A/N: This is just a short drabble that I had initially written smack dab in the middle of the fourth chapter of my story "The Ninth Chevron." Unfortunately, I felt it slowed down the story too much. Still, I really like it and couldn't just let it sit on my computer without a home... so I'm posting it like a fun "delete scenes" bonus track on a DVD.
Warning: S/J ship ahead
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine...
Samantha Carter talked in her sleep. The first time he heard it, he'd discovered that his then Captain was a lot tougher than he'd given her credit for. The mission had gone to hell when a local tribesman kidnapped Carter and sold her to a neighbor in order to purchase a bride for himself. SG-1 had been able to buy her back for a handgun, only to find themselves right back the next day so Carter could prove to the Mongol that women could kick butt, too. He'd been impressed with her fighting skills, but hadn't realized just how amazing that fight had been until she whispered just one phrase in her sleep that night.
"If you need to beat a woman to feel more like a man, then beat me."
He'd read in her mission report a week later that she had fought in hand-to-hand combat while nursing the wounds that statement had cost her. She'd never let on. Not once. He thought maybe that was the first time he'd seen her as not just a scientist, but as a soldier.
Almost two years later, the team rode together in the back of a VW Bus. Going back in time had not been on their agenda, but he had to admit, it was kind of cool. Funny enough, he didn't really worry about getting home. He knew Carter would figure it out. He'd glanced at her sleeping form stretched out on the window seat, dressed in a colorful skirt. Her hand was curled just under her cheek and her lips shined with the gloss their driver's girlfriend had put on her. He remembered thinking how soft the look made her seem. How tranquil.
"I don't love you, Jonas."
He knew she was talking to her ex-fiancé, Jonas Hanson. It was hard to picture her engaged to a man that controlling. She needed someone who would let her be herself; someone who wasn't intimidated by a having a relationship with someone they could never live up to. Someone like… He wasn't going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. Then he realized. That was the first time he'd seen her as not just a soldier, but as a woman.
The last time he'd heard her talk in her sleep was just a few weeks ago; the day after they'd buried her father. The team had thought she needed some time away from the SGC so Jack had arranged some down time. She lay sleeping on his couch at the cabin after a long drive in Jack's cramped truck. Her warm beer sat forgotten on the table and her light sweater was draped loosely over her shoulders.
"Jack."
He really liked the sound of that, he decided; his name on her lips. Not sir. Not General. Just Jack. He'd pulled the sweater higher up on her shoulders and she'd sighed. He remembered staring down at her hoping she'd say it just one more time, knowing that they couldn't go on like this anymore. Something had to change. That was the first time he'd seen her as his.
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Thanks for taking the time to read it...