AUTHOR�S NOTES: With my Detroit Red Wings charging into the post-season, my mind automatically turned to matters of the heart. Two of my favorite subjects: Hockey and regrets, not necessarily in that order, and not reliant upon each other. Anyway, I'm sure this has been done by someone, but I wanted to whittle this stick myself. I sure hope it doesn't come out looking like a hockey stick and me a hockey puck. Be kind. You always are. And thanks!

"WHAT!!?" the voice from inside bellowed, obviously not expecting any visitors this Saturday night. "Um, it's me, Colonel. Sam." She thrust her hands nervously in her coat pocket waiting for an answer, presuming it would take a while. I mean, after all, this was their first Saturday night home since they had...

"Major," Jack looked surprised, opening the door wide for Sam, and then scurrying back to his place on the couch. Sam stepped inside the vestibule unceremoniously, shut the door and walked into Jack's living room. "Hey. What brings you here? Oh, for Crying out loud! That was high sticking!" Jack yelled, gesticulating toward the tv screen. Jack did a double-take. "Come on in. You want a beer?"

"Um, sure," Sam answered casually. Jack got up from the couch while keeping his eyes glued to the screen. He had almost made it to the kitchen when a shot from St. Louis careened off the cross-pipe of Chicago's net. Jack remained transfixed by the game, unaware that he was standing in a gravity-defying position.

"Get it! Get it! Ooooohhh!" he cried, throwing his hands up in despair. Sam smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Colonel..."

"Just...give me oooooone second...PASS IT!" Sam shook her head and took a beer out of the refrigerator herself. She passed in front of him, twisting off the top to gain his attention. Jack looked down in recognition of the familiar sound. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, Carter. It's just that, well, this is the first..." Jack trailed off as the play on the ice drew every shred of his attention. He blindly made his way back to his seat on the couch, using his free hand to guide himself, carefully protecting his beer. "Bring it down the ice. That's it...SHOOT! SCORE!!!" All four appendages exploded into the air. "WoooHoooo! Did you see that, Carter?! Right in the five hole!"

"Five hole, sir?" Sam asked a little afraid of the answer. Jack glanced at her, then back at the screen, then to Sam.

"Carter, why are you here? It's Saturday night. Shouldn't you be out...being out?" he asked.

"Well, sir, technically, I am out."

"Yeah, but you're in your CO's house. How out is that?"

"That kind of brings me to my point, sir," Sam told him. Jack gave her the once over.

"This sounds like I need to turn off the game," he said apprehensively.

"If you wouldn't mind."

"But it's the play-offs, and we've been gone for...the last part...of the... regular season." Jack pointed to the tv as if just by seeing the magic of it Sam would somehow understand. "Hell. The play-offs last for three-months. I guess missing one game isn't going to kill me." And with that, Jack turned the tv off. Sam actually thought she saw tears forming in his eyes. "It's only Chicago, Major, in on a wild-card. You know Chicago. Home of the Blackhawks, Capone. O'Neill!"

"Listen, sir, if you'd rather watch the game, I can come back another..."

"No. Sit down."

"Why don't you just tape it?" Jack was appalled at the suggestion.

"If I tape it, when the ref makes a bad call, the decision will all ready have been made, and nothing I say can change that!" He gave her an incredulous look and shook his head at her utter lack of appreciation for the art of spectating.

"You're saying that the officials are listening to you. Through the television. Here in Colorado."

"Is that so hard to believe, Major? I'm a very influential man." Jack took a swig of his beer.

"Obviously."

"So, Major," Jack started, pleased that Sam had agreed with his own estimation of his worth. "What brings you here?"

"I have a problem, sir," she started and then ended.

"And?"

"Sir?"

"And. It's a conjuction. As in bread AND butter. War AND peace. Start talking AND spit it out."

"Yes, sir. Well, this problem concerns you." She looked at him nervously. "Or to be perfectly correct, Jonah."

"Ah." Jack rubbed the day's worth of stubble on his cheek. "Yeah, I guess we should talk about that."

"Look, Colonel..."

"Sam, if we're going to discuss this, you're going to have to lose the titles," he informed her. She nodded.

"Here's the thing. I just feel like when I regained my memory, I ..."

"...lost something in the deal."

"Right."

"I know." Sam held his gaze sadly.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want to live like that, but..."

"...there was a freedom there that we don't have here."

"Right." Sam leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, aware of the futility of the subject. "I guess that's it." She stood up. "I'll let you watch your game."

"Hold on, Sam," Jack said reaching out to grab hold of her coat sleeve. "First off, why don't you lose the coat and stay a while. And B, the hard part is over. I mean, you all ready made me turn off the game..." He gave her a crooked little smile. "Come on, Sam, have a seat." Sam remained standing.

"No, I think I'd better leave. I mean, what's the point, it's not like we have a choice here, no matter how I feel about you."

"Me or Jonah?"

"Same person, Jack."

"Different job description."

"I'm not so sure. You seem to do a lot of shoveling at the SGC," she said with a coy smile.

"True. And what about you? Getting all huffy when Brenna didn't see things your way..."

"I think that's overstating it just a bit, but it does go along with what I'm saying."

"Which is?'

"Which is we were basically the same people down there. Sir...Jack, I wouldn't have thought anything of it if it weren't for Anise and her..."

"...headband. Looked better on you than it did on me."

"That and, well, does it seem odd to you that whenever Daniel delves into Alternate Universe theories, it always comes up that we're together? Like we're fated to be together?" Sam sat on the edge of the coffee table, deep in her exposition. Jack looked down at the knees that were very close to his own. Sam suddenly became aware of her choice in seats and began to move. Jack placed a hand on her knee and stopped her.

"Okay, then I'll retire."

"What?"

"Why not? The joints are getting bad."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm pointing out that short of retiring, there's nothing we can do."

"I could transfer to another team..."

"Would you want that?"

"No."

"Then we're stuck."

"I know."

"Besides, let's say I do retire and we..." Jack waved his hand between the two of them, the gesture substituting for words. "Who's to say six-months down the road you wouldn't decide I'm a pain in the ass?"

"I all ready think you're a pain in the ass."

"Okay, bad example. But you get my point."

"I do. Then again, maybe six-months down the line I find we were fools for waiting so long."

"And, with my advancing age..."

"Stop," Sam said smirking.

"As long as we're playing the 'what if?' game, what if we weren't CO and 2IC? Would we still have feelings for each other?"

"You mean, if we hadn't worked together for all these years, learning to rely on each other?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of if I worked at the Pizza Hut and you were an astronaut."

"Well, I'd like to think, if this is fate, then I'd order a deep dish and you'd deliver it to my shuttle," Sam told him, smiling.

"I was picturing myself more as a manager than delivery boy..." Jack said sheepishly.

"Sorry," Sam offered. Jack raised his eyebrows, deeply hurt by the inference. "Either way, we'd still have a choice."

"Yes, we would."

"It's not like I want the fairy tale life or anything. I just want what we, or Therra and Jonah had."

"Cream of mushroom soup and a dry biscuit?"

"No. Try to stay with me, Jack."

"Sorry."

"I'm envious of their freedom to express how much they care for each other physically."

"Do you remember something I don't?"

"No."

"Because if you do, I'd appreciate you filling me in."

"No."

"No, you won't fill me in, or No, you don't have anything to share?"

"Okay, we're back at the 'pain in the ass' section of this conversation..." Sam rubbed her eyes. "I remember how nice it felt to be close to you. I regret not having that here, in our world."

"I do too."

"It felt...natural to rest my head on your shoulder."

"Yes, it did."

"I miss that."

"I do too." Jack reached for her hand. She gave it to him willingly yet with a heaviness in spirit. "Can I ask you a question?" Sam nodded. "Don't get me wrong. I know what my answer is, but...is it physical touch from another person you miss, or is it...me?"

"I've asked myself that at least a thousand times. I know it's been a long time since I've had someone in my life, and there's always that human need to connect with another person, but if that were the case, I'd be out dating any number of fellow officers."

"Really?"

"I've had offers."

"Why don't you take one of them?"

"Because I'm not interested in anyone else," Sam told him.

"So, the answer to my question is..."

"I miss us."

"That would be my answer, too."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Well, we have one other option."

"Which is?"

"You could be promoted, and then we'd be equals."

"Yeah, but that might take a few years."

"Not if you slept with your CO and then blackmailed him into giving you a promotion," Jack offered with a raise of his eyebrows.

"I don't think that's going to happen."

"Why not? It's a win-win situation for me."

"I thought you were talking about General Hammond."

"Well, that's just sick and wrong."

"And sleeping with you in order to procure a promotion isn't?"

"If that's your assessment of the situation, I guess we shouldn't be having this conversation."

"No, no. You were kidding, though, right?"

"Do you want me to be kidding?"

"Should we be having a talk about Sexual Harrasment, Colonel?"

"Will there be a slide-show?" Sam couldn't contain her amusement any longer.

"God, you're so infuriating!"

"I know. I wasn't kidding about my knees, though. I figure I only have a few more years before I'm jetisoned out of active duty. You think you can wait that long?"

"Do I have a choice?" she asked sadly.

"No. Neither do I." Jack stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. "Maybe my mother was right."

"Excuse me?"

"Some things are worth waiting for," he said smiling warmly at her. She loved his smile and everything behind it, and decided he was right.

"So explain icing to me," she said sitting next to him on the couch. Jack looked shocked. He picked up the remote joyfully and turned the game back on.

"Okay. I can do that!" They watched the players frantically skate across the ice, swiftly passing the puck from one player to another. "See how that guy just sent the puck all the way down the ice, past the goal line? That's icing, and now we have a face-off." Sam put her head on his shoulder. Jack looked at her dolefully. His interest in the hockey game suddenly gone.

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yadda yadda, the thing the thing, blah blah blah the end