Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Future-fic, vague spoilers for 'Beneath The Surface' and 'Orpheus'. Feedback would be loved.
*smooches nellie*
*
She hasn't felt much like doing anything lately. There's no explanation, no defining reason. Nothing missing from her life; no reason to be unhappy.
The feeling is just there.
He knows this. She can see it when he looks at her. And though he hasn't said anything yet, he will soon. In certain areas he never, ever does what he shouldn't...but in others it seems he just can't help himself.
She likes that about him.
As with a majority of their 'deeper' talks (as deep as they ever go, which isn't very), it happens off-world. Teal'c and Daniel are off meditating together (they do that a lot lately), and she hasn't been sitting in the dark by herself for very long when he seems to materialise directly from the shadows themselves - which is some achievement, as there's a fire going and hardly any shadows.
She doesn't question it.
"You okay?"
From anyone else it would sound trite, even stupid. But between them, now, it represents any number of things.
What's wrong? I know you're upset. It bothers me that you're upset.
I miss you being you.
Maybe all of them.
"I'm okay."
I'm lying.
"You just..." He sighs as he sits down next to her. Deliberately? "...you've seemed kinda out of it for a while now. Don't get me wrong, I know we all have our ups and downs - and I *frequently* have more downs than ups," She smiles. God, she loves that about him, "but this isn't that. This is something else."
He's right, of course. She doesn't look at him, instead focusing on the fire. "Maybe it is."
His voice lowers, softens. "I can't remember the last time I really saw you enjoying your work. Whether out in the field, or in the lab...figuring out a problem. Finding a solution. I mean your work is still great, fantastic, but you're just not...into it, like you used to be. And the idea of you losing your enthusiasm, your love for what you do...it's just...well, *wrong*."
She can't help it, smiling slightly. "On so many levels?"
"Too many," he nods, "way too many. But don't get me wrong - I'm not sticking my nose in for your benefit."
"You're not?"
"Nope. Purely selfish reasons. This old cynical guy needs his right hand man to be her usual, optimistic self."
She smiles again. Even a few years ago she would have corrected his 'man' to 'woman', but she knew he was doing it deliberately - and she'd loosened up dramatically. "I'm still optimistic. I'm just..."
"Blah?"
Blah? Yes, that was a good word for it. Blah. Blah blah blah. "Yeah." Blah blah blah. Definitely.
"Well, if you ever want to discuss your general sense of blahness, or the occasional bout of blahnicity, I'm your guy."
As nice as he was being, it was something else about that offer that stood out. "Blah*nicity*?"
"Sure. Look it up in the dictionary. It's right there under 'Jack O'Neill's favourite words'."
"'Jack O'Neill's made up words', you mean."
"Do not mock the words. The words are good. Even if they're not real."
The smile when it came this time, was *huge*. Probably bigger than any smile she'd experienced in weeks.
He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "Now *that's* more like it."
She wants to do something. Hold his hand maybe. Or is that too much, too cheesy? She wants to do something.
Before she can do anything, he's standing up.
"Well, I'd better-"
"Sir."
She sees it, sometimes, when she says that word. He'll physically flinch, as if he's remembering something or someplace else. And sometimes he'll react internally, doing a very good job of hiding it.
She always sees that, too.
Tonight it's neither.
He looks back with a lopsided grin. "Carter?"
She meets his gaze. "Thank you."
Shrugging, he smiles genuinely - a rarity for him, though she understands why. It's just as well she's already sitting down. "You bet!" He turns away again...before pausing. As if he's realised something.
And she sees it. He isn't flinching and she hasn't said the word, but she sees it.
"You know sometimes," he murmurs, barely loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire, "sometimes I wish I could do more."
She's not as surprised by that as she should be, as she ponders a response. She should tell him he does enough. She should tell him she has no expectations. She should tell him everything's perfect the way it is.
She tells him the truth.
"Sometimes I wish you could too."
~FINIS