I can feel the change in temperature in the room as the sun peeks in over the sill. The weather has been perfect; the days hot and dry, the nights cool and a little damp. That's the first thing that surprised me - how hot it gets here. And that sun coming through the window is letting me know it's going to be another scorcher today.

Let me see if I can list another few surprises. Ah, yes, one of my favorites - food. I had no idea food could taste so good just because of location. I've eaten these same kinds of food all my life - but it's different here. Not to mention that I'm eating like an absolute pig.

Air. It smells so incredibly sweet. Rich and earthy - not musty like when you turn over part of your lawn that's gone to weeds. This is the scent of life and growing things and deep, rich soil.

Stars. I should be used to that by now - considering what I do for a living. The nights here are completely black, no light at all unless the moon is up - and the stars are incredible. Just - thick. And there's so much sky that you feel enveloped by them.

Jack's a romantic. I really, really have to get this smile off my face before he sees me. I have a reputation to uphold as a first-class grump in the morning before I've had my coffee. But apparently this particular surprise is having a threatening effect on my carefully honed facade. I push my face into the pillow so the chuckle I just have to let out can't be heard. Who in the hell would have guessed?

When I agreed to come up to Minnesota with Jack, it was pretty much just to get everybody off my back and leave me the hell alone. We'd just gotten Jack back - from Antarctica - the second time. We'd saved earth, again - twice in the same day - not bad; Sam got promoted, Jack got promoted, Jack got a desk. It was all very disconcerting. We have a disenfranchised Goa'uld system lord sitting in lock up and that's been enough all by itself to send me nearly into orbit every day at work. I don't really think anyone besides Jack understands just how badly I hate those bastards. When all was said and done, he finally made me see I needed some time off, away from all that - needed to give myself a break.

He gave all his command staff a chance to get organized - a chance to get him organized - by taking two week's leave. They know where he is if there's an emergency, and there's an airstrip not far away so we can hightail it out of here if need be. But other than that and the sat-phone, we are completely cut off from anything going on at the mountain - from anything going on anywhere, actually. Jack hasn't even turned on the tv.

So, back to him being a romantic. We flew into Minneapolis, grabbed a plane from one of his buddies and flew up to that little airfield. Another one of his friends lets him borrow a truck when he comes up, so we packed that up and drove about half an hour to 'the lake with no fish,' as Teal'c describes it. I thought maybe we were going to be living on MREs because we didn't stop for food. Thanks to another one of his friends, this place was stocked to the rafters. It'd been aired out and opened up, the bed was made, everything was dusted. The bed. One bed. One. Two men. One bed.

So I looked at the couch and asked if it was a hide-a-bed. He said no. I asked where Teal'c slept when he was up here. He reminded me Teal'c didn't sleep back then - he kel'no'reemed. And then he puts an airline ticket on the table and tells me to have a seat.

I have never been so overcome by words before in my life. No one believes that Jack can be eloquent when he wants to. I knew better, but I had no idea . . .

He told me about the year I was gone, about the hell he went through during my death and what it cost him to make Jacob stop trying to save me. He apologized for his behavior, for shutting me out and making me feel like I wasn't necessary or important.

Hearing Jack O'Neill say he was afraid of something is a humbling thing. With my mind reeling in a million directions, he told me the reason he was afraid was because he'd come to love me over the years - down deep - where it really matters. He didn't know what to do about that. Being attracted to a man isn't what he was wired for - he likes women. And big, soft tits - his words, not mine.

Then he told me that what he felt went beyond attraction and that scared him even more. One thing I know about Jack from years of fighting by his side - Jack may get scared, but when he does, he also gets very, very angry at what ever it is that has frightened him. And, generally speaking, he usually kills whatever it is that scares him like that.

Then he apologized again - this time for coercing me into coming with him on this trip. He said that he'd fly me back to the airport in Minneapolis - the ticket was for the next afternoon. If I wanted to go, I could leave any time - he'd put me in a nice hotel . . . whatever I wanted.

Without waiting for me to say anything - which was probably good because I couldn't think of a thing - he got up and said he was going fishing. He grabbed a beer, his chair, and his fishing gear then headed out the door. Left me alone to think. He knew I needed that. Didn't want to crowd me to make any sort of decision.

I sat at that table for a long time staring at that ticket. I hadn't even noticed it was dark until my bladder told me that I either do something necessary or it was going to explode. So I took care of business, cleaned up a little, and went in the bedroom and stared at the bed for awhile - the ticket wasn't giving me any answers so maybe a piece of furniture would.

I tried to picture having sex with Jack, but I couldn't. There was just . . . I wasn't even mildly interested in male/male sex. And I didn't know Jack as a sexual being. I'd seen him bleed, seen him kill, seen him mourn his son, seen him fight to live . . . I'd never seen him with a lover. Closest to that was Sam and he just sort of - leered at her - now and then. I had no idea what he was like when he was soft, or tender, or gentle. Except with kids - but that didn't count - it wasn't the same thing at all.

Right about then, his words started to kick in; his feelings went beyond physical, he'd been emotionally devastated when I'd ascended, the feelings he had for me were so strong they'd frightened him. He never mentioned anything sexual. This wasn't about sex - this was about his soul. That was when I knew. That very moment. When I realized that I was so deep inside Jack he couldn't ever get rid of me - not completely. He could put me on that plane back home, but I'd be with him still, only I'd be causing him tremendous pain because I would have rejected - not him - but what makes him *him*.

I had to be brutally honest with myself at that point - had to get very, very real. Why had I come back? Why had I crossed a line that couldn't be crossed? Just because Jack asked me to? I was stunned when the answer hit me. I'd given up infinity for him - and I realized he was the one who'd driven me there in the first place - and he was the only one who could call me back.

I tried to imagine what it would be like - sharing that one bed. I realized, I already knew. Jack's had his arms around me and his hands on me since the day I came back from Abydos the first time. That hug in the gate room and the whole 'Spacemonkey' episode - I know what it's like to be held in his arms and feel his heart beat against my chest; what it's like to have his hands in my hair because he's desperate to feel that I'm real and alive; have him staring into my eyes to read what I'm really feeling.

How much of a departure would it be for these feelings to translate into wanting to be in a close, intimate relationship with the person I loved? Sure, the lay of the land might be different from what I was used to . . . much different. That wouldn't pose a problem though, would it? I mean, I'm well acquainted with the equipment - I'd know what to do and how . . . wouldn't I? Of course I would. I think. I glared at the bed. It wasn't giving me any answers either.

So I did the only thing I could think of - I cooked dinner. Nice thick steaks, some mashed potatoes, little homemade gravy from the drippings, steamed broccoli. I went out to get him and he stood up when he saw me - totally resigned, completely defeated. It hurt me to look at him. When had Jack O'Neill come to determine that his love for someone didn't matter, that his love and feelings weren't as sweet and powerful as the next person's? Had I helped do this - helped foster that belief?

I could tell he wanted to react - wanted to grab me and hug me - but he was trying to keep things reigned in - keep things controlled. So I did it instead. I grabbed him and held on tight, buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. We stood there for a while, until we were done shaking - because we both were trembling hard from relief.

We set up a card table and ate outside on the dock. Jack brought out a bottle of wine for the meal, even had some stemware to drink from. We had a toast under the stars with citronella candles burning everywhere.

Jack is not the first person to ever fall in love with me - I may be a geek, but I do recognize the fact that I'm a good looking geek. Most people just see the looks, shake their head with a 'what a waste' sort of look in their eyes and go on about their day. Jack took the time to know me - really know me. And once he did, he fell in love with me. The power of that undid me and all I could do was sit there and swallow now and again. It was either that or let the tears start - and I didn't want to do that.

We finished dinner, had a little dessert, Jack made coffee, and we sat outside for the rest of the night. Didn't say a thing. Just sat. Just . . . were. He held my hand. Jack O'Neill sat on a dock in the middle of nowhere and held my hand like he was a teenager on his first date. I don't think I could have had bigger butterflies in my stomach if I'd tried. They were nearly as big as the mosquitoes trying to carry us away to feed their young.

It was late and we were both pretty exhausted. Time to face the music, as it were. Jack stood up, I stood up, and the next thing I know, he's got me in a lip lock that's about to curl my toes. It was slow and deliberate; wet, slick, sexy as hell. I've kissed many a pretty mouth in my time and I know from experience I'm a pretty fine kisser; Jack O'Neill made me feel like a rank amateur. He gets this shy little look on his face afterwards and asks if he can take me to bed. Asked. Jack got shy and . . . asked.

In point of fact, it really ended up being no more than a mutual jerk off . . . but Jesus. The consideration he showed, the reverence . . . the worship. It's the only word I can think of to describe how he is with me. Who the hell knew this man trained to kill with his bare hands could be so . . . so . . . Who knew?

Having never been with a man, never having wanted to before, I was completely in the dark about what would happen. Doesn't take a genius to know what goes where, and quite honestly, after having taken a gander at what the good General was bringing to the table in terms of equipment - I was a little nervous about the whole Tab A, Slot B thing. Never even got close to that. We touched and kissed and explored, stroked, came, started all over again. Next thing I knew, the sun was coming up and we were only just settling down to sleep.

We just lolled around the next day - and were all over each other. In the water, on the grass, inside on every available surface - seemed like at least once an hour someone was having an orgasm. I ended up falling asleep out on the dock in the late afternoon shade. Jack kissed me awake for dinner.

He kissed me awake for breakfast yesterday; he kissed me awake for lunch after I'd fallen asleep on the couch; same with dinner again last night. And then he kissed me until I fell asleep last night. Little feather-light kisses that didn't require any reaction.

So here I am this morning, hugging Jack's pillow close to me so I can smell his scent, waiting to see if he's going to kiss me awake again this morning . . .

He's doing it again - that shy little smile. God, that's an amazing sight. I think I'm blushing, but I nod and admit that yes, I was hugging his pillow - sap that I am.

"I can agree to that," I say seriously and take my first sip of the elixir of life. That's just so good - why doesn't Folgers ever taste like this back home?

I roll out of bed, make a detour to the bathroom, pull on a pair of shorts and meet him in the kitchen. I look at the spread and smile. It's the flower in a small vase in the middle of the table that gets me. I smile. I can't help it.

He just sort of shrugs and turns so I can't see the grin - or the slightly embarrassed blush. "I'm a hearts and flowers kinda guy," he mutters. "You're gonna have to deal with it until I figure out how to do this with a guy."

"Just . . . don't do this in front of anyone else. I'll never live it down." I've got a grin of my own going as I sit down and wait for Jack to join me.

Surprised? This whole thing has taken me completely by surprise. And if flowers on the table, being kissed awake in the mornings, and holding hands at night under the stars are part of it, then I can live with that. Oh yeah . . . I can definitely live with that.