The State of Affairs by Horatio

THE STATE OF AFFAIRS
By Horatio

A girl could fall in love with a man like this . . . if she weren't careful.

That is what Kerry Johnson thought as she stood in General Jack O'Neill's kitchen and listened to him explain how to properly marinate a steak. She listened with only half a mind. The other half was reminding herself that she was, and always had been, a careful person. One didn't get to be a woman CIA agent without being careful. She reminded herself furthermore that she was only in Colorado Springs for a few weeks. That they both understood that this little affair was nothing serious. That it was merely a pleasant diversion for a stranger in town and a somewhat lonely man. That there were no expectations on either side. And yet . . .

And yet a girl could fall in love with this man. Kerry watched those expressive hands gesture wildly -- those expert and gentle hands whose touch she had enjoyed several nights running. She watched the brown eyes glint with mirth, and the smirking mouth, the lined face and the silver hair. And she knew it was going to be hard to be careful this time. There was so much to like in this man. She hadn't met a man that she'd liked this much since . . . since . . . well, since never.

Suddenly her attention snapped back to the matter at hand. "Beer?" she exclaimed. "You marinate the meat in *beer*?"

"Oh, yes. Beef and beer. The only way to eat a fine steak." Jack had placed the meat in a chafing dish and was covering it with Samuel Adams ale. Then he yanked open a drawer and reached inside. "And garlic, of course."

"Of course."

As he broke off cloves, Kerry glanced around her. It was a neat kitchen -- a military man's kitchen -- as was the rest of the house. The only exception was the untidy pile of unopened mail strewn on the counter next to her. She wasn't surprised. She had seen how the paperwork piled up on the general's desk at the SGC. Sorting through the mail at home would be the most avoided of tasks.

Her eyes fell on a white invitation that was separated from the rest of the bills and junk mail, as though it alone had been opened, then tossed aside. Wedding bells were embossed on the cover. "Somebody getting married?" she asked.

"Huh?" Jack turned around. Kerry pointed to the invitation, and immediately a mask dropped over his face. "Oh. That." He turned back to the chopping board. "Yeah."

Kerry waited. Finally she prodded, "Anybody I know?"

He smashed a clove of garlic with the side of the knife. "Carter," he said.

"Really? Colonel Carter's getting married? How nice! When's the wedding?"

He began chopping. Again he hesitated before answering. "Next month or something."

She looked at his back, wondering at the sudden hunching of his shoulders. Something was off here. She ventured another question. "Are you planning to go?"

The knife paused in its chopping. Then Jack slid another clove across the board and smacked it loudly. Kerry jumped. "I don't know," he said.

Kerry cocked her head at him and smiled. "Can her commanding officer *not* go to her wedding?" she asked lightly.

"Weddings aren't my thing -- DAMN!" Jack dropped the knife and thrust his thumb into his mouth.

"Jack! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a nick." He turned on the tap and held the bleeding thumb under the running water.

"Let me see." She took hold of his hand and examined it. Too much blood to see how bad it was. Next to the sink was a roll of paper towels. Kerry tore off a sheet and handed it to him.

His mouth was set in a hard line as he wrapped the paper towel around the injured digit. He seemed more angry than hurt.

"Where are the bandaids?" Kerry asked. "I'll get you one."

"That's OK, I'll get it."

Kerry stared at him as he stalked out of the kitchen. She looked at the invitation, then back at the empty doorway through which he'd fled. Her intelligence training was alerted, and a theory was forming -- one that made her heart drop. .

*

Jack returned without a bandage, having stopped the bleeding and eschewing any further medical intervention. "If this had happened at the SGC, the docs would be sticking needles in me now," he joked.

Kerry felt relieved at the return of his good humor. "I finished chopping the garlic," she told him.

"Hey, thanks." Drawing her to him, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

She reveled in his touch, and decided to make no further mention of weddings.

After lighting the barbecue, they sipped beer and watched the squirrels scamper from branch to branch in the trees.

"The deer are making themselves scarce today," Jack said. "Maybe next time you'll get to see them"

Kerry reached over and squeezed his hand. "I hope so."

Later, while Jack supervised the cooking, Kerry prepared a salad. As she tore lettuce leaves into a bowl, she considered how efficiently Jack had reasserted his lighthearted mood, almost as though the general had spent those ten minutes in the bathroom giving himself a dressing down. She was certain that Jack was as careful a person as she was, not only with knives but with appearances, and -- if her theory was correct, and he'd let appearances slip -- he wouldn't countenance such slip-ups in himself any more than he would in his subordinates. She suspected he had been deeply embarrassed at showing this crack in his armor, for he wasn't given to revealing his inner life. Even when they lay in bed, flushed with lovemaking and talking softly to one another, he said little about himself.

Kerry rested her hands on the kitchen counter, momentarily losing herself in recollections. They had known each other for only a couple of days before they had fallen into each other's arms. He was a passionate and attentive lover, and she had given herself up to him without asking questions. He had seemed to need very much what she offered.

She shook her head, and pushed the images of his muscular and battle-scarred body out of her mind. Returning to her salad making, she gave a final glance at the invitation. Theories were just theories until backed with more solid evidence than she had. For now, she would forget about theorizing and enjoy this day, and this meal, with this wonderful man.

The salad finished, Kerry searched through the cupboards and refrigerator for salad dressing, to no avail. She took up the salad bowl and a container of potato salad and stepped out onto the deck. "Jack, I looked everywhere. I could not find--"

The sight of Colonel Carter standing in the backyard brought her to a dead halt.

Oh my. How long had she been here?

Tension crackled in the air at her entrance. She had obviously interrupted something important. And personal.

At the sound of Kerry's voice, Carter turned around, the smile on her face carefully arranged. Kerry glanced at Jack. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. She found her voice and greeted the other woman. "Colonel Carter."

Jack recovered quickly and introduced her, and Carter began to stutter. "Yeah, I didn't -- I didn't . . ."

Jack interrupted her babbling. "We were just . . . meeting here in my backyard on this fine day to discuss the state of affairs." He waved the hand clutching the beer bottle, and beer sloshed onto the porch.

Oh my God, Kerry thought, Jack O'Neill is nervous. If she was lacking solid evidence before . . . For a moment the three of them seemed frozen in a tableau of discomfort. "Well," she said, "this is awkward."

"Ya think?" Carter observed dryly.

They even talk alike, Kerry noted with a pang. "Jack didn't want anyone at the SGC to know about us . . . us," she said, stumbling over her words.

Jack stepped over to take the dishes from her hands, and Carter began to apologize. The situation was deteriorating rapidly. Kerry fell back on good manners, and invited Carter to dinner. "I'm sure there's enough charred meat on the grill for all three of us."

The humor rescued the moment, as Jack lifted one of the carbon- encrusted steaks, eliciting a chuckle from Colonel Carter. She began to decline the invitation, much to Kerry's relief, but was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. While she took the call, Kerry, responding to some primitive territorial impulse, crossed the deck and planted herself next to Jack, feeling some comfort in his solidity as she faced the other woman.

Colonel Carter seemed distressed by the call. Closing her phone, she told them she had to leave. "It's my dad," was her only explanation, and she hurried away.

Kerry and Jack watched her leave in stunned silence. "What do you suppose--?" Kerry began.

Jack handed her the meat fork. "I gotta make a call."

*

The CNN commentator's lips moved silently on the muted TV in Kerry's hotel suite. She sat with her legs curled under her and her robe tucked around them, while her mind continued to churn over the events of the evening.

Jack had phoned Sergeant Harriman, who promised to find out what was going on and call him back. In the meantime they sat down to their charred meat and salad dressed with olive oil and white vinegar, but a pall had fallen over the meal. Jack was quiet, distracted no doubt by concern for Colonel Carter's father, and perhaps by something else as well.

"Why did Colonel Carter come by?" Kerry asked.

He looked up at her, and his dark eyes were clouded. "She wanted to tell me something." He gazed at her a beat, then his eyes dropped to his plate, and his brow furrowed as though he were working through some problem.

"I guess I interrupted whatever it was. I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

She forced a bite of steak down her throat and risked another question. "You and Colonel Carter are close, aren't you?"

He tilted his chin up and gave her his blandest expression. "You get close to people on your team. I'm close with all of SG-1." The words were spoken without inflection, as though rehearsed.

Kerry put down her fork. "Jack."

"What?" Their eyes met over the table, and he seemed to understand her unspoken question. His eyes and his mask dropped. "I--"

Just then his cell phone rang. Kerry watched him for a moment as he spoke into the phone, his brow knitting in concern. Then she stood up with a sigh and began to clear away the dishes. Shortly after that Jack dropped her at her hotel on his way to the SGC.

She picked up the remote and switched off the TV. Although it was Carter who had stumbled upon a secret liaison, it was Kerry who had felt like the interloper. She cast her mind back to the past week, to the lighthearted dinners and the passionate nights that followed. There had been something about Jack's lovemaking that she wondered about at the time -- a sexual hunger almost desperate in its intensity. She had decided he was simply making up for a long dry spell.

Now she understood that the hunger was for someone else.

She huffed lightly into the silence. She supposed she could pretend to overlook the situation. After all, Colonel Carter was getting married, moving on with her life. Perhaps Jack was ready to get on with his life, too. And Kerry could be the one he'd do it with. They were good together. He liked her, she was sure of that. He wouldn't be the first man who'd had to settle for his second choice . . .

She stood up abruptly. Squaring her shoulders, she drew herself up to her full five feet, ten inches. There were some things a girl couldn't live with.

A bottle of pinot noir was uncorked on the table, and she poured a splash into a glass and drank it. She closed her eyes as the warmth slid down her throat, and for a moment let herself feel the ache tightening her chest. Remembering the smell of his aftershave. The scars she had tenderly kissed. The warm and intelligent eyes. His backyard haven of spruce and squirrels, and the deer she would now never see.

When she opened her eyes they were moist, but she quickly dried them with the sleeve of her robe. Tomorrow she'd break it off with him. She would wear her cheeriest face to do it, careful not to show how much it hurt.

And maybe she'd give that obstinate old soldier a bit of advice about rules and regulations. Not everyone should be as careful as she was.

THE END