Sometimes you just know. From the second she walks into the light, and looks at you, you just know. She's the one, the prize, the golden ring, the 300 bowling score, the fairy of top of the Christmas tree, the biggest present under the Christmas tree...you know, you get the picture. The one.
You also know, given that you're a Colonel and she's a Captain, and she's saluting you, that getting that ultimate prize, getting that one perfect kiss, that moment of ultimate happiness with her is damn near impossible.
Still, doesn't stop you trying. Cos even though you know it's inconceivable, and wrong, and just a silly fantasy from a man who's old enough to know better, there's a stubborn bastard inside you that insists on loving her, and flirting with her, and smiling at her, and turning that charm that you know works on her. And you hang on, through regulations, and near-death experiences, and alien boyfriends, and human boyfriends and stupid sodding evil nasty potato-faced policemen with engagement rings, you hang on. One day, you're going to have your time.
All for this moment.
All for the moment that there's no-one else, and she's no longer under your command and you're alone, and you can finally talk and tell her you love her. This is your time.
"Sooo...Carter...fancy a beer?"
Yeah. Forgot that bit. I can finally tell her, except I'm about as articulate as a pile of wood. A damp pile of wood. I just can't get the words out.
And judging by the way she's sitting there twisting her hands, she's none too relaxed about this either. I guess she won't be starting things either.
"Beer would be good, Sir, yeah."
"Carter, you don't have to call me Sir, now."
"Okay." she swallows nervously and takes a deep breath. "Jack."
Damn, that sounds so good. Hearing my name in her voice. Just the sound of it. I've only heard her call me Jack three times, and each time it sent an unexpected little tingle through me. The idea that she's going to be calling me Jack everytime we see each other from now on is intoxicating. So intoxicating my hand shakes a little as I hand her the beer.
"So...Carter..."
"Sam."
"What?"
You used to call me Sam. I'd like you to go back to that, Sir...I mean, Jack." she blushes a little as she says Jack, and looks up adorably. I could just kiss her now. I lean in a little..then pull back. I told myself I'd take it slowly. There's time for that, now. No more life or death missions, no more we-only-have-17-hours-to-save-the-world moments
"Okay...Sam." I can feel myself grinning as I say it.
The conversation continues, desultory as first, then more animated, as we remember we're friends. Friends as well as almost lovers. We relax, and drink and giggle and get used to 'Sam and Jack'.
And when she leaves, we don't kiss. It doesn't feel right. I want to take this slowly, exult in every precious moment, bask in every second leading up to the kiss. I don't want to rush. I want the moment to be perfect. Sometimes you just know when the right moment to kiss is, and this isn't it. Not quite yet.
She understands. She always does. I guess she feels the same too.
"Don't worry." she says. "There's always time."
There's always time.
There's always time.
Even though she went back to the SGC, there was still time.
Even though she went back on missions, there was still time.
Even though she went missing, there's still time.
But now Cameron's standing in front of me, apologizing. There's tears in his eyes. And there's no more time left.
She's gone.
Sometimes you just know.
We were never going to have our time.