Jack's POV

Evening sunshine. An hour-long stroll to Doc Fraiser's house. Walkman with a recording of Puccini's Madame Butterfly. Heaven.

I slammed my door shut, wincing inwardly at the crashing noise in the quiet of the evening, then stuffed my hands in my pockets and made my way onto the street. I nodded at the few neighbors I passed, but they saw the earphones and didn't try to engage me in conversation.

Good. What the hell could I tell 'em about my day, anyway? 'Spent hours chatting it up with misty giant aliens who speak Mayan and hate the snake-heads as much I as do'? Nope. Not gonna happen.

I knew they were curious about me. I'd spend days … weeks, even … away from home, come home with weird injuries, or sunburn in the middle of winter. It had gotten worse since another full bird had moved into the area. He was about my age and was quite obviously a desk jockey, and he was curious as to why I was still on active duty. At least he could understand the word 'classified' … but it only gave the neighbors grist for their gossip mill.

And speaking of …

Ah, for cryin' out loud! The one neighbor I'd never been able to resist. Mid seventies, even smaller than the evil doc, Mrs. Chapman made an apple/cherry combo that could make grown men spill all their secrets … even Black Ops-trained men. And she didn't care about earphones. Would just tug on your arm till you stopped to chat.

So I took out the earphones — I would've had to anyway. "Evening, Mrs. Chapman," I said, giving her my most charming smile.

"Hello, young man," she beamed. Another reason I liked her so much. Pushing fifty and she called me 'young man'. "It's nice to see you out and about. Going somewhere?"

"Barbecue at a friend's," I told her.

She patted my arm. "Good," she replied. "You spend too much time alone." She looked sad and I recalled that she'd lost her husband only six months ago — just before she'd moved to the Springs. "You look very handsome in those pants, but your hair is a mess." She put her hands on her hips and tutted. "Does the Army truly allow your hair to be so … wild?"

"Air Force," I corrected her automatically. The Army wouldn't have allowed me to have my hair like it was — hell, I'd seen Hammond cocking an eye to it. Maybe I should get it cut while I had some free time. Tomorrow.

She blinked at me. "Pardon?"

"I'm in the Air Force, not the Army," I told her.

"Really." Amazing how drawn out a two-syllable word could be. "You work in a mountain base and run around pointing nasty black weapons at people. That sounds more like the Army to me … or the Marines."

I bristled automatically at the thought of being likened to a jarhead, then I caught the wicked grin on her face. "Mrs. Chapman; are you teasing me?"

"Of course." She patted my upper arm. "My husband was in the Air Force for a long time." She looked proud. "Both he and my son served in Vietnam." She patted my shoulder this time. "Why do you think I don't press you for details about your work? I know about classified."

Come to think of it, she was one of the few people who wasn't openly curious about what I did up at Cheyenne.

"Now, dear, I don't want to make you late, but I just happen to have had a baking session today. Would your friends like my pie as much as you do?"

I pouted a little at the idea of sharing pie — even with my best friends and family — then gave in with a sigh. "They're nuts if they don't," I told her. Even T liked pie — I'd learned that much during that whole Urgo thing.

Pies — plural — in bags, I hit Janet's doorbell with my elbow. "Sam; get that, will you?" I heard Janet call.

"Okay!" Carter replied. The door opened and … could a full bird Colonel gape? … Carter stood there. Dressed in a short denim skirt that showed off amazing legs and a sweeeeet pale blue tank top that gave an intriguing flash of bare stomach. What was with this woman and tank tops? "Colonel, hi," she said, opening the door fully.

"Hey, Carter," I offered casually, making my way past her. "Where shall I stow these?"

Nada.

"Carter?" I barked, turning to face her. I hefted the bags. "I brought food. Where shall I put it?"

She went pink and fixed her gaze on a neutral point just past my shoulder. "Sorry, sir," she said. "I'll show you to the kitchen."

"Thanks," I said, wondering how Janet had managed to pry her away from her lab. "So … finished those 'gate diagnostics yet?" I said by way of conversation.

She put her fingers to her lips. "Ix-nay on the ate-gay. Ivilians-cay."

Ah. Pig Latin. "Otcha-gay."

Sam's POV

As the Colonel walked past me, bearing bags full of something that smelled like heaven on Earth, I was distracted by … his very nice rear. I spent so much time with the Colonel in BDUs that I could usually forget how attractive he was. And there was that little thing about him being my CO.

Besides, I'd never been a slave to my hormones. Well … okay; except for that whole incident with the 'Touched' that we'd agreed never to discuss. So … just the once.

The Colonel usually wore very baggy clothes — things that would fit Teal'c better than him — but he'd chosen to dress in clothes that actually fit today. Black tee shirt, black jeans that weren't spray-painted on, but fit him rather nicely and black boots polished to a high sheen. The man looked like a walking sin … even with the insane hair.

I showed him into Janet's kitchen and he dumped the bags on the island counter. I began to unpack one of the bags, almost salivating at the cherry pie I unearthed. I'd put on several pounds during that whole Urgo thing, and I was determined to lose them within the week. So much for that idea. Cherry pie was my nemesis.

"You bake, sir?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. Broad shoulders, not huge, but strong. Good Lord; what was the matter with me? Maybe it was time for me to get a life, as the Colonel so nicely phrased it. "Nah," he replied. "One of my neighbors. I think she's on a mission to feed me every single kind of pie in the world." The corner of his mouth tipped up into a grin.

"Oh, you poor man," I replied sarcastically.

He gave a soft laugh and I started, realizing just how rarely I'd heard the man laugh. I often forgot that his mischievous irreverent nature covered a deep sorrow that he would never overcome. I couldn't begin to comprehend the nature of his loss, but no parent should ever have to outlive their child. "Yeah; it's a raw deal, but I'm big and strong. I can handle it," he joked. He patted his stomach. "I'd swear I've put on pounds since she moved in."

"It doesn't show, sir," I said, then wished I could have bitten out my tongue. For a man his age — somewhere between forty five and dead, I guessed — his stomach was nice and flat. He'd never managed to harness the elusive six pack, much to his chagrin, but he was in fine shape.

"It doesn't?" He gave me a mischievous grin. "Sweet." Then he looked at me. "Spend much time looking at my stomach, do ya, Carter?"

I blushed — again. I don't remember ever blushing before I joined SG-1; I'd always been pretty cool and self-contained, usually coming across like some ice-maiden super-feminist bitch. "You're standing right in front of me, patting your stomach and talking about it, sir," I pointed out. "Of course I was going to look."

He didn't lose the grin at my logic. "You once said my abdomen was a miracle." He stretched his arms high above his head and turned in a slow circle. "Still think so, Carter?"

At the time, I'd been referring to the fact that the sarcophagus had completely healed the Jaffa pouch Hathor had created. But it was a pretty nice abdomen. I willed the blush away, then raked his long form. "Yes, sir," I said firmly.

Janet's POV

I stuffed my feet into a pair of sandals and made my way down to the kitchen to help the Colonel unpack the goodies I could smell all the way up to my bedroom. I paused just outside the kitchen as I heard him and Sam talking.

"You once said my abdomen was a miracle," the Colonel was saying. "Still think so, Carter?"

"Yes, sir," Sam replied.

The Colonel and Sam had become pretty flirty lately, although never crossing the line. I'd noticed that they were sitting closer together than usual during that briefing before the crystal skull and smiling a lot.

The flirting was harmless — they spent long periods away from home, after all — and it was nice to see Sam relaxing. She worked very hard — too hard, most of the time — and tended to forget that she was a young beautiful woman.

I'd been worried about her during those three months the Colonel had been trapped on Edora. She'd seemed determined to work herself into brain fever and had admitted to missing him. She'd denied that it was a problem, and I'd dropped the subject.

I truly hadn't wanted to know if there was something more between them than comradeship. Janet the woman, the doctor, would have been pleased if these two lonely people had found each other, but Janet the Air Force officer would have had to report them.

I cleared my throat loudly and entered the kitchen fully. "Evening, Colonel," I said, dismayed at the soft fondness I saw in the deep brown eyes as he teased Sam. I'd suspected that Sam had feelings for the Colonel, but hadn't realized that he might share them. Why hadn't I seen this coming?