Unlucky Memory
by ALC Punk!

She would probably kill him.

And so, while her being tired and cranky on a Saturday night was slightly unusual, it wasn't until Monday that he understood her reasons why.

"What?"

Sergeant Walter Harriman shifted, "Uh, sir, I asked how your anniversary went."

Anniversary? "Walter, I don't--" Oh. OH. Jack's eyes widened, and he stared at his aide-de-secretaire. "I forgot." He swallowed. No wonder she'd been cold and distant on Saturday. And they'd spent Sunday running errands and cleaning. Jack hadn't thought blue balls were something that happened to happily married men. At least not to men who didn't get shipped off on missions all over the damned planet eleven months out of the year.

He was beginning to think his assessment was wrong.

Maybe they gave byes, if you forgot the first time. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't forgotten her birthday. No, he clearly remembered giving her a book he didn't understand, and several hours of hot and sweaty sex that left them both sore.

Clearly, he just couldn't remember anything else.

"Walter, I want you to make a note on all of my calendars. I want my wedding anniversary circled and dotted and starred."

"For, uh, how long, sir?"

"The next hundred years." Better safe than sorry.

"Yes, sir."

--

In Daniel Jackson's life, there was nothing more amusing than the chance to mock his best friends. "So, let me see if I have this straight, Jack." Daniel carefully sipped his coffee, fighting back a smirk. "You forgot your wedding anniversary."

"Completely." Overnight (or over an hour, since it hadn't been THAT long since Daniel had last seen the general) a change had stolen over Jack O'Neill. He looked haggard.

"And you're still alive. I'm impressed, Jack. Sam must really like you."

"She..." The general stopped, and eyed him. "Let's just say, she obviously knows and hasn't forgiven me."

"But she did leave you alive."

"She probably wants me to suffer." Jack said morosely.

"Probably." Taking pity on his friend, Daniel sighed. "Jack, just apologize to her. Buy her chocolate and flowers, and tell her you'll never forget ever. And that you love her."

"Flowers, chocolate. Right."

"Or take her out on a romantic dinner. Something nice, women like that sort of thing."

Apparently coming to a decision, Jack stood. "Thanks, Daniel."

"And remember, Jack. You ARE the General."

"Yes. Yes I am."

--

She hadn't come complacently. In fact, Jack was pretty cranky himself by the time he'd dragged Colonel Carter out of her lab and into a slinky red dress (he was voting red his favorite color from now on. Although blue still held a large place in his heart). The drive to the swanky restaurant they'd had the celebration of their engagement at was filled with a stifled silence.

The maitre'd seated them swiftly, and left them with menus and the wine list. Jack eyed both, wondering what the hell he had the energy to stomach.

"Jack."

He looked at her. "Carter." Sam. Damnit. A year and more, and he still couldn't remember to call her by her first name.

"*Why* are we here?"

Shit. He hedged his bets, "Does there have to be a reason?"

"Jack."

Uh-oh. That was the tone that had jaffa shaking in their boots. Right before she pushed a button that destroyed them, or blew up a sun. He swallowed. It was now or never. "I'm sorry."

"For...?"

He checked that there were mulitple escape routes before replying as fast as he could, "Forgetting our anniversary."

The silence that fell at the table meant that Jack could hear the softly murmured conversations throughout the dining area. He realized he'd closed his eyes when he felt a hand touch his.

"Our what?"

It took a moment to assimilate that, and he stared at her, "Anniversary, Carter."

She blinked at him. Then her eyes widened. "Our--it's been a year?"

Okay. Jack was now slightly disturbed. "Yes."

Carter gave a strange choking sound, and looked down, then back up. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I forgot too."

He blinked. And blinked again. Carter had forgotten something? His Carter? The one who (he'd thought) had every significant date engraved in her brain until doomsday? He stared at her, and finally came up with, "So... the whole no sex thing was..."

A blush stole up her cheeks, and Jack was distracted as he recalled exactly where that blush went to. "I was tired, Jack."

"And cranky."

"Yes." She smiled, "I can't believe I forgot. And you didn't."

"Well..."

"Okay. So you forgot, but then remembered." Sam shook her head, smiling almost goofily at him. "I can't believe it's been a year."

Frankly, neither could Jack. "How many times have you saved the world since we got married?"

"Er..."

"Never mind." It suddenly occurred to him that he was the General. "You hungry, Carter?"

"Not really."

"Good."

Their waiter took that moment to arrive to ask if they were ready to order.

"Nah." Jack stood, grinning across the table at the woman he'd married in a Vegas chapel, with three people as witnesses. "I think we're good."

She stood and patted the waiter on the shoulder. "You can give our table to someone else."

Jack had a strange feeling this was what walking on air was like, as he reached out and took the hand she was offering him. "So..."

"C'mon, General." She smirked at him. "We have much better things to do."

"You gonna keep the dress on?"

"As long as I need to." She replied.

Heh. Things were looking up. Carter hadn't killed him, she was wearing a killer red dress, and he was pretty sure she was going to make up for the lack of sex over the weekend. Either that, or he'd have to convince her with judicious use of his mouth.

That was definitely *not* a hardship.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!