"So, Teal'c's been helping me with the translations of the artifacts that SG-4 brought back from P2X-991, and it's going well," Daniel said, sipping his coffee, trying really hard not to look too carefully at the way the odd man he considered his best friend was shoveling something unidentifiable into his mouth. It was... disturbing. "He's really trying to be helpful," the archaeologist pressed. "I mean, I know if it were any of us, the whole thing with Colonel Kennedy would have been really hurtful, but with the way the Jaffa move around, you know."
Abruptly, Jack stopped, his fork mid-shovel through the mound of mashed potatoes. Had Daniel actually caught his attention? "Well, see," he went on, "when one System Lord defeats another, they take over all their ships and armies, right? So changing allegiances is actually fairly routine for them." He watched as the colonel's eyes slowly shifted, sliding past Daniel's face and over his shoulder. "So what I'm saying is that he probably understands, right? Better than we do. That it's hard to trust people."
Still, Jack didn't speak, his gaze glued to something else entirely.
"Jack? You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"
When he didn't answer, Daniel slowly turned, following his friend's line of sight. "Oh."
Captain Hanson stood in line, slowly pushing his tray along.
"He's not what I expected for her."
For the first time that lunch, Jack's eyes actually met his. "What?"
"He's not what I expected," Daniel repeated. "Older. But he seems nice."
"Hmph." Clearly, the other man didn't agree.
"Something wrong with him?" Daniel asked.
The line of sight moved away again. "Yeah. Something."
"Care to expand on that?"
Jack returned to his food and didn't answer. In fact, Daniel suspected that it was an excuse not to.
He wasn't blind – he'd seen the way his friend and team leader looked at Sam. The way he'd been just a little too upset that Turghan had gotten his hands on her. The panic in his face when she'd been slumped in the elevator after Major Kawalsky's little stunt. Was he... jealous?
And so, as was his bent when it came to Jack, he pushed the issue. "He certainly knows how to dote on a woman. The flowers he sent her were really something."
The speed at which Jack's eyes flew up told him he was dead on. The look in them, though, wasn't jealousy. Not exactly. "Today?" the colonel asked. "He sent them... today?"
"Yeah." Okay, something was definitely up. "Jack? What's going on?"
The fork clanked back to his tray and Jack pushed it away a little, clearly no longer interested in lunch. He stared down at it a long time before he spoke. "I have a cousin," he said softly, finally. "Married a guy like that. Flowers, presents, fancy dinners, all that crap."
He blinked. "Some women actually like that, Jack."
"Yeah? They like getting smacked around, too?"
Daniel's jaw dropped. "You think... No. No, I don't think so."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"She doesn't strike me as an abused woman, Jack. That's not Sam."
"Yeah? How do you know?" he challenged. "What do you really know about her?"
"Well... I don't... I mean..."
"She's been here what, Daniel? Six weeks? With this weird, super-feminist chip on her shoulder. Ever thought about where she got that?"
He suspected it was from spending years in the military with men who stared at her like... well, like Jack and Captain Hanson did, but he couldn't be sure. "Okay, but even so, she broke it off, right? So he's not doing it anymore. If he ever was."
Jack chugged the rest of his iced tea and set the glass on his tray, then scooped up his silverware and napkins and put them there, too, before getting to his feet. "The thing that gets me about Marcia," he said, "isn't that he hit her the first time. Or the second. It's that she's left him a thousand times. And she always goes back."
~/~ ~/~
This was awkward. And far, far outside the scope of his job. But Carter was young, innocent – well, as far as he knew – and he felt obligated. Not to interfere, just... to keep an eye out.
Tentatively, he knocked on the door frame.
"Colonel," she answered immediately, getting to her feet.
He waved her off. "Captain."
She watched him for a moment as he glanced around her lab. "Can I help you with something, sir?"
There they were, a massive cluster of deep red roses. Daniel was right – they were impressive. And they were in the trash can. "Nice flowers," he commented.
"Uh, yeah," she mumbled, her jaw tense. "I guess. For flowers."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. She didn't look particularly happy. "Not a big fan of roses?"
"Not a big fan of symbolism."
"Ah. Me, neither," he answered lightly. "Almost failed sophomore English for that one."
She nodded. "I like to think that things are what they are. Subtext is overrated."
"Symbolism and subtext aren't the same," he observed.
"True. Maybe I just lump them together because I've never been particularly good at either."
"Hmm." Well, that would be a shame, because Jack wasn't so great at being straightforward. He had no doubt that she could learn – she was the smartest woman he knew – but that might take a little more time than he had at present. "Captain," he proffered, "you know you can come to me, right?"
Her head whipped up so fast that he couldn't believe she didn't give herself whiplash. "Excuse me?"
"If there's a problem. There are channels for this."
She wasn't nearly as bad at subtext as she thought she was, apparently; her eyes flickered to the flowers and back. "Thank you, sir," she said stiffly, "but it's nothing I can't handle."
"O... kay."
Anything he might have been about to say was cut off by the ringer on her lab phone – which was good, because he had no idea what to say next or how to give himself a graceful exit. He waved her toward it.
Giving him a brief nod, she turned her back to him to grab the phone. "Carter," she announced.
It couldn't have been more than half a second before she slammed the receiver back into the cradle.
Jack watched her for a moment, shoulders tense, head down, and finally figured out what he needed to do. By the time she turned around, he was gone.