Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. Probably never will.

Cold.

His eyes were cold, hard. Not like they used to be.

She'd done that. Put that look in his eyes. Now she shivered every time he met her gaze.

It was a growing distance.

One Sam was relatively certain she'd never be able to bridge.

Like New York to Bangkok without the benefit of a ship or plane. Not even a dingy.

He used to be her friend.

No. Not friend.

Family. He and the rest of her team, they were family.

But how could you lose family like that. In the blink of an eye. At the conclusion of one decision they didn't like.

It made her sad that she'd lost him.

And angry.

How could he do that? Just turn off his feelings. Pretend they didn't exist. She knew he wasn't like that.

Not really. Not inside.

She'd worked with the man for going on eight years; she knew how he could be. Knew that he felt deeply.

But as she delivered her preliminary report on the upcoming mission to P5X 448, she couldn't help but wonder if anything was happening behind the blank mask he wore.

It was a mask. Wasn't it?

She concluded her verbal report on autopilot, repeating the written words on the sheet that lay spread out on the desk before her CO almost verbatim.

He nodded solemnly.

Everything was solemn lately.

Where was the sometimes juvenile humor that had so often haunted her when she grew too serious? The comfort they'd each felt in the other's presence before they'd both been promoted? She saw hints of it occasionally when he didn't know she could hear. When he spoke to Teal'c or Daniel.

Sam felt isolated and alone.

Adrift. Abandoned. Orphaned.

What had happened to them? What happened to the great SG-1? The SGC's best field team? What were they now? She was their leader and they were definitely not the same. Without him.

It wasn't that she doubted her ability to command. She was comfortable with that. She'd always been good at leadership. That wasn't the issue.

There was simply something missing.

For a fleeting moment, Sam wondered if the whole sorry situation was her fault somehow.

Maybe.

The man before her scanned the written report quickly before nodding to her in dismissal. He was so focused. Not on her. When he looked at her, she could practically feel his eyes latching onto the door directly behind her.

She was transparent to him now.

He'd never made her feel that way before.

Anger flared again. She acknowledged him, good soldier that she was, and headed for the door. Sam didn't deserve this kind of treatment. She'd done nothing wrong.

He had no right to hold it against her. To be angry. Distance himself. Whatever it was that he was doing.

The office door swung shut as she left, slamming closed with more force then she'd intended. The sudden noise made her jump. Her fingers tightened reflexively against the file folder she held and Sam glanced down at it. The harsh fluorescent hallway lights caught the bright stone on her finger and flashed, making her blink rapidly as the reflection hit her eyes.

It distracted her, reminded her in a Noah-esque flood of all the things she still had to do before the wedding. It was overwhelming. She didn't want to think about the huge number of things that were still to be done. The stress she would still have to deal with.

In truth, Sam had hardly even begun. A few bridal magazines lay piled among various astrophysics and mathematics books. She glanced at them quickly as she finished the trek back to her lab and went inside.

The folder landed on the desk and Sam collapsed wearily in a rolling chair.

Something about the magazines depressed her, made her think of cold brown eyes and lost friendship.

Lost chances.

Maybe if things had been different she'd be planning a wedding with someone else.

But this was her life.

She no longer had time to play "what if." And she'd always known Pete wouldn't wait forever.

It made her mad, furious really, that she was expected to choose.

Get married, have a life, a family, or wait for a dream that might never come. At this point, she wasn't even sure there was anything to wait for. She wasn't sure it really hadn't been a dream.

Sam knew that Jack O'Neill still cared for her. How much, she refused to consider. She was well-practiced at denying emotions she didn't want to face. Couldn't face.

There was always the job to consider. And their friendship. The Goa'uld. The effect her feelings could have on the entire rest of her team.

For a long time, she'd been content to wait.

But now, now it seemed as though the war would never end, they'd never have the chance they'd both been waiting for. And time had just run out.

It was the right thing to do.

Sam sighed and closed her eyes.

It had to be.

Maybe after the wedding things would get better.

More like they used to be. Before the promotions and the weddings and Pete.

Maybe they could all go back to the way they were before.

Or maybe they could just move on with their lives. Be happy.

Maybe.

But Sam had never been an optimist and "maybe" was just as dangerous a game as "what if."

(feedback is greatly, GREATLY appreciated)