LUNCH AT THE PENTAGON

"Carter?" O'Neill asked. "What'cha thinkin'?

She'd been sitting there, silent, playing with her food, for too long. He was decidedly uncomfortable. Squirmy—that's how he felt. As if he didn't belong... here... with her.

It had been fine at first. They'd been happy to see each other—well, he was happy to see her, for sure, and she'd greeted him with a big smile, so he assumed it was mutual. There'd even been a really nice long hug, kisses on cheeks. He let his thoughts linger on that embrace, how good she had felt there in his arms. Not too intimate—no, not intimate at all, really. Two good friends, teammates, greeting each other after so long. Wow, how long had it been? He counted in his head. Sixteen months. Before he received his third star, before she was put in charge of the Odyssey Program, designed to equip all ships with the Asgaard weapons and Atlantis technology. Could it really have been that long? Sixteen months since they'd seen each other in person. There'd been some phone calls, a few emails. But they tapered off. Before long there were only official communications—nothing personal. Did she still like blue jello? Had the broken wrist bone healed completely? Was she dating anyone? McKay? If she is dating, please God don't let it be McKay! She looked good. Yeah, she looked really good. Well, when had Carter not looked good, after all?! Her hair was much longer, and she was wearing it pulled back off her face and plaited into an elegant French braid. She had on more make-up than in the past, too. Very tasteful, very striking. God, how unbelievably good she looks! He couldn't keep his eyes off of her face. The big blue eyes hadn't changed, although she wasn't looking directly at him—since the first widening of surprised greeting and pleasure, she had avoided meeting his eyes except for very brief flickers. Was it because he had changed? He knew he looked older, thinner—okay, almost gaunt—with much deeper creases in his cheeks where those faint dimples used to be. He could see all that when he looked in the mirror every morning. The whiskers he shaved off each day were white. Yep, he was a lot grayer—not just his hair and beard, his eyebrows, too, and his skin sometimes seemed to have a grayish cast—really pale, from spending most of his time indoors for the past sixteen months. Sixteen months. There was that number again. He'd had two birthdays since he saw her last. The latest one, two weeks ago, had been the fifty-seventh. Ah well, he wouldn't dwell on that... Certainly not while he had Carter here to look at. He wondered what she was thinking about—probably the latest alien technology or new star drive... Had it really been twelve years since that first meeting in the SGC briefing room?

oxo

"What'cha thinkin'?"

His softly spoken question echoed in her mind. How to ever explain what she was thinking? She was thinking how great it was to be sitting here with him; how much she had missed him; how she wanted to touch him—run her palm down his cheek, get her fingers in his hair. What was she thinking? She was thinking the same things she'd always thought about whenever she looked at him! From the very beginning she'd wanted to touch him... She was remembering the times she really touched him—the passionate kisses when they had the Broca virus, the mind stamp with Jonah and Thera... and the other, more appropriate times, when he hugged her, held her, carried her when she was hurt. God it was all about touch, wasn't it? The need to lay your hand, your skin, your body against another person—the other person. She looked at her plate, at the waiter, the pictures on the wall—anything but his eyes; those deep, dark brown eyes that made her heart melt, made her feel heat all the way down to her toes. She was afraid to look into his eyes, afraid she would not be able to resist throwing herself into his arms... Their greeting embrace had nearly unglued her, her body feeling that it was where it belonged for the first time in so very long. Moving apart, separating to opposite sides of the table, had felt like a journey of a million light years. She would have stood there forever if he'd only keep his arms wrapped around her. He was watching her now, and that made her self-conscious. It was because she was different, she thought—the more severe hairstyle was not flattering, and she had on too much makeup. In her rush this morning she hadn't done a very good job. As it was she was nearly late for the meeting at the Defense Department. They were pushing for the new ship construction, but she did not feel that the kinks were all worked out of the design. She'd gotten into a heated discussion with the Deputy Secretary, and by the time the meeting broke up she was irritated and flustered. And then in the corridor she'd run headlong into General O'Neill as they both rounded a corner too fast. He grabbed her to keep her from falling, and she knew it was him even before she raised her head and saw his face. A look of delight had illuminated his features as he recognized her at the same time, and he said her name—"Sam!"—with a special note of joy which made her heart leap. But it was back to 'Carter' now as they sat across from one another in the very swank Pentagon restaurant where he'd invited her for lunch.

oxo

"I'm thinking it's been a long time since I last saw you, sir," she said, answering his question—kicking herself mentally for having nothing better than that to offer!

"Yes. Yes." He nodded sagely. "It has been quite a while." Crap, you idiot! She must think you're a jackass!

"Sixteen months," she added. I can't believe I've been counting.

"That long?" he said. She's been counting, too!

"Just before we started the Odyssey Project," she muttered. Why am I perpetuating this topic of conversation?!

The waiter came over and asked if they would like dessert.

"No, thanks," she said.

"What have you got?" he said simultaneously.

The waiter ran through a list. And as he named certain items, they both smiled.

"She'll have the blue-raspberry jello parfait," Jack said.

"And he'll have the double fudge chocolate-swirl cake," Sam added.

And then they looked at each other and laughed as the waiter hurried away to get their order.