MONDAY
"So, a week's leave, Carter." Jack asked, following Sam, unusually, dressed in civvies, down the corridor. "Are you actually leaving the base this time?"
She smiled, and nodded.
"Whatcha going to do?"
"Paint my house. The whole thing."
"Carter, have you ever heard of the concept of resting? Of doing nothing while you're on leave? Lying in? Chilling out?"
She laughed.
"What about you, Sir, what are you doing?"
"Staying here with Daniel. He's having a rough time." He said seriously, and Sam nodded. Daniel not only couldn't remember a thing about his ascension, he was still groggy and confused, sometimes unsure where he was, or when he was.
"So I'll be on the base all week if you need me." Jack said, half-hopefully.
"I'll remember." She said, pushing the button for the elevator.
"Seriously, Carter," Jack said, in a low voice. "You look exhausted. It's a been rough few weeks. Try to rest, ok?"
"Yes Sir." She said, touched by his tenderness. She got into the elevator as he shouted out "You're supposed to ask me to go fishing right about now!" but the doors closed before she could answer.
***********************
She was alone in the elevator, and sighing, and still laughing about Jack's last remark, she leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes. Jack was right. She was exhausted. As one of English colleagues put it, completely bloody knackered. She been emotionally tired out by Daniel's return, and everything connected to that, and what with the problems with the Asgard, and Tok'ra..she'd barely had time to breathe lately, let alone rest. In fact, the whole seven years had drained her, and she realised, with a shock, that this was the first leave she'd ever taken when she'd actually left. She was just so damn tired, and she was looking forward to a week, just one week, where she didn't have to do anything but make sure the colours in her den didn't clash. One week where she didn't have to save the world, solve the insolvable, be the tough, deadly soldier.
One week where she didn't have to think about the way Jack looked at her.
**********************
TUESDAY
Sam looked with bewilderment at the array of colours in front of her. Last time she'd been shopping for paint, she'd been six, and her dad was repainting her room. She'd had a choice of six colours (she'd avoided Barbie pink, choosing a cool blue instead.). Now there were hundreds. How could she choose? She had no idea of paint colours, spending most of her life surrounding my military grey and green. What colour was 'magnolia' anyway? Wasn't it just plain white? She seriously considered giving home, going home, and doing as the Colonel suggested..doing nothing all week.
But Sam Carter wasn't a quitter. She reached gingerly for a tin of 'Summer Heather.'. What was the difference between that and 'Scottish Heather?'. She looked around, saw no-one was looking, and prised up the lid with her car key.
"I don't think you're supposed to do that." A voice said from behind her. She jumped, and some of the paint leapt out of the tin, and splashed all over the stranger in front of her.
"Oh crap." She said, looking up at the purple (couldn't it just say purple on the tin?) splashed man in front of her.
"I am so sorry." She said.
"Don't worry, I think the purple quite goes with the yellow shirt." He said. She smiled, put the tin down, and thought about wiping the paint off..but then she'd get covered with paint, and it would get everywhere.
"You have to send me the dry-cleaning bill." She insisted.
"Don't worry about it." He said. "I'll buy you dinner, to make up for it."
"Shouldn't I buy you dinner, instead?" she asked confused.
"Yes, but I'm an old fashioned man, and I like to buy dinner on the first date." He said.
"Date?" Sam looked up..really looked at him this time. He had a kind, gentle face, not handsome, but vulnerable, and quiet He had green eyes, really green, like you rarely see, and his hair was black, flopping over his eyes.
"I've screwed up, haven't I?" he said anxiously. "I thought it was going so smooth. Sorry, you're the first woman I've asked out since my wife divorced me, and I just knew I'd screw it up."
"No..no you haven't. How can you screw up, I spilt paint all over you."
"Yeah, but my ex-wife bought this shirt..now I can throw it out. Sorry to seem pushy, but about dinner...?"
"It seems to be the least I can do." She said, smiling, quite unaware that the stranger's heart suddenly turned flip-flops as she smiled.
"I'm Steven." He said.
"Sam..Samantha." Sam replied.
And Steven fell in love, right there and then, with the woman who spilled paint all over him, and smiled like an angel.
***************************
"So, a week's leave, Carter." Jack asked, following Sam, unusually, dressed in civvies, down the corridor. "Are you actually leaving the base this time?"
She smiled, and nodded.
"Whatcha going to do?"
"Paint my house. The whole thing."
"Carter, have you ever heard of the concept of resting? Of doing nothing while you're on leave? Lying in? Chilling out?"
She laughed.
"What about you, Sir, what are you doing?"
"Staying here with Daniel. He's having a rough time." He said seriously, and Sam nodded. Daniel not only couldn't remember a thing about his ascension, he was still groggy and confused, sometimes unsure where he was, or when he was.
"So I'll be on the base all week if you need me." Jack said, half-hopefully.
"I'll remember." She said, pushing the button for the elevator.
"Seriously, Carter," Jack said, in a low voice. "You look exhausted. It's a been rough few weeks. Try to rest, ok?"
"Yes Sir." She said, touched by his tenderness. She got into the elevator as he shouted out "You're supposed to ask me to go fishing right about now!" but the doors closed before she could answer.
***********************
She was alone in the elevator, and sighing, and still laughing about Jack's last remark, she leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes. Jack was right. She was exhausted. As one of English colleagues put it, completely bloody knackered. She been emotionally tired out by Daniel's return, and everything connected to that, and what with the problems with the Asgard, and Tok'ra..she'd barely had time to breathe lately, let alone rest. In fact, the whole seven years had drained her, and she realised, with a shock, that this was the first leave she'd ever taken when she'd actually left. She was just so damn tired, and she was looking forward to a week, just one week, where she didn't have to do anything but make sure the colours in her den didn't clash. One week where she didn't have to save the world, solve the insolvable, be the tough, deadly soldier.
One week where she didn't have to think about the way Jack looked at her.
**********************
TUESDAY
Sam looked with bewilderment at the array of colours in front of her. Last time she'd been shopping for paint, she'd been six, and her dad was repainting her room. She'd had a choice of six colours (she'd avoided Barbie pink, choosing a cool blue instead.). Now there were hundreds. How could she choose? She had no idea of paint colours, spending most of her life surrounding my military grey and green. What colour was 'magnolia' anyway? Wasn't it just plain white? She seriously considered giving home, going home, and doing as the Colonel suggested..doing nothing all week.
But Sam Carter wasn't a quitter. She reached gingerly for a tin of 'Summer Heather.'. What was the difference between that and 'Scottish Heather?'. She looked around, saw no-one was looking, and prised up the lid with her car key.
"I don't think you're supposed to do that." A voice said from behind her. She jumped, and some of the paint leapt out of the tin, and splashed all over the stranger in front of her.
"Oh crap." She said, looking up at the purple (couldn't it just say purple on the tin?) splashed man in front of her.
"I am so sorry." She said.
"Don't worry, I think the purple quite goes with the yellow shirt." He said. She smiled, put the tin down, and thought about wiping the paint off..but then she'd get covered with paint, and it would get everywhere.
"You have to send me the dry-cleaning bill." She insisted.
"Don't worry about it." He said. "I'll buy you dinner, to make up for it."
"Shouldn't I buy you dinner, instead?" she asked confused.
"Yes, but I'm an old fashioned man, and I like to buy dinner on the first date." He said.
"Date?" Sam looked up..really looked at him this time. He had a kind, gentle face, not handsome, but vulnerable, and quiet He had green eyes, really green, like you rarely see, and his hair was black, flopping over his eyes.
"I've screwed up, haven't I?" he said anxiously. "I thought it was going so smooth. Sorry, you're the first woman I've asked out since my wife divorced me, and I just knew I'd screw it up."
"No..no you haven't. How can you screw up, I spilt paint all over you."
"Yeah, but my ex-wife bought this shirt..now I can throw it out. Sorry to seem pushy, but about dinner...?"
"It seems to be the least I can do." She said, smiling, quite unaware that the stranger's heart suddenly turned flip-flops as she smiled.
"I'm Steven." He said.
"Sam..Samantha." Sam replied.
And Steven fell in love, right there and then, with the woman who spilled paint all over him, and smiled like an angel.
***************************