"He did what?" she laughed into the phone, not sure she'd heard correctly.
"He named the whale thingie after you. It's right here in her report."
More laughter. "God… that man."
"Elizabeth said, off the record, that it was all she could do not to spill everything right there and then just to see his face."
"I'll bet… Cam had the same reaction."
"Yeah… me too, actually."
"Well, it is your secret…"
"True." She could hear the smugness in his tone, but also the tiredness. She glanced at the bedside clock. .
"Well, I should probably let you get to sleep." She didn't want to end their conversation, but 2200 hours for her meant 2400 for him, and he had to be at the White House for a 0700 briefing in the morning.
"I guess." His reluctance echoed hers. As much as she looked forward to, and even, if she were honest, needed these daily phone calls when she wasn't offworld, this part was always difficult.
"Good night, Jack. Wish you were here."
"Me too. 'Night hun, and good luck with that new watchamacallit. Talk to you tomorrow."
"You bet. Love you."
"Love you, too… Bye, Sam."
"Bye." And, forcing herself to finally severe the connection, she hung up. Reaching up, she turned off her bedside lamp before rolling over and trying to get comfortable in her all-to-empty bed while, hundreds of miles away, Jack O'Neill did the exact same thing.