Title: Not Applicable (N/A)

Author: A. M. Richardson
Classification: Ship, Short, FLUFF all the way, baby!
Spoilers: Set S9, speculative spoilers, small references to 'Heroes' and 'Threads'
Rating: Fiction Rated: K+ Suitable for most, except those that hate ship and fluff. Crumbs, is there anyone left then?
Pairings: Sam/Jack
Summary: Sam's in Washington, but not for long..
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended

Notes: For Jellojuicejo for her birthday and a thanks for all the wonderful 'shippy stories she writes. One of the best writers in the fandom, IMHO. It's a humble offering, Jo, I hope you like it.
Based on a brief spoiler I read - something that alluded to Sam's 'status' in S9.

N/A not available

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People kept asking her what her secret was.

Why was she so happy? Why could she not stop smiling? She would trip down the dreary Pentagon corridors in her dress blue straitjacket and find herself grinning into the polished elevator walls.

If only they knew.

One of the secretary's joked that 'it must be love'.

If only they knew.

Bouncy. She was most definitely bouncy. The regulation heels helped, she was not one of those tall women that wore flats to look shorter, so yes, bouncy. The lacy light support Victoria's Secret helped as did the.. exercise last night. THAT always helped to make things.. bouncy.

Passing a cleaning orderly on her way out of the main doors into the Washington summer sunshine, she flashed him a smile. "Afternoon, Freeman!" she called and took pleasure in the answering gold-toothed grin, so rich against his ebony skin. Great name, Freeman, and it suited him, too.

But not her. Not anymore.

Not free.

N/A. Not available. Hence the reason for her secret and her bounciness.

She adjusted her hat as she strolled by the memorial 9/11 garden, acutely aware that she was looking at the world through new eyes. Colours seemed more defined and everything sharper, she was so lucky to be alive and happy when so many others were not.

The hazy view of the Boundary Channel was replaced with faces that swam unbidden into her head, her mom, Martouf, Narim, Elliot, Janet, her dad, Daniel a few times. Too many loved ones; a piece of her had died with each of them, but enough now. It was time to grow, not die.

As she neared the outdoor café a block across from her current place of employ, she noticed that he rose to greet her - how she loved that about him - and smiled at her. That closed-mouth smile of his, the one that made his cheeks crease deeply. "You're late," he remarked, but without admonishment.

"Only by ten weeks," she hissed back as she took the proffered seat and totally enjoyed the answering wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, visible beyond the perimeter of his Oakleys and disappearing under the brim of his eagle-adorned cap.

A secret indeed.

Clearing his throat, he pushed over two hi-balls, "Still water unchilled and tomato and carrot juice." He grimaced at the latter. "Are you sure this is only a temporary thing, Carter?"

She shrugged carelessly as she mixed the two glasses together. "I swear I have no idea; I've never been pregnant before."

"Well, if weird tastes in food and drink were a defined symptom of pregnancy, Daniel would be looking at a ten year gestation period," he remarked, negotiating his long - oh so wonderful - legs under the café table.

Would mid-afternoon café sex cause a stir from the nose-to-tail on the I-395?

Clearing her throat, she began, "Jack, I have something to tell-"

"It's okay, I know; Hank spoke to General George and he rang me," he prodded the cell phone basking on the metal fretwork with a long, lean finger.

She nodded, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, and then actually doing so. "I'm sorry."

He chuffed softly. "Carter, schmarter, how is this your fault? You were recalled; stuff breaks down, it happens. Just promise me you'll take care down there. Do they know yet?"

She covered her stomach with her left hand as if to confirm what her was indicating. "No. The infirmary will be the first place I have to report to anyway. Besides, it's not.. overseas."

He understood. Of course he understood.

Sipping her carrot concoction, a change of tack was needed. "Commander Simmonds made a pass at me again."

That made him grin, mission accomplished. "What did you say? And just what is it with the military that keeps using the same names all the time? Is that incestuous or what?"

"What I told him the last time, that I'm unavailable. In answer to the second part of your multiple question, yes I know, and I'm still trying to meet the other Colonel O'Neill, the Colonel-two 'l's-no sense of humour-O'Neil. One of these days.."

He was sniggering. "What'd ya say, Carter? All I heard was 'multiple'."

Cue eye roll. "I think I love you, General O'Neill."

She did not just say that aloud in the middle of a Washington park square?

She did, as the conversation died off on a neighbouring table and an unknown head half turned to catch the rest of the convo.

Oh, man, he was so enjoying her beetroot face. "Hope so, Carter, hope so."

Sucking in some air through his teeth and smacking his cap on, he rose in one fluid movement. "So, Carter, wanna do sex?"

That was obviously way too loud (the head had whip-lashed back) and he would definitely pay, but in the mean time her grin wattage was off the scale and she mirrored his actions. "Absolutely! Your place or mine?"

"Is your mini bar stocked?"

She nodded slyly, "Milk Dud's, carrot juice, Hersheys and Guinness."

"Lead on, Colonel." A hand gestured 'after you' politely, only to then linger over her tusch in a way that sent her heart racing with anticipation.

Oh yeah, definitely N/A for tonight.

Et aeterna.

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The End