Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, I wish they were, though. No copyright infringement is intended. All publicly are the property of their respective owners and I'm no way related to them.

Fiction Rated: T, for some implications.

A/N: Guys, I know I should have posted "Contemplation, the last chapter" and I assure you it's done. But this piece of something came to my mind while I finished some reports, and I decided to post it before I wanted to delete it. It's very confusing... But it's worth a try (or so I guess).

"So, Colonel.." she says and he looks at her.

"Major."

She smiles and whispers "That bald man you were trying to remember?"

"General Hammond."

"Right."

"He is from Texas, you know. It's all coming back." there's a proud smile dancing on his face and he looks so young.

"Yes, sir." she answers back, distracted, and the smile drops from his face.

He looks down.

"Sir..." his tune is bitter. And what's next?

He looks up once and again, she smiles an ashamed smile, almost defeated, and nods her head.

He looks down and then back up into her eyes.

And they wonder just how much one can share in a minute. Because that's all they have now: 60 seconds.

They? Would that be Jack and Sam? No. Jonah and Therra.

And do they share anything in one minute? Yes. They share secrets.

Secrets.

His and hers. Jonah's and Therra's. Somehow, Jack's and Sam's, inevitably.

They share the greatness that secrets can keep, and secrets alone. Secrets of memories.

Secrets that hide touches and whispers. Secrets that lovers share. And lose. And that's why there are secrets. To remind us what we have lived, to remind us when people are gone. Or when we are, for that matter.

Secrets of loving.

Secrets of looks, of wanting to look and not hiding. Secrets of kisses.

Kiss me, again - her eyes plead.

No - he answers - We can't - but the wants to, he does.

She knows that. Maybe even more than he does. Maybe not. That's why they share secrets.

Secrets of words better left unsaid.

Secrets of golden locks of hair twisting around his fingers. Of how sometimes his arm became her pillow. Secrets of when she cried, of when she smile, of how he could tell.

Secrets of the tears that wanted to fall and that would, as soon as they got home. Home? And where is that? What did they do to Home is where your heart is?

They might not have a home because their hearts are breaking. But have their secrets, don't they?

Secrets of confessions.

Secrets of her palms feeling his beard undone. Secrets of groans and laughs. Of secret jokes.

Secrets? Yes. Secrets. Mutual. Silent.

Secrets of a passion, a not-allowed one. Have you ever felt that? And what did you do?

They know what to do.

The answer is to suffocate the passion while you still can. But only what's weak is suffocable: a candle that fades with a breeze. Cliche, too cliche, a painful cliche. A wound that will never heals? That's cliche, too. But that's true, that's their truth, their secret. They will never forget, they will never get past that.

Because there are thousand of secrets between them. Secrets that light the candle, that makes it fade it before it turns into a huge fire.

But it has already become that. Now what?

Only what's weak is suffocable.

Weak?

Insuffocable, then. An insuffocable passion they share, insuffocable secrets they have.


I'm sorry - he says, and he have never said it to her before, he says with his eyes now - I'm so sorry.

Her tears betray her, they fall and she chase them with her fingertips - Sorry?

And they will try to suffocate their secrets. They will try. They have 60 seconds. They will say This taste in my mouth is not yours, I can't remember what you taste like, neither what you look like. I won't remember - but they will fail. And they know it. Because the tastes, the memories and the secrets are insoluble. Unsuffocable.

They're not weak. Sixty seconds cannot take them away.

She discovered his secrets, she discovered another man. One she could love, one she could really fall for. Which she did. And that was her secret, and he discovered, as well. Because she didn't try to hide. Now, she does.

She looks down and he knows he will never see her secrets again. Not anymore. She won't allow him to.

But he won't either.

Now, these secrets don't belong to her, to him, to no one else. There's no Jonah, no Thera. No Jack and no Sam.

There's Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter. Their minds keep screaming that.

He doesn't know if she cries or if she smiles. He can't tell anymore.

She is not sure if he is still that man. She thinks so, she thinks he is that man on the inside. But his eyes hide, so she can't tell anymore.

Their secrets are gone when they face each other for the last time in this planet. Or so they think, trying to fool themselves.

They will try. They won't succeed.

Because secrets cannot be suffocated in one minute, in sixty seconds. No. Secrets take a lifetime.

Maybe even more than that.

The secrets they share won't stay in this planet, because these secrets are not Jonah's. Not Thera's.

These are Jack and Sam's secrets.

"Let's go home." he says.

She gives him an angry smile and answers: "Yes, sir."

They walk out. They head home, wherever that might be.

The end.