Disclaimer: Not my character. Unfortunately.

This has been languishing on my computer for ages, despite the encouragement of the fantabulous 3StarJen. I figured if I start publishing it, I'll actually finish it, and the spin off I'm also working on.

All mistakes are mine.

Major General Jack O'Neill sat in a jump seat of a bulky C-17, headed to Colorado Springs. His aide de camp-it still made him chuckle at the thought that he had an aide de camp-Major White had been practically horrified to learn that the only available transport he could find for a 2 star general was a bulky, uncomfortable transport. He'd told Jack he'd check on a first class commercial flight for him, but Jack had declined and said he wasn't too full of himself to take a military cargo plan. What he didn't tell White was that he actually enjoyed flying in C-17's. The feel of the shaking and rumbling beneath him, and the noise of the engine reminded him of his much younger days when he'd actually flown jets, and not just a desk. He knew his job was important, and he didn't hate it quite as much as he thought he would, but he missed the days he flew, and especially his days through the gate with SG-1. He smiled at the thought of his team-former team, he reminded himself for the hundredth time-and all they'd been through together. It hadn't all been fun, with the being shot at, captured, and dying-more than once-but it had been an adventure, and he missed it; missed them.

"Sir," one of the flight crew said, cutting into Jack's musings. "Can I get you anything? We don't have any fancy peanuts or anything, but we've got hot coffee and a few sandwiches if you like."

Jack lifted up a small bag of food Major White had packed, and insisted he take. "I'm good Sergeant, but thank you."

The younger man nodded. "We should be on the ground in about 5 hours, Sir. If you need anything, I'll be in the back."

"Gotcha," Jack told him and watched as the Sergeant walked away, and wondered if he'd ever really been that young. He could barely remember a time his knees didn't ache and creak.

Stretching out his long legs, Jack sighed, and relished in the comfort of the BDUs he'd slipped into before heading out to the runway. Once he'd taken the position as the head of Homeworld Security, he'd been forced into his dress blues every day, and hated the hell out of it. When he settled himself into a more comfortable position-and wondered if perhaps he should have taken that commercial flight after all-he patted the cargo pocket on his right leg, again, to reassure himself that the small box was still there. Settling back with the bag White had packed, and rooted around for the junk food he knew was hidden under all of the healthy stuff on top. When he found two donuts and a bear claw, he pulled one out, then opened the thermos of coffee White had also pressed on him, and sat back to enjoy the food Carter wouldn't let him have. Carter. Just thinking her name made him grin like a teenager in the first throws of a major crush. What they had was far more than that, though. After all the years of waiting to be together, what they had defied words, logic, and realities.

When he finished off the second donut, he leaned his head back against the mesh, closed his eyes, and used his years of training to fall asleep almost instantly.

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter sat on the sofa of her small house, nursing a cup of hot tea, trying to concentrate on a science program on the TV. Normally she took a twisted sort of pleasure in snorting at the 'science' they presented, and wished she could tell at least someone the truth. Someone other than Rodney McKay-that irritating jerk-that is. Instead of paying attention to the show though, her eyes kept straying to the clock on her mantle. His plane was due to touch down within the next half hour, but it would be at least two hours before he could make it to her house. He'd have to talk to General Landry for a bit to go over some business, and then would probably be waylaid by Daniel, who'd whine about not getting a permanent assignment to Atlantis, before Teal'c dragged him away, knowing Jack was eager to be somewhere else.

Since her promotion was the following day, Jack had told her to stay home and wait, as he would be thoroughly distracted by her presence, unable to make a coherent sentence, and would quite possibly throw her on the briefing room table right there in front of everyone. She didn't mention that she'd fantasized about that since their very first meeting. She still held out hope that maybe one day they still might make that fantasy come true.

Glancing back at the clock, she noticed that exactly 2 minutes had passed. Groaning with impatience, she decided a run, followed by a hot bath would help the time pass. She went to her room, and quickly changed into her running gear, then headed out the door, to run her usual route, and maybe a bit further to help eat up some more time.

Forty-five minutes later, Sam was back and ran a hot bath she'd added fragrant oils to. Sliding in, sighed as the tension drained from her muscles. She had just under an hour before he would most likely arrive, and decided she could allow herself thirty minutes to soak, and think about seeing him again. It had been two very long months since they'd been together. They'd both tried to schedule a time to fly to the other, but between his job, and hers, they hadn't been able to get it to work out. She knew that if it weren't for the ceremony, they still wouldn't be seeing each other for two more weeks, when she was on leave. Two more weeks might not sound like much, but for her, every day they were apart felt like a year. She missed him so much it physically hurt, and that actually frightened her. She had never been so dependent on a man before, but then she'd never had a man like Jack O'Neill. She smiled at the thought of him being hers. After all those years of waiting and sacrificing, they'd finally been able to be together, and despite the distance, the past two years had been the happiest of her life. There were days when she thought they'd been foolish to waste so many years, when one of them could simply have asked to be reassigned to another team, but being together on SG-1 is what made them so strong. They had a foundation of trust, and on that they had built everything they shared now.

When she realized how much time she'd soaked, Sam got out, dried herself, then applied a luxurious body oil Jack had gotten her. She knew he loved the scent and the feel of it on her skin. Her body gave a slight shiver at the thought of his hands running across her body. "Keep it together, Sam," she said aloud.

She dressed in a pair of jeans, and a light blue sweater. He'd told her he loved when she wore blue, because it made her eyes even brighter. She'd told him she liked him in blue too, because it made him look even sexier. She didn't tell him she liked him in blue because she'd conjure him in a pair of khakis, and a blue shirt-the shirt she'd deemed the 'blue shirt of sex,' for some inexplicable reason-back when she'd had a concussion, and had been trapped alone on the ship. Of course Jack didn't look bad in any color, and in her opinion looked even better out of everything.