JACK
Conflict.
I’ve learned to live with it on a daily basis, cope with it
by
making choices
swiftly and keeping regrets for the bad ones to a minimum. In all my
years in
the service, I’ve understood that the quickest way to resolve
a
conflict is to
acknowledge all options and make the decision needed in a timely
fashion.
That
code
of conduct never made me popular, rich or even talented, but looking
back over
my track record, I can sleep most nights, which is more than others can
say. In
the field, I’ve brought more people back alive than dead. In
combat, I’ve met
objectives that range from impressive to distasteful, and been rewarded
with
the eagles on my shoulders. In my personal life the choices might not
have
always been smart, but I live with the consequences and taken the
bitter with
the sweet without flinching.
All of
that
commentary boils down to is the fact that I can make command decisions
and
stand by them, with gritted teeth if necessary. This is integral to the
core
what makes Jack O’Neill who the hell he is. It may not be
pretty,
but it’s
honest. At least, it was.
I made a
decision recently that I’m regretting. SERIOUSLY regretting.
My
misgivings are
enough to give me a sour stomach and a disposition comparable to a
constipated
Grizzly. Since coming to this decision, Carter’s studiously
following orders to
the letter, Teal’c’s given me
Or one
of
the beds in the infirmary.
Or
Damn it.
I
suppose
it goes without explaining that the resolution in question has to do
with my
civilian consultant’s capacities beyond that of SG1 team
member?
Our
verdict
was mutually reached and agreed to a week and a half ago. Eleven days.
And
nights. During the days I manage to find more than enough to occupy my
time and
keep from running through the litany of morose counterarguments that
run
through my brain ceaselessly. Some of that distraction tends to make me
run a
bit roughshod over folks, but I’m sure with time I can tone
it
down. I suspect
I’ll get a knife in my ribs if I don’t.
At the
rate
I’m going, I may have to fall on it myself.
ROSE
Jack is
having a hard time. I mean that both metaphorically and literally, and
he
certainly isn’t the only one. For all his talk about the good
of
the team, and
the necessity of this decision, he’s gritting his teeth
through
it. I’m
flattered to think it’s that difficult, and depressed because
it
isn’t any
easier for me, not by a long shot. I may not be touching him, but I
still love
him. I simply cannot turn that off, or shut that down, try as I might.
Jack can
sit across from me during the briefings looking as morose and bleakly
unapproachable as he wants; I still get fluttery stomached looking at
him,
remembering him.
His
mouth.
His warm
muscled weight.
I’ve
spent
a lot of time compiling reports and typing up assessments, keeping
myself busy,
busy, busy. Upcoming meetings, briefings, lots of loose ends to catch
up on
while we wait for the next field assignment—none of it any
easier
every time I
see those brown eyes across a table.
The rest
of
the team senses the shift; Carter keeps shooting me concerned little
looks, and
Daniel is almost as apprehensive. It’s not as if any of them
have
to be told,
in so many words; they’re experts at the undertext.
Distressing,
yes, but it
will get better in time, right?
Right?
Please tell me it’s going to get better—
CARTER
Holy
Hanna.
Looks like Rose and the colonel are falling back. This is not good.
After all
the months of subtle manipulation Daniel and I have put into their
dynamic I’ll
be damned if the colonel decides to get a case of nobility on us now.
This
won’t do, not at all.
I
thought
their mutual attraction was just my imagination until Daniel pointed it
out
four months ago over coffee. The looks, the clumsy affection that
seemed so
scattershot, even for the colonel—they all pointed in the
same
direction. It
was a bit of an eye-opener. After a single soul-searching afternoon I
wholeheartedly joined Daniel’s campaign to get the two of
them to
Kissy Face
city.
Kissy
After a
few
weeks I noticed Teal’c helping out as
well—conveniently Kel
No Reeming, taking
the third leg of watch, and steering conversations into interesting
territory.
His inquiry into the merits of older women as sexual partners was a
mindblower.
Jerry Springer be damned, it was hysterical to see the colonel hanging
onto
every word of THAT discussion!
I’ve
enjoyed it. Naquada and black holes and theoretical quantum physics are
my
life, but just getting in touch with a simple human element is a
wonderfully
grounding experience. Plotting with Daniel, watching
Rose—it’s almost like
being in an episode of the Brady Bunch, although trying to see
Teal’c as Alice
is—never mind.
All
I know is that working with them, BEING
with Daniel, the colonel, Teal’c and Rose is the closest
I’m ever going to get
to a real family these days. I love them all, would lay down my life
for them.
I know they’d do the same for me and almost have far too
often.
SG1 just
doesn’t have a normal life, and our happiness is limited to
this
mountain and
each other right now.
So
Daniel
and I better hustle before the colonel’s testosterone level
makes
him decide to
arm-wrestle Apothis.
DANIEL
Jack’s
not
getting laid, and I’m not sure why. Sam and I were pretty
sure he
and Rose had
passed into the home base territory well over three weeks ago what with
the
smug grins and bemused staring that filled a few of our briefings.
Frankly I
was looking forward to a kinder gentler O’Neill, and now this
backsliding has
me worried. Did they have a fight? Is there, God forbid, some sort of
um,
dysfunction going on? Inquiries are going to have to be very subtle at
this
stage of the game.
It’s
a
two-sided unhappiness, obviously. Rose looks miserable, and the fact
that she’s
trying to hide it adds a layer of pathos to the whole thing. Normally
she’s a
cheerful bundle of energy, practically throwing sparks as she tears
through
paperwork. Right now she’s barely twiddling her pen, and
sighing
under her
breath. I have to confer with Sam and get a plan of action
going—after all,
someone on this team needs a love life.
TEAL’C
Colonel
O’Neill and Ms. MacGyver have ceased to exchange notable
affection. This is
most disturbing. I will consult Daniel Jackson on the proper protocol
for
re-establishing a beneficial and mutually supportive relationship
between them.
Perhaps certain rituals from Chulak may be of help. Or possibly Oprah.
JACK
All
right,
things are officially getting weird. I know I haven’t been
the
bearer of
Sweetness and Light for a while, but when Daniel sidles up to me and
shoots a
sympathetic look my way, I know something’s up. Something
besides
certain parts
of me.
“Feeling
all right, Jack?”
“What
the
hell is THAT supposed to mean?”
“Okay,
I
guess that answers my question—“
Daniel
can
be an infuriating little shit. He smiles at me as he scoots into the
briefing
room, taking a seat down near the foot of the table, spreading out
notes and
papers, humming to himself. Carter strides in moments later and sits at
his
right hand side, a definite smirk on her face. Must have built herself
a
Naquada vibrator or something. Rose slinks in and plants herself on the
faaaarr
side of the table, not even looking up at me, and the dull pain in my
throat
throbs a little. I don’t look at her, and take my time
counting
all the stars
on the flag in the corner. Teal’c does his majestic glide
into
the room and
takes a chair at Rose’s side.
We all
sit.
Goodie goodie.
“Major
Carter, if you’d care to begin—“ he
rumbles in that
flat
Crap.
REALLY regretting my late-in-the-game attack of conscience here. Rose
is
nibbling her pen. Luscious lips with a hint of gloss. Lips I have not
nearly
had my fill of. Full sweet warm lips that have yet to keep promises
made in the
heat of a kiss--
“—Sir?”
Shit. Hammond’s staring at me. He repeats his question.
“Colonel,
do you have any concerns about the MALP report?”
Did I?
“I
don’t
think so sir—tropical beach, warm weather, potential Trinium
and
Naquada traces
in the initial soil sample—looks like a nice stroll through
the
gate to me.”
“Fair
enough, Colonel. SG1, you have a go.”
Rose
under
a tropical moon. God help me, unless I go full bore bastard, I am SUCH
a dead
man.
ROSE
The
hardest
part about being in love with Jack O’Neill is the complete
isolation. I can’t
tell anybody—not when I was so damned happy I could have
tap-danced up the ramp
through the gate, and certainly not while I have to drag myself up it
this
time. Going from heaven to hell in less than a month is hard on the
hormones.
I’ve had more chocolate in the last week than
Hershey’s can
keep up with.
Carter keeps trying to cheer me up—I guess she thinks
I’m
pre-period or
something. We’re kitting up and she’s talking about
sneaking in a bathing suit,
and tanning for a while—
“Not
with
YOUR complexion—“ I remind her gently.
She’s
undeterred, and just smiles some
more. When I look at her I’m reminded of a dandelion: long
green
stem of a body
in the olive green camo, topped with the wispy flyaway blonde hair that
looks
like the down of a baby chick in the wind.
“Come
on
Rose—this is going to be a RELAXING
mission—“ she
cajoles me, cuffing my arm.
“You
and me
crammed into a pup tent with snoring Daniel next door?” I
scoff.
I neglect to
mention Jack or Teal’c of course. She shrugs.
“Teal’c’s
on a Kel No Reem marathon so he needs his own tent. Daniel’s
my
problem, but
I’ve got earplugs—“
Wait a
minute—that leaves me bunking with—
No. No.
Not
fair, timeout, King’s X!
CARTER
Things
are
going very well. A little protocol strategy works wonders when everyone
co-operates. Actually the Colonel didn’t WANT to, but
I’ve
learned how to get
around him in various ways. The Air Force has a wonderful
superabundance of
regulations I can spout until his eyes glaze over and he waves me off.
Getting
it through to him that Daniel and I were taking a tent this mission was
a piece
of cake.
“Sir,
if
Daniel and I are taking the first two watches, it makes more
sense—instead of
waking four people up at each shift it would only be
two—“
“—Fine,
fine, Major you’ve made your POINT,” he snaps with
no real
malice as he adjusts
his sunglasses. We’re standing in front of the Gate looking
over
a multicolored
paradise—pink water, green sand, tall jewel-colored palm
trees.
It looks like
Hawaii colored in by a four year old. Already Daniel’s run
down
the length of
the pier to the sand, looking at the ground and grinning.
Teal’c
is scanning
the jungle up above the beach like the warrior he is, following the
Colonel’s
visual sweep of the area.
“This
area
appears to be uninhabited,” he announces, making a point to
wave
to the ground,
“There are no tracks of any kind.”
“We
can
change that in a hurry—Daniel! Quit playin’ in the
sand and
get your pack!”
Grumpy
old
men—lord help me, it’s going to be a long night if
this
doesn’t work.
DANIEL
I wish I
could say this was fun—parts of it are, but not enough of
them.
Sam and I are
working like fiends to keep the tension from building any higher.
We’ve managed
to get Rose out of her clothes and into Jack’s, and arranged
for
them to share
a tent, so the basic thrust of our plan is underway.
Poor
Rose—to be shoved off the Gate pier and into the water
headfirst
by Teal’c
probably wasn’t the gentlest way of getting her and her pack
soaking wet, but
it certainly worked. When she bobbed to the surface, sputtering pink
water, it
took everything I had not to laugh. Teal’c apologized, but
the
job was done—all
of her gear was sodden. Naturally Sam didn’t pack any spare
clothing, and just
as naturally Jack’s mother hen instinct kicked in right on
cue.
Rose is now
wearing his spare black tee shirt, and a very cute mini dress it makes
on her
too. Her gear is spread out on the sand drying slowly. Jack practically
has his
tongue hanging out every time he looks at her.
I have
an
inkling of his mindset. He’s worried about how his field
command
is going to be
affected by his relationship with Rose—it’s almost
textbook
here, Jack’s
withdrawal. When I laid it out for Sam and Teal’c, they both
could see it as
well, hence the plan.
He’s
such a
contradiction, Jack O’Neill. He can duck behind protocol and
chain of command
when it suits him, and cut through it all just as ruthlessly if any of
us are
in trouble. From the first mission Jack was closer to all of us than he
should
have been—getting into our psyches and souls. It’s
part of
what makes SG1 such
a cohesive unit. There was always a piece missing for him though, a
hole in his
heart that I assumed would never be filled.
It’s
good
to be wrong sometimes.
TEAL’C
Ms.
MacGyver is most forgiving despite my deliberate strike against her. As
a
warrior I understand the need to perform distasteful actions to
ultimately
achieve honorable goals, however I hope this will be the last needed to
realize
harmony between her and O’Neill. Should this fail, I will
suggest
the
time-honored Jaffa tradition of binding them together for three days.
JACK
God. If
I
didn’t know better, I’d just chalk it all up to
coincidence, but I’ve been
around too long to take anything for granted. I’m being set
up.
It’s in the
little smirk on Carter’s face, the innocent look in
Daniel’s eyes. They’re in
on it together, conspiring.
What the
hell is going on? First Teal’c, the least clumsy man
I’ve
even known manages to
knock Rose off the Gate platform into the water. She’s fine,
but
of course
soaked. Okay, we can deal with that until Carter confesses she
hasn’t got any
spare gear.
That’s
not
like my overachieving second in command. Not at all. Rose
can’t
stand around in
wet gear, even if it IS the tropics, so I give her my spare shirt,
absurdly
pleased to see it on her. It’s a guy thing, getting turned on
when your lover
wears your clothes.
Former
lover.
Anyway,
if
that wasn’t enough, Carter’s watch rotation monolog
sinks
in as we make camp
and I realize I’m bunking with Ms. MacGyver. If I make a fuss
about it, I’m
going to upset her, and tip my hand to the kids, so I have to suck it
up and
pretend I’m fine with the whole deal.
Hell,
parts
of me are—the big throbbing bit in particular. Being in the
vicinity of a soft
sweet woman dressed in nothing but my tee shirt is doing a lot of bad
things to
my self-control. Knowing she’s going to be within
arm’s
reach when we’re lying
down isn’t helping much either. I have to concentrate on
other
thoughts to keep
Mr. Happy from doing the wave at the moment.
Set up.
What the hell does Carter think she’s playing at? I
don’t
like this—throwing
this much temptation my way is dangerous for everybody. You’d
think they were
TRYING to—No. They wouldn’t. They
couldn’t. I mean,
why the hell WOULD they?
I’m
keeping
my eyes and ears open and my mouth shut. Gonna figure this out if it
kills me.
Which it freak’n might.
ROSE
I’m
being
punished—my personal embarrassment has hit new lows and keeps
dropping,
starting with my dip into the Kool Aid Ocean here. Teal’c
didn’t mean to, but
clocking me off the edge of the pier didn’t help. Being
soaking
wet didn’t
help. Sam telling me she had no spare clothes REALLY didn’t
help.
Wearing
Jack’s shirt damn near made me cry. It’s clean, but
I can
smell the faint trace
of him in it. The hem hangs low enough to make a dress of sorts.
I’m okay as
long as I don’t bend over. One of the few good points is that
Jack’s noticed me
for the first time in two days. I’ve missed him looking at me.
I’ve
missed
more than that, but I’ll settle for what I can get. Since my
boots are as
waterlogged at the rest of my stuff I get to wander around barefoot as
I
collect fuel for the fire. Jack makes nagging noises about not
wandering out of
sight. I want to throttle him sometimes. It never ends, this desire of
his to
round us up like sheep and keep us from harm. I thought he’d
loosen up a bit
now that we decided to got back to being—uninvolved. Fat
chance.
He’s just as
alert.
In a few
hours I’m going to have to sleep next to him, and God help me
I
don’t think I
can do it. To be within touching range, to remember the heat of his
skin, the
taste of his tongue—
Why
torture
myself this way? What’s done is done, and we willingly walked
away from it.
CARTER
My
secret
weapon is almost ready. Daniel and I emptied it at dinner between us,
burping
up the carbonation and apologizing with splutters and giggles. The
colonel was
not amused. If I didn’t respect him so much I would have
given
him an extra
bird, frankly. If this doesn’t get the ball rolling—
It
should,
though. Daniel’s pretty sure something THIS juvenile should
appeal to the
Colonel, and that Rose will humor us so I don’t have to be
the
only girl
playing. And I’m NOT kissing the Colonel, no way. But
Teal’c and Daniel
wouldn’t be bad at all—
Sparkling
grape juice flavored Daniel—oh my, the sacrifices I make for
the
cause of Team
tranquility.
DANIEL
It’s
been a
really, really long time since I played Spin the Bottle, and I seem to
remember
that there should be an even number of men to women. Ah well, I suspect
we’re
only going to last a few rounds anyway, thank God. Sam’s
fairly
confidant that
Jack’s close to the breaking point and I have to concur.
He’s been silent all
through dinner, feeding the fire and staring up at the dual moons while
I’ve
chattered on about Polynesian cultures and what not. I’ve
noticed
that Rose’s
clothes aren’t quite dry yet either.
Sneaky
Teal’c.
Anyway,
finding a surface flat enough to spin this bottle was a challenge until
I
offered up a notebook. O’Neill made no comment, but he did
come
and join us
while I explained the concept to Teal’c.
“I
understand the process, Daniel Jackson, but to what end is this game
played?”
“End?”
“What
is
the goal?”
That’s
when
Jack broke in, just as I knew he would.
“Fer
cryin
out loud, Teal’c, kissing is a process and a goal in and of
itself!”
“Indeed.”
“Jack’s
right of course—in most cultures, the youth have few social
outlets for their
burgeoning sexuality, and games with a veneer of social acceptability
that
allow physical interaction are one of the few options open to
them.”
There,
done
my Socialology bit. Sam is grinning into the sand. Rose is equally
amused, and
I suspect it has something to do with memories of this game. Perhaps
that’s why
Jack is scowling so much as well. I’m sure we’re
closer to
ignition than I
thought.
TEAL’C
I sense
this pastime is merely a ploy for Daniel Jackson to goad
O’Neill
into
reestablishing affections with Ms. MacGyver. Compliance is critical
therefore,
and I am willing to participate to the fullest of my capacity.
Given
the
osculating nature of this game I sincerely hope I do not draw either
O’Neill or
Daniel Jackson.
JACK
The jig
is
officially up. God knows why, but preliminary evidence seems to
indicate that
Daniel wants to get kissy faced. Jesus! If the boy’s got the
hots
for Carter,
all he has to do is wait until we sack out to make his move. I mean,
why drag
the rest of us into it?
I so do
NOT
want to be put in the position of kissing Rose in front of an audience,
even if
it IS just the kids. I won’t make it, can’t bluff
my way
through something as
all consuming as that. Need it too much to even get started, and
sleeping’s
going to be impossible as it is. Maybe it’s time to check the
perimeter for a
while, and let them play without me—
Wait a
minute. With two on two for this party the chances of Rose locking lips
with
Teal’c or Daniel—NO way. No fucking way. I
don’t care
if it’s Dog in the
Manger; I am NOT sharing the Rose experience with any damn one of them,
Carter
included! Problem is, there’s fuck all to do on this planet.
I
can’t shut down
this game without cause, damn it, and looking at Rose across the
firelight—Think, O’Neill—
ROSE
Spin the
Bottle? What IS this, an overnight at Camp Crayola Beach?
Daniel’s looking
incredibly amused, and Carter is just short of giggling. I
don’t
DARE look at
Jack. Spin the Bottle. God. I don’t believe it—Sam
and
Daniel KNOW.
These
two
brats KNOW, and they’re flaunting it as brazenly as they can
without a direct
comment.
Damn it,
I’m going crazy here—how did they find out? When?
And why
are they doing this?
Has this entire trip—oh shit. My clothes. The sleeping
arrangements—
Samantha
Carter
is SO dead when we get back!
CARTER
Rose
finally bought a clue; the colonel is still working out one vowel at a
time.
The look she’s shot me promises dire revenge once we hit the
showers back in
the mountain, but I don’t care—I have a chance to
kiss two
handsome men and get
my team leader to thaw his nuts. Too bad I have to leave all of that
out of the
mission report, but those are the breaks—time to get that
bottle
spinning!
Daniel,
of
course. Lovely to set a precedent, and he looks tickled about it too.
Ohhhh
lovely mouth, always thought so, nice to get the sensory feedback. No
tongue of
course, but a girl can dream. He’s pink now, a little
embarrassed, but I can
feel my own blush. The colonel’s got that ‘trying
not to
smirk’ look on his
face. I notice he’s wedged himself next to Rose, cutting her
off
from Teal’c.
Whose turn is it?
TEAL’C
Daniel
Jackson assures me he has no personal prejudice against kissing me, but
will
forgo the experience to keep within the predominantly heterosexual
nature of
this pastime. I am profoundly grateful, and will reciprocate the stance.
O’Neill
is
coughing a great deal.
JACK
Fer
cryin
out loud! Only Daniel could sweetly talk a six foot two Jaffa out of
kissing
him and actually sound sincere about it! I may hack up a lung here
trying not
to laugh; Carter and Rose aren’t doing much better. Dignified
my
ass—Teal’c
looks disappointed! I see it’s Daniel’s
turn—right at
Rose. Gritting my teeth
here, NOT liking this. He better make that one damned chaste peck or
Danny
boy’s gonna need a new set of lips! Time it—longer
than
three seconds and I’ll—
ROSE
Whoah!
Talk
about the look of death! If Jack wants to keep things subtle and under
wraps
he’s going to have to work a bit harder on his poker face.
All
Daniel did was
kiss me—obviously a sore point for our fearless leader. I
can’t help but feel a
little amused at that. Maybe Jack is jealous. Should I be kind and drop
out of
the game? Or should I take a mean-spirited stance and push the
envelope? After
all, I LIKE kissing, and if Jack won’t do it, I’ve
got
three very nice
potentials right here. Not letting Sam off the hook either, the rat.
CARTER
Rose’s
turn. The colonel is stewing nicely now, on a simmer level
that’s
pretty close
to erupting and I have every intention of getting out of the way once
he goes
nova. Oops, little mistake there. Need to spin again—Oh wait!
She
CAN’T be ser—
DANIEL
Whoah.
Not
a scenario I would have imagined, but intriguing. And a bit, um, hot.
Okay a
LOT hot—wow! Rose is NOT shy on the lip service. Sam looks a
little panicked
here, and JACK---
TEAL’C
Ms.
MacGyver is kissing Major Carter. This image is both intriguing and
unexpected.
It will take a great deal of Kel’No’ Reeming to
restore my
symbiote to any
semblance of serenity. I can see how this pastime has gained a
reputation of
notoriety. O’Neill seems quite agitated as well.
JACK
Jesus!
As
if my damn chain hasn’t been yanked ENOUGH tonight! Grabbing
Rose
by the
shoulder, yank her up, haul her off out of the circle of firelight, not
hard
enough to bruise, but she’s not getting the option to say no,
NOT
this time!
Shoot the ‘Stay Put if you God Damn Well Know
What’s GOOD
for You’ look at the
kids.
Hustle
her
off a good distance, beyond the tents. Enough light from the moons to
see our
way, keep moving. Not going to have an audience for this ass
chewing—damn it!
I’m hard, aching restless hard. Cannot let Mr. Happy do the
talking!
“What
the
FUCK are you DOING?”
“Kissing,
Jack—remember it?”
“I
can’t
FORGET it! And why the hell are you doing it with CARTER!?”
“Because
she—never mind, Jack. I’m not getting into this
with you,
all right? It’s just
a stupid game.”
“Of
course
it is. Stupid.”
Touching
her, got her shoulders, warm in the palms of my hands, little
kitten-boned woman.
Sleek muscle under the cotton here. I can smell the sweet heat of her,
the
aroused Rose scent. God! Push her back, away. Touching is BAD.
Can’t touch.
Will NOT touch.
ROSE
Jack
you’re
killing me here! Your voice is saying one thing and your hands are
telling me
the complete opposite. I feel the heat of them massaging my shoulders,
the
strength of your grip. You WANT me, I know you do—for
God’s
sake, either let go
or take me. I can’t handle much more of this and I
don’t
think you can either.
I told you I’d stand by our decision, but it’s not
fair if
you’re going to
torture me this way. Oh God, yesss, pull me close, closer—
CARTER
Houston,
we
have lift off. The argument ended about two minutes ago, and the
muffled noises
we’ re hearing are NOT those of any indigenous animals. I can
see
Daniel’s
cleaning up the game and trying very hard to keep a straight face, but
I’m
grinning and rightly so. Neither Teal’c nor Daniel can meet
my
eye—I think
they’re both intrigued by Rose’s pounce on me.
Actually,
I’M still a little
shaky on that—I truly didn’t see that one coming,
and I
guess I deserved it,
but that’s neither here nor there. I’m just glad
that the
colonel and Rose are
back together.
Darn it,
I
never DID get to kiss Teal’c.
DANIEL
Talk
about
a night of surprises—kissing Sam, watching Sam GET kissed,
hearing Jack
fighting his baser nature further down the beach—not the
sorts of
things
Hammond’s going to want to know about, but the main point is
that
at least
Jack’s back to the physical level with Rose, and
that’s a
good point. I don’t
know how much more the three of us can demonstrate our approval short
of a
round of applause.
Privacy
is
probably the element they need most, so Sam, Teal’c and I
need to
make
ourselves scarce for the night and hope the two of them manage to work
this out
before we have to do an intervention. Given Teal’c addiction
to
tabloid TV,
that could get ugly.
Speaking
of
which, perhaps it’s a good thing Sam’s taking the
first
watch as well—I’m not
sure I could handle being too close to her at the moment. While I
appreciate
her as my co-conspirator and dear friend, parts of my anatomy are much
more
into the concept that she’s a beautiful woman
who’ll be
sleeping barely a foot
away from me.
Going to
be
a loooong night.
TEAL’C
Originally
Major Carter procured a separate tent for me under the subterfuge that
I would
need to KelNoReem for most of the night. It seems that the deception
may in
fact have become the truth. When we return I will seek out General
Hammond and
request an opportunity to return to Chulak at the earliest convenient
moment.
Should
that
not be possible, I will insist on submitting myself to Doctor
Fraiser’s monthly
seminal fluid collection.
JACK
Rose is
trying to say something but I don’t have a clue what it is
because I keep
losing myself in her mouth. Kisses are top priority at the moment,
can’t stop
even if I WANTED to which I don’t not by a long shot!
Every
kiss
convinces me that I’m wrong, that trying to change the status
quo
is going to
destroy me from the inside out. Concepts like right and wrong
don’t have any
weight in a moment like this, when my arms are full of what I crave. Jesus!
I suddenly know the difference between
a want and a need; I want to do the right thing, but I NEED Rose.
Hell of
a
revelation.
Gotta
talk
to her, get this explained to Rose if I can just stop sucking her
tongue long
enough for the two of us to talk—
ROSE
God!
Love
this man; love every bad goofy inch of him! He’s not making
any
sense, he’s all
over me, and I’m not putting up any sort of fight.
Deep,
deep
kisses; lovely wet ‘want you so damn BAD’ kisses
melting my
spine, leaving me
breathless and hungry for more. Hot and achy, Jack makes me hot and
achy. I
shift my thighs and try to touch him everywhere. Too needy too weak, I
can’t
get clear enough to talk, don’t want to talk. Need to feel
his
skin, his pulse—
“Need
you,
Jack—“
“Yeah,
me
too—“
“But
we
said—“
“—Fuck
what
we said. Didn’t know it was going to be this
bad—“
“--Carter
and the others—“
“—You
don’t
buy it any more than I do, Rose. We were set up. Oh,
more—right
there—“
“B-but
why?”
“Talk
later---“
CARTER
Okay,
this
is boring and frustrating. In an attempt to fix up my
colonel’s
love life I get
to ponder the pitiful state of my own. Pace in the dark, brooding over
Martouf
the Maybe, and Narim the Namby Pamby. Not the most spectacular of
choices, and
I’m not even considering Simmons at the moment.
Let’s take
a look at this
objectively, shall we?
Martouf
is
in love with an element within me I can’t even consider to be
my
own. Nice man,
fairly attractive, and he’s met Dad, but it’s not
as if I
made a choice to be
with him. I look in his eyes and see Jolinar there, blonde, perfect and
totally
Tok’ra.
Narim—handsome,
winsome, has a steady job, but probably the walking definition of wishy
washy.
I’m not addicted to men of action per se, but Holy Hanna, he
acts
as if he has
to contact the high council every time he wants to change his socks.
Wonder how
much paperwork he’d have to file for a kiss?
That
leaves
guys closer to home. Daniel? Maybe, when he’s had time to
deal
with Shau’re
being truly gone. Teal’c? Maybe, but I wouldn’t
dare to
presume. The colonel
would have been a No Go even without Rose around.
Siler?
Davis? Janet?
JANET?
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
DANIEL
Oh boy.
I
need a distraction. Think about something innocuous as I lie here in
the dark.
Cuneiform, maybe. Linear B, text on the laws of agriculture for the
Markets of
Immenhotep—or as Jack would announce, Squiggly thing, bird
thing,
wavy lines,
wheat, jump rope, more squiggly things—
Dear
God,
I’m sounding like Jack. Must be a hormonal reaction to the
rising
level of
testosterone around here.
I wish I
hadn’t thought ‘rising’.
Boring
thoughts. Briefings. No, that leads to thoughts of briefs, and that
brings on
images of underwear, which is too close to skin—umm,
let’s
see. What else is
boring? Getting my blood pressure done. Cuffed, getting
pumped—NO!!
Shit.
It’s
impossible to be bored when you’re compulsively
apodyopsistic. I
hope Teal’c’s
getting his rest, because at this rate he’s going to be the
only
one who is.
TEAL’C
*******************
JACK
Not to
brag
about it, but I’m strong enough to heave the woman up on one
shoulder and haul
her delectable ass back to the tent; which I do, despite her splutters
and
useless pounding. Rose and I have much to work out, starting with her
body from
her clothes. Given the flushed and wide-eyed look she’s got
on
her face, I’m
only getting token protest. I know my honey well enough to sense that.
The
campfire is out, and I sense instinctively that the kids have
deliberately
taken a powder leaving mom here and me to muddle through the dark.
Muddle. Good
verb, prone with hot and sticky possibilities. Rose is going limp as
she
dangles, waiting to hear my command decision.
“In
the
tent—“ I hiss, shifting her off of my shoulder and
into the
dark sand. She
staggers a bit, and drops her hands on her hips.
“Jack!”
“That’s
an
order, MS. MacGyver—“ I announced loudly in my best
Colonel
Bastard tones. She
huffs once at me, but rather than risk me yelling anything else, ducks
into it
quickly. I follow, making a point to close the flaps, closing us in our
lovely
canvas cocoon of dark dank mildew.
I could
care less what the place smells like as I reach for Rose. Damn it! Rose
is
clearly in the lead since she does the dodge in the dark very well,
avoiding my
grasp out of a sense of self-preservation I assume. I thought kissing
would
take the edge off my appetite for her, but instead it’s honed
the
hunger to a
coppery edge bordering on desperation.
How to
get
this friggin’ discussion over with so we can get back to the
REAL
agenda?
“I
was
wrong!” I blurt out in the darkness, listening and trying to
figure out exactly
where my field analyst is hovering.
“WE
were
wrong—“ she swiftly corrects, giving away her
location. I
drop down, but the
creaking of my knees warns her and she shifts in the dark tent, damn it.
“LoveyouneedyouWANTyou,”
I snap, feeling a compulsion to get the talking out of the way as
quickly as
possible.
“Geez
Louise, I knew that before we decided to cool things down,
Jack,”
comes her
slightly scornful reply. If I wasn’t so horny and so
chagrined by
her insight
I’d be much pissier.
“Then
cut
me some slack here, babe—I’m TRYING to do the
meaningful
dialog thing.”
“So
talk
already, Flyboy, because I for one
am not convinced this isn’t a desperate ploy to indulge in
your
off-world
nookie fantasies. How do I know you won’t retreat into
Colonel
Hardass mode
tomorrow, Jack? You can’t just expect me to capitulate
because
you’re horny!”
“WE’RE
horny!” I’m compelled to point out in the interests
of fair
play. The way Rose
was trying to write her name on my tonsils with her tongue was a dead
giveaway.
Her
silence
speaks volumes, and I manage a grin as I continue.
“Look,
we
talked about the good of the team, Rose—the essential balance
of
professionalism, experience and empathy. We hashed out what makes SG1
work, and
concluded that the two of us scorching the sheets would screw things
up—this
sounding familiar so far?”
“Far
too—“
comes Rose’s voice from behind me. I heard her.
“But
we
made two big mistakes.”
“Two?”
“Oh
yeah.
In the course of going all noble and self-sacrificing here, I tried to
squash
down the fact that I fell in LOVE with you!” I snarl. This
baring
of my soul
should be depressing the hell out of Mr. Happy, but he’s
traitorously straining
forth like the bastard he is.
ROSE
We’re
talking. Sort of. I’m staying out of arm’s reach,
which
isn’t easy, and getting
Jack to open up, which isn’t easy either. It’s not
that he
has a problem with
emotions, far from it—he has no common sense with them.
Jack’s sarcastic when
he should be thoughtful, glib when he should be cautious—the
list
goes on.
Nobody who knows him could ever accuse Jack of being emotionless, just
clueless.
Myself
included.
I
can’t get
smug about this decision to break things off with Jack—it WAS
a
joint
resolution between us, an honest attempt to do the right thing as we
saw it at
that time.
But I
faced
the truth a bit sooner than he did—it only took me three days
to
realize that I
was truly, madly, deeply besotted with the Chicago O’Neill. I
was
buttering my
toast, thinking about the times I’d watched him brown his to
a
shade somewhere
between Teal’c skin and charcoal, and it just hit me in the
stomach how much I
loved the man.
I gave a
damn about his toast, for cryin’ out loud!
So I
waited
to see if Jack was going to be able to stay strong. The days went by,
and I
started to crumble inside. He was bleak but resolute, flintier than
I’d ever
seen him before; determined to bluff it out and keep SG1 on an even
keel. I
might have bought the act, too, if I hadn’t caught a few
clues.
He kept
“borrowing” my coffee mug. It was my favorite, the
one with
the enameled fishes
on it. There could be eight mugs around Daniel’s coffeemaker,
and
Jack O’Neill
would invariably take mine every damn time.
The
other
was when Sergeant Siler caught me. I was trying to repair one of my
shelf
brackets in my office by standing on a chair on my
desk—stupid, I
know, but
maintenance was talking FOREVER, and I though I could do it myself. The
door
was open, and I was trying not to teeter when the sergeant came
carrying a load
of files.
He
startled
me; I twitched, and the chair leg slipped. I fell, but Siler dropped
the files
and reached up to catch me. Good man, the sergeant—quick
reflexes, strong
muscles. Too bad Jack stepped in to find me clutching Siler like a life
buoy.
“There
had
better be a damned
good explanation
for this,” he hissed in a low voice as he crossed his arms
and
waited. Siler
set me down and shot me a brave look; I sighed.
“I
fell and
the sergeant caught me, sir—“
“And
just
what the hell
were you doing up on
the desk?” Jack came closer, brown eyes narrowing.
Siler
managed to slip out, leaving me to face a twenty-minute lecture on
safety in
the workplace and a stern promise not to engage in dangerous
acrobatics, even
as Jack paced around in a desperate attempt to keep from touching me.
Ah Love.
I
digress—the point was and is, that Jack was subliminating Big
Time, and it was
only a matter of until he came to his senses. Considering this was
Jack,
however, that could stretch out longer than my sanity.
CARTER
Janet?
Is
this because Rose kissed me? Am I a lesbian and didn’t know
it?
Sheesh!
Let’s put this to the test then. Who would I rather take a
bubble
bath
with—Janet or Martouf?
Okay,
that
wasn’t a fair test.
Who
would I
rather kiss in the rain, Rose or Narim?
Shit!
This is
definitely getting weird.
DANIEL
Ohhhhhhhhh
dear.
This is not good. I’m definitely turgid. Unfortunately, I
can’t take matters
into my own hands as the saying goes, because I have no idea when
Sam’s due
back in, and getting caught in a privately intimate moment would be an
incredibly BAD thing. I suppose I can I scoot off to the latrine pit
for relief
if I can manage not to lose my way or fall in.
This
time.
Okay,
Jackson, time to concentrate on that which is going to kill your
libido. Think
of symbiotes in your coffee, think of Maybourne in a
thong—Ooooh
yeah. THAT’S
incredibly vile. If I lose myself in that image I may never have a
hydraulics
problem again—
Trouble
is,
the memory of Rose diving into Sam’s mouth is still a little
too
recent to put
out of mind completely, if I’m going to be honest here. This
might call for the
worst of the worst—Bra’tak and Maybourne going at
it—
Oof!
Regurgitation is a distinct possibility here—
TEAL’C
******zzzzzz*******
JACK
“I
love
you, ya know!”
I
reiterate this point, just to make sure Rose
knows I’m not mincing any words here. She’s right
behind me
now; I can feel her
breath between my shoulder blades. Itching to pounce on her, but
it’s still not
quite the right time, and she’d probably scoot out under the
flaps anyway. I
take a deep breath.
“I
know,
Jack. Believe me, I know,”
comes her
sorrowful reply. The sound of it cuts deep into me; I’m aware
of
how much she’s
held back trying to accommodate me on this stupid decision. Rose
isn’t chiding
me—exactly. I shake my head, even though I know she
can’t
see it.
“It
was a
bad choice, okay? Even though we thought we were doing the right thing,
turns
out the gestalt of this unit runs deeper than we thought,” I
respond in a low
voice, “ A lot
deeper.”
“In
what
way, Jack?”
“You
. . .
“ it’s hard to put into words and have it mean what
I
really feel, but I give
the old Air Force try, “ground
me.
Keep me balanced, babe. I’m connected to everything that
matters
to me through
you.”
For a
long
moment she seems to digest this, and her arms slide around my waist as
she
snuggles in. The heat of her against my back seeps in, feeling
righteously
good.
I
relax.
“I
didn’t know
that,” she confesses with a little
hitch in her voice. I love that sound, the tiny choke that means
she’s trying
not to cry. Lightly my fingers slide over hers and I squeeze them. Not
big on
the emotional thing, but even I’M
a
little chokey here.
“Jack
I
tried, darling I really did—“ She rushes in, grip
tightening around me, “—but I
was on the verge of asking Hammond to reassign me. I couldn’t
deal with seeing
you all the time and not being able to completely cope with what I was
trying
NOT to feel—does that make any sense?” she trailed
off
uncertainly.
ROSE
Woo boy,
Jack O’Neill in touch with his Feelings—alert the
media!
Don’t know if I can
take much more of this, what with my arms full of warm sensitive man,
and my
head full of his words.
So
it’s
mutual. It’s definitely mutual here. We agree on that much,
and
that’s
progress, for us anyway.
“You
were
having trouble dealing with your lust for my saggy
ass—“ he
teases me warmly. I
bite his shoulder blade through his damp tee shirt and he flinches.
“No
mauling
the aging love toy—“ comes his slightly breathless
reply. I
snort.
“Jack,
are
we going to give this another go then?” I demand quickly,
getting
it out
without flinching. He sighs and I feel his ribcage expand in a deep
powerful
move. In a swift move, he turns in my arms, and drops a kiss on my
mouth—a
tender one, sweet, but gentler than the ones we indulged in earlier.
Those were
demands; this is a promise.
“We
already
ARE,” he points out, “because the second mistake we
made
was assuming the rest
of the team wasn’t a part of this. And it’s pretty
obvious
that they are even
to ME.”
I rest
my
forehead on his chin; Jack absently kisses my hair.
“Teal’c
and
Sam and Daniel have a say in this?”
“A
BIG say,
apparently,” comes a mutter against my skin. I hug him more
tightly. He does
the same. I LIKE what I’m feeling.
“It’s
all
understated, Rose—all in the subtext of what we do. Believe
me,
if anyone had a
problem with us being US we’d have heard about it. Not just
the
regs thing that
Carter would spout, but in dozens of other subtle little
ways.”
He’s
right.
You can’t be this close to the people your life depends on
without knowing the
body language, the telltale signs of mood and temperament and trust.
It’s
clear
to me that we owe the kids an explanation, an
apology—something.
“Jack—“
I
begin, uncertain what to say. He draws me closer, his big calloused
hands
sliding up under the tee shirt.
“Hey
the
LEAST we can do is take the hint—“ he whispers, and
I can
feel his grin on my
throat.
CARTER
I LIKED
kissing Daniel! And just because I can’t seem to manage any
sort
of stable
relationship outside the Air Force is not indicative of gender issues!
I
thought I left this all behind at the Academy, and here it is again,
smacking
me in the face. Thank God my watch is over and I can let Daniel pace
around and
fend off mosquitoes a while. Stomp my way back to the tent. Not much
noise. I
peer over twenty feet at the Colonel’s tent. Not much noise.
“Daniel?”
“Sam?”
He
doesn’t
sound good—crawl in, give him a quick pat on the
knee—
Um.
That
wasn’t
his knee—
DANIEL
Oh.
Think
fast,
duck and cover, Jackson—don’t let this get out of
hand—or IN hand--
“Watch
the
No fly zone!” I hiss in desperation.
Did I
really say that? And she’s . . . she’s--
GIGGLING!
“Sam!”
“S-s-sorry!
I had no idea you had hostile territory there, Daniel!”
How to
move
beyond this moment—this is NOT the sort of moment I handle
well,
but it’s also
not the only time I’ve ever been groped, or misgroped in the
dark. Sam is
shifting, and I’m clearing my throat in wretched
embarrassment,
trying to WILL
away this lump in my shorts and pretend the last minute of our lives
didn’t
happen—
Oh.
Sam’s
moving closer. She smells nice, warm and sweet. Her fingers are
brushing my
face, gentle and slow.
“Daniel,
don’t sweat it—I have a brother, I know about male
physiology okay? Just a
hormonal response.”
“Um,
yeah,”
comes my weak reply. She’s sitting next to me, and I lean
into
her warmth,
enjoying it between us. Suddenly I notice something I hadn’t
before.
Sam’s
nervous.
I wonder
why?
TEAL’C
*****Prim’ta,
Kree!
JACK
Oh shit,
is
this just
like those fantasies I
used to have during Boy Scout camp big time—musty tent, great
outdoors and
half-naked woman in my arms. Having freed Rose from my tee shirt, I
drag her
down to the camp bed and proceed to taste as much of her exposed skin
as I can.
She’s appreciative, but before her moaning gets too loud, I
drop
a gentle but
firm hand over those lips.
Rose
gets
the message, but then starts licking my palm, making my knees buckle a
little.
I pin her down under me and fumble one-handed for my fly, but Rose
lends a hand
here, still whimpering against my fingers. We scrabble with my boots
and socks
and finally, FINALLY toss it all to the sandy floor and slam together
on the
lumpy bed.
Ohhhh
Yeah,
missed this, REALLY missed hot skin made cool when wet, kisses, kisses,
kisses—deep slow plunges into that naughty mouth, impatient
hands
sliding all
over my torso. Rose the analyst is dependable and competent; Rose the
lover is
a wantonly pushy woman with a pretty clear agenda of what she wants of
me.
She’s
gonna
be getting it, too—
ROSE
Jack
O’Neill weighs a ton, but breathing doesn’t matter
to me at
the moment, not
when I have him lying on my stomach, skin to skin like this. Lost in
the lovely
sweet weight of him.
Gonna be
fast and furious, Ohhyeah, come to mama big boy—neither one
of us
is going to
last long, but that’s okay—ohGodohhhhhGod!
CARTER
He
smells
so good, and man is he hot. This isn’t just tropical sweat
hot,
this is tangy
aroused hot. Daniel in lusty sweetness . . . I think I want to kiss him
again.
Forget that, I KNOW I want to kiss him. He’s not pulling
away,
just waiting
there—what do I do, what do Immmmmmmph—
DANIEL
--Mmmmmmph,
okay, THAT is good. This is a program I can get with, definitely.
Kissing Sam.
Tasty Sam—Mmmmmmmmph
TEAL’C
I have
met
my KelNoReem needs and will inquire if Daniel Jackson wishes to
alternate his
watch with mine.
After
further consideration, I will not. Although I will subtly chide both
him and
Major Carter for their lack of discretion it does not matter at the
moment. I
feel a sense of accomplishment at reuniting Ms MacGyver with
O’Neill and the
union of Daniel Jackson with Major Carter is an unexpected benefit. I
will
watch the sun rise and wait our return to the SGC, then seek out Doctor
Frasier
to relieve my engorgement. Possibly more than once.
It is
much
better to work with Tau’rii who are as they say, Getting Some.
JACK
After
weighing all the factors, and re-evaluating the pros and cons I
officially
rescind the disastrous command decision of a week and a half ago.
Clearly a
deprived and desperate leader negatively impacts the team dynamics and
esprit
de corps. For the sake of SG1 and my own damned sanity, I officially
countermand said erroneous decision.
Sweet!
That sounded official, and
all it really
boils down to is that the kids have a mom, officially now, if that
doesn’t come
across as a little too friggin’ Brady Bunch.
Rose is
a
nice boneless bitty heap on me, right where I like her. I have teeth
marks in
my palm from keeping her enthusiastic vocalizations down, but hey,
that’s what
fingerless gloves are for covering up. Mr. Happy has gone completely
ecstatic
three times now, and persists in coaxing me to an encore, but I
don’t want to
wear out my welcome with She Who Worships me here—
ROSE
Mmmmmmm.
Happyhappyhappy. The Three Little Pigs are still on my naughty list,
and will
be dealt with at the appropriate time of course, but for the moment
I’m very
comfortable here on my Beautyrest O’Neill.
Amazing
how
getting laid can change your whole outlook on things. Mind you, this
will be
the first and last time it’s going to happen off-world.
Lovely as
it was, there
are SOME ground rules that make sense and that’s one of them.
That and keeping
the PDA’s to a bare minimum of course. I respect Hammond too
much
to put him in
a tough position.
Eek!
Jack’s
nuzzling me again, and not with his nose! No more, I mean, honestly,
you’d
think he hadn’t gotten any . . . Ohhhh, well if
he’s going
to play it THAT way
. . .
CARTER
I
have found a whole
new interest
beyond science---wow! From physics to physical via the Doctor Jackson
interactive experience! Stroked like a stone tablet, fondled like a
petroglyph,
and then jumped so completely and intensely that even my eyebrows
are sighing!
This
is embarrassing—that all of this was under my nose the whole
time
and I never
realized it. While I was trying to be respectful about
Shau’re,
it never dawned
on me that Daniel had already started to move forward again.
Love
him? Don’t know—but I could sure get used
to encounters of the Daniel kind, absolutely.
DANIEL
Oh
my. I jumped Sam. SAM. Not only did I jump Sam, I A) LIKED
it, B)
suspect
she liked it and C) am considering how to do it again as soon as
humanly
possible.
Okay.
One thing at a time. I’m a reasonable human being with a
normal
sex drive and a
modicum of intelligence. I loved my wife. My wife is dead. My libido is
not,
obviously. So at some point last
night after kissing Sam and seeing Sam kissing Rose my body decided
enough was
enough and it was time to stop pretending Samantha Carter
doesn’t
have a
fabulous ass because she damned well DOES.
I
can respect that. I’m astonished, delighted and stunned that
she
felt the same
way, and pounced on me at the same time I pounced on her. A mutual
pouncing as
it were.
Do
I love her? I’m not sure. I respect her, adore her, and
admire
her, but---we’ll
need to talk. Absolutely. With more pouncing just to be sure.
TEAL’C
The
Tau’rii are a complicated and confusing race. This morning
O’Neill announced
that quote you have a new mom, kids, unquote. I find this perplexing
because
there was only Ms. MacGyver with him, and she did not look particularly
maternal. She looked annoyed with O’Neill, and somewhat
disheveled. She limped
a bit, and muttered under her breath that O’Neill would be
occupying a location
known as the ‘wet spot’ for the rest of all time.
When
I asked Daniel Jackson for clarification of this idiom he turned quite
red and
mumbled a reply that it was a vulgar label for post-coital ejaculate
and could
I please not ask about it further at the moment. Major Carter too,
seemed
uncomfortable with my question. As we returned to the star gate, only
O’Neill
seemed to be alert and in a state of mind best defined as
‘smug’.
“Nothing
quite like winning at Spin the Bottle,” he announced loudly
before ushering us
all back through the gate.
I
am mystified, since to the best of my recollection he did not in fact,
play.
END