The mighty warrior Klorel surveyed the planet from his position at the peltak. It was prime for exploitation. Heavy deposits of naqadah and plenty of slave labor – his father would indeed be pleased. With a curt nod to his First Prime, he ordered the immediate deployment of his Jaffa troops to subjugate the planet's inhabitants.

With an ease born of much practice, he ignored the host's indignant railings at his actions. He'd never been able to fully subjugate her – much to his unwilling respect – but he'd learned to ignore her. And, truth be told, she amused him. Precious little in his existence amused him, and he therefore took his pleasure where he could.

Whilst the host raged impotently, Klorel strode off the peltak and to his bed chamber, summoning his lotar. Benar was a young man – had only lived twenty of his homeworld's rotations – but had served Klorel well for two years and his father for three years before that. He was loyal and trust-worthy; intelligent, but not overly so.

Benar appeared within seconds, dipping his head. "My Lord," he said.

"I have learned that the Tauri have asked to be included in the Protected Planets Treaty," Klorel said. "Cronus, Nirrti and Yu have gone there to negotiate with the Asgard."

"My Lord?" Benar sounded puzzled, as indeed he should, Klorel reflected. It was not common for a lotar to be taken into confidence about the inner workings of the System Lords.

"My father believes it to be a foolish notion – I agree with him," Klorel continued. He watched the young man carefully. "You are descended from the Tauri – what do you think?"

As if he's going to disagree with you!, the host commented scornfully. He values his life.

Benar considered carefully. "They have angered many of the System Lords in the last two years, My Lord," he said cautiously. "Perhaps they now finally realize that the Gods should be taken seriously."

Gods, my ass!

"Hmm, perhaps," Klorel said, waving a hand languidly. That had not occurred to him, and he was glad that he had asked Benar's opinion.

"But the Tauri are … wily," Benar continued. "And they do not share our belief in the supremacy of the System Lords." He frowned slightly, then took a deep breath. "I would not trust them, My Lord and … I do not believe you do, either. I am surprised that the System Lords agreed to this negotiation."

"You question the actions of the System Lords?" Klorel was angry at this. "I could kill you where you stand for such blasphemy!"

"Yes, My Lord," Benar said, dropping his head, then raising it. "But you asked for my opinion."

"And you gave it," Klorel said. "It is always good to know where one stands," he added softly. He aimed the ribbon device at the young human's head. "Unfortunately, you will not stand much longer." He concentrated and the power shot through the device into the lotar's head.

After several seconds, Benar fell to the ground, quite obviously dead. Klorel frowned and summoned two slaves. "Take that away," he said, kicking at the dead lotar.

Sam sat up in bed, the young lotar's surprised face burned into her memory. "God …". She shuddered and got out of the bed, knowing that sleep wouldn't come again that night.

It had now been over a month since the Triad – three weeks since her return to Earth – but things weren't getting any better. Her sleep was interrupted constantly by horrible memories and her appetite was non-existent. When the Colonel was around, she forced some food down but he couldn't be there 24-7.

And he and SG-1 were currently off world visiting a planet called Edora. They'd been gone nearly two weeks – a pretty long time for a standard reconnaissance mission. She suspected something else was going on, but she didn't have the clearance to find out.

She headed into the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet, looking thoughtfully at the bottle of sleeping pills Doctor Fraiser had prescribed. She really didn't want to start popping pills, but if she didn't get a decent night's sleep soon, she was going to lose it.

Fraiser had warned her that depression would be likely. Sam hadn't believed her. "That won't happen, Doctor; trust me on that," she'd responded skeptically.

Fraiser had been very patient. She explained that it was a matter of neuro-transmitters. The Goa'uld had produced a chemical that suppressed the production of serotonin in her body, while acting as a substitute. Now the Goa'uld was gone, and her serotonin levels would take time to get back to normal.

"She's right, Carter," the Colonel had said. He frowned. "After Jolinar died, I had to go on SSRI's for a coupla weeks, and she'd only been in me a few days. You've had that snake for nearly three years."

"I'll be fine," Sam had insisted stubbornly. She was overjoyed to get rid of the parasite that had stolen her life. She sure as hell wasn't going to mourn it!

With a quick decisive motion, she opened the bottle and dry-swallowed a tablet. It was so tiny, and she was so exhausted … She took another one, then quickly shoved the bottle back into the cabinet.

She headed back into the bedroom and stretched her hand out to the bookcase. It was filled with the Colonel's eclectic collection of books and journals. She'd been pleasantly surprised to find that he was something of a star lover. Whilst he didn't pretend to understand her field, he was quite good at astronomy and – much to her shame – knew far more about the constellations than she did. She saw the science; he saw the beauty.

She plucked out an old astronomy journal and began leafing through the pages with an occasional yawn. Huh; maybe these tablets were better than she thought!

She woke up much later, her head heavy but nightmare free. That was a fair trade to her mind. She looked at the clock and realized she'd actually slept for sixteen hours. "Gotta love those little pills," she mumbled to herself.

She got out of bed and padded into the shower, deciding she should celebrate her first good night's sleep by actually leaving the house. She didn't know Colorado Springs too well – had only lived there for a week before the first Stargate mission – so it was probably time she had a look around.

The shower cleared the residual fuzziness from her head and she wrapped a large towel around her body as she scrubbed at her hair with a towel. The telephone rang and she frowned, debating whether or not to let the answer machine pick it up. Yep; she would. She'd had four calls from tele-marketers just yesterday.

"Hi; you've reached Jack O'Neill's phone," the Colonel's recording said. "You know what to do." There was a pause. "And if you don't, then you're too dumb for me to call you back." Beep.

Sam snickered at that. Considering his own dumb act, the Colonel had no tolerance for stupidity. There was a silence on the other end that seemed … nonplused, then: "Colonel O'Neill; this is Debbie from MasterCard. We are pleased to offer you a $25,000 line of credit. If you wish to accept this offer, please contact us on 1-800-745-7239. Thank you."

"Fair day, Jack," Laira greeted him. "Walk with me."

Jack got out of the canoe he'd built. "You wouldn't like my company right now, Laira," he said. He grimaced. "Hell, even I don't like my company."

She held out her hand to his and drew him up onto the bank. "Walk with me, Jack," she said softly. "You miss them," she added, tucking her hand through his arm.

"Yeah," he said. "Guess I do."

He'd been stuck on this planet for nearly a month now and was about ready to pound on someone in his frustration. It was surprising how homesick he was. He missed Teal'c's sly humor that he tried to keep hidden, he missed Daniel's mile-a-second conversation. He missed Kawalsky's wry quips and he even missed Napoleon and her needles.

"Do you have anyone … special waiting for you?" Laira asked.

"Not anymore," Jack replied. "I was married, but we divorced a few years ago."

"Divorced …?" Laira repeated.

"Ah … the legal dissolution of a marriage," Jack said.

"Divorced …". Laira rolled the word around. "It sounds almost pleasant considering it describes an unpleasant process." She rested her curly head on his upper arm as they walked. "And there has been no-one since?"

"No …," he replied cautiously. He didn't count the 'thing' he'd had with Kynthia on Argos.

"After my husband died, I mourned him for one hundred days," Laira continued. "I wouldn't leave the house; wouldn't talk to anyone."

"And after the one hundred days?"

She gave him a dazzling smile. "I left the house. I talked to people." She put her hand to his cheek, then drew his mouth to hers for a brief sweet kiss. "You need to mourn," she told him. "It's the only way you can move on."

Jack was tired of thinking. He slid his hands gently into Laira's hair, then tilted her lips up to his. His tongue slipped softly into her mouth and was met by her own tongue – very warm, very soft, very sweet.

Sam flicked idly through the TV guide. Damn; 500 channels and nothing worth watching on any of them!

The Colonel had now been gone for over a month, but she'd gotten used to being alone. Since she'd started taking those marvelous little tablets, she'd had a good night's sleep every night. She palmed several of the tablets into her mouth, then washed them down with a sip of whisky, shuddering. She didn't even like whisky, but had found that it helped the tablets work better.

She shook the pill bottle, surprised when there was no rattle. She looked at the label, and was a little ashamed to find that she'd gone through the entire three-month prescription in only a third of the time. But, she reminded herself, she didn't just have nightmares – her visions while dreaming were entirely real. She just needed something to help her cope till her serotonin levels were back to normal, then she could stop taking these stupid things.

But … would Doctor Fraiser give her more pills? Not unless she could come up with a good cover story, she wouldn't. Sam hadn't known the petite Doctor very long, but knew that she had a finely tuned bullshit detector honed from dealing with Colonel O'Neill for over three years.

Maybe, just maybe, she should go and get something over the counter to tide her over for a week or so. Then she would go and see Fraiser and get the real stuff. Maybe … she wouldn't even need it by then.

Decision made, she stuffed her feet into sneakers and grabbed one of the Colonel's fleece jackets. It smelled like his aftershave – spicy, but not overpowering – and she breathed in deeply. Nice.

Jack woke up and stretched his long legs, wondering what was tickling his neck. He looked down and saw Laira's curly head tucked into the crook of his neck, her small slim body wrapped around him. Ah. He smirked slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the 'guy' moment. It had been a long time since he'd shared a bed with a warm loving woman.

She looked up and smiled sleepily. "Fair day, Jack," she said.

"Fair day," he replied, dropping a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

"Mmmm." She scooched up along the bed, then took his lips in a passionate kiss. "You have no regrets, I trust?" she asked after she broke the kiss.

"About last night – not a one," Jack said.

"Good." Laira wiggled so that she now lay on top of Jack. "I know that you like making love in the night. How about in the morning?"

Things began waking up all over him and he groaned. Laira chuckled. "I see parts of you like the idea very much," she said, ducking her head down to kiss his neck.

Those were the last words they said for a very long time.

Sam woke up, her head pounding, and groaned. God; she felt like shit. She looked around. And just where the hell was she?

"Morning, Sam," a man said.

Sam yelped and stared at the naked man lying next to her. Fair hair, roundish features and a huge shit-eating grin. "Uh … hi," she said. Who the hell was this guy? And had they done what she thought they'd done?

He gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "Why don't you take a shower?" he said gently. "You can't be feeling very good right now."

Now that she thought about it, she realized that she did feel a bit sore. She closed her eyes and nodded her head. "Okay," she said, then got up and headed into the mysterious man's bathroom. So … thirty two – nearly thirty three – years old, a former Captain in the Air Force and her first time had been a drunken one nighter with some guy she didn't know. Oh, she was just so proud of herself right now!

"Sam?" The man knocked on the door. "There's a spare robe in the closet. I'll go fix us some coffee."

"Thanks," she said, wishing she could remember his name. She turned on the cold faucet and stuck her aching head under it. The shock of the cold water helped clear away some of the hangover and she decided she could risk a shower. Then she'd find her clothes and get the hell out of there before her humiliation was complete.

She stepped into the shower and scrubbed down in typical Air Force fashion – where quick showers were the norm. She carefully avoided looking at her reflection – not wanting to see herself right now. A one night stand. She'd turned into the kind of person she despised.

She choked down the sob that rose up her throat. Suck it up, soldier!, she chided herself. You're not the first person to do something stupid, and you won't be the last!

Toweled dry and feeling something closer to human, she dressed quickly in the jeans and oversized fleece she'd worn last night. She crept down the stairs hoping that Pete – Pete; that was his name! – wouldn't see her sneaking out.

Seems God had decided to give her a break for now. The stocky young man had his back to her in the kitchen, whistling as he made coffee. She took her chance and slid quietly out of the house, using every skill she'd learned during her time with the Air Force.

Her hands shook as she got out of the street, and she now recalled that she'd intended heading to the drugstore. Instead, she'd bumped into an old friend from the Academy, who'd convinced her to go bar hopping. That was how she'd met Pete.

So … drugstore. She dug her hand into her jeans pocket, hoping that she still had her ATM card. Yes!God bless American Express.

"Captain; hi," Doctor Fraiser said.

Shit. So not getting any more little pills today. "Hi, Doctor," she replied.

"General Hammond asked me to come find you," the petite woman said. "We … have a problem."

Sam closed her eyes. Had Fraiser found out about her running through her prescription already?

"Will you come back to the base with me, Captain?" Fraiser asked.

Maybe she could BS her way out of this. "Of course," she said in the most matter of fact tone she could manage.

"Good morning, Captain," General Hammond said.

"Uh … good morning, sir," Sam replied, saluting smartly. Even though she was currently listed as off active duty, certain protocols still held.

"I wish I could chat with you a bit more," Hammond said, "but we have a problem. Have a seat, Captain."

Straight to business? She could do that. She slid into the seat he indicated. "Yes, sir."

"Five weeks ago, SG-1 'gated to P5C 768 to establish a trading treaty with the natives for their naqadah," Hammond began. "Several days later, meteors began to impact the world. One impacted the Stargate, trapping many evacuated Edorans here … and Colonel O'Neill on their side of the 'gate." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Our best scientists have theorized that the molten naqadah hardened just above where the event horizon would form."

"Like an iris," Sam said, making the connection quickly.

"Correct," Hammond said. "Wormhole physics; a field you helped pioneer, Captain, states that under these conditions, ordinary matter won't even reintegrate on the other side. There's no way to overcome that." He paused. "As far as we know." He produced several large boxes. "You've been given full clearance to go through all SG team missions from the last three years … if you are willing to be returned to active duty status."

Sam paused. Yes; she wanted to help Colonel O'Neill get home, but she didn't know if she could come back to active duty. "I … don't know, sir," she said.

Hammond's steely gaze softened. "I know you've been through something no-one can imagine, Sam," he said gently. "But right now, we have a missing man. And you are this country's leading expert in astrophysics. We need your help."

Sam immediately felt ashamed of herself. "Of … course I'll help, sir," she said. "I'm only back here because the Colonel was willing to come to Tollana for me."

"Good," Hammond said. He clasped her hand in his. "In that case, consider yourself recalled to active duty, Captain."

Ten days later

"Holy Hannah!"

One of the scientists – a rather nervous dark-haired man called Felger – started and spilled coffee. "C-Captain?" he inquired.

Sam slammed her fist to the table in triumph. "I think I've got it!" she crowed. "It's never been done by any human, but … I have a solution!"

Doctor Jackson walked in at that point. "Hey, Sam," he said with a small smile. "I could hear you whooping from out there. You've come up with something?"

Sam nodded vigorously. "I think so, Daniel," she said. "And I'm not the one who thought of it. Sokar did."

"Sokar?" Daniel squinted at her.

"Yes," Sam said. "I've been reading all the old mission reports – especially the one when he tried to breach the iris by bombarding it with a particle beam. Sub-atomic particles barely small enough to reintegrate produced energy as they decayed."

"Which caused the iris to heat up," Daniel supplied.

Sam nodded her head. The man wasn't an astrophysicist, but he seemed to understand enough of her field to see where she was going with this. "Exactly. Now, if we could do the same thing we could melt the hardened naqadah barrier just above the event horizon and create a pocket of superheated gas."

"And then open the 'gate again," Daniel continued.

"The unstable vortex it normally generates would then be allowed to expand into that pocket and create an even larger cavern. One person might be able to go through, and dig it out."

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "I think you can safely assume we'll have any number of volunteers, Sam. But … there's a problem, isn't there?"

Sam blinked. How did this man know her so well so soon? "Yes. We don't have a particle beam generator. We'd have to build one."

"Well, let's go see General Hammond. You need to go break the known laws of astrophysics."

Six weeks later

Sam hissed out a breath as the wiring futzed brightly before the machinery gave out with a painful groan. "Damn," she muttered, dropping her weary head into her folded arms.

She looked up as the door opened and saw Doctor Fraiser enter with a cup of coffee. "Hey, Janet," she said.

"You working through the night again?" Janet asked, passing her the coffee.

"Yeah. Lot of work to do. Thank you." She took a sip of the coffee.

"Look, Sam, there's no doubt you're going to solve this, but you have to accept the fact it's going to take time."

"Yeah, well if I think that way, it could take months."

"Daniel says the Tollan could have a ship in the vicinity of Edora some time next year."

"He shouldn't have to wait that long," Sam argued.

"You miss him," Fraiser mused.

"Yeah," Sam said softly. It was surprising really – after all, she'd only technically known him for a week. But he'd been there for her 24-7 as she'd suffered through the horrible memories.

"Is this a problem?" Fraiser probed.

Sam knew where her friend was going with this. After all, she wasn't in any fit state emotionally to be falling for someone. "No. No, of course not," she said.

"Okay," Fraiser replied and left as quietly as she'd entered.

Two months later

Jack lay contentedly with Laira, their limbs entwined and hearts pounding after some very satisfying love-making. "Wow," he breathed out.

Laira chuckled into his neck. "That is a compliment, I trust?" she said.

"Oh, yeah …," Jack said. The door opened and Garan came in. "Shit!" Jack yelped, dragging the covers hastily over him and Laira. "Did no-one ever teach you to knock, kid?" he barked.

Garan – give the kid his due – went scarlet and couldn't look at them. "Uh … sorry," he muttered. He waved Jack's BDUs at him. "Teal'c and Daniel have come back through the 'gate."

Jack sucked in a deep breath. Home. He was going home? Then he looked at the beautiful woman now sitting next to him, the covers wrapped modestly around her slim shoulders. "Laira …," he began awkwardly. God, he was crap with words.

She smiled. "It's all right, Jack," she said. "I had the feeling this day would come." Garan left the room and she twined her fingers with his. "I'll miss you," she said.

"Come with me," Jack said.

Laira shook her head. "I belong here," she said.

"I'll come back. Soon," Jack promised, getting out of the bed and dressing in his long-abandoned BDUs. "We still have that treaty to talk about."

"Of course. Our two worlds are going to be friends." She got out of the bed and wrapped her arms around him in a sad embrace. "Closer friends," she added. "Fair day, Jack. And … be well."

"Fair day, Laira."

Jack left the little house before he could change his mind and headed in long strides to the Stargate and his friends. He saw Teal'c's massive form first. "Hey, T!" he said.

"O'Neill," the big Jaffa said with a small smile. "It is good to see you again."

"You too, buddy," Jack said, unable to help the large stupid grin that split his face. "Daniel," he greeted his favorite archeologist next. "You are stubborn SOBs, ya know that?"

"Jack," Daniel said with a pleased grin. He tugged at someone standing just behind him. "But it's Sam you have to thank. She's the one who rewrote the laws of physics."

"Carter." Dressed in green BDUs, her hair cropped like when he first met her, she looked pale and tired, her blue eyes huge in a thin face. But … she still looked good. "Thank you … it's inadequate, but it's all I can say."

She flashed him a megawatt smile. "Least I can do, sir," she said. She looked around. "Are you ready to come home?"

"Yeah … I suppose so." He sighed slightly, then clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Dial 'er up, Space Monkey!"

"That's just one thing I haven't missed about you, Jack," the archeologist complained, turning to the DHD and beginning to push the symbols.

That evening

"You're free to go, Colonel," Doctor Fraiser said.

"Finally!" the Colonel exclaimed dramatically, getting off the Infirmary bed with an unflattering alacrity.

"Just remember to keep taking those vitamins," the Doctor added, pushing a bottle of pills into his hand. "Your system's pretty depleted after so many months of hard rationing."

Even Sam – who was no medical doctor – could see that. While never a big man, the Colonel had definitely dropped a few. He was pure lean muscle – likely garnered from the agrarian lifestyle of the Edorans. Some of his hair had turned a rather nice silver and he was deeply tanned as well, much to her envy. Her pale skin just burned.

"Uh … Colonel; I took the liberty of stocking up your cupboards," she said now, handing him his house and car keys. "There's also a full tank of gas."

He nodded. "Thanks, Carter," he said. "Can I offer you a lift?"

"Oh, that's okay, sir," she demurred. "I've got some things I want to work on – I'll sack out in my quarters." The idea of going back to her apartment didn't appeal – after spending so much time at the base the last few months, her apartment would be much too quiet.

"Okay." He spun the key chain on his index finger. "So … any idea what your posting will be?"

She smiled. "Don't know yet," she replied. "SG-13 need a scientist. Then again, I think I may stay on base a while longer." The truth was, she was a little scared to go through the 'gate again. It had taken all her courage just to step through to a peaceful known planet like Edora – never mind going exploring.

He regarded her with those piercing brown eyes. "Well, it's your choice, Carter," he said. "Personally; I think you'll be wasting your talents sitting in the lab." He gave her a cheeky grin. "That huge honkin' brain of yours needs a challenge!"

She smiled slightly. "I think rewriting the laws of physics just the once will do it for me, sir," she said.

"Hah," he mumbled. "You're an over-achiever, Carter – always looking for something new. You'll see. I give it six months of lab time before you're askin' Hammond for a transfer."

Daniel, Kawalsky, and Teal'c entered the Infirmary at that point. "Jack; you want to come to O'Malley's?" Kawalsky said. "Figure we need to celebrate your return to good old Planet Earth."

"Okay," O'Neill said. "Carter? You in?"

"I've things I need to do," Sam said.

"Ah, c'mon," O'Neill pressed. "I may not be your CO anymore, but I'm still a superior officer. And I'm ordering you to get a life."

She chuckled, unable to resist the pleading in his eyes. At that moment, he reminded her more of a spaniel puppy begging for a tidbit than a hardened forty-something Colonel. "All right, sir," she said.

"You want to invite Fraiser?" Kawalsky said. Sam smothered a smile – she just knew the guy had a thing for the petite redhead.

"Sure," O'Neill said. "The more the merrier. Hey, Doc!" he called.

"You're still here, Colonel?" Janet said, coming into the Infirmary from her office. "You usually can't get out of here fast enough."

"We're going to O'Malley's to celebrate my return home – ya wanna come with?"

Janet paused. "All right then, Colonel," she said and went past them, her white coat flapping. "Just give me ten minutes to change out of my uniform." She slipped out of the door, then poked her head back in. "And no hard liquor, Colonel," she warned.

"Napoleon," he mumbled.

Sam blinked. Did he just say that?

"I heard that!" she called from her office.

"Ears like a damn bat," he said in amazement.

"Heard that too, sir," Janet said, now sounding amused.

"Crap …".

Sam giggled – now he looked like the puppy caught piddling on the carpet.

"No giggling, Captain!" O'Neill said, pointing an index finger sternly at her.

She drew herself to attention. "Of course, sir," she replied with a smile.