A/N: This chapter has lots of subtle references to previous ones, the less obvious ones being chapters 5, 10 and 12. I also lifted a couple lines from Children of the Gods. It just had to be done. I hope it's OK...

22.

A New Horizon

"Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect." - Margaret Mitchell

When she brushed her lips lightly across his cheek; that was the moment his brain came to a screeching halt. His focus narrowed to exactly two points: her breath, warm and sweet against his skin, and the press of her palm over his heart. He was sure he could feel the pads of her fingers right through his shirt, and they twitched lightly at the traitorous inhale that must have given him away completely.

Funnily enough, it was her hesitation as she hovered so near to him that gave him the few seconds he needed to pull his attention back into the cab of the truck, back to the way she was leaning across the seats, and how if he turned his head just a little...

He swallowed.

Easy, O'Neill.

And then she was pulling away from him and he blinked rapidly, tension that he hadn't even been aware of easing from his body as he watched her grapple with the door handle for a moment before finally swinging the door open and hopping out. Like last night when she'd nearly fainted, he noticed a slight unsteadiness in her movements as she turned back towards him and for a second he half expected her to keel over again; that he was simply going to sit there staring at her stupidly as she hit the asphalt.

Mercifully, she didn't. Instead, she met and held his gaze.

"Thank you, Jack."

She paused, hand still gripping the door where she stood partly framed by the ever brightening sky, and there wasn't a hint of a smile on her face as he studied her. He wouldn't have called her expression grave, but there was something so earnest about her and the quiet seriousness in her tone that he knew it wasn't the ride over that she was thanking him for.

His mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper and he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but all he could manage was a choked cough; a pathetic little noise that made him feel ridiculously self-conscious.

"Sure," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm and even as possible.

Her eyes flicked over him once more and he caught the rise of her chest and the delicate flare of her nostrils as she obviously took a deep breath of her own. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as his pulse leapt; the thought that she may be as affected as him flooded his veins with a torrent of fear and excitement and a feeling of anticipation that he knew he had absolutely no right to feel. He couldn't explain it, and he didn't really want to - not when he had a mission to focus on.

She stepped back, closing the door as she did so, and despite the protest of the rational part of his brain telling him to stop watching her, to get going, he could do nothing but let his eyes follow her across the lot as she headed for her car. She seemed collected enough, but Jack had spent a large portion of his adult life in situations where being able to read the members of your team was essential to survival, and the stiffness in her back and through her arms told him everything he needed to know.

She was affected.

He blinked, finally breaking the spell that she'd cast over him, and shook himself. He reached for his key and turned it in the ignition, listening momentarily to the rumble of the engine before putting the truck into gear and heading towards the exit.

He flicked on his indicator to turn into the main road and paused, eyes wandering up to the rear-view mirror. He couldn't stop himself from searching the reflection for her, and he spotted her just as she was opening the door to her rental. He hesitated, watching her, and although he told himself that he was too far away and there was no way she could see him looking, he could have sworn in that moment that she glanced up at him.

Sam.

Not 'Carter'. Not 'Lieutenant'.

Sam.

Probably short for 'Samantha', he thought, and he suddenly had the distinct impression that he was in very, very, big trouble.

Trouble that had nothing at all to do with the upcoming mission.

He pulled his eyes from the mirror and turned out onto the road and towards Cheyenne Mountain, driving just a little too fast all the way to base like he could somehow outrun the unexpected and almost unsettling feeling that was rapidly rising in his chest.

It was a feeling that he thought had died along with Charlie.

By the time she settled herself in her seat and started the car, he was gone. The rental idled, a flat and unimpressive sound that had her thinking instead of the throaty rumble of his truck: noisy and insistent and not at all smooth, but somehow still rhythmic and comforting and alive.

Jack's truck.

Jack.

Not 'Colonel'. Not 'Sir'. At least not here, off-base.

The thought of the mission ahead of her pushed her heart rate up until whatever weariness remained from lack of sleep simply evaporated in a haze of adrenaline. She was sure that most of what she was feeling was excitement, but she couldn't ignore the twist of uncertainty low in her gut.

Everything had happened so quickly, and she'd been so focused on Jack and the Stargate that she hadn't had time to think about what accepting this mission had really meant: she was going to be part of a military team again. There had already been casualties - and there very well may be more.

Suddenly the faint remnants of red and orange still trailing across the sky made her feel ill, and her stomach clenched. She reached for the door and gripped the handle, readying herself for the wave of nausea that washed over her. She tensed, willing herself not to wretch, and exhaled a long, shaky breath as the feeling passed.

It is worth the risk. It is worth the risk. It is worth the risk.

She breathed deeply and steeled herself. Straightening in her seat, she flicked her hands out as if she could shake the tremble from them before finally putting the car into gear and wrapping her fingers around the steering wheel in a determined grip.

She was Samantha Carter and she knew that she could do this.

But there was also Jack, and that meant she didn't have to do it alone.

He had barely half an hour before the briefing at 0800 and Jack didn't waste any time in heading straight for the men's locker room, intent on the fastest shower and shave military training could manage. He pushed open the door and was halfway across the room before he faltered, remembering how Carter - Sam - had cornered him here the previous evening, his reaction to seeing her, and the initial look on her face that had been almost... pained.

He'd lost it. Completely.

He could admit that now.

But at least it had been here; not in the briefing, and especially not out in the field.

There was no way in hell that he could afford to lose it out there.

And now he knew that he wouldn't, because along with that growing feeling that he was trying really hard not to analyse too closely, there was a sense of certainty that something was different; that something had shifted. The weight that he had been carrying with him for so long was somehow a little... less. Just a little, he thought, but enough that those pieces of his shattered life no longer felt too heavy to bear.

He had a team, and a mission, and this time around he wasn't running.

This was no suicide mission.

He could do this.

He set his jaw in determination, grabbed a towel, and headed for the showers.

Kawalsky and Ferretti were already milling around the briefing room when Jack made his entrance with just a few minutes to spare. He moved towards the large table occupying the centre of the space, nodding at Samuels who was distributing folders. Samuels dipped his head in acknowledgement and pushed one of the folders in Jack's direction. Jack watched it skim across the surface of the rich wood and put a hand out to stop it. With a flick of his wrist he spun it right way up and then flipped it open. He recognised the contents immediately as the mission report from Abydos.

Pursing his lips, he closed the folder again; there was no way he was ever going to forget the events of that particular mission.

He turned his attention to the windows overlooking the gate room then, and crossed the room to watch the activity going on below, dimly aware that there were more officers filing into the briefing room around him. He fiddled idly with the cuffs of his jacket, feeling stiff in his blues, and he couldn't help but think that it was all a bit excessive. This was one aspect of the job that he had certainly never missed.

He glanced up as Kawalsky approached him wearing a lopsided grin that was probably more of a smirk. Jack couldn't help but smile back.

"Colonel O'Neill, Sir," Kawalsky said and saluted, the grin widening even further.

"Yeah, I guess the whole 'retired' thing was pretty short lived," Jack said, reaching out to shake the other man's hand.

"Eh, I don't think it suited you anyway, Sir." Kawalsky grasped his hand firmly.

Jack let his hand drop back to his side and shrugged a shoulder, turning his gaze back to the gate.

"I never thought we'd get to go on that ride again," Kawalsky said, gesturing towards the Stargate with a lift of his chin.

"Me either, Major." Jack tried to push away the thought that that first trip through the gate was meant to have been a one way for him. That had been the plan, anyway.

Today, he was glad that plans had changed, and he was even looking forward to seeing Daniel: the geeky bookworm extraordinaire who was probably allergic to his own hair, but who had somehow managed to save their asses and score a beautiful bride while doing it. The corner of his mouth curved upwards at that thought.

Mostly, though, he hoped he'd get to see Skaara again.

It felt like a second chance.

The sound of Major Samuels calling everyone to attention cut through his reverie and he turned back to the table as General Hammond entered the room. Jack scanned the officers present and frowned when he realised that a particular blonde was conspicuously absent.

"Please sit, gentlemen," the General said, lowering himself into the seat at the head of the table and opening the folder in front of him.

Jack remained standing while everyone else took their seats. It was his report in that folder after all, and he was the one leading the team through the gate - he figured that this was going to be his briefing. He watched General Hammond carefully, waiting for his cue to begin, a little knot of worry forming in his gut as the seconds ticked by and still there was no sign of Sam.

The General finally looked up from the report, glancing at the faces around him and settled on Samuels. "Where is Dr. Carter?"

The Major shot a look at the door, his eyes widening ever so slightly, and Jack winced. Kawalsky shifted in his chair and leaned in to whisper something to Ferretti: Jack was sure he'd said, 'Doctor?'.

A flurry of movement in the corridor caught everyone's attention then, and a now familiar figure strode into the room.

"I am very sorry, General," she said, a little breathless but otherwise composed, a file clutched tightly in her hands.

"Fine," General Hammond replied flatly.

Jack silently exhaled.

She headed straight for the last empty chair just opposite his, and her eyes flicked up, finding and holding his gaze for only an instant before she dropped into her seat and busied herself with the file she'd brought.

He eyed her momentarily, trying to decide whether or not a comment was warranted. His mouth twitched in his effort to stop himself from grinning.

"Late night, Doc?"

Her hands stilled midair, the faintest brush of colour showing at the collar of her shirt. She raised her eyes to his, shock giving way to a steely glare while Kawalsky and Ferretti snickered. Jack swallowed, regretting his words immediately: he was the first to admit that the connection between his brain and mouth could be a little... defective.

On the other side of the table, General Hammond cleared his throat.

"Colonel. Doctor. Do we have a problem here?"

"No, Sir," Jack said, head swivelling abruptly in the older man's direction.

"No, General." Her voice was firm.

"Good," the General said, tone brusque. "Colonel, let's begin."

"Thank you, Sir," Jack said, turning back to the folder sitting unopened in front of him. He caught Kawalsky watching him as he did so, the Major's brows drawn together in confusion, a contemplative look in his eye.

"That is some shiner you've got under your chin, Colonel," Kawalsky suddenly blurted out. "What'd you do? Walk into a bar?" He elbowed Ferretti, and Jack narrowed his eyes at them.

"Gentlemen, please," General Hammond cut in, shooting the two men a look. "Are you injured, Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack noted the flicker of concern on the man's face, and thought he may get to like this General after all.

"It's nothing, Sir," he replied offhandedly, waving it off. "Old shaving injury. Flares up from time-to-time."

Jack quirked his lips, and the General stared at him from across the table for a long moment, his features an expressionless mask. The room was deathly silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack didn't miss Sam raising a hand to hide the little grin pulling at her mouth, and he had to resist the urge to glare at her.

He returned his attention to the report. "For those of you who haven't been through the Stargate," he continued, "you should really be prepared for the effects - "

"The extreme cold is a result of the compression your molecules undergo during the millisecond required for reconstitution," she interjected, arching an eyebrow at him challengingly.

He paused, raising an eyebrow of his own in response. "I see you read the report, Doctor."

"I memorised the report, Colonel." She smiled sweetly.

"Well done, Lieu - " Jack caught himself just in time, watching Sam's eyes widen fractionally, " - Doctor. But understanding something theoretically and taking it for a ride are two very different things."

The blush on her neck returned, moving a little higher this time, and he took the opportunity to lower himself into his chair, smugly folding his hands across the folder in front of him. She refused to look away though, and he had to admire the determined set of her jaw.

"I think what the Colonel means is, have you ever pulled out of a simulated bombing run in an F-16 at 8-plus G's?" Ferretti piped up, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sorry, you probably don't even know what that means."

Ferretti sat back in his seat, and Sam shifted her gaze over to him. Jack leaned forward in anticipation of the exchange that he knew was about to take place.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Ferretti said, looking slightly thrown by her reply.

"Yes, I know what a simulated bombing run in an F-16 feels like." She matched Ferretti's casual pose, settling back into her chair and folding her arms across her chest. "And I participated in unsimulated bombing runs in the Gulf."

Jack glanced at Ferretti, the Major's expression even more confused than before, but it was Kawalsky and the way he was now staring very hard at Sam, his mouth pressed into a thin line, that had drawn his attention.

"Carter. Carter," he mumbled. "Why is that name so familiar?"

Jack sighed.

"She and her crew saved our bacon out over SCUD Boulevard," he said, gesturing in Sam's direction.

Kawalsky's eyebrows climbed up towards his hairline. "Lieutenant! Holysh - "

"Major!" General Hammond cut across him abruptly. "Not in my briefing room, please."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and Jack cast an assessing eye around the table. Kawalsky was slack-jawed, looking at Sam with newfound respect. Sam, under Kawalsky's sudden scrutiny, had dropped her gaze to her hands. Ferretti just looked more confused - if that was even possible. The General looked as though he was finally losing patience, and into the growing silence, Samuels spoke.

"I hate to break up this little reunion, but isn't it safest just to bury the gate? Make it impossible for the aliens to come back through?"

"Oh for crying out loud," Jack said, and froze instantly as Sam's head whipped up, a mixture of surprise and amusement brightening her features. He grimaced.

"Care to elaborate, Colonel?" General Hammond bent forward over the table, watching him intently.

Jack straightened, squaring his shoulders. "General, what I mean is, they don't need the Stargate to get here: they have ships. Ships as big as the great pyramids." He paused, holding the General's steady gaze. "They know what we can do. They know we have powerful weapons, and I think we need to use the Stargate to gather as much intel as we can."

General Hammond nodded slowly in agreement, and Jack felt himself relax.

"Very well, Colonel," the General said, gathering the papers in front of him. "You have twenty-four hours. If you haven't returned and there is no communication from you or your team by then, we will bury the gate."

"Understood."

Jack rose from his chair, his eyes finding Sam's as she also pushed to her feet. He thought the atmosphere had sobered considerably.

"And, Colonel."

Jack turned back towards General Hammond, who was now halfway out the door.

"Sir?"

"No Kleenex boxes."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly, but Jack just shook his head.

There wasn't enough time. Between gearing up and briefing the rest of his team, there hadn't been even a minute spare to talk to her.

What he wanted to talk about, he wasn't so sure. Maybe he just wanted to apologise for that 'late night' crack.

Idiot.

Maybe, he just wanted to make sure that she was OK.

As he watched the rest of his team in the gate room make their final adjustments to straps, helmets, boots, double-checking ammo and weapons, he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't... upsetting for her. To gear up like a soldier once more; to be pushed back into a life she'd chosen to leave behind; if perhaps it all brought back memories she'd rather not have.

Because he could relate to that.

He needn't have worried though. When he finally spotted her entering the gate room from the opposite side, her eyes were for the Stargate only; wide as saucers and nearly as blue as the active gate itself.

And she looked as comfortable in her gear as the rest of his men.

Jack blinked and turned towards the General who'd come to stand in front of him.

"Try to follow orders this time, Colonel."

It should have been a reprimand, but the man's tone was oddly gentle, sounding more resigned than anything else.

Yes, Jack decided that he was really going to like this General.

He raised his hand, giving him a crisp solute, and General Hammond returned it.

"Move out!" Jack said, swivelling back around to his men and making a sweeping motion towards the gate with one arm.

Within a minute it was just him and her at the base of the ramp.

They both started forward, and she glanced at him as he examined her, something searching in her expression. It was hard for him not to think of her unconscious and bleeding and hanging by her harness when she was dressed like she was now and she must have seen it written on his face plain as day because she stopped, her brows pulling together in confusion, doubt creeping over her features.

"You know, you really will like me when you get to know me," she said quietly, her mouth a little crooked like she wasn't sure whether to make a joke of it.

"Sam," he said, stopping himself just in time from reaching for her arm. "I think I adore you already."

The light from the wormhole played over her face and he had a flash of another memory years ago - where he'd woken from a nightmare and watched the moonlight dance across the face of the woman he had loved. Only the sadness and fear he'd seen in her eyes then was nothing like the excitement and uncertainty and hope that reflected back at him from the woman standing in front of him now.

Hope. He finally felt like he could name it.

And then she smiled - and it was more radiant than the goddamn event horizon.

He was in so much trouble.

"Dinner?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess someone has to make sure you eat something." He shrugged, quirking an eyebrow back at her, the start of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"And it can't be toast," she said, turning back towards the gate while he fell into step beside her.

"Or peanut butter," she added.

"You can have whatever you want as long as you never compare me to your father again."

She chuckled, and it was a good sound.

He watched her expression of sheer wonder and delight as she played with the rippling surface of the active Stargate, and smiled to himself.

"Come on," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a nudge.

But he wasn't looking at the shimmering pool of light when he finally stepped through, and he didn't think she was either.

A/N: I know some of you will be shocked, but yes, this is the final chapter of The Gulf Between. It is always where I wanted to finish this story. Jack and Sam have been on a long and difficult journey and now they are starting a new adventure together.

Thank you so much to all the readers/reviewers/followers that encouraged me through this (I don't think I could've done it without you) – and I hope future readers will enjoy it too!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Stargate franchise. All other characters mentioned in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.