magibrain

Title: The Night, All Along
Author: magistrate
Rating: T.
Genre: Gen character study. Angst, hurt/comfort, a dash of action and drama and a hell of a lot of rambledansen.
Beta:  ...gamma, delta?  No, not really, not at all.
Continuity: Legacy post-ep, but a Legacy AU.  Machello's rapidly gaining notoriety at the SGC as someone for whom collateral damage is just part of the game.
Summary: I just wanted not to be scared of old Mr. Madness skulldigging around, sporting his diamond stubble...
Disclaimer: I suppose there's some wacky alternate universe where I owned the rights to SG-1 and could make money off this fic.  That universe is not this one.  The opinions expressed herein are the properties of the characters and not of Belle Waring, though the opinions expressed in the quoted material of the summary is totally the property of Belle Waring, and no infringement is intended.  This product not intended for use as a dental drill.  Questions, comments and carbamazepine can be left in replies or directed to magistrata(at)gmail(dot)com.  Thank you for reading!

A/N: What? Sometimes a guy just needs to write six thousand words of angst without concern for plot or structure.  If you want plot and structure, read Beneath a Beating Sun.

It's nine days after Carter returns to active duty – is returned, really, and no one quite misses that – and T-minus twenty minutes to her first mission since.  Doesn't seem like so much time, put like that.

Fortunately, time has other ways of tracking itself.

For instance: Daniel's exhausted everything with text from the Linvris council room, and almost everything they've managed to decode from Machello's lab.  Carter's gone through a book of practice exams in physics and mathematics too easy for her, apparently for recreation.  The last of the snow has melted from the mountain, Teal'c's reported that Junior is doing well again, and Jack's hair is getting to the rakish, tousle-able length it only ever gets to when he's too busy, ill, or apathetic to get it cut for a month.

Carter's hair is almost back to a respectable length; the bruising and scabs where clumps were ripped out have faded away.  Her fingernails have been their standard length for a while: just long enough to slide under labels or into small cracks in casings for leverage, not long enough to get in her way.  Technically long enough to do damage, but that hasn't been a problem so far.

And Jack's watch is going off to tell him to get his ass and team in gear.