TITLE: Consequenceful Celebrations
AUTHOR: Vid Z.
PAIRING: Jack/Other
TIMELINE: Season 2: immediately post-Prisoners
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc of the TV show Stargate: SG-1 are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fic. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
SUMMARY: Celebrations of one's own survival can go on too long and can lead to life-changing events.
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Jack O'Neill woke up with a groan.
Trying to blink his eyes open he raised his head only to drop it back on his pillow with a moan.
There was a Jaffa in full armor and the damn metal boots marching around inside his head. Scrap that, make it several Jaffa.
"Oy!" he moaned quietly and grabbed his head as if that would stop the pain. He froze in his actions when he heard shuffling next to him and a soft, feminine moan of pain.
'Oh crap.' There was obviously someone in the bed with him.
What the hell had happened? He and the rest of the gang were in Las Vegas celebrating the fact that they'd survived their time on the prison planet. The last thing he remembered was the two light-weights of the group, Sam and Daniel, passing out after just a few drinks and Teal'c carrying each one off to their separate rooms, leaving Jack to continue drinking alone in the bar.
And now, for some reason, he was waking up with a woman beside him in the bed.
Partly he was proud of himself for still having it, for a woman to want to sleep with him, and partly he was mad at himself for being so foolish as to have a one night stand.
The last time he'd had one of those had been about 20 years ago (Kynthia didn't count, because in actuality she'd date-raped him, Doc Fraiser had found Rohypnol in his blood when she'd been trying to save him from dying of old age on Argos), years before he and Sara had gotten married.
He and Sara had dated for 4 years before getting married, courtesy of his long stays out of the country. True, he'd been in the black business then and had had to forsaken moral standards and his own conscience for the sake of the Air Force and the missions, but in his personal life he was a man of strong principles, honor and devotion. Which meant no cheating.
When he'd been undercover in a country, thus exposed to the public, there'd never been any shortage of women interested in him, but he'd never betrayed Sara. Nor had he ever betrayed any woman he'd been involved with before Sara.
He'd built a pretty strong relationship and marriage with her, a marriage and relationship that he was still confident would've still existed and would've existed until they'd die of old age, had Charlie not died.
Actually, the cause wasn't Charlie's death.
Had he himself been able to open up, to allow Sara in, to allow her to help him heal, thereby healing herself, healing together, he was sure they would've still been together. He'd still loved her and had still been in love with her, but had been too deep into his own grief and self-destructiveness to allow her in. He'd also blamed himself for her own pain. And then he'd gone on that first mission through the Stargate with the sole purpose and desire to die. Sara had known it, had understood that if he'd had his way he'd die on that mission.
It'd been too much on her, way too much any woman should ever have to go through and put up with, and he'd not been surprised nor angry nor betrayed when he'd returned home and found the house empty.
He still loved her even now, but with years of separation and certainty that they had no future together anymore, he'd moved on. They were still in contact and last he'd heard, she was getting married to a good man she was working with and had just found out she was pregnant. He could honestly say that he was happy for her and wished her all the best.
But the core of the matter here wasn't Sara, but it was finding out who the woman in his bed was and how to best get out of this predicament.
Carefully turning his head to his left he caught sight of a woman with brown hair long enough so that some were on his pillow. Her features were beautiful and delicate. Full, dark red lips. Supple, soft skin with a warm olive tone.
It occured to Jack that the woman had a mixed heritage, one of her ancestors (whether female or male) had to have been from the Middle East. From his time there he remembered many Arab and Persian women being stunningly beautiful. There was something about this woman that just screamed Middle East. Another ancestor had to have been from Latin America or South Italy, he couldn't pin-point. And this mixed heritage created a stunning result, for the woman was definitely very beautiful. Since she was turned towards him in her sleep and covered with the sheet he could not see her body, but from the silhouete he could tell that she was slim with long legs.
Suddenly her eyes snapped open and Jack was greeted by dark brown, darker than his own. Then she grimaced and suddenly she was a beautiful woman with her face pinched in pain.
He saw the moment the fog cleared and her head-ache was forgotten.
"Colonel O'Neill, sir!" she gasped, bolting upright in bed, clutching the bed sheet to her chest.
Jack's lips curved in a sarcastic grin. "That's the first time anybody called me 'Colonel' and 'sir' in bed." He sobered up when she glared at him, gathering the sheets closer to her breasts.
This action served only to draw Jack's eyes to them and they widened in a pleased surprise. She was definitely packing, cause there were two significant bulges tenting the sheet. Well, if he'd had to have a one night stand, at least she was beautiful. And young, but not too young. Around 30 he'd guess. Mature enough to realize that experience outweighs youthful strength and short recovery time, but still young enough to have a youthful body.
A flash of memory went through his mind of SG-1's visit at the nearby facility. "Don't you work at Nellis?"
A smug surprise showed momentarily on her attractive face. She was a woman after all and women like it if eligible bachelors, especially ones that are the object of desire for many other women, notice them. "Yes, I do. Captain Doctor Rachel Hamilton."
A scientist? Okay, make that drop dead gorgeous and extremely intelligent. Not bad for a warhorse, Jacko, old boy! Not bad at all!
"An egghead?" he still whined. He had a reputation to protect, after all.
"Takes an egghead to know an egghead, egghead sir!" she shot back.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Lieutenant Colonel Phil Thomas is the head of my department." she shared and he cleared his throat.
Phil Thomas and Jack went way back. Back to the Academy. They'd been room-mates, but not bosom buddies. They'd got on well, but had never been especially close. After Academy they'd both gone on to study Astronomy and got their Doctor titles at the same time. Their paths had diverged then with Jack having gone even deeper into the Special Ops.
So... Philly boy must've spilled the beans to his flunkies. Not to mention got assigned to Area 51. Wonder how to get back at him for this indiscretion...
"Just don't expect me to salute or shake your hand." she dead-panned. Such an action would let the sheet drop since she was using her other arm to keep upright.
Jack grinned in delight, she was a lot like him, sarcastic and with a sharp tongue. Not to mention the same field. He definitely liked her. Still, her sudden lack of any honorifics had not escaped him.
She lifted an eyebrow. "You really don't expect me to call you 'sir' with how we've woken up..."
Jack's eyes widened and he quickly lifted the sheet, glancing at their bodies beneath.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the sheet between them to prevent him the view of her naked body. "What do you think you're doing?"
For a second he thought of making a quip about checking out the merchandise, but thought better of it. The situation was bizarre enough already. "Sorry. Just checking if we... you know... did anything..."
"We did." she ground out, still upset over what he'd just done.
"How do you know?"
She glared at him. "Because I'm sore, I'm sticky between my legs and with sitting upright I can now feel something dripping out of me and down between my ass cheeks." Her meaning as to whom that somethingcame from was clear when she glared at him even more fiercely. "And I think I've been sleeping in the wet spot."
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