Sam didn't know why she did it – why she dug the box out of that cramped space way, way in the back of the storage space off the closet. Why she pulled out the pictures of him, thumbing through image after image of them, happy, completely oblivious to everything except each other.

No, that was a lie. She did know.

It was because, for the first time... ever, the solitude was cloying. She'd always been popular, even though they moved around. It had never taken her long to make friends, and Mark's friends had always liked her, too. And she'd always been thin – and smart – so she'd never hurt for guys, either.

Until recently.

She hadn't had much time in Colorado Springs to do anything but work; still, she wasn't sure time would make much of a difference. Even if she tried to make friends outside the mountain, it would be difficult – she couldn't tell them anything about herself. Sure, at the Pentagon, she'd had to keep secrets, but not about everything; working at the SGC, she had nothing to talk about at all.

And making friends inside the mountain hadn't been quite as easy as she'd hoped. Of course, she'd always struggled a little to fit in with the guys, but she'd usually found her niche. She hadn't counted on ending up in the strangest team known to mankind – a damn-near silent alien, an archaeologist who thought of guns like kryptonite, and... him. Colonel O'Neill. She could fall for him, if she let herself. But she couldn't do that, because he was her CO.

Which left her sitting alone on her couch, staring at photos of a relationship long blown up, wishing she had someone to call and talk to about it.

But the only relationship she'd even sort of managed to hold onto – very, very loosely – was with her brother... and she couldn't call him. Mark had made his opinions on Jonas Hanson clear long ago, and she'd get nothing but a grumbled "I told you so" from him just before he hung up.

She made a mental note to have lunch with the new doctor they'd brought in – the one who'd checked her out after the knife fight with Turghan. Sure, she'd only spent a little time with her, but the woman seemed... strong. Sure of herself. And she stared down men much higher ranking than she was without fear.

That, Sam could respect. She wondered if Doctor Fraiser gave lessons.

~/~ ~/~

The idea of lunch with a friend – well, potential friend – went out the window when SG-4 stumbled back through the wormhole early that morning with horror stories of a massive panther-like creature that had nearly done all of them in. It made Sam forget to eat breakfast. And she hated forgetting breakfast, as it threw off her whole body clock.

Which was why she ended up in the commissary, stomach rumbling angrily, right at the end of the lunch rush. She tried so hard to avoid the lines and the crowds, but her body wasn't giving her that option this time.

So she grabbed a tray and stepped into the line, carefully selecting her usual salad. On a whim, she reached for a piece of cake, thought of her waistline, and pulled her hand back.

The guy behind her in line jostled her a bit. She ignored it and moved forward with the queue, reaching for a parfait cup of jello. It was the last blue one, and it made her smile a little.

"Well, there's the look I've missed so much."

She did jump a little that time, glancing back to the man who'd bumped into her... apparently not accidentally. "Jonas." How had she not noticed it was him? Immediately, her heart sped up, and she couldn't tell whether it was nerves or that insane draw she'd always felt near him.

"I've been trying to get your attention. Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked, retrieving his plate from one of the cooks.

"It's hard to think about anything except how hungry I am at the moment," she answered honestly.

He grinned. "And yet you're still eating rabbit food."

"I like rabbit food."

They reached the end of the line and lifted their trays, both turning into the room. "Only one table left," he observed.

Yeah, that was a bad idea. "Oh. Well, I was going to head back to my lab, anyway," she insisted. "Have a good lunch."

"Sam." He shot her the puppy dog look he'd perfected – the one that had once turned her to mush. "Sit with me."

She hesitated.

"It's just lunch. Come on, we have a lot to catch up on."

Reluctantly, she followed him to the small table, but remained on her feet, holding her tray. "Jonas..."

Setting his own tray down, he reached into her space and put both hands on hers. "Sam. I'm not after anything. I just... I hoped, after all this time, that we could be friends again."

She wanted that, too, and she let him take the tray from her hands and put it down in front of her. He slid into a chair, and she followed suit. For a few moments, they ate in silence.

"So, is this what you were working on at the Pentagon? What you couldn't tell me about?"

"Yeah." It had been something of a sticking point with him – that she wouldn't talk about work. Neither would he, of course, but her side of the argument had somehow always fallen flat. She took another bite of her salad.

"I never imagined it was something like this. It's pretty amazing, Sam."

She smiled. "Yeah. I mean, I guess I kind of knew when I was in Washington... but after I stepped through it that first time... It is pretty incredible."

"And you made it all possible."

When she glanced up, he was smiling at her, warm, proud, and she melted a little. "Well, I didn't-"

"I've asked around, Sam. They all tell me you're invaluable here," he pressed, making her blush, an embarrassed smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah, well..."

"I was such an idiot," he said softly, giving her a sad, sappy grin. "I never really knew what I had, you know?"

Her heart broke a little for him. "I'm not that great a catch," she insisted.

"Of course not," he joked. "It's not like you're a looker or anything. Or smart. And it's the vanity that's really the kicker."

She laughed openly at that, trading her empty salad bowl for the jello. Unexpectedly, he reached across the table and caught the empty fingers of her left hand in his. "I know I hurt you, Sam. When I look back, I... I can't believe that was me. And I really am sorry."

"You said that yesterday," she reminded him with a gentle smile.

"I know. And I'm gonna keep saying it, because it's true." His hand abandoned hers in favor of her face, tenderly brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. "You deserved so much more than what I gave you. You trusted me, and I let you down. And I'm sorry."

A sigh escaped her as he took his hand back and continued eating. "It wasn't all your fault, Jonas."

It wasn't? She mentally kicked herself. Where the hell had that come from? Yes, it was!

Then again, she hadn't handled it all the best, either. She'd been far better at escalating things than cooling them off. And she hadn't given him distance, even when she'd known he was two degrees from the boiling point.

"Well, it wasn't yours," he answered softly. "I should have listened to you. I was lucky to have you as long as I did, and no matter what came of it, I don't regret that, Sam. But I won't blame you if you do."

The crack in her heart opened just a little wider. The next words from her mouth, she knew, held the power to break or help heal the man before her. "No," she murmured, settling a reassuring hand over his. "I don't regret you, Jonas. I just... wish things had turned out differently."

Turning his fingers up to curl around hers, he offered her a sad smile before returning, one-handed, to his meal. She, too, went back to her jello.

It wasn't long before they finished, Jonas heartily downing the rest of his food while she picked at her dessert. Then, as he always had, he picked up both trays and got to his feet. "Have a good day, Sam," he wished her, then carried the trays to the counter and left.

She watched him go, sadness creeping into her chest. All the time she'd blamed him, been so angry for what he'd done... she'd never considered that he'd lost as much as she had. More, if she were honest. And while he had his problems, he didn't deserve that, either. He wasn't a bad person, just...

"Patchin' things up?"

The voice she recognized; the question she didn't. "What?" she asked, looking up at her CO in surprise.

"You and Hanson. Playing nice."

"Oh. Uh, no," she said, pushing to her feet. "Just... trying to be friends." They should, right? They needed to be professional, and getting over all the old, nasty feelings would be a good start.

But Colonel O'Neill didn't look convinced. "Huh."

"Colonel?"

"Oh, nothing," he answered lightly. "I guess I just didn't know you could be so... friendly."

What was that supposed to mean? But before she could ask him, he followed Jonas' path from the cafeteria, the door swinging closed behind him.

Thoroughly confused, Sam headed back to her lab.