AU, exploring a shyer Jack than the one in our universe and a more aggressive Sam (civilian Sam, not military Sam). However, I think our Jack is also pretty shy - he's just better at hiding it than the one I wrote.

PART 1

June 2004:

Damn, he's so hot!, Doctor Sam Carter thought, watching her new boss, Major General Jack O'Neill, as he talked to an Air Force officer about Sam's own age, maybe a little older.

Not that Sam was any good at guessing ages. General O'Neill could have been anywhere in his mid-to-late 40s by his appearance – but she had read the unclassified portions of his file and knew that he was 51, 52 in four months.

The General was tall – perhaps five or six inches taller than Sam's own 5'9" – lean and muscular, with an unusual good-looking face accentuated by high cheekbones, deep dark eyes and untidy silver hair.

To the casual onlooker, the older man would've seemed to epitomize relaxed as he chatted with his colleague, but Sam had a feeling his half-open eyes saw more than most people's most intense observations. There was something … dangerous about him.

Sam gave a little shiver; she'd always liked rebels. And she'd always liked older men. Put the two together with velvet brown eyes and an ass to die for, and she was one happy camper.

"General O'Neill?" she said when the man beckoned her into his office. "Doctor Samantha Carter reporting."

"Ah yes; the new Science Head." He nodded to the Colonel. "You'll ship out at 0700 tomorrow, Dixon, to meet with the Tok'ra. So, play nice."

The officer smirked. "No promises, General," he replied.

"Dixon …," the General sighed.

"Okay, Jack; I promise not to rag on the snakes too much."

Snakes? Not exactly a diplomatic term for one of the SGC's longest-standing allies.

And now the General shook his head. "Get out of here, Dave, while I remember just why I like you."

Dixon snickered then nodded to Sam as he went past her. "Doctor," he said politely, "welcome to the SGC; I'm Colonel Dixon."

"Good to meet you, Colonel," Sam replied with a smile. The man had a rather offbeat sense of humor that was pretty appealing, but he wasn't her type.

General Jack O'Neill, on the other hand …

"So … Samantha Carter. PhD in Theoretical Astrophysics, PhD in Political Sciences and an MBA," the man in question said. He waved her into a chair facing him, and they sat as Dixon strolled away. "You a brainiac or just really indecisive?"

Sam felt immediately at ease. Some military men – father and brother included – were uncomfortable with her scholastic accomplishments, but General Jack O'Neill seemed different. "Which is going to incriminate me the least?" she shot back.

He gave a slight smile. "Doctor Lee would normally carry out your induction, but he's out on paternity leave at the moment," he said. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"That's all right, General," she said, musing that she wouldn't mind spending time with this sexy man.

He passed her a manila folder full of papers, and she grimaced. Oh joy! He returned the grimace. "It's not the guns or the snake-heads that'll kill ya; it's the paperwork," he said.

Oh yes, Sam thought, I could get to like it here.

An unusual realization for someone who had no fondness for the military. She'd never gotten along particularly well with her dad, and had been spectacularly unsurprised by his near-complete disappearance six years ago. He surfaced once in a while and they'd tried to make it work, but they just had zip in common. She'd never felt like she was good enough and, to top it all off, she showed no interest in joining the military.

As for her brother … he'd come back from a tour of duty just long enough to knock up her best friend Janet before abandoning both her and the child.

Lieutenant Colonel Janet Fraiser was actually the CMO of this base – for eight long years, Sam had wondered what the hell went on under NORAD, and now she knew. And it was more fantastic than she could ever have dreamed.

"I understand you're friends with Doctor Fraiser," General O'Neill said now, pulling her out of her dark thoughts about her philandering brother.

"Uhm, yes," Sam said. "That isn't a problem, is it?"

"No," the General said seriously. "Just remember that, as CMO, she has full medical authority over everyone in this base – civilians and yours truly included."

"Uh … of course," Sam said, taken aback by his sudden shift in mood. Although quiet and rather reserved, he'd shown signs of a good sense of humor a minute earlier. Who'd shoved the stick up his butt?

Jack O'Neill stuffed his hands into the pockets of his BDUs as he led Doctor Carter to the commissary, smiling slightly as she babbled enthusiastically about the power needed to generate a stable wormhole. He liked her, he decided, although he had the feeling that her super-brain would wear him out rather quickly. It had been a long time since he'd been intimidated by scientists – his close friendship with a stubborn archeologist/linguist having put paid to that – but her enthusiasm was something he just could not relate to. It had been a very long time since he'd felt so enthusiastic about anything.

Two years ago, he had been in charge of SG-1, leading Daniel Jackson, Dave Dixon and the Jaffa Teal'c on their missions. Then he'd caught a staff blast at close quarters during a botched mission, wrecking his shoulder and essentially ensuring that he would never see active duty again. Janet Fraiser had also been shot and had died. Fortunately, they had found a sarcophagus and had managed to revive her.

He shuddered at how close it had been, at the idea that the Doc's adorable little girl would have grown up without her mom. Bad enough that she had a deadbeat for a dad – if Jack ever found out who the guy was …

After Jack's removal from active duty, Dixon had been promoted to full bird and now headed SG-1, with a young Major named Mitchell as his 2IC. And part of Jack was envious as hell.

But he'd lost his enthusiasm a long time before that staff blast, he was honest enough to admit to himself. Sure, at first, it had been exciting leading people to strange new worlds, but pretty soon, one planet started to look very much like another.

"You've become old before your time. You have no passion – for anything," his last girlfriend had told him when she'd ended their relationship. "I can't live like that."

He'd had passion, once. But his lust for life hadn't meshed well with his wife's more timid approach – to everything. She hadn't understood his need for speed, his sometimes reckless take on life. And as for love-making … Well, that had never particularly interested her, had been more along the nature of a duty.

Their marriage had eventually become more like a distant friendship. They'd both known it wasn't working, and had mutually decided to call their twelve-year marriage quits.

That had been ten years ago, and the divorce had been very civil. He saw his son as much as he was able, given his schedule and the fact that a lot of his life was classified beyond belief. Then, four years ago, Sara O'Neill had been hit by a drunk driver, dying upon impact.

Charlie had come to live with Jack, enlivening the lonely man's days with his energy, his joie de vivre. Unusually for a teenager, he'd not been particularly rebellious or sulky, and Jack had been thrilled when the kid had gotten into Notre Dame. Go, Irish. Now Charlie was in his sophomore year, living off campus, and Jack's solitary life had resumed without a hitch.

Although a powerful, handsome and successful man, Jack O'Neill was no social butterfly. He spent much of his time in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain and what little of his free time was spent alone. He'd had a couple of short-lived relationships since the divorce, but they hadn't lasted – due in the main to the rigid control he'd learned to impose upon himself. Some people just weren't meant to be in a relationship – he was one of those people.

Or so he thought.

He had no idea that the blonde babbling scientist strolling next to him was about to turn his insular little world upside down.