Sir

By Kate O'Riley

Disclaimer: Stargate not mine. Not that I would mind if it were mine. Because then I could correct a long chain of events that is rapidly leading to a place we S/J shippers don't even want to think about…

Sir.

I hate that word.

Funny, languages and stuff, that's never really been my field, that's Danny's, but of all the words in the English language, there is only one I truly, truly, with all of my heart and soul, hate. And it's only three little letters.

S-I-R.

"Yes, sir." "Of course, sir." "Whatever you say, sir." "Sorry, sir." She says the damn word every time she speaks to me!

If I could track down whoever invented the word "sir" and chase them all the way to Hell, and throttle them a few million times…it wouldn't be enough. Wouldn't be close to enough.

Maybe I'd hand them over to Sokar's tender mercies. Or Ba'al. I like Ba'al. OK, actually, I don't, I hate his guts and I'd like nothing more than to rip the slimy snake out of the poor guy's head, because no one deserves to be a Goa'uld's host…except the guy who invented the word "sir". He deserves it.

Maybe I'm lucky, and he's already one.

"Call me Jack!" I want to shout at her. "For cryin' out loud, Carter, I have a name! Use it!" But no. It's always "sir", or that equally damnable "Colonel". I'm ready to track down whoever invented military ranks and throttle them too.

In fact, I've decided I'm a pacifist. Because I don't like the military. Sure, going through the 'gate is great. That, I love. And I have to admit, there's something satisfying in bombing the snot out of your enemies. Loss of life is never a good thing, but when it's them or you, it's nice to make sure it's them, nice to be alive to fight another day. I just don't like the "non-fraternization" rules. I'll fraternize with whoever I damn well please, thank you! You try working every day, right besides the woman you…you…

Care about way more than you're supposed to.

Possibly even love.

Yeah. Love.

I've never honestly thought about it before. When I first met her, she seemed to be one of those scientists who are constantly talking about things the rest of us mere mortals don't know. Which she is. She's also kind, generous, gorgeous, and a damn good shot. And when she smiles or laughs at my comments, my heart does flips like I'm a lovesick teenager all over again.

And then she says that damn word!

Ya know, all through history, people who have saved the day have gone home to the women they love, and no one's bugged them about it. Not at the SGC. Nope, I get to save the world (again!), no one knows about it, there's no parades, no free tickets to hockey games, no nothin'. My team and I, we go back to our respective homes/apartments/quarters underground. And no one ever knows.

And no one knows that of all the words in the universe, the one I hate most is "sir".

Except…maybe…her.

And yet. And yet. We have to go on. I can't believe I agreed to put the za'tarc testing behind me. I shouldn't have. I should have dragged her to D.C., stormed the Oval Office, and said, "Look, Mr. President, the two of us have saved the planet a few dozen times, so can you give us a pardon on the non-fraternization rule?" Then maybe held him at gunpoint till he gave in. At least she'd get to visit me in jail.

Yeah, well, nothing will happen. I'll continue working with her, day in and day out, secretly panicking on missions if I think she's been hurt or killed, watching as alien guys from all over the universe fall in love with her. Just being the colonel.

And she'll continue calling me "sir".