Sam's first night home from the hospital had been so hectic that neither she nor Vala had felt much like talking. By the time Vala had helped her into bed and crawled under the covers on the other side, both of them wanted nothing more than a night's sleep. The drive home had been long and uncomfortable, and once they arrived, there had been luggage to unpack, laundry to do, and untold misadventures as Sam attempted to negotiate the furniture and appliances on a pair of crutches.

The following morning though, Vala carried the two mugs of coffee back to the table and slid into the chair across from Sam with an eager grin. The Lieutenant Colonel smiled a little as she accepted one of the mugs, well able to guess what her friend had in mind. She didn't say anything, though, and after a moment's silence, Vala prodded.

"So…? You haven't told me when!" she said, almost bouncing.

"Vala, we're not getting married," Sam replied softly.

Vala blinked, her eyes widening. "What do you mean you're not getting married?"

"Well, when Jack proposed, he thought I was dying. In a crisis situation like that, people…do and say things they otherwise wouldn't. Their priorities become different--" Sam began.

"Maybe his priorities need to be different!" interrupted Vala. "The fact that you're not dying doesn't change how either of you feel, or change the reality that you might not have as much time as you think. Why should he only be willing to retire if he thinks of it as some sort of noble sacrifice?"

"I don't know," admitted Sam. "But it was my decision too."

"You mean you--oh," Vala broke off.

"Jack's not the only one who could quit. But I guess neither of us really want to, deep down. If we did, one of us would have already," Sam said, shifting her gaze away as tears began to form in her eyes.

"Sam," Vala reached across the table to squeeze her fingers. "It's up to you. Whatever you really want, I'll be here."

------

"Is that what you really want?" Daniel frowned later the same afternoon.

"I dunno," Jack admitted, leaning forward to pick up the beer from the coffee table in front of him.

"Well," Daniel licked his lips thoughtfully. "That--that doesn't seem good."

"What am I supposed to do, Daniel? Quit? She wouldn't want me to anyway, and how long do you think it's gonna last with a set-up like that?" Jack asked.

"Are you sure that's your only option?" Daniel wanted to know.

"Aw, c'mon, Daniel. You've always gotta be Mr. Fix it. Can't we just have a beer and forget about it?" sighed Jack.

"No, Jack, just listen for a minute. I don't pretend to know much about the frat regs, but you're not Sam's commanding officer anymore--"

"She's still in my line of command, Daniel," Jack sighed.

"Are you sure? And if you are, does that matter?" Daniel persisted.

"What?" demanded Jack.

"Well, in the first place, your position at Homeworld Security makes you a liason between the Pentagon and the SGC. You don't have direct oversight. Furthermore, I know that regulations say you can't be with Sam while you're her direct superior, but are you sure you can't now? Have you talked to a JAG?"

"Never thought about it," Jack shook his head.

"Why not?" Daniel wanted to know.

"I dunno, I just…haven't," Jack shrugged. "Are you done now, Daniel?"

"Yes, Jack," Daniel sighed. "I'm done. Just…think about it."