Disclaimer: Not Mine! (I wish... Ben Browder, Micheal Shanks, Richard Dean Anderson... drools)
Summary: She was having A Bad Day.
A/N: The rest of my stories are currently on hiatus, and will probably be for a while. Suffice it to say, they've hit a block the size of the Stargate. I'm hoping that writing some drabbles will get me going again, kick-start the ol' engine or something, but for now, my massive apologies to anyone who has been patiently waiting for updates... Check out my lj (tammy0001 . livejournal . com) for more details and updates.
She sat at her table in the commissary and sighed, prodding her jello viciously with her spoon. It was blue, as always. Jiggling about on its plate, it was mocking her. Teasing her, tormenting her, begging her to give in and take a bite… 'Go on… you know you want me…' With lightning speed, her spoon shot out, and made its way back to her mouth, where she savoured her prize.
The Colonel had once asked her what Blue Jello tasted like. All she could say was 'blue', and he persisted upon asking her, until one day she made Daniel give him some. Well, she wasn't about to give up her own jello. That was sacrosanct, and they all knew it. The arm darted out again, spearing a wobbling piece of blue-ness and bringing it back to her lips. She was having a Bad Day. And the whole base could tell – the servers in the commissary had been given notice to ensure the presence of copious amounts of Blue Jello; the fate of the world depended upon it. When the Colonel was having a Bad Day, it was chocolate cake. Daniel, it was coffee. Teal'c – well, anything edible, in larger amounts than the others. He could eat more that twenty of your finest soldiers on a good day. On a Bad Day, the rest of the base was lucky to get breakfast.
Again, the arm shot out, and another evil piece of jello was destroyed by the mighty and powerful Samantha Carter. The Bad Day was eating at her, nagging at her brain. She loved puzzles usually – her mind would work on them, looking at them analytically and logically solving each and every problem that came her way. But not this one. The rest of the base assumed that she was grieving her relationship with Pete – that she was mourning the lost loves of her life, yadda yadda yadda. The truth was, she was trying to figure out how to get what she really wanted, the man she really l…llo…the man she really l-worded. (She couldn't bring herself to say it, even in her mind. Not until it worked, until she solved the problem.) And so the jello suffered, another piece consumed rapidly as her mind worked furiously at a way to finally get what she had denied herself for years. Well, she needed fuel, didn't she?
But the solution continued to evade her. The Bad Day was winning – she couldn't figure out a way to make it work. They couldn't retire – she could never ask him to do that, and as much as she ll… l-words him, she knows she could never give this up. Even if she would be allowed. The regs were in the way, and they couldn't get around those. And even if they transferred, either one of them, there was still chain-of-command stuff – she'd need promoting, or he'd need a civilian position or something. It wasn't like she could ask for a promotion, either, and she wouldn't make him ask for a civilian position – it wasn't her place, she'd never do that to him.
So, Sam Carter sat in the commissary, torturing and destroying a plate of blue jello. And then another one, because it was a Bad Day. Tomorrow would be a Bad Day too, and the next. Until she could figure out the problem, the canteen had better stock plenty of blue jello. But when she figures out the problem, finds the logical solution, then she'll have a Good Day. And she'll be able to admit that she l-words… loves… him, after all.