1991
By Starbuck92 - starbuck92@yahoo.com 


RATING: R

WARNINGS: Language, minor character death, sexual situations

CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure

PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Other (in the past)

SPOILERS: Nemesis, Small Victories

TIME FRAME: Season 4 

SUMMARY: Flying and friendship, love and loss – what was Sam Carter's 
life like during the Persian Gulf War?

DISCLAIMER: The lovely characters of Stargate SG-1 do not belong to me, 
and I am making no money off this story. Please do not archive without 
permission.

Author's notes at the conclusion of story.

Please note: I began writing this story in late November of 2001, several 
months before the second war in the Persian Gulf erupted. Looking over 
this fic now, I thought it prudent to attach some kind of warning that 
this story heavily involves much description about the trials and 
tribulations soldiers experience during wartime because I know some 
people are uncomfortable reading about such things in times like these. 

This is based on actual events that took place during the Persian Gulf 
War; however, the characters and situations that were written for them 
are purely fictional and are not based on any actual person(s).

Dedicated to the troops - their courage and bravery protects and 
strengthens us all. Godspeed.


                         *******************

Chapter 1

One year. One woman. One life forever changed.

                         *******************

Five days.

Five days had crawled by since the three members of SG-1 had gated to 
P3X-234 after detonating the explosives aboard Thor's ship, destroying 
the Replicators that had been poised to invade Earth. The majority of 
that time had been spent performing what had become routine daily tasks: 
gathering food, exploring the area surrounding the Stargate, and resting 
at the small camp they had constructed upon their arrival.

At dawn each day, an attempt was made to dial home in the hope that 
Stargate Command had finally set up the beta 'gate. Each evening, as the 
sun dipped down below the horizon, disappointment settled in, all three 
knowing they had to endure yet another night on the unfamiliar world.

In the beginning, the beautiful weather, tranquility, and lack of angry 
natives made for a pleasant change, an unconventional vacation away from 
Earth. It may not have been the land of sky blue waters, Colonel Jack 
O'Neill had observed, but it was sweet nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the sweetness was short-lived.

As time passed, tension began to flare between O'Neill and his second-in-
command, Major Samantha Carter. The frustration and monotony of being 
stuck on a remote planet light-years from home had been fraying their 
nerves, steadily mounting until it had come to an inevitable rupture the 
fifth night of their extended stay.

The team sat huddled close around the crackling campfire, sharing their 
evening meal of fruit in relative silence. After O'Neill had had his 
fill, he lay back on the soft grass, gazing up at the glittering stars 
above.

"Hey, Carter," he called.

"Sir?"

"What are the odds of you being able to build something to get us off 
this rock?"

Irritation surged through Carter.

Throughout the course of the day, O'Neill had pestered her endlessly, 
insisting there must be some other way to return home. By midday, her 
patience had worn thin, and she fought to restrain herself from issuing a 
rash remark she'd later regret.

"Well, sir, as I've already mentioned, we don't have anywhere near the 
materials required to build something as simple as a UAV. What makes you 
think we'd be able to build any kind of spacecraft to get home?"

Folding his arms behind his head, O'Neill grinned at her.

"Oh, I don't know, Carter. You seem to be able to get us out of every 
scrape we get into. Thought you might have some ideas."

She raised her eyes to meet Teal'c's, noting the silent warning that 
O'Neill wasn't in the best of moods. Carefully, she considered her reply, 
unwilling to allow the colonel an opportunity to pick a fight.

"No, sir. No ideas this time around."

"Ah, that's a shame. I guess our little wizard doesn't have every magic 
trick in the book like we thought she did, huh, Teal'c?"

O'Neill turned, presenting Carter with a sardonic smile and waiting 
expectantly for her next remark, but the expression on her face quickly 
put an end to his foul mood.

The color had drained from the major's face, leaving her ghostly pale as 
she sat staring at the colonel in shock. Before another word could be 
uttered, she quickly excused herself, fleeing from the camp.

Briskly walking through the winding path between the trees, Carter 
listened for any indication that she was being pursued by either of her 
companions. Fortunately, the crunching leaves underfoot and her harsh 
breathing were the only sounds that reached her ears. O'Neill and Teal'c 
had chosen to give her some space, leaving her alone.

She wandered without aim on the pathways, trying to clear her head. After 
a couple of hours, she returned to the quiet campsite, ignoring the 
curious looks from the colonel and bidding Teal'c a good night as she 
settled down to sleep.

As dawn broke on the sixth day, Carter found herself lying awake beneath 
the fading canopy of stars, thankful for the tranquility the early 
morning hours brought. All night she had mulled over her thoughts, 
repeatedly replaying the exchange between her commanding officer and 
herself.

Damn it, she hadn't expected to react to strongly to the colonel's words. 
It wasn't the teasing. She handled that gracefully on a daily basis. It 
was the words, so casually spoken, that had wrenched her heart.

An old nickname she thought she'd never hear again.

Furiously rubbing suddenly tear-filled eyes, Carter stood and stalked 
over to the nearby Dial Home Device. The compulsion to return home to the 
SGC was stronger than ever, where she could easily lose herself within 
the mazes of tunnels, avoiding having to explain her abrupt departure the 
night before.

As she touched each of the symbols for Earth's address on the device, the 
corresponding chevrons on the inner ring of the Stargate glowed.

Chevron five...

Chevron six...

"Come on!"

The seventh chevron remained unlit. Annoyance flooded through her as she 
kicked the base of the DHD.

"Now that's not very nice."

Spinning around, she found Colonel O'Neill standing at the edge of the 
clearing, leaning against a large tree trunk and watching her every move.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Carter. I was just coming to try dialing 
home, but I'm guessing it would have been pointless," O'Neill explained 
as he gestured to the inactive Stargate.

Immediately, Carter jumped into military mode.

"Sir, the seventh chevron will not engage. The SGC must still be setting 
up the beta 'gate back on Earth."

"I can see that, Major. I don't think you'd be kicking a poor, 
defenseless DHD if it had worked," the colonel flippantly remarked.

If he was hoping to win a smile from her, he failed miserably. She merely 
stood before him, her eyes focused on the ground, her expression 
unreadable.

"Carter," O'Neill called.

Unable to resist the voice of her commanding officer, she reluctantly 
raised her eyes.

"You want to tell me what's up?"

The major smiled tightly, hoping her excuse would satisfy his curiosity.

"I'm fine, sir. Just a little frustrated."

O'Neill grinned ruefully, his eyes twinkling roguishly.

"Hard to keep occupied on a deserted planet when you're way smarter than 
the rest of the inhabitants?"

She remained silent, forcing O'Neill to take another approach with her. 
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicking a small rock on the ground.

"Look, Carter, I know the last few days have been a little rough between 
us," he muttered.

"I know, sir," she quickly responded, grateful that he was doing his best 
to make amends. Apologies weren't easy for him.

"Would it help if I said I'm sorry for being a pain in the ass?"

Blinking in surprise at his bluntness, she searched his eyes, finding 
genuine sincerity behind his gaze. His honest apology ebbed away the 
tension, and after a brief moment, the initial astonishment at his 
unexpected request for forgiveness dissipated.

Giving him a small smile, she replied, "Apology accepted, sir."

A broad grin spread O'Neill's lips.

"Good, 'cause Teal'c promised to make my life a living hell if I came 
back without you."

"I don't doubt that for a second, Colonel," she retorted, her smile 
growing wider.

They stood before the Stargate for a few moments, basking in the warmth 
of the rising sun and the presence of each other's company until O'Neill 
nodded to one of the trails.

"Walk with me, Major."

Without another word, the pair trundled off into the forest. The sunlight 
illuminated the familiar paths between the trees, bathing the plant life 
on the ground in a multitude of colors. Another beautiful day was 
breaking on P3X-234.

"It's a nice way to spend our leave, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. I've had a blast," he replied dryly, his lips twitching in 
amusement as he heard Carter chuckle.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the sidelong glance he cast in 
her direction, instantly recognizing the expression. The slightly knitted 
eyebrows and set of his jaw were indicative of the look he typically 
reserved for moments in which he was debating whether or not to make note 
of something. There had been many times he'd given her that look just 
prior to asking about something scientific he didn't understand.

Apparently, the desire to voice his thoughts won out.

"Carter, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sir."

"Last night," he began, but paused when he saw her flinch. After a few 
moments, he hesitantly continued.

"What did I say?"

Carter was quiet for several minutes, unsure of how to respond. The need 
to tell someone, anyone, about the feelings that were rising from the 
deepest recesses of her heart prodded her consciousness. Her analytical 
side insisted her past should remain buried, her secrets and memories 
belonging to her and her alone, but a long-forgotten ache had torn open 
once again, flowing as surely as the blood that coursed through her 
veins.

Glancing up, she was met by concern and a hint of curiosity in the 
colonel's brown eyes. Over the last three years, she had learned to trust 
him implicitly. When he dropped his sarcastic mannerisms, he listened 
wholeheartedly to whatever she had to say, even when he couldn't make 
sense of it.

Finally finding her voice, she quietly answered, "Something you said 
reminded me of someone I was very close to."

"Anyone I know?"

"No, sir. He was an old friend of mine. We attended the Academy and 
flight school together."

O'Neill nodded once, but remained silent, obviously expecting her to 
continue.

Taking a seat on a fallen log, she waited until he joined her before 
resuming.

"Sir, this is something I haven't talked to anyone about. I've never even 
mentioned it to Daniel."

His face registered his surprise at the admission. He was well aware of 
how easily she and Dr. Daniel Jackson, the team's archaeologist and 
linguist, talked to each other about anything and everything.

"So... What does this have to do with?" he cautiously inquired.

"The Gulf," Carter answered simply.

"Ah."

His unenthusiastic response didn't faze her. She knew that Colonel 
O'Neill had acquired some of his personal demons during the Persian Gulf 
War. The topic was a sensitive one, something not often spoken of. He had 
never questioned her about any of her experiences in the war, either, and 
she had never volunteered any information. She hadn't been sure if he was 
even interested until now.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"Yes, sir. I would."

                         *******************

Saturday, September 15, 1990

First Lieutenant Samantha Carter zipped up her flight jacket, shivering 
in the early evening breeze. The nights had rapidly changed from 
comfortably mild to unbearably frigid as the first stirrings of winter 
approached Utah's Hill Air Force Base.

When she had first enrolled at the Air Force Academy in Colorado, the 
abrupt change of weather conditions had shocked her system. The endless 
string of tough classes, the demanding hours of physical exercises, the 
strenuous flight instruction – none of it compared to the bite of the 
cold air in the Rocky Mountains.

As luck would have it, her first assignment out of the Academy and 
subsequent two-year instruction in flight school had been Hill, where the 
weather seemed even more brutally cold than in Colorado Springs. It would 
be a cold day in hell when she finally grew to appreciate the low 
temperatures and constant snowfall.

Sighing impatiently, she checked her watch for the third time in the last 
five minutes.

Thompson was late again. Oh, he would pay.

Knowing him as well as she did, she'd bet good money he was still eating 
dinner at the commissary while she was freezing her ass off outside 
Hangar A waiting for him. How typical.

Shaking her head, Carter chuckled as she considered her long-time best 
friend and fellow aviator.

She had met First Lieutenant Joshua Thompson during her first year at the 
Academy, both of them eighteen years old, full of ambition, and yearning 
for an academic challenge. Despite having come from two very different 
backgrounds, Carter instantly found a kindred spirit in the hotshot 
cadet, their personalities and goals fitting together like a couple of 
jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Joshua Thompson was born and raised in Texas, where his father managed a 
small airfield outside of Austin. As a boy, he'd spent hours playing in 
the hangar bays with his younger brother David. Whether it was building 
model aircraft or watching pilots land and take off from the runways, 
airplanes had been at the center of the Thompson boys' younger years.

Eventually, David had set his sights on politics and law when he grew up, 
but Joshua knew where his heart lay. His eyes had turned upward to the 
friendly skies, and he worked hard to receive a congressional nomination 
of consideration for the Academy. His parents were openly concerned with 
his decision to join the military, but Thompson felt a career in the Air 
Force would strengthen his chance for acceptance into NASA as an 
astronautical engineer someday.

His best friend's childhood was a completely different story.

Samantha Carter had lived the life of a military brat, traveling around 
the world from air base to air base with her Air Force officer father, 
her mother, and her brother. After her mother died, Carter immersed 
herself in her studies, submerging her emotions under the complex 
theories and equations of science and mathematics to keep the pain at 
bay. Upon her high school graduation, she decided to attend the Academy, 
which turned out to be fairly easy with her father's aid.

Jacob Carter had jumped at his daughter's willingness to build a career 
in the military and immediately set her up for a nomination of 
consideration. But in fact, she had other ideas. Like Thompson, she 
joined the Air Force only in the hope of bolstering her chances to become 
a space shuttle pilot one day. The lifelong dream of becoming an 
astronaut took precedence over everything else in her life, and with each 
passing year she came closer and closer to attaining it.

As she pulled on her leather flight gloves, Carter smiled.

For years, Thompson had adamantly proclaimed she would soon be at the 
helm of his modified version of the shuttle, rocketing through space 
while he monitored her progress from Cape Canaveral. In response, she had 
pointedly reminded him how many late night study sessions she'd endured 
tutoring him before he mastered the laws of physics, telling him she'd be 
counting on his engineering expertise once she finally stepped on board 
his shuttle.

Tilting her head back to observe the sparkling stars far above, she 
fondly recalled the day she'd met Thompson.

It was her first day at the Academy and she had been sitting in Professor 
Monroe's physics class when a cadet had rushed in the door, skidding to a 
stop as he searched for an empty seat in the full classroom. The entire 
class came to a standstill as everyone curiously turned to see who the 
latecomer was.

Evidently remembering Thompson from some previous meeting, Monroe had 
smiled wryly.

"Ah, Cadet Thompson! Glad you could finally join us! Please take a seat!"

He had skulked his way into the classroom, taking a seat beside her near 
the front of the class.

"Welcome to physics, Cadet. Please be sure to see me after class."

With that said, Monroe had returned to writing on the chalkboard.

Carter's attention deviated away from the professor after a few moments, 
her eyes furtively wandering to the young man seated by her side.

A furrowed forehead indicated her classmate was having a difficult time 
understanding the lesson, and he seemed to quickly lose interest. His 
focus rerouted itself to doodling in his well-worn notebook. Diligently 
sketching, he didn't seem to take notice of her scrutiny as she monitored 
his artistic ability. Carter marveled at how effortlessly defined 
pictures began taking shape on the sheet of paper.

After class had ended, she waited for him in the hallway, suppressing a 
smile at the lecture on tardiness he was receiving from Professor Monroe. 
Suddenly, he bolted from the room, but before he could walk two steps out 
the door, she stopped him.

"Something tells me you really need to pass this class."

Thompson halted and turned to look at her, blinking in recognition at the 
girl he'd sat next to. He seemed mesmerized by the sapphire blue eyes 
looking at him from beneath a fringe of neatly trimmed blonde bangs, 
completely captivating his attention. Realizing that he was staring, he 
removed his garrison hat and ruffled his short, dark hair.

"Um, yeah. I want to be an astronautical engineer."

Carter's interest was caught by the mention of the word 'astronautical.' 
Perhaps this young man was on the same page she was.

"You're a pretty good artist," she complimented, nodding to his tattered 
notebook.

He remained silent, his brown eyes observing her suspiciously. Carter 
decided to cut right to the chase.

"Look, I want to make a deal with you. I'll help you with your physics if 
you help me with a project I'm working on. Meet me at Mitchell Hall for 
dinner, and I'll tell you more about it."

Spinning around, she sprinted off to her next class, leaving him with a 
small smile on his face. It had been an offer he couldn't refuse.

Just a few hours later, the pair was engrossed in a spirited 
conversation, trading ideas and joking around as if they'd known each 
other for years, a friendship sealed for life. In return for assisting 
him with his homework, Thompson had agreed to draw the schematics and 
blueprints for Carter's ambitious project.

Speaking of which...

She turned to face her miniature Unmanned Aerial Vehicle.

To almost any other person, the craft would resemble a large radio-
controlled airplane. Certainly no one would believe that this was a much 
smaller version of the full-sized UAVs the Air Force was currently 
designing. It was a remarkable innovation, measuring in at five feet in 
length with a four-foot wingspan, equipped with many of the bells and 
whistles of any full-scale UAV.

Pulling a panel open, she began fiddling with a couple of wires, 
gradually losing herself in her task. After only a few minutes, her 
gloved hands were gritty with oil and grease and streaks of the stuff 
marred her face. Concentration creased her brow as she finished tying off 
the wires. As she screwed the panel shut, the sound of a soft whistle 
broke through the attentiveness on her work.

From across the taxiway area, she spotted First Lieutenant Thompson and 
graced him with one of her contagious smiles.

Even in the darkness of the night, his brown eyes twinkled mirthfully as 
he took in the sight of her and the UAV. The lanky young man leaned over 
the fuselage of the tiny aircraft, smiling broadly as he ran a hand over 
the frame, admiring her handiwork.

"Shit, you haven't got any artistic ability whatsoever, Wizard, but your 
other talents sure make up for it."

His trademark chuckle rang quietly through the air as he caught sight of 
his friend's shy smile. Even after seven years, Carter was still 
unaccustomed to the compliments he readily threw her way.

Settling down, Thompson dragged an abandoned crate close to the UAV and 
sat. From this vantage point, he resumed watching her work while she 
reflected on the little plane that had brought them together.

Throughout the course of their friendship, they had committed every spare 
moment to bringing this project to life. Thompson's degree in 
astronautical engineering was pivotal. As a propulsion specialist, his 
mind was keen to analyzing matter flow through the bowels of the UAV. He 
would draw the schematics, precisely detailing the blueprints for his 
partner.

Carter's innate knack for constructing things was the next phase. 
Scrounging around the base after completing her duties, she searched for 
scrapped airplane parts to build the UAV. To her advantage, she had 
earned the respect of many of the technicians that worked on their 
fighter jets, and she graciously accepted every piece of spare material 
offered to her.

Thus far, none of their previous test flights had been successful. 
Thompson would dutifully return to the drawing board while Carter 
reviewed the math, trying to determine what may have caused the little 
plane to stop flying.

Flying...

It was another reason Carter believed she and Thompson got along so well. 
Since their days in flight school, they had been nothing short of a 
couple of aces.

Thompson relied on the skills his father had taught him as a boy, taking 
comfort in the fact that he'd learned to fly a plane years before he'd 
finally learned to drive a car. All the years of practice paid off as he 
adeptly piloted every type of aircraft he could haul himself into.

Carter was something else.

Before flight training, the only flying skills she possessed came from 
piloting various radio-controlled aircraft from the safety of the ground 
in her youth. Her friends were astonished at how effortlessly she took 
control once she was in the sky. She was a natural, and the harder she 
pushed herself, the brighter she shined.

"Iraqi troops stormed some of the diplomatic missions going on in Kuwait 
City yesterday," Thompson quietly stated, plucking Carter out of her 
ruminations.

Pausing for a moment, she set the screwdriver on to the concrete, 
avoiding his gaze as she nodded. The reports had flooded news networks 
across the country, leading her to believe something big was indeed 
brewing in the Middle East.

"A lot of our buddies from the Academy were called up to go to Saudi last 
month," he continued. "They wouldn't have been sent if something hadn't 
been up."

The information was nothing new. She'd received letters from a few of 
their former classmates the past couple of weeks, letting her know where 
they were stationed.

Thompson plundered ahead, knowing her well enough to see that she was 
listening even if she did appear to be ignoring him.

"I want to be over there, Sam. I'd volunteer in a heartbeat if given the 
chance. Working with planes here on the base is great work, but I want to 
see a little overseas action before I settle down for NASA, you know?"

Her straight back and rigid shoulders implied that she did not agree with 
his outlook, but she made no move to voice her disapproval.

From past experience, she had learned that Thompson relished his role as 
a flyboy. Carter had witnessed him executing treacherous maneuvers that 
could get him killed several times, but he always returned with a 
lopsided, self-assured smile even as their flight instructors grilled him 
with lectures and warnings of carelessness.

Brains and a large dose of bravado sometimes made a dangerous 
combination, and she feared one day her friend's headstrong attitude 
would be the death of him.

Thompson remained silent when she didn't reply to any of his comments. 
Sighing, he stood and proceeded to recheck the tail end of the UAV, 
trying to look busy.

Carter closed her eyes in relief.

For weeks, he had prattled on about the events unfolding in the Persian 
Gulf, excitement evident in his face every time something new developed.

Quite frankly, she had grown tired of all the talk of impending war and 
chose to block it out whenever possible. Gone were the times she and 
Thompson would spend discussing an endless variety of topics. Carter 
considered it a great stroke of luck if they managed a conversation that 
excluded any reference to the turmoil hanging over the Middle East.

The United States was steadily becoming more involved, but until they 
were called...

Behind her, Thompson cleared his throat uncomfortably. He obviously 
sensed her disapproval of his opinions on some level, but thus far he'd 
carefully evaded confronting her on the issue. Any further discussion of 
the subject was put on hold as they both refocused their attention on 
their project.

She stepped away from the UAV, observing it with a critical eye.

"I've made some modifications from our last test flight in May. The 
preflight check is complete, so she should be ready to fly."

Nodding, he grabbed hold of a pair of wires and hooked them from the 
launch pad to the radio control Carter held in her hands. As he fitted 
the wires in their appropriate sockets, he stole a glance at her.

"Think it'll work this time?"

"Time to find out," she replied.

Backing a safe distance away, the pair of lieutenants stood shoulder to 
shoulder, their eyes fixed on the UAV. A switch was flipped, and the 
small propeller blade at the end of the nose immediately sprung to life. 
The tension between them seemed to lift away as they exchanged a small 
smile, and Carter commenced her NASA-like countdown, eager as a child.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6... Ignition sequence start."

Another switch was flipped, and the whirring sound of the gears spinning 
faster resonated through the quiet evening air. The excitement radiating 
from Thompson became even more palpable as he fidgeted beside her, 
practically bouncing with energy.

"3, 2, 1!"

The last switch turned over, and the UAV rocketed from its launch pad 
into the night sky. Thompson whooped loudly as the little plane took 
flight, grabbed hold of his friend around the waist, and spun her around 
in delight. Carter fought to free herself from the jubilant Thompson, 
anxious to see how the UAV was doing.

"Josh, let go! I have to take control of the UAV!"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

Instantly, her feet were back on solid ground and her eyes returned to 
the sky, searching for some sign of their aircraft. After a couple of 
minutes of scanning, a flash of light drew her attention as the UAV 
entered a dizzying spiral.

"Oh, this is not good," she whispered.

Another colorful wave of sparks showered down to the ground as the UAV 
continued it's rapid descent to the airfield below. The two pilots 
watched in horror as the plane smashed into the concrete, busting into 
pieces.

Cursing under his breath, Thompson ran at full speed to the crash site 
with Carter close on his heels. A section of the starboard wing had 
caught fire, and Thompson immediately began stamping down on it with his 
booted feet to extinguish it. Frustration surged through Carter as she 
took in the sight.

"God, why won't you work?" she exclaimed, kicking at the UAV's shattered 
fuselage.

Thompson shot her a disapproving frown as he examined the wreckage.

"Your ass must be sore from all the kicking you give it," he chided.

A puzzled look crossed her face.

"Every time this bird doesn't fly, you bang your head against the wall 
trying to figure out what's wrong with it," he clarified.

The confusion quickly faded as the irritation flooded through her once 
again.

"We've been working on this project for years, Josh! This is our third 
test flight, and it was another failure. I don't understand what's 
wrong!"

A sharp tug on her sleeve hauled her thoughts away from the decimated UAV 
and to her friend's face.

"Sam, we have been working on this for a long time. I know that. But no 
one has ever built a UAV this small before! Hell, the Air Force is still 
trying to get the full-sized ones up and running!"

His voice dropped down to a whisper, his fingers squeezing her upper arm 
reassuringly.

"It's going to take some time before we get it right."

Placated, Carter leveled her eyes with his, expelling a deep breath and 
nodding in agreement. Relinquishing the gentle grip on her arm, Thompson 
knelt by the UAV, resuming to poke through the busted pieces.

She stood silent watching him for a moment, marveling at his uncanny 
ability to mollify the bouts of impatience that riddled through her from 
time to time. All it took was one fleeting glance from his intense brown 
eyes or the quiet, comforting tone of his voice murmuring in her ear, and 
Thompson could immediately allay her frustration or anxiousness.

"Would you quit standing there and help me find anything we can salvage?"

The sound of his pleasantly annoyed voice shook her from her thoughts, 
her eyes drifting back to the airplane.

There wasn't much to find.

The UAV had swiftly lost altitude after the short-circuit and had 
plummeted to the ground at a forty-five degree angle. The fuselage had 
splintered into pieces, one wing was burnt to a crisp, and the other had 
cracked laterally across the crucial aileron. Only the tail seemed to 
survive the brunt of the crash.

Carter knelt by it, already taking into consideration the possible 
miscalculations that could have brought the plane down. Biting her lip, 
she absently rubbed at the miniature paintings of their own real call 
signs, a wizard's wand with shooting stars and a flaming knight's sword.

"The sparks we saw indicate a short-circuit. We've always secured the UAV 
in a storage shed to ensure that the wiring remained unsaturated."

Thompson nodded in agreement, the gears in his own head turning just as 
quickly as hers.

"Sam, the sheds may keep out the wet weather, but some of the interiors 
are still sensitive to the extreme temperatures outside."

"Right!" she exclaimed, connecting the pieces together.

"The temperatures have been below average for several weeks now, 
something we previously didn't have to be concerned about. The past few 
nights, the temperature dropped to well below freezing. If the UAV became 
subject to those extreme temperatures due to inadequate storage, it's 
likely some of the internal wiring froze."

"And those frozen wires sparked when we turned it on, causing the short-
circuit!" Josh completed her theory before she could finish, easily 
keeping up with her fast-paced thinking.

"We need to find a better equipped hiding place for our next model," 
Carter declared.

Having reached an agreement, they returned to inspecting the pieces, 
working silently for a few minutes.

Thompson picked up one of the engine components, turning it over 
carefully between his fingers. His voice sounded thoughtful, almost 
absentminded, as he placed the piece in his pocket.

"Didn't get much altitude when we launched..."

His companion hummed in accord as she picked through the remains of the 
UAV, focused on one of the wings.

"Stronger propellant would give the UAV a bigger boost into the air... 
Some kind of rocket propellant like they use for the shuttle over at the 
Cape..."

The cracked wing clattered to the ground, slipping from her immobile 
fingers. Thompson was an expert when it came to pushing things to go 
faster and higher, but this...

"Rocket propellant? Do you want to blow us up?" she asked incredulously.

"No, but --"

"Lieutenant Carter! Lieutenant Thompson!"

The pair immediately snapped to attention, the angry sound of their 
commanding officer's voice halting any further quarreling. Carter stood 
completely still as Major Brayden Wells marched to the crash site, his 
face red with fury. She held her breath as their CO unhappily observed 
the mess on the ground.

The minutes seemed to slowly tick by, and all was silent except the sound 
of her rapidly pounding heart. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught 
sight of Thompson's fingers twitching, and her eyes widened in alarm.

'Don't start fidgeting now, Lieutenant!' she thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Major Wells returned to stand in 
front of them, scowling in disapproval.

"Lieutenant Thompson."

"Yes, sir?" came the automatic reply.

"You're dismissed. I want to have a word with Lieutenant Carter."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Without question, Thompson saluted his superior officer and quickly fled 
the scene.

The cold weather burned Carter's cheeks as she waited for the inevitable 
punishment, yet she did not flinch under the major's glare. Years of 
training allowed her to hold her own against him, and she stared 
unblinkingly into his eyes, prepared for whatever reprimand he would be 
issuing her.

Appearing satisfied at the strength of her stamina, Wells backed down a 
bit.

"Lieutenant, there are important matters transpiring around the world 
right now. You shouldn't be wasting your time with such...toys."

He poked the wreckage of the UAV with one gleaming, black combat boot, 
emphasizing his disgust. Returning his attention to his subordinate, his 
tone softened marginally.

"You've got a good brain in that head of yours and flying skills that 
surpass almost every other pilot on this base. I know talent when I see 
it. Use that talent for something worth your while."

Glancing down at the broken UAV, he added, "Clean up this mess and return 
to your quarters, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir!"

She crisply saluted him and sighed in relief as he walked away.

It was none too often when she was spared from the major's stern 
punishments, especially after finding her working on the one project he 
despised the most. Wells had a tendency to bear down hard on his 
squadron, demanding the utmost dedication to being the best officers and 
fighter pilots the Air Force had to offer. In his rulebook, there was no 
room for anything but.

It was no surprise he singled out Carter much of the time. While the 
other members of the squadron leisurely logged a ridiculous number of 
hours during their days off, she took great liberty in meddling with all 
sorts of projects in her spare time, partly out of her insatiable 
curiosity, partly out of her youthful need to test her commanding 
officer's limits.

As she knelt to pick up the smashed pieces of the UAV, she glared at the 
retreating figure of Major Wells.

"Go suck a lemon, sir," Carter muttered under her breath.

One day, she knew her projects would successfully aid the Air Force. Then 
she would gain the satisfaction of proving to the major that her "toys" 
had been well worth the time and effort.

                         *******************

Chapter 2

"You told Brayden Wells to what!" O'Neill exclaimed in disbelief.

A furious flush blazed across Carter's cheeks. She knew she should have 
left that detail out!

"It's not like he heard me, sir! He was well out of earshot," she 
protested.

"Lucky for you, or else you might have gotten that punishment after all!" 
the colonel retorted, clearly amused by the choice of words she had used 
against her former commanding officer.

She remained obstinately silent, attentively dusting off her boots and 
keeping her gaze fixed on a suddenly fascinating flower by her foot. 
O'Neill grinned, unwilling to let go of such a golden opportunity to give 
his major a difficult time.

"Have you ever told me to suck a lemon, Carter?"

"No, sir," she hurriedly responded. The serious expression on her face 
vanished as a slow, mischievous smile crept across her face.

"Not yet, anyway," she added cheekily in afterthought.

"Have you ever told General Hammond?" he shot back.

"No!" Carter shouted, unable to stifle her laughter.

It had been far too long since she'd had a really good laugh.

Over the past few months, there had been no respite from one grueling 
mission after another: the colonel stranded on Edora with a buried 
Stargate, covert operations with the Asgard and Tollan, crystal skulls 
and giant aliens, techno-bugs intent on overrunning Earth... It felt 
wonderful to have a temporary break from the action.

"So why did you tell old Brayden to stick a piece of fruit in his mouth?"

Carter glanced at him with a wry smirk before returning her gaze to the 
ground.

"Major Wells was always on my case, sir."

The colonel took a good, hard look at his second-in-command, appearing 
mildly surprised at her uncharacteristic petulance.

"You know why, don't you?"

No reply.

"The man had a rep for pushing his best people hard. He swore by the Air 
Force motto. 'Integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all 
we do.' Hell, I wouldn't have lasted a minute under his command 'cause he 
would've had me booted out with my attitude!"

A reflective expression crossed her face as she absorbed this 
information.

Over the past ten years, she had gained much more insight into the world 
than she had possessed at the age of twenty-five. What she had believed 
to be harsh discipline and outrageous training routines had actually been 
Major Wells gauging their skills, keeping his eyes peeled for exceptional 
work and dedication.

She hoped she had given him that.

The inborn yearning to achieve perfection had always driven her. Beneath 
her notice, Major Wells had strengthened that attribute in her during her 
time with his squadron, always pushing her to strive for nothing less 
than the best.

That same dedication had fueled her desire to unlock the secrets of the 
Stargate when she was first assigned to the project, and that same 
commitment now compelled her to work hard under Colonel O'Neill's command 
in SG-1.

"I never considered it in a positive way, sir," she quietly responded. 
"It's easier to appreciate his relentless attitude almost a decade later, 
but back then..."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Major."

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill and Carter remained silent for a few moments, each allowing his 
or her thoughts to take flight. On the rare occasion they spent time 
alone together, it seemed as though all of the formal military rigidity 
usually present between them melted away. Their conversations typically 
carried along comfortably, whether the discussion steered towards the 
latest hockey scores or talking about their shared interest in astronomy.

Far from the confines of the Air Force and the SGC, Carter found that she 
was adding talking about the past with her commanding officer to the list 
of things to discuss, almost too easily.

"So you were messing around with doohickeys like the UAV since your 
Academy days?" he questioned.

She nodded, and the colonel couldn't help but smile.

"Never pegged you as a troublemaker, Carter."

The bittersweet look that came over her made his smile disappear.

"That wasn't the first time we were caught with the UAV, sir. It was the 
last time."

                         *******************

Monday, November 5, 1990

Sam Carter peered down at the beautiful Arizona sierras and mesas as she 
soared above them in her F-16 fighter jet, streaking across the cloudless 
sky.

As far as the eye could see, the land remained untouched by the hands of 
mankind. Cacti and shrubbery grew in abundance among the dunes and 
playas, and the boundless sky was a bright baby blue. The desert 
stretched out for miles, the golden sand shimmering as rays of bright 
sunlight shined down upon the billions of tiny granules.

She could easily imagine how the Old West settlers must have seen this 
land more than a century ago as they traversed across the North American 
continent in search of a better future.

Although times had changed, the longing to attain a better future was 
still a fixture of the American way of life. The working class set aside 
money for that elusive 'someday,' parents sent their children off to 
college to garner a good education, and the nation fought to protect its 
assets, both at home and abroad.

Bearing that in mind, it came as no surprise that the United States 
openly condemned the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. The oilfield running 
beneath the two countries was an allegorical gold mine, a rich supply of 
oil reserves that would benefit whoever claimed it, and inevitably the 
land became the source of a rising conflict between the countries.

Kuwait had fallen to the opposition's stronger military regime, and the 
incursion immediately attracted the undivided attention of the world. 
Concern escalated further when enough evidence was gathered to determine 
the Iraqis were planning a possible invasion on the borders of Saudi 
Arabia, another wealthy, oil-reliant country.

Diplomatic missions were dispatched, but to no avail. The situation 
remained unchanged, and more militaristic approaches were being 
considered.

Since September, her squadron had joined many others across the U.S., 
steadily beginning to earnestly train for battle. As the months passed 
by, more fighter wings and squadrons had been deployed to the Middle 
East, strengthening the manpower of the thousands of American and 
coalition forces already stationed in the Gulf. She knew it was only a 
matter of time before her squadron would be sent overseas to join 
Operation Desert Shield.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed the stick forward, lowering her 
altitude.

Personally, she couldn't care less about the oil. Intellectually, Carter 
understood how valuable the region was to her country, but her heart 
warred with her head. There were people in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia who 
needed their help, and in her eyes that was what mattered the most.

The unmistakable sound of a pair of jets falling into formation at her 
sides jerked her from her musings. She glanced to her right, smiling 
behind her oxygen mask as Thompson gave her a thumbs-up sign. She gave 
him a short wave before turning to her left.

First Lieutenant Matthew Lovell was swinging his shoulders from side to 
side, performing his victory jig as best he could in such cramped 
quarters. Carter couldn't help but giggle at the antics of the man whom 
she thought of as a surrogate big brother.

Something had clicked between them the first time they'd met, 
inexplicably drawing them together. The pair became all but inseparable 
after Major Wells assigned Lovell to supervise her progress during the 
first two months following her assignment to the squadron. From running 
difficult flight training missions to picking apart the engines of their 
fighter planes, the duo had developed an unbreakable bond, and Carter 
learned to place her trust in Lovell without question.

However, as much as she trusted him with her life, she'd also discovered 
no one could make her laugh like he did. She always enjoyed spending time 
with the twenty-seven year old mechanical engineer, but never more than 
when he was in a joking mood.

"Careful, Matty. If you head swells up any more, you're going to 
accidentally eject yourself out of that cockpit," Carter teased.

"I wouldn't be so quick to rag on me, little sis," Lovell responded 
playfully. "You're up next!"

Almost immediately after his retort, the radio crackled to life once 
again. The sound of Major Wells's voice transmitted through the audio 
speakers in Carter's helmet as he issued his comments and instructions to 
the squadron.

"Good job, Magician. Excellent flying, Knight. Wizard and Warlock, you're 
up. Rendezvous at the Range."

Thompson and Lovell wished her luck, and Carter accelerated her engines, 
heading back toward the Goldwater Range.

Over the last two months, Wells had hailed the 421st Fighter Squadron 
before the crack of dawn for full days of training. After a quick 
breakfast, the group would man their fighter planes in the pre-dawn chill 
and travel down to Arizona's Luke Air Force Base, the largest fighter 
plane training facility in the country, where they would receive their 
itinerary for the day.

Thus far, no two days had been the same.

One day would be spent conducting intense air-to-air training, battling 
against other squadrons in mock combat. The next day might find them 
assigned to the Goldwater Range for hours of air-to-ground bombing run 
simulations. Half the time, the squadron was comfortably situated in 
their personal F-16s, while at other times they logged hours for 
recertification aboard the F-117A Nighthawks, stealth planes loaned from 
the 37th Training Wing stationed at Tonopah Test Range in Nevada.

Today had been no different.

A weary Carter had risen from her bed at 0430, two hours before sunrise, 
feeling like she was back in basic cadet training. Her life had dwindled 
down to a rudimentary routine: train hard, eat right, and get a good 
night's sleep. Spare time had become nonexistent. Her doctoral thesis and 
work on the UAV sat in her quarters collecting dust.

It was uncharacteristic for her to leave her work alone for such a long 
period of time, but exhaustion had steadily crept up on her, draining the 
usual infinite amount of energy that always seemed to radiate within her. 
Regardless of the fatigue, she readily poured her heart and soul into 
flying her best every day.

Soon enough, the boundary of the Goldwater Range was in her sight. 
Another F-16 approached from the west, decelerating as the pilot spotted 
her on his scope.

'Just my luck,' she thought as she warily eyed the Warlock call sign 
painted on the tail of the plane.

As long as she could remember, First Lieutenant Derek Hall seemed 
steadfast on outperforming everything she did while under Major Wells's 
command. Since the day she'd arrived at Hill, the twenty-eight year old 
aerospace engineer had given her hell. If he wasn't nitpicking her latest 
project, he would be criticizing her flying. A day hadn't gone by without 
her having to endure his bullying remarks.

Hall was something of a puzzle to Carter. Day after day, she wondered 
what she could have done to provoke the bitterness he seemed to hold for 
her. Usually she relished solving such intricate puzzles, but this one 
had her stumped. She could never predict what he would say or do.

Her feelings on the issue were swiftly shelved as she heard Wells exclaim 
over the radio, "Warlock and Wizard, you have a go!"

Thrusting herself into her fighter pilot mentality, Carter smiled at the 
familiar burst of adrenaline that coursed through her body. The rush from 
the sudden surge of speed made all those long hours of intense training 
worthwhile. Almost immediately, she had a good lead over Hall, pushing 
her F-16 to maximum power as she shot over the Range.

"You're coming up on alpha targets!" Wells informed them.

She had a clean view of the Range from her canopy. The field loomed in 
the distance, the abandoned buildings and military equipment becoming 
clearer as she rapidly approached.

The squadron had spent hours reviewing topographical maps of the area, 
becoming intimately familiar with the territory. Each pilot received the 
opportunity to fly through the field each morning the 421st was posted 
there, learning and committing to memory the landmasses and manmade 
training structures. With one glance at her scope, Carter instantly knew 
how to maneuver across the field in order to achieve the best possible 
flight path.

"Targets in sight, sir!" she reported, full of confidence.

Several seconds later, Hall echoed, "Targets in sight, sir!"

"Drop your ordnance!" Wells commanded.

Fixing her gaze on the screen before her, Carter waited until just the 
right moment to hit the release mechanism, discharging the plane's deadly 
ordnance onto the targets below.

"One away! Two away!" she exclaimed as the Paveway II laser-guided bombs 
dropped to the ground.

The sound of the weaponry hitting their marks faded into the recesses of 
her awareness as she focused on keeping the F-16 steady under the intense 
g-forces. Her hand gripped the stick tightly, guiding the plane through 
the intermittent rocky terrain between the first and second batch of 
targets.

"Wizard, you are approaching bravo targets too fast," Wells notified her. 
"You're going to miss your marks!"

"I can do it, sir!" Carter replied, her teeth clenched both in 
concentration and against the mounting pressure gravity was forcing upon 
her.

She ripped ahead toward the second half of the exercise, studiously 
maintaining her breakneck airspeed and keeping the targets in sight. 
Within seconds, she was on top of them and accurately released her 
ordnance once again.

"Three away! Four away!"

The Paveways plummeted to their intended targets, striking perfectly in 
the wake of her flyby.

Having completed the run, she eased her death grip on the stick, watching 
the dial spin down as her airspeed decreased. Pushing her helmet's visor 
up with one shaking hand, she wiped away the beads of sweat from her 
forehead, struggling to catch her breath.

Slowly, she became aware of the excited chatter over the radio. Her 
fellow squadron pilots were keyed up about something, speaking so quickly 
she couldn't understand what they were babbling about. Before Carter had 
the chance to ask what was going on, Wells made an announcement.

"Good flying, Wizard and Warlock. That wraps it up for the day. Head back 
to Luke for a refuel, and then we're going home."

The group calmed down and fell back into formation, making their way back 
to Luke AFB. One by one, the planes touched down on the runway and taxied 
toward the hangar bays where the fueling crews were waiting for their 
arrival. As the crews busied themselves with work on the F-16s, the 
pilots took the time to rest aboard their aircraft, chatting quietly with 
one another over the radios.

Carter leaned back in her cockpit as best she could, closing her eyes and 
enjoying the few minutes of relaxation allotted to them. A cool breeze 
fluttered through the open canopy, ruffling her short, blonde locks and 
drawing out a sigh from the lieutenant.

Despite all outward appearances, she was never truly at rest. Her mind 
raced over her completed simulation run as she visualized every moment, 
considering what she had perfected and what she could improve upon.

One factor that continued to intrigue her was the airspeed she had 
sustained. Throughout her entire training, she had never managed to 
achieve such rigid control over her fighter plane at such an incredible 
velocity. She had spent so much time working on the problem with Lovell, 
logging countless hours trying to master the skill.

None of his ideas had succeeded, and the disappointment and frustration 
had continued to plague them both. After one close call that had nearly 
resulted in a crash, the pair had toned down the arduous training. Their 
only hope was that her inborn talent would naturally emerge, giving her 
the ability to conquer the only problem she'd ever encountered while 
flying.

"Good job, Lieutenant Carter."

Her eyes snapped open, the sound of Major Wells's voice crackling over 
the radio startling her. Quickly, she sat up, turning in the direction of 
the F-16 with the golden crown painted on its tail. Catching sight of her 
commanding officer, she gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"You showed some spectacular stuff up there, but next time keep the 
stunts grounded."

A tiny frown creased her forehead.

"Sir?" she asked, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

Wells positioned his helmet loosely over his head as his fueling crew 
completed their work on his plane, and he nodded his acknowledgement to 
them before answering her.

"I don't need any of my people trying to play hero, Lieutenant. Is that 
clear?"

'Where is this coming from?' she silently wondered.

"But sir, I wasn't --"

"Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?" Wells repeated, his green eyes 
narrowing slightly, signifying he meant business.

"Yes, sir," she obediently replied, sliding her own helmet back on as her 
crew finished up.

Without further argument, Carter began her preflight, working through her 
confusion as she flipped through a row of switches. She didn't understand 
why the major was criticizing such a perfect run. Never before had she 
maintained such precision engaged in a bombing run, and even less so with 
live ammunition.

Her hand wavered in midair over the forward panel with her last thought, 
her eyes drifting shut in realization.

Major Wells was well aware of all his pilots' strengths and weakness, 
both in aviation and their individual specialties on the ground. It was 
no secret to him that she had continually struggled to fly with finesse 
at intense velocities, exhibiting little progress from consistently 
overcoming the problem. In his eyes, her boldness cast a shadow over the 
exquisite bombing run she had completed.

Where she had solely been focused on pulling off something she wasn't 
quite skilled at, Wells had seen the potential danger she had placed 
herself in, particularly with actual bombs. The major expected by-the-
book behavior while in the air, keeping a close eye on the hot-dogging 
pranksters in his squadron like Josh Thompson.

Frowning, she turned her head and caught the dark brown eyes of her 
friend scrutinizing her. Thompson was tightening the chinstrap of his 
helmet, not looking very happy.

'Damn it, how long has he been looking over here?'

As he secured the strap, he used his free hand to key the radio and 
asked, "What's wrong?"

Automatically, she replied, "Nothing," and mentally kicked herself for 
such a stupid answer. He knew her far too well to let her get away with 
that kind of a response. 

Predictably, he fired right back at her.

"Don't give me that crap, Sam."

He had undoubtedly witnessed the entire exchange between herself and 
Major Wells. Fortunately, he had no access to their radio conversation, 
but Thompson hadn't any need for the audio discussion to know something 
had happened. Over the last several years, he had perfected the ability 
to effortlessly read every expression that crossed her face.

She sighed as she tugged her own chinstrap, shaking her head wordlessly 
at him and hoping he'd perceive the silent message in her eyes: please 
drop it. After a long moment of stubbornly holding her gaze, Thompson 
grudgingly relented, returning his attention to his preflight check.

Cater released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. 
Thompson knew firsthand of the rocky relationship that existed between 
her and the major, but now was not the time to be discussing their latest 
clash. There would always be a more appropriate time and place to discuss 
such matters.

"Hey Sam?"

Lifting her head, she glanced in his direction again, her eyebrows 
lifting slightly as he gave her one of his shy smiles.

"You really kicked our asses up there."

Her expression was perplexed, somewhere between a smile and a frown, as 
she curiously asked, "What are you talking about?"

Before he could answer, the base air traffic controller stated, "Squadron 
421, this is Tower One. You have been cleared for take off. Have a safe 
trip. Over."

"Copy that, Tower One. You heard the man, squad. Time to go home," Wells 
informed them.

One at a time, each plane rolled out onto the runway, taking flight into 
the fading sunset. The short journey home was uneventful, and soon enough 
they were landing on their own airstrip at Hill.

Carter, one of the last pilots to touch down on the runway, gratefully 
pulled off her helmet and unfastened her straps. As she began the power 
down procedure, the familiar clank of the ladder being set up beside the 
cockpit resounded outside. In response, she popped open the canopy, ready 
to greet her chief crewman, Technical Sergeant Lowe. Instead, she was 
caught completely by surprise as a pair of strong arms lifted her out of 
the ejection seat.

"Beautiful flying, Wizard!" First Lieutenant Rupert O'Malley shouted as 
he squeezed her close.

"O'Malley!" she yelled, squirming to get free. "What are you talking 
about? What did I do?"

He issued no response to her questions, only holding her tighter to keep 
her from falling to the ground.

She continued the attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, kicking to find 
the rungs of the ladder. As her foot finally made contact with a steel 
rung, she glanced down and blinked in surprise. A fair number of her 
fellow pilots had encircled her F-16, clapping and calling out words of 
praise.

O'Malley carefully handed down the wide-eyed Carter to First Lieutenants 
Robert Fulco and Todd Hickam, who gently set her on the taxiway. The 
assembled group of pilots gathered around, patting her on the back and 
congratulating her. Growing more confused by the second, she grabbed a 
fistful of Lovell's g-suit and yanked him toward her.

"Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" she asked in a low 
voice, trying to remain calm.

Lovell wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close and kissing 
her cheek.

"That's my girl! All the hard work finally paid off, Sammy!"

"Your run was better than anyone else's, Sam! You shattered the old squad 
record!" First Lieutenant Jonathan Bennett added, grinning like a fool.

"And better yet," O'Malley continued, scrambling down from his perch on 
her plane. "You completely eclipsed Derek Hall! The little snail was 
choking down your exhaust!"

When the commotion began dying down, Thompson quietly approached her from 
behind, slipping his arms around her waist in a simple hug. She smiled at 
his warm, familiar presence, appreciatively leaning into his embrace and 
only partially listening to O'Malley, Lovell, and Bennett as they rambled 
on among themselves about broken records.

"I'm proud of you," he softly murmured, his arms constricting slightly 
around her.

Carter upheld her silence, choosing to rest her temple against his cheek 
in a show of affection. For a moment, both remained motionless, merely 
enjoying each other's warmth in the cold night air.

Closing her eyes, she considered how their friendship had subtly been 
evolving the past couple of years. The extended touches and hugs, the 
longing glances they furtively cast one another...

Things were slowly changing between the pair. They were more than just 
the best of friends, yet not quite romantically involved. It was a fine 
line they skirted along, both unwilling to risk ruining their powerful 
friendship or their promising careers, but unable to withdraw from the 
devotion they had developed for each other over the course of several 
years.

Moments like these had become more frequent, yet more often than not, 
they managed to retain the playful, comfortable camaraderie that was so 
prevalent in their squadron.

"You keep breaking records like that and you won't need to do any ass-
kissing to get into NASA, Wizard," Thompson teased, digging his fingers 
between her ribs and drawing a startled squeak from her.

Before Thompson could realize what had hit him, Carter elbowed him in the 
stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He released her and, taking 
advantage of his breathlessness, she swept a leg at his ankles to whisk 
his feet out from under him.

It all happened in a fraction of a second.

He lay flat on his back on the ground, chuckling and wincing. Eyes 
shining bright with amusement, Carter smiled down at him while O'Malley, 
Lovell, and Bennett doubled over with laughter at his expense.

"You were saying, Lieutenant?" she asked innocently.

Thompson rose to his feet, a small grin playing across his lips.

"Um, I've gotta go finish powering down. I'll, uh, catch up with you 
later, okay?"

Leisurely, he retreated away from them, smiling and rubbing a sore spot 
on his backside.

The lighthearted laugh from behind them caused the group to whirl around, 
coming face to face with Captain James Martinez, the second-in-command of 
the 421st Fighter Squadron.

"Are you four having fun?"

Embarrassed smiles spread across the faces of the junior officers. At 
their appearance, Martinez laughed heartily once again.

"Well, a little horsing around isn't a crime, kids, but I suggest you get 
back to powering down your planes."

"Is something wrong, sir?" Bennett questioned.

Sobering significantly, Martinez answered, "Colonel Snedden asked to 
speak with Major Wells when we landed. Something might be up."

Stony silence smothered the cheerfulness as the younger pilots began 
putting two and two together.

Colonel William Snedden was the commanding officer of Hill's 388th 
Tactical Fighter Wing, which included three F-16 fighter squadrons and 
several operation support squadrons. His orders were handed down from the 
higher officials of the Air Force, effectively enabling him to call the 
shots. Meetings between Snedden and Wells almost always paved the way for 
a change of orders, and the implications of this particular conference 
could only mean one thing.

They were being reassigned overseas.

"Finish up with your planes, boys. Major Wells will want to brief the 
squad at Hangar A as soon as he's finished talking to the colonel. 
Dismissed," Martinez told them.

A chorus of "yes, sir's" and salutes preceded O'Malley, Lovell, and 
Bennett's departures.

Carter considered their retreating figures for a moment before lowering 
her gaze to the ground. She bit her lower lip as the information they'd 
been presented with tumbled around in her mind.

War.

When she enrolled at the Academy, she was mindful of the possibility of 
going into combat if the country went to war. The documents she'd signed 
before she entered flight training stated that she understood the risks 
of becoming a fighter pilot, understood she may be called to the 
frontlines and fly missions deep into enemy territory. She just never 
thought she'd see the day when it would actually happen.

She was going to war.

Captain Martinez's gentle voice broke through her tumultuous thoughts, 
pulling her back to the present.

"You did a good job up there, little girl."

Raising her eyes, Carter managed to give him a small smile.

"Thank you, sir."

Martinez had the reputation of being the family man in the squadron. 
Although he had committed his entire adult life to the Air Force, he 
always spent his downtime with his wife and children in Salt Lake City.

His love for kids extended down to the members of the squadron, all of 
whom he considered as much his children as his son and daughter were. 
Martinez kindly referred to the men of the 421st as his 'boys,' and 
reserved a special place in his heart for Carter, his 'girl.'

Martinez nodded at her before fixing his gaze on her F-16.

"Finish up what you were doing, Lieutenant. We'll soon find out what's 
going on."

"Yes, sir," she replied, saluting.

About twenty minutes later, Carter and her crew were completing the power 
down procedure when she heard the distinct sound of approaching 
footsteps. Smiling, she peeked over the side of her cockpit, assuming 
Thompson had returned from powering down his own aircraft. Much to her 
dismay, she was met by the one person she sought to avoid at all costs.

"So, do you think what you did will make it easier for your daddy to move 
you up on NASA's list of candidates for the astronaut corps?" Derek Hall 
asked sourly.

She purposely ignored him, climbing out of the cockpit after setting the 
canopy to close behind her. She had sensed that sooner or later he'd find 
the time to pay her a visit. It came as no surprise that Hall had waited 
until she was more or less alone before confronting her.

Someone clearing his throat behind her caught her attention.

Ducking her head beneath the nose of the fighter plane, she found her 
support crew standing at attention, waiting to be dismissed. Her eyes 
tracked each of their faces.

There was Staff Sergeant Nolan and Senior Airman Edwards, the two newest 
personnel she had chosen to be a part of her support crew. Both had been 
recommended by Captain Martinez and Lieutenant Lovell, and thus far 
proven themselves to her time and again, learning the ropes quickly.

Then there was Technical Sergeant Lowe, the oldest and most experienced 
member of the team. Carter had intuitively handpicked the strong-willed, 
accomplished Lowe to be her chief crewman at the beginning of her flight 
training instruction, and the two had stuck together ever since.

"Thanks for your help, guys."

Edwards peered behind Carter, nodding her head towards the prowling Hall.

"Sure you'll be okay, ma'am?"

Carter felt her lips twitch in amusement at the youngest member of her 
crew.

Senior Airman Edwards was a firebrand, ready for anything that may come 
her way and fiercely protective of her friends. She was bright as a new 
penny and not unlike Carter in several ways, which had led the lieutenant 
to hand-select the plucky young woman into the maintenance crew that 
would be attending to her and her fighter plane.

"I'll be just fine, Airman," she replied. "Thanks once again."

The three saluted her and walked away, leaving her alone with Hall. With 
one look at the expression on his face, she decided to try to continue 
the avoidance tactic and steadily began walking toward Hangar A for the 
briefing. Hall was not as eager to let go of the situation so quickly.

"Who taught you how to fly like that, Carter? Your old man? Or those 
crazy flyboys you're always hanging out with?"

'He's not worth the fight,' she told herself, fighting to keep her 
irritation in check as she unconsciously squeezed and loosened her fists.

Hall continued along, obviously enjoying himself as he tried to goad her.

"I bet Thompson's taught you a thing or two about flying...in the air and 
in the bedroom. Tell me, Carter, do you guys wait to get between the 
sheets or do you hop to it in a nice, cozy spot in the hangar bays?"

That did it.

When all else fell short, he relied on bringing her association with 
Thompson into the skirmish, using him to rouse the deep-rooted intensity 
Carter hid beneath the surface. It never failed to rile her.

Abruptly, she turned on her heel and defiantly stared up into his face, 
her fiery, sapphire eyes locking gazes with his pale, icy ones.

"What is your problem with me, Lieutenant? Just because I'm a woman 
doesn't mean I can't be a good fighter pilot!" she exclaimed, allowing 
her aggravation to take charge. She had tired of endlessly walking around 
eggshells with him.

"This isn't about you being a woman, Carter!" he yelled back.

"Then what the hell is it about?"

"Hey, knock it off, Hall!"

With a start, the two lieutenants twisted around toward the sound of 
Thompson's voice. Both immediately became aware of the fact they had 
arrived outside of Hangar A, where most of the squadron had already 
assembled for the briefing.

Her simmering anger cooled considerably as she spotted Thompson, Bennett, 
O'Malley, and Hickam making their way to her side. Her eyes lit up as she 
remembered the nickname Major Wells had bestowed upon his newest hotshots 
when they had joined the squadron.

The Fearless Freshmen.

All five friends had remained close throughout their instruction at the 
Academy and flight school, and by either luck or fate, all had been 
assigned to the 421st upon their graduation.

For weeks, Wells and the older squad members had teased them incessantly, 
joking that the major must have gotten a 'buy one, get four free' deal. 
The newly promoted first lieutenants had taken it all in stride, sticking 
close together as they always had.

Eventually, the rest of the squadron had learned to accept the fact that 
nothing could disrupt the strong camaraderie the five had constructed. 
They became Wells's terrors in the sky, successfully displaying their 
extremely capable flying skills consistently.

Word of their formidable bond spread across the base like a wildfire. 
Soon enough, all the personnel knew that when one of the Fearless 
Freshmen was happy, the other four were more than likely also cheerful. 
Mess with one, and you messed with all of them.

At the present time, none of them looked too pleased.

O'Malley stood by Carter's side, towering over her and Hall with his fit 
and trim six foot, four inch frame. The other young men took up positions 
behind them, offering silent support.

'Sometimes height does have its advantages,' she thought as Hall took a 
conscious step backward, clearly intimidated by O'Malley's powerful 
presence.

"Sam, is this little snail picking on you because you whipped his butt?"

Hall quickly cut in before she could reply.

"Of course not, O'Malley! I was just asking Carter where she got her 
flying lessons."

He fixed a cold gaze at her, his smile anything but friendly as his eyes 
sized her up from head to toe.

"Maybe you could show me some of those moves later. Your place or mine, 
sweetheart?"

In an instant, her anger bubbled and resurfaced at his bawdy remark. She 
stepped forward and opened her mouth, ready to give Hall the verbal 
thrashing of his life, when a stern voice stopped her.

"Cut it out!"

Six heads whipped around in swift succession to face Captain Sean 
McCullough, the other senior officer on the 421st.

"Major Wells is heading back so get your acts together now!" he 
admonished them.

Defiant looks were exchanged between Carter and Hall before the two 
backed away from each other, and a blanket of silence fell over the 
entire squadron as their commanding officer returned.

"Listen up," Wells began. "As you people have probably guessed, we've 
received new orders from Colonel Snedden. We'll be heading overseas to 
join Operation Desert Shield."

All eyes were trained on the major as he began pacing back and forth in 
front of them, continuing his address.

"Diplomacy has been going nowhere, so in three days, President Bush will 
be ordering additional deployments to Saudi. This will give credibility 
to the offensive option that is mounting. As a part of the 388th Tactical 
Fighter Wing, we'll be included in those plans."

He paused, taking the time to observe each youthful face.

"We've been training for weeks now. I've thrown every kind of obstacle I 
could think of while instructing you people, pushing you to your limits 
and beyond. You've passed with flying colors every time."

Wells halted briefly again, craning his neck to look up at the night sky 
for a moment, considering his next words.

"I know we're ready for this."

Clearing his throat, he added, "We'll continue to train four times a week 
until we are deployed on the seventeenth of November, so start getting 
your business taken care of. If anyone has anything to say, now's the 
time to say it."

Silence was the only response.

Nodding curtly, Major Wells stopped pacing.

"All right, then. We'll debrief in regards to today's training at 0800. 
You're dismissed."

With the briefing completed, the squadron broke apart, the pilots and 
crewmembers sauntering off in small groups to discuss what lay ahead of 
them.

Carter and Thompson left the taxiway together, wordlessly making their 
way to the officers' quarters. Once inside the building, the lieutenants 
weaved through the decorated corridors that accommodated the pilots of 
the 421st, the sound of their footfalls echoing through the empty 
hallways.

As they walked along, Carter glanced at the endless rows of plaques, 
certificates of commendation, and group photos of past and present 
squadron members. The pilots of the 421st had maintained a long history 
of pride and excellence, a tradition Major Wells expected to continue 
while the squadron was under his command.

Many of the names inscribed on the various awards were familiar, for they 
had built successful careers in the field of space science after trading 
in their pilot's wings. Most had gone on to work at NORAD, U.S. Space 
Command, and even NASA, where she hoped to find herself one day.

For now, those dreams would have to wait, shelved away until she returned 
from the Middle East.

Leaning against the door of her quarters, she eyed the unusually quiet 
Thompson, who was uncomfortably scuffing his boot along the floor. For 
months, they'd bickered about the reasons behind the military's 
involvement in the conflict, never quite seeing eye to eye on the topic. 
Now they were headed there themselves, unable to avoid the issue any 
longer.

The awkward silence that had encompassed the pair since the end of the 
briefing was suddenly broken when they began speaking simultaneously.

"Josh --"

"Sam --"

Tentative smiles crossed their faces.

Carter gestured for Thompson to say what was on his mind.

"I know you're less than thrilled about going overseas."

She shook her head, crossing her arms at her chest.

"I may not like it, Josh, but it is part of the job. We've been given our 
orders and we are bound by duty to follow them."

He bit his lower lip, dropping his gaze to the ground and nodding 
irritably.

She recognized the look of childlike petulance that crossed her friend's 
face. The expression rarely made an appearance, only surfacing when 
Thompson knew better than to question an order or opinion, choosing to 
internalize his dissatisfaction. Smiling slightly, she playfully kicked 
out, her foot lightly smacking his rear.

"Besides, you need someone to watch your butt over there!"

Wide grins spread their lips, and the two lieutenants broke into 
laughter, the solemn atmosphere dissolving in a flash.

"Yes, ma'am," Thompson said, chuckling as he stepped closer, breaching 
her personal space.

The mood between them charged electrically as he gently hooked his 
forefinger around the chain of her dog tags. Her heart began beating a 
little faster as he tenderly rested his forehead against hers, his dark 
brown eyes staring intently into her blue ones.

"You know, I always feel safe when I'm at your side. It doesn't matter if 
I'm in the air or here on the ground. I know I can rely on you."

Carter nodded slowly in accordance, her breath catching in her throat as 
the slight movement bumped her nose against his.

They were still as statues, feeling the rapid puffs of air on each 
other's lips, so close yet so far away.

Her mind raced a mile a minute.

From the very beginning, she had felt an undeniable attraction to him. 
His gorgeous eyes and easy smile were the trademark appearance of a 
classic boyish fighter pilot, but beneath the exterior good looks, his 
inborn charm and unending streak of brilliance had completely captivated 
her. It was second nature for her to trade complex ideas with him just as 
easily as it was to poke fun at one another.

She had never known anyone like him.

Little by little, she had begun to see something more in her best friend, 
and she always wondered if he could ever reciprocate the powerful 
feelings that coursed through her. Thus far, she'd never made a move, too 
frightened to jeopardize the cherished bond she shared with him should he 
not feel the same way.

As if reading her thoughts, he quizzically tilted his head to the side 
before a lopsided smile spread across his face. Reaching up, Thompson 
delicately brushed her bangs back from her forehead, winding his other 
arm around her waist. Her lips parted slightly as he slowly ducked his 
head toward hers, her eyes drifting shut as she felt him leaning in.

Cheerful voices and laughter rang through the air somewhere down the 
opposite corridor, the sounds shattering the silence and breaking the 
moment.

Carter turned her flushed face, jerking away from him. At the same time, 
Thompson shuffled backwards, nearly tripping over his feet as he quickly 
put some distance between the two of them.

It was not a second later when Lieutenants Lovell and Hickam rounded the 
corner, apparently in good spirits as they ambled toward the flustered 
Carter and Thompson.

"Hey, we were wondering where you guys disappeared to," Hickam greeted 
them in passing on his way to his quarters.

"Yeah, the rest of the squadron was planning on where to throw a little 
farewell party in town the night before we deploy," Lovell added, eyeing 
their bright pink cheeks suspiciously.

Carter cleared her throat, quickly averting her eyes, while Thompson's 
gaze retreated to the floor, his hand running over the back of his neck.

Lovell grinned at their obvious discomfort, pushing past Thompson to get 
to the door of his room. As he turned the knob, the older lieutenant 
paused and looked back, unable to restrain himself from making his 
friends squirm.

"Next time, try getting inside the room before you start making out, 
flyboy. Wouldn't want Major Wells to catch you two in the heat of the 
moment, now would we?" he joked, winking before he escaped inside his 
quarters.

Thompson glared at the door, looking embarrassed and angry at Lovell's 
words before he heard the soft click of another door opening behind him. 
Whirling around, he found Carter withdrawing into her own room.

"Sam?"

She gave him an apologetic small smile.

"I have to get some work done. I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly, 
closing the door completely.

She rested against the polished wood, her heart still racing from the 
rush of emotion. Turning on her side, Carter pressed her ear against the 
door, listening for any sound of Thompson outside, half wishing he would 
knock and ask to be invited inside.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there before disappointment settled in 
as she finally heard his fading footsteps walking reluctantly away.

                         *******************

Chapter 3

Saturday, November 17, 1990

The rising sun peeked over the crest of the majestic, snow-topped Wasatch 
Mountains, bathing the grounds of Hill AFB in a soothing, orange glow. 
Light snowfall had sprinkled down to earth the previous night, but the 
rays of warm sunshine began melting the moisture away bit by bit as day 
broke. The forecast called for another exceedingly cold but beautiful 
day, typical weather for mid-November.

On an average Saturday morning, the majority of Hill's residents would be 
sound asleep in their quarters, taking advantage of their weekend off to 
sleep in.

This, however, was no ordinary day.

In spite of the very early hour, personnel scurried every which way 
across the base. Crates filled with gear were being loaded onto large 
transport planes, fighter planes were being fueled and examined, and the 
little snow that remained was being shoveled off the runways in 
preparation for the 4th and 421st Fighter Squadron's departure to the 
Middle East.

Amid the flurry of activity, one lone figure clad in full Air Force dress 
uniform stood, appraising the men and women who were attending to the 
morning tasks. He scanned the airfield and smiled as he caught a glimpse 
of the person he was looking for.

Major General Jacob Carter's footsteps sounded quietly on the concrete as 
he walked toward the bundle of blankets beneath the F-16 with the 
wizard's wand emblazoned on its tail. He'd spent the past half hour 
searching for her and wasn't the least bit surprised to find her out 
here, leaning against the forward landing gear of her plane.

As he drew closer, his daughter became more visible.

Sam Carter was wearing her heavy flight jacket over civilian clothes, 
armed with a flashlight, an astrophysics book, and a pencil, scribbling 
notes on the pages of a notebook at a measured pace. A scarf was wrapped 
around her neck, but her cheeks and nose shimmered bright pink after 
remaining exposed to the bitter temperature.

He stopped three feet in front of her, yet she did not look up from her 
work. The general's smile widened as he considered using his best drill 
sergeant voice to capture her attention, but decided against it. He 
didn't want to scare the living daylights out of her.

"Sam?"

Carter lifted her head at the sound of his voice, pushing the rim of her 
military-issued baseball cap up away from her eyes and pulling her scarf 
down from her mouth.

"Dad," she said, surprise evident in her voice. "What are you doing 
here?"

"Looking for you," General Carter answered. "Have you been out here all 
night?"

A bewildered expression crossed her face as she took a look around, 
suddenly realizing it was morning.

Last night, she had joined her friends for a couple of drinks in town, 
celebrating their final day in the States. Before the party could really 
swing into action, she had excused herself and retreated back to the 
base, needing some time alone with her thoughts.

In the end, Carter wound up gathering her thesis material and found 
herself wrapped up in a couple of blankets beneath her F-16, taking 
comfort in the books and the proximity of her plane. She had 
inadvertently stayed out all night, inattentive of the cold and the 
passing time.

She gave her father a small, self-conscious grin.

"Um, yeah. I guess I have."

General Carter smiled in return, not finding her behavior unusual at all. 
His daughter had a knack for losing track of everything when she immersed 
herself in her work, dedicating her full attention to whatever task she 
was asked to perform.

"Mind if I join you?"

She pulled back on one side of the blanket she was enveloped in, silently 
inviting him to sit next to her. He complied, settling himself beside 
her.

"Nice and toasty," he commented, marveling at how warm her little study 
area was despite the chilly weather.

Carter smiled easily, snuggling closer to the father she hadn't seen in a 
very long time. The rigorous training schedule her squadron had been on 
the past few months hadn't permitted much downtime, as they'd spent 
almost every day logging countless hours in the sky. The little free time 
she'd managed to find wasn't enough to plan a trip to see her father, who 
was stationed across the country in Washington, D.C.

"So what are you working on?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd review a few things before I left. 
Last minute notes for my doctoral thesis."

He nodded, glancing down at the notes she'd written in her notebook. From 
the expression on his face, he clearly didn't understand much of the 
information, but she was happy that he was making an effort to take an 
interest in something that mattered to her. She usually had a difficult 
time discussing any issues with her father that didn't pertain to the Air 
Force.

"How's that going?"

Turning her attention back to her book, she shrugged slightly.

"I'll be done soon enough, I suppose. When I get back from my tour 
overseas, I'm planning on conducting a couple more experiments that will 
support my theories. The rest should be a piece of cake."

Pride shone on the general's face as he draped an arm around her 
shoulders, squeezing her closer.

"You'll be playing up in space in no time, kid."

She beamed at the praise, giving him one of her dazzling smiles.

"Thanks, Dad."

Since the age of four, Carter had wanted nothing more than a chance to go 
into outer space. Watching the Apollo 11 lunar landing with her mother 
and brother, she was fascinated by the fact that the men on the 
television set were actually standing on the surface of the moon. She 
remembered giggling in delight as they began hopping around in the near-
zero gravity, thoroughly enjoying herself almost as much as the 
astronauts themselves appeared to be.

Her father had been away that summer, spending several months on an 
overseas tour. When he'd returned home that winter, he had brought with 
him one of the best presents Carter had ever received as a child - a 
Major Matt Mason astronaut doll. That Christmas morning, father and 
daughter began mapping out the first plans to make her an astronaut 
someday, a dream that seemed closer and closer to coming true with each 
passing year.

"Sam, we're almost ready to start fueling your --"

Technical Sergeant Lowe stopped short as he appeared from beneath the 
starboard wing of the F-16, noticing Carter was not alone. Realizing who 
was sitting with her, he snapped to attention.

"General Carter, sir!"

He rose leisurely to his feet, giving his daughter a hand up.

"At ease, Sergeant."

"What's going on, Alan?" Carter asked her chief crewman.

"Ma'am, the fueling crews are nearly finished with Lieutenant Lovell's 
fighter, and they will be heading around to fuel yours next," he reported 
perfunctorily.

Nodding, she smiled forcefully.

"Thank you, Alan."

The sergeant saluted and scampered back to the aft section of the fighter 
plane, watching as the crews completed their work on Lovell's aircraft. 
Across the taxiway area, a few more crews were similarly fueling other F-
16s from their squadron, as well as the squadron that would be 
accompanying them.

She studied them for a moment before giving her father a sideway glance.

"I guess I'd better go change and make sure I have everything ready."

General Carter nodded curtly, his own eyes fixed on his daughter's 
airplane. She watched, filled with curiosity, as he ran a hand along the 
edge of the wing. Her father had been a pilot during the Cold War, and 
she knew he was pleased that at least one of children had inherited his 
passion for flying.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"They sure don't make them like they used to," he said softly, patting 
the side of the fuselage. Clearing his throat, he returned his gaze to 
Carter.

"Come on. I'll walk you to your quarters."

She quickly gathered her belongings and fell into step beside him. As 
they walked to the officers' quarters, she took her first real look 
around, fully becoming aware of the activity across the base.

"This makes everything so real," she murmured.

"What does?"

Carter waved her free hand in an arc, indicating the personnel bustling 
around Hill.

"Seeing this makes me believe I'm not dreaming. Makes me realize that 
this is all really happening."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"About that. What do you think of this mission?"

"Major Wells thinks we're ready --"

Her father unexpectedly stopped and raised his hand, motioning for 
silence and receiving it from his daughter immediately. His voice was 
firm when he addressed her.

"I respect Major Wells, Sam. He's a fine officer. But I asked for your 
opinion on this operation, not his."

Casting her gaze to the ground, Carter's eyebrows lifted slightly as she 
considered her answer. Jacob Carter did not appreciate those who beat 
around the bush and sidestepped the crux of an important matter. She had 
learned long ago that whenever she was dealing with her father, honesty 
was the best policy.

"When I first heard the rumors that we might be assigned to Desert 
Shield, I didn't want to go," she admitted as they continued walking. 
"And I certainly don't approve of my friends' reasons for wanting to go. 
They can't wait to get combat experience, to go in with their guns 
blazing. All the wrong reasons for this campaign."

Sighing, she leveled her eyes on his.

"But there are people in the Middle East that have no defense against 
their enemies, and they need our help. If I can do anything to aid those 
people, I'm ready and willing to be over there."

By the time she had finished the one-sided discussion, they were standing 
outside of her quarters. Pulling her keys out of her pocket, she opened 
the door, and they strode inside.

The general had remained silent since he had stopped her outside of the 
building, keeping his comments on her viewpoints to himself as he'd 
intently listened to what she had to say. Now, he merely studied her 
room, observing his daughter's living quarters.

Carter had generally been a tidy person well before joining the military. 
The quaint little room was kept straight and ordered at all times. The 
bed was made when she wasn't sleeping in it, the blinds were regularly 
dusted, the laundry was folded and stored away, and the carpet was 
vacuumed once or twice a week.

Her desk, on the other land, looked like a disaster area.

Piles of books and mountains of paper littered the desktop. Her computer 
was barely visible amid the other junk. Coffee mugs, energy bar wrappers, 
star maps, and photographs completely obscured the remaining free space.

She meticulously added the books she had used last night to the chaotic 
workspace, balancing them precariously on another heap of books.

General Carter stared at the mess before slowly tracking his gaze upwards 
to the young woman who stood behind the desk.

She grinned at her father, presenting him with her best 'innocent little 
girl' look that had melted his heart as long as she could recall. Upon 
seeing her sparkling blue eyes and dimpled smile, he began chuckling, 
shaking his head.

"There are some things about you that haven't changed one bit, Sam."

Walking over to her bed, he took hold of her packed duffel bag and placed 
it on the floor, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. He signaled 
for her to join him and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, handing 
it to her.

"This is where I'll be stationed. Not too far from where you'll be, 
actually, and there's a number where you can reach me if you need 
anything."

Carter carefully placed the paper in the inside pocket of her flight 
jacket for safekeeping, inquisitively watching as her father retrieved 
his wallet and delicately removed a small photograph from it. He passed 
it along to her.

She blinked in surprise as she looked down on it, the images becoming 
blurry behind the sudden prickle of tears. Her mother and a much younger 
Samantha smiled up at her from the picture as they held on to each other 
and an old radio-controlled airplane they had christened "Miss Carter."

"I found it the other day in a box of old pictures," her father told her. 
"I thought you might like to have it."

She bit her lip, her fingers clutching the edges of the fading photo as 
the memories swept through her.

The small airplane had been one of her most treasured childhood 
possessions, a gift from a mother who fully supported her daughter's 
dreams of becoming an astronaut. She had frequently spent her time flying 
it around the various bases she had grown up on, a constant companion she 
never tired of throughout the many moves.

Great care and conditioning had been placed into the little aircraft for 
many years, until only two days before her mother's tragic accident when 
the plane had unexpectedly stopped working. No matter how much she 
fiddled with it, dismantling it and putting it back together again, she 
never got it running again.

It was a harsh premonition of what would become one of the roughest times 
in her life.

A hand reached out to rest over hers, holding on lightly.

Slowly, Carter raised her tear-filled eyes to look at her father. Even 
though she had forgiven him long ago for not picking up her mother on 
that fateful day, their relationship had continued to be strained, 
vacillating between uneasy acceptance and outright avoidance.

Lately, things had been much better between them. Both father and 
daughter were working hard on mending the broken pieces back together, 
learning to lower their defenses and becoming more at ease around each 
other.

"Your mom is going to be watching over you, kid. Every second of every 
day while you're over there. And I'll just be a phone call away if you 
need me."

Swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, she wiped at 
her eyes with the back of her hand, remembering the expression her father 
had instilled in her at a young age.

Big girls don't cry.

Forcing back the tears, Carter sniffled quietly.

"Thank you."

Reaching up, he cradled her face with his hands, tilting her head so that 
they were eye to eye.

"Make me proud, Sam."

Regaining control of her emotions, she smiled confidently at him, her 
innate desire to please her father surging through her.

"I'll do my best, sir."

The general brushed the unruly bangs from her forehead, affectionately 
stroking her hair as he once did when she was a child. The smile on her 
face wavered at the contact, the firm hold she had on her emotions 
becoming tenuous once again as she looked into her father's eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, she launched herself into his waiting 
arms, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, kid," he said softly.

Carter squeezed her eyes shut, holding on to her father with all her 
might.

"I love you, too, Dad."

                         *******************

Chapter 4

Monday, November 19, 1990

'Holy Hannah!'

Her father's trademark phrase of expressing astonishment came unbidden to 
Carter's mind as she looked down at the landscape of southern Saudi 
Arabia.

From her background reading, she recognized what they were flying over as 
one of the largest sand deserts in the world. Compared to the 
southwestern American deserts they had trained over, this location was 
astonishing in its sheer grandness. Massive sand dunes stretched as far 
as the eye could see, shifting almost imperceptibly in the wind.

"That's the Rub-al-Khali down there," Major Wells radioed the group. 
"250,000 square miles of desert. It'll be the backdoor of our little base 
near Khamis Mushayt."

The names of the desert and city closest to their base rolled 
effortlessly off her commanding officer's tongue. Obviously, he had spent 
some time learning to correctly pronounce the unfamiliar Arabic names.

If it had been possible, Carter would have gladly spent the trip to the 
Middle East studying her English-to-Arabic dictionary, learning the 
pronunciations of useful words. As it was, she had been stuck in her 
fighter plane for hours going stir-crazy from the lack of things to do.

Late Saturday afternoon, the 4th and 421st Fighter Squadrons had departed 
Hill, flying nonstop across the continental United States and the 
Atlantic, refueling in midair. By early Sunday morning, the squadrons had 
reached Italy's Aviano Air Base, where the pilots were allowed a couple 
of hours rest before heading off to their next destination. As the sun 
was setting, they were in the sky again, flying to Turkey's Incirlik Air 
Base where they received their new trajectory.

The course took them across the waters of the Mediterranean, above the 
pyramids of Egypt, and over the narrow Red Sea. By dawn, they had their 
first glimpse of the rich, golden sands of Saudi Arabia from high above 
as they made their final approach toward the base.

As they flew further south, the elevation rose almost drastically, the 
landscape changing from sandy desert to rocky terrain.

The King Khalid Air Base was tucked away in the Asir Mountains in the 
extreme southwest region of Saudi Arabia. Nearby, the city of Khamis 
Mushayt was bustling with activity, a hub populated with market people 
and traders, occupied by approximately 35,000 citizens. The base itself 
was clearly visible outside the smaller market centers, the blinking 
runway lights serving as a beacon to the two American fighter squadrons.

"Hey, number 4 and 421! Greetings from King Khalid Air Base. Over," an 
awfully cheerful voice announced over the open frequency.

Major Wells replied, "Reading you loud and clear, Khalid. Over."

"Good to finally see you, Khalid. Over," added Lieutenant Colonel Ryan 
Anderson, the commanding officer of the 4th Fighter Squadron.

"Copy that. You guys are cleared for landing on runway one. Welcome to 
Saudi Arabia, over."

The planes eased down onto the runway two at a time and were immediately 
directed where to taxi. Ultimately, the two squadrons wound up facing 
across from each other, lined wingtip to wingtip by the runway in a 
couple of neat rows.

Carter smiled as she popped open the canopy, glad to finally be on solid 
ground once again. Unhooking her oxygen mask, she took a deep breath of 
the fresh mountain air, curiously looking around at the foreign 
surroundings.

Aside from the expansive desert to the east and the glimmer of the Red 
Sea to the west, things didn't look too different from Hill. Military 
personnel bustled around the base, attending to various tasks from 
monitoring the perimeter to working on airplanes. Her friends sat in the 
cockpits of their fighter jets, conducting power down procedures just as 
they always had following the conclusion of a mission.

'Just like home,' she reminded herself, trying to believe it.

The sound of her ladder clanking against the hull of the plane drew her 
attention down to the unfamiliar face of one of her temporary crewman. He 
smiled politely.

"Morning, ma'am. I'm Sergeant Gomez."

Furnishing him with a quick, courteous smile, she felt a pang of 
homesickness flood her, but hastily squelched down the feeling. The 
squadron's personal maintenance crews were due to arrive at the base on a 
transport plane within the day. In the meantime, the least she could do 
was be nice to the temps.

After powering down the F-16, Carter thanked the crew and grabbed her 
gear, heading off to the command building for her orders. As she walked, 
she took her first look at the base from the ground, observing the sights 
and sounds that would eventually become habitual to her.

The King Khalid Air Base control tower was the tallest structure on the 
base, looming over the compounds and rows of tents below. Toward the 
eastern horizon, the dunes of the Rub-al-Khali were openly discernible. 
To the north, she could see the outlines of buildings along the outer 
limits of Khamis Mushayt.

The local scenery was a drastic change from the customary sight of having 
the Rocky Mountains in their backyard, where they constantly battled the 
elements of snow and ice. In Saudi, the odds of seeing any kind of wintry 
weather were unlikely. With the exception of nightfall, temperatures 
generally remained very warm in this part of the world throughout the 
winter season.

Upon arriving at the command building, she was directed by the SF at the 
door to report to the briefing room down the hall. Dutifully picking up 
her gear again, she strode into the large room, peering in.

Rows of chairs lined the spacious interior, facing forward toward a long 
blackboard covered in maps. Someone had drawn what she recognized as 
flight paths over Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Kuwait. A multitude of colors 
decorated the maps of the region, and after studying them for a moment, 
Carter abruptly realized each color represented different branches of the 
U.S. military and the coalition forces stationed across the Middle East.

"What are you thinking, Wizard?"

A smile twitched her lips at the sound of Thompson's voice. She hadn't 
heard him approach from behind her. Either his stealth skills were 
improving, or she was losing her edges. Shaking her head marginally, she 
forced her attention away from the maps.

"I'm not thinking. Just looking," she told him simply.

Grinning, Thompson replied, "Yeah, right. The day you stop thinking is 
the day hell freezes over."

Nodding his head to the chairs, he beckoned her to follow him as more 
pilots began walking into the room.

The briefing was short and to the point.

Lieutenant Colonel Anderson introduced the base commanding officer, 
Brigadier General Grant Davis. The tall, gray-haired one-star greeted 
them gruffly before beginning his oration on what their current status 
was, sticking to the bare facts.

The United Nations had demanded the Iraqi forces withdraw from Kuwait by 
0800 hours on January 15. If the mandate was not met, the coalition 
forces would be fully authorized to use whatever force necessary to end 
the incursion.

The two squadron commanders picked up the rest of the details after 
General Davis headed out to his next duty, informing them that their 
primary orders would be issued first thing tomorrow morning.

Wells and Anderson broke the squads into smaller groups, handing out 
manuals on the alternating assignments each group would be required to 
focus on. They ranged from briefings on bombing run scenarios and 
studying intelligence reports from Special Ops to logging hours in the 
skies over their command base in the F-16 Fighting Falcons and F-117 
Nighthawks. During their downtime, the groups would be allowed time to 
attend to their personal interests.

Room assignments were dispensed, and afterwards, they were dismissed.

The pilots were fortunate to obtain better sleeping quarters than most of 
the other personnel on base due to the awkward hours they'd soon be 
keeping. Barracks were built into the hardened aircraft shelters, located 
in the same facilities where they invaluable stealth planes would be kept 
when they arrived, protecting the aircraft as well as the pilots who 
would be flying them.

Carter walked alongside Thompson and Lovell as they searched for their 
new quarters.

Captains James Martinez and Sean McCullough would be sharing the first 
room with Lieutenants Bobby Wood and Derek Hall across the hallway. 
Rupert O'Malley, Robert Fulco, Todd Hickam, and Jonathan Bennett had 
chosen to share the room next to theirs, and Sam Carter, Josh Thompson, 
and Matthew Lovell were situated across from them.

Carter dropped her gear beside one of the bunks, studying the cramped 
room. Her two friends tossed their own bags haphazardly into a corner 
before Thompson clambered up to claim the top bunk and Lovell dived onto 
the bottom one.

Turning around to face them, a wicked grin appeared on her face.

"If I hear moans coming from your side of the room tonight, should I just 
assume you're telling scary stories?"

Thompson and Lovell froze, their mouths dropping open in surprise. Carter 
crossed her arms at her chest, smiling in delight as a wave of pride 
swept through her at the minor accomplishment. She definitely still had 
it in her to hang with the boys.

Their momentary shock at her coarse comment soon passed, and a 
mischievous, toothy smile found its way onto Lovell's face. It was the 
one that always meant trouble.

"Better watch it, little sister, or you may wind up with some creepy, 
crawly bedmates. I read that scorpions love hiding out in blonde-haired, 
blue-eyed girls' beds."

Thompson snickered, pantomiming the Itsy-Bitsy Spider hand motions, 
drawing a glare from Carter and a laugh from Lovell, who gestured toward 
their bags.

"Come on, Josh. The sooner we unpack, the sooner we can look for Sammy's 
new friends."

As they lugged their bags onto their bunks, Carter leaned over and swung 
her rucksack on to the mattress. Grabbing something from within, she 
brandished it in their direction.

"Funny. But just so you know, I'll be using this on ALL uninvited guests, 
and not just the eight-legged variety."

To emphasize her point, she released a brief spurt of bug spray at them, 
grinning. Laughter emanated from Thompson and Lovell, who appreciated the 
good-natured barb.

Dragging her own duffel bag to her bunk, she sat and glanced around her 
new home, envisioning where to store everything. Sighing, Carter unzipped 
the large duffel, rummaging through it. Several pairs of BDUs, an extra 
pair of combat boots, lots of sunblock...

All of a sudden, a rustling sound seized her attention, and her hands 
stilled for a moment to listen carefully.

From across the room, a loud, high-pitched voice yelled, "Oh, Joshie!"

Another squeal rang through the air, followed by a falsetto voice 
shouting another name. 

"Oh, Matty!"

Two pairs of boxers landed neatly on her nightstand, one hanging on to 
the small lamp, the other dangling just below it.

Turning her head to the articles of clothing, she raised her eyebrows at 
the decorative prints. One pair had a pattern of small airplanes set 
against a backdrop of white, fluffy clouds, while the other set was black 
with crisscrossing little red hearts.

Carter laughed out loud at the absurd patterns, smiling in delight at her 
friends' attempt to lighten the atmosphere of the situation they were in. 
She was just catching her breath when she heard Jon Bennett yell from 
outside.

"Hey, hey, hey! Quit the hanky-panky till the sun goes down, boys!"

Breaking into another furious fit of giggles, Carter gasped for air, 
clutching her sides as the laughter shook her body. Once the boys had 
quieted down, she lay tranquilly on the bunk, wiping the remnants of 
laughing-induced tears from her face and smiling slightly, thankful for 
her friends' never-ending sense of humor.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all.

                         *******************

Jack O'Neill grinned from ear to ear.

"Scorpions have a thing for blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls? Think I'll 
keep that in mind the next time we find ourselves on one of those sandy 
planets you love so much."

Carter winced, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't count on that, sir."

"Why not?"

Wrinkling her nose, she answered, "A scorpion's sting isn't something you 
want to become familiar with. Trust me."

He raised his eyebrows, surprise etched on his face.

"Thompson and Lovell actually planted them in your bunk?"

"They tried to," she admitted, remembering the day she found the pair of 
troublemakers attempting to sneak their new insect friends into her 
mattress.

"Matt wound up getting stung and was sick for a week."

Carter grimaced as she recalled helping Thompson carry the feverish 
Lovell to the medical building. It wasn't pretty. Between his 
incomprehensible sputtering and thrashing, he'd managed to vomit over 
both of them twice, finally settling down as the doctor injected him with 
antivenin to counteract the effects of the sting.

"Needless to say, they both learned a lesson, sir."

A sly smile crossed O'Neill's face.

"Think I can talk Daniel into handling them for me?"

"Colonel!" she exclaimed, momentarily appalled that he would consider 
such a thing before recognizing the good-humored look on his face. 
Chuckling, she bestowed him with a knowing glance.

"Sir, Daniel's spent a good deal of time in Egypt. I'm sure he's well-
aware of how dangerous some scorpions can be."

"Damn!" he cried out, feigning disappointment.

Carter smiled, appreciating his boundless, if at times twisted, sense of 
humor.

Craning her neck, she took note of how high the sun was located above the 
treetops. The morning had quickly turned into mid-afternoon during her 
storytelling, and her stomach rumbled earnestly, reminding her that her 
last meal, if you could call it that, had been hours ago. She rummaged 
through her pockets, searching for a couple of energy bars, and handed 
one to her CO.

The colonel accepted the package gratefully, pulling off the wrapper and 
munching hungrily, but he grimaced at the bland taste of the bar.

"Think we should start back for camp, sir?" she questioned.

Nodding in reply, O'Neill walked by her side, mindful of the leafy path 
while he finished the energy bar. He made a quick radio call to Teal'c, 
informing their companion that he and Carter were on their way back.

"Thanksgiving and Christmas came and went swiftly," the major stated 
after a few minutes of silence, continuing her tale.

"When do they not?" he asked, stuffing their empty wrappers in his 
pocket.

Grinning, she replied, "I know what you mean. I spent more than a few of 
my Christmas and summer leaves in Texas with Josh's family. Those days 
always passed by too quickly."

All of a sudden, the colonel stopped in his tracks, an exaggerated look 
written all over his face.

"Wait just one minute! You're telling me someone actually dragged you 
away from your work?" He placed a hand over his chest, clutching his 
heart. "Carter, I'm shocked!"

The major cocked her head to the side, smiling wryly.

"Very funny, sir."

O'Neill laughed quietly, placing his hand upon her back and giving her a 
gentle push forward, signifying she should continue walking.

"His parents welcomed me with open arms. I think Mrs. Thompson loved 
having another woman in the house after raising two rough-and-tumble 
boys."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before clambering over a 
fallen tree trunk.

"What about Jacob?"

Carter shrugged.

"He was stationed overseas throughout the duration of my instruction at 
the Academy, sir."

Certainly, she missed her father while he was away, but after having 
grown up with him being gone most of the time, it wasn't too big of deal 
by the time she had hit her twenties.

"During our second year, Josh noticed I was planning on spending another 
leave at school again, so he invited me to accompany him to Austin for 
Christmas. It became a tradition of sorts, spending the winters and 
summers in Texas."

A small smile graced O'Neill's lips.

"Run into General Hammond by any chance?"

Carter laughed quietly, shaking her head.

"No, sir. I think he's from northern Texas, actually."

"Ah."

Plucking a large leaf off a low-hanging, thin branch, the colonel twisted 
its stem around in his fingers, twirling it back and forth. Carter 
couldn't help but smile. The man always had to be doing something with 
his hands.

"So how did you keep busy all those months?"

Tugging the leaf out of his hand, she sighed.

"It was difficult, at first. I was so used to always doing something. 
Running simulations on the computers, training against other squadron 
members, working on my doctoral thesis. None of that was available to me 
in Saudi."

Carter grinned as she recalled something.

"I think it was Major Wells who noticed how antsy I was becoming."

"Did he order you to chill out?" he joked.

She bit her lower lip, trying to keep from smiling.

"As a matter of fact, sir..."

"You're kidding!" he shouted. "You sure we're talking about the same 
Brayden Wells here?"

"Yes, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Anderson later informed me that General 
Davis had ordered Major Wells to quit being so anxious all the time. 
Apparently, the major decided to pass that message down to me, as well."

"I'm guessing you took his advice?"

Carter nodded, replying, "On my free days, I learned to just...hang out. 
Played cards with the guys, learned to ride a camel, went scuba diving in 
the Red Sea once."

O'Neill quickly stepped in her path, blocking her.

"Hold it," he said, raising his hands. "Did you just say you learned to 
ride a camel?"

Smiling broadly at his astonishment, she responded, "Yes, sir. I became 
quite adept. They're actually very cute, once you get past the fact that 
they spit and smell."

He shook his head in awe, mumbling, "You never cease to amaze me, 
Carter." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he quietly added, "At least 
you kids had it easy."

Frowning slightly, she risked a glance at O'Neill.

His face was serene, but Carter wondered what errant thoughts and 
memories that calm exterior hid. The colonel wasn't one who easily shared 
information about his past with anyone, but on occasion, he treated his 
team with bits and pieces of his history. After a few minutes of silence, 
it became apparent he would not be supplementing any more detail to his 
vague comment this time around.

The major mirrored her commanding officer's earlier action, sliding her 
hands inside her pant pockets as she continued to walk beside him.

"Sometimes we would just sit and talk around the campfire, sharing good 
stories and bad coffee. Those are some of the moments I'll never forget."

                         *******************

Monday, December 31, 1990

Carter shivered as the chilly northeasterly wind rippled across the base, 
watching as the small campfire's flames flickered and danced. She smiled 
in gratitude as Thompson and Lovell huddled closer to her in response, 
the combined body heat keeping them all warm.

On the other side of their private little New Year's Eve getaway spot, 
O'Malley, Hickam, and Bennett braved the elements as well, keeping their 
camouflage jackets zipped up to their chins.

The small group listened intently as Bennett detailed his excursion to 
Khamis Mushayt during his last day off. He had enjoyed the trip so much, 
he planned to spend the entire day there tomorrow. O'Malley quickly 
volunteered to join him.

"Finding stuff to do on base is getting old," he declared. "I want to see 
some city life before things start swinging around here."

Thompson smiled.

"It's nice over here, but I won't consider it a true paradise until a 
warm ocean miraculously appears to complement all the sand."

"Yeah, and some beautiful women in teeny bikinis!" Bennett added, 
laughing.

Carter cleared her throat, reminding them of her presence. Sometimes it 
was all too easy for them to forget she was a woman, and the thought both 
pleased and annoyed her.

On one hand, she prided herself on how much the young men considered her 
to be just as good a pilot and soldier as they were, regularly commending 
her refined skills and quick mind as they would any other flyboy.

On the other hand, there were times when it wasn't so easy to blend in. 
She respected them as fellow officers and good friends, but from time to 
time they could be just as rude and uncouth as several of the closed-
minded Air Force officers she had encountered through her career.

Lovell chuckled softly beside her, nudging her shoulder.

"Aw, Sammy, we know you're beautiful, but you're our little buddy."

O'Malley grinned from across the campfire.

"Besides, we know you'd kick our ass if we ever tried to take advantage 
of you."

Her companions smiled as she chucked some sand in his direction with her 
booted foot, well aware that they knew how capable she was.

By the time she'd been assigned to the 421st, Carter was proficient in 
hand-to-hand combat training. Her friends had helped her perfect her 
self-defense skills, sharpening her already remarkable abilities.

The thought made her pause for a moment as she remembered an earlier 
incident from today.

"I wish we could do more than kick sand at nuisances," she mumbled, 
tossing her cold coffee behind her.

The group settled down at her soft comment, all of them apparently 
recalling how close Derek Hall had come to engaging in a fistfight with 
Carter this morning. The word had spread quickly among the junior 
officers in their squadron.

The pair had been reviewing satellite imagery of Baghdad, managing to 
grudgingly work in each other's company despite the friction between 
them. Major Wells had just left them alone after checking their progress 
when Carter made an observation about a weather pattern.

Hall had vehemently disagreed, arguing his point against hers. Adamantly, 
Carter insisted she had spent twice the time working with such 
photographs during her post-graduate studies with Air Force and NASA 
satellite images and knew what she was doing.

The comment certainly hit a mark. Hall's face had flushed beet red as he 
shoved the images to the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, a trace of anger laced in her 
voice.

Before he walked away, she heard him mutter, "You think you know 
everything about the space program, Carter. Why don't you finish the 
project on your own?"

Unwilling to let go of the dispute, she trailed after him.

"Excuse me. We were ordered to work on this assignment together, 
Lieutenant Hall. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with 
Major Wells."

He didn't even spare her a glance as he kept marching.

Before she could stop herself, she spit out, "Maybe if you'd quit 
hassling me, you'd have more time to work on your own research on NASA 
technology!"

Carter consciously knew she had struck a nerve, calling to mind the fact 
that Hall had been studiously working on satellite research in hope of 
earning credentials that would impress NASA. It was a low blow comment, 
and the reaction she provoked didn't exactly take her by surprise.

He spun around, throwing a wild punch in her direction in his outrage.

Ducking the high, unstable swing, she immediately raised her own fists in 
defense, prepared should he attempt to strike at her again. The sound of 
running feet barely registered in her mind as she carefully observed 
Hall, waiting for his next move. His pale, blue eyes shone with more 
resentment than she had ever encountered before, frightening her.

All of a sudden, O'Malley was driving Hall from her while Hickam grabbed 
hold of Carter's upper arm, slowly pulling her a safe distance away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" O'Malley shouted.

Hall had taken one look at the three of them before crossly stalking 
away, fuming.

Carter couldn't help but remember the fights she'd gotten into with her 
brother, Mark, when she was younger. Both of them always ended up 
grounded when they were caught, despite Sam's protests that Mark usually 
initiated the fighting.

Her father had continually told her it didn't matter if her brother had 
started it because she regularly joined in the arguing instead of wisely 
walking away. Therefore, Sam was just as responsible for her actions as 
Mark was and would have to suffer the same consequences.

She sighed heavily as she considered what the consequences might have 
been had anyone other than O'Malley and Hickam witnessed the altercation. 
If a senior officer had seen them, she had no doubt that she and Hall 
would have immediately been shipped back to the States for their 
behavior, receiving a court-martial the second they stepped off the 
transport plane.

Carter looked up into the faces of her friends, the firelight casting her 
features in an orange glow.

"I don't understand what I could have done to set him off on me in the 
beginning," she wondered aloud.

Five pairs of eyes exchanged hesitant expressions before lowering their 
gazes to the ground. Right away, Carter grew suspicious, instantly 
realizing they knew something she didn't and not liking it one bit.

"Spill it, guys," she demanded, curious to discover what they had been 
concealing.

Hickam, the tranquil one of the bunch, was the first to speak.

"He thinks you're a daddy's girl, Sam," he said quietly, running a hand 
through his dark, wavy hair uneasily.

"What?"

Bennett nodded in agreement, all his usual joking put aside.

"He's always felt that just because your dad is a general, you're going 
to get an easy ride into NASA when the time comes."

She closed her eyes.

How could she have missed something like that? She personally knew that a 
number of the people assigned to the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing had big 
dreams of working their way into the space program eventually. Hell, she 
was one of them!

For months, Carter had been aware of that fact that her bitter rival also 
held those kind of dreams, striving to work his way up the scientific 
community with his studies on satellite technology between his rigorous 
flying exercises. She was also conscious of the number of people who 
fully and openly supported her own studies in the field of astrophysics, 
all of them giving her a helping hand up the ladder of success, including 
her father, despite her protests.

She could have kicked herself for not adding things up sooner. The 
jealousy and acrimony Hall constantly displayed suddenly became crystal 
clear in her eyes.

"I won't lie to you, guys. My dad did make it reasonably easy for me to 
get accepted into the Academy," she admitted sullenly.

"He may have," Thompson agreed, taking her gloved hand in his own. "But 
recommendations only go so far, Sam. Your accomplishments are too 
impressive to pass up."

Carter glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, listening attentively 
as he continued enthusiastically.

"Besides, look at everything you've done since then! You graduated at the 
top of your class, flew circles around the rest of us in flight school, 
and earned your Masters a year ahead of schedule. Your dad can't take any 
credit for that."

He squeezed her hand, gazing straight into her eyes.

"That was all Sam Carter. Not anyone else."

From across the campfire, Bennett exclaimed, "I'll raise my sludgy coffee 
to that!"

Suddenly, their digital watches went off within seconds of each other, 
alerting them that it was finally midnight. Another year had passed, and 
now a new one was beginning.

Farewell to 1990. Welcome to 1991.

The six friends stood and wished one another a happy new year before 
sauntering off to their quarters, ready for some sleep. Thompson and 
Carter hung back from the rest of the group, walking slowly and 
continuing to hold on to each other's hands.

Despite the late hour, their little airstrip hummed with movement.

Troops patrolled the perimeter, keeping an eye out for any signs of 
hostile activity. A contingent of newly assigned Special Forces watched 
over the stealth fighters, cautiously looking out for anyone trying to 
sneak a closer peek at the black jets. Here and there, handfuls of hired 
Saudi Arabian Bedouins worked various jobs, helping out with random 
tasks.

Carter instinctively moved closer to Thompson as one of them passed by, 
guiding three camels to their holding pen. The man smiled nervously at 
them, clutching his dark cloak to his body.

She wasn't sure of his name, but she'd previously seen him around the 
base. For some reason, she always felt a hint of distrust and unease 
whenever he was near, unable to shake the uncontrolled reaction. Clasping 
Thompson's hand tighter, she shook her head slightly. It was more than 
likely nothing.

Finally, they arrived outside the entrance to their sleeping quarters.

Carter and Thompson's eyes were glued to the clear, star-filled sky, 
watching in rapt fascination as a satellite passed by overhead.

She smiled as the object streaked across the heavens, considering her own 
hopes and dreams to someday have the opportunity to go into space. Her 
confidence in her ability to reach her goal continued to expand with each 
passing day. Of course, a little encouragement from friends always helped 
boost that confidence.

'Your accomplishments are too impressive to pass up.'

Thompson's words echoed through her mind as she turned to look upon her 
friend.

He was craning his neck to gaze adoringly at the stars above, his face 
holding all the wonder of a young boy. Regardless of his exceptional 
talent as a fighter pilot, Carter knew that rockets were his passion and 
strongest forte.

A few days ago, he had confided in her his desire to return home to work 
on new rocket designs as soon as their tour overseas was completed. 
Carter had listened intently as he explained his theories, feeling as if 
they were back home trading ideas like they used to before the chaos 
unfolding in the Persian Gulf had captured all of his interest.

She had smiled at him, glad he had taken up her advice to investigate 
celestial mechanics, the science of understanding the motions of 
particles in space. Combined with his knowledge of propulsion, his 
groundbreaking ideas had thoroughly amazed her.

As if sensing her eyes upon him, he finally tore his attention away from 
the night sky, smiling openly at her.

"I appreciate what you said tonight," she told him sincerely.

Thompson ducked his head, a faint blush staining his cheeks as he 
murmured, "Hey, it's what I'm here for."

After a quick moment, he recollected himself and motioned to the stealth 
planes parked inside their state-of-the-art hangar bays.

"Well, that and flying those babies, anyway."

Carter smiled, squeezing his fingers.

"Glad to know I mean as much as you as a Nighthawk, Josh."

"You know those aircraft mean the world to me, Sam," he deadpanned 
seriously, garnering a laugh from his companion.

The easygoing smile returned to his face as he asked, "Do you want to go 
log some hours together tomorrow?"

"That sounds great, Josh. You'd better be up bright and early."

His grin broadened, and before she could react, he bent and placed a 
swift kiss at the corner of her mouth, whispering, "Happy New Year, Sam."

She caught a fleeting glance at his shy smile before he escaped inside. 
Carter stood rooted in the same location, blinking in surprise at the 
tingling spot where his lips had been only moments ago. A slow smile 
graced her face, her eyes sparkling in the bright moonlight.

Taking one last look at the stars above, she strode inside, making her 
way down the corridor. Arriving at the correct door, she quietly entered 
the darkened room, noticing the silhouettes of the boys in their 
respective bunks. Removing her boots, she stretched out on her own bunk, 
falling asleep with the smile still playing on her lips.

Neither Carter nor Thompson made further mention of the kiss that New 
Year's Eve, but both realized something in their relationship had 
shifted. The line separating friendship and something more intimate had 
become paper thin, nearly invisible in the love struck pair's eyes.

Between the preparations for their upcoming missions, they managed to 
reserve some time alone every day. Whether deep in thought while playing 
a game of chess or quietly conversing in the comfort of each other's 
arms, they enjoyed the simple pleasure of one other's company.

Two weeks seemed to pass by in a flash, and before they knew it, the 
fifteenth of January had arrived. Personnel around the base kept a wary 
eye on their watches that morning, counting down the hours.

Carter tensely glanced down at her wristwatch as it beeped, grimacing at 
the time.

0800 hours.

No news of a withdrawal.

                         *******************

Chapter 5

Wednesday, January 16, 1991

Sam Carter sat silently on her bunk, elbows resting upon her knees and 
fingers rubbing absently against her temples. Deep, calm breaths filled 
her lungs as she meditated over what had happened today and what was yet 
to come.

The past thirty-six hours were a blur of constant motion in her memory. 
Briefing after briefing, detailed instructions were carefully issued to 
the pilots, reviewing everything imaginable.

The 421st Fighter Squadron had assessed the Aircraft Tasking Order one 
final time, all of the pilots confirming that they knew where and when 
they would be flying, and what their specific targets were. After hours 
of extensive studying, the group had the flight paths and coordinates 
down cold.

Earlier that afternoon, she had meticulously inspected every inch of her 
F-117 Nighthawk with the aid of her crew. Staff Sergeant Nolan and Senior 
Airman Edwards climbed over the awkwardly shaped aircraft, making sure it 
was safely secure, while Technical Sergeant Lowe assisted Carter in the 
cockpit.

The two appraised the slightly different controls carefully, both more 
accustomed to the F-16. But the lieutenant and her chief crewman had 
committed themselves to relearning the systems they had mastered control 
of only a couple of years ago when Carter was still in flight school.

Finding everything in order, she had left to the squad's final briefing 
with a mixed combination of confidence in her aircraft's security and 
trying her hardest to clamp down on her own nervousness.

Only minutes ago, Wells had given a customary speech, his pep talk 
inspiring and filling his squadron with determination.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You people are here because 
you're the best at what you do. I've put you through some of the 
grittiest, kick-ass training there is in the Air Force, and every time, 
each of you exceeded my expectations."

For once, he had stood fixed in one spot, forgoing his usual pacing. 
Resting his strong hands on his hips, he met them eye to eye.

"All of your training has led up to this moment. There's no more fun and 
games from this point on. This is serious shit, and you all know it."

The lines on his face softened somewhat as he continued.

"I know I've trained you well, and I'm certain each one of you will excel 
out there tonight, as you always have. You guys don't know how to fail."

With that, Wells had stood sharply at attention, saluting them.

"Liberatas Vel Mors!" he exclaimed, proclaiming the 388th Tactical 
Fighter Wing's motto.

The squadron had stood as one, saluting their commanding officer in 
return, each member's mind translating the Latin phrase as they repeated 
the words.

Either Liberty or Death.

The briefing concluded, he'd ordered the squadron to suit up and informed 
them what time they would be required on the runway.

Carter sighed as she stood and zipped up her g-suit, considering her 
fellow pilots that would be joining her in this first run.

Only eight of their team had been selected to commandeer the tricky F-
117s. Major Wells, Captains Martinez and McCullough, and Lieutenants 
Wood, Fulco, Hickam, Thompson, and Carter had made the cut, barely edging 
out the rest of their elite squadron. The 4th Fighter Squadron had 
another set of eight pilots from their own team manning the other batch 
of stealth fighters.

As she laced up her boots, she reviewed what she knew of the seven men 
from her squad.

Major Brayden Wells had served as commanding officer of the 421st for a 
number of years now, earning his call sign, King, and the respect of many 
of his superiors for his dedicated leadership and brilliant training 
skills.

The man was a tough but fair guy, Carter had learned, who worked with his 
pilots personally, infusing in them the famed Air Force motto of 
'integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do.' 
Unfortunately for Wells, his service in the military did come before 
everything else in his life. One night, Lovell had told her of how the 
major's commitment to the Air Force had put a strain on his marriage, 
resulting in a divorce from his wife and limited visits to his young 
daughter.

If Wells was a relentless, solitary straight arrow, his second-in-
command, Captain James Martinez, was the polar opposite. A devout family 
man, Martinez made every effort to see his wife and children whenever 
possible. Warm hazel eyes and adept listening skills made the captain 
very approachable. Those same talents earned him the call sign Bishop, 
for he was Wells's right-hand man, offering the CO reliable advice when 
the occasion called for it.

Much like Thompson, Martinez had been flying his entire life, feeling his 
best behind the controls of an airplane. The captain had informed her 
that his love for the skies was being passed on to his children, who 
regularly accompanied him for flights in his old Cessna at home in Salt 
Lake City.

Captain Sean McCullough, Wells's additional senior officer, hailed from 
the city of Boston, Massachusetts. Carter didn't know too much about the 
strong-willed Irishman, but she had learned that he expected the junior 
officers on the squad to treat their senior officers with nothing but 
respect. The fierce, no-nonsense McCullough's call sign seemed to fit 
right into his personality, for in the skies he was known as the Dragon.

Lieutenant Bobby Wood was another squad member she had little interaction 
with in the past year. The brown-haired, brown-eyed pilot had a tendency 
to associate with Derek Hall and the two older captains, generally 
staying away from the other lieutenants.

What she did know of him came from his reputation at the Air Force 
Academy. Wood had excelled in the field of chemistry, the number of 
honors he had won rivaling the amount Carter had earned in physics. She 
knew his call sign, Lizard, had been derived from the well-known fact 
that Wood tended to be sneaky and quick in the air, scurrying from one 
point to another.

The other married man of the bunch was Lieutenant Robert Fulco. From the 
handful of times she had directly worked with him, Carter had grown to 
like the dark-haired man of Italian descent. His reputation of being an 
ace pilot and a courageous solider preceded him wherever he went. In the 
sky, he was known as the Griffin. Much like the mythological creature, he 
had the brave heart of a lion and the spellbinding wings of an eagle when 
he operated a fighter plane.

Out of the seven, Hickam and Thompson were the two pilots she'd known the 
longest.

Lieutenant Todd Hickam was the quiet nuclear physicist. Behind his 
freckled face and light blue eyes, Carter knew him to be a brilliant 
scientist in his field. The Air Force had high hopes of Hickam's 
potential in the lab once he finally chose to end his career as a pilot. 
She was certain he'd accept the offer that would allow him to return to 
California soon. Carter had been elated to discover her serene comrade 
had recently become engaged to his high school sweetheart, who still 
lived in his hometown of Los Angeles.

And then there was Lieutenant Josh Thompson.

She reached out and carefully took hold of her flight gloves, inspecting 
them closely. They had been a gift from Thompson on her last birthday, 
purchased after she'd ruined her old pair while working on the UAV. Her 
forefinger traced the initials woven into the smooth, black leather.

S.C.

Stowing the gloves in her pockets, she next turned her attention to her 
brightly polished helmet. Picking it up, she ran a hand over the cursive, 
glittery letters gleaming over the forehead area. The word 'WIZARD' had 
been carefully painted in gold lettering, prominently displayed against 
the small, multi-colored painted stars that surrounded her call sign 
name.

Another sign of Thompson's presence in her life.

Sometime during the first week of their assignment to the 421st, her best 
friend had snuck into her locker and taken the helmet, handing it over to 
Hickam, the unprofessed Monet in their circle of friends. Carter had been 
pleasantly surprised the next day of training when she had opened the 
locker, finding the newly decorated helmet with a Post-It attached to it.

'Let the good Wizard's magic keep her safe in her flight. J.T.'

Smiling, she tucked the helmet under her arm, walking to the nightstand 
to pick up one final item.

The photograph her father had given her felt old and worn in her grasp, 
the corners crinkled from age and handling. Staring at the happy faces, 
she was reminded of the innocence of her adolescence, a time when her 
greatest worries included making an A on an exam or wondering if that 
cute boy in calculus would ask her to the school dance.

Life was not as simple anymore.

Now her greatest concern was flying her first combat sortie deep into 
enemy territory, where the threat of being shot down by Iraqi surface-to-
air missiles loomed over her every thought.

Carter clutched the photo, shutting her eyes as she tried to quash the 
fear that rattled through her. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to 
hear the reassuring sound of her mother's voice, to feel the comfort of 
her supportive presence.

A gentle hand settled on her back, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Duty calls, Sam. You ready?"

Clearing her throat, she nodded, giving Thompson a tense smile.

"Hey," he said softly, immediately sensing her agitation. Wrapping an arm 
around her shoulders, he gave her an encouraging hug.

Gratefully, she leaned into his embrace, her fear momentarily displaced 
by his soothing proximity. She sighed deeply as the tension in her body 
slowly uncoiled, his presence relaxing her.

After a moment, she noticed he was curiously ducking his head, trying to 
get a glimpse of the photograph still clasped in her fingers. Without a 
word, she passed it to him, watching as a small, affectionate smile 
fluttered across Thompson's face.

"You're every bit as beautiful as she was, you know."

Carter bowed her head, feeling her cheeks color at the compliment as he 
gave her shoulder another tender squeeze.

"Come on. We'd better get out there."

She placed the photograph into the pocket closest to her heart, zipping 
it up securely before trotting after Thompson. As they strolled down the 
hallway, the steady whine of engines firing up caught their attention. 
Quickening their pace, they exited the building, immediately locating the 
source of the high-pitched noise.

A pair of KC-10 Extenders were starting their massive engines. The two 
tankers would be accompanying the pilots in order to refuel their 
aircraft until their final approach across the border.

Glancing down at her watch, Carter took note of the time.

2100 hours.

Time to go.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned and saw Lovell 
emerge from inside the aircraft shelter, his eyes focusing on the tankers 
before noticing Carter and Thompson. Something akin to regret and concern 
marred his face as he studied his two younger friends. His usually 
cheerful blue eyes looked strained, his gait uncertain as he walked 
towards them.

Lovell chewed on his lower lip as he extended a hand to Thompson.

"You take care of yourself up there, you hear me?"

Thompson nodded, shaking his companion's hand with a strength that belied 
the slightly nervous expression on his face.

The two men stepped away from each other and Lovell turned to Carter. She 
looked up at him, reading the multitude of emotions that crossed his face 
as he considered what to say. As the sound of the tankers in the distance 
grew deafening, Lovell simply took her in his arms, squeezing her 
tightly.

Sometimes words just weren't needed between them.

She closed her eyes at the contact, wrapping her arms around his waist. 
The strong sense of security she felt whenever Lovell was nearby 
instantly washed over her, enveloping her in a temporary blanket of 
safety.

The feeling was different from the times when Thompson had held her in 
this manner. Lovell's was more of a brotherly love, equal to Thompson's 
affection for her, but worlds apart in their intentions.

He held on as long as he could, gently stroking the back of her neck, 
calming some of the apprehension that had plagued her. Lovell seemed 
unwilling to let go of the woman he'd come to adore as the little sister 
he'd never had. It was only when Carter reluctantly began pulling away 
that he released her, giving her cheek one last caress.

Carter nodded once, doing her best to smile bravely at him before walking 
away with Thompson, neither of them looking back. Things were hard enough 
as it was, for them and for Lovell.

She knew firsthand how firm his instinct to protect was. Being left 
behind, unable to keep an eye on them, must have been tearing at his 
heart and conscience. If their positions had been reversed, Carter had no 
doubt she would have had an equally difficult time letting go.

Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind as she strode through the maze of 
passageways to where the F-117s awaited. She was thankful for her 
friend's concern, but needed to put it behind her to fully concentrate on 
the upcoming mission.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of planes taking off stirred through her 
thoughts, and she opened her eyes just in time to witness the two mighty 
KC-10s roaring into the sky.

Swallowing hard, Carter realized this was it. The next planes that would 
be taking off would be theirs, and there would be no turning back.

Thompson nudged her shoulder with his, drawing her attention away from 
the runways.

"Nervous?" he asked, gripping his helmet close to his body.

"A little," she admitted, feeling a quivering smile form on her lips.

"A little?" Thompson echoed, lifting an eyebrow skywards. "Damn, Wizard. 
I can't walk straight, and I feel like I'm going to puke my guts out," he 
confessed, rubbing a hand along the nape of his neck.

It was a quirk she knew well. He always did that whenever he was unsure 
of himself.

A small, empathic smile crossed her face as she saw that Thompson was 
just as petrified as she was, and the realization eased her nerves 
somewhat. The reassurance that her best friend would be by her side 
didn't make the danger they were facing any less significant, but the 
thought did give her some much-appreciated comfort.

With his pale face and unsteady posture, Thompson certainly needed some 
of that comfort right now. Reaching out, she took his hand in her own, 
gripping it tightly.

"You once told me you always felt safe at my side, whether we were on the 
ground or in the sky. Just remember that we'll be up there together, 
every step of the way."

The sound of her voice appeared to ease him as he looked down into her 
eyes. A slow smile flashed across his face as he drew strength from her 
words, just the reaction Carter had been hoping for. Skimming his hand 
further down, he grasped her wrist.

"I've got your back," he told her, and her own smile widened as they 
began their preflight ritual.

She fell effortlessly into the old routine, sliding her own hand to 
clutch his wrist as she responded, "And I've got yours. Be strong and 
brave of heart, good Knight."

"Let the good Wizard's magic keep us safe in this night."

Clinging to one another's wrists firmly, they suppressed any nerves that 
remained as they concluded the ritual in unison.

"And enemies beware, for there are a pair of aces taking flight!"

Chuckling, Carter and Thompson gave each other one last, longing look 
before separating, proceeding to their respective aircraft.

As she walked into the cavernous bay, she reflected on the silly little 
rhyme she and Thompson had fashioned during their days in flight 
training. The words were utterly ridiculous, but the sentiment behind 
them was far from meaningless. Each time the pair prepared to take to the 
sky, they recited the familiar, comforting words. It was their own way of 
wishing one another luck without actually saying the words.

Deep within the aircraft shelter, she spotted her crew patiently waiting 
in front of her stealth fighter. Sergeant Lowe greeted her as she 
approached.

"All set, Sam?"

Taking a deep breath, Carter smiled.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Alan."

With Lowe close on her heels, Carter spent several minutes conducting her 
final inspection of the F-117, visually examining everything from the 
landing gear to the bomb bays. Satisfied that all was as it should be, 
she began the tricky climb up the side of the Nighthawk, plopping herself 
down in the ejection seat.

Waiting for Lowe to make his own ascent to the cockpit, she looked around 
the hangar, taking notice of her fellow pilots clambering aboard their 
own fighters, beginning their preflight sequences.

No turning back.

The sergeant climbed up the specially designed ladder and stood by her 
side, maintaining a careful balance on the metal rungs. Immediately 
getting down to business, he helped strap her in securely before they ran 
one last check on the flight systems. When the methodical preflight was 
completed more than two hours later, Senior Airman Edwards and Sergeant 
Nolan gave her a final salute.

"Good luck, ma'am!" Edwards shouted.

Carter returned the salute in acknowledgement before fastening her oxygen 
mask on, looking up as Lowe tapped her helmet gently on the top of her 
head.

"Good hunting, Sam."

Carter smiled behind the mask at her trusted technician, her blue eyes 
lighting up with exhilaration. She gave him a thumbs-up sign before 
sliding the visor over her eyes, setting the canopy to close after Lowe 
began his descent down the side of the F-117.

The lieutenant watched in anticipation as the four forward stealth 
fighters were towed out manually, winding their way through the long, 
canyon-like taxiways between the shelters. When the planes had reached a 
safe distance from the aircraft that had been parked behind them, the 
ground crews cleared the area and the pilots received the signal from 
Major Wells to warm up their engines.

The quiet hum steadily grew to a screeching pitch as the eight airplanes 
fired up their engines, the sound muted within her cockpit. Carter 
gripped the stick and thruster handle, the controls feeling comfortably 
snug in her strong, small hands. Feeling the growing vibrations from the 
powerful engines tucked away inside the hull, she closed her eyes.

This was what three years of intense training had come down to.

Within minutes, the engines of the aircraft had reached their peak 
intensity, ready to roll out to the flight line. The F-117 taxi lights 
flashed on in rapid succession as they began the journey out, the ground 
crews saluting their pilots proudly.

Once they were lined up on the taxiway area near the runway, Carter 
turned her head to the right as the squad began the check of their 
fighters' outward systems. One after another, they tested the rudder, 
elevators, and ailerons of the F-117s, the smooth movements looking 
similar to a domino effect as they ran through the tests in succession.

The chief maintenance men, their ears protected by specially designed 
headphones, stood at the noses of the aircraft, watching the tests with 
sharp eyes. Even the slightest hitch would suspend the operation, 
postponing the mission until the problem could be corrected. The crews 
had checked and rechecked each individual plane to the nth degree, and 
the men on the ground noted no such glitches.

After everyone received an okay from their chief maintenance man, Wells 
contacted the tower.

"Khalid Air Base controller, this is 421. All systems are a go down here. 
We are ready and awaiting your clearance. Over."

"Roger that, squadron leader. It is 2400 hours and you have been given 
clearance for take off," came the immediate reply. "Godspeed, 421. Over."

Carter's eyes tracked the major's stealth fighter as it slowly rolled 
toward the runway, his air traffic controller guiding his movement. Each 
plane followed one at a time until finally she and Thompson were the last 
two pilots left on the flight line.

Peering out of her canopy, she lifted her right hand off the stick for a 
moment, giving a short wave to Thompson, who was barely visible in the 
dim interior lighting of his own cockpit. As soon as she saw the 
answering wave, Carter turned forward again, nodding to the air traffic 
controller.

Within the cockpit, the faint lights of the panels before her provided 
minimal illumination. Outside, the controller's lighted wands were 
clearly visible in the dark of night, motioning her ahead. Pushing 
forward on the stick, the F-117 began to roll as she concentrated her 
gaze on the two beams of light.

Moving ahead out of her spot, Carter turned and kept her eyes trained on 
Hickam's airplane in front of her, steadily following him at the 
appropriate distance. She knew Thompson was right behind her, carefully 
watching her back as they inched forward.

Suddenly, the distinct sound of a Nighthawk screaming off the runway 
echoed across the base, signifying the major's successful takeoff. 
Resisting the temptation to turn and look, Carter remained facing 
forward, unwilling to risk bumping into Hickam's six. Less than ten 
minutes later, she was gazing in awe as her friend's F-117 took flight 
off the runway, the sound of the plane fading away as it gained altitude.

Finally, it was her turn.

Guiding the sleek fighter to the center of the runway, Carter increased 
the thrust, pushing the plane faster, and a surge of adrenaline flooded 
through her. Her heart pounded with excitement as she eased the stick 
back, feeling the F-117 begin to climb. Any previous hint of anxiety was 
erased as she soared into the night sky.

She soon reached the prearranged altitude and circled around to group 
with the squadron, waiting for Thompson. Only a couple of minutes later, 
he joined them, and together they left the safety of Khamis Mushayt 
behind.

"Khalid, this is King. Now assuming code name Ghost Squadron and 
implementing radio silence. See you in a few hours. Ghost Squadron, over 
and out."

Under Major Wells's order, the squad switched off all their navigation 
lights and radios, rendering the Nighthawks completely invisible.

The ensuing two and a half hours passed by quietly as the eight pilots 
maintained radio silence, leaving each of them to their own thoughts to 
pass the time. Between the occasional refueling from the KC-10s, there 
wasn't anything to do but sit and wait.

Carter tried to relax as best she could, but the F-117 was equipped with 
fly-by-wire controls, necessitating the need for a constant vigilance of 
the flight control computer to keep the plane in the air. The stealth 
fighter certainly was a marvelous aircraft with all its advancements, but 
she was not above grumbling over the bumpy ride, convinced the Nighthawk 
had undoubtedly earned its nickname, the Wobbly Goblin.

Rhythmically tapping her fingers against the thruster handle, she thought 
if there was one thing that kept her from becoming one of the greatest 
pilots the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing had ever produced, it was her 
impatience. Her active mind quickly lapsed into boredom when she was 
forced to sit still in the cramped cockpit, and she struggled to keep 
herself mentally occupied.

The thought left her wondering if with age and experience she'd 
eventually outgrow it.

Squirming to find a semi-comfortable position, she sighed and started 
thinking about her old physics lessons, starting with the basics of 
Newton and his apple. By the time she had begun to calculate some of the 
more advanced astrophysics equations she'd been working on in her thesis, 
lights in the distance drew her attention. Squinting, Carter realized 
what they were.

Anti-aircraft fire arced into the sky, seeming miniscule and 
insignificant against the large-scale explosions erupting on the 
outskirts of Baghdad, the capital of Iraq. Without a doubt, Operation 
Desert Shield had now officially become Operation Desert Storm.

A small force of EF-111 Ravens and F4-G Wild Weasels, protected by a 
squadron of F-15E Strike Eagles, were the first aircraft to reach the 
capital, paving the way for the stealth team. Their arrival was apparent 
from her position as the Iraqis continued to fire blindly on the quick 
fighter jets sweeping above the city.

Drawing a deep breath, Carter recalled the mission plan. Once they 
arrived on the outer reaches of Baghdad, the F-117s would break 
formation, flying in teams of two to their pre-assigned targets. She 
remembered the deadly serious tone of Major Wells's voice as he 
instructed them on the operation.

"I'm telling you this one time, so you'd better get it through your 
heads. We have strict orders from the boys at CENTCOM. We fly in, we 
deliver the bombs, we fly out."

His eyes had leveled on the three members of the Fearless Freshman for 
his next words.

"No hotshot tricks! One pass, haul ass! Got it?"

The sound of the radio crackling to life pulled Carter back to the 
present, noticing they were quickly approaching the city.

"Ghost Squadron, this is King. You guys know the drill," Major Wells 
stated, his voice sounding hoarse after nearly three hours of disuse. 
"Good luck."

After a pause, the order was briskly issued.

"Break formation. Advance on targets."

The planes broke into their designated pairs, splitting their 
configuration and streaking off toward different parts of the city. Wells 
and Fulco flew north, Martinez and Wood took the west, McCullough and 
Hickam headed to the center, and Carter and Thompson swept to the east.

Their flight paths remained conspicuously clear for several minutes, the 
sound of anti-aircraft fire fading in the distance as the two lieutenants 
moved further eastward. Carter shook her head, thinking it couldn't 
possibly be this easy. She and Thompson had two prime locations to attack 
- nuclear and chemical facilities. Surely, they would not remain 
unguarded.

Apparently, someone must have heard her thoughts.

A sudden burst of heavy artillery fire rained through the night sky. 
Carter and Thompson banked away from each other at hard angles, 
maneuvering their aircraft around the danger. The fluid motions came 
naturally after hours spent practicing together, giving them the 
advantage of being able to predict one another's moves.

Speeding off in the opposite direction from Thompson, Carter focused her 
attention on the upcoming target.

Beads of sweat began forming along her forehead as she kept alert for the 
never-ending barrage of gunfire. Fortunately, the F-117's hull was coated 
in radar-absorbent material, and the small, flat surfaces of the plane's 
exterior reflected radar signals in every direction, providing her some 
cover from any accurate enemy weapons fire.

Gritting her teeth, Carter spotted her objective four hundred yards away 
on the FLIR sensor at the center of her instrument panel. Keeping one 
hand firmly closed around the stick, she used the other to regulate the 
weapons computer. The target calibrated on the computer, and she switched 
the FLIR over to infrared, positioning the crosshairs precisely on the 
building before activating the laser designators that would guide the 
bombs.

Her eyes focused sharply on the screens as the computer took over, her 
hands calmly running through the motions even as anti-aircraft fire 
crackled all around her. Pushing the throttle forward, she rocketed 
toward the facility.

For a second, Carter could almost imagine she was back on the Goldwater 
Range, training with her friends on a clear, beautiful night. Everything 
seemed to fade away as she concentrated on the building, using the same 
honed instincts that had earned her a broken record one Monday afternoon 
not so long ago.

The F-117 screamed toward the target, and her thumb pressed down on the 
pickle button four times in quick succession, releasing the one-ton GBU-
27 bombs from the weapon bays. The powerful shells dropped to the 
facility, penetrating through the reinforced concrete as if it was 
pudding.

Gunning the engines, she sped away as her ordnance found the objective. 
Loud explosions sounded behind her, and she released the breath she'd 
been holding, pleased that the weapons had hit their marks.

'One pass, haul ass.'

The major's words echoed through her mind, leaving her no time to sit 
back and relax. The hardest part may have been over with, but she was 
still located deep in enemy territory and needed to report to the 
rendezvous site to meet up with the rest of her squadron. Tugging the 
stick back, her Nighthawk gained altitude, soaring high above the 
continuing artillery fire far below.

Minutes later, the aptly code-named Ghost Squadron had regrouped, all 
members present and accounted for. Upon receiving confirmation that 
everyone was okay, Major Wells ordered them to head home. The return trip 
to the base seemed to take half the time their departure from it had been 
only a few hours ago as the planes cruised in.

'Probably has something to do with the fact that all you have to look 
forward to is a debriefing and a nice, long nap,' Carter mused silently, 
smiling slightly.

The sun was rising in the eastern horizon as the stealth fighters touched 
down, providing them with a crystal clear view of the runways. It was a 
welcome sensation to feel the tires gently touch down on the concrete, 
finally connecting with solid ground after hours of nonstop flying. One 
by one, the airplanes retreated back to the shelters where they would be 
powered down and examined by the ground crews.

Before she came to a complete stop, Carter saw Sergeant Lowe eagerly 
running to her plane in the hangar bay, Edwards and Nolan close behind. 
He was setting up the ladder as she opened the canopy, climbing up at a 
furious pace.

"Welcome back, Wizard!"

Unhooking her oxygen mask, she smiled wearily, allowing her technician to 
release her straps and begin the power down procedure. Lowe didn't seem 
to mind her immobility, working around her as she took a moment to rest 
in the cockpit. Her eyes slowly drifted shut as the sounds of switches 
being flipped diminished in her awareness.

"Sam? Sam, wake up. You're scheduled for debriefing in five minutes."

The sergeant's voice infiltrated through her dozing, snapping her wide 
awake.

"I'm up, I'm up," she responded loudly, rubbing the sleep out of her 
eyes.

Glancing down at her watch, she was surprised to see nearly thirty 
minutes had passed since their arrival on base. She couldn't believe 
she'd fallen asleep!

Chuckling softly, Lowe ducked his head down, his wizened dark eyes 
meeting her gaze. He'd allowed her the chance to catch a quick catnap, 
instinctively knowing she was exhausted beyond belief.

Sometimes the man could be a saint.

"Better get moving, Wizard," he told her, grinning.

Carter returned the smile, growing increasingly more alert by the second.

"Thanks for the rest, Alan."

"Hey, you deserved it," he replied, helping her out of the cockpit.

The eight stealth pilots strode to the command quarters, stretching to 
relieve the kinks in their cramped muscles and yawning drowsily. Around 
them, the base itself hummed with activity, the personnel attending to 
daily duties as their day began. For the exhausted members of the 421st, 
it was finally winding down after a long night's work.

The next couple of hours were spent carrying out detailed bomb damage 
assessment debriefings. Photos were examined, lower-level personnel 
transcribed oral reports, and interviews were conducted with each pilot 
individually. All of it was an effort to gather intelligence to determine 
if the mission had successfully eliminated threats.

When all the reports and photographs were stacked into neat piles, the 
intelligence officer in charge announced that preliminary results showed 
nearly ninety percent of their priority targets had been destroyed or 
severely damaged, taking out much of Iraq's military command headquarters 
and key weapons facilities. The news temporarily elated Major Wells and 
his squadron before the fatigue crept in once again.

Back in the briefing room, Wells was more than happy to report that 
Lieutenant Colonel Anderson's squadron was scheduled to conduct tonight's 
series of bombing runs, giving the 421st twenty-four hours of downtime 
before their next mission. After congratulating them on their success, 
their commanding officer gladly dismissed them.

Carter and Thompson walked to their quarters in silence, nearly asleep on 
their feet. As they entered the hallway that lead to the bunks, one of 
the Bedouins approached the pair, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. 
Recognition dawned on Carter as she saw the man's face. It was Abdullah, 
the Bedouin she and Thompson had previously encountered on New Year's 
Eve.

The same man she'd been suspicious of ever since her arrival at Khalid.

She frowned as he motioned for her attention, beckoning her close.

Glancing up at Thompson, she said, "You go on ahead. I'll catch up with 
you later."

Groggily nodding, he stumbled forward, looking over his shoulder at her 
with sleepy eyes. She reassured him with a small, worn-out smile before 
turning to face the awaiting Saudi, wondering why he wanted to speak with 
her.

In his distinct accent and broken English, he asked, "Your father is 
General?"

Nodding, she answered, "Yes, General Jacob Carter."

Fear gripped her as soon as the words left her mouth, her fatigued mind 
suddenly leaping into overdrive.

"Why? Is something wrong? Is he okay?"

Her rapid-fire questions clearly startled the man and he jumped back.

"No, no!" he exclaimed, shoving the paper at her. "This for you."

He immediately scurried away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway, 
her heart pounding from the irrational panic. Carter took a moment to 
recollect herself, running a trembling hand across her forehead. Leaning 
back against the wall, she took a shuddering breath, feeling her pulse 
slowing back down.

Of course they wouldn't send a Bedouin to inform her if something had 
happened to her father!

Damn, she really needed to get some sleep.

As she staggered toward the door, Carter unfolded the sheet of paper, 
reading the neat, faxed text. It was a message from her father, wishing 
her luck on her first bombing run. Shaking her head, she frowned 
slightly. The personal message was relayed hours too late in typical 
military fashion.

Silently, she opened the door, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the faint 
glow inside. Placing the message from her father inside her nightstand 
drawer, she gratefully climbed into her bunk.

Her weary eyes peered over at the set of bunk beds on the other side of 
the room, noting that Lovell's blankets were neatly folded and his combat 
boots and weapon were missing from their customary spots. Carter idly 
wondered what assignment he was on.

Tugging off her own boots, she slipped between the inviting blankets, 
sighing softly as she finally allowed her body to rest properly.

Looking up at the top bunk across the room, she saw that Thompson was 
already fast asleep, clutching his pillow, his dog tags reflecting the 
dim light originating from the small lamp beside her bunk. Reaching out, 
she switched it off, closing her eyes as darkness enveloped the room.

She was asleep in less than a minute.

                         *******************

Chapter 6

"Heads up!"

A large, round object plummeted from the sky, landing in Major Carter's 
awaiting arms. She placed it atop the small pile at her feet and waited 
for the colonel to climb down from his perch in the treetops.

She had suggested they gather what food they could after O'Neill had 
spotted a dense cluster of fruited trees along their path back to camp. 
While she considered different methods to knock down the fruit from the 
high branches, the colonel had shimmied up one of the trunks to a thick, 
flat branch and proceeded to toss good-sized, apple-looking fruit to his 
surprised companion.

Satisfied with the amount of food they had collected, O'Neill rejoined 
Carter, his brown eyes lit up with amusement.

"You think I could have been a stealth pilot?"

"You hit your mark every time without the aid of a targeting computer. I 
have to admit, I'm impressed, sir," she replied, fighting not to giggle 
at his sheer boyishness.

"Yeah, sure, you betcha!"

The colonel and the major each grabbed an armful of fruit and commenced 
on their journey once again, hoping to reach camp before sunset.

O'Neill had hung on to every word as she detailed her first bombing run 
in Operation Desert Storm, keenly attentive to everything she described. 
He had asked numerous questions about the differences between an F-117's 
flight controls and weapons systems compared to some of the older 
aircraft he was more familiar with, quiet excitement manifesting in his 
voice.

Since Carter had concluded informing him of the run, he had retained his 
enthusiasm, first cleverly plucking the fruit from the tree and now 
walking with a bounce in his step. He was as anxious to hear more of her 
narrative as a child who pleaded with his parent for another bedtime 
story would be.

"So you weren't part of the team that met with air-to-air combat, were 
you?"

"No, sir. The Iraqis offered more considerable resistance on the second 
day of bombing, but none of the stealth teams engaged in combat with 
enemy aircraft. Lieutenant Colonel Anderson's run was very similar to our 
own."

O'Neill nodded, keeping a steady balance with all the food loaded in his 
arms as he walked alongside her.

"I heard about that. The stealth fighters knocked the clocks off the 
Iraqi defenses with those air strikes. Pretty impressive, Carter."

She ducked her head, smiling bashfully at the praise from her commanding 
officer.

"I can't take all the credit, sir. We did what we were ordered to do."

He wouldn't allow her to belittle the situation any.

"You did it so well that in two days the Pentagon had proclaimed air 
superiority, Major. That's quite an accomplishment."

She couldn't deny that.

Before the colonel had another chance to ask more questions, the 
perimeter of their camp came into view. The small campfire was burning 
brightly, warming them after their journey. After greeting Teal'c, 
O'Neill and Carter positioned their burden of food near the fire and sat 
down to begin cleaning the outer skin of the fruit for consumption. As 
they worked, the colonel prodded Carter for more information.

"How long did your squadron keep up with the bombing runs?"

"I was happy to switch gears after a week. The Nighthawk is an incredible 
plane, but I'll always be more comfortable in the seat of an old, 
reliable Fighting Falcon."

Carter explained that their runs had been so successful that the 421st 
had been reassigned to F-16 combat air patrol, where they were needed to 
keep the skies safe. Lieutenant Colonel Anderson's crew took over the 
stealth bombing runs full-time.

"Sounds like a simple assignment after all your hard work."

A strange expression crossed her face, but before O'Neill could ask what 
was wrong, she softly said, "We thought it would be."

                         *******************

Tuesday, February 12, 1991

Dusk was settling over the city of Khamis Mushayt, the activity dwindling 
in and around the marketplaces as night approached. Quite the opposite 
was occurring at the King Khalid Air Base outside the city, where the 
real action was yet to begin as it always had during the nighttime hours.

Lieutenant Colonel Anderson's squadron was prepping for another bombing 
run sortie in the briefing room, evaluating new targets, while most of 
Major Wells's crew had retired to their quarters to review maps or to the 
hangar bays to inspect their planes, waiting patiently for their next 
combat air patrol to begin later tonight.

Carter sat cross-legged on her bunk, maps and satellite photographs 
spread across the blankets. The small lamp at her bedside provided just 
enough illumination to view the colored sections on the documents before 
her, indicating their flyby locations.

For the past three weeks, the reunited 421st Fighter Squadron had 
conducted combat air patrols over northern Saudi Arabia and across Iraq, 
providing cover fire for other aircraft that were conducting bombing runs 
or reconnaissance missions. The task was no less dangerous than their 
previous assignment, but Carter was thankful her entire squadron was 
flying together again.

The door creaked open, allowing a sliver of brighter hallway light to 
shine into the dim interior of the room. Squinting against the stronger 
glow, she saw Thompson poke his head in.

"Busy?"

"No. Come on in."

She returned her attention to the maps before her as Thompson shut the 
door behind him. He took a seat next to her, his eyes curiously observing 
what she was doing.

"Where's Matt?"

"I think he's out with his crew. Said something about fixing a broken 
panel light," she answered somewhat absentmindedly.

Thompson was quiet for a few minutes, grabbing one of the satellite 
photos off the blanket, pretending to study the various lines and 
squiggles. His fingers played with the edges of the photo.

"Ready to spend another holiday overseas?"

Frowning slightly, she plucked the image out of his hands and gathered 
the rest of the documents, leaning over to place them on her nightstand 
and out of his reach.

"What holiday?"

"Valentine's Day."

Her mouth twisted in a wry smirk. As long as she could remember, Carter 
had spent the so-called holiday locked away in her room, doing homework 
or working on yet another experiment. Hearts and flowers had never been 
her style.

"You know I've never enjoyed the whole Valentine's thing."

"I know. I've never had much luck with Cupid, either," the quiet reply 
came from Thompson.

Lacing her fingers together, she gave him a skeptical look and her lips 
quirked as she noticed for the first time how nervous he appeared. His 
dark brown eyes kept darting around the room, looking anywhere but at 
her, and he was fidgeting.

Trying to keep the teasing tone out of her voice, she said, "Somehow I 
have a hard time believing that, Josh."

His eyes returned to hers, and he smiled sheepishly, mumbling his 
response.

"Believe it."

She realized his words held some truth. For all his bravado in the sky, 
Thompson always shied away from women when they spent their downtime out 
on the town. While their friends flirted and charmed females left and 
right, he constantly bonded with Carter, choosing to spend his time 
talking or dancing with her.

"I can't imagine you spending Valentine's Day alone," he continued, 
gesturing to the door. "You could have your pick of any guy on this base. 
Most of them would do anything for a chance with you. They think you're 
the greatest."

Carter reached down and picked at a small piece of thread from the 
blanket, winding it around her pinky. Peeking up at him from beneath her 
bangs, her question was softly asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think..."

Thompson paused, shaking his head slowly as he considered her question.

"I know you're brilliant. I've never known anyone with a mind as sharp as 
yours. Your ideas blow me out of the water sometimes."

An embarrassed smile graced her lips at his admission.

Dipping his head down, he met her eyes, grinning as he leaned in close.

"You've got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. It lights up a room 
almost as much as the sound of your laugh."

A blush crept along her cheeks, the familiar overwhelming sensation she 
developed whenever he complimented her rising.

One hand reached up to her face, Thompson's thumb running delicately 
along her lower lip, making her swallow involuntarily. His other hand 
took hers, squeezing slightly, his fingers warm and gentle.

"And you are the kindest, sweetest person I have ever met."

Her heart warmed at his sincere, charming words, but none of those 
sentiments prepared her for his next declaration.

"You are the best friend I've ever had, Sam, and I love you."

Carter blinked in surprise, and Thompson's hands stilled in their 
movement.

Those three little words had never been uttered between them in the seven 
years of their friendship. The need to say the words aloud had never been 
necessary, both relying more on actions to express how greatly they cared 
for one another. But now, Thompson had changed all that, finally voicing 
what she had suspected for quite some time.

The shock from the startling words fizzled quickly away as they studied 
one another carefully. Gaining confidence from the manner in which she 
was looking at him, he caressed her cheek lightly, the back of his 
fingers cool against her warm skin. Reflexively, she leaned into his 
touch, closing her eyes.

They had maintained a wavering distance from each other for so long, 
concerned about the regulations and their careers, but the genuine 
affection Carter had buried for him seemed to be erupting like a lava 
flow despite her best efforts to regain control of her rampant emotions. 
Feeling him lean in closer, she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Thompson was gazing at her in a way she'd only seen a handful of times 
before, the most recent in the hallway outside her quarters last 
November. Eyes full of love and sincerity engulfed her as he moved 
closer, his face mere millimeters from hers.

"I love you," he whispered again before closing the distance between 
them.

All the doubts disappeared as his lips brushed against hers.

Their first real kiss was tentative and sweet, much like two teenagers 
ending a first date on the front porch, over and done with before they 
knew it. Pulling away from one another, they smiled shyly, watching each 
other's reaction. At the same time, the pair began chuckling like a 
couple of kids who'd just been caught trying to steal the last cookie out 
of the cookie jar.

Carter grinned at Thompson, her hands cupping his face, mirroring his 
previous actions as she moved her thumbs to the corners of his mouth. He 
slowly blinked at her, his dark eyes twinkling in the dim lighting as he 
remained absolutely still, waiting to see what she was going to do. 
Leaning forward, she delicately touched her lips to his, featherlike at 
first, then pressing with more pressure.

The tentativeness vanished in an instant.

Thompson slid his arms around her waist, leisurely lying back on the bunk 
and taking Carter down with him, her upper body resting comfortably over 
his. Without words, they continued to explore this new territory, melding 
their lips together again and again as their hands glided over each 
other.

'This is nothing like New Year's,' she thought, running her fingers 
through his soft hair.

But that night had been the starting point they'd needed after years of 
skating along the line, lost in delusions that neither would see the 
other as anything more than a friend. That notion had been completely 
dispelled from her mind when Thompson had shyly kissed her on New Year's 
Eve six weeks ago. This night was about culminating what had been 
steadily building since then.

As time passed, their courage grew in leaps and bounds, as did their 
intensity.

Mindful of the small bunk, Thompson carefully rolled above her, settling 
his weight over her. They clung to one another frantically, unable to 
sate their desire, stealing kiss after kiss from each other. Pressing her 
body closer against his, she raked her fingers down his back, idly 
wondering how far he was willing to take this. The question was soon 
answered when he briefly broke away from her, pausing to sit up and tug 
his shirt over his head.

The temporary halt allowed them a moment to observe one another's flushed 
faces.

Carter's heart hammered in her chest as she took in the sight of him. The 
faint glow of the lamplight made Thompson appear more handsome than she 
had ever seen him, his hair sticking up in all directions, sweat 
glistening across the exposed skin of his upper body. Reaching out, her 
fingers curled around the nape of his neck, lazily massaging the shorter 
hair there.

A broad smile passed his face as he gave her his undivided attention, 
scrutinizing her just as closely. Slowly, he lay down beside her, 
stroking the hair away from her forehead and gently picking up her hand. 
Thompson brought it to his lips, tenderly kissing each of her fingertips 
one by one.

Her eyes fluttered shut, sighing contentedly as he rained butterfly 
kisses along her cheeks and forehead, slowing things considerably. His 
strong hands kneaded the muscles of her lower back, relaxing her, while 
his mouth languidly traveled down the expanse of her neck.

Excitement, awe, pleasure...

Her brain sprinted to analyze each emotion that was coursing through her, 
but everything was flying at speeds faster than she could fully 
comprehend, leaving her dizzyingly breathless. One intense feeling 
rocketed to another in the blink of an eye, captivating her. It was 
unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Thompson's arms summoned her closer, and she willingly obliged, crawling 
carefully into his lap and winding her legs around his waist. Collecting 
her securely in his embrace, he captured her lips once again, playing 
with the hem of her regulation-issued black shirt before slipping his 
hands beneath, touching her bare skin for the first time.

"I swear," he mumbled between kisses. "I'll skin Matt alive if he walks 
in right now."

Carter smiled against his lips, bracing herself against his shoulders.

"Only after I've killed him first."

He laughed quietly, skimming his fingers down her ticklish sides, smiling 
as she squirmed against him.

"Now, how am I supposed to skin Matt alive if you've already killed him? 
Sounds like one of those physics theories you tried to teach me years 
ago. Something about boxes and dead cats..."

"Schrodinger's cat, silly," she replied, playfully nipping his earlobe.

"Ah, yes," Thompson nodded, grinning. "Erwin Schrodinger's cat... Matt 
Lovell... One has more fur than the other, but no big difference..."

The good-humored jibe achieved the effect he was seeking.

A wide smile slowly spread across Carter's face as she reached up, her 
fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags. With one tug, she 
brought him closer, his face hovering just above her own.

"Josh... Screw Matty."

A tender look softened Thompson's features, replacing the 
mischievousness.

"Well, you sort of have the idea," he said quietly. "Except Matt wasn't 
who I had in mind."

Thompson locked his lips with hers again, kissing her long and hard. His 
raw intensity threw Carter off balance for a moment, but she quickly 
pushed the surprise away. Instead, she focused on the feel of his mouth 
sliding over hers, the sensation of his body squarely tucked against her 
own. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled away, his eyes filled 
with tears.

"I want you," he gasped. "I want to make love to you so much it hurts, 
Sam."

Carter searched his eyes, feeling her heart wrench at the genuine emotion 
she found. She slowly nodded, giving him the permission he so desperately 
sought.

Delicately, Thompson slipped his hands beneath her shirt again, gently 
tugging it off and revealing the milky white skin of her torso. She 
sucked in a sharp breath as she felt his fingers dance along her spine, 
fiddling with the clasp of her bra. After some initial fumbling, the 
meddlesome little fastener came undone, and Thompson meticulously set to 
work on familiarizing himself with the taste of her flesh.

Closing her eyes, Carter sighed softly, twining her fingers in his hair 
as he continued his affectionate ministrations. Time ticked by so slowly 
as he reverently removed each article of her clothing piece by piece 
until she lay bare before him atop the warm blankets. Her cheeks flushed 
brightly as she observed him studying her in awe, his hands leisurely 
stroking every inch of her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Unable to wait any longer, she stilled his roving hands, giving them a 
squeeze as she gazed into his eyes.

"Your turn," she whispered huskily, reaching for his belt and unfastening 
the buckle.

The remainder of his attire was soon discarded, and Carter commenced some 
exploring of her own. Taking her time, she gently caressed him, watching 
in fascination as her gentle touch affected him. With every brush from 
her graceful hands, his face contorted in pleasure, leaving him panting 
for breath.

After a few minutes, Thompson seized her wrists, his voice sounding 
hoarse as he spoke.

"Sam, please..."

For a long moment, the couple lay completely still, the only sound coming 
from their strained lungs as they observed one another. A look of 
nervousness flickered across Thompson's face as he looked down upon her. 
Hoping to soothe him, Carter placed a hand upon his cheek, a small smile 
lighting her face as he visibly relaxed.

He covered her hand with his own, planting a light kiss on her palm 
before positioning himself above her. His eyes never left hers as he 
slowly slipped inside of her, both moaning softly at the sensation. 
Slowly, the pair began moving, Carter rhythmically rocking her hips to 
match the pace of Thompson's gentle thrusts.

Nothing had ever felt more incredible.

Long minutes passed as they continued their lovemaking, their ragged 
breathing and the occasional jingle of their dog tags clinking against 
one another the only noises breaking the otherwise silent atmosphere. 
Keeping in mind the risk of being caught, the two lieutenants consciously 
quickened their pace, their movements becoming more erratic by the 
second.

Carter gasped sharply as she felt Thompson's questing fingers brush over 
her body, his electric touch sending ripples of warmth through her. Only 
moments later, she squeezed her eyes shut and cried out, digging her 
fingernails into the soft skin of his shoulders as she plummeted over the 
edge. Clenching his jaw, Thompson buried his face in the crook between 
her neck and shoulder as he jerked and tumbled after her with his own 
release.

Wrapping her arms around Thompson, Carter rested her cheek against his 
damp hair, absently rubbing his upper back as she considered what she had 
gotten herself into.

On the down side, they had broken fraternization regulations, and the 
consequences would at the very least result in reassignment and 
separation if anyone ever found out. The worst-case scenario would be 
devastating to their promising careers – court-martial and dishonorable 
discharge from the Air Force.

Sighing thoughtfully, Carter realized that despite the damaging 
consequences, she was truly happy lying in Thompson's loving embrace. The 
way this man made her feel was well worth the risks, for she had never 
before known such content. After the war was over, she vowed to take some 
time to explore her options, to find some means to continue her 
relationship with Thompson while at the same time serve her country and 
accomplish her goals.

The sound of an F-16 flying overhead pulled her thoughts back to the 
present, reaffirming her current commitment to the war and their upcoming 
mission.

Kissing his brow, she whispered, "Duty calls."

Thompson hugged her close as he stroked her back in a comforting gesture.

"I know. But Sam, I can't deny how I feel about you, how I've always felt 
about you, any longer."

Drawing away, his fingers tipped her chin, compelling her to meet his 
eyes, and he kissed her slowly and deeply before resting his forehead 
against hers.

"I promise you, when all this is over and we're safe at home..."

She nodded, her intense blue eyes bearing into his unflinchingly.

"I will love you until the day I die," Thompson pledged.

The two lieutenants remained in the same position for a few more minutes, 
cradling each other, unwilling to part ways so soon.

Briefly escaping from the rest of the world had been a temporary release, 
but the responsibilities they were obligated to fulfill were so much 
bigger than the two of them and the love they shared. She knew they had 
no choice but to return to their structured military lives, donning the 
tough, disciplined masks of Lieutenant Samantha Carter and Lieutenant 
Joshua Thompson.

Pretending as if nothing had changed between them, while in their hearts 
they knew everything had.

Finally disentangling themselves, they dressed in silence, straightening 
their fatigues and lacing their combat boots, once again two regimented 
soldiers.

Thompson mussed his hair back into place, noting the time on his 
wristwatch. He motioned to the door.

"I'm going to run a check on my plane. I'll catch up with you on the 
flight line, okay?"

Carter nodded in assent, running a hand through tangled blonde locks, her 
eyes never straying from his. He smiled from the doorway and returned to 
her side. Crouching over, he sealed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss, 
taking her breath away.

Reluctantly, he broke away, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. Sighing 
softly, Thompson placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before heading 
toward the door. As he pulled it closed, he poked his head back in, 
giving her a short wave goodbye, his face beaming like an excited 
schoolboy. Eventually, the sound of his footsteps faded away, leaving 
Carter alone with her racing thoughts.

Thompson's declaration resonated in her mind.

'I can't deny how I feel about you, how I've always felt about you, any 
longer.'

The more Carter considered the words, the more certain she became that 
she felt exactly the same way. Returning to the state of denial she had 
been immersed in for such a long time was out of the question. She 
couldn't deny her feelings any more than he could.

She wouldn't deny them.

Shaking her head, she mentally composed herself, putting on her brave 
soldier persona. Her fledgling relationship with Thompson was not 
something she could afford to worry about right now. Another mission was 
scheduled to begin in just a few hours, and the rational side of her, the 
dedicated Air Force officer, comprehended the fact that the mission came 
first no matter what.

It was just past 2200 hours when the members of the 421st Fighter 
Squadron completed their mission briefing and were walking out to their 
F-16s. The pilots chatted amiably with each other, all of them ready and 
looking forward to another routine air patrol.

Thompson and Carter strolled together in the back of the crowd as they 
always had. Neither had spoken about their earlier tryst, deciding it 
best to keep the matter quiet until a more appropriate time to talk 
presented itself. For the time being, the pair of lieutenants simply drew 
comfort from each other's close proximity.

When they arrived at the edge of the taxiway, Thompson took hold of 
Carter's hand. Bowing his head, he traced over the initials on the back 
of her glove, his voice hushed as he began their preflight ritual.

"I've got your back."

She shook her head, her face earnest as she replied, "You've got more 
than just my back, Josh."

Thompson smiled, catching the underlying meaning hidden within her words. 
It was her subtle way of letting him know her heart was his, too. He 
squeezed her hand gently.

"Be careful, Sam."

Swallowing hard, she fixed her eyes on his, trying to convey everything 
she could not verbally express into one meaningful expression, hoping he 
would read her clearly. His ability to decipher her facial expressions 
had never faltered. Thompson nodded slowly, his eyes reassuring her that 
her sentiments were perfectly understood and mutual.

"See you in a few hours," she whispered.

In unison, the pair backed away until they were at arm's length, their 
fingertips maintaining the corporeal connection between them. With one 
more step, that final physical link was broken, their fingers slipping 
apart as each pilot turned to board his or her respective aircraft.

A cold breeze suddenly swept through the taxiway as Carter climbed into 
the cockpit, ruffling her hair and leaving her shivering. The unexpected 
chill cut right through her bones, and she frowned imperceptibly at the 
disturbing feeling, puzzling over what it meant.

"Sam? You okay?"

Sergeant Lowe's concerned voice pierced through her errant thoughts as he 
handed over her flight helmet. Carter set her attention on the instrument 
panels in front of her as she slipped her helmet on, avoiding his worried 
gaze. Clearing her throat, she tried to sound casual.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

It was a lie she desperately wanted to believe.

The air patrol progressed smoothly on the account of weeks' worth of 
bombing raids from American and coalition forces that had decimated many 
of the Iraqi defenses. Grounds troops had offered no resistance as the 
squadron approached the more populous areas of eastern Iraq, and after 
successfully protecting one of Britain's Royal Air Force squads in and 
out of Baghdad, Major Wells contacted Khalid Air Base, signaling their 
return home before reverting back to radio silence.

The group of fighter planes soared over the southern Syrian Desert, the 
land below void of any lights or landmarks, eerily quiet.

'Almost too quiet,' Carter reflected, the foreboding sensation she'd felt 
before takeoff crawling under her skin again.

Peering over the starboard wing of her F-16, she could barely identify 
Thompson seated in his own cockpit, flying in close formation beside her. 
His body language indicated that he, too, was growing wary, his helmeted 
head continually peeking out the canopy to observe the ground below.

Carter frowned behind her visor, her hands reflexively tightening on the 
controls. Every fiber of her being was itching to break radio silence, 
her instincts alerting her that something was not right. Biting down on 
her lip, she inhaled deeply.

Her intuition had never failed her before, and she would willingly risk a 
verbal thrashing from Major Wells if her gut feeling turned out to be 
wrong. Finalizing her decision, she reached toward the radio controls.

A whistling noise, not unlike the sound of fireworks being catapulted 
into the sky, suddenly shattered the silence. Something whizzed by her F-
16. Carter had less than a second to realize what it was before the plane 
jolted from the near-miss.

The plane lurched to the right, knocking her equilibrium off balance, and 
her head smacked against the canopy of the cockpit. Stars sparkled in her 
vision at the impact, and the coppery taste of blood permeated her mouth.

"Shit, we're under enemy fire!"

Major Wells's alarmed shout preceded the unmistakable sound of anti-
aircraft fire rapidly crackling through the air.

"Pull up, pull up!" Captain Martinez ordered.

Carter jerked the stick back, her ears ringing and her head pounding 
mercilessly. Instantly, the plane began to climb, shaking slightly from 
the abrupt rise in altitude.

Once the squadron reached a safe distance, they regrouped, immediately 
falling back into formation as the sound of munitions fire became more 
distant.

"What the hell was that, sir?" Bennett questioned, sounding dazed.

"I think we stumbled over an uncharted bandit post. Hasn't been 
identified by any of our forces," Wells answered.

"Think they could be a recent addition, sir?" McCullough asked.

"Don't know, Dragon. But whatever they are, we've gotta try to take these 
bastards out. Break off into your pairs and engage!"

The squadron swung back around at the major's command, ready and willing 
to fight whoever had tried to bring them down.

Carter and Thompson split off from the group, effortlessly flying in a 
tight configuration, their wingtips only a couple of feet apart as they 
launched their fighters into attack mode.

"You with me, Knight?"

Thompson's confident voice on the other end replied, "I'm with you, 
Wizard! Let's do some fancy flying!"

She studied her scope attentively, almost immediately spotting the 
location of their attackers. A few mobile surface-to-air missile stations 
had been hastily set up along the desert sands below, the dunes providing 
some shelter from anyone not looking too closely. She radioed Thompson.

"Knight, this is Wizard! I am going in bearing left at ten o'clock! Cover 
me!"

Pushing the stick forward, Carter decreased her altitude rapidly, 
Thompson following close at her side as her wingman. They kept low to the 
ground, strategically reducing the risk of being hit by a surface-to-air 
missile. Visually locking onto the target, she heard the first round of 
twenty millimeters firing from Thompson's cannon, protecting her as she 
set up her weaponry.

Maintaining her current heading, Carter moved a hand over the weapons 
control, automatically running through the motions as she waited for the 
system to lock on to her chosen target. As she soared within fifty yards 
of the station, the computer alarm sounded, signifying the lock. She 
pressed down on the release mechanism, firing a HARM missile from her 
arsenal.

"Fox three!"

Thompson and Carter banked sharply to the left, pushing their engines 
hard in order to escape the explosion. Seconds later, she heard the sound 
of the missile impacting the intended target, blasting it to pieces. She 
allowed herself a brief smile as Thompson cried out in victory.

Taking another quick glance at her scope, she searched for any more 
stations within their trajectory, but found that their fellow squadron 
pilots were already engaging them. Just as she was about to instruct 
Thompson to turn around to assist their friends, she heard him give a 
terrified yell, all the joy vanquished from his voice.

"SAM, BANK RIGHT! BANK RIGHT!"

Without pausing to question the command, Carter did as she was told, 
swinging her plane hard to starboard. She gritted her teeth against the 
extreme g-forces that slammed her back into the seat, vaguely hearing 
Thompson's plane somewhere beneath her own.

She would never clearly remember what happened next.

The echo of anti-aircraft fire rang loudly in her ears, sounding 
unbelievably too close for comfort. Her eyes darted around wildly, 
desperately searching for the source when all of a sudden her F-16 jerked 
upwards. Carter struggled with the controls, fighting to keep the plane 
airborne. Her first thought was that she'd been hit, but a swift 
examination of her screens notified her that the plane was just fine.

A bright flash of light drew her attention from down below, warning her 
that something had indeed been hit. Again, she glanced down at the 
panels, finding everything normal. But if she hadn't been hit, then...

Her eyes widened as recognition brutally dawned on her.

Thompson.

                         *******************

Chapter 7

Wednesday, February 13, 1991

"Man down! Man down!"

The shout reverberated from the radio, but the words did not penetrate 
through the shock that had settled over Lieutenant Samantha Carter.

Frantically, she searched the smoke shrouded ground below, straining to 
see some sign of the fallen Thompson in the dark of the night. With 
trembling fingers, she keyed her radio to their frequency, fighting to 
maintain some semblance of control over her rising fear.

"Knight, this is Wizard, do you read me?"

Static was her only reply.

"Knight! Please respond! This is Wizard, do you copy?"

'Please, please, answer me, Josh,' she silently added, tears welling in 
her vision as she held her breath, the radio continuing to crackle.

Absolutely nothing.

She veered into a gentle arc, prepared to conduct another sweep of the 
area she'd last seen Thompson in, when the radio suddenly burst to life.

"Wizard, this is King."

Hope came crashing down upon her. It was Major Wells.

His was not the voice she'd been praying to hear.

"I've notified Khalid and a chopper extraction team is on its way. Fall 
back into formation, we've gotta get out of here. Do you copy?"

Shaking her head indiscernibly, Carter gunned her engines, stubbornly 
refusing to comply with the request. As long as there was any chance 
Thompson was still alive down there, she couldn't leave him behind. Not 
after everything they'd been through.

Not after everything they had yet to live for.

The sound of an F-16 falling in beside her jerked her away from her 
steely determination, the nose of Major Wells's fighter plane creeping at 
her side, easily keeping up with her furious pace.

Shit, she was in for it now.

Carter had disobeyed a direct order for the first time in her life, 
permitting her feelings to completely interfere with her duty, and she 
was certain her commanding officer was not pleased.

"Wizard."

She blinked in surprise at the unexpected gentle tone. Not a hint of 
anger was detectable in the sound of his voice, reminding her more of 
Captain Martinez's gentle intonations. 

The youthful bravado drained from her rapidly as she answered, "Sir?"

"We've gotta get out of here," the major repeated calmly.

The notion of leaving Thompson behind tore at her heart, but the soldier 
in her wrestled against her compassion, arguing that there was nothing 
more they could do but fly home and wait for news.

"Yes, sir," she answered obediently, barely managing to keep the anguish 
out of her voice.

The squadron returned to Khalid Air Base in a blanket of silence, 
everyone shell-shocked after the events that had transpired.

She landed her F-16 on the runway, running entirely on autopilot as her 
eyes tracked the air traffic controller's lighted wands, directing her 
along the taxiway. As the aircraft came to a complete stop in her spot, 
she popped open the canopy and slid her helmet's visor up, looking around 
in a state of disbelief.

Daybreak was still a couple of hours away, and the base remained cloaked 
amid the darkness. Only the runway beacons and security lights mounted at 
specific intervals around the perimeter and buildings provided 
illumination. She'd never stopped to notice how shadowy the base could 
seem in the early hours before sunrise.

All of a sudden, a silhouetted figure raced toward her plane. The ladder 
beside her cockpit quaked as the mystery man clambered up recklessly, 
seeming desperate to reach her.

Matthew Lovell appeared beside her, his hands grasping the edge of the 
cockpit, keeping a steady balance on the metal rungs. He sounded 
breathless as he carefully unhooked her oxygen mask.

"Sammy, are you okay?"

Carter was unable to find the will to answer, staring at him in a daze, 
shuddering. His fingers felt warm against her chilled skin as he reached 
out to dab at the dried blood on her lower lip where her teeth had 
involuntarily bitten down as that first missile had clipped her wing.

She barely felt her friend's hands as they nimbly unbuckled her straps 
and removed her helmet before gently tugging her to a standing position 
atop the ejection seat. Swaying on unsteady legs, she clutched his 
shoulders, her eyes shutting closed at the unexpected vertigo spell.

"I've got you. I'm not going to let you fall, Sammy," he murmured.

Taking a deep breath, she swung one leg over the side of the cockpit and 
onto the first rung of the ladder, Lovell's hand resting on the small of 
her back as he guided her movements. Together, they slowly made their way 
down, Carter's hands gripping the sides of the ladder rigidly.

Sergeant Lowe, Sergeant Nolan, and Airman Edwards were waiting on the 
ground. One look at their worried faces was all it took for her to 
realize someone had told them what had happened, leaving her wondering if 
everyone on base had already been alerted to the report of Thompson's 
crash.

At the thought of his name, Carter felt her heart constrict painfully, a 
cold feeling seeping through her flesh, chilling her from the inside out. 
Her teeth began chattering faintly, and she quickly clenched her jaw, 
unwilling to lose her composure in front of an audience.

A gentle hand clasped her forearm, drawing her attention to the solemn 
face of Sergeant Lowe.

"Don't worry about the plane, Sam. We'll take care of it."

Nodding in appreciation, she began walking as Lovell lightly nudged her 
forward, his palm settling at the nape of her neck. Unconsciously, she 
leaned into him, seeking warmth from the bitter coldness that had 
pervaded her entire being.

As the two lieutenants approached the command building, they witnessed 
Major Wells sprinting across the base, obviously heading in the same 
direction. Carter and Lovell picked up their pace, anxious to hear if 
news had arrived regarding Thompson's condition.

"Any word?" Wells questioned Lieutenant Colonel Anderson as he exited the 
building.

The commanding officer of the 4th Fighter Squadron shook his head, fixing 
his eyes on the ground.

"Been no contact on his radio, but the extraction team is on the way. We 
should know something soon, Brayden."

Wells ran a hand through his short, dark hair, clearly battling the 
distress of losing one of the pilots under his command.

The sight unnerved Carter.

Their commanding officer never lost his cool, even when things were 
falling apart, truly living up to the meaning behind his given name – 
bravery.

As if feeling the weight of their combined gazes, the major looked up 
sharply, eyeing the two junior officers. Clearing his throat, he 
immediately slipped back into his role as the composed and collected 
leader of the squadron.

"Lieutenant Lovell."

The clipped, professional tone of voice caused the lieutenant to click 
his heels in attention.

"Sir?"

"Inform the rest of the squad we'll be debriefing after we've received 
word about Lieutenant Thompson."

"Yes, sir!"

Lovell saluted sharply. Venturing one last look at Carter, he jogged off 
to carry out the order, leaving her with Wells.

For a brief moment, commander and subordinate locked gazes, dark green 
meeting sapphire blue. Neither could find the words to express to the 
other. Wells sighed quietly, bestowing her with an apologetic look before 
turning to march into the command building to await further news.

After a few minutes of standing glued to the same spot, Carter 
mechanically ambled along the edge of the taxiway, eventually seating 
herself on the hard concrete. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she 
clasped her hands tightly together, her knuckles turning white from the 
pressure.

She could remember only one other instance when she'd been so sick with 
worry.

A similar experience occurred during her second year at the Academy 
during a flight training class. Returning from an uneventful flight, Todd 
Hickam had been caught in some unexpected bad weather and crashed his 
trainer on the outskirts of the school, completely wrecking the tiny 
aircraft. As she had watched the fire crew speed into action with the 
rest of her classmates from afar, Carter had feared the worst.

Miraculously, Hickam had survived the accident, a busted right leg and 
some minor lacerations his only injuries. His good fortune had surprised 
them all and later earned him the call sign Lucky Boy.

Carter brought her fingers to her lips, nibbling on her short nails as 
she considered his crash. He had gone down at a slow velocity in a 
training plane in some rough weather. Thompson, on the other hand, had 
plummeted to the ground in a fighter jet struck by enemy fire.

She rested her forehead against her knees, breathing in deeply as she 
sought to drive out any negative thoughts from her mind. Thinking those 
kinds of things would only serve to increase her apprehension.

Thompson would be just fine.

Perhaps sporting a few injuries and a deflated ego, but otherwise...just 
fine.

She was unsure of how much time passed as she sat crouched in the same 
position. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against her knees, 
raising weary eyes to the sky. High above, the darkness of night was 
slowly receding and the first shades of pink and orange were becoming 
visible, signifying daybreak.

One by one, the twinkling stars faded out of sight, and a sudden wave of 
loneliness washed over her.

That particular ache, hidden deep inside, had vanished years ago when she 
had gained Thompson's unconditional friendship. He had filled the empty 
void that had resided in her heart since her mother's death ten years 
ago, ingratiating himself into every facet of her life and breaking 
through the walls she had erected during her lonely teenaged years. 

In Thompson's absence, the feeling of being lost and alone had returned 
with a vengeance, multiplied tenfold in the wake of his declared love for 
her. Closing her eyes, she hugged her knees tightly, gently biting down 
on her swollen lower lip; she was mindful of the scar that was already 
forming there.

The distinctive sound of helicopter rotors reached her ears, and her head 
snapped up, eagerly searching the skies. Immediately, she spotted the 
dark shape approaching from the north and scrambled to her feet, running 
to the landing site.

The team of grim-faced Special Forces slid the door open, and a couple of 
them jumped out to the concrete below. Carter craned her neck, hoping to 
catch a glimpse of her friend emerging from the chopper.

In her mind's eye, she pictured him stumbling out, catching her gaze, and 
smiling that embarrassed little smile he always had plastered on his face 
when he knew he was in for a lecture on his foolish need to prove himself 
in the sky. Pushing herself through the crowd that had gathered around 
the chopper, she stopped dead in her tracks at the grisly sight that 
greeted her.

The pair of soldiers had reached back into the chopper's cargo area, 
carefully removing a draped stretcher from within. Taking an involuntary 
step back, her eyes widened in shock, certain that her vision was 
deceiving her.

This was some horrible mistake. The body beneath the sheet wasn't 
Thompson.

It couldn't be.

Major Wells fought his way through the troops, anxious to discover how 
his officer had fared, when he, too, abruptly came to a halt. Carter 
noted the brief flicker of emotion that crossed his face before the 
hardened, impassive mask fell back into place.

"Colonel?"

The commanding officer of the extraction team stared into Wells's eyes, 
his expression remaining professionally neutral and detached.

"I'm sorry, Major. Lieutenant Thompson didn't survive the crash."

Carter felt the wind knocked out of her lungs as he delicately pulled the 
sheet back, revealing the bruised and bloodied face of Josh Thompson.

Flinching from the sight, she screwed her eyes shut, biting down hard on 
her lip and reopening the damaged skin. The blood began flowing freely 
once again, running in a single rivulet down her chin. She blanched at 
the sensation, her eyes reluctantly returning to the lifeless body lying 
in front of her.

There was so much blood smeared all over his youthful, handsome face, the 
dark red stains contrasting against the pallor of his skin. Grains of 
sand were caught in his hair, leaving it dull and dirty. His lips and 
eyelids had taken on a bluish tinge, a sign that he had drawn his last 
breath some time ago.

The image was too much for Carter to bear.

Backing away from the gruesome scene, she shoved her way through the 
crowded group of soldiers, desperate to escape. Carter walked briskly, 
wrangling against the urge to break into a full run. She was not quite 
sure where she was going, only knowing she had to get away fast. 
Stumbling ahead, her legs carried her to the perimeter of the base, far 
from anyone or anything.

Lightheadedness stopped her from going any further, and she cried out as 
a painful weight settled over her heart.

She couldn't breathe!

Falling to her knees, she gasped for air, her eyes brimming with unshed 
tears. A trembling hand clutched at her chest as she continued to 
struggle for oxygen, feeling tremors rake through her body, nausea 
agitating her stomach.

Damn it, why couldn't she breathe?

The suffocating feeling strengthened, and she collapsed forward, the 
palms of her hands digging into the sand as she lowered her head closer 
to the ground. Without warning, she threw up, relieving the severe ache 
within her belly. Again and again, she expelled the contents of her 
stomach until it was empty, her eyes shut tight in agony, her nose 
running freely.

Once she was certain the bout of vomiting had ceased, Carter tumbled 
backwards into a sitting position, rubbing a hand over the taut, pale 
skin of her face. Sniffling quietly, she gazed out to the horizon, her 
usually crystal clear blue eyes red-rimmed and bright with tears she 
refused to yield to. The shock seemed to have passed through her system, 
leaving a mantle of absolute numbness in its wake.

The sun was shining high above when she heard the sound of someone 
approaching from behind. A pair of shiny, black combat boots stopped at 
her side before their owner took a seat next to her. Out of the corner of 
her eye, she glanced at her visitor.

Major Wells stared studiously ahead, his dark green eyes fixed on a point 
far, far away. The consummate, well-disciplined commanding officer she 
had worked with for almost two years was nowhere to be found in this 
troubled man. He seemed almost immobilized, surprising her.

A great deal of time passed before he finally chose to say something, his 
voice rough and a ghost of the strong timbre her ears were so used to 
hearing.

"I'm sorry about Thompson, Carter. I know he meant a lot to you."

Maintaining her silence, Carter stared straight ahead.

Major Wells was the last person she would choose to confide her personal 
feelings to, especially those she had developed for Thompson. Such 
private emotions were best left veiled in secrecy, particularly from a 
superior officer.

"Look, I know this probably isn't the best time for me to mention this, 
but you lost your cool up there. I need you to stay focused at all times, 
even if a comrade goes down, or you'll be putting yourself, as well as 
the rest of your team, in danger."

Despite the courteous manner in which he phrased the words, it was 
clearly a reprimand.

Carter felt the first stirrings of anger flow through her veins as she 
processed the subtle scolding. Her best friend of seven years, the person 
she cared about more than anyone else in the world, had died only a few 
short hours ago, and Wells had the gall to take the time to slap her on 
the wrist for her actions.

"You can't afford to make mistakes by allowing your emotions to cloud 
your judgment, Lieutenant. You are a part of one of the best fighter 
wings in the country and --"

Climbing to her feet, she glared down at him, the tenuous control she had 
sustained snapping as she lost her temper, startling Major Wells as well 
as herself.

"That's all that matters to you! Being the best! My best friend was just 
killed, and you choose to admonish me so that your precious squadron 
remains pristine and intact!"

From the glowering look on the major's face, Carter immediately knew she 
had leapt over the boundary of insubordination by a mile, but for the 
first time in her life, she didn't care. The crushing heartache of 
Thompson's death trampled over the role of the good little soldier she'd 
always strived to be, empowering the innate compassion that refused to 
perish despite all of her disciplined military training.

"I will lecture you as long as I see it fit while you are under my 
command, Lieutenant Carter. As for Lieutenant Thompson, he died in the 
service of his country, one of the greatest honors a citizen of the 
United States can attain."

She boldly plowed ahead, her face flushed with red-hot fury at the 
weathered statement.

"Yeah, I know. Service before self, right, sir?"

Wells scrambled to his feet, his own anger bubbling to the surface as he 
grabbed hold of her upper arm, squeezing firmly.

"Lieutenant Carter, you had better pull yourself together right now, or 
I'll have your ass out of my squadron at this instant! I don't give a 
damn who your father is! As long as you are an officer in the United 
States Air Force, I will not tolerate you yelling at a superior officer!"

Wrenching herself out of his grasp, she spat her words at him.

"There are other important things in life besides the Air Force, sir! 
Maybe if the military didn't come first, you'd still HAVE a life outside 
your career instead of being alone and hell-bent on spending your every 
waking hour training us to be carbon copies of yourself!"

Major Wells recoiled at the words, staring at her in stunned silence. 
Before he could regain control of his senses, Carter fled the scene, 
sprinting back to the base. She ran through the winding, canyon-like 
mazes between the aircraft shelters, flying by officers and enlisted 
personnel alike, all the while feeling as if her life was falling into a 
tailspin.

Thompson had been tragically snatched away from her only a scant few 
hours after he had affirmed his devotion to her. Years of friendship and 
the potential for something so much more had crashed and burned to the 
sandy dunes of a nation at war in a matter of seconds.

Carter longed for the warmth of his arms where she had received a taste 
of unconditional love and found a sanctuary from an imperfect world. 
Thompson always instinctively knew how to reassure her, even through the 
most desperate of times.

She could certainly use his reassurance right now, as she had probably 
kissed her pilot's wings goodbye. Already, Carter felt remorse over her 
callous, grief-induced words to her commanding officer. Due to the 
strenuous relationship she had with him, she wasn't sure a formal apology 
would be enough to salvage her flying career.

Finally, she reached the safe haven of her empty quarters, grateful that 
Lovell wasn't around to console her. It was the last thing she wanted 
right now. Switching off her bedside lamp, she crawled into her bunk, 
enveloping herself in the warm blankets. As she snuggled into a little 
ball, a faint, familiar scent wafted through her nostrils.

Thompson.

Their earlier escapade had left his lingering aroma imprinted in the 
blankets where they had held each other so close, clinging to one another 
in the heat of passion. Burying her nose into the material, she shut her 
eyes closed against the tidal wave of tears that threatened to fall.

It was some time later when Carter pried her gummy-feeling eyelids open 
again, her eyes immediately tracking toward the digital clock by her 
bedside. The large, red numbers revealed it was mid-afternoon outside, 
and she'd only managed to sleep a couple of hours.

Moaning softly, her fingers brushed across her brow, frowning at the dull 
ache in her head. The events of the night before had left her drained of 
energy, mentally and physically exhausted, and the desire to spend the 
rest of the day secluded in her quarters skirted around the edge of her 
conscience.

But shirking responsibility had never been a part of who Carter was. 
There was much to be done today, and none of the pending tasks would be 
easy.

One of the most pressing matters included writing a letter of condolence 
to Thompson's parents. The Thompsons loved her like a daughter, never 
failing to make her feel like she was a part of their family. She 
couldn't bear the thought of them receiving a clinical, impersonal letter 
from Major Wells, who would be informing them of their son's death. His 
family would receive much more consolation hearing from her than from a 
man they hardly knew.

A man whom, very shortly, she would have to confront and apologize to, 
and whose disappointment and ire she would need to overcome to have any 
hope of retaining her promising career.

The sound of quiet snuffling broke through the silence. As her eyes 
adjusted to the darkness around her, the outline of a person sitting on 
the floor next to her became visible. Listening to his breathing and 
studying the profile, Carter sighed softly.

Lovell.

The lieutenant had settled himself by her bunk, his back leaning against 
the nightstand and his head pillowed near hears on the mattress, sound 
asleep. His hand was grasping her own, his fingers clutching hers, as if 
holding on to reassure himself she was still there.

She couldn't blame him.

Carter found herself dreading her return to reality, wishing she could 
slip away from the surreal nightmare that had become her life.

                         *******************

Colonel O'Neill seemed mesmerized by the crackling flames of the fire, 
his gaze fixed on the bright, orange light illuminating their small 
campsite. Judging from the look on his face, Carter assumed he was 
absorbing all the memories she had shared with him about Thompson's 
tragic death, turning over every detail in his mind. Teal'c had retired 
to perform Kel'no'reem over an hour ago, leaving the two of them alone.

Resting against a large fallen log near the warmth of the fire, she had 
recounted the awful events of that February morning to an uncommonly 
quiet O'Neill. He hadn't said a word since the moment she'd told him how 
close that first missile had come to knocking her out of the sky, and the 
silence was beginning to unsettle her. As if reading her thoughts, he 
finally tore his eyes away from the campfire, turning to face her. A 
pensive look preceded a very surprising question.

"Thompson. Can you tell me what he looked like?"

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Brown hair, brown eyes. About six foot three --"

"Carter, would you stop it?"

Glancing up at him, she did as she was told, frowning in confusion.

O'Neill leaned in closer, shaking his head in frustration.

"You can prattle on for hours about any of the doohickeys in your lab 
down to the tiniest detail. Why can't you give me that kind of a 
description of the man who was your best friend and not just his damn 
statistics?"

Searching his inquisitive eyes for a moment, she realized the colonel 
genuinely wanted to know. Giving in, she closed her eyes, remembering 
Josh Thompson's face and slowly verbalizing her memories.

"He had short, straight brown hair. His bangs always had a tendency to 
fall toward his forehead no matter what he tried to do with them, but he 
refused to get a buzz cut like most of the other guys. He insisted buzz 
cuts were for hardened Marines, and he'd never subject himself to looking 
like them because he was an Air Force fighter pilot."

Shaking her head, she softly said, "He always did like the feel of the 
wind blowing through his hair. Said it reminded him of growing up on his 
father's airfield back in Texas."

Clearing her throat, she continued.

"His eyes were the darkest shade of brown, almost like chocolate, and 
they always twinkled, even when he wasn't happy."

Raising a forefinger, she delicately tapped her chin.

"He had a dimple in his chin that he inherited from his father. Josh was 
so much like him. Brave, funny, sweet."

She allowed herself a small smile, her own dimples becoming visible, 
indenting the smooth skin of her cheeks.

"His parents always teased us that if we ever had children, their faces 
would be just as dimpled as ours were."

Sliding her finger down, she drummed it against the side of her neck 
twice.

"And I remember a birthmark right here. He never seemed to care much for 
it, but I always thought it made him look unique."

When she opened her eyes again, a small frown wrinkled her forehead. The 
contemplative look on O'Neill's face had disappeared, and a stricken 
expression had taken its place, alarming her.

"Sir, what's wrong?"

The colonel roughly scrubbed a hand over his face. Carter was all too 
familiar with the habit. He always did it whenever he was having great 
difficulty dealing with something, but didn't really want to admit it.

"Sir?"

Of all the things she expected to hear, his quiet response was not one of 
them.

"I was there."

He looked up at her, meeting her wide blue eyes.

"I was in the chopper. My team was assigned to rescue downed pilots, 
and... I was there."

Her mind jumped into overdrive, struggling to find some memory of him. 
Carter recalled looking into the helicopter's cargo bay as it landed, 
searching for any sign of Thompson, but only seeing the faces of the 
Special Forces troops. The rotors had been whipping her hair about her 
face as her eyes locked with one of the men for a brief instant.

A man whose brown eyes startlingly resembled Thompson's in their 
intensity.

The man who would eventually become her commanding officer five years 
later.

Colonel Jack O'Neill.

"He was the only pilot we rescued that night. We were notified that an F-
16 had crashed in southern Iraq returning from an air patrol. Our orders 
were to go in, extract him, and bring him back to his post in Saudi."

Carter was rendered speechless, desperately trying to deal with the new 
information. Her eyes stared into O'Neill's, hoping he would understand 
the unspoken question in their depths.

What had happened?

Grimacing, he resumed informing her of his own memories of that morning.

"When we pulled him aboard, I knew it was bad. The kid was a mess. Broken 
bones, lacerations... But somehow he was still clinging to his life, 
hanging on by a thread."

The major's eyes filled with tears as the erstwhile heartache flooded 
through her anew. This was a side of the story she'd never known before. 
A small part of her begged her to stop him from continuing, but an even 
bigger part yearned to discover what had happened in the last few moments 
of Thompson's life.

Her voice rough with emotion, she whispered, "Did he say anything?"

"Sam..."

Carter shook her head determinedly, unwilling to allow him to spare her 
any details.

"Colonel, please. I need to know."

O'Neill looked directly into her eyes, as if making sure his second-in-
command was prepared for what she was about to hear.

"He kept calling out for someone named Sam."

Twin rogue tears streamed down her cheeks at the softly uttered 
statement.

"I remember telling him that Sam was okay, and that seemed to calm him 
down. He... He let go after he heard you were all right."

Carter bowed her head, sliding a hand over her face and clenching her jaw 
as she fought to keep the maelstrom of tears at bay. The revelation 
rocked her to the core, sending a multitude of emotions running through 
her at a maddening rate: grief at discovering how much pain he had been 
in, relief at knowing Colonel O'Neill had given him some consolation, 
heartened to ultimately know Thompson's final thoughts had been of her.

But above all else, an overwhelming sadness enveloped her, her longing 
for Thompson's unconditional love and friendship coming to the forefront. 
She missed him terribly, even after nearly ten years.

A warm hand lightly touched her own, gently pulling her fingers away from 
her face, revealing her tear-stained cheeks. O'Neill's face appeared 
through her watery eyes, his compassionate gaze soothing the implacable 
ache in her heart. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "C'mere," an open 
invitation for her to rely on the comfort he was willing to give.

Little by little, she eventually reached for him, her body rigid at the 
unfamiliarity. Following a brief moment of awkwardness, O'Neill settled 
his arms around her securely, and the stiffness in her muscles slowly 
melted away.

She buried her face into the colonel's shoulder, weeping softly, finally 
permitting herself to fully mourn her lost best friend, a decade of pent-
up emotions pouring out. She cuddled closer to O'Neill as he gently 
rocked her back and forth, murmuring hushed reassurances into her ear. 
The swaying motion calmed her, and Carter felt her eyelids growing heavy 
in response.

With her last bit of strength, she mumbled, "I cared about him so much. I 
never even told him I loved him."

A quick kiss was placed on her temple, and she closed her eyes. Before 
sleep completely claimed her, she heard his soft reply.

"He knew, Sam. I'm sure he knew."

                         *******************

Chapter 8

Sunshine warmed Carter as she snuggled against her pillow, sighing 
contently with her blanket settled cozily around her. The earthy, 
fragrant odor of the outdoors filled her nose, mixing in with another 
familiar scent. She frowned slightly as she breathed it in, trying to 
place a name to it.

Having spent much of the last three years utilizing camping gear during 
SG-1's excursions offworld, she was certain that this was not what the 
standard Air Force issued sleeping bag was supposed to smell like. Nor 
did they come equipped with hands that gently weaved through your hair.

Opening her eyes fractionally, she realized her 'pillow' was Colonel 
O'Neill's chest and her 'blanket' was his arms wrapped around her.

Carter was surprised at how well she'd slept beside him and more than a 
little unnerved by how natural it felt to wake up in his arms. She was 
nestled deep in his embrace, and even though she was aware that the 
military would frown upon their somewhat compromising position, she 
couldn't bring herself to move out of the security of his arms just yet.

Needless to say, these weren't the kind of thoughts she should be having 
about her commanding officer.

Closing her eyes, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching the 
undergrowth around the camp. The recognizable low tones of Teal'c's voice 
called out from nearby. She listened to the ensuing exchange, feigning 
sleep.

"O'Neill. Is Major Carter unwell?"

Almost imperceptibly, the colonel's arms tightened around her, his hand 
still tangled in her tresses.

"She'll be fine, Teal'c. She just had a rough night."

The Jaffa seemed to consider that for a moment before replying.

"I see."

Silence draped over the campsite.

Carter knew how awkward things must look, but Teal'c was observant enough 
to realize nothing had happened between herself and the colonel. She was 
fairly confident in trusting that Teal'c would exercise discretion and 
not make mention of what he had seen.

"If you will permit me, O'Neill, I shall attempt to dial Earth once again 
to determine if the secondary Stargate is now operational."

The colonel nodded his assent, and the fading footsteps signified their 
companion's departure from the campsite.

"Okay, Dorothy, time to stop faking. Teal'c's gone to click his ruby red 
heels to try to get us back to Kansas."

Her eyes snapped open, and she was sitting up and moving a safe distance 
away before O'Neill could register what was happening.

"How did you know?"

A tiny, cunning smile crossed his face, and instead of answering, he 
simply tossed her a fruit from last night's meal. After several beats of 
silence, it was clear he wasn't going to respond, and the smug expression 
on his face annoyed her. After finishing her breakfast in silence, she 
excused herself and retreated to the small stream near the camp to be 
alone.

The gentle current pulsated downstream, gliding over the smooth rocks as 
Carter approached. Kneeling at the bank, she cupped some cool water in 
her hands, using it to wash her face and scrub away the final vestiges of 
sleep. The fresh water cleansed the dirt from her skin, but it did little 
to dispel the stirrings of long-buried feelings deep inside.

After Thompson's death, she had found it within herself to move on 
gradually, continuing her life's pursuits until she finally found a sense 
of true belonging and fulfillment as a member of SG-1. Her friendships 
with her teammates had solidified throughout the past three years, 
running as deeply as her friendships with her former squadron had been.

The colonel's disclosure of Thompson's final words the night before had 
been a catharsis of sorts, but although time was said to heal all wounds, 
this one ran far too deep to ever completely go away. The questions had 
always remained in the back of her mind...

What would have happened between herself and Thompson?

Would fate have still brought her into the Stargate program?

"Carter?"

Startled, she whipped her head around, finding Colonel O'Neill standing a 
few feet behind her. Damn it, that was the second time he'd done that in 
as many days!

Walking over, he took a seat by her side, glancing at her before focusing 
his attention on the running water in front of them.

"You okay?"

Carter gave him a small smile, quickly pushing the thoughts of Thompson 
and what might have been from her mind. She had shared so much with 
O'Neill, but there were certain things she would never reveal to anyone, 
ever. Memories belonging solely to herself and to Thompson.

Trying to keep her voice sounding nonchalant, she answered, "Yes, sir. I 
was just washing up."

"You find a bathtub out here or something? 'Cause if you did, I sure hope 
you plan to share. I could use a good, long bubble bath right about now."

Frowning slightly at the sarcasm in his voice, she gave him a questioning 
glance, noting his cool demeanor. His neutral face may have concealed the 
emotions he hid beneath the surface, but his rigid posture indicated his 
apparent unease.

"You've been gone forty-five minutes, Major."

Carter looked at her wristwatch, blinking in surprise.

He was right.

Usually, she dived into various projects, picking over every detail until 
she could solve the problem at hand or comprehend how something new 
worked, completely disregarding the amount of time that passed by. In 
this instance, she had lost herself in her thoughts, something that 
hadn't happened in quite some time. Not since... Carter closed her eyes, 
sighing quietly.

Not since she'd learned how Thompson's fatal crash had ultimately saved 
her life.

"What's on your mind, Carter?"

Picking up a small pebble, she turned it over between her fingers, 
avoiding the colonel's eyes. Already, she had divulged so many details of 
that one fateful year that had changed her life: finding love in a time 
of war, sharing a strong camaraderie with her fellow pilots, her struggle 
to find common ground with her commanding officer, and the tragedy of 
losing a loved one. All of those experiences had helped shape her into 
the person she was today. Of that, she was certain.

Then again, they almost hadn't.

Tossing the pebble into the current, Carter inhaled deeply.

For a long period of time following Thompson's death, she had lost sight 
of herself, rapidly sinking into depression. Her happiness and enthusiasm 
for life hit rock bottom as quickly as the pebble had plummeted to the 
bottom of the stream.

Turning to O'Neill, she regarded him silently.

He was no stranger to loss; the colonel had seen both comrades and 
friends fall in combat during his time in Special Ops. And he had 
struggled with the tragedy of his only child's death not long before he'd 
been assigned to the first Stargate mission. No one, perhaps, would 
better understand what it was like to lose someone than O'Neill. This man 
would be familiar with the turmoil she had found herself in for so many 
months.

Quietly, she began telling him.

"I was just thinking how much I isolated myself from everyone and 
everything that reminded me of Josh. The remainder of the time I tried to 
bury my feelings where no one would find them. Not even myself."

                         *******************

Wednesday, February 13, 1991

Carter sat on the bench opposite Major Wells's office, uneasily eyeing 
the gleaming brass nameplate adhered to the frosted glass window. Resting 
her head against the wall, she considered the apology she had worked on 
during the short trip from her quarters to the command building.

Years in the military had taught her that detachment was a prized virtue 
in her line of work, a quality that enabled officers and enlisted 
personnel alike to close themselves off from emotions that may interfere 
with duty. Being emotionally uninvolved guaranteed that a soldier could 
do his or her job without having to think of the consequences, especially 
in battle.

But Carter couldn't do that with Thompson.

In her eyes, he wasn't just another casualty of war. He was her best 
friend, the man she had fallen in love with, and the person who taught 
her that despite their military training and responsibilities, they 
shouldn't always be asked to keep their true feelings shrouded in the 
shadows.

Love wasn't a mistake. It was what made them human, and Carter would 
never believe loving Thompson had been a mistake.

On the contrary, she felt her only error had resulted from directing her 
grief and pain at the wrong person – Major Wells. The words she'd angrily 
spouted at her commanding officer earlier this morning had been delivered 
in poor taste, wrought from an overwhelming sense of anguish she couldn't 
contain.

Their working relationship had never been easy. Wells was a demanding, 
hard-assed superior while she was a brainy, impetuous, up-and-coming 
junior officer, but nonetheless, Carter respected him and had every 
intention of rectifying her mistake. Above all else, Major Wells was her 
commanding officer, and she valued his opinion, wishing he would see her 
as the esteemed officer and pilot she was working so hard to be.

The sound of a pair of fighter jets flying overhead gave her the boost 
she needed. It was time to get this over with. Taking a deep breath, she 
stood and raised a hand to rap on the door. After a short pause, a curt 
response was issued from within.

"Enter!"

Major Wells sat at his desk working on his laptop computer as she walked 
in. Stopping in front of him, she snapped off a crisp salute.

"Lieutenant Samantha Carter reporting, sir!"

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" Wells asked absently, his utmost 
concentration remaining on the computer screen, his fingers quietly 
tapping on the keyboard.

Unperturbed by his indifference, Carter remained standing stiffly at 
attention, staring at a point on the far wall as she continued.

"Sir, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier this morning. My 
words were rude, disrespectful, and completely uncalled for. I am truly 
sorry, sir, and I am prepared for whatever reprimand you choose to invoke 
on my record, even if it means removal from your squadron."

Major Wells continued typing, not even bothering to spare her a glance.

Unwilling to allow his disinterest to faze her, the lieutenant held her 
ground, sustaining her perfect posture even as her aching back and feet 
began to protest earnestly. She listened to the sounds around her, using 
the subtle noises to distract herself from the discomfort.

The distinct whine of an F-16 powering up, the rhythmic thump of marching 
feet walking in a seamless formation somewhere outside, the rustle of 
papers being shifted in Lieutenant Colonel Anderson's office next door, 
the creak of Major Wells's chair as he rose to his feet...

Immediately, Carter refocused her attention on her commanding officer, 
watching out of the corner of her eye as he slowly walked around the 
desk. Casually propping himself on the edge, he crossed his arms at his 
chest, studying her face.

"You and I have never seen eye to eye on much of anything, Lieutenant."

"No, sir," Carter agreed honestly.

"I don't always appreciate that, and I'm pretty sure you're smart enough 
to know it."

She wisely chose not to reply to that remark, waiting instead for him to 
continue.

"Despite your inclination for aggravating the hell out of me, I respect 
you, Lieutenant. I know you've never had it easy, trying to make people 
forget you're Jake Carter's kid and fighting twice as hard to make them 
see past the fact that you're a woman in a boys' club. But you have the 
potential for a brilliant career, and I don't want you to throw that 
opportunity away."

Carter couldn't help but blink in surprise at the unexpected disclosure, 
shooting a quizzical glance at her commanding officer. The corners of the 
major's mouth tugged upwards at the look on her face, sending a ripple of 
shock coursing through her.

Had Wells actually smiled at her?

"At ease, Lieutenant," he finally instructed her.

She relaxed marginally, clasping her hands behind her back and wondering 
what had caused the shift in his attitude. Major Wells was notorious for 
being strict and focused, his poker face almost never revealing his true 
emotions. In all the time she'd known him, he had never cracked a smile.

"I've said it time and again, Carter. You're a skilled pilot and an 
excellent officer. But up until this morning I never knew how brave you 
really were."

Her eyebrows lifted fractionally, confusion replacing the surprise.

"Sir?"

Pushing himself away from the desk, Wells mirrored her stance, staring 
directly into her eyes.

"You needed more time to absorb everything that had just happened, and I 
didn't give you that luxury. It took a lot of guts to stand up and tell 
me what was on your mind."

Carter frowned, growing more baffled by the second.

"But, sir, the things I said --"

"Are excusable, given the situation I put you in," he cut in, shaking his 
head. "However, I don't approve being shouted at by an officer under my 
command. I never will. Is that clear, Lieutenant Carter?"

"Yes, sir. It'll never happen again, sir."

The major nodded and stepped away, moving to stand by the window 
overlooking the taxiway. She watched him closely, waiting expectantly for 
his next remark. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet she nearly 
missed the words.

"A good officer learns from his or her mistakes."

Just as softly, Carter automatically replied, "The only real mistake is 
the one from which we learn nothing, sir."

Glancing over his shoulder at her, Wells raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"You still remember that."

Straightening her posture, she solemnly replied, "I will never forget it, 
sir."

Another ghost of a smile graced his face before he turned around to look 
out the window again, focusing on the passage of an F-16 as it taxied 
toward the runway, leaving Carter a moment to reflect back to the day she 
had first heard those words.

Two weeks following her graduation from flight school, her first orders 
had arrived with instructions to report to Hill AFB and her immediate 
assignment to the 421st Fighter Squadron. Packing her possessions, she 
had journeyed from her post at Laughlin AFB in Texas to Utah, anxious to 
settle into her new role as a bonafide fighter pilot.

The ambitious young lieutenant had been quick to impress Colonel Snedden 
and the rest of the brass of the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing during her 
initial evaluations, swiftly securing her place as the best among the new 
recruits. A brief smile touched her lips as she remembered how insane the 
night of their official welcome ceremony had become.

Thompson, O'Malley, Hickam, and Bennett had been particularly proud of 
the honor she was to receive, making sure her glass was never empty and 
straightening the brand-new silver bars on her shoulders, tending to her 
every need throughout the evening much to her mortification. But with 
time, their ulterior motives soon became clear.

As the evening progressed, a blanket of light wooziness began creeping 
into her awareness, muddling her thoughts. Thinking she just needed some 
fresh air to clear her head, Carter retreated outdoors, breathing a sigh 
of relief as she found an empty bench to sit on. The rest of the world 
seemed to disappear as she closed her eyes, the sounds from the party 
fading into the back of her mind.

The echo of approaching footsteps breached her tranquil hideaway all too 
soon.

Opening her eyes, she poised to climb to her feet, pausing when the 
unidentified folks stopped just around the corner from her bench, the 
side of the building concealing her from their view.

Carter idly sipped her punch, scantly paying attention to the faint 
murmurs of the group of men until a familiar chorus of chuckles and the 
clink of glass caught her attention. Rising from her seat, she edged 
closer to the corner of the building for a peek, listening more 
attentively.

"You think it's working?" Hickam questioned.

"Oh, yeah," O'Malley answered, his speech slightly slurred, passing a 
small bottle to Bennett. "She definitely seems more relaxed than when we 
first got here. Finally loosening up for a change!"

Bennett shook his head and snickered, clumsily pouring a dollop of the 
bottle's contents into his punch. "She is so gonna kick our asses, Rupe!"

Frowning, Carter peered down into her own drink, tracing the rim of the 
glass with her forefinger. The mysteries of the evening suddenly became 
crystal clear: the boys indulging her with an endless stream of drinks, 
the slight kick of the beverage, her growing lethargic state of mind... 
The bastards had spiked her drinks, intent on getting her drunk during an 
official Air Force ceremony!

A burst of anger and incredulity drove her to instant sobriety as she 
rounded the corner, startling the group of men. Grabbing the bottle out 
of the frozen Bennett's hand, Carter read the label and glared at each of 
them in turn.

"You're damn right I'm going to kick your asses! Of all the stupid, 
idiotic things you guys have done, this has to rank near the top of the 
list! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Guilty looks were exchanged, and the four pilots shifted uncomfortably 
under her piercing gaze. O'Malley was the first to break.

"It was Jon's idea!" he admitted, ignoring the daggers Bennett sent in 
his direction.

"He's the one who bought the Jack Daniels!" Hickam quickly added.

"Hey, you guys didn't have to go along with it," the resident prankster 
protested, scuffing a dress shoe against the pavement, avoiding looking 
at any of them. "We just wanted you to have a little fun, Sam!"

Shoving the bottle back to Bennett, she sighed irritably and turned to 
Thompson, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

"And you went along with this?"

Casting his gaze downward, her best friend seemed to shrink beneath her 
disapproving eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, swallowing 
involuntarily.

"Well," he mumbled, "not at first..."

Carter snorted in disbelief, rolling her eyes and running a hand across 
her forehead.

"We just received our promotions to first lieutenant," she stated, 
glancing down at her wristwatch. "And we're less than fifteen minutes 
from our official acceptance into the 421st. Do you have any idea how 
serious the repercussions of your bright ideas would be if anyone finds 
out what you did?"

With a flick of his wrist, Thompson emptied his glass over the sidewalk, 
grimacing as the truth of her words sunk in.

"We would be in a shit load of trouble."

Hickam's pale blue eyes widened abruptly, looking like a deer caught in 
the proverbial headlights. Noticing his alarmed expression, the others 
turned around to see their commanding officer headed their way. In a 
well-practiced motion, all five lieutenants effortlessly stood at precise 
attention together, keeping their eyes trained forward as Major Wells 
reached them.

"Have you people been out here all this time? The ceremony is about to 
begin," he informed them.

"Sorry, sir. We just stepped outside for some fresh air," Thompson 
apologized.

Wells nodded in understanding.

"Nothing wrong with that, Lieutenant Thompson, but I suggest you all head 
back inside. Everyone is waiting."

"Yes, sir!" O'Malley exclaimed, quickly taking point and leading his 
fellow pilots back to the building.

Carter lingered behind, a small, tight smile gracing her lips. All her 
earlier thoughts of vindictive payback dissolved as she watched the boys 
struggling to maintain their dignity as they stumbled along. Their 
hangovers tomorrow morning would be enough sweet revenge.

"You kids were born with exceptional ability and extraordinary 
intelligence, Lieutenant Carter," Wells commented, falling into step 
beside his subordinate. "Those traits have carried you throughout your 
instruction at the Academy and flight school, and I hope they'll continue 
to serve you well while you're under my command."

She acknowledged him with a half-smile, averting her eyes as her cheeks 
colored with embarrassment.

"I'll do my best, sir."

"I do want to make one thing clear, Lieutenant," he continued.

She gave him a sidelong glance as they walked up the steps to the 
entrance of the building.

"What's that, Major?"

"I've seen what you and the rest of the new recruits can do, and there is 
no doubt in my mind that you've all got talent. But you are still far 
from perfect, and mistakes are inevitable, even in a wing that holds such 
high standards like Snedden's."

Wells halted briefly at the door, considering his next words as he 
observed the inquisitiveness brimming in his brightest pilot's eyes.

"What I'm trying to say, Carter, is that a good officer learns from his 
or her mistakes. The only real mistake is the one from which you learn 
nothing."

The young lieutenant's forehead crinkled with puzzlement for a moment 
before she followed her commanding officer indoors.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, sir," she responded quietly, trying 
to work out why she had been on the receiving end of such an intriguing 
statement.

The roar of a fighter plane climbing into the afternoon sky brought 
Carter back to the present, and she returned her gaze to Major Wells, who 
still had his back to her. Even after all this time, she still hadn't 
figured out where his cryptic assertion had come from.

As if reading her thoughts, he asked, "You never did understand why I 
told you that in the first place, did you?"

"No, sir," Carter admitted.

Half turning, he smiled wryly, shaking his head slightly as he crossed 
his arms across his chest.

"I'm no fool, Lieutenant. I always keep an eye on the people under my 
command, whether they are aware of it or not. Your companions' 
intoxication did not escape my notice."

She blanched at the revelation, her stomach dropping to the ground.

'Holy Hannah, he KNEW!' Carter thought, wondering what had given them 
away.

Wells moved to stand before her, leaning back against his desk, his mouth 
setting in a firm line.

"After my divorce, Jack Daniels became my constant companion during my 
downtime. It's not something I'm proud to say, but I developed a bit of a 
sixth sense for it. There was no question you people had been drinking, 
and I could have ended your careers that night."

Blinking in surprise, she swallowed involuntarily, the implications of 
his words slowly sinking in. The power to terminate their promising 
careers before they even truly began had been in his hands, but for some 
reason...

"You didn't do it," Carter uttered softly. "You would have been obligated 
as our commanding officer to suspend our duties and refer all of us to 
court-martial, but you didn't."

"You wouldn't be standing here if I had, Lieutenant," he retorted. "And 
you have only yourself to thank for that."

Her brow creasing in confusion, she asked, "Sir?"

"I was about to confront Lieutenants Thompson, Bennett, O'Malley, and 
Hickam about their irresponsible behavior when you showed up. I saw how 
well you handled the situation, and I backed off, deciding I'd take a 
chance on the five of you. Quite frankly, those boys owe their careers to 
you."

Shaken by yet another disclosure, she mumbled under her breath, "And the 
surprises just keep on coming."

Either Wells did not hear her nearly inaudible words, or he chose to 
disregard them. Instead, he returned to his seat behind his desk, 
gathering up some paperwork.

"I want you to take the next patrol off," he ordered.

Opening her mouth to protest, Carter fell silent as the major raised a 
hand to cut her off.

"No arguments! I want you rested and ready for Sunday's mission. I'll 
need you up there, Lieutenant."

She sighed softly, deciding her disagreement wasn't worth expressing this 
time around. She had finally made some progress with her commanding 
officer, and she wasn't about to disrupt the newfound peace this tragedy 
had brought between them.

"Understood, sir."

"Dismissed."

Carter clicked her heels together, standing at attention once again.

"Thank you, sir."

Swiveling around, she made her way to the door, but only managed to walk 
a couple of steps before the sound of her commanding officer's voice 
stopped her in her tracks.

"Carter."

Turning to face him, she found the major observing her carefully, his 
eyes immediately meeting hers.

"I am sorry about Lieutenant Thompson. He was a fine officer, and a good 
man," he said sincerely.

The lieutenant closed her eyes briefly, ducking her head as a fresh wave 
of grief clenched her heart. She fought the emotion, suppressing it until 
she reined in the tears that threatened to fall and felt the tightness in 
her throat disappear. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and 
raised her head, her piercing blue eyes crystal clear.

"Yes, sir."

With one final salute, Carter exited the office, anxious to return to the 
privacy of her quarters. Taking the shortest route she knew of, she 
deftly avoided the squadron's usual haunts, blending in anonymously among 
the other base personnel.

As she rounded the corner of the last hallway inside the barracks, she 
breathed a sigh of relief. Deeply preoccupied with the thought of eluding 
anyone who would want to talk about Thompson, she didn't see Rupert 
O'Malley leaving his room until she collided into him.

"Whoa, sorry, Wizard! Didn't see you there!"

Cater backpedaled from the burly young man, muttering her own apologies 
as she tried to squeeze her way past him, but he wasn't about to let her 
go that easily. O'Malley reached out, gently squeezing her shoulders in a 
comforting gesture.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about Josh. He was one of the best. A real ace."

Nodding, she continued taking measured steps until she arrived at the 
threshold of her quarters, ready to slip into the safety of the small, 
empty room until O'Malley's next comment caught her by surprise.

"We think he's a hero, you know."

Slowly, she turned around, frowning in confusion.

"Why do you say that?"

An equally puzzled expression appeared on his face.

"You didn't see what happened?"

Carter shook her head, unsure of what he was referring to.

Her friend suddenly became uncomfortable, shifting restlessly on his feet 
and stuffing his hands in his flight jacket pockets. Tilting her head to 
the side, she crossed her arms at her chest, regarding him with weary, 
but demanding eyes.

"What are you talking about, Rupert?"

O'Malley hung his head, his eyes focusing on his boots. Reluctantly, he 
began explaining.

"When Major Wells ordered us to engage the Iraqis back there... You were 
under fire, and..."

Shrugging his shoulders, he looked up at her, shaking his head in wonder.

"Josh just dove right in, taking the hit..."

His words thrust the scattered recollections and images of the incident 
upon her all over again, the pieces beginning to fall into place. The 
outright fear in Thompson's voice, the sound of anti-aircraft fire all 
around, the flash of light from an explosion somewhere beneath her 
plane...

Her eyes widened in shock as she presumed what Thompson had done.

"He saved my life..."

Seeing O'Malley's answering nod, she quickly excused herself, all 
thoughts of sitting alone and shutting the rest of the world out 
vanishing in an instant. Sprinting down the hall, her focused narrowed to 
a determined desire to see Thompson. Within minutes, the lieutenant had 
reached the base hospital, slipping into the silence of the pristine, 
sterile corridors.

The sound of her footfalls echoed loudly on the polished floors as she 
wandered aimlessly about, trying to figure out where she was. Her visits 
to this building had been limited to post-mission check-ups in the west 
wing; the rest of the facility remained a mystery. Apparently, the 
uncertainty was evident on her face as a woman in a white medical coat 
approached her.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Nodding, Carter glanced down at the blue plastic nametag and addressed 
the petite, brown-eyed doctor.

"Yes, Doctor...Fraiser. I, um, was wondering if I could be allowed to see 
Lieutenant Joshua Thompson? He was, ah, brought in this morning."

Her brow creased in contemplation, Fraiser began searching through the 
armload of charts she had been carrying, searching for the name. Pulling 
his folder to the top, she quickly read through the details, the 
expression on her face slowly turning into one of regret. Raising her 
eyes, Fraiser briefly glanced at the insignia and name patch on the 
younger woman's top before guiding her toward a row of chairs positioned 
next to the wall.

"Lieutenant Carter, I think you should have a seat," Fraiser told her 
softly, gently clasping her upper arm.

She pulled away from the doctor's grasp, immediately distancing herself. 
Shaking her head, Carter raised a hand to stop the other woman from 
continuing.

"Doctor Fraiser, I'm already aware of what happened to Lieutenant 
Thompson. He is, was, a member of my squadron. I want to see him. I 
just...want to see him," she pleaded.

Fraiser observed the lanky, blonde-haired woman standing in front of her 
for a moment, taking in her unkempt appearance. The wrinkled fighter 
pilot fatigues, loosely laced combat boots, and tangled tresses were 
proof that Carter had slept very little in the past twenty-four hours.

But despite the obvious exhaustion, determination burned brightly in 
those intense eyes. An order for her to rest would fall on deaf ears 
until her wish was fulfilled. Sighing, Fraiser motioned Carter to follow 
her.

She trailed closely behind the doctor, easily keeping up with the shorter 
woman's stride. As they walked through the quiet corridors, the 
lieutenant couldn't help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in her 
belly.

The last image of Thompson's pallid, bloodied face had been etched into 
her memory, haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She did not want 
that image to be the last way she remembered him.

After strolling through a couple of hallways, the pair stopped before a 
plain, white door. Carter nervously glimpsed at the single word engraved 
on the small, wooden plaque mounted at eye-level, swallowing hard.

'Morgue.'

Taking a deep breath, she followed Doctor Fraiser inside. The airman on 
duty looked up from his paperwork, quickly standing to attention in the 
presence of the two officers.

"Doctor. Ma'am."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Fraiser spoke quietly to the young man, just 
out of Carter's earshot. Their muted conversation was over in less than a 
minute. The airman respectfully saluted the two women on his way out the 
door, and Fraiser turned to Carter.

"Airman Rodriguez has informed me that the honor guard is scheduled to 
fly in within the hour to transport Lieutenant Thompson's body back to 
the States. If you'd like to sit with him until they arrive, I can take 
you to him."

Carter nodded and followed the doctor to a back room, her heart pounding. 
The room was dimly lit and smelled strongly of antiseptic, the odor 
making her stomach churn uncomfortably. Her eyes fell upon the sheet-
covered form lying on one of the tables at the center of the room. 
Fighting the urge to turn around, she slowly marched forward, coming to a 
stop at the edge of the table.

A small hand squeezed her shoulder.

"I'll be just outside if you need anything."

Her eyes still fixed on the motionless figure in front of her, Carter 
faintly mumbled, "Thank you, Doctor Fraiser."

The doctor gave her a tiny, sympathetic smile.

"My name is Janet, Lieutenant Carter. And you're welcome."

Cater found herself completely alone as the click of Fraiser's heels on 
the tiled floor faded away. Taking a few calming breaths, she hesitantly 
reached out and carefully pulled the sheet down from Thompson's face. The 
view was not what she had expected.

Someone had washed the blood and sand from his face since he had been 
brought in. Her eyes roved over his features, noticing that even though 
the blood was gone, the bruises remained, their purplish tinge a stark 
distinction from his pale skin. Numbly, she settled herself onto the 
stool by the side of the table, tentatively reaching out with trembling 
fingers to caress his cheek. Her lip quivered as their skin made contact.

He was so very cold.

Shutting her eyes against the sting of tears, Carter bowed her head, 
wishing with all her might to wake from this horrible, unreal nightmare. 
The fear of losing him had always been present, lying beneath the surface 
of her subconscious. Reckless and daring, Thompson had thrived on 
adrenaline, eager to use his talent and abilities for his country, never 
batting an eye in the face of peril.

She remembered how willing had had been to come to the Middle East, ready 
to put his mettle to the test in actual combat. Even though she had not 
shared his enthusiasm, Carter realized to deny him the chance would have 
been to suppress a part of who he was.

A brave man she'd grown to admire and respect, who was up to any 
challenge, no matter how dangerous it might be.

A courageous man who had sacrificed himself to save the woman he loved.

Swallowing back her tears, she bent forward, resting her head against his 
shoulder. Her mind, so keen to analyzing information of astronomical 
proportions, could not wrap around the fact that this man had loved her 
so much he'd given his life for her.

Right now, she would give anything to see his twinkling brown eyes and 
sheepish smile, to feel the warmth of his lips against hers, to tell him 
how much he meant to her. But the fact of the reality was she'd never get 
the chance.

Thompson was gone, and this was goodbye.

A single teardrop trickled down her cheek, sliding over the contours of 
her cheek and cascading onto his before rolling out of sight. Sniffling, 
Carter slid her fingers through his dark, soft hair, closing her eyes as 
she pressed her lips to his forehead.

Only the sound of the approaching honor guard ended the silent vigil 
nearly an hour later.

                         *******************

Thursday, February 28, 1991

Gentle footfalls.

Quiet rustling.

The creak of someone sitting on her bunk.

In her light doze, Sam Carter's senses were on a moderate sense of alert. 
She felt rather than heard the hushed voice that whispered in her ear, 
calling her name. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open and she inhaled 
sharply, bolting into a sitting position and nearly knocking over the 
person who had roused her.

"Sammy, it's me!"

The breath she'd been holding was expelled in a rush of air.

"Matt?"

In the shadows of the room, she could just discern the features of Matt 
Lovell's face.

The wrinkled brow and dark circles that lined the skin below his dreary 
eyes gave him the appearance of a man who had slept very little in the 
past few weeks. It was the face of a man who confronted the reality of a 
lost friend every time he walked into this room, the bunk above his own 
now empty.

"Yeah," he responded wearily, scrubbing a hand across his cheek. "I 
wasn't sure whether or not to wake you, but you're scheduled for watch 
detail."

Damn it, she had completely forgotten she'd signed up for tonight's 
patrol!

Kicking away her blanket, she blindly reached for the boots beneath her 
bunk, glancing up at him.

"It's okay. I'm up."

The concerned look on his face did not escape her.

"I'm fine. Really," she insisted.

Nothing could be further from the truth, but she wasn't about to let him 
know that.

Every day, her game face went up like armor, guarding her against any 
emotion that might betray how she actually felt. She reported for duty, 
generally keeping to herself, mentally repeating the mantra that had 
become her lifeline over the last two weeks.

The mission always comes first, the mission always comes first.

Those words had never been more significant than a little over a week ago 
when the 421st had contributed to successfully executing one of the most 
important air attacks in the entire war.

Intelligence reports obtained from Special Forces had alerted American 
officials of a well-organized Iraqi camp situated only sixty miles from 
the Saudi Arabian border. A task force had been quickly assembled, and 
approximately three hundred enemy vehicles had been destroyed in a 
mission that lasted several hours without a single American casualty.

For the first time her life, military detachment had swiftly settled into 
her perception, completely shoving away her emotional state of mind. It 
had been frighteningly easy for her to carry out her orders without her 
intellect and compassion prodding her conscience about the how and why of 
what she was doing. Instead, Carter simply did as she was told without 
question.

The mission had paved the way for the beginning of the second phase of 
the war when the ground assault commenced. Armored tanks and specially 
trained infantry troops replaced the daily aerial bombing and flybys, 
cutting the exhausted air crews a break.

Major Wells broke the news on the eve of the ground war, reporting that 
even though their job as pilots was completed, the squadron would remain 
in Saudi Arabia on standby. Activity across base diminished bit by bit as 
the days passed, leaving the occupants restless. In an effort to remain 
useful, each member of the two F-16 squadrons stationed on base had 
volunteered for patrols, keeping watch over their quiet home.

Carter was quick to sign up, spending every other night walking the ridge 
along the western perimeter of the base, monitoring the area through the 
green glow of night vision goggles. Deep down, she knew the real reason 
she had volunteered for the job. Alone under a blanket of stars, the 
mundane task managed to keep her alert and focused, temporarily quelling 
the heartache of Thompson's death.

Out on the ridge, if only for a few hours, Sam Carter allowed herself to 
forget, but unfortunately, the escape was always short-lived.

As the brightness of morning arrived, she would retire to her quarters, 
exhausted. Sleep came quickly, but the memories she fought to suppress 
during her waking hours soon invaded her dreams. There had been one too 
many times when she had woken from a restless slumber, bathed in a cold 
sweat and breathing hard as the haunting images of tousled hair and warm 
brown eyes faded away.

Sighing, she tightly laced her boots, risking a glance at Lovell.

Even with tired eyes, he watched her like a hawk. For days, he had tried 
to get her to talk, trailing her when she was off-duty and awake. It 
reminded her of the children's tale Mary and the Little Lamb, for 
everywhere that Carter went, Lovell was sure to go.

A year ago, she would have been pleasantly annoyed, teasing him that it 
was usually curious little sisters who wanted to follow their big 
brothers around. Eventually, she would have relented to his persistence, 
talking to him about what was going on and trusting that her confidante 
would never tell a soul.

But this felt so different.

Carter had kept her blossoming relationship with Thompson secret, knowing 
the romance would not bode well with her fellow squad members. The boys 
of the 421st were a tough, tight-knit group who expected the very best of 
their teammates, and she had worked hard to earn their respect. If any of 
them discovered the feelings she'd harbored for Thompson, she could 
easily imagine what they would think of her.

Shaking her head, she gathered her gear and fled outside, trying to lose 
Lovell.

Not a chance.

With his longer legs, he easily kept up, walking beside her as she 
maintained a brisk pace toward the command building.

"Sam, please! Talk to me for just one minute!"

If only he knew how much she wanted to do just that.

The experiences shared by the two lieutenants had served to strengthen 
the friendship that had been borne of countless training missions and 
vigilant mentoring. The more time they spent together, the more Carter 
found herself relying on Lovell, instinctively seeking him in those rare 
moments when she needed someone to talk to.

Those same instincts were screaming for attention, but she fought to 
ignore them. No one could know the real reason why she was having such a 
hard time dealing with Thompson's death.

No one could know just how responsible she felt.

"Come on, Sammy. You don't need to put up this brave soldier front with 
me. I know that Josh's death is --"

"Dammit, Lovell, I said I was fine. Just leave me the hell alone," she 
growled, blinking back the rebellious tears prickling her eyes.

Now was certainly not the time to cry!

"Why?" he shouted in reply, racing to grab her wrist. "Why do you want me 
to leave you alone?"

She struggled to free herself from his firm grip, throwing a desperate 
glance over her shoulder at the command building, less than one hundred 
yards away. Within those walls she would find sanctuary from Lovell's 
dogged determination, gaining another chance to escape his prying 
questions.

If she could only get there.

"Matt, this is ridiculous! Let me go, I have to report for duty," she 
objected, gritting her teeth as she tried to tug loose.

Shaking his head, he captured her other wrist and pulled her close, 
unwilling to let her slip away. She was swaying close to her breaking 
point, and he knew it.

"No! You've always felt safe coming to me when something was upsetting 
you. Why are you backing away now?"

Ducking his head, Lovell tried to meet her eyes, but she flinched, 
averting his inquisitive gaze. Past experience had taught her that given 
her current emotional state, one look into those eyes would crumble her 
resolve, giving him all the power to extract any information he wanted 
from her.

"You wouldn't understand," she stated, squeezing her eyes shut the moment 
the words left her mouth.

It was not the wisest thing to say, particularly to a Matthew Lovell 
who's overprotective radar was already on full alert. He was privy to all 
sorts of details about her life, from a good number of her most 
embarrassing childhood moments to the deepest, intimate secrets she dared 
not reveal to anyone else.

Sometimes she wondered if Lovell understood her better than she 
understood herself.

Carter winced as she felt his fingers marginally tighten around her 
wrists and chanced a glance at him. As she studied the features of his 
face, she realized he wasn't pissed. Lovell was slow to anger, one of 
those rare people who could hold his temper in check even through the 
shittiest of conditions.

No, this was all-out frustration from the lack of her responsiveness to 
his inquiries.

"You haven't even given me a chance, Sam. I know you cared about Josh. 
For God's sake, he was your best friend," he softly said, his face mere 
inches from her own.

Setting her jaw, her hands unconsciously clenched into fists as an 
unconstrained streak of anger ran through her.

"You don't know anything about my relationship with Josh," Carter 
whispered furiously.

He laughed humorlessly at her remark, releasing one of her wrists to run 
his hand across his eyes.

"Of course I don't know anything! You've been as distant as Saddam is 
from the front lines. What exactly are you trying to hide?"

Narrowing her eyes, she abruptly pulled away, finally jerking free of his 
grasp.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I've deemed that information as 
classified?"

He watched silently as she rubbed the inflamed skin of her wrists, 
shifting uncomfortably as he considered what to say. Peeking from beneath 
the bill of her baseball cap, she glared at him resentfully, speaking 
before he could utter another word.

"Josh would never have kept badgering me like this. He would have 
respected my space and left me alone until I was ready to talk," she 
pronounced, her voice dangerously low.

Lovell sighed heavily, jamming his hands in his pockets as he studiously 
stared at the ground.

"I've got news for you, Sammy," he mumbled. "I'm NOT Josh."

"No, you're not," Carter agreed. "And you never will be. You can NEVER 
live up to be the kind of man Josh Thompson was."

Whether by the cold tone of her voice or the choice of her words, he 
froze immediately, stunned. His teeth tugged on his lower lip as he 
stared at her in disbelief, his large, dark blue eyes blinking owlishly 
at her, absolute hurt burning in their depths.

Carter turned away, a stab of regret piercing her heart as she hurried on 
to the command building, but Lovell still would not give up.

He trailed after her once again, jogging by her side. Reaching out, he 
settled his hand on the nape of her neck as he had done on several other 
occasions, knowing the gesture comforted her during trying times, but it 
was the last straw for Carter.

Her body tensed at his touch, and before she was even aware of what she 
was doing, she roughly shoved him away. Her impulsive reaction caught him 
completely by surprise, and he stumbled backwards, landing on the ground 
with a painful grunt. Grimacing, he sluggishly sat up, staring at her in 
shock as he massaged the back of his head.

"Sammy?"

Unchecked tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, glistening in the pale 
light of the moon shining high above. Her voice trembled with grief when 
she spoke.

"I don't need your help, and I certainly don't need you..."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart weighing 
heavily in her chest, the thoughts in her mind a mass combination of 
mixed emotions. Guilt from subjecting Lovell to her bitter behavior 
compounded with the incalculable anguish she'd felt since losing 
Thompson.

Arriving outside the command building, she leaned against the wall for a 
moment, disgusted by how easily she had lost control. She felt sick to 
her stomach for treating Lovell so badly. As her mentor, all he ever 
wanted to do was make certain she was prepared for anything that came her 
way, hoping his knowledge would benefit her. As a friend, he wanted her 
to remain safe and loved, ensuring that she knew he would always be there 
for her.

Making her decision, she swiped at the moisture on her cheeks and looked 
back at the walkway that connected the command building and the hangar 
bays, ready to run after him to apologize, but he was nowhere in sight.

"Lieutenant Carter? Are you all right?"

Whirling around, she found Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Anderson, the 
commander of the 4th Fighter Squadron, standing outside the doorway, 
watching her with some concern. Clearing her throat, Carter squared her 
shoulders and nodded, hoping he hadn't overheard her quarrel with Lovell.

"Yes, sir. I was on my way to report for patrol duty."

Anderson smiled wryly, taking a quick glance at his wristwatch.

"Better get to it, Lieutenant. Major Wells was expecting you five minutes 
ago, and you know how he starts climbing up the walls when he's made to 
wait."

"Yes, sir!" she exclaimed.

Picking up her pace, she marched inside the building, weaving her way 
through the corridors until she arrived outside the ready room where all 
of the patrol gear was issued. As her hand reached to turn the knob, the 
door was yanked open from the other side, revealing a surprised Major 
Wells.

"Carter! Where the hell have you been?"

Startled, she took a step back, stammering an apology.

"I... I'm sorry, sir, I --"

He shook his head, opening the door wider to allow her entrance.

"I don't want to hear it, Lieutenant. Just go sign the forms for your 
gear and get out there."

"Yes, sir," she replied without missing a beat, hurrying into the room.

As the airman at the desk handed over a small stack of requisition 
papers, Carter looked over her shoulder at her commanding officer. 
Observant, concerned eyes met puzzled blue ones. Their gazes locked only 
a moment before both hastily turned away, neither accustomed to the 
cautious, new tranquility between them.

Thirty minutes later, Carter was dressed in a pair of desert cammies, 
strolling on top of the ridge. She tucked her fully loaded M-16 against 
her body, turning her head slowly from side to side and trying to keep a 
vigilant watch, but the thoughts swirling in her mind made the task 
nearly impossible.

She had fought long and hard to prove herself to Major Wells, enduring 
his lectures and admonishments for months, striving to earn his complete 
acceptance. In the end, it had taken her unexpected reaction to 
Thompson's sudden, tragic death to shift the working relationship into 
what she had struggled for so long to attain.

It was certainly not the way she had envisioned warranting the 
accomplishment. She had always pictured celebrating the achievement over 
a beer with her two closest friends at her side.

Closing her eyes, Carter sighed unhappily.

One of those friends was gone, and she was on the verge of losing the 
other. The snappish manner she'd treated Lovell with prodded her 
conscience. It wasn't like her to deliberately behave so callously, but 
ever since Thompson's crash, she had contended with the overwhelming 
feeling that she was losing sight of herself.

Everything was so fucked up right now, and she couldn't imagine things 
possibly getting any worse.

Sudden movement to the northwest caught her eye.

Carter swung around, immediately regretting the quick motion when the 
landscape became a green blur through the night vision goggles secured on 
her helmet. Blinking to clear her eyesight, she hoisted her weapon, 
straining to see who was approaching.

"Hold it right there!" she ordered. "Identify yourselves!"

The three silhouetted figures stopped, the faint moonlight illuminating 
their faces as they raised their hands in the air. One of them cocked his 
head to the side at the sound of her voice and carefully stepped forward.

"Lieutenant Carter? I am Abdullah! No shoot!"

Recognizing the man as one of the Bedouins that helped around the base, 
she relaxed her guard. He and his companions tended to work the night 
shifts, caring for the camels and transporting goods from Khamis Mushayt. 
Eyeing the satchels on their backs, she assumed they had returned from 
the city and lowered her weapon.

"It's okay, Abdullah. You can go on through."

Turning around, she looked down on the lights of the base below.

Ever since the ground war began, the number of personnel walking around 
this time of night had declined rapidly. She was certain the situation 
was similar at other posts scattered across the Middle East. If things 
continued as they were, the war would be over soon and the wait for 
transfer back to the States would begin. Carter eagerly looked forward to 
leaving this place and all it's bad memories behind.

After readjusting the clarity of the goggles, she pushed her sleeve up 
from her wrist and frowned at the numbers displayed on her wristwatch. 
Just past 0130. Another three and a half hours of boredom left in her 
patrol. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she turned on her heel and 
prepared to retrace her previous path.

All of a sudden, a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, causing 
her to lose her footing.

The world bobbled in a green haze through the goggles as she swung her 
arms around, fighting to maintain her precarious balance on the rocky 
ridge. Carter reached out blindly, desperately searching for anything to 
grab on to, when a set of hands planted themselves on her shoulders, 
shoving her off her feet.

Falling back, she hit the ground hard, grunting as the sharp edges of the 
rocks sliced her skin as she rolled down the steep incline. Her fingers 
clawed at the terrain, straining to slow her rapid descent, to no avail. 
Tumbling further down, Carter gasped as she felt her head slam into a 
rock. A bright light flashed before her eyes at the impact before a wave 
of darkness engulfed her.

                         *******************

Chapter 9

Friday, March 1, 1991

The roar of the afterburners from a fighter plane streaking by overhead 
jerked Carter back to consciousness only minutes later. Groaning softly, 
she opened her eyes, expecting to see the familiar green glow from the 
night vision goggles.

Inky darkness greeted her instead.

Blinking in confusion, she raised a bruised hand to her forehead, finding 
something wet and sticky where the goggles should have been. Blood, she 
vaguely realized.

Rolling on her side, she delicately patted the ground around her, hoping 
the goggles had slipped off nearby, when the clatter of people climbing 
carefully down the ridge stopped her cold. Eyes widening, her hands 
immediately reached for her weapon. A small sigh of relief escaped her as 
she felt it's comforting weight pressed against her chest, the strap 
still hung over one shoulder.

Flattening her body to the ground, Carter listened attentively as the men 
approached, relying on her ears to compensate for the lack of sight in 
the pale moonlight.

The telltale sound of rock scraping against rock echoed from three 
separate directions as they climbed down the ridge, reducing her chance 
of taking them out in a single attack. Gripping the gun tightly, she took 
a deep, calming breath and concentrated, trying to pinpoint the closest 
man.

The crunch of gravel signaled one of their positions.

Twisting to the left, she trained her limited sight over the barrel and 
prepared to fire just as a swift, hard kick from the right caught her off 
guard. The unexpected blow jolted the weapon from her bleeding hands, and 
it clattered a few feet away from her.

Strong arms grabbed her from behind as one of the Bedouins tried to 
immobilize her. Thinking fast, Carter slammed her helmeted head back into 
his face, falling forward as he screamed and released her. She dived for 
the fallen M-16, only to encounter dirt and rocks beneath her bloodied 
fingertips.

Her weapon was gone.

Fighting against the growing panic and the wave of dizziness that passed 
through her, she looked up. In the dark of night, she was just able to 
spot the silhouette of another of the men towering over her, the outline 
of the gun clearly visible in his hands.

Instinctively, she swung her leg around and delivered a powerful sweep at 
his ankles, her combat training surging through her. Entirely unprepared 
for the abrupt tactic, the man landed flat on his back, grunting at the 
impact.

The scene sparked a flash of memories in her mind of a night many months 
ago.

Gentle arms snuggling around her as she came down from the adrenaline 
high of flying, feeling safe and secure as she basked in the warmth of 
Josh Thompson's presence despite the chill of another cold night on the 
base...

Playfully knocking him down after one of his sarcastic remarks; her, 
smiling as he lay flat on the ground, him, grinning like a fool in 
love....

Shaking her head, Carter forced the memories back into her subconscious 
and scrambled over to her assailant, grabbing for the weapon. She was 
caught completely by surprise when he swung the heavy gun around, ramming 
it straight into the middle of her forearm. The crack of breaking bones 
reverberated loudly in her ears.

Absolute disbelief momentarily stunned her before a wave of intense pain 
coursed through her. She opened her mouth, unable to prevent the scream 
that welled up from the unbelievable agony that pulsated through her arm.

A hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling the sound before it could 
attract any attention. The man pressed his palm hard against her lips, 
leaning in close. In a very familiar voice, she heard him hiss, "Quiet!"

Abdullah.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Carter glared defiantly at the 
Bedouin whom she had distrusted from the start, watching as he turned 
toward his two companions and began speaking to them in hushed, hurried 
tones. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the others rummaging through 
their satchels, pulling objects out and placing them on the ground. Her 
heart skipped a beat.

Grenades. Fifteen, maybe twenty of them.

The pair seemed to be hastily inspecting them, muttering quietly to each 
other and one of them occasionally wiping at the blood still running from 
his nose. Frowning, Carter listened, recognizing a few of the Arabic 
words she had picked up over the last few months.

Airplanes.

Ammunition.

Barracks.

'Oh, God, they're going to try to attack the base!'

She jerked beneath Abdullah, fighting to gain some leverage against him, 
but he only dug his knees harder against her tender ribs. The added 
pressure left her head swimming as she struggled for oxygen, desperately 
trying to think of something to stop them.

These people had used sheer force to overpower and invade their small, 
neighboring country, the actions eventually leading to U.S. involvement. 
As a result, her squadron had been among those assigned overseas, 
prepared to act should a declaration of war be issued. When the orders 
had finally been delivered, the missions began, most running relatively 
smoothly, lulling her into a false sense of security.

The illusion of safety had come crashing down the night Thompson was 
killed. These men had inadvertently been responsible for the death of one 
of the most important people in her life, and now they were intent on 
shedding more American blood. There wasn't a chance in hell she would 
allow that to happen. With no backup in the immediate vicinity, she knew 
it was up to her to put an end to their plans.

Taking short, shallow breaths through her nose, Carter bided her time, 
waiting for the right moment to pounce. She didn't have to wait long.

Only minutes later, she heard the sound of one of the men cursing loudly. 
Glancing in their direction, she noticed it was the Bedouin who had tried 
to subdue her, still trying to stem the flow of blood from his apparently 
broken nose. The distraction was enough to draw Abdullah's attention away 
from her, and his hand shifted slightly over her mouth, the pressure 
loosening considerably.

Carter seized the opportunity, sinking her teeth into the heel of the 
man's hand. He howled in pain, wrenching himself away and landing at a 
heap at her side, leaving her free to move at last.

Sitting up swiftly, she squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach rolled and 
her vision temporarily blurred. Inhaling sharply, she staggered to her 
feet, wrestling against the relentless pounding in her head and the urge 
to throw up.

Abdullah recovered quickly, getting to his feet and racing toward her, 
but this time she was prepared for him. In the blink of an eye, Carter 
unsheathed her combat knife, holding it before her in her left hand. 
Blinded by his rage, the Bedouin missed seeing the glint of the blade and 
rammed himself into the weapon.

For a brief moment, she stared at the man, her eyes wide with shock as he 
began gasping for breath. Feeling something warm beginning to coat her 
hand, Carter lowered her gaze, blinking at the dark blood oozing from 
where the knife was embedded in his abdomen. Revolted at the sight, she 
stumbled back, withdrawing the weapon as Abdullah fell to his knees.

In a daze, Carter knelt by his side and sliced the strap of her M-16, 
pulling the weapon away from his motionless body. Keeping an eye on 
Abdullah's shell-shocked companions, she holstered her combat knife and 
keyed her radio, biting back a yelp of pain as she put her injured arm to 
use.

"This, this is Carter! I, I need backup, NOW! Northwestern perimeter of 
the base!"

The confirming reply was drowned out by the sound of a bloodcurdling cry. 
One of the Bedouins raced towards her, screaming in his native language, 
his hands outstretched and reaching for her neck. Reflexively, she raised 
her weapon and quickly fired off a couple of rounds, bringing the man 
tumbling to the ground.

Quickly, she turned her attention to the remaining Bedouin whose nose she 
had broken earlier, only to find him running the other way in fear. 
Carter aimed and shot once again, accurately hitting the ground near his 
feet in warning.

"Stop right there!"

Skidding to a halt, the Bedouin raised his arms above his head and turned 
around, dropping to his knees in surrender. Standing stock still, Carter 
kept the M-16 trained on his chest, panting from the adrenaline rush.

The realization of what had just happened slowly dawned on her.

The three men almost managed to attack the base and inflict some major 
damage. She had barely prevented that from happening, resorting to 
killing someone in hand-to-hand combat for the first time in her life. 
The image of the Bedouin's face as his life slowly faded away flashed 
before her eyes. It was not a pretty sight, no matter how necessary his 
death had been for the safety of her comrades.

Up in a plane, thousands of feet above the earth, a pilot easily forgot 
the damage and destruction their ordnance was inflicting upon those 
below, using the distance to remain detached. Close range battle, where a 
soldier actually witnessed the consequences of his or her actions, was 
another matter entirely, one Carter hoped never to grow accustomed to. 
Ending someone's life, even to save her own, had left her shaken to the 
core.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of four men climbing down 
the ridge, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her reinforcements were 
finally arriving.

"Lieutenant Carter?" Major Wells called.

"Sir!"

Within seconds, he was at her side, barking orders to Lieutenants 
O'Malley and Hall to secure the prisoner while Captain Martinez checked 
over her injuries. Once he was satisfied the two lieutenants had the 
situation under control, Wells returned his attention to Carter, his 
demeanor mellowing just noticeably.

"What happened, Lieutenant?"

She gave her CO a short assessment of what had transpired, stiffening as 
Martinez examined her broken arm. Just as she was finishing her report, 
O'Malley and Hall appeared by the major, each keeping a firm grip on 
either side of the Bedouin.

"Where do you want him, sir?" O'Malley asked.

Wells glowered at the man subdued by his two officers, his jaw clenching 
tightly.

"Captain, you and Lieutenant O'Malley lock this asshole up in the brig. 
Lieutenant Hall, you're with me. We need to sweep the base and the 
surrounding area to make sure none of his little friends are planning on 
an equally stupid idea."

O'Malley nodded in acquiescence, his fingers contracting around the 
Bedouin's arm.

"Right away, sir."

Martinez moved to join him, but paused in front of the major, cocking his 
head towards Carter in concern.

"Someone should take her to the hospital, Brayden. She needs medical 
attention a.s.a.p."

"I'll see to it, James. But for now, I want you and O'Malley to get that 
piece of shit out of my sight," Wells responded icily, directing his eyes 
once more to their prisoner, who cowered beneath the major's heavy gaze.

Without another word, Martinez took up the spot vacated by Hall and 
helped O'Malley march the Bedouin back to the base. Wells, Carter, and 
Hall trailed just behind. As they walked up the ridge, Wells radioed 
Lieutenant Colonel Anderson, alerting him of the situation and asking him 
to rally up some troops to begin a search of the base for any more signs 
of hostile activity.

Anderson worked quickly to comply. By the time they had reached the crest 
of the ridge, armed soldiers were lining up and breaking off into small 
units, ready to begin the search. Wells nodded his approval and turned to 
his two subordinates.

"Lieutenant Hall, assist Lieutenant Carter to the base hospital. I'll 
keep an eye on things here," he ordered, glancing back at the two bodies 
at the base of the ridge.

"No problem, sir," Hall answered dutifully.

Reaching out, Major Wells gave Carter's good shoulder a light squeeze.

"Hang tough, Lieutenant. You're going to be just fine."

Cradling her arm to her chest, bruised and bleeding, Carter still managed 
to grace her commanding officer with a small, grateful smile.

"Yes, sir."

As they began the tricky journey down the steep incline, Carter was 
surprised to feel Hall carefully settle his hand on the small of her 
back, guiding her through the most unstable sections of the ridge. More 
than once, she found herself involuntarily clutching his arm, deciding 
she'd rather seek his help than fall flat on her face and risk injuring 
herself further. Once safely at the base of the slope, the pair traveled 
across the runways to the hospital.

The dull pounding in her head and lancing pain shooting through her arm 
consolidated with the various aches riddled through her battered body, 
making her feel like she was about to drop from the exhaustion at any 
moment. Carter was so intent on keeping one foot in front of the other 
that she went rigid as a heavy weight settled over her shoulders.

Glancing at her companion, she was startled to see he had removed his 
jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Noticing her curious look, he 
shrugged.

"You're shivering," Hall explained simply.

She eyed him a bit suspiciously, unfamiliar with the civil treatment. She 
had spent far too many months watching her back around this man, learning 
to expect the unexpected, but this was certainly out of the ordinary 
behavior for Hall.

At least as far as she was concerned, she silently mused.

Frowning slightly, she inquisitively asked, "Are you just being nice 
because Major Wells ordered you to accompany me to the hospital?"

The corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly.

"Although you have every reason to believe that, no, I'm not."

Carter deliberately slowed her pace, partially because of the ambiguous 
nature of his reply, but more precisely due to the fact that her head was 
aching in earnest now. She closed her eyes, running a hand over her dirty 
forehead.

"So why the sudden change? I mean, given our history, I half-expected you 
to let me fall down the ridge and humiliate myself instead of helping 
me," she stated, wincing.

Hall observed her closely for a moment before gently slinging her good 
arm around his shoulders. Without objection, she leaned into him heavily, 
the fatigue and shock becoming too much for her body to bear. Through the 
haze of her exhaustion, she heard him answer her question.

"I was wrong about you, Carter. Let's just leave it at that."

The remainder of their walk to the hospital was a blur in Carter's bleary 
mind. She remembered Hall calling for help as they stumbled into the 
building, the sound of running feet approaching, and the feeling of being 
hoisted onto a gurney. As she faded in and out of consciousness, a 
familiar voice suddenly pierced through the confusion.

"Okay, people, what have we...?"

Doctor Janet Fraiser paused mid-question, immediately recognizing the 
young woman lying in her emergency room.

"Lieutenant Carter?"

Hall's voice, somewhere in the background, began explaining what had 
happened. There was a faint awareness of nurses shuffling around her, 
following Fraiser's orders as she examined Carter.

Pained blue eyes snapped open as the doctor inspected her broken arm, a 
sharp gasp escaping her. Fraiser grimaced in sympathy.

"Shh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I'm sorry," she murmured soothingly, taking 
extra care not to jar her patient's arm any more than necessary.

The doctor sighed in disgust and mumbled under her breath, "Damn the 
bastard." A little more loudly, she explained, "In addition to the mild 
shock and various lacerations and contusions, her arm is badly broken in 
two places, a compound ulnar and radial break. And from what you've told 
me, Lieutenant Hall, I suspect she has a concussion, but I'll need to 
take a CT and some x-rays to rule out the possibility of any more serious 
internal injuries."

"Yes, ma'am," Hall said. "With your permission, ma'am, I'd like to go 
report Lieutenant Carter's condition to our CO."

"Not a problem, Lieutenant. She's in good hands," Fraiser replied.

As someone covered her with warm blankets, Carter slipped into a deep 
sleep agreeing with her doctor's proclamation.

Under a heavy dose of morphine, her slumber was undisturbed for several 
hours, the rest allowing her body to recuperate from the traumatic events 
of the night before. It was nearly midnight when the pleasant sensation 
of someone gently caressing her hair woke her. Momentarily forgetting 
where she was and what had happened, she sighed softly, her eyes 
remaining closed.

"Josh?" she whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Sam?"

Eyelashes fluttering, she forced her eyes open, immediately blinking 
against the harsh light in the room. The man clad in desert fatigues 
sitting by her side quickly alleviated the problem, reaching out to turn 
down the illumination from the lamp at her bedside. As her eyes adjusted, 
the familiar face of her father came into focus.

"Dad..."

"Hey kid," General Jacob Carter responded, sounding relieved. "How're you 
feeling?"

She ran her tongue over her dry lips and cleared her throat, her brow 
creased in contemplation.

"Dad, do you remember the old saying that goes 'combat flying is long 
hours of total boredom interrupted by seconds of sheer terror'? I want to 
start a petition for the replacement of the words 'combat flying' to 
'watch detail'."

Anyone unacquainted with Carter would assume she just cracked a joke and 
perhaps laugh in appreciation of her humor. But for all the time he spent 
away from her, Jake Carter could still read the tiny nuances in his 
child's face and voice. The general easily deduced the true meaning 
buried within her words: the encounter out on the ridge scared the hell 
out of her more than she'd like to admit.

He smiled down at his wide-eyed daughter, tenderly stroking one smooth, 
pale cheek, careful of the scratches and bruises on her face.

"That was a very brave thing you did, young lady," he reassured her, 
handing her a small glass of water. "We could have lost a lot of good 
people, but you stepped up and did your duty."

Feeling marginally better, Carter automatically reached up to take the 
glass with her right hand, only to find it immobilized. Glancing down, 
she noticed for the first time that her arm was encased in a cast, 
resting in a sling, and the fingers of both hands were wrapped in gauze. 
Wriggling the fingers of her left hand experimentally, she realized she'd 
have to become familiar with using it for the next few weeks.

Securing the glass in her grasp, she took a couple of tentative sips, 
closing her eyes as the liquid trickled down her parched throat. As she 
passed the glass back to her father, a flash of color on the cast caught 
her attention. Curiosity piquing her interest, she carefully unfastened 
the sling to take a closer look.

A stunning brown falcon with powerful-looking wings spread wide in flight 
decorated the plain, white cast. Adorned atop the bird's head was a 
wizard's pointed hat, fitted at the cocky angle many of her squadron 
buddies typically used while wearing their garrison covers. Caught within 
the glittering beak rested a simple magician's wand, stars shooting out 
from it's tip.

"Your friends have been in and out throughout the day. Lieutenant Hickam 
was just finishing up his little painting when I arrived," General Carter 
explained.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, her fingers lightly grazing the small 
work of art.

Her father chuckled in amusement.

"You think that's impressive. Be sure to ask them where they picked up 
that monster."

She looked up, her gaze wandering across the room to the side of the 
door, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline at the unexpected sight.

"Oh, my God."

A huge, hairy stuffed camel, sporting a pair of aviation goggles and a 
jacket with the 421st's patch on it sat comfortably in the other 
visitor's chair, a large, stupid grin embroidered on it's face.

As the surprise passed, a slow smile broke across her face.

"Is this the Middle Eastern equivalent of receiving flowers, teddy bears, 
and get-well-soon cards?"

The general laughed out loud, happy to see her spirits had lifted.

"It's going to be a nightmare getting that thing past customs, but I 
think I can manage to pull a few strings so it can accompany us back to 
the States."

"Us?" Carter repeated, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

Settling back in his chair, he nodded.

"I'm at the end of my tour, Sam, and from what Doctor Fraiser tells me, 
you aren't going to be flying F-16s anytime soon. General Davis has 
authorized a medical leave of absence that will cut your tour short, so 
you're welcome to return home with me if you'd like."

She considered the proposition, weighing the outcomes of such a decision. 
Certainly, she could remain on base at Khalid with her squadron, choosing 
to stick it out, but she was no fool. Despite the good gesture of gifting 
her with the stuffed camel, Carter continued to feel out of place for the 
first time since her assignment to the 421st. Some time away from the 
guys could prove to be beneficial.

It was just the opportunity to satisfy the need to put Saudi Arabia and 
all of its horrible memories behind her.

Sighing quietly, she looked her father straight in the eyes, decision 
made.

"I'm ready to go home, Dad."

Appearing pleased at her choice, he nodded once and rose to his feet.

"All right, it's settled then. I'll go inform General Davis and Major 
Wells of your decision, and I'll be back tomorrow morning to help you get 
your gear ready."

Tugging her lip between her teeth, Carter watched as he walked towards 
the door, debating whether or not to inform him of some of the things 
that had transpired within the last few weeks. Unsure of what his 
reaction would be, she decided to disclose at least one detail, feeling 
he had the right to know.

"Dad, Josh Thompson is dead," she blurted.

The general stopped in his tracks as the words left her mouth, the 
reality of her statement gradually sinking in. Slowly, he turned around 
to face her, his voice soft as he spoke.

"The same Josh Thompson you've known since you were at the Academy?"

She nodded in reply, feeling the tears sting her eyes.

Returning to her side, General Carter settled himself at the edge of her 
bed, still as a statue, his face remaining impassive.

"What happened?"

Staring down at her lap, she fidgeted with the edge of the scratchy 
blanket as she explained what had taken place during the sortie when 
Thompson was shot down over Iraq, struggling to maintain her composure in 
front of her father. She managed to keep her emotions under tight control 
until the end of her narrative, when a couple of errant teardrops broke 
free, sliding down her pale face.

Leaning over, her father delicately smoothed the hair from her forehead, 
placing a swift kiss on her brow.

"He died for his country, Sam. That's quite a heroic thing to do."

Carter felt a stab of guilt pierce right through her and looked away, 
swallowing hard.

'No, Dad,' she thought. 'He died for me...'

The general stood, clearing his throat as he gave her blonde locks one 
final touch.

"Try to get some sleep, kid. I'll see you in the morning."

Settling back against the pillow, she closed her eyes, hearing the door 
click shut behind him, and released the shuddering breath she'd been 
holding.

The renewed pain of losing the man she had fallen in love with tore at 
her heart, but knowing he had sacrificed his life for her cut through her 
like a knife. She couldn't help but feel responsible for Thompson's 
death, believing if he hadn't loved her as much as he did, he might still 
be alive today.

Burying herself beneath the blanket, she tried to expel the troublesome 
thoughts from her mind, but it was a long time before she finally fell 
back into an uneasy slumber.

                         *******************

Chapter 10

Sam Carter sat silently on the bank of the stream on P3X-234, listening 
to the bubbling sound of the water flowing along. The gentle swishing 
comforted her, easing the conflicting feelings that had risen in her 
heart in the midst of her storytelling. Even after ten years, it was 
still difficult to reflect upon those trying times when she had been 
caught in a maelstrom of confusion.

Grief, anger, and guilt had crippled her self-confidence and level-
headedness, leading her to question her judgment and making her think 
unclearly. That night on the ridge, her guard had slipped as she pondered 
over her emotions, and Abdullah and his cohorts were quick to take 
advantage of her inattentiveness.

The consequences could have resulted in disaster.

Not only had she placed her own life in danger, but also the lives of 
hundreds of Americans on the base. To this day, she maintained that luck 
had played a huge factor in her role of foiling the Iraqis' plans that 
fateful night.

She blinked at the unexpected sight of a tiny stone skipping across the 
surface of the stream, watching as it disappeared below with an audible 
plop. Frowning slightly, she turned her attention to her commanding 
officer, the source of the stone's initial flight.

Sitting a meter away, Jack O'Neill reached down and picked up another 
pebble, running his thumb along its smooth texture before he chucked it 
towards the water.

Once again, he had remained uncharacteristically quiet while she had 
spoken of the last two weeks of her time in the Gulf. For someone who 
knew so little about her past outside her service record, she was certain 
it was a lot of information for him to take in. He was learning about 
parts of her life she'd never chosen to share with anyone, both the good 
and the bad.

"You know, I'm not surprised it was you."

Not understanding his quiet declaration, Carter looked at him 
quizzically, and he clarified his statement.

"Near the end of the war, I remember hearing a lot of scuttlebutt about a 
female lieutenant taking out three Iraqis during a routine patrol. A lot 
of the guys in my unit didn't believe a word of it, saying there was no 
way in hell one wet behind the ears kid could have accomplished something 
like that."

O'Neill shook his head slightly and leveled his gaze with hers, a new 
level of respect and pride shining in his eyes.

"You did good, Carter. Real good."

Turning away quickly, she grimaced, remembering her earlier thoughts of 
how irresponsible she'd felt on the ridge that night.

"I was just lucky, sir."

"Why do you do that, Carter?" he asked with a sigh, sounding exasperated.

Returning her attention to him, she frowned, puzzled.

"Do what, sir?"

"You work your butt off to exceed expectations and then brush the 
compliments aside like they're nothing."

She tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she considered how to 
respond.

Carter had a tendency to shy away from the acclaim her work ethic and 
attitude garnered, always feeling embarrassment swiftly settle in each 
time someone took notice of her accomplishments. Her ready dismissal of 
such praise wasn't something she did on purpose. She just simply didn't 
know any other way to respond.

Glancing at the colonel, she decided she wasn't quite ready to admit her 
reasons and opted for a different approach.

"I didn't do all that for the attention," she replied, giving him a 
playful smile. "If I did, my brain's inbox would have overloaded and 
fizzed out long ago, leaving quite a mess inside my head."

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, his earlier frustration with 
her disappearing.

"You have an inbox in your brain? Cool."

She chuckled softly, thankful for the change of mood. Clearing her 
throat, she glanced briefly at him before turning her gaze to the flowing 
stream.

"But seriously, sir. The compliments are nice; however, they're far from 
being the reason I act as I do. I'm not the type of person to feed off of 
praise just to get the job done right. Everything I accomplish, I do it 
for my country, for the Air Force, for the SGC."

Carter looked back at him, her eyes twinkling impishly.

"And sometimes for personal and selfish reasons, too."

His jaw hung slackly in shock of her statement. O'Neill had never thought 
his by-the-book major would do such un-by-the-book things.

Taking advantage of his surprise, she added, "And you can't order me to 
tell you what they were, Colonel."

Snapping out of his disbelief, he blinked, regaining his composure.

"As your commanding officer, I so could order you!"

A half-hearted glare was cast in his direction, and he immediately 
relented.

"But, we won't get in to that now, Carter. Why don't you tell me what 
happened when you got back from the Gulf?"

Trying to hide her smile, she continued her story.

"I spent my one-month leave with my dad before returning to Hill in 
April, but I felt useless there. The bones in my arm didn't heal for 
another month, and I was stuck on desk duty for the first time in my 
life."

O'Neill grinned in understanding, having been subjected to the monotony 
of endless paperwork one too many times as he waited for clearance back 
to active duty.

"Didn't enjoy flying something with no wings?"

She snorted quietly and answered, "Sitting behind a standard-issue Air 
Force desk is a far cry from being in the cockpit of an F-16, sir. I 
spent hours on the computer, integrating my combat experience to write 
new programs for the training simulators."

Frowning slightly, he quietly asked, "Did you ever fly again?"

Abruptly, she realized he had presumed the injury she'd sustained in 
Saudi Arabia had clipped her pilot's wings, bringing an end to her flying 
career. Carter lowered her gaze, rotating her right forearm, the bones 
long since mended with no after-effects hindering her abilities.

"I eventually returned to the flight line."

As if sensing her thoughts, he gently added, "But it wasn't the same, was 
it?"

Closing her eyes, she shook her head.

"No, sir. It would never be the same again."

                         *******************

Friday, August 2, 1991

"JOSH!"

The sound of Carter's own anguished voice snapped her awake, the name 
escaping her lips unbidden as the last inklings of the nightmare faded 
into the recesses of her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, 
struggling to calm her racing pulse, the ache in her heart diminishing 
into the dull throb that never seemed to completely go away.

After a moment, she caught her breath and opened her eyes, observing her 
quiet surroundings.

When she had first transferred to Hill, she chose to reside on base, 
reassured to have everything she needed close at hand: her workplace, the 
PX where she could purchase food and supplies, all of her friends...

But upon her return to Utah, she hadn't managed more than one week living 
on the base before she started feeling unbearably confined.

A few days later, she moved into a quaint apartment, close to work yet 
far enough that it allowed her some distance, a place to retreat from her 
disciplined life in the Air Force. At the end of the day, she was now 
able to leave Hill behind, free to return home and seek solace in her 
solitude away from the never-ending bustle of life on a military base.

Sighing, Carter focused her attention on the documents splayed out on the 
desk where she had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the night. She 
picked up one of the papers, her nose crinkling at the sight of a small 
stain of drool centered on one of her poorly drawn illustrations. 
Frowning at how awful it looked, she quickly crumpled it up and flung it 
in the direction of the trashcan, missing by a mile and knocking against 
a framed photograph on the wall instead.

The frame swung precariously for a moment before falling off its hook, 
the glass shattering as it hit the floor. Wincing, she muttered a curse 
under her breath and rose from her chair to retrieve the damaged picture. 
Careful of the shards of broken glass, Carter knelt and picked it up, a 
wistful look settling over her features.

Two smiling people were visible through the splintered cracks in the 
frame, posing in front of a brightly decorated tree. Gently extracting 
the photo out of the ruined frame, she took a quick glance at the back, 
reading the fading, scrawled handwriting.

'Me and Josh. Christmas, 1986.'

Walking back to the desk, she sat down heavily, laying the picture in 
front of her. A small, wistful smile tugged at her lips as she gazed at 
the image reflectively, the memories flooding through her.

It had been the Christmas before their graduation from the Academy, and 
she had once more journeyed to Texas with Thompson, happy to spend the 
holidays with his family. By tradition, everyone had woken early to sit 
by the fireplace and open presents in their pajamas, laughter and the 
smell of baking pastries creating a pleasant atmosphere.

As the rest of the family scrambled to the kitchen for breakfast, 
Thompson had pulled her aside and handed her a nicely wrapped round box. 
Curious, she gave the package a gentle shake before quickly making work 
of the wrapping paper. Embedded within the layers of tissue paper was a 
stunning black-felt Stetson cowboy hat, accessorized with a dark blue 
band.

Smiling her thanks at the lovely gift, she allowed him to place it atop 
her head, giggling as he mock examined the way it fitted. Squinting his 
eyes, he adjusted the hat several times before stepping back, grinning in 
satisfaction at his handiwork.

Right then, Mrs. Thompson had walked back into the den, smiling in 
delight at her son and his best friend and asking them to pose for a 
picture. Unable to resist the request, Carter and Thompson stood before 
the Christmas tree, wrapping their arms around each other and smiling 
happily for the camera, the impromptu moment caught on film forever.

A soft mewling sound brought her back to the present, and a small, orange 
mass leapt to her lap. Looking down, she smiled as her kitten Schrodinger 
nuzzled his head against her abdomen, demanding her attention. Carter 
stroked the tabby's tiny back, listening as the cat purred in response. 
Sighing thoughtfully, her eyes roved from the photograph to the official 
document sitting next to it.

Her letter of promotion to captain from Major Wells.

After the rest of the 388th Tactical Fighter Wing had returned from the 
Middle East, many things had rapidly changed. A number of people received 
new orders, including members from her own squadron.

Hickam had finally accepted the post open to him in Los Angeles, Fulco 
and O'Malley had been accepted to the prestigious F-15E Strike Eagle 
training program at Tyndall Air Force Base in Florida, and Lovell was 
preparing to move to a new position offered to him at the Pentagon within 
a matter of days.

McCullough had also been one of those selected for transfer, and his role 
as the second senior officer in the 421st Fighter Squadron had 
immediately been passed on to her upon her promotion. With the position 
came much more responsibility as she helped Major Wells and Captain 
Martinez command the incoming pilots.

Whenever she wasn't settling the new arrivals into the routines or 
collaborating with her two superiors on new ideas to ensure the fluidity 
of the squadron, Carter continued to compose her doctoral thesis, putting 
the finishing touches in place. She buried herself in her work, but it 
was never any good.

Everything about Hill still reminded her of the man she'd lost.

Memories lurked around every corner. Those who had known him carried the 
stories of his stout bravery and unbridled recklessness, their voices 
filled with awe as they reminisced over his stylistic flying. Hell, even 
one of the new kids strikingly resembled him, his dark brown eyes and 
unruly mop of hair never failing to send pangs through her heart.

She simply could not escape his ghost.

The nightmares had also become more frequent and intense, reminding her 
of how terribly she missed Thompson and leaving her wondering when it 
would stop hurting.

Shaking her head, she banished the maudlin thoughts from her head and 
glanced down at her wristwatch. Blinking at the time, she lifted 
Schrodinger from her lap and settled the kitten in his basket before 
ambling towards the bathroom. Major Wells had asked to meet with her this 
morning at 0800, and she had an hour to take a shower and grab a quick 
bite to eat.

Carter was promptly walking into his office precisely fifty-nine minutes 
later, stopping in front of his desk and issuing a respectful salute.

"Captain Carter reporting as requested, sir."

Wells nodded in approval, his eyes clearly noting the perfect salute and 
the straightness of her forearm. There were no signs of her having any 
problems with the arm that had been so badly broken five months ago.

"At ease, Captain. Have a seat."

"Yes, sir," she replied as she sat in one of the two chairs facing his 
desk.

Busying himself with some paperwork, he gruffly asked, "How are things 
going with the new recruits?"

Smiling a little to herself, she recalled a time when she would have 
perceived his detachment and curt manner as a sign of dislike. Now she 
knew better. It was all a front to maintain the image of the crusty, 
hardened veteran pilot, used to garner respect from those under his 
command. She had been one of the privileged few to catch a glimpse of the 
real Brayden Wells hidden beneath the surface.

"Whitford is absolutely brilliant and an outstanding flyer, the best I've 
seen yet. Lieutenant Hall is having a hard time keeping up with him. 
Caram and Chen think quickly on their feet and are also doing 
extraordinarily well. Peterson has a little catching up to do, but I 
think they'll all be ready to deploy within a couple of weeks."

"Not bad, Carter. You've handled your new leadership role well," he 
commented, continuing to scribble notes on a piece of paper.

"Thank you, sir."

Since Operation Desert Storm had ended, the senior members of the 
squadron had steadily been training the fresh batch of pilots for a 
return trip to the Middle East. The mission deemed as Operation Southern 
Watch was set to begin late this month, and thanks to their experience 
during the war, the 421st had been among those selected to participate.

"That's not the reason I called you in this morning, Captain. There's 
something else we have to discuss," Wells stated, handing her one of the 
papers he had been writing on.

Puzzled, she took the paper and read the first few words of the neatly 
typed text.

'Advisory Notice: Change of Orders.'

"I'm being transferred?" she asked, the words slipping out of her mouth 
before she could stop them.

She couldn't believe it! Her promotion to captain was not even a month 
old, and she had just begun to adjust to her new duties as one of the 
major's senior officers when the brass decided to transfer her. Carter 
looked up at Wells, prepared to ask why this was happening now when the 
expression on his face stopped her.

A rare smile lit his features, his green eyes shining in amusement.

"Keep reading, dammit, don't stop there!" he ordered.

Her eyes quickly returned to the document.

'Samantha Carter, Captain, USAF 43-412-6775-320. Upon recommendation of 
Brayden Wells, Major, USAF 25-501-1229-828, Captain Carter is hereby 
authorized to immediate transfer to the North American Aerospace Defense 
Command, effective immediately.'

She blinked in surprise, the shock evident and undisguised on her face.

"NORAD? You got me into NORAD?"

"I didn't get you in anywhere, Carter," Wells responded. "All I did was 
provide a recommendation. It was your hard work that caught the eye of 
the higher-ups and made the whole thing official."

He stood and walked around his desk, standing by her side. It took a 
moment for her to climb to her feet, the surprise making her reactions 
sluggish.

"It's no secret you want to be an astronaut, Captain. This is a huge step 
closer to NASA, and I want you to take it if you think you're ready."

She met his gaze evenly, struggling for words.

"I don't know what to say, sir."

Wells snorted and grinned wryly.

"A 'thank you' would be nice."

An easy grin graced her lips and she ducked her head to hide the red 
tinge flushing across her cheeks.

"Thank you, sir."

                         *******************

"Wells was the guy who recommended you to NORAD? Damn, that must've been 
a sweet deal," Colonel Jack O'Neill commented, clearly impressed.

Carter shook her head, a look of wonder displayed on her face.

"It was completely out of the blue. I still don't know why he did it. We 
had been working very well as a team, constantly coming up with ideas on 
how to make the squadron perform more effectively."

She shrugged, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Maybe he just didn't want me to return to Iraq, given what had happened 
to Josh."

O'Neill observed her carefully, a tiny frown creasing his forehead.

"You really think he'd keep you from a mission just because he thought 
you wouldn't be able to handle being in the place where your best friend 
was killed?" he asked. "You're smarter than that, Carter. You'd have seen 
right through it if that had been the reason."

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze head-on.

"You deserved that transfer."

Carter pulled her knees to her chest and turned away, considering his 
words for a moment. There had always been that doubt niggling in the back 
of her mind, a tiny belief that perhaps the real reason Wells had vouched 
for her reassignment was because the man took pity on her loss.

Regardless of what she thought of it then and now, it had happened and 
she couldn't change anything about it. Dwelling on the issue would 
accomplish nothing.

Resting her chin on her knees, she softly said, "At any rate, it should 
have made me the happiest person in the world."

"Why didn't it?"

"Josh," she answered simply.

                         *******************

Friday, February 14, 1992

'Damn meteorologists!'

Carter couldn't help but curse the folks at the Weather Channel who had 
promised a pleasant, if overcast, day. Ominous clouds had hung over 
Colorado Springs all day, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing every 
now and then. Rain was imminently in the forecast. As luck would have it, 
the downpour commenced just as she began her commute home from Cheyenne 
Mountain, leaving her to drive in the blinding onslaught of rain.

After what felt like hours, she pulled up to her apartment complex, 
cursing once again as she realized her trusty umbrella was conspicuously 
absent from the backseat. Grabbing her briefcase, she decided to make a 
run for it, certain that the rain was not about to let up anytime soon.

In her Class A's and dress shoes, she sprinted to the entrance of the 
complex, getting thoroughly soaked.

'Could this day possibly get any worse?' she wondered.

"It's about time you got your butt home, Captain Carter!" a voice 
exclaimed.

Squinting, her eyes focused on an equally drenched Captain Matthew 
Lovell, dressed in civilian clothes, clutching a white rose and a six-
pack, and trying his best to stand in the alcove away from the rain. At 
his feet where his Air Force issued duffel bag and a backpack, sheltered 
away from the wet weather.

For a moment, she stood and stared at him, not quite believing he was 
actually standing in front of her. The last time she had seen him was 
over six months ago before he left for his new assignment in Washington. 
They had parted on less-than-friendly terms, both still feeling the sting 
of Thompson's death and the wedge it had driven between them.

But here he was, soggy clothes and all.

"Are you going to let me in or are we going to have a pool party out 
here? I may have brought the beer, but I don't have any of my pool 
floaties with me!" he told her, yelling to be heard over the pounding 
rain.

Carter shook her head. Here he was, indeed. Same old Matthew Lovell.

Some things never changed.

Pulling her keys out of her pocket, she opened the door, beckoning him to 
follow. After climbing up a flight of stairs, they reached Carter's 
apartment on the second floor. Wrestling the door open, she flicked on 
the living room lights, dumping her briefcase on the coffee table before 
heading to the bathroom.

She returned with a couple of large, fluffy towels and tossed one to 
Lovell, who nodded in appreciation. As she ran the towel over her face, 
she noticed he hadn't moved from his spot at the front door where he'd 
dropped his bags.

"What are you doing here?"

He grinned wryly, placing the beer and the rose on the coffee table 
before wiping his soaked arms.

"That's my Sammy. Always getting down to business first."

In response, she wrapped her arms around herself, frowning slightly.

Lovell cleared his throat and continued.

"I requested leave. Thought I'd take a little trip to Colorado. Get 
reacquainted with some old friends."

He was obviously skirting around the issue. She may not have spoken to 
him in more than half a year, but she could still recognize the fact that 
he was stalling.

"Captain, you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here 
at my home?"

Her tone suggested she wanted a straight answer. She was cold, wet, 
tired, and definitely not in the mood for games tonight.

Taking a couple of tentative steps forward, he handed her the drenched 
towel, his movements cautious, but unhurried.

"I've been keeping up with some friends of mine over at NORAD. They're 
very impressed by your work."

Her face remained neutral, but she intuitively knew where this was 
heading. Instantly, she began suspecting the people she worked with, 
wondering who had been keeping tabs on her and relaying information to 
Lovell.

"You're very good at what you do, they tell me," he continued.

"Get to the point, please," Carter said, growing irritated, and he nodded 
in response, raising his hands.

"Okay, okay."

Inching a little closer, he stated, "These friends of mine say that 
despite all your brilliance, it doesn't look like you have your heart 
into your work. Not the way I described you to them."

Carter narrowed her eyes.

"And just who told you this?"

Crossing his arms, Lovell answered, "You of all people should know that I 
never betray a confidence."

Looking away from his calm, blue eyes she found that she did not have a 
reply for that statement. Lovell's loyalty to his friends was true 
through and through, something he prided himself on. He would risk losing 
a limb before divulging something he'd been asked to keep secret if it 
didn't pertain to national security.

"Are you still hung up over Josh?" he asked softly.

The question was unexpected, knocking her off balance both literally and 
figuratively. Faltering a step back, she looked away sharply, unwilling 
to let anyone see just how much she was still hurting, how much she still 
wondered if there was anything she might have done differently.

Not even Lovell.

"You were in love with him, weren't you?" he persisted.

"It's none of your business," she replied, looking anywhere but at his 
face. If she did, she knew the wall she had struggled to maintain over 
the past year would come tumbling down, but her words clearly weren't 
what he wanted to hear.

"None of my... Don't give me that bullshit. You were one of my closest 
friends. I have a right to know what's going on with you."

Feeling her anger bubble to the surface, Carter met his eyes, her brows 
knitted.

"Why wait six months? Why not sooner?" she challenged him.

Bull's-eye.

Lovell tore his gaze away from hers, his hands positioning themselves 
upon his hips as he considered how to respond. After a couple of minutes 
of silence, it became apparent that he had no answer.

Smirking, she shook her head, motioning to the door.

"I think you should go, Matt. There's nothing to discuss."

His head snapped back to face her, looking more furious than she had ever 
seen him.

"Dammit, Carter, stop it! Stop shutting me out!"

Her eyes widened at his tone, stunned by his outburst. Never before had 
she witnessed him losing his temper, and especially not with her. Then 
again, she had never given him any reason to be upset. His use of her 
surname further illustrated the fact that this time he was downright 
pissed off.

"I'm so sick of you pushing me away, and I'm sick of you choosing to hide 
away from the rest of the world!"

At his chosen words, she could feel her own intensity brewing.

"What do you care how I live my life?"

Lovell marched to stand in front of her, his face red with fury and 
frustration.

"I've always cared, I never stopped! If you had quit moping and lashing 
out at me, you might have seen that! I tried my damnedest to help you, 
but you slammed the door in my face every single time!"

A memory flashed before her eyes of him racing to catch up with her, only 
for her to turn and push him to the ground. She remembered the hurt she 
had caused, and the thought only served to infuriate her more.

"I had to face the facts on my own, Matt!"

"That Josh was dead?" he asked, his face mere millimeters from her own.

Her response was full of anger, regret and guilt.

"YES, and that it was MY FAULT!"

The heated atmosphere between them seemed to slowly dissipate at her 
revelation, both staring at one another in shock at her words.

Blinking rapidly, Lovell raised his eyebrows and whispered softly, "What 
did you say?"

Carter's breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps, her lower lip trembling 
ever so slightly as her eyes watered.

"It was my fault," she said again, her voice nearly nonexistent, the iron 
grip on her emotions beginning to falter.

Slowly, she began telling him what Thompson had done, effectively placing 
himself between her airplane and the missile that had killed him. She 
voiced her belief that if Thompson hadn't been in love with her, he never 
would have risked his life for her and might still be alive today.

"So you've been running because you feel guilty over Josh's death? You've 
been running from your friends, from your dedication to your work, from 
your dreams..."

She flinched, finding his choice of words uncharacteristically cold.

Lovell stalked over to the bookcase in her living room, searching for 
something. After a moment of scanning the labels, he grabbed a large 
binder from the shelf and shoved it into her arms.

"Look at what you've accomplished!"

Glancing down, she opened the familiar binder and was met by every 
professional paper she'd ever written, including a copy of her recent 
doctoral thesis. Each one had an award or commendation, praising her for 
a job well done.

He placed his hands on his shoulders, ducking his head to meet her eyes.

"Remember that night in Saudi..."

At the mention of the place, she immediately started to pull away, 
shutting her eyes. Lovell simply held on tighter, preventing her from 
fleeing.

"Don't back away, dammit. You've been backing away from this for over a 
year now," he muttered, a dash of anger finding its way into his 
aggravation with her.

Sighing, he continued.

"Sammy, listen to me. Please, just listen to me."

With his quiet words, she ceased the attempt to escape, hanging her head 
in defeat and allowing him to pull her close. He rubbed her shoulders 
soothingly, his voice low and calming.

"Remember New Year's Eve? When we told you why Hall was always on your 
case? Josh said it wasn't up to anyone what you'd done with your life 
except you. It was all Sam Carter."

Her breath caught in her throat at the memory of sharing stories and 
laughing that night. Of being content. Her heart ached for those happier 
times.

Lovell became noticeably gentler, carefully cupping her face in his 
hands.

"You were the best at everything you did because you were so damn 
determined to achieve and see your dreams come true. Where did that brave 
and devoted woman go?"

Carter looked up, fresh tears filling her eyes, her voice shaking as she 
replied, "She died the night Josh Thompson's plane crashed in enemy 
territory."

"No, Sammy," he murmured, shaking his head, his voice choked with 
emotion. "You're still here. You've got a life to live. You're so close 
to NASA and everything you've worked so hard to accomplish. You can't 
just throw it away. Josh wouldn't have wanted that."

Tilting her chin up, he forced her to meet his eyes.

"And I know you don't want that either."

Gazing into his eyes, she saw nothing but truth, sincerity and love 
intermingled in their depths, breaking through the last of her 
restraints. Without wasting another moment, she launched herself into his 
embrace, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Lovell recovered quickly enough and his arms encompassed her slender 
waist, clutching her tightly. Expelling a shaky breath, he murmured his 
apologies for yelling, his hand reaching up to run his fingers through 
her short hair. She nodded against his chest, her own fingers clasping 
his sodden shirt in a vice-like grip.

Noticing the faint tremors running through her, Lovell pulled away, 
taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom where he helped her up 
onto the counter beside the sink. Rummaging through the tiny closet, he 
retrieved another set of towels and set to work drying her damp hair and 
body.

Carter settled back against the wall as best she could, watching with 
tired eyes as he continued his task. He lifted one foot at a time, 
unlacing and tugging off her shoes before removing her stockings. 
Afterwards, he proceeded to unfasten each tiny button of her drenched 
shirt, carefully pulling it off and swathing her upper body with a towel.

As she shivered and sniffled, he began rubbing her arms through the 
thick, terrycloth material, trying to bring warmth to her chilled body. 
Looking up at him, she realized with a start how much she missed this 
kind of connection with someone, of feeling completely safe and cared 
for.

Sensing her observant eyes upon him, Lovell stopped what he was doing, 
staring at her with some concern.

"Are you all right?"

In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close 
once again, grateful for his presence. It had been months since she'd 
allowed anyone to hold her like this, and she reveled in the intimacy of 
his proximity. One of the reasons she had been drawn to him in the 
beginning was the unquestionable sense of security she felt around him. 
Everything about him relaxed her, unlike almost any other person she 
knew.

The secure weight of his arms surrounding her, the way he stroked that 
certain spot at the back of her neck, the unmistakable scent that was 
purely Matthew Lovell... All of it was familiar to her, even after months 
of separation.

After a few minutes, they released one another, and he helped her dress 
into some drier clothes, her body becoming lethargic as sleep beckoned 
her. She was vaguely aware of being led into the bedroom, swaying on her 
feet as he turned down the blankets. Carter sighed contentedly as she 
climbed into bed, barely feeling the chaste kiss he placed on her 
forehead before he whispered good night as sleep finally claimed her.

The next morning, the stormy weather had passed and sunshine was pouring 
through the windows as she found herself slowly drifting back to 
wakefulness. Her slumber had remained undisturbed, leaving her feeling 
more rested than she had in a very long time.

As she woke further, Carter gradually became aware of a hand rubbing lazy 
circles on her bare midriff, just beneath the hem of her tank top. 
Smiling slightly, she reached up and ran her fingertips along the arm 
lightly draped across her shoulders. Obviously, Lovell had joined her 
beneath the covers sometime during the night, but she didn't mind.

From experience, she knew he needed the contact. His reaction had been 
similar to the time she had nearly crashed her F-16 almost two years ago 
on a training mission they'd been on. Silently, he had sought her company 
that night, slipping into her quarters and holding her as she slept, 
listening to the sound of her breathing to reassure himself he hadn't 
lost her.

It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen anyone, and it warmed her 
heart to know he trusted her enough to lower his barriers with her.

Yawning, she turned easily in his arms and opened her eyes, coming face 
to face with him.

"Morning, beautiful," he greeted her, his voice rough with sleepiness. 
"You've been snoozing for quite a while."

Frowning slightly, she tried to peek over his shoulder at the alarm 
clock, wondering why it hadn't gone off yet.

"What time is it?"

"It's after 1000," he answered, his body tensing as she bolted into a 
sitting position upon hearing his words.

"Oh, crap!" she exclaimed, kicking away at the blankets. "Why didn't you 
wake me sooner? I am so late! I should have been at the Mountain two 
hours ago!"

Laughing, he grabbed hold of her wrist before she could climb out of bed.

"Sam! Sam, it's Saturday!"

Blinking in surprise, she stopped, the burst of adrenaline that had 
flooded her senses slowly receding, only to be replaced by sheer 
embarrassment at her knee-jerk reaction. She lay back down, covering her 
eyes as a tiny, self-conscious grin pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, crap," she mumbled, breaking into a series of quiet giggles.

Hauling her into his arms, Lovell chuckled softly and dug his fingers 
into her sides, his grin broadening as her giggles intensified in length 
and volume. She halfheartedly squirmed to free herself, giving him an 
occasional light punch or kick to offset his tickling onslaught. Within 
minutes, the pair was gasping for breath, laughing-induced tears 
streaming down their faces as they finally settled down.

Carter tucked her head beneath his chin, listening to the steady sound of 
his heartbeat. It felt so wonderful to laugh again, to simply let go of 
her fears and concerns and just be herself. Far too much time had passed 
since she felt this content and at ease.

"I missed you, Sam," Lovell admitted.

He took a deep breath, as if gathering the nerve to continue speaking. 
Perceiving his apprehension, she hugged him, silently letting him know 
she wasn't going anywhere.

Not this time.

"When Josh died..."

Lovell paused a moment, waiting for some kind of reaction from her, but 
received none. She didn't tense, didn't try to pull away. She simply lay 
tranquilly in his arms, waiting for him to resume. Gaining strength from 
her courage, he kept talking, his voice becoming steadier as the words 
tumbled out.

"I wanted to help you get through it, but you wouldn't let me. You shut 
me out."

The memories were still fresh in her mind of the days she spent evading 
him while they were stationed in Saudi Arabia, and of the months of 
avoidance that followed. Her voice was muffled when she replied, her face 
pressed against his neck.

"I thought I could handle it alone. I didn't want to burden the rest of 
the squad."

Sighing heavily, he shook his head, mumbling, "You wouldn't have been."

Sitting up, she peered down at him curiously, a slight frown on her face.

"As much as we tried to bury it, we'd lost one of our own, and it felt 
like hell," he explained. "All of us had been training together for a 
long time. We were a team. To suddenly not have Josh around..."

Releasing a shaky breath, his dark, blue eyes flickered away from hers, 
but not before she caught a glimpse of the tears pooling.

"And...when you shut me out, I felt like I'd lost you, too," he whispered 
brokenly.

In that instant, she realized just how badly she had hurt him with her 
distance.

Not once had she stopped to think of what he must have been going 
through, losing one of his closest friends in combat and nearly losing 
another as she drowned herself in her pain and grief alone. She had 
forced herself to forget how seriously Lovell took his responsibility for 
her well-being, and the result had nearly torn their relationship to 
shreds.

Smoothing a hand over his cheek, she waited until his gaze returned to 
hers.

"I am so sorry, Matt. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. After 
Josh was shot down, I didn't know what to do. Everything was..."

Carter shook her head, furiously blinking back tears.

"I didn't know what to do," she repeated numbly.

He sat up and reached for her hands, giving them a tender squeeze.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam."

She bit her lip and lowered her gaze, concentrating her attention on 
their intertwined fingers, her expression unsure.

As long as she could remember, she'd always been confident of her 
abilities and decisions, relying on both her intellect and instincts to 
guide her. Her confidence and intelligence had served her well throughout 
her education at the Academy and her arduous flight training, pitching 
her to the top over and over again.

But this time it was different.

For months, her guilt over Thompson's death had plagued her, toppling the 
foundations of her self-confidence. Insecurities she didn't know how to 
deal with seeped into her everyday life, building up to the point where 
she no longer took risks, her once daring attitude vanishing as if it had 
never been.

"Sammy."

The soft sound of his voice calling her name drew her attention, and she 
slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Locking gazes with her, he carefully 
brushed his fingers against her golden locks, tucking an errant strand 
behind her ear.

"Josh made a decision. He was in love with you, but there's no doubt in 
my mind he would have risked his life for you regardless because that's 
the kind of person he was. Bravery and nobility were always a huge part 
of Josh's character, something everyone admired about him, especially 
you. He willingly put his life on the line for you."

His hand cupped her cheek, gently caressing her smooth skin.

"I would have done the same thing. And I know you wouldn't have given the 
decision a second thought, either, would you?"

Her brow crinkled as she considered his question.

There had been a number of attributes she'd shared with Josh Thompson, 
their similar personalities constantly running parallel to each other, 
strengthening their friendship with every year that passed. She 
remembered how their working relationship thrived on their knack for 
predicting one another's next move. The ability to anticipate his 
maneuvers in the air came naturally to her, as they always seemed to be 
on the same wavelength.

And in that moment, she knew with certainty what would have happened had 
she been in Thompson's position that night.

"I would have done exactly the same thing," she declared, her eyes 
widening as the realization dawned on her.

Whether by fate or chance, Thompson had spotted the missile fired at her 
plane and instantly made the conscious decision to intervene. It was his 
choice, and there was nothing she could have done in those split seconds 
to change his mind. In the end, all she could really do was be thankful 
for having such a wonderful friend, who'd sacrificed his life to save her 
own.

"It wasn't my fault," she whispered, gaining a nod from Lovell.

"It wasn't your fault," he echoed, drawing her into his arms.

Carter rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing 
softly.

The irrevocable guilt that had burdened her conscience for months seemed 
to lift from her shoulders with her acceptance of the circumstances 
surrounding Thompson's death. Lovell had compelled her to open her eyes, 
to truly believe she was not culpable for the loss of their friend.

"Tell me something," he stated quietly as he massaged her back.

"What's that?" she murmured drowsily in response, the gentle motions of 
his hands soothing her.

"We're okay again, right?"

The trace of uncertainty in his voice snapped her back awake.

Pulling away, she studied his face carefully, noticing the subtle changes 
his features had undergone since the last time she'd seen him. His 
formerly flawless tanned skin was now riddled with little worry lines, 
the result of too many frowns and not enough smiles. It saddened her to 
know she was probably the cause of his concerns, but she vowed to make it 
up to him.

Carter leaned forward and tenderly pressed her lips to his for a brief 
moment, giving him a radiant smile.

"We're going to be just fine."

                         *******************

"I never realized how much I'd allowed the guilt I'd carried to eat away 
at my life, almost like a disease, chewing me up from the inside out. I'd 
engrossed myself with the belief that I was to blame for Josh's death to 
the point where I no longer cared for anything I did, walking through 
each day like it didn't matter."

Carter looked up at the colonel, squaring her shoulders and sitting up 
straighter.

"With Matt's help, I finally overcame the guilt and started being myself 
again."

O'Neill smiled slightly and replied, "Remind me to give him a call to say 
thanks."

She grinned, idly wondering how her old friend and her commanding officer 
would get along, but the thought was quickly dispelled from her 
consideration.

Lovell was privy to endless amounts of information regarding her time in 
the 421st Fighter Squadron and the years before she joined the Stargate 
Program. It wouldn't take much for O'Neill to gain access to some of her 
more mortifying memories.

Get a few beers in Lovell, and he'd spill some interesting stories.

"So what happened between you guys?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing romantic, if that is what you were thinking, sir," she answered, 
recalling the spontaneous kiss she'd shared with Lovell.

"I think the temporary break in our friendship helped us appreciate the 
fact we had something special and unique. We learned from the experience, 
and it strengthened our relationship, even more so when I was transferred 
to the Pentagon the following spring."

A mischievous look crossed his face, his brown eyes lighting up with a 
playful glint.

"Sam Carter and Matthew Lovell roaming the halls of the Pentagon 
together? Did all hell break loose?"

"Sir!" she exclaimed. "We weren't that bad!"

"Oh, come on, Carter," he said, rolling his eyes. "From the sound of it, 
you two probably wreaked as much havoc as you do with Daniel now."

Okay, so maybe he had hit the nail on the head, she thought, remembering 
all the times the colonel had to deal with his two scientists buddying up 
against him. But if he thought he had his hands full with her and Daniel, 
he would have hit the roof long ago if he'd had to deal with all the 
trouble she and Lovell had gotten into.

"For your information, sir, Matt was transferred to Andrews a month 
before I was sent to Washington, so the Pentagon was spared from total 
destruction," she joked.

"So that's the reason it's still standing!" he shot back, eliciting a 
laugh from his second-in-command.

"We spent as much time as we could spare together, usually on Sundays 
when we'd meet up for lunch or something. We tried talking about the new 
assignments we were working on, but a lot of it was classified on both 
our sides, especially when I became involved with a top-secret project in 
connection with a certain alien artifact in Colorado..." 

                         *******************

Sunday, April 10, 1994

"Oh, I wish you could see it, Sam! This new technology we're developing 
is going to kick some major ass!" Captain Matt Lovell exclaimed, shaking 
his shoulders from side to side in his victory jig.

In the passenger seat of the vintage Ford Mustang, Captain Sam Carter 
grabbed hold of whatever she could, her eyes wide as her friend weaved in 
and out of the lanes on the George Washington Parkway.

"You're not flying F-16s anymore, flyboy, so slow it down!" she 
commanded, wincing as he veered into the middle lane in front of a sedan 
with government plates and thanking her lucky stars that neither she or 
Lovell were in uniform at the time.

"All right, all right, don't be such a weenie," he grumbled, taking his 
foot off the gas. "I swear, you've gone soft ever since you started 
driving safe, little Volvos. Where's your need for speed, little sister?"

She scowled at him and opened her mouth, ready to issue a sharp reply, 
when he unexpectedly swerved into the right lane, cutting off an 
eighteen-wheeler truck. As the driver angrily honked his horn at them, 
Lovell merely waved his apology and continued speeding along, oblivious 
to his own reckless driving.

At last, she spotted the sign for their exit and breathed a sigh of 
relief as they left the chaos of the freeway behind.

"You are insane," she told him, loosening her death grip on the sides of 
the seat as he slowed to meet the speed limit on the street. "I don't 
know how the hell Sydney puts up with you."

At the mere mention of his fiancée's name, his face beamed and his eyes 
sparkled with happiness.

"She's smart enough not to drive with me," he teased, laughing as Carter 
lightheartedly smacked his arm.

"How is she doing?"

"Between all of the wedding plans and midterm elections coming up in 
Congress, she stays plenty busy. Whether she's helping me make final 
arrangements for next month's big day or winding through the west wing 
hallways at the White House, she's in her element. The woman can never 
get enough of life, she absolutely loves it."

The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile as she listened to him gush 
about his long-time love, Sydney Curtis. From the moment she'd met the 
clever, spirited speechwriter, Carter knew she was a perfect match for 
Lovell. In no time at all, they had stolen each other's hearts and 
quickly became engaged.

"She absolutely loves you, Matt."

He grinned contentedly, quietly replying, "She means the world to me."

Lovell turned into the Arlington National Cemetery parking facility, 
easily finding a spot and turning off the ignition, and together they 
walked to the Visitors' Center. For a few minutes, they strolled upon the 
sidewalk in silence until he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"How's Jonas?"

She grimaced at the tone of his voice, hearing the subtle disapproval 
that belied the innocence of the simple question.

While the two men behaved amicably in each other's company, Carter knew 
better than to assume everything was peachy between them. Matt Lovell and 
Jonas Hanson were worlds apart, only brought together because of one 
shared interest in their lives named Sam Carter.

Sighing softly, she replied, "He's on a mission right now."

Her companion nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, unconsciously 
walking closer to her.

"I still think you should dump him, Sam. Something just doesn't feel 
right about him," he mumbled.

Carter remained silent as she toyed with her own engagement ring, 
considering his words. Recent doubts had been creeping into her thoughts, 
and she wondered if they were simply pre-wedding jitters or her instincts 
trying to tell her something more. There was no question in her mind that 
she loved her husband-to-be, but more and more she found herself puzzling 
over the way Jonas acted sometimes.

She banned the suppositions from her attention as they arrived at the 
Visitors' Center and greeted the receptionist, who recognized them from 
previous visits. The young woman handed her a temporary pass, along with 
a map to the gravesite and it's location.

"Every single time," she muttered, taking the proffered items and 
stuffing them in her back pocket.

"Standard procedure, Captain Carter, and you know it," the receptionist 
replied with a smile.

Carter rolled her eyes good-naturedly and returned the smile. She and 
Lovell exchanged goodbyes with the receptionist and ventured back outside 
into the beautiful sunshine, journeying to the familiar marker where 
their friend was laid to rest. The pair stopped along the edge of the 
path near Section 60, their eyes roving over the endless sea of pristine 
white crosses standing amid the freshly cut grass.

Lovell placed his hand at the small of her back, giving her a gentle push 
forward. She turned to face him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I'll give the two of you a few minutes alone," he explained.

She smiled in appreciation and gave him a quick peck to the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded once and watched as she stepped off the path and continued on 
to the gravesite alone, standing guard to ensure she and Thompson were 
not disturbed.

Carter was careful as she walked through the rows of simple crosses, a 
mixture of respect and awe of this majestic place surging through her. To 
walk among the burial sites in Arlington was to walk upon sacred ground, 
where hundreds of American soldiers had received the most reverent 
treatment for their valiant, selfless service to their country.

She knew the way to Thompson's grave by heart, having traveled the route 
many times in the past couple of years, and quickly found herself 
standing by the marker bearing his name. Slowly, she dropped to her knees 
beside the small cross, a sad smile touching her lips as her fingertips 
delicately traced over the engraved letters.

"Hi, Josh. It's me," she greeted.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously suddenly, the sad smile blossoming into a 
genuine grin.

"I hope you're doing well wherever you are, and not getting into too much 
trouble without me."

Sighing thoughtfully, she settled back to sit cross-legged by the marker, 
closing her eyes as a breeze ruffled her blonde locks. When it passed, 
she focused her gaze on the cross, chewing at her lower lip before 
deciding to say what was on her mind.

"I actually dropped by to tell you I've been assigned to a new project at 
the Pentagon, and it's one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen. 
There isn't much to tell right now, but I have a funny feeling about it, 
Josh. We don't have very much information on what the artifact is, but I 
think..."

She paused and shook her head determinedly.

"I know it's going to be an incredible journey, and I wish you were here 
to see it. I'll be thinking of you, Josh. Every step of the way."

Feeling the gentle prickle of tears behind her eyes, she raised her hand 
to her lips, and laid her fingers atop the cross, content to know her 
friend would be keeping vigil over the new and exciting path her life was 
about to take.

                         *******************

Epilogue

The trip through the Stargate was as cold and dizzying as ever, but it 
did not matter to Major Sam Carter as she emerged from the event horizon 
with Colonel Jack O'Neill and Teal'c by her side.

Home. They were finally home.

Immediately, she spotted the fourth member of SG-1, Dr. Daniel Jackson, 
waiting at the base of the ramp and looking much healthier than the last 
time she'd seen him.

After his emergency appendectomy, the archaeologist had been pale and 
drawn as he lay bedridden in the infirmary. The mere fact that he was 
standing on his own two feet, dressed in a pair of blue BDUs and all but 
jumping for their arrival, was a good sign that his recovery had been a 
speedy one.

Next to her, the colonel spotted Dr. Jackson and raised his hands in mock 
frustration.

"Well, it's about time!" he exclaimed.

"We've been dialing home for over a week," Carter proclaimed as they 
marched down the ramp.

"It's great to see you guys, too," Dr. Jackson replied, a hint of a smile 
touching his face as he took in the sight of his formerly stranded 
teammates.

The trio were slightly disheveled and looked a little weary, but appeared 
to be in good spirits, stopping at the end of the ramp and smiling 
tiredly at their friend.

"I am pleased to see you well, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c told him, nodding 
his head in salutation.

"Thank you, Teal'c. You've got a, uh..."

Dr. Jackson motioned to the tuft of golden hair on the Jaffa's chin, but 
stopped just short of grazing it when O'Neill raised his hand in warning.

"Ah! Don't touch it."

Everyone turned as the commander of the SGC, Major General George 
Hammond, arrived in the gate room, looking pleased to see the missing 
members of his flagship team well.

"Glad you made it, SG-1," he greeted them.

O'Neill squared his shoulders and smiled wryly at his commanding officer, 
his voice full of customary wit as he asked, "Where's the fanfare, 
General?"

Picking up on the colonel's cheerful mood, Carter broke into the 
conversation, trying to keep a straight face as she stated, "We did kind 
of save the planet, sir."

"Again!" O'Neill was quick to add, the grin still tugging at the corners 
of his mouth. "It should not get old, General."

Hammond dismissed the subtle bantering of his two officers, allowing the 
brief moment of unruliness to slide past his notice. These were his best 
and his brightest, and the occasional slack he cut them compensated for 
the many hard-hitting ordeals life had thrown their way over the last few 
years.

"Job well done," he commended them.

"Thank you, sir. It was nothing," the colonel casually shrugged off the 
praise.

Dr. Jackson glanced around, as if suddenly realizing they were missing 
someone.

"What happened to Thor?"

"Oh, we got him out in a stasis pod," Carter explained, remembering their 
perilous escape from the Asgard commander's ship just before it plummeted 
into Earth's atmosphere, taking all of the Replicators with it.

"It was retrieved when we passed through the Stargate on P3X-234," Teal'c 
further supplied.

"It must have had a locating beacon," the major assumed.

At this news, a slightly bewildered expression crossed the general's 
face.

"They left you behind?"

Carter shrugged her shoulders and glanced at the colonel out of the 
corner of her eye before returning her attention to Hammond.

"We were fine, sir."

O'Neill, who had remained conspicuously silent through the exchange of 
details finally spoke up, anxious to get a word in about what he thought 
of the situation.

"I'd be happy to debrief you all once I've debriefed myself for a nice, 
hot shower."

The general gave them a small grin, looking in particular at O'Neill as 
he said, "Permission to shower granted. In fact, I insist on it, 
Colonel."

There was a moment's pause as the implications of Hammond's words settled 
into their perception. Despite their easy access to the stream on P3X-
234, bathing had not been much of an issue for the three members of SG-1. 
More pressing matters such as returning home and maintaining their 
shelter had been their first priorities.

But after a week without the civilized comforts of soap and shampoo, 
Carter was sure things didn't smell so great in the gate room right now.

As if becoming aware of the state of their unpleasant odor, O'Neill 
leveled his eyes with Dr. Jackson's.

"Bad?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," the younger man responded carefully.

The colonel frowned slightly, contemplating the archaeologist's 
admission, before walking off to hit the showers. With a bemused smile on 
her face, Major Carter followed.

Twenty minutes later, she entered their personal locker room, exchanging 
a nod of acknowledgement with Teal'c as the Jaffa made his way out. 
Inside the dimly lit room, she found Colonel O'Neill sitting on one of 
the benches, in the process of drying his still damp hair. Looking up, he 
caught sight of his second-in-command and gave her a smile.

"Hey, Carter. Don't mind me. I was just finishing up."

"No problem, sir," she replied, heading over to her locker.

She grabbed a couple of towels and a set of green BDUs and placed them on 
the bench behind her. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached out to rummage 
through the top shelf, looking for the bottles of her favorite shower gel 
and shampoo, when her hand brushed against something buried in the back. 
Realizing what it was, she slowly pulled it off the shelf and glanced 
back at O'Neill.

The colonel remained sitting in the same spot as before, studying her 
with an unconcealed curiosity and concern that made her stomach flutter 
with a feeling she couldn't quite identify. She knew these were dangerous 
issues to be flirting with, but instead of shying away as protocol would 
demand, Carter bravely met his eyes, holding his gaze.

Making a decision, she moved to sit next to him, neither of them saying a 
word as she traced the edges of the small box resting in her lap. O'Neill 
waited patiently by her side as she fought an internal battle, debating 
whether or not to open the long-forgotten keepsake. 

Hell, she had already shared so much with him back on the planet. The 
contents of one small box shouldn't make much difference, should they?

Taking a deep breath, she slowly tugged off the lid and was immediately 
reminded why she was so reluctant to reveal its contents to anyone. As 
she gazed at the mementos inside, she felt the tears well up in her eyes, 
the familiar heartache washing through her all over again.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"If you don't want to..." he began, stopping as she shook her head.

"I need to, sir," she admitted determinedly.

Reaching in, she carefully extracted the item on top, one of the many 
photographs filling the little box, and passed it to him. He smiled 
easily at the image of a very young Sam Carter and Josh Thompson on their 
graduation day from the Academy. They were two cute kids dressed in their 
crisp uniforms with polished silver on their navy blue jackets and newly 
pinned golden lieutenant's bars on their shoulders, ready to face the 
world.

"You shouldn't keep all the memories of him locked up in a box, Carter. 
He deserves more than that, and so do you," he gently chided.

Their fingers brushed as he handed her the photograph, holding on a 
little longer than necessary, before they hurriedly pulled away. Unable 
to meet his gaze, she stared down at the smiling faces in the picture, 
trying to get her mind off the electricity she'd felt at the simple 
contact.

She swallowed hard as she realized the only time she'd felt someone's 
touch so strongly had been with the man in the photo.

"He was my best friend. My first true love."

Gathering her courage, she looked up, her heart softening as gazed into 
his warm brown eyes.

"I miss him," she admitted. "Even now, ten years later... I miss him."

Mustering his own courage, O'Neill slipped his hand into hers, squeezing 
lightly.

"He loved you," he stated simply.

"I know, Colonel," she responded, glancing down at their intertwined 
fingers and returning the gentle pressure. "I know."

Her eyes returned to the photograph tightly clasped in her hand, and she 
considered how much she had changed since it had been taken.

Many of her more admirable qualities had held strong and true, but a 
number of the reckless traits she had possessed as an inexperienced 
lieutenant had gradually given way to allow the development of the 
mature, competent major her colleagues all knew her to be.

So many of those changes could be traced back to that one whirlwind year 
of flying and friendship, of love and lost, and of a time that had left 
her life forever changed.

End.


                         *******************

Many thanks to Blue Topaz, who bravely answered my call for help and 
agreed to tackle the enormous task of beta reading this story. You go, 
girl.

Also, thank you does not seem like enough to say to those friends of mine 
(you all know who you are) who, over the course of a year and a half, 
were always willing to listen to me gripe and vent as I struggled onward, 
and who never faltered to offer up ideas or just a simple push in the 
right direction. I couldn't have done it without you guys, and I am 
forever grateful.

Additional author's notes:

For more information on the 421st Fighter Squadron – the unit I 
"borrowed" as Sam's squadron – please visit: 
http://www.hill.af.mil/388fw/squadrons/421fs.htm

The 388th Fighter Wing is based out of Hill Air Force Base, Utah, and did 
play a real role during Operation Desert Shield/Storm. It was one of the 
first Air Force wings to deploy squadrons to the Middle East when Iraq 
invaded Kuwait in August 1990, and was the first F-16 wing to fly the 
LATIRN system in combat. The pilots of the 388th FW flew almost 4,000 
sorties during the war without a single combat loss.

For more information, please visit the 388th Fighter Wing's website at: 
http://www.hill.af.mil/388fw/

I recently had the opportunity to attend a flight demonstration of the 
12th Air Force F-16 Demo Team, which is based out of Hill's 388th FW, and 
I must say that finally witnessing the power and agility of the Fighting 
Falcon took my breath away.

I also had the pleasure of meeting a pilot from the 310th Fighter 
Squadron, posted at Luke Air Force Base, Arizona, another key location 
from "1991." During the half hour I spent with "Trigger" (using his call 
sign to keep his identity private), I gained much more insight and 
respect for those who make a career of flying fighter planes, which 
played a considerable role in helping me refine my original characters. 
Trigger, you have my utmost respect and infinite gratitude, and I hope to 
see you soon when I don the uniform of an Air Force cadet at ERAU in a 
few short months. I'd be honored to fly with you any day, sir.

S.D.F., April 12, 2003 Starbuck92@yahoo.com