The four members of SG-1 and Vala were just finishing up their meal when they felt the familiar jerk of The Odyssey shifting out of hyperspace. The blue and white globe of Earth filled the mess hall's dining room.
Overhead, the ship's intercom sprang to life. "SG-1, report to the bridge. SG-1, report to the bridge."
Cameron Mitchell stood-up first. "Well, sports fans, we're up." The rest of the team stood and followed him out the door.
Colonel Emerson was waiting for them on the bridge. As they entered, he leaned over towards the communications console beside his chair.
"They're here, general."
A familiar voice issued from the speaker. "Hey, guys. How's it goin'?" They had expected General Landry, and Emerson could see their surprise at hearing General O'Neill's casual voice instead.
Even though it wasn't strictly necessary for communications, Colonel Mitchell leaned closer to the speaker. "Well, sir…"
General O'Neill cut him off. "That was rhetorical, Mitchell. I've read your reports. Which reminds me: good catch. I owe you a six-pack."
Mitchell quickly glanced over his shoulder at Colonel Carter, who smiled and raised both eyebrows in a strangely self-satisfied expression. Turning back to the speaker, Mitchell continued, smiling himself, "Just doing my job, sir."
"Well, thanks all the same." For a moment, there was an unusual depth of feeling in the general's tone. Any sound of that was gone, however, and O'Neill was back to business as he continued, "Anyway, the reason I'm calling is because the President would like a first-hand account of what happened out there at the Supergate. Carter?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Since you had, as it were, a first row seat, the President is asking you to come down here and brief him on the events."
Emerson could just hear Daniel Jackson mutter under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'll bet."
O'Neill must have had unusually sharp hearing because he immediately asked, "What was that, Daniel?"
"Nothing, Jack."
The general went on as though nothing had happened, "So, Carter, I thought you should come straight down here to D.C. You can debrief me tonight before we meet tomorrow morning with the President."
The conversation was abruptly interrupted at this point by Daniel Jackson's sudden coughing fit. Vala moved over to him, patting him on the back until he could get his breathing under control. None of the others moved to help. In fact, Carter just glared at him.
"You alright, Daniel?" O'Neill's disembodied voice asked, sounding strangely and completely unconcerned.
"Um," Jackson managed to squeak out. "Yes…" Finally getting his breathing under control he concluded, "Sorry about that."
"Yes… Well… Are you picking up my transponder location, Emerson?"
Shaking off the feeling that he'd tuned in halfway through the show, Emerson turned to the nearby tech, who nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good, I'll be standing by. O'Neill out."
Closing the contact, Emerson turned to Carter. "Colonel, do you need to get anything before heading down?"
Sam shook her head, "No, sir. I'm ready to go."
"Good. Sergeant Peters, transport her down to General O'Neill's last signal location."
The team said their goodbyes before Carter disappeared in a white flash. Jackson managed the last word, though, getting in "Have fun debriefing the general, Sam," the moment before she vanished.
When the after-effects of the white materialization beam wore off and her vision cleared, Samantha found herself on the brightly lit front porch of a newly renovated Victorian-era farmhouse. The porch wrapped around the side of the house to her left; the front door stood invitingly before her. She glanced at the siding on either side of the door. The blue looked even better in person than it had in the showroom.
A voice drifted up to her from the darkness beyond the glow of the porch light. "Welcome home, Samantha."
She turned around, smiling broadly. "It's beautiful."
"Yes. It is." Sam couldn't miss the double meaning in the words.
She pointed upwards towards the light. "I see you left the porch light on."
Jack stepped forward, onto the first porch step and into the light. "Always."
Sam could feel weeks of tension drain away at the sight of him. "God, it's good to be here." They may have been the truest words she'd ever spoken.
"C'mere." He gestured to her with open arms.
She walked down the porch steps and into the circle of his embrace. For long moments they clung to each other, content simply to hold and be held. Finally, Jack pushed her away, but only far enough to look into her face. His old sly smile was back. "Wanna see inside?"
"You betcha!" She moved to turn away from him and up the steps. He grabbed her arm, stopping her. "What?"
Jack shook his head in mock exasperation. "Carter, don't you know anything?"
She started to say, "Huh?", but before she could get the word out, Jack had swooped her up and into his arms. "Jack!"
He echoed her tone perfectly. "Sam!" Jack fumbled briefly with the front door knob before kicking the door open with his foot. "Tradition!"
She chuckled and relaxed against his chest. "Yes, sir."
They passed through the door and into the front hall. When he failed to set her down inside the door, she half-expected him to continue carrying her right up the stairs and into their bedroom. Instead, he carried her only a few more feet into the living room.
Jack set her down in front of the fireplace where a fire crackled, filling the darkened room with dancing shadows. The quilt from their bed lay before the fire, softening the hardwood floor.
Sam looked up at him, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I see you've prepared for the debriefing."
"Mhmm," he muttered in agreement. Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her face up to meet his. Jack's lips claimed hers and, gently, he lowered them both to the floor below.
Somewhere out there in the darkness, the galaxy might be falling to pieces, but right here, right now, none of that seemed to matter. For the first time in her life, Samantha Carter thought she understood what Home really meant.