Post-Its

He's up to the last chapter of his book when footsteps approach the infirmary. At once, he recognises it as Carter. Her footsteps are purposeful, confident, her. Smiling, he slips a bookmark between the pages and waits for her to walk through the door.

"Hey you," she greets him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind one ear. She has a folder under her other arm; when she gets close enough, she puts it down on the end of his bed.

He nods. "Hey. How're things?"

"Isn't that my next line?" she jokes, before a more serious look overcomes her. She starts to fill him in about the goings on while he's been out, simple language at first, and then lapses into technical terms he can only guess at.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow it down. We're good? Nothing's trying to kill us and destroy Earth?"

"No, and no. We're good for the moment." She grins, sheepishly. "Sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes."

"Yeah, I noticed that," he confirms. He smirks. "You do that a lot."

"Hey!" She glares at him and gives him a gentle poke in the chest.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," he retorts. He leans forward and pokes her in the shoulder.

She pokes him again.

This time, he lets it go. "I'll get you back for that one later. Still a little discomfort."

"Doc said you're healing well."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm doing good. Should be back to missions next week."

She nods. "That's good to hear. We've been missing you."

He smiles. "Thanks for saying, but I'm sure SG-1 is doing just fine without me. Me, on the other hand..."

"What?"

"All this lying around and doing nothing is killing me. I don't know how anyone can stay sane in bed this long. I just want to get up and find something to shoot."

"Well," she says. "I can't help you with that, but I thought you might be bored, so I brought you something." She retrieves the folder and holds it out to him.

"Homework?" He takes it, gives her a curious glance, and then peers inside.

"Not exactly," she says. "They're some old mission reports. I know you already read all the official reports, but I thought you might enjoy reading these."

"They're... post-it notes?"

"Rough copies of some of my reports. Some stuff from them didn't make it into my official reports. I wrote them out on the field sometimes when I couldn't sleep."

"Oh."

She shrugs. "Nothing too exciting, I must admit. But they have random bits about the team, a couple of one-liners that were pretty good, a prank or two that you absolutely must not share with anyone, that sort of thing."

He grins and moves the book from his lap to the bedside table. In its place, he puts the folder of post-it notes. "Sounds... fascinating. Thanks, Sam."

"Any time. Now you get some sleep and heal up, so you can get back out there with us and I can include you in some new post-its."

"Will do," he agrees, watching as she leaves. Instead of getting some sleep as instructed, he turns at once to the folder and opens it. "Just as soon as I've read some of these."

fin.