Jack

She looks wonderful tonight. I mean, absolutely wonderful. Her smoky eye make-up, the figure hugging top and skirt only just long enough to be decent, her hair spiked and wild. Jesus, it should be made illegal for her to wear these clothes.

"Ah, Metallica," I say, but I doubt she hears me as the chairs have begun to vibrate across the floor with the sheer force of the sound.

As great as Metallica is, you really can't dance to it, so most people are clustered around the bar. Someone knocks into Carter, sending her sprawling straight into my chest. Instinctively I grab her arms to keep her from falling over, I imagine it must be quite difficult to balance on her highly impractical high heels. Her perfume fills my head as she meets my eyes and mouths 'thanks.' Unwilling to let go I force my fingers to release her, but she seems almost as reluctant to leave my embrace as I am to let her go. Someone taps her on the shoulder and she jerks away guiltily to look into the smiling face of a handsome man, younger than me, with foppish hair that is reminiscent of how Daniel (and, much to my amusement at the time, Carter) used to wear his.

"Uh, I know this is a bit, um forward of me," he says slightly nervously, "But, er... oh, what the hell. Would you like a dance with me?"

I can read simply from Carter's eyes that she in more normal circumstances (If I wasn't here, for example) would say yes to his fairly innocent request from a fairly good looking man. She glances at me as if to ask permission, permission for crying out loud! I giver her a smile despite the lurch in my stomach that is caused by a hot surge of jealousy. "Go dance!" I instruct her with a careless wave of my beer.

"Thanks sir," she mutters as she follows the young man, who clearly can't quite believe his luck, onto the dance floor.

"Any time Carter," I sigh, "Any time."

I spend the next twenty minutes watching them in the bar mirror. You can dance to Metallica, I have learnt. It involves mostly jumping up and down and shouting. Carter, no doubt relishing the chance to let go, is exuberantly involved; her 'dance partner' encouraging her occasionally but mostly forgotten. The originally named 'Metallica Tribute' finish their set and the room is filled suddenly with no longer the wail of guitars but the strangely muted buzz of voices. And the ringing in my ears of tinnitus from the loud noise.

Carter reappears at my side, slightly flushed and grinning madly. "Where's the Daniel look-a-like gone?" I ask, trying not to sound sour.

Carter blushes. "You mean David? He's not really my type sir," she says.

"What did he do?" I ask.

"Its what he said, sir," she says, trying to catch the barman's eye and avoid mine.

"Which was...?"

"You really don't want to know, Colonel."

"Aw, come on. You've got me interested now," I wheedle.

"Okay sir," She meets my gaze, blue eyes twinkling. "I said 'I didn't think you could dance to Metallica,' and he said 'You can't. I just thought I'd help get you away from your chaperone.' so I replied 'He's not my chaperone, he's my CO,' and he said 'Funny, I thought he was your father.'"

I stop smiling. "That's not funny Carter."

"I said you wouldn't want to know, sir," she replies, turning back to the bar.

"Why did you run away from him, anyway?" I ask when she is finally served.

"He, um, was a little too interested in me. I politely declined a rather forceful offer," she says tactfully.

I decide in the future I must reign in my curiosity. I'm only learning things I don't really want to know.

The next band strike up meaning conversation is difficult anyway, so we lean on the bar and drink for the next half an hour. I watch some technical staff feverishly working to set up speakers and a workstation for a DJ. When the next live act walk off stage none follow them. Instead the DJ speaks into the microphone.

"Well folks, there'll be more live entertainment later. Now its time to get down to the dance floor! Yeah! Um."

Clearly an amateur. I have no idea what he's playing but I tap Carter on the shoulder anyway. "Fancy a dance?!" I yell above the synthesised din.

"Okay!!"

*

Dancing.

I've never been particularly good at it; it's not something that, as a soldier, I have ever had much opportunity to practise. Wooden is the most polite way that my dancing style has ever been described. At least the music has changed into something that I vaguely recognise now, although the DJ seems a bit disgruntled about being told rather firmly what to play by another member of the staff here. To my intense relief, Carter seems slightly self-conscious too as we sway a few inches apart; the invisible barrier between us stronger than ever or so it would seem. Perhaps it is just as well.

"Okay folks! We're going back to live entertainment in half an hour so it's time to slow things down a little. If you've got a partner, get 'em on the dance floor now! If you haven't, what are you still doing here? Yo- " The microphone is snatched away from the trainee DJ as the slower song starts to play, much to several people's relief.

The people on the dance floor have moved closer together now, we are surrounded by couples young and old as the music starts. "This sound familiar," I say, trying to hide the discomfort I feel at being the only man still on the dance floor without a partner.

"Frankie Goes to Hollywood : The Power of Love," mutters Carter and I raise an eyebrow.

"I never had you down as a music mogul Major."

"Labwork, sir, can be very tedious. Music helps me pass the time. There's an internet group of lab physicists, to which I belong, that email MP3s to one another. Raven_303 sent me this a while ago."

"I am learning something over this fishing trip," I mutter and Carter smiles.

Sod the regulations. I can't stand all these people watching me and Carter maintain this awkward boundary, and her skirt has been tempting me all night. Hell, I've had a few beers. If the worst comes to the worst I can blame my slightly inebriated state for my next action.

I put my hands on Carter's hips, resting them lightly on the black material of her skirt and pull her closer to me. For a moment she stands rigid with shock and then she puts her arms over my shoulders, hooking them behind my neck as naturally as she tugs at her errant strand of hair when she's thinking. (Oh yeah, I stare at her in briefings way too much).The smallest of small gaps I had left between us is destroyed as she leans towards me slightly, our legs brush against each other and I can feel her breath on my cheek.

I can't make out all the words, but the meaning of the song is explicit enough, the sweeping strings behind the strangely poetic lyrics making it an excellent song to sway to together. To me the lyrics I can hear seem strangely fitting for the situation, and the lady I am sharing it with.

Neither of us actually appear to move, but suddenly we are literally nose to nose as my hands slide around her waist and pull her still closer. The song is drawing to a close, I know that when it stops she is bound to move; her conscience, if not mine, will eat away at us: REGULATIONS MUST BE OBSERVED. I pray for it to last for just a few more moments, just a few more seconds with her so close to me, so relaxed.

The song does stop, but hats off to the DJ, he fades in the next number instantly. It is far more upbeat than the last however and sits oddly with the powerful ballad that we were just swaying to. "Now this one I don't know," I murmur.

"It's English sir. Space : Female of the Species."

"Ah. The physics group again?"

"Strangely no, an old friend from college. Her husband is from Liverpool, where the band originate from or so I believe."

I move backwards, the faster pace of the song meaning that the closeness of our embrace looks a little unnatural. "It's good. Strange but... good."

Carter smiles, one of her toothpaste-advert grins that makes me exceedingly glad I still have my hands around her waist, and even more glad that her hands are still gripping my collar.

*

The disco is over and a mutual awkwardness descends as we move apart from one another. More live acts are preparing on stage but checking my watch I am shocked to discover it is nearly one o'clock. Carter stifles a yawn and I ruffle her hair in what I hope is a casual manner. "Bedtime for you," I say, feeling incredibly old as I do so.

"Don't mess my hair up," she pouts, and I know she is teasing.

"I thought that was the point...."

In unspoken agreement we are heading to the doors, back to the car and cabin. I nod to the bouncer on the way out, the silence between us companionable rather than uncomfortable.

"Hey!"

A drunken shout breaks that welcome hush

"Hey! You!"

I turn to see... oh, whatshisname...David from earlier in the evening and a group of friends heading towards us purposefully. The bouncer has moved inside for a moment and the doors are shut, no help from that quarter. There are four of them altogether; all shorter than me but also, as I am uncomfortably aware, quite a bit younger.

"She's the bitch that turned me down earlier," David slurs, indicating Carter.

"Excuse me," I snap, knowing the sensible thing to do would be to walk away and diffuse the situation rather than irk irritated drunks but unable to stop my chivalrous side leaping to the aid of the good lady. Carter lays a placating hand on my arm.

"Sorry... didn't mean to offend you.... Gramps..." sneers one of the others.

Taking a deep breath I start to walk away.

"Come on then!" the third one shouts. Carter keeps walking but something in me senses the next movement rather than sees it, sending me spinning round as David charges for me. Call it a sixth sense, animal instinct, too much bitter experience of stupid people or dumb luck but I am facing him when he cannons into me, which I later realised meant that I didn't get stabbed in the back.

Yep, the sixth sense told me he was charging but regrettably forgot to mention he was carrying a knife. There's a sharp pain in my arm and I push him away from me, feeling something skitter across my chest as I bring my knee up sharply. David crumples and two of his friends hang back.

The third is not so sensible and also runs towards me. He's obviously drunk as well and I punch him square on the jaw. Sober, he might have been more than a match for me. In his inebriated state he has left himself wide open. He follows David to the floor as the other two would-be-fighters scarper.

Carter had run forward as soon as the fight began, not afraid to throw a few punches of her own if she needed to. She helps me to my feet with an expression of concern.

"Let's go,"I say.

"Did he get you?" Her face is pale in the gloom.

"A bit," I concede, "Let's get out of here before we get into more trouble..."

She's obviously unhappy about it but hurries over to the car and unlocks it for me. Twenty seconds later we have pulled off the car park and are out on the roads.

"Well, we certainly had an exciting night out," I joke.

"Are you hurt sir?" she repeats and I smile thinly.

"I've had a lot worse Carter. Just another shirt ruined..." Blood is steadily soaking into the slashed sleeve of my favourite shirt... it had Homer on!

She's driving too fast I feel, although I know why. We lurch to a halt outside the cabin's track. "Easy with my brakes Major!" I admonish.

"Sorry," she apologises hurriedly and practically pushes me up the track and inside the cabin. Her concern is quite touching.

Unfussed I fish out a clean tea-towel, wincing as I pull off my shirt, to apply pressure to the wound in my arm. A much shallower cut across my chest still oozes a little blood as Carter pulls out a HUGE first aid kit.

"Janet," she explains sheepishly,

"Not that she doesn't trust us or anything!" I snort, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

"She's right not to! Packed for every eventuality..." She pulls out a pack of steri-strips and some antiseptic fluid, a calculating expression on her face as she pulls on some surgical gloves.

I wince and flinch as she proceeds to clean and dress the wound on my arm and then turns her attention to my chest. Her gloved fingers are cool against my skin and I know my pulse is quickening as she works quickly to dress the next wound.

"There!" she proclaims as the last strip is stuck in place. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" I ask, puzzled, "Letting you play Doctors and Nurses?"

She raises an eyebrow at the idea in a very suggestive way. "No! For defending my honour back there... it was very sweet of you sir."

"Sweet! Well, they all thought I was your father anyhow... I was fulfilling my role as protective parent... or CO, take your pick."

"Ah sir, you could be the jealous boyfriend... if you were twenty years younger..." She's playing with me again I know but I can't help but rise to the bait.

"I'd be younger than you, you cheeky sod!" I laugh and she smiles again as she pulls off the surgical gloves. "You do look particularly ravishing tonight in that skirt though Carter."

Woahh! Where the hell did that come from Jack?? Back peddle, back peddle...

She grins devilishly as she sits next to me on the sofa. "You like the skirt?"

"I'm male aren't I? It was the legs in the skirt that caught my attention mostly..."

Again; what the hell do you think you're up to Jack?? Flirt = Court Martial = Bad. You don't need a degree in astrophysics to work that equation. But her smile is only encouraging me...

"Are you really going to retire sir?"

Ah, excellent move my the Major there, blow the flirtation right out of the water. I touch the row of steri-strips on my arm "Yeah."

"You'd command the Alpha site?"

I pause. "Well, I'd like to... but there's a problem with being off-world for the rest of my days... It's the main reason I haven't packed my bags and gone to join the circus already."

"What?" she asks hoarsely.

"I wouldn't get to see you."

"Oh sir! We'd come and visit you-"

"Not SG1 Carter. I know they'd come visit. You. I wouldn't get to see you."

She pauses. "I'd come and visit too."

I smile sadly. "I knew you'd say that."

The silence balloons, filling the cabin; even the normal buzz of the night wildlife outside is hushed as the world holds its breath, waiting for the next word.

It waits in vain for words because Carter gives me the shock of my life by reaching for me quite instinctively, cupping the side of my face and kissing me on the lips. I give her no chance to back out, I'm mildly ashamed to say, kissing back fiercely and holding her face in my hands. When we eventually break apart I register with some shock that we are now lying across my sofa... or to put it another way, I'm now on top of Carter.

There is a strange moment filled only with the sound of irregular breathing, hers and mine. "Carter-" I begin.

"I know... I know," she replies, already preparing herself to move, no doubt already devising a million and one tactics of denial.

"I'll resign tomorrow," I say, taking her hands in mine, "But I need a better option than running the alpha site."

"Really sir?"

I laugh. "Carter, do you think in this situation you could at least bring yourself to call me Jack?"

"You're still calling me Carter," she points out.

"But I like calling you Carter," I reply, glad of the change of subject, "Its become like a pet name. No one else calls you Carter. It's either Sam or Major. I'm the only one who calls you Carter."

"I had noticed," she responds drily.

Unable to think of any other suitable course of action I kiss her again. Judging from the reaction, it seems to be the right thing to do.