Charade, Chosen Hearts Series Pre S1 101

by HDorothy

Charade is the first novella in the ongoing, Chosen Hearts Series, which not chronological written, begins with Jack and Sam’s first romantic encounter to present SG1 season including S9, S10 and futuristic.

Title: Charade - 1st novella - Chosen Hearts Series - Pre-S1 - COTG

Author: HDorothy/HailDorothy (One in the same)

Email: Humor/Angst/Romance

Warnings: Some bad language, reference to rape, violence implied.

Rating: T

Category: Jack/Sam - Friendship, Comfort, Romance, Angst and Humor

Other Characters: Daniel, Oma, Hammond, Kawalsky

Season: Pre-S1, (Chosen Hearts Series Pre-S1-S9)

Spoilers: Stargate Movie, 101 Children Of The Gods

Series Summary: Charade is the first novella of the ongoing, Chosen Hearts series, which not chronological written, begins with Jack and Sam's first romantic encounter to present SG-1 season whether S9 or S10. Please read 'Charade' for setup of rest of, 'Chosen Hearts,' series that will include Black Ops flashbacks, and references to 'Charade.' Other than the twists I've first introduced and a few along the way, this series is canon based. Really!

File Size: 325 KB

Archived: Jacfic, Gateworld, Heliopolis, SamandJack, FanFiction, my site: http/

Thanks: A very special thanks to Susie B. for her editing, advice, and intuitive gift to flesh out the real Jack and Sam. And to Carol Sue, double hugs for your gifted grammar strained eyes and brainstorming with me late into the night. I know I'm a challenge, girls! Most of all, Susie and Carol Sue, thanks for your friendship and believing the impossible can become possible, through faith in Jesus Christ.

Above all, thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving me the gift of the bards.

Song: Charade, Theme song from movie: Charade, staring Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. Lyrics: Johnny Mercer. Music: Henry Mancini 1963 ©

Song: Where Do Broken Hearts Go? Whitney Houston, Greatest Hits. Lyrics: F. Wildhorn, C. Jackson 1987 ©

Disclaimer: All publicity recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This series may include script excerpts from the TV Series 'Stargate SG-1.' This fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks are intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of said author, HailDorothy 2004 ©.

Author's Notes: Hey, if RDA can sing, so can Jack. In my alternate universe, the song, 'Where Do Broken Hearts Go?' is perfect for Jack and Sam because they keep running back into each other's arms. "C'mere!" This story is extreme J/S ship. If you don't like romance, internal conflict, romance, sexual tension, romance, did I mention romance, then don't bother reading. P.S. Be patient there is plenty of action packed scenarios in the Chosen Hearts, series.

Feedback: Gosh, darn, don't make me beg! Pretty Please? Starvation of this writer's muse is no pleasant sight. All feedback is food for thought and well digested. "Feed me, Seymour!" (The Little Shop of Horrors)

PROLOGUE – S1

A FLIGHT OF FANCY

Year: 2003

"Oma, why do you feel it necessary to go into Jack and Sam's past?" The Ancient, Daniel Jackson flew on the whirlwind with his mentor. He hoped she wasn't going to use all her light and path babble for one simple question. Man, he missed talking with humans, especially Jack, even if he could be right-out annoying.

"You would rather I speak like the Tau'ri?"

"That obvious, huh?"

The transparent glow of Oma Desala's non-corporeal form smiled and nodded.

"Thanks."

"Because The Keeper of the Stars, has long chosen them to be each other's soul mate, Daniel. If mankind is to survive the blight of the Goa'uld and even worse atrocities, the future hope of earth's humanity must survive. Jack O'Neill and Samantha Carter are the, Chosen Hearts. The blood of the Ancients flows within each of them, as do the memories, knowledge and wisdom. Therefore, it is imperative you see why they are destined to be together. And why you, Daniel, must strive to insure they fulfill their legacies and become one not only in heart, mind, and spirit, but body as well. For their descendants will be the future Tau'ri. "

"But they are in love with each other, and were when I ascended. They just can't pursue their feelings because of the stupid military rules, which I still don't understand." Daniel grumbled, recalling the heartaches his best friends had already suffered, not being able to follow through on their devotion and love for one another. "No one deserves to be together more than Jack and Sam. It's always this Colonel and Major formality. Why they've never been a guy and girl dating and kissing each other and—"

"But they have, Daniel." Oma glowed brighter with her smile.

"What? Before SG-1?" Daniel leaped into a passing thundercloud and shot lightening into the night sky.

"You think the love you see between them is based solely from working together all these years?"

"Okay, I assumed . . .yeah." He nodded, taking aim on a passing lake below. Jack would be proud that Daniel had become such a crack shot.

"I assure you, it could have happened that way, Daniel, but that was not the path they'd originally walked together, quite the contrary. It is because they knew each other as a man and woman that the horrific and the beautiful will keep them bonded. However, after you return Samantha will break your best friend's heart." Sadness lilted Oma's voice.

Oma's revelation threw Daniel's concentration and he hit a stand of trees instead. Oops! "Hey, Sam would never intentionally hurt Jack." He blew out the sparks of a burning tree, last thing he needed was to start a wildfire in a residential area. Explain that to the High Council.

"Of course it will be intentional," she added for good measure.

"Why?" he sighed out, more confused than ever. Hey, as an Ancient, he wasn't supposed to get frustrated or confused. Yep, that had definitely been the problem with the going Ancient decision last year. Daniel hadn't been ready and now he was no longer willing. Not since he'd learned the truth, learned they weren't who or what they said they were. Daniel wanted to go home. Of course the big turning point had come when Daniel challenged Anubis and lost. Thankfully Oma had taken a risk and helped Skaara and his people to ascend before Anubis blew Abydos to kingdom come.

"It is the way of the Tau'ri women." Oma brought him back to their Sam and Jack issue. "Sometimes used to test a man's love or to realize that what she wants and needs is, as you Tau'ri say, right under her nose."

"Furthermore wanting her happiness above all else and believing he must release Samantha Jack will force her flight. Thus it will not be solely her fault."

"Well that sucks!"

Oma lifted a shimmering brow.

"Sounding like Jack, huh?"

"Indeed." She winked.

Daniel rolled his eyes at Oma's stab at humor. Well at least since his arrival, she'd acquired one.

"Please believe they will take many paths, often separately, but they will return to the one chosen for them."

"Well that's reassuring. I think." Daniel frowned and shook his head, well at least, the one he still imagined to have.

Oma's brilliant smile faded. "Daniel, you requested the Council of the Ancients return you to human form. Is that still your desire?"

"Yep. Still wanna go back, Oma. I miss Jack and Sam, Teal'c, Janet, Cassie, and George. I miss being Daniel Jackson allergies, glasses and all."

"I regret we have not met your expectations, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel flinched. He knew Oma could read his mind, but she wouldn't. She'd sacrificed much to protect him from the other Ancients who'd rather he be eliminated or stranded on some hostile planet in human form. Yeah, paradise had gone to the dogs since he discovered the secret to their no-corporeal form and slight of tricks with the weather, etc., etc. The legendary Ancients were far from perfect, let alone godlike. As usual, Jack's suspicious nature about this lost race had been right on, as had his comeback just prior to Daniel's ascension, "Daniel, I happen to be a very spiritual guy, but if ya ask me, something's not right in Oz. Higher spiritual plane of existence, my ass!"

"Then your request shall be honored." Oma invaded Daniel's musings. She smiled lovingly at him. "But you do realize you will forget your knowledge and experiences as an Ancient, even what I am about to show you?"

"Yeah, so why show me at all?" He shrugged and whirled back over beside her. There were a few perks about being an Ancient he'd miss, flying being one of them.

"Because your heart will remember and that is the most important memory of all. You will act on it, Daniel, and that is why you must see all that transpired before you met you dear friends and even after."

"So you're going to show me what happened when I was a Tau'ri?"

"Yes. Samantha and Jack have lives outside the SGC, Daniel."

"Well, I know that. Hey, I hung with them a lot. They're family."

She nodded and winked, something else he'd taught her.

"Oh. So I'm going to see what they've hidden from me and Teal'c?"

"Precisely."

"Isn't snooping, breaking the Ancient's law of non-interference?"

"We aren't interfering, Daniel. We are observing. And you won't see everything. Only the incidents pertinent to your future assignment when you return as Doctor Daniel Jackson."

"So now I've got an assignment?" He peered suspiciously into her transparent blue eyes and groused. "So much for the, 'starting over with a clean slate,' clause."

"You believe becoming an Ancient and then wanting to undo it was a mistake?"

"Okay, well, I . . .yeah."

"Despite what you might think of us, there are a few Ancients beside myself who know, The Alpha and Omega, The Great I Am, The Keeper of the Stars. The Creator never makes mistakes, Daniel Jackson. He is sovereign. He knows your choices past and present, as He does with all of His creations. This is the gift of free will He's given to all souls."

"I understand the free will stuff, Oma. What has that to do with Jack and Sam being my assignment?"

"Daniel Jackson, I shall tell you something even Jack and Sam have yet to remember."

"Which is?"

"Long before they met in what the Tau'ri call Special Operations, a Goa'uld repeatedly abducted them and performed genetic experiments."

"Ah, man!" Daniel winced. "Were they tortured?"

"Yes. Sometimes. Yet they fell in love and before they escaped, they vowed to find each other again. They no longer remember that they had been branded to one another in heart, mind, body and—"

"You mean they were lovers?"

"Yes. But at first not willingly."

"Ah geez!" Daniel felt sick. Could an Ancient get sick?

"Someone who loves them made certain they would forget."

"Who?"

"It is not for me to say, Daniel Jackson."

"That sucks."

"It is best for now. In time with your friendship they will remember the bond that even now binds them. An intimate and spiritual link that they will forever share, no matter what hardships separate them."

"Then they will end up together and happy?"

"Yes. No matter the obstacles these two broken hearts will find their way back home to each other. Always."

"Cool. So, Oma, about this assignment, just what will I remember?"

"I assure you that you will remember how the free will of these two hearts will affect the many. Only by observing them, will you truly comprehend and appreciate the depth of their devotional love and what they have sacrificed for Earth and all God breathed life in the universe. Only then, will you know why Jack and Samantha are the, Chosen Hearts."

CHAPTER ONE

Autumn 1997

2230 Hours,

Washington DC: White House East Ballroom

Trick or Treat?

Oh, yeah, definitely trick and not a treat in sight.

Jack hated political functions. Especially when obligated to attend. Otherwise, he wouldn't be dressed like a pimp in a black cape, silk bandana with a sheathed plastic sword and hat at a Washington Halloween masquerade party. Completing his outfit, he secured the silk eye mask and snorted when he noticed the dozen or more men who'd sported the exact costume, no doubt influenced by the recent popular Zorro movie. Jack on the other hand had always connected Zorro with the last ten years of his operative career. He liked to strike incognito and at night.

Speaking of operatives, he'd spent the last ten minutes being pawed, scanned and sanitized by the Secret Service. All that hoopla and then they taped an orange strip over his name and photo on his ID card because this was a, 'Name that idiot,' Halloween Ball, where you couldn't reveal your identity until midnight. Meanwhile, his coded Social Security number remained visible for security purposes.

Jack snatched a glass of champagne off a passing waiter's tray, gulped it down and winced. He preferred beer. Already bored stupid, he hoped there was no one important here, like the President. Oops, he was throwing the shindig. If not, for the fact they had history, retired Air Force Colonel Jack O'Neill would be spending Halloween on his deck stargazing. Still, he'd already decided he'd show his face or what could be seen of it, play the room of military and political dignitaries then exit stage left or was it right?

Whatever.

He loathed D.C. and the life and death charades played out by those behind the masks. If he timed it right and drove straight through, he'd be at his cabin by noon tomorrow. Or maybe he'd just drive home to Colorado Springs. Ironically, he was in no hurry to be anywhere in particular. After all, Jack was retired and having turned forty-three retirement including the bennies proved bored-worthy. If his O'Neill longevity genes held up, he needed to find something else besides astronomy, fishing, and hiking for the next fifty plus years. He seriously toyed with the notion to start a business, carpentry, construction or landscaping. He was good with his hands, especially building houses. Then again, he loved getting his hands dirty, planting shrubs, flowers and trees. Decisions!

Jack sniffed a breath. With the soaring housing market, designing and constructing homes could prove a challenge and prosperous if he played his cards right. Yeah, he'd have to make some calls next week. More important, he'd decided to buy a dog maybe a Labrador or German Shepard, a man's dog. Drink in hand he strolled about, nodding at masked faces, not interacting.

Halloween. Were Charlie still alive Jack would back in Colorado Springs driving incognito behind his son and friends as they made their way through the neighborhood going door to door. He blinked and shuddered.

Heck! Where did that come from? Why now?

No doubt that's why he was here away from adorable masked kids knocking on his front door, yelling, 'Trick or Treat,' away from memories of Charlie dressed like Bat Man, leaping off the furniture as if he could fly. Random memories spiraled through Jack's head and then the most unexpected, his pretty ex-wife Sara. Not as painful as a year ago, but it was still there and would be for sometime to come. The painful experience still felt like a bad dream. It wasn't. Reality sucked!

A good year had past since Sara served him with divorce papers after his mission to Abydos. Nothing like returning home a hero to find your wife left you. Jack had been stunned, but hadn't fought her. After all, he'd suggested they separate because he'd agreed to the suicide mission. Jack preferred Sara hate him, then have her grieve over him and Charlie too. He'd been a selfish bastard back then. More often than not, he still was.

He'd just not expected to find that in those two weeks she'd turned the tables and had filed for divorce. True, he had not expected to find another reason to live for, but he had. That reason had become Sara. Hurt and pride kept him silent. He packed up, moved out and left Sara the house. Two days before the divorce finalized, he'd made a last ditch effort to reconcile. It had been too little, too late. Sara had moved on. She even started to date. Jealousy raised its ugly head and he had made an ass out of himself, but not enough for her to take him back. That hurt. And yet her dad, Mike, insisted Sara wasn't over Jack, that the divorce and dating were her way to get even with him for returning to military duty. Well it worked. His pride battered, but intact, Jack walked and hadn't been back since that day.

He regretted they'd never talked it out. Never shared what they'd been feeling over losing Charlie, Jack's fault no doubt. Expressing himself had never been his strongpoint. He doubted it ever would be.

Communications Skills 101, Jonathon J. O'Neill: F-

Yeah, so many mistakes on his end before that black day, especially having fallen into such deep depression that he'd almost taken his life and ruined any chance to ever reunite with Sara. He figured that was when she left him emotionally, hating him for not letting her be enough for him to want to live, and to move on together. He'd been so freaking selfish, looking for an easy way out of his guilt and pain that he'd left the woman he loved out of the equation.

He'd pushed Sara away and in doing so, lost her. If he could erase the last two and half years he would, it's not like he hadn't tried, he just hadn't known how then. Now it was too late. Even for reconciliation. Sometimes he had wondered if his assumption of what Sara felt for him was wrong. What if she didn't hate him? What if it was just a matter of talking? Yeah, all those freaking, what ifs?

But on their last fiery exchange, Sara had said it pretty much like it was, "Jack, I left because I blamed you for Charlie's death, but I don't any longer. Meanwhile you still do and have yet to forgive yourself. I didn't help you through the process like I could have, but then you wouldn't let me, you had to play the silent martyr. We never even cried together! Do you cry, Jack? Do you even know how to?" she shouted fueled by her pent up anger.

Geez that one hurt. Sure he cried over Charlie, just not in front of Sara or with her. He knew that was wrong, but felt it a sign of weakness for a man to cry in public. Something he'd inherited from his father's shortcomings. Perhaps someday someone would turn the key to his heart, open the dam and let all those tears flow free. Yeah, right.

"Jack, I know you'd drilled gun safety into Charlie's head since he could talk. The counselor convinced me that Charlie knew better, but still chose to unlock the gun case and load the gun. He made that choice. Not you. Not me. It wasn't your fault. Once I accepted that, it came back to you and me. I finally admitted what I'd been struggling with all these years. We aren't, and never have been compatible."

Compatible! What couple was totally compatible? Wasn't that where love and patience came in? Obviously not where Sara was concerned?

"Jack, I can't live with your silent brooding and keeping me on the outside. Yes, I know you've always been that way. I'm not. I'm tired of having to fight to get one blasted word out of you, to know it's not me you're mad at. I needed you to change, but you can't and I don't believe you ever will.

"Most of all, I'm sick of your top military secrets and not having all of you. For both our sakes we need to move on. I really hope one day you will find a woman strong enough to overcome all of this, stronger than me, someone who can deal with. . . Well, deal with you, Jack, really I do."

That had been that.

Over.

Finished.

A done deal.

The ever pathetic, 'Dear Jack,' kiss off!

Fifteen years of faithfulness to one woman, of being a happily married couple shot to kingdom come with one gun shot blast. Jack drew himself up. Get a grip, O'Neil,; you don't need anyone, never have. Heck, if Sara hadn't doggedly chased you, you'd still be single. About time you realized that and moved on.

Play the field.

Sample the menu.

Toss caution to the wind.

Yeah.

CHAPTER TWO

Jack glanced at his rough calloused hands and nails. Noting a hangnail, he nipped it with his teeth and winced. He should have gotten a manicure. Yeah, that'd be the day. Draining his second champagne he exchanged it for another, downed it and then another. Enough bubbly and he might even flirt with one of the hot babes eyeballing him up. He'd been propositioned three times within the first five minutes he'd entered the ballroom. So why had he clammed up and run like a dog with his tail between his legs?

Because he'd been out of the game so long he didn't know how to play, let alone keep score, mostly because he didn't want to play. Despite being a chick magnet, skirt chasing had always been awkward for Jack. He didn't like the head games, flirting with strangers and waiting for the ultimate rejection when his brain shutdown as did the rest of his body parts. Well not all of them, he was after all, a healthy American male with needs.

Oh yeah, Jack old man, an American male yet to get lucky since his marriage crashed and burned. If that ever got out, he'd die of mortification. Although a risk taker in every other aspect, especially his military career, Jack had relied on the stability of his private life, his marriage to Sara to keep him anchored, sane and sexually sated. Yep, they'd had one awesome sex life! Trouble was, Jack soon realized they used sex to fix a lot of their problems, including Sara's fixation to fix Jack.

Well if there ever was another woman in Jack's life, one thing would have to change. That she wouldn't want to change him anymore than he'd want to change her. Yeah, like that Wonder Woman existed? What wonder woman would want basic black and white insecure Jack O'Neill?

Yeah, Jack was simple. Uncomplicated. Base. Did he mention base? Basically, Jack was too old fashioned for this politically correct bull. When it came to relationships he was a one-woman man, who thrived on a familiar comfort zone. Faithful to a fault O'Neill. Trust and respect had been major factors in his marriage with Sara. He suspected that besides Charlie, that was the one thing Sara had loved about him. He also knew that other factors contributed to why she hadn't wanted the O'Neill brood he had hoped to have. True, there was the issue of frequent impotency that had raised its ugly head after his Iraq imprisonment. He tried not think about it but still wondered if they'd been able to have more kids would things have been different. Fortunately, Sara had not blamed their problems on that problem. No, she'd blamed it on the risks of his profession, well now he knew differently. They weren't freaking compatible.

By his fifth glass Jack felt no pain. There was no way he would drive for a while. His confidence accelerating he started to walk, well stagger about the gathering, even wagged his brows at a few babes. He also concluded he needed to hit the buffet table and put something in his stomach, but first decided to make a bathroom pit stop.

A few minutes later, he stepped back into the corridor and headed for the ballroom.

"Why hi there," a feminine voice addressed him.

Jack turned to engage an attractive young brunette dressed like Wonder Woman. The outfit left little to the imagination. She was about five-feet-two and Jack found himself gazing into her generous cleavage. He assumed that was the idea. He also suspected she was jailbait, at least for him. Barely out of college if she was a day. Oh, yeah, defiantly jailbait.

"Hi back." He smiled, not sure if he should stay or run. He glanced around. They were alone except for the plain clothed Secret Service agent twenty-feet away. Besides Jack felt horny or was it ornery?

Whatever.

"Wow, you are the best looking Zorro here, Zorrrroo," her voice slurred and she held up a Bloody Mary and moved on him. "Brown-haired, brown-eyed, tanned. Honey, you look good enough to eat."

"Well thanks, Ma'am. And you're quite the Wonder Woman." He smirked and nodded at her red white and blue costume, trying not to stare at her manmade breasts. Ah, what the hay? He stared.

"I know." She rubbed against him, causing Jack to stumble into one of the tropical plants and then the wall. "Name's Julie Kinsey."

The drunken part of Jack wanted to be attracted to her, but his hormones were not cooperating even though her lush curvaceous body was pressed into him and his crotch. Gee, was he dead from the waist down or what?

"Nice to meet you, Julie. I'm Jack O'Neill." He managed to brace one hand on her right shoulder and keep her at bay.

"I know." She winked, tossed her drink into the planter and clamped both hands against his chest.

"So, you break the rules of engagement and read the security list?" he chuckled drumming his fingers against the wall behind him.

"Didn't have to, I got my own ways."

"Bet you do." He gulped. Oy! Now what?

Julie reached out and traced a fake, manicured nail across his jaw, then toyed with his security badge and the tape over his picture. She trailed a hand up his arm, feeling him out. "So you know my father Senator Kinsey?"

"Ah. No." A politician's daughter! Nope. Not a wise move, Jack, old man. Run for cover!

"He'd like you."

"Ya think?" He stared at the Secret Service, but the black-suit refused to hear Jack's silent plea.

Julie nodded. "Anyway, you handsome stud muffin." She dropped her hand to the wide, black sash at his waist. "I've had my eyes on you since you arrived."

"Uh, really?" Stud muffin! Whatcha know?

"Yes moi, and every other woman here including the married ones."

'Oh,' he mouthed and motioned to walk toward the ballroom, but she held her ground and his sash. Pushy bitch. Not his type. At that point a leggy beauty dressed like Dorothy of, 'The Wizard of Oz,' emerged from the lady's powder room. Her big gray-blue eyes seemed to take in the scenario and a smile tipped her crimson lips. Something familiar . . . Jack searched his brain. Nothing. Meanwhile, Julie didn't seem to mind they had an audience. Great! An exhibitionist.

"So you any idea how hot you look and that you have the tightest ass I've ever seen or felt?" She groped him.

Jack flinched. His mouth caught up with his brain. "No. Well . . ." He glanced down at Julie, and then back at Dorothy, who grinned. He flushed at her accessing gaze.

"Oh, and you're shy. Love that! I'll cut to the chase. I'm bored and you don't look any happier. My folks don't live far and since they'll be here another few hours, I'd love to tie you up and . . ." she whispered in his ear and grabbed his crotch.

Behind his mask Jack's eyes double in size and his mouth dropped open at the hinges. Do people really do those things to each other? The dame's a sadomasochist! He almost lost his manhood as he yanked free from her clutches. "Whoa! That's just wrong on so many levels." He slid along the wall to escape.

"But!"

"Nah ah." He waved both pointer fingers at her and glanced around to see Dorothy laughing and walking . . .nope, running into the ballroom. His curiosity piqued.

"Hey you turning, me down?" Julie glared.

"Yeah sure yabetcha!"

"No one turns me down. I'm the best lay in town."

"Nice of you to share." Jack walked as fast as his long legs would allow, but Julie stayed on his heels.

"Hey, my dad can ruin your career, O'Neill!"

"That's O'Neill with one L." Dang!

"Well, you'll never—!"

"Got that, right!" Jack merged into the ballroom, giving Julie wide berth as she charged by and over to one of several Abraham Lincolns to vent. No doubt, Daddy Kinsey. Jack was relieved he was no longer Air Force. Someone with Kinsey's influence could trash a military career. He'd seen it happen. Well, he had no career to be busted so he marked this encounter as so not memorable and made his way to the buffet table. There he picked up a plate and grabbed cold shrimp from a hollowed out pumpkin, fresh veggies and dip.

There was a row of delicacies he didn't recognize. Always game to try something new, Jack tossed a little of everything on his plate. With a cracker he scooped some yellow beaded stuff and popped it into his mouth. The moment it registered with his taste buds he began to gag. Yuck! Fish eggs! Frantic, Jack looked for a napkin, anything to spit the fish rot out of his mouth.

"Hey, Jack, that you?" A firm hand smacked the middle of his back. His natural reflex was to swallow. He did. Ah man! He grimaced as the caviar slid down his gullet. Need to puke! When he looked up, he found President Andrew Shaffer dressed as Daniel Boone. Beside him stood – Oy, Abraham Lincoln, who was so not smiling.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet Senator Robert Kinsey. Bob this is, Colonel Jack O'Neill USAF, one of our nation's finest and might I add a good friend."

"Retired," Jack reiterated, concluding the senator's hostility had to do with his hussy daughter.

"Yeah, well that could change tomorrow, you know." The President smirked.

"Yesss, well, only if we're attacked by aliens, Mr. President."

President Shaffer snorted and winked at Jack's deadpan expression, but replied seriously. "Anything's possible, Jack."

Kinsey coughed and they looked at him, finding he was just plain annoyed by their personal babble.

"Senator." Jack reluctantly but respectfully extended his hand.

"Colonel." His tone was borderline antagonistic, but the President didn't seem to notice, nor that the senator didn't shake Jack's hand.

"Now if you two will excuse me, I've got to mingle and catch up with the first lady. Jack, don't you leave until we talk."

"Certainly, sir." Jack smiled back, and then decided to exit while he had the chance. "If you'll excuse me, Senator?"

"No, O'Neill." Kinsey snatched Jack's wrist and held tight.

"That's one L." Jack scowled. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I suggest you let go." His Black Ops glint did the trick. Kinsey released him.

"You insulted my daughter, Colonel!" Kinsey hissed loud enough for Jack's ears, while feigning a smile as Dark Vader passed by.

"Ah, don't think so."

"You calling my daughter a liar?"

"Depends on what I supposedly said to her."

"You propositioned her that's what!"

"Hey! Down Bruno! She hit on me and I turned her down. End of story."

"My daughter's conduct has always been above reproach, Colonel." Senator Kinsey continued to glare. "She does not go around hitting on men. She's doesn't like older men, let alone your kind."

Okay, he could let the age thing go, but not, "My kind?" he countered.

"Oh, I know all about your military career, O'Neill." He spat back. "You're a dried up risk-taking flyboy who has no regard for military protocol, let alone how to treat a lady like my daughter."

"Well that was mouthful. So let me give you one, Senator," Jack leaned closer, "According to your saintly daughter, she's the best lay in town and this dried-up flyboy turned her down flat. And you better checkout her bedroom, coz she's got some nasty doohickeys in her closet." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away hearing,

"We're not finished!"

"Whatever."

Jack decided to call it a night but then spotted Dorothy. He grinned and took in her adorable Judy Garland costume, not to mention just how well she filled it out. The dress was a blue and white checked, circa 1935 knee length dress with a white bodice, puffy short sleeves offset by her long, shapely, tan legs, bobby socks and classic ruby red slippers. Jack inhaled after that long-winded observation. She also clutched the handle of a wicker basket with a stuffed Toto peeking out from beneath the red-checkered cloth. His gaze darted to her fair complexioned face framed by brown braids that draped slender shoulders, outlining the swell of her breasts. However it was those baby blues behind a matching blue eye mask that held him hostage. Yep, less than twenty feet away was the lead character from Jack's favorite classic, 'The Wizard of Oz.' Dorothy. His heart did the oddest thing. It leaped into his throat and refused to leave. Jack choked. He'd been holding his breath watching her.

Breathe you, fool! He silently gasped for oxygen. Way better. Whoa! That was a new experience. No woman had ever caused him to forget to breathe. Not even Sara.

He retrained his attention on Dorothy. She fit her character to the tee. Could a guy get any luckier? Now he was glad he wasn't the only Zorro. That meant if she shot him down, he'd just blend with the other black capes and exit. Of course, that's if she hadn't gotten too good a look at his less than gracious escape from the man-eater, Julie Kinsey.

For a brief but defined instant they caught one another's gaze.

Jack smiled.

She smiled.

Jack's legs turned to Silly Putty. He stopped breathing again. Dang! Then she did the most adorable thing, she blushed and looked at the floor. Jack did the same. When he looked up she'd set her back to him.

Okay, O'Neill, was that a brush off or did she turn for no reason? Heck if he knew. He drew another unstable breath and strolled toward her. Her arm was now linked with that of an older, balding man, dressed like the Wizard of Oz. Oy! Maybe they were a couple. He almost did an about face, when he heard, "Oh, Dad, you're cute."

"I can't believe you talked me into this, kiddo," the Wizard grumbled down at his bright green costume.

Dorothy reached over and whispered something in his ear that made him laugh. A moment later Donald Duck came over and tapped the Wiz on the shoulder, who made introductions to Dorothy, but the music drowned out the names. Jack cursed. Then the Wiz kissed Dorothy on the cheek and walked off with Donald.

She stood there glancing about, nervously chewing her lower lip and doing the cutest thing, puffing. One delicate hand grasping the basket, the other toyed with her fake brown braids. What do you know? Dorothy's out her comfort zone! Like, he could so relate. She exhaled through her lips again and snatched up a glass from a waiter, downed it, set it on the tray and grabbed another and then sipped at it.

Dang! Why did Jack sense he knew her? He searched his memory for the missing link. It was in that dusty clutter somewhere, just a matter of time before . . .And then it happened. She looked about, her gray-blue eyes nervously searching until . . .Bingo. Contact! His upper face covered by a black eye mask, Jack summoned all the O'Neill charm possible, nodded, smiled, and lifted his drink to her.

Offering a strained smile she held his steady gaze a bit longer, then exhaled and yep, looked away. Was it possible there was still one emotionally repressed person, let alone female, on the planet and was it possible, Jack O'Neill just found her? Sweet!

Still, he didn't act. Mainly because his feet were cemented to the floor as he read her body language, something you learn in Black Ops. She was anxious and distrusting. He hoped it wasn't him. He noticed how blue her eyes shimmered. They reminded him of the crystal blue Caribbean waters. Man, that needled his subconscious, as did that puffing thingy she did. Such musings caused opportunity to vanish. Hercules strutted up, all five-feet-five of him and began talking to the leggy five-foot-eight or more Dorothy. Jack saw the anxiety in her face as she responded to the man's advances. Her polite expression gave Jack hope. Was she turning the Greek god down? Yep. The hero's shoulders slumped and he walked away. So did Dorothy.

Now or never! Jack threaded through the crowd as she made a mad dash for the French doors and out onto the White House patio. For a moment he lost sight of her. Security what it was, she couldn't go far before the chip of her ID badge set off an alarm.

Less than twenty-five feet from the door, she leaned against a white pillar staring up into the star plastered night sky.

As he passed other couples, Jack said a prayer and ambled toward her. Looking up at the stars, she didn't seem to take notice of him. Astronomy his hobby, Jack did the same.

"Orion's Belt's outstanding tonight." He gestured toward the sky.

"Yes it is," she replied softly, "And Venus is in conjunction with Mars . . ." she trailed off, glancing at him then back at the autumn sky.

The hairs on the back of Jack's neck stood at attention. Now away from the obstruction of loud music and voices, he hoped his ears weren't deceiving him. No doubt a combination of too much booze and a recurring fantasy and yet his gut told him otherwise. He needed her to talk again. "Actually Mars is in conjunction with Jupiter." He pointed at the two brightest points of light.

"Oh." She continued looking upward.

Jack found himself gazing at the delicate contours of her face, wishing she wasn't wearing an eye mask. 'Dear God,' he prayed, 'let it be her.' Another sentence or two would cinch it. "So, come here often?" Did I really use that lame line?

"No. First time. You?"

Jack's memory bank downloaded confirmation. He cleared his throat and purposely dropped an octave. "No, though it's been awhile. Washington shindigs and me don't mix, especially where politicians are involved."

"Me either," she sighed and turned her head toward him.

The sound bite replayed itself in his mind. Shimmer? Wow! He couldn't believe she was here, beside him. What had it been? Two and a half years—his last Black Ops mission. Shimmer! Be still my heart!

"Came with my dad, you know?"

Cool. Not! Messing with daddy's girl was proving hazardous tonight. Jack realized he was worrying his cape, like a six-year old. Wish this thing had pockets coz that's where my hands would be jammed.

"So, Dorothy," he struggled to get out more than two syllables.

"So, Zorro," she countered bashfully.

Jack's lungs ached. For crying out loud, O'Neill, breathe wilya! He sniffed but not deep enough. What was wrong with him? He needed a drink! Oxygen deprivation aside, this is what he did so freaking bad. Talk to anyone let alone this beautiful military operative whose expressive blue eyes he'd long put to memory. Be thankful she's here. Now fake it.

"Should we do introductions and strip our ID's?" he pointed to hers. "Or the, don't ask, don't tell until midnight rule?" He glanced at his watch. They had about thirty minutes before lift off.

Dorothy laughed and it was no childish laugh either. Pure. Sensual. Most definitely woman. He felt the southward stirring that Wonder Woman had failed to activate. It had been awhile since he'd felt this pleasurable sensation. Well there was his Playboy magazine collection but this was no pinup. This was, in the flesh Dorothy of Oz and he was definitely turned on like never before. He adjusted himself, hoping the snug costume didn't reveal what she was doing to him.

"Actually, I'd rather obey the rules. Maybe we should get back to the party, sir."

Jack straightened to attention and frowned.

"Um, sorry," she puffed again, "Habit you know, military brat." She did a sloppy salute that indicated she was more snookered than her speech belayed. "Pretty much a stick to the rules person, Zorro."

'Oh,' he mouthed playfully and smiled, remembering how alike they were.

She drained her glass and gestured at him. "That at-attention stance you just took, says you're military," she sounded disappointed.

"Yes. Was. Air Force. Retired last year." Twice. Oh, well, who's counting?

"Wow!" Her mood shifted and she grinned. "Sure don't look that old, I mean you look good, Zorro." Leaning against the pillar, her gaze raked him up and down and she smiled. "Yes, very good."

Hum, flirtatious in a cute way. He liked that. "So just how old you think I am, Dorothy?" He took a step closer, and brazenly leveled a hand on either side of the wide post, looking down into her gorgeous face, finding her lips just a swoop away from his. Red, lush, kissable lips.

With all the subtly of a kick boxer, Dorothy shoved the wicker basket between them and rammed Jack's six-pack dead on. He grunted, but held his ground. Man he liked this brazen woman . . .a lot.

Yet her quivering voice said she was trembling in her ruby red shoes, which excited him more. "Um, hard to tell with the black hat, bandana and eye mask." She swallowed, touching his brown temples, "Oh, thirties."

"Sweet!" Whoa! Was that an ego lift or what? Her cool fingers tips lingered on his temple, then swept down to his left dimple. Jack reached up and then capturing them, swept them across his parted lips, a playful maneuver he hadn't even realized he'd made until a soft sigh escaped her lips.

The basket dropped between them. Jack kicked it away.

Weaving a bit, Dorothy bent into him and Jack concluded she was definitely tipsy. Not good. He didn't take advantage of inebriated females, even if he was inebriated. He was drunk wasn't he? Then why did he feel sober? As if controlled by an unseen force, his arms dropped and captured her slender waist. "I appreciate the compliment, Dorothy, but I'm older than that."

She didn't resist his tightening embrace. "No kidding?" She smiled up at him, her lips parted in invitation, her sweet breath intoxicating his libido, as her blue eyes shimmered in the soft light.

"Yeah, no kidding," he breathed out huskily and his fingers traced the outline of her eye mask he wanted to remove.

A familiar Henry Mancini song began to play over the outside speakers. Way too familiar. Ironically, the South American rebel leader who was obsessed with Audrey Hepburn had played this song when they were his hostages.

Shimmer stiffened beneath his touch. Yeah, she remembered and that made it all the more alluring and dangerous. For the moment Jack was Cary Grant and Shimmer was Audrey Hepburn. Their gazes locked onto each other's and with his arms holding her, they swayed in place as the band's vocalist began to sing . . .

"When we played our charade We were like children posing Playing at games, Acting out names, Guessing the parts we played Oh, what a hit we made We came on next to closing Best on the bill Lovers until, Love left the masquerade . . . Fate seemed to pull the strings, I turned and you were gone While from the darkened wings The music box played on.

"Sad little serenade Song of my heart's composing I hear it still I always will Best on the bill . . . Charade Oh what a hit we made We came on next to closing Best on the bill Lovers until, Love left the masquerade Fate seemed to pull the strings, I turned and you were gone While from the darkened wings The music box played on and on . . .Charade . . .

Shimmer hummed. Her blue eyes fixed on Jack he realized he wasn't breathing—

Exhale.

Inhale.

Yeah.

Better.

"I love that movie you know. Actually most classic movies," she sighed against him.

Especially—Gene Kelly musicals, Jack answered in his head recalling their exchanges when they'd been trying to keep each other sane after being tortured. Sobriety kicked Jack in the asset. Shimmer! The impact of consequences hit him at mach speed. He let go and stepped off to make a hasty exit. Screw his luck! What in the world was he thinking? He couldn't do this! They couldn't do this!

"How much older?" She glided closer as he continued to back-step toward the open patio doors, scrubbing his hands over his face, tempted to yank off the hat, mask and bandana and yell, Surprise!

"Way too old! Jail bait even!" She had to be at least ten years or more younger than him.

"Hey. Don't think so," she argued, then, "Something else wrong? Did I . . ." She gestured to the fact they'd been embracing.

"No. No. I —"

A waiter rescued them. Jack scooped up two more drinks wanting to down them, but gave one to Dorothy. Confusion scrunching her pale face, she accepted. When their fingertips brushed lightening struck, again. Make a lame excuse, Jack, and get out of here. Now!

He didn't.

He couldn't. No doubt because the woman he'd been fantasizing about for so long, stood before him, and he needed to be selfish, to take advantage of one stolen kiss before he walked out of her life, forever. Besides, she had yet to recognize him. So she'd never know, but he would. Just maybe that could be enough for him.

Music drifted from the ballroom, a bittersweet pop love song from the eighties. The lead vocalist working into a beautiful rendition of Whitney Houston's, 'Where Do Broken Hearts Go.'

Shimmer observed him, her head slightly cocked, her liquid blues eyes questioning his brown ones while doing that Turtledove gesture with her chin. Yeah, Shimmer for sure. Moreover, no doubt pondering his insane behavior, well so did he, and his next action was so not Jack O'Neill.

"Could I have this dance, Dorothy?" He put out his hand.

Nodding, she gulped down her drink, placed the glass on a nearby table. She slipped into his embrace and looked up at him with a smile that he coveted. Ironically, he'd long wondered if Shimmer — Dorothy had ever had her heart broken. Now as the vocalist's voice rose behind and around them, Jack saw through her vulnerable expression that like him she connected to the lyrics. Yeah. Like him, Sam was another broken heart.

"I know it's been some time But there's something on my mind You see I haven't been the same Since that cold November day We said we needed space But all we found was an empty place And the only things I learned Is that I need you desperately So here I am And can you please tell me . . . (oh)

Do you even think about me, Shimmer? Ever admit to the attraction ignited between us during those Black Ops encounters and when we were captured and beaten? How we clung in the darkness to each other until they separated us, how I promised I'd get us home? So . . .

"Where do broken hearts go Can they find their way home Back to the open arms Of a love that's waiting there And if somebody loves you Won't they always love you I look in your eyes And I know that you still care for me."

As if in tune with him Shimmer clung tighter and nestled her face against his chest. Jack's hold deepened and he kissed her cheek then took refuge in the crook of her neck, remembering the scent of her, the feel a frightened greenhorn Black Ops courier who had disobeyed orders to save his butt. Never leave anyone behind he'd said, little had he realized she'd keep her end of the bargain.

'I've been around enough to know That dreams don't turn to gold . . ."

Yeah, he knew the bitterness of a dream turned to ashes. Sara.

"And that there is no easy way No you just can't run away And what we had was so much more Than we ever had before . . ."

Could he find more than he'd had before with Dorothy? He wanted to try. However, they had never seen the other without cover or face paint nor shared identities, let alone rank. He had been Striker: she, Shimmer. And yet something emotionally tangible bonded them.

"And no matter how I try You're always on my mind So here I am And can you please tell me (oh) . . ."

Feelings that Jack, then married, had kept at bay until his divorce now obsessed him day and night. This Dorothy from Kansas aka Shimmer was here in his arms. Had God given Jack the desire of his heart? If so, now what and . . .

"Where do broken hearts go Can they find their way home Back to the open arms Of a love that's waiting there And if somebody loves you Won't they always love you I look in your eyes And I know that you still care for me."

In sync, they looked into each other's eyes, long, hungry, hurting gazes said more than words. They were two broken hearts trying to find their way home. This bittersweet moment was far superior to his wildest fantasies of being with her. Jack dipped his mouth, lightly testing the waters, the wisp of their trembling lips and then firmer, deeper. The tip of his tongue tickling her soft parting mouth, his teeth nibbling her lower lip and then her hot darting tongue caressed him.

Paradise!

Home!

Shimmer's nails dug into his shoulder blades, her body pressed into his. Jack felt vaguely aware that his legs were directing them away from public view to a bench behind a cluster of trees.

"And now that I am here with you I'll never let you go I look into your eyes And now I know, now I know . . . And if somebody loves you Won't they always love you I look in your eyes And I know that you still care For me You still care for me . . ."

Falling onto the bench, their kisses turned hot and lustful as they wontedly touched and clutched, feeding on each other. Their mutual desperation overwhelmed Jack. As if they could become one through a single head spinning kiss and in his heart, that's exactly what happened. He tried to reason this was due to not getting lucky since Sara, but his emotions screamed otherwise. So this was love, this was—

"Shimmer?" Whoops!

She went rigid, braced her hands on his heaving chest and stared up into his eyes. Her voice quavered. "Stri-ker!"

"So," he grinned, "Ya wanna arm wrestle?"

"Holy Hannah!" Her closed fist nailed him square in the mouth.

"Ow!" Jack flexed his jaw and rolled off her.

Before he could intercede Shimmer ran toward the ballroom, swearing like a sailor. Just as she reached the patio, Jack snagged her wrist and swung her forcibly about face. Her right knee shot up between his legs, but he blocked the attack as he struggled to maintain control of the situation.

"Hey, let's not draw attention, here!" he ordered in his CO bark, then let go, praying she didn't engage her martial arts. He was so out of practice.

Rubbing her wrist Shimmer stomped off but thankfully not back into the ballroom.

"You—you, incorrigible lunatic!"

Oy! It was Shimmer all right.

CHAPTER THREE

"For crying out loud!" Jack rubbed his aching jaw, fearing she'd cracked it. "Can we keep this down to a simmer, Shimmer?" No sense of humor, she came at him again. He ducked. Piece of cake, O'Neill! On the second round, she nailed his left instep and toees with her heel.

"Crap!" He hobbled backward into a pillar as pain shot through his instep and toes. Grimacing, he noted the Secret Service agent speaking into the concealed microphone attached to his earphone. Jack gestured at Dorothy, two fingers to his eyes, than nodded behind her.

She glanced back and sighed defeat.

"Smile and wave at the nice man, Dorothy." Jack followed his advice.

She did. The agent nodded and resumed his relaxed stance. "Great, just what I need is to be arrested for striking a superior officer."

"Nah ah, retired." Jack wagged a hand while clutching his throbbing foot with the other. If she broke anything he'd—

"Like that makes a difference!" she ranted. "And you do realize we just broke a list of military regulations punishable by court martial, sir?"

Jack shrugged. "You did. I didn't. Retired remember? Hey, you anal about the word, sir?"

"Oh, oh, oh!" She stomped a ruby red slipper and tugged her braids. She sure was hot when she was mad.

"Um, incoming wig." He waved as her short blonde curls escaped. He knew Shimmer was a blonde. So's everything else? Geez, Jack, get your mind out of the gutter. He tried. He failed.

Meanwhile, she yanked the braids back in place and weaved a bit, finding her balance against the white pillar. He was surprised when she yanked off her eye mask and flung it into her basket.

"Hey, you alright?" Jack hobbled forward, peering at the familiar fair features now revealed to him, including a cute little mole beneath her left eye.

"Don't even think it!" She picked up her basket and still teetering, glowered at him.

"Don't gotta tell me twice." Jack lifted his hands in mock surrender and then turned to limp off. "Probably busted my toe," he groused.

"Sooo that's that? You're just going to strike and run?"

Huh? Jack froze mid-stride and glanced back to find her clutching her basket and looking at him like a lost Dorothy in Oz. Her head slightly tilted, her big blues glistening in the starlight. She looked good enough to well . . . Ya know.

"Apparently." He shrugged not wanting to leave, not knowing what she wanted, expected. He confused easily. He wished she'd toss him a bone. Fine, even a wishbone would do. He contracted his aching jaw, throbbing foot and grimaced. Was love supposed to hurt this freaking much? He turned and limped slowly back to her, gauging her expression and just where she might strike next.

Shimmer exhaled a nervous breath and watched him watch her. He halted two feet from her and realized the flipping Zorro costume had pockets after all. He jammed his hands into the shallow pouches. A seam ripped. Whoops.

"I am retired." He clarified, rolled his shoulders and blew out the breath he'd been holding. Again. Amazing, he hadn't started hyperventilating.

"For real?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Jack traced a thumb across her quivering ruby lips. "Not thrilled about the dying part but if that's what it takes, Dorothy." He tugged his lips into a subtle grin. Jack cradled her chin and then turned her face into his. He smiled down at her.

Trembling at his touch, she shut her eyes and brought her hand over his and held on. A moment passed and she didn't appear to be breathing . . . at all. Crap! Is she okay? She gasped and then looked up as if startled to find him still there. Waiting.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, putting her hand to her chest still winded.

"You okay?" Jack squinted with concern. That's exactly what she did him. Literally took his breath away. Confusion burrowed a nest in his heart. He'd never ever felt this unglued by a woman, nope not even Sara. Why now? Why her?

"Oh, yeah, more than okay." Her long lashed blue eyes fluttered. "Forever okay."

"What?" Jack felt the burn in his chest again. Breathe, dang it!

"Nothing, just something my parents used to say to each other."

"Oh."

"So when did you know it was me, sir?"

"Hey, scratch the sir. Don't do that anymore."

"But it's proper military protocol."

"What we were doing five minutes ago was not proper military protocol, Dorothy, let alone on the White House East lawn."

"That was so not me," she hiccupped and dropped her head in chagrin.

"So who was it?" He wagged his brows, grinning.

"Umm, don't often drink. Guess the champagne, stars, a masked Zorro, . . ." She tried to dig her way out. He loved it. Then again, he was easily amused. "Hey, do you normally kiss strange women within moments of meeting them?" she tossed back not smiling.

He dropped his hands. "No. Never. This was a first." Reliving their wild make-out session he realized just how much he wanted her.

Here.

Now.

Down John-John! Man! He couldn't believe his lack of impotency. Not that he'd complain. mind you. Other than in his dreams. . . of her, he'd not experienced this delicious heat in a long time.

"So a first for both of us." She giggled and then hiccupped.

"Oh yeah, way too much bubbly. So maybe we should get to know each other before we hop off first base, huh?"

"Actually, we skipped first." She smiled shyly.

"Ya think?" He chuckled looking at his shoes, feeling an uncomfortable heat beneath his tan.

She nodded and toyed with a dress sleeve.

Even above the music and laughter from the ballroom, Jack heard his heart thudding in his chest and her soft breaths as they caressed his flesh. It seemed eternity before he found the words. "So wanna share when you knew I was moi?" He stole a glance. That was French for me, right, O'Neill?

"Excuse me, sir?" She looked up.

"For crying out loud, I'm a mister not a sir. And it's Jonathon."

"Jonathon?" She gaped and seemed a bit stunned.

"Yeah, well that's my Christian name but I go by Jack." He shined one of his devil may care smiles, feeling his dimples tuck in deep.

"Jack?"

"Hey, you anal about my name too?" His mouth flat-lined.

"No, Jack." She smiled, revealing pearly teeth.

"Way cool."

The waiter returned and she reached out.

Jack blocked her hand. "Nah ah, Dorothy."

She reluctantly complied.

Jack eyed the young man, spotting the miniature receiver-headphone in his ear and the sloppy wire dress that ran behind his neck. Amateur! "Got coffee?"

"Certainly, sir," replied the waiter.

"Good. Two blacks to go and two cheese Danish warmed."

"Coffee and warmed Danish to go, sir?" The white suited man gawked.

"Yeah, got a problem with that?" Jack's brash military bite made the agent blanch.

"No. Two coffees coming up, sir." He turned away muttering.

"And don't forget the cheese Danish," Jack yelled. "Wan'em fresh and warmed."

Her eyes the size of Kansas, Shimmer sniggered.

Jack's brows shifted in his trait unspoken, what? expression.

"Man that had to be a first in American History 101."

"Huh?"

"We're at the Nation's White House," she gestured wildly around them. "And you just ordered coffee and Danish like it was a fast food drive thru."

"Hey, your American tax dollars at work, Ma'am. Besides," he whispered in her ear. "He's a Secret Service trainee."

"How'd you know?"

"Instinct." Jack yawned. "Plus sloppy wiring."

"But aren't they wireless now a days?"

"Not in Surveillance Training. The idea is to blend in. No brownie points from that kid's superior tonight. Bet ya someone else brings the coffee and Danish." He wagged his brows.

"Why?"

"Coz I just pulled the oldest game in Secret Service training exercises."

"That's crazy."

"Five spot, double or nothing." He put out his hand and winked.

"You're on." She slapped his palm and laughed again. "I like you, Jack." Shimmer hugged her waist, shaking her head with the sweetest sound he'd heard in years. Her laughter. "But you got to stop this because I'm getting a side ache."

"Sweet." Fists stuffed in the shallow pockets, Jack rocked on his heels and caught her laughing eyes. Had he done that? Made her laugh? Cool. Whoa, she has the most iridescent smile ever.

After a moment of mutual wide-eyed grinning, she cleared her throat. "So we going, somewhere?"

"No." Jack realized that ordering coffee set her off balance. Sensing she liked control as much as he did, he relished her reaction.

"Oh."

"Look, can we sit? Coz the foot's killing me." Not to mention the knee. He didn't wait for an answer and limped back for the bench, allowing her space. Dorothy took his cue but sat closer than expected.

Arms akimbo, Jack stretched, crossing his long legs, so the throbbing foot was off the ground.

"Sorry." She winced and pointed at his foot.

"Yes . . .well, apparently had it coming."

"Sort of," she hedged and swallowed a smirk he caught in the lawn's security lighting.

Well. This should be interesting. He glanced at his watch. "Okay, Dorothy, care to share your ID or do I have to strip your badge?" He winked mischievously and then eyed up the orange tape with a daring glint.

"No. It's Captain Samantha Carter, USAF. Friends call me, Sam." She ripped off the tape.

He glanced at her ID then back at her and smiled. "Nice to finally meet you for real, Sam." He stuck out his hand. "And I think Samantha's a beautiful name."

"Thanks. And you?" She accepted his firm handshake and didn't pull out when he held on and gently kneaded her palm, causing her to shiver.

"Former Colonel Jack O'Neill with two L's." He yanked the strip off his ID.

Sam jerked her hand free. "Holy Hannah! You're kidding?"

"Huh, you mean who I am or the two L's?" He bolted upright and scratched his head through the bandana. She didn't answer. Even in the soft lighting he could see the high color in her cheeks. Sam puffed as if she was about to hyperventilate.

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Colonel, sir!"

"Sir? Again!" He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and growled an obscenity.

"Sorry." She fanned her cheeks and stood up, turned away and hugged herself as if she were cold.

"Hey, you alright? I know the regs, Captain, and we aren't breaking any." He hobbled to his feet and touched her rigid shoulder.

"That's a matter of opinion, Colonel, sir." She glanced back.

"Oh. How's that, Captain Samantha Carter?" Two could play this stupid, dumb idiotic game.

She turned into him and mouthed, "Project Stargate."

"Huh!" Jack played dumber and sat down as casual as his unsteady legs would permit. He looked at his hands then back at her with his ever stoic, 'oh duh' look.

Smiling at his polished lack of response Sam settled beside him, shoulder to shoulder. The heat of their intimacy shot through his costume searing his skin, but he didn't flinch or move away. Jack turned still holding his poker face. She kept grinning. Weird! Up until now, he could fool anyone. Not her.

"You mean the flushing blue toilet bowel?" Like she'll understand that O'Neill explanation!

Sam nodded.

'Ohh,' he mouthed and then dragged a hand over his face and into his hair. "Shit."

"Not really," she whispered in a tone of conspiracy, "Before my short stint in Special Forces I was assigned to the Pentagon's Stargate project. Still am, Colonel Jack O'Neill, with two ll's who led a mission to the planet of Abydos and blew up the—"

"Hey, hey, hey! Whoa there, Captain!" He sniffed a breath and cringed. When he glanced over, she was sneering like the cat that ate the canary. Guess who's the canary? "Small world, huh?" He fiddled with his mask to avoid her calculating gaze.

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, okay then," he emphasized, his pointer fingers in her space. "We are so not going to go there—here—ever. Understood, Captain Carter?"

"But there's a hundred questions I want to ask." She whined.

"Ah. Bet you do. Highly classified! Have to shoot you!" he stated in a hardnosed tone. Man, if the truth ever got out! He needed to be in control of their conversation, especially this newest revelation. Would the Stargate ever leave him in one freaking piece . . .peace?

"Understood," her respectful military pitch made him glance up sharply. She didn't look upset, let alone disappointed, happy in fact. Too happy. He'd been manipulated. Again.

"So I pass inspection, Carter?"

"With flying colors, Colonel, sir." Her chin tightened as she smiled.

He held her dazzling gaze. Those eyes could be the death of him. He dragged his attention to the night sky, but only saw Sam's eyes. Dang! "Okay, enough military bull. When did you know I was Zorro?"

"Um in the ballroom." He heard the smile in her voice.

His jaw slackened. "You're quick!"

"Not really. I'd been watching you since you arrived. You stood out from the other Zorros."

"Like a sore thumb?" He glanced at his hangnail.

"Hardly."

Yeah well, I'd wanted to come as the Scarecrow, but it's apparently not a popular fashion statement." He snorted. "Heck, there's not even one here."

"Why?"

"What?"

"The Scarecrow?"

"Oh, the lack of a brain thingy. Not much in the smarts department." He tapped his head like it was hollow. Sometimes it was.

She shook hers and nibbled her upper lip.

"What?"

"You obviously see yourself a lot differently than I do."

"Really?"

"I think you're very intelligent, Jack," then, she said for his ears only, "Remember, I saw you hack a high security terminal in under 30 seconds. That's not just smart, that's brilliant. You pretend to be dumb so you have the upper hand."

"Hey, if that's what you think I'm not going to argue, Dorothy." He felt smug. Geez, she knows I'm smart. Sweet!

"Actually I like the Scarecrow best." Sam leaned into him.

Beneath his bandana Jack's brows collided with his hairline. "And I like Dorothy best." He decided to kiss her.

She shook her head.

Or not. "So I stood out among the other Zorros, hey?"

"Yep. Reminded me of a kid lost in a department store looking for his parents."

"Talk about your major turn on!" He wondered if his bandana had the letter L for loser slashed into it.

"Jack?"

"Huh?"

"You're pouting?"

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not!"

"Your mouth just went flat and your dimples," She caressed the left one. "Vanished."

Her touch made him hot. "Yeah, well that's what I feel like doing. Poof!" He tossed his hands in the air.

"Hey, that wasn't an insult. I like shy scarecrows and lost boys, especially ones with self-effacing humor."

"Uh. Oh. What?" He squinted.

"Shy humor, natural. Means you don't take yourself seriously. I like that a lot."

"Ah h." He angled his head and nodded. "You do?" When his left dimple slashed deeper, her fingertip followed.

"Oh yeah. Soon as you ditched your plastic sword in the planter, I was smitten." She hesitantly dropped her hand to her side.

Jack's face tingled where she'd touched him. "Yes, well after getting smitten in a very tender spot, I decided . . ."

She smiled way too knowingly. Jack coughed into his hand. Yep, he was definitely getting flustered.

"And then when that buxom hussy came onto you well, I thought you were going to—" She bubbled with laughter and looked away.

"What?"

"Wet your pants."

"Hey, hey, hey! If you'd heard what she wanted to do to me." He cleared his throat. Man considering it was October, it sure was hot.

"Going to tell?" She laced her fingers in his and he instinctively squeezed them.

"No way!" He looked off, wondering where this conversation would take them.

"Please?" She flashed those baby blues.

Grunting, Jack concluded he was not in control of anything especially this beautiful blonde operative who had turned his world upside down in the matter of minutes. If he had to give control to anyone, she was the most likely candidate. What amazed him was how natural he felt with her. No head games, no trying to be someone he wasn't.

She also knew he was smart. Genius IQ. He sure hoped that never made the headlines. She was right, playing dumb gave him an advantage. It was his ace in the hole. He never should have let her accompany him to the dictator's office where he had to download files and replaced them with falsified ones. He'd still managed to deceive her. She believed he'd crashed the terminal. Hah! Jack smirked.

And that Sam had an itch for the Scarecrow boggled his mind. More important, she knew and understood a part of him, Sara never had privy to. And now the Stargate! Suddenly there were no secrets, well not many. And she was still talking. He loved it.

" . . .When you'd realized you'd eaten caviar I almost busted a gut laughing. Then the President slapped your back and you swallowed it. Priceless!"

"Glad I kept you amused." Her contagious smile made Jack grin wider.

"Hey you're dodging the Wonder Woman question."

"Yes I am."

She waggled her blonde brows.

He forgot to breathe. Again. "You are evil."

"Think so?"

"Oh yeah, but in a seductive way. Now, no more swordplay, exactly when did you know I was Striker? Answer me straight up or I'm limping off into the sunset."

Before she could answer, another waiter arrived with their coffee and two bagged Cheese Danish. "Here you go, sir." The balding man non-ceremonially shoved them into Jack's hands.

"Thanks." Jack grinned. "They fresh?" He eyed the Danish through the plastic wrappers, feeling they had been warmed.

"Fresh from the President's pantry! And you're a real SOB, O'Neill!"

"I try, Max." Jack chuckled setting the Danish on the bench.

Jack caught Sam's gaping expression.

The waiter's stern face lifted to a sneer, as he nodded to Sam. "No doubt there was a ten spot riding on those Danish?"

"Yeah sure yabetcha. But I only waged her five."

"Pathetic." Max mumbled looking at Sam and shaking his head.

"Just a minute here!" Sam said in defense.

"Not you, Ma'am!" Max apologized. "I mean this last batch of recruits I got stuck with are pathetic."

"Which just makes me richer." Jack grinned sticking out his hand.

Sam looked from Jack to Max then back at Jack.

Jack cleared his throat and gestured. "Captain Samantha Carter, meet Secret Service Superintendent Max Benjamin, former Colonel of the United States Marines. Max meet Samantha."

Sam nodded, but still looked bewildered.

"Captain." Max saluted.

"Colonel." Sam returned with a sharp salute, despite her long, legged wobble.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." He winked at Jack suggestively.

Sam blushed.

"Get your head out of the pigpen, Max." Between Jack's bark and narrowed glint the Secret Service agent took a cautious step back.

"Oh, sorry— Well some of us still work for a living." Max recovered quickly, slapping a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. "A ah fair warning, Captain." He gestured to Jack. "Don't bet against the devil, because payback's a bitch. And, Jack, thanks for watching my six."

"Anytime." Jack called out as the former Marine headed back into the East Ballroom. "You got my number, rank, serial number, yadda, yadda." Jack turned and handed one of the coffees and a Danish to Sam, who appeared to be processing what she'd just witnessed.

"So that happens much?" She stared at the white Styrofoam cup warming her hands.

"Yeah. Old habits die hard."

"If I recall you hate cliché's." Her delicate brows shifted, her lips twitched.

"Whoops." He chuckled.

"Guess I owe you?"

"Yep. But I'll take it out in trade."

"Pretty sure of yourself, Mister O'Neill."

"Have my moments, Ms Carter." He smiled, sipped the hot strong brew and waited as Sam opened her cup but then set it behind her. He frowned.

"Not driving," she defended.

"Ah, yes, well I am." He took another long swig. "And I'm not kissing you until you're sober."

"Well since you put it that way." She brought the coffee to her lips and sipped, her blue gaze locked with his, until she looked back at the East Ballroom.

Unwrapping his Danish, Jack couldn't believe how their conversation roamed all over the place then came naturally back to them. It seemed as if they'd known each other long before the Black Ops missions and he swore they'd met in his dreams. Jack forced his bizarre musings to the present.

"So?" He knew she'd pick up where she'd left off.

"Oh, I kept watching you. There was something in your mannerism." She blushed. "But when we finally made eye contact and you smiled I put face grease on you, gave you a beard, a sandy blonde mullet and then started to pray." She pointed at his brown temple hair, poking out from his neckline beneath the bandana. "See that really threw me off."

"Job security. Been down there a lot. Needed to be less conspicuous." He took a bite of the pastry. Warm, but stale. Figures.

"That I buy." She nodded and her creamy features turned serious. "The big giveaway came when you followed me here and commented on Orion's Belt."

"Lot's of folks know that constellation." He shrugged, shoving the last of the Danish into his mouth, then washing it down with coffee. Sobriety was finally kicking in. Yeah!

"Yes, but I mentioned Mars was in conjunction with Venus."

"And?"

"You corrected me and said it was in conjunction with Jupiter."

"I—Oy!" He slugged himself in the face with a lightly curled fist as all the pieces fell into place.

"Gotcha!" She giggled shyly. "You'd told me that one starry night when we were surrounded by two warring factions," her voiced lowered. "You kept me distracted and gave me a crash course on astronomy."

"Guilty as charged. But I suspected you knew everything I was telling you."

"Perhaps." She winked and sipping more coffee held his gaze until he couldn't breathe again.

'What?' he mouthed and captured air on the same breath.

"Nothing." She cleared her throat and puffed again.

"Hey, that's me, a lot of nothing."

"Hardly, Jack." She scowled. "Or I wouldn't have let you kiss me."

"So you knew you were kissing Striker?" he whispered setting his gaze on her with clear intent.

"Yeah." She looked down at her fidgeting hands and he reached over calming them. She gazed up and asked even softer, "And just when did you know I was Shimmer?"

"Oh, I was way ahead of the game."

"Now it's a game?" Her right brow arched.

"No, just a bad cliché. Hate clichés." He sniffed. "Really."

"Okay. I'm not into relational head games but I do like clichés."

Well one out of two isn't bad. Jack struck pay dirt! Geez, two clichés! "And I knew after I got over the initial thought, she's one hot Mama."

Samantha Carter choked and gaped up at him.

"Oops! Did I say that? Sorry, really." Geez, O'Neill!

"That's okay, I mean no one's ever said that about me before, sir, um, Jack."

"Get out of here!" He looked back at her.

"At least not to my face." She blushed so deep he wanted to kiss her.

"Well, I mean it, Samantha." He sighed, taking her hand and stroking her soft knuckles.

"So umm, that's when you knew?"

"Nah, never saw you without grease or some disguise and they literally kept us in the dark when we were captured."

"Yes. Took me a week to readjust to natural light."

" Ditto. But I remembered your eyes and when I looked over tonight, and you held my gaze it was day ja view!"

Sam giggled.

"What?"

"Nothing." She had the silliest look on her face. The fact he'd caused it, made him proud.

"So, when you headed outside, I followed."

"You knew then?"

"Suspected, but pegged you the moment you said Orion."

"How!" She pulled back glaring.

"Memorized your voice." He shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yep. Not intentionally. Just a knack I've got. Came in handy during special assignments."

"But why didn't you get cold feet until I asked about your age?"

"Yes. Well," he hesitated, "Guess that's when it hit me this was serious stuff. I mean you, me, having classified history and the age range. A bit much. Uncomfortable in fact."

"Oh." She traced a fingertip across his calloused palm, extracting a shiver. "Never dawned on me that age would be an issue."

"Serious?"

She nodded. "There was fifteen years between my parents. They got along swell, until . . ." she drifted off.

"Hey, none of my business." He waved a hand of dismissal.

"She died in a car accident when I was fourteen."

"Sorry, Samantha."

"Yeah well, shit happens, you know." She mustered a smile. "Jack, um back to this, us thing. What exactly is going on here?"

"So there's something going on?" he countered with the curl of his mouth and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Don't know, is there?"

"Sure hope so, coz these bruises are going to smart like heck come morning."

She touched his jaw and then pulled back. "Please tell me you're not married? Because I don't . . ." She glanced away.

"No." He didn't want to talk about that, but needed to assure her. "Been over quite a while."

"Oh." She nodded, seeming to take it into consideration. "Just want to make sure this isn't a rebound attraction."

"Hell no!" He cringed then caught her wide-eyed expression. "Ah, sorry." He shook his head, hating that he'd reacted without thinking. "But if you're asking, if I still think about her—"

Before he could finish Sam nodded yes.

"Sure hard not too, but not in this way." He gestured between them. "That fire's been out for along time."

"It can always be rekindled." Sam insisted.

"Well there's that. And yeah, I'll always love her. But I'm not, 'in love,' with her anymore. And just so you understand, she left me."

She blew out a breath of relief. "Okay. Just had to be certain." She hedged a smile.

"I understand. You ever married?"

"Oh, no. Engaged once, didn't pan out. Career conflicts."

"Ah." He nodded, feeling they were making ground, getting comfortable. "Anyone serious now?"

She stiffened beneath his touch. "I—well, you know how you sometimes fantasize about someone you've never met?"

"Oh yeah." He wondered if she knew how much. "Hey spill, I can take it."

"Sure now? I mean, we've got history."

"You and me, or your fantasy guy?"

"All three." She made a triangle motion between them.

"Look, Sam, I confuse easily." He twirled a finger over his head and scrunched his face.

"Okay." She cleared her throat. "There's this well, he was an Air Force Colonel, now retired."

Jack flinched but considered the chances nil to none. "And?" He couldn't believe he wanted to know, but did. What kind of sicko had he become?

"Guess it's a hero worship thing, initiated by a project I've been working the last few years."

'Stargate?' he mouthed.

"Yeah." She giggled under her breath and her eyes sparkled.

His eyes focused on her ruby lips. This was a dream, right?

"I thought he was married, now I find out he's not."

Jack smiled so hard, his face hurt. She had fallen for him as himself! Could it get any better? Oh, yeah!

"What?" She blushed up into his over-pleased expression.

"Nothing." He felt pretty sure about wanting a future with this amazing woman. "Anything else about him you wanna share?"

"Sure, but that's strictly classified."

"Everything you do, classified?"

"Like you should talk?"

"Well there's that."

"So without details whatcha do now?"

"Lab job." She shrugged as if no big deal.

"Knew it!" He laughed and slapped his thigh. "You're a science geek!"

"Hey, that's not nice."

"But, I'm right, right?"

"Yes, but I'm an Air Force science geek, thanks very much. And don't you forget it, Mister!" She jabbed him in the ribs.

"Ow! You still got a license to kill with that pinky?"

"Yessiree." She gently poked him in the arm.

"Figures. So top secrets experiments on lab rats?"

"You have no idea," she said with a tone that made him more curious.

"Really classified, huh?"

"If I told you, I'd have to shoot you." She formed a handgun with her fingers aimed and then fired at him. "And you?"

"Ditto." He mimicked her. They held each other's gaze, no doubt wondering just how classified either of their secrets were about the Stargate and yet it didn't matter. "Okay then, back to the safe stuff, huh?"

"Thanks." She hedged a smile. "So kids?"

"No." Another cringe. He didn't want to go there either. Not yet.

"Anything else, skeletons in the closet, dresser drawers?" She was looking at her ruby slippers and clicking them.

"Nope." He eased his arm about her shoulders with no resistance. She turned into him. He cradled her trembling chin.

"Jack, about the Gate. We're still obligated to the rules of section— "

"Know that, Samantha."

"Oh, guess you would."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yeah a bit." She leaned out of his touch and Jack dropped his hands into his lap. Yeah, he was curious about how involved she was with the gate project. What type of geek was she? The fact she hadn't shared that pricked him. But he still honored government protocol and rules, especially, with something as high priority as the Stargate. Retired or not, Jack had no right prying, nor would he utilize the leverage he could have employed years ago to find out Striker's identity. His commitment to Sara had kept him from following through, a decision he'd never regretted. Trouble was now it was different, now he wanted to know and couldn't.

"Hey." He glanced over and swore bees were bouncing off the walls of his gut.

"Hey, my gorgeous brown eyed, Zorro, you going to take off that mask and bandana?" She glanced up with a challenge.

Wow! He hadn't seen that coming? "Thinking," he teased. "You know it's way passed your bedtime?"

"Yep." She looked at her shoes and then tapped them twice.

"Making a wish, Dorothy?"

"To go home." She winked.

"Nice." He scouted closer.

"Whoa there, flyboy! I don't do one night stands let alone on a first date." She put out a warning hand. "Nor with faceless men."

"Me either." Jack chuckled. "And for the record, I don't do men."

CHAPTER FOUR

"So glad we got that straight." She grinned, and then shivering, hugged her short, sleeved arms.

"Funny." He untied his black cloak and draped it around her, his hand lingering on her right shoulder, his fingers pressing possessively into her yielding flesh. "So is this our first date then?"

"I don't know, is it, Striker?" she asked loudly as she turned into him.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He let go and glancing back spotted a guard about fifty feet away looking straight at them.

"Man, you're more reaction paranoid than I thought." She laughed holding her sides.

"And cracking my jaw wasn't?" He flinched.

"Really sorry. But that was down right anger." She cast her eyes down and away from him in mock remorse.

"Excuse me? You said you knew you were kissing me, I mean you— "

"Yes."

"So, coz I let it slip that I knew who you were you got pissed?"

"Exactly."

"I see." No, he didn't. Women! Would he ever understand them, let alone this one? He hoped not.

"Really, I am sorry about this." She brushed a finger against his jaw, turning it gently toward the light to check the damages. He winced. "Bruised not broken?"

"How'dya know?" He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips.

"Science Major, and basic medical training."

"Oh. So you're a Major, not a Captain then?"

"Jack, no shoptalk."

"What?" He winked wickedly as she squirmed, then conceded. "If you say so."

"I do." Sam cleared her throat. "Do you have a way around that security matter so we can work on the 'us' issue?" She made a helpless gesture.

"Sure do." He drew her close again, getting lost in the beauty of her.

"Nice." She was looking at him with those large liquid blue eyes. Her porcelain chin quavered. "I thought of you a lot these past years. Who you were, where you lived, what you were doing? If you ever thought of me and—"

He kissed her!

This time there was no groping, no raging teenage-like hormones. Instead their explosive passion simmered beneath its hot molten surface. A passion he'd never before experienced. Their mouths opened on cue with Jack at the reins. Despite her strong-will, Sam followed his lead. Their tongues dueled, but Jack's was harder, stronger demanding. When he captured her tongue with his teeth and gently nipped, Sam whimpered beneath him and pressed hard and fast into him, which sent the heat spiraling southward . . . again!

Everything about their embrace and kiss seemed natural and right. They were so in-tuned to each other it was frightening. If he didn't put the breaks to it now . . . He regretfully eased up, kissing her slower, lingering softly on her lips with a long sensuous kiss that left them breathless and staring in wonder at each other.

"Holy Hannah!" Sam finally blew out.

"Ya liked?" he asked hoarsely, his insecurities taking the front seat.

"Oh yeah I liked!" She sighed against his chest. "I have never been kissed so completely before."

"Ah, really?"

"Really, Jack." She gazed up into his eyes. "That kiss took me over the rainbow." She lifted his hand and pressed it against her quickening heart. "Feel."

"Whoa Nelly! Well, if you liked the previews, you're going love the movie, especially the blockbuster ending," he crowed.

"Can't wait. I'll bring popcorn."

They fell back into each other's arms grinning.

"Umm, Sam, there's a few things you got to know."

"Fire away."

"Well maybe it's more like I have to explain . . . See I'm not the easiest guy to um—be around. There's a lot of military stuff I can never share. I get quiet a lot. I'm lousy with words. Mulishly set in my ways. I shut down for days. Got tons of baggage this long —" He stretched out his arms.

"Hush!" She pressed a finger to his open mouth and nodded in understanding.

"Huh?"

"Jack, I spent two weeks in a cell with you. I pretty much saw the best and worst of you. So do you see me running?"

"Well no, but— "

"No buts!" She was firm.

"Okay." He shrugged but didn't smile. "Secondly, I'm not as cool as you might think or into the politically correct bull, bed hopping or living together. I'm pretty conservative, old fashioned even."

"As in?"

"I like the whole American Pie courtship ritual. Ya know—"

"First base, second base, third…Home run!" She grinned.

"Yeah." He blushed. "Something like, that."

"Me too." She nuzzled his jaw with her lips. "To set the record straight in, 'Life according to Carter,' home run means church bells and rice."

"Holy cow, ya sure you're not June Cleaver in, "Leave it to Beaver?"

"Hey, is this a TV series trivia test?"

"Nope. Your version of life suits me just fine, Samantha Carter. Refreshing, in fact. Just wondering if some bases can be skipped?" He quirked a mischievous brow as her sensual touch began to unravel him again.

"Well since we've already skipped first base, how about we start over and play them one at a time?" She walked her fingers up his chest and slowly popped opened the top three buttons of his costume's black shirt, sliding her fingertips along his sparse gray chest hairs and drawing a shudder from him. "You know, take our time get to know each other's quirks, likes, dislikes."

"'Kay," he choked out unhinged by the mixed signals Sam was giving. "I like astronomy, gardening, camping, dogs, cake, fishing, hiking, classic movies, hockey, walking in the rain, fast cars, big trucks—I drive a truck, The Simpsons, umm," he breathlessly added, "Did I mention cake?" He reached up, snared her wandering fingers and growled in frustration. "And I — "

"Want me to slow down?" Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

"Well if you want your virtue intact until 4th base I wouldn't tease the water boy," he rasped.

"Actually," she bit her lip and winked. "I was wondering if you got a scar from that nasty knifing incident during our capture?"

"Oh, well, yeah," He snatched up her hands, pulling them away from his skin, and then cleared his throat, "There's a scar alright, but it's a lot lower than where you were headed." Thank Heavens!

Sam blushed. "Whoops." She held his hot passionate gaze and back peddled, folding her hands in her lap. "Better?"

"Much." Jack shook his head and realized that most guys would be making out with her by now. Or not. He couldn't help suspect Samantha Carter was testing him out, deciding if he was worthy of taking those future bases with her. He sure as heck planned on making the grade. So, if anything, her next question didn't surprise him.

"So does 'old fashioned' mean flowers, candy, love letters?"

Considering it, Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Sure, why not. Just don't tell anyone you're buying them for me." He closed two of the buttons.

"Jack!" She playfully slugged him, and then pouted when his fingers closed on the third button.

He tipped his head and nodded. "So I'm suppose to buy that mushy romantic stuff for you?"

"Couldn't hurt. I have an addiction for Godiva Chocolate, especially dark chocolate." She toyed with the Danish wrapper.

"I'll make sure to keep some around." He chuckled and brought her back into the fold of his arms and kissed her soft brow. "Why me?"

"Why you asking?" She lifted her head from his shoulder and met his compressed expression.

"Coz, I don't understand what you see in a loser like me."

Her lips drew tight with deliberation. "I do hope you're being silly."

"Well, I'm just saying . . . " He rubbed the nape of his neck.

"First off, drop the loser act, Colonel O'Neill. Secondly, I'm no love doctor. But I've felt something for you since the first time we met on that dark vacant pier and three years later it's stronger than ever."

"Wow!" He blushed beneath the dark of night. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, and why in heaven's name, I don't know." She started counting off on her fingers. "You are cocky, funny, chauvinistic, controlling, rude, and if memory serves me, your solution to most problems is to blow it up." She tossed her hands up in the air for effect.

"Now see that's what exactly I'm talking about. A total loser." He snuffed in a breath and fidgeted with her braids.

"Jack!" She pinched his upper arm and laughed.

"Hey!" He rubbed his bruised bicep. "No more violence."

"Sorry."

"Forgiven."

"As much of a rough and tumble Alpha man that you are, Jack, there are times you show a wonderful childlikeness I love."

"Oh?" He was confused. "And you find that attractive?" He peered suspiciously at her.

"Very." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It makes you unpredictably, edgy, sexy."

"A ah." He tipped his head and nodded. "So since we've covered my strong points, how about yours?"

"Some people think I'm competitive, controlling, wired too tight, think too much and occasionally over react."

"Ya think?" He snorted, nodding yes to all of the above.

"That obvious?"

Jack rolled his eyes and touched his sore jaw. "But," he held up a digit, "I like strong-willed, competitive women and we can work on getting you loosely wired. That's if you want to." He coughed into his hand. "I don't want to change you, Sam. And as for me, what you see is what you get." He tapped his chest. "Just your basic brown paper packaging with a lot of nothing inside."

"Hey, I like brown papered packages, Jack O'Neill, and everything I need is here inside." She put her hand over his heart.

Jack slid his larger hand over hers and squeezed gently. "If I'm dreaming, please don't pinch me?"

She grinned. "So this is more than raging hormones between us, right?"

"Oh yeah, way more. Actually we've just started down the yellow brick road, Dorothy." He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "But I'd definitely want to find Oz with you."

Exhaling a sigh, she leaned into the crook of his arms and gazed up at him. "This is happening so fast and yet I feel like it's been going on for years."

He nodded with understanding, yet something was eating him. "Sam, when we served together did I ever . . .behave unprofessionally with you?" He found it hard to look her in the eyes.

"Course not." She cupped his tight jaw and turned it back to her. "Jack, you were always honorable. I'd become infatuated with you the minute we met, but nothing you said or did, indicated you thought of me anymore than a CO would think of his junior officer. And since I didn't know whether you were military, CIA, let alone married, I winged it. Besides, you have this blank mask you put on that keeps people from seeing what's behind those dark brown eyes." She searched his open face. "You did that a lot when we worked together. Now where's this coming from?" She gazed into his temsed face.

"Guilt." He shrugged and released her.

"You had feelings for me then?" She gawked.

"Hey, hey, I was happily married." His hands danced for effect. "And what I felt for you then was a lot different than now. I wasn't looking at you romantically, although you had gotten under my skin when you challenged me to arm wrestle on our first encounter. You got spunk. Not to mention your loyalty and trustworthiness. It was an honor to serve with you."

"With you too, sir." Sam saluted.

Jack returned the salute smartly and for a few seconds, they exchanged the private awareness that only those of military honor could comprehend. Jack cleared his throat and the moment was gone.

"After our final assignment, I succeeded burying you way down here," He gestured to the ground.

"Beneath your feet, huh?" she snorted.

"Carter."

"Sorry."

Jack coughed. "But after my marriage ended, you were all I could think about. I could have found out your identity and looked you up but I figured you were probably married or involved with someone. You'll soon discover I'm not the eternal optimist when it comes to relationships, Sam."

"Oh! You mean I, we?" She covered her mouth as if she were going to be ill.

"No! You had nothing to do with that, Sam. And can we not talk about it? I had to be sure I didn't encourage something or touch you when I shouldn't have or . . ." He scrubbed his face in frustration.

"Jack?"

"What?" He whined and grimaced at her.

Easing off his hat, Sam untied his silk mask and then the bandana. He heard her breath rush pass her lips. Jack's grimaced darkened as she ruffled his flattened hair.

"That bad huh?"

Sam shook her head and then fluffed his plastered hair with her fingertips, her touch causing Jack's scalp to shiver. She looked so serious that he assumed she was disappointed. His heart nose-dived, then lifted as her hands trailed seductively down his face to the cleft in his chin and then to the horizontal scar beneath his jaw.

"You, retired Colonel Jack O'Neill, are one mouthwatering hunk. But then I knew that from the photos I'd seen. I told myself you were one of the most desirable, delectable guys I ever wanted. If you could have read my mind, you'd have run for miles, bad knee or not." She laughed touching his ID tag.

"Ah shucks. Thank you, Ma'am." He sniffed and gazed bashfully into her shimmering blue eyes.

"And now with all due respect and honesty, sir, you were, and still are an officer and a gentleman. I trusted you completely and never for a moment thought you were coming on to me. But I would never change what's happening between us now," she blew out a breath, "and as an Air Force officer, if given the opportunity. I'd follow you to hell and back in a heartbeat, Colonel, sir, Scarecrow, Mister Jack O'Neill, whichever title you prefer."

Ever so slowly Jack's drawn mouth tugged upward at the corners. "Sure you're not a politician, Dorothy?" He warily wagged a brow.

"Positive." She put her finger into her mouth and gagged.

"Sweet." He smirked. She could be just as much a kid as him. He liked that—a lot. "Meanwhile because of this umm Gate issue, I need to be certain we aren't overstepping boundaries, okay?"

"You think it will be trouble?"

"Honestly don't know. Since I'm retired, I doubt it. But I've got some markers to call in," he murmured in her ear, his fingers familiarizing themselves with her slender back and shoulders.

"You can do that?"

"Yeah." He pulled back and looked into her uncertain gaze. "This too fast for you?" He had to know.

"Uh, no. I—heck no! Didn't expect it to happen. Dreamt it, hoped it. Even— "

"What?"

"I broke off my engagement."

"Excuse me?" Jack gawked and pulled back.

"Not that you were the only reason. He's an egomaniac."

"Hate that type." He snorted.

"Yeah, I tend to be drawn to lunatic fringe."

"Whoops." He winced.

"So, you consider yourself a lunatic of the fringe?" She looked puzzled and apologetic at the same time.

"Oh, yeah." He smirked. "Formerly. Cool. N'est pas?" He was almost afraid to look at her face for the answer.

"Sure is. Although I confess your risk-taking approach was a big draw. But there's the other side of you that takes my breath away."

"I take your breath away?" His eyes doubled in size. "My . . .other . . .side?"

"You make my pulse race, my blood pressure soar, all the oxygen in my body rushes to my head."

And my entire blood supply is rushing somewhere else!

She puffed several breaths. "See even now. When you look at me with those talking chocolate eyes and your dimples tuck in," she reached up and touched one. "Wow! And the crease between your brows deepens." Sam traced a nail to the bridge of his nose. "I forget to breathe."

"Seems to be a mutual physical disorder, Sam. Right now, my heart's thumping so fast I can barely breathe. Wonder what the cure is?" He winked suggestively.

Sam snorted then turned somber. "Jack, ever since we spent those two weeks in prison I—" She shuddered and he saw tears dampen her eyes. "When you'd let me sleep on your shoulder, when you'd say, 'C'mere,' and just held me until I fell asleep, well—."

"I took comfort in that too, plus the body heat was nice." He recalled the cold dampness that had permeated every muscle of their aching bodies. There was nothing warm about the Peruvian mountain range.

"And when I was so close to breaking from the interrogations you saved me from myself?"

"I wasn't in any better shape than you, Sam, I was scared shitless."

"But you never showed it, Jack. sir." She glanced up. "Sorry."

He nodded, kissing her cheek.

"You stayed strong and confident that we'd get out. You'd say, "I've been in similar situations, Shimmer." Then you'd make me laugh with your jokes or act dumb or confused when you weren't."

"Hate to blow the image, Carter, but I am often dumb and confused." He grinned.

"Yeah, well I don't know too many officers who make it to the rank of colonel based on being dumb and confused." She insisted.

"Hey, if you've got a dime, I've got a long list of that kind of idiot and some are generals."

As if realizing he was out to sidetrack her, Sam rolled her eyes and pressed on. "Remember the day you chewed me out and said to stop being a whiny wuss and think of a way to save our collective asses?"

Jack flinched. "Sorry 'bout that, I was a bit testy by then."

"We both were. But you got me so mad I wanted to prove to you I could do it."

"Really? So getting you pissed off saved our butts?"

"Apparently so." She smiled and he got lost in her.

"Umm, should have done that day one, huh?" He drew her closer.

Sam snorted.

"Never did figure out how you MacGyvered those computerized locks."

"Ah, job security you know."

Well, there's that." He grinned. "So about us. Still wanna go for it?"

"Only if you can deal with dating someone married to her career?"

"Hey, you're about to find that I'm a very patient man, Captain Samantha Carter. However long it takes I'm in this for the long haul. But sooner or later I'd like to have you married to more than your career?"

"Wouldn't that make me a bigamist, sir?"

"Oy! And I thought I told lame jokes." Jack slapped his face and laughed.

"Whoa! So you're serious?" She gaped.

"Always." He waggled his brows.

"Man oh man, you don't beat around the bush, do you?" She was starting that hyperventilating thing again.

"Yeah, it's that lack of tact trait. Say that three times in a row," he challenged with a smirk.

Sam chuckled then grew somber.

Oy! "Problem, Dorothy?"

"Oh, no! I mean, if that was a proposal, well—"

"Hey, no pressure. We've got all the time in the world. Just like an answer in say . . .the next eight . . . years?" Years! That was one of his dumber comebacks. Eight months was more like it.

Sam sighed what he sensed was relief. Then he decided it wasn't so dumb afterward. He didn't want to scare her off, but he definitely had to undo that eight years remark.

"Okay I will, but might I add, you're the only man I want?"

"So your fantasy colonel's still an option?"

"Not anymore, flyboy." She pulled him closer. "Not when I've got the real thing, Mister O'Neill."

"Excellent." He nuzzled her soft neck. "I'm a safe bet, Sam."

"Never had a safe bet before," her voice trembled with uncertainty.

"Well get used to it." He smiled with encouragement down at her. "Coz that's what I am. Always."

She glanced into his eyes and nodded. A tender moment danced between them. "So we've got a lot to learn about each other, Jack."

"Yeah sure yabetcha, anything you say, Dorothy, you name it."

"Wondering when you were going to say that." She stifled a laugh.

"Disappointed?"

"Nope. You left the best for last."

"There should be cake," he said out loud. Whoops.

"What?" She glanced up, her light brows knitting with wonder.

"Nothing, just I like to celebrate with cake. And this is something to celebrate."

"Well I love cake. Especially chocolate."

"Double chocolate with white butter frosting and a tall glass of ice cold milk." He smacked his lips.

Sam laughed.

"What?"

"You really are a big kid at heart, aren't you, Jack O'Neill, with two LL's."

"Yeah just, a big kid trying to find his way home." That darn song kept bouncing through his head.

"Then we've a lot in common." She stared longingly into his eyes.

"Hail Dorothy," he breathed out and tenderly kissed her soft yielding lips, but kept his tongue in check. It was getting late. He didn't want to let her go, ever. This was going way too fast and he was too far from home. Jack had never done anything this romantically spontaneous in his life, let alone in his courtship of Sara or during their marriage. Just ask Sara. Man, he sure hoped this wasn't a reactionary rebound thingy like Sam suggested. That's why they weren't getting anymore physical than they already had. He wanted no morning after guilt trips. Jack had enough guilt, thank you.

"So where do you live?" Sam asked softly against his kiss.

"Colorado Springs," he murmured into her mouth, savoring the taste of her, putting it to memory.

Sam pushed off. "Cheyenne Mountain?" There were even question marks in her eyes.

"Hey, I do not work at the mountain." He drew her back to him.

"Okay." She seemed relieved.

"I assume you're here in D.C.?" He swirled a short blond curl that had escaped her wig, wishing she'd take the darn thing off.

"Have an apartment in Centerville, about twenty miles away."

They seemed to contemplate the mileage.

"So it's going to be a long distance courtship." She sighed.

"I'm flexible. If necessary I'll move here."

"You'd do that for me?"

He arched a brow at her incredulous tone. "I'd do it for us, but only if you wanted me to. I don't take things for granted, especially relationships."

"Whoa!" She fanned her cheeks.

"Sam, I'm forty-three and you're?"

"Thirty."

He scowled.

"Okay. I turn thirty in January."

"What'd you do, graduate from high school at sixteen?" Jack's eyes bulged, his mouth slackened.

"Um, close." She tucked her chin. "Seventeen. But had to wait a year to enter the AF Academy. Entrance regs you know."

"Crap!" Jack dragged a hand through his hair and winced. "I am robbing the freaking cradle."

"No you're not. I'm quite capable of climbing out on my own, thank you, Dad." She laughed.

"So I've noticed. And don't ever call me, Dad, even when I'm eighty!"

"Aye, sir." She gave a sloppy salute.

"Geez."

Sam snickered.

"My point is, I've had my military career and I'm ready to move on. There's nothing keeping me in Colorado, Samantha. I'd actually thought about going back home to Minnesota. I'm good with my hands— "

"Boy, is that an understatement." She brought them to her lips and kissed each one slowly.

Jack's breath hitched. "Down girl! You're—so playing—with fire." He warned and set his hands on her shoulders.

Sam shifted her light brows in a seductive manner and smiled alluringly.

'Oy!' He forced his gaze to the stars. "What I'm trying to say here is when I was Air Force I made a lot of concessions. Unfortunately, they weren't for my marriage. If we do have a future together, Samantha, I'm going to do what's necessary to make it work. Okay?"

She shook her head as if in disbelief. "Tell me I didn't get hit on the head, and like Dorothy, this is all a dream?"

"Not dreaming. You're safe and secure, home in Kansas, babe."

She brought his arms around her waist. "Yes, I am."

He nodded, wanting to kiss and then some, but knew he had to pace himself . . .er, them. Geez this courtship stuff was hard work. "Umm, phone numbers?"

"You got paper and a pen?"

"No, shucks. You?"

"No. But I'm in the phone book under S. Carter at The Parthenon Complex."

"That works."

They found themselves staring at each other. Sam encircled his neck, tilted her head and smiled at him. An electric smile he could get lost in. He smiled back.

"Happy?" He had to know.

"You have no idea." She sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

"There's that. And if you're happy, my heart's about ready to bust from my chest."

"I hear it." She turned into him and laid her cheek over his heart and they held each other.

"Sam, about the Gate. I won't ask you to compromise the code of ethics or break rules. Don't want you jeopardizing your career or national security."

"You're an honorable man, Mister Jack O'Neill." She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes.

"Try." He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers and whispered, "I'll know within a week tops and then we'll be face-to-face getting to know each other without any restrictions, alright?"

"You mean that?"

"Believe in me."

"I'll never stop." She sighed against him. "For the first time in my life, I think I've found my way home."

"Me too." He cradled her delicate chin with both hands and kissed her like a thirsty man, tongue included.

'Ah hum. Excuse me?" A nervous voice sounded from behind them.

Jack jolted and turned his head.

A Secret Service agent stood before them. "Colonel O'Neill, sir?"

"Yeah?" He glared over Sam's back. "Retired."

Sam was blushing and turned her head, staring at her feet.

"The guests are leaving and the President would like a word with you in the Oval Office, sir. When you're ready I'll escort you across the lawns to the West Wing."

"Whoops. Forgot about that." Jack stood and then assisted Sam to her feet.

"If you prefer, I will wait for you in the ballroom, Colonel?"

"That'd be fine, son." Jack acknowledged more politely.

"And Captain Carter?" The agent nodded at her.

"Yes?"

"Your father requests you meet him at the East ballroom's main entrance ASAP."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Ma'am." He tried to keep a straight face, turned and walked away.

"Well, that was enlightening," Jack groused.

"I can't believe President Shaffer knows—"

"He's 'The great all knowing Oz,' Sam. Heck, we've been surveyed since we arrived and no doubt our make-out session video has been rated R." He pointed at the mini-camera on the outside lamppost about twenty feet away.

"Holy Hannah!" she gasped as she smoothed her dress and tried to straighten her wig.

Grinning, Jack leaned over and helped her with the wig.

"You find this funny?"

"Very." He sniffed. "By the way, you look great." He gestured at her then took her arm, escorting her down the garden path to the ballroom doors.

"Love is blind." She giggled, leaning into him.

"Na ah, no more clichés." He wagged a finger.

"Okay, for now, but get used to them, Colonel, sir."

"Drop the sir, wilya?"

"Hey, I like calling you, sir."

"You do?" He squinted down at her like she had two heads.

"Yeah, it's sexy."

"Well, why didn't you say that before, Carter?"

"And I suppose you find my last name sexy?" She frowned.

"Oh, yeah!" He winked. "Actually everything about you is sexy, Samantha Carter, but for some weird reason I'm partial to Dorothy."

"Well this Dorothy is a bit worried about 'that' surveillance video."

"So's this Scarecrow. I'll see if I can get the Pres to hand it over. I sure don't want our kids seeing that on some presidential campaign smear years from now." Duh! He did it again!

"Kids?" She stared wide-eyed at him.

"Sorry." He grimaced as they strolled to the ballroom, berating himself in an audible grumble.

"How many?" She snared his forearm.

"How many what?" His mind blindly raced ahead to other consequences. Realizing what she had said stopped him dead in his tracks. "For real?" He glanced down gauging her expression, praying to God that she liked children.

"Yeah sure yabetcha." She nodded.

"Four'll do." He winced as he watched the reaction in her sea blue eyes.

"Four!" She gaped.

"Hey, I like kids." Jack never thought after losing Charlie he'd ever feel this longing again. In fact, he hadn't, until two hours ago. Samantha Carter affected him more than he'd thought possible. Kids? Geez, he wanted a family again. Yeah. Dang, where was this coming from? Where was it going? He wouldn't be surprised if she ran for the hills screaming!

"Me too."

Huh! So go for broke, old man. "Wanted six when I was younger. Hey just remember this is a good Irish Catholic boy talking here."

Sam gulped, then laughed nervously.

"What?"

"Typical guy. I can tell you're not the one pushing those six babies out either."

"Well, there ya go." He flagged a hand. "We'll compromise. You okay with adoption? Say half and half?"

"Okay, Mister Irish Catholic, Jack O'Neill, let's cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?" her voice held a smile of acceptance.

"Deal, Carter." He grinned watching her reaction when he used her last name.

She elbowed him. "I hear that all day, so I'd really rather you—"

"Sam?"

She nodded yes.

"Double deal, Sam."

Ten minutes later Jack stood in the West Wing's, Oval Office.

"Mr. President." Jack shook his old friend's hand briskly.

"Jack O'Neill, you old flyboy!" Stocking footed, the President was wearing a sweater and faded jeans.

"I appreciate you inviting me over at this late hour, sir." Jack grinned when he noted one sock was thread bear around the President's right big toe. Yeah, this President was just a normal guy, like Jack. Course having history, Jack knew far more than most about the present Commander and Chief, Andrew Shaffer.

"We're alone, Jack, call me, Andy, like our Air Force days."

"Yes well, you were my CO, sir. So, I don't recall ever calling you Andy."

"Were, being the operative word, Jack. I don't get to chat with friends very often. So humor me, huh?"

"Okay, Andy." Jack jammed his fists into his torn pockets and rocked casually on his black boot heels.

"So, take a load off your feet." Andrew directed Jack to one of the couches and sat down across from him. "Actually, I thought you skipped out hours ago."

"Think I broke a record this time, Andy." It felt weird calling the President by his first name, but Jack dealt with it.

His former CO glanced at the mantle clock. "Wow, sure did. So, what's her name?" He leaned back on the opposite sofa like they were old military buddies chatting. They were.

"See that's the problem. If you've got a few minutes I could use some help and advice."

"I've always got time for you, Jack. Lay it on me and don't mince any words."

"Me, mince words?" Jack snorted incredulously.

"Hey, that was joke. Heck, if I want God's honest truth on any matter, I can count on Jack O'Neill's candid, witty and rude lip, even when I don't want to hear it."

"Sure hope that was compliment." Jack brows shot skyward.

"Close as you'll ever get from me." Andy snickered.

"Considering I learned from the best."

"Yes you did." Andy pointed to himself, smugly.

Jack laughed and winked back. Yeah now this was friendship.

CHAPTER FIVE

Twenty minutes later, escorted by a Secret Service agent, Jack strode into the nearly vacant East ballroom whistling. He found Sam patting her fists against her hips, pacing and muttering. He purposely made small talk with one of the waiters and then a musician who was packing up his bass guitar. Jack caught Sam's surprised expression when he took up the guitar and jammed with the musicians to Blue Suede Shoes. By the time he reached her she looked like a viper about ready to strike. Him.

Shoving his hands into his split pockets, Jack smirked.

"Well?"

"Deep subject. Great place for a pump."

"Enjoying yourself?" She was in his face.

"Oh, yeah." He rocked on his heels and gave his devil may care smile.

"So?" She nipped his waist.

"Ow!" He flinched. "Remind me to clip your nails on a regular basis."

Sam merely glowered.

"The video will be erased after I get a copy."

"Why do you want a copy?" She eyed him suspiciously.

''Hey its cold in Colorado and the nights get mighty lonely,'' he teased.

"Then make two copies." She wiggled her brows suggestively.

"Sure thing." He chuckled.

"And?"

"He'll get the ball rolling." Jack smirked at his cliché, knowing she didn't buy it.

"That's it?" She pouted.

He arched a brow. "Lot of red tape, Dorothy, and I don't intend this to come back and bite either of us in the assets."

"Sorry. Makes sense," she breathed out with resignation as they held one another's gaze, knowing it was time to leave. Not to mention the yawning Secret Service party of twelve looked annoyed. Time to check out.

Jack caught her hands to his chest. "Got to get going, long drive home."

"Can't stay?" She stared longingly into his eyes.

"That an invitation?"

"Could be." She trailed a finger along his blue-shadowed jaw. "We could eat cake."

"Cool. But bad idea." He scowled, hating the fact he had to say no.

"Is there anything that might change your mind?" She reached up and smoothed his misbehaving hair.

"What kind of scientist?"

"Astrophysicist."

His expression shifted to confusion. "Repeat that three times really fast."

"That's the truth." She snorted.

"Well there ya go." He gestured at her. "Job description?"

"Deep space telemetry." Sam glanced at her ruby red slippers.

"Aha, your pretty nose just sprouted a branch, Pinocchio."

"So what's good for the goose is good for the gander?"

"Look, did I mention I hate clichés?"

"Even when they apply?"

"Especially then," he chuckled, letting her know he wasn't serious. He reached over and petted her stuffed Toto.

"Like him?" She pulled the terrier out of the basket.

"Like his mistress more." He winked. "Always wanted to get a dog, maybe one of these days."

"Take him." She handed over the stuffed toy.

"Ya sure?"

"Hey, he's housebroken."

"Sweet." Jack grinned like a little kid, then caught her gray-blue gaze and carressed it with his own.

"So." Sam sighed out, snagging her lower lip.

"Like I said, give me 'til Friday."

"But what if something comes up, I mean— "

"Believe me, I'll find you okay? Come Friday we'll be this close." He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek.

She nodded and leaned into his touch.

Jack really wanted to kiss her, but the threatening look from Sam's all-powerful Wizard standing in the adjoining doorway made him doubly nervous. "Uh, he retired?"

"Dad? No. He'd go nuts if he wasn't working."

"Colonel?"

"Nope."

"Gonna tell?"

"Maybe you should sit." She grinned with laughing eyes.

"That bad, huh?"

"USAF three star general, Jacob Carter."

"Shit!"

"Jack?"

"Double shit! See, that's another reason we're doing this on the up and up." He aimed both pointers at her and winced.

"Gotcha." She captured his talking fingers, then his hands and gave him a reluctant look. "Didn't think you scared easily."

"I hold my own." He just hadn't counted on Dad Carter being a general. Worse, there was something unsettling familiar about the name General Jacob Carter.

"Oh, I don't doubt that, sir." She hugged his arm.

Jack accepted the idea Sam thought siring him, sexy. Hey, he was easy. Smiling at her ambivalent expression, he sensed her anxiety. His instincts were usually right on. Sam's relational insecurity was different than his own. Distrust was written all over her. He wondered if her dad had anything to do with that or losing her mother so young? Not to mention her broken engagement with the mystery guy. Jack wished there was something he could do or say to reassure her that as whirlwind as their wannabe relationship appeared, Samantha Carter was exactly who he wanted forever and for always. God willing.

Jack had never been so sure of anything in his life. Which scared the crap out of him and proportionally heightened his pessimistic nature. Which made him realize that although still strangers, their courtship had Miracle written all over it. He'd once heard the term Godsend. Even Daniel Jackson had referred his relationship with Sha're that way. It meant God had chosen them to be soul mates. Was it possible that's what had happened between him and Sam? Go figure. God did work in mysterious ways.

Even so, Jack was the last one to believe in such romantic nonsense. Yet here he was totally smitten by a blue-eyed, genius, blonde beauty. A woman whom despite her smarts had eyes for him. So why did his gut ache and he felt like something was about to bite them in the ass? Don't dwell on it, Jack. Take it slow. You've both got all the time in the world. Play it cool. Yeah.

When Sam tilted her head and gave Jack her Dorothy look, his intention to play it cool, especially with General Dad having a front row seat took a swan dive. Geez, another freaking cliché!

"C'mere." He possessively enveloped Sam in his arms and pressed his face into the soft curve of her neck, then whispered beneath a braid, "So ya wanna arm wrestle?"

Her soft laugh was immediate. "Do I ever, sir."

Jack nibbled her neck and working his way upward, kissed her left cheek. "Dad watching?"

"Oh, yeah," she smiled in her voice, "Glaring explosively."

"So he likes to blow things up too?" He nuzzled her chin.

"Prefers to use his hands. Martial arts. Second Degree Black belt."

"Duh! Guess that's my cue to exit." He pulled back and winked down at her. "Coz, I really got to get back to Kansas, Dorothy." He squeezed her hands one last time then started stepping off.

"Kansas?"

"Had ya going there." He chuckled and tossed his hat to her.

Catching the hat, Sam mouthed something saucy and then grinned as he vanished around the corner toward security. She turned to find her father in her face.

"So kiddo, care to explain just who you were kissing under the White House trees, in the White House ballroom?" He noted Jack's hasty departure.

Sam gulped and looked at her dad's flushed yet somewhat amused expression. Reading him was always tricky. "You mean Zorro?"

"I mean as in what's his name? Who he is?"

Clutching her basket, she whirled Jack's black hat in the air and headed toward the cloakroom. "Sorry, Dad, until we get clearance can't share his ID. Classified you know. But as for who he is, well that's the man I'm going to marry."

General Jacob Carter stared at the confident long-legged blonde walking away from him. Married! His independent, I am woman hear me roar, Sam? Nah! And yet he'd never seen her this happy before, not even with her ex fiancé, Jonas Hanson, who mind you, he never did like. This was too good to be true. Who was this Zorro who had managed to tear down Sam's stonewall of distrust in men, especially after her crash and burn engagement?

Flashing his security ID Jacob ran out through the White House front doors. A moment later he watched as the whistling Zorro with Toto in hand, took his keys from the parking attendant, jumped into a dark green truck and sped off. Jacob caught the specialized license plate, 'GFISHN' and put it to memory. "Gone fishing, my ass!"

Sam tossed in bed and stared at the digital clock, then the black Zorro hat on her dresser. She couldn't stop thinking about Jack. She hugged her pillow and imagined it to be him. Every time she shut her eyes Sam encountered his devilish handsome face, deep chocolate eyes and those dark eyebrows that waggled as if they'd a mind of their own. She hadn't counted on his long dark eyelashes. Sexy eyelashes on a sexy man, way too sexy!

Moreover dimples that slashed deep alongside his kissable mouth, and the way his upper lip tugged slightly to the left when he grinned. Most often, his kissable mouth was slightly parted as if he was about to say something. When nervous he'd wince or squint as if he trying to decipher or figure her out. And that slight lisp. So hot! The way he tilted his brown head with that devil may care sneer could drive a woman crazy! And the fact there was a hint of gray in his brown locks made him more gorgeous.

Jack's hands! Man, oh man, he couldn't keep them still. They were either gesturing with each word he mouthed or stuffed in his pockets or caressing her. She liked that a lot, the caressing part. It seemed as if he knew exactly when and where to touch her.

His kisses. His tongue! She'd almost had the big O from his last kiss. Sam sighed, tingling all over. If that part of his body was anything to go by, what was the rest of him like? Yum! Sam forced herself to think of something else, but her obsessive mind returned to retired Colonel Jack O'Neill. He had a voice range that could go from kick-butt military to gentle, caring, and funny the next, or downright sarcastic.

His gruff military bark resounded in her head. Strange as it seemed, she really loved his CO voice. It gave her a sense of security she rarely felt around a man, even her father. Yeah, and what a messed up relationship they had, she thought. But that was for another sleepless night. Not to mention her one love affair that had crashed and burned, with Jonas. So why did she think Jack would be different?

Was it possible she was falling in love with him? Well, she'd had three years to work into it, hadn't she? And he was the first man she believed she could trust completely. After all, they'd faced imprisonment and torture together and her attempted rape. Yeah, Jack had been there for her. He'd come to her rescue. Sam swallowed with the horrific memory of her assault. Jack castrated the man! She could still hear Jack's anger driven words at her attacker as his knife filleted the man's testicles with one slice. "You'll never hurt another woman again, you bastard!" Sam hugged herself. That was a part of Jack she hoped never to see again and yet suspected she probably would. It took a few seconds for her to calm down and refocus on the present.

Now there was the Stargate Project. Not that she expected any deep conversations about his Abydos mission. O'Neill wasn't a blabbermouth especially on classified issues. Just one of many admirable traits he possessed. As opposite as they were, they clicked in the important matters.

Sam couldn't tag it exactly, but her heart, mind and body seemed in sync with Jack. As if they were kindred spirits. As if, before the Special Forces encounters, they'd know each other in the most emotional and intimate way.

He'd said he was a safe bet. Yeah, she so needed that in her life. Someone she could depend upon and trust to never let her down, always there for her. To accept her brains as part of the packaged deal. Jack O'Neill, her safe bet. So why did this seem too good to be true? Why did Sam feel like something was about to bite them in the assets? Exhausted, sleep sluiced over her like a warm summer rain as she hugged her pillow and dreamt it was Jack.

The phone rang! Sam groused and glanced at the clock. 0220 hours. Who? She lifted the receiver and yawned, "Hello."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Jack?" Her heart rammed into her throat and she sat upright in bed, clutching her PJ top.

"Ya think?"

"I think your timing is . . ." She grinned into the darkness. "Right on."

"Really? I was afraid I'd wake you."

"Nope. Can't sleep."

"And I'm too tired to drive."

"So you're in your truck?"

"Was."

"Oh, stop to sleep?"

"Yeah." He yawned into the phone.

"Well I'm glad. Last thing I need is to hear is that you fell asleep at the wheel and drove off a cliff."

"No problem, Dorothy. I'm almost to my room."

"Cellular?"

"Yep."

"Wow, great range. Most don't make it outside city limits."

"Oh."

Sam's doorbell rang. "Uh?"

"What?"

"Someone's at my door?"

"At this time of the night?"

"Yeah. Strange."

"Don't answer it!"

Sam was already out of bed and flicking on the lights as she slipped her robe over her long sleeved loose fit pajamas. By nature she was tank top sleeper, but come fall and winter she loved her flannels.

"Sam!"

She glanced through the security hole but didn't see anyone.

"Dang it, Carter, answer me!"

"Jack, it's probably Dad." She unlatched the deadbolt and swung the door ajar.

"Or not," Jack spoke into his phone and stepped through her doorway.

"Holy cow!" She gasped in shock and stared at him almost dropping her cordless.

Jack grinned and clicked off his cellular. "You know for someone who's supposedly a genius and a former Black Op, your security skills suck, Carter."

"Argh!" She yanked him into her apartment, slammed the door, and then shoved him against the door, pinning him with her body.

"Wow!" he winced. "Didn't mean to get ya pissed." His hands shot into the air.

"Oh, I'm not pissed, Jack O'Neill." She snatched hold of his belt and pulled him into her. "But you are so going to find out that payback from Samantha Jean Carter is a bitch!"

"Can't wait!" He kissed her as his hands slid down the flimsy fabric of her silk robe, grabbed her and pulled her against him.

A moment later dazed and sprawled on top of Sam on her couch he called a time out. "Wow! Hey! Hey! Look, Sam, umm . . . " he wheezed. "I really did come here to sleep. As in shut my eyes. Forty winks on your couch and then hit the road in a few hours."

"Coulda fooled me." She flicked her tongue along the strained cords of his neck and yanking his T-shirt out of his jeans, dragged her nails across his taut six-pack.

"Oh, that I'd never do." He literally crawled out from under her seductive charms. "I thought you didn't do one night stands?"

"Always a first, Colonel." She winked crawling after him. Now seeing him in the snug jeans, white t-shirt and that black leather jacket, she decided Jack O'Neill was a definite ten and hers—for keeps.

"So this another test?" he asked hoarsely. "Coz, I suck at tests." He scrubbed a hand over his handsome face and into his reddish brown hair. He looked unhinged.

She'd never done that to a man before. Wow—this felt good. This was power!

"Do you want it to be?" she wiggled her brows, pushing to her knees and urging him into her arms.

Jack gestured wildly. "Like I never imagined two piece PJ's could be so sexy."

"They turn you on, sir?" She popped open the first button of her blue fleece top and then the second.

"Oh, yeah . . ." He gulped and flicked his tongue across his parted lips, then stared slack-mouthed at her cleavage.

"And I took you for the satin teddy type."

"Well, that'd work too. Geez . . ." He slipped a blonde curl behind her right ear and cradled her chin. "You have no idea, how hot you are. How turned on I am." His eyes were now black with passion as he searched hers. "Sam, I haven't been with a woman since my marriage . . . and don't want regrets an hour from now, coz we had wild monkey sex. If this is going to work between us, it's got to be made of stronger metal than mutual animal attraction."

Sam's heart was in her throat. No man had ever said anything so kinky or sincere to her. And yet the longing ache in Jack's brown eyes matched hers. Jack O'Neill really was an honorable, moral-based guy. Man, how much luckier could a girl get? He wasn't only a safe bet he was a faithful bet.

Despite issues with her dad, Sam respected him for having that same loyalty trait with her mother. So Sam had waited for the right man and had thought it was Jonas Hanson. She'd been wrong and had given him that precious part of herself that could only be given once to another. Sam could never reclaim her virginity, but she could start fresh with Jack O'Neill. And she sensed that's whatever demons he was fighting he wanted and needed the same fresh start. Stuffing her physical desires, Sam nodded reluctantly, came to her feet and stepped back, tugging her robe around her shoulders.

"I agree." Her voice trembled when his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist. Man, she'd never wanted anything more than to make love with this man right now. Worse, she could feel his arousal against her thigh. He immediately shifted so that he wasn't touching her that way. Chivalry lived in Jack O'Neill. "You really did just come to sleep?"

"Dumb idea, huh?" His right hand caressed her upper back while the other fingered the curls at her neck.

"No, not dumb." She relished how well they physically fit together. Jack being taller and larger than her five-foot nine frame, made her feel feminine and vulnerable. Not something she usually felt in most men's arms. But with Jack it felt naturally right. Sam didn't fight it.

He kissed the top of her head and shifted his hips when they made intimate contact again. "Sam?" he cleared his throat, "I'm going to a hotel." His hands slipped to her shoulders and he stepped back, gazing passionately into her eyes. "Apparently we want the same thing, but — "

"No!" She shook her head. "You're right. I don't want morning after regrets, but I also don't want you to go tonight."

"You're sure?" His dark brows meshed, his mouth flattened with concentration.

Sam nodded. "I've got extra bedding." She gestured behind her. "I'll get it."

"Okay," he said with defined relief.

Jack removed his jacket and hung it on her coat rack while Sam went to the hallway linen closet. On her way, she buttoned up her PJ buttons with trembling hands and sighed a mixture of lament and relief. It was right for them to wait, but it didn't mean the fire in her loins had been extinguished. Sam stepped into the bathroom, tossed some cold water on her crimson cheeks and drew a long quivering breath. She wondered if Jack was experiencing the same turbulent feelings.

What were you thinking, O'Neill? Jack drew a quaking breath and tried to control his raging libido. Man, despite your little moral pep talk, if she had kissed you one more time, or said she wanted you, you would be doing her this moment. You idiot! But an honorable idiot, he kept telling himself. Yeah, sometimes being honorable sucked! And all, thanks to the, O'Neill family values. "And now you get to sleep on a stupid couch and what . . .not sleep!" An ice cold shower seemed the only relief.

Sam returned with a blanket and pillow and handed them to him.

"Thanks." He slipped his hand over hers, caressing her white knuckles.

"Anytime." She eased away. "Umm bathroom's down the hall to your right, there's clean towels, shampoo and soap."

"Thanks, I may take advantage of that right now."

As if aware of his reason, Sam blushed and nodded at the couch. "And be forewarned. That's the most uncomfortable sofa in the universe."

"Hey, I've spent the last twenty years of my life sleeping uncomfortable. One lumpy sofa won't defeat me, Samantha."

She frowned. "We'll see. But if it gets too much, my bed's down the hall." She winked suggestively.

"You're evil, Samantha Carter." He chuckled hoarsely, tempted to just say yes and get it over with. At least he'd maybe sleep with her in his arms.

"Sorry." They held one another's gaze and she seemed to read his mind. "But if you join me, it's only to sleep, Scarecrow." She meant it too. Cool.

"Yeah sure yabetcha." He kissed her lightly on the lips and purposely moved away. "Night, Samantha Carter."

"Night, Jack O'Neill with two LL's." She turned and left him to himself.

Okay, so this was the lumpiest, hardest, nastiest, crappiest, bumpiest, couch he'd ever slept on. Well there was always the floor or . . .

Sam never heard or felt Jack slip stealthily beneath her covers. She lingered in a dreamlike memory of her head on Striker's comfortable shoulder and nuzzled into his strong, secure embrace. One arm flung across his chest, she sunk deeper into sleep with the rhythmic beat of Jack's heart and the soft warm rush of his breath on his cheek. Samantha Carter slept better than she had in nearly three years. Jack was back.

Awaking with a jolt Sam reached out to find the bed empty. She sat upright and looked at the clock. 0800!

"Jack?"

Nothing. Yet she could smell coffee. She hurried out of bed and into the living room where she found the bedding refolded and set neatly on the couch. The kitchenette was empty, but the coffee pot was on and next to it a rinsed coffee cup and cereal bowl and spoon. On top of the bowl was a note with scribbled print.

'Hail Dorothy,

I'm back on the yellow brick road home and will call as soon as I arrive. But if you don't hear from me it's because I'm working on us. Here's my home and cell phone numbers.

Call me.

Your Scarecrow,

Jack

P.S.

I ate your Special K cereal. Yuck!

P.P.S.

Big hint. Fruit Loops!

P.P.P.S.

Hate answering machines, but will blow the dust off mine just for you.

P.P.P.P.S.

Miss you already.

P.P.P.P.P.S.

Did I mention call me?

P.P.P.P.P.P.S.

Knock. Knock?

Who's there?

Wanna?

Wanna who? (He'd scratched that out)

Wanna go?

Wanna go where?

Wanna go fishing?

"Huh?" Sam reread the lamest joke ever and broke out laughing. "Yeah, Jack O'Neill, I definitely wanna go fishing!"

CHAPTER SIX

Five days later: Colorado Springs.

Night. The observation deck on Jack's roof

As still as the Colorado night appeared, autumn nipped the air with crisp icy fingers. Jack halfheartedly slipped his leather jacket over his long sleeved sweater, and entered data on his laptop then peered back into his telescope. He refocused on the nebula, but his mind and heart were over fifteen hundred miles away. Samantha Jean Carter. Yesterday he got the go ahead that he and Sam could pursue a relationship. And last night they'd made plans to spend a four-day weekend at his Minnesota cabin, fishing, and who knew what else. Jack's lips twitched at the corners as he thought about what else.

He couldn't believe she'd said yes. However, since their groping session last week, she set down ground rules, like she would have her own bedroom, etc. He could deal with that. He wanted this to be a proper courtship. His Irish mother would be proud. She'd like Sam. Besides, what better way to get to know each other than fishing and hiking and um, snuggling in front of a roaring fire on these cold autumn nights? They'd even agreed to stay on first base for the weekend. At least they'd try. He grinned. Yeah, right.

Below him, headlights fell across the lawn as a car pulled into his driveway, followed by the slam of car doors. Jack ignored it and tried to concentrate on his stargazing and of course, his future with Sam. He heard the footfalls on his sidewalk and then someone knocking. He wasn't in the mood for company, but wouldn't be rude. If they found him, he hoped they were afraid of heights.

"Sir, there's a ladder over here."

Sir? Crap! Couldn't they leave him alone? Someone mounted the rungs behind him and a pine branch snapped against the gutter. Reaching the roof, the man sighed out. "Colonel Jack O'Neill?"

"Retired." He didn't look back.

"I'm Major Samuels."

"Air Force?" He kept his eye to the telescope and adjusted the power and focus.

"Yes, sir. I'm the General's executive officer."

"A little piece of advice, Major. Get reassigned to NASA. That's where all the action's going to be. Out there."

"I'm, ah, under orders to bring you to General Hammond, sir."

"Never heard of him."

"He replaced General West. He says it's important. Has to do with the Stargate."

Shocked, Jack turned very slowly from the telescope and looked at Samuels. "And I suppose you're not leaving without me?"

"No, sir."

"Fine." He huffed and made his way toward the ladder.

2350: Jack's house . . . again.

Jack couldn't believe it. The aliens were back and he'd been reactivated, as had his old friends, Charlie Kawalsky and Louis Ferretti. They were going through the Stargate tomorrow to bring Daniel Jackson home! A married Daniel Jackson. For all Jack knew, Daniel's wife, Sha're could have had a baby by now and another onboard. For all he honestly cared, would Hammond be surprised. Or not. That old military dog was a sharp tack. He'd suspected Jack hadn't detonated that bomb on Abydos because he knew Jack didn't take life without just cause, even if a direct order from the White House. Had General West still been in charge of the Stargate, Jack's butt including Kawalsky's and Ferretti's would be glued to a prison's toilet seat the rest of their lives. Yeah, Jack had a lot to be grateful for. Like maybe next time getting left behind on Abydos, preferably with one Samantha Carter. Now that thought really appealed to him. Sheesh! Like that would happen.

Since Charlie's death, Jack rarely talked to God other than in anger or bitterness and the last time when Sara served him with separation papers. Of course, he'd hightailed it to Confession fearing he'd burned his bridges with the obscenities he attached to God's name. Now realizing what could have gone down tonight with General Hammond, he made a rare exception.

"Thanks, Lord, guess I owe, You, one — again." Jack didn't expect a reply and didn't get one. Quite frankly if he had got one he thought he just might crap himself.

His thoughts returned to Daniel, Sha're, and her kid brother Skaara. Bet that curly haired squirt had grown two feet by now. Jack couldn't wait. However, right now he had a more pressing matter to focus on. Sam. Before he'd gone with Major Samuels to Cheyenne Mountain, Jack had left her a message, that he had an emergency and if he got home before midnight he'd call her.

Since his return last week, they'd called each other at midnight EST every night. The moment he walked through the door, he heard Sam on his answering machine, but grabbed the phone just as she'd hung up. He frowned when his caller ID indicated it was a payphone. She sounded out of breath and excited. Jet engines roared in the background.

Jack hit the replay button. "Jack, Sam here. Seems we've both got fires to put out tonight, huh? Sorry, but I'm going to be out of town a few days. I don't even know if I'll be back for our fishing date this weekend. And no, I'm not getting cold feet. This is legit. Soon as I get to a phone I'll call. Miss you already, Flyboy."

"Miss you too, Dorothy." Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. Well, he hadn't been bitten yet, but something was definitely nipping his assets.

Thursday morning:

0800: SGC- Briefing Room

Jack stood looking out at the Stargate. It felt good to be back in his Dress Blues and in charge of a team. Furthermore, he had his trusty men Kawalsky and Ferretti. Could it get any better?

He turned as the man—General George Hammond strolled out of his office with his mission report. Besides Jack's own men, the other attending officers stood at attention and saluted the approaching general.

Hammond took his place at the head of the conference table. "Gentlemen, take your seats."

Everyone complied while Jack stood at the opposite far left of the table preparing his presentation. He opened his binder and glanced at the mission portfolio, wondering what he'd done with his pen.

"Where's Captain Carter?" Hammond glanced down the long table.

"Just arriving, sir," replied Samuels seated to the general's right.

"Carter?" Jack glanced at his CO and inwardly winced.

"I'm assigning Sam Carter to this mission."

"I'd prefer to put together my own team, sir." Jack extracted the pen from his shirt pocket. He stiffened as the name collided with his brain and heart. Nah! Couldn't be!

"Not on this mission. Sorry. Carter's our expert on the Stargate."

Crap! "Where's he transferring from?" Jack unconsciously scribbled Dorothy while his blood pressure shot out of orbit.

"She is transferring from the Pentagon."

Ah, for crying out loud! Jack glanced up as the gorgeous blonde officer strolled over to stand by the vacant chair across from him. He met those confident gray-blue eyes. Double crap! She looks hot in Blues.

"I take it . . .you're Colonel O'Neill." Sam cut a sharp salute and smiled like they were strangers. "Captain Samantha Carter reporting, sir."

As those invisible fangs bit his ass, he returned her salute. Say something, Stupid!

"But of course you go by, Sam?" Kawalsky asked.

No duh! Jack glanced in Kawalsky's direction, hoping his tan hid his blush.

Sam chuckled sarcastically. "You don't have to worry, Major." She paused for affect. "I played with dolls when I was a kid."

"G.I. Joe?" Kawalsky snickered.

"No. Major Matt Mason."

Sam was so convincingly cool, Jack believed her. He sure hoped everyone else did, especially the man. This seemed a good time to start praying. He did.

"Oh . . ." Clearly confused, Kawalsky looked at Ferretti. "Who?"

"Major Matt Mason. Astronaut doll." Ferretti smiled at Sam. "Did you have that cool little backpack that made him fly?"

The general cleared his throat. "Let's get started. Colonel?"

Sam took her seat across from Jack, folded her delicate hands over her mission report portfolio, looked at him and winked. Close to losing it he offered a curt smile.

"Thank you." He nodded to Hammond, and then addressed the team, but his gaze inadvertently strayed back to Sam, who he decided to have for breakfast. He tapped his pen against his binder. "Those of you on your first trip through the Stargate—you should be prepared for what to expect."

Miss Enthusiasm jumped in, "Sir, I've practically memorized your report from the first mission. I'd like to think I've been preparing for this all my life." Her smile could have lit up a black hole.

Jack grimaced. That was the same look she'd worn after he'd kissed her. Geez, he was competing with an alien transportation device! He hoped this was a nightmare and when he awoke, Sam would be sitting on his cabin's dock, holding a fishing rod and him.

Kawalsky intervened with his macho smirk. "I think what the Colonel's saying is . . . have you ever pulled out of a simulated bombing run in an F-16 at 8-plus Gs?"

Jack mentally gave a high-five to his good buddy.

"Yes."

Huh?

Awestruck, Kawalsky fumbled. "Well . . . it's way worse than that."

Mister Play it Cool, Ferretti, pushed the envelope. "By the time you get to the other side . . . you're frozen stiff! Like you've just been through a blizzard! Naked!" He grinned evilly and winked at Jack.

In a monotone geek's voice that would put Daniel Jackson to shame, Sam replied, "That's a result of the compression your molecules undergo, during the millisecond required for reconstitution—"

"Oh, here we go, another scientist! General, . . . please?" Jack gestured at Sam, having not understood a flipping word, well other, than the verbs and conjunctions.

"Theoretical astrophysicist," Sam stated smugly. He could almost hear her tease, 'Say that three times fast, Jack.'

"Which . . .means . . .?" He cocked his head and waved his pen.

"It means she is smarter than you are, Colonel. Especially in matters related to the Stargate." George grinned.

Kawalsky and Ferretti chuckled. Jack gave his, 'you're dead,' glint. It was hard enough to keep those two in line, now he had a female messing with their heads and not just the ones on their shoulders. Jack stared back at Sam. She was kick butt serious.

"Oh, Colonel, I was studying the Gate technology for two years before Daniel Jackson made it work and before you both went through. I should have gone through then." She looked him head on. "But, sir, you and your men might as well accept the fact that I am going through this time."

Irritated, Jack's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. "Well, I wouldn't get my hopes up, Doctor—"

"It is appropriate to refer to a person by their rank," she snapped. "Not their salutation. Call me, Captain, not, Doctor."

Why, the blue-eyed, blonde hothead! Jack's eyes narrowed. She was not going to be his science officer, let alone under his command!

"Captain Carter's assignment to this unit is not an option, it's an order." Hammond seemed to read Jack's rebellious thoughts. He regretted that prayer for George and wondered if he could negotiate an exchange, like, 'Get Carter off my team!' Yeah.

"I'm an Air Force officer just like you are, Colonel. And just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside, doesn't mean I can't handle whatever you can handle."

Day ja view! Smirking, Jack sat down across from her. "Oh, this has nothing to do with you being a woman." He cleared his throat. His trademark smile bordered on lechery. "I like women." He toyed with his pen, owning her nervous gaze. "I've just got a little problem with scientists." Stretching his long legs, Jack nudged Sam's right shoe. Sam nudged back. Her foot trailed his left instep.

He gulped.

"Colonel, I logged over 100 hours in enemy airspace during the Gulf War. Is that tough enough for you? Or are we going to have to arm wrestle?" Her red lips curled into a smirk.

Jack shrugged acceptance. Geez, she could at least have come up with an original line. Of course every other officer onboard seemed impressed. Heck, he even was and he'd heard it before. She'd won this round, but only because Hammond was dead set on her being a part of Jack's team. He pinned Sam's slender foot between his large ones, yanked back, claiming her right pump between his shoes, where he held it. Sam's foot hit the floor with a soft thud.

Colonel Samuels diverted their foot play. "I hate to throw a damper on your enthusiasm, but I still say the safest, most logical way, to deal with this is to bury the Stargate just like the ancient Egyptians did. Make it impossible for the aliens to return. It's the only way to eliminate the threat."

"Except it won't work." Jack turned and shook his head at the imbecile.

"It worked before." Hammond added.

"They know what we are now." Jack argued. "They know how far we've come. We're a threat to them. They've got ships, General. Ra had one as big as the Great Pyramids. They don't need the Stargate to get here. They can do it the old-fashioned way. Now with all due respect to Mr. Glass-Is-Half-Empty over here," he nodded at Samuels and caught Sam's approving grin, "Don't you think we should use the Stargate to do a little reconnaissance before they come back . . . again?"

The others turned and looked at Samuels and then Hammond expectantly.

The general nodded at Jack. "I'll give you exactly twenty-four hours to either return or send a message through. No Kleenex boxes, please. You gate at 1130." He stood and the others followed suit. "Otherwise, we'll assume the worst . . . and send a bomb through."

"Understood." Jack rose and met Sam's contagious smile even though she was balancing on one shoe. He smiled back. Jack loved it. Heck, he loved her!

The moment General Hammond returned to his office everyone started talking, everyone but Sam and Jack. Oops, Sam and her CO. To her horror, he retrieved her black pump and handed it over. Relieved the other officers were occupied, Sam slipped her military heel on her foot, turned and faced Jack. He wore a deadpan expression that left her clueless. If she wasn't already the brightest shade of candy apple red, she was working on it. How were they going to handle this, their, . . . insubordination?

Jack's shadowy brown gaze engaged hers. No one had ever looked that intensely at her on a professional level. Well Sam could give it back. She did. He finally blinked and picked up his binder.

Breathe, girl!

"Captain Carter, a private word." He sounded serious. Then again this was serious.

"Yes, sir."

He indicated the stairs, ever the gentleman he gestured for her walk ahead of him. Unfamiliar with Cheyenne Mountain, Sam took the metal steps then halted on floor level. Jack kept walking and she followed, her dress heels clicking on the concrete floor. A minute later they were on an elevator with several other personal. Neither said a word as they got off on level twenty-two. Sam figured the commissary was located here. By now a new wave of emotions had clawed their way to the surface. Disappointment. Resentment. Anger. Hurt. Anger. Oh, yes, definite anger. Why hadn't he told her last night!

They walked through several empty corridors, a left here and a right there, obviously a vacant section of level twenty-two. Jack finally halted at a utility room door. He swept his card, opened the door, turned on the light and allowed her to enter first, then shut the door behind them.

After he set their binders on a barren shelf, Jack unbuttoned his Dress Blue suit coat, stuffed his fists in the front pant's pockets—thumbs out, and faced her. His entire persona changed to the Jack at the White House, at her apartment five nights before. How ever did he do that?

"Hey." He hedged a strained smile. His dimples tucked deep. His chocolate brown eyes shimmered with intimate affection that made her heart skip faster.

"Hey." She blushed and almost forgot the gravity of their situation. Whoops! He was her CO. "Off record, sir?" Sam managed in a surprisingly calm tone, clenching her hands so hard her nails dug into her palms.

"Sure." Jack's boyish smile broadened.

"You royal SOB!" Sam raised an open hand, dropped it and flapped her arms tightly against her sides. Then she crossed her arms, trying to regain composure. Her lips quivered, as did her chin. It took all her will power not to explode on the spot and take him with her.

"Yeah well, glad you're handling this so well, Dorothy." He winked.

"Handle? Are you nuts? We can't work together! Not after what's gone down between us!" She glared and took a step forward, inhaling a hint of English Leather that mingling with his personal earthy scent like rain washed air and dried autumn leaves. Sam's hormones kicked in. She wanted to jump his bones and kill him at the same time. Was that possible? Man, was she confused. She rubbed her aching temples and snorted.

Jack remained at ease, and at an acceptable distance. "We've got no choice, Sam. The aliens not only have our address, they've got the freaking key to the front door. And we've only got a twenty-four hour window of opportunity to change that."

"Then you're not going to scratch the mission?"

"Heck no! Why would I do that?"

She gave her best, 'you're a lunatic,' look.

"Oh . . .that." He scratched the back of his neck. "Look six days ago, I was retired and my greatest priority was whether or not to buy a dog and start a business. Then I met this beautiful brilliant woman." He winked. "Don't know about her, but, on my end, it was love at first sound bite, subconsciously of course," he reiterated, "almost three years ago. So it's not like we just met last week."

"Love?" she coughed out. Jack was unquestionably direct. She liked that. However, the last few days she'd been doing a lot of thinking. Too much probably, and self-doubt had squirmed its way into her heart. Like why Jack O'Neill had fallen in love with her, let alone this fast. She remained bewildered about her feelings for him. Sure she wanted this to be love. But it scared the life out of her. Yet she felt she'd known him forever, as if he was the missing half of her. The lost had at last been found.

What if it was just infatuation resulting from their past covert missions and her fascination with the Colonel Jack O'Neill, she'd come to know from his Abydos Mission report, and of course, personal files she'd had no right reading? It'd been safe when Jack had been unobtainable, but now that she had him, she didn't know what do with him. Still didn't want to lose him. Sam's head and heart ached as one with indecision. Why did these things happen to her?

Meanwhile Jack patiently watched her think, a rare tolerance from his CO nature, she'd come to know. The stress line between his dark brows had deepened and his sensuous mouth strained with concentration. His next words confirmed his keen insight and surprised her.

"Either that or I've got one huge non-refundable crush on you, Samantha Jean Carter." His subtle adorable lisp made her shudder.

Now that she could handle. "Then I guess it's a mutual crush, Jonathon James O'Neill. Or shall I call you JJ?" A mischievous grin curled her lips.

"Not unless divorce is on the agenda before the marriage has begun. Seriously, Sam, are you okay with this?" His hands were talking.

"Okay?" She swallowed, glanced at the dusty cement floor, then up at him.

Jack flinched and scratched his jaw. "Umm, let me rephrase that. Agreeing how we feel about each other. Sort of like an, 'You care for me and I care for you understanding.'" He gestured between them. "A lot more than we should." He added as if an afterthought to confirm his feelings.

Heat tinged her cheeks. Sam had never been more okay about not understanding how she felt about Jack O'Neill, but she undeniably cared a lot more than she should. "Yeah, we're okay, Jack." She smiled.

"Good. Because I've got every intention to court you on a very personal level once this assignment's done."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You anal about that too?" He scrubbed a hand through his unregulated haircut, no doubt baffled by her cold feet reaction.

"Not at all. It's just we're bordering on fraternization charges and—"

"So that's what this change of heart's about?" His brows shot upward and his jaw slackened.

Sam nodded and snagged her lower lip with her teeth.

"Hey, no one knows about us."

"Just the President of the United States!"

"Well, there's that. But Andy has no problem with us working together or you wouldn't be here."

"Andy!" She blanched.

"Yeah, before he went into politics he was a friend of my parents and eventually my CO. Actually were it not for his influence, I probably wouldn't have joined the Air Force. So ya see, the President isn't our issue."

"I see." No she didn't, but what was a girl to do? Her strained expression spoke volumes as she clenched her hands behind her back and stared tightlipped at him.

"Sam, far as I'm concerned we are professional officers and that's exactly how we're going to handle our present military relationship and assignment. From here on, we'll be above board and behave as if this is our first encounter. I'm your CO and you're my wide-eyed, over zealous geek Captain. Alright?"

"Yes, sir. So we lie," she said with resentment and straightened her jacket cuffs.

"Look." Frustrated, Jack held up his pointer fingers and gestured between them. "I hate to lie too. But faking it, is the only way we are going to keep this mission. I assume you want to go?"

"I've never wanted anything more in my life."

"Well there ya are." He shrugged, but didn't smile. Was he disappointed in her honesty? She hoped not.

Sam glanced into his dark brown eyes and became lost like she had on many occasions before. "I've been expecting something to bite us in the ass, Jack."

"You too?" He stared at her wide-eyed.

"Yeah. Guess this was it. Man, I just knew our falling for each other was too good to be true." Her heart jammed in her throat. She really did care for this wonderful guy . . . a lot. Now what?

"Hey, it's temporary, as is my active duty. I'll retire soon as these slimy aliens are hung out to dry. Promise."

"Promise?"

"Doubt me?" His brows did their caterpillar dance across his forehead.

"Well, I think your intentions for me are honorable, sir, but it's obvious you like being in charge, and an officer again." She straightened a Velcro bar of his medals then touched one of his eagles. "It happens to be who you are, Colonel Jack O'Neill." When he blushed under his tan she knew she was right.

"Geez, Carter, you determined all that just because I blew the dust off my Dress Blues and shammed my way through a briefing?"

"Then you deny it?" She held his ambivalent gaze, watching him crunch his handsome features in a way that made her heart roll over. Yeah, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and his mouth full of cookie. Adorable guilt.

"Um. Oh. Well . . ." He toyed with his leather watchband like it was the most intriguing thing he'd ever seen.

"Jack?" She tugged his wrist hairs.

"Ow!" He groused, still holding that tight grimace. "Whaaat?"

"If we're going to have any future, we have to be straight with each other, especially now."

"Yes. All right yeah, I missed it. But that doesn't mean I'm staying." He paced the tight quarters, motioning with his large eloquent hands. Sam watched in amused fascination. The guy was vulnerable and totally masculine at the same time. She'd never met any man like him, nor imagined she ever would. Yeah, this Colonel O'Neill with two LLs' could be hers for keeps.

He started whining. "Heck, Sam, I've got bad knees which makes running hurt like a B. I've broken nine bones and got the arthritis to prove it. I don't want to get shot, stabbed, punched, kicked or pinched anymore." He gestured to her lethal fingers.

Sam put her hands behind her and grinned.

"And since all that is a prerequisite for what we're about to embark upon in a few hours, I don't want to make a daily habit out of it. Thank you very much!"

"Yes, sir." Sam saluted respectfully and smartly, not believing he meant it.

Shaking his head, Jack slumped against the wall and said in a tone that held no room for compromise. "I'm too freaking old for combat, let alone with glowing eyed aliens. Sam, I mean it. I'm not staying."

"I know you're serious. But you're also in better shape than you think. Besides, this is one mission and I think you're over reacting."

"Ya think?" he muttered and squinted at her.

"Yes, I do."

"Way too much if you ask me, which you didn't, but I'm just saying, . . . you think too much, Carter. Gives me a frickin' headache." With that he shut his brown eyes and sniffed.

Sam grinned at his witticism. Yeah, Jack O'Neill missed being Air Force and if he really intended to walk away, this would be the major test. She wouldn't press it now, but Sam had no desire for Jack to leave the military on her account. At least not until he was darn good and ready and far more convincing. When she touched his sulking face, she felt his tremble and once again, Sam forgot to breathe.

"Jack, before I even saw you standing there . . ." Her chin quivered and she dropped her hand to his crisp, starched uniform, pressed a side seam and realized how physically fit and slim he was. Not more than a thirty-two inch waist at best.

He opened his eyes and squinted at her. "You knew I was your CO before you arrived?"

"Suspected. First, it seemed odd we were both, putting out fires at the same time. While topside at NORAD this morning I called you, but got your answering machine. Then I checked mine and heard your second message when you spelled out Stargate in Ops code. I almost lost it! Soon as I arrived, Samuels informed me that my CO would be Colonel O'Neill. I kept telling myself it had to be O'Neill with one L. But when I saw you bent over the table—"

"Same here." He sniffed. "Hammond said, Captain Sam Carter and I thought, nah, not my Sam! Then I heard your voice . . . Geez, I became a head case!"

"I know." She grinned. "The look on your face was priceless."

"No duh." He flinched. "So anyone else see through us?"

"No. You put on one credible performance about disliking scientists and— "

"Ah h, Sam." He wave his hand and crinkled his face, "I meant that."

"What?"

"Personal feelings aside. I don't like or want scientists on my team."

She glowered. Maybe he was a SOB after all! "Oh, but Doctor Jackson's okay?" she nipped and she took a step back.

Jack reached out, grabbed her forearms and held on. "Yeah, well, Daniel's a total geek who sneezes a lot. He's also a friend who saved my life." Jack flinched as if with some painful memory. "So I'm seriously praying to find him alive on Abydos. It's my job to bring him back in one piece. Sam. That aside, I—"

"I am Air Force first, Colonel O'Neill." Sam retorted. "And if that's going to be a problem—"

"Oh, no problem at all, Captain Carter."

He kissed her!

Caught off-guard, Sam froze. The man she had fallen, her CO was kissing her. The trouble being, Jack was one awesome kisser and as the tip of his tongue teased her lips, seeking entry a base sigh escaped her. This was oh so wrong, and oh so delicious, and oh so wrong! Before she could decide if she should slug him, he broke their lip-lock.

"Sooo?" He gazed down through heavy eyelids, a sneer lifting his wet lips, and those cute dimples slashing into his tanned cheeks.

"Sooo?" Her legs feeling like rubber bands, Sam gulped, slipped from his arms and straightened her Dress Blues. "I, um, expect you to—to treat me like the—rest of your men, Colonel, sir," she stated without bartering room. Not that Colonel O'Neill wanted any.

"Oh, I'll treat you like one of my men all right, Carter, after which you'll beg Hammond for reassignment to the Pentagon."

"Ten to nothing says you're wrong, sir."

"You're waging a bet on this?" He snickered as his left dimple tucked deeper.

"Why not?" Sam trailed a manicured nail along that delicious crease back to his lips, and extracted a shudder that gave her confidence.

"Double or nothing," he hoarsely countered, snatching her roaming hand and holding on tight.

"I can deal with that." She squeezed back.

"Good. Coz by the time we're done with this mission, Captain, you'll either want to kiss me or kill me."

"Oh, I want to do both already, sir."

"So, what's the prize?" he asked unwittingly.

"My answer to your lame knock, knock joke." She hoped this wasn't a mistake.

"Ah, you thought it was lame?" He looked wounded.

"Very. But I laughed . . . a lot."

"Cool. But you already answered it. We are spending the weekend fishing." He glanced at her.

"Considering our relationship has temporarily changed so has my answer."

'Oh,' he mouthed.

"If you win, I'll join you this weekend and we just might skip a few bases." She smiled alluringly.

"Sweet." Jack grinned, then scowled. "And if I lose?"

"We both stay on at the SGC and you go fishing alone . . .for awhile." Man, she couldn't believe she'd said that. She wanted both. Darn it, Samantha, what are you doing?

"We both stay?" He swallowed, paling under his sun kissed complexion.

"Yes. I insist. The look on your face when you addressed Samuels wasn't only passionate it was the confident, authoritative man I met nearly three years ago. You're in your element here, Jack. No doubt you've been bored stupid since you retired. Now be honest, you don't want to start a business anymore than I want to sit behind a desk at the Pentagon?"

"I . . . well." He glanced at his scuffed shoes. "If I stay, we can't, . . .Dang it, we're just getting cozy with each other, Sam. I even brought chocolate." His eyes twinkled as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a gold, foil covered Godiva chocolate, and unwrapped it for her.

"Wow!" She eyed the delicacy he held as bait. "Hey, you're not losing me." She reached for it only to have him pop the chocolate into her mouth, slowly extracting his finger around her succulent lips and tongue. Sam shuddered as the chocolate mingled with the salty flavor of his digit. The guttural groan that escaped him, almost undid her. Keep your wits, Sam!

"Umm . . .according to General Hammond my reassignment here is open-ended. We could be done in two weeks or err, six months."

Breathe!

Jack absently nodded as the rich treat melted in her mouth.

"Delicious," she murmured around the sweet aphrodisiac.

"Yeah, sure is." Cradling her face he licked a dab of chocolate from her lips. Sam shivered, but forced herself to resist returning his affection. With an audible groan he inclined against the wall and frowned at her lack of response, further noted when he crossed his arms over his muscle taut chest and glared.

Feeling flushed and trying not to jump him, Sam concentrated on the logical cause of their mutual lust. Yeah, this was the result of a hormone chemical known as pheromones which were bouncing between them — Lots of them! "Hey, be truthful, Jack, you want this a lot." She gestured around the musty smelling closet, wishing she'd reworded that last line. Yep, she wanted him a lot and not just his body.

"Actually I hoped for something with a view. A little paint, pictures, and a fireplace in that corner." He wagged a brow with concession.

Relaxing, Sam giggled. "So about this bet, you can back out."

"Nope, been backing out of a lot things the last few years." He exhaled his resignation, then on a firmer note, "But I'm going to keep asking you to go fishing, Sam." He shot both pointers at her for effect.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"Deal." They shook hands and their gazes locked passionately, their fingers interlacing, he cocked his head as if he wanted to say something more.

"What?" she encouraged.

"Just so there's no misunderstanding . . ."

"Yes?" she smiled, seeing him struggle to express himself.

"No matter what does or doesn't go down between us, I'll always be here for you, Sam. . . Always."

"Always." She nodded and trembled at the power of that single word. Tears burned the fringes of her eyelids. Jack broke their bond, stuffed his fists into his pockets and looked at the door. From the corner of her eyes, she watched his handsome face tighten and release as he worked out what to say next.

"Crap!"

Yeah, she thought miserably, that just about said it all, but she preferred 'Always.'

Jack turned back, his liquid brown gaze expressing more than he could verbally. Her heart tripped over itself. They didn't need words.

"Same here. But it's one mission, right?"

"Yes. Sure. One mission." He held up a finger then glanced at his watch, and motioned to retrieve their binders.

"Um, Jack, is there something you're not telling me? Because under the circumstances I have a right to know."

Colonel Jack O'Neill looked at her. "Sorry. It's on a need to know basis. But as my science officer you won't be left in the dark for long."

"Certainly, Colonel." Like she had a choice.

"Good. Now let's eat and gear-up."

"Great. I'm starved."

"Well, take my advice. Don't eat too much. Going through the gate sort of messes with the whole gastrointestinal thingy." He made a seesaw motion with both hands and grimaced.

"Humph! I never get motion sickness."

Jack opened his mouth, closed it and smirked.

I'll show him, Sam inwardly huffed. "And hey," she ventured. "If you didn't know I was assigned to you, why did you have the chocolate with you?"

"Beats me. Had to be a Godsend thing."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He shrugged.

"Sure." She chewed her lower lip as he reached for the door's handle.

"Jack?"

"What?"

She kissed him!

Sam slammed him against the door and he almost toppled taking her with him, their binders hitting the dusty floor. He swept her into him and amid snorts of laughter locked on like an octopus. Their kiss turned passionate and lusty, sending Sam's head reeling as she surrendered control to the man in her arms. His amorous kiss evident of how he felt and what he wanted. Her!

Somewhere in her dusty attic of memories their intimate embrace seemed familiar and right. As if this wasn't the first time she'd been in his arms, wanting him so badly that it hurt. Never in her life even with Jonas had she felt such security, desire and oneness. Their physical and emotional bonding overwhelmed her. Tears warmed her eyes before she felt Jack's wettness mingle with her own. Holy Hannah! They slid to the floor and she straddled him, feeling the evidence of his need. There was no denying what their hearts or bodies wanted. Each other. Now! Sam felt out of control and to the surprise of her strict military mindset, she didn't give a rat's—

"Wow!" Jack came up for air and put distance between them, which meant Sam landed un-ceremonially on her rear-end on the cold concrete floor. Jack shoved back against the wall, scrubbed both hands over his face, into his hair and let out a guttural moan.

"What the heck just happened here, Carter?" He appeared as dazed as her and looked dumbfoundedly into her wet eyes. He swiped at his tears and embarrassment stained his masculine features. Sam felt equally confused. When did crying and sex become such a turn-on?

"I—don't know." She remained in heat for him. It took every ounce of willpower not to climb back into his lap. "I never . . . ever . . . man, this is so embarrassing and bad, sir." She hugged herself and shook her head in regret.

"Bad?" He gaped. "We are so dead, here, Carter. So dead . . . believe me. Another kiss and we'd have . . ." He grimaced and adjusted himself, causing Sam to pull her legs together and shove up onto her knees. She had to get out of here, now!

"Yeah. It's my fault I shouldn't have . . ." She motioned between them with a sigh of defeat.

"Well, if you hadn't, I would have." He admitted, offered his hand as they helped each other to their feet then immediately let go, but failed to distance themselves.

"Oh." She acknowledged. Yep they were dead in the water. "But this won't happen again for a very long time." Still their attraction felt stronger than ever. Thankfully, as they struggled to rise above their primal feelings she regained a strong foothold of self control. Thank God!

To her chagrin, Jack kissed her flushed forehead and gently brushed the bangs from her eyes. "Yeah. We can't do this again. This was it, Dorothy. No more friendly fingers on either end." He trailed his hand down her waist to her butt and goosed her gently.

Sam giggled. "And no more French kisses or lustful hot gazes. Nada!"

"Ditto."

Her cheeks aflame, lips swollen, Sam halfheartedly straightened her jacket, skirt and hair, noting Jack remained aroused. No doubt, he'd be the last to leave the closet. A grin split her face.

"Funny." He groused.

"Well it is." She giggled, brazenly staring below his waist as she dusted white dust from her uniform.

"Whatever." His bashful gaze held her laughing one before he grinned and then buttoned his dress blue suit to conceal the evidence. A ragged breath later, her CO was back in form. "Serious time out here, Captain Carter. Once we walk out this door we are strangers. This place is lit up like a Christmas tree with surveillance equipment. One sign of familiarity with each other and we could not only jeopardize this mission and the future of Earth but spend the next twenty years making license plates."

Sam nodded and dropped into her own military mindset. "Colonel O'Neill, I'm not stupid and you're about to find out I'm a great actress."

"Glad one of us can act, Carter, coz I sucked in drama class."

"Hey, even Samuels thinks you're dense, sir, so that just shows how much you underestimate your acting dumb abilities."

"Whoa, I appreciate your ego boosting, Captain, but I don't give a rat's butt-hole what Samuels thinks. He's a smarmy, anus-kissing, moron and —."

"Jack?"

"What?" He winced and frowned down at her.

"You'll be fine." She caressed his tensed jaw. "If anything, I hope I don't disappoint you out there."

Jack captured her fingers and pressed his lips to them. "Sam, relax. I've served with you. And as your new CO, I'm already impressed."

"Really?"

"Yeah, didn't understand any of that techno babble you tossed around in the briefing."

"No kidding?" Her eyes lit up and she grinned with eagerness. "I'd love to explain it to you. See it has to do with—"

"Na ah!" He shook a finger and his head. "We're out of here and off to Abydos." He picked up their binders and handed hers over, then stepped back and dusted himself down. Sam motioned to assist in the dusting but he wagged a finger of reprimand. "You so don't want do that," he voice bottomed out with a hint of desperation.

"Aye, Aye, Colonel." Sam mocked a salute extracting a sneer from him as he buttoned his jacket.

"Okay then. You first. We'll meet at the elevator and then grab some chow. Maybe they've got cake." He winked.

Sam shined him back and gestured to step out the door.

"Um, can you find your way to the elevator?" he sounded like dad.

"I'll be fine, J-um, sir."

"Okay." He sniffed. "Hey, look at it this way, Dorothy. You get to call me sir for the next while. Dang sexy if ya ask me."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Somehow this is not the situation I had fantasized about, sir."

"Well there's that." He smirked. "We'll work out your fantasy this weekend."

Sam grinned as if it was a safe bet, but inwardly doubt pinched her heart. In front of her, Jack poked his head out the door and glanced down the empty corridor. Her eyes rested on his athletic buttocks and she agreed with Wonder Woman. 'Jack O'Neill has one tight ass.'

"Clear." He motioned.

When Sam moved to step passed him, Jack caressed her cheek. She leaned into his touch and kissed him. Before he could respond she walked out not looking back. She heard his ragged breath escape his mouth and grinned to herself.

"Hey, Carter?" Jack called out softly as she walked off.

"What?" She halted briefly, spotting the security camera at the next archway and donned her military facade.

"Still wanna go fishing?"

"Yeah, sure, yabetcha." She kept walking.

"Sweet."

1008: SCG Security Surveillance Room

The video ended. Feeling his blood pressure skyrocket, General George Hammond turned in his chair and shook his flushed baldhead. "God help us!" For twenty-two minutes Colonel O' Neill had been shacked up in a closet with Captain Samantha Carter. What next?

"Sir?" Sergeant Siler glanced at his CO and grimaced, but received no instruction on what to do with the incriminating evidence.

Oh, there was a lot George could do with that tape. Still his gut instinct and previous knowledge of O'Neill and Carter's romantic involvement told him to let this one ride. It wasn't their fault they'd gotten assigned to the highest classified security threat to all mankind. Nor that they were the two most important and valued people who could bring Doctor Jackson back to earth and determine from where the aliens had gated.

From the moment Jack had walked into his office last night, George decided he liked him. There was a lot of old school in that kick ass Irishman. He possessed honesty, duty, bravery, humility, honor and open distain for inconsideration to humanity. Heck, he'd committed a court martial offense to save an entire race of people. The impatient, smart lipped kid was an unassuming hero, as well as outright rude with butt kissers like Major Samuels. In one breath, Jack O'Neill could be irreverent or respectful. Yes, George liked Colonel Jack O'Neill. Now he hoped the younger officer not only brought Daniel Jackson back alive, but returned in the same condition.

George realized Samantha Carter could be the motivator for that to happen. He had read O'Neill's case file. He knew about his son Charlie's accidental death and that O'Neill had been suicidal when he went to Abydos last year. 'The Powers That Be' had used and abused the grieving man's emotional and mental state. Who better to send on a suicide mission than an officer teetering on the edge of sanity?

Well, thankfully something happened on Abydos to revive O'Neill's will to live. Furthermore the Jack O'Neill George met last night was no longer eager to blow something up, let alone the Stargate. George had a pretty good idea the reason was blonde, blue-eyed, five-foot-nine and spunky. In fact, he knew it. The moment Carter walked into the briefing room the sparks flew between them as they tried to conceal their personal relationship and for all George knew, intimacy as well.

George rubbed his baldhead and groaned. He accepted that even had this been their first encounter the palpable physical and emotional attraction would have detonated between O'Neill and Carter sooner or later. It was like two trains heading for each other on the same track but neither willing to put on the breaks. A wreck was inevitable.

Captain Samantha Carter was not just George's subordinate she was his godchild, the daughter of his best friend, Jacob Carter. Not that either of them had let that affect their professional rapport. As always, at least until today, Sam remained above board. Few folks knew it, but Samantha Carter earned the rank of Captain the hard way. She'd done it all on her own. She made George proud.

Even when he'd called her about accepting this assignment, she'd hesitated, fearful that their personal relationship might be compromised. George assured Sam that he wouldn't treat her any different than he did anyone else under his command, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He just hadn't counted on the conversation with the president. Because of their past Special Forces involvement, the president had just given clearance for Jack and Sam to pursue a romantic relationship. George had learned this while he had O'Neill in a holding cell with Kawalsky.

The president's take on the matter, was, "Jack's not just my friend, George, he's a top notch officer and he will not break the regs. I don't know much about Carter but from what you've told me, she, too, is a by the book officer. We need them, George. So let this slide for now." He did. George could have told Jack after he'd agreed to lead this second Abydos mission that he knew of their 'affair,' but he didn't. He wanted these two kids to have a future together and opening up that can of worms could add additional strain to their mindsets. Long as they believed no one else knew, he sensed they'd cope. It was a chance George was willing to take.

Regulations aside, thirty-five years in the Air Force told George that letting two romantically involved officers serve together, let alone on a high risk, mission was an accident waiting to happen. He also knew that same emotion could be a plus factor in watching each other's six. For now, George chose the latter. Some might have doubted his sanity as a CO. George no longer did. Instead he prayed that God Almighty would watch Carter and O'Neill's backsides as well. Someone had too. Of course his belief in the MAN upstairs was the primary reason George had no choice.

His thoughts spiraled back to 1969. He grinned and glancing heavenward, muttered, "No doubt, another one of Your mysterious ways, Lord."

Hammond stood and turned to the enlisted airman. "Okay, son, from here on, this is how it's going down regarding any security tapes that involve Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter, caught in uncompromising situations. . ."

1110: Locker Room

Dressed in his desert field BDU's, Jack dropped a booted foot on the bench and laced up. Across from him, Charlie Kawalsky slammed a locker and then turned to face him. "Excited, Colonel?"

"Sure. You?"

"Beats shoveling paper behind a desk." He grinned buttoning up his camouflage BDU vest.

"Yeah." Jack smiled as he tied a double knot, and then switched boots.

"So how ya really feel about being stuck with Carter?"

"I don't." Pokerfaced, Jack tugged the laces tight. He could feel the officer's scrutiny and knew Charles wouldn't settle for his brisk comeback. "Look, Charlie," he straightened and met his old friend's expectant expression with a sober tone. "Apparently, Captain Carter's the best brain the USAF has, let alone 'expert' on the Stargate. She's combat ready and Black Ops experienced. So I expect you and the rest of my team to treat her with the same respect you would if she had balls and a penis, understood?"

"Yeah, course." Kawalsky shrugged. "But if you don't mind, Colonel, I'd rather have you or Louis watch my six."

His jaw flexed tight. Jack looked the man head-on and fought to drop Charlie where he stood. "Don't sweat it, Major. I'll partner with Carter. You and Ferretti have each other's six. But if we come under fire, you watch whose ever ass you're nearest!"

"Hey, hey." Kawalsky held up a hand in defense. "Sure I will. I just never served with a female in a possible hostile situation before."

"Well get used to it!" With that Jack turned and stalked out of the locker room.

Major Louis Ferretti exited the latrine and watched Jack's explosive exit. "Holy Toledo, what's he so hot about?"

Charlie snorted and then smirked. "One blonde, blue-eyed babe, that's what."

"Nah, it can't be, can it?"

"Not can. Is!" Charlie winked.

1129: Gate Room

The chevrons dialed up, the wormhole activated, and flushed out into the room then sucked back forming a rippling wall of azure blue. Hammond and Samuels entered the Gate Room, while Jack, Kawalsky, Ferretti, Carter and two other airmen filed in, all in full desert gear.

The man, General Hammond turned and faced the team. "Try to follow orders this time, Colonel."

"Sir?"

"This time you bring Daniel Jackson back. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Jack smiled.

Hammond and Samuels saluted, and Jack returned it.

"Move out!" Jack ordered his team.

With Kawalsky leading, Jack's men walked up the ramp and through the Stargate. Sam held back at the ramp's base staring wide-eyed at the shimmering wormhole. Naturally impatient when it came to missions, Jack waited, striving to show consideration for his science officer.

Even drowning in full gear, her ivory scrubbed face glowing beneath her strapped helmet, and forearms resting on her HK-MP5 Automatic, Captain Samantha Carter looked hot. Keep cool, O'Neill. Focus. She's not your girlfriend here. She's your science officer. He still didn't like it, but he had to deal. So did she. Ironically, Sam seemed to handle that part of their weird situation better than Jack.

So far she'd been perfectly professional showing no air of familiarity with him. Well except for some foot play in the commissary and even that Jack initiated. Still Sam was nervous about being his subordinate. Behind them, Hammond and Samuels watched like hawks and beside the video every sound bite was being recorded. He had to get this show on the road and hoped that once on Abydos they'd breathe easier on a personal level.

"Captain?" Jack looked over at her.

"Don't worry, Colonel. I won't let you down."

"Good. Coz, I was gonna say, ladies first." He tramped up the metal ramp and Sam followed, coming alongside him.

"You know, you really will like me when you get to know me." She smiled widely. Yep she's one good actress.

Conscious of Hammond's gaze boring in his backside Jack focused on the event horizon and quipped, "Oh, I adore you already, Captain." Boy wasn't that the truth.

They reached the wormhole and paused. Jack glanced at Sam. The expression of awe on her face almost stopped his heart. She reminded him of himself as a wide-eyed kid seeing the moon for the first time. Sam stepped closer and examined the distortion of the wormhole.

"My god . . .look at this! The energy the Gate must release to create a stable wormhole is . . . is astronomical, to use exactly the right word."

Soon as she began her techno babble Jack's left over patience nose-dived. Enough all ready! Time to fly! Places to go! People to see . . .um find! Her freaking cliché's were contagious.

Sam reached out and touched the shimmering blue wall, then pulled back. "You can actually see the fluctuations in the event horizon—"

For crying out loud! Jack shoved Sam through the wormhole. On her heels, he mused, Hey, look out, Oz, here comes Dorothy, and laughed inwardly as they started their journey . . . home.

In the Ancient Realm:

"Wow!" Daniel settled down on a quiet pond and reflected on what he'd just seen, heard and even felt. He'd never been inside someone's head or heart before. Creepy. His best buddies Jack and Sam were a hot item before SG-1. Amazing! Awesome! It now made complete sense!

"You are impressed, Daniel Jackson?" Oma came alongside him like a breeze rustling the water lilies where she leaped from one to another, and settled on a bright yellow lily pad.

"Yeah. I sensed something simmering under the surface between them during our first meeting on Abydos. Even Sha're said so within minutes after meeting Sam.

"What did she say?"

Taking human form Daniel sat on the shore and scratched the back of his neck. He'd wanted to do that all day, scratch that itch. "Oh, Sha're said, 'My Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill has finally found his eternal soul mate, like I did in you. He is most truly blessed.'"

"Even weirder, I knew exactly what she meant, although I was confused. 'But he's married to another,' I'd insisted, because I didn't know Jack and Sara had gotten a divorce."

"I only know what I feel, my husband, there is a kindred love between them. A love of passion old as time."

"And you are very wise in issues of the heart, my wife. So you think this Doctor Samantha Carter and Jack will fall in love someday?"

"Like us, my beloved husband, Jack O'Neill and Samantha Carter are already in love." She kissed him passionately. "For they are the Chosen Hearts."

Oma nodded. "Your Sha're was very wise, Daniel."

"Yeah, she was." Daniel smiled. Filled with beautiful memories his heart was no longer bitter over losing her. "So now what?" He glanced back as the SGC Stargate began to fade from his view.

"You know the rest of this situation for you were there. They did not have time to be anything but professional while on Abydos or during the rest of that mission, which speaks highly of their sense of responsibility and honor. It became the proving ground that Jack and Samantha could be trusted to work together and separate their personal feelings from duty."

"Well, yeah, but there's one thing I was wondering about?" Daniel snickered.

"Oh, that." Oma grinned. "Watch."

His queasy stomach settling, Jack stepped out of the Stargate into the dusty stone chamber of the Abydos pyramid, glanced around and wiped the freezer burn off his face. All his men were up and about, except Sam who was sitting on a lower step, hunched over moaning. Jack sighed with sympathy, but kept his CO bravado as he ambled down the steps and stopped where she huddled in misery.

"Oh . . . I think I'm going to be sick. Argh . . ." She was definitely about to puke.

"Maybe you shouldn't have had that big lunch." He patted her shoulder and gave his, 'I told you so' wink, before he turned to step away. Jack loved when he was right and realized he took perverse satisfaction when it concerned Sam, um Carter. Wished he'd wagered her on it. Like for second base. Next time. Oh, yeah.

Sam glanced up at him through her watery blue eyes. The moment they held each other's gaze, her, 'hey I'm dying here' expression vanished and she staggered to her feet with gutsy dignity.

Grinning inwardly, Jack forced his attention to Kawalsky and the others who secured the perimeter.

When Sam started to topple, Jack discreetly braced her shoulder until she stood upright.

"You, sir, are an incorrigible lunatic!" she whispered hotly in his ear, before he let go.

"I assume that's a compliment, Carter." He kept a deadpan expression for his observant men.

"If you say so, Colonel." Sam shifted her gear and like the professional officer she was, even if three shades of lime green, Captain Samantha Carter paraded staunchly down the stone steps to ground level.

Jack snickered and as his gaze fastened on his captain's firm round derriere he mused, Oh yeah, the girl's definitely crazy for this boy . . . Sweet!

Fin

End of: CHARADE, The First Novella of: 'The Chosen Hearts,' Series. © 05-19-04 – HailDorothy

Please go to next fic: 'CRAP! SO NOT GOING FISHING!'