Major Carter plopped down at a seat in the commissary around 0900 for some coffee and jello. Strange combination, she thought in mild surprise. She really did have a thing for combining two completely irrelevant things to suit her needs or fancies…
And sometimes she was too good at it. The Colonel and her job, for example. Two things she loved, that sometimes meshed well, and sometimes didn't. She was on the "didn't" side of the coin at the moment.
If you really love him as much as you're claiming, her conscience snapped shortly, then why don't you stop moping around and DO something about it?
Carter sighed. She knew the answer to that question all too well. There were too many "I can't"s on her part. "I can't ask him how he feels." "I can't quit my job!" "I can't risk my career." "I can't risk hurting myself doing this."
She was allowing some leeway for the last one, against her better judgment. She wasn't sure that, after Hansen, she could stand to get hurt again. Given, his was a different hurt, but the end would be the same: wounded heart, wounded pride, slim to none chances of a good night's sleep for a few months.
"Hey, what's up?"
Major Carter jumped at the sound of HIS voice. A certain Colonel Jack O'Neill sat across from her at the table, his trademark smile in place, with just a tad of concern flashing in his eyes.
"Nothing," she said with a deep sigh. She took a sip of her coffee.
"Doesn't look like nothing," he challenged.
Carter considered him for a moment. Not knowing how to respond, she just shook her head.
He, in turn, stared at her, too. A minute later, he closed his eyes and shrugged. Opening them a squint, he said, "Come with me. Bring your jello if you want."
She was puzzled. "Sir?"
O'Neill gave her a long, pointed look. She sucked in a deep breath and nodded in submission. "Yes sir," she said quietly, and got up from the table to follow his heels, trying very hard to block out Naughty Conscience's smutty remarks about a certain CO's backside…
Before she knew it, they were in the parking lot. "C'mon, hop in," the Colonel gruffly said, moving around to the driver's side door of his pickup.
Confused, Major Carter continued to oblige. As she buckled her seat belt, she asked, "Where are we going, sir?"
"Doesn't matter," he said lightly with a dismissing wave of his hand.
"Oh."
O'Neill steered them away, his driving patient and collected. Carter started to wonder what he had in mind. After ten or so minutes of mindless driving, she finally said, "My brother called the other day."
She barely realized she'd spoken until he said, "Oh?"
Though slightly surprised, she took it in stride. "Yeah. We fought."
There was a pause. "About?"
"Pete Shanahan."
"Who?"
She clarified, "Mark's buddy in Denver."
"Oh." There was hesitation in his voice when he added, "Setup?"
"Completely and utterly a setup," she said, wincing at the disgusted tone that crept into her voice.
"So…that's…"
"Bad. Irritatingly, infuriatingly bad," she said shortly.
"Why?"
His question would've knocked her off her feet had she been standing. "Because," she stammered.
"Because…why?" he insisted to know.
Why am I even telling him this? she asked her conscience irritably.
Because he asked, because you love him, and because you desperately want him to tell you that you did the right thing, that he's glad you didn't go out with Petey – er, Pete.
Oh. "Because I'm not interested in other guys," she said.
"'Other'?" Colonel O'Neill prodded further, giving her a quizzical and amused look from the corner of his eyes.
Carter felt a scowl tugging at the ends of her lips. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Colonel, sir," she said, just barely keeping the iciness out of her voice. Her irritation surprised her; he was not, after all, who she was angry with. That person was primarily her, and Mark, a bit… But his questions (and the humor he was having at her expense) were pushing at her buttons.
O'Neill quirked an eyebrow at her; the amused look was still in place but he didn't respond.
What on earth was going through that big head of his? Carter couldn't understand. Was he trying to get her to go out with Petey – erm, Peter Shanahan?
"I don't understand," she said quietly, staring at her fiddling hands. Colonel O'Neill gave her a studious look, and it seemed to be eternity before he replied.
"You have to get a life sometime, Carter."
Major Carter winced against her will. "What if it's not the life I want?" she asked, still staring at her hands.
"Don't try to confuse me, now," he joked. "You do it easily enough! But, seriously, who wouldn't want to have a life? Come on, I'm sure Paul –"
"Pete."
"– isn't half as bad as you think he's going to be."
"I haven't even thought of Pete to be bad, or good!" Carter argued, exasperated. "Sir…I just don't want to. If I don't want to, why should I?"
O'Neill opened his mouth to reply, then shut it promptly – firmly. At the next stoplight, he did a U-turn and took them back to the SGC. "I'll be dropping you off, Major," he said, his voice all business. "I'll talk to you later."
He stopped and unlocked her door from the control consol on his left. Carter blinked, and unbuckled her seat belt. She was surprised at the iciness in his voice, but she point-blank refused to call him on it.
"Goodbye, sir," she said quietly. She was ultimately confused and a little hurt. Was this his way of telling her to move on, that whatever he felt for her before, he didn't feel for her now?