Oblivious
Author: LauraJo
Email: laura@laurajo.net
Rating: G
Archive: S/J archive, others please ask
Summary: They have their moments, but it's still not enough.
Disclaimer: The characters and setting belong to MGM/Gekko/Double Secret, and no
harm is intended by this little piece of fiction.
Spoilers: None (which I am actually quite amazed by!)
Status: Complete
Author's notes: This is what happens when you combine two lines of dialogue
that refuse to leave my head during a morning in the labs with enough free time
during my day to give them a context. It was actually mostly written back
in September, but it took me this long to drag it out for a minor
re-write! I'm slotting this in just prior to
Meridian, 'cause I needed Daniel <g>. Feedback, as always, would be
more than welcome. {January 2003}
~~~
Five years in the same command could certainly change a man. But then, this wasn't exactly your typical command. The SGC. Stargate Command. The most interesting and most important command of his career, and the one where he had felt closest to those he commanded. Which had to be part of the reason they'd wanted to do this, why he'd let them do this.
A party in the gate room.
The very idea was absurd, but somehow they'd talked him into it. Apparently five years wasn't a milestone they thought they could ignore. So, no teams were currently off-world, the iris was closed 'just in case', and only the barest of skeleton crews was on duty. Everyone else was partying in their dress blues and making their way through the token amount of alcohol that had been allowed on base.
Absurd, but a strangely fitting celebration. After all, nothing about this base could ever have been said to be normal. Why should tonight be any different?
A makeshift sound system stood in one corner spouting out light-hearted party music, the type that was not too fast and not too slow. Just the right speed, in fact, for the office party that could include no husbands, wives or partners, as no one without the proper security clearance could be invited to attend.
Hammond remembered watching Major Carter oversee its installation. He hadn't been sure if she'd intended to make sure they got the sound system set up right or to watch that they didn't damage any of the more official systems they were moving out of harm's way, but she hadn't left them alone until one of the hassled technicians had appealed to Colonel O'Neill to give her something else to do. The fact that the airman had gone to O'Neill showed just how nervous Carter had been making them all. And the likelihood was, she didn't even realise it.
Now here they were, and some of those technicians had even asked the major to dance. Hammond himself stood with her father, who was the only representative of any of their allies in attendance, and Janet Fraiser, who had just returned from dancing with Jacob. Their conversation had drifted easily onto the subject of SG-1's latest exploits, with the three present being perhaps the closest friends of the SGC's flagship team. Hammond focused his attention back onto what they were saying, until a subtle change in atmosphere caught his attention. For a moment he couldn't work out what was different. No one had changed the lighting level, the temperature was tightly regulated, no one had just entered the room causing any kind of stir...
Then it hit him. The music. Someone had switched the previously easy-listening, easy-to-dance-to music for something much slower. For a moment the general had to wonder why anyone would play a slow ballad. As far as he knew, there were actually no couples among all of the base personnel. Though of course, he could easily have been missing something among the lower ranks, if they were being discreet. He wasn't as up on base gossip as he would have some people believe.
And then he saw them.
In among the men and women having a little fun with whomever they could drag onto the dance floor, one couple had drifted so close that, to borrow an overused cliché, it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began. He doubted they were even aware of their position, and the reason behind the change in music instantly became clear. Someone had seen these two were finally dancing together, and decided to have a little fun.
Hammond could see it clearly in his mind. The music subtly mixing from the earlier easy beat to the slow, seductive rhythm that could be heard now, and slowly the colonel and his second moving closer together, oblivious to where and who they were.
Their movements were slow, though not necessarily inappropriately so. What could be described as an intimate dance could also be explained away by the restrictive nature of the major's skirt. After all, those uniforms hadn't been designed with dancing in mind, and many would say a slow shuffle was all that was really possible while maintaining any ease of movement or sense of decorum. Though as much as the uniform could help to explain their situation, it equally made it look so much worse. Even disregarding the obvious symbolism of the clothing and all it represented, the identical colouring of the garments made it that much more difficult to separate the dancing couple into two distinct individuals.
It was perhaps harder still to rationalise the way Major Carter's head rested on O'Neill's shoulder, or the way his hand moved slowly on the small of her back. It was harder to ignore the way his other hand clasped hers close to, but not quite touching, his chest. It was almost impossible not to realise that the only explanation for their current appearance was that, at least consciously, they had no idea what they were doing. In the middle of the dance floor, they were surrounded by such a look of peace, of belonging, that neither general could take their eyes off them. Neither, it seemed, could half of the other people in the room.
"George, don't you think we should be doing something?" Jacob's voice cut into Hammond's thoughts, and the military side of him knew his friend was right. But the other side of him, the one that had found some strange hold over his professional as well as his personal life over the past five years, demanded to have its say.
"No. Let them have this. Lord knows there's precious little else I can do for them."
"That's not true, sir," Janet was quick to jump in, though it was obvious just from looking at her face the moment she realised what she had started to say, and in front of whom. "What I mean," she hastily started to back-pedal, "is that-"
"Doctor," Hammond interrupted. "I think on this occasion you can assume I know as much about the situation as you do. I do have eyes."
"Yes, sir. Then if I could say, a lot of people would have separated them years ago. But you didn't. I'm sure they're grateful for that."
"We all are," Daniel piped up from behind them, apparently having overheard the conversation.
Hammond looked from his CMO to the archaeologist, then back out at the dance floor, once again transfixed by the bittersweet sight before him. His final words on the subject before he moved away left no doubt as to the inadequacy he felt.
"It's still not enough."
THE END
622
Remember. Cherish. Honour. Love. Respect.
