Disclaimer: I've been saving up, and can so far afford a piece of Corin Nemec's left elbow. Anyone wanna go halves on a Jaffa, just let me know…


This was interesting.

That is, if you're the type of person who enjoys sitting in a stuffy briefing room, surreptitiously watching the seconds tick by (having already counted the ceiling tiles - there were 564) whilst simultaneously memorising the number of times your Second in Command says 'Theoretically' during a long and *very* dull presentation on the benefits of harvesting Naquadah from the inhabitants of P4Y…something.

So, in fact, not that interesting at all really.

Now that he had cleared up that small issue, Colonel Jack O'Neill returned his thoughts to questioning the basic elements of a mental breakdown. The main point for discussion being whether or not one was ever actually *aware* that their mind was metaphorically melting into a puddle of brain-like goo. Because if that was the case, then there was absolutely no question.

He was going nuts.

Of course, despite the fact that every second he remained in the meeting his IQ dropped by 10 points, it did give him a rather welcome opportunity to check out said 2IC…biblically, as it were.

Deciding with some measure of satisfaction that there was no way in hell she was going to stop talking anytime soon, he decided that, for once, he was going to take his lecherous appraisal of Major Samantha Carter nice and slow. Quickly and with a professional eye, he glanced at the other members of the meeting, ensuring that each and every one of them was at least feigning an interest in the slide show Carter had obviously spent a lot of time meticulously and pain-stakingly preparing.

Oh, yeah. She *really* wanted that Naquadah.

General Hammond was sat at the head of the table, listening attentively to every word Carter was saying - him being the only person in the room who actually needed to understand every element in order to make a thread assessment before giving the go ahead. Jonas Quinn, the newest member of SG1 was sat forward in his chair, arms resting on the table, and also listening to the presentation - but more due to that fact that he was anally retentive enough to actually *want* to understand. Teal'c, the ever-reliable Jaffa was…well, he was…

Was he meditating?

The sneaky son of a…Jack had to turn his sudden burst of unexpected laughter into a subtle cough as the entire room turned to look at him. He apologised quickly for the interruption and soon all eyes were back on the Major. Jack looked again and sure enough, the Jaffa had returned to meditation. Since when did Teal'c have the ability to Kel-No-Reem with his eyes open? Jack wondered as he looked at the glazed expression in his friend's eyes.

Making a mental note to ask the Jaffa for lessons in the art of sleeping with one's eyes open, Jack turned his attention, once again, to Major Carter.

He started at the bottom…not *her* bottom, you understand - not even *he* was that bad (plus he knew that he'd get to that part of her anatomy later).

For a woman, Carter had fairly large feet. Not clown size, you understand, and they were in perfect proportion with the rest of her body, but she was no size four in the shoe department.

Her feet, as usual, were encased in black military issue boots, which always managed to make one's feet look larger than they really were, but Jack knew from experience that she was around a size seven in her socks. Probably due to her height, he mused as he watched (with some measure of humour) as she lifted one booted leg and scratched the rear calf of the other with the tip - never once stopping her verbal diarrhoea.

The Colonel's gaze moved slowly and lovingly up her BDU clad legs. Despite the apparently intended asexuality of air force attire, she still had a way of making whatever she wore look good. And Military issue clothing notwithstanding, blue was *definitely* her colour. In fact, for some time now he had been seriously considering petitioning the powers that be for all combat gear to be blue, whether in the field or not.

He'd also seen her legs naked before. And he wasn't ashamed to admit (in his own mind, at least) that the first time, in the briefing before the Abydos mission intended to reclaim Daniel Jackson as property of USAF, her legs alone had sent his blood rushing south. A potentially embarrassing moment saved only by leaning slightly on the table in front of him, thereby hiding the 'evidence'.

For a fleeting moment, Jack wondered if she shaved her legs or succumbed to the 'beauty is pain' school of hair removal, and waxed.

A stupid, stupid thought that had him scooting his chair further forward in order to hide yet another schoolboy reaction as he took some very deep breaths and thought furiously of Senator Kinsey.


In the shower.

He shuddered at the new images that just seemed wrong on *so* many levels and took a sip of water. Perhaps he should continue his appraisal at another time, he mused as images of Carter's bikini line planted itself nicely in his overheated imagination once again. This time though, as a desperate attempt to exorcise the nauseating mental pictures of a nude Kinsey singing 'Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head' in the shower.

Cursing under his breath, he tried in vain to pay attention to the meeting. "So, as you can see," Carter was saying in her own eloquent way, "If we can persuade the high council of P4Y735 to allow us to retrieve Naquadah from the mines surrounding the main city, theoretically…"

…and he tuned out again.

Deciding it would probably be within his own interests to refrain from any further study of Carter's lower torso, Jack aimed his concentration at her waist.

Another part of her body encased entirely in black, Sam Carter had a figure most women would be prepared to face off a whole barrage of system lords for, and most men would do the same just to covet.

It was small, but not to the point of emaciation. In fact, as with all of her, it was directly proportional to the rest of her body insomuch as it was *gorgeous*. Unbidden images once again assaulted his overactive mind. Memories of six years ago back on P3X595, when she had gotten a little tipsy on the local hooch and decided rather suddenly that she was too hot. Images brought forth solely from his imagination of Carter in the shower, getting ready for bed, Hell, just getting naked.

Was it hot in here?

The most sensible idea right now would be to just skip her breasts and move on straight to her face, Jack decided as his eyes zoned in on her…



His eyes were definitely being insubordinate and his pupils dilated as she inhaled, causing a sudden rise in…temperature. He mentally threatened to court martial his irises, but for some inexplicable reason they didn't seem to care a whole lot. Still, he rationalised, while I'm here…

It was difficult to find the words that would explain his state of mind as far as Carter's breasts were concerned. They certainly weren't large, it would be an overstatement. But to call them small would be doing them a disservice.

He pondered for a moment.

Actually, he pondered for at least ten minutes. The whole time not tearing his eyes away from the subtle rise and fall of her chest area as she continued to ramble incoherently. Okay, so he wasn't the most articulate of men, but surely it was within even *his* vocabulary to find a suitable word that would encompass his feelings regarding his 2IC's…err…bosom.

Then it came to him. So fast and so unexpected that he almost thumped the table in joy.


Yup. That was the word. Understated and without Shakespearean fluff, but that one word was, in his mind, exactly the right way to describe Carter's breasts.

In fact, he decided quickly, that word pretty much described Carter as a whole. Aesthetically, from the soles of her perfect feet to the crown of her perfect head. She was, well, perfect.

And not just on the outside either. Her mind was an enigma to him, she wowed him at least fifty times on the average day with her intellect, her compassion for others rivalled that of a nun (which, thank God, she wasn't. Like he didn't have enough problems with regulations as it was…), and she had a heart bigger than Colorado Springs itself.

Oh yeah, he had it bad.

Eventually, and using persuasive techniques such as promising long term letching in the near future, Jack's eyes moved away from her breasts and centred on her mouth. Her *perfect* mouth, covered lightly in a red lipstick he was ninety-nine percent certain she wore only to tease poor love struck bastards such as himself. Her mouth was small and beautiful, with the ability to produce a smile that could always bring him to his knees. And when she spoke, Oh lord, when she spoke. When she sp…

She wasn't speaking.

Finally his eyes did something right for a change, and moved straight up to meet hers. His ears tuned back in only to discover that the meeting had apparently either come to it's natural conclusion, or stopped suddenly, and she was now looking straight back at him.

Ah, crap.

Luckily (and remind Jack to start saying bedtime prayers later) no one else had seemed to notice the staring contest the Colonel and Major were having, and Jack quickly broke his guilty gaze in order to move his attention over to General Hammond.

"Well then I guess that wraps things up." The General was saying, trying gallantly to hide the strains of exhaustion and relief in his voice. "You have a 'Go' SG1, you depart at 0900 tomorrow. Dismissed." With that he made his way quickly to his office in the hopes that he could collapse behind closed doors.

Jonas and Teal'c left the meeting together, both having an overwhelming hankering for chocolate, or black coffee, or, quite frankly anything with a ton of caffeine in it.

And then there were two.

Jack glanced quickly around himself, wondering if the room had a secret passage previously undiscovered that he could sneak through before Carter looked at him again.

Apparently not.

With the speed of a Gazelle running away from it's pursuer, Jack grabbed his notes with one hand, his coffee with the other and shot out of the door with Carter hot on his heels. He figured if he could make it to the men's room and stay there for, oh three or four months, then maybe she would give up the chase and go back to work. Slightly unrealistic a plan, he mused as he dodged to avoid the two SF's guarding the exterior of the briefing room, but a plan none the less.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a plan that Janet Frasier had been privy to, and just as he reached the solace of the men's bathroom door, she appeared from absolutely nowhere and collared him before he could disappear inside.

"Colonel?" she asked gently, concernedly. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." he replied, agitated as he watched Carter draw closer and closer. "Just in a hurry is all."

"Oh, well, Sam's been calling your name for the last two corridors."


Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

All of a sudden *she* was by his side. Her hand resting in a loose grip around his wrist lest he attempt to scarper again.

"Thanks Janet." Sam said smiling amiably at the woman who, Jack had quickly decided, was going to get a taste of her own needles at the earliest opportunity.

The base CMO smiled innocently at the Colonel and walked past him, winking at Sam before heading off towards the General's office.

Panic assaulted the Colonel's senses as he turned in slow motion to face his (doom? Destiny?) Major. He winced as she opened her mouth to speak, ready for the impending onslaught.

But instead, she smiled sweetly before saying "So what did you think about my ideas, sir?"

Jack was stumped. "Ideas?"

"Yeah, the ideas I bought up in the meeting."

"Meeting?" was there an echo in here?

Sam smiled knowingly. "You weren't listening to a word of what I was saying."

He bristled at that. "I was too!" he exclaimed. "You wanna mine for Naquadah on P4Y…whatsit."

Now it was Sam's turn to look shocked. "So you *were* listening!" she replied.

Jack suddenly felt very pleased with himself. It was official. He could bullshit with the best of them!

"Funny," Sam continued, her expression morphing quickly from surprise to cheek. "And there *I* was thinking you'd been to busy staring at my breasts to listen to what I had to say."

"No, of course I heard you….Oh." Okay, now, as facial colouration goes, red *really* didn't suit him .

But to his surprise, instead of being livid about his blatant lack of respect, sexist eyes, court-martialable libido, etc…Sam was grinning from ear to ear. "Seeing as you enjoyed my presentation so much sir, perhaps you'd like to attend the lecture I'm giving on Theoretical Astrophysics at the academy this afternoon." She continued, resolutely ignoring the look of pure horror that crept across her CO's now ashen face.

"I dunno Carter, I've got a lot of reports to catch up on, I…"

Sam nodded understandingly. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah, next time. " he lied.

"Pity," she continued as she walked away, "There's an alumni evening party I've been invited to, and I got this new dress that's *really* low cut…"

The SF that passed the Colonel at that moment wondered fleetingly what on earth had happened that would cause a man like Colonel O'Neill to bash his head repeatedly against a bathroom door.

Footnote: By the way, my guess at Carter's shoe size is the English sizes. I have no idea how to translate it into American sizes, but it's pretty average for someone of 5ft9.

Footnote No 2: You know how, when someone's staring at you, and you just know it's happening without needing to look at them? Well, I was thinking about doing a version from Sam's point of view. What do you think?