Carpe Diem
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1
Pairing:
Rating: PG
Spoilers: SG1 Divide and Conquer
Word Count: 1,508
“Is she gonna be all right?”
The voice behind her comes as something of a surprise to Janet; she’d been sure that she and Sam were the last two left in sickbay, and she knows that Sam had been under that impression too, which was why her friend had felt safe enough to let loose a few tears, because Major Samantha Carter should not be crying in front of anyone but her best friend.
She’s not expecting to hear that distinctive voice behind her, and after being on edge for the last number of days – something to do with base personnel losing their minds for seemingly no reason, followed by aliens using alien devices to detect mind control, all on her watch with little or weight being given to her medical opinion – she reacts in a way that the normally reserved, controlled CMO of Cheyenne Mountain Military Base would never usually act.
She jumps, gasps and whirls all in one moment, clapping her hand to her chest for good measure.
She knows she’s being ridiculous when she’s mid-turn, because after all, this is a secure military facility, which today is on an even higher level of alert than usual, if such a thing were possible, and besides, she knows that voice, likes that voice, maybe even a little more than she should. Freaking out in front of him, of all people, is not something that she’s ever wanted to do, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment, all the more so when she sees his blue eyes dance with merriment, see the bare beginnings of the dimple in his left cheek beginning to show.
“I did’nae mean to startle you,”
“It’s fine
He’s so earnest that it brings a smile to Janet’s face, and she shakes her head quickly. “I didn’t think you were,” she tells him. “And you were right… about Sam.” Because she would have died if she’d known that anyone knew that she was here, crying, and even though Janet knows that, she didn’t expect Carson, here barely a couple of months, to have worked it out as well. “That was very… thoughtful… of you. Thank you.”
He shrugs again, but she can tell that he’s pleased. “D’y’think she’ll be all right?” he asks, repeating his earlier question, and the look on his face is so concerned that Janet has to look down.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly, each word like a knife to her heart, because she’s a doctor, has been trained to heal the wounded, know just what to do, just what to say in every situation. But nowhere had they covered what to say to your friend, who has just killed the man who wasn’t quite her boyfriend, but who wanted to be, but whose Goa’uld symbiote had been the lover of centuries of her Goa’uld symbiote.
Even trying to work out the complexities of the Sam and Martouf relationship makes her head ache, and she reaches up, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if that’s going to help her. “They did’nae cover this in medical school,” he says, echoing her thoughts exactly, which surprises a laugh out of her. He laughs with her, and she notes absently that it’s a nice laugh, one that she wouldn’t mind hearing more of.
Which is when the normally reserved,
controlled CMO of Cheyenne Mountain Military Base makes a reappearance,
pointing out to her that
Then she looks up at him, sees those blue eyes and those dimples and that smile, and tells the normally reserved, controlled CMO of Cheyenne Mountain Military Base to take a hike.
“How are you holding up?” she wonders. “You’ve kinda been thrown in at the deep end…”
Janet rolls her eyes. “Not if you’re borrowing from The Wizard of Oz,” she agrees.
“I mean it,” he says, warming to his theme,
voice growing in enthusiasm. “The President of the
“Your grandmother?”
“Oh aye… Granny Beckett expects a phone call once a week to make sure no-one’s killed me in a drive-by shooting yet.” He pauses, nods once as if to assure her he’s telling the truth. “She’s this tiny little ninety year old grey haired Scottish woman, shouting into the phone because she’s half deaf, ‘Are ye still alive, lovie?’ I’ve often wondered what she’d do if I said no… I must try that sometime.”
He keeps a perfect straight face throughout, which is more than Janet is able to do. “That’s awful,” she says, giggling all the same, and he makes an exaggeratedly thoughtful face.
“I suppose it is. Though I like to think she’d appreciate the joke. Don’t let the ninety years old and dead thing fool you… Granny’s sharper than an east wind in winter.”
His tone is serious now, but he’s smiling, and Janet is smiling right back at him. The moment holds, stretches, and both seem to realise at the same time that they’re just standing here, in the middle of sickbay, staring at one another.
They both look down at the same time, and
Janet nods, checks her watch, groans. “I said I’d pick Cassie up twenty minutes ago.” Off his enquiring look, she explains, “My daughter. She’s used to me being late… but she’s almost fifteen and she’s getting into her ‘everything my mother does is wrong’ phase.”
“Fifteen?” He’s surprised, and looks it. “Were you a child bride or something?”
She blinks, sure there was a compliment in there somewhere, deciding to take it as such, especially when she sees an appalled look in his eyes, as if he’s wondering if she’s going to slap him for saying that. “She’s adopted,” she explains, leaving out the exact circumstances in which Cassie came to live with her. “But thank you.”
He nods, holds up his hand. “I’m sure she’ll understand,” he says, taking a step back, then another. “Anyway… I’ve kept you long enough.”
When he turns, Janet realises suddenly that
he hasn’t kept her talking near long enough for her liking, and it’s that that
has her calling after him. “
She may have been a bit loud, and he turns, lifting one eyebrow. “Aye?”
For a second, she considers laughing it off, saying nothing. Then she thinks of earlier on tonight, Sam’s muffled sobs as she talked about Martouf, how he’d told her he had feelings for her, and now they would never be able to act on them. She thinks of a couple of weeks ago, of Teal’c and Shon’auc and more chances lost. She thinks that life is short and that, maybe, just maybe, it’s time to seize the day.
“I was wondering,” she says, feeling very awkward suddenly, “If you might like to get dinner… sometime… with me.”
His reaction is something to behold; first he grins, eyes bright, with obvious delight. Then his eyes darken and narrow, and he tilts his head, pure suspicion. Then he is looking at her directly, blue eyes locked on hers, face perfectly neutral, as neutral as his voice when he asks, “This would be a professional matter? To talk about work?”
He’s giving her an out, and she wonders for a moment if he wants her to take it, if she should just walk away like this whole conversation never happened. Then she thinks once more of Sam and Martouf, of Teal’c and Shon’auc, and she shakes her head. “No,” she says simply.
His face stays neutral for a moment longer, then breaks out into a grin that could stop time. “In that case,” he says, “I’d love to.”
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