"Touch the door." She said but he didn't respond.

She grabbed his hand and slapped his palm against the door. It sprung to life and slid open. By now both were drenched in the freezing sleet falling on the camp. They climbed over the hacked vegetation and walked it. Immediately the light came on and the air freshened.


The ship was pristine but frigid and there they stood dripping with muddy boots. It always amazed her how ancient technology responded to the Colonel. It was as if a long lost friend or lover had returned and it was overjoyed to see him. Now she really did enjoy the art of research and discovery but sometimes, just sometimes, when she was stuck, wouldn't it be nice to have technology respond to her like it did to him.

The door slid shut behind them, shutting out the sound of the revelers and the inclement weather.

She could see they were in a control room and there was a door ahead not 20 paces. They made for it and found a stateroom, small but well appointed, possibly for the captain. Opposite the bunk there was a stool tucked under a shelf- like desk. Sam hooked it with her foot and let O'Neill down. He was shivering now and put his hand to his head. Sam looked around for some way to clean him up and warm him up when he listed to the side and raised a hand to keep from falling. The side of the compartment became transparent. It was a washroom not much bigger than a phone booth. It was a wet room - a sink, toilet and shower in one space. He toed off his muddy boots and stood and shed soaked clothing, then staggered into the room to shower. His head hurt and his body ached. He leaned against the wall of the shower, looked down and saw blood and mud swirling down the drain. When finished and the somewhat dry O'Neill had staggered out of the wash room and fell on to the bed more than sat on it.

Sam needed to find supplies now that they had basic shelter. She thought about retrieving their packs but decided she'd wait until the downpour let up. She opened the other cabin door but was faced with destruction. Everything was in shambles and the bulkhead was dented inward. There was no water damage and no draft from the cold night air so she assumed the hull had not been breached but weakened enough for the crew to abandon ship. The signal she had been following was probably either a plea for assistance or a deterrent to protect the ship's advanced technology from being looted by the Goa'uld.

Sam looked around in the main deck and found a cabinet with basic medical supplies and a galley of sorts but the appliances did not respond to her. The other rooms would not open so she went back to the captain's quarters and the Colonel. The naked man was sitting on the bunk and quickly placed the pillow from the bed on his lap. The pillow was tiny, the size found on planes in coach class. The abrasion near his temple from the tankard was oozing blood as well as the graze on his calf, the nick on his thigh and the cut to the back of his scalp. But the room was noticeably warmer than when they first stepped inside.

"The shower was hot and it had a hot air thing after. I guess instead of towels. Felt great. You didn't find any clothes?"

"I…ah…found these." Sam had gauze and what she thought must be antiseptic and/or an analgesic cream. With her booted foot she pushed the sodden muddy clothes under the desk and bandaged the Colonel. As she bandaged him she became aware of bruises on his back from the stoney ground he fell on. Sam put the things away and when she returned O'Neill had slid under the covers and was asleep. As he lay down the lights dimmed. It was eerie how the ship was so attuned to him.

Trying to be as quiet as possible Sam looked in every bin and cupboard that would open to her. She found a dress of a tunic style made of a paper-like material and some odds and ends she wasn't quite sure of what they were. Sore tired of being cold and wet she did as the Colonel had done, stripped off her clothes and took a shower. Warm and dry she put on the tunic and again searched the ship to see if it would reveal any of its secrets. It did not.

Worried that the Colonel had suffered a concussion she wondered if she was supposed to wake him every two hours and shine a penlight in his eyes. The very thought made her smile. He really hated that. She should have listened better at the last refreshed course in field first aid they were forced to attend.

She was so tired and there was nowhere else to rest. If she fell asleep on the stool she'd surely fall off and… they didn't need to have another injury. So she decided to lay down beside him. The flimsy tunic was sure to tear if she slept in it so she turned from the sleeping man and pulled the tunic over her head. At the rustling of the material O'Neill eyes fluttered open and saw the lithe grace and strength of this beautiful woman. The light was dim, so that he saw her silhouette graced with the subtle glimmer of light. His eyes closed, feeling somewhat guilty about gazing at the soft supple curves around a core of steel. What was wrong with observing beauty (if not for the lust)?

It was so awkward but she decided to climb over the injured man so if he needed to get up in the night he wouldn't have to climb over her. The bed was warm near the Colonel and comfortable and she fell asleep.

He woke suddenly, trying to sit up. Was it a dream or had he seen it, lived it. He saw the ship being fired up, felt the impact of the weapon's fire, felt the frantic men trying to save the ship, desperate to fulfill their mission and hopefully save their lives. Carter woke next to him unsure what was the matter. He was breathing hard and had a look of desperation. And pain. He coughed and his hand went to his bruised ribs.

"I saw it…ah, I, ah, I dreamed it happening…the crash, the attack."

"What?"

"A dream, just a dream." He wondered if everything he had experienced since coming on to this ship was a fantasy or a hallucination.

Sam sat up the coverlet falling to her waist and found her watch on the low shelf and saw they had been asleep for over 5 hours. She had wanted to check on him during the night but she too had been exhausted. And it was past due for pain meds for the Colonel so she slid over him, her bare breasts brushing across his chest. Thought of the battle and the doomed crew receded from his mind. Carter stood, beautiful in the twilight of the cabin. She reached for her t-shirt but it was still sodden and there was nothing he hadn't seen before, touched before, kisses and caressed before. She found the pills and handed them to him with a cup of water.

She started to climb back over him to get into the bed but stopped as she straddled his lap. His eyes looked glazed. She felt as if she were in a dream, a wonderful dream, where every movement was inevitable. Was it him? Was it this place, this situation? She leaned into him, touched his face with her fingertips. And first with feather light pressure, kissed every cut and bruise and every scar. And then she kissed his lips.

He pulled back for a second. Not in rejection but to look at her, to really look at her, to feast his eyes on those blue eyes filled with desire. His hand glided down her back bringing her ever closer, lifting her closer, feeling her shiver. He kissed her mouth and down the side of her neck and down to her breasts. Inhaling, inhaling her scent, inhaling her essence. Listened to the moans of pleasure. Sam put her hands on his shoulders to give herself better purchase. She reached down to guide him inside and they made love in the wrecked alien ship in the midst of a storm.

Even when they could breathe again he didn't stop caressing her and kissing her.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked the drowsy man with bandages on his head and leg.

"For a minute there, I thought I was having a heart attack and wondered how you would explain that to Hammond."

"Oh, I'd think of something." She said with a grin.

He just smiled at her.

"Seriously, are you okay?"

With a stifled yawn he said "Worked a hell of a lot better than the pills. Do you think I can get a prescription from the doc?"

They fell asleep in one another's arms.


The next morning O'Neill woke alone. Carter was bustling around clad in a white tunic. He wondered again if all he had experienced on this ship was an illusion, fantasy or hallucination. He was slightly dizzy with an accompanying headache. He did have a vague recollection of some interesting and vivid dreams, one of war and one of love.

Sam had awakened early, climbed carefully over the sleeping Colonel and remembered the events of the night before with a blush. She wondered if this ship was responding to the Colonel's desires, to his every desire. No, that was insane. The ship was inanimate. It was more along the line of how she could sense a symbiote because of the Naquadah in her blood. So this was because of his unique genetics. Then she wondered if she had dreamed it all, the ship influencing her dreams with his desires. That was utter nonsense too, wasn't it? They'd never break the regulations, would they?

She had to stop dwelling on this and get to work. First she shimmied into the tunic and her boots. She looked for their clothing, the sodden muddy clothing she should have dealt with the night before. She couldn't find them. That was absurd, she left them right there on the floor. Not even a puddle was left.

Sam decided to take a peek out the door, if it would open for her. She needed to find their packs. It was early and maybe, if she were lucky she wouldn't run into the hunters. The door slid open for her and it was utterly quiet except for bird song. She suspected last night revelers were sleeping off their hangovers. There in front of the door was their two packs and a gift. From the aroma it must be some of the roast meat from the day before. The camp was empty, not a soul remained nor any sign that they had been there.

While Sam was at the hatch Jack struggled up. Beside the monumental headache he felt much better than…Well he could quite remember everything that happened. Right now he could use some clothes and something for his blazing headache. At that Sam came in with their packs. At least now he had skivvies, a t-shirt, a pair of socks and his boots must be around here somewhere. God knows where his uniform was. Carter, closing both the cabin door and the hatch, struggled into fresh underwear and replaced the tunic over.

Sam knocked on the cabin door and asked if the Colonel was decent.

"Barely." Opening the door he answered as he tugged down the t-shirt. "Can you imagine us walking down the ramp in the gateroom dressed like this?"

"Actually no," Sam said as she imagined the rumors that would fly through the base.

"Sir, do you think you could fly this thing?"

"How?" He asked as he leaned on the main console. They could both feel the ship lift up, lights on the console flash, and a whirring sound.

"Carter?" He looked to her for answers to all things technical.

"I don't know Sir." She worried her bottom lip. "Do you want to sit down and…"

"And what?" With that the ship plopped softly down to the ground. But the whirring noise continued. They looked at one another, then a tone, reminiscent of a microwave, sounded.

"Something's done." he said.

Sam and the Colonel opened cabinets until one revealed their freshly laundered uniforms.

"Do you think they'll let us keep this ship?" O'Neill looked hopeful.

Sam did her best to ignore the last remark and convince the Colonel to sit at the ship's control panel.

"I don't…"

She didn't let him finish "You're a pilot."

"Yeah but…"

"Why don't you just try." She wasn't asking. "Remember the hull is compromised so…"

"Yeah, not in space."

Sam sat in one of the chairs and O'Neill sat in the chair in front of the controls. He looked at it as if it were a snake ready to strike.

He placed his hands on the flat panel in front of him and asked "How do we set a course to the Stargate?" To both their amazement the ship lifted off, the view screen opened and within a half an hour the ship landed in the meadow in front of the Stargate. There, too, was SG-3 and SG-14 and Daniel. At first they raised their weapons but through the transparent screen they could see it was O'Neill and Carter. The men came around to the hatch and knocked. Jack, realizing their state of undress, quickly ordered the ship to close the screen.

"In a minute." He shouted. And to Carter he said 'Uniforms!"

In freshly laundered uniforms they returned to the SGC.