She had a hold of his jacket.

He looked down, finding her focusing her eyes somewhere at his shoulder, and he couldn't help but glance down at her lips, her teeth worrying the bottom one. Her brow was furrowed in that way she had when she was deep in thought, and he realised that, unless he wanted to shove her away from him, she wasn't going to let go.

Her grip on him was so tight it was turning her knuckles white as she clenched her fist, like he would actually push her away and she was determined to keep him from doing so.

"Carter…?" he murmured as a question, not sure exactly what was going on or if he should be worried. The last few months had been extremely trying on both of them, and they were both at the end of their tethers.

She lifted her eyes to his and what he saw made his breath catch in his lungs, the blue depths of her gaze revealing things that were better offstaying veiled.

Her grip on the side of his jacket only tightened, and then she was dropping her gaze to his mouth and he stood there frozen, a little stunned that she was letting him see so much of what was in her mind.

He fought to find the words to stop this spiral into the unknown, not that he knew what he could do or say in this moment. Deflect maybe, turn the focus off this strictly forbidden moment, try to put things back into perspective- but he knew, as soon as her lips met his, that there was nothing but them here.

No rules.

She was letting other things speak for her now instead of the unyielding rules they had been living by, giving into the pull of this deeply magnetic force that was pushing them together.

He resisted, however, pressing her back from him gently, not wanting her to think that he didn't want this with every cell of his being.

"What is this?" he asked calmly, trying to avoid glancing down at her lips that had just been attached so sweetly to his, focusing instead on her eyes.

"You retired." She said simply, meeting his gaze without any sign of discomfort or uncertainty, as if this had been a long time coming. And maybe it had been. There was no awkwardness in her gaze; instead all he saw was a surety as she kept her eyes steady on his.

Yeah, he had, but…he hadn't thought she really was interested in this anymore. If he had known, he wouldn't have waited. He would have…

Done something.

Maybe.

He knew then that maybe he had never been in control of this. It had always been up to her, and she had just essentially made a choice.

Before he could follow through on his intention to kiss her again, and allow this to transpire like he knew he shouldn't, a scream from somewhere beyond the house unhinged the moment, and they both shot a wary glance towards the doorway, neither of them having shifted from their positions, as they were almost pressed up against each other, her fingers still curled in his jacket.

"Help!" Jack couldn't deny that the timing for this plea was not exactly the best, seeing as things between himself and Carter were incredibly complicated and uncertain, but, he wouldn't just do nothing anymore. Whoever was out there was begging someone –anyone- to help.

Carter was out the door before he could reengage, but he followed her anyway, darting out of the small, heated bathroom towards the front windows of the small house, both of them flanking the curtains to glance out onto the street.

It wasn't a patrol that that was stalking the girl who'd cried for help. It was the thugs who had tried to molester Carter, their leader not with them. They were chasing the girl who couldn't be any more than 14 across the street where she darted away from the three grown men.

Jack's jaw clenched as he opened his mouth to say something, to form a plan to save the girl, because despite his inability to do something when it came to the patrols, this situation was a contrast. These feral men would undoubtedly hurt this girl and from what they had been about to try with Carter, Jack was almost certain that she was no match for their insidious attack.

Carter seemed to take this new threat -against a girl no less- personally, like she felt responsible for the fact that these men had gone on to terrorise this young girl. Like it was directly due to the fact that she hadn't debilitated all of them when she had gained the chance, and not just their wily leader.

She was lurching for the door before he could speak, his reprimand of "Carter!" going unheard as she ran headlong into the street to stop the attack and save the young damsel in distress now trying to struggle free as one of the males grabbed at her, tearing her shirt.

He ended up on the street just in time to see Carter take the first attacker off guard, knocking him on his ass, her actions heroic and vibrant for liberty's sake.

"Pick on someone your own size!" She said fiercely, her protectiveness of this girl sending her a little nuts.

His heart was pounding as he dove into the fray, his fist connecting with one of the men's faces, crumpling him to the ground, twisting around Carter in a bid to block the blow coming at her from behind with the makeshift baton-like weapon gripped tightly in a meaty hand.

He lifted his arm, the resounding vibration of the weapon slamming against the side of his arm almost knocking him to his knees. Jack didn't hesitate, the throbbing pain of his new injury keeping steady time with his heart beating like a drum.

He grabbed the weapon, yanking it forward, forcing the guy to lose his balance with a yelp, and Jack shoved the weapon into the man's chest, slamming him backwards off his feet before delivering a punishing kick to his face, knocking him out cold, realising only after wards that it was the same thug who had slammed him into the wall earlier.

He turned, the weapon in his hand now, breathing heavily, eyes narrowed with fury as he sought another attacker to debilitate. He found none. All he found was Carter, her eyes on the teenage girl who was crouched low on the ground, tears streaking her pale face, eyes wide and scared.

"It's okay…" She said soothingly, coming down to the girl's level. The level of the girl she had risked herself for. Just like Daniel had done before he had gotten captured.

Jack was seconds away from snapping.

He was furious, the beat of it surging inside him, forcing him to clench his fist around the weapon he now held before he reached out and shook Carter for her absolutely impulsive and idiotic move.

She could have been captured. Or hurt. Or killed!

His adrenaline eased, but he still said nothing despite the seething anger fizzling inside him, watching as Carter helped the girl to her feet and led her back towards the house they had been hiding inside, murmuring something about getting out of there before any Jaffa patrols came out this far and found them so vulnerable, out in the open like this.

Jack silently followed, still gripping the pilfered weapon, watching as Carter tended the girl and wrapped a blanket around her slim shaking shoulders.

Logically, Jack knew why she had done it. This girl…she deserved to be safe. Deserved stability. But they had agreed dammit, that neither of them would just run out into the middle of something without at least consulting the other about the plan…stupid or otherwise.

But, seeing Carter jumping to the rescue, seeing her throw herself towards those men who had already threatened her with abuse to save the life of this girl…

It had scared him. Because losing her was not an option he ever wanted to face. He suspected that he would have a harder time dealing with that loss now more so than before. They needed each other. Depended on each other.

He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised, given her mounting frustration with doing nothing and watching more and more poor souls be captured, and the slow burning wick of her professional mentality slipping towards her backup defence mechanism of her dare-devil persona. Danger junkie.

This situation had burned them to the edge of madness and helplessness. Rashness was merely a product of being pushed as far as they had been these last few months.

He placed the weapon against the door, ignoring the throb of his arm which he knew could possibly be broken. He was still vibrating with anger, because, in fear came fury. At her.

"Carter." He said gruffly, and her eyes lifted from the girl, who was watching them with uncertainty. Carter seemed to see it in his eyes, or had already known he would be inclined to punish her for her reckless behaviour. Or, maybe she had figured out his wrathful intention and thoughts from the fact he called her "Carter" again in that biting, commanding tone.

She nodded and turned back to the girl.

"Stay right here and I'll come back okay? You're safe now." She assured, and Jack turned, moving into the small cluttered kitchen of their new abode, pacing with agitation while she stood completely motionless, waiting for him to vent –rant, rage…

Her lack of movement –as if waiting for his reprimand, like she had known she had acted foolishly – only managed to incite his aggravation further. He kept his back to her, body humming with tension, trying to pick out of the thousands of reprimands he had jerking in his head, urging to slip free from his mouth. Everything that leapt to the front of his mind was teetering on the edge of his emotions, however, and he couldn't find a professional word in his head.

"I couldn't just do nothing, Jack." She said, both a justification and an apology…somehow. The use of his name another reminder that things were irreparably different now despite the fact that he had insisted on the informality. It felt more natural now to hear her say it.

He couldn't speak. Didn't know what he could say. He turned to her and approached, getting right into her personal space, an act that she didn't even flinch from, her eyes focused, -clear and unfettered with regret- on his, like she was daring him to reprimand her. Like she ached to have that remembrance of who they had been before all this had torn their order apart.

"You could have been captured. Killed." He gritted out fiercely and her eyes shadowed with uncertainty. This wasn't a reprimand. This wasn't a dressing down laced with fury. This was…personal and she knew it.

"Jack…"

"Don't." he growled, stepping back from her, his arm giving a painful twinge as she reached out to touch him, to sooth his anger and his fear about her wellbeing.

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're hurt." She said, and he was grateful for the injury. It would be easier to step past this conversation they weren't having with a reason. A tangible one and not just one that was about military barriers.

Everything had changed. And he knew that it would maybe never go back. They had stepped out of bounds too far. Their inner walls had come crashing down around them.

It was everything.

"It's nothing." He said, meeting her gaze, saying more with that one look than he could with any stunted words he spoke. That maybe they were the ones that were broken.

'I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt,'

"I can splint it if it's broken." She said, keeping her eyes on his.

He reached up and cupped her face suddenly, stepping up to her, their bodies brushing as he assessed her features with avid sweeping intensity, before he kissed her. Sharply, unapologetically, pulling back too quickly for any real emotion or care to be given, glinting eyes staring down into hers as if showing her something. A desperation that she not ever do what she had done to save that girl again. Because he needed her with him.

He needed her to be safe.

The sound of the front door closing had them both jolted from their uncompromising staring contest, both of them darting back into the lounge room where the blanket Carter had tucked around the frightened girl lay discarded –and she was nowhere to be seen.

"Dammit!" Carter muttered.

Her eyes lit on him then, the annoyance there at the girl's disappearance slipping away as she took him in, watching her as he was from the doorway. She stepped closer to him.

"Let me have a look at your arm." She said, reengaging, adapting to the new situation. The situation that forced them into solitude with each other once more.

He followed her up the stairs, watching her, only stopping when they were standing in the dim bedroom where their meagre belongings sat almost left abandoned. She reached into one of the backpacks, pulling out a hard-won bandage, turning back to him. He removed his jacket, slipping it free and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing his reddened forearm. The pain had started to ease, and despite the lump that was forming there which would bruise without too much effort, he doubted now that it was actually broken.

She reached out, taking his forearm carefully and inspecting the injury in the light filtering through the boards on the window, the grey evening light waning completely to dusk now.

"I don't think it's broken." He murmured and her eyes lifted to his, her fingers warm on his skin, soothing him as their eyes locked.