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Chapter Two

A few minutes later, we were in full gear, waiting for the gate to connect. Three other teams, including the clueless, albeit enthusiastic, jarheads of SG-3, were lined up behind us. I glanced at my sides - Carter on one, Teal'c on the other - and decided, particularly from the no-nonsense way Carter held her P-90 that it was almost fun. Except, of course, that we were going into battle and that some of us could die. I grimaced as the gate roared to life. Yeah, that whole death thing certainly put a damper on the mood.

I took a deep breath, listened for Hammond's send-off, and led the teams up the ramp.

And promptly realized I was leading fifteen other people right back down. Confusion took the place of realization when I saw the defense team and General Hammond lined up in front of us. My shoulders slumped and my gaze made its way over my shoulder to catch Carter's slightly dazed frown. She took a moment to glance around before her eyes locked on mine. I realized something as I looked at her with a stupid grin spreading across my face: as riveting as Carter's smile was, a confused, stunned Carter was absolutely, irresistibly cute.

My arm snaked out, without permission, to hug her. Luckily, I pulled it back in time to only pat her gregariously on the back. "Off to the infirmary, then." I grinned at General Hammond as he called out the time of the briefing, letting my jovial act hide the anger I felt for having had my memory erased once again.

I had myself scanned and poked and pinched. I checked in my weapons at the armory, utterly dismayed to discover that none of us had fired a single shot. I had a few more minutes before I was due to discuss what I couldn't remember, so I went to the locker room and changed needlessly. While it didn't appear that we'd done any sort of fighting, I always liked to change into clean clothes when I came back from a mission. I leaned my face against the wall, mentally berating myself. I knew it wasn't my fault, but I'd been in charge. I felt responsible. The cool wall was more soothing than fit my mood, so I lifted my head and let it drop back down. It hurt more than I expected.

Carter walked in then, sitting on the bench. Her head hung despondently. She wasn't there to change; I figured she was just doing the same thing I was - looking for someplace quiet where she could sulk. I also figured she was no more guilty than me, which didn't make a lot of sense as I couldn't remember anything and could very well have been guilty of something.

"It wasn't your fault, Carter." Truth or not, I felt team morale was my duty. I took a seat beside her, absently realizing that my sock was bunched uncomfortably around my toe.

"It wasn't yours either, sir." She shifted the collar of her shirt around distractedly.

"And you know that how?" I couldn't take it anymore, so I pulled off my boot, readjusted my sock, and then replaced my boot.

"Because it was a trap. You know they're going to find something when they're finished reviewing those scans, right? If I hadn't wanted to get my hands on that technology so badly, we would never had been in such a position to be compromised."

"We don't know they did anything to us. Maybe we just beat the Goa'uld and left."

She glared at me. "With what? The power of our minds? None of us fired." She yanked at the collar of her shirt before she pulled it completely off to inspect it.

Unused to Carter stripping, I felt I recovered well by quickly busying myself with adjusting my belt. I heard a frustrated sigh as she put her shirt back on. I closed my eyes and reminded myself that I shouldn't congratulate myself for not grabbing her as I'd had no right to think of doing such a thing in the first place.

"God damn it!" She whipped her shirt back off, threw it on the floor, and started scavenging for another one. She repeated the process about four times, but I barely noticed because, between my belt and my socks, I was having my own clothing issues.

We arrived twenty minutes late for the briefing. But really, our lateness didn't bother General Hammond nearly as much as our attire did. I'd tried, I really had, but no matter what I did, my socks kept bunching up and driving me nuts. So I'd taken them off and put on my boots instead. But that felt worse, so I took the boots off. My belt plagued me as well, as did my pants. So I changed into my jeans. Carter'd had about the same luck with all the shirts and apparently her pants as well and finally wound up in a tank top and shorts. I'd pointed out how silly she looked wearing combat boots with that outfit, so she took them off and opted for flip-flops instead.

And so, we arrived late, but decidedly more comfortable. Me in jeans and bare feet; Carter ready for the beach. The way Hammond glared at me, I almost wished I'd worn the damn socks. Carter didn't appear to care as she took her seat and tucked her feet beneath her.

"Colonel, do you have a problem with our dress code?"

"Um-" I knew that I would have to explain my attire, but I wasn't sure how. I decided I'd be honest. "Actually, sir, yes I do have a problem with it. My feet hurt and my uniform was itchy." More like irritatingly rough, but I felt like that would be a terrible blow to my masculinity.

Carter looked up surprised. "Mine too!"

Oh, I could have kissed her right then. Not just for the fact that she seemed so surprised by my words that she gave the impression we hadn't just come from the locker room together, but also because it meant she wasn't just stripping in front of me to continue her earlier flirtation.

I motioned at Carter, as if using her as proof that I wasn't just being a rule breaker, as if to say 'surely Carter wouldn't blow off regulations just to screw with you.' "Maybe something happened on the planet."

Carter's face lit up; obviously the thought hadn't occurred to her. It made me feel brilliant and I started to smile. She surveyed the room. "Anyone else's uniform uncomfortable?"

I looked around and felt my smile faltering. All four teams were crowded into the small room and every last person there was in uniform. I shrugged. "Maybe it was a practical joke."

Carter piped up with another grin. "Which no one would remember because none of us remember what happened."

Daniel cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses which usually meant he was about to say something I wasn't going to like. "Jack, all of us remember what happened."

I looked at Carter, who was as dumbfounded as I was, evidenced by that enticing deer-in-the-headlights, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, please-Jack-won't-you-kiss-me stare. A glance around the room revealed everyone was nodding in agreement. I heard a loud thunk as Carter's head dropped on to the conference table in shame. I crossed my arms over my chest. "You have got to be kidding me."

General Hammond shook his head, unimpressed by our act. "I don't know what you two are trying to pull, but we'll wait here until you change."

I couldn't believe he was torturing us. Of course, I knew he probably didn't believe he was torturing us, but I felt I deserved to be annoyed anyway. We were silent as we changed back into the offending uniforms. Carter's eyes slid toward me a couple of times as we headed back, quite unhappily, to the meeting. But every time I met her eyes, she was distracted by tugging at her shirt or I had to fiddle with my belt. Carter sat down in her chair, continuously tugging at one part of her clothes or another. I kept stomping my feet, trying to shift my toes around until they didn't hurt.

The general glared at us. "Colonel, why don't you start by telling us what happened?"

"I walked up the ramp. I walked down the ramp. That's it, in a nutshell." I bit my lip and thought about it. "No, forget the nutshell. That's just it." Carter nodded emphatically; my loyal companion. She was like that dog I kept talking about getting. Once again, without permission, my hand reached out. But that time, I didn't catch it in time and my hand patted gently against her hair.

It didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't be touching Carter's hair, let alone touching Carter's hair in a room full of coworkers, let alone touching Carter's hair in front of the general. All I could think about was how incredibly soft her hair was, especially as opposed to the rough, itchy material of my pants. Carter was soft. I grinned. I wondered if she was always that soft. But it wasn't the sort of thing I could ask her; she might get offended. I looked around, trying to pick someone who might know and someone I wouldn't get angry at for knowing if Carter's hair was usually soft. Daniel might know and he was right across the table. Better yet, he was staring right at me.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"Is Carter always this soft?"

Daniel glanced at Carter, who apparently didn't mind that my hand was in her hair, and then back at me. He swallowed hard. "I don't know, Jack. I don't really pet her."

And suddenly, amid the hysterical, howling laughter of all those people, I realized I was, in fact, petting my second in command. And what was worse - Carter was smiling at me encouragingly.

I yanked my hand back so quickly her hair got caught in my watch and she was caught so off-guard by the tug that her head wound up in my lap. More laughter. Teal'c and Daniel looked uncomfortable. Hammond looked pissed. Carter looked sheepish as she tried to pick her hair free from the Velcro on my watch.

I tried to help, but I stopped when I saw tears forming in her eyes. "Carter?" I was whispering, but everyone could hear me anyhow.

She sniffled. "It really hurts."

General Hammond, who I found out later had decided to give up caffeine and sweets that same day, stood up suddenly, walked around to us and forcibly ripped Carter's hair loose. She shrieked and her hand flew to the side of her head while she rocked back and forth. Hammond sat back down in his chair; his patience having already run out of the room and hitched a ride to Vegas.

"Would someone else like to tell me what the hell happened?" He was ignoring the low, keening whine coming from Carter.

Teal'c spoke up. "General Hammond, I believe that Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter have both obviously been affected by something on the planet."

Hammond finally looked interested in something someone had to say and encouraged Teal'c to speak, which finally gave me the chance to stealthily remove my boots and socks. Carter's hand slowly lowered from the sore spot on her scalp and fell to the table. I was hypnotized by the way she moved, first resting her whole hand on the table and then lifting it up and skimming just her fingertips across the surface. She smiled as she did it, peering at me occasionally. I smiled myself as my fingers kneaded the armrests of my chair. I'd never realized how smooth and soft the leather was.

Teal'c continued to speak, explaining how everyone had been stripped of weapons immediately upon exiting the wormhole. The other fourteen were trapped in a windowless room for nearly twelve hours immediately upon getting there. Carter and I, however, never appeared on the other side. Teal'c mentioned his concern, as well as the others, that there had been a malfunction resulting in our displacement. Then they were suddenly transported back through the gate where they discovered their weapons as well as Carter and I had been returned.

Hammond turned to Carter, evidently not trusting me. "What do you remember, Major Carter?"

"Huh?" Although she seemed to hear her name, her attention didn't waver from her close up inspection of the thin rubber strip that was adhered to the side of the table to protect the wood from wear. She'd leaned in closely as she rubbed her hand back and forth of the point where the rubber met the wood. Tentatively, I reached out and felt it. I was fascinated. The smoothness of the table. The smoothness of the rubber. And the tiny, sharp joint where they met.

"Major!"

Carter jumped back, her hands flying back to land on the armrests. "Sir?" Hammond held her attention for only a moment before she was once again transfixed, that time by the leather on the chairs. Her eyes widened as she glanced at me. I nodded at her; I knew how incredibly soft it was. It was amazing.

Dr. Frasier walked in, stepping right beside me as she addressed General Hammond. I glanced at her, more specifically, at the white coat she wore. I wondered if it was soft. Checking with Carter, who nodded at me to indicate her interest in my findings, I reached out, letting my hand fall against the fabric. I hadn't even heard what she was saying, but I noticed she stopped abruptly and turned to me. "Sir?"

The fabric was as rough as my pants. Disappointed, I turned back to Carter and shook my head to tell her it wasn't worth the effort. I didn't even notice Janet was staring at me, waiting for my response. I noticed her hair. I wondered if it was as soft as Carter's. I reached, jerking my hand back quickly when I felt the stiffness. I glanced at Carter. "Hairspray." She made a face and I grinned. I liked that she didn't like hairspray. It added to that adorably rumpled look she had about her when she was working in her lab. It added to the incredibly fine texture of her hair. It, unfortunately, didn't explain why my hair was running through the blonde strands again.