"Please put on your seat belts as we will be taking off shortly. Thank you," said a sweet lady's voice over the plane's intercom. The flight attendants began enforcing the request, kindly pushing the passengers to do as they were told.

Carter sat miserably in her seat, staring out the closed little window. No amount of cheery voices could help her…

sgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgc

Mr. and Mrs. Hansen blinked. "What do you mean?" Mrs. Hansen asked, her hands trembling.

Captain Carter felt tears prick her eyes as fought to regain control, her hat shaking under her arm, her knees threatening to abandon her strong pose. "Sir…Ma'am…I'm sorry to inform you that Captain Hansen died in the line of duty."

More like became a deranged man and tried to kill hundreds of people who believed him to be a god, became a person we had to neutralize for his sake and the sake of others, she thought, her mouth tasting bitter with the false words. But she wasn't about to tell Hansen's parents that.

"Wh-wh-what?" Mrs. Hansen asked, tears escaping down her cheeks.

"No," Mr. Hansen growled hoarsely.

"He did," Colonel O'Neill confirmed, grasping both of Carter's shoulders from behind. "It wasn't anyone's fault." His words were firm, leaving no room for argument. She knew those last words were for her, not Hansen's parents.

"No!" Mr. Hansen repeated angrily. "He can't have! Our son was a scientist, not a field operative! He can't have!"

A field operative? Just how many lies had Hansen fed his own parents? "We're sorry for your loss," Colonel O'Neill said, "but there's nothing anyone can do now."

"Nothing anyone can do?" Mrs. Hansen repeated. "Wasn't there anything someone could've done to keep our son from dying? Why didn't someone stop it! And you!" she glared at Carter angrily. Carter flinched. "You're obviously not all that upset at your fiancé's death! What was going on between you two?"

"Ex-fiancé," Captain Carter corrected softly, her eyes shifting to the ground.

"What?" Mr. Hansen asked, surprised. Mrs. Hansen could only stare at her open-mouthed.

Captain Carter took a deep breath. "Captain Hansen and I ended the engagement a few weeks before his death," she lied shakily.

They stared at her for a long moment, both crying openly now. It was Mr. Hansen who finally straightened and said, "Get out."

"No!" his wife protested. "How did he die?" she begged to know.

"Get. Out," Mr. Hansen said again.

Carter was silent for a moment. "A reactor blew up in one of the labs. Hansen was trying to save the other scientists and didn't get out in time. He saved the lives of five men, Mrs. Hansen. We're proud of him and sincerely regret his death," she lied softly. "I'm sorry."

She turned to leave, Colonel O'Neill murmuring something similar as he followed. Carter just made it into their rental car before she collapsed into fits of sobbing. She punched the roof of the small car as she sobbed on it. It wasn't fair!

Colonel O'Neill pulled her away from it and into his arms. She turned and punched weakly into his chest instead, her fists not having the strength to hurt him, to hurt or destroy anything…

sgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgcsgc

They'd gone to a hotel. Their next flight was at 0900 the next morning.

As they checked into their room, Carter gave their bags to the bellboy and nodded to Colonel O'Neill. The hotel wasn't the fanciest around, but neither was it Motel 8. Comfortable and pleasant but not extreme.

"That's the great thing about this," Colonel O'Neill remarked as he handed the cashier a card.

"What is?" she asked.

"That the Air Force's paying for it," he grinned. She smiled back sadly and they went up to their room.

"Will you be needing anything else, sir, ma'am?" the bellboy asked when the Colonel handed him his tip.

"No thanks," Colonel O'Neill said.

"Alright. Have a nice day."

"You too."

When the bellboy had left, they went in and Colonel O'Neill shut the door and locked it. Carter turned and noticed something was pretty wrong…something she hadn't noticed before…

"Uhh…sir…"

He turned and at once realized what she was referring to.

There was only one bed.

……………………………………….

"What do you mean you don't have any bedrooms with two beds? We booked a room a week ago, specifically with two beds! …No, a cot will not work. Neither one of us is going to sleep on a cot! …No, it's not 'satisfactory', no cots or sleeping bags! Look, miss, we're not the President of the United States but we're not second class citizens here, either! …Look, will ya stop wasting the military's money and put us in the room they paid for? …YES, the goddamn military! …FINE!" Colonel O'Neill slammed the phone back onto its cradle and whirled around to face Captain Carter, fuming.

"I take it we're not getting a different room, then?" she asked wryly.

"No. They claim they're booked."

"This hotel is the closest one to the airport. I wouldn't have minded sleeping on a cot or in a sleeping bag, sir. I've had worse," she said.

"Neither one of us is sleeping on a cot, and sleeping bags aren't much better. We have it bad enough as it is, being here because we had to…" his words trailed off, then he said, "We're sleeping on the bed tonight."

"Both of us?" she squeaked uncharacteristically. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Sure. It's not like…" He paused again, his cheeks pinking faintly. "It's not like there's going to be any funny business, f'cryin out loud!" he finished bluntly.

Carter grinned slightly. "No, sir. Okay."

"Okay what?"

She frowned slightly. "Okay as in okay we're both on the bed tonight."

"Oh. Right. I gotcha."

……………………………………….

Carter awoke shivering and sweating. The nightmares where as vivid as ever, but she was getting better at handling them. No more screaming or outright sobbing – at least, on the outside, anyway…

She tried to sit up when she realized something was stopping her. A very warm, strong somebody was stopping her. Somehow in the night, she and Colonel O'Neill had migrated from their respected sides of the bed to the middle, where their bodies entwined; they were facing each other, Carter's left arm slung over his side, his right arm over hers, their legs tangled together, and their bodies pressed together. His steady, sleepy heartbeat meshed against her wild, throbbing heartbeat and his breath was warm on her face.

And it all felt right.

Carter took a moment to analyze this. She'd never been this…cuddly…with Hansen, and definitely never at night. Yet this strange and new experience was comfortable, and even…nice. Better than nice.

Then her military mind when into a fit. This was her CO! They weren't supposed to be in the same bed, let alone tangled up in each other! They probably shouldn't even be in the same room. This was all so inappropriate! …Then again, at least neither of them slept naked…

And thankfully, O'Neill had made it a point to wear a loose t-shirt and boxers, and she wore similar nightclothes. She'd left the Snoopy tee and the Piglet sweats at home, though…

What was she to do? "Colonel," she whispered. He grunted and fell into an even deeper sleep, if that was possible. Carter sighed and tried to pry herself away, but the harder and farther she got, the more aggressively he pulled her back, grunting and making an almost…whimpering sound. He clearly unconsciously didn't want her to move; she was his…well, "teddy" so to speak.

Well, whatever the reason, she wouldn't hold it against him if only he would just…let…go! She yanked herself clear away from him in one final stroke, and sighed with relief, sinking back into the sheets. She closed her eyes and tried to think…what would she do now…?

The mattress started shifting under her and she opened her eyes with a silent, Oh no…

Colonel O'Neill was wriggling back towards her. At this rate he'd have her off the bed if she wanted to get any space.

As he drew near she stilled, deciding to just wait it out until he woke up. It did feel nice, after all (her conscience was throwing a fit at that confession). He'd probably be very embarrassed about the whole thing, anyway.

God, the man is a deep sleeper! she thought, somewhat amused. Put him in a situation where he knows he needs to be alert and ready on a moment's notice and a pin dropping would have him on his feet, but any other time – snore!

Captain Carter was less than amused, though, when the Colonel's groggily-flapping hand groped a rather sensitive part as he was trying to get near her again. She gasped, not believing the strength the man had in one hand. Or was it just her? Both, she decided.

"Colonel!" she yelped, slapping his hand. The hand didn't move away, however, and she only added to her pain. She clenched her teeth and sucked in a deep breath. Damn the man had a lot of strength in one hand!

"COLONEL!" she bellowed. She had a feeling she was rattling the entire hotel with her shouting, but it was worth it, because at that moment Colonel O'Neill awoke with a grunt, looking wildly around him.

"Wha – What? What's wrong? What's happening?" he asked, instantly alert to any possible danger, not knowing that the only danger he would be in would be with HER if he didn't remove his hand – right. Now.

When all she did was glower at him, he suddenly seemed to realize his arm was outstretched. His eyes trailed down it and froze when they reached her chest. He seemed to be in shock at the fact he was clutching one of her breasts in a very painful manner, one that wasn't helped any by PMS or the horrid day they'd just had.

"Colonel," she began through her clenched teeth, "I want you to know I mean this in the most respectful manner." He looked at her, puzzled.

"If you don't remove your hand this instant, serious pain will occur in your perky little 'sidearm'." – Which had been quite perky for the majority of the night…

He dropped her breast like it was a hot rock and she jumped off the bed, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

sgcsgcsgcsgcscsgcsgcsgc

Which was how she came to be on the flight home without having said a word to Colonel O'Neill and without being spoken to by Colonel O'Neill. She didn't hurt anymore, except maybe her pride, but that could heal. She just wished he would say anything – anything.

They were sitting mere inches apart, in two side-by-side seats on the plane, but they felt farther apart than they ever had. Carter didn't even know that man sitting next to her; it was like some alien had swooped down and replaced him with Mr. Silent.

Don't joke, she thought to herself. That could happen.

But…god. First Hansen...then Hansen's death…and now…this? She didn't even know what to make of this. With Hansen it was relatively easy to understand: Yes, I was scared of him. Yes, I was hurt. Yes, I hated him. Yes, I was confused when he died. But this? She didn't even know where to begin to contemplate this. A part of her didn't even want to.

But, one thing WAS sure…she couldn't let it go on like this. They couldn't go on like this. They were a part of a team and had to function like one, both with the team and as a duet.

"Ah, sir?" she finally said hastily. He turned his head to look at her. She was leaning sideways, towards him, but couldn't meet his eyes, preferring, rather, to stare at the fiddling fingers he held in his lap.

"For the record, sir, I'm sorry."

He hesitated. "What for, Captain?" he asked, looking straight ahead again, straightening his tie to match the rest of him: straight and solemn.

"I…I was out of line." Captain Carter looked back down to her own lap. "I…"

There was silence for a moment, then Colonel O'Neill twisted around in his seat and ordered softly, "Carter, look at me."

Slowly, she did.

"Tell me: did I do anything…inappropriate…other than, of course, you know…" he waved his hand as though it would magically say for him, "other than when I groped your breast".

Startled, she shook her head. "No sir. You, ah, we sort of moved to the center and got…tangled…but it was harmless tangling." For the most part. The way his "sidearm" stood to attention during their little tangle still shocked the hell out of her, though.

He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, sure."

Carter was hurt by his tone and she hated that. Just because he'd been supportive of her throughout this whole "Hansen-Hell" period didn't mean she needed him, depended on him. She would be just as fine with any other son of a – she didn't finish that sentence…

He'd looked away from her, and normally she wouldn't have pushed eye contact or conversation, but she was through. Through being the weak female. Through being the one people could disrespect whenever they pleased. She considered him coolly, icily so, and said, "You know, sir, I don't blame you. In fact, I still respect you, every bit as much as I did when you flew out here with me."

He raised his eyebrows in shock. "Really?"

"Yes, really! I understand that you'd never do anything like that, never do anything to hurt me physically or emotionally." She was almost flirting now, tossing her hair out of her eyes and using her eyebrows and eyelashes frequently.

"Really," he said more flatly.

She smiled. "Really," she said as she looked away. He too looked straight in front of him again, and that was when she dropped the bombshell.

"It's not your fault your unconsciousness is sluttish."

Colonel O'Neill choked on his last breath. "What?" he exclaimed, staring at her like she'd grown two additional heads. She could almost hear him demanding, Who are you and what've you done with my 2IC?

Still, she stared at the back of the head in front of her.

"Carter," O'Neill said defensively, "now that was inappropriate."

"So was what you did last night. That hurt, by the way! You don't grab a woman like that around this time." She willed him to understand.

He seemed to pale a few shades, but quickly came back and snarled, "Oh, poor woman, it huuuuurts." His tone was like a knife and her fingers prickled with anger and hurt. She balled her hands into fists as emotional waves clashed through her.

She couldn't take this right now!

Why couldn't she take this right now?

It was so obvious and yet so confusing; she couldn't believe that she, Captain Samantha Carter, couldn't handle it! It was a lot to take on at once, Hansen's death and her CO's sudden hostility toward her, but she was a strong person! She should be able to handle it!

But, nope. Her arms were shaking and her breathing was labored. God, she couldn't even look at him anymore; she turned her whole body to face the window as best as she could and squeezed her eyes shut, her only barrier against the tears. She knew people were watching, and suddenly, didn't care.

"Hey, buddy!" she heard a man from the row behind them say. "Wanna lay off the lady a bit? Looks like she's had a bad day. I don't think you're exactly helping!"

"Can't believe some men today," a lady in front of her murmured.

"Doesn't anyone respect anyone these days?" agreed the man next to her, and the woman smiled at him, touching his hand. It was obvious they were together.

"Oh f'cryin' out loud," O'Neill muttered, and she felt a hand on her back. She flinched involuntarily, but didn't stop him. He leaned over and she felt his breath in her ear: "I'm sorry."

All her anger seemed to melt from her and she was left with an incredible sadness. When his warmth moved away, she twisted back around to follow it. Colonel O'Neill simply held her without argument, and she began to wonder if she should be wary of men who could drain her anger with just a touch and a word…