PART TWO

Sam felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. "It's a what?!"

Voice loaded with disbelief, she'd even beat the colonel to an explosive exclamation. Apart from herself and O'Neill, everyone else sat at the briefing table had already heard most of Daniel's report. In the aftermath, Janet looked down at her pad, Teal'c remained expressionless by the skin of his teeth and Hammond, seated at the head of the table looked vaguely relieved at their reaction.

Standing beside a projector screen and resembling a squirming butterfly on a pin, Daniel ducked his head briefly before pushing up his glasses and stiffening his spine. "I didn't really believe it myself until I saw you and Jack," he told her. "But, Sam the way you both recovered after being put…uhm, closer together is evidence in itself. Don't you think?"

"Ask me what I think and don't take the cussing personally," interjected O'Neill. Hands planted flat to the table, he leaned forward to glare and ask, "Are you cracked? What would the ancients want with a- a…"

"Relationship aid," supplied Teal'c helpfully from across the polished expanse.

The Jaffa received a dark look as a reward. "Yes, thank you, that?"

"Colonel, why don't you just let Dr Jackson complete the briefing?" suggested Hammond. He was visibly discomforted by the topic. "For one thing, it'll go much quicker, and for another, you didn't see the two of you a mere four hours ago."

"Go on, Daniel," prompted Sam over the colonel's noisy sigh.

"Well, as you all know, I've been working on translating the text etched into the device. It took a little longer because it is a new variant of the ancient's language we've encountered before; leading me to suspect there are actually several different dialects."

Noticing Jack's eyes glaze, he forwarded the projector onto another image and rushed on. "Anyway, it runs on a bit, but describes a process of establishing a bond between two beings. The bond itself is explained as being both mental and physical and is designed to enhance…" he paused and cocked his head thoughtfully, "…well, at first I thought that phrase was transparency, but given what we now know, I'm thinking it's more likely to be understanding." His frown suggested he wasn't entirely happy with that suggestion either. "I'm still working on the exact phrasing."

"What has understanding to do with requiring proximity?" queried Teal'c.

Daniel had already considered that. "I wondered about that myself until Jack and Sam woke up. Given what they've said about their inability to read each others thoughts when they're separated, I'd guess the need for closeness is built-in to make sure the treatment, for want of a better word, actually works."

"Haven't these people ever heard of agony aunts or counsellors for chrissake?!"

Catching the stray thought loud and clear, Sam slid the colonel an acknowledging glance.

At the front, Daniel closed by saying, "However, apart from all of that. The other important thing I've just found out is that we don't have the complete device; only a small part of it."

That was news to them all. "You're absolutely certain about that, Dr Jackson?" asked Hammond. "It sure looked whole to me."

"And to me," agreed Sam with a perplexed frown. It smoothed out when she conceded, "Although I had only completed a preliminary examination."

"I don't mean there are pieces missing of it," Daniel explained, "just that it forms a part of a much larger piece of technology." Gesturing with his hands, he sought and found an analogy, "Sort of like a CD player is only one part of a stereo system."

Striding back to his seat, he flipped through the untidy pile of documents held precariously inside a cardboard wallet. Finding what he wanted, he then slid a large 10x8 black and white photograph into the centre of the table. "That image is the opposite side of the second prong. From what I've translated so far it's a sort of instructions manual. The part we have is actually one of two and is designed to be slotted into some sort of controlled delivery system."

"Let me guess," said Jack sardonically. "The twin of that thing is what we need to get back to normal."

Daniel looked at him squarely. "It's pure supposition, but I'm thinking, yes."

"Assuming you're right. Is there any chance we missed finding the second device on P2K-241?" asked Hammond while that titbit was being digested.

"No," said Frasier, "The medical evac team did a second survey to SG-1's and confirmed there was nothing else inside that building."

Since they all knew the UAV had done a complete circuit of the planet previously that meant it was a no-go as the location of the missing second piece. Never one to hide his frustrations, Jack spread his hands. "So where does that leave us?" he asked bluntly, "Looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack?"

"What about the Tok'ra?" asked Teal'c into the doom-laden pause. "I have never heard of technology such as this, but given the Goa'uld's preference for stealing from others, they may have information we do not."

"I don't know, Teal'c," said Daniel, retaking his seat. "I can't see the Goa'uld being interested in technology whose sole purpose is to resolve conflict." His smile was twisted, "Quite the opposite in fact."

Teal'c was not so willing to be dismissed. "The ability to know what another is thinking would be of very definite interest to any System Lord as the advantages it would bring would be numerous. If Apophis has known about it, he would have had me seek it out of that I have no doubt."

"It makes sense to me," said Jack with an element of clutching at straws; a sentiment echoed by Sam and finally Hammond.

"Me, too," said the general. "Okay, people, given the lack of other viable options at this time, that's our next course of action. We contact the Tok'ra and find out what they know- if anything."

Dismissed a few moments later, Frasier and Hammond left SG-1 in the briefing room. Clearing his throat Daniel got up and began to gather his strewn papers. "Right, I'm off to finish the translations on those instructions," he said, sparing Jack and Sam a brief encompassing glance. "I take it you two are-"

"Sticking together like glue," deadpanned Jack and then pulled a face. "Like we have a choice."

Standing, too, Teal'c gave a respectful bow and informed them in his own interminable fashion. "I will be in my rooms should you need my assistance."

Looking a little frayed around the edges, Jack flapped a hand towards the exit, "Nah, go kel-no-reem, or whatever. We're good here."

Next to him Sam offered a wan smile to both of them. With Daniel and Teal'c gone; Jack and Sam where left with a pair of SF's who were under strict instructions not to let them out of there sight, or near Sam's lab containing the device. Just in case, Hammond had explained in a tone that brooked no argument. Having been caught out on the lies, they really had no argument to make. Worse, if they wanted even a semblance of privacy they had to go to the room they now shared.

Of course the surveillance camera inside it ensured any feeling of privacy was an illusion. Drumming a short tattoo on the table's polished surface, Jack turned to her and asked, "Hungry?"

Sam thought about it, saw his hopeful look and lied, "Yeah."

"Liar," he smiled and beckoned her to follow him anyway. She did so after a few moments and his voice floated back up the stairs to her, "C'mon, Carter, I need cake…, or pie. Pie would be good, too."

After the commissary they retired to the rec room assigned to them. Denied her lab, Sam made do with working on her laptop set on the circular table. On the couch sat the colonel who was working the controls of a hand-held video game with furious concentration.

With him in her direct line of sight, Sam found her own concentration slipping and her gaze straying towards him. Accepting she was too distracted to get anything worthwhile done, she gave in to an inexplicable urge and lingered. It was then that the thought came out of the blue that he had a really nice shaped head; especially with his thick hair tapering to caress his nape. Slim fingers poised over the keys went still. Entranced, Sam's stare turned bolder and more intent. She began to notice other things about him; such as how the chain of his dog-tags seemed to enhance a neck that was just thick enough without being beefy.

All of a sudden her fingers itched to trace that chain; maybe even sift gently through the ends of his hair. Shivering as goose-bumps chased up her arm, she wondered if it would feel as cool and silky as it looked. Then a heavy warmth stole its way into her lower body with the realisation that Colonel O'Neill was a very attractive man.

Hot as hell actually.

Whoa!

Too late, Sam tried to stamp on that thought and failed. Jerking her eyes back to the screen, she stared at it blindly and unconsciously held her breath while waiting to see if he showed any signs of having heard her. In that precise moment she felt sick, horrified and alarmed all at once. Worse, an avalanche of humiliation loomed threateningly.

Oh God! Please don't let him have heard her.

When he didn't lift his head or jerk around to stare at her aghast, Sam unlocked her muscles one by one and puffed out a slow, relieved breath. The colonel must have been so focused on his game he hadn't caught it. As far as she was concerned she'd been given a reprieve that she had no intention of wasting. Getting to her feet with more speed than grace, Sam didn't so much as glance his way as she made a beeline for the exit.

Passing the SF stationed outside, she brusquely informed him that she was going for a shower. As an excuse it wasn't great since she'd taken one earlier, but Sam needed some time and space to think without risk of being overheard; specifically about halting any and all inappropriate thoughts relating to her commanding officer.

Reaching that dubious sanctuary, she found it empty and wasted no time in stripping and getting under the hot spray. Once there tension she hadn't even been aware of started to slip along away with the rivulets of running water traversing her body.

It felt wonderful and she wondered if anyone would notice if she never left the shower-room.

Shoulders slumping as the knots in them let go, Sam ran a hand over her hair to push it out of her face and then down to her neck; only to jump at the feel of her own dog-tag chain. As easily as that renewed heat unfurled and bloomed again in her belly.

Jerking her fingers away from it, she stared dumbly at the offending hand and ordered herself to get a grip!

She needed a distraction. Something to taker mind off things. You came here for a shower didn't you, so do it!

Still Sam was unable to stop gnawing at the problem while puddles of lather gathered around her feet. She tried to pinpoint why she'd suddenly stopped seeing her CO as just that and nothing more. Only that was easier said than done. The problem was it didn't sense, or at least, not enough to be definitive. There were so many questions, she felt dizzy. The biggest one being; was this new pre-occupation with O'Neill just another side effect of the device, or was it merely a catalyst for something that had already been there and lurking just out of reach?

A week ago, Sam would have sworn the second was impossible, but a lot can happen in only a few days. Her absorption sure hadn't felt forced. It had felt natural, inevitable. As if the barriers she threw up to separate personal from professional had worn thin, or perhaps been torn. It was a scary thought.

Too honest to lie even to herself, Sam couldn't go for the easy answer. She simply didn't know for sure. When it had come up in the past, most of the women on the base agreed Colonel O'Neill was handsome and she'd laughingly agreed and then put it right out of her mind. All of which would be reassuring except for the fact that she'd never, ever drooled over the back of his head before.

That was new; very new and excruciatingly embarrassing if he ever found out. She could just picture him, the colonel, rolling along the floor laughing his ass off just before arranging a transfer for her.

Oh God! She couldn't let that happen.

Groaning, Sam ducked her head under the pounding water in the hope that it might wash the whole mess right out of her beleaguered mind.

Booted feet up on the low coffee table set before the couch, Jack carried on with his game. To a casual observer he looked calm, or so he hoped. It was a façade. From the moment, Cater had left the room he'd felt antsy, anxious and the longer she was gone; worried. Concentration shot, he lost yet another life and irritably tossed the damn thing next to him to bounce on the cushioned seat.

Dropping his feet back to the floor, he sat forward with his elbows on knees and hands clasped just waiting for the sound of her return. She was sure taking her sweet time! What is it with women and showers? They have less area to cover and yet seem to take twice as long as a guy did. Did Carter use body lotion? He tried to think back and recall if he'd ever detected some flowery scent on her and came up blank.

Yeah, well maybe that's because she knows better than that. Just like you know not to wear any aftershave on a mission, dumbass. Carter's a good soldier. Yeesh, next you'll be imagining her slathering the stuff on and rubbing it in.

Uh oh, speaking of…

Too late his mind conjured up the image of hands sliding over silken skin all slick with creamy lotion. If that wasn't bad enough the hands were his own, and the flesh under his palms was velvety soft and distinctly curvaceous.

There was an instant fullness in his groin. Kerrist!

Astounded and more than a little horrified at himself, Jack shot up like he'd been burned and strode for the exit. Apart from the fact the he was obviously going nuts, Jack knew only one thing; he had to get out of here before Carter got back. He was her CO and he had no right to be thinking stuff like that. No way, no how. He had to get a hold of himself. NOW!

Snarling a repeat of Carter's earlier statement of where she was going, he jogged down the corridor actually afraid of bumping into her on route. However, a quick check of his watch stunned him anew with the fact that she'd been gone only a matter of minutes. He goggled and nearly stumbled over his own feet. It was unbelievable.

A few minutes, a few measly minutes and he'd been as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Jesus, it wasn't Daniel that was cracked, he thought, it was him.

Mere seconds later and standing under a shower that was turned down way too cold for his liking, Jack ducked his head and ground it into the tiled backing. It did nothing to stop the onrush of images that crowded into his brain. Like a dam breaking, he was powerless to stem the tide of 3D surround-sound visual aids all aimed at driving him insane. Flashes of soapsuds running down a taut abdomen, gathering at golden hair before sliding down svelte, toned thighs had him groaning and reaching shakily for the gauge again to turn the cool spray into an icy blast.

Sucking in a tortured breath at the sting on his face, neck and back, Jack leaned back and gritting his teeth, forced his body to endure it where it was needed most.

After counting to thirty and feeling like it was a thousand, a shuddering Jack gratefully hiked it back to warm and wanted to sink to the floor. At least he had control again. Legs turned rubbery with released tension threatened to topple and send him sprawling so turning, he braced himself against the tiles.

Then with eyes burning a hole into the far wall, Jack slowly shook his head from side-to-side. This couldn't be happening.

He'd never ever fantasised about Carter like that. Okay, so he was guy and he got the occasional errant thought if he came across her bent over, but that was easily dismissed as nothing more than distant appreciation that he would never let on about. He'd bet a months salary most of the guys on the base reacted the same; she was a beautiful woman fer crying out loud.

But this was new and kinda scary and humiliating. And that was just for starters.

A loner until Sara came along, Jack had generally been the one being chased rather than the other way around. Particularly since he was crap at the whole romance thing. He practically needed a neon sign before he caught on that a woman was interested in him.

None of which explained his current urge to crawl all over his 2IC.

Daniel was in the middle of a hunt for a particular piece of paper bearing an inscription he'd copied when Jack burst into his office. Seeing that his hair was still damp and spiked up at crazy angles clued him in onto his friend's state of mind.

Uh oh! Straightening up from the centre table, he said slowly, "Jack, are you okay?"

"No! Do I look okay," Jack snarled with a thumb jerk up to his taut, strained face.

Blinking at the tone and the wild eyes glaring at him, Daniel glanced to the side and then looking back, replied with a frown, "Now you mention it you do look a little off kilter. What's up?"

"I need one of those hats," said Jack, miming putting something on his head, "Y'know the aluminium foil ones with those milk bottle tops all drooping down. Do ya know where I can get one?"

"Okay," said Daniel trying to humour him and failing. "Now you're scaring me."

Feeling an urge to throttle his friend for not understanding his dilemma, Jack whirled to pace and froze at the sight of wide blue eyes in a wary face framed by short, damp blonde hair. "Carter," he greeted numbly, "Sorry, didn't see you there."

That evening Hammond received a report regarding Captain Carter and Colonel O'Neill that seemed to suggest an obsession with cleanliness. Baffled, he sat back and after thinking it over, dismissed it as irrelevant.

The Tok'ra had better come up with something, he thought, hoping and praying.

The staff on base got used to seeing Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter together on an almost constant basis. Yin and Yang, De and Dum. They ate, slept and worked together. The rumour mill was working overtime and hinged on a betting pool between the non-commissioned airmen on who was going to blow first. Both wore a haunted look within three days. Even General Hammond had become concerned enough he'd had her lab cleared for Captain Carter's use again.

Perched on a stool with his long legs blocking half the walkway, Jack became a permanent fixture in one corner along with his yoyo. The constant roll up and roll down of the toy was an irritation to her. He could tell that much without even trying to read her thoughts. But, since it was either that or tinker with her equipment, he figured, rightly, that she was willing to keep any comments behind clenched teeth.

Not that he'd mind a good toe-to-toe, clear the air, stress relieving yelling match. But the likelihood of getting one was slim to none. Carter was too professional for that. Sometimes being her superior officer was a pain in the ass and this was very definitely one of them. It was a damned pity. Jack would bet his Simpson's box sets that she could holler with the best of them. Plus, he'd get to look her fully in the eye and not fret over what they were both hiding.

Jesus, he couldn't remember ever being this horny before. If he had been it was way back in the mists of time when he was still waiting for a few things to drop and his teenaged squeaky voice was only one of them.

Of one thing he was absolutely, one hundred percent certain. He'd be about ready to go crawl under a rock by now if Carter wasn't every bit as fixated as he was. It was a double edged sword though, because having his 2IC checking out his ass, eyeing his neck, lips and various other parts of his body tended to hike up his body temperature several hundred degrees. They'd talked about it once and once only and that was on the second day after they woke up from the fits.

Carter'd had more guts than him. Standing staring at each other across the too small room, she'd blurted out, "It's the device, sir, sorry, I can't help it."

At the time he'd still been recovering from the image he'd got from her. Suffice it to say, she'd been on-top. Figures.

"Yeah," he'd had to cough to clear the revealing rasp. "Me, too."

"I knew that," she'd said.

He'd winced and the rock started to look damned inviting. That was the problem with being in his forties; he had plenty of experience to fuel his imagination. "Uh, let's not get into that."

He'd shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's definitely the device. I mean, I never…"

"Definitely," she'd jumped into the awkward silence. Her smile was forced, "You're my CO. It's just wrong…"

The decision to keep this latest little party trick of the ancients to themselves had more to do with being unable to face Hammond and spilling their guts, than any desire to keep secrets. If it became necessary, Carter had suggested, we'll have a chat with Dr Frasier. He'd agreed readily enough to the compromise.

Jack snapped his wrist and the yoyo flew out; headed at an angle for the counter on his left.

Sh'yeah! Over my dead body am I fessing up to that!

Reaching its limit and pulled back by the force of its momentum, the yoyo came whirring back.

Unusually perceptive, Daniel was onto them, too, but had the sense to keep his mouth shut about it. As for Teal'c, he was either oblivious, or being a gent and ignoring it. Gotta love that stoic Jaffa vibe. Not that he resisted Daniel's coercion into unofficial chaperoning duty. For now though, Daniel had given into the lure of his books and Teal'c was meditating.

They were alone. Helpless to resist, Jack flicked a glance towards the central workbench and caught her gaze on him. There was a slightly unfocused, speculative expression in those blue depths. Snapping out of it, Carter blinked and finished off with a half grimace.

This is ridiculous, I can't work like this. Both hands braced on the bench over a mould of the alien device with scattered diagrams under her palms, Carter looked like she was reaching the end of a very long tether.

Unspoken or not, Jack caught the despairing tone of that statement. Tucking the toy back into his jacket pocket, he clasped his hands and aimed for a neutral expression, saying, "I don't take it seriously, Carter, and so neither should you. We both know it's the effects of the device."

Instead of the firm acknowledgment he was expecting, she dropped her head and merely mumbled, "Yeah."

The silence lengthened. She was either too dispirited to think clearly, or he was finally learning to tune her out. A little bemused by what else could possibly be bugging her so much, Jack dug a little deeper for his rusty comforting skills. "The Tok'ra will come up with something. Snake-heads or not they're sorta good guys." He managed not to pull his usual face when he said it. "Hey, after a coupla thousand years of sneaking around the galaxy they should find this sleazy little problem of ours a snip."

Considering her mood, Jack considered her smile; as wan as it was, a victory. Straightening, she puffed out a sigh, admitting, "I just wish they'd hurry and respond to the message we sent them. It's been what, three days?"

"What's a major pain in the ass to us isn't necessarily a priority for them," he pointed out, seeing the irony in it being him defending them. "Hammond doesn't see this as life threatening and neither do I." Grimacing, he amended, "Unless you count boredom as terminal."

As he watched, she slumped into a chair and lowered her head into her hands with long fingers spearing into thick blonde locks. This time he caught what she was unwittingly transmitting. Boredom is the least of my problems. I'm losing my grasp on what's really me and what's not. I can't tell anymore. It's like I'm wearing blinkers that won't let me think about anything except for you, us…not that there is an us, or should be or…God! I don't know anymore.

This time she didn't even both hiding the despair. Moved to offer more than words, Jack went with his instincts and closing the distance, he pulled her gently to her feet and into his arms. Carter didn't resist and when he splayed one hand between her shoulder blades to bring her closer, she wrapped both of her arms around him, too.

With her blonde head tucked into his shoulder, Jack just held on and left the moment to pull back entirely in her hands. He was in no rush and if he was honest, she felt damn good in his arms. "I hate feeling needy," she groused into his shoulder and then tacked on as an afterthought, "Sir."

She didn't try and pull away though. Jack's helpless smile was wry. Me, too.

Catching it, and leaning back to see his face, she frowned. "But you're handling this much better than I am. I don't get why that is."

She obviously needed an answer, so he gave it some thought. "Barring life and death, I don't beat myself up over situations I can't change." Stepping back, but maintaining contact by running his hands up her arms to grasp her shoulders, he decided to be blunt, "And don't take this the wrong way, but I relaxed a heckova lot knowing it wasn't just me."

Her nod acknowledged the truth of that, but the weary droop of the body he still held spoke volumes to Jack. Instead of letting go, he squeezed gently until he had her attention again and then spoke softly and firmly, "More than that, I trust you enough not to hold any of this against me."

Following him, her gaze sharpened and he finished with, "You should trust me the same way."

I do trust you, sir. Raising a hand to his, Carter gave it a grateful squeeze just as the door opened and Daniel stepped inside the room. Refusing to jump away from the colonel like a guilty teenager, she stepped gracefully away and gave their team-mate a welcoming smile.

"I think the side effects you're both experiencing are actually not what were originally intended by the ancients," said Daniel, between bites of his bread roll. He gestured towards Jack and asked, "Didn't the Asgard tell you that our brains hadn't developed enough to accept the download from the repository?"

"Yeah." Eyeing his dried-up pizza, Jack tossed the remains of the cardboard-like excuse for food back on the plate and groused, "It's that 'we're too primitive' spiel again which has already gotten old as far as I'm concerned."

Used to Jack's mini rants, Daniel didn't miss a beat, "So, it follows that we would react differently to any technology involving the mind. Maybe its brain chemistry this time, who knows," he shrugged and washed the roll down with some rocket fuel coffee. "I'm just saying that coupled with the uncontrolled delivery, its probably a safe bet that you two are having reactions far in excess of normal."

"And this helps us how?" Sam asked with none of her usual level-headed patience. Seeing Daniel's mildly affronted look, she winced. "Sorry, Daniel, I just-"

"She's been around me way too much," quipped Jack to ease her guilt, "And not to mention stealing my lines. I swear, I was thinking the same thing."

Before Daniel was put to the trouble of explaining how knowledge itself is useful no matter how indirect they were interrupted. Klaxons started to go off along with a voice confirming off-world activation of the stargate; followed by a request for Colonel O'Neill's presence in the control room. Pushing back the chairs to stand the three of them thought the same thing.

Nearest to the exit, Daniel led the way, "Maybe this is-"

"The Tok'ra," finished Sam.

Jack responded to the hopeful note in her voice. "It better be and it's about damn time."

Teal'c got there ahead of them. Dwarfing General Hammond with his muscular bulk, he turned to lock eyes with O'Neill. As unflappable as ever, he inclined his head and informed them, "It would appear that the Tok'ra are responding to our request for assistance."

"So it is the Tok'ra's IDC?" asked Sam, coming to stand behind Simmons at the computer.

"It is," answered Hammond, unnecessarily as it turned out when a familiar figure stepped out of the shimmering blue wall of the event horizon.

"Great, it's Marty," sighed O'Neill, low enough only to be audible to his team. He wasn't quite successful enough to keep the ambivalence out of his voice. Head dipping while he searched for neutrality, Jack pasted on a fake welcoming smile and after a beat turned to follow Hammond down to the 'gate room.

Passing Carter, he saw her stunned gaze out of the corner of his vision and connecting the dots, he wanted to groan. Damn! Going off her expression his non-verbal reaction to this particular Tok'ra must have come across loud and clear. Jogging down the steps, Jack shook his head thinking this telepathy thing had the damndest timing, it really did. How the hell was he supposed to explain his antipathy without it coming across as territorial at best and paranoid at worst?

Oh, wait- there was worse.

Hey! Don't go there. Don't even think it, O'Neill.

Luckily, Jack reached the two groups now greeting one another before he could finish that line of thought. As distractions go it was a decent one. Martouf hadn't come alone, but had brought along two of his snake pals. Waiting for his turn to say Aloha, Jack's smile slipped a little before he caught it. Sweet! No matter how friendly these guys were they gave him a serious case of the heebie jeebies.

Not that he wasn't relieved to see them. A fact which made for one very conflicted colonel.

Sky blue eyes in a boyishly handsome face settled on him. He had to give the guy credit; Martouf's smile was a heckova lot more practised than Jack's was. "O'Neill, it's good to see you again."

"Marty," he greeted and then lied, "It's good to see you, too." Well, it was kinda true. He didn't dare glance at Carter who he could feel looking askance at him.

Martouf glanced lingeringly at Carter for a second time; causing Jack to unwillingly stiffen, before turning back to Hammond to say, "Your message requested help. How may we be of assistance?"

Opening his mouth to speak and then changing his mind and shutting it, Hammond shared a look with Jack. Then decision made, he suggested they proceed to the briefing room to discuss it.

The two that had accompanied Martouf remained standing by the exit. Everybody else took a seat around the long table and with exception of the Tok'ra; steaming cups of coffee were set before them with the curling, fragrant steam battling with the leftover scent of zesty polish.

General Hammond and Daniel did most of the talking with Jack tossing in a few snide asides every now and then. Nodding when she thought it needed it; Sam kept quiet and tried to distance herself from the proceedings. The reason for the uncharacteristic lack of participation was that the second she'd set eyes on Martouf, she'd felt distinctly, horribly uncomfortable.

A sensation not helped by the colonel's own reaction being even more negative than hers. Sam felt pulled in two opposing directions. On the one hand was her heartfelt sympathy for Martouf. He'd lost two beings he loved when Jolinar and her host Rosha died. Sam having been a temporary host to Jolinar meant she was the Tok'ra's last connection to his dead loves. That was both a responsibility and in some small way an honour given what she knew of the pair. It was also a little creepy since she hadn't asked for the connection and had struggled initially with the intruding echo of Jolinar's emotions towards Martouf.

A snaking quiver slid down her spine at the memory. That had all settled down now, thank God! But, she still got the feeling that Martouf; as gentle and honourable as he was, couldn't help desiring more from her than she wanted to give as a result.

Then there was Colonel O'Neill. Powerless to prevent it, her gaze slid along a few places and settled on his face. He was sat chin in hand with suspicious dark eyes settled unerringly on the Tok'ra. An hour ago she'd have assumed it was because Lantash was speaking rather than his human host. Now, she knew he actually preferred the symbiote to the human host.

As the voices droned on with her listening with only half her attention, Sam recalled with absolute clarity his initial reaction on seeing exactly who was responding to their call for help. A reaction that instantly betrayed his strong aversion to her connection; however obscure, with Martouf. What floored her most was the fact that the basis of that dislike had nothing to do with strategic objectives, or her position as his second-in-command and everything to do with, well, her personally.

That opened up a whole can new of worms. If she didn't know better, Sam would say there was a little bit of possessiveness in there somewhere; which was, simply put, astounding. She couldn't even blame it on the device, because that glimpse into O'Neill's mind had revealed it went back right to the first time they'd encountered the Tok'ra.

Whoo boy!

Unnerved by the feelings that knowledge rose up in her, Sam shifted uneasily on the seat while her gaze flitted between the colonel and Martouf. One appeared young and attractive and the other was over a decade older physiologically and despite the grey, every bit as attractive.

And since when did Captain Samantha Carter begin seeing her CO and an alien ally in terms of how attractive she found them? Dumb question on the first and…get a grip! Yeesh! Even as teenager she'd never been one to giggle with others over 'hot' guys. What a time to start. Embarrassed, Sam yanked her hormone flooded mind back in line and forced herself to concentrate fully.

The symbiote, Lantash, was still in control and he appeared to be digesting the story that had just been described to him. No emotion leaked through the Tok'ra's guarded expression until finally an eyebrow quirked as he reached some sort of internal conclusion.

"This technology you speak of is unfamiliar to us. I have, however, heard something of it," he said. "We cannot help you immediately, but that may change in a day or so." Before Hammond and SG-1 could latch on that semi-offer, he carried on to warn, "Saying that, I must liase with the High Council on this matter before committing ourselves further."

"Ah, c'mon," objected, O'Neill, "Can you help us or not? It's a simple question for crying out loud."

"Colonel…" warned General Hammond, quelling.

He didn't take the warning, or just ignored it. Annoyed, O'Neill tossed an aggravated wave at Lantash, "You heard him, General. A day or so…what the hell does that mean? I'll tell you what I think. To me that sounds like they do know something and he needs permission to spit it out."

Hammond eyeballed him. "Be that as it may, colonel. I happen to accept the necessity and so will you."

A psychic connection wasn't necessary to feel the waves of frustration coming off the colonel. With some sympathy and a lot of relief, Sam watched O'Neill subside with ill-grace.

Following a dip of his head, Martouf replaced Lantash and he levelled a sincere gaze on O'Neill. "Lantash's unwillingness to speak now is not solely to do with the Council, but also a strong wish to verify any information before it is given out. We will return as soon as we have that confirmation. You have my word."

Compelled to make some small contribution, Sam jumped in during the pause. "We understand that, Martouf, and I'm sure I speak for both the colonel and myself in saying we appreciate any help you can give us."

She was lying her ass off and they all knew it. Daniel coughed to clear choked on coffee and Teal'c next to her let a small ironic smile leak through his usual impassivity. As for the burning on her cheekbone, Sam put it down to the daggers being slung her way from across the table.

"Thanks for the support in there," he tossed out sarcastically, "or was it too much to ask that you actually back me up against lover-boy?"

Sam was stunned. Standing in the open doorway with her mouth open, she stared at her superior officer; who right now was acting like a two-year-old. Reading his mind on the way here from the briefing room had been like trying to catch confetti in a gale; as in chaotic. Whatever she'd been expecting it hadn't been this. Oh, she'd known he was steamed. O'Neill was pretty obvious in that respect and when he was simmering you and everybody else knew it.

She finished shutting the door behind them and fleetingly wished she'd taken Daniel up on his offer of a quick coffee before coming back here.

Arms crossing, she debated a few responses and then decided he'd crossed the line between personal and professional, so she could drop a few courtesies, too.

"Hey, you're out of line. Not that it's really your business, but Martouf and I could never be anything but friends."

She may as well have said nothing, since it didn't seem to impinge even a smidgeon on his temper. The colonel didn't so much as bat a lash when he said harshly, "You possibly holding a second-hand torch for a damned snake-head is very definitely my business, Captain."

This time, Sam was sure her jaw hit the floor. Was he serious?

You're damned right I'm serious.

Her jaw shut with an audible snap.

Worse, apart from what he'd actually said, his emphasis on her rank was a reprimand for her not giving him his. It rankled like hell that he'd think he could get away with dropping all professionalism one second and then rebuking her for doing the same the next.

Pissed beyond belief, she opted not to deny his ridiculous assertions a second time. He'd taken a step closer and she angled her chin to glare right back at him.

"Even if I was, what are you suggesting?" she demanded challengingly, "That I'm some kind of security threat?"

Whuh? That threw him for a second before his eyes narrowed again, "No!" he returned, "and stop with the over-reacting. I never said that."

"Not in so many words, maybe." She shot back, arms dropping to hang with fisted hands at her sides. Get out of that one, colonel.

"Not in any words, or thoughts," O'Neill bit out. This close, she could practically hear his teeth grinding. "I just don't trust Martouf and don't think you should either. Friends don't lie."

It struck Sam then that she hadn't been exaggerating his reaction before and stunned anew, she blurted out, "Are you jealous of my friendship with Martouf is that it?"

Like a switch being flipped, the atmosphere turned charged. He hadn't seen that one coming. Dark eyes flaring wide, the colonel's head reared back. Before O'Neill could respond though the door opened after the briefest knock and Daniel stood framed in the doorway. He stilled seeing them stood practically toe-to-toe and brimming with emotion.

Behind his glasses, Daniel's brows snapped together and then sprung apart. "Normally I'd ask if I'm interrupting something, but since I can plainly see I am, I'll simply ask if I should be preparing to referee?"

They didn't so much as glance his way.

You're way of base, waaayyyyy off.

Sam wasn't buying it. Her arms crossed again. Then why the irrational behaviour with Martouf? He was trying to help us.

Says you. I don't happen to share your cosy view of the snake.

"Uhm, hello," Daniel piped up with a raised hand. "Unlike some of us in the room, I still need a verbal response."

Turning to him after a beat, O'Neill bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. "Now you know how I feel traipsing after you off-world," he said, "And not at all. Why do you ask?" His final glance at Sam dared her to explain it. She was too shaken to take up the dare.

Bed springs creaked as O'Neill lay back on his bed.

"Oh, I dunno," warily eyeing the man now lying with his head on his hands, Daniel pursed his lips, "maybe the about-to-come-to-blows vibe clued me in." His own expression doubted that description was entirely accurate.

"You need to get out more," suggested O'Neill, acidly, "You're reading people skills are slipping?" Then sitting back up, O'Neill had a change of mind and shot back to his feet. Hardly slowing, he strode between Sam and Daniel headed for the exit.

Door open, he didn't look back when he said, "If anyone needs me, I'm in the gym pounding the ever-lovin' crap out of stuffed pig-skin."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, Daniel looked at Sam. "Oh yeah," he quipped. "I definitely misread that one."

TBC