Author's note: I think this is going to be quite a slow burn…

xx

Sam stood beside her team, back straight as a ram-rod as the Daedalus' hatch opened slowly. She'd spent the last few hours trying to convince herself that there was absolutely nothing to be anxious about, without much success. Instead she'd changed tack and decided that the best thing to do was hide her nerves as much as possible and hope that Sheppard was right, that their old camaraderie would follow naturally.

It's just O'Neill, she told herself for the umpteenth time. What's to worry about?

Boots clanged on the Daedalus' exit ramp, and Carter let go the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. And there he was. General Jack O'Neill, standing on the flight deck. Her flight deck.

"General on deck!" She heard herself snap out in her best command voice. Beside and behind her, the Earth military contingent of Atlantis' crew came to attention, their polished boots stamping on the blue metal to match their salute.

O'Neill walked towards them, and Sam found herself staring at a point just beyond his left shoulder, as if keeping his face out of focus would stop her stomach churning. But soon the moment was upon her – the two officers slowed to a halt, and with what she hoped was an inconspicuous deep breath, Carter moved her eyes to his face.

"General O'Neill, welcome back to Atlantis."

He was already smiling as he returned the salute. "Good to be back, Colonel Carter. At ease."

Sam couldn't help but return the smile as she dropped her arm. She'd forgotten how familiar his face was, even though the years had affected him. For a split second she was transported back to that first meeting, when she'd been spitting fire and he was as immovable as rock. His eyes were the same, his jaw was the same, that unbelievable inner strength that made Jack O'Neill who he was still absolutely evident.

And the butterflies fled. Just like that, they were gone, and she couldn't work out why they'd been there in the first place.

"You remember Colonel Sheppard?" she said, turning to John.

"I do. Good to see you again, Sheppard. I've been reading some of your mission reports. Some pretty impressive flying you've been doing out in these parts, huh?"

"I've been keeping my hand in, General," Sheppard nodded.

"…and Teyla Emmagan, Doctor Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Doctor Jennifer Keller…" Sam introduced them all in turn, taking extra time with Ronon and Keller. She was impressed to note that he had individual words for each one of them – and realised that the years had altered more than his face. Carter had never thought O'Neill would settle as a General, the post was so at odds with the field officer she'd served with for all those years. But here and now he seemed at peace, in a way he never had during those years in SG-1. She wondered briefly what had changed, but let the thought go almost immediately. It wasn't her business, and she didn't need to know.

xx

It had been late when he arrived, and the night shift had already taken over duties in the command centre. Carter had shown him around, briefly, though he mostly remembered it from his previous visits. The office had been different, of course – and the General couldn't help but think that it was quintessentially Sam. The desk was neat, precise. In fact, there were few non-essentials in the room apart from her potted plant – he remembered how she loved her plants – and a few photographs. Three of SG-1 and a picture of Jacob he'd never seen, alongside a woman he assumed to be her mother.

"You run a tight ship here, Carter."

She looked up from a sheet of paper on her desk – something that required her attention immediately – and smiled. He didn't look away as he may once have done. "Thank you, sir. It's very – different to anything I've done before."

"I bet. Still, hell of an experience."

"Yes sir. I wouldn't change it for the world."

He nodded, moving to one of the huge windows and looking out over the dark ocean. He let his mind wander for a few moments, thinking idly of old times as she scribbled a few notes.

"That's it, sir, I'm done," she announced a few minutes later, "I wouldn't usually send a team out over the nightshift, but Teyla had a lead on her people and Sheppard didn't want to wait until morning. Paperwork – the one thing I don't enjoy about command. I know now why you went to such lengths to avoid it!"

He turned to look at her. Carter's face was bright under the City's efficient lighting, and he realised how he'd missed it. Of course he had pictures – similar to hers, arranged in his office in much the same way. And elsewhere, though no one knew and he hadn't looked at them himself for some time, there were others. Images of her alone, or the two of them together, appropriated when he'd wanted something – anything – a tangible piece of her that he could touch with impunity.

She looked different to the Captain who had stalked into his life with such ready defiance that it had stopped his words immediately. Different, but still beautiful (and O'Neill was too old now not to admit that to himself, at least), though not in the same young, raw way she had been back then. The years showed: her face was softer and there were lines that creased it in ways he hadn't noticed before - but then how could there not be? With all that they'd gone through, all the battles that they had fought, together and apart? But she still had that firecracker smile, and her eyes were as bright as ever. Her cheekbones still looked sharp enough to carve stone.

It felt good that he could think these things without the guilt and fear such meanderings once caused. He was just glad to see her, an old friend with whom he shared so much history. He'd missed her, and wondered why they found it so difficult to keep in touch.

She cocked her head to one side. "Sir? Something wrong?"

He shook head with a smile. "Just thinking about old times, Carter."

She grinned, and he watched the lines on her face trace patterns on her fair skin. "There are a lot of them. Maybe we can relive a few over dinner? I've arranged for it to be served in my quarters, if that suits? The mess hall is a bit clinical and though there are state banqueting rooms, I thought that would be a bit ridiculous for just the two of us."

He nodded again, gesturing with one arm. "You know me, I'm never one to stand on ceremony. Lead on, Colonel."

Xx

To be continued…