Categories: Friendship, UST, Hurt/Comfort
People running. Fearful, anxious, determined, terrified.
"Quickly, Jolinar!" a man shouts.
Jolinar looks around in confusion, determined to find …
Sam blinked out of the flash of memory as a familiar smirk appeared in her line of vision. "Hey, Carter! Earth to Carter!"
"Sir," she offered lamely. Did I not lock the door when I came home?, she mused. She could admit that she'd been a bit out of it lately – having a Goa'uld die in your head wasn't something basic training prepared you for – but she was usually pretty compulsive about locking her door.
"So … how ya doin', Carter?" her CO asked, sitting down opposite her and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Jack O'Neill could go anywhere and instantly make himself at home – it was one of his peculiarities.
"Feet off," she said automatically.
A thick eyebrow rose.
"Sir," she added.
He put his feet down – Sara O'Neill had evidently trained him well – and looked at her consideringly. "You're looking better," he commented. "Think you'll be coming back soon?"
Sam tensed. She did miss going through the 'gate with SG-1, but was uncomfortable with the stares she was still getting from the rest of the base personnel. She'd lived through a Goa'uld possession – that was unknown. "Soon," she temporized.
"Carter … Sam … I know what it's like," the Colonel said.
She snorted. When had he last been possessed by a parasite?
"Okay; I don't know what being Goa'ulded is like," he added. "But I can guess what you're feeling – you feel different, out of control, as if someone else is yanking your strings."
Sam nodded mutely. Maybe he did understand.
"I won't lie to you; you will have changed," the Colonel continued. "Imprisonment does that. But you learn to live with it, and sometimes you can go days without thinking about it."
Sam was startled – that was quite possibly the longest speech she'd ever heard her taciturn CO make. On an impulse, she reached over and grabbed his hand. "Thank you, sir," she said.
He squeezed her fingers gently, then let go. "So … whatcha doing?"
"Uh … nothing, sir. Why?" He wore a gleam of mischief that didn't bode well for whoever the victim was.
"You're going to help me TP Ferretti's car," he told her.
"Oh, I am, am I?" Sam said with her own raised eyebrow, but was unable to resist the little-boy gleam in the Colonel's eyes.
"Yep." He waved a hand outside. "I have a hundred rolls in my truck, and it's past 2200 – perfect conditions."
"I don't know, sir …". Sam was doubtful. "Aren't we a bit old?"
The Colonel beamed suddenly at her, showing straight white teeth and wonderful dimples. "You're never too old to act like an idiot, Carter." Then he eyed her suspiciously. "Please tell me you've TP'd before."
"You want me to lie to you, sir?" Sam shot back.
And now her CO sighed. "Oh, for cryin' out loud …". He grabbed her hands and pulled her off of the couch. "Tonight, Carter; you are gonna be immature. And that's an order!"
"Yes, sir!" She aimed a sloppy salute at him, but allowed him to drag her to his truck. Maybe a bit of silliness would help shake her out of the Jolinar-blues.
The man beamed again. "I'm so proud!" he declared dramatically, making her laugh.
Then he leaned over and touched his lips quickly to hers.
It wasn't a kiss – was barely even a brush – but Sam felt something tingle in response to the chaste caress. Things that shouldn't be tingling in a CO/2IC relationship.
No; they were more than just CO/2IC. They were comrades, friends.
That was all they could ever be, and that was fine with Sam. After all, it wasn't like she was going to fall in love with him, right?
Right?