Takes place between "Heroes Part 2" and during "Inauguration".

A quick a thank you to my awesome reviewers. I hope the sneak peak of this chapter tided you over while I wrote the rest of it. I had such positive response last chapter; You guys obviously liked the action and suspense. This one is quite tame in comparison before we jump into another two parter: Lost City 1 and 2. I hope you still enjoy though. As always, your feedback is invaluable to me.


"I miss this. Sometimes I forget there's all this outside the mountain. This is the reason why we're in there in the first place."

Sam adjusted the large white and blue striped blanket that was wrapped around them to ward off the chill of the ocean breeze. The air tasted of brine and she imagined she could see the salt misting in the air as the waves broke on the shore. The two of them cut a lonely figure in the empty stretch of beach.

She sat between his folded up knees, her mostly naked back plastered against his bare, firmly muscled chest. This was the closest they'd had to full blown intimacy. This was as close to naked he'd ever seen her. The scraps of material she called a bikini didn't leave much to the imagination.

"There's the trees off-world," he pointed out. "You see that all the time. Don't forget that little tropical planet where the beaches go on forever."

"Hmm. Not the same. Not our trees. Not our shores."

She closed her eyes and sunk deeper into his embrace. Her hair was stiffening from the salty water drying on the unwashed strands. Jack's was in a similar state, the brown mess streaked with highlights from his time under the sun.

He nuzzled her exposed neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her salty skin. Emboldened by the flavour and warmth of it, her impassioned groans, his teeth and lips joined in, sucking the firm skin into his mouth.

Sam felt herself liquefy. Her thighs tensed together to relieve the ache between her legs. She pushed back against him, butting the hardness covered by boardshorts. It would be so easy. No one would know...

"I wish I was tasting something else right now. Something far wetter and saltier." He felt her nails bite into the skin of his left thigh. He chuckled by her ear, the deep warm sound making her dizzy with want.

"Stop seducing me."

She felt him smile against her skin.

"Do you really mean that?"

"You know I don't. I never want you to stop. I don't think you ever stopped since the day we met."

"That's because I've always wanted you," he told her sincerely. He kissed behind her ear.

She shivered from the brief contact.

"Me too," she said turning sideways to look at him. She caressed his smooth jaw, his face so youthful again.

He grinned at her. "You saying you only want me for my bodacious body?"

She laughed at his silliness. "Always, Colonel," she said winking at him.

"Well... duh. I mean look at me. Teal'c says I'm gorgeous."

Sam laughed even harder.


She gasped out loud, waking from the vivid dream. A memory of not so long ago.

The skin around her eyes felt crusty from dried tears. She'd fallen asleep crying, clutching his pillow, the one from his base quarters where she'd ended up after being released from the infirmary.

She thought of her dream. That day had been a good one. Full of laughter and friendship and most of all, love.

They'd frolicked in the water, Jack teaching them all how to surf. Even Daniel whose balance wasn't the greatest had gotten in the act. He'd nearly drowned. As usual Jonas took to it like he was born on a surfboard, annoying the struggling Daniel to no end. Teal'c had chosen to paddle out and just sit on his board far from shore.

"Major Carter?"

She turned to the open doorway and saw Jonas holding a tray of food.

He smiled cautiously at her. "Doctor Jackson sent me to check on you. Teal'c suggested I bring sustenance."

She nodded and motioned for him to enter. He walked in and set the tray on an otherwise empty desk with a solitary lamp that cast the only light in the room.

"I didn't realize you were back from Area 51," she said after a moment of silence. She went to inspect the tray from the commissary before putting the lid back on the plate.

"Don't like lemon chicken? I can get something else..." Jonas gestured over his shoulder.

"It's fine. I guess I'm just not that hungry."

"That's understandable," Jonas said, smiling slightly. "I don't think anyone's in the mood for anything at the moment... It's like we're all in mourning."

"No one's actually dead." Yet.

"Doctor Jackson suggested once you've gotten enough rest and… ate something, that you might want to sit with the Colonel. He's going to spell Cassandra. She hasn't moved since Doctor Fraiser came out of surgery."

Sam sighed and bit her lip in consternation. She'd been so selfish holing up here. Cassie was her responsibility too, but she'd felt so emotionally and physically drained that she'd left everything to Daniel, trusting that he'd do the right thing for all of them.

It was unfair of her. Daniel was suffering too. He needed her support as much as she needed his. Both of their normal pillars of strength were fighting for their lives. It was Janet they all turned to when someone on the team was injured, it never occurred to them who they would turn to when she was the one stricken. It never occurred that she would ever be in that position.

"Give me a few minutes to clean up."

"You should try to eat something," Jonas suggested gently.

She nodded. "I will. After I see the Colonel."

He sighed in resignation and picked up the untouched tray.


The lettuce definitely needed to go. It was wilted beyond saving. He was certain that fresh tomatoes didn't have dark spots on them. Or hair. The carrots were somewhat springy; he'd heard that if you could tie knot in a carrot that it was no longer fresh. They had to go too. Even Jonas set a limit to what he would consider eating past the sell by date.

Thinking laterally, he pulled out the entire vegetable drawer from the fridge and dumped the entire contents into a waiting garbage bag. He left the drawer by the sink with the honest intention to clean it later. He'd never hear the end of it if Sam found out that he didn't at least give it a rinse.

The milk seemed okay. It was unopened, one of those organic ones in a box that lasted over six weeks. Jack bought those specifically for when they weren't sure when they would be coming back from a mission. Nothing like dry Fruit Loops in the morning to get Jack in a foul mood all day.

Meat was fine because Sam always had the forethought to move the meats from the fridge into the freezer before they left for missions or had overnighters on base. With Anubis systematically taking over Goa'uld territories, these overnighters had become more frequent. With Jack laid up and the whole base on tenterhooks with regards to Janet's condition he wasn't holding much hope of contributing to the fight. The best he could do was go through translations and research with Jonas and Nyan. If they somehow found something, anything that could lead them to an Ancient weapons cache or the Lost City then they might just have a chance in taking the fight to Anubis.

Daniel closed the fridge door, satisfied that nothing else was growing in there. The 'behemoth' as he'd tentatively started calling it after Jack had come home with the extra large family-sized fridge, was once more ready to accept hundreds of dollars worth of food. He'd joked at the time that Jack seemed to like everything big and he'd asked if his friend was compensating for something. Sam had doubled over in laughter and had managed to gasp out, "Definitely NOT!" How she knew that didn't bear contemplating.

He shut off the lights in the newly refurbished kitchen and went around the rest of the house to check that doors were locked. Unlike Jack, he wasn't keen on sleeping in an unsecured house. Jack, on the other hand, was confident that he was far more dangerous than anyone who was stupid enough to break into his home.

After cleaning his teeth, he collapsed onto the bed in the guest room - his room these days, he mentally corrected. The only reason he hadn't chosen to move into Jack's house permanently was that he was convinced, or at least really hoped, that Sam and Jack would find a way to be properly together and pump out those future O'Neills. He figured that when you were deeply in love with someone, it came with the territory.

It was such a relief being able to think of the future again. For those few hours and then days, it was all a blank. Nothing outside of the present existed because the future was too scary to contemplate and the past was still too raw to think about.

When Jack had opened his eyes and started to fight the breathing tube down his throat, the vice around their hearts had loosened. Doctor Brightman had been so impressed by the rate of his recovery that she'd started spouting out a list of tests she could run. The classic O'Neill glare levelled at her was confirmation that Jack would be okay.

Sam was still refusing to leave the mountain, even to go home to Jack's place. It seemed that she was past caring what people thought and was determined to spend every moment with Jack during his recovery. She'd made one trip off base, and that was with Cassie to the Academy hospital where Janet had been transferred for specialist care.

The only reason Janet was still around was that Cassie refused to pull the plug. The doc rarely went to combat situations and had never updated her living will. It became invalid after her divorce, and Cassie became her next of kin.

Her prognosis wasn't promising. She'd suffered grave injuries from the staff blast and trauma to her head from hitting the metal and concrete when she'd been ejected by the wormhole. While they'd manage to stabilize the staff wound, the swelling to her brain posed more complications. Doctors were not sure if she would ever wake up. The ventilator did her breathing, tests showed that there was minimal brain activity. If she ever did come out of the coma, she would not be the same Janet Fraiser that had gone to that planet.

They'd all accepted Cassie's decision and promised to support her in whatever way they could. Daniel, Jonas and Teal'c took turns watching the young woman. When one was at the hospital, another was with Sam and Jack, keeping up appearances. The last thing Hammond needed to deal with was a court martial. It was his turn tonight to go home and have time to himself.

It was a temporary arrangement that would alter once Jack was recovered and they were back on the missions rota. Hammond couldn't afford to keep them off any longer than necessary. Difficult decisions would have to be made with regards to Janet, a decision that ultimately fell on Cassie as her next of kin.


The rhythmic beeps of the ECG and the asthmatic wheeze of the ventilator were her only companions in the otherwise lifeless room. Janet's daughter sat curled up on a black leather easy chair in loose grey yoga bottoms and an Air Force blue hoodie. Her feet were encased in fluffy purple Uggs, dark blonde hair in a messy top knot, eyes rimmed with the red of exhaustion and bouts of crying.

Cassie stared morosely at the up and down motion of her mother's chest, the machine beside her bed responsible for the motion. She knew this was not what Janet would have wanted; to be kept alive artificially by machines with no hope of ever waking up.

Yet something inside Cassie completely rejected the idea of turning off the respirator and allowing her mother to naturally fade away. Something told her not to give up hope yet, that miracles had happened in the past, usually at the hands of some alien ally or technology procured from the gate.

If she pulled the plug now and one day, one week or one month from now a sarcophagus came into their possession, or the Asgard suddenly showed up or even the Tok'ra with a spare symbiote, then she would never ever forgive herself.

She knew that everyone, including Sam thought she was going against what Janet wanted. They accepted her decision and continued to support her, but she knew they were only doing so because they thought she couldn't handle losing another parent. She didn't dare tell them her real fears and why she still had hope.

It would only burden them, put undue pressure on them to contact their - of late, absent - allies. She feared they would put their lives at risk in order to obtain the necessary technology to help her mother. That was something she and Janet would never want even if it meant dying. Both of them believed in saving lives, a path she was now even more determined to follow. Putting people at risk for a sliver of hope did not fit in that system of belief.

It had been Jonas's turn to check on her that afternoon. He'd brought her some food from a diner he and SG-1 frequented and sat with her while she ate and asked for the Nth time whether she wanted to go home and get some rest. He offered to stay with Janet until she got back the next day.

She'd refused, of course. Jonas had a life as did the rest of SG-1, or at least what constituted as a life when you were in SG-1's circle. That life mostly involved work under a top secret mountain and off-world, balanced with the occasional BBQs at Jack's.

This was something she'd decided on and it was a burden she would have to bear alone. No one else should have to be put out because she was holding out hope for something that might never happen.

For a few hours at least she'd been able to smile and talk to someone who actually responded. She found that she actually liked Jonas - it was very hard not to - and that they had a few things in common. Nirti was one such, along with the far more obvious not being from Earth.

Perhaps it was the smaller age gap, but she found it easier to talk to him as an equal rather than as a parental figure like the rest of SG-1. He was quickly becoming a good friend and she was starting to look forward to his visits.

The soft whoosh of the automatic sliding doors broke through her thoughts and she looked up to see a tall, slender man standing at the threshold of the room, clutching his Air Force regulation flight cap.

"I'm sorry, Miss Fraiser, I didn't realize you would still be here. The nurses said to go right in."

The wall facing the hallway was made entirely of glass, with vertical blinds for privacy. They were drawn closed in the evenings and so the Major could be forgiven for thinking no one was around.

Cassie straightened and moved the wisps of hair that fell over her eyes. "It's alright, Major. I guess they're taking it for granted that I'd be here. The guys usually just come in anyway."

He half smiled and came further into the room. "I didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself back at the SGC." He approached her and held out his hand. "Paul Davis."

She got up from her seat and shook his hand. Her cool hand felt wonderful in his warm, dry ones. She hadn't realized how cold she'd been feeling just sitting there unmoving. It was like she'd been unconsciously mimicking her mother's stillness.

It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she realized that she was still holding his hand and staring into his green eyes. She gave him an embarrassed smile breaking away from his nervous gaze and let his hand go.

He stepped back and motioned to her mother. "Any change?"

She sighed and sat back down. "No."

"I wanted to stop by and see her," he said inclining his head at Janet, "Before I went back to Washington. I'm not sure when I'll be in these parts next, so..."

She watched him fidget with his cap. He was looking down on the floor as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Major-"

"This is my fault."

They both said at the same time.

Her mouth hung open, her next words frozen in her throat.

His intense gaze didn't waver from the floor. "I was covering the gate. It was my job to make sure that the med team got through... I, uh, saw the Jaffa. I saw him aim and I was -" he swallowed before continuing. "I was a fraction of a second too late downing him. He fired before I could. The blast was aimed at me. It should've hit me. Instead -" He shook his head unable to continue. He finally looked up at her, his eyes wet, fighting hard to reign back his emotions. "I'm sorry," he told her softly.

She had no idea what to say. The thing that came out was, "Oh."

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, she was sure he was itching to run. She wasn't exactly making this easy on him. Part of her wanted to let him take the blame. It would be easy to channel all her frustration and anger at the situation on someone present instead of some faceless dead Jaffa who was just doing his god's bidding. It would be personal that way. She could swear at him and hit him and call him all sorts of names.

Instead she found herself saying, "Do you want to get some coffee with me?"

He looked at her, startled. "Coffee?" he asked as if the concept was entirely foreign.

"Yeah. Coffee. If I'm going to absolve you of guilt, you need to at least buy me a cup and a danish or two."

His expression lightened and then he laughed. "I think I can do that. Although -" he paused. "I didn't actually expect forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I regret what happened. Your mother didn't deserve this."

"Neither did Airman Wells or Jack. Nor did the countless people the Goa'uld have killed, including my entire planet," she told him, her voice deep with emotions.

He looked at her with compassion at the mention of her people.

"I know that it wasn't your fault," she assured him. "You couldn't have stopped what happened. Jack is the best out there and he still got caught out. Even the best run out of luck sometimes."

A look of gratitude appeared on his face. He understood that she was better equipped more than most to deal with hurt and death in the hands of the Goa'uld.

"So, do I still get that coffee?" she asked him lightly.

He grinned and she saw that he looked much younger when he wasn't playing the role of an overly serious Air Force Major. "Yeah. You get that coffee."


"Why'd you have to go and do that, huh? Saving my dumb ass like that." Dave Dixon took over Sam's seat at the infirmary after Dave promised her that he'd stay with Jack until she got back.

"Four reasons," Jack rasped out. His throat was still raw from being intubated.

"Yeah. Okay. Well the little boogers are gonna know Uncle Jack, you got that? They're gonna know their old man's here to hassle 'em because of you. Lainie'll probably insist on baking cake. So, yeah."

"Looking forward to the cake," Jack grinned.

"Yeah, cake or worse... The fifth one'll be called Jack even if she's a girl."

Jack raised his eyebrows at that "Fifth? As in..."

Dave grimaced. "We may have gotten careless the other night. After I told her about Wells she started crying. Then I told her what you did - annnnd she freaked out. Nothing like the thought of losing her husband to get a woman going, apparently."

"Ah!" Jack screwed his face in discomfort at the thought. "TMI," he said after a moment.

Dave shook his head grinning. "Man, you really need to get laid. I think all of SG-1 does. Maybe not Teal'c. The guy's pretty mellow these days."

"Her name's Ishta," Jack informed him. At Dave's confused look, he clarified. "The source of the mellow."

"Thus confirming my statement," Dave said, leaning back on his seat.

"What statement is that, sir?" Sam was back in a fresh uniform and cup of steaming coffee.

"That for me, Carter?" Jack jutted his chin at the cup she was holding.

"Not if Doctor Brightman has anything to do with it. I hear she rewards good behaviour with early release."

"Unlike the Napoleonic Power Monger..." Jack trailed off realizing what he'd been about to say. Both Sam and Dave averted their gazes, unwilling to touch that festering wound.

After an uncomfortable silence, Dave got up and bid farewell to both of them. He was taking some much needed time with his family while Wells was recovering in the infirmary.

Sam took back her seat and blew on her piping hot beverage.

"That smells so good," Jack croaked out in envy.

Sam smiled in apology. "Sorry. I don't want to get caught doing something naughty. I want to get you home as soon as possible."

"So you can do something naughty to me?" he wiggled his brows at her.

She put her coffee down on the side table atop an abandoned cryptic crossword puzzle and scooted closer to him. "I seriously thought that was it," she whispered to him, very aware that the walls had ears. She bit her lip to keep her treacherous tears at bay. "When you were lying there. Then I could barely feel a pulse..." She stared at him with watery eyes. "You should be dead. If it weren't for the insert and your unique physiology-"

"Hey," he said stopping her. "I'm here. The O'Neill luck held out. It'll continue to hold out-"

She shook her head. "I don't know if I can keep doing this with you."

His heart sunk, his throat suddenly feeling like it was closing up. "What are you saying?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't want to do this anymore. This pretending. I want the real thing, Jack," she told him firmly. "When we leave here, I want us to finally decide where this is going."

"Carter," he said, relief flooding through his veins. "That was so not what I thought you were going to say. "

She grinned at him. "You don't mind then?"

He shook his head, then grimaced. "I admit, the talking thing is so not my... thing. But we can't keep kicking the can down the road."

She looked at him askance. "A cliché?"

"I've been known to mangle a few in my time," he smirked.

Sam pulled back to a more appropriate distance, hyper-aware that tongues were wagging at their recent behavior. While her crying fit from the gateroom to the infirmary could be explained away as a crash of emotions after a trying battle, her constant presence at her CO's bedside instead of Janet's was more difficult to overlook. She reached for her neglected brew and grimaced at the now tepid liquid.

"I'm so desperate for that right now, I'd drink it cold," Jack told her, his eyes staring longingly at the styrofoam cup.

"You promise to get better soon and our first stop before home will be that little coffee shop a couple of blocks away from Daniel's." Jack always performed at his best with the right incentives.

"Pinky promise?" He held out his small finger.

"How about we kiss on it instead?" Sam quickly glanced around the room before leaning forward and touching her lips to his. She lingered for a moment before pulling away.

She laughed at the frozen look of surprise on his face. He certainly didn't see that coming!


Richard Woolsey turned away and pressed his back on the cold concrete wall of the SGC infirmary hallway. He closed his eyes briefly, his lips pressed tightly together in a grimace of disapproval.

Twenty-four hours before, this indecision would not have been an issue. If Kinsey had not effectively threatened the office of the POTUS he wouldn't have thought twice about handing the Vice President compelling evidence to start an investigation on personal misconduct of the members of SG-1.

It was somewhat of an irony then that if Kinsey had not made those threats in the first place, there would be no reason for him to see General Hammond, come down to the infirmary to check on Doctor Fraiser's condition and inadvertently bear witness to the blatant breach of protocol between Carter and O'Neill. Something that the VP would dearly love to use to indict the SGC.

Like he'd told Hammond, his original opinion had not altered. He still believed that the SGC needed oversight and it was misconduct like this that it was designed to root out and discipline.

Yet in light of recent events, his personal view had changed somewhat. Things were no longer black and white. He could not in good conscience hand the VP the leverage he needed to gain control of the SGC when the man in question had shown such callous disregard for the office in which he was suppose to serve.

While Kinsey had no compunction at destroying the lives of these highly decorated officers, Richard Woolsey's personal morals gave him pause. It warred with his need for impartiality, to completely deliver pertinent facts and evidence to those he served. He really did consider himself a man of integrity and as such he would need to think carefully about what he'd seen, if he should report it and who he would report it to.

Once more, he patted the disk tucked inside his suit jacket just over his heart. It was crucial evidence that President Hayes needed to see. He just hoped that the man they elected as their leader was far more honorable than his running mate.


What will Woolsey do? What SHOULD he do? Ah, those pesky moral hazards...