TITLE: Requirements

AUTHOR: Mara Jade

EMAIL: marajade764@yahoo.co.uk

RATING: PG

CATEGORY: Humour

SUMMARY: Ever notice that there are never any toilets in the cells?

SPOILERS: General

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A/N Hey, this is just a little fic I wrote in a spare few minutes. The idea behind it stems from a personal experience to a certain degree, although I didn't realise that at the time! Other than that it's just a thought that suddenly struck me!
Many, many thanks to Binksbabe for taking the time to Beta it, despite being busy! :D (sorry about the formatting hiccups earlier)

Well, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

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Jack looked at his team, releasing an irritated sigh as he did. When they had been thrown into the dirt-floored cell over…He checked his watch…15 hours ago, they had, by mutual agreement, moved to the corner opposite the crap corner.

It was the same in any of the cells they had been in; none of them had toilets. Only a few had anything as high tech as buckets.

Even the Goa'uld, the supposedly superior people, didn't.

They had a little hole in one corner that, if you aimed wrong could be disastrous.

You could always tell which corner it was by smell.

Sometimes, they were nice enough that they'd clean it out between guests.

This cell was one of those. But the dirt there was still obviously a different colour. So was the wall.

Rubbing a hand across his face, he brought himself back to the present, hoping that SG-3 would hurry up and tell the natives that it was NOT a punishable crime to wear a hat. In public or otherwise.

He was suddenly aware that Captain Samantha Carter, his 2IC was squirming. And fidgeting.

And huffing, and sighing, and scrunching her face up in what seemed to be either mild pain or extreme discomfort.

"Carter, you alright?" he asked, slightly concerned.

"Yes, sir, I'm fine." Was she blushing?

"Really, then what's with the squirming?" He knew her pretty well by now, and he knew she was lying.

"Its nothing, sir," she replied, irritated.

"Carter, I know there's something up, you're scrunching your face up." Teal'c raised an eyebrow at this comment and Daniel raised his head from his knees and looked at her, a look of almost childlike comprehension passing over her face. He would have commented that scrunching was the exact word to describe what her face was doing, and no word could have described it better, but he valued his life.

Jack shrugged when Sam un-scrunched her face long enough to shoot him a look that said I'm what?!

"I can make it an order if you like."

Sam let out a long, exasperated and annoyed sigh and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

"Its just…I need to pee," she mumbled, staring at her hands. And there goes Teal'cs eyebrow Jack thought, noticing that Daniel, for once, had the foresight not to risk his life by looking up.

"Well go then no-one's stopping you." She rolled her eyes at him and replied acidly.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm not exactly equipped like you three, strange as that may seem, and I am not going to just whip my ass out in front of you all, sir."

"Oh." It suddenly dawned on Jack then, that in all the times that they'd been stuck in cells, Carter had never once had a pee. When they were on missions, shed just warn them, and disappear behind a bush for a few moments but never when they'd been sharing a cell. In fact, considering the amount of coffee she drank, she didn't seem to pee a lot. He frowned at her, seeing her leg jumping up and down in a sure sign that she was desperate. "When was the last time you went?" She shrugged.

"On Earth." Teal'cs eyebrow climbed even higher, at risk of being followed by the other and Daniels head snapped up, a look of shock on his face.

"That was over 17 hours ago," he said, his own eyes widening. Sam gave him a small, strained smile.

"I know."

"Damn. Well, well, uh, turn our backs or something." He saw her eyes flick towards at the bustling marketplace, and small crowd of people (mostly young women, though there were a fair few young men, there to gaze at Sam) and realisation dawned. "Oh." He sat for a moment, thinking before he got to his feet, gesturing Daniel and Teal'c to follow him as he pulled Sam up by the hand.

With one look at each other the three men understood and line themselves up, standing in a semi-circle in the crap corner, arms folded across their chests, with glares at the people that said 'Just try and watch, and you'll find yourself disembowelled in your sleep'. Those kinds of looks are understood by any culture and the crowd quickly dispersed as Sam relieved herself behind her makeshift wall, the wooden back and side wall hiding her from any other views.

Jack stood in the middle, his face carefully formed into a threatening mask to scare away any would-be viewers. He had to control the mask as the minute it usually took people to pee stretched into about 3 or 4, and then some.

Wordlessly, they resumed their seating arrangement at the other end of the cell. After a while, Jack couldn't help but ask a question that had been bothering him for a while.

"Carter?"

"Yeah, sir?"

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Hold it in like that?"

"Oh, that. My CO before I transferred to the pentagon was a…traditional man." She paused, trying to think how to phrase it without earning a dressing down for insubordination.

"He was a sexist, chauvinistic, self-serving pig?" Jack supplied for her, smiling at her shocked face. "I've seen your record Carter, I know the man personally."

"Right. Well, he wasn't exactly supportive of my differences to the rest of the men, so I learned to drink them under the table, whoop their asses at pool, and hold it in for 17 hours, amongst other things, sir." Jack nodded in understanding.

"Oh, and Carter."

"Sir?"

"You're flying low."

The sound of a zip being pulled punctuated the amused silence.

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Seriously, have you ever spent most of a day knowing that you really need to pee but you can't? Especially when surrounded by blokes? If you have then I sympathise with you hugely! :D

So, what do you think?

Constructive criticism please!