A/N: I can see I've thoroughly confused some of you. I know, I know… how the heck did he end up in Iraq? Patience, my friends. There is an explanation for all this, I promise. (If you really, really need a hint, then refer to the end of chapter 13, and recall that Iraq is located exactly where Ancient Mesopotamia used to be.)

As for this chapter, I did a LOT of research in trying to get the details right. As always, if I've goofed any of the official military stuff, please let me know. I had to use Navy guidelines in some instances, because I couldn't find Air Force documents online. (By the end of this, I ought to be a wiz at military protocol!)

And, much as I hate to admit it, this story, which I've delighted in writing, is rapidly drawing to a close. A few more chapters and it'll be finished. I'm open to suggestions for my next project… ? Can't really see me writing a sequel to this one, since the whole Sam/Jack dynamic is really what inspires me, and I plan on resolving it before this concludes. (One way or another… evil grin) However, I must have at least nine thousand other plot hooks floating around in my head, if no one minds going back to square one and reading a whole other set of possible romantic/angst-ridden encounters between everyone's favorite General and Lieutenant Colonel. In any event, I'd love to hear your suggestions.

With that in mind, let's get back to the story!

Chapter 25

Brilliant sunshine streamed through early autumn trees, making soft dappled patterns on the thick, green grass. The warm Virginia day could not have been more beautiful. A gentle breeze stirred the hair on the back of Sam's neck, causing the soft fragrance of her shampoo to drift out into the fresh air.

Sam, however, felt none of it.

Nine days after Jack's death, Sam stood rigidly in a maternity dress uniform, watching General Hammond approach her. The neatly folded flag in his hand represented the years of military service that Jack had faithfully executed. Though the rest of the day had passed in a blur, this final, time-honored tradition seemed to register in her mind with absolute clarity.

The military funeral at Arlington National Cemetery had been a profoundly moving experience. Though Jack's remains consisted of nothing more than a tiny pile of dust and ashes, they had nonetheless been neatly swept into a small mahogany box and handled with the same reverence as a full casket. The horse-drawn caisson carried the box and the folded flag to the burial site, preceded by the US Air Force band and troop escort. Due to Jack's rank and service record, his remains had been escorted by the "Old Guard," or 3rd US Infantry division, which was the oldest active-duty infantry unit in the Army and the official honor guard for the President. Sam's heart had swelled with anguished pride at the sight of those fine men escorting her beloved Jack to his final resting place. The firing party and color guard had also marched in strict cadence ahead of Jack's ashes, each step echoing hollowly in Sam's broken heart.

At the burial site, Sam and Sarah had been escorted by the US Air Force Chief of Staff, General Roger Farrier. In all full-honor Air Force burials at Arlington, there was someone to represent the Chief of Staff, but, for obvious reasons, he was not generally present himself. Sam had been both awed and humbled when she'd been informed of General Farrier's intention to be part of Jack's funeral.

Once she and Sarah had been escorted to their positions in front of the other mourners, four uniformed SGC airmen had taken position at the gravesite. Sam insisted on standing, in order to present salutes with the other servicemen, while Sarah chose to sit numbly in a hard, wooden chair. Teal'c and Daniel were also seated in the first row, at Sam's request. Since there was no coffin to bear, only two men were required to carry the box of ashes and flag. In a haze, she'd watched as the box had been set at the grave. The flag had then been unfolded and held taught over the small box, as was dictated by tradition and protocol.

Though the chaplain's prayers were meant to provide mourners with comfort, Sam wasn't certain she'd heard any of them. Over and over, she'd kept thinking, This can't be happening. But it was happening. General Hammond had brought the firing detail to attention, and, by sheer reflex, she'd snapped a hand salute with all the other uniformed men at the grave. The order was given to fire, resulting in three sharp reports that had seemed to pierce Sam's very soul.

When the bugler took his position and sounded "Taps," it had taken every fiber of military training and willpower in her body to keep from sobbing aloud. She had been unable to keep silent tears from streaming down her face, and she'd been dimly aware of Sarah weeping softly from the chair beside her. With a few, final words of prayer, the chaplain had offered the benediction that committed Jack's remains to the same earth he'd given his life protecting. Then, as if in slow motion, the airmen standing over Jack's ashes began refolding the flag with all the sharp precision that distinguished a military funeral. General Hammond had stepped forward, accepted the flag, and turned to Sam.

And now, here she stood, facing the general with a mix of pride, honor, and gut-wrenching anguish. She could see tears in the eyes of her commanding officer as he gently placed the triangular bundle in her hands and said, "On behalf of the President of the United States, the Department of the Air Force, and a grateful nation, we offer this flag for the faithful and dedicated service of Brigadier General Jonathan J. O'Neill." He then took one, precise step backward and snapped a perfect salute. Clutching the flag to her chest as though her life depended on it, Sam returned the salute as precisely as she could with her vision clouded by unshed tears.

And then it was over.

Dimly, Sam responded appropriately to all those who expressed their condolences to her. She felt the sympathy and pity swell in their gazes when they examined her huge, rounded abdomen. Feeling as though the world was breaking in half, she woodenly allowed Daniel to lead her to an awaiting limousine.

As she climbed into the car, Sam placed a hand on her belly. Seconds later, Sarah slid onto the seat beside her. The elegantly-dressed woman wordlessly reached over and placed her hand atop Sam's. When their eyes met, Sam was finally overcome by the sobs she'd been restraining all morning. Without hesitation, Sarah leaned over and embraced her while she wept.

Once Daniel and Teal'c were seated, the sleek, black car slowly pulled out of the cemetery. Sam's pitiful sobs echoed the grief that they all felt.

"I've never been one to notice irony, but this one even bothers me." Jack muttered under his breath, frustration clearly echoing in his voice. "We're in one of the most oil-rich countries on Earth, and yet it still took two weeks to get a single damn tank of gas."

Kahlil glanced over to his traveling companion, trying to repress a smile. The beat-up jeep, which was his prized possession, was just wheeling into the outskirts of Basra. Though he had made fairly good time on the two-day journey from his village, his American passenger had bristled with the impatience during the entire drive. "We arrive at Army very soon," he said soothingly.

Jack, who had apparently forgotten he was not alone in the vehicle, glanced over at his escort and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kahlil. I know you got me here as fast as possible." In his impatience to return home, Jack had even forgone his previously-scheduled trip to the "stone circle" where Hassan had found him. He figured he could send a team by to examine it once he was safe-and-sound in the US. If there really was some sort of stargate out in the marshes of the Euphrates delta, it was unlikely to be discovered in the week or two it would take to secure it. Besides which, there was little Jack could do about anything in his current situation.

Kahlil seemed to accept Jack's apology readily. "S'okay, Mister Jack. I know you want to get home for wife and two baby."

Jack smiled in spite of his frustration. During the weeks he'd spent amongst the tribesmen, he'd tried repeatedly - and unsuccessfully – to have them stop calling him "Mister Jack." He'd finally given up on the drive into Basra, figuring that there was little point in correcting the man now.

Just as Jack was returning to his irritated musings, Kahlil pointed out the window of the jeep, drawing his attention. "There it is, Mister Jack. I take you to army."

It was a sight that instantly soothed all his frustrations. A heavily barricaded and fortified set of tents and buildings stuck out prominently from the rest of the city. Men in US Marine uniforms stood fiercely in front of the entrance to the compound, examining the world around them with a wary attention to detail that identified them as active soldiers. But perhaps the most comforting sight of all was the unmistakable symbol of freedom and liberty which flew overhead. Old Glory seemed to call out to Jack and invite him to return home. "God bless America," he murmured, for once completely removing all sarcasm from his voice.

Kahlil heard the comment and nodded sagely. "You very happy to go home, Mister Jack." It was a statement, not a question.

As the middle-aged buffalo-herder steered the jeep toward the compound, Jack felt his heart constrict with anticipation. He could almost smell the fresh scent of Sam's shampoo and feel the warm softness of her body snuggled up against him. Kahlil pulled into a vacant lot far enough from the marines to avoid looking threatening. When the jeep finally stopped, Jack leaned over and grasped his hand. "I can't thank you enough, Kahlil. You and Hassan saved my life."

The dark-skinned man merely shook his head. "No, Mister Jack. Allah save your life. Hassan and I simply serve Allah."

Shaking his head at the man's humble nature, Jack found himself thinking that he might actually miss the soft-spoken tribesman and his fellow villagers. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Kahlil, if I come back and decide to have a look at that stone circle, is there any way I might get in touch with you or Hassan? You'd make great guides."

Kahlil pondered Jacks words, and then nodded. "I come to Basra every month for trade. I have friend named Oshara who work at dye factory. He find me for you, Mister Jack."

Jack made a mental note. Oshara. Dye factory. Basra. Once the information was secure in his brain, he smiled one last time at Kahlil. "Thanks again, friend."

The tribesman returned his smile as he restarted the jeep. "Send me picture of two baby!" he called out, steering the vehicle back onto the road. With a last wave in Jack's direction, Kahlil drove into the city.

Taking a deep breath, Jack strode purposefully toward the compound. When he was close enough to be observed by the marines stationed out front, he carefully made a show of removing his P-90 and placing it on the ground. "I'm an American!" he shouted, hoping the men understood him.

Apparently, they had, because moments later, a lean, muscular young man with gleaming, Ebony skin approached him rapidly, followed by two of his comrades. The first marine immediately kicked Jack's rifle out of his reach, where one of the other men picked it up and examined it carefully. With one quick look of appraisal, the leader caught sight of the Air Force patch on Jack's BDUs. "What's your business here?" he asked, looking calm but suspicious.

Jack tried smiling reassuringly. "I'm Brigadier General Jack O'Neill of the United States Air Force, and I've had a bit of a mishap. Through circumstances that I can't explain without seeing proper military clearances, I wound up in the backwaters of this godforsaken country. A local villager was kind enough to drive me here, but I'm looking to get home in a bad way. You have no idea how glad I am to finally see some fellow Americans. It's been a long three weeks."

The three men exchanged nervous and surprised glances. It was not everyday that commissioned generals dropped into their small, dusty outpost. Furthermore, if a general was to drop in, he'd certainly be expected to travel with a distinguished military escort, not a rural tribesman in a battered jeep. Still, these men were sterling examples of military protocol. The three saluted in unison, and the leader nodded toward the complex. "If you'll follow me, sir, I'll take you to my CO."

Jack sighed in relief. Finally, he was on his way home.

It was all Jack could do to keep from screaming in frustration. The CO of this outpost, Lieutenant Colonel Stan Raker, was clearly a stickler for the rules. Jack could appreciate the need for that sort of thing here in the hostile Middle East. Still, all the irritation he'd felt trying to get to this compound paled in comparison to the mountain of annoyance he was currently experiencing.

The colonel, a fit middle-aged man with closely-cropped brown hair, tried unsuccessfully to calm Jack. "Sir, I'm sure you're anxious to return home, but I can't allow you to do anything, until I figure out exactly who you are."

Jack felt like throttling the man. "Colonel, we've been over this a few dozen times. I told you who I am!"

Raker sighed loudly. "And I've got someone checking out your credentials as we speak. Surely, General, you can't expect to walk in here without any form of identification other than a USAF patch and think you'll be cheerfully obeyed without question! You can't even tell me how you got here, because I supposedly don't have the right military clearance. I'm afraid you could be anyone, sir. And I need to ensure the security of this base first and foremost."

Jack clenched his teeth until his jaw cracked, in an effort to hold his temper. "I understand that, Colonel. But I'm not asking for access to your weapons locker, just a telephone."

The colonel shook his head. "How could I be sure you wouldn't send encoded messages to a terror cell? For all I know, you're taking stock of this facility in order to identify its weaknesses for an attack."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" Jack exclaimed loudly. "I'm not a terrorist! I just want to tell my very pregnant fiancé that I'm fine, and she can stop worrying about me. I don't even have to speak to her. I'll happily give you the phone number and you can tell her for me!" Seeing the marine's face remain stern and unmoved, Jack exhaled harshly.

Just then, a young private entered the room and handed Colonel Raker a piece of paper. The colonel took a long look at the piece of paper and blinked in surprise.

The sheet, which Jack could not see, was a printout of a military personnel summary.

United States Air Force Officer Information Sheet
Name: O'Neill, Jonathan J.
Rank: Brigadier General
Status: Deceased

Taking a deep breath, Colonel Raker shook his head. "I'm afraid, General, that I'm going to have to contact my superior officer on this one."

With a burst of unrestrained fury, Jack slammed his fist on the table, making everyone else in the room jump nervously. "Listen here, Colonel. You're damned right that you're going to get your butt on that phone and talk to a high-ranking officer. But you're not going to waste my time or yours by talking to someone who isn't going to know me from Adam. Just to make this simple for you, I've got a whole list of people who you can call instead.

"Major General George Hammond is my commanding officer, and he'll certainly be willing to vouch for me. Or, if you don't want to talk to an Air Force man, Marine Corps Commandant General Martin Falterman will know who I am. He's not fond of me, but I'm sure I made enough of an impression to stick in his memory. If that's not good enough, then try General Francis Maynard. You know who he is, right? I'm sure that the word of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs should carry some weight around here!" Jack stood from his chair and loomed over the Lieutenant Colonel, yelling loudly as he continued. "But if none of that works for you, then go ahead and pick up your red phone and dial the President himself!" Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you want to do this your way, Colonel, be my guest, but be prepared for the wrath of some very important people. I've just spent three very long weeks recovering from a near-death experience while being surrounded by water buffalo and salt marshes. I've already missed my wedding, which royally pisses me off. And, let me assure you, if I also end up missing the birth of my twins because of a goody-two-shoes Lieutenant Colonel with a stick up his ass, I will not be happy about it!"

Swallowing nervously, Colonel Raker turned to the young private who'd just handed him the sheet and said, "Please get General George Hammond on the phone for me, and find General O'Neill a comfortable place to wait until I'm finished."

General Hammond walked out of his old office at the SGC, looking like he'd just been poleaxed. He'd temporarily resumed command of the SGC until a qualified replacement for Jack could be found, and he'd spent the last few days catching up with the day-to-day business of the facility. Things had been fairly unremarkable since he'd returned.

Until now.

Taking a deep breath, he strode purposefully down the corridors of the SGC until he reached the section of the base which housed personal staff quarters. It was after midnight, and he'd been just about ready to retire to his own on-base accommodations, when the phone on his desk had rung. The results of the ensuing conversation now had him thoroughly flabbergasted.

Hammond approached one of the doors and firmly knocked. A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing an ever-sober and unruffled Teal'c. Seeing the General standing in the doorway, the large Jaffa quirked an eyebrow. "Can I help you, General Hammond?""

Hammond nodded. "I hate to drag you off on short notice, but I'm afraid we're going on a trip. We'll leave just as soon as you can be ready."

If Teal'c was startled by this proclamation, he did not show it. He did however, bow his head somberly. "General, I do not wish to sound uncooperative, but Colonel Carter has been told by her doctors to expect labor to begin at any moment. I would very much like to be here when her twins are born. Is this something that you absolutely require my assistance on?"

Again, Hammond nodded at the Jaffa. "Trust me on this, son. You'll want to come along. I won't elaborate on the details, but if the phone call I just received has any basis in fact, you'll be very glad I dragged you along with me."

Teal'c must have seen the uncharacteristic dazed expression on the general's face, because he quickly nodded. "I will pack some clothing immediately. Should I call Samantha and Doctor Jackson to inform them of my plans?"

Hammond inhaled slowly, holding the breath for a moment before releasing it in a whoosh. "I don't think that would be a good idea. They'd want to know what was going on, and I'm not willing to discuss it until I have more facts. If this turns out to be what I'm hoping for, then a few more days won't matter. And if my information is wrong, then I won't have raised anyone's hopes needlessly."

Teal'c accepted this explanation without comment, and quickly set out to ready himself for a journey.

Sam sat on the couch in Daniel's tastefully-decorated living room. The days since Jack's funeral had passed in a sad, somber blur. Sarah visited her frequently, and Daniel often tried to cheer her by bringing home baby clothes and accessories, but Sam was afraid most of it didn't help much. There were just too many depressing reminders of her loss to shake them off completely.

The only bright spot in her life was her pregnancy. Two days ago, she'd gone to the doctor with Sarah for a routine checkup. Now that her pregnancy was nearing an end, these regular visits with her obstetrician were taking place weekly. The doctor had noted with a smile that, though she was not having regular contractions, Sam had begun to dilate slightly. She'd been told to go home, stay off her feet, and get ready for the arrival of her twins.

This morning, she was planning on leafing through catalogs in search of a sturdy double-stroller. Thanks to Daniel and Teal'c, all of her other baby necessities were taken care of. In an effort to distract her from her grief, the two men had conspired with Sarah to keep Sam in "baby mode" as much as possible. They could all see the depression recede when Sam focused on her twins, and so she'd been repeatedly dragged to every infant store in a fifty-mile radius.

There was a nursery set up in one of Daniel's spare bedrooms. Sam had joked that she was now occupying more space in his house than he was, but Daniel, naturally, insisted that he didn't care. Sam's guilt was eased by the fact that her friend was also less depressed when focused on the upcoming arrivals.

She'd tried calling Teal'c for his opinion on her stroller choices this morning, but had been unable to get in touch with him. She'd had him paged at the SGC, but he hadn't responded. She assumed, therefore, that he was probably out running errands, or, more likely, shopping for more baby items. Much to Sam's amusement, Teal'c had taken an extreme liking to the infants' departments of all the local department stores. He looked so very out of place amongst all the tiny outfits and pastel-colored blankets that even in her worst moods, Sam had to smile at the sight.

Daniel had decided to take time off from his work at the SGC until the babies arrived. He had been the most supportive friend a person could ask for. More than once, she'd recalled his earlier promise to fill in for Jack if she'd needed him to. Back then, the offer had been made to save Jack and Sam's careers. Now, however, it was clear that Daniel was willing to fulfill his promise, no matter what the circumstances were.

Today he was sitting in his den, reading old archeological journals. When the doorbell rang, he shouted from across the house for her to stay sitting. He'd been so overprotective of her, it made her smile. She might not have Jack to get her through these last, uncomfortable days of her pregnancy, but she couldn't complain about being left alone. The attention being showered on her was a balm to her shattered soul.

"Hi Sarah," she heard Daniel call out cheerfully. A few moments later, the lovely woman was striding into the living room with Daniel behind her.

"Hey, Sam. How are you and those babies feeling today?" Sarah took a spot beside Sam on the couch before reaching over to rub her belly.

Sam shrugged. "I'm okay. Got a bit of a backache, but otherwise, I feel fine. How's everything with you?"

The two women began engaging in idle chit-chat, each glad to pass the time with someone who expected nothing from them. Daniel joined in cheerfully, also glad for the diversion from a dull, unremarkable day. None of them looked forward to down-time these days. Unfilled hours had a tendency to become occupied with chronic sadness and gloom.

After a few minutes of chatting, Sarah's face slowly changed from a welcoming smile to a look of concern. "Sam, your belly is getting rock hard on a fairly regular basis." Glancing up at her friend, she started to appear alarmed. "When did that backache start?"

Exchanging a startled look with Daniel, she paused a moment before answering. "I guess about an hour ago. It's not severe, just nagging."

Sarah, however, did not seem to be appeased by Sam's words. "Sweetie, I think we'd better get you to the hospital. I'd say those two contractions I just felt were about ten minutes apart. You remember what the doctor said, right?"

Sam paled. "More than four contractions in an hour means I should go in and get checked out."

Sarah nodded. "I remember that the doctor told me to stay home until the contractions were five minutes apart, but with twins, I suppose they don't want to take any chances."

Daniel interrupted. "Ah, excuse me… Are you saying Sam's in labor?"

Looking as calm and elegant as she always did, Sarah smiled back at Daniel. "We won't know for sure until she's checked by a doctor, but I'd say it's a good possibility."

Impatiently tapping his foot on the tiled floor of the hospital hallway, Daniel waited for someone to pick up the phone.

"Sergeant Harriman." The voice on the other end of the line was crisp and businesslike.

"Hi Walter, it's Daniel. Is General Hammond there?"

Sergeant Harriman replied immediately. "No, Doctor. He and Teal'c headed out of here just after midnight last night. I have no idea what the rush was, but it must have been something important, because they headed out with barely a word to anyone."

Daniel digested this with astonishment. Teal'c had up and left in the middle of the night, even though he'd known Sam was likely to be giving birth at any moment? And he'd left with General Hammond? Daniel had no idea what was going on, but it had to be something big. "Are they off-world?" he asked, sounding baffled.

"No, Doctor. They actually took a flight someplace." Sergeant Harriman was apparently as puzzled as Daniel. "The General told me they'd be back by tomorrow evening."

Running a hand through his hair, Daniel sighed impatiently. "Well, I hope so. Sam's in early labor. The doctors have said that it's likely to take a while before the babies actually arrive, but they're keeping her here. Her obstetrician said she'd be seeing her twins sometime in the next 48 hours."

Sergeant Harriman's voice clearly held a smile. "That's great news! I'll be sure to let everyone know. Please tell Colonel Carter that we're all thinking of her."

"I'll do that, Walter." And, in the meantime, he'd keep his fingers crossed that Teal'c didn't take his time on his clandestine mission.

General Hammond stepped out of the sturdy military transport vehicle with Teal'c close behind him. The marines posted in front of the compound were too well-trained to gape, but they all were astonished by the appearance of a second Air Force general at their outpost in as many days.

One of the soldiers stepped forward and saluted sharply. "Sir! I've been instructed to take you to Colonel Raker immediately."

Hammond nodded. "Thank you, Son. This man," he said, gesturing to Teal'c, "is with me. He is not military, so you need not salute him, but he's essential to my mission here, so I'd appreciate it if you'd show him every courtesy."

The young man nodded briskly. "Yes, sir!" Then, gesturing to the buildings behind him, he started walking briskly toward the compound. "Right this way, sir."

Hammond followed the soldier, steeling himself for the approaching encounter. He hadn't told Teal'c what to expect, only that he wanted a member of SG-1 along with him on this excursion. Teal'c, unsurprisingly, had asked few questions, trusting the General's judgment implicitly.

They were led into a building and seated in what appeared to be a small conference room. The soldier who'd escorted them spoke respectfully to General Hammond. "Sir, I'll go find Colonel Raker for you."

Nodding, Hammond watched the soldier leave. Looking at Teal'c, he felt his heart pounding with nervous energy. He'd not wanted any kernel of hope to take root in his mind, but he knew he'd be vastly disappointed if this turned out to be some sort of mix-up.

When the door opened, Hammond stood and turned, expecting to meet the Marine Lieutenant Colonel he'd spoken to yesterday. Instead, he was faced with a vision he would have deemed impossible just twenty-four hours prior. Teal'c's sharp intake of breath reassured him that he was not seeing things.

"General! Teal'c! You have no idea how glad I am to - oof" Jack's words were cut off sharply when Teal'c's very powerful arms encased his friend in a giant bear-hug. After a moment, the Jaffa apparently realized he was smothering Jack, because he relaxed his grip enough to let the silver-haired man breathe. "Easy, there, T!" Pulling away slightly, Jack was astounded to see tears forming in the warrior's eyes. "Hey, what's the matter?" Then, glancing at General Hammond, he noticed for the first time how the older man looked totally overwhelmed and pale as a sheet. "Man," Jack remarked casually, "You two look like you just saw a ghost."

As Teal'c reluctantly released his comrade, he and Hammond exchanged startled looks. The balding general looked Jack in the eye and took a deep breath. "Funny you should put it that way," Hammond said faintly. "Fact is, son, we are looking at a ghost. After your accident on P3X-812, the evidence all pointed to one unbending conclusion. I don't know how to tell you this, but for the last three weeks…" Hammond trailed off, trying to find the right words.

Teal'c saw the general's hesitation and swiftly stepped in. "O'Neill." As always, he was simple and direct. "We are overwhelmed to see you my friend, because we had given up hope of ever doing so again." He took a deep breath and explained himself quickly. "We thought you were dead."

As Teal'c's words hung in the air, it was hard to say who looked most overwhelmed.