PART 1

"Whatcha doin'?"

Sam smiled as the familiar untidy gray head appeared in her line of vision. "Nothing at the moment, sir," she admitted, pushing her laptop away. "I think I'm blocked."

"Excellent!" Jack O'Neill stuffed his hands in his pockets, then added, "Carter; there's something you … all of you need to know. But I wanted to tell you first."

"Sir?"

The Colonel breathed in deeply. "I'm leaving SG-1," he said.

"What?" To say Samantha Carter was stunned was an understatement. The Colonel thrived on the action of leading his team of misfits.

"Yeah." The Colonel bounced on the balls of his feet, enthusiasm making his beautiful brown eyes gleam. "The brass has given their consent for an off-world colony to be established. They want me to command it."

"Oh," Sam said in a small voice. "We'll miss you, Colonel," she said lamely, for want of something better to say. Hell, I'll miss you!, she really wanted to say.

The Colonel smirked. "Not for much longer, Carter," he said. "The birds are getting replaced."

"General?"

Another smirk – this one a mile wide. God, he was so cute! "Yep. This time tomorrow, you'll be looking at Brigadier General Jack O'Neill."

"Sir …," Sam said hesitantly, "maybe I shouldn't say this – and don't take this the wrong way – but … I'm proud of you. You deserve this."

The smirk softened into a smile. "Thanks, Carter – that means a lot," he said. "So … what say you, Daniel, T and I go to O'Malley's on my last night? Next Saturday, 1900 hours?"

Sam smiled at the man. "Sounds good to me, sir," she said. Considering how close they'd become over the last few years, they didn't spend much time together outside of work. But she'd enjoyed their few team nights and the Colonel's company especially. He was funny, sharp-witted and playful – she liked him very much. And the fact that he was unbelievably sexy had nothing to do with it. Uh-huh. Nothing at all.

For the last few weeks – ever since her experience with that crystal skull – she'd felt an undeniable lust for her commanding officer. She wriggled slightly, recalling the sight of long powerful thighs, neat firm butt, broad chest and … mmmm … She wriggled again and pressed her thighs together to relieve the throbbing that had begun.

"SG-1; report to the briefing room!" the PA blared out suddenly, yanking Sam's thoughts back from the gutter in which they'd begun to reside permanently around this man.

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Major General George Hammond smiled slightly as his premier team – and favorite team of oddballs, if he were to be honest – walked into the briefing room, arguing amiably about the finer points of The Simpsons. Even Teal'c joined in the argument with enthusiasm, having been introduced to the show by one Colonel Jack O'Neill.

An astrophysicist, an archeologist and an alien … and the smart-ass ex-Special Forces Colonel that led them. By some means unknown to him, they had formed the best, strongest, most effective unit he'd ever had the privilege of commanding.

For a selfish moment, he allowed himself to regret the Colonel's upcoming promotion and transfer. Jack O'Neill was one of a kind – may the good Lord be thanked for that – and there was no denying how good the man was at what he did. It wouldn't be easy filling his shoes.

But the younger man deserved this opportunity. There'd been some grumblings from the Pentagon when Hammond had suggested Jack for the role – forty eight was pretty young for Brigadier General – but Hammond had argued that no other high ranking officer had such extensive off world experience as the Colonel.

"Have a seat," he said to his team. He smiled over at Colonel O'Neill. "I presume the Colonel's told you already about his upcoming transfer."

"Yes, sir," the man himself replied, gracing his CO with the smirkiest smirk in his entire repertoire – smug SOB. He drooped his eyelid in a lazy wink, then added, "I think Carter believes the powers that be have lost their collective marbles."

A rosy glow suffused the young Major's features. "Sir! I would never say such a thing!" she protested. Then she … smirked. Damn; she was becoming more like Jack O'Neill every day. "Maybe I would think it … sir … but I'd never say it."

Jack chuckled and Hammond started as he realized that this was actually the first time he'd ever heard the man laugh. He'd seen the Colonel triumphant, amused, scornful, angry, callous, defensive and tender, but he'd never seen that light in his eyes.

"Very good, Major," he said as Daniel and Teal'c shared amused grins. "I've taught you well."

Sam smiled, her eyes flickering over her CO's face. "Thank you, sir," she said in a similar light tone.

And with that simple exchange, many things fell into place for George Hammond. He'd seen the sparks between these two at their first meeting – sparks that could easily have been something more but for their unwavering loyalty to the Air Force and the SGC.

Many other CO's would have been worried that the undeniable bond between these two could have serious implications for their effectiveness, but not General Hammond. These people had lived through horrors no Earth-bound human could even imagine. They could not share what happened with anyone outside – they therefore only had each other.

But now … Looking at their faces – unguarded for a few brief seconds – George could only feel compassion for them. Jack and Sam both had everything they could ever need in each other, but were not allowed to have.

Perhaps, with Jack's transfer out of Sam's chain of command, things would change for the better for both of them.

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The next day:

Sam stood near the ramp up to the 'gate with Teal'c, Daniel and most of the base, waiting for the Colonel to enter the embarkation room. Lou Ferretti stood near them, having transferred back to the SGC recently to take command of SG-1. Sam had been happy to see Ferretti again and was pleased that he would take over from the Colonel. He'd served with Colonel O'Neill on the original Abydos mission and had absorbed a great deal of the Colonel's personal ethos.

Daniel had been surprised that Sam hadn't been offered command, but Sam knew she wasn't ready yet. She'd only made Major a year ago. In a couple more years, perhaps, but for now she was happy to be 2IC.

The side door opened, distracting Sam from her thoughts, and she looked up as the Colonel strode in.

Damn, he's so handsome! Sam was an Air Force brat – had seen hundreds of men in dress blues – but there was just something about Colonel O'Neill in his dress uniform that made her feel like a high schooler with a crush on the captain of the football team. The way the jacket set off his broad shoulders, the blue color working with the sexy mix of steel and silver of his hair, the starched white collar that gave emphasis to his angled features and tanned skin … The only word that came to a stunned Samantha Carter's mind was 'edible'.

Jack O'Neill looked damn edible. She wanted to push him against a wall and lick, suck and nip every delicious bit of his skin.

Eyes front and center, Sam!, she reminded herself. You're in the embarkation room, for God's sake!

She forced herself to tune back into the ceremony, watching as General Hammond removed the Colonel's birds and replaced them with a single star. Newly minted Brigadier General O'Neill saluted his commanding officer, then turned and saluted everyone else in an unusual gesture of respect for the wise-ass Colonel … General.

The official part of the ceremony over, General Hammond leaned into the microphone. "May I present to you … Brigadier General Jack O'Neill," he said. Then he smiled slightly. "I've known Jack O'Neill for three years now. He can be cocky, stubborn, exasperating and is a frequent pain in my rear."

Sam snickered and many around her laughed also. The Colonel … the General … smirked.

"And a small part of me regrets his promotion. When he next does something to annoy me, barking 'General O'Neill!' is just not going to feel the same." Another round of laughter. "But he is also passionate, forthright, honest and one of the finest men I've ever had the privilege of commanding." He presented his hand to General O'Neill, who amazingly wore a light blush. Oh, God; he's adorable! "Congratulations, General O'Neill and well done."

"Ah …". The General coughed slightly, then shook the other General's hand. "Thank you, sir."

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O'Malley's – Saturday, 1900 hours:

Sam drew in a quick breath when she saw the familiar tall figure of her former CO enter the bar. God, he looked good. He was just wearing jeans and a black tee, but when it was topped with that leather jacket he'd bought in 1969 … yum was the only word that came to mind.

"Hey, Sam," he greeted her cheerfully, leaning over the booth. "Can I get you a beer?"

"That'd be nice, thanks, sir," she replied.

"Sa-am!" he whined playfully. "I'm not your CO any more. Call me by my name. Jack." He took on the tone of a parent to a very young child. "Can you say that? I know you can."

She snickered at his foolishness – he really was an ass at times! – and stroked his cheek, enjoying the evening stubble. "I can do that … Jack," she said in a deliberately breathy tone, pleased when his eyes dilated so that they were nearly black.

For the last couple days, after he'd officially relinquished command of SG-1, he and Sam had fallen into a flirtation that had Daniel rolling his eyes, Janet blushing and Ferretti snickering. At some point, they'd crossed over the line of innocent flirting and some of their conversations were so sexually charged, Sam was beginning to need a cigarette after each one.

The man leaned further over the booth so that his warm breath hit her ear. "Well done … Major," he purred.

Damn, he smelled great! She fought the urge to kiss that smirk off his handsome face, determined that he was not going to win this game. "Beer, Jack?" she reminded him, leaning up to nuzzle into that lovely tanned neck. She felt him swallow hard – hah; gotcha General Wise-ass! – and gave him a smirk of her own.

"Uh … guys?" Daniel said plaintively.

Daniel …, Sam whined internally. She was having fun here!

"O'Neill, Major Carter," Teal'c said, "I believe the Tauri expression Daniel Jackson seeks is 'get a room'."

Sam snickered and sat back down. "Sorry, guys," she said.

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Several hours later:

Jack pushed his hands into his pockets, making subtle adjustments to the too-tight jeans as he went to the bar to get another round. He didn't know what had happened to the usually straight-laced USAF Major over the last few days, but he was kinda enjoying it.

There were definite advantages to resigning from SG-1. True; he would miss the action but there was no denying that he was getting older. At forty eight, he wouldn't be able to keep up with the younger officers for much longer, and he despised the idea of flying a desk. But the idea of helping to set up the colony on P2Z 724 – building something permanent, helping humanity take their first steps out into the stars – appealed very much to him.

Despite – or perhaps because of – everything he'd seen and done, Jack O'Neill believed strongly in home, hearth and family. He'd had it once, and it had been good – the greatest in fact. And he wanted to have it again. Perhaps with a certain blonde Major who spouted incomprehensible techno-babble, loved blue Jell-O and whose smile sent his heart bouncing around like a pinball.

"Hey, sugah," Marie, his favorite barmaid, drawled in her thick Southern accent, smiling at him. "What can I get you?"

"Two Guinness, a Budweiser and an orange, please," he said, a little uncomfortable with the endearment. For cryin' out loud, she was in grad school – practically jailbait! God, O'Neill; don't be such an egomaniac! She's just flirting for a better tip!

Feeling better for that little pep talk, he accepted the tray of drinks, then handed over the money, plus a healthy tip. "Keep the change," he said.

Marie shook her head. "No tippin', darlin'," she said. "We're not that kind of place."

Jack blinked. "Ah. Sorry," he said. "Then … uh … why call me sugar?"

The buxom young woman chuckled and leaned over to take Jack's chin in her hand. "Because you're a hot silver wolf with a really nice ass," she said. She brushed a soft kiss over his lips. "And because the blonde you're with wants you, but doesn't seem to know how to go about it. Nothing spurs a girl on like some competition."

"Ah," was all Jack could say. Sam wanted him? Why, for God's sake? She was years younger than him, with a brain the size of Manhattan, and she was gorgeous as well! What on Earth could she see in him? "Thanks, Marie," he said and made his way back to the table.

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Several hours later:

Sam watched as Jack and Daniel hugged briefly, then as Teal'c gripped Jack's forearm. "Tek matté, O'Neill," he said. "It has been an honor to serve with you."

"Back atcha, big guy," Jack said. "Don't be a stranger, any of you; you hear me?"

"We hear you, Jack," Daniel offered. "It's sure going to be quiet around the SGC." His blue eyes twinkled. "Bet Janet will be glad to get rid of you – one less whining bird Colonel taking up bed space in her Infirmary."

"Janet?" Jack shot back, wearing a giant smirk. "Is there something between you and the tiny Queen of Giant Needles?"

Daniel blushed. "I … don't know," he mumbled. "She's nice, but … Sha're …".

It hadn't been very long since Sha're had died – and it was evident that Daniel was still grieving for her. Sam put a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. Daniel's hand came up to cover hers and he smiled slightly. "Thanks, Sam," he said.

Jack sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. "God; sorry, Daniel," he said.

"It's okay," Daniel replied.

"Cool," Jack said. He then turned to Sam and opened his arms. "Get your ass over here, Sam!" he ordered.

That was one order Sam was happy to obey. Jack O'Neill was a great hugger – strong powerful arms that wrapped around you, head ducking into your neck. Made her feel safe, but not weak.

She felt his arms come around her and sighed, willing her lips not to quiver. "I'll miss you," she admitted. Seeing that young buxom waitress kiss the General had shored up Sam's courage. If Jack didn't kiss her, then she was going to kiss him! Then she sucked in a sharp breath when Jack's lips brushed her neck. Nice, surprisingly soft, lips.

"Hey, it's okay," Jack said. "724's only a walk away. Besides, I'm sure I'll need my favorite genius to stop by every now and then and pull my ass out of the fire!" he teased. "And can't forget Felger – he'll be jonesing pretty badly without you around."

Sam snickered. His ass was so worth saving! Not that she would have the courage to say that to him, much as she would have liked to see his reaction. "Thanks, Jack," she said, feeling better. "I'll be sure to stop by – wouldn't want Felger to feel deprived, after all."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, his voice suddenly sounding husky. He put a gentle finger under her chin, then tilted it up.

Those soft lips covered hers, in what was quite possibly the sweetest kiss she'd ever received. Not that her experience was that extensive. She sighed and slid her hands round his neck to toy with the short silver hair there, then opened her lips to the gentle but insistent probing of his tongue.

Damn, the man knows how to kiss, she thought hazily as his tongue stroked lazily against hers, coaxing it to tangle with his own. He tasted of beer and steak and something indefinable that she thought of as simply Jack.

His arms tightened around her body, one hand sliding downward to rest on her waist as the kiss became less sweet and more passionate. Tongues thrust, parried and fought for dominance and their mouths burned against each other. Sam moaned helplessly when his warm hands slid down to cup her rear – she lifted her leg and wrapped it around one of his, bringing his powerful frame into full contact with her own.

Hard muscled thighs pressed against her softer ones, and she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her soft flesh. She moaned again and rubbed wantonly against that hard bulge, and Jack responded with a low groan that rumbled up from that very nice chest.

"Hellewwwww!" Daniel shone a tiny pocket flashlight in their faces and they backed off from each other reluctantly. "This is a respectable neighborhood, guys!" he teased.

Sam closed her eyes then ran her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting the man and reveling in the feel of his firm body against hers. Oh yes; one dead archeologist slash linguist. Shot by one crazed blonde Major.