Author's Note: Busy busy busy RL! Just to let you know, this story is unlikely to see another update for at least three and a half weeks—I finally have a job, my prom night is in two days, I'm going out twice to celebrate the end of school life, on Monday I have a college induction day, and the day after that I go on holiday to Majorca for 17 days! It doesn't leave me a lot of writing time! Sorry! But thank you for your kind reviews over the first three chapters. And thanks, Albi, for pointing out my silly spelling mistake:)

Chapter 4 – Desired Impossibility

It was the following morning in the commissary when Daniel found the General picking out a routinely breakfast of oatmeal, again. Ever since the whole weird incident with the timeloop four years ago, he'd noticed that Jack had been loathe to even consider eating fruit loops for breakfast, and today the choice seemed to be limitedly varied between the two cereals… oatmeal and, well, fruit loops. And Jack didn't appear very happy about that, judging by the way he stood with his arms folded giving the commissary lady the glare of death. With a slight shake of his head, Daniel grabbed a tray and came to stand beside him to save the poor woman from further assault.

"I just don't get it!" he was whining without noticing Daniel. "You had more than enough waffles yesterday – and now you don't have any? What's wrong with you people?"

She blushed, probably due to the embarrassment of being questioned by the General in front of other SGC personnel, and stammered, "I'm terribly sorry, General O'Neill. If you'd like to speak to the manager—"

"No need," sighed Jack, reluctantly staring down at his cereal and picking up his tray. He flicked his spoon unenthusiastically. "I guess I'll have to make do with oatmeal… again."

"I apologise, General."

"Hey, don't worry about it."

"Ignore him," said Daniel casually, taking a bowl of fruit loops. "He hasn't had his morning coffee yet."

The woman stared at him apprehensively before scurrying quickly away, and Jack looked at Daniel with a prolonged scowl darkening his sharp, lined face.

"Well, hey, Daniel," he chirped. "Good mornin'. How's it goin'?"

"Good, just good." They walked over to a spare table and sat down. "How about you?"

"Oh, y''know, peachy." Jack dug his spoon into his cereal and it emerged with a large sticky lump of oatmeal stuck to the back of it. He suddenly spotted Daniel's breakfast and his scowl deepened at his friend's treachery. "In fact, my only worry is that I'm going to have to review the commissary standards before next week, lest I suffer another bowl of unbearable fruit loops again."

Stopping chewing, Daniel stared at Jack. "You're eating oatmeal," he reminded him blandly.

"I know, but it's simply that I hate looking at them," complained the General, gesturing to the other man's bowl with his spoon.

"Well, it is Tuesday, so they'll restock today. Then for the rest of the week you'll be able to eat your waffles to your heart's content…"

Jack grinned boyishly, licking his spoon like a greedy kid, and remarked, "I always wondered why Carter was so tetchy on a Tuesday…" He shrugged as Daniel looked at him both curiously and suspiciously. "No blue jello," he pointed out.

"Oh!" Daniel realised belatedly. "Yeah, she has a thing for that, doesn't she?"

"You've only just noticed?" asked Jack incredulously. "I don't think I've ever seen her have anything else for dessert! Ever."

"Well, apart from when we had Urgo stuck in our heads," smiled Daniel. "We all seemed to enjoy pecan and treacle pie, then."

"Urgo. Don't remind me," came the dry reply. "Funny thing is, I don't even like pecan and treacle pie."

With a brief cough Daniel took a sip of fresh orange and placed it back down on the table, slowly and deliberately. Jack watched his friend's movement with a wary expression, and Daniel knew Jack was aware he was about to bring up a tentative topic. Nevertheless, he plunged ahead; he felt it was way beyond the time for Sam and Jack to receive some forwarding prods of encouragement.

"Speaking of Sam…"

"Here we go," mumbled Jack. "The big lecture on how I'm not nice enough to her."

Rolling his eyes, Daniel queried, "How did it go?"

"Daniel," accused Jack, an edge of warning to his voice, "you make it sound like it was the event of the year."

"Or the event of eight years," muttered Daniel, fixing his friend with a knowing look. He sighed at the combination of denial and admittance in Jack's eyes, watching the two wrestle between what was right and what was wanted, and for once in his life Daniel thought that in their situation, it was best to do what they wanted, rather than to follow rules that were sensible but so incredibly baneful.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," said Daniel as he scooped up his loops. "So, did you two talk at all?"

"No, we sat in silence for half an hour."

"Wh—what?"

"Sarcasm, Daniel," drawled Jack. "It's my middle name."

"So it is," agreed the archaeologist gravely. "But seeing that it's you and Sam, that comment actually sounded fairly plausible."

"Hey!" said Jack heatedly. "It's not as though it's always awkward between us. We're friends, colleagues – we get along s'well."

Again, Daniel rolled his eyes, deciding not to mention that it was all the more reason for them to be together. Instead he opted for: "So are you going to tell me if she's all right, Jack, or are just going to keep avoiding my question?"

"The latter, probably," replied Jack indifferently. But when he glanced at Daniel and noticed his friend's annoyance, his face lost its scowl and he sighed; he'd also begun to pick at his food instead of eating it to keep his eyes cast low. "She's okay, Daniel. She just needs a little time to come to terms with it."

"With Jacob?"

"Yeah. But I think it's more than—" Suddenly he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes darted back up to meet Daniel's placid blue gaze. He jabbed his spoon towards him, which was smeared in lumpy, creamy oatmeal. "Why didn't you tell me she'd split up with Pete?"

"Ah…" Daniel shrugged and smirked slightly. "Thought you'd pick up that small token yesterday." Ignoring Jack's glare – a worse death-glare than he'd given the commissary lady – he explained, "Number one, it's none of my business who she wants to tell and who she doesn't…"

"Don't give me that crap, Daniel."

"Number two, I thought it'd be best for Sam to tell you so you two can start being honest with each other."

"She obviously thought you'd tell me," Jack mumbled. "She thought I knew."

"Really? Then I'm glad to see you discussed your relationship potential yesterday."

Jack reddened furiously and hastily glanced around them to check no-one was listening in. "Daniel," he hissed, "will you keep your voice down?" When he'd calmed a little he added quietly, "It wasn't like that at all, and the last thing we need is you of all people spreading rumours around the base. Sam's under enough pressure already as it is without having to deal with meaningless gossip that's actually a load of crap."

His words left a ringing tenseness in the short space between them. For a good few minutes after that they sat in silence. Daniel munched on his cereal loudly and carefully watched Jack stir the cloggy, porridge-like substance around his bowl again and again. He coughed.

"So… it's 'Sam' now, is it?" Daniel's tone was nonchalant.

"Carter, whatever," muttered Jack indifferently, refusing to acknowledge his tiny slip-up with a grimace, and Daniel stifled an amused smile. He opened his mouth to say something teasing before Jack sighed heavily, illustrating that he wasn't as immune to the unfairness of regulations as he let on to be. Okay, maybe he'd better drop it now before he really regretted his words. But as Daniel tried to think up a new topic, Jack was speaking again, his gaze focused on the bottom of his cereal bowl.

"I know you think you know what it was about yesterday, but it wasn't anything to do with the fact that there… might be – that Carter and I could be together now that Pete's out of the picture. She was upset, we were talking about her." The General stabbed at his oatmeal sullenly. "And nothing's changed anyway, even if she has split up with Pete."

"Hasn't it?" said Daniel gently, and Jack smiled with disdain.

"Regulations," was the brief – and bitter – explanation.

"Oh." For a moment Daniel watched the varying emotions play across his friend's face. Resentment, regret, doubt. Fear, maybe? He took a deep breath and said quietly, "Do you want my opinion?"

"I don't know. But I think you're about to give it anyway."

Too right, he was. "I can't make the decision for you, Jack, but I think it's time to forget the regulations."

In a sharp, instant movement, Jack's eyes had snapped back to his as if Daniel had wrenched out a gun and was prepared to shoot him.

"Think about it," implored Daniel heavily. "Do you really want to lose her again? What if she meets someone else, like Pete, but goes all the way next time?" Hoping to break his friend's desperate stare, he added softly, "You can't afford to keep waiting for the day you'll be free of the Air Force, Jack. Neither of you can. That could take years."

"So, you're telling me she and I should have a secret affair?" said Jack very slowly.

"No, no I'm not."

Jack dropped his spoon with a clatter and rubbed his temple.

"I just think you should consider it. You, nor Sam, is getting any younger."

"Thanks for the reminder, Daniel," said Jack, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Daniel pushed his bowl away, and suggested lightly, "You could just start by admitting your feelings to each other. At least then she'd be aware."

"Oh, I think the whole Za'tarc incident pretty much covered that, don't you?"

"Suit yourself, Jack," Daniel sighed. Having lost his appetite for fruit loops, he stood up and regarded his friend with a sympathetic expression. "Just remember that, whether it's convenient or not, some things are meant to be."

By afternoon it was raining lightly. Sam sat by the window in her living room, waiting for her commanding officer to arrive so they could drive to Cassie's house and visit her. Ever since Janet had died, the foreign girl, now eighteen years of age, had been alternating between Sam's home and the home of Janet's friends who worked in the infirmary at the SGC. The arrangement had been convenient because either way Cassie felt comfortable wherever she stayed and the people she lived with knew the truth about her origins. Usually, she stayed at Sam's, and Sam would have been happy to accommodate her all the time if it hadn't been for her regular off world missions. But Cassie had been seventeen when Janet had fallen, still at high school. At the time, she'd also been distraught about her foster mother's death, and because of this, Sam had been reluctant to leave her alone for even short periods of time.

Now, however, over a year had passed since the departure of Janet and she felt Cassie had matured significantly in this time. Lately she'd been a little upset, but Sam had a feeling it was because they hadn't seen as much of one another recently. It was her fault. When she'd started a relationship with Pete he'd become another priority. During this time she hadn't neglected Cassie, but after the initial shock of losing Janet in which they'd become closer than ever, she'd certainly given her more space. It was something she regretted deeply.

But hopefully, she was about to make up for it now. As the year had progressed it had become evident that the younger woman was frustrated with having to constantly shift from home to home whenever one of Sam's missions sprang up. So, Sam was about to propose to Michael and Yvonne, Janet's close friends, that they begun a new arrangement in which Cassie would live in her house for four weeks and then visit the couple for a week or two afterwards, on a set rota. Sam got on with them brilliantly, but as of now she didn't know how they would react to her proposal. They'd grown to be very fond of Cassie. But hopefully they'd understand now that Sam needed to take up the further responsibility that Janet had wished for before she'd been killed.

Sighing, Sam glanced at the clock, noticing that Jack was forty minutes late. The man didn't hold an obvious record for tardiness, but she supposed something at the base was holding him up. She was also a little nervous due to the unusual display of behaviour he'd shown her in her lab earlier that day.

"Hey, Carter."

Shaking her head, Sam dropped the wires she'd been working with and swirled around on her stool. There was no way she could concentrate with General O'Neill in the room – she might as well give up right away. As he stood in the doorway he occupied a small smile, one that showed on his lips and in his dark eyes, although when she smiled at him he shifted uncomfortably and he nervously bit his lip.

"Hi, sir," Sam greeted. "I was just about to come find you in the commissary – I thought you'd be in there at this time."

"I just was," he smiled, pulling his hands out of his pockets and stepping forward.

"Oh."

"I got here a bit earlier this morning… for a change."

She nodded, wondering why he looked so awkward.

"What'cha workin' on?" he asked then, making conversation. The hands delved back into their fatigue pockets.

"Something and nothing." God, this reminded her of their old Colonel-Major days when he'd always come and harass her in her lab; something that had decreased in frequency, lately. Who was she kidding? It had decreased since that painful conversation four months ago when she'd shown him her engagement ring, and when his face had turned fixedly stony. Pushing thoughts of Pete far aside, she launched into science-talk – a place that was safe ground for both of them.

"Felger's developing a new weapon," she began, and after those few initial words she found herself rambling on, until she realised he really didn't want to hear this now. He was here about this afternoon, wasn't he?

Abruptly, she trailed off. "Never mind," she said.

Jack looked up, puzzled. "Huh?"

"Doesn't matter. I got carried away, as usual."

"S'okay, Carter." No smile, this time. What was wrong with him? This really wasn't normal, for Jack to be so serious and uncomfortable. Distracted.

"Sir, is everything okay?" she asked gently. "It's just, you seem a little… distracted. And not in the way that tells me you're bored with my Science-talk."

"Uh, no, no, everything's fine, I just…" He sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I'm just tired."

She smiled sympathetically.

"Thoughts of work keeping you up, huh?"

With a frown and a vague smile, Jack shook his head. "Not thoughts of work, exactly, but it's along those lines, yeah."

It wasn't too obvious to her why but Sam suddenly felt a flush of embarrassment, and lowered her eyes as a brief silence ensued.

"So, still up for visiting Cassie?" he asked more brightly.

"Sure," she agreed. "What time?"

He thought about it for a second, then said, "How about I pick you up at four? Or is that too early?"

"No, four sounds fine."

"Good," he responded with another smile. "Anyway, it looks like you're busy, and to be honest, I could do with getting on with some work myself." He touched her shoulder briefly, a feather-light contact that was gone before she'd even registered it was there. "I'll see you later."

"You too, sir. Bye."

The doorbell rang. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. The long, drawn out buzz immediately identified the newly-arrived person as Jack, and she smiled absently and placed her empty coffee mug down on the mantel piece. He always held his finger on for as long as inhumanly possible.

"Hey," he said cheerfully as she swung open the door, and grinned at her.

"Hi," she greeted, returning the expression, stepping outside to lock up the door behind herself. "Thought you'd gotten lost for a minute back there."

"Yeah, about that…" His face darkened and he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Carter, I…"

"Whether or not it's work, it doesn't matter," she assured him, as they started making their way down the concrete driveway.

"Work," he told her, visibly relaxing, "but even so, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Smiling his thanks, he opened the truck door and held it ajar for her, and she quickly got in.

A moment or two later they were heading down the roads towards Cassie's second home, talking lightly about work as Jack drove. Apparently SG-8 had encountered their second alien threat in a month and were, once again, only half-assembled due to two of their number lying in the infirmary, severely injured. Jack had had to file the mission report instantly to save a Pentagon investigation. Sam noticed that he looked a bit tired, but he definitely seemed more relaxed than he'd been in the morning.

"D'you ever regret becoming a General now?" she asked lightly, after politely declining his offer of sweets. "I mean, you seem to get so much hassle."

He seemed to consider her question with some thoughts as he chewed his sweet. "I don't regret it as such, Carter. One thing I've learnt in life is never to dwell on the past, so there isn't really anything to regret. It's pretty stressful from time to time, like when you've got all these officers under your command and they come back injured… but in the evening I just go home, crack open a beer and relax." He looked sideways at her thoughtfully. "But there are pros, too… it's kinda nice to be referred to as 'General' when that rank reminds you of people you've looked up to your whole life. Another pro is that you finally have your own command."

She couldn't help but smile. "You know I could never replace your role on SG-1, sir."

"Carter, you're doing a damn fine job, just like you've always done," he boosted firmly, and glanced at her perceptively. There was a comfortable pause. With a significantly softened voice, he remarked, "You seem better today, Sam – more relaxed about things."

She looked away, smiling sadly, the pain of her bitter emotions regarding her father's death rising afresh. "I think I have you to thank for that," she admitted quietly. "You have a way of cheering me up, somehow."

He nodded and focused his gaze on the road ahead. "I phoned Mark earlier," he informed her. "He can make it on Thursday. The kids, too."

She regarded him warily. "What did he say?"

"Nothing much," confessed Jack. "He just said thanks for letting him know and for the address. Then he asked about you."

"He, uh – I didn't tell him about splitting up with Pete, but I think he'll know by now. He won't have been pleased."

"Right," agreed Jack, indicating left. "They're friends, right?"

"Yeah." Sam didn't miss the crease that stretched across Jack's brow.

"Well, there's nothing much you can do, Carter," he said seriously. "It's not up to your brother who you want to have a relationship with, is it?"

"I guess not," she admitted with a frown of her own, and sighed. "Thanks for phoning him, sir – it's a huge help, believe me."

Jack shook his head as he reached for a second sweet. "Carter! If I hear another 'thank you' come out of your mouth this week, I'll turn nuts. I've told you already… it's not a problem."

She nodded, smiling weakly. For the remainder of the journey she leaned against the car door and watched as they drove past gardens dotted with tall, draping trees lining the fences, which to her whizzed by as fast as the last eventful eight years at the SGC had done. She found it unbelievable that she'd been attracted to Jack for such a long stretch of time and she still hadn't properly told him. She'd tried, not without huge difficulty, but bad luck had always generated a sufficient interruption at crucial points in their conversations; and they'd never talked in more than quiet hints and tiny suggestions because of it.

Jack was silent, too. She wished just for a private second that she could reach over and squeeze his hand to earn herself the smallest of Jack O'Neill smiles. But she didn't… of course she didn't. They could only stretch that boundary when the other was in need, like yesterday. And even then they weren't supposed to be involved so closely. Their situation resembled incorrect resistive force. All the time their desires were pushing forward, straining to reach their peak; but the constant weight withstanding them made things difficult and frustrating. Impossible, even.

Or was it impossible?

For the fiftieth time since he'd visited her in her quarters the previous day, she imagined she was again revelling in the memory of the warm hand tracing the features of her face; soothing her, comforting her. Telling her that he cared. Showing he cared. She'd wanted to kiss him so badly: kiss him gently to convey similar feelings and allow him to touch her forever. Just one of those soft caresses could make the risk worth the livening take, even when it left her imagining further sensations induced from a touch continued – a touch that was elemental, rawer and deliciously intimate.

"Carter, you with me?"

"Wh—what?" she stammered, flushing, and whipped back around to face the sole object of her desire. Confusion wavered in the General's eyes at her sudden unease, and Sam ignored the heat hissing the disallowed confession in her cheeks and tried again. "I'm sorry, sir. I must have been miles away."

A pause ensued, in which his confused look was slowly replaced by a secretive twinkle of amusement. "Don't worry, Carter," he assured her dryly, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards by a small, invisible force. "I'm sure your thoughts were far more satisfying than whatever I had to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked boldly, folding her arms and wondering if she could blush any more brightly than she currently was doing. The silent communication and the messages they could read from one another were useful in the midst of a battlefield, but in situations like this, the skill happened to be a fatal flaw of character.

"Oh, nothing," Jack replied then with an air of innocence, and grinned to himself in that boyish, cocky manner of his. With a sigh, Sam uncrossed her arms.

"What were you saying?" she asked seriously.

"I thought we could take Cassie out for a bite to eat?" suggested Jack, and shrugged casually. "That is, if she wants to."

She winced at his offer. "Uh – actually…"

"Actually…?" he asked suspiciously, scowling playfully. "Don't worry, Carter, I won't take you anywhere poisonous."

"Oh, no! I don't mean that!" she corrected quickly. "It's a great idea, sir, but, uh… I have a few things to discuss with Michael and Yvonne."

"Ah! Parental responsibilities, right?"

"That's right," she smiled. "Although, seeing as though you offered, sir, it would be better if she was out for a while so we had the opportunity to talk…"

"Hey!" Jack smirked as he pulled up outside Michael and Yvonne's house on their road, and said, "You're presuming she's in. How'd you know she's not out tonight?"

"I called her yesterday."

"Oh." He looked indignant at Sam's amusement of his failure to see the obvious. "What? When I was Cass's age I spent my time lapping up all the attention from the girls. It makes sense for her to do the same… with the guys, of course," he added hastily, switching off the engine.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "All the attention?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Really. Bet you were a right cocky teenager," Sam remarked wryly.

"Oh, come on, Carter," grinned Jack. "You can hardly deny my highly irresistible good looks, even for an old guy."

"I—" Oh God, why was she blushing again?

But Jack's grin merely broadened, and without another word he pushed open the truck door and jumped out. After shaking her head disbelievingly she followed.

"Sam!" Cassie exclaimed as she opened the door. A huge, genuine smile lit up her face and the two women quickly shared a welcoming hug.

"Hey, sweetie," said Sam, pulling back as Cassie noticed her other visitor standing behind her first.

"Jack! Oh my God, hi! I haven't seen you for—"

"Ages," Jack grinned, stepping forward. "Yeah, I know." He looked surprised as Cassie happily moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, too, and Sam smiled as she watched him react by enveloping her in a big, smouldering bear hug.

"I thought you were too old for this!" he told her honestly, holding her tightly. "What if someone sees you? Your boyfriend's not around, is he?"

Grinning, Cassie tugged away from him. "Jack, do you really think I'm that much of an average teenager?" she said as she led he and Sam inside.

Jack spared a glance at Sam and replied, "Actually, from all the stories Sam's told me, yes, I do."

Sam barely noticed Cassie roll her eyes – and told herself to get a grip as she realised her heart was beating more quickly because Jack had referred to her by her first name. Pulling herself away from any thought of him, she turned to Janet's adopted daughter as she took them into the kitchen.

"How are you, Cass? We didn't really have a chance to talk last night, did we?"

Cassie brushed the enquiry aside with a brief "I'm fine", before scurrying upstairs to find Michael and Yvonne. Jack smiled at Sam.

"So," he said, "what's on the discussion agenda?"

"I wanted to ask them whether Cassie can live with me permanently," she informed him quietly. "Or, at least, more often than she does now."

"Ouch," muttered Jack, screwing up his face.

She smiled tightly. "Yeah, I know. But I think she'd be more settled this way – well, depending on what she wants."

"You want me to tell her?"

"It's up to you, sir, really. She'll find out anyway, so…" Ceasing her talk, she turned round at the sound of footsteps and grinned in greeting. "Hi, Michael."

"Sam! It's great to see you again." The rounded, smiling man moved forward and shook her hand, then turned to Jack who was stood by the table rather awkwardly. "General O'Neill. Good to see you too, sir."

Jack grinned. "Michael," he acknowledged, nodding.

"Yvonne's out at the moment, but I take it you came to see Cass?"

"Yeah. General O'Neill was wondering if he could take her out for a bite to eat," announced Sam as Cassie emerged again, looking at Jack.

"If you're not doing anything," Jack put in quickly, hands in pockets and shrugging. He smiled at Cassie invitingly.

"That'd be great, Jack!" exclaimed Cassie. "It'll give us a chance to catch up!"

Sam smiled. "You two go ahead, then. I need to talk to Michael for a bit."

"Give me two minutes," Cassie insisted apologetically, before disappearing to her room, and she returned a moment later with her hair brushed, a denim jacket slung around her shoulders and casual shoes on her feet. "Where we going?"

"Oh, nowhere special." He stood up straighter and started to move out of the kitchen. "Thought I'd let you decide," he smiled, and lightly touched Sam's elbow as he passed her. "See you in a little while, Sam," he said quietly.

"See you later, then," Michael beamed.

"Don't get her into any trouble, sir," Sam reminded him sternly, and he merely waved a hand in dismissal.

Cassie called her goodbyes and then the pair had closed the front door behind them.

"So," Jack said to Cassie as soon as they were outside, "you like steak?"