I was aware of him watching me, from the door, as I worked, but I said nothing. I pretended not to know he was there, as I had pretended any time in the past couple of weeks. I wasn't rude, as such, just not as...friendly as I had been. I didn't smile at his jokes, I tried desperately not to smile when he glanced at me (though I failed quite often), and I let this barrier of coldness slip down between us, so we touched less, stood together less. I spent more time with Daniel now, who was doing his big brother act, and trying to look after me.
Still, I missed him. I'd missed him so much when he was on Edorra, but I hadn't realised I would miss him more when he was home.
Yes, I know he tried to apologise, but that's not the point. The point is, he should have had more faith in me right from the beginning. I always had faith in him, trusted he'd be waiting for us, lay awake at nights imagining his anguish as he waited, his joy when he finally saw us.
I was wrong. He hadn't waited. He hadn't missed us. He hadn't needed me. Everything I'd felt about us, everything I'd believed, everything I'd come to realise I'd felt for him, was a lie.
"Whatcha doing?" he asked. I didn't look up. I can maintain this coolness as long as I don't look into his eyes. When I look into them, I can see the pleading that he'll never put into words, and I almost give in, and become myself with him again.
"Just science stuff, Sir. You wouldn't understand.".
"You used to explain it to me.".
"I used to think you wanted me to.".
I still didn't look up, but I could see him move round the table, until he's facing me. I can see his hands, oddly sensitive for a soldier's, fiddling with anything and everything within reach, and I almost smile at this endearing, if annoying, habit of his.
Almost.
"I still want you to.....Carter, are you still pissed off with me?".
Okay, I definitely do NOT want to get into this discussion with him. I've played this talk in my head a thousand times over at night, in my room, and I've always ending up crying. And in the morning, I kick myself for caring so damn much.
"You're my senior officer, Sir. What you do is none of my business, and I have no feelings either way.".
"Dammit, Carter...!".
"I'm just going by military protocol, Sir!".
Damn. I snapped. I let the mask slip for just a minute. How the hell does Teal'c do this, maintain this calm, cool facade all the time?
"To hell with military protocol, Carter. And regulations too.".
My breath catches, imperceptibly, as I remember a very confused man saying 'It's against regulations!', but I push the memory from my mind. I was wrong. I imagined too much. He doesn't care. I have to remember that.
"Sam, I thought we were friends." he says, in that unbearably gentle tone of voice he uses occasionally, when he's trying so desperately to understand what you're thinking, and hoping he hasn't hurt you.
"We're colleagues, Sir.".
I don't look up, but I can imagine him blinking a moment, his only sign of emotion. At least, I think I can.
"If this is about Laira..." he begins hesitantly.
"No!", I snap, and my heads snaps up too, to face him. I barely register the surprise on his face. I'm too busy being insulted that he could put my distress down to something as trivial as jealousy. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, and he opens his hands and shrugs, Jack-language for 'I don't know, help me out here'. So I do.
"You have a rule Sir. One golden rule you follow above all others, and you've drummed it into our heads over and over again. No-one gets left behind. Ever. We always go back, even when we think they're dead. You've come back for us. We've come back for you. It's SG1's golden rule.
Then, one day, you get left behind. Not for an hour, or a day, or even a week, but for a long time. But we remember your rule. He would come back for us, we think, we have to do the same. Daniel travels all over the galaxy, trading and arguing and persuading, trying to get someone to go to you. Janet sits up with me, all night, night after night, keeping me going. Teal'c almost dies on what seems like a futile attempt to dig the gate out.
And you? We get there. We don't expect thanks. We know better than to expect thanks from you. We do expect some pleasure that we came, some acknowledgement that we kept to SG1's golden rule, at the risk of a lot.
We don't even get that. All we know is, you don't want to come home. And you didn't expect us to come. You forgot the rule, Sir. Your rule.".
I didn't shout, although I was emphatic. I just stood there, and stated my case. He stood there, for a moment, looking at me, then he turned on his heel, and left, abruptly.
I sat down, heavily, and buried my face in my hands. I shouldn't have spoken like that. I had no right to criticise the way he behaved. I was just...just so damn tired. I still hadn't recovered from the three months intensive work, and although no longer close to collapse, I felt like all the energy in my body was exhausted. I didn't know whether to sleep or cry.
"I was running away.".
He was back, standing there, framed in my doorway, murmuring the words, looking as unsure as I felt.
Still, I missed him. I'd missed him so much when he was on Edorra, but I hadn't realised I would miss him more when he was home.
Yes, I know he tried to apologise, but that's not the point. The point is, he should have had more faith in me right from the beginning. I always had faith in him, trusted he'd be waiting for us, lay awake at nights imagining his anguish as he waited, his joy when he finally saw us.
I was wrong. He hadn't waited. He hadn't missed us. He hadn't needed me. Everything I'd felt about us, everything I'd believed, everything I'd come to realise I'd felt for him, was a lie.
"Whatcha doing?" he asked. I didn't look up. I can maintain this coolness as long as I don't look into his eyes. When I look into them, I can see the pleading that he'll never put into words, and I almost give in, and become myself with him again.
"Just science stuff, Sir. You wouldn't understand.".
"You used to explain it to me.".
"I used to think you wanted me to.".
I still didn't look up, but I could see him move round the table, until he's facing me. I can see his hands, oddly sensitive for a soldier's, fiddling with anything and everything within reach, and I almost smile at this endearing, if annoying, habit of his.
Almost.
"I still want you to.....Carter, are you still pissed off with me?".
Okay, I definitely do NOT want to get into this discussion with him. I've played this talk in my head a thousand times over at night, in my room, and I've always ending up crying. And in the morning, I kick myself for caring so damn much.
"You're my senior officer, Sir. What you do is none of my business, and I have no feelings either way.".
"Dammit, Carter...!".
"I'm just going by military protocol, Sir!".
Damn. I snapped. I let the mask slip for just a minute. How the hell does Teal'c do this, maintain this calm, cool facade all the time?
"To hell with military protocol, Carter. And regulations too.".
My breath catches, imperceptibly, as I remember a very confused man saying 'It's against regulations!', but I push the memory from my mind. I was wrong. I imagined too much. He doesn't care. I have to remember that.
"Sam, I thought we were friends." he says, in that unbearably gentle tone of voice he uses occasionally, when he's trying so desperately to understand what you're thinking, and hoping he hasn't hurt you.
"We're colleagues, Sir.".
I don't look up, but I can imagine him blinking a moment, his only sign of emotion. At least, I think I can.
"If this is about Laira..." he begins hesitantly.
"No!", I snap, and my heads snaps up too, to face him. I barely register the surprise on his face. I'm too busy being insulted that he could put my distress down to something as trivial as jealousy. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, and he opens his hands and shrugs, Jack-language for 'I don't know, help me out here'. So I do.
"You have a rule Sir. One golden rule you follow above all others, and you've drummed it into our heads over and over again. No-one gets left behind. Ever. We always go back, even when we think they're dead. You've come back for us. We've come back for you. It's SG1's golden rule.
Then, one day, you get left behind. Not for an hour, or a day, or even a week, but for a long time. But we remember your rule. He would come back for us, we think, we have to do the same. Daniel travels all over the galaxy, trading and arguing and persuading, trying to get someone to go to you. Janet sits up with me, all night, night after night, keeping me going. Teal'c almost dies on what seems like a futile attempt to dig the gate out.
And you? We get there. We don't expect thanks. We know better than to expect thanks from you. We do expect some pleasure that we came, some acknowledgement that we kept to SG1's golden rule, at the risk of a lot.
We don't even get that. All we know is, you don't want to come home. And you didn't expect us to come. You forgot the rule, Sir. Your rule.".
I didn't shout, although I was emphatic. I just stood there, and stated my case. He stood there, for a moment, looking at me, then he turned on his heel, and left, abruptly.
I sat down, heavily, and buried my face in my hands. I shouldn't have spoken like that. I had no right to criticise the way he behaved. I was just...just so damn tired. I still hadn't recovered from the three months intensive work, and although no longer close to collapse, I felt like all the energy in my body was exhausted. I didn't know whether to sleep or cry.
"I was running away.".
He was back, standing there, framed in my doorway, murmuring the words, looking as unsure as I felt.