"I mean, really sure? Sure sure, not just sure."
"Well, I'm starting to change my mind."
"Because you keep asking me if I'm sure."
"I just wanted to be… you know…"
"Good. So am I."
"OK, so we're agreed?"
"Funny. Very funny."
"I thought so."
"OK. So let's do this."
"It's about time!"
"We've been dialling home for over a week."
They walked down the ramp, keeping a little distance between them. They were home, they'd saved the world (the fact it was here had been a big clue, she had thought more than once 'What if the Replicators survived?' when they kept failing to make a connection), and everything was OK. Life could get back to normal.
OK, it was official. He still made her laugh. She thought his sense of humour was cute, and she smiled in the way that she knew he thought was cute.
"They salvaged a couple of replicator pieces from the ocean. I thought I'd take a look."
"Is that wise?"
You mean, wise wise, or wise along the lines of what we did?
"There's no discernible energy readings coming from them, I think it's safe to say they're dead."
And it comes up again.
"Still going fishing?"
"Yup. Still stayin' here?"
She should stay, they both know she should stay. It would look a bit suspicious if she suddenly decided to go away with him, or he decided to stay.
There was always later.
"You want me to say what?"
"Yeah, but this isn't. It's not even legal."
"Since when did that matter?"
"It… I guess it doesn't." "Exactly. So say it."
"Why, if this isn't legal, binding, or recognisable in any way shape or form, except to us, do I then have to say it? I mean, shouldn't it be something different? Something that reflects us?"
"For cryin' out loud, will you stop over thinking?"
"Just say… something."
"That good enough?"
"You can't just say that."
"I think I just did."
"Is this our first fight?"
"No, we're not even done, so it doesn't count."
"So will you just say something so we are done!"
"I don't think I'm sure anymore…"
"Don't laugh. It's not funny."
"Your face is."
"You blew my ship up?"
"I had to."
"So it wasn't revenge?"
Sam thought for a moment, then remembered. Grabbing the cushion from behind her, she threw it at him. "No. I still want to pay you back for that though."
"You couldn't think of anything!"
"You put me under pressure."
"I thought you were supposed to be good under pressure. Thinking on your feet."
"I am," she protested. Holding out a hand, she demanded, "Beer," before continuing. "Ask me to jerry rig alien technology, fix the 'gate, set up an ambush, no problem. But the Academy doesn't exactly cover illicit and illegal vows in it's training."
"You regret it, don't you?"
Her beer was on the table and she was shifting along the couch towards him. "Nope. Not for a minute."
"So you don't care that…"
"What? No one knows? That technically I'm still a batchelorette? Why should I? I told you, it's what we know that matters."
"So as far as you're concerned…?" he asked, grinning.
"Yeah," she replied, grinning back and launching herself at him.
"There's something about traditional wedding vows," she said as they walked hand in hand along the water's edge.
"They 'suck'? Centuries of tradition, countless couples saying they'll 'love, honour and obey', and you think it sucks?"
"That's another thing. There's no way I'm doing the obey part."
"Sam, I'm your CO. You don't have much of a choice."
"That's another thing that sucks."
"You wanna go home and announce that we've just done… what we've done?" he asked.
Her hand closed a little tighter around his. "So what do we do? I mean, it's not like we can go home, I move my stuff into your place, we get joint bank account, you know, usual…"
"Married couple things?"
"Well, you get conjugal rights," he said eventually. "Everything else I guess we'll work out on the way."
His hand closed tighter around hers. "I can live with that," she said.
"I, Sam, take you, Jack, to be my wedded husband," she whispered.
"I thought you didn't want traditional," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.
"I promise to love you like no other, to trust you, to want you and need you. To confide in you and be someone you can confide in. I promise to be true to what we know, and what we believe, and to stop you from making stupid decisions."
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like being prepared to commit suicide."
"On Thor's ship. You wouldn't let us come up. Good thing we did."
"I said my bit before. Isn't that enough?"
"How much will you hurt me if I say I've thought of something?"
"Something non traditional."
"I'd say it sucked that you could, and I couldn't."
"OK," he said, taking a deep breath. "I, Jack, take you, Sam, in secrecy but in my heart. I am yours, and though I'm sure you will confuse the hell out of me in the future, I know that you will always be there to explain it. And I will listen. And I will always talk to you. And from here on in, it's you, and it will always and only be you."
"Great. You get to be the poet, I get clinical tradition."
"Sam, this is supposed to be something special."
"It is," she muttered, curling up closer to him. As she felt sleep drift over her the rational part of her mind said she was crazy. The other part said that he was her husband, whether the world knew it or not.