Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Sam/Jack humour and future-fic. Spoilers for 'The Changeling'. Feedback would be loved, but I won't threaten to stop writing if I don't get it ;)
*
"It's not funny, Janet."
Her supposed best friend grinned, evidently not agreeing.
"It's *really* not funny, Janet."
Still with the grin.
"Think about it," Sam pleaded quietly, trying to find at least *some* sympathy. "How would you feel in my position?"
"Well," Janet mused, casting her gaze towards Sam's right leg, which was bouncing up and down, and then towards her hands - tightly folded in her lap. "I might be feeling a little frustrated."
"You're not helping," Sam replied, standing up from the plastic chair she was sitting in, and making the doctor step back. Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to touch you, Janet."
"Sorry. Instinct," She apologised.
Even if she had wanted to touch her, it wouldn't have been possible - the hazmat suit Janet was wearing pretty much eliminated any chance of that. "I can't believe this is happening," Sam complained, and not for the first time.
The mission had gone fine (though he'd been understandably disappointed that it hadn't been more exciting); they'd met some friendly natives, investigated some interesting looking fauna and came back home. The end.
Except, it wasn't the end. Less than thirty minutes after they came back, a *horrible* looking rash had sprung up all over Teal'c's body.
They were immediately quarantined, showered, and decontaminated - which was always fun.
But after two more hours had passed with no one else showing any signs of the rash, they'd started to find it a little entertaining. Not that they liked the fact that Teal'c was suffering (and it clearly wasn't life-threatening), but it was practically the first time - probably due to the lack of Junior - that he'd been as susceptible to this kind of thing as the rest of them.
And then blotches started appearing on Jonas' skin.
SG-9 - in full hazmat - were sent back to the planet. The natives confirmed that it was caused by one of their plants and while there was no known cure, nothing more than a rash ever resulted - and even that cleared up in a matter of days.
They'd also informed SG-9 that the 'infection' could be passed by touch, but if the rash didn't present itself within nine hours, you hadn't contracted it.
So really, it was no big deal. Neither she nor Colonel O'Neill specifically remembered touching any plant or person, and they were being kept there for nine hours purely as a precautionary measure - even if it wasn't dangerous, they didn't want it to spread throughout the base.
It certainly wasn't the first time any of them had been quarantined, either. They'd encountered enough alien viruses and diseases out there that they all had thorough knowledge of the procedures.
The problem was that as of one hour, fifteen minutes and forty-nine seconds ago, Colonel O'Neill was no longer her commanding officer. In fact, he no longer worked for the SGC - or the Air Force - at all.
Which was why, although the mission had gone 'fine', it'd actually been fantastic for entirely the wrong reasons. She'd tried, God knew she'd tried to maintain professionalism, to not grin stupidly every time she'd looked at or thought about him, but it genuinely was the one time when she couldn't keep up the act.
No doubt had the mission been life threatening in any way and he'd gone out in the blaze of glory that he'd wanted (though not actual death), that wouldn't have been the case. But the fact that it was little more than a nice, gentle walk through a beautiful planet made his resignation all the more appealing.
Frankly, she'd preferred his last mission that way. As unprofessional as it was, the pleasure she'd derived from catching him smiling at her or vice versa, knowing what was allowed to happen two and a half hours after they were schedule to return...
She'd known it was coming for a while, of course. He'd come to her after handing in the letter to break the news, and not long after there'd been the official announcement from General Hammond.
So she'd had a while to adjust to the idea. And though they'd never actually talked about anything they may or may not do after he left (though he'd been going he hadn't been *gone*, and regulations were still regulations), she was pretty sure they'd silently agreed that they weren't going to jump each other the moment his last post-mission report was typed up.
They were adults after all, not hormonal adolescents.
It seemed only reasonable that they should have some modicum of respect for his retirement party, which wasn't going to be for another two days.
Of course, all that had been decided when there'd been no reason that they couldn't get together, and now that there was - even if only temporarily; maybe as little as another five hours - Janet was definitely right.
She was, uh...frustrated.
And naturally, because this thing was only spread by touch, and to free up medical personnel to treat people from other SG teams (the injury rate at the SGC was startling but understandably high), she and the Colonel...wow, she was gonna have to get used to calling him something else...had been moved into the same isolation room.
They were far, far away from each other with a whole medical partition between them, but occasionally she'd hear his voice drift over and...
Yeah. Definitely frustrated.
It had been a long time, after all; just because it was *him* on the other side of the partition didn't make it any more...oh hell, who was she kidding? She didn't have to keep doing that anymore. She was finally allowed to be attracted to him, and do something about it.
Except she couldn't.
Which was why she should probably stick to the denial thing.
Janet - apparently having decided she'd tormented her friend enough for one day - moved away, stepping around the partition to check on the Colonel.
Trying not to think about the arm she might be drawing blood from, or how good he'd looked after that shower (he'd been fully dressed with damp hair - she really *did* have it bad), she walked further away from the chair and hopped up until she was sitting on the bed that'd been brought in from the infirmary.
Only that was a very bad idea.
Because it squeaked.
Loudly.
And in every cliché ever written, squeaking always meant...
She hopped off (causing more squeaking), and paced back and forth, shaking her hands out, rotating her neck muscles, failing not to notice that his side of the partition had gone suspiciously quiet and wondering if he was thinking about the same thing.
Or maybe it was just her who was sex mad.
This was bad: really, really bad. He wasn't doing anything, he wasn't even looking at her and she was...God forbid he should ever actually touch her; she'd explode faster than a naquadriah reactor on overload.
Mmm, but that sounded like a *really* *good*...
Dammit! She had to stop this!
"Sam?"
Janet. Muffled voice and footsteps.
Sam spun around. Yup, there she was. "Hey Janet," Her hands clasped together again. "Something wrong?"
"You tell me," She said carefully, her big plastic-encased head tilting to one side. "Everything okay?"
"Sure! Why wouldn't it be?" It was pointless lying - Janet understood the situation - but she was doing it anyway.
"Well there's the fact you've been muttering to yourself."
Crap. That really was bad news: when you were talking to yourself and didn't even realise. And what, precisely, had she been saying? Janet may have been her best friend, but there were things she didn't even like admitting to herself. "Sorry. Hope I wasn't too loud."
"No," Janet shook her head. "We couldn't hear anything specific, but...well it *is* unusual behaviour."
'We'?
Janet continued, holding her gaze. "I just wanted to check that it was...nothing serious."
Sam understood. At least, she hoped she did, as she met Janet's gaze. "Nothing serious at all."
"Good." Janet smiled, nodded, and turned away.
Sam turned, sat down, and started bouncing her leg again.
*
Now he was talking. She'd heard a few quiet murmurs since they'd been shipped into isolation together, but never anything she could make out.
Janet had been and gone numerous times - always leaving at least one nurse behind - and she'd returned again just a few moments ago.
Then he began to speak.
"How are the boys doing?"
It was just a voice. A voice she'd heard a million times before. But right now, in her present state of mind, it really was having quite an interesting...effect. She really should study this phenomenon - purely for scientific purposes, of course.
So she closed her eyes, to help her focus on it.
"Well Colonel, you'll be glad to hear they're doing well. It transpires the rash causes nothing more than slight discomfort, and the urge to itch."
"Good," He replied. "That's good to know. So, uh, how's Carter?"
Her eyes snapped open.
"She's fine; no sign of the rash either. Though you know, she is less than twenty feet away and is probably listening to every word we're saying - you could always ask her yourself."
"Oh, you know," He argued. "You're standing right *there*. I figured I might as well ask."
"Hmm."
Janet was distracted away for a few moments then, by a nurse who had to take something back to the infirmary.
Sam's leg bouncing increased.
In was practically jumping off the floor when, just a few minutes after, Janet announced her intention to leave. Promising to return sometime 'soon', she left, the heavy metal door thunking shut behind her.
The silence was unnaturally heavy. Even the other nurse wasn't saying anything, which was odd in itsel-
A heavy sigh interrupted her musings.
"Crap,"
Frowning, she stood up, speaking to the partition. "You okay, si...Ja...r?" Oh *that* came out well.
"What? Oh, sorry, Carter. Didn't realise I'd said that out loud...uh..."
At least he did it too. "What were you 'crapping' about?" She really shouldn't be engaging him in...conversation. Yes, conversation!
"Nothing, nothing."
"Oh." She cleared her throat, staring at the grey walls and trying to find something to appreciate in them.
"It's just," He sighed again. "Fraiser left."
She didn't get it. "And?"
"And...Atcliff left."
She still didn't get it. "*And*?"
"*And*...now there's just...us."
Wait, wait, wait. She couldn't even process that yet. "I thought Hyde was still-"
"Nope," He interrupted. "Left with Atcliff."
"He didn't say anything about going..."
"I know," He agreed. "But he did."
It really was just the two of them. Sam's brain finally began to process that, and promptly overloaded. "You know, I don't think this is setting a good precedent. True, we might not be infected at all and even if we are it's not in the least bit serious, but we're still their patients and they shouldn't be leaving us alone like this. Frankly-"
"Carter,"
"-I think it shows a distinct lack of-"
"Carter."
"-good doctoring."
"Sam."
She suddenly understood where that 'puddle on the floor' imagery came from. Mmm...uh? "Yeah?"
"Check out the security camera."
She did, staring at what was for her the far right corner of the room. The camera was there, apparently undamaged, but the light that repeatedly blinked to let you know it was working...
Was off.
She stared at it, waiting for the light to come back on.
Five seconds.
Six seconds.
Seven.
It should have come back on by now, it really-
The partition was suddenly wheeled - no, *thrown* - aside, and in its place stood...well...him. Looking *very* much like he'd been having *exactly* the same thoughts ever since they got back.
Her pulse went up, and she was pretty damn sure her temperature did, too.
"Remind me," He said far, far too calmly as he walked towards her. "To thank Fraiser profusely."
Wow. They really *did* jump each other.
*
Janet's plan made sense. Because she arranged for them to be alone before the nine hours were up, if it turned out that only one of them had originally been infected, and they in turn infected the other person while they were 'alone', they could easily claim that both of them must have been infected earlier. An accidental brush against the plant; a random touch of skin against skin.
*Oh*, skin against skin.
Not that it really mattered, not that they needed an excuse anymore, but it would save them some embarrassment.
Besides, he was worth suffering a rash for.
Lying on the bed, Sam grinned as she surveyed the isolation room - or rather, what was left of it. They were probably gonna have to pay for the damage to the partition. And the table, too...
His hand rubbed over her stomach, and she forgot all about the table.
She was spooned up against him as the beds weren't intended for two people (*such* a shame), his right hand was wrapped around her side, and he very much seemed to enjoy nuzzling the back of her neck.
But then she enjoyed it, too.
Shivering, she turned in his arms and met his lips for one hell of a big kiss. Arms, hands, pulled, tugged: legs rubbing, causing delightful friction.
They barely moved away when they broke for air, foreheads touching, lips briefly meeting again and again and again...
"Jack,"
He growled and it made her shiver again, because she *knew* it was just because she'd said his name. "Ssssaaammmm...?"
Oh yeah. *Just* like that. "You asked me earlier," Kiss. "To remind you," Shoulder kiss. "To thank Janet." Other shoulder kiss.
"Mmm?"
She moved, rolling him onto his back and straddling his thighs, delighted at the surprise in his eyes. Her lips descended towards his.
"Get to the back of the line, buddy."
~FINIS