A Haircut for Love

With apologies to the Stargate franchise of Sci-Fi shows

My name is Samantha Carter. I’m a Colonel in the Air Force. I usually go by Sam or just Carter to my friends. I have been part of a highly secret unit called Stargate Command for over a decade now. My commanding officer is Major General Jack O’Neill. We have worked closely together since I was a Captain, and he was a Colonel.

Our missions originated when a large object was found in Egypt in the 1920s. Since then, its true purpose was discovered to be transportation from one part of the galaxy to another, travelling instantaneously. Sounds incredible but it’s true. My team was designated as SG1 and we have visited hundreds of places and met hundreds of people. Mostly human, some not at all human.

Over the years we have become a close-knit team. Sometimes too close. I won’t get into details of our relationships, our losses or our gains. Suffice to say, we are truly a Band of Brothers and Sisters.

I cannot say exactly when I began to feel a closeness to General O’Neill. I know at first he didn’t want me on his team. I was kind of thrust upon him. I was a military officer and a scientist, a PhD in Physics. He was OK with me being a woman and an officer. His problem with me was I am also a scientist. A group of people he normally despises for usually getting in the way of his mission. But I know now he comes to value me and my expertise above just about anyone else’s.

This has made for a great team but our feelings for each other have never really been expressed. That’s due to the fact that he is first and foremost my Commanding Officer. The Air Force has regulations against relationships within the Chain of Command. Relationships that may be intimate and sexual are inappropriate and simply not allowed.

I am the only member of the team who has not been asked to go fishing with him. It’s his passion. Not mine. And the restrictions allow me to gracefully bow out.

While I understand why those regulations are in place, it can also make for difficult times just being together but not being close enough together.

Over time I had developed relationships with several other men. All of them civilians. One of which was serious enough for the two of us to fall into what we had thought was love. I even accepted his marriage proposal, and we had begun wedding planning and house buying together.

But we soon realized we weren’t truly in love. Something else was in the way.

And that something else now has two stars on his shoulders. Was I waiting for something that would never come my way? The unattainable relationship with my boss?

I’ll call him Jack from now on here just to make it easier to write.

I think Jack has similar feelings for me. There have been indications he has some feelings for me. One of which got us into trouble with a race called the Tokra. Our true feelings were forced to the surface, however we managed to keep them secret to only a few trusted individuals.

He is a professional and masks his feelings well. I try to do the same. Masking my feelings for him the same as I believe he does for me.

I just wish we could say and do the things normal people do. But we can’t because of our positions in the military.

Over time I have to confess to my feelings evolving from teammate, to friendship, and now to love. Yes, I am in love with the man who is also my commander. But we have never so much as kissed.

We are both committed to our careers. Each of us has enough time in the service to retire. Jack retired once already and was called back to Active Duty to lead our team. Jack has enough Time in Grade that he could retire as a two star and perhaps come back to Stargate Command as it’s civilian commander. We’ve had a civilian commander before. I wish he would pull the trigger and retire, and we could express ourselves openly. Or I could retire and hope to come back as a civilian expert.

But the job has an allure all of its own. And it is powerful.

Our current mission is too classified to talk about specifically. What I can say is that it involves time travel using a device we found from an alien race of advanced beings, and we needed to use a Navy ship specifically designed for the mission.

I hate the thought of time travel. As a scientist I believes it opens a can of worms that can never be contained. The “Grandfather Paradox” is what it is usually called. This is when you go back in time. According to the theory, you meet your grandfather and a fight breaks out. You kill your grandfather. So how were you born to kill the person responsible for your life? Deep thinking required here. That is why I am dead set against time travel to the past.

Which brings us to the current mission. It was approved by an international team of experts, and we were chosen to execute it. Enough said.

On one of our missions off ship one of the women on the team had her hair in a style that is currently approved by the military. Her ponytail hung down her back. The team had boarded a sailing ship from the late 1500s. The team had the ship’s sailors lined up for inspection. She turned her back to one of the sailors and he reached out and grabbed her ponytail.

He yanked her so hard it sprained her neck. One of her teammates took care of the offender and that was the end of the excitement. The mission continued and everyone returned to our ship and the sailor just got a knot on his head. He was probably wondering how he got the injury after our team administered some amnesia gas to the crew.

We conducted what we call a Hot Wash afterward. This is a detailed analysis of the mission and what was done right or wrong and what could have done better. Honesty is essential.

As usual, Jack conducted the Hot Wash. But he was not on the mission itself. Neither was I. One of the Majors in the team led the mission.

Jack asked a few questions and Major Wilson spoke up. She knew what had happened and the video replay from the body cameras made it pretty clear what had happened. The only flaw in execution of the mission was when LT Evers turned her back on the sailor.

Even though it was just for a few seconds it was enough for the sailor, who was long deprived of female company, to be overcome by his desires and grab her hair.

We talked about the rest of the mission; no other flaws were uncovered. I asked Major Wilson to schedule an all hands for the women only for an hour from now. Major Wilson and the rest of her team left the briefing room.

Now it was just Jack and me in the wardroom/briefing room.

He looked at me and said, “Carter, what’s your take on this and should we do anything else?”

I knew what he was talking about. “Well sir, LT Evers was within regs on her hair. She just turned her back without making sure her wingman was covering her.”

“Yeah, I understand that, and it can happen anytime. We can do some training to help correct it. But I’m thinking we could get into this a few more times before we finally go home.”

“We are scheduled for at least six more months of mission activity. We are looking at lonely sailors and along comes our women. These guys have never seen women at sea, and it’s been months for most of them since they’ve seen a woman anywhere. Something like this could happen again. Should we be concerned, and if so, do you have any thoughts about what we ought to do about it?”

I knew where he was going. I had had similar thoughts myself since we got the initial mission debrief. I wasn’t sure I liked my options and the impact of those options.

“Sir, the women are all volunteers for the mission. They were hand selected from the best of the best.” I was stalling.

“Carter, I know that. But what options do we have to keep this from happening again?”

“Sir, our entire team consists of 21 women, including me. Plus, the 80 men.” “Go on.” He knew I was stalling.

“Well, we could do nothing.” “That’s one option, give me more.”

“We could have the women forget their ponytails and put their hair up under their helmets. Sort of like before the latest regs came out on hair. I think they would all accept that option.”

“That works for those with hair long enough to put into a knot inside the helmets. And I want them to know it has to be a tight knot. No loose hanging hairs.”

I knew he meant a bun, not a knot. I let it slide.

He pressed on. “But what about the women with shorter hair that is too short to be put into a knot? We have several women that their hair is already pretty short and wouldn’t need any more to be done. But the in-between hair length is going to present a problem for a few of them in that style. It would stick out from the edge of the helmet, and it could be grabbed by some over amorous sailor. Then we’d have another situation. I can’t have that.”

I knew exactly what he was getting at. I was one of those women with the in-between hair length.

My current style was a long layered style, just brushing my shoulders and it has worked well for me, plus I liked it. It moved and I thought it brought out my best features well. I am fairly tall at 5’9”, slender and naturally blond, with blue eyes. I could go for fairly long periods between salon visits and that worked well with my schedule too.

But there was no way I could ever get it tied up under my helmet. And I was avoiding the decision I knew I had to make.

“I agree, sir. As I see it, we have a couple of options. Since this is a volunteer mission, we could tell the women they could just stand down and leave their hair intact. But they could no longer participate in any of the off-ship missions.”

“I don’t think any of them are going to like that option. They are naturals at this kind of stuff. They want to be where the action is and being left behind on the ship while something is happening over the horizon isn’t that. We can present that option to them, but I don’t think we’ll have any takers.”

“I agree, sir. I know they’re naturals for this, but it’s an option. Second, we could ask them to get their hair cut into a style short enough to not stick outside the envelope of the helmet.”

I figured this would please him. Over the years I’ve known him, I believe Jack likes shorter hair on women. Even though he has said his favorite woman is Mary Steenburgen who has anything but short hair, I think he secretly likes short hair on women. His first wife had short hair as I had seen in several photos of her.

I have always resisted the option to cut mine. I always thought I looked too much like a guy.

I was one of the first women to go through Army Ranger selection. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had to get a buzz cut. I hated it because I thought it made me look too masculine. But I made it through selection, and I got my Ranger tab. I was very proud of that, but I still didn’t like the haircut. I grew it out immediately after selection.

Jack sat back in thought. “How many do you think we would lose if we gave them this ultimatum? Would they start throwing regs at us? I don’t want a mutiny here, but I also need mission success.”

“Sir, I think if it’s presented to them properly, we wouldn’t lose any of the women in question.”

I knew that my saying “presented to them properly” meant by example. My example.

Now I had a question.

“Sir, just how short is short enough?”

“Carter, I am going to allow some leeway here. But it has got to be short enough at the neck and sides that no hair can be grabbed by one of these lonely sailors.”

I muttered what I thought was under my breath, but he heard me. “I’m gonna look like a guy.”

“Sam, I’ve seen pictures of you coming out of Ranger selection. You did not look like a guy.” He was using his more personal form of speaking with me now.

Just where and how did he get pictures of me at Ranger selection? I thought that those pictures were few and far between. Did he go looking when he realized I had gone to Ranger training?

Jack continued. “Sam, you would look great with any short hair style. Hell, you would rock a flattop.”

Seriously? Was this some kind of a hint? I remained silent.

“But it’s your choice. You don’t have to do anything, and nobody will think any the less of you whatever you decide to do. You have a history that nobody else on this ship except Te’alc, Daniel and I have. It’s your call.”

He continued. “You are the leader of the women. They’ll do whatever you tell them they need to do. Go brief them and let me know how it goes.”

I walked out of the wardroom. My mind spinning. My all hands with the women was an hour from now.

What should I do? I already knew what I had to do, and it wasn’t sitting really well in my mind.

I had to set the example for all of the women on this mission. I had to cut my hair.

I kept coming back to what Jack had said. “You would rock a flattop.” What did that mean?

There are any number of short pixie type hair styles I could get. Why did he specifically mention a flattop? Was it just off the top of his head? Was he joking? Was he telling me of a preference he had or was he just saying he thought I would look good no matter what I did?

I was obsessing on what he said and looking for any indications of things he was inferring for me to do. Maybe I was looking for nothing.

In my wanderings around the ship, I realized I had stopped just outside the ship barbershop. Only 3 or 4 of the women on the team went here. And they all looked good.

Maybe.

I knocked on the door and walked inside. I knew his name was Mike and other than being a barber I had no idea what his job was when he wasn’t barbering.

“Hi Colonel. What can I do for you?”

“Hi Mike. I need a haircut if you have some time.”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Sit on down.” I sat in the only chair. It’s a small compartment on a ship. Everything on the ship is small.

“So, what are we doing today? A trim?”

My mouth had turned to cotton. I managed to croak out. “No, I need a short haircut. You might have heard of the problems we had on a recent mission.”

“Yeah, it’s all over the ship what happened to LT Evers. So, what did you have in mind?”

I looked around the compartment. He had the chair pointed at a poster of some haircuts. Men’s haircuts, flattop haircuts.

Was this coincidence? Was something pointing me in a direction I didn’t want to go? Was fate pushing me to go anyway?

“Do you do many of those haircuts on that poster?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. We do short haircuts every day.”

“Do you do those flattop haircuts?” Again, I was stalling. Hoping for some kind of divine intervention.

“Every day, ma’am.” Mike was looking a bit confused. He thought I was making small talk. I had to set him straight.

I made up my mind in an instant. I was going to call Jack’s bluff. I was going to get a flattop and if I looked like a guy, at least it would only be for a short while until it grew out. I would have 5 or 6 more months at sea to let it grow into something more feminine. And I would be within the new mission parameters while it grew out.

“Can you give me one of the flattops?”

I looked at the poster more closely.

“What about the 2^nd one from the left?” I had selected what I thought was a pretty standard style. It wasn’t one of the shortest, but far from a long one either.

Mike looked a bit shocked. He recovered quickly and looked at me and spoke. “Ma’am, that’s a pretty short haircut. I could cut it a little longer than that and it would still be a flattop.”

I knew he was trying to lessen the emotional pain he thought I might feel if it came out looking terrible. But I also felt I needed to show the women on the team I had the resolve to ensure our mission came first.

“Thanks Mike, but I think that’s the one I want.” I couldn’t believe I was saying these words as easily as they sounded. Inside I was a nervous wreck.

He wasted no time. “OK ma’am. Let’s get you started.” And he went to work.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a clean cape. It fluttered open and he artfully spread it over my upper body. It was a huge cape. Nothing like I had ever found in a salon. My mind went back to Ranger selection. The cape seemed to be the same. And my heart was beating at about the same rate – 180 beats a minute.

Then he pulled a strip of tissue from a dispenser and wrapped it snugly around my neck. He pulled the small hairs from under the tissue and buttoned the cape over the tissue.

He looked at me again. “One number two flattop. The one with the short sides and landing strip. Is that right ma’am?”

I was now confused. What was a landing strip? I felt I had to show some decisiveness, even though I didn’t have a clue of what I was getting into. “Yes, go ahead.”

As I said, the compartment was small. Just big enough for me, and Mike and a chair. There was a mirror, but it was behind me. I was still facing the poster of my pending haircut.

I could hear him picking up his clippers and selecting an attachment. Turning the clippers on I heard a whirring sound, and he came to my right side.

He pumped the chair up a few inches, so I was now even with him.

I felt a comb going into my hair in front of my ear, lifting it up. Then he pushed his clippers beneath the hair and started them up.

I suddenly realized things had happened so fast I never got a chance to run my fingers through my hair while I was wandering around the ship. When I brushed my hair earlier today it was my last chance to feel it. Too late now, I never got a chance to say goodbye to my hair.

This was it. There was no turning back. Once this pass was done my only other option was a buzz cut or a shave. Better to stick with the flattop.

Hair fell from the clippers onto the cape. My hair fell and it was 8 to 10 inches long and it was no longer mine.

Giving me no chance to think about what was happening, Mike began the next pass and another and another. He was working at warp speed. He pushed my head down and made a few passes in the back. The only thing I could do was to look at the remnants of what had been my hair on the cape.

Finished in the back he readjusted my head and started into the left side. I had hair on the cape from right and left. The hair from the back had fallen to the floor.

The clippers fell silent.

Suddenly, he released something on the chair, and it dropped down. My head was well below his own. He was about to start the top.

Mike picked up a water bottle. He sprayed my hair getting it pretty wet. He then grabbed a pair of scissors and began slicing my hair down to size. I had expected he was going to use his clippers the whole time. So, this was a bit of a surprise.

Ten inches or longer pieces of wet hair now rained down. Mike was moving at a feverish clip. I could only hope this would turn out to be a decent haircut.

Mike stopped cutting. He picked up a blow dryer and quickly dried my hair.

I thought, “This can’t be done already, could it?” It wasn’t.

He turned to his shelf of supplies, and I heard him open a jar. He then came at me, and I now understood what was happening. He had put some wax in his hands and now was putting the wax in my hair.

I could feel how sticky this was, and it was very sticky. But other than that, I had no clue as to what was going on.

Suddenly, he released a lock on the chair and turned me towards the mirror.

I was horrified at the reflection. Of me. I looked like an urchin from a Dickens novel. My hair stuck out at all angles and hid the damage to the sides. Until I looked closely.

Mike saw my face. “Don’t worry ma’am. We’re a long way from being done.”

Locking the chair again, Mike picked up a brush and came at my hair to get it to stand up as straight as he could. The top was probably 5 or even 6 inches long at this point. Satisfied my hair was standing up, he picked up his clippers again. Taking whatever attachment had been on them off he selected another and fired his clippers up again.

But before he used them, he grabbed another comb. It was more of a paddle than a comb. This was a huge device with long teeth.

“Look straight ahead ma’am. I need this to come out right.”

Luckily, the seas were calm. Mike could work without worrying about the ship moving.

He stood behind me so I could focus on the image in the mirror. He slid it into my hair leaving 3 or 4 inches above the teeth. Then he passed his clippers across the comb cutting the hair down.

My hair fell like little trees because of the wax. Some of them rained down onto my nose. He made another pass and more trees fell. Then a third pass.

He pulled the comb back. I could now see the outlines of my new flattop. It wasn’t even close to being done, but I could see where it was going and why it’s called a flattop.

He readjusted his comb and slid it again into my hair. More trees rained down until it was all about the same 2 or 3 inches long.

He re-inserted his comb into the hair again. This time about an inch of hair protruded from the tines. Tiny trees of hair fell this time. He re-inserted his comb several more times getting all of my hair to a level plane.

I thought he might have been finished. But he went to his shelf and grabbed his brush again.

Coming at my hair again he brushed it all back from my face and up. Getting it all to stand up again.

I realized he was just ensuring things were all straight up. Not the same length, but straight up.

His comb was inserted into my hair again. About an inch of hair was above the tines and I realized he was making this haircut very short indeed.

Tiny trees of waxy hair fell. I could feel his comb directly on the crown of my head. I knew now this was going to be almost as short as my Ranger haircut.

But that buzz cut had no style. The flattop had style.

Using the comb, he ensured the sides were a vertical wall of hair.

He finished with his comb. My hair stood straight up, and it was very short.

His brush came back and ensured my hair was straight up.

Now he was using his clippers alone. No comb at all.

I could feel the clippers grazing the top of my skull. The hair got longer as it got to the front. But longer is a relative thing. I don’t think my bangs were even three quarters of an inch long. And they used to come to the middle of my eyes,

I thought he was done. He wasn’t.

He went back to his box of attachments and selected one and slid it onto his clippers. Coming to my right side again I could see tiny bits of hair roll into little blond balls and roll down the cape as he pushed his clippers higher and higher up my head.

Mike did this all around my head.

He turned the chair away from the mirror and unbuttoned the cape. I thought, “Now we’re finished.” And again, I was wrong.

I heard a whirring from behind me and suddenly felt a warm lather being spread around my neck and then my ears. Mike picked up a razor and stropped it on the leather hanging from the chair.

He carefully removed the lather and what remnants of my hair remained.

Thinking he was finished he turned my back to the mirror to allow me to see my new self.

WOW. That is all I could think. Just WOW.

My hair was essentially gone. In its place was a woman staring unbelievingly at herself with the shortest flattest blond hair she could imagine.

But it looked great. It was a perfect flattop. Even I had to admit, Mike had done a great job. I would just have to get used to it.

Mike said, “Well, what do you think ma’am?” I raised my hands to feel my new haircut. It was not spiky on the top, just a uniform flat plane of hair. A very weird sensation, almost like touching a piece of toast. Hard and flat. When I looked down a little I could see the top.

A landing strip looked back at me. The top of my head was clearly visible. The sides and back felt strange as well until I got down to the parts where he had shaved it. Soft bristles down to smooth skin.

I liked the shaved feeling.

What came out of my mouth next, I will never understand. “It feels great, and I am shocked at how good I think I look. But can you shave it a bit higher on the sides and back?”

What did I just ask him to do? Seriously?

Mike immediately turned to his lather dispenser and grabbed a handful of lather and spread it higher up my head. My sides and the back were now completely covered in shaving foam.

Mike quickly removed the lather and hair. Wiped it clean and asked me what I thought.

“Mike, I can’t believe I am saying this. I really like this haircut.”

Then, surprising me to my core Mike said.

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying this. And please don’t think I’m out of line here. You really rock this look.” Just what I wanted to hear. But I wanted to hear it from another man.

Fingers crossed.

“Thanks Mike. What do I owe you?”

“This one is one the house Colonel. Just pay me for the wax.” I looked and saw a chart with costs of haircuts. Flattop was $15.

“I can’t do that Mike. Here’s a 20 and 10 for the wax. And thanks.”

I got up, stuffed the jar of wax into my pant pockets, and walked out the door.

I had called for a women’s all hands earlier. It was in 5 minutes in the helo hangar bay.

I was wearing my preparations for the all hands. It was all about the hair. What else was there?

As I walked into the hangar bay, all speaking ceased and someone yelled, “Atten hut!”

I walked to the center of the bay and called out, “As you were.” I could feel the eyes of 20 women on me. On my hair. Or whatever was left of it.

I could tell they were stunned. I then proceeded to tell them of the options General O’Neill and I had developed. I told them they had 24 hours to decide what they wanted to do and that I was available for individual discussion at any time.

I dismissed the group and went looking for the General.

What is it about ships that scuttlebutt seems to travel faster than the speed of light? I found him walking towards me in the companionway.

“My wardroom. Now.” He turned and walked away. Nothing else, just a command to be in his office immediately. I followed.

As we walked into the compartment he closed the door. I was afraid he was going to read me the Riot Act or something.

I was standing at attention.

“Carter, at ease. You’re not in trouble. Far from it.” He sat and motioned for me to sit as well.

“I just wanted you to be the first to know. I’ve made a decision. I will be putting my retirement papers in as soon as we get back.”

What? He had never even hinted at retirement in the past. I was stunned.

Was it something I had done? It was, but it took a couple of minutes to come out.

“Sir, this is a shock. Why?”

“Several reasons Carter. One, I just don’t have the burning desire to send people out where I can’t go anymore. Two, I’ve been offered the civilian command of Stargate if I retire, and I have decided to accept it.”

“This is kind of sudden, sir. Why now?”

“Sam, over the years we have become friends. Close friends. A person who I feel very emotionally close with. I hope I had seen the same feelings from you. But as you know we can’t act on those feelings in the current situation. I was hoping by removing that restriction, we could move on those emotions and see if there is anything more that we can explore.”

He looked like a hopeful puppy.

I relaxed for the first time all day. I smiled back at him.

“I would love to help you explore those emotions, sir. What caused the change of heart and why now?”

“Sam, I was really hoping you might have picked up on certain things I said earlier today. I think you have. I know I have tried hard to keep my emotions hidden. I was searching for confirmation from you that you might feel the same way I feel. The minute I heard about your new look and then seeing you in the companionway confirmed it. Sam, I think I love you, and I am tired of hiding it. Retiring gives us the chance to see if there’s something more permanent.”

OMG. He feels the same way I do. I jumped out of the chair; he stood up and we rushed together like teenagers. Kissing like long lost fools we became lost in the wardroom.

A while later, we knew we had to get back to mission planning. Ordinarily, I would have had to fix my hair. It would have been a mess. Jack had been at it since we first kissed.

I automatically reached up to try and get it into some sense of order. Now that wasn’t a problem. Barely a hair was out of place. Mike had done a yeoman’s job. Maybe that was his Navy rating anyway. I still don’t know.

The mission lasted 8 more months. Two months longer than planned, but we accomplished every goal that had been set out for us almost a year ago. We left several women behind on shore as educators. We would just have to see what changes we had made when we got back to the 21^st century.

I never did grow my hair out. I go back to see Mike every three weeks for a trim. Jack loves the shaved sides and back and we try to be discrete about meeting for mission planning. No more time than normal. But still time to be together.

Of the 20 women on the team all but five of them decided to copy me or get very short haircuts. Talk about setting the example! Those five all have long hair and claimed they couldn’t bear parting with it. I understood completely. I was just surprised at the 12 who got flattops after I did.

One thing that had changed was the restrictions the military had for relationships. Someone had decided that women were warriors the same as men. That put them together with guys that became more than their superior officers. So, they eliminated the restriction.

That meant Jack did not need to retire in order to lead Stargate Command with me as his partner.

We became open with our relationship. It blossomed and was short lived before we announced our wedding plans. We already knew each other better than most couples.

My hair will remain in the flattop style. Jack likes to help me keep it looking good by assisting in shaving the sides and back each day. I still need to head to a barbershop every three weeks to keep the top looking good.

Now I need to learn how to fish.

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