Jack/Janet, the silence between, het, R
He moves, sharply, controlled, and the angle is just right to temporarily blind her. She makes an incoherent noise in the hopes that he'll do it again, and keep doing it, so her mind blanks out. So she doesn't have to remember.
A long time ago she covered up for Colonel Jack O'Neill, lied to the NID, and while Maybourne couldn't prove it, she was put under suspicion. He even went as far as to accuse her of being involved with her superior. She had laughed then, amused at the far-fetched concept of them sleeping together.
That's another reason to lose all cognizance. She let him press her backwards, helped him remove just enough clothes, and now he's fucking her, desperate and lost and so so wrong. Hot tears taste salty on her lips and she doesn't know if they're hers or his.
xxxxx
She'd treated his wounds against his wishes. He'd struggled to start with but then just sat still, unblinking, lost in his grief. She'd applied dressings through the wavery sheen of tears. She shouldn't have been there, should have stepped back, but she didn't and her staff knew better than to make her. It was just the two of them, keeping everyone back with their palpable misery.
After that the order had come to leave. Go home. ("Not to a bar, son.") And take a week.
He hadn't gone home. He'd come to her instead. Smacked his palm against the glass until she had to open the door out of fear he'd break it and cut himself. She'd gritted her teeth then, hating how she had cared, still cared, and why she hadn't stopped caring years ago. Then it wouldn't be hurting so much.
"Fuck," he had rasped, the first words since tumbling through the gate alone. She hadn't realised then it was more of a self-destructive plan than anything else.
xxxxx
"Fuck." This time it's her. The awareness is back and nothing has changed, only the warm afterglow. It makes her cry harder, because it's a feeling she used to associate with love and happiness and Daniel. And now all there is is guilt and wrongness and she really needs him to leave now.
As soon as it was over he'd gotten as far away from her as he could while still being in the same room. She can't look at him, but she can hear him raging from where she is, throwing things around in his mental space. Hating himself and the inhabitants of P-whatever-the-hell and her and them. She hates them too, for being so dedicated to that fucking Stargate. For not coming back home. For leaving the two of them alone. And she has to tell Cassie, which makes three.
Her tears have stopped. She really needs a shower and then she's going to sleep for a week. But she can't find it in her to care, so she just stays there, alone in the darkening house, long after the door has slammed.
Fuck.