Author's Note: Yes, I know it's actually spelled "Goa'uld". My choice of spelling is a nod to Jack's penchant for displaying disrespect to something by mispronouncing it.
There was just something about these parties, Colonel Samantha Carter thought as she surveyed the crowded room, that made them absolutely heartbreaking. It was something akin to celebrating the end of the world, the end of life as they knew it – and she should know, after all, she'd seen worlds end more than a few times, seen life change irreversibly so often she couldn't even remember them all. And this time – well, it felt like losing SG-1 all over again. It had been bad enough when they'd been strewn about the universe, still working to somewhat of a common cause – worse still, when one or more of the team was thought to be dead – but this, somehow, was worst.
This was like expecting to die from a bullet or a staff blast – in battle, suddenly and painlessly – only to be caught with a debilitating illness that would make the end slow and painful, or to give in to the decline of old age, watching the end come ever nearer and being unable to do a thing to stop it.
Because Sam Carter always thought of a way to stave off the end. And now, there was nothing she could do.
General O'Neill – he had made three-star general by then – was nowhere to be seen. And it was, after all, his own retirement party; no way would his friends and former teammates have let him escape this early. Especially not without one of those grand speeches he was so fond of giving, the ones where he deflected all attention from himself with cheesy humour and self-deprecation.
She needed to find him. She hadn't had a chance to say goodbye yet, hadn't been able to bring herself to acknowledge that it was finally over. No longer would there be the likelihood that their paths would cross due to some intergalactic disaster or another, or even something as boring as a budget meeting. No longer could she count on their respective careers to force them to spend at least a little time together, holding on to the close relationship they'd all had, once upon a time. No, now it was more likely the General (retired) would be constantly holed up at his cabin, fishing in an empty lake and gazing at the stars through his telescope, while she would spend more and more time in a lab playing with various doohickeys brought back by other teams.
Things were never going to be the same.
She finally spotted him out on the balcony, leaning his arms on the railing and staring out at the city. She made her way through the crowd to the glass doors, shutting them behind her quietly.
"Hi, sir," she greeted softly.
Jack O'Neill (with two L's, thankyouverymuch) turned to face her, a gentle smile on his lips. "Hey, Carter. Enjoying the party?"
She returned his smile. "Yes, sir. Good turnout, too – it seems you've made quite an impression here in D.C."
"Yeah, well, getting beamed out of a Joint Chiefs meeting by our Asgard friends not once, but twice, tends to stick in the mind."
She chuckled. "I'm sure there was more to it than that, sir."
"I'm sure there was. I doubt Washington has ever seen such an insubordinate General before. They're probably glad to see my six."
"Watching your six has always been a pleasure, sir." Sam grinned cheekily.
"Very funny, Carter," he growled.
Her grin widened. It was just like old times.
Well – maybe not quite like old times, she thought as the General shuffled forward, moving into her personal space a bit more than was typically appropriate given their respective ranks.
"Y'know, Carter…" he began tentatively, before cutting himself off with a slight shake of the head.
She looked up in confusion.
"Ah, hell," he said, before taking one more step forward and taking her face in his hands.
And then he was kissing her – their lips brushing ever so gently – and she couldn't breathe, suddenly, and she knew this was the end of everything as she knew it.
She breathed him in and he smelled exactly as he used to, first night on a new planet when they all had to share close quarters, when he woke her for her watch, when he came to pester her in her lab, when she'd leaned over his chair in the isolation room and he'd said 'Oh, that,' and knowing the two of them were exactly, exactly in the same boat.
His lips were soft and warm and sweet and her head was spinning with the sensations of everything she'd never let herself dream about, everything she wasn't allowed to have…
She pulled back reluctantly, her lips still tingling. "Sir…" she managed before needing to take a breath.
"Carter." His voice was affectionate, even a bit smug.
She shook the confusion from her head. "Sir, the regulations – "
"Cut the sir, willya, Carter? I'm retired."
The flush in her cheeks deepened. "Oh – right." Retired. Hence the party.
"I thought about it, figured I should wait a respectable amount of time after retiring – there have already been rumours, you know, and I'd hate to wreck your reputation – but you know how patient I am."
She grinned a little at that. "Patient? I have no idea what you're talking about." The rest of his words caught up with her then. "Wait. You've thought about this?"
He shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to hide a half-smile. "Yeah, well. Ya know. Hard not to, I guess. It's been a long time."
"More than ten years," she agreed. "Sounds pretty patient to me."
"Only ten? This started back in '69!"
She laughed then, the full, hearty laugh he'd always loved.
"I've missed that."
She furrowed her brow, confused.
"Your laugh. I miss making you laugh, cracking jokes about the locals, making fun of whatever Gould we're up against this week, watching unfamiliar constellations on strange planets, all of it."
Uncomfortable with the General's sudden burst of honesty, she smiled tentatively before glancing down at the forgotten package in her hands. "I, uh – I brought you something, sir – "
"Ah!" He held out a scolding finger. "What did I say about 'sir'?"
She smiled at the familiarity of the affectionate reprimand, usually used to cut off her 'techno-babble' or insist she get out of her lab and eat something. "Jack," she said finally, his name sitting strangely on her tongue.
An eyebrow quirked. "Yes, Samantha?"
She didn't say anything more, simply held out the flat, wrapped object.
His gaze held hers as he took it from her, pulling at the paper – BDU blue, he noticed with a grin when he finally turned his eyes away from her. He tossed the paper on the nearby table and looked at what appeared to be a well-used leather-bound book.
He opened the cover to read:
Samantha Carter, Captain, USAF, 1997.
Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain.
"It's my first field journal with the SGC. It was gathering dust in my lab, and…I thought it would be a nice reminder of when things were easier. The good times, if you will."
"Easier, Carter? We were barely scraping by, getting through missions by the skin of our teeth. We had no idea what we were doing, the Gould were trying to wipe us out…do I have to continue?" Despite his protests, he stared at the notebook nostalgically.
She smiled fondly. "Nothing compared to what we've been up against recently, with the Ori, the Wraith…"
He shook his head. "Back then it wasn't any easier for me to keep my hands off you, Carter. And now I don't have to – at least not according to the Air Force."
She blushed at his blatant speech, suddenly lost for words. She was so used to having this conversation in vague, metaphorical terms that the General's sudden frankness was unnerving.
"Sam…" he whispered, and she couldn't help but meet his eyes. There was the same respect and affection she was accustomed to seeing when he looked at any of them – Teal'c, Daniel, Cassie, even Janet – but there was something else, too. Something that was usually veiled, something she'd only seen a few times when they thought they were going to die.
She'd seen it from the other side of a closing elevator door, heard it in an oxygen-deprived voice, mirrored it through a force-field…
But now, there was no force-field to stop her, no doors sliding shut between them, no regulations to stand in their way…
She made a decision then. It was something they had wordlessly agreed to so many years ago, temporarily cast away in favour of potential happiness, but had never been able to fully set aside. It was a promise for the day when regulations no longer kept them apart…
And that day had finally come.
Ignoring the sudden nervousness thudding in her chest, she stretched up and kissed him full on the mouth, sliding her hands into his silvering hair as she'd so often wished to do.
Oblivious to the grins of the people observing them from inside, she smiled into his mouth, relishing the freedom she finally had to enjoy him the way she wanted to.
Sometimes, she realized, the end of an era meant the beginning of a new one.