A/N I have spent many years reading all your wonderful SG1 stories and finally decided it was time to try it myself.

Set during Affinity. The way I would prefer the conversation to have gone after 'the Proposal'


She's sitting outside his house working up the courage. She knows he's home; her car sits next to his truck and the lounge light is on.

She eyes the door handle again and drums her fingers on the steering wheel. It's late, 21.30. Not late enough to be rude, but late enough to show that it's not a work call and hopefully late enough to use the magic of darkness if she needs to hide. Or escape. Or just flat out run.

She closes her eyes, inhales a final breath of warmth from the car and steps out to embrace the crisp Colorado air. She winces at the crunch of gravel underfoot. Not that it matters. She's been in the car a few minutes and figures he must have heard her pull in.

She stands at his front door. The cool air flushes her cheeks and leaves her throat slightly raw. At least that's what she blames it on. She knocks sharply and the door opens in seconds. So yes, there's the answer to that question.

He looks at her, eyebrows raised in that way he does.

"Carter?"

The eyebrows change to frame the question in his eyes that he states out loud anyway. "Everything Ok?"

She takes a step back. Oh god, she can't do it. She's gonna have to improvise.

"Yes, fine, Sir." She pauses, frustration flaring inside her. It's the automatic response of a dutiful officer and that's not why she's here. She can do this.

"Actually, no."

She swallows.

"Can I come in?"

The eyebrows go back up in surprise and he opens the door wider, lifting his arm invitingly. "By all means. I was just..."

She moves inside before the urge to run kicks in, stopping at the top of the stairs down into his lounge area. It feels intrusive to go further.

Another deep breath and this time it's full of him. His scent, His house...Him.

"Carter?"

He stands with her at the top of the stairs and she's looking up at him. Now or never.

"Sir...this is a little...I'm just gonna get straight to it." His eyes darken and take on a wary or defensive look. Or maybe she's reading too much into it and it's just her own eyes adjusting to the light in the house.

She feels like she's about to jump, about to put herself on the line and let out part of her that's been buried deeply over the last four years, longer even. This thing with Pete has been good. Good for her confidence, her body and her soul. But not for her sanity. Not for that constant niggle of betrayal of something bigger, something so much deeper that could possibly still be.

The enormity of what she's about to ask overwhelms her and she moves her hand from her pocket to his arm to fix her to him as she asks.

"The armbands and the Zatarc...confessions. I know it's been a long time but do you...do you still feel like that?"

His face betrays nothing. She listens for any clue in his response to her words, any change in his breathing or if he shifts his position at all. She hears nothing but her rapidly beating heart is so loud in her head that she may not have heard it anyway.

She searches his face for something, any hint of a response and knows she hasn't schooled her features as well as he has. Does the desperation show on her face? She breaks the contact, moving her hand from his arm and looks away, pulling her lips in on themselves. No-one speaks. The silence feels infinite but can only be a few seconds. She fidgets with the cuffs on her jacket. Does she wait or push it further? Or run?

No. She needs to know. She looks back up at him, really looks at him.

"Please. I need to know." She hopes she sounds stronger than she feels.

More silence. He's holding her gaze but she still can't read anything in his eyes, damn him.

"Why now?"

Finally he breaks the emptiness but she still doesn't have an answer.

She looks away. The honest reply is not one she's willing to give. The shiny engagement ring presented to her this morning is the catalyst for this confrontation but ultimately that's not what this is about.

"You're with someone."

She closes her eyes in defence. God, his voice is so neutral. Like he's been stripped of all emotion. She can't read anything into it. Actually it's worse – she can read everything into it. At least it's not a flat out denial. Hope flares again. Is he playing for time? Her eyes flick open to meet his gaze. She has to give him more, to push him one way or another.

"Yes." She takes a deep breath. "But he's not you".

His posture droops and his eyes take on...what is that? Despair? Defeat? Oh god, it's the answer she was dreading but she has to hear it out loud. She pushes again.

"Do you still feel..."

"Do you?" His voice is gruff as he counters her question before she finishes. She chokes out a laugh that he doesn't know the answer to that given what she feels she's just revealed.

She raises her open hands in a gesture of incredulity and opens her mouth to speak. Then stops, lowers her defence and gives a heartfelt and throaty,

"Yes."

Now he reacts. His eyes widen, in shock? He runs a hand through his hair. He starts minutely shaking his head, searching her eyes and his brain working in overdrive – she can see it. She thinks she knows what's coming and wants to run but her feet betray her because she still hopes, still clings to a shred of light inside her that is sure he feels the same. The silence stretches and she feels the tension building inside herself waiting on his next words.

He leans back, away from her and she thinks he has the same flight instinct. His wrist twitches his hand up and splays out his fingers towards her but relaxes as quickly as it flares. His eyes soften and she can feel a physical pull towards him as she sees him reach his decision. Her chest starts to swell and she feels the light grow inside her he breaths out his answer.

"No."

What? The invisible force pulling her towards him snaps and she reels back. Her swelling chest deflates like a balloon and she rides the wave of nausea that goes with it, hoping to god she doesn't actually vomit. Her feet are no longer an opposing force and she turns and speeds for the door. She feels a draft of air as he grabs for her arm and misses, or did she dodge it just wanting to get the hell out of there?

"Carter! Dammit, wait."

She hears him but has to get away. She's so embarrassed. Such a fool. How could she think he would still feel like that after all this time? He was over her. Oh god, he's over her. She's too late.

She reaches for the door handle and tugs at the same moment his hand slams against the door, stopping it from opening. His other comes round hard on the wall effectively pinning her although he's not actually touching her. She could move if she wanted to.

They're both breathing heavily but the exertion isn't enough to warrant it.

His next words tumble out in an urgent burst. "You really think I'd feel the same after another four years with you?" His breathing is still heavy, his words thick with emotion. "No. It's not the same." She flinches under him, hunching her shoulders as though it will protect her from his mental onslaught of what's still to come.

The tension in his arms and his prone body relax as he must realise the effect he's having on her. "It's much...more."

"Bigger."

"Deeper."

Neither of them move but the warmth of his breath on her neck raises goosebumps on her skin. She's still reeling from the 'No' and for a while can only interpret his words in the context of that.

Their breathing slows a little and he pushes away from the wall, flipping round to lean next to her at the same time she twists to face away from the door. He slides down the wall and sits as he lands.

He glances up, catching her eye then looks back out in front.

"Never the best with words," he says quietly.

He reaches up for her hand and gives a tug on her fingers, suggesting she join him on the floor. She complies without it being a conscious decision and he loosens his grip but doesn't let go.

Side by side in a similar state of emotional exhaustion, she feels numb. Not sure if she's processed his words, only that she doesn't feel the need to run anymore.