I've been playing with some scenes I'd like to see in Movie III... this is in Don S Davis' memory. RIP. Please review - it all helps!

With his back ramrod straight, General O'Neill looked at his reflection in the mirror. Hair brushed, check. Dress blues immaculate, check. Shoes polished, check. Medals pinned on... no, not yet. Breaking off his perusal he bgan to rummage in the drawer of his wardrobe, earning himself a punctured finger for his trouble.

"Ah, crap!" he burst out, sucking the little wound, and, groaning, returned to the mirror. "Overreaction much??" he asked his reflection wryly, then sighed. A change in the flow of air through the room resulted in a cocked head, and, although barely aware of the movement behind him, he nevertheless spoke to the unseen presence, hopefully. "George? That you?"

There was a sigh from behind him, and Sam Carter came all the way into the dressing room. She was also in dress blues, as neat as a new pin and extremely appealing, until one noticed her eyes, which were red rimmed and raw. Her voice, too, was hoarse, as she picked up his medals and began pinning them to his chest. "It's just me, Jack. I'm sorry."

Bending his head he kissed her fiercely, once, breaking away, then again.

"Hell, Sam" and his voice was hoarse too. "Never apologise for being here. Or for being you. I just thought, you know, maybe..."

He tailed off, and Colonel Carter, reaching up to kiss him again lightly, finished pinning the medals.

"I mean, Sam, for God's sake, he was barely 15 years older than I am. And then, after all we've all been through, to be let down by his heart like that, gone..." He swallowed hard. "And now I have to stand up there and speak, and I, I haven't written anything down, couldn't seem to find the words..."

He reached up a thumb and wiped away the tears that stood unchecked in his former 2IC's eyes. She shook her head, fighting for a semblance of her usual composed self. Taking a deep breathe, she reassured him.

"You'll say what's in your heart, Jack. And it'll be good." A soft hooting from the drive caused them both to glance towards the window.

"There's the car. I'll tell them you're almost ready?" Her statement ended in a question. Jack took a deep breathe.

"Yeah. Almost"

But he stayed for some minutes after he heard her climb into the military transport vehicle, and thought about George Hammond, and about himself, and about Sam. About how you can want something for so long, and then get it, and then be gone, before really getting a chance to live the dream you cherished. About how every minute should count, and about how many had already been wasted. Time didn't wait. So surely then it was time to set some things in stone, make sure that some things moved on to a new level, a new certainty.

A faint flutter of air disturbed the atmosphere again, and Jack could have sworn he heard the echo of a chuckle. With the ghost of an answering smile, he left the little dressing room, and made his way to the waiting car.