A/N: So far, the only title suggestion I've gotten is "the End of the Beginning." Which is ok, but it doesn't sing to me; for one thing this starts only eight episodes into the series--I'd say that's still in the beginning. Still, it's better than what I've got now. Any other suggestions?
A/N 2: I am not now nor have I ever been in the military. For those of you who know more about the USAF than I do, if you have any issues with the way I write about the military, please tell me so I can figure out how to make it work.
A/N 3: For those of you who have read my earlier fic Ghosts, yes, I removed it from It will go back up when it is finished, or I am at least writing regularly on it. Do not worry, however, that this fic will trickle to a stop and disappear as well; I've written a lot more of this one than I'm posting atm and I also have a much better idea of where it is ultimately going than I did Ghosts.
Captain Samantha Carter, Ph.D., USAF, shot upright in bed. Which was a mistake, she realized as her stomach rebelled against the abrupt change in orientation. She ignored the alarm clock as she brought her stomach under control, then shut it off and lay back limply. The alarm had interrupted a dream she'd had before, though it had never been that clear. The Broca virus had left its victims with only hazy recollections of what had happened after infection; those memories were mostly tied to sense memory. A sound, smell, touch, taste, all could bring flashes to the surface, but only in dreams did whole scenes play themselves out. Sam snuggled deeper into her pillows, closing her eyes to the bare white walls of her bedroom. She really needed to decorate her apartment, but just hadn't had the time.
The few weeks since the virus had been hell. First, Jonas had finally lost it for good; that mission had followed mere days after the disaster that had been the Touched/Broca virus. The side effects of the virus's extreme physical transformation and the massive doses of antihistamine hadn't quite finished wearing off, and P3X-513's intense solar radiation hadn't helped any. Add the stress of an impossible engineering challenge to a woman who specialized in theory, not practical application, and going up against a man she'd once loved, and it hadn't been pretty. Jonas had changed, almost beyond recognition, but he still wore the same face and there had been flashes of his former self.
Then they'd met the weird crystal beings. More radiation to an already stressed body, though at least that time they'd had some proper protective gear. That had been fascinating, but standing in the hospital's drab beige and concrete hall later as the Colonel embraced his ex-wife Sam had been seized by dark emotions she'd rather not put names to. She hoped none of it had shown on her face. He had every right to care for the mother of his son, and Sam had no claim on him. She had assured General Hammond that she could handle the situation professionally, as had the Colonel. It had been an alien virus, not them, and they didn't remember much anyway. No harm, no foul. Unless one of them couldn't take it, and Sam was determined not to be the one to crack. She was exactly where she wanted to be, on the front lines of the greatest scientific discovery of all time, with the greatest team she could imagine. Being transferred for such a reason might jeopardize not only her place on the team, but also her place on any team and the future of her career.
Finally, her stomach was completely settled, and Sam slipped out of bed and into her fatigues. She'd have to mention it to Dr. Frasier that morning; they had a mission the day after and there needed to be time to get the lab results back on any tests. Surely the problem was with the combination of tension, radiation and the virus; the other possibility, brought to mind by the dream, was too horrifying to consider seriously. Besides, the stresses her body had been through had to have been enough to take care of any potential … problem.
Jack glanced around, taking care to make his dawdling inconspicuous as he made his way through the security checkpoints. Captain Carter normally arrived so punctually you could time your watch by her, but her car (a sweet 1961 Volvo Coupe) wasn't in its usual spot. Jack took his time signing in, making small talk with the guard; there was nothing wrong with noticing his second-in-command's schedule, he told himself firmly. And if he wanted to check with her before getting started on the day's work (reports, tactical discussions with Teal'c, physical training with Daniel), well, it was the best time of the day to touch bases. Once she got buried in her lab, she might not stick her head out for a while. It was all normal military courtesy. And if he told himself that often enough, he would hopefully believe it some day.
Someone came to a stop beside him. A woman's scent. Hands, arms, velvet skin over steel. "Want me?"
"Hey, Carter," he said, reciting constellations in his head as he stepped aside to give her room to sign in. Man, was he thankful for his BDU jacket's length right now. Oh, yeah. Jack's dreams had been in glorious Technicolor since the locker room incident, and he sometimes cursed his blithe assurances to Hammond. But he couldn't have done anything else to Carter. As things were, there was no official problem. If he made one, the black mark would be there forever. And a promotions board or superior officer less understanding than Hammond could kill her career with one negative endorsement. It was different for him. Even if he'd cared about his career, he'd already made the most difficult jump; once you got to colonel, it was pretty much only a matter of time until you were promoted again. But most careers stalled before you got to that point, particularly in the support branches, such as science. And once you got past the rough edges, Carter was one hell of a smart, tough cookie. The Air Force needed people like her, and she deserved nothing less than the best.
Jack frowned as she finished and they made their way to the next set of elevators. She'd been a full ten minutes behind her normal schedule, and she was obviously preoccupied; she'd barely responded to his greeting. He swiped his access card and punched the floor for the commissary. Over the last few days he and Daniel had been meeting for breakfast, and they were working on getting Teal'c and Sa—Captain Carter—to join them. "So, Carter, gonna join us this morning?" he asked brightly.
"No, thanks, sir." Carter punched in a different floor as the elevator began to move. "I've got too much to do." She stared straight ahead, not even glancing at him, and he followed her lead.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he said lightly, noting that whatever she had planned evidently didn't involve her lab. "And I hear they're adding Fruit Loops to the cereals."
"Maybe tomorrow."
"Are you okay?" he asked. There were other things on the level she'd chosen besides the infirmary, but for the life of him he couldn't think what. And she looked worn.
"I don't—" Carter checked herself. "I'm sure it's nothing, Colonel, but I want to make sure Doctor Frasier knows ahead of time so she won't have any problems clearing me for the next mission."
"Ah." Jack tried to turn his worry into a more professional concern. "Keep me informed Captain; I like to be kept informed about my team's status." And oh, God, please make that not sound as pompous to her as it did to him. The elevator slid to a stop as he dithered over what to say next. Dithering was not something he did often. But Carter was the one to break the awkward silence.
"Of course, sir." She flashed him a brittle smile as she slipped out the doors.