It was the eyes, Malcolm decided as he stared across the table at the woman grinning at something her team-mate had said.
He knew he was staring but it was hard not to stare. Half the men in the bar had their heads turned in the direction of their table while the other half were trying to sneak glances without their dates noticing.
She was distinctive. There was something about her. He had no idea what it was, only that it was...distinct.
And wasn't *that* a coherent thought to follow his second beer?
When he'd asked her out for a drink after the 'sting' operation, he hadn't expected her to come with three chaperones - her team-mates.
His encounter with Colonel Jack O'Neill was about as happy as his encounter had been last time. Except that this time the unhappiness was all on O'Neill's side - probably recalling the grilling Malcolm had given him for letting the aliens leave in that incident with the ship over a year ago.
Or maybe the man was just protective of Major Carter.
Malcolm caught the dark eyes measuring him up from over the rim of a beer glass and qualified that statement. *Over*-protective.
Another set of eyes was studying him closely. He hadn't really taken much interest in the Jaffa Teal'c before this. He knew the background of the Jaffa, that was about it. And it was pretty obvious that, whatever he'd been before he came to Earth, Teal'c was more accepted by his team-mates than a lot of other people ever would be.
Most of the NID, for starters.
Jonas Quinn, on the other hand, was pretty much an unknown factor. Malcolm had never dealt with the man before - his interaction during the incident with the ship had been with Dr. Jackson. There wasn't much information available about Dr. Jackson's demise. In fact, there was just about none at all, although rumours abounded regarding the man's status. Was he dead or wasn't he? Nobody from the SGC would say one way or the other.
But there was no denying that Quinn was sharp. He had a memory like a computer reference library - facts all strung together in some bizarre manner that Malcolm couldn't comprehend. But the man was a walking encyclopaedia of knowledge about the SGC, it's missions - and the NID's involvement at all points of the SGC's history. From Kennedy's failed attempte to secure Teal'c for experimental testing, through to the rogue band who'd attempted to hijack the Prometheus.
Quinn said something softly to Major Carter and she grinned and patted him affectionately on the shoulder. Then, almost as if she was only just noticing the lapsed conversation on the other side of the table, she glanced over at him and smiled. "Everything right there, Agent Barrett?"
"Sure," he said, dryly, "Everything's fine."
Apart from having what he'd hoped would be a starting-point date turn into a 'meet the people who will tap-dance on your skull if you think a thought out of place about her' scenario.
Her eyes twinkled, almost as if she knew what he'd been trying to do and had planned things this way to foil him.
It *had* to be the eyes.
He'd got a really close look at those eyes from a horizontal position just a day earlier.
Aware that Colonel O'Neill was still watching him with a narrowed gaze, he took another swig of beer.
// "What are you doing?"
Her proximity - and that fact that they'd just had a near-death escape - was distracting. His brain searched for an answer that would fill the requirements of the question while his body's attention allowed itself the luxury of cataloguing what she felt like under him. "Covering you."
She wasn't impressed. "Thank you." The sarcasm was subtle, but it had bite. "Get up."
"Right." //
Damn but her eyes were blue. And large. *Really* large.
Trusting eyes.
Her commanding officer's eyes were diamond hard, on the other hand.
God, did the man have reptile ancestry? Even the unlamentedly late Colonel Simmons blinked from time to time - but Malcolm had always thought that was to preserve the appearance of humanity. Colonel O'Neill, on the other hand, had the kind of glare which made a body uncomfortably aware that the man had survived at least a dozen years of Special Ops and six years of anything the Stargate could throw at him. Including torture as a prisoner of war, Goa'uld implantation, and death. You did *not* want to get on the bad side of that glare.
The man was a legend among those who knew of the Stargate project. If the Stargate Project ever became public knowledge, O'Neill would be hailed as a hero. A grumpy, probably reclusive hero, granted. But a hero nevertheless.
As legendary as his exploits were, the loyalty he engendered in his people was just as powerful. Major Carter's unfailing belief in his innocence - and her willingness to do anything to clear his name - was testament to that.
*When you work with someone that long, you just know it.*
She was right. The NID was a place of mistrust and suspicion. The SGC, by contrast, needed to live on trust, or else it would never have gotten as far as it had. More than anything else, working with Sam Carter had shown Malcolm Barrett that.
It was useful to have his 'contact' in the SGC - just as she doubtless found it useful to have her 'contact' at NID.
He'd never expected to actually *like* her.
Right now, sitting in the middle of his favourite bar with a woman he'd planned to take out on a nice casual date and instead finding himself feeling tense and scrutinised in the presence of her team mates, Malcolm Barrett felt considerably more alien than the two aliens sitting at his table.
"So, what's up next for you, Agent Barrett?" Was it his imagination or was there some satisfaction in O'Neill's tone of voice as he said the words 'Agent Barrett'? The distinction between being part of O'Neill's team and not. "I mean, now that you've broken the NID rogues..."
Malcolm shrugged. "Whatever they decide to assign me to. Pretty much the same as you. You don't know where you'll be sent next - it's up to the discretion of your superiors."
"How did you end up with that assignment anyway?" Quinn leaned forward. "Sam said you reported directly to the Joint Chiefs during this investigation - how did they know that you were trustworthy in the first place?"
O'Neill's sudden grin was practically an insult - and the look he exchanged with Major Carter only added to the injury. It seemed that Quinn made a habit of such focused enthusiasm.
"That's classified information," he told the alien and saw the man blink.
"We have very high clearance."
"Maybe it's not high enough for this." Maybe he was feeling just a little spiteful.
"You told Sam."
*Sam, is it?* Malcolm quietly ground his teeth. Colonel O'Neill was smirking behind his beer glass.
"Actually, he didn't," 'Sam' noted. "Although I am interested in the answer."
Malcolm looked from her, to the still-smirking Colonel, to the impassive Jaffa, to the bright-eyed alien. There was little point in keeping the secret, but habits drove him hard. "The fiasco with Martin Lloyd was the first time they gave me a large-scale project to oversee. If I'd succeeded, I'd probably have been assigned to the Steveston spaceship - instead, I was left pushing paper." He managed to keep most of his resentment out of his voice as he spoke. Most.
"So, basically, you were at the bottom of the NID food chain, which was why they came to you with the job?" Trust Colonel O'Neill to put it in the bluntest possible manner. The Colonel's gaze switched over to Major Carter's face. "What?"
She just rolled her eyes and turned back to Malcolm. "That still doesn't answer how they knew they could trust you."
"'When you work with someone, you just know'?" Malcolm offered, hoping to elicit a smile.
Her mouth tugged to one side, showing that she got the reference, even if the others were bewildered.
"Carter?"
"Private joke, sir."
O'Neill didn't like that, but at least the man didn't ask for an explanation.
Quinn did. "But that doesn't answer anything..."
"I do not believe it was meant to answer anything, Jonas Quinn," Teal'c said, regarding Malcolm steadily. He took another gulp of his drink to avoid the penetrating stare of those dark eyes. If Colonel O'Neill had reptilian ancestry, the Jaffa had feline ancestry - you never quite got away from the feeling that the man was marking you down as prey.
"Is there anything you'd *like* to be assigned to?" Colonel O'Neill asked with the air of an uncle making the expected polite request of an annoying relative.
"There are projects in which I have an interest, yes." Malcolm said simply. He doubted he'd get them, but it was worth hoping. "It's been noted that the communication between the SGC and the NID has been less than satisfactory in the past, and there has been mention of setting up a liaison between the two bodies - as Major Paul Davis serves between the SGC and the Pentagon." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance about the possibility.
If nothing else, it would give him a chance to both work more closely with the SGC, and to keep seeing the Major - if only on a professional basis.
"Is that wise?" Jonas asked. "From what I've seen, our organisations don't exactly...trust each other."
"Then maybe it's time they started trusting each other," Malcolm said with more firmness than he'd intended. His glass was empty and it looked like everyone else's was approaching it, so he asked, "Next round?"
"Actually, I think that we might be heading off now," the Colonel noted. "We weren't intending to stay out too late, anyway - right, Carter?"
Malcolm narrowed his eyes as she glanced at the Colonel with something that approximated a light glare. He'd thought the signals for anything between them were wrong - but the use of the term 'we' had sounded suspiciously intimate to him.
She turned to Malcolm with an explanation. "Our flight back to Colorado leaves early tomorrow morning. The last few days have been tiring on all of us."
"And I'm eager to sleep in a real bed again," Colonel O'Neill added.
It could have been an innocent comment. Malcolm wasn't entirely sure that it was.
He noted that the others followed the Colonel's lead, standing when he stood and taking their cues from his cool, "Thanks for the drink, Agent Barrett. And for helping Carter get me off the hook," as they walked towards the door of the bar.
"You're welcome, Colonel." He wasn't, but Malcolm wasn't about to say that.
He got a full 'good night' from Quinn and a nod from the Jaffa as they reached the foyer of the hotel and the two aliens headed off towards the elevators.
For a moment, Malcolm wondered if she was going to say anything at all, or just let herself be herded away by the Colonel.
But she paused and turned to him, "Agent Barrett?"
"Yes, Major?"
She smiled - a beautiful smile. "It was a pleasure to work with you."
"Likewise."
"Good luck on your next assignment."
"Thankyou." The formalities left him feeling...bland. Like he'd been promised something excellent and amazing but only delivered something ordinary. "You too."
He watched as she turned to go to the elevators, with the Colonel walking just a little behind her, one arm up behind her waist, not touching, but quite clearly indicating one thing.
It didn't really matter whether or not the pair of them were 'involved', Colonel O'Neill had lines drawn in the sand between the people who belonged to him and the people who didn't. Major Carter was quite clearly on the 'belonging' side. Agent Barrett was most definitely not.
And in the Colonel's attitude was the warning to 'keep away from my people'.
Was it just Malcolm, or would it have been any stranger, unknown and disliked by O'Neill? He didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
But even as he watched, Colonel O'Neill leaned over her shoulder and said something that Malcolm couldn't hear, but which he suspected was about him.
Or maybe he was just paranoid.
She laughed. The Colonel smirked.
And in all uncharitable feeling, Malcolm Barrett sulked.
*** The End ***
feed me! Oh feeeeeeed me!
Sel.
Story Notes: AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just some fun with Agent Barrett. I did have a Sam/Barrett smutfic in mind for post-SaM (Ness' fault), but it seems to have vanished. (Damn! ::winks::)
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]