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From the very first moment that he'd laid eyes on her, he'd decided to play it cool. She'd strut her stuff, throw herself at Jackson and every other able-bodied man (and woman) in the SGC, and even try her luck by flirting with Teal'c or himself. Cameron had taken it all in stride.

While she continued to get under Jackson's skin, Cameron would stand by. While she continued to thieve and lie and cheat, he'd stand by. While she kept up the charade of an unbreakable rock, he'd stand by. Cameron would watch and wait, every time, every way, and kept it level. Cool as a cucumber, he'd told himself. He was on SG-1 now and he had to act the part.

She made it difficult, even when she was gone. Without her, he was a loose canon. Though all he wanted was some respect, he couldn't seem to hold back. He wanted to earn that trust and closeness from SG-1 that O'Neill had commanded. He wanted to be part of the team. But he was excitable. He knew that. He couldn't help it. Other galaxies, alien chicks, funky druggy corn – it was stuff that his boyhood dreams were made of. Maybe not the corn, but Cameron could let that slide. It was the excitement of being out there and doing something fantastic that made him a little impulsive.

But whenever Mal Doran was around, he was different. That excitement got checked at the door. He was reserved. He was cool. He was in control.

And he couldn't explain why.

Then, she'd come back. But she was changed. They'd all changed. Hell, he'd changed more than he'd had ever expected could be possible. That's the way these things went.

Yet, he still kept his cool around her. She still pushed those boundaries. It felt like those first few times all over again, but it wasn't. There was more. She could feel it. He could feel it. But neither of them would acknowledge the shift.

He didn't know if they would. He didn't know if they should. But it was there. And he guessed that was all that they needed right now.