Note: I treat Air Force regulations different than most fanfiction writers, and even my earlier writings. This is because I read them online, over and over, and I was confused, because based on what I read Sam and Jack could date. It's just officers and enlisted people who can't date. So I asked one of my readers Stalkere who is actually IN the Air Force. And it turns out I was right. The Air Force regs would not prohibit a relationship between Sam and Jack since both are officers. However, since they are on the same team it would be frowned upon. But not illegal. No one would be court-martial, or put in jail or anything. Worst case scenario one of them gets moved to SG-2.

Note 2: No Pete I promised, so Pete haters won't have to worry.

Note 3: Sam and Jack will be together. I promise. But call up your high school lit teacher and ask him/her what the plot of every story needs. He/she will tell you conflict. So it's not going to be easy! If it was, you'd be bored.

Note 4: I'm done with Sam and Jack being sixteen years apart. I don't care, not in my story. Facts be damned.


Daniel wanted to stay on that planet longer. I know, because he told me so. Sam wanted to too. I know, because she made a face. If she's ever going to be a Colonel or a General she's going to have to get gutsier. I'll have to help her with that. That's what superior officers do right? Make there…ah….men advance beyond their command.

Ok, focus Jack. Act as bored as possible. If you act really bored most scientists stop talking.

"I'm sorry sir, I know I'm a guest at this party, but I have to protest," Daniel says respectfully. Someone taught this boy to suck up.

"Let me guess, Doctor. This is the science versus military discussion again?" Hammond asks.

"Well…yes. This mission was a perfect example of my argument. We should have stayed on that planet longer. It was the perfect opportunity to study Minoan culture."

I'm about to let out a yawn which would stop the conversation cold, but Carter is actually participating in the conversation. I need to encourage that, "Not to mention primitive man."

"This really isn't necessary, Doctors, I've already—"Hammond says.

"Sir, would you let me finish, please?" he says. Ok, so the guy could use a primer on sucking up. But first I have to teach him how to shoot that gun the Air Force makes him carry around.

"Okay, um, the people on the dark side are pre-Stone Age, but the people on the light side are clearly from the Bronze Age, so what better opportunity to study the Broca Divide?"

Daniel delivers the line with great excitement, like we are supposed to know exactly what he is talking about. I let out the yawn I have been saving for just such an occasion, "The what? Excuse me." I say covering my mouth.

"Broca Divide. Pierre Paul Broca was a nineteenth century anthropologist, he founded…" Sam is talking. Standing up for herself. Muttering nonsense. I tune her out.

"Should I start the debriefing sir?" I say pointing out that what they had to say was extra, superfluous to life as we know it.

"Well, that would be a good idea, Colonel."

"Now just, just wait a minute," Daniel interrupts.

"Dr. Jackson you're wasting your breath, you've already won the argument."

"But I have to insist that you, w—, wha—, wha—, what? I've already won?" A huge grin covers his face. Daniel doesn't smile enough. I'll have to work on that.

"The president agrees with you. He's asked that we evaluate the scientific and cultural value of each mission from now on," Hammond says.

Great. "Oh, for crying out loud." Did everyone forget that there is an enemy out there? I rub my eyes.

"That's great," Sam says with a self satisfied tone in her voice.

Suddenly one of the Marines jumps across the table, grabs Teal'c by the neck and says, "Wonder how that thing in your gut would like its neck ripped in half."

"Please release me, Lieutenant Johnson," Teal'c says strangely unaffected by the whole ordeal.

Makepeace jumps out of his chair, and orders him to let him go.

"Not until the Goa'uld apologizes," the Marine sneers.

"Lieutenant Johnson take your seat now," Hammond commands. He obviously thinks he's going to be obeyed, because he doesn't make a motion to stop it. Johnson swings his arm out to hit Teal'c. The punch lands in the palm of Teal'c's big hand. He closes his meaty hand around the Marine's large one, but even a large hand is dwarfed by Teal'c's.

"General, I would prefer to not hurt this man," he says looking with confusion at the General.

Hammond nods his head, but there aren't enough security people in the room. So I stand up to help get Johnson under control.

"What is your problem, Marine?" Hammond demands. Johnson doesn't say anything. He foams at the mouth. Hammond turns away from him, "Take him to the infirmary, tell them to keep him in restraints and check him out."


There he is. Shirtless. There are others, wrapped only in a towel, and he has his sweatpants on already. But they aren't him.

I slam the locker shut, and he sees me.

"Carter," he says embarrassed as he hurries to cover up his chest with a shirt. Damn fabric. I want to rip it off him. "Sorry, didn't know you were in here."

I thought he would know what I want by my eyes, but he doesn't even look at them. I can't wait for subtle. I want him now.

He's turned away from me, so I push my hand hard against his shoulder forcing him to turn toward me. My lips make contact with his, and both my hands move up to hold his head. When he doesn't try to escape I let one hand fall from his face, and grasp him under the arm pit, pulling him closer to me. He's so surprised he doesn't pull away or participate at first. Then his hand comes up behind my head, and his mouth opens to let me in.

It's only a fraction of a second, then he pulls away muttering, "wait a minute," into my mouth. I grab a fistful of shirt so he doesn't move too far away from me.

"What's going on?" he asks in surprise.

"I want you," I inform him. Grabbing him tight, because this time I am expecting him to push me away.

"Why? I mean no!" he says still in my mouth. Then he pushes me away with two strong hands on my shoulders. But he's only using a fraction of his strength. All that strength and he is still gentle.

"Carter, this is a little out of line, don't you think?" He says with a drill sergeant voice. I grab two fistfuls of his shirt, and fling him onto a bench. I climb on top of him, a leg on each side of his body. My dog tags dangle in his face.

"Want me?" I ask.

"No. No," he starts to protest. So I stop the protest with a kiss. If he isn't going to say something I want to hear, I'd rather he didn't say anything at all. He pushes me away so he can finish his thought, "not like this, for crying out loud."

I ignore him. He isn't really fighting back, and I want to point that fact out to him, so I don't try to restrain the hands that pushed me away. I just grab onto his face with both of my hands and go in for another kiss. And lower my body down on his. That was probably a bad move. Up until then he was getting caught up in the moment, now he remembers where we are.

He cups my shoulder with his hand for just a second, and then the pushes me gently away. "Carter! What's gotten into you?" He shouts.

All this talking, seriously! Other uses for a mouth Jack! Jack. I start kissing him again, and he wraps a hand around my back. Good, he's finally getting into it. It's sort of insulting that I had to take the lead this much. He rolls me over so I'm under him on the floor, his hand is cradled under my neck.

The first second, when I hit the ground and he lands on top of me hurts. But I like this.

"It's about time you saw a doctor, Doctor," he says. His mouth goes close to my neck, and I am sure he is about to kiss me on my neck. He doesn't, but pulls me up.

"No," I mutter and my voice sounds pitiful in my ears, "Jack," I say slamming him against a locker. His self-control is finally shattered.

He pushes me up against a locker. Our whole bodies are in contact, and I can tell that he does want me.

"God Jack," I say trying to pull him even closer, even though I'm pretty sure he can't actually get any closer to me.

"Carter," he closes his eyes. I think he's fighting for control again. I nibble his ear, and the self-control shatters all over again.

"I like your tank top," he says as his fingers ball up the edges of it, and pull it over my head.

"Then why are you so eager to get rid of it?" I tease. Then his lips fall onto my neck, just like I wanted him to before. His tongue, my skin. Way better than I thought it would be. After that, things get a little bit hazy.


"Why are they in the infirmary?" I demand, trying to push past the doctor. I could push past the doctor. Fraiser is tiny. But I have a feeling she'd find ways to make me pay for my rudeness if I did.

"Dr. Jackson, you need to calm yourself down before I will even think about letting you in my infirmary."

I take a deep breath, "What happened to my friends?"

"They seem to be infected with the virus; I'm worried you might be as well after that emotional outburst."

"Calm, not infected. Did they fight like Johnson did with Teal'c?"

"Not exactly," and I detect an unprofessional smirk on her face.

"What?" I prompt.

"They were found in the locker room…without their clothes."

Wow! "Ah, they all right?"

"Yeah, they haven't hurt each other. In fact Jack is so protective of her we couldn't separate them. Just as well, since they are running out of private rooms.

"Can I see them?" I ask.

She looks really uncomfortable. "That is really not a good plan."

And I hear Sam's voice squeal and Jack's grunt and figure out why it probably isn't a good plan. Apparently they didn't leave it in the locker room. I can feel my face turning bright red.

"We would separate them if we could," Janet says apologetically.

"I think I'll take off," I say blushing. "Let me know if there is any change."


At least if I knock on the door I can guarantee they will stop. I can't guarantee they'll be clothed. But hey, I'm a doctor.

"Doc. Doc?" O'Neill asks with something so grunt like that I am not quite sure I can call it speech.

"Did you say something?" I ask.

"Give more…" he begs extending his own arm. Then he takes Sam's arm, and extends it as well. Pushing the vein we put injections in closer to me.

"What? Give more what?" I ask.

"More," he insists thrusting Sam's hand closer to me. She looks at him. I don't think she understands what is going on, but she does understand that he is upset. She takes the hand he isn't holding, and runs the back of her knuckles across his face.

"An injection? You mean you want more sedative?" I ask. I shake my head at him, "You've already had more than the maximum safe dosage, twice as much as anyone else because you've been more violent."

"Give," he says thrusting her vein forward.

"No. It's not safe."

"Give! Give."

"Why are you so insistent?" I ask him.

"Save her," he whispers.

What does it matter? An overdose of sedatives is not that much more likely to have a negative effect on him than allowing the odds of them damaging themselves if I don't give it to them. Although, they wouldn't hurt each other. Except maybe some friction burns.

"Must have been in a lot of pain," I explain to a nearby orderly.

"Janet," she says barely understandably.

"So, you are still in there somewhere," I say.

"What?" she struggles to ask. I hate to see her like that.

"This is interesting. Enough sedative must knock back the primitive mind. Listen to me. I am not going to be able to keep you at this level for very long; it is too dangerous. It could cause permanent brain damage."

"What?" she asks. I lost her.

"It's a parasitic virus. All we can tell is that is seems to mess with body chemicals, all of them. Testosterone levels skyrocket thus the aggressive behavior. It's histamine lytic which means it breaks down histamine, we—wh—"

"Experiment. Save Jack."

"Experiment on you? I'm sorry I can't do that."

Jack gets very agitated, "Use me," he pleads.

"Look, sedatives aren't a cure," I say. "When I find a cure…we'll see."


Oh that's a nice smell. Strawberry and salt. No…not salt. Sweat. My eyes open to what I'm pretty sure is my second-in-command's neck. I don't want to sit here and analyze exactly how I know my second-in-command's neck on sight.

Foggy memory. Sam's voice saying, "I want you." Being slammed onto a lab bench. That scent. Her strawberry shampoo. Not salty. Yet.

God, what did I do? My second-in-command. Sam.

Spit fire woman's lib. After Captain Hansen. I'm not the first guy to screw her up. Pun unavoidable.


My stomach turns at that thought. I sit up carefully. I'd rather Sam not wake up. I pull the covers over her, and turn away.

Sarah. It feels like I betrayed her. But I know she wouldn't see it that way. She had to stop loving me, or she'd be broken beyond repair. To lose a son…and then to watch a husband become a lump…it was too much. She couldn't do it. No one could.

Sarah wouldn't see it as betrayal. But it's always betrayal to be with one when you love another. We've been divorced for four-hundred sixteen days. Still, it's too soon.

I stand up and don some clothes I've scattered across the floor.

"Teal'c! Doc! Open the door! Teal'c!" I whisper.

"Colonel O'Neill?" he asks.

"I'm fine, back to being myself. Just open up."

He lets me out, and Dr. Fraiser's grim face tries to get me into an examination room. I glance at the room we were in without meaning to. "Janet, I just need to…"

"I understand, Sir," she says. Janet Fraiser is doctor from her head to her toes, and though that might not be a great distance, she gets a lot of doctor in there. But right now, she's shoving all that doctor aside, and is just my friend, "You'll come back later?"

I nod.

"Sir, the Airman that found you…edited his report."

"I'd like to thank him," I say.

She nods, muttering his name, "You can't do it until the cure is distributed."

I glance at the room I left, "She gonna be alright?" I mutter.

"I'll take care of her, Colonel," she assures me.

"And her career?" I ask looking at her for the first time.

"Yes, sir." I've read Janet's file. Not strictly in my privy, she's not on my team. But if you pretend never to do even your required paperwork you can get access to files you wouldn't get any other way.

She and Sam have a lot in common, really. Janet went through a real women's lib thing when she and her husband split. So much the comments got written into her annual reviews. Although I doubt she ever said, "just because my reproductive organs are on the inside…" only Sam could pull of a line like that.

But files don't tell you enough. The SGC has only been in open for two months. Not long enough to know who you can trust and who you can't. Except…I already know my team. Someone saves your life, and you know them.

Janet…she saved my life.

"Ok," I say.


Something's missing, but I can't remember what. My arms move trying to find it.


Jack! Oh my God! I look around the room.

He's gone.

So are his clothes.

The memory comes back, altogether too clearly. My begging him for sex. Him refusing, until the virus took him over.

I raped my commanding officer. My career is over. My life is over.

What did I do to Jack? No, Colonel, Sir. You're going to need that professional distance even more now.

I pull the blankets over my head. Not getting up. Hibernating. Yep, that's my new life plan.

"Sam?" I hear a voice cautiously. Dr. Frasier. God, how many people know what I did to him?

"Sam, are you back to being…a human?" she asks pulling the blankets away gently. Yeah, that didn't work when I was five, didn't really believe it would work now.

"Did he press charges?" I ask barely audibly.

She looks complete confused for a second, then her eyes widen in understanding. "The Colonel?"

No, all the other people I raped while being a cave woman. I nod.

"No Sam," she says, "He…just wanted to make sure I looked after you. I don't think….I mean Sam, you two should probably talk. I think your perception of events might be different."

"Dr. Fraiser, I…" I have to tell her. If she doesn't know. Military duty.

"I know, and he knows, and he wasn't mad. More like worried about you."

"He's ok?" I ask.

"He seemed fine, wanted to put off his check-up." I sit up pulling my knees up by my head. "Are you ok?" she asks concerned.

I've never been good at making friends. It comes from the whole military brat childhood. By the time you get it figured out in one place you are somewhere new. And then you are somewhere new all over again. And then I joined the Air Force. I haven't been in Colorado Springs long enough to have friends, and the ones I had in D.C. weren't good enough friends to stretch across the country.

Which mean I'm going to have no one to talk to about this. Not that I could anyway, classified. But at least…say I had a drunken hook up with my boss or whatever. If my mom was still alive…but I'm not about to have this conversation with either Dad or Mark.

"Fine, can I go home?"

"Sam…if you wanted to file charges…" she says awkwardly.

"What?" I say incredulously.

"I mean, I guess we don't have the details on what went on. We…tried to separate you. I guess we should have tried harder. But Jack was so protective, and you were so clinging…" She looks right at me, "I'm sorry Sam."

I shake my head, "It was my fault."

"Sam…the virus…" she tells me.

"He wasn't the first guy I saw. He tried to keep his control. It's my fault. I…" but as many times as I've said it in my head, I can't actually say it out loud.

"Sam, no one is being held responsible for what happened under the virus. We didn't even record what happened between you."

"So I'm just supposed to forget the fact that I raped my commanding officer?" I ask.

"Oh Sam," she says pulling me into a hug. And I feel something I haven't felt since my mom died. "You didn't do that. Not even close. The Colonel feels guilt just like you do. This won't be easy to get over, but you can't go calling it THAT."

And at least I have someone to talk to.


As much as I don't want to see Carter I have to. She didn't go with us on the mission to rescue Daniel, who apparently got lost sometime after I got infected. I hope she isn't still sick. And I really hope the reason she didn't come isn't that she's traumatized by what I did to her. She's my second-in-command for crying out loud. And as much as I really like Sam…I don't love her. Not after Sarah.

Carter doesn't even know about Sarah. She couldn't, because I don't talk about Sarah. I don't talk about her, because I miss her. But it would easily seem that I don't talk about anyone, because I don't have anyone.

And I don't.


But that's not an excuse. And neither is this virus, because if I hadn't already felt something for Sam, none of this would have happened. Even caveman Jack could have resisted someone he didn't like. But I did like her. Told her that when we first met.

"I adore you already, Captain," soft and light so she would think I was joking. But I knew at least, that I wasn't.

I fell in love with Sarah our first conversation.

Not that I'm in love with Sam. I can't be since I'm still in love with Sarah. I'd better be careful, because they are getting all tangled up in my mind.

Janet puts down whatever she was working on as soon as I enter the room. She's wearing a look of concern on her face. Crap. Sam isn't better.

"Are you ok sir?" Janet asks.

I nod my head.

"You're here for your check-up," she says.

"Is Sam ok?" I ask. I can't look at her as I say it, and I know she's smart enough to know it.

"She's fine; she woke up about a half hour after you did. She let me run a full check-up on her," Janet says pointedly, "And everything came out fine."

"Good," I mutter, "and…ah…how was she?"

Janet smiles, and gives me an approving look. Yeah, I care about Sam's mental as well as physical health. "She's worried you plan on pressing charges."


"Blames herself."

Of course she does. "Wasn't her fault Doc. If anyone's getting charged it would be me."

"She wants to ignore it. What do you want?" she asks looking me directly in the eye. She's really not the one I need to talk to this about. But I need to answer her. For myself.

"We don't have a whole lot of choice in that matter."

She leaves a look at me, "You're both officers."

She's talking about the frat rules of course. I know a relationship between Sam and I isn't technically illegal. But it would be frowned upon. Potentially career altering, particularly, for her. There are still a lot of bigots in the Air Force unfortunately, and whatever happened, it would hurt Sam more than me.

She doesn't need to deal with another bigot, ever again. The guy she almost married, he was an Air Force Bigot. He's the reason she thinks men are out to get her. I won't destroy her career. She wouldn't heal from that…so soon.

"We couldn't be on the same team."

"No, but either of you can request transfer."

It sure as hell isn't going to be Sam giving up SG-1. Even for SG-2. Could it be me?

It could.

That isn't what is keeping us apart.

I still love my wife. My ex-wife.

I'm still not over Charlie. I've just gone back to work. I still have to bribe myself to get out of bed in the morning. I still need four beers to survive a night at home, and more for a weekend. I still sometimes think about what it would be like to die.

Sam is young, and beautiful, and brilliant. She needs someone able to love her, and heal her, and give her kids.

I can just barely survive.

"I think…ignoring would be best," I mutter.

Janet looks disappointed. "Ok, nothing official was recorded. You should probably…talk to her."


"Sir," I say in surprise. I'm not sure how I feel about the Colonel in my house. I do know we need to talk. "Come in."

"This won't take long. I just wanted to see," he shifts from foot to foot, "You ok, Sam?"

"Of course, how are you?" I ask.

"Fine, I just…Janet said you thought it was your fault. It wasn't."

"It certainly wasn't yours," I tell him.

"Ok, we'll blame the virus. I just wanted to know. Are you ok with…" does he want to start a relationship? What if he does? What can I say? Will he ask me to leave SG-1? Because if that is his plan…I can't do it, "leaving it in the locker room."

"and the isolation room," I point out.

He nods. "I just wanted to know..."

"Yeah…" I say cutting him off.

"We're back to working with each other, otherwise I could request transfer."

"You'd have to be crazy to ask to get transferred off SG-1," I tell him.

"Are we ok?" he asks scratching that spot on the back of his neck. That spot that gets itchy when he's embarrassed.

"We're ok," I say.

"Good, see you at work on Monday," he says. Then he turns and walks away. Yeah, he actually walks away. First time I've ever been the talkative one.