Chapter 30

Walsh awoke when she felt O'Neill stir. He was spooned behind her, an arm draped around her waist, a warm hand resting on her stomach. It felt a little weird to be this close all of a sudden. It also felt incredibly good.

O'Neill's light snore went quiet, his breath still warm on the nape of her neck. Walsh smiled when he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," he murmured in her ear, nuzzling her.

They lay together for a while, drifting in and out of sleep, until the dull ache in the shoulder she was resting on made her shift onto her back. She rubbed it with a little groan, while O'Neill watched between half-closed eyes.

"You okay? Was it... too rough last night?"

She couldn't stop the smile on her face when he mentioned last night. Yes, she was a little sore. And she'd certainly panted herself hoarse and was paying for it with stabbing pains in her already bruised throat. She really didn't give a damn, it was all worth it.

"Last night was fine," she told him softly. "My shoulder's stiff because I'm not twenty anymore. And probably because I dislocated it a few years ago and it's never been the same since."

"In action?"

"The gate malfunctioned and I got spat out the other side."

"I hate it when that happens."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It was still a little awkward, but then again a few weeks ago she wouldn't have dreamed of him letting her into his life at all.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Are you?"

He snickered. "Such a shrink thing, answering a question with another question. Yeah, I am."

"Well I have eggs, you can get cooking."

"Bossy."

O'Neill rolled over to get out of bed, groaning as he stretched. He picked his boxers and undershirt off the floor and she watched him pull them on, admiring the way the muscles moved under his skin. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she couldn't help grinning back at him. He gave her a smile and then strode into the kitchen.

Walsh had a quick shower, surprised at how giddy she was. This all felt new to her. It shouldn't. She'd had other lovers. She'd fooled around with his alter ego for years. And still, this was strange and new and a little wonderful.

And frightening. Her legs were still wobbling when she came out of the shower, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the euphoric exhaustion from the night before, or plain old fear. Probably both. At her age it was a little ridiculous. But there was a lot of uncertainty about her relationship with O'Neill, after all.

Being with him was strangely different than being with the Jack from her world. Perhaps because O'Neill didn't keep himself at a distance quite as much. Perhaps because she didn't have to keep her distance with him, either. Sure, the regulations were still a Damocles' sword over their heads, if things became visible at work, but in private... well in private, she was free to feel and desire whatever she damn well wanted with this man. She couldn't help but wonder how close they could get, without any set limits.

On the other hand, he'd abandoned a woman with whom he'd been about to start a family. That had been a bit of a shock. She could understand it, the circumstances were less than ideal, but it didn't exactly bode well either. Perhaps he didn't want a relationship, and they'd keep it casual.

She was getting ahead of herself. Taking a deep breath, she told herself sternly to just take things as they came, one day at a time.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she found that he'd made coffee and was cooking eggs. The coffee smelled great, and if she intervened now, the eggs might even stand a chance of not being charred.

"Scrambled okay?" he asked.

"As long as it's not scorched," she replied, peeking into the frying pan. The eggs didn't look like rubber yet, which was encouraging.

"Oh ye of little faith."

"I've seen your barbecues."

"Not exactly mine."

Ah. Well, that was a nice faux-pas, and she could tell from the sharpness in his voice that he wasn't pleased about it.

"I need the bathroom, will you take over?" he said gruffly.

She watched him go, seeing the slight hunch in his shoulders that usually meant he was bothered. Walsh sighed and finished cooking the eggs. At least now the euphoric bubble had burst and they were back to the ugly reality that they were in a potentially messy relationship.

She was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee when he returned. His hair was mussed, and his eyes roved over her intensely for a moment. They softened a little when they caught hers, but he still didn't look very happy.

"I kept the eggs warm," she told him.

He brought the pan to the table and dished up plates for them both. They ate quietly, eyes carefully turned to their food. It wasn't surprising that things would be awkward, and Walsh berated herself for making such a careless comment. On the other hand, it wouldn't be honest to act as if she were finding out everything about O'Neill for the first time, would it?

He looked up at her after a while. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I was thinking about my blunder, and how to avoid doing it again."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'm kind of a specialist when it comes to putting my foot in my mouth. Pretty sure I'll also assume stuff about you based on what I knew about Maggie."

"Like how I like my coffee."

"Exactly. You do like your coffee that way, right?"

"I do, but it's still an assumption. Perhaps another Maggie Walsh in another dimension only drinks tea."

"That seems really weird to me, but I guess so. You have a pretty big advantage over me though. I never got to know Maggie the way you knew... him."

"I know. I mean even before I met Jack, I'd already studied his profile and his background in great depth. My job was to pick out people for missions, after all, I was supposed to know as much as possible about him and his reactions."

"And that was way before you worked with him intensely in SG-1."

"Yeah. I get it if it freaks you out." Though she wished he'd said it the night before, wished that he'd thought about it before starting something; the idea of him calling it all off sent a pang through her chest.

"I don't really mind that you know stuff about me," he said thoughtfully. "I mean... at least you know what you're getting into. But..."

The hesitation seemed to draw out over an eternity. Walsh had to remind herself to breathe.

"We had a Carter from another dimension."

It was slightly out of left field, but she could work with that. "Yes?"

"She and her O'Neill were married, but he was dead when she came to us. And... I guess she wanted me to comfort her, but I couldn't, really. Cause at the end of the day she knew I wasn't the right one, you know?"

Walsh took a sip of coffee. There was something poignant in what he was trying to tell her. He thought he wasn't good enough to replace that other O'Neill. She'd seen this in Jack too. She'd heard this O'Neill say it time and again. They were convinced that they sucked, that somehow they weren't good enough. It always made Walsh sad.

"And you think I might decide that you can't replace the Jack from my world?"

He made a face and shrugged a little, but she was pretty certain that was a yes.

"Well it's true. You can't replace Jack." She noticed the worry flitting over O'Neill's face, and continued quickly. "That Jack is dead. I mourned him for several months before I got here. I'm probably not entirely over him, but... I do feel ready for something new."

"And I'm new?"

"I've been here for months now, and somehow you've managed to be at the centre of everything. You hated me, you challenged me... I spent those months trying to figure you out. That was all new to me, that kept me in your world, rather than thinking about mine. And that's why it was always clear in my mind that you're not the same Jack. After tonight, it's even more clear."

"In a good way, I hope."

His voice was tense, his face terribly guarded when he said that. She reached for his hand and stroked it gently, watching his features soften with relief.

"Yes, in a good way. Look, I may be attracted to you because you're similar to him, but I'm also attracted to you because you're different, and I want to know you. I'm not interested in pretending that you're him, or in using you to comfort myself. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, looking into her eyes intensely again, letting the silence and the tension rise between them. "Same here."

She smiled, poking at her eggs and vibrating with a mixture of nerves and happiness. He'd said it in a terribly O'Neill way, but their feelings seemed mutual. So far, so good.

"That was a pretty hairy conversation to have so early in the morning," he said.

"You don't say. So... should I avoid mentioning him? Should I just act like I don't know all these things about your habits and your tastes?"

"That just sounds phoney."

"It is."

"Just... do what comes naturally."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I will."

The tension in the room dwindled as they finished their plates. Walsh suspected this wasn't the last of the difficult conversations, but they were doing rather well under the circumstances.

"So, d'you have plans for today?" he asked.

She laughed softly. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what day of the week this is. They just said that they were expecting me on Monday morning."

"It's Saturday," he said with a smile.

"Well in any case, I don't have any plans. It's not like you can bring work home."

"Yeah, isn't that just terrible?" He smirked hugely. "So what do you usually do for fun?"

She had to stop and think about this for a while. "You know what? It's been damn long since I got to do anything for fun. But usually it involved Daniel or Janet."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean sometimes Jack and Carter joined us too, but only if we went out as a team. You never know when someone will start seeing a relationship between a CO and a subordinate as unprofessional if they're seen in public together."

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Tell me about it."

"How about your plans?"

"Well, I'm kind of itching for a good hike, after being cooped up under the mountain doing nothing but stressing, you know?"

"That sounds like a great idea."

"Want to come?"

"Aren't you sick of spending time with me yet?"

He mulled this over for longer than necessary, his eyes twinkling as he teased her with his silence.

"No," he said, finally. "You?"

"No. You're good company."

"High praise." He smiled and finished his coffee.

It was true, though, she couldn't express how good it felt to spend time with him. She was usually very independent, but after months of pretty much everyone being cautious and distant – except for Kawalsky, who was often off on missions – she'd started to feel lonely. Perhaps she hadn't realised how much she was used to being constantly surrounded by friendly faces in her world.

After clearing the plates Walsh went to look for hiking clothes. Most of the things she'd been issued while she was living in the SGC were pretty appropriate. A T-shirt and BDU pants would do nicely, as would the boots she wore most of the time anyway. O'Neill watched her choose her clothing, his gaze more intent when she threw off her robe. She didn't mind that one bit.

She also didn't mind that O'Neill distracted her with a long, searing kiss, or that the kiss turned into an unstoppable chain reaction. There may be awkwardness between them, but the chemistry certainly worked perfectly.

It was a little strange when they finally stepped out of her house together. Walking side by side felt like something terribly forbidden, and she couldn't help but scan the street for passers-by.

"Relax," O'Neill said as he unlocked his pick-up truck and opened the door for her, a surprisingly chivalrous gesture. "Nobody cares that you had company."

"And yet you parked quite a way away from the house."

"There wasn't room elsewhere," he said, but his sheepish expression told another story. He'd definitely been paranoid the night before; it was quite encouraging that he felt better about it now.

He drove off at a leisurely speed, and she soon recognised the road to his place – he needed to stop there and change. Walsh watched the town, feeling strangely relaxed, enjoying the drive. It was still the euphoria of freedom, of finally seeing the sunlight again. Of course, the sex helped too.

O'Neill looked awkward when he parked his car in front of the very familiar house, and hesitated a moment before turning to Walsh. "Uh, I won't be long."

She glanced at his house, wondering why he seemed so reluctant to invite her in for a moment. "All right, then." There wasn't any point in being pushy.

He got out and walked off, glancing back at her a few times as he went, as if to check she wasn't following. She watched casually, making herself comfortable in the truck. Was his house in such chaos that he didn't dare show it to her? Or was he being paranoid again, worried that people were watching?

The reason for his secretive behaviour suddenly materialised in the form of a sandy cat jumping up on the truck's hood. Walsh started a little, surprised by the sudden appearance; then laughter welled up in her. She climbed out, chuckling all along at the ridiculous situation.

The cat obviously couldn't really tell the difference between her and Maggie, and was more than happy to let her stroke its soft short fur. Walsh found herself enjoying the moment more than she'd expected. It was a simple pleasure, but one she hadn't experienced for a while.

O'Neill came out soon enough, and Walsh couldn't help laughing again at the intensely annoyed expression on his face when he spotted the cat. He grumbled something indistinct from the other end of the driveway and stalked up towards them.

"I totally got busted, didn't I?"

She smiled. "You really did."

"Well, I'm glad you're laughing. I thought... after our conversation today..."

"That I might find you a little hypocritical to get annoyed at an offhand comment about your alter ego, when you were keeping your ex's cat in the house?"

He made a face. "Yeah."

"So tell me, why would would you keep an animal that you so obviously loathe?"

He stood next to her, watching as she stroked the purring beast. "Well, the vet reckons it's healthy, so who am I to get it put down? But it's about ten years old, not really likely to get adopted and..." He rolled his eyes.

"And you're a sucker when it comes to animals," she finished.

"Something like that."

"And how long are you going to let it stay with you?"

He let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed his face. "I have no idea."

"Were you hoping I'd take it?"

"Well..." He looked just a little guilty. "You seemed to get along pretty well with it."

"Probably because it can't tell I'm not the right Maggie," she said softly, rubbing under the cat's chin.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I guess I'll ask around at the base, see if anyone's looking..."

"Wait a while. I'm not ready for a pet at the moment, but maybe once I've settled in..."

She rather liked the idea of having some furry company, and something told her that – independent as cats were – this one was feeling a little lonely.

"Well, don't feel pressured either," O'Neill said. "I can see how it would be weird to have my... yeah, my ex's cat. It's not cause she left a ton of unfinished business that you have to take care of it."

Walsh chuckled wryly. "I think it's a little late to tell me that."

"Yeah, I guess it is." He gave her arm a squeeze, and a gentle kiss on the lips. "C'mon, are we going hiking or not?"

Once the cat was off the truck's hood and back in the house, they set off towards whichever trail caught O'Neill's fancy. Walsh watched the city disappear as they drove into the woody hills.

Their walk started out quietly, and Walsh enjoyed the companionable silence. The day was balmy despite some heavy clouds darkening the sky from time to time, and it felt good to breathe the sweet scent of the pine trees in the morning sun.

"Careful, Walsh, that root there's kinda treacherous," O'Neill called out at one point.

She nodded and kept her attention on the path, avoiding a tangle of roots growing just above the soil. He may have seen something on her face, an uncontrollable wince perhaps, because he slowed until that they were walking side by side.

"I know it's not ideal that I'm calling you by your last name," he said after some cautious consideration.

She shrugged. "That's okay. I'm kind of used to it."

"Really, you're okay with that? I'm not even sure I'm okay with that."

"You're still angry with Maggie and you don't want my name to remind you of that. I understand."

"That's a rationalising shrink answer if I've ever heard one."

She just laughed a little. Of course she was rationalising. It wasn't worth getting upset because he wasn't as familiar with her as she'd like. It did hurt a little, but he'd given her a lot already. She mustn't be greedy.

"Maybe I can find an alternate name," he said after a while. "How about Margaret?"

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He'd probably learned from Maggie that she really didn't like being called that.

"Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"Well, how else do you shorten Margaret? Marg? Madge? Maggs? Oooh..."

She knew what he'd thought the instant his eyes lit up. "Don't say it," she warned sternly.

"Marge!"

She punched him in the arm and he cackled delightedly as he danced away from her, the spitting image of a naughty little boy. She couldn't help but laugh too. Nobody in her dimension had ever dared to point out that she had a Simpsons' character name, not even Jack.

"I'm gonna have a bruise," he complained after a while, rubbing his arm.

"I told you not to say it."

They walked for a long stretch, fast enough for Walsh to feel the welcome burn in her thighs and calves, the slight rise in her pulse. The views were becoming scenic, red craggy peaks started appearing between the trees. The sun rose higher in the sky.

"So, d'you think this is gonna work?" he asked.

She really shouldn't have been this surprised by his question, but she nearly stopped in her tracks and stumbled a little as her feet kept walking while her brain was stalled.

"I think it'll work for me," she said at last. "You?"

"Well, it's not the easiest relationship I could have chosen."

"I'll say. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider that long-distance relationship instead?" She said it in a teasing tone, but she knew the question would still nag at her for a while.

He laughed, lightly placing his hand on her waist. "D'you think it would be easier?"

"Could be."

"On the other hand, I don't usually go for easy."

"I tend to go for pretty damn complicated."

"So basically what you're saying is we're both pretty screwed up." He shot her a grin.

She smiled back. "That's pretty much the long and the short of it, yeah."

"And yet here we are. You know, I think it's gonna be... interesting."

"I think so too."

He slipped his hand around hers, letting their fingers twine together. Her stomach fluttered like a schoolgirl's. She couldn't remember the last time she'd just walked along hand in hand with someone, or how good it felt.

"So... were you ever gonna tell me about the time you swapped bodies with your CO?"

She laughed softly and just kept walking, savouring the heat of the sun and of O'Neill's hand against hers.