8 Days Ago…

Nancy's Apartment

Georgetown, D.C.

Nancy checked her master bath and bedroom, ensuring she packed everything she needed for a few days. She was going to be too busy to commute daily between her place and the TOC. They were still at DEFCON 2, but any day now, the threat level could be upped to DEFCON 1. She and the Director of Homeland Security from the neighboring Maryland counties would share TOC liaison duty, pulling shifts consisting of 72 hours on/24 hours off.

Nancy would start tonight at 1800hrs and be relieved at 1800hrs three days from now. Part of her responsibilities included contacting local emergency agencies, keeping them up to date on any status changes, and ensuring the roads and highways were clear of civilian traffic when the time came.

Nancy was also to give the FAA notice to ground all civilian aircraft when or if the Wraith Hive arrived. DHS officers across the country were to stay on full alert and act as her points of contact for all interstate emergency information. She and her people were as ready as they were going to be. All they could do now was wait.

Which means we have absolutely no chance of survival, she added ruefully. The enemy that was fast approaching was too formidable, too technologically advanced.

Even with the combined international coalition ready to throw everything the earth had at these "vampire-monsters" from another galaxy, they had no real means to defeat them.

If John and the SGC didn't pull off a miracle, then everything she knew, everyone she loved or had ever loved would be gone.

Nancy knew that she didn't have time to think of John. She had to grab a quick bite before she left, for who knew when she might see her next respectable meal? She hefted her bulging weekender and hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

Thankfully, she'd shopped just two days ago, so her fridge was well-stocked. She had the makings of a decent turkey sandwich out on the counter and methodically began putting one together. Her hands automatically spread the mayonnaise evenly, and her fingers skillfully placed the turkey slices, lettuce, and tomato on the bread, just the way John used to like it—thick with extra turkey.

Unconsciously, Nancy kept building her "John Special," smiling on occasion as a stray memory slipped in of John stealing tomato slices when he believed she wasn't looking. Of course, Nancy had always put out extras on the counter for that very reason.

As random flashes of John kept intruding on her thoughts, Nancy gave up trying to hold them off and went with it. Adding apple slices on the side, she poured herself a tall glass of milk, and carried her impromptu dinner to her kitchen table. She took a huge bite of her sandwich and let her recent memories of Paul and Dave's wedding flow easily. She recalled how good John looked in his tuxedo—Armani, she knew. Not exactly off the rack, she added.

She munched thoughtfully, recalling how John's natural good looks had always caused her heart to flutter when he came home after one of his long deployments. On those occasions, his appearance was as far as one could get from designer suits or the cover of GQ. Instead, back then when John came home, he was often still in the same dusty, sweat-stained BDUs that he'd been wearing for the past forty-eight hours. He generally smelled of JP-4 aircraft fuel, expended ammunition, sweat, and a few other unpleasant things she didn't want to think about.

John would give her a kiss that barely brushed her lips, not daring to hold her while in his grimy state. He would strip down to his boxers in the garage and leave his soiled uniform, filthy boots and equipment in a pile, to be washed, cleaned and polished at a later time. He would then make his way to the master bathroom, step in the shower, and turn up the hot water until he was completely enveloped in steam. Nancy would generally allow him a good fifteen minutes of privacy to scrub off the worst of the trail grit, and then she would join him in the shower…

Cheeks burning, Nancy had to force herself to stop that particular memory right there.

Instead, she pictured John in his normal choice of attire—casual jeans and black t-shirt. This John had always made her feel comfortable and safe. This was the regular guy who played house husband when he wasn't flying or off on secret missions, the one who hung curtain rods when they moved into new quarters, and mowed the tiny lawn not only of their on-base housing but also of those neighbors whose husbands were away on deployment. John in jeans and t-shirt shared a beer with his buddies in the backyard patio, flipping burgers, while she and the other wives laughed at the latest gossip as they set out the potluck dishes buffet style.

She recalled the envious glances and suppressed giggles from the other wives, when John suddenly grabbed her from behind and planted a wet one on the back of her neck, eliciting a good-natured shriek from her. He then smirked and winked at the other women.

"She's crazy about me," he declared, earning himself a good-natured punch on the arm. Of course, he grabbed his arm as if he were mortally wounded and fell to his knees. "Owwww…! You all saw it! You're my witnesses. She beats me—sometimes with whips and chains."

By then, Holland and Thayer were also playfully holding their own squirming wives in a tight hug.

"Really?" Holland called eagerly. "Can I go next?"

"Hey! I want some of that!" Thayer joined in.

"Just keep it up, James Robert Holland!" Amy Holland piped in, slapping him upside the head. "You'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Ditto for you, Scott," Leann Thayer mock-threatened.

Nancy smiled at the memory. Had they really been that happy, she wondered? How long had it been since she thought about those days? John used to smile so much more back then. He had a nice smile, she remembered—at times sweet and somewhat boyish.

At other times…she suddenly shivered. At other times, John's smile could be anything but boyish. Instead, he'd rake her over with a look full of primal desire, his knowing smile showing her not only how much he wanted her, but also that he knew how much she wanted him in turn. It was at such moments in the privacy of their bedroom that Nancy knew she had a married a man and not a boy.

And then there was John at his dad's Wake, dressed in a dark tie and jacket, looking so uncomfortable and sad that she'd immediately gone to him and hugged him, holding him close even if just for a brief second. It had brought back memories of all those times they'd been invited to the Ranch for a family get together, only to have Patrick Sheppard grill John on his latest activities, his current assignment, and an update of when they were going to make him a grandfather.

Naturally, dinner at the Sheppard Ranch was never a casual affair. It meant that John had to wear a jacket and tie, which he hated and caused him to fidget uncomfortably through the whole ordeal.

If it weren't for the fact that Patrick had taken an instant liking to Nancy, she knew those "command performances" could have gone much, much worse. John and his father had been at odds since John was fourteen. At that point Patrick had started outlining John's life for him, which was a fairly foolish undertaking, considering what an astute man Patrick prided himself in being.

John rebelled, and he continued to rebel against his father's wishes until Patrick's death. Which is why he looked so despondent when Nancy first spotted him. Afterwards, she saw him standing awkwardly next to his father's casket. She watched as John automatically straightened his shoulders and buttoned his jacket. She could almost hear his father admonishing him to do so. John stood and stared at the coffin for a long time, lost in thought. Realizing she was intruding, Nancy went in search of Dave to say her farewells.

She saw Dave him still surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, so she decided to wait until he was free. That's when she saw Dave suddenly stiffen. He quickly excused himself, and hurried off. A moment later she saw whom he was after—John. John and his friend were leaving the Wake with a young woman. Nancy felt an inexplicable stab of jealousy.

Typical, she huffed. The next moment, she heard what Dave was saying to John. She saw John's expression go from sad to embarrassed, as he explained that he had to leave, to disbelief and anger when Dave demanded to know whether John would contest the will.

Nancy was shocked. John might not have been her most favorite person at the time, but he had just lost his father. Patrick Sheppard had been a difficult man who turned loving him into a contact sport—and John had a lifetime of emotional bruises to prove it. Dave had no right to speak to him that way. Besides, Nancy knew possibly better than anyone just how little interest John had in the family finances.

Nancy wished she had intervened as she had been inclined. However, she was no longer married to John, and the Sheppard brothers' sibling rivalry was none of her business. Therefore, she left feeling as if she'd let down John and Patrick, the two Sheppard men who had loved her the most.

Her sandwich forgotten, Nancy's thoughts wandered back to Dave and Paul's wedding and John in a designer tux. And how had he managed that on such short notice, she wondered? John had looked devastatingly handsome. With his dark, brooding good looks, the formal wear on his lean, fit body made him look dangerous, the kind of man that made husbands nervous and their wives hungry.

"It's too bad John didn't become an actor," Nancy muttered. "With those matinee idol looks, he'd make a killing at the box office—instead of in the Pegasus Galaxy."

She remembered his approaching her for the traditional dance. As she took his hand, she couldn't help noticing how cool and confident he carried himself. John had always been an excellent dancer, and they had always meshed like a pair of well-fitting gloves. As the music started—a waltz she noticed—John placed his arms around her, and she felt herself being smoothly led around the dance floor, carried away by the music.

Afterwards, she wasn't entirely sure what happened. But before she was ready, John came to an abrupt stop. He was breathing heavily from the exertion, and she realized that she was also. Of course, John was still convalescing from some mysterious ailment, but she had no such excuse. She vaguely heard the wedding guests urging John to kiss her, and much to her surprise, she felt a sudden wish that he would do just that.

Instead, he again took her in his arms, and holding her closely, gently swayed to the music. She rested her head just below his chin, feeling once again as if she belonged there, as if she had come home.

Over the music she heard him whisper in her ear, "You're still my Best Girl, Nance."

The words were like a trigger. What was she doing? She broke away and hurriedly made her way back to her seat. She'd let herself get carried away by a romantic waltz like a schoolgirl in the arms of the handsomest boy in class. John was the kind of man that could easily turn a woman's head, make her think that romantic notions like "true love" and "happily ever after" were possible. But hadn't she already made a mess of all their lives? First hers and John's, now Grant's?

Grabbing her purse, Nancy looked up at John. His bow tie was crooked, probably from where she'd laid her head while they slow-danced. Gone was the confident man who'd led her around the dance floor. In his place, John stood looking suddenly unsure and awkward.

Nancy realized that she was doing it again—hurting him and making a mess of everything. She couldn't do this anymore. Hell, she didn't even know what she wanted anymore.

However, she knew this much. She was never going to be able to think straight as long as John was standing this close to her. No, the best thing for all concerned was for her to leave and not look back.

"So, then why," she asked, "did I then go and kiss him?" Mentally kicking herself, she popped an apple slice in her mouth and tossed the remainder of her dinner in the trash can. She would never learn.

oOo