Colorado, 1992

Sam stood in regulation posture against the wall, waiting for the door to General West's office to open. O'Neill finally emerged and slowed his pace upon seeing her. He ran a hand through his short hair, searching for words. They had never considered the possibility of returning to Earth, yet they had continued to follow the rules on the other side of the universe.

"I'm retired," he finally stated, perhaps more to himself than to her.

The young woman nodded, understanding the implication of those words. Perfect soldiers remained perfect to the end in following the regulations. Their only transgression so far had been the outcome of the Abydos mission, but few knew about that. A few soldiers and an archaeologist left behind.

And they hadn't really lied in their reports: the bomb had exploded, after all.

Sam slowly detached herself from the wall and followed him to the elevator. The doors closed behind them, and they waited patiently, side by side. On level -28, her fingers brushed against the colonel's. Or maybe it was the other way around; she wasn't sure. On level -19, she was pressed against the wall, the powerful body of the military man against hers, the eager lips of a man 16 years her senior capturing her own. On level -4, they were presentable again, waiting for the doors to open.

For the first time in her life, Sam wasn't doing what was expected of her; no, she was doing what she had wanted for days.

She followed him to the parking lot, not knowing what else to do. The notion of a suicide mission had made her give up her apartment, and she had nowhere to go. He gave her a brief look, and she climbed into his truck before he had to say anything. The drive to the hotel was silent. The moment they crossed the threshold of the room, he pinned her against the wall again. She moaned slightly and bit her lower lip, trying to contain the betrayal of her own body. She felt alive for the first time in years.

"This doesn't mean anything," he told her, capturing her lips, replacing her teeth with his to nibble gently, a gentleness he didn't know he still had. He finally felt like he could breathe.

"I know," Sam replied, sliding her hands over his uniform.

"I'm married," he added, removing their jackets simultaneously and reclaiming her lips. Yet the thought of Sara didn't stop him. He briefly wondered if he was just trying to enjoy a younger version of his wife. Never in his life had he cheated on a woman, yet there he was, in this hotel, intoxicated by the body of a woman far too young for him.

"I know," she moaned again, burying her head in his neck, remembering how she had heard him murmur the name "Charlie" during the only 45 minutes of sleep he had allowed himself during the mission. How messed up was her mind if she felt alive in the arms of a family man? How messed up was she if she didn't feel guilty for stealing another woman's man?

He continued his quest, his fingers finding her wetness. "I'm forty," he growled, feeling how ready she was to receive him.

Sam eagerly slid her hands over his body, brushing against his erection before tackling his pants. « Colonel O'Neill," she began.

"Jack," he corrected her, nibbling on her earlobe while his hands claimed her breasts.

"Jack," she repeated, moaning again at the sensation of his fingers weighing her breasts. "Tell me something I don't know."

He responded with a grunt, his hips thrusting forward at the feel of her hand finally wrapping around his shaft. "I'm going to make you scream my name," he breathed.

She smiled but didn't reply. Now wasn't the right time to explain that no man had been able to bring her to orgasm since another had ruined it for good. She never explained to her partners anyway, just faked it to let them believe they had been perfect because that's what men wanted. Their virility needed that; and she only needed a body claiming hers, even if it never silenced her mind.

When they had shed all their clothes, he lifted her, pressing her harder against the wall, burying himself in her without ceremony. Maybe one day he would explain that at forty, his knees weren't made for this kind of position. But why bother trying to reach the bed when they both knew it meant nothing? They were just two soldiers seeking to lose themselves in each other's bodies.

What he hadn't anticipated, though, was feeling alive once inside her, feeling a weight lift from his chest as he took her with powerful thrusts. She had succeeded where he had already given up: he felt alive again.

What she hadn't anticipated was the powerful and uncontrollable orgasm he brought her to against that shabby hotel wall. He had succeeded where even she had failed: her mind had gone blank.

At that precise moment, she learned two important things:

- She might not be as messed up as she thought after all.

- Jack O'Neill was a man of his word.

He came inside her, not caring about the potential repercussions. He wanted to mark her, to possess her. Their embrace was wild, uncontrollable. They bit each other as they came, unable to verbalize what was happening within them. She would later read in another magazine that people bit their partners when the brain couldn't handle an overflow of emotions.

Their first real mistake was making it to the bed. Sam had planned to leave right after, but the orgasm had been so intense her legs couldn't support her when he set her down. He carried her to the bed and lay beside her, trying to catch his breath. He hadn't specifically planned to pull her into his arms, but synchronizing their heartbeats while lying in each other's embrace seemed the right thing to do at the time.

Their second mistake was falling asleep like that. Or maybe it was making love again in the early morning, with tender gestures that had nothing to do with the wildness of their first time. They never really knew.