Darker Side of Paradise: Part Two

Carter was out on the porch, leaning against the railing with a beer in her hand, making some comment to Janet.

Jack paused at the bench, potato salad (thoughtfully provided by the Doc) temporarily forgotten.

He took the opportunity to study her face, seeing the hollows under her cheekbones and the faint outline of dark circles under her eyes. She might have lost weight – and she was no heavyweight to begin with – but it was hard to tell. Jack had never been one to notice the little details, and he’d gotten into no end of trouble with long-ago girlfriends and Sara.

She seemed relaxed enough now, off-duty, and in the company of good friends. He teased her about her workaholism, but it wasn’t really workaholism – just enjoyment of what she did. And, to some extent, he understood why she didn’t want to ‘relax’ or ‘take up a hobby’. What she did in her job gave her the kind of pleasure Jack got from a day when nobody was counting on him to save the world.

Which was both enviable and a little sad.

It made these little moments of Sam Carter unguarded very precious to him.

“It’s good to see her smiling again.”

Jack turned on his newest team member, never mind the faint warmth he felt at the idea that Carter might have missed him. Irritability was usually the flavour of the day with Jonas, and today was no different. “Do you mind not sneaking up like that?”

Jonas held up both hands, “Sorry, Colonel.” He came to stand at the bench beside Jack. “The last month has been very stressful for Sam.”

Now, see, that was the very first way to get Jack’s goat. Calling Carter ‘Sam’. Of course, it was her name, but the point was that Jack wasn’t allowed to use it, so why should Jonas?

But he wasn’t going to get into that. At least, not now.

If Jonas knew what was good for him, then he would have stopped the conversation there and moved on.

He didn’t.

Or he wouldn’t.

Jack couldn’t tell the difference and didn’t feel like working it out.

“I think she missed you.” Yep. That was Jonas. Winner of the ‘I Don’t Know When To Stop This Conversation’ award. Even Daniel had known better than to push the matter of Jack’s relationship (or non-relationship) with Carter.

“Yeah, well...she’s a sucker for someone to order her around.” He hadn’t meant it to sound snide, but it came out that way and Jack cursed himself.

If Jonas noted the snipe, he didn’t comment on it. “Actually, Colonel, I think it’s safe to say that Sam did most of the ordering around in your absence. I don’t think it was being commanded that she was missing.” The inflection of Jonas’ voice made it clear without actually spelling it out that Sam had missed him and the peculiar place he occupied in her life.

And, yes, Jack had missed her and the unusual place she occupied in his life. I

n some ways, he mused, it would have been easier if this had been standard romantic warm-and-fuzzy feelings. But the regulations made some things simpler, all the while complicating other things out of measure. And the somewhat unorthodox state of non-relationship between Colonel Jack O’Neill and his 2IC, Major Samantha Carter, was, in the simplest of terms, ‘complicated’.

“I heard some of the scientists were giving her flak about keeping up the search for me.” Teal’c’s main concern had been Carter; Jonas’ view of the situation might be slightly different.

“Several of them were,” Jonas told him. “They packed up and came home before she gave them permission to return. Isn’t that insubordination? Sam was in charge of the rescue effort...”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “That classifies as insubordination. Did they apologise?”

“Yeah.” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Jonas’ voice. “General Hammond talked to them. They were told that if they’d disagreed with Sam’s opinion then they should have brought it to him, not taken matters into their own hands.”

“Good.” Couldn’t have the geeks getting ideas that they could run the show.

“Yeah. But I don’t think things are quite back to normal yet. Sam’s been spending a lot of time catching up on her reports and experiments rather than working with the scientists, so she hasn’t seen them a lot. And they’re still a bit resentful that General Hammond...uh...chewed them out.”

Jack made a mental note to find out which scientists had given Carter flak and keep track of things there. Carter could manage them on her own – and doubtless had while he was away - but it wouldn’t hurt to let them know he wasn’t happy about their treatment of her in his absence. Little things that could make a big difference when it came to people picking on others.

Then he realised that Carter and the Doc had noticed the lack of actual things happening inside the house and were staring at them quizzically. He gave them a quick smile and handed the potato salad to Jonas. “Take it out to the table and I’ll get the green salad.”

“Yes, sir.” Jonas gave a little salute, and took the bowl out to the balcony where it was greeted with interest by the two women. Jack grimaced at the salute. Ever since that thing with the alien generator that showed the bugs wandering around, Jonas had been in a ‘military’ frame of mind – practising salutes and addressing people as ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’. Apparently Carter had encouraged him.

She was so in trouble for that.

He’d have to mention that later – when they had that talk that he was intending to have with her.

Of course, the whole thing with the talk was...tricky. Exactly what he was going to say and how he was going to say it was still unknown. How to make it clear that he’d missed her without making it too personal. How to make sure she didn’t leave just to preserve appearances when the last guest did.

As he got the salad out of the fridge, he shook his head. She was rubbing off on him – he was thinking far too hard about this. Jack was a man of action – always had been. No need to complicate things, they were usually already complex enough.

It’d be awkward enough when it came around and thinking it over would just make things worse.

So he brought the salad out, rescued the hot dogs from Teal’c’s over-enthusiastic barbecuing, and settled everyone down to lunch.

“So, Colonel,” Janet said brightly, “According to Colonel Maybourne, you should be all fished out.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘all fished out’,” Jack defended as he squeezed mustard onto his ‘dog. “You might not be in the mood for it some days, but you never get ‘fished out’.” He offered the mustard to Carter, sitting next to him, who waved a hand in refusal.

“I’ll have it, Colonel,” Jonas said from the other side of Carter. “Thanks. So how did the fishing in ‘Paradise’ compare with the fishing up in Minnesota?”

Jack grimaced, “I’ll take Minnesota any day. At least I wouldn’t be looking over my shoulder wondering what crazy thing Maybourne was gonna do next.” He frowned, “Speaking of which, have we checked back on him yet?”

“Colonel Maybourne is adjusting well to his new situation,” Teal’c announced with a hint of smug satisfaction. “I believe the prospect of honest work is daunting for him, but the villagers report that he is a hard worker – and great entertainment to the children.”

Jack nearly spat his ‘dog out across the table. As it was, he choked. Carter offered him a paper napkin to wipe his mouth where the food had threatened to emerge. “Entertainment? Maybourne?” He grabbed the napkin with a mumbled thanks and dabbed at his mouth.

“According to Paynan, he’s been telling the children stories,” Carter said, a note of amusement in her voice. “Stargate stories.”

“Oh God. Let me guess, the hero is a guy called ‘Harry’?”

“Uh-huh. And his sidekick, ‘Jack’.” She twinkled at him and he rolled his eyes. Trust Harry to end up managing to avoid real work, even on Edora.

That had been an absolute stroke of brilliance, too. Edora had a research station on it, so it was manned by the SGC. The locals knew about the Goa’uld, but the Goa’uld hadn’t been there in years. There were almost no weapons and the few that were kept there were non-lethal; tranquilliser guns and the like, and the Stargate was watched every hour of the day

It wasn’t the paradise Harry had envisioned, of that Jack was sure. But he’d figured it wouldn’t do the little rat harm to put some work into a good cause. Give him a taste of elbow grease and humble living.

“Always wanted to be a sidekick.”

“Perhaps if you are nice to me, I shall permit you to be my sidekick, O’Neill.” Not even the faintest of grins cracked the dark, inscrutable face.

Jack shook his head. “Your jokes are getting worse, T-man.”

“Or your appreciation of them is diminishing.”

Out of respect for Teal’c’s feelings – hey, just because the big guy didn’t show emotion didn’t mean he couldn’t be hurt, same as everyone else – Jack didn’t say that his appreciation of Teal’c’s jokes had never been all that great in the first place. It was no slur on Teal’c, Jack just didn’t appreciate his friend’s sense of humour.

“Boys,” Janet said, her voice syrupy and pointed. “Am I going to have to send you to your rooms?”

Teal’c smiled slightly as he inclined his head at the Doc, and Jack grinned. “Aw, Mom...”

The conversation then flitted around Cassie and what she was doing with herself these days.

“Between an afternoon with her friends and an afternoon with old fogies, there wasn’t much competition,” Janet said with a sigh.

“Even an old fogey she hasn’t seen in over a month?” Jack asked, just a little peeved at Cassie’s desertion.

“Even one of her favourite people, Colonel.”

That made him feel a little better. He was someone’s favourite person, anyway.

“She said she might come by if they finished early, but I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Janet continued. “Most nights she’s home before curfew, and the nights she isn’t, well...it’s all fun and games until we start shouting.” She grimaced. “Is bringing up a teenager always this difficult?”

It was a rhetorical question since nobody at the table had actually managed to bring one up. The closest match was Teal’c with Rya’c – but Rya’c had grown from boy to man without his father’s presence in his life.

And Charlie had never grown up at all.

Beside him, he felt Carter freeze before Jonas and Janet picked up the threads of the conversation. Jack listened with half an ear to their talk, absently feeling a dull ache in his chest.

It wasn’t something he felt all the time anymore, especially since Jack didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. There weren’t a lot of things that reminded him of Charlie anymore, that part of his life was over and done. Those things that did inspire memories of his son were overlaid with other memories now – memories of his team-mates and friends.

Seven years ago, if anyone had told him that the loss of his son would fade with time, he’d have hauled them up and punched them one.

Even if they were right.

The memory of that day was still his worst. However, time and other things to do and think about had given him distance from the memory and the pain. The wound had scabbed over, and if he picked at it, it still hurt like hell, but the pain was no longer a bleeding wound. It had even shrunk over time, although the edges were scarred and always would be.

He did wonder what might have been. He couldn’t help wondering about the man Charlie would have become. Young and spirited like Cassie? Proud and hero-worshipping his father like Rya’c? Moody and rebellious like the teens he saw hanging out in the malls?

He didn’t know and he never would.

That was life.

Sometimes you were given chocolate-chip cookies, and sometimes they crumbled before you ever got a decent bite.

It didn’t mean you didn’t remember the taste of the crumbs.

“...mentioned something about a new contact between the SGC and the NID.” Jonas’ words interrupted his thoughts and made him glance up.

“I didn’t know we had an old contact,” Jack remarked, entering the conversation.

“Well, that is a point,” Jonas conceded. “But apparently they feel that there’s need of one now.”

“Major Davis acts as a liaison between the SGC and the Pentagon,” Teal’c noted.

“Yeah, but Davis also liaises with the Joint Chiefs,” Jack said. “He’s a political player.”

“Apparently, this liaison is something of a political decision, too,” Jonas said, slowly peeling a banana. “After the fall of the NID consortium, the President wants the NID and the SGC to work together.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, can really see that happening.” “You don’t think it’s about time we started working together?” Janet asked. She seemed more curious than antagonistic, but then the NID and their machinations were fairly distant to her and her work in the infirmary.

“Six years of petty power-mongering is going to be harder to fix than merely appointing a liaison,” Carter pointed out mildly. She glanced at him, and he guessed that she was thinking of the officers of the NID who had interfered with the running of the SGC – Colonels Kennedy, Maybourne, and Simmons.

“And the thing about Major Davis is that he’s background military,” Jack added. “He understands how things work in the SGC.” That was one thing that he could count on in the end. Unlike many of the NID officers who were given appropriate rank to deal with the military authorities, Davis had the background and understood the importance of things like a chain of command and autonomy of jurisdiction. Oh, sure, the Pentagon and the Joint Chiefs could be the same kind of interfering bastards as the NID usually were. The difference was that the NID didn’t bother to be polite about it.

“They will appoint someone who they feel is suited to deal with the task,” Teal’c said in his slow, measured way. “Let us hope that it is someone who is indeed suited to the SGC.”

“And I say ‘Amen’ to that,” the Doc declared as she waved her wineglass in Jack’s direction. “Colonel, a little more of the Merlot, please?”

Jack took the glass and poured the Doc her Merlot. “So what exactly is this liaison gonna be doing?”

“Liaising, perhaps?”

He pulled her glass back. “I was thinking of the specifics.”

“I think he’s supposed to work that out with General Hammond,” Carter said. “They were very annoyed with us after the Steveston ship incident, and the revelation of the consortium’s continued existence was an unwelcome shock to them.” Her expression grew slightly smug. “It appears that a few members of the Senatorial Committee for Investigations were impressed by our ability to discover the NID’s secrets and suggested that the NID could take a couple of pages from our books.”

Jack whistled, “That must have hurt.”

“Oh, I think it did,” Carter said, her own expression sweet and deadly as she grinned at him. “But one of the Senators – the one from Minnesota, actually – suggested that if the NID were so slow in realising what was going on in their own organisation, maybe they should study the workings of the SGC.”

“Not that our record is always the best,” Janet pointed out primly. “We do encounter a lot of uncertain situations...”

“But when we mess up, we clean up after ourselves,” Jack countered.

“Unlike a lot of politicians,” Carter added.

“Senator Kinsey’s solution to encountering uncertainty is insufficient to containing the full magnitude of what the Goa’uld could bring to bear against us, particularly in the case of the System Lord Anubis.”

“Have we heard anything about Anubis since he got a lock on our gate with the other Stargate?” Jack glanced at Carter, who was usually full of the news from the Tok’ra.

Surprisingly, it was Jonas who answered. “The last news we got from the Tok’ra was that Anubis was spotted in some far sector of the galaxy by a Tok’ra operative who was on...a System Lord’s ship. The operative had no idea why Anubis was out there, but by the time any form of probe expedition could be mounted, Anubis was gone from the sector.”

Jack noted the slightest of hesitations before the mention of the System Lord. “Which System Lord?”

“Oh... one of them.” Jonas was very bad at dissembling.

“Which one?”

“It was Baal, Sir,” Carter said. From the tone of her voice, it was clear she was irritated by his insistence on knowing.

“All you had to do was say it, Jonas,” he said, leaning forward to look at the Kelownan.

Jonas licked his lips and glanced nervously at Carter, and there was no doubt as to who had laid down the rule about not mentioning that System Lord.

Jack was suddenly angry. Furious.

He was irritated by her attempt to shield him from the details. It wasn’t like he was going to become a gibbering wreck at the merest mention of his one-time tormentor.

That irritation drove him to his feet to start tidying up the table. “Ice-cream anyone?”

Jonas, of course, was enthusiastic.

The Doc and Teal’c seemed pleased but not over-eager.

Carter stood up to help stack the plates.

He pushed her back to the seat. “I can handle it.”

But he didn’t say anything when Janet started helping him with the plates – too many and too bulky for him to manage alone.

Teal’c began an inquiry into another project on which Jonas was working, and Jonas answered with the kind of desperation which people give to an uncomfortable silence.

The source of the uncomfortable silence was sitting right next to Jonas.

In the end, Jack supposed they didn’t really need words to hurt each other. They knew each other’s nuances well enough for a look or a gesture to wound. That made things...difficult.

And the fact that they were technically not supposed to know each other quite so well only made it more complicated.

If Jack had been a less stubborn man, he probably would have given up a long time ago. Retired from the SGC and gotten away from her, given in to the occasional urges to shut up her babbling with a kiss and just let things go on from there, gone back to Edora and a woman who didn’t ask more of him than he was willing to give, admitted his feelings weren’t quite above-board when it came to her and arranged for himself to be transferred...

Unfortunately for both of them, they were willing to stay and try to warm their fingers by the fire – and risk being burned for their pains.

Jack was being slowly singed beyond what he could endure.

He wasn’t even sure if it was personal for her anymore.

There was a time when it had been personal for her – of that he was sure. But lately...lately he didn’t think it was. There were always other explanations, other reasons for her actions. What was between them wasn’t the distance that existed after the incident with the electrical entity – both of them pulling back from a hole that yawned frighteningly at their feet – but it wasn’t the flirtatiousness he remembered from before everything got messy.

It was nice – and a damn sight better than being strangers, but...

But.

Once in the kitchen, Jack began scraping off the plates and filling the dishwasher. And he pondered the complexity of the relationship between him and his 2IC.

What was between them now was more like friendship than...than anything really personal. And even friendship was more than they were supposed to have as officers in a chain of command.

There were always going to be dangers in mixed-sex military – or enforcement personnel – teams regarding the dynamics of attraction and interaction. That had been obvious from the time the matter of women in active combat units had come up in the Academy over twenty-five years ago.

A man saw a woman as an ideal as much as a person. Thirty years of ‘women’s lib’ couldn’t overcome thousands of years of training, and some constraints were too strong to break – or the social conventions surrounding them were too strong to break. And a woman on the team could be a maker or a breaker – Jack had seen it happen before.

But there was nothing conventional about SG-1 – and he’d had to accustom himself to that. He remembered the envy he’d briefly felt for Kawalsky, commanding a more conventional team of all-male soldiers – until he realised that he’d been entrusted with something very delicate. Until he realised that his superiors – Hammond and the people above him – had handed him a challenge wrapped up in the guise of a command and sent him out to make war on an alien race with a woman, a geek, and an alien.

The commander of a unit as varied as SG-1 required flexibility, adjustment, and humility. Jack thought he’d managed it pretty well.

But he hadn’t seen the fastball of Sam Carter coming at him until it hit him in the face.

Hammond ran an unconventional base. Jack led an unconventional team. He still wasn’t sure how much of what went on in the SGC was really known to the Generals who led the Air Force, although he figured General Ryan had possessed a pretty good idea – at least until he retired last year.

Ultimately, in the SGC, as in all military facilities, the first law held: what worked, stayed.

And SG-1, against the laws of experience, the theories of gender politics, and the hopes of their detractors, worked.

If Hammond ever worried about Jack’s feelings for Carter – feelings that the older man knew about – he never gave away even the slightest hint. Not to Jack. Hammond trusted him to keep everything under control and Jack had apparently succeeded – at least so far.

But there was no training to deal with this. No counselling they could give him for this kind of issue. It was toe the line or be kicked out.

Sometimes it filled him with frustration. How were you supposed to serve in an organisation that threw you into this kind of situation and then didn’t provide any kind of support? What were you supposed to do when they expected you to handle something for which no training had been developed? And how did you level the blindly-turned gazes of people you trusted to keep you in line with the kind of paranoia about personal relationships in a professional setting that Jack had seen everywhere else that the US Air Force operated?

It didn’t make any sense that he could perceive.

His thoughts were interrupted as footsteps clattered at the door of the kitchen and Jack heaved a sigh. It was probably Carter, come to quietly ask if she could help with anything. And he’d have to be polite instead of yelling at her for trying to ‘protect’ him. Or kissing her for the same.

“You’re not making things easy for her,” came Janet’s crisp tones as she stepped around him and deposited the plates on the counter space beside him.

Now she sounded even more like a mother scolding him. It made him defensive, as if he’d been caught stealing and was trying to justify his reasons.

“Carter doesn’t expect things to be easy,” he replied coolly, scraping off another plate – why the hell did Jonas use so much mustard?

“No,” Janet agreed, refusing to flee from the kitchen and leave a grumpy Colonel to his own thoughts. “She doesn’t. And I’d get my ass kicked from here to DC if she knew I mentioned anything.”

A glance showed that she wanted to say more, but she snapped her lips shut around it. “Do you need any help cleaning the grill or the salad bowl?”

“No,” he said, waving her away, relieved that she wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. He wasn’t comfortable with any kind of interest the Doc took in the relationship between him and Carter. He wasn’t comfortable with any kind of interest anyone took in the relationship between him and Carter. “You can get some bowls out, though.” He indicated the shelving. “Jonas and Teal’c would probably be happy enough to eat from the cartons, but I suspect that you and Carter might be a bit more finicky.”

“You’d be right about that,” she admitted, crouching down and counting out bowls. “Ben and Jerry’s?”

“Butter Pecan and Cherry Garcia,” Jack answered. “Teal’c’s favourites.”

“Any frozen yoghurt...?”

“Nope,” he answered promptly. “Teal’c and Jonas brought them, so blame them. Not that I’d have gotten frozen yoghurt anyway... What’s the point of eating frozen yoghurt when you could have ice cream?”

“Maybe the low-fat part, Colonel?”

“Neither you, nor Carter will ever achieve even the clothing size of the average American women, Doc. I don’t think either of you have anything to fear.”

She snorted, and opened the freezer to get the ice-cream cartons out. “Leave the dishes for later, Colonel. Come and talk.”

He hesitated, still angry with Carter – and the others - for trying to ‘protect’ him. He’d seen and endured worse things than they could dream of, back when they were still in junior high.

“You know, Colonel, sometimes I really find myself asking why your team bothers.” The Doc’s voice was tight and fast as she gathered the bowls up. And with brisk, no-nonsense footsteps, she coolly walked out of the kitchen, leaving the ice-cream cartons condensating on the counter top.

She only asks herself sometimes?

Jack asked himself why his team-mates bothered all the time.

The ice-cream was melting. And if he didn’t take it out there, someone would have to come in and get it.

They would probably send Carter.

If she came in here, he’d snap at her for trying to protect him when he didn’t need it. And she’d either take it, silent and uncomfortable, or she’d snap back.

And things would just get messier from there.

He took the ice-cream out to the gang.

Jonas greeted the ice-cream with his customary enthusiasm, Teal’c served Carter and Janet their portions, then offered the Cherry Garcia to Jack who refused as he sat down uneasily onto the bench next to Carter. He’d go the Butter Pecan for his woes.

There was definitely something to be said for ice-cream, he decided as they all sat silently eating the dessert. It wasn’t considered necessary to fill the silence, so they let it rest, just content to sit in the afternoon sun.

He had tomorrow off, and then it would be time to go back to work.

Aw, hell. He hadn’t finished his previous reports before Harry trapped him away on that moon. They were probably still sitting in his inbox – he hadn’t checked.

“Did anyone happen to do my paperwork while I was away?”

His three team-mates regarded him with looks that quite clearly said, ‘You wish!’ Hey, a man could hope, couldn’t he?

“I believe that, under these circumstances, General Hammond will be willing to accept a lower standard of report from you than he might usually require, O’Neill.”

“Great.” Jack said, “That’s one less thing I have to worry about anyway.” He kept his tone of voice light – she was not quite forgiven, but he wanted to talk to her later. Privately. Without the rest of his team and the Doc sitting there and watching them.

Later.

In the meantime, he would have to make some kind of amends.

So he offered her some Butter Pecan.

She hesitated.

“Just a spoon, Carter.”

He made his tone of voice encouraging as she glanced from the spoon of caramel-veined cream to his face. The offering was a conciliatory gesture, and after a moment, she took it. “Thank you, sir.”

The argument would happen eventually - Jack still wasn’t happy that she felt the need to keep him ‘insulated’ against anything she thought might tip him over the edge regarding Baal - but he’d take that up with her later.

‘Later’ turned out to be after the ice-cream was all gone, after several rounds of ‘Gran Turismo’ between himself, Teal’c, and Jonas, and after Janet got a call from Cassie saying that she was home and the kitchen tap was leaking again. He had a quick chat with Cassie over the phone before she ‘had to go’ since her cell phone was ringing and it was a guy she liked.

Jack shook his head as he hung up the phone and waved the Doc out of the house. If there’d been cell phones back in the days when he was that age, he’d have been the guy on the other end of the phone, looking to sweet-talk the girl he’d called.

As it was, his father’s car and the local ice-cream parlour had done him better than okay.

When he hung up, Teal’c and Carter were playing ‘Gran Turismo’ – and Carter was whipping Teal’c’s butt.

He had no idea where she’d learned to play PlayStation so adeptly, but she was working it as if she’d been born with the controllers in her hands.

Jack shook his head in amazement. Would wonders never cease?

He sat himself down in a chair and watched them play, paying more attention to the players – well, to Carter – than to the game itself. Her hair curled around her face a little as she manipulated the controllers, grinning broadly as she outmaneuevred Teal’c with insolent ease.

“You’ve had practise at this, haven’t you, Carter?”

“My brother has one of these,” she said. “I learned to play against my nephew, Josh.” She neatly rounded a corner, the view in her ‘screen’ tilting as the virtual car lost traction on one side of the road. “He was kicking me up one side of the track and down the other. I mostly learned out of self-defence for my pride.” Her smile flashed brilliantly as she drove through the tunnel, dodging the other cars as she overtook them.

Teal’c patiently maneuevred his car around the final bends as Carter dropped the controller in her lap, quite happily having won the race. “Very good, Major Carter. You have not been practising?”

Her shoulders sagged a little. “When have I had time to practise, Teal’c?” She was sitting on the rug in front of the couch, Teal’c was on the couch. So she didn’t see Teal’c’s head turn towards Jack and regard him steadily.

The Jaffa didn’t need to say a single thing, but Jack could hear him in his head without any trouble at all.

I believe this is your cue to express your gratitude to Major Carter.

“Jonas Quinn,” Teal’c announced to the man standing over by the bookshelf flipping through one of Jack’s books – it looked like one on military strategy. “It is time for us to leave.”

Jonas glanced up, looked from Teal’c to Jack to Carter and nodded. “Right. Uh, Colonel, could I borrow this book?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I guess. As long as you bring it back.”

Jonas tendered his assurances as Carter leaned over and switched off the PlayStation, blanking the TV screen. She was getting up as Teal’c and Jonas left the house, the old discomfort returning in her posture and her expression. “Maybe I should go, too...”

He carefully leaned against the door, blocking her way out. “And leave me with all the washing up?”

There was nothing quite like watching Sam Carter’s expression melt into a rueful smile. “Sending me on a guilt trip, sir?”

“Hey, at least you know you have a return ticket,” he cracked, not thinking about what he was saying.

Her expression snapped closed faster than a crocodile’s jaws and Jack cursed himself.

“I didn’t mean that...”Aw, hell... “Carter?” He stood in front of her, holding her gaze as best he knew how. “Thanks.” It wasn’t sarcasm, it was simple gratitude for what she’d done – all the energy she’d expended towards his return. All the value she placed on him – as old and crabby as he was.

She snorted and turned away. “For what, sir? For letting Maybourne get close enough to steal my zat? For not seeing what was right in front of me all that time? For being too fixated on the technology of the ruins to consider why Maybourne would be so willing to help us?”

Jack would have been willing to bet his next month’s pay that assorted people had already been through this with her. Carter held herself to such high standards – impossibly high in some cases. He took her shoulder, absently feeling the bone and muscle of the joint under his hand, impossibly warm through the soft knit of her top.

“Hey,” he said, “I thought I had dibs on self-flagellation.”

The ghost of a smile touched her face. “I should have...”

“You did fine,” he said. “Better than fine.” For a moment, he considered mitigating the compliment with the bits he knew she hadn’t done quite so well, then decided it could wait. “You always do fine, Carter.” He paused, then grinned. “Especially when it comes to helping clean up after a barbecue.”

That elicited a smile from her, even if it was obvious she was still feeling angry with herself for not coming up with the answer sooner. “That’s why you wanted me to stay, sir?”

“Can you think of any other reason?” Once again, his mouth tossed off the words without consulting his brain first. His brain slapped his mouth for being an idiot.

But her expression only eased into rueful acceptance. “Nice to know I’m appreciated for my ability to clean up.”

“Oh, I appreciate you for a whole lot more than that, Carter...”

Jack considered walking into the wall beside his kitchen entrance – maybe he could knock some sense into himself?

She didn’t seem offended – maybe a little surprised by his statement and the faint innuendo behind it, but not offended. Carter knew him well enough to know that his mouth didn’t always engage his brain’s functions in these matters. He hoped.

He began putting the last remnants of the food away as she surveyed the dishware in the dishwasher and the dishes still sitting on the bench. “Do you have any plates and dishes left after today, sir?” She asked dryly.

Jack glanced around. It did look like the contents of his kitchen were on the bench or in the dishwasher.

“I think I might have a couple somewhere...” He hadn’t bothered washing up after lunch yesterday, or after dinner last night or breakfast this morning. As a result, the dishwasher was full and there were still plates piled high on the bench. Hand-washing would be necessary.

She found the soap powder for the dishwasher, filled up the little cavity, and shut the dishwasher door. Then, with a faint frown on her features, she studied the range of buttons which would start the machine’s cycle if pressed in the correct order.

A few seconds later, she pressed two buttons, and the machine began humming. Then she started filling the sink with water for washing up. Jack reached around and turned the faucet off. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I’ll do it later.”

She turned the faucet back on. “It’s no bother.”

Except that it was, and in ways he didn’t really want to think about.

There was a domesticity about her presence in his kitchen, standing at the sink, washing the dishes of a meal they’d shared with others. Her bare hands slipped in and out of the water, bubbles sliding over reddened skin as she placed the soap-streaked items on the rack.

It was a contradiction of sorts, the mundane performed by a woman who he’d long ago come to understand was anything but mundane. Someone that shouldn’t be alone with him standing in his kitchen, less than a yard away, as she swirled the dishcloth over the glazed surface of the plate. Someone that he admired, respected, cared about...

There were feelings, but Jack always felt they were unimportant in the scheme of things. Feelings came and went – he certainly hadn’t always felt loving towards Sara in the years of their marriage – but he’d made a commitment to love his wife, and he’d held to that, and the loving feelings followed after.

He’d committed to Carter, to her as his 2IC and as part of his team, long before attraction, desire, caring or...the other.

His fingers scraped over the rim of a mug as he dried its insides. She placed the plate on the rack and slipped the next dirty dish into the water. It was pitiful, he decided, how he skirted around the edges of ever admitting he cared more about her than merely as a commander or a friend. ‘More than he was supposed to’ was about the sum of it – the closest thing he could manage to what he deliberately never thought of in association with her.

And he rarely thanked her for her miracles. Partly because it was her job, but partly because emotions didn’t come easy to him.

He felt he owed her some emotion. Some display of relief, gratitude, affection. Something more than he’d given this afternoon. Something private.

Gratitude was innocuous enough. Even if he couldn’t do the others too well, Jack was pretty sure he could do gratitude.

“Thanks for the rescue.”

“It wasn’t really a rescue...”

“Oh, I don’t know. Me, stranded on a moon with only Maybourne for company, getting paranoid about everything around me, longing for something decent to eat...” He turned to put the mug away. “I think that counts as a rescue.” He reached for the next item, “And you gave up a lot of your time looking for a solution...”

“It was nothing.” For a moment he felt dismissed, insignificant, before he looked beyond the screen of words and necessarily-stated intentions.

“That was a long month of ‘nothing’,” he noted gently. “And even if it was ‘nothing’, I’m still saying ‘Thanks’ because you deserve it.”

The pale exposed flesh of her nape coloured a little as she placed the next item on the rack to drip off its overload of water.

And Jack suddenly wanted to address what they never addressed. “Look, Teal’c told me about...the locker room...”

Her neck flushed red as she scraped around the bottom of the sink for any remaining cutlery and found none. “He had no right.” The words were crisp and hurt.

“He was worried about you.” And so was I.

She snorted, although Jack wasn’t sure if it was laughter or derision. “I think... I think he assigned himself my protector. He was always there. Not intruding or anything. Just...there.” There was a note of wonder in her voice, and Jack found himself wondering if there had ever really been anyone in her life who was ‘just there’ for her.

Jacob would have been wherever he was ordered to go. Her Mom had died when she was still a teenager, and her brother had disowned her along with Jacob – and the mending of that relationship was only recent. Her never-mentioned fiance hadn’t seemed like the steady and stable type, and while SG-1 had been one of the mainstays of her life for the last six years, she couldn’t always rely on them, even when she should have been able to.

And Jack could think of several instances where he’d failed Carter.

On the other hand, he doubted that Carter had ever gone to Teal’c for help and been turned back. Teal’c gave unstintingly to those he trusted once they asked for his help – or to those for whose care he took responsibility.

The way he’d taken responsibility for Carter’s health in Jack’s absence.

Yesterday’s conversations about Carter replayed in his head, and Jack was reminded of how protective Teal’c had been towards Carter since Daniel left.

“Better be careful how you praise him,” he said, only half-jokingly. “I’m starting to get jealous.”

Then he realised what he’d said.

She froze at the sink, the pink of her neck going a deeper hue as her mind repeated what her ears heard.

Jack wished for Thor to beam him up at this exact moment. Right now. Right now, little buddy. Please? Oh, God, please?

He didn’t have a right to be jealous. Carter gave him no rights towards her person at all. If she wanted Teal’c to watch over her day and night, then that was none of Jack’s business. And here he was acting as if he had any right over her life. Moron!

“I... I didn’t mean that.”

As he spoke, she began moving again, wiping down the sink and pulling the plug. “You didn’t mean it? Or you didn’t mean to say it?”

Her tone of voice indicated that the question was academic; they both knew it was anything but innocuous.

He could lie. He could say he didn’t mean it, that it was just a joking comment that slipped past his guard unawares.

He could.

He didn’t want to.

And maybe he owed her this after her breakdown in the locker room. Tit for tat. He confessed to not being able to leave her, she confessed to not wanting him to leave. She wept over losing him in the locker rooms, and he expressed jealousy in his kitchen.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” he said, waiting for her to turn around. If she turned around, he’d be able to see her face – her eyes. If she turned around he’d be able to get a good reading of her expression and whether she was shocked or angry or disappointed or...or...

“We never do, do we?” Carter said, still wiping down the bench with wide, sweeping strokes. “We never mean to say or do anything.”

But it happened nevertheless.

“Did you want something to happen because we intend it to happen?” He asked softly. “Because we choose it to happen and not just because we fall into it?”

They’d fallen into so much, all of it unexpected. From the situation with the Goa’uld to their feelings for each other and anything they’d acted on. They never took the initiative in dealing with it, it just...happened and they were left doing rearguard action to clean up the possible mess that was being left behind.

She stilled. “There’s nothing left to happen,” she said at last. “Nothing that we’re allowed, anyway.”

“Does it ever scare you?” Silence. “Because it scares me, Carter. They didn’t train me for this.”

“Nothing ever trains you for this,” Carter replied at last. Was there a tremor in her voice? “There is no training for life.”

She was inches away from him – somehow he’d come to stand behind her. One of his hands reached out and touched the damp wet flesh on the back of her hand. And she didn’t pull her hand away, didn’t push him away.

He didn’t press up against her, or try to hold her or kiss her. There were lines and there always had been, but the lines were just drawn in the sand, and he’d mentally stepped over them long ago, even if he’d never done anything more than hold his hand out over them.

He just took her hand now, his dry fingers curling around her damp ones, relying on the trust between them to tell her that this was not intended as a seduction. A confrontation, maybe; but he’d never tread where she didn’t let him in. Those were the rules between them. “And yet they leave us working together.”

“Maybe they don’t know.”

“Maybe they do and don’t care.”

“I have more trouble believing that than the other, sir.”

“I have more trouble believing the other than that, Carter.”

“Does it matter that they leave us working together?” She asked, studying his expression, looking for his thoughts reflected in the set of his features. “Do you want SG-1 split up?”

There was more in her question than just the question of whether he really wanted their superiors to split up their team.

“If they wanted us separated, they would have done it a long time ago. Before the temptation presented itself.” Which meant they were better together as a team than they were apart – or so judged the powers that rule the Air Force.

She knew the rules as well as he. At the first hint of a deeper emotional attachment, they should have been separated from each other – at least operationally. Why play with fire and risk being burned?

Hammond knew about it. The Doc and Teal’c certainly did. Jack had never received any indication that Daniel had any idea, but Daniel was no dummy, and could sometimes be sneaky that way. And Jonas had only really seen them as team-mates and friends, although he had to be aware of the rumours that ran around the base.

“So you think that since they’ve given us so much rope to play with, we should just hang ourselves?” The challenge in her voice was plain and clear – as was the disdain.

“I never said that. I just think that maybe we don’t need to...to tread around this as delicately as we think we have to.”

She considered that idea, rejected it with a shake of her head. “And how do we relax things, then?” She slipped her hand from his, dipped it back into the water to continue rinsing out the washer. “We’re working together as colleagues and occasionally friends.”

“‘Occasionally’?” He questioned.

“We don’t ‘hang out’ around each other during downtime anymore – we haven’t for the last few years unless one of the others issues the invitation. On base, we usually discuss work or...inconsequential things.” She didn’t look up from her scrubbing of the silverware. “We do nothing that ‘friends’ usually do, sir.” She snorted softly. “We don’t even call each other by name.”

“And that’s the measure of friendship, then?” Jack asked, just as softly.

“It’s what most people use to measure friendship,” she said as she pulled the plug.

“We’re not most people.”

He received a long, measuring glance from her, with a faint quirk of the mouth. “I guess not.”

Jack dried off the last dish and set it in a pile with the others. “You could stay this afternoon.”

“Sir?”

“You could stay now. We’ll sit down, watch the hockey or a movie. I’ll thrash you at Gran Turismo, thereby defending the honour of SG-1 guys in PlayStation.” He could feel her smile, even if he couldn’t see it. “We’ll discuss...friend stuff. Whatever.” It wasn’t that he was desperate for her attention – Jack O’Neill was never desperate for attention. But somewhere along the way, he’d lost track of her and she’d lost track of him and what little friendship they were allowed had suffered. It wasn’t just the last year, but the year before that; the year when they’d drawn back from an intimacy that neither was willing to attempt at that point in time.

And maybe now, with everything that had happened in the last year – from finding themselves on opposite sides of another force field, to Daniel’s departure and the sudden uncertainty of their immortality as SG-1, from her asking him to take Kanan, to his requiring her to clear his name – maybe now they were ready to be friends again. At least, Jack was ready to be friends again.

The question that haunted him was whether she was ready.

She didn’t say anything for a while, and the moments passed like years as she carefully scrubbed oil and burned meat off the barbecue tongs and laid them on the rack. He could hear her thinking it through, and as the silence continued, he decided that she was probably trying to find a nice way of letting him down easy.

He didn’t blame her, not really. He’d never been catch of the day to begin with, and even if her interest wasn’t tending in that direction, even just developing a friendship with him could be risky. After all, the power of unfettered rumour had ruined careers more solid than hers.

“Okay.”

He nearly didn’t hear her response, and stood there for several seconds, rubbing at a knife that was long since dry. “Huh?”

She glanced at him, a faint smile on her face. “Sure, I’ll stay for a couple more hours.”

“Great.”

“But I wouldn’t count on being able to ‘defend the honour of the SG-1 guys in Playstation games’,” she warned, still smiling as she looked back at the sink. “You’re not half as good as you think you are.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” she hedged, smiling. “You’re on,” he said, a smile breaking out on his own face, mirroring her amusement and pleasure.

It was a challenge he ended up losing. One hour later, he still hadn’t managed to beat her in an overall tournament, and he figured that watching a hockey game was the better part of losing gracefully. She really was good at console games.

“Giving up, sir?” She asked as he muttered about how there was a game on.

“No,” he said, trying to hold onto his dignity. “But there’s a game between Minnesota and Chicago starting in a few minutes...”

“Excuses, excuses,” she said airily, but she put the controller down on the coffee table and stretched. “Mind if I get myself a coffee?”

He took that as a sign that she was willing to stick around and watch the game with him, and came back with, “Only if you don’t get me one too.”

Carter unfurled herself from the couch and wandered into the kitchen. As Jack adjusted the channel to Fox Sports Net, he listened to the bubbling of the coffee maker and wondered if he should go in and help. Carter was perfectly capable of making a cup of coffee all by herself, but it would be polite to assist...

A moment later, a mug of coffee was placed in front of him, “Black, two sugars,” she said as she settled down the other end of the couch to watch the game. “So, how about them Blackhawks, sir?” Her eyes twinkled as she prodded him.

He probably should have been annoyed that she was laughing at him – but the fact that she felt easy enough in his company to do so mitigated his pained ego. “Carter, they don’t stand a chance.”

“It’s just the pre-season games,” she reminded him, a smile hovering about her lips. “They’re only warming up.”

He took a sip of his coffee – just the way he liked it. “Ah, but when playing, you should never write it off as ‘just warming up’ – every game should count.”

“Did you ever play the game,?”

Jack gave her a disgusted look, “Of course I played the game! In high school and at the Academy for a couple of years.” Those good old Weasels. He regarded her mildly, “So what sports do you play, Carter?”

She shrugged, “None anymore. Mostly just going down to the SGC gym and working out there. I sometimes go hand-to-hand against the other female officers and a couple of the guys.”

“Ever played hockey?”

“A little.” Her grimace was comical, “I’m very mediocre when it comes to balancing on skates.”

Oh, now that was interesting. “There’s something that Sam Carter can’t do?”

It had been a joke, but the look she shot at him was deadly. Sore spot, much?

“Between being able to work out how to build something that can help a billion people and being able to balance on a pair of ice skates, I know which I’d choose, sir.”

That neatly, she closed up again, putting her open demeanour away with nothing more than the faintest change in stance and expression.

Jack cursed the aloof note in her voice and his own part in putting it there. “I didn’t mean to imply...” His shoulders sagged. “Carter, it’s not such a terrible thing to have no balance.”

“No,” she sighed, loosening up just a little. “But I don’t have any sporting skill that way, sir. I never have.”

“You’re fine at hand-to-hand.”

“That doesn’t involve balancing on a pair of skates,” she said dryly. “Fortunately, at the Academy, it wasn’t necessary to prove I could do laps of the ice rink without falling over in order the graduate.” One hand lifted to point at the screen. “Game’s about to begin.”

It was a pathetic attempt to change the topic, but Jack took it. He was almost relieved. Dealing with Carter as a person in her full range of moods was harder than dealing with her as just a subordinate. It didn’t mean it was impossible, just that it wasn’t something he was used to doing. “You’re gonna stay and watch?”

“Yeah.” The smile was back at least, even if it was faint. “I enjoy watching the sport.”

“So who do you follow?”

She grinned. “The Mighty Ducks.”

He snorted into his coffee. “God, Carter, how low can you go?”

“It’s not me! My nephew – the one who beats me at Playstation – supports them. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have a team at all. And I follow Colorado Avalanche,” she added, obviously trying to make up for her previous gaffe. “Just not religiously.”

He remained unimpressed, snorting softly as the organised starting positions of the teams rapidly disintegrated into disorganised melee and the raw brutality of the game was displayed in most lurid colour.

Jack often watched hockey games, but it had been a long time since he’d watched with someone else.

He’d never invited Carter to watch games with him before.

Daniel, after that first month living in the house, had sworn never to watch a game with Jack again. “I’d rather watch paint dry,” he told Jack, unrepentantly. “At least I’d have the faint hope that the fumes would overwhelm me and I’d fall unconscious and be spared the pain.”

Teal’c was the only one who would watch a game with Jack – and the big guy did exactly that. Watched. He didn’t cheer, didn’t scream, didn’t abuse the ref from the couch. Just watched and occasionally made a query or comment about the game.

Carter, on the other hand, really did get into the game. Not noisily, but definitely not quietly, either. She was more than happy to cheer and grin when the Blackhawks scored a goal, but she didn’t protest the ref’s decisions either.

Jack did all the yelling at the screen until Carter poked him in the ribs with her bare toe. “It’s just a game, you know.”

“Which is why you can yell and cheer so loudly,” he told her. “Because it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to cheer for something that means something?”

“Well, I cheer for that, too,” he said, unabashed by her laughter.

Minnesota won with a goal in the last fifteen minutes and he grinned his way through the making of a second cup of coffee.

“Want some more ice-cream, Carter?”

“Actually, I think I’d better head home.”

He leaned over the counter to look at her, “Why?”

She paused. “Because it’s late. Because I’ve been here all afternoon. Because it’s getting cold out.”

“You could stay for dinner.”

“I’m full.”

“We could watch another game.”

“Sir...”

“You could stay the night.”

Oh, way to go, Jack!

His subconscious smirked at its clever bypass of his brain while she stared at him.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Sir.” His title was tacked onto the end of her sentence, the marker she placed between them at all times. He was willing the throw the stone into the next field and step across the marked boundary, but she wasn’t willing to let him do so.

“I know,” he said. “You’ve only stayed the one afternoon, and we’re doing the friends thing.” He came out of the kitchen into the living room. She was easing a leather jacket on over her shoulders as a thought occurred to him.

It had nothing to do with staying in her company longer. Really.

“You came here on the bike, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Then she looked up at him. “Oh, no. No, sir. No.”

“Even Jonas got to ride it!”

“He was learning!”

“On a 1940 Indian? While you won’t even let me touch the keys? Does that sound like justice to you?” Jack hardly had to feign offence. “At the very least you owe me a ride, Carter...”

Her shoulders sagged, “Sir...”

He held up his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “If you take me out for a ride, Carter, I won’t ask you to stay for dinner.”

“I couldn’t fit dinner in anyway,” she muttered before perking up. “I don’t have a second helmet.”

“So I’ll go without,” he said airily. Colorado didn’t have a helmet law; there was no way she was going to get rid of him that easily. “I trust you.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you trust me too much?”

Whoa, where did that come from?

His responses gave him an answer before his brain had time to check it through. “I don’t think there is such a thing as trusting you too much, Carter.”

It wasn’t a bad answer, but it wasn’t a very good one either.

“Oh, very nice words, sir.” They both knew that there were some things you just didn’t trust other people with – neither of them were the emotionally abandoned type. “You knew I’d – we’d try to get you back, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” He’d learned his lesson after Edora. Someone would always be working to bring his miserable ass back home – probably Carter, although he figured the rest of his team and Hammond would be putting in a good effort, too.

“It took me a month to get you back this time,” she said, staring down at her toes, fingering the zipper at the hem of the jacket. “And that was after losing my temper with...a few people.”

Jack decided not to say that Teal’c had given him the update, even if she probably knew Teal’c would have informed him of her movements in his absence. “Who’s counting?”

“I am.” Her fingers curled around the helmet, the knuckles briefly showing white before she shook her head. “Never mind, sir.” She put the helmet down, and zipped up her jacket, but as she started buttoning up the jacket front, he caught her wrist.

“What do you mean, ‘maybe I trust you too much’?” He asked, trying to divine the thoughts that she’d given voice – however unintentionally.

She pulled away from his touch, “Nothing.”

“Carter...”

“Did you want a ride on the Indian or not?”

“I’d rather we talked about this now. You think I trust you too much?” She huffed in exasperation at his pursuit of the topic. “I think that sometimes you shouldn’t rely on me to fix every problem we come across.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Maybe I do because you always seem to pull us through it.”

“And what about the day when I can’t?”

“We’ll deal with that then,” he said. “Look, Carter, a few failures does not make you a bad person. Hell, otherwise I’d be...well...really doomed.” There was a long silence as she stared down to where his hand was still holding hers immobile, preventing her from fiddling with her jacket. “You’re a good officer – one of the best. I trust you more than a lot of the other people on base, both professionally and...and personally. I like to think I know you pretty well in stressful situations...”

“We have any other kind of situation on SG-1?” The dry humour relieved him. It meant she wasn’t beating herself up over something over which she had no control.

“If I didn’t trust you, Carter, then SG-1 would be screwed – I have to trust the people I’m commanding. They can’t do their jobs if I’m looking over their shoulder every minute – especially when I have no knowledge of what they’re doing. And I haven’t had to look over your shoulder since day one – and that was because I was in a bad mood about having a scientist on my team, nothing to do with you personally.” There was still the matter of personal trust to be addressed, but given how delicately balanced everything was between them at this moment, maybe it was better to deal with that later.

“Never mind, sir.” She finished buttoning herself up, “Do you still want a ride?”

“Let me get my jacket,” he said.

As he went into his wardrobe and pulled out his leather jacket, he pondered the implications of what she’d said.

In spite of all that she’d done over the last six years, Carter had some very deep insecurities running through her. Jack knew that everyone had their own personal issues to deal with – but somehow it still came as a surprise when Carter slipped up and showed her human side.

The sound of the motorbike revving up broke him out of his reverie about Carter’s self-confidence issues. He hauled on his jacket and grabbed for his sunglasses and keys as he jogged out the door.

She was sitting on the bike, waiting for him, one hand scratching through her short, blonde hair while the other adjusted the throttle. Wearing her sunglasses and that leather jacket, and with her blue jeans hugging the long stretches of her legs, she looked like the bad girl of any man’s daydreams.

He wasn’t going to dwell on that.

“Ready to ride, Carter?” He asked, smiling as he climbed on the bike behind her. Then he realised something. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Carter, but I’m going to have to...you know...”

“Actually touch me?” Whatever bug had gotten into her before, she was evidently over it. This time, there was wry humour in her voice as she said, “I promise not to have you called in to Hammond’s office for inappropriate behaviour, sir.”

“So kind.”

He put his hands on her waist, suddenly realising that his hands were going to get cold from the windchill. “Should I go get some gloves?”

She glanced down at his hands, “You should be okay, sir. We just won’t go out too far or for too long.”

“Carter?”

“Sir?”

“You’re not wearing a helmet.”

“Neither are you.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Sir, you trust the integrity of your skull when riding on my bike, but not mine?”

“Well, your brain is worth a lot more than mine.”

She huffed. “I wish you wouldn’t say that, sir.”

“It’s true.”

“Maybe in your terms.”

“Maybe in everyone’s terms.” Why were they having this conversation? When had they leaped from her insecurities to his own?

“Not mine.”

“See, I noticed that. You seem to give an inordinate amount of attention to saving my sorry ass...”

“It’s a nice ass.” She paused, and what little of her neck was visible over the collar of the jacket went pink. Huh. Guess I’m not the only one with brain-bypass issues. “Sir.”

“Glad you think so, Carter.” The more casual he made it sound, the less likely she would be to freeze him out. He made it sound very casual. “So, are we going to sit here bandying witty comments around all evening, or are we going for a ride?”

In answer she revved the bike once more as he settled his boots on the footrests and leaned into her body. A single kick flipped up the stand and she moved the bike off with practised ease.

Jack’s last motorcycle ride had been years ago – the night Charlie was born. A friend loaned him the bike to get from the base to the hospital after the news came through that Sara had gone into early labour.

A long time ago.

He’d arrived at the hospital, freezing cold from the ride, terrified all the way, walked into the maternity room, and they handed him his son, tiny, red, and squalling fit to rival a drill sergeant on a bad day.

A very long time ago.

Strange to think that Charlie would have been sixteen this year if he’d lived. Stranger still to think that if Charlie had lived, Jack would never have met Carter or Teal’c, Jonas or Daniel, Hammond, the Doc, Thor, Jacob, or Ska’ara. He’d never have known what it was like to stand on another world, or travel on a spaceship, or be clinging to this woman whose hair was short enough to tickle his cheeks as he rested his head in the curve of her shoulder. He’d never have been stranded in ‘Paradise’ or been rescued by an alien. He’d never have inhaled the scent of Sam Carter in leather and known how intriguing or arousing it could be.

Jack thought he’d be better off keeping those thoughts to himself.

They sailed through the suburbs around Jack’s house, circling the neighbourhood with its large yards and big cars. The bike drew the attention of people when they got to the more crowded precincts, but other than that...

“Do you do this often?” He demanded as they slipped into the stream of traffic on one of the city’s main roads.

“Take senior officers for rides up and down the interstate?” She laughed, unusually at ease in his presence. “No.”

“I meant do you go riding just for the fun of it?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted.

Jack could understand why she would.

There was nothing quite like the feeling of riding a motorcycle. You left your woes and cares behind and speared through the air with graceful velocity, living dangerously as you wove in and out of the traffic. On the road you were the smallest vehicle, but also the most free.

He didn’t worry about balancing or looking for cars – she was the driver, that was her job. He just held himself against her back and enjoyed the ride.

Apart from that set of questions, they didn’t say much during the trip – speech was a difficult thing when weaving in and out of afternoon traffic. They had no run-ins, no mishaps, nothing untoward happened as they drove through the streets of Colorado Springs, just a couple of ordinary people.

And they returned to his neighbourhood just as he wondered whether he’d ever be able to feel his fingers again.

“We should do that more often,” he remarked when they stopped outside his house again. “But next time you’re the passenger.” His muscles were a little stiff as he climbed off the bike, and he fisted his hands a couple of times to check the flexibility of his old muscles.

She smiled, apparently comfortable enough with the suggestion. “Not on this bike, sir.” He could understand that. Riding passenger on this type of bike was not the most comfortable situation – as he had experienced.

“Okay, then on your other one. The Harley.”

“If you want to take me as a passenger, Colonel, you can get your own bike.”

He answered the challenge just as belligerently. “I just might, Carter.”

Silence fell as they ran out of words, and they stared at each other in the fading light.

Jack felt this pressure building in him, born and raised of his thoughts since returning to Earth from Harry’s ‘Paradise’. She looked...fey in the half-light, eyes too large, mouth too wide, chin too pointed, hair too messy. And yet...beautiful in her own, unique way. Given life and personality and face and character by all the things that had forged her over the years.

There were people who wondered how anyone could care about ‘the ice bitch’. Carter had her share of detractors in the SGC and in the ranks of the Air Force.

Jack wondered how he was supposed to work beside her and not care about her. Like called to like, after all, and he enjoyed the matching of strength to strength, and wit to wit. Sure, she outstripped him in intelligence, but he had a broader plane of skills developed – and a broader outlook on life.

Tough and tender, passionate and placid, concentrated calm and intense intent.

Sam Carter, Major, Doctor, scientist...woman.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, I’ll need to get my helmet for the ride home.”

He nodded and turned on his heel. The helmet was sitting on the porch, and he collected it and handed it to her. “You sure you don’t want to stay?” It escaped his lips before he had time to censor it. Yet again. Maybe hanging around in non-work situations wasn’t the best idea after all if it produced such gems as these.

She paused in the act of putting the helmet on, but didn’t look at him. “Quite sure.”

He nodded. It was probably for the best. He took a step back, the toe of his boot nudging the grasses growing up in the cracks between cement slabs.

“Jack.”

For a moment, he didn’t know who she was talking to. Carter never addressed him by his given name and it sounded strange on her lips.

He looked up and found himself caught in her gaze like a night creature in headlights. “Yeah?” Now that she’d made things intimate with the use of his name, he was almost reluctant to hear what she had to say.

You’re a brave man until she takes the reins out of your hands, Jack.

“Don’t ask again unless you’re sure.” She hesitated, glancing down at the helmet and the silence stretched thin before she looked up and spoke again. “Be very sure, sir.”

“I’m sure,” he said, meeting her gaze squarely. There was no hesitation in his voice. “I’m sure,” he repeated.

It was a long moment before she answered. “I’m not. Not yet.” There was a guilty note in her voice, presumably for having disappointed him in this.

How strange to find he wasn’t disappointed, and stranger still to face the knowledge that he never would be disappointed with her choice – it was her life, her heart, her future. He was willing for as much as she wanted to give – neither too much, nor too little. And maybe things would someday change and maybe they’d be forever stuck in this holding pattern, but Jack could live with that.

But right now, Carter needed that reassurance – and soon, before she imagined him angry with her rejection. So Jack reached out to touch her. Just the tiniest pressure of his fingertips at her shoulder. “Take the time you need.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t wait forever for an answer, but he’d give her enough time and space to make up her own mind on this matter. How far she wanted to take ‘them’ – if she wanted to take ‘them’ anywhere.

It was risky, but his mother had always said that if you wanted a safe, secure life, you belonged to the wrong species. Then, too, any risks taken here would be more than compensated for by what he had to gain.

Her rueful smile was faint but still clear in the flash of white teeth as the dusk crawled towards the night. “Thank you, sir.”

And she fitted the helmet over her head, turned the bike around on his driveway, and rode off into the fast-falling darkness.

To be continued