I just thought that in response to Virago500's lengthy message on AF regulations, I should clarify...I don't want it to seem like Janet is aiding Sam in a courtmartialable offense, and I don't want it to seem like Sam is necessarily being insubordinate. I just want people to realize that it isn't only Jack O'Neill who manages to get people to look the other way for a little while at which time the person in question can better wrap his or her head around what is going on. This is a revision of chapter two. Thanks.
--
Sam sat in her lab, nibbling at saltine crackers. It was a one-night stand, she kept repeating to herself. I can't possibly be pregnant…just my imagination playing tricks on me…it was a one-time fling. "It's impossible!" She said aloud, looking beyond the objects on her desk.
Unfortunately, she muttered it just as Jack O'Neill strolled into her lab. Her mantra had somehow made her morning-sickness-like symptoms intensify, and now she was at the peak of one of her waves of nausea. Another instance of the perfect timing her commanding officer was capable of. "What's impossible?" He asked, looking around her lab.
"Nothing, sir." She said, swallowing bile. Phew, she had escaped the storm.
He walked up to her desk and leaned over the contraption she had been studying. His musky male scent wafted over to her, and her head swam in dizziness. That smell was connected with memories better kept under lock and key: the 'sweet little tank top number' incident involving the Virus of the Touched, the moment after she had interrupted the za'tarc testing when she had leaned so close to him that she could have tasted him, wordlessly asking Teal'c to look away as she let her head lay on his shoulder as she sought peace and solitude from the physical changes and pain that had encompassed her body after her time in Nirrti's machine, and many, many fantasies that accompanied each of these events.
However, it was such a strong smell that her stomach churned again within her. Jack O'Neill overwhelmed her senses and she ran out of her lab and toward the women's bathroom down the hall. Before she knew it, she was pulling her head out of the toilet bowl in the restroom. She quickly wiped her mouth and washed her hands after flushing the contents of her now-empty stomach down the toilet. She walked toward the door when a somewhat tender but still worried "Carter" was uttered.
She spun around quickly, hitting her breast against the door frame. Usually, this would have hurt for a few moments, but with the tenderness that had begun to emanate from her breasts (she was still imagining this whole pregnancy scenario), it made her grit her teeth in pain.
"Yes, sir?" She asked, having taken a deep breath and returning to a more normal facial expression.
"Do I really smell THAT bad?" He asked, his gentle teasing voice reminding her of the reason she loved this man.
WHOA! Where did that come from? She asked herself. Here she was, quite possibly married to his best friend, and she FINALLY decided to admit that she loved HIM?
This gave her an even more complicated headache. However, she managed to chuckle at his teasing. "No, sir."
"You okay?" He asked, noticing that she looked pale and sleep-deprived.
She nodded as she walked past on her way back to her lab. "I'm fine."
"Okay…" He said, hesitantly. "We have a briefing at 0730 hours tomorrow. So…don't make it a long night, okay?"
"Yes, sir." She said, hurrying into her lab. She looked at her watch: 2305. Plenty of time to get some good things done.
--
General Hammond and the three male members of SG-1 stood in various places around the briefing room. The General's stoic look caused Jack to look at his watch: 0738. He winced. They were waiting for Major Carter for the briefing to start. What was worse was that SHE had suggested the mission to P3C 468 for 'scientific' reasons. "I'm sure she'll be here any minute…" Jack said, a smile on his face that betrayed his doubt.
"D'you want to see if she's all right, Colonel?"
Any other general would have uttered those words with at least a subtle hint of sarcasm embedded within them, but not Major General George Hammond. His concern was genuine, especially since Major Carter was an incredibly responsible and talented Air Force office. She had moved through the ranks quickly because of her quick scientific mind, sharp battle skills, and impeccable professionalism.
"Yes, sir." He said, hurrying out the door.
He found her drooling on her notes, having fallen asleep in her lab.
He walked up to her, cautiously. He leaned in closely. "Major…" He whispered. "CARTER!" He yelled.
She jumped. "Sir!"
"Did you HEAR my orders last night?"
"Huh?" She asked, groggily.
"I believe I ordered you to get some sleep before our briefing this morning."
Her eyes went wide with panic as she looked at her watch: 0743.
"Damn!" She exclaimed softly.
"Carter…"
"I'm sorry, sir…I was just…and I thought I could…" She grabbed the jacket of her BDUs as she leapt out of her chair.
"Whoa, Carter…slow down there…"
As he said it, her face paled as she tried to clear her vision. The jacket fell out of her hands as she collapsed. Jack's quick reaction kept her head from hitting the floor.
A few seconds later, her eyes fluttered open. "What happened?"
"You passed out."
She tried to stand, but her knees were still a little wobbly. She began to sink again as Jack let go. He instantly replaced his arm around her waist to support her. "Oh no, Carter…you're going to the infirmary."
"But sir…"
"Ah!" He said with his pointer finger extended. "That's an order!"
"Yes, sir."
--
Three pairs of anxious eyes greeted him as he entered the briefing room. "Where's Sam?" Daniel asked, worriedly.
"I took the liberty of escorting her to the infirmary. She's been out of sorts for a little while."
"Well, in that case, the mission is scrubbed, pending the return of Major Carter." He said, getting out of his chair and returning to his office.
"Yes, sir."
Daniel, who was now gathering up papers that had previously sat scattered in front of him. "How long is a little while, Jack?" He asked, casually.
Jack looked at him, confused. "What?"
"You told General Hammond that Sam had been out of sorts for a little while. I'm asking how long a little while is."
"Why?"
"Does it matter?"
"Daniel…Carter threw up last night and passed out today…she's probably been feeling a little under the weather for the last day or so."
"Really? 'Cuz I would probably have said she's been 'out of sorts…'" He said, using air quotation marks. "For a couple of weeks."
"A couple of weeks?"
"Yeah…ever since that morning at your house. You know the one where we all woke up with hangovers and couldn't remember what we had done…"
"Right. And that has to do with this…how?"
"Jack, ever since that morning, Sam's been avoiding me. She doesn't look me in the eye anymore, she avoids coming to my office, she gives me yes or no answers to questions that don't merit it…I don't think she's telling the whole truth when she says she doesn't remember it…and somehow she thinks I'm involved."
"Right…" Jack said, skeptically. "I'm gonna see if she's okay." He said, his thumb pointing to the door behind him.
--
"I'm sorry, Colonel, I can't divulge information that I don't HAVE! Not even to you." Janet said, bustling around the infirmary.
"Doc, she's sick. What difference does it make WHAT she has? We know she has SOMETHING!" Jack said, frustrated. "Any guesses?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to take it up with her. I think she knows more than she's letting on, but…I can't be sure."
"Fine then, I will!" He ranted.
He turned around and hurried out the door.
Sure enough, he found her in her lab. "Carter…"
"Yes, sir?" She asked, standing quickly, arms at her side.
Jack stopped, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "You haven't done that since you were a captain, Carter…" He waved her formal stance away. "You don't have to start back up now."
She took a deep breath. "I'm…sorry, sir…I'm just…"
"Fraiser said she sent you back to your lab, but she wouldn't say what was wrong…something the matter?"
"No." She replied, hastily. "Nothing…"
"Okay…you're lying to me."
"Sir, I'd rather not talk about it right now." She said, sitting down and looking wearier than he had remembered seeing her in a long time.
"Okay…" He said, trying to discern whether or not this was a time to force her to talk or to just let her rest while she figured out what she needed or wanted to do. "I'm gonna get some cake…you wanna come with?"
The green look on her face told him everything he needed to know. "Never mind. The mission's been scrubbed until you're feeling better." He said, before walking out of the lab.
She smiled in appreciation. "Thanks, sir."
"No problem, Carter. Just get better."
The smile slipped as she watched him leave her lab. Get better, she thought to herself, yeah right.
There was no cure for pregnancy. And there was no cure for the sick feeling that washed over her every time she realized that she was carrying Daniel Jackson's child. She closed her eyes. Could this day get any worse?
Suddenly, Daniel walked in. "Sam…can we talk?"
Oh yes, this day could get worse. "Sure, Daniel, what do you need?" She asked, suddenly getting interested in the device sitting on the table.
"Stop that."
"What?" She asked, looking up at him in surprise and then swiftly away.
"That. You've been avoiding for nearly a little more than a month now, and I'm tired of it. Now, what did I do to offend you?"
"Nothing." She insisted, still refusing to look him in the eyes.
"Sam…"
"What?"
"What's up with you? You're pale, sick…you kicked Jack out of your office…"
"I did not kick him out!"
"Okay…he's worried about you, and you won't tell him what's wrong. He's taking it out on the rest of the base. What the hell is going on?"
"It's none of your damned business!" She yelled, angrily.
Daniel looked at her, stunned. "Okay…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you get so defensive."
She closed her eyes in humiliation. "Daniel…I'm sorry…"
"No, really. I…we'll be here until…until you're ready to talk." With that, he turned and left her lab.
She tensed up, angrily, before plopping back onto her lab chair, sobbing. This whole situation sucked. And she was at least partially to blame for it.
As she reached for a Kleenex on her desk, Teal'c, who had been walking by with a casual intent, could have sworn that she muttered something akin to: "Damn hormones!"
This would make interesting news, he thought to himself as he walked past her office, so as not to illicit any unwanted attention to himself.