, and his eyes widened as the source of the noise appeared – it was some kind of weird machine that didn't look too much like Goa'uld. It definitely wasn't interested in letting him keep breathing, either.

They were exchanging fire and he was ready to radio back to the SGC for backup, but something pretty weird effectively stopped him from making the call. "Hey! Over here," an unfamiliar voice yelled, and Dave looked around to see a man beckoning to him from behind a fallen tree trunk. He didn't know who the hell they were, but right at the moment he didn't really give a shit – they had cover.

"Let's go," Dave bellowed to the others, waving them past urgently. "Move your asses!"

As soon as the rest of his team were clear, he charged over and barely escaped having his head separated from his body with some sort of laser – as it was, it caught part of the tree trunk and sprayed wood fragments everywhere. He grunted in pain as one tore into his left side, and dragged himself up to fire the last rounds from his gun at the goddamned thing. The man who'd motioned him over was hit too, but he didn't seem to mind that a big chunk of wood was practically bisecting his upper arm. "Leave it in," the guy cautioned when Dave reached for his side. "I'll take you back to the lab."

He suddenly realized that the rest of SG-13 were nowhere to be found, and went for his gun again. "Where…" Dave trailed off when the man moved a piece of grass to uncover a hole large enough for a person to fit through. "Oh." He bit back another yell of pain when he tried to slide through it, but the pain turned to astonishment as he found himself in free-fall. This had to be the shittiest day he'd ever had. His wounded side reminded him that it was still there when an iron grip on his arm stopped him mid-fall and he was hurled onto the floor of…wherever the hell he was.

"Colonel Dixon!"

"Colonel, are you all right?"

"Colonel!"

Wincing, Dave pushed himself to his knees and glared around at his team, who looked absolutely thrilled about something. It couldn't be because he'd shown up still alive. He got a much better idea of why they had those shit-eating grins on their faces when his eyes focused on two women dressed like hookers on some sci-fi show. He reached up to pull off his helmet and stood up, opening his mouth to speak when a faint noise caught his attention and he turned…coming face to face with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. "Holy shit. I win," he said wonderingly.

She looked up at him, tossing her long blonde hair back over her shoulder as narrowed brown eyes focused on him. Dave had always loved brown eyes on a woman, especially on a woman as incredibly hot as this one. "Where'd you come from?" she demanded aggressively. He liked aggressive women, too. God damn, she was fine. And he could understand what she was saying, which was good. It didn't really matter, but it was good.

Remembering that an air force colonel wasn't supposed to be caught staring at women, no matter how absolutely gorgeous they might be, Dave straightened. "I'm Colonel Dixon from the…"

She cocked her head at him. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" he glanced over at his team, who were all smirking openly. He'd court-martial the idiots, Dave promised himself. He did a double-take when the man who'd brought them all to safety walked past, jerking out the piece of wood - instead of blood pouring from the wound, there were…sparks? What the..? "Whoa, what-"

The woman's hand clamped around his wrist and yanked him over to a table. "Take your shirt off before I decide to let you bleed to death."

"Sarge," one of the other women, a beautiful dark-skinned warrior type, interrupted as he reluctantly began to open his shirt. Sarge? "Go easy on him. Voice says they're not with the Baileys."

Sarge grinned over at her. "Maybe not…but I've still gotta check for hidden weapons." Her eyes returned to studying him and Dave tried not to laugh when she began to pat him down, a smile curving her lips as she reached between his legs and let her hand linger there a bit more than was strictly necessary. "Not bad," she murmured up at him, squeezing lightly before stepping back. Her hands were a bit more impartial the next time she touched him, which was when she grabbed the piece of wood and yanked it out of his side without warning him.

"Jesus…! Move over, Florence Nightengale," he panted, holding his side.

"Florence who?"

"Never mind."

She did something with a weird device, and the wound in his side sealed up. "So, is your name really Sarge?"

"As far as you're concerned, it is."

"I'm Dave," he blurted, feeling like he was back in grade school, talking to a girl for the very first time. This wasn't the way he was supposed to act, what the hell was wrong with him?

Sarge raised her head and smiled at him, the kind of smile that did funny things to his stomach. "Good for you." Then she turned around and walked off, leaving him with an aching side, a puzzled expression on his face, and a great view of her ass.

If this wasn't love, he didn't know what was.