Rating: PG
Category: Stargate SG-1 Crossover, Songfic
Pairing: Toby/Sam Carter
Spoilers: None for WW, very vague references to Stargate the Move, and The First Commandment
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine. Stargate SG-1 isn't mine either. Any further resemblance to people, places and events is entirely intentional, and all meant in good fun.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (http://helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: Toby looks back on an old flame….
Author's Note: I have no idea where this came from…I was reading the challenges over at Heliopolis and this one caught my eye - I'd like a story that involves Sam and anyone you chose and that also involves the George Strait song "Baby Blue." Why in the world Toby decided to pop up and tell me all about their relationship, I don't know - but it's Toby, so why do I really care? And it's George Strait so it's all good!

"Toby?"

"Yeah Ginger?" Toby looked up, startled, as his assistant called to him. She was standing against the open door, a quizzical smile on her face, and he was guessing that it wasn't the first time that she'd said his name.

"The President's expecting you in five minutes."

"Yeah."

Ginger stood there for a second longer than she really had to, still looking at him with that curious expression on her face before shrugging and walking away. Toby watched her go, his mind only half on her. He had been miles away when she came in, and if she hadn't, he definitely would have been late for his meeting with the President, if he'd remembered it at all. Not that he had much to report - he'd been in another world all day, his attention drawn elsewhere, drawn back in time.

Although it was all the President's fault.

After all, he was the one who'd made the off-the-cuff remark that had sent Toby's mind hurtling through the past. And while Toby doubted that that would work as an excuse for why he was ill prepared for the meeting, it was the truth.

It had all started at staff that morning, when the President had been talking about the packed day that he had. In the middle of it all had been the sentence "And at three o'clock, I've to meet with a group of people from some project we have going on in Colorado. Sounds like a bundle of laughs."

That was all it had taken.

That was all it ever took. One mention of Colorado, and he was instantly reminded of her.

He'd loved her eyes, could get lost in them. Clear and blue, they had conveyed whatever was going through her mind, whatever was going through her heart. He'd spent many an hour thinking of those eyes, trying to figure out just what colour he'd describe them as. But he hadn't come up with anything until the time that they'd gone to Telluride together. It had been her birthday, that was why they'd gone in the first place, and she'd laughed at him, teasing him because he didn't like the outdoors, couldn't ski worth a damn, but he'd gone anyway, just to please her. And they hadn't skied all the time, sometimes they'd just sat and talked, and it had been on one of those outings, when they'd been having a picnic outdoors, that they'd been lying on a blanket, looking up at the sky, that it came to him.

"The sky," he'd said, and she'd looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"What?" She'd been off in her own little dreamland, wondering about who knows what, and now she turned her head towards him, eyes crinkled up in a frown.

"Your eyes. They're the exact colour of the sky. I've often wondered."

And she had smiled at him, and pulled him towards her, and he'd forgotten about the colour of her eyes and the colour of the sky, the better to concentrate on how she felt in his arms.

That had been in May, and they'd been together for five months at that stage, and despite the fact that she was younger than him, despite the fact that he was only recently divorced and was more than a little gun-shy about relationships, he was enjoying himself tremendously. There were so many different sides to her, so much that he was discovering about her every day.

They'd met in a Washington bar on New Year's Eve. He'd gone there with friends of his who were worried about him. He hadn't gone out much since Andrea had left him, preferring to stay inside, with a bottle of scotch and forget about his worries that way. But three of his friends had decided that he wasn't going to do that on New Year's Eve, that he was going to go out and enjoy himself if it killed them all.

And it very nearly had.

Until he'd seen her standing at the bar. She'd captured his interest immediately. She was tall, wearing some kind of red dress that clung to her in all the right places. She was waiting to order a drink, her face a mask of impatience, her back straight, her fingers drumming off the bar. She was the only person in the entire room who looked like he felt, and he found himself leaving his friends, drawn to her as if there was some invisible force between them.

"You look like you're having as good a time as I am."

Maybe it hadn't been the smoothest line in the world, but then again, it wasn't a line, it was more a statement of fact, and when she'd given him a little half-smile, he'd known that she'd taken it as such. "That's original," she observed dryly.

"Well, I'm an original guy." He'd winced inwardly at the triteness of the line, but she'd smiled again, so it couldn't have been as bad as all that. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She'd raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were original." He'd waited, and she'd given in. "Rum and coke."

For some reason, the barkeeper seemed to prefer to serve him faster than a pretty girl in a red dress, but he didn't want to read too much into that. He'd ordered himself another scotch, and given her her drink. "I don't want you to think that I make a habit of this," he'd told her.

"Picking up strange women in bars?"

"Well, I haven't picked you up yet," he noted, and she'd nodded in response. "Nor do I usually approach women in bars."

"Your wife probably wouldn't like it much." She was looking right at the ring on his left hand with a decidedly frosty glare.

"Ex-wife," he'd told her, noting as he did that it was the first time that he'd said those words without a pang running through him. "Or soon-to-be. She left me, six months ago."

"I'm sorry." And she had been; her face told the story.

"Which is why I allowed myself to be dragged here."

"By well meaning friends who didn't want you pining away at home."

He laughed, surprised at her words. "I take it that you have met a similar fate?"

Her gaze swivelled to somewhere to his left, and half-glancing that way, he saw a group of women, all dressed to kill, looking over at them, trying not to be too obvious about it, and failing miserably. "I left my fiancé three months ago," she told him.

"Ah."

"Your usual story," she told him. "He was a lying, possessive, controlling son of a bitch with a mean temper. I broke it off, he tried to beat me up."

"Tried?"

She grinned. "Air Force combat training."

That had shaken him, and he'd frozen with his glass halfway to his lips. "You're in the Air Force?"

"That surprise you?" From the dry tone of her voice, that wasn't the first time that she'd met with that reaction. "Captain Samantha Carter. Since you ask."

Looking her up and down, he decided that her Air Force training explained certain things about her. Her confident air, her erect bearing, her short blonde hair, regulation short he realised now. He also realised that she was waiting for his reaction, and he smiled at her, held out his hand. "Toby Ziegler. And it's nice to meet you. Captain Carter." He placed the slightest emphasis on the word "Captain" and was relieved to see her smile.

"It's Sam." Her hand gripped his.

"Then it's nice to meet you…Sam."

And that had been how things began, and how he began to find out about the many faces of Sam Carter.

It surprised him, how she was able to take pleasure in the simplest of things, as well as more complex matters - she found wonder all around her. He'd discovered her intelligence on the first night, when she'd told him that she was a theoretical astrophysicist, working in the Pentagon. "Brains and beauty," he'd observed, and she'd given him another one of those dry looks that he would soon come to know very well. For all her intelligence, she loved the simple things in life. Walking outside, watching old movies on television, working their way through crosswords together. Their first proper date had been an afternoon matinee of Casablanca at one of the theatres in town, and they'd walked to and from their cars. The streets had been near deserted, and he hadn't noticed when she'd scooped a handful of snow from the top of one of the parked cars, only found out about it when she dropped it down his neck. Once the shock had worn off, he'd realised that she hadn't been kidding about Air Force combat training - for a slip of a thing, she was deceptively strong. She'd run off, laughing, and he'd found himself running after her, although he hadn't run in years, and she let him catch her. He'd taken great delight in threatening her with his own handful of snow, and she'd squirmed in his grasp as he'd rubbed it against her cheek.

That had been the first time that he kissed her.

He'd never had so much simple fun in his life as he had during his time with her.

He'd look at her sometimes, usually when he was running late, or he had to leave, and she'd use her feminine wiles to get him to stay. There'd be a glint in her eyes that he loved to see, knowing what was in store for him, welcoming his fate. At times like that, he knew why that red dress had suited her so perfectly at New Year's Eve, would tease her that she was a devil in an angel's body. And she'd always respond the same way, by asking him if that was a complaint, and he'd have to tell her no, because complaining about their time together was the last thing that he wanted to do.

And then there were other times when he'd look at her and she'd catch him, or he'd catch her looking at him, and a smile would spread across her face. An angelic smile, almost childlike, chaste in its meaning. Expressing pleasure in shared companionship, happiness that she was there with him. Just general contentment.

And he would smile back in the same way.

He'd never had that before, not with anyone, not even with Andrea. He'd talked about Andi with her, told her about their marriage, and what had torn it apart. She knew Andrea's name, knew who Congresswoman Wyatt was, knew how Andrea's commitment to her career had become more important than her marriage. Knew how Toby had offered to work on her campaign, only to be rebuffed, because Andrea wanted to keep her professional and private life separate. "And I don't begrudge her that. I don't," he'd explained. "It's just…"

"That it hurt." Her arm had been around his shoulders as he spoke, and now she squeezed it gently, letting him know that she was there for him.

And she had told him all about her ex-fiancé, Jonas, all the things he had said to her, the things that he had made her believe. And he'd been furious, had told her loudly that the man had been a lunatic, that he didn't know what he was talking about. And he'd stopped when he'd seen the tears in her eyes, because he thought that he was scaring her, and he'd tried to apologise before she'd stopped him with a kiss, telling him that she didn't usually cry over things like that. "He just…he made me believe that I was worthless," she told him, and he'd felt the fury well up all over again, and had kept it in check as she continued. "And when you said all those things…"

She'd shaken her head and he'd kissed her again before leading her into the bedroom.

And yet, he'd known. They'd both known that while what they had was fun, and good for both of them, it was never going to last. There was never going to be the fairytale ending for them, the house and the kids and the dog and the happily ever after. That wasn't in their future.

And that was ok for both of them.

"Where are we going with this?" she'd asked him once, when they'd been together for almost three months. He'd raised an eyebrow in query, wordlessly asking her what brought that question on, and she'd told him that her friends had been asking her, wondering if they were getting serious.

"And what do you think?" he'd asked her.

She'd shrugged. "I think that I'm not ready for another serious relationship. Not after…" Her voice trailed off and he knew that she was remembering Jonas, remembering the disaster that that had turned into. After all, she'd probably had fun with him once upon a time.

"And neither am I," he told her, taking her hand in his, and if his wedding ring bothered her, she didn't say anything. "But we're together now…and we're enjoying each other's company…why look for more than that?"

Her sigh of relief had been answer enough.

Because what they had suited him, suited them both. No strings, no worries. If one of them was working late, if one of them had to break a date, or showed up at some obscene hour of the night, then that was just the way it was. No apologies, no explanations, and it worked well for them. Unlike Andrea, she never asked him what he was working on, what his next plans were going to be, never pressured him in any way. And he never did that to her either, even though she never talked about the specifics of her work with him. He told himself that he probably wouldn't understand it anyway, and he understood the necessity of secrecy, and it really didn't bother him. Not until the night that she arrived at his place, furious. She'd paced the length and breadth of his sitting room, railing against the powers that be, and while she hadn't told him any of the specifics, that secret project of hers again, he'd understood that she'd been passed over for a mission on the basis that she was a woman. "Two years Toby!" She'd come over with a pink rubber ball in her hand and she bounced it off the wall now, as she'd been doing intermittently since she'd arrived. "Two fucking years, and I get passed over…I should have been on the team…." The ball had been tossed harder and harder, and it stung his palm when he reached out and caught it, and then it bounced slowly along the floor as he reached out and caught her as her anger left her spent, and she slumped to her knees. Her head fell on to his shoulder, and she didn't cry this time, a good soldier never did. She just hung on to him, defeated.

A few weeks later, she'd come to his place again, in the middle of the night. She'd let herself in using the key he'd given her, and he hadn't heard her until she'd slipped into bed beside him. He'd jumped awake quickly when she kissed him, and he'd asked her what was wrong, what was she doing there, but she hadn't answered, just kissed him again and begun to divest him of his clothes. The sex had been quick, frantic, as if she was trying to chase away her demons, and when they lay side by side, he saw a tear, just one, trickle down her cheek.

And she'd told him that the program was going to be dismantled, that active duty on it was being suspended. That if she was lucky, she'd be able to work on whatever it was as a scientific study, but that that was all. And he'd wondered out loud why, and if it had anything to do with the mission that she was passed over for. And she'd told him that there had been fatalities on the mission, that it had been designated as dangerous and unnecessary. And he'd tightened his grip on her and thanked God that she was safe with him, that she had been passed over.

Maybe she'd sensed that attitude in him. Maybe the change in her job status had changed her, maybe things were just coming to their natural end, he wasn't sure. But it had been around that time that he'd got a phone call from a man he'd met once or twice, whose name was more than familiar to him. And he'd arrived at the restaurant where they'd arranged to meet for dinner, and he'd been late, and she'd looked at him curiously, because she'd known that he'd left plenty of time between the meeting and dinner, and he was never late.

"How did the meeting with McGarry go?"

He'd taken a sip of his drink before replying. "He's setting up an exploratory committee."

She blinked at him, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. "What's that?"

"Jed Bartlet is thinking about running for President. McGarry wants to know what kind of support he'd get. If it's worth running a campaign."

"Who's Jed Bartlet?"

"The Governor of New Hampshire. I did some reading on him…what he stands for. What he's like. He's a good man."

"Are you going to do it?"

"Sam, I've never worked on a Presidential Campaign before. Hell, I've never worked on a winning campaign before."

She'd smiled at him, picking up her glass. "There's always a first time." Her smile had been the devilish one, that one that told him that she was confident in him, confident that he'd make the right decision.

And he had. Of course, he'd told her, it would involve a lot of travelling. Going back and forth between Washington and New Hampshire, and everywhere in between. He wouldn't be in Washington as much. And she'd nodded quietly when he'd told her that, and said that maybe they should call things a day. And it had all been very civilised and grown-up, and they'd both smiled, and had a nice goodbye evening, and a nicer goodbye night, and they hadn't looked back.

Much.

He still thought of her sometimes, he couldn’t deny that. Sam Carter was beautiful and brilliant, and a great lady to boot, and if they'd met at any other time in his life, in her life, things might have been different between them. As it was, she'd helped him get over Andi, he'd helped her get over Jonas. And he couldn’t help but think of her when he'd found those pink rubber balls that she'd left in his apartment, and he discovered that she'd been right, they really did relax you when you were upset. He thought of her sometimes when he caught a flash of blonde hair walking past him, or when someone mentioned Colorado. And he still went to Telluride once a year, despite the fact that he hated the outdoors, despite the fact that his friends looked at him doubtfully when he said where he was going. Because he would go there, where he had gone with her, and he'd look at the sky and remember a pair of blue eyes that had once been very important to him.

"Toby."

Ginger's voice once more broke through his reverie, and nodding, he made his way to the Oval Office. "Hey Charlie. He in?"

Charlie had looked towards the closed door. "He's still got the Colorado Air Force people in with him. They'll be out in a minute."

Toby had nodded and waited, looking down at the floor, tapping his fingers against the folder in his arms as he waited. He heard the door open and looked up at the President's voice. "Ah Toby, you're here. General, let me introduce you to my Director of Communications, Toby Ziegler. Toby, this is General George Hammond."

"General." Toby shook the General's hand, and allowed the man to handle the introductions of the rest of the team with him. And he'd shaken hands with the man introduced as Colonel Jack O'Neill, and the man introduced as Doctor Daniel Jackson. And he'd paused slightly, almost imperceptibly when he'd reached the end of the line.

The eyes were still the same shade of blue that haunted his dreams, still had the same devilish glint in them that told him she'd noticed his hesitation. But he'd heard the introduction that General Hammond had given her, and he repeated it as he shook her hand. "Major Carter." He placed the slightest emphasis on the word "Major" and saw her smile in recognition, and just for a second, the room dissolved around them and they were back in a Washington bar on New Year's Eve.

And then her hand was gone from his, with only a lingering warmth left. She smiled at him, a quick grin, before she followed the three men out of the room, and he followed the President into the Oval Office, and neither one of them looked back.