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TITLE: It's Been a Long, Long Time

AUTHOR: Becca Ramsey (rcramsey@mindspring.com)

RATING: PG

ARCHIVING: SJD/SJA, Helio; anyone else, please ask

DISCLAIMER: The characters contained herein are the property of MGM/Double

Secret/Gekko... just about anyone else but me. They are used here, without

permission, for entertainment and not for profit.

Lyrics from "This Can't Be Love" copyrighted 1939, Richard Rogers and

Lorenz Hart. Lyrics from "How Long Has This Been Going On?" copyright

George and Ira Gershwin. Both used without permission, but not for profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Special thanks to Sue and Kels for betaing for me at

oh-my-God-it's-early(?) in the morning. Any mistakes you see now are my

fault and probably result from a lack of sleep. More thanks to Sue for a

good title, too!

For those with access to AudioGalaxy (or any other MP3 search), feel free

to find a copy of "This Can't be Love" as recorded by Glenn Miller and "How

Long has This Been Goin' On?" as recorded by Jon Bon Jovi.

SUMMARY: Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Army Air Corps, and his second officer

hit the USO club for an evening out. (Sam/Jack; Alternate Universe)

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The USO club was already jumping by the time Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Army

Air Corps, and his second officer, 1st LT. Paul Davis, arrived. A blue haze

of unfiltered cigarette smoke hung just below eye level, stirred by the

flurry of activity on the dance floor. On the bandstand, the group of five

regular volunteers brought the latest Benny Goodman tune to life. The

trumpeter squeezed his eyes shut in effort and concentration, improvising

between chords. Behind him, a private pounded away on the drums.

Jack felt a tap on his right shoulder. Glancing over, he spotted Davis

standing on his toes to speak to him. Empty table to the right, sir!

he

shouted, still barely audible over the pounding drums and enthusiastic

trumpet. Davis then dropped back to his feet and led the way.

Most of the officers, O'Neill noted, seemed like kids. They were

clean-shaven, baby-faced boys with hope, ambition, and idealism blazing

from their eyes; they still saw everything in black and white. Too soon

they would enter the grey world of war, where everything wasn’t always so

cut and dry. But, he thought, those ideas are for another time. He gave a

smiling nod to Davis. Crumpling his cover into his pocket, he lowered

himself into the seat the 1st LT. indicated. Thanks! he shouted.

Davis returned the smile. Welcome! With two fingers, he signaled one

of

the female wait staff. I’ll have a scotch and soda and the colonel will

have a ………?

Water, O’Neill replied. He smiled boyishly.

Davis exchanged glances with the waitress. The colonel will have a water

he said. With a shrug, he offered her a dollar. As she disappeared toward

the bar, Davis shook his head.

Last of the big spenders, O’Neill commented. Been trying for her

number?

For months! Wont even give me the time of day!

Know her name? Jack searched out a peanut from the bowl on the table,

then popped it into his mouth.

At this, Davis shook his head. Not yet.

Might wanna find out. They kinda like that, ya know.

This coming from a man whose had a date all of what? Once? Since I joined

the squadron?

What can I say? I'm picky. He grabbed another peanut.

As he launched the peanut into the air, the song arrived at a long overdue

ending. Applause and praise rippled through the crowd, and the silence which

should have followed was filled with the low murmur of a hundred voices

speaking all at once. O’Neill and Davis watched as the trumpeter, wiping

his brow, approached the microphone.

Ladies and gentlemen, he said, we have a special vocalist with us

tonight. Please give a warm welcome for the Lady Sam!

Around them, officers and civilians alike applauded enthusiastically. A

spotlight focused on stage right, and a shapely female stepped out of the

shadows. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than himself, O’Neill

estimated, clad in a flattering dress that dropped dramatically to the

floor and floated like a cloud as she crossed the stage. Her

shoulder-length hair was platinum blonde and rolled into the popular Betty

Grable style.

The peanut dropped in O'Neills lap.

Hey, Davis hissed, ain't that the gal you dated?

O’Neill coughed. Yeah, he said in a raspy voice. General Carter

s daughter.

Boy, you were taking your life into your own hands with that one! Shaking

his head, Davis leant back in his seat.

You have no idea, the colonel replied.

On stage, Samantha Carter fluffed her dress and smiled at her audience.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Is everyone having a good time?

Yeah! came the unanimous roar from the crowd.

Good! I'm glad to hear it, Samantha said. She placed a well-manicured

hand around the microphone stand. Well, with a little help from the band

behind me here, I'm going to give This Can’t Be Love a try. She turned

to the band behind her. You ready boys?

You betcha, Sammy! the private replied from behind the drums. As if to

emphasize that fact, he pounded the pedal on the bass drum a couple of

times. All right, boys! Time to swing! *One*and*two*and...

The music began on the three count and Sam snapped her fingers to the beat

as she stepped back up to the microphone. A warm smile slipped across her

lips and her eyes locked dead center with Jack’s.

This cant be love

Because I feel so well

No sobs, no sorrows, no sighs

Her voice was as smooth as her silken dress and O’Neill found her impish

gleam infectious as he sat and watched. The corners of his lips tilted

upward into a decidedly lopsided grin and he reached for another peanut.

This cant be love

I get no dizzy spells

My head is not in the sky

My heart does not stand still

Just hear it beat

This is too sweet to be love

Hey, Boss. Is it just me, or is she lookin straight at you?

O'Neill chewed on the peanut. "Nah. She's not lookin' at me. She can't see

me for spotlight and all."

"This can't be love

Because I feel so well

But still I love to look in your eyes"

Davis leant forward in his chair again. "No, Boss, I think she's lookin'

right at you."

Eyes forward and still met with Samantha's, his grin widened. "Ya know,

Davis, you might be right." He rubbed his hands together, dusting off the

salt from the peanuts, applauding a few seconds later as the song drew to a

close. He then stood, still applauding as the trumpeter stepped forward and

Samantha took two steps back, out of the spotlight.

"How about a big hand for Lady Sam!" the trumpeter exclaimed. The applause

grew louder, egged on by bellows and shouts from around the small club. Sam

smiled warmly, waved, then made her way down the stage.

Cocking his head to the side, O'Neill settled back into his chair, watching

as she wove her way through the room. Out of the spotlight, she still

seemed to glow: she gave each person who greeted her a kind smile, thanking

him or her sincerely for their praise. Her blonde hair now took on a warm,

sunny glow, and her sapphire blue eyes gleamed.

Taking a glass of water from the waitress, she laughed. Eyes resting on her

red lips, he watched as she mouthed a thank you to the waitress, then asked

a question he didn't understand. As he watched, the nameless waitress

directed an index finger directly at him.

"Don't look now, Boss, but I think she's headed this way," Davis said.

"Thanks for clarifying that, Davis," O'Neill said. His eyes followed her as

she crossed the room, skirt flitting about her ankles as she did. Out of

the corner of his eye, he watched Davis shift and straighten his tie.

Samantha's smile widened. "Hi there."

"Hi."

"Care to take a lady across the dance floor?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jack said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Dancing never really has been my thing"

Sam arched a brow. "Not your thing? But sitting here with your second

officer would be?" She leant forward, glancing over her shoulder

conspiratorially. "Not my idea of an exciting evening, Colonel."

Pursing his lips, O'Neill glanced from Sam to Davis and back again. "All

right," he said at length. "But only because you look better in that

dress." He pushed himself out of the chair, then turned back to Davis. "Be

right back." With a wink, he took Samantha's hand and wandered off to join

the crowd on the dance floor.

"You certainly know how to make a woman feel welcome, Colonel," Samantha

said, dropping her hand to his shoulder. Her eyes danced with mischief.

"Yeah, well, I'm ahead of the game. Most women find me cute." He grinned,

intertwining his fingers with hers, glancing up as the sax player took

front and center. The drummer dropped a count, and slow, mellow notes

flowed smoothly from the haunting instrument. A few measures and O'Neill

identified the song as //How Long Has This Been Going On?//

"Cute, huh? What do they think is so cute about you?"

"I stay confused. Women find that cute."

"They do?"

"Yup." O'Neill blinked, looking to her. "You don't?"

"Oh, I find it charming," she replied as he led her across the dance floor.

"Not so sure about cute."

"I'll remember you said that, *Lady* Sam." Grinning, O'Neill drew her

closer, moving in time with the slow rhythm of the song. He closed his

eyes, drawing in a deep breath. With it came the gentle scent of her

perfume, mingled with the light scent of her shampoo. She shifted her head,

and a ringlet of blonde swept across his cheek, soft and smooth. He cleared

his throat as a warm rush swept over his body. "Any plans for the rest of

the evening?"

"None really," Sam replied. He felt her breath on his ear, her lips inches

away. "Just going home and spending some quality time with my husband."

O'Neill licked his lips. "Husband, Huh? Must've been a quiet ceremony."

"Oh, it was." She chuckled. "I guess you could say we're still on our

honeymoon."

The colonel could feel a lump rising fast in his throat as the musicians

behind them reached a crescendo. "Lucky man," he breathed.

"Kiss me twice

Then once more

That makes thrice

Let's make it four"

Feeling her breath once more in his ear, her voice low and husky as it

carried the lyrics, Jack cleared his throat, her cheek coming to meet his.

He felt, rather than saw, her red lips curve into a wicked smile. He was

suddenly aware of their close proximity and the warmth of her body. "Think

we've given Davis enough of a show?" she asked.

"Oh, more than enough, I'd guess." As the song drew to a close, he whirled

her around. In the dim lighting beyond the dance floor, he spotted Davis.

Instead of watching the dance floor intently, however, Davis was striding

across the room toward them.

"Sorry to interrupt, Colonel, but Private Murray just stopped by." Davis

frowned. "We've got orders, sir."

"Orders?" O'Neill released Sam slightly. She stood, his hands resting on

her forearms as they both regarded Davis "What orders?"

The 1st LT. licked his lips. "Europe, sir. We're supposed to leave at 2300."

O'Neill was silent for a long moment. Then, he nodded. "All right, Davis.

Go home and get packed. Meet me back here in an hour."

"Understood, sir." Davis looked to Sam. "Miss." With a final nod, he turned

and dashed out the door.

"So much for a honeymoon," Sam said.

"Yeah." Jack looked down at the toes of his shoes, unable to look her in

the eye. "I guess I'd better get packed and head out myself."

She sighed, drawing his hands into hers and pulling them to her chest. When

she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. "Jack?"

The colonel sighed, looking back up. He swallowed as he saw the unshed

tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Come home to me."

It was a simple statement, O'Neill thought, uttered with such care and hope

in her voice and vulnerability. Closing his eyes, he drew her close once

again, and she buried her head into the crook of his neck. "Of course I

will, Sammy. I promise."

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