Chapter Text
Sat alone in her living room, Sam finally allowed herself space to think through everything that had happened since Hathor had captured SG-1. Not the events themselves; she'd written a detailed mission report after their briefing. No. What she wanted to dissect and examine now were the thoughts and feelings she'd found herself having since discovering her CO was still alive.
It had been more than just relief, she could at least recognise that much. Even the despair she'd felt when she discovered he was dead hadn't hit her in quite the same way as her feelings about Daniel, Teal'c, and everyone she believed to be dead at the SGC and on Earth. Because when she'd learned that she was the only one alive, she'd felt the initial gut punch, and then her mind had immediately flown to the Colonel and how she'd never see him again, never hear him tell some stupid joke or mix up a metaphor, or try to make her laugh. And that had hurt more, somehow. She found herself not really wanting to examine why in too much detail.
She reached for the glass of wine she'd poured herself and took a long sip. As the warmth flowed through her, her mind flitted back to the warmth she'd felt when he was pressed against her back, breathing so close to her ear. She felt that electric buzz she'd experienced back on the planet. This time, she didn't push it down. She gave herself a moment to enjoy the feeling, to remember the way it felt to have his hands on her. And then she shoved the wine glass back down in frustration. She should not be imagining the feelings of her commanding officers hands holding her to him, and she certainly shouldn't be enjoying it. Finding him funny was acceptable. Thinking him a good leader was required. Finding him attractive... 'ok', she admitted to herself, 'he was pretty attractive.' She'd been able to convince herself that that was ok to. She wasn't going to act on it. She certainly wouldn't ever tell him. And objectively she could find lots of people attractive. Daniel was good looking. Teal'c was extremely handsome. Janet was beautiful. So why couldn't she also, with no emotion involved, find her CO hot too.
'Hot...' she thought. 'Where had that come from?'
Except it wasn't without emotion now, was it? No. Now she recognised the buzz she felt when he was near her, when he looked directly into her eyes and seemed to be able to read her soul. At the very least, this was a crush. She refused to call it anything else.
She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed even in the solitude of her own house. She'd become the cliché female subordinate; the image every male officer had when they thought of women serving in the airforce, no matter how honourable they might be. She was doomed to be considered either the sap; following her superior around like a sad little puppy, or the kind of woman who'd go for the chance and jump straight into bed with him. She refused to let that be who she was.
She was Sam Carter. She was a scientist. She was a damn good pilot. She was an excellent shot. She wasn't some silly teenager who would let a crush rule her life. She could deal with this. She could ignore the crush until it went away.
She picked up her glass again and downed the rest of the wine.