TITLE: Requirements
AUTHOR: Mara Jade
EMAIL: marajade764@yahoo.co.uk
RATING: PG
CATEGORY: Humour
SUMMARY: Ever notice that there are never any toilets in the cells?
SPOILERS: General
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A/N Hey, this is just a little fic I wrote in a spare few minutes. The idea behind it
stems from a personal experience to a certain degree, although I didn't realise
that at the time! Other than that it's just a thought that suddenly struck me!
Many, many thanks to Binksbabe for taking the time to Beta it, despite being
busy! :D (sorry about the formatting hiccups earlier)
Well, enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.
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Jack looked at his team, releasing an
irritated sigh as he did. When they had been thrown into the dirt-floored cell
over…He checked his watch…15 hours ago, they had, by mutual agreement, moved to
the corner opposite the crap corner.
It was the same in any of the cells they had been in; none of them had toilets.
Only a few had anything as high tech as buckets.
Even the Goa'uld, the supposedly superior people, didn't.
They had a little hole in one corner that, if you aimed wrong could be
disastrous.
You could always tell which corner it was by smell.
Sometimes, they were nice enough that they'd clean it out between guests.
This cell was one of those. But the dirt there was still obviously a different
colour. So was the wall.
Rubbing a hand across his face, he brought himself back to the present, hoping
that SG-3 would hurry up and tell the natives that it was NOT a punishable
crime to wear a hat. In public or otherwise.
He was suddenly aware that Captain Samantha Carter, his 2IC was squirming. And fidgeting.
And huffing, and sighing, and scrunching her face up in what seemed to be
either mild pain or extreme discomfort.
"Carter, you alright?" he asked, slightly concerned.
"Yes, sir, I'm fine." Was she blushing?
"Really, then what's with the squirming?" He knew her pretty well by
now, and he knew she was lying.
"Its nothing, sir," she replied, irritated.
"Carter, I know there's something up, you're scrunching your face
up." Teal'c raised an eyebrow at this comment and Daniel raised his head
from his knees and looked at her, a look of almost childlike comprehension
passing over her face. He would have commented that scrunching was the exact
word to describe what her face was doing, and no word could have described it
better, but he valued his life.
Jack shrugged when Sam un-scrunched her face long enough to shoot him a look
that said I'm what?!
"I can make it an order if you like."
Sam let out a long, exasperated and annoyed sigh and drew her knees up to her
chest, wrapping her arms around them.
"Its just…I need to pee," she mumbled,
staring at her hands. And there goes Teal'cs eyebrow
Jack thought, noticing that Daniel, for once, had the foresight not to risk his
life by looking up.
"Well go then no-one's stopping you." She rolled her eyes at him and
replied acidly.
"With all due respect, sir, I'm not exactly equipped like you three,
strange as that may seem, and I am not going to just whip my ass out in front
of you all, sir."
"Oh." It suddenly dawned on Jack then, that in all the times that
they'd been stuck in cells, Carter had never once had a pee. When they were on
missions, shed just warn them, and disappear behind a bush for a few moments
but never when they'd been sharing a cell. In fact, considering the amount of
coffee she drank, she didn't seem to pee a lot. He frowned at her, seeing her leg
jumping up and down in a sure sign that she was desperate. "When was the
last time you went?" She shrugged.
"On Earth." Teal'cs
eyebrow climbed even higher, at risk of being followed by the other and Daniels
head snapped up, a look of shock on his face.
"That was over 17 hours ago," he said, his own eyes widening. Sam
gave him a small, strained smile.
"I know."
"Damn. Well, well, uh, turn our backs or something." He saw her eyes
flick towards at the bustling marketplace, and small crowd of people (mostly
young women, though there were a fair few young men, there to gaze at Sam) and
realisation dawned. "Oh." He sat for a moment, thinking before he got
to his feet, gesturing Daniel and Teal'c to follow him as he pulled Sam up by
the hand.
With one look at each other the three men understood and line themselves up,
standing in a semi-circle in the crap corner, arms folded across their chests,
with glares at the people that said 'Just try and watch, and you'll find
yourself disembowelled in your sleep'. Those kinds of looks are understood by
any culture and the crowd quickly dispersed as Sam relieved herself behind her
makeshift wall, the wooden back and side wall hiding her from any other views.
Jack stood in the middle, his face carefully formed into a threatening mask to
scare away any would-be viewers. He had to control the mask as the minute it
usually took people to pee stretched into about 3 or 4, and then some.
Wordlessly, they resumed their seating arrangement at the other end of the
cell. After a while, Jack couldn't help but ask a question that had been
bothering him for a while.
"Carter?"
"Yeah, sir?"
"Where the hell did you learn to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Hold it in like that?"
"Oh, that. My CO before I transferred to the pentagon was a…traditional
man." She paused, trying to think how to phrase it without earning a
dressing down for insubordination.
"He was a sexist, chauvinistic, self-serving pig?" Jack supplied for
her, smiling at her shocked face. "I've seen your record Carter, I know the
man personally."
"Right. Well, he wasn't exactly supportive of my
differences to the rest of the men, so I learned to drink them under the table,
whoop their asses at pool, and hold it in for 17 hours, amongst other things,
sir." Jack nodded in understanding.
"Oh, and Carter."
"Sir?"
"You're flying low."
The sound of a zip being pulled punctuated the amused silence.
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Seriously, have you ever spent most of a day knowing that you really need to
pee but you can't? Especially when surrounded by blokes? If you have then I
sympathise with you hugely! :D
So, what do you think?
Constructive criticism please!