Author's Note: I've just discovered Stargate SG-1, watched all 10 seasons in a couple months and I'm thoroughly addicted. Here's a stab at Sam/Jack, something that could've happened anytime during the earlier-mid seasons. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately.

He stood patiently outside her front door, hands stuffed in pockets and eyes trained on her door mat. He knocked again.

"Just a moment," he heard a call from inside. Muffled bangs were coming from the kitchen and he wondered if he'd caught her whipping up a midnight snack. The thought of something so ordinary caused him to furrow his brow in annoyance, especially what they'd just been out through.

They had returned from P3X-351 three days ago. It was suppose to be a pure recon mission, nothing dangerous, in and out in a couple hours. But you know how it is, dangerous galaxy and all that. The natives turned out to be bloody thirsty technologically-advanced thugs whose leader happened to take a shining to Carter. She was singled out, tortured brutally, and Jack could do nothing but shriek curses and struggle against his bonds. In the end, Daniel managed to make contact with some of the friendlier tribe members, gain their trust and another miraculous SG-1 rescue had materialized.

But this was too close.

She almost died on that god-forsaken planet. Hell, there were moments when he thought it was the end for sure, as much as he tried to focus on a way out for them. But they had returned, Janet had whisked her away for a few days of medical magic and he had retreated from her bedside to pull himself together, to stop his hands from shaking every time he looked at her. Because that was far too close.

The door suddenly yanked open to reveal a surprised Carter. He snapped his head up, mind still lingering on the thought of life without her, and managed to mumble, "Carter. Sorry to bother you so late."

Her face pulled into a grin at the sight of him, "It's no problem, Sir, I was up anyway."

She stood there expectantly, waiting for him to say something like, "Oh I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd check up on you," or maybe something like, "Carter I hope you know your porch light is out."

But Jack could only stand there and gaze at her. Here she was, barely a scratch left on her smooth skin, wearing a thin tank top in the cool September evening. It's like she was hosting a sleepover with Cassie. He didn't ask if she was okay. He knew the answer anyway. The Air Force had trained her well for such situations, and she'd probably already compartmentalized it away in some mental folder marked "Near Death Torture Experience: Do Not Revisit".

What the Air Force didn't train for was how her commanding officer would feel. They didn't prepare you for the utter helplessness, the unbridled rage at their captors, the hollow feeling that was left behind.

He needed to touch her, to feel her solidness under his hands, to put his hand over her chest and feel her beating heart. Just to make absolutely sure.

"Sir? Are you alright?"

He huffed out a laugh at the absurdity of her question, the irony of the query. Wasn't she the one who had just been tortured to within an inch of her life? And yet there she stood peering at him in the semi-dark with such genuine concern, as though he were the one who had been beaten and whipped and drowned on an alien planet.

"Sir, maybe you should come in and sit down-"

But he cut her off. He stepped over her doorway and entwined his arms around her back, pulling her into him, off-balance. His lips found hers in a desperate kiss, conveying his fear, his relief, his inability to process the fact that she was here, alive.

She tensed against him at first. When she started her day today, she hadn't expect to be kissed so thoroughly by Jack O'Neill in the evening. Her eyes fluttered close and she focused on the feeling of his hand on her back, the other threading through her hair at the nape of her neck.

She hummed and he deepened the kiss. Electricity flooded her spine and she responded fully, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders. He backed her against the wall behind her and moved his hands to either side of her face, down her arms and sides, resting on her hips.

She tore her mouth away and his lips moved to her neck. She exhaled, "Sir?"

He stilled against her throat, breathing heavily, "That was too close, Sam."

And she understood. Her arms tightened around him and she whispered into his hair, "But I'm here."

He lifted his head to look at her, "I don't know if I could go through that again."

She smiled a tired smile, and leaned in to feel his kiss once more.