second watch
by greensilver
--
"I have to go, sir." Her left hip and arm are trapped inside her locker and he's got his hands planted on the lockers to either side of her, the ones that say Teal'c and Jackson. "Sir - the mission. SG-1 is leaving in ten minutes, I have to ..."
He's taller than her, just enough so that inching back into the locker puts her at eye-level with the star on his collar. "It's a stones and bones mission, Carter," he says. "SG-12 can handle it - and Daniel - for awhile."
She doesn't like it when her people go out into the field without her; she doesn't like going more than five days between missions, period, and she's been landlocked for a week. But he touches a hand to her leg and his mouth to her collarbone, and she hears herself saying, "I think Daniel has a thing for SG-12's archaeologist..."
"We're doing him a favor. He can thank us at the wedding." He steps back, just far enough to let her get out and away from him. She only watches him warily, palms pressed against the sides of her locker for support. "Dinner. My place. Don't bring anything," he says, and leaves.
-
She's awake when the call comes in; she ought to be taking second watch right about now, and she can't get to sleep. He throws an arm over her chest and drags the phone across the bed, jerky and uncoordinated. The phone cord settles against her throat, a slight, dragging pressure felt only when she breathes in.
He answers the phone with his usual curt "O'Neill," and then he doesn't say anything for a long time. She shifts beneath the sheet, beneath the cord, wondering what Teal'c is doing right now, if it's too late for her to go back to base and pay him a visit.
She sees him press a thumb against the little lever on the receiver to end the call, but he doesn't put the phone back - he just holds the receiver to his chest, staring up at the ceiling.
There are six teams offworld; two of them are on fairly dangerous assignments. SG-12 is not one of those two, and that ought to be enough to reassure her - but she doesn't have that kind of luck. She never has. She asks: "When?" When he was kissing her against the front door? When he was cooking her dinner? When he was undressing her on the couch? When?
"I don't know." He finally hangs up the phone and sets it on the mattress, next to her shoulder. She breathes in, in, in, slow, steady, even. "They think - Baal, he - the bodies came back through the stargate."
The sheet is balled up beneath her fist. She keeps pulling, gathering in more and more, unable to keep her hand still. "And Daniel?"
"Yes," he says. "And Daniel."
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