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O'Neill refilled his cup with more hot coffee and quietly sat down at the kitchen table again. His head was killing him.
"I thought you weren't too keen on celebrating you birthday." Laura said, seeing the state of him.
Teal'c was sitting at the other end of the table, eating his usual – chocolate doughnuts, and Sam was in a wheelchair listening to recordings of mission reports. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were only a little thin line. Whatever she was hearing, there was a good chance she was particularly enjoying it.
"The Xurian thing was not a celebration. It was a welcome party in our honor or something." He insisted, lifting his head up from the table surface for a moment. "I had like two of the tiniest drinks I've ever seen. That must have been some crazy space moonshine. Right, T?" O'Neill looked to the Jaffa for confirmation of his point, but received only a shrug and raised eyebrow in return.
"I do not know. I did not drink it." Teal'c informed him.
"You didn't even taste it? How come?"
"Because we couldn't be sure of its effects. As I have told you repeatedly."
"Oh." That was the only thing the general said in response before gulping down more of his coffee.
"So I'm throwing up, but you're the one drinking, sir? Doesn't sound fair." Sam said, putting the headphones down in her lap. Laughter sounded from all around.
"I hardly drank at all. Seriously." O'Neill repeated, putting stress on each syllable of the last word.
"I never would have thought you are such a lightweight then." A big smile appeared on Carter's face.
"Careful, Carter. That sounds like a challenge." Finishing his coffee, O'Neill put his cup down and turned to where Carter sat, looking her up and down.
"I wish I could, sir." She shifted a little in the wheelchair, as if she felt him watching her. Awkwardly she lifted her arm and put one rogue lock of hair that was tickling her cheek behind her ear.
"You finished with the tapes, Sam?" Laura asked, taking the device and headphones from her, so she could sit more comfortably in the wheelchair.
"I need a break." Sam admitted, sighing.
"Sure. Then let me prepare you a nice warm bath that I'd promised you before." Laura offered, fully aware how hopeless Sam usually felt after listening to the reports. Of course she understood on a rational level that there were some really difficult missions she had to remember and she knew they have made it through in the end, but it didn't help much. That was the reason Laura made sure Sam always listened to only couple of reports at the time and had someone with her afterwards. She wasn't too open about talking about it, but if she ever wanted to, she'd have the chance.
"Sounds nice." Sam whispered, hoping no one notice her foul mood. She could still feel someone's eyes on her.
Laura took command of the wheelchair and with goodbye they headed out of the room. Teal'c watched them go and then turned his attention to the general.
"Are you feeling too sick, O'Neill? Should I maybe help you to the infirmary?"
"No, Teal'c, I-… Just no." O'Neill said, frowning vehemently in the direction Laura and Sam went.
"It is perfectly understandable that you are worried about Colonel Carter, my friend."
O'Neill let his head drop on the table again, not responding. He got so incredibly drunk on Xuria that when he came to he saw two Carters instead of one. Normally that would be an amazing sight, but his eyesight was also affected, the contours blurred and colors faded.
He felt ashamed about his conduct that day. It was very unprofessional - and dangerous as well. It seemed he didn't learn his lesson after Kynthia. And if his superiors demanded he performed the briefing it would probably meant another black spot on his record. Not that he minded terribly, but it worried him. Carter did not need any more things to worry about, like her superior officer getting blackout drunk anytime he leaves.
He was also ashamed that he wasn't more helpful to her, but he wasn't sure she wanted him around that much. They still weren't as close as before. Teal'c meant well, but he just couldn't talk about Carter. Not now, not with her like that. He knew her too well, not to be aware how she barely kept it together after some dreams or certain mission reports. But his every attempt at conversation about it was shot down very quickly, so he didn't push. He planned to give her time to decide how to approach. Then hopefully she'd come to him.
Obviously the Jolinar thing had shaken her. It was totally understandable. He knew only too well how it felt not to be able to control your body, just witnessing what you yourself were doing with your mind working overtime to come up with what horrible consequences your actions could have. And Carter was actually imprisoned by her own people because of it. He hoped during her ordeal she knew he would never let her go without a fight.
It was terrifying to think about how close to death she had come that time. She was so pale when she laid on the hospital bed after the assassin's attack, her lips were almost white. Janet was running around and shouting 5 milligrams of this and that, but his mind did not pay attention to that. He was concentrated on Carter. She was lying motionlessly on the bed, the monitor beeping furiously as her heart stopped. He couldn't lose someone else under his command again. He couldn't lose her.
As she opened her eyes and took a shallow breath, obviously weak from fighting for her life, he wondered if he would ever stop worrying about losing her. And he never had. Every time she got injured, it felt like his own private hell.