PROLOGUE
P3T-850 was hot, damp, and humid. Insects buzzed in the heavily scented air and filled the night with their song. As Jack sat near the entrance to the low-roofed cave, looking out from atop a small, rocky outcrop, he let his mind drift along with the exotic music of the night.
The irony of his being on this particular planet, for this particular reason, on this particular night was not lost on him. Neither was the fact that he should have been on leave. But when SG-3 had returned to the SGC two days ago, with a report of seeing Harry Mayborne being held as a Goa'uld slave on '850, SG-1 had been dispatched to bring him home.
"Can't we just leave him there?" Jack had pleaded, only half joking, to the General.
Hammond had frowned, but Jack had seen a glimmer of understanding in his eyes when he'd said, "I know what he did to your team, Colonel. But I'm sure you appreciate the security risk presented by having him running around out there."
Jack had appreciated it, and despite the way Sam's face had turned as pale and rigid as marble, he'd taken the mission. After all, there were a few things he wanted to say to Mayborne in person - quite a few, and none of them nice.
Thinking of Mayborne drew him back to the irony of the timing - for today was an anniversary of sorts. One year ago, this very night, a kind of madness had taken hold of him. For a few short hours it had forced the good sense out of his head, silenced all the voices of reason, and persuaded him to give in to temptation. With trembling anticipation he'd taken Sam in his arms to tell her, without the need for words, everything that was in his heart. And it had been incredible in its tender passion, a night he could never want to forget, despite its repercussions. The memory of her touch, her sweetness, and the overwhelming tenderness he'd felt still haunted his dreams, both sleeping and waking.
But the joy had been bitter in many ways. Aside from the painful, silent parting the following morning that had left him achingly empty, their indiscretion had almost destroyed them - all of them, the whole team, and potentially the whole SGC. For although a year ago she'd been in his arms, three months later he'd nearly died at her hands, a victim of the Goa'uld Hakraa, but a victim too of their indiscretion. It was a mistake that Mayborne had discovered and easily exploited, using it to lure Sam into the Goa'uld trap that had so nearly destroyed her and everything for which she fought.
Shaking away the memories, Jack sat up a little straighter and reached for the water canteen at his side. Damn, but this place was hot. Even in the relative cool of the cave the heat was oppressive.
As he moved, his eyes were drawn to Sam who lay sleeping nearby, and he smiled. He often watched her sleep these days, tracing the lines of her face with his eyes and remembering how her skin had felt under his fingertips. But it was an illicit pleasure, stolen in the dead of night when he was on watch or unable to sleep, for in the cold light of day their relationship was as rigidly professional as ever. More so, in fact. Daniel's accusation of favoritism had stung him like a slap in the face; the last thing he ever wanted was to damage SG-1. Working with these people was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him and he would cut off his own right arm before he deliberately harmed what they had built up together. And so a tacit understanding had developed between him and Sam, in which they tried to put their feelings aside and to move on together as a team. Which was exactly what he'd spent the past nine months doing; working on the team, trying to rebuild the trust he was so afraid he'd lost. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he still missed her. Missed the intimate smiles, the few shared moments of honesty, the occasional touch that meant so much more than its innocent appearance. Hell, they'd hardly been alone together in months and he missed her company, pure and simple.
Returning his attention to the jungle beyond the cave mouth, he forced his thoughts back to the present. They were only a couple of hours from the Goa'uld encampment, but he'd decided that trying to force their way through the tangling jungle in the dark wasn't smart. So they'd camped for the night, much to his irritation. He wanted to get this damn mission over with and get home. He glanced down at his watch, its face glowing gently in the dark: oh-one- thirty. Tuesday already. He figured they'd locate Mayborne today, work out an extraction plan and execute it that night, leaving them the best part of twenty-four hours to get back to the gate. That would put them home sometime late on Wednesday, which would just give him enough time. George would postpone the debrief if necessary, given the circumstances.
He sighed as he thought about Thursday. It was the one day of the year where he absolutely *had* to be on Earth, and at the Mountain View Garden of Rest at precisely fourteen-thirty. And nothing either Mayborne or his Goa'uld captor could throw at him was going to keep him away. Nothing.
***
The heat drew Sam from a restless sleep and she found herself suddenly wide-awake. Beside her she heard Daniel's soft snoring, while at the entrance to the cave she saw O'Neill fidgeting slightly amid the shadows. As she watched him, her hand automatically reached for the necklace she wore, the one he'd given her last year for her birthday. The golden chain was a silent testament to something that could no longer be admitted between them and as such it was one of her most treasured possessions.
As her fingers curled around the necklace, she wondered if he had remembered the significance of the date. Most guys wouldn't, she was sure. Hell, most guys forgot birthdays and anniversaries as if it were some kind of badge of honor. She knew *that* from experience! So, she told herself, she wouldn't be surprised if he had forgotten. But she couldn't help wondering....
Jack fidgeted again and glanced at his watch, prompting Sam to do the same. Huh, she thought, one thirty. Not long until her watch. She toyed with the idea of trying to get back to sleep, but she was too alert now and knew it would be futile. And besides, a quiet conversation with the Colonel seemed rather appealing, tonight of all nights. It had been too long since they'd talked.
Quietly she sat up. The planet was so stiflingly hot that her skin was damp with sweat, causing everything to stick to her horribly. She grimaced as she stood up, stooping to avoid the low ceiling, and made her way towards the entrance. Jack turned as soon as she took a step and watched her approach curiously.
"You're early," he said quietly as she sat down next to him.
"Couldn't sleep," she explained. "Too hot."
"No kidding," Jack agreed staring out into the night.
"If you wanna turn in," Sam offered, "it's all right with me."
He was silent for a moment, but when he spoke his voice was very soft. "I think I'll keep you company for a while, if that's okay?"
"Sure," she nodded, pleased and oddly affected by his unusually gentle tone.
They lapsed into silence then, and her mind started drifting back to that night a year ago. It had been cold. A crisp fall evening laced with the scent of wood smoke, and so clear that the stars had filled the night with their pale light. She sighed, remembering the feel of his warm lips against her cool skin as he'd kissed her for the first time. It had been...magical.
"It's been a long year," Jack said suddenly, as if reading her mind.
She turned to him, a warmth steeling over her as she realized that he had remembered, and glad of the darkness that hid the flush in her cheeks. "Yes, sir," she replied quietly.
"'Sir'?" he echoed, shaking his head slightly.
Sam grimaced. "That's the way it is," she murmured.
He nodded in obvious frustration, and frowned as if biting back words. Then, with another shake of his head, he reached for his canteen and took a long drink. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand he took a deep breath and said, "So, you okay with this Mayborne thing?"
"Not really," she told him honestly, "but I guess someone has to drag him out of here."
Jack laughed quietly. "Yeah - never thought *I'd* be saving his ass again. Last time I saw him I swore I was gonna kill him."
"You did?"
He nodded. "He made a house call while we were in Hakraa's cells - looked pretty damn smug about it too. I swear, if I hadn't been so beat-up...," he trailed off, frowning slightly. He never spoke much about the effects of the torture he'd endured, and she knew it was for her benefit, to try and shield her from the worst. Not that she didn't know everything - after all, she'd watched through her own eyes as Hakraa had driven him screaming to the floor in agony. She shivered at the memory despite the heat, and drew her legs up towards her chest. Those were bad times, nightmarish memories.
"I promised to kill him too," she said quietly, watching Jack out of the corner of her eye. "When I realized what they were going to do to me, and what he'd already done."
Jack nodded. "Sometimes," he said quietly, shifting a little closer so that their hips just touched, "sometimes I wish I wasn't so good at following orders - of all the slime-balls I've known, no one deserves a bullet in the back of the head like Mayborne."
Sam nodded. "A conscience is a terrible thing," she said with a grim smile.
"A conscience?" Jack asked her, meeting her smile with something infinitely darker. "Is that what you think this is?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"
"If you think I'd suffer a second's guilt at icing Mayborne, you're wrong Carter. I'd do it like that," he said, snapping his fingers.
"They why don't you?" she asked, a little disconcerted by the frost in his voice.
He shrugged. "Regulations," he said, his lips quirking towards a bitter smile. "Orders. Discipline. Our orders are to bring him home, so that's what I'm gonna do."
"Lucky for Mayborne then, I guess," she said.
"I guess," he agreed. And then after a moment his smile broadened, "Although from what I know about prisons, it won't be such a picnic for a nice boy like Harry."
Sam chuckled slightly at the thought. "I guess that gives me a *little* satisfaction," she replied.
"And his cell mate will probably be a lifer called Rocco who hasn't seen a woman in twenty years," Jack assured her. "In fact, I might have words," he said, rolling his eyes skyward, "just to see what I can arrange."
"You couldn't!" Sam gasped. "Could you?"
Jack shrugged. "Well, I can try."
Giving him a skeptical look, Sam shook her head and smiled, not at all sure she believed him, but just enjoying the rare moment's warmth between them. It had been too long, and she'd missed him. She'd missed this.
She looked over at him then and grinned, a real, heartfelt grin that always made him smile. This time was no different. In the starlight his eyes glittered darkly, and there was an emotion in their depths that set her heart racing. Involuntarily, her fingers touched the chain around her neck and he smiled, almost sadly, as his eyes dipped to her throat. But all he said was, "I think it's your watch now, Carter."
She nodded. "Sleep well, sir."
"Yeah," he murmured, lifting his eyes back to hers and holding her gaze for a long moment. "Happy New Year, Carter," he said quietly as he stood up.
Sam smiled up at him. "You too," she said. "Let's hope it's a better one."
"It's hard to see how it could be worse," he said, returning her smile. "'Night, Carter."
"'Night, sir."
And then he turned away and ducked back into the cave. Sam didn't watch him as he rustled around in the darkness, but settling herself for what remained of her watch, she just stared up into the dark, starry sky and wondered what the future held in store for them.
***
It was midmorning by the time they reached the edge of the jungle. There was no sun in the sky, but the heat was still oppressive. Sam's tee-shirt was damp and clingy, and her sodden hat did little to keep the sweat from rolling into her eyes. Damn, this was a nasty place.
Ahead of her, O'Neill was crouched behind one of the large, gnarled trees, peering through his binoculars at the Goa'uld encampment below them. They sat now atop a steep escarpment, which effectively cut off any easy access to the camp below. Walking carefully, quietly, she reached his side and crouched next to him. Even without field glasses she could see the Jaffa patrolling.
"We'll have to go in at night," she said, almost to herself.
"Ya think?" came the quite reply.
Her attention was caught then by a bustle of activity at the far side of the encampment. A coterie of Jaffa emerged from a rough canvas tent, surrounding someone and escorting him through the milling slaves.
"I think I see our Goa'uld," Jack murmured at her side. "Ugly son-of- a-bitch."
As Sam watched, the Jaffa stopped and circled the Goa'uld. They remained motionless for a moment until, in a flash, transport rings surrounded them and whisked them away.
"Damn it," the Colonel hissed. "That's not good."
"They have a ship in orbit," Teal'c observed.
"I guess that explains why there were no Jaffa at the gate," Sam murmured, pleased that she'd solved at least one puzzle that morning.
"It is likely that they are in the process of evacuating." Teal'c continued.
Slipping his binoculars back into their case, O'Neill turned away and sank down behind the tree. "So how long's that gonna take?" he asked. "Are they gonna 'ring' all those people?"
"That would be time and energy intensive," Teal'c replied. "It is more likely that they will land the ship to load the slaves."
Glancing up, Jack squinted against the bright, gray sky. "How long?"
"I cannot say," said Teal'c. "However, Major Carter's assessment is correct. We must wait for cover of darkness."
O'Neill nodded. "I know," he replied, wiping his hands over his sweaty face. "I just hope that's not too late."
Sam sighed, some part of her wondering how bad it would be if Mayborne just disappeared again. It would certainly save her a lot of pain. Jack must have heard her, because he glanced up and gave a tight smile. "You know," he said quietly, "I can't help thinking that a bullet would be a whole lot easier."
Sam's answering smile was bleak, but anything she might have said was interrupted by an outraged, if quiet, exclamation from Daniel. "What?"
"You know," Jack said, mimicking a gunshot, "clean, easy.... We could almost do it from up here and be home in time for the game tonight."
"I assume," Daniel said, hotly, "that you're joking? Right?"
Jack shrugged. "I'm just saying.... Mayborne's gonna cost the US tax payer a tidy sum stuck in jail the rest of his life, and since our only mission here is to keep what he knows out of Goa'uld hands...."
"Assassination?" Daniel said, at once skeptical and slightly horrified.
Shaking his head, the Colonel pushed himself to his feet. "I'm not gonna do it," he assured his friend, heading back into the trees and down the steep incline towards the Goa'uld camp. "I don't have a sniper rifle with me."
Daniel's mouth hung open, the words he was about to speak dead on his lips.
Sam smiled and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "He's joking," she assured him, standing up.
"Is he?" Daniel asked as they set out after him together. "I bet it wouldn't be the first time he's done it."
"No," Sam agreed, "I bet he's been ordered to do it many times. There's a difference."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Just following orders?" he asked. "I thought they squashed that line of defense at Nuremberg?"
Sam made no reply, too hot and tired to argue the point. Daniel's fundamental problems with all things military was never going to change, even if she argued until she was blue in the face.
***
Daniel took a swig of water from his canteen, grimacing at the chemical taste. He hated those wretched water-purification tablets, although, he mused, the alternative was definitely worse. Who knew what kind of bugs bred on this warm, humid planet? Nasty ones, he was sure.
He walked behind Jack, and could feel Teal'c's steady presence at his shoulder. Sam was bringing up the rear. But aside from their brief foray into military ethics, they'd been walking in silence most of the day. It was too hot for much conversation, not to mention too tense; the horde of Jaffa somewhere beyond the trees tended to kill the usual banter. Nonetheless, he could sense a subtle strain emanating from Jack and he knew it wasn't just the mission, the heat, or even the constant, buzzing insects.
Something was wrong, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be able to figure out its cause. He didn't think it had anything to do with Sam, for once. Sure, there was a tension between them, but this was different - a deeper, darker kind of tension that came from within. Something was bothering Jack, something deep.
He was roused from his musings by their object. Jack hissed loudly, and whipped his left hand up in the air as if shocked. "Damn it!" he cursed, shaking it and then peering at it carefully.
"What happened?" Daniel asked, catching him up.
"Something bit me," he muttered, holding his injured hand. "Damn, that hurts!"
Daniel could already see a large, angry welt swelling on Jack's palm and winced slightly. "Did you see what it was?" he asked, glancing warily around at the trees.
"No," Jack replied, flexing his fingers and grimacing. "Ow!"
"Sir?" Sam had caught up with them now. "What happened?"
"Just a bite," Jack told her, shaking his hand as if to dislodge the pain.
"Let me see," said Sam, taking his hand in both of hers and holding it still. "That looks nasty," she decided, looking up at him. "We should dress it, sir."
"It's a mosquito bite!" he protested, although he didn't try to pull his hand free.
Sam smiled slightly. "Big mosquito," she replied. "And in this sort of climate, sir, we should be careful to avoid infection."
Grudgingly, he accepted her point and started to shrug off his pack. "Teal'c," he called, as it fell heavily to the ground, "keep watch - we're close to the camp now."
Silently, Teal'c moved to obey while Daniel made the most of the opportunity to rest and dropped down next to Jack. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Daniel noticed a slight pallor to his friend's face and guessed that he was actually in some pain.
"You gonna be okay?" he asked, while Sam rummaged for her med-kit.
"It's a bug bite, Daniel."
"It looks painful."
Jack shrugged. "I've had worse."
Pulling the med-kit free, Sam crouched down in front of Jack. "Let me see your hand, sir," she said, "I need to clean it."
Obediently, Jack held out his hand and let Sam gently dab at the swollen bite. His eyes were fixed on her the whole time, although he said nothing. Carefully, Sam applied a small sterile dressing and taped it in place. "There," she said when she was done. "That should keep it from getting infected, sir. And you should take these," she added, dropping a couple of pills into his hand, "they're antihistamines, just in case."
"You been taking lessons from Fraiser?" Jack asked, tipping his head back and swallowing the pills.
Sam smiled. "Field medicine 101, sir," she told him. "'Prevention is better than cure.'"
"Then I'm glad you were paying attention in class," he said, returning her smile slightly. "Thanks."
She just nodded, before stuffing the med-kit into her pack and swinging it onto her back. "Ready, sir?"
"Let's do it," he sighed, wincing as he pushed himself to his feet.
***
The Goa'uld camp wasn't large, but it was densely packed. The slaves were employed in open-cast mining, almost certainly of naquada, Sam decided, as she peered over the shallow incline that hid her from view. There were still a few slaves hacking at the cliff face, although the majority were now dragging large containers towards the transportation rings.
"They have taken what they need," Teal'c informed her quietly. "And now they are preparing to depart."
"Hit and run mining?" Sam asked, shaking her head. "Doesn't sound very cost-effective."
"An operation such as this is difficult to defend," Teal'c explained. "No Goa'uld would commit his forces permanently - so they take what is easy and quick to retrieve, and then move on."
Sam shrugged as she absorbed the idea. "I never saw the Goa'uld as a nomadic race," she commented.
"Many of the less powerful are indeed nomadic," Teal'c said. "Only the most powerful such as Hathor or Sokar can defend a home planet."
Just then, Sam's radio crackled. "Carter, do you copy?"
"Go ahead, sir," she murmured.
"Are you in position?"
"Yes sir, but I have no ID on Mayborne yet."
Static hissed for a moment. "...where they spend the night."
"Say again, sir," Sam replied. "I didn't get that."
"We've found the slave pens," O'Neill repeated, through the haze of static, "where they spend the night. It's probably our best bet."
Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Complete the circuit, Major," the Colonel said. "We need to ID Mayborne before we go in. I'm not risking our asses on a maybe."
"Yes, sir."
"O'Neill out."
The radio went silent and she exchanged a look with Teal'c. "Keep your eyes peeled," she advised him. Teal'c raised an eyebrow but made no comment, and they moved out together in silence.
Keeping low, they edged their way around the perimeter of the encampment. The air was full of the shouts and yells of labor, punctuated by the occasional scream that spoke of pain. Inside the camp Sam could see the slaves at work, dragging large sleds loaded with rocks towards the transportation rings. Hunkering down behind a rocky outcrop, she reached for her field glasses and took a closer look. The slaves were badly nourished, their skin hanging limp from thin bodies. They were mostly men, although she saw the occasional woman among them. And they worked in silence; the only noises were the grunts of effort as they dragged the rocks over the uneven ground and the shouts from the Jaffa supervising the work. Lowering her glasses, she glanced over the whole camp and up at the escarpment on top of which they had stood that morning. It was above the cliff face that the slaves had excavated, and from this angle she could see the ugly scars the mining had left on the landscape.
With a sigh, Sam was wondering how on earth they'd locate Mayborne among the couple of hundred slaves - if he were even still alive - when she felt Teal'c's hand on her arm.
"Major Carter," he said quietly, raising his hand to point. "Look."
Following the line of his pointing finger, Sam frowned. The man he was pointing at was stooped, one arm set crookedly as if broken and poorly healed, and his face was thin and sunken. Grabbing her glasses she took a closer look, and just at that moment he happened to glance up. She saw his eyes and knew Teal'c was right. It was Mayborne, and in pretty bad shape. His hair was long and scraggly, and as he heaved on the rope to drag one of the sledges towards the rings she saw that he had a profound limp. Life, it seemed, had not been kind to the Colonel. Sam clenched her jaw, determined to feel no pity for the man who had betrayed and very nearly destroyed them. Yet, despite herself, she had to acknowledge that he was a pathetic sight.
Lowering her glasses again, she nodded at Teal'c. "Good catch," she muttered, flicking on her radio. "Carter to Colonel O'Neill, do you copy sir?"
There was a pause, a crackle, and then, "Go ahead, Carter."
"We've located Mayborne, sir."
"Copy that, Carter," the Colonel replied. "Head back to base camp, and keep your heads down."
"Yes sir," she replied. "Carter out."
Resting a hand on Teal'c's shoulder she nodded at the trees behind them. "We can move faster under more cover," she suggested. "Let's get back into the forest."
He nodded and headed out, moving more quickly and efficiently than his bulk appeared to allow. Sam followed, her mind turning to the night ahead; getting Mayborne out from under several Jaffa noses, and back to the gate, was *not* going to be easy.
***
By the time Jack reached the place he'd designated as base-camp - no more than a couple of sticks marking the spot - he was only too glad to rest. He hadn't mentioned it to Daniel, but his hand was increasingly painful and swelling so badly he was having trouble moving his fingers. On top of that he was developing a nasty headache. Neither boded well for the night's rescue mission.
"Looks like we beat them to it," Daniel said, glancing around in search of Carter and Teal'c.
"Yeah," Jack sighed, easing himself down onto a fallen log. The usual unease he felt when any of his team were unaccounted for buzzed in his stomach, but it was such a familiar feeling that he barely took any notice. If they were in trouble, he'd know about it. He closed his eyes and let his head sink into his good hand, willing the pain to vanish.
"Jack?" Daniel's voice was full of concern. "What's up?"
"Headache," Jack told him, looking up and forcing a grim smile onto his face. "Got any aspirin?"
"Yeah," Daniel replied, sliding his pack from his back and starting to rummage. He was still rummaging when a rustle in the trees behind them drew Jack back to his feet, his gun instantly in his hands. He winced at the pain as his left hand closed around the weapon, but didn't let go.
After a moment he saw Carter's familiar face emerge from the trees. "Just us," she said, raising her hands slightly as if she expected him to shoot. And then her eyes narrowed sharply. "Sir? What's the matter?"
He blinked. "Nothing. Why?"
"You don't look well," she said, her eyes glancing sharply at his left hand, hanging limply again at his side. "Is that bothering you?"
Damn it, why did she always have to be so quick? He grimaced slightly. "Some," he admitted. "Daniel's getting me an aspirin." And then, hurriedly changing the subject, he said, "So, what did you find out?"
Sam watched him warily, but said, "Mayborne's here, but he's in pretty bad shape."
"My heart bleeds," Jack muttered, deciding to sit down again before the pain in his head drove him to the ground. "Anything else?"
"Not much," Carter told him, still watching him with shrewd eyes. "He was working with one of the gangs pulling the sleds to the rings."
"Here," Daniel said then, holding out his hand towards Jack. "Advil."
Taking the bottle from him, Jack paused before he tried to undo the cap. His left hand was stiff and swollen but he managed to hold the bottle in his fingers for a moment before Carter pounced.
"Colonel!" she exclaimed as soon as she saw his hand. "Holy Hannah!"
He flinched at her enthusiasm, glancing down at the puffy red swelling that was spreading from beneath the dressing she'd applied. "It's kind of swollen," he confessed.
"Let me see that," Carter snapped, coming to sit beside him on the log. Her hands felt soft and cool against his skin, and he had to admit to quite enjoying her touch. Carefully she removed the dressing and even he winced at what lay beneath. The bite was red and angry, while at its center a dark spot was forming. He touched it tentatively, but felt nothing. It was totally numb.
Carter bit her lip anxiously. "Sir," she said, "I think we should get you back to the gate, now."
Jack gave a quiet snort of laughter. "I don't think so, Carter," he told her. "Not without Mayborne."
"But, Colonel, this looks bad," she said, lifting her eyes to his. He saw concern in their depths, and smiled to reassure her.
"It's just a bite," he said. "A nasty one, I admit. But we're not leaving here without Mayborne. This might be our only chance to get him back, and I think we'd both sleep sounder at night knowing he was under lock and key."
She dropped her gaze at his veiled implication, but held onto his hand. "I really don't like the look of this, sir. I think it's already infected - it could even be poisoned."
"There's a lot at stake here," he reminded her quietly. "Let's do our job, and you can have Fraiser prod me to death when we get home. And cheer up," he added. "It's not like people die from little bug bites, is it?"
Carter just stared at him. "Including or excluding people dying from malaria, sir?" she asked pointedly.
***
The sense of foreboding that had haunted him since the start of this mission was growing stronger by the moment as Teal'c crouched in the darkness next to O'Neill. And it had little to do with the Jaffa patrol that had just passed them by.
His friend was sick; he could see it in the unhealthy sheen on eyes and in the pallor of his skin. "Get ready," the Colonel breathed quietly as he shifted slightly, tensing for movement. "On my mark."
Teal'c readied himself, his attention focusing on the immediate situation. Before them lay the slave pens, crowded now with men and women resting from their labors; Major Carter was close to the wooden fence, creeping silently in the shadows, trying to find Mayborne. O'Neill's eyes were on her, waiting for her signal. One hand held his weapon, while the other hung uselessly at his side, but Teal'c could see the way his gun shook and felt his heart thud with apprehension.
"O'Neill," he whispered. "Are you well?"
"Shhh," the Colonel hissed. He shifted again, no longer crouching but resting one knee on the ground. His head dropped for a moment, and he pressed his uninjured forearm against it. "Damn headache," he muttered.
In the time it took O'Neill to utter the words, Teal'c's decision was made. He placed a firm hand on the Colonel's shoulder. "Abort the mission," he said quietly. "You cannot do this."
"What?!" O'Neill replied, twisting in his grip. "Are you kidding?"
"You are endangering the mission," Teal'c pressed, not softening the blow. "You will be unable to flee the Jaffa once Major Carter has located Colonel Mayborne - and you know that she will not abandon you. You place us all at risk." His choice of words was not accidental and had an immediate effect.
O'Neill closed his eyes, his lips tightening into a line of frustration. Then, after a tense moment he nodded curtly, returning his gaze to Carter. "Go get Daniel," he told Teal'c, "I'll pull Carter back. Regroup at base-camp."
But Teal'c didn't move, unwilling to leave his friend alone. O'Neill glanced irritably over his shoulder, but the expression was fleeting and was soon followed by a flash of pain. Turning back to the encampment they both saw Carter emerge from behind the slave pens. She gave a brief, triumphant gesture indicating that she'd located Mayborne, and Teal'c watched as O'Neill reluctantly negatived the plan. Carter stopped for a moment in obvious confusion when she saw his harsh, slashing gesture, but was in motion moments later. She sprinted across the open space towards the edge of the camp and dropped to the ground at their sides.
"What happened?" she whispered, breathless.
O'Neill said nothing, so Teal'c spoke for him. "Colonel O'Neill is unwell and unable to complete the mission," he said.
"Sir?" the concern in her voice was deep and touching as he tried to look at him through the gloom.
"We need a new plan," he explained reluctantly. "One that doesn't involve me, apparently."
Carter nodded silently. "We should get back to base-camp," she suggested. "Where's Daniel?"
"I shall retrieve him from his position," Teal'c told her, rising fluidly to his feet. "You should assist O'Neill."
"I don't need assisting!" the Colonel muttered, although from the way his voice was starting to slur, Teal'c very much doubted his words.
As he moved out into the darkness, Teal'c glanced once over his shoulder and saw Carter helping O'Neill to his feet. They exchanged quiet words before they started walking, but the Colonel had taken no more than two steps before he appeared to lose his balance. Carter just managed to steady him, and her hand remained firmly on his arm as they disappeared together into the night.
Turning away, Teal'c frowned. He was right to abort the mission, but still he was haunted by the feeling that *something* was about to happen. Pushing the thought away, he hurried to find Daniel. Maybe once they returned home, the foreboding would fade.
***
Jack had managed to empty the content of his stomach entirely before they reached their camp, and lay now curled up and shivering on Sam's bedroll, burning with fever. Her hand rested briefly on his forehead and she knew it was bad; there was no sweat. Despite the humid climate, he was hot and dry.
"Colonel," she said quietly, "you need to drink something."
Reaching out a shaking hand, he took the canteen she offered him and lifted it to his lips. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls before he sank back into the blankets. "I feel like shit," he murmured, pressing his good arm against his head. "What the hell is this?"
"Your hand is infected," Sam told him. "And you have a bad fever."
"I knew I should've packed my bug spray," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in obvious pain.
Sam just watched him, unsure what else to do. She'd already redressed the wound on his hand, and noticed that the black, dead spot in the center had grown. His whole hand was swollen now, red and angry with infection. Half of her wanted to head straight back to the Stargate, but she was afraid to listen to that half of her mind, influenced as it was by feelings that could have no place in her military life. And she'd been so close to Mayborne! She'd almost been able to touch him where he lay sleeping near to the edge of the slave pens; she knew that between them she, Teal'c and Daniel could pull him out of there. It wouldn't even take long. She sighed, frustrated and frightened. If they let Mayborne go they were risking a lot, not least personal exposure. Maybe Jack was right, maybe a bullet would be easier...?
"Carter?" his voice was weak and slurred.
"Right here, sir," she said quietly, reaching out and taking his good hand in her own.
His eyes fluttered open and fixed hers with an intent, if slightly unfocused gaze. "Major," he whispered, tightening his hand around hers, "I think this counts as incapacitation." Sam swallowed, knowing what was to come. "You're in command, Major."
"Sir...," she started to protest, but trailed to a halt as his eyes drifted shut and his fingers went slack in her hand. "Sir?"
His lips moved slightly, but there was no sound as he drifted into oblivion. Giving his hand a final squeeze, Sam placed it gently on the ground and stood up. She was in command. Despite the circumstances she felt the familiar surge of adrenaline. Command. Everything rested on her shoulders now; getting Jack back to the SGC, extracting Mayborne and completing the mission. "I won't let you down, sir," she told him quietly. "I promise."
***
By the time Daniel reached the campsite, Jack was in bad shape. Curled on his side, he lay on a bedroll either sleeping or unconscious, and even in the darkness Daniel could see how badly his hand was swollen.
"Okay," he said, sitting down next to Sam, "this doesn't look good." She glanced at him, but said nothing, a pained expression playing over her features. "What is it?" Daniel asked her when it became apparent she wasn't going to speak.
Sam frowned, pressing a hand momentarily over her eyes. "He's put me in command," she said.
"Sounds reasonable," Daniel agreed, his eyes drifting to Jack. "So, I guess...what now?"
Sam flashed him an unsettled look. "If we leave, we'll probably never have another chance to retrieve Mayborne," she said.
"And if we stay?" Daniel asked. "Jack looks like he can barely walk - if we're pursued...?" He left it hanging, knowing that Sam would have already considered the question.
Turning to Teal'c, Sam said, "How likely is it that they'd commit a large force to search for one slave?"
Still standing, Teal'c glanced down at them and shrugged slightly. "They would not wish to set a precedent for any other slaves who might try to escape," he replied, "however, I do not believe they would waste much time in such a search if they are soon to depart."
Sam nodded. "That's what I figured," she said with restrained enthusiasm. "All we need to do is keep our heads down for a couple of hours, until the Jaffa get bored, then we can head back to the gate as normal. It'll only delay us by a few hours - half a day at most."
Daniel shifted uneasily, still watching Jack. His face was pale, and he lay motionless aside from the rise and fall of his chest. "How sick is he?" Daniel asked her. "Will half a day make any difference?"
There was a long pause before she spoke, as she stared at Jack in obvious indecision. "I don't think so," she said at last. "He probably feels like crap, but I've started him on antibiotics to control the infection, and resting is the best thing he can do right now." She shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he'll start feeling better before we head for the gate?"
"Or maybe not," Daniel added darkly. "I guess it's a risk."
Sam was silent again, her brow creased into a frown as she considered her options. To Daniel, it was obvious that she was at war with herself; her innate need to succeed fought against her more personal desire to ensure Jack's safety. But as her shoulders straightened slightly, and her chin lifted, he knew on which side she'd come down. "The Colonel would want us to complete the mission if we can," she said firmly.
"He would also understand if we did not," Teal'c told her. "You have nothing to prove, Major Carter."
Her gaze turned to Teal'c with a flicker of irritation. "I'm not trying to prove anything," she told him edgily. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."
"For whom?"
"For everyone," she snapped, running a hand through her hair. For a moment hesitation hovered uncertainly over her features again, until they set into a grim determination. "Okay, we're going to do it," she decided, sitting up straight. "Teal'c, you get the Colonel back to the caves we camped in last night. It's not far, and he should be able to make it. Meanwhile Daniel and I will pull out Mayborne and rendezvous with you as soon as we can." Glancing down at her watch she said, "But if we're not there within twelve hours, get yourselves back to the gate."
Whatever Teal'c might have felt about her decision, he did no more than incline his head in agreement. "I understand, Major Carter," he said solemnly.
Daniel was less circumspect. "You and me against a whole camp full of Jaffa?" he asked dubiously.
A flash of a smile brightened Sam's face. "Sure," she said, "why not?"
"Because its...nuts?"
Sam shook her head. "It's dark, the Jaffa are about to ship out, and the slaves aren't worth much.... Piece of cake."
"You know," Daniel said, pushing himself to his feet and looking down at her, "you're beginning to sound like Jack."
Glancing over at O'Neill's sleeping form, her lips tightened and she said, "I hope so."
She was afraid, Daniel realized suddenly. Afraid that she'd made the wrong decision, afraid that she might be putting Jack at risk, and afraid that she might not live up to the huge expectations she placed upon herself. The one person who refused to tolerate anything less than perfection in Sam Carter was Sam Carter. Reaching down, Daniel rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. "He'd probably do the same thing," he assured her.
She nodded, and glanced up at him with a grateful smile. "Probably," she agreed. And then she stood up and reached for her pack. "Teal'c," she said as she swung it onto her back, "take care of him."
The Jaffa nodded. "As if he were my brother," he assured her seriously. "I swear it."
***
The oblivion of sleep was a rare luxury. The chance to escape, just for a few hours, from the constant fear, pain and bitter, bitter anger was a treasured privilege that Harry Mayborne relinquished begrudgingly. And yet tonight something had drawn him from his precious haven. It wasn't the bone-weary exhaustion that cramped his muscles, or the stench of the slave-pens; both of those were so much a part of him now that he barely noticed them. No, it was something that had triggered a long-buried instinct - something from his past life, where he'd been well trained, well respected. And well fed.
Whatever the cause, he found himself laying on his back, staring up into the hot night sky, every nerve alive with tension. Something was out there. He didn't move a muscle as his senses leapt to full alert - and then he heard it. A quiet crunch of a foot being placed carefully on the ground; someone was creeping around outside the pen. He licked at dry lips, torn between raising the alarm and remaining as still as death in the hopes that whoever was out there would pass him by. But luck was not on his side. The footsteps stopped close to his head. He held his breath, closing his eyes and hoped that....
"Mayborne!"
His name! He hadn't heard it uttered for as long as he could remember. His eyes flashed open and he turned his head. Dimly through the night he saw a pale face, a shock of blond hair half hidden beneath a cap, and the dull glint of gunmetal.
"Carter," he whispered, his voice croaky with lack of use. Carter - the bitch whose stubborn intransigence had condemned him to this hell. The bitch that he had sworn would pay for all the pain and torment he had suffered after she had murdered the Goa'uld Hakraa and abandoned him to his fate at the hands of Apophis. He'd been lucky to escape with his life; she wouldn't be.
"Get up," she hissed. "We're getting you out of here."
Oh, the irony! "Why?" he hissed back. "To send me to jail?"
"Would you rather stay here?" she snapped, edging closer to the wooden palings.
"Jail's jail," he lied.
"Listen, Mayborne," another voice said, tense and uneasy. "Fact is you're a security risk; so we either bring you back alive, or make sure you're not in a position to make any trouble for us. Understand?"
Mayborne flinched slightly at the threat, irritated that he was unable to place the voice. It sounded familiar...but it had been so long, his memories of that other life were growing hazy. But whoever it was, his reasoning was sound - he'd given similar orders himself in those distant, other days. Pushing himself carefully into a sitting position, he glanced over towards his sleeping comrades; he didn't know their names, didn't even speak the same language as most of them, and felt no compunction at abandoning them to their fate. His own was not much better. But although his memories were hazy, he remembered enough to know that life in a Federal Penitentiary was a hell of a lot more comfortable than where he'd spent the past God- only-knew how many months.
"Is O'Neill with you?" he asked before he moved any further.
There was a pause before Carter said, "Yes."
Getting shakily to his feet, Mayborne grimaced at the pain in his lame right leg and muttered, "Well, just don't let him kill me, will you?"
Another long pause. "I'll do my best," came her cold reply. "Now get moving, before I kill you myself."
He flashed her a smile he knew she'd hate, but said nothing. 'I wonder', he thought as he limped towards the edge of the pen, 'whether you hate me as much as I hate you, Samantha Carter?'
***
Jack's legs were trembling with the effort of the climb up to the caves and the pain in his hand was almost unbearable, eclipsed only by the vice that was tightening around his head. He was drawing in on himself, unable to see much in the moonless night, and so preoccupied with the pain that it seemed to float before him like a red haze, obscuring everything else from view. He'd felt worse though, he told himself as his knees gave way, and only Teal'c's strong hand on his arm kept him from sliding back down to the base of the caves. He'd felt worse, but not much, and not often.
"We are almost at our destination," Teal'c assured him, his hand clamped tightly around Jack's arm.
"Really?" Jack muttered, swallowing hard against the dry retches the pain was provoking. "So soon?"
His attempt at humor had no effect on Teal'c, who merely pulled him to the top of the slope in silence, and suddenly Jack found himself surrounded by the relative cool of the caves. Thank God! He sank gratefully to the floor as his whole body started to shake uncontrollably. He'd barely made it this far, and knew for sure that there was no way in hell he would get any further. Beside him he heard Teal'c rustling around in the darkness, and then his hand was on Jack's shoulder. "Lie here," he advised, guiding him with surprising gentleness to the bedroll he'd laid out at his side.
With a sigh, Jack eased his aching body to the ground, at once frustrated by his incapacitation and resigned to the fact that there was damn all he could do about it. "Colonel O'Neill?" Teal'c said again, shaking his shoulder slightly. "You must drink before you sleep. Your fever is severe."
With an effort, Jack propped himself up on his elbow and reached out his good hand. It shook as he held the small cup Teal'c offered him, but he managed to swallow a couple of mouthfuls despite the roiling protest of his stomach. "Thanks," he murmured as he sank back down to the ground, wondering at the strangeness of being so gently cared for by Teal'c. He almost smiled, but then another thought crossed his mind and he frowned, "Where's Carter?" he asked, feeling his heavy eyelids drooping shut. Damn, he was tired.
There was a pause before Teal'c answered. "She is retrieving Colonel Mayborne," he said. "Do you not remember me telling you of her plan?"
"Mayborne?" Jack asked, increasingly confused. "I thought he was dead?"
Another pause, and then, "Rest now, O'Neill. I will stand guard."
"Yeah," Jack managed to sigh as he shrank blissfully away from the pain beating at him. "You do that."
***
The blast of a staff weapon ricocheted through the trees, illuminating the night for a second before the darkness returned. Sam lay flat on her stomach, one hand pressing Mayborne into the dirt next to her. Daniel lay on Mayborne's other side, his arms flung protectively over his head.
"That was close," he murmured.
"They haven't seen us," Sam assured him. "They're firing randomly - trying to flush Mayborne out. Don't forget they don't know we're here."
Beneath her hand, she felt Mayborne's skinny frame shift slightly. She had to admit to being somewhat shocked by his frail physique, but his barbed comments and utter lack of humility had soon done away with any sympathy she might have felt. "You call this a rescue?" he muttered sourly, fidgeting under her firm grip.
"Shut it, Mayborne," Daniel hissed, saving her the effort.
Suddenly a voice rang out through the night. It was a Jaffa, calling something Sam didn't understand. She turned to Daniel, eyebrow raised, "Daniel?"
"Um," he nodded, squinting into the darkness, "roughly translated... 'this way'"
Crap. Sam nodded. "Then we can't stay here," she whispered. "Get ready, we'll head east until we lose them, then double back towards the caves."
Daniel nodded, although she knew he had no idea about left or right let alone east or west. But she also knew that he trusted her, and for that she was grateful. Getting her feet under her, she pulled Mayborne up from the dirt. "You're gonna run," she told him, her hand firmly on his arm. "And I don't care how much it hurts...."
He glared at her, malevolence oozing from every pore, but he held his tongue and nodded curtly. Sam shivered; the man had eyes like a rattlesnake and the personality to match.
***
Teal'c sat in the middle of the low cave, his eyes focused on the entrance and the darkness beyond. It had been over three hours now since he and O'Neill had arrived, and still there was no sign of Major Carter or Daniel Jackson. In the distance the detonation of a staff weapon echoed through the night, and Teal'c's jaw tightened. It irked him to be sitting idly by while his friends were in danger, and yet.... He glanced briefly at the figure sprawled at his side and knew that he could not leave. O'Neill needed him, perhaps more so than the others. His friend's sickness disturbed him greatly. And as he watched O'Neill toss and turn in the grip of fever, the foreboding that had haunted him throughout the mission sank around him like a dank, chill mist that whispered of the end of things.
Reaching out, he placed a hand on O'Neill's arm. "Be strong, my friend," he told him. "I will not allow it to end here."
***
"Damn it," Sam muttered, glancing down the shallow embankment at the glint of Jaffa armor in the trees, "I didn't think they'd keep searching for so long!"
"It's only been three hours," Daniel said quietly, from where he crouched behind the shelter of the small rise, his eyes fixed on Mayborne.
Three hours. Sam's mind flew back to Jack, so pale and sick when she'd seen him last. What if he was worse now? What if the Jaffa had stumbled across the caves? Teal'c couldn't defend them both, and there was no way Jack could escape in his condition. She should never have left them, never have split them up in enemy territory, she should have....
"Sam?" Daniel said, obviously not for the first time.
She blinked, shaking herself out of her morbid thoughts. "Yeah, sorry, what?"
"Look," he said, nodding down at the Jaffa. "I think they're heading back to the camp."
Turning her attention back to the trees she saw nothing. The jungle was silent but for its customary cacophony of nighttime creatures. She held her breath and counted to ten - still nothing. "At last," she whispered, letting her breath out slowly.
"I have to say," came Mayborne's caustic voice, "that this is probably the most ill-conceived rescue I've ever had the misfortune to witness."
"Shut the hell up," she told him, sliding back down to where Daniel and Mayborne were waiting. Turning to Daniel she said, "I'm not going to risk going straight back to the caves - if we head south from here we can swing round the area the Jaffa have been searching. "It'll take longer, but I don't want to risk leading them back to Ja...the others."
Mayborne chuckled. "Still keeping secrets, Samantha?" he taunted. "You should be careful - secrets can be dangerous, you know. Someone might use them against you."
The urge to just swing for him was so strong that Sam had to consciously stop herself from landing a fist across his face. "Just remember, Mayborne," she said, deliberately not looking at him, "that I don't think General Hammond would be *too* upset if you got killed by the Jaffa during the escape." She glanced at him then, shifting her weapon until is was comfortable in her hands, "You understand what I'm saying?"
He blanched slightly, but his eyes flashed pure hatred as he glared at her. "Congratulations, Major," he sneered, "you sound more like me all the time."
Damn him! But she refused to be ruffled. "Daniel," she snapped, "keep an eye on him." And then, without another backward glance, she led them back into the trees and the dark, humid night.
***
Jack surfaced into a strange, hazy world. The pain in his head was still severe, but his hand no longer troubled him, for which he was profoundly grateful. After a while he realized that he was staring at the ceiling of a cave and shifted his head towards the slight trace of a breeze he felt on his cheek. Dark trees, silhouetted against a starry night were framed by low rock as he stared at the entrance to the cave. He recognized it; he'd been here before, with Carter. They'd talked here. When was that?
"Carter?" he whispered, wondering where she'd gone. But his voice came out as a croak and he doubted that she'd hear him. He was about to try again when another voice answered.
"Colonel O'Neill."
Jack smiled slightly as he recognized Teal'c's baritone. Yeah, he remembered now, Teal'c was here and Carter was off pulling Mayborne's ass out of the fire.
"How do you feel?" Teal'c asked then, moving to crouch before him.
Jack considered the question for a moment. "My head hurts like hell," he replied, his voice still rasping, "but I think my hand's getting better. It doesn't hurt anymore."
Most of Teal'c's face was cast in shadow, but even in the darkness Jack could sense his unease. "We will soon return to the Stargate," he said quietly. "Then you will be well."
"Yeah," Jack agreed, fidgeting on the hard ground to try and find a more comfortable position. "How long's Carter been gone?" he asked then.
Teal'c paused before he answered. "Some hours," he said vaguely.
Alarms started ringing. "How many hours?"
"Five," Teal'c said softly. "I heard sounds of battle, but they ceased almost two hours ago."
Jack closed his eyes, trying not to think the worst. "They'll get here," he said quietly, praying that he spoke the truth. "Carter's way too smart to be caught by a couple of stupid Jaffa." He glanced at Teal'c then, "No offense."
"None taken," Teal'c assured him with a hint of a smile. And then, more firmly, he added, "You should rest now - the journey to the gate will likely be arduous for you."
Jack snorted quietly. "Ya think?" he muttered, letting himself drift back into silent, pain-free oblivion, his last anxious thoughts of Carter.
***
The first light of dawn was draining the color from the sky as Daniel shoved Mayborne towards the rocky outcrop that housed the caves they'd sheltered in the previous night. He was exhausted and hungry, but relieved at least that they had seen no more of the Jaffa. Teal'c, it seemed, had been right - the search had been short and halfhearted.
"You expect me to climb up there?" Mayborne complained sourly, stopping dead at the foot of the incline.
"It's not far," Daniel told him, weary of the man's constant carping. "You'll manage."
"With this arm?" he asked, raising his crooked right arm in the air. "A gift of Apophis," he said, flashing a bitter look at Sam who stood a little apart, staring up at the dark mouth of the cave.
"Well," Daniel said, "it's not like you have a choice, so you might as well...."
"Or what?" he demanded. "You think you can drag me up there?"
With deliberate slowness, Daniel took a long look at Mayborne's skinny, frail physique. "I think so...," he replied, fixing him with a steady look.
"Don't bother," Sam said then, turning away from the rock face to glance at both of them. Her face was hard and angry and Daniel could tell that what little patience she'd had for Mayborne had long since evaporated. "If he won't climb up we'll just tie him to one of the trees until we're ready to move out." Her blue eyes were chips of ice as she turned them on Mayborne, "Take your pick," she told him.
Mayborne's face screwed up into a frown and he opened his mouth to speak when the air was shattered by a huge sound that made even the ground vibrate. A shadow passed over Daniel, he glanced up and his heart sank so fast it almost hit his toes. It was a ship. A huge, damn mother-ship.
"It's landing!" Sam yelled over the noise. "Get into the caves - NOW!"
Daniel almost laughed at the sight of Mayborne scrabbling over the rocks, so fast he looked like some kind of demented mountain goat. But the thought of a shipload of Jaffa landing no more than a couple of miles away dampened his humor and he hurried after Mayborne with more grace, though no less urgency. Hide was all they could do against those odds.
***
Teal'c didn't need to leave the cave to know what the sound meant. The Goa'uld was landing his ship to complete the removal of his work force; if Major Carter had been unsuccessful in retrieving Colonel Mayborne she would have no second chance. Beyond the mouth of the cave dawn paled the sky, and in the thin light Teal'c could see the pallor of O'Neill's face where he lay sleeping fitfully at his side. Reaching out, he touched the man's brow and the heated skin only deepened his sense of unease. Despite his previous lucidity, Teal'c knew that O'Neill's condition was growing worse, not better. His eyes irresistibly moved to the Colonel's swollen hand, deepening from red towards purple. Bad, his years of experience told him. Very bad.
A sound from beyond the cave drew his eyes back to its mouth, his hand reaching for his weapon with instinctive ease. Slowly, silently, he rose to his feet, crouching under the low ceiling as he moved smoothly towards the entrance. Keeping deep in the shadows he maneuvered himself to a position where he could best see the rocky ascent. For a moment his hands tightened around his weapon as he saw a man awkwardly scaling the boulders. But then he saw Daniel Jackson moving swiftly behind the stranger, and behind them both climbed Major Carter, her eyes darting between the sky and the cave mouth. The stranger, Teal'c realized then, was Mayborne, although he found it hard to see the man he had known in the emaciated, scuttling creature that approached him. Taking no risks, Teal'c armed his weapon and stepped out of the cave.
"Teal'c!" Carter called instantly. "You made it!"
Her relief was evident in the wide smile that briefly touched her face, before the frown returned. "They're landing a ship," she called as she pushed herself up towards him.
"I had noticed," he told her, and she smiled again at the irony in his voice.
Turning to Mayborne, Teal'c kept his weapon raised as the man reached the top of the climb. He was sweating profusely and was breathless with the effort of the ascent. Nonetheless, Teal'c treated him with the suspicion such a man deserved. "Colonel Mayborne," he said, taking in the face ravaged by deprivation.
"Teal'c," Mayborne replied, sucking in a deep breath and glancing about warily, as if expecting danger. Teal'c smiled slightly - he was obviously looking for O'Neill.
"We should get inside," Daniel Jackson said as he too reached the top.
"I concur," Teal'c said, stepping out of their way. "I will wait for Major Carter."
Daniel gave a curt nod and, with a hand on Mayborne's shoulder, pushed him into the darkness.
"Teal'c?" The voice was Carter's. "How's Colonel O'Neill?" she asked as she reached the top of the climb. She was doing her best to appear impassive, but Teal'c saw an agony of worry behind her eyes.
He was sorry not to have better news. "He is worse," he told her bluntly. "His fever still burns, he is not always lucid...and he has lost feeling in his injured hand...."
"Shit!" Carter exclaimed, surprising him with her vehemence. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head, regaining control, before looking at him again. "Sorry," she muttered. "He can't feel his hand?"
"When he last awoke," Teal'c explained, "he told me that he felt no pain - however his hand is severely infected, perhaps worse."
"Worse?" Her voice was an anguished whisper.
"We must return to the SGC as soon as possible," Teal'c suggested, not wishing to feed her imagination further.
"Yeah," Carter nodded. "But do you think we can risk it in daylight?"
Glancing up at the slowly landing ship, Teal'c drew in a deep breath. "I fear that the risk of not doing so may be more dangerous," he said. "Colonel O'Neill is very sick."
***
They'd been in the stinking cave for hours, while outside the sun had broken through the clouds and the jungle steamed in the blazing heat. Not that Mayborne was complaining; after the night they'd put him through, he needed the rest. So he sat with his back against the wall, chewing on the food Jackson had grudgingly given him - military rations had never tasted so sweet!
As he savored every mouthful of the unaccustomed feast, he watched the pathetic little drama being acted out before him with a grim satisfaction. O'Neill, it seemed, was sick. Mayborne had briefly seen his swollen, putrid hand as Jackson had pushed him roughly into the cave, and he'd winced at the sight. If it hadn't been O'Neill he might even have felt some sympathy. But as it was he'd chuckled slightly and muttered, "Christ, Jack, you look worse than I do."
O'Neill's eyes had opened at that, bleary and unfocused yet not lacking their sharp intelligence. "Mayborne," he'd croaked. "I should've killed you years ago."
"The feeling's mutual," he'd replied as Jackson had shoved him to the ground.
"Sit there and shut up," Daniel had said, turning instantly to O'Neill.
"Jack?" he'd asked in a softer voice, crouching at his side. "How are you?"
"Great," O'Neill had replied with his usual dryness. "Never better." And then, giving himself away entirely, he'd asked anxiously, "Where's Carter?"
"Outside with Teal'c," Jackson had replied. "She's fine, but...."
"But?" came the weak question.
"The Goa'uld mother-ship just landed, so...."
O'Neill had sighed heavily. "So I guess we're staying put a while longer?"
Daniel nodded. "You gonna hang in there?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No," Daniel replied slowly, "not really."
And so the hours had passed. O'Neill drifted in and out of sleep, and his loyal team took turns watching him, encouraging him to drink or trying to cool him with a damp cloth over his brow. It was a disgusting show of sentiment that almost tempted Mayborne to take his chances with the Jaffa. Almost.
Carter sat with Jack now, one hand resting almost absently on his good arm as she whispered to Teal'c. "There's no way he can walk," she was saying. "Do you think you can carry him all the way back?"
"Colonel O'Neill is not light," Teal'c admitted with his customary understatement, "however I believe I can carry him."
Carter nodded. "It'll be slow going though," she pointed out. "Maybe I should go alone and bring back a med-evac team?"
"That would be no faster," Teal'c said, shaking his head.
Carter squeezed her eyes shut in obvious frustration. "Damn it," she muttered, "I should have just gotten him straight back to the gate last night - this is all my fault."
"You were not to know that his condition would progress so rapidly," Teal'c replied, "nor that the Goa'uld ship would land so soon."
She was shaking her head now in fierce denial. "He was already really sick, Teal'c," she said quietly. "He'd handed over command! I should have known," she paused, and slammed her fist hard against her leg, "hell, I *did* know! But I was so determined not to let my...." She cut herself off angrily. "I was an idiot, and the Colonel's paying the price."
"I do not believe Colonel O'Neill would see it that way," Teal'c assured her.
"Quite right," Mayborne cut in, causing both their heads to turn sharply towards him. He shrugged slightly, "Jack would never blame his little Majorette for anything, would he Sam?"
Her eyes narrowed to icy slits. "Screw you, Mayborne," she spat.
He leered deliberately. "So are you offering that service to *all* senior officers now, Major?"
Mayborne was so amused by the mixture of horror, fury and embarrassment on her face that he didn't see Teal'c move until he found himself slammed hard against the wall, the Jaffa's forearm across his throat cutting off his air supply. "If you ever," Teal'c whispered harshly, "speak disrespectfully of Major Carter again, I will tear the tongue from your mouth and feed it to you in pieces. Do you understand?"
Nodding as best he could, unable to force the iron-like arm from his throat, Mayborne glared into Teal'c's unyielding eyes. "Yes..." he choked out, "...I understand."
"I do not like you, Colonel Mayborne," Teal'c added, not loosening his grip in the slightest. "You will be wise not to anger me again."
Mayborne was beginning to see stars, and his fingers were scrabbling weakly against Teal'c's arm, when he suddenly found himself freed and slumped forward, gasping for air.
"Remain silent," Teal'c ordered him, turning back to Carter.
Mayborne saw her give Teal'c a tight, embarrassed smile and he merely nodded a silent acknowledgement. Their conversation returned to getting O'Neill the medical assistance he so obviously needed, but Mayborne had the dour satisfaction of noting the way Carter had deliberately removed her hand from Jack's arm and had moved a more discrete distance from him. He smiled bleakly; obviously nothing had changed between them since they'd last met, which gave him an edge to exploit - maybe not now, but later. If they managed to get him back to Earth and into prison, he'd at least have some hold over the SGC's finest. The thought gave him a grim comfort. Of course, he had no real intention of letting them take him anywhere near Earth, but there'd be time enough for that later....
***
By midday Sam thought she was going to climb out of her skin, so intense was her need to act, to do something, anything, to help Jack. He'd surfaced a couple of times since she'd returned, and had smiled weakly at her the first time. The second time, however, she didn't think he'd recognized her at all.
"What day is it?" he'd asked, urgently grabbing at her arm and trying to sit up. "What day...?"
"Shhh," she'd murmured, pushing him back into the blankets. "It's okay, sir."
"No," he'd insisted, growing increasingly agitated. "I have to know... Tell me what day it is!"
"It's Wednesday," she'd told him quietly.
He'd blinked at the news, and then shaken his head. "I have to go," he'd announced suddenly, pushing himself upright. Sam had just managed to catch him as he swayed dizzily, and had eased him back to the ground. "Not yet," she'd told him touching his face, heedless of Mayborne's prying eyes, "just a little longer, Colonel."
"You don't understand," he'd snapped, pushing her hand away. "I have to go...."
"Sir, please...."
"Charlie's waiting," he'd interrupted, fixing her with an anguished look. "I promised...."
Her heart had clenched with a sudden pain and silence had filled the small, humid cave. Everyone had been listening, awkward and upset by his fevered words. "It's okay," she'd replied helplessly. "Just rest now."
"I promised I'd be there," he'd mumbled, clutching at her hand. "You have to help me.... Charlie...."
"I will," she'd promised him, not knowing what else to say. "But you have to rest now. Charlie would understand."
His eyes had fluttered closed, but he shook his head wearily. "He's just a kid...he's too young...."
And then sleep had taken him again and his fingers had fallen slackly from her hand. She'd had to fight hard to swallow the tears that had risen in her throat, but the almost frantic desperation to get him home was less easy to control. And it ate at her now, gnawing at her nerves until she thought they'd snap.
Outside the sun blazed down on the trees, but they'd seen no sign of Jaffa all day. Was it worth the risk, she wondered, to start out now, in broad daylight with a Goa'uld mother ship looming over the whole landscape? But could they wait any longer? Could Jack?
"Sam?" Daniel said quietly, interrupting her thoughts.
She turned, "Yeah?"
His face twisted slightly as he approached an awkward subject. "I don't think Jack's doing so well."
"No," she agreed. "He's not."
"I think maybe we should leave now."
"That's just what I was thinking," she told him. But as she looked over at the Colonel, tossing restlessly in his sleep, she shook her head. "We're going to be incredibly vulnerable out there."
"Yeah," Daniel nodded. "But what's the alternative?"
"There isn't one," Sam decided, giving Daniel a tight smile. "Come on," she said, getting to her feet, "I need your help." Stepping over Jack she reached the entrance to the cave in a couple of strides. "Teal'c," she said, "keep an eye on Mayborne - and get ready to move out in thirty minutes."
"I shall do as you ask," he assured her, cocking his head to one side. "May I ask where you are taking Daniel Jackson?"
"We're going to rig something to help carry Colonel O'Neill," she said, smiling at his bemused expression. Then, turning back to Daniel she said, "Bring your jacket, and the Colonel's." Grabbing her own jacket she turned back to Teal'c. "If you see any Jaffa, don't try to contact us. Just keep your head down and stay hidden."
"As you wish," Teal'c replied, moving aside to let her pass.
With Daniel on her heels she scrambled down the rocks and back into the dense undergrowth. The heat from the sun was stifling and the whole jungle was steaming; it was so humid it was almost difficult to breath.
"Okay," Daniel said, dropping the jackets on the ground, "I take it we're not wearing these?"
Sam smiled. "No, we're going to make a stretcher. First we need to find a couple of straight branches, about seven feet long."
It took some doing amid the tangling, twisting trees but at last they found what they needed. Taking out her pocketknife Sam set about smoothing the branches as much as possible. "Daniel," she said as she worked, "do up the zippers on all the jackets."
When she was done, she dropped the rough-hewn poles to the ground and wiped a hand across her sweaty forehead. "Damn, it's hot," she grumbled.
"So what next?" Daniel asked, frowning at the pile of jackets and the wooden poles.
Sam smiled. "Easy," she said. "We just thread the jacket's onto the poles and - hey presto - instant stretcher."
Daniel's eyebrows rose in approval. "That's clever," he admitted. "I'd never have thought of it."
Sam laughed as they started threading the first pole up through the bottom of her jacket, guiding it out through the sleeve. "Well, I can't take the credit," she assured him. "It's a pretty standard technique."
Soon all three jackets were firmly wedged onto the poles, making a crude yet serviceable stretcher, and Sam nodded in satisfaction. "Okay," she said, reaching for her half-empty water bottle. "Now all we need to do is figure out how the hell to get the Colonel down from the cave."
Daniel squinted up at the rocky outcrop. "I nominate Teal'c," he said after a moment's thought.
"It's a steep climb," Sam said, taking a swig of water. "Even for Teal'c. And Jack's not light."
"I'll help," Daniel volunteered, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. "While you watch Mayborne." He shook his head. "I don't trust him."
"Neither do I," Sam assured him. Then she sighed and shook her head. "All this to rescue that SOB," she said wearily. "If anything happens to Jack...." She cut herself off, irritated at using his name in front of Daniel.
But Daniel didn't seem to notice, he just rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said, "He's going to be fine, Sam. He always is, isn't he?"
"Almost always," Sam agreed. "But..."
"Come on," Daniel said. "Let's get going. The sooner we hand him over to Janet's tender mercies the better."
Sam chuckled slightly as they started walking back towards the cave. "Janet's going to kill us," she told him. "Last week she told me she was going to arrange her days off to coincide with SG-1's scheduled returns."
"Actually," Daniel replied, "I think she really enjoys these new challenges we bring her back through the Stargate - you and I get the alien technology and artifacts, Janet gets alien plagues and bug bites."
Smiling, Sam started the climb back to the cave, grateful for Daniel's steady friendship - he always knew the right thing to say. She just hoped he was right, because if Jack didn't make it.... Swallowing hard she forced the thought away. Getting him home was all that mattered now, it was the best and only thing she could do for him at this point.
***
Janet Fraiser would never admit to having premonitions. She didn't believe in that kind of nonsense. But occasionally something would start to pulse in the center of her chest; a sense of unease that refused to be distracted by work, rest or play. Something, it whispered to her, was about to happen. Something big. Something bad. And however many times she told herself not to be so ridiculous, that little niggling feeling of unease kept pulsing away.
And so it was she found herself accidentally on purpose passing the control room, wandering in with a couple of files under one arm, and casually glancing over the shoulder of Lieutenant Khan.
"Something I can help you with, Doctor?" the Lieutenant asked, looking up at her curiously.
"Um," Janet nodded, striving for nonchalance, "I was just wondering which teams were out right now."
Khan smiled. "One, four and eight," she replied immediately. "SG-1 are due back tonight, SG-4 and SG-8 aren't due back for another thirty-six hours."
Janet nodded. SG-1. Of course. "Have we heard anything from Colonel O'Neill?" she asked.
"No, Ma'am," the Lieutenant replied. "Nothing." Then she frowned a little in concern, "Is there a problem?"
"No," Janet assured her hurriedly. "No problem." I hope, she added silently, conscious of the fact that the pulse of unease in her chest had developed into a full-fledged state of alarm. SG-1. Why was it always SG-1?
***
Teal'c was weary. They had been walking now for almost eight hours, the last two of which had been in darkness. And for all eight hours he had carried one end of the stretcher on which Colonel O'Neill lay. His shoulders ached, his hands bore blisters from the rough hewn wood, and...
"My arms are killing me," Daniel muttered from the other end of the stretcher. "Teal'c, I have to stop for a minute."
"Very well," Teal'c agreed, rather more quickly this time than on previous occasions. "Major Carter," he called quietly, "we are stopping."
Ahead of him he saw her turn in the shadows, a flash of her pale face in the darkness as she turned around. "Yeah," she sighed, taking a couple of steps back towards them. "Good idea."
Carefully, he and Daniel lowered the stretcher to the ground. O'Neill did not stir, still lost in fever and sleep. The last time he had been lucid was more than four hours ago, and then only barely. As Teal'c sank gratefully to the ground, he saw Mayborne slump down in an exhausted heap not far from where Daniel sat rubbing at his shoulders. Mayborne's eyes glittered darkly, but he said nothing, just watched them all in a brooding silence. Teal'c was wary. He knew trouble when it was staring him in the face.
"How's he doing?" Carter asked, crouching down next to Teal'c.
"He endures," Teal'c replied, unable to find a more appropriate word.
The Major grimaced and wiped a hand across her sweat-damp face, smearing it with a little more dirt. She sighed and nodded, her eyes taking in Daniel and Mayborne, and coming to rest at last on Teal'c. Frustration tightened every feature as she pushed a hand through her matted hair. "We're all exhausted," she told him. "And the jungle's just getting thicker through here - we need to rest."
Teal'c agreed, although he shared her obvious frustration at the delay. "We will move faster once we have rested," he assured her.
"Yeah," she nodded with forced bravado. "Sure we will." Then, glancing over at Daniel she said in a louder voice, "Daniel, get some rest - we're gonna stop for a while."
"Stop?" he asked, his glance flicking anxiously towards O'Neill. "Is that wise?"
"Just a couple of hours," she assured him. "There's still a long way to go before we get to the gate, and we might as well rest while it's dark. It'll be easier to get through the undergrowth when we can see what we're doing."
Daniel nodded reluctantly. "I guess," he said, absently rubbing at his shoulders. "I could do with a break, actually."
"Try to sleep," Carter advised, and then with a glance towards their prisoner, she added, "You too Mayborne. I don't want you lagging behind."
"Are you sure you don't want me to stand watch?" he replied. "Then you can sleep too, Samantha."
"I'd rather sleep next to a rattlesnake," Carter snapped, getting to her feet. "Everyone rest," she told them, more loudly. "We'll move out at dawn."
"I will take first watch," Teal'c offered, knowing that both Daniel Jackson and Major Carter were in more need of sleep than he.
Carter nodded. "Thanks," she said, pulling her bedroll from the top of her pack and unrolling it on the ground, near to where O'Neill lay sleeping. "Wake me when you need to rest."
"I shall," he assured her.
As he settled himself with his back to a tree and his staff weapon within easy reach, Teal'c let his gaze drift over his exhausted friends and come to rest on Mayborne. If there was anything to watch for this night, it was him. The Colonel's eyes met his briefly, before slipping cowardly away. But Teal'c had seen the anger in those eyes, and knew that Mayborne was as treacherous as he had always been.
***
Sam drifted in a haze between sleep and wakefulness. And while half her mind ranged randomly through the myriad fears that crowded her brain, the other listened attentively to the world around her, alert to any new sound, any new danger.
And so it was that she heard the quiet movement at her side. She was fully awake and sitting up in a flash, her heart racing. But their makeshift camp was silent. Teal'c sat nearby, watching her curiously, and at her side she saw that Jack had moved, one leg slipping over the edge of the pole that bordered the stretcher and his booted foot scuffing slightly in the loamy soil.
"Major Carter?" Teal'c asked quietly.
She shook her head and rubbed at her neck, suddenly stiff with tension. "Nothing," she sighed. "I thought I heard something."
"All is quiet," he assured her. "Even Mayborne sleeps."
She was about to offer a grim retort to that, when Jack moved again, this time flinging his arm out and landing his good hand on her leg. The contact apparently startled them both, because his eyes blinked open and he lay there for a moment staring at her.
"Hey," she said quietly, resisting the temptation to take hold of his hand. "How do you feel?"
He blinked again and whispered, "I was asleep."
"Yeah," she nodded, smiling slightly at the lost expression on his face.
Then his eyes drifted shut again and he was still. He was silent so long that Sam assumed he'd succumbed once more to the fever, and so carefully lifted his hand from her leg and laid it at his side. But before she could let go, his fingers tightened around hers and he opened his eyes again. "What day is it?" he asked her.
Sam frowned. What was it with the day again? "Wednesday," she told him. "Wednesday night."
His eyes squeezed shut and his head moved slightly, as if in denial. Something mumbled from his lips, but Sam couldn't hear what he said. "It's okay, sir," she told him, stroking her thumb lightly over the back of his hand. "It's going to be okay."
But Jack shook his head again and his mouth moved silently, the breath leaving his lips in a whisper.
"Sir?" she asked, leaning closer to try and hear him.
"Sa...," he whispered, and she smiled squeezing his fingers slightly.
"Right here," she said quietly. "I'm right here."
His eyes opened again, glazed with fever as he stared into hers. "Sara," he whispered. "I need to see Sara...."
Everything froze. Despite the heat, everything froze; her heart, her blood, every muscle in her body. Everything. Sara. He was asking for Sara. There was a long silence before she managed to choke out, "Sara's not here, sir."
"Tell her I'm sorry," he urged her then, his fingers tightening again around hers. "Please, tell Sara I'm sorry...."
Sam closed her eyes, weary and exhausted and too close to being overwhelmed by the wave of jealous anger she felt washing over her to care about propriety. Sara. He wanted Sara. She had trouble getting the words around the lump rising in her throat, but she managed to say, "You can tell her yourself, sir. When we get back."
"Too late," he murmured. "Always too late...."
"Sleep now," Sam replied, laying his hand on his chest and pulling her fingers free of his grasp. "You'll be home soon. I promise, sir. Soon."
"Too late," he repeated. "It's too late, Sam."
Sam. Her heart closed in on itself. He knew who she was and he was still asking for Sara. 'I've lost him,' she thought wildly. And then, with a bitter realization, she understood the truth. 'I never had him. All this time, he still wanted Sara.'
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she turned away, laying back down on her bedroll and curling up, facing out into the darkness. He didn't want her. When it came to the crunch, it was Sara he wanted, Sara he *needed*. And it hurt. God in heaven, it hurt.
***
"I know you're excited, honey," General Hammond said, propping the telephone between his ear and shoulder as he searched for the report he needed amid the stack in his in-tray. "But the sooner you go to bed, the sooner it'll be your birthday."
"But I can't sleep," came the plaintive reply. "I'm too excited because Mom said that...."
A sharp rap on his office door drew his attention from the excited chatter of his granddaughter. "Hold on, honey," he told her, lowering the phone and calling, "Come in."
Captain Phillips stepped into the room. "General Hammond," he said, "I thought you'd want to know that SG-1 have overshot their ETA by more than an hour, sir."
Hammond felt his heart sink like a stone. "I'll be right there," he told the Captain, nodding a swift dismissal before returning to the telephone. "I have to go now, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow." He grimaced even as he made the promise, hoping he'd be able to keep it. SG-1 being late was *never* a good sign.
As soon as he put the phone down he was heading out of his office and into the control room. To his surprise he saw Janet Fraiser standing there, staring thoughtfully at the dormant Stargate.
"Doctor?" he asked as he stepped into the room.
"General Hammond," she nodded, turning slowly towards him.
"Something I can do for you?"
She shook her head. "No, sir," she replied, "I was just passing and thought I'd check on the ETA for SG-1."
He frowned slightly. This was unusual. "They're late, Doctor."
"Yes," she agreed. "They are."
"It's not entirely unexpected," he pointed out.
"No," she nodded, "but..." She sighed and shook her head, trailing to a halt.
"But what?" the General prompted curiously.
Fraiser shrugged. "I just have a bad feeling about this, I guess."
"Ah," he replied, understanding immediately. "I see."
She looked surprised. "You do?"
"Gut instinct, Doctor," he replied. "It's always worth listening to."
Raising her eyebrows, Fraiser shook her head and said, "In this case, sir, I hope it's wrong. Very, very wrong."
Glancing over her head at the Stargate, Hammond sucked in a deep breath, his own gut starting to twinge all by itself. "I hope so too," he told her quietly. "Those are good people out there."
"Yes, sir," she replied, turning back to the silent gate, "they are."
***
Dawn arrived slowly, taking its time to penetrate the thick foliage of the trees. And as the pale light crept over his sleeping friends, Daniel stood up from where he'd sat watch for the past hour and moved to rouse them.
"Sam," he said, jostling her shoulder slightly. "It's morning." Her eyes opened blearily, ringed with exhaustion. But there was something else there too he realized immediately, a darker shadow that turned the blue to gray. He frowned, "You okay?"
She just shook her head and sat up. "I will be once we get home," she assured him. As she spoke her gaze flitted briefly towards Jack, and away again, as if stung by the sight.
"Yeah," he agreed, puzzled and not a little concerned by her behavior. "How long do you think it'll be until we reach the gate?"
She stood up and raked a hand through her tangled hair. "Five or six hours," she replied. And then, glancing over at Teal'c she called, "Hey, Teal'c, ready to move out?"
Teal'c's eyes opened immediately, and he rose in one fluid motion. "I am," he agreed. "However, I believe Colonel Mayborne may need some encouragement."
Daniel looked over at Mayborne, sprawled on the ground nearby. Sam was at his side in a couple of steps, and poked him in the chest with the toe of her boot. "Get up," she snapped. "We're leaving."
His eyes opened, but his face remained blank as he replied, "Good morning to you too, Samantha."
She ignored his words. "No dawdling," she warned him, before returning to her bedroll and starting to stuff it back into her pack.
"How is Colonel O'Neill?" Teal'c asked then, as he came to stand at Daniel's side.
With a sigh, Daniel shook his head. "No change," he said quietly, his eyes on Sam as she scowled bitterly at her unoffending bedroll. "I tried to get him to drink some water about an hour ago, but he just threw it right back up."
"It is fortunate," Teal'c replied, "that we shall soon be at the Stargate. O'Neill requires more medical attention than we can provide."
"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "I think he does."
Sam stood up and slung her pack onto her back. "Enough chatter," she told them abruptly, "let's move out." And then, louder, "Mayborne! On your feet."
Mayborne grumbled something unintelligible and stood up, while Teal'c exchanged a curious glance with Daniel. "Major Carter appears unhappy this morning," he observed as they moved to lift the stretcher again.
"She's worried about Jack," Daniel replied, his eyes on Sam as she pushed forward into the tangled jungle.
"As are we all."
Daniel just nodded, reaching for the wooden handles of the stretcher and ignoring his protesting shoulders as he lifted. "You know," he said as they lumbered into motion, "when we get back I'm gonna talk to Jack about losing a couple of pounds. There is no *way* he should be this heavy."
"Perhaps," Teal'c replied, "you should consider improving your muscle tone instead. The gym at the SGC is quite effective."
Daniel barked an outraged laugh. "The day you catch me working out in there will be a cold one in hell."
"I believe it is never cold in hell."
"Ah, yeah," Daniel replied, smiling, "that was kinda my point."
***
Harry Mayborne trailed along behind Jackson, watching him and Teal'c struggling to maneuver their makeshift stretcher through the tangled undergrowth. Ahead of them, Carter was hacking away at the foliage, attempting to ease their passage. 'Never turn your back on your enemy, Samantha,' he warned her silently, his hand moving to the small of his back, patting reassuringly at the deadly metallic object pressed against his skin. 'Didn't Jack teach you anything?'
They'd been walking for hours, it seemed, and the sun was now high in the sky. They must be close to the gate, which meant he didn't have long to formulate his plan. He had a couple of advantages already, though, and he was confident of success. First, they underestimated him, both his strength and his desire for revenge. Second, they were all exhausted, by the heat as much as by the rigors of their mission. He, on the other hand, was acclimatized to the heat and had been inured to hardship over the long months of his captivity. Third, he would die before he returned to jail - but they would not risk the life of one of their own to prevent him from doing so.
The odds, he figured, if not exactly on his side were pretty evenly balanced. All he had to do was keep his eyes open and wait for the right moment, and then...? Then he'd do whatever was necessary to get off this stinking planet and see about exacting some revenge on the high-and-mighty SG-1.
***
Janet paced nervously in the infirmary, wishing she had a couple of patients to distract her from the long wait.
Twelve hours. That's what Hammond had told her last night. Search and rescue teams weren't sent in until at least twelve hours after the scheduled ETA.
"We can't send in the troops every time a team's late, Doctor," he'd told her. "If they're not back in twelve hours, we'll start to worry."
Although, from the way his brow had creased as he'd spoken, Janet wondered who he was kidding. Worrying was what people like them did. Oh, it was easy for the off-world teams, gallivanting around the galaxy without a care in the world. But for the support staff who had to pick up the pieces, on a far too regular basis, worrying was just part of life.
Only this time it was different. This time she was afraid she wouldn't be able to put all the pieces back together again.
"You're being ridiculous," she told herself out loud, and headed for her office. The infirmary was ready for whatever she had to face, so there was no point in lingering around like some kind of lost soul. She had a ton of paperwork to get through, and for all she knew SG-1 would return any minute and tell her they'd gotten lost, or indulged in the local brew and woken up with the mother of all hangovers.
"Of course," she muttered as she sat down at her desk, "if they do that, I'll kill them. Slowly and painfully."
But the wry comment fell flat, even to herself. 'Don't let them be dead,' she implored silently. Not Sam with her bright enthusiasm for life, or O'Neill, who so deserved a second chance at happiness if he'd only permit it. And not Daniel, who had so much more to give, or Teal'c, a man still fighting to free his people and reclaim his honor. They were all too important, too full of life to be lost.
She glanced at her watch and sighed; four more hours before a search would begin. With a sigh, she pulled the first file off the top of the stack and started to read, hoping every moment to hear the off- world activation alarms start to wail.
***
Funny how everything felt a hundred times worse today, Sam thought darkly as she plodded along through the trees. It was hotter, her legs ached more, the water tasted worse, and the damn trees seemed more tangled and impenetrable then ever.
Of course, she knew why. Sara. Her name on his lips had been a bitter pill. She shook her head, feeling like an idiot. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became. After all, he'd been married to the woman for ten years, they'd had a child together. How could *she* ever mean as much to him as Sara? She'd been his *wife*, for goodness sake. Sharing a couple of adventures and a few brushes with death couldn't compare to a ten-year marriage! And sick as he was, Jack had obviously come to the same conclusion, just as he had three years earlier in Antarctica.
Sam sighed, shoving a branch aside as she pushed her way through, clearing a path for Teal'c and Daniel. She wished she could feel angry with him, angry and used, but she couldn't. She didn't doubt the honesty of his feelings for her. It was just that Sara ultimately had a place in his heart that she could never presume to replace. Sara O'Neill was the mother of his son. Sam Carter was his second-in-command. Sara O'Neill had been his wife for ten years. Sam Carter had shared his bed for one night. There was no comparison, and she'd been a fool not to realize that before.
For the first time since that night, a year ago, she was genuinely glad that the regulations stood firmly between them. She didn't think she could have born being in a relationship with him, and then finding out that she could only ever be second best. At least this way some part of her dignity remained intact, although it was a cold comfort.
"Major Carter!" Teal'c's voice rang out from behind her, and she turned around, swinging her weapon into her hands.
"What?"
But Teal'c was smiling slightly, and he nodded towards something behind her. "Look."
Turning back, Sam glanced up and, to her astonishment, saw a glimpse of the Stargate peeking through the twisted trees. They were almost on top of it. "At last," she breathed, relief bringing a smile to her lips. It was almost over.
"Thank God," came Daniel's fervent reply.
Sam pushed the last of the branches out of the way and stepped into the small clearing that surrounded the Stargate. Behind her Teal'c and Daniel emerged and gently lowered Jack to the ground. He didn't stir.
Mayborne slunk out of the trees behind them and dropped to the ground next to the stretcher, watching them all impassively.
"I was half expecting a welcoming committee," Daniel said as he rubbed at his sore hands. "We're well past our scheduled ETA."
"Not late enough," Sam replied, glancing down at her watch. Almost though, she realized. There was barely half an hour to spare. "Let's not make them come look for us," she suggested. "Daniel, will you dial?"
He nodded, walked around Jack and headed for the DHD. He was limping slightly as he walked, Sam noted, and wondered why he hadn't said anything. And then she glanced down at her own arms, scratched and bruised with the effort of forcing her way through the undergrowth, and realized that they were all pretty beat up. A couple of steps ahead of her, Teal'c flexed his shoulders, stretching out the kinks from almost five straight hours of carrying the stretcher. And she knew that, if even Teal'c was feeling it, then it must have been a rough couple of days. Ahead of her, the DHD lit up as Daniel punched in the co-ordinates and she let out a slow sigh of relief; they'd made it. After everything that had....
A strong, wiry arm snaked around her neck with alarming speed, choking off her air. And then something hard and metallic pressed painfully into the side of her head and a voice rasped in her ear, "Tell him to stop, Samantha or you die. And don't think I wouldn't enjoy doing it."
Mayborne.
***
General Hammond stood silently in the control room, watching impassively as the Stargate...did nothing.
'Come on Jack,' he chided silently, 'don't do this to me again!'
But there was no reply, the Stargate remained stubbornly silent and the minutes on the clock ticked by. Eleven and a half hours late. He sighed and ran his hand over his head, wondering for the hundredth time if he was too old for this job. And then, as if on cue, the door to the control room opened and Janet Fraiser walked in. Her face looked as anxious as his as she glanced at him with a question in her eyes.
"Nothing," he told her before she had time to ask. "I'm sorry."
Fraiser just nodded. "I'll have a med team standing by," she said. "Have you authorized the search and rescue yet, sir?"
"I'm just about to do that, Doctor," he assured her, almost amused by her persistence.
"I'll go and get my people together," the Doctor replied, her lips thinning into a tight line. "How long, sir?"
"As soon as I call Colonel Dempsey," Hammond told her, "they'll ship out right away."
She nodded again. "We'll be ready."
"I know you will, Doctor," he said. "But I hope your team won't be needed."
"You and me both, sir," replied grimly. And then, with a final curt nod, she turned on her heel and hurried out, leaving Hammond to stare once more at the dormant Stargate. Fraiser had a bad feeling and he was beginning to share it; something had happened. Something big. He could feel it. Things were about to change....
***
"Daniel!" Sam called as loudly as was possible with Mayborne's arm locked around her neck. "Stop!"
Daniel turned, his hand poised over the center of the DHD. He stared, obviously taking a moment to understand what he was seeing, and then his hand dropped frantically to his side and Sam realized that his sidearm was gone. "Shit," he hissed.
Teal'c was already turning before Daniel spoke and Sam saw the expression of shock and anger that flashed briefly over his face.
"Nobody move," Mayborne said, tightening his arm around Sam's neck.
"What the hell are you doing, Mayborne?" Daniel asked. "There's nowhere to go."
He chuckled, his breath hot against her face and none too pleasant. "Come now, Dr. Jackson," he replied, "you know as well as I do that I can go pretty much anywhere in the galaxy."
Daniel's eyes widened. "You want to go through the Stargate?"
"Very astute," Mayborne replied. "I still have a few friends out there."
"I find that hard to believe," Daniel retorted.
Taking a step forward, Mayborne tried to nudge Sam into motion. "I won't help you," she insisted, resisting him.
But he just jammed the gun more firmly against the side of her head and said, "Would you rather see your brains on the floor, Major?" He pushed harder against her back and they took a couple of stumbling steps forward. "Doctor Jackson," he called, "get away from the DHD." Daniel frowned, glancing at Teal'c and back to Mayborne, but not moving. Next to her ear, Sam heard the safety click off. "Do it!" Mayborne yelled, shoving Sam's head sharply to one side with the pressure of the gun
"Okay!" Daniel replied hurriedly, raising his hands slightly and taking a couple of steps away from the DHD.
"Now get down on the floor," Mayborne barked, turning towards Teal'c who stood much closer, watching them darkly. "You too," he said, "go lie down next to Jackson."
"If you harm Major Carter," Teal'c warned him quietly. "You will die."
"Oh spare me the empty threats, Teal'c," Mayborne hissed. "And get down on the floor or she dies, right now."
"Teal'c," Sam choked, "don't let him...argh!" His arm yanked violently against her neck, crushing her against him. The gun pressed against her head started to shake.
"Don't tempt me, Samantha," he warned in a furious voice. "Because I'm *this* close to snapping." Sam tried to pull his arm away from her throat, but despite his frail appearance the muscles were like iron and her fingers scrabbled uselessly against his grip. "Do you know what they did to me?" he suddenly hissed in her ear. "How they tortured me when you murdered Hakraa? They thought I was your accomplice!" He laughed, almost wildly. "Pretty damn ironic, don't you think?"
"That's what you get," Sam gasped, "when you deal with the Devil."
"I was trying to defend the planet!" he exclaimed. "Hakraa would have given us what we needed if you'd only cooperated."
"Cooperated!" Sam choked. "By becoming a host?!" Damn, the man was deluded! But deluded or not, she could feel the heat of his anger burning into her through his vice-like grip and fear closed cold fingers around her heart; he wanted her dead, she had no doubt.
"Ships, technology," he hissed, pushing her another couple of steps towards the DHD. "We could have defended ourselves properly, instead of groveling under the table for crumbs dropped by the Asgard and the Tok'ra!"
"You're wrong," Sam told him, her voice fading as the edges of her vision started to gray out, "she'd have killed you once she had what she needed."
His grip tightened further. "We had a *deal*," he hissed. "A deal that *you* screwed up."
Teal'c was watching them, still having made no move towards where Daniel now knelt on the ground, and Mayborne's attention flicked back to him. "I said get down!" he shouted.
"I cannot let you pass," Teal'c insisted, his face as impassive as granite.
"I'll kill her!" Mayborne growled. "I've been dreaming of killing her for months now."
"If you kill her," Teal'c told him. "Then I will kill you. But I cannot let you pass."
Dimly Sam felt a swell of pride at Teal'c's resistance, even as she started to go dizzy with lack of air. Better dead than red, right, she though woozily. Better dead than a host. Better dead than...
Behind her, she heard a gun being cocked. "Let her go, Mayborne." A voice close behind her penetrated the fog closing in over her mind. It sounded like.... "I said, let her go." Jack!
Mayborne turned, startled and his grip around her throat loosened enough for Sam to suck in a lung-full of air. It was all she needed. Making the most of Mayborne's momentary distraction, she swiveled, grabbed the arm that held the gun and pulled down hard as she brought up her knee, slamming his wrist against her leg and jarring the weapon from his hand.
He cursed and scrabbled to reach it, but a deft kick to his gut with her booted foot sent him sprawling on the floor, gasping for air. Teal'c was on him in a moment, yanking his hands behind his back and hauling him to his knees.
But Sam had no time to watch as she turned around and saw the Colonel standing before her, swaying giddily on his feet, his gun hanging loosely from his good hand. His face was ashen, but he managed a weak smile. "Carter," he murmured before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his knees gave way, and he pitched towards her. Sam only just managed to keep his dead weight from dragging them both to the ground as she caught hold of him. But then Daniel was at her side, and together they lowered Jack gently to the ground.
"Sir," Sam called, touching her fingers to his neck. His pulse was still there, though it fluttered rapidly under her fingertips.
"How the hell did he do that?" Daniel asked quietly. "I thought he was totally out of it."
Sam just shook her head. "I have no idea," she breathed, unable to quell the affectionate pride she felt as she looked at his pale face. "He's full of surprises."
"Major Carter," Teal'c called then, drawing both her and Daniel's attention away from Jack. "I believe it is time to return to base."
"Yeah," Sam nodded gratefully. "Let's go home."
***
SG-6 and SG-3 stood ready in the gate room, kitted up, armed and ready to go. Standing next to General Hammond in the control room, Janet watched them through the window, feeling slightly queasy.
Hammond nodded towards Lieutenant Fisher. "Dial it up."
"Yes, sir," Fisher replied, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.
"Chevron one encoded," he reported, eyes fixed on the screen as beyond the window the Stargate began to spin. "Chevron one locked."
Janet's team was standing by in the infirmary, although she knew it could be hours, even days, before the search and rescue teams made it back. Nonetheless, she had everything ready for as many different traumas as she could think of. And as she watched the gate spinning she started to run through her mental checklist....
"Chevron two enc...." Suddenly, without warning, the Stargate splashed open and the iris spiraled shut, cutting off the shimmering glow. "Someone dialed in, sir," Fisher announced, scanning the screen before him.
"SG-1?" Hammond asked, sounding as tense as Janet felt, his fingers clasping each other so tightly behind his back that they were turning white.
Janet held her breath as she waited for the Lieutenant's reply. "We're receiving a transmission, sir," he said at last. And then, after an agonizing pause, "It's SG-1's GDO code."
"Open the iris!" Hammond barked, as Janet reached for the microphone.
"Med-team to the gate room, stat," she ordered and headed for the door, General Hammond close on her heels.
As she ran into the gate room she was just in time to see Teal'c emerge from the gate, pushing before him a man who must have been Mayborne, although his thin, wiry frame bore little resemblance to the man she had known. But Teal'c was in one piece at least, and Janet felt a momentary easing of the tension in her neck.
But then the wormhole shimmered again and all her foreboding returned as she saw Sam and Daniel stagger out, with O'Neill sagging between them. Behind her she heard her med-team arrive, but didn't turn around as she rushed up the ramp to where Sam and Daniel were easing the Colonel to the floor.
"What happened?" she asked immediately, crouching down at his side. A brief touch of her hand to his face told her he was fevered, and the pallor of his skin was far from encouraging.
"Something bit him," Daniel told her.
"His hand," added Sam.
When she saw his left hand, puffed and dark with infection, Janet had to bite back the curse that came to her lips. Turning it over she peeled off the inadequate dressing. The skin beneath it was blackened and her stomach clenched tightly. "How long?" she asked, aware of the strain in her voice.
"Since he was bitten?" Sam asked. Janet nodded. "About thirty-six hours."
Shit. "I wish you could've gotten him back sooner," she muttered, standing up. "Phillips!" she called. "Bring the gurney up here."
"Why?" Sam asked quietly, still crouching at O'Neill's side. "What do you mean?"
"It's a bad infection," was all Janet was prepared to say. "I need to start treating him right now."
As Phillips and Jameson reached them with the gurney and lifted O'Neill onto the narrow bed, Janet turned to Sam. "What about the rest of you?" she asked. "Anything I should know about?"
Sam shook her head. "Just a couple of cuts and bruises," she assured her, but her gaze was distracted as she watched the Colonel from over Janet's shoulder. Her face tightened oddly and she said, "He's awake."
"Let's get him to the infirmary," Janet snapped, but as they started wheeling the gurney down the ramp, O'Neill reached out his good hand towards Sam.
"Carter," he croaked.
"Here, sir," she replied, pushing her way to his side and keeping pace with the rapidly moving gurney. "We made it."
He nodded slightly, but he was obviously barely conscious. "Mayborne?"
"Teal'c's got him, sir."
O'Neill closed his eyes for a moment, and his hand reached up and grasped weakly at Sam's wrist. "Carter," he breathed as they reached the doors to the gate room, "tell Sara...."
Sam's face froze for a moment, her jaw tensed, but her voice was gentle as she said, "Tell her what?"
"Tell her what happened.... Tell her I'm sorry."
"Yes, sir," came her reply, so quiet it was almost a whisper. And then his hand dropped from her wrist, landing with a thud by his side.
Sara? His ex-wife? Janet couldn't help casting a curious glance at Sam, who only shrugged slightly in response. But there was no time to ponder the curious conversation. Putting a hand on Sam's shoulder, to halt her as Phillips and Jameson wheeled O'Neill swiftly towards the infirmary, Janet said, "Sam, hit the showers. I'm going to be with the Colonel for a while, so your physicals can wait."
"Is he going to be okay?" Daniel asked, coming to stand at Sam's side as he gazed after the medics.
"I hope so," Janet replied.
His sharp eyes snapped back to her face. "You don't *know* so?"
"He looks like he's in bad shape," she admitted honestly. "But I can't tell you anything for sure until I've examined him. Come by when you've cleaned up and I should be able to tell you more."
"Okay," Daniel agreed with obvious reluctance while Sam just nodded mutely.
Giving her friend's shoulder a comforting squeeze, Janet turned away and trotted back towards the infirmary. And even though her mind was spinning with the problem of O'Neill, one little corner of it couldn't help but wonder...Sara?
***
Sam stood motionless in the shower, letting the hot water blast away the sweat and the grime that had accumulated over the past three days. Half of her mind was screaming at her to hurry and get down to the infirmary - she hadn't needed Janet's grim expression to tell her that Jack's condition was serious. But the other half of her mind felt oddly numb, as if paralyzed by the words that circled relentlessly inside her head. First, Janet's - 'I wish you could've gotten him home sooner.' And then Jack's - 'Tell Sara what happened... Tell her I'm sorry.'
Guilt chased Janet's words. She *could* have gotten him home sooner, a whole twenty-four hours sooner, probably. Had she endangered his life by insisting on completing the mission? If she had, if he didn't make it...? Her throat choked in a spasm of fear and she rested her head against the cool tiles of the shower stall until the panic had passed. He was going to be fine. Jack O'Neill was always fine. He'd survived way too much to be killed off by a damn bug bite! He was going to be fine and back at work within a couple of weeks. Which brought his words back to the forefront of her mind. Sara. 'Tell her I'm sorry.' Sorry for what, Sam wondered. For Charlie? For the end of their marriage? Or for something else, something more recent...?
She reached for the shampoo and started to mechanically work it through her hair. The truth was, she realized, that something had ended during this mission. And the pain of that loss was deep and raw. She couldn't ignore the fact that, despite everything that had happened between them, Sara was the name on his lips. Sara was the one he'd wanted, the one he'd thought about. Not her. It had been the same all those years ago in Antarctica, and she'd been fooling herself to think that his feelings had changed. She could only ever be second best, and for Sam Carter being second best was intolerable. So, she'd have to content herself with being his best second-in-command, because she was taking herself out of the running for anything else. Regulations aside, she knew for sure that her relationship with Colonel O'Neill would never again cross the line between professional and personal. But the loss of the vague hope, the unspoken promise that somewhere down the line things might change between them, left her bereft. Hope was over, entirely over.
Ducking her head back under the shower she let the soap cascade over her body as the water washed her clean, and then woodenly turned off the faucet, grabbed her towel and padded over to her locker. But as she dried herself off her hand brushed against the golden necklace Jack had given her, and the simple touch cut her to the quick. 'Eternal love and loyalty' the necklace had promised, but now those unspoken words seemed hollow and dusty. Had he truly meant them at the time, she wondered, or had he been deceiving himself as much as her? The answer didn't matter, she decided. Whatever his intentions then, the past day and a half had revealed the truth. Tears pricked behind her eyes but she gave them no quarter as she deliberately raised her hands and unclasped the chain. It pooled in her palm and she gazed at it for a long time, before thrusting it into the pocket of her jacket where it lay draped over the bench. It was over, she reminded herself as the pain grew increasingly intense; trinkets and keepsakes would do her no good. It was over.
She dressed efficiently then, half her mind still urging her to hurry, and with her hair still damp Sam left the locker-room and headed for the infirmary.
Daniel met her halfway there, a coffee in each hand. "Here," he said, offering her one which she took with a nod of thanks.
"How's the Colonel?" she asked, her concern for him starting to shake her free from her personal disappointment.
"Janet was still examining him when I got there, so I thought I'd come and grab these while I waited."
Sam nodded. "He's gonna be okay," she said, taking a sip of her coffee and grimacing. It tasted like ashes.
"Sure," Daniel replied, with way too much confidence to be genuine.
She glanced over at him and their eyes met. "If he's not," she said quietly, "it'll be my fault."
Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Why?"
"For not getting him back sooner - for risking him to get Mayborne."
"Well," Daniel said, looking slightly uncomfortable, "maybe we should just wait and see what Janet says?"
Nodding, Sam looked away, unable to meet the truth in Daniel's eyes. He couldn't deny her assertion, and she couldn't blame him because it was the truth. She'd taken a risk, and Jack's life could be the forfeit.
A light touch on her arm roused her and she realized that they stood before the infirmary. "Come on," Daniel said, "let's go see Jack."
"Yeah," Sam replied, her voice almost a whisper. "Lets."
***
Well, they hadn't seen Jack, much to Daniel's frustration. What they'd seen was an almost deserted infirmary. Daniel had at last found a nurse who'd told them that Jack had just been taken into surgery and that they should wait outside, as Janet had forbidden any observers.
And so they'd waited. And so they waited still.
Teal'c had joined them soon after their vigil began, and the three of them sat in silence on the hard, uncomfortable plastic chairs in the corridor outside the OR.
"What the hell are they doing in there?" Sam asked, for probably the tenth time. She sat opposite Daniel, her elbows resting on her knees and her head in her hands.
Since Daniel had no answer, he remained silent. Teal'c, however, felt the need to comment. "As soon as there is any news, Major Carter, we will be informed."
Sam grimaced at the reassurance, her hands tightening into fists until she abruptly got to her feet and stalked towards the door to the observation area. "I've had enough of this," she growled.
"Sam," Daniel warned, also getting to his feet. "We shouldn't distract them from what they're doing."
She stopped at his words and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "It's been almost two hours!" she said hotly. "They have to tell us something."
"They will," Daniel assured her, coming up and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, let's go get a coffee...."
"I'm sick of coffee," Sam snapped, turning to him with a bleak expression on her face. "Daniel...what if...?" she began, and he saw tears glimmering in her eyes.
"It won't," he interrupted, cutting her of before she could say it. He didn't want to hear it. "It won't happen. Jack's gonna be fine."
Sam nodded, trying to get herself back under control, but he could see that it was a struggle. And he couldn't help her; his own emotions were in danger of overpowering his self-control and he had nothing to spare for Sam.
"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said then, an oddly tense note in his voice instantly drawing Daniel's attention. He glanced over at Teal'c and saw Janet standing next to him.
"Janet!" Sam exclaimed instantly, rushing towards the doctor. "Is he okay? What happened? Why was he in...?"
Fraiser raised her hand to halt the torrent of questions. "Sam," she said, "wait." Her face was grim and Daniel felt his heart falter when he saw the tight set of her jaw and the slightly haunted look in her dark eyes. "Let's just sit down for a moment," she said quietly.
"Oh God," Sam gasped, her hands pressed over her mouth, and her eyes wide with shock.
"No," Janet said hurriedly, taking hold of Sam's arm and easing her into a chair. "It's not what you think, Sam. The Colonel's still with us. He's going be.... he's going to recover. But...," she sighed, "but there is some bad news, I'm afraid."
Sam's head had sunk into her trembling hands and she said nothing.
"Bad news?" Daniel asked.
Keeping one hand on Sam's back, stroking her slightly, Janet nodded. "Colonel O'Neill's hand was badly infected - from what we can tell, whatever stung him injected some kind of necrotizing bacteria into the wound. A sizable part of his hand had already necrotized...."
"Doctor Fraiser," Teal'c interrupted. "I do not understand - necrotized?"
"Died, Teal'c," she told him. "The bacteria was killing off the cells in his hand beyond the power of his body to repair it."
Sam shifted under Janet's touch and raised her head. "What did you do?" she asked, although from the distraught look on her face Daniel suspected she had reached the same conclusion that was slamming into his mind.
"We had to amputate his hand, Sam. I'm sorry, but there was no way we could save it and the infection was spreading too rapidly to risk trying a less drastic treatment. He could have died."
Sam's eyes squeezed shut and her head sank back into her hands. She said nothing, but Daniel could practically see the guilt emanating from every taut muscle. For his own part, he felt quite numb. Jack wasn't dead, and for that he was deeply, deeply thankful. But yet, in a way, Jack was gone. He was out of the Air Force without question, and SG-1 had lost its leader as effectively as if he lay dead in the infirmary. And Jack...? Daniel shuddered to think how he'd cope with being thrown off the Stargate program. It had been his life, his family for the past four years - it had saved him from himself after the death of his son - and he'd lost it all.
"Does he know?" Sam whispered through her hands.
"Not yet," Janet replied gently. "He's not conscious yet, and probably won't be for a few hours."
Sam nodded, pulled her hands from her face and sat up. Daniel was surprised not to see tears in her eyes, but they were dry and her face was set grimly as she abruptly stood up.
"You can sit with him, if you like," Janet told them all, although her eyes were on Sam as she spoke.
But Sam shook her head. "No," she said, "I have something I need to do first. I'll come back later."
"Sam?" Daniel asked, getting to his feet. Something to do? What the hell was more important than this? "Can't it wait?"
She shook her head again and swallowed hard. "No," she replied quietly. "The Colonel asked me to contact his wife...his ex-wife. I should do that now."
Daniel winced at the sudden flash of pain he saw in Sam's eyes and wondered what the hell was going on. He didn't dare ask. But Janet was less circumspect.
"I didn't realize they were still in touch," she said, fixing Sam with a curious look.
"Neither did I," Sam replied in a small voice, and then shrugged a little. "But there's no reason why we should, is there? The Colonel keeps himself to himself, pretty much."
Janet's eyes widened, but she just nodded. "Um, okay. Well, if you're going to contact her, Sam," she said, "you can tell her that he'll be transferred to the Academy Military Hospital in a day or two, so she can visit him there."
"Thanks," Sam replied, without even the ghost of a smile, and then turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving the rest of them standing in a numb silence.
At last Teal'c spoke. "Today is a dark day for the SGC," he observed solemnly. "Colonel O'Neill's presence here will be sorely missed."
Daniel just shook his head and sat down heavily on one of the plastic chairs. "I can't believe it," he murmured. "I can't believe we've lost him."
***
Sam sat in her office, staring at the telephone for at least half an hour. The number she needed to call was scrawled on a post-it note and stuck to the desk. General Hammond had retrieved it from Jack's next-of-kin file and given it to her without question, so now all she had to do was dial. And yet she hesitated.
She'd seen Sara once, years ago, at the hospital where the crystalline entity impersonating Jack had ended up. She'd seemed...nice. Sam hadn't really been paying a whole lot of attention, but she remembered being surprised that Sara had seemed so...ordinary. So grounded and down to earth, very different from the mercurial O'Neill.
And now here she was, over three years later, having to call her and tell her that her husband - ex-husband, or whatever they were now - had almost died. And that his career was over for good. Her heart lurched and her mind shied away from the thought. She couldn't deal with all the implications of that, not right now. The guilt was too overwhelming and if she stopped to think about it she knew that it would crush her. So she kept going, kept not thinking and just doing.
Picking up the phone, her finger only shook slightly as she dialed. The phone gave three shrill rings before someone picked up.
"Hello?" a woman's voice said and Sam's stomach knotted.
"Is that Sara O'Neill?" she asked, at least managing to sound professional.
There was a pause before the woman answered. "Yes it is. Who am I talking to?"
"My name's Major Samantha Carter, Ma'am," she replied with perfect military courtesy. "I'm calling regarding Colonel O'Neill."
Another pause. And then, in a quieter voice, "What's happened to him?"
"I'm afraid the Colonel's been injured," Sam said, picking up a pen and starting to doodle nervously on the post-it note. "He..." she faltered and silently cursed herself. "He asked me to contact you and tell you what had happened. And...and he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry - he didn't really say what for, but...."
"It's okay," Sara assured her. "I know what for." She was silent again and then, in a strangely detached voice she asked, "Is he going to be okay?"
"Yes, pretty much," said Sam, and then added, "but, um, you should probably come to the hospital."
Sara sighed a small, resigned sigh. "Which hospital?"
"The Academy Military Hospital," Sam told her. "But he's...elsewhere right now. He'll be transferred there in a couple of days."
"I see," said Sara, not sounding remotely surprised and obviously unfazed by military secrecy. "Then perhaps you could give him a message for me, Major Carter?"
"Of course."
"Tell him it's okay. That I guessed something unavoidable had come up and that I know he'd have been there if he could."
"I'll tell him," Sam promised.
"Thank you," said Sara. "And thank you for calling, Major Carter. I'm glad he's going to be okay."
"Yeah, me too," she replied with a good deal more feeling than she'd intended.
Sara made a sound. It could have been a laugh, or maybe a sigh. "God," she said, "I haven't missed these phone calls over the past few years."
"Oh?" Sam muttered, not quite sure what to say.
"The ones telling me Jack's hurt, or missing, or hurt and missing," she explained with a dry humor that surprised Sam. "Tell him I'll stop by and see him soon," she said then. "And thanks again for calling, Major."
"You're welcome," Sam told her.
"Okay. Well, goodbye."
"Goodbye," Sam muttered before the phone clicked and started buzzing in her ear.
She let out a long breath and replaced the handset, not sure what to make of the conversation.
***
Daniel and Teal'c were still in the infirmary when Sam eventually returned, her feet dragging reluctantly as she entered the room and stopping entirely when she saw Jack lying still and silent, his left arm dressed and his hand...gone. She swallowed hard at the sight, her eyes torn between flinching away and staring in horrified fascination. She'd done this to him. She'd destroyed his career, his life. Her decision. Her mistake.
It was all she could do to keep from running from the room, but duty held her there and forced her to walk slowly towards the bed where he lay. Daniel heard her approach and glanced over his shoulder, giving her a curious look. "You okay?" he asked, although he looked so bleak that she felt as if she should be asking the same of him.
"Not really," she replied.
"No," Daniel said, turning back to Jack. "Dumb question."
"How is he?" Sam asked as she reached Jack's bedside.
"Janet said he's recovering now that the source of the infection is...gone," he said, wincing slightly at the last word. "But he's still out cold from the anaesthetic."
Sam just nodded and they fell into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After a couple of minutes Daniel stirred and ran a hand through his hair. "At least it's not his right hand," he muttered, as if engaged in a silent conversation with himself.
Teal'c glanced at him. "Why is that significant?"
Daniel shrugged. "Well, you know - you use your right hand more, don't you."
"I do not," Teal'c replied.
"Well," Daniel sighed, "Jack does - humans do. Mostly."
Sam paid little attention to their conversation, her gaze riveted on Jack. He looked older, she thought, lying there. His gray hair and colorless lips seemed to drain the life from his features, and without his dark, vibrant eyes to bring warmth to his face he looked old and cold. He barely looked like himself at all. And she wondered if he ever would again, once he knew what had happened. What she'd done. 'I'm sorry,' she told him silently, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. 'I'm so sorry, Jack.'
A gentle touch on her arm reminded her that Daniel still stood at her side. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested. "Teal'c and I are just going to the cafeteria - is there anything you want? A sandwich?"
"No," Sam muttered, the thought of food turning her stomach. "Thanks."
Daniel squeezed her arm slightly as she sank down onto the plastic chair, before he and Teal'c quietly left her alone with Jack. Their departure was not accidental, she knew, and she was grateful for the time. In a way she felt as though she was saying goodbye. Not only had she realized that Sara was still first in his heart, but now she'd lost him as her CO too. Even if he could forgive her for what had happened, she knew that they would see little of each other from now on. Jack was out of the SGC, and so out of her life for good.
Reaching out, she traced a finger lightly over the back of his hand. "I'll miss you, Jack," she whispered. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
***
"Janet!" Sam's urgent call jolted Janet to her feet in an instant. There was something like panic in her voice.
Rushing out of her office and into the infirmary she saw Sam alone at Jack's bedside, standing there looking over at her with dread in her too-wide eyes. For a horrible moment Janet feared some kind of complication with the surgery, but as she hurried forward Sam said, "He's awake, Janet. He said his hand hurts." Her voice was shaking and Janet understood why; she didn't want to have to be the one to tell him.
Sure enough, O'Neill's head turned towards her and he blinked bleary eyes and whispered, "Hey, Doc."
Taking a deep breath, Janet said, "Sam, would you wait outside for a moment?"
Despite her obvious dread of the coming conversation, Sam hesitated. "I...maybe I should...?"
"Just give us a couple of minutes," Janet suggested, knowing that this would be easier one-to-one. Not that the Colonel was likely to remember this conversation anyhow, but it was always best to start with the truth.
As Sam backed away, Janet drew a stool up close to Jack's bed and sat down. "How do you feel?" she asked him.
"Like crap," he grumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open. "My hand hurts like hell."
Janet nodded. "I'll give you something for the pain," she told him. "But it'll make you sleepy."
"Good," he sighed. "I could do with a lie in."
She smiled slightly and then said, "Colonel, there's something you need to know."
Jack's eyes struggled open again. "What?" he asked. "My team...?"
"They're all fine," she assured him. "This is about you."
"Oh."
"Your hand was badly infected, Jack," she said, dropping his rank. "The infection was starting to spread into your arm and we had no way to treat it. It would have killed you, so we had no choice but to amputate your hand."
He just started at her for a long moment, and then shook his head. "Bullshit," he muttered. "I can feel it. It hurts."
"That's not uncommon," she told him. "We call it phantom pain."
"No," Jack breathed, closing his eyes. "This isn't real...just a dream. Just a dream."
Janet laid her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but this is real. You've lost your hand, sir."
He shook his head. "Just a dream," he mumbled, drifting gradually back into sleep. "Just a dream."
It was only when Janet heard the stifled gasp from the doorway that she realized that Sam was still there, watching the scene with dismay. Their eyes met. "Janet," Sam choked, one hand over her mouth, "this is my fault."
"No," Janet assured her, rising to her feet.
"It is," Sam insisted. "I could have brought him back yesterday."
Oh. Crap. "Why didn't you?" she asked quietly.
"Because of the mission," Sam explained, increasingly distraught. "Because I didn't want anyone to think I'd abandoned the mission for...the wrong reason."
Janet closed her eyes for a moment. The wrong reason was, of course, Jack and the feelings she knew her friend had for him. "I see," was all she said, and then, because she knew Sam was too smart to tolerate anything but the truth, she added, "well, you might be right. If you'd brought him back twenty-four hours ago I might have been able to save his hand. Or I might not. There's no way to know how the alien bacteria would have responded to our antibiotics."
"But he'd have had a better chance," Sam pressed.
"Maybe," Janet replied. "But Sam, it's done now. The best thing you can do is try to help him move on from this...his life isn't over, only his Air Force career." She watched Sam as she spoke, wondering if she'd be able to see past her grief and remorse to the silver lining that was so obviously shining around the storm clouds.
But Sam's face was suddenly closed to her, as if shutters had slammed down over her eyes. "I guess so," was all she said, but her tone was dull and told Janet nothing.
"Why don't you get some rest?" she suggested. "You look exhausted, and Colonel O'Neill will probably sleep most of the night anyway."
Sam nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Sure." And with one final, serious look at Jack, she turned on her heel and left. Janet sighed, not sure who deserved her sympathy more, Sam or O'Neill.
The Academy Military Hospital sucked, Jack decided. He'd been there over a week already and was bored out of his mind. At least, when he was awake he was bored. But he was still so pumped full of drugs that most of the day passed in a blurry haze punctuated by occasional visitors and bouts of irrational anger.
Even now, a week later, when he glanced down at the bandaged stump that used to be his left hand, he had to look away. He couldn't bear to imagine what was under those bandages, although he'd been around enough battlefields in his life to have a pretty damn accurate picture. Not that it had bothered him then. But seeing his own arm so damaged and altered was more than disconcerting; it was downright horrifying. He hated it. He absolutely hated it.
And what made it worse, what really grated against his pride, was *how* it had happened. No glorious act of heroism, no saving the planet; he'd ended his career pulling Mayborne out of a Goa'uld- infested jungle and had lost his hand to a goddamn bug bite. A bug bite! It was so... undignified.
He and Daniel had actually spent a couple of hours the previous day inventing stories he could spin to impress the women - crocodiles, man-eating sharks, that kind of thing. Although they both knew that the only woman he was interesting in impressing was very well acquainted with the truth. So well, in fact, that she was apparently skulking around the SGC in a morass of guilt that no one could penetrate. She'd only come to visit him once, and even that visit had been short and unusually tense.
"I spoke to Sara," Sam had told him abruptly, standing awkwardly at his bedside.
"Sara?" he'd asked, somewhat perplexed. "Why?"
She'd looked distinctly uncomfortable and had avoided looking at him as she said, "Because you asked me to, sir. You asked me to tell her what had happened, and to tell her that you were sorry."
He'd winced, having no memory whatsoever of putting Sam in such an awkward position. "Sorry, Carter," he'd said, and her face had frozen a little further. "I didn't really know what the hell I was saying...."
"It's not a problem, sir," she'd assured him with a false smile. "Sara told me to tell you that it's okay, and that she knew you'd have been there if you could."
He'd nodded at that, imagining the resigned disappointment on Sara's face as she'd waited in vain for him at the cemetery. The one day in the year he actually had to *be* somewhere, and he'd blown it - stuck in a goddamn jungle with Mayborne and flesh-eating mosquitoes. It was typical of his god-awful luck. And it was typical of Sara's patience that she understood. But, he mused, she'd had a whole decade to get used to that kind of disappointment.
His mind drifted from Sara back to Sam. He knew she felt guilty about going after Mayborne instead of getting him back home, but however forcefully he'd told her that she'd made the right decision, she stubbornly refused to be reassured. Which wasn't like her. Carter was usually a lot more rational. He almost suspected that there was something else going on besides her guilt, but he had no idea what it could be and she had seemed too remote to ask during her short, uncomfortable visit.
Jack sighed and glanced at the glass of water standing on the tray nearby, wondering if he had the energy to try and reach it. He'd just decided yes when a tentative tap on his door distracted him. "It's open," he called, trying not to sound as weak as he felt.
The door opened and, to his utter astonishment, a familiar face poked around the edge. She smiled when she saw him and stepped into the room. "Jack," she said, shaking her head a little.
"Sara," he replied, nonplussed. "What are you doing here?"
She walked towards him, a dry smile twisting her lips. "I see you haven't lost any of your natural charm," she observed.
"I'm just a little surprised," he confessed, eyeing her strangely. "Not that it isn't a pleasure to see you, but...?"
"I had a call from one Major Samantha Carter," Sara explained. "She said I should come to the hospital."
Jack blinked. "Carter told you that?"
"She said you'd been hurt and that I.... Oh, Jack." The smile suddenly fell from her face and he realized that her eyes were on his left hand...or lack thereof.
He shifted self-consciously under her shocked gaze. "Yeah," he said, not quite looking at her, afraid of what he might see in her face, "they got me good this time."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said.
He shrugged, doing his best to sound nonchalant. "Yeah, well, these things happen."
"No they don't," she snapped irritably. "And you know it. Please Jack, don't give me any of that stone-faced military bravado. I never bought it."
"Hey," he bristled, "I didn't ask you to come here."
She was silent. He was silent. And then the door opened. "Sir? Oh...I'm sorry." It was Sam.
His heart skipped slightly at the sound of her voice. "Carter!" he called, unable to keep the smile from his face despite the oddly disconcerting experience of having both her and Sara in the same room together. "Um...this is...Sara. My wife...ex-wife," he hurriedly corrected, giving Sara an apologetic smile.
"Major Carter?" Sara said, turning around.
Sam stepped further into the room, although Jack thought she looked like she was about to bolt. "Yes," she nodded. "We spoke on the phone last week."
Sara smiled. "It's nice to meet you. You, ah, you work with Jack?"
"We're on the same team," Sam replied, and then frowned. "That is, we were. Before the Colonel was...." Her gaze dropped to the floor, and Jack could see the weight of her guilt pressing down on her shoulders. It made him want to shake her! It's not your fault! But he couldn't say anything with Sara there; this was private, between himself and Sam.
"Right," Sara said, sensing the tension and diplomatically diverting the subject. "I brought you something, Jack," she said, turning back towards him and rummaging in her bag.
"Sir?" Sam said from the doorway.
Jack looked up, but her eyes just missed his. "What?"
"I'm gonna go see Janet," she said, edging out of the room. "I'll stop by before I go home."
"Okay," he shrugged, hoping his disappointment wasn't too obvious. "Sure."
Sam nodded once. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. O'Neill," she said, and then left without a backward glance, pulling the door shut behind her. Jack watched her go with regret, wishing there was something more he could do to ease her guilt.
When he returned his attention to Sara she was watching him with a speculative look, but she made no comment, just handed him a yo-yo and said, "I know how bored you get."
He chuckled as he took it from her hand. "Thanks," he told her. "But you didn't need to."
"I know," she replied. And then she sighed and shook her head sadly, "I always figured something like this would happen, Jack."
He grimaced, awkward with her sympathy. "It could be worse," he told her.
"Well, I guess you could be dead," she agreed.
He looked at her then, taking in the once-familiar features, changed subtly by time and grief, and said, "What I mean is, I've lost more important things than this."
She held his gaze for a long moment, before looking away. "I suppose so."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there last week," he said then, and she nodded.
"I know. It's okay, really."
Glancing down at his hand as his fingers twisted in the blanket as he said, "I hate to think of you waiting there alone...."
"I wasn't," Sara told him quietly, almost tentatively. "Anthony was with me."
His breath caught in his chest for a moment, a small blow and yet a significant one. "Anthony?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his fingers.
"He's a...friend," she said. "Well, more than a friend. We're...you know, seeing each other. He's my...I don't know what the hell you call it at our age."
Jack chuckled slightly. "Not boyfriend, at any rate."
"No," Sara agreed. "Definitely not that."
He looked up into her face and smiled a little. "I'm glad you weren't alone," he said.
"He didn't come with me to see Charlie," she assured him. "I didn't feel right about that. I don't know why, it's probably stupid, but I just...it didn't feel right."
Jack nodded. "Yeah, I understand."
They fell into another long silence, until Sara said, "So, how about you? Do you have a...?" She floundered for the right word, and Jack used the opportunity to jump in.
"No," he told her quickly. "No I don't." He smiled so that she didn't feel awkward. "Too busy working, you know?"
"Right," she nodded, and then glancing at his hand she said, "but I guess that's going to change now."
He followed her gaze to the wreck of his left arm and sighed, "Yeah, I guess so." She was right, a lot of things were going to change. And despite the turmoil of anger and loss his injury had created, he wasn't blind to the fact that he was no longer Sam's CO; the regulations forbidding the development of their relationship no longer held any power over them. What he didn't know was what, if anything, that meant. In fact, the thought was strangely frightening. There was nothing to hide behind any more and he felt far too exposed.
"Jack?" Sara's voice interrupted his thoughts, and she was obviously repeating herself. "Are you okay? You look tired."
"I guess I am," he confessed, not wanting to admit the true path of his thoughts. "They're pumping me full of God-knows-what and I can't seem to stay awake for long."
"Then you should sleep," she told him. "I'll go."
"Thanks for stopping by," he said, watching her fondly. "You didn't have to."
"I know, but..." She shrugged, "I still care about you, Jack. You know I always will."
"Yeah," he nodded, "me too. And I, um, hope things work out with Anthony."
Sara smiled, but he thought he saw a hint of regret in her eyes. They *had* been great together once, but those days were long gone and they both knew it; their paths had diverged from the moment Charlie had died and they were different people now. "Take care of yourself, Jack," she said, bending down and kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I'll see you next year?"
He nodded. "For sure."
And with a final smile, she turned away and left him alone. For a long time he simply gazed out of the window into the sunny grounds of the hospital, watching the fall leaves drift slowly to the ground, until he realized that he really was tired and sank into bittersweet dreams of a past life he could never recover.
***
Although she spent most of her time at the SGC, Doctor Fraiser had the use of a small office at the Academy Hospital when necessary. And while O'Neill was in very capable hands, she felt a sort of personal obligation to keep an eye on his recovery, so had taken to spending the afternoons there, catching up on her paper work and overseeing the Colonel's treatment.
It wasn't a large office, just room for a desk and a couple of chairs, one of which was usually piled high with files. Today, however, Sam was lounging in the chair instead, gazing morosely out of the window as she sipped coffee from a plastic cup.
"Well," Janet said once the silence had stretched just a little too long, "much as I'm enjoying your company, Sam, I don't think you came all the way over here to drink bad coffee in my office."
"What?" Sam said, and then shook her head as if to clear it. "No, sorry Janet," she sighed, "I'm just...I don't know."
Resting her chin on her hands, Janet decided to get straight to the point, "Tell me to butt out if you want," she said, "but what the hell's going on with you and Colonel O'Neill?"
Sam stared for a moment before she said, "Nothing."
"Oh come on," Janet exclaimed, "it's me you're talking to...."
Sam just shook her head. "Nothing's going on, Janet."
"Well, then why are you sitting in here with me instead of sitting in there with him?" she asked pointedly. "He is the reason you're here, right?"
She frowned and looked down at her coffee, taking a hesitant sip. "He has company."
Really? Janet's curiosity was piqued. "Who?"
"His wife."
"Ex-wife," Janet corrected. "Unless there's something I don't know?"
Sam shrugged. "You know as much as I do," she assured her.
Judging from her friend's dour expression, Janet doubted that statement. Cautiously, she asked, "Do you think they're seeing each other again?"
"I don't know," Sam sighed irritably. "Maybe. He was asking for her the whole time we were on '850."
Janet flinched a little at that, and at Sam's evident frustration. But she felt she had to ask the obvious question, "Have you asked him about it?"
"No!" came Sam's wide-eyed reply. "Of course not."
"What do you mean, 'of course not'?"
Sam looked at her in disbelief. "I mean it's none of my business, Janet."
"Isn't it?"
"He's my CO," Sam said, looking away again. "His private life has got nothing to do with me."
"Good point," Janet conceded, "if he was still your CO. But he's not anymore, is he?"
Sam was silent, slouching lower in her chair as a dark expression crept over her face. "No he's not," she said. "Because of me. He says it's not my fault, but he's wrong. It was my decision. It's my fault."
Janet said nothing for a moment, weary of having this conversation with Sam. And then, reaching into her drawer she pulled out a thick file and dumped it with a thud onto her desk. Sam looked up and Janet said, "You know what this is?" When Sam shook her head she continued. "This is the medical file of Colonel Jonathan O'Neill, volume two."
Sam just stared. "So?"
"So," Janet said, "he did a damn dangerous job, Sam. It's a miracle he's still alive, to be honest. And I'm not just talking about the last four years. Jack was flirting with death and serious injury way back when you were still in High School - this thing," she said, slapping the top of the file, "is just a catalogue of one near miss after another. And you know what? If you really think this is your fault, then I say congratulations. You did the man a favor, because let's face it, he wasn't planning to stop until something out there killed him."
Sam's face had turned speculative, a faint light shining in the depths of her blue eyes. "I guess that's true," she agreed.
"I think you probably saved his life, Sam," Janet told her, seriously. "And while he's still young enough to live it properly."
"It's not what he wanted," Sam said quietly, her eyes still resting on Jack's file. "He wanted to keep fighting."
Janet shrugged. "I think he wanted other things too," she said more gently. "Things that weren't compatible with his sense of duty, or with war against the Goa'uld. But that's all changed. The war's over for him, Sam."
She nodded slowly, her eyes closing for a moment as she whispered, "What if what he wants is Sara?"
Janet's heart went out to her friend, but all she said was, "Why don't you ask him?"
"I don't know how."
"Why not?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "Because it's been so long since we really talked.... I don't know how he feels anymore, and I don't want to complicate things."
Janet laughed. "I think things are complicated already."
"Maybe," she agreed, crumpling her paper cup in her hand.
Janet watched her in silence for a moment before saying, "He's been worrying about you, you know. About whether you're still feeling guilty - and about why you haven't visited more."
Sam seemed genuinely surprised. "Really?"
"Really," Janet told her, picking up the heavy file and dropping it back into her desk. "I don't know what's going on with Sara," she said then, "but I know he cares about you, Sam. It's obvious."
Slowly, Sam stood up. "Thanks," she said thoughtfully, dropping her crumpled cup into the bin. "For the coffee."
Janet smiled. "Anytime," she said, glancing at her watch. "You'd better hurry," she said then, "visiting hours are almost over."
Giving her a tight smile, Sam nodded and headed for the door. "Thanks Janet," she repeated as she pushed it open, and then with a little nod she left.
As the door swung shut, Janet let her head sink into her hands. "It's like pulling teeth!" she muttered to herself.
***
By the time Sam reached Jack's room the afternoon was turning slowly into dusk and Jack was asleep. She walked quietly into the room and closed the door softly behind her, before approaching his bed. He looked better than the last time she'd visited; there was more color in his face and the tangle of tubes that had surrounded him then were reduced to one going into his bandaged left arm.
Looking at his damaged arm, his hand severed just above the wrist, she had to swallow hard against the bitter self-recrimination. But it was tempered by Janet's words. 'You did the man a favor, because let's face it, he wasn't planning to stop until something out there killed him.' Sam knew she was right. While he'd had a choice, duty had always come first. It had for his entire adult life, she was quite sure. But now she'd released him from his duty, whether he liked it or not.
With a sigh she sat down, elbows on knees, watching him. Perhaps she should come back tomorrow? Maybe now wasn't such a great time to try and tackle the tangle of emotions that both bound them together and held them apart? She could come back tomorrow, on her day off.
Jack shifted slightly in his sleep and mumbled something she couldn't make out. The night they'd returned from '850 Janet had told her to help him move on with his life, but sitting there watching him sleep, she wondered how she could do it. If Sara was the one he wanted, if she was back in his life somehow, Sam had no intention of pushing herself in the way. And yet the thought of seeing him with another woman was crushingly painful; could she still be his friend if friendship was all he wanted from her? Could she help him pick up the pieces of his life when he didn't want to share it with her in the way she wanted? Then again, how could she not? She was his friend, and whatever his feelings for Sara, she and Jack had forged a bond that couldn't be cast aside merely because of her personal disappointment. She had a duty to him as her friend as surely as she had a duty to him as her CO. And she couldn't abandon him now any more than she could have abandoned him in the field. If he needed her friendship, then she would give it to him as unstintingly as she'd given her trust and respect.
She stood up slowly, straightening her shoulders as she assumed her new duty. Never let it be said that Sam Carter ran away from something just because it was difficult, she thought wryly. And she knew this was going to be difficult. Glancing down at him, peaceful in sleep, she resisted the temptation to reach out and touch him, contenting herself with murmuring, "Goodnight, Colonel. Sleep well."
And then she turned and walked away, determined to have pulled herself together by the next day. 'I can be his friend,' she told herself as she strode down the empty corridor. 'I can be his friend. I can do it. I can.'
***
Daniel had got used to many things during his four years at the SGC: intergalactic travel, aliens, carrying a gun. Early mornings, however, were still problematic. His brain refused to respond much before ten o'clock, and he always felt as though he was functioning on half power. Today was no different, and the awful hospital coffee didn't help in the least as he slouched his way down the corridor towards Jack's room. Normally he wouldn't come visiting at this time of day, but he was due at the SGC by eight and would be off-world for a week after that, so he wanted to see Jack before he left.
Daniel opened the door to Jack's room quietly, doing his best not to spill the coffee as he peered inside. But there was no need for stealth; Jack was already awake and poking disconsolately at a tray of food in front of him.
"Hey," Daniel called as he stepped fully into the room.
Jack looked up and nodded his usual cursory greeting. "Daniel," he said, "a little early for you, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "I hope you're flattered."
A hint of a smile touched Jack's lips, but all he said was, "Does this look like egg to you?"
Peering at the plate on the tray, Daniel could honestly say, "I have no idea."
"The food here sucks," Jack told him, dropping the fork back onto his plate and looking up. "Did I mention that before?"
"A couple of times," Daniel nodded. "If you're hungry I could go get you something from the canteen? It's probably marginally better."
But Jack shook his head and pushed the tray away. "Don't bother," he said, waving Daniel towards a chair. "So, what brings you here this time of day?"
"To see how you're doing," Daniel told him, easing himself into the plastic chair and taking another sip of inadequate coffee. "I'm off- world with SG-6 for the next few days, so I thought I'd drop by on my way out."
"Off-world...?" Jack sighed, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he blew out a long, slow breath. "That's nice."
Daniel winced at his friend's obvious frustration. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "this must be hard."
"Ya think?"
Daniel was silent. Jack's career was over, there was no getting away from it, and any words of comfort would be meaningless. However.... "You know," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on Jack, "being here reminds me of visiting you in the infirmary, back at Christmas. Remember?"
The tension on Jack's face eased. "Janet sent me home early because of the paper airplanes," he said, smiling slightly.
"Yeah," Daniel nodded, remembering her irate lecture about the inappropriateness of his gift. "But I also remember what we talked about while I was there."
Jack's eyes shifted away and he started fiddling nervously with the edge of the blanket. "Hockey?" he asked hopefully.
"Sam," Daniel corrected.
"Oh."
Daniel frowned, unsure how to proceed. "Look," he said, "I don't want to tell you what to do here, but.... I'm thinking there's a silver-lining to all this."
Jack was silent, but Daniel could tell it was because he was trying to formulate his thoughts and so he held his tongue, waiting. "It's not that easy," Jack said at last, still fiddling edgily with the blanket.
"When's it ever easy?" Daniel asked.
Jack smiled again, glancing over with an oddly insecure expression on his face. "You think she'd be interested in a one-armed pensioner?"
"Do you really think she'd care about that?" Daniel countered.
Jack shrugged, and raised his left arm a little. "It's not exactly attractive," he muttered. "Even I don't like looking at it."
Shaking his head, Daniel leaned forward and pulled his glasses from his dry, early-morning eyes. "We're talking about Sam here," he said. "She's not that shallow."
"Maybe," he nodded, not sounding convinced, "but I haven't exactly seen much of her since I've been here so I can't help wondering if...."
"Come on, Jack," Daniel protested, refusing to let him get away with that sort of self-pity, "you know *exactly* why she's staying away." He paused, but Jack didn't speak so he spelled it out for him. "She thinks this is her fault. She feels terrible, Jack. She thinks she ended your career!"
"That's bullshit!" Jack snapped suddenly. "And I told her so. She did the right thing, and I don't blame her." He shook his head, running his fingers irritably through his hair. "She's military, Daniel. She understands how this works. Risk is part of the job."
"Just because you don't blame her, doesn't mean she doesn't blame herself," Daniel pointed out.
"No," Jack said, shaking his head in adamant refusal. "That's not it. That's not what's bugging her. Well, not entirely, anyway."
Daniel frowned, thinking back to the frozen expression on Sam's face when Jack had called out for Sara. But one glance at Jack's brooding expression told him that now wasn't a good time to broach the subject. Instead, he said, "So, have you asked her what's bugging her?"
"How can I?" Jack grumbled. "I never see her." His voice dropped and he added quietly, "She stopped by for about a minute yesterday. She said she'd come back later, but she never did."
Ouch. Jack's disappointment was tangible. "Maybe she was busy?" Daniel suggested, rather weakly. Hell, his mind really was still asleep. Busy...?
"Busy?" Jack echoed. "No, she wasn't busy. She was avoiding me."
Daniel sighed and glanced down at his watch. He had to get going soon, but hated to leave Jack like this. "Call her," he suggested suddenly. "She's not working today. Call her and ask her to come see you."
"I'm not gonna order her to visit me!" Jack exclaimed hotly. "For crying out loud, Daniel, I'm not that desperate."
Daniel chuckled as he stood up. "I was thinking more of 'inviting' her than 'ordering' her, Jack," he told him. "You know, like regular people do."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Is that what regular people do?"
Daniel wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or a genuine question. Either way, the answer was the same. "Yeah," he said, "they do. You should try it you know. You'd be surprised."
Jack nodded, still watching him, though his expression had turned thoughtful. "Do you think she'll come?" he asked quietly. "If I invite her?"
"It's Sam," Daniel told him simply. "Of course she'll come."
***
The radio in Sam's kitchen burbled a mixture of news and opinion as she poured herself a coffee and wondered slowly into the living room with the paper under one arm. Despite the emotional roller-coaster she was riding, she was determined to make the most of her day off and so had just spent an hour relaxing in the bath, and was about to spend at least another hour perusing the morning paper. She'd just settled herself in the corner of the sofa when the phone rang. Reaching down, she snagged it up from the floor just before the answer-phone picked up. "Hi, Sam Carter," she said, glancing at the headlines with one eye.
There was a long pause, and she was about to repeat herself when a voice said, "Hi, it's me. Jack."
Her heart did an unexpected somersault. Jack? "Sir, hi," she replied, sitting up straighter and closing her eyes against the strength of her reaction to his unexpected call.
Another pause. "Not 'sir', Carter. Jack."
"Sorry," she replied, swinging her legs around and sitting nervously on the edge of the sofa. "Is everything okay, si...Jack?"
"Fine," came the oddly apprehensive response. And then, after another pause, he said, "Look, Carter, I was wondering.... Fraiser said she'd actually let me out of this goddamn room this afternoon, to take a walk outside or something. But she won't let me go unless I have a responsible adult to make sure I don't faint in the flowerbeds." She heard him suck in a deep breath before he hurriedly added, "So I was wondering if, maybe, you might have time to, you know, come and...take a walk. Or something."
Sam couldn't help but smile at the long and rambling request, but her heart was at war with itself. Self-preservation warned her that she was only going to hurt herself further, but her sense of duty, honor and risk prompted her to say, "Okay."
"Okay," Jack repeated, sounding absurdly relived. "Okay! Cool. Well, come by any time. I'll be here."
"About thirteen-hundred okay?" she asked.
"Fine."
"Okay. See you then, sir....Jack"
"Yeah, great. Um, 'bye Carter....Sam."
"Bye."
And he hung up, leaving Sam sitting on the edge of the sofa wondering what the hell he'd just asked her to do. His nervous request had almost sounded like a date, but.... 'Just friends,' she reminded herself as she grabbed her coffee and headed into the bedroom. 'Just friends,' she repeated as she pulled open her closet and started considering what to wear. 'Just friends.'
***
It felt good to be out of bed. It felt good to be sitting in a chair. It felt good to be wearing something other than the hospital gown.
But looking down at the bandaged stump of his arm, protruding slightly from the sleeve of his sweater, didn't feel good. In fact, his gaze slid reflexively away from it each time he happened to glance in that direction. To his own eyes it was grotesque, and he dreaded seeing that same feeling in Sam's face when she looked at him.
"It's actually healing quite well," Fraiser told him as she looped a sling over his shoulder. "You won't need the sling for long, but for a couple of days I'd like to keep your arm elevated while you're up and about."
Jack shrugged. "Doesn't bother me," he told her morosely. "There's not much I can do with it even out of a sling."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," she said, lifting his arm gently and fastening the sling in place. "Prosthetic limbs can be...."
"Ah!" he warned her, holding up his hand to stop her. Prosthetic limbs? Please. "I don't want to hear it."
Janet just shrugged, as if his outburst was completely expected, and stepped away from him with an approving nod at her handiwork. "I'll go get a wheelchair," she said.
"A what?"
"A wheelchair," she repeated. "So Sam can take you outside."
"Like hell," he growled. "There's nothing wrong with my legs, Doc. I can walk."
"Colonel," Fraiser began, with exaggerated patience, "you're recovering from major surgery, you're still slightly anemic, you haven't eaten properly for over a week, and....."
"No wheelchair," he interrupted her, in a tone of voice that would have sent a legion of junior officers scurrying.
Janet, however, was unfazed and had just opened her mouth to continue the debate when a sharp knock at the door saved Jack from the tirade. He glanced at his watch and smiled; it was exactly thirteen hundred - it had to be Sam.
"Come in," he called, and the door opened. She stepped into the room, her eyes instantly going to the now empty bed. "Over here," he said, smiling as she turned towards him. Their eyes met for an instant and he saw a flutter of pleasure in her face before her military mask fell again. "You look well, sir," she commented, failing to keep the surprise from her voice.
"Thanks, Carter," he replied. "The Doc and I were just having a similar conversation."
Picking up on his tone, Sam turned an inquiring eye on Fraiser. "Is he causing trouble?" she asked with a hint of laughter.
Janet rolled her eyes. "What do you think?"
Ignoring her, Jack pushed himself slowly to his feet, daring Fraiser to protest. But she just watched him with her dark, impassive eyes and said nothing. After a moment's giddiness, he flashed her a triumphant smile. "It looks like a beautiful afternoon," he told Sam. "Shall we take a walk, Carter?"
She nodded and said, "Okay."
"Colonel," Fraiser said then, unable to hold her silence, "I really think that you'd be better off with a wheelchair. It really isn't...."
"No," he barked, more harshly than he'd intended. And then he clenched his jaw, irritated with himself for losing his temper. But it was bad enough that he was standing here with half an arm missing, he wasn't going to have Sam push him around the grounds like some half-senile old man!
"You're really not in any condition to...," Fraiser was insisting, her arms folding resolutely across her chest, when Sam interrupted.
"We won't go far, Janet," she assured her. "I saw a couple of benches quite close to the entrance." The two women exchanged a long meaningful look, and Jack could see the plea in Sam's face as her eyebrows twitched slightly. She understood him, Jack realized, the thought touching him deeply. Sam understood him like no one had ever done before. She knew exactly why he had to walk out of here, and made no attempt to judge him or persuade him otherwise. She simply understood.
The rush of warm emotion he felt distracted him from the silent contest between the two women until Fraiser spoke. "Okay," she said, backing down with obvious reluctance. "But if he starts feeling faint come get someone to help."
"Of course," Sam replied, smiling gratefully at the doctor. "But I'm sure he'll be fine. The Colonel's pretty tough."
Janet didn't look convinced. "I know exactly how tough he is," she muttered to herself. And then, throwing up her hands in a gesture of surrender, she said, "Fine! Enjoy the sunshine. And try not to wear him out, Sam."
With that she left, leaving Jack and Sam standing awkwardly together. After a moment, Jack said, "Thanks, Carter."
"For what?" she asked, eyes wide with feigned innocence.
He smiled slowly, considering his answer. "For coming," he decided, and then glanced out at the sunshine. "It really does look like a beautiful afternoon."
"It is," she said. "I, um," she shifted the bag she had slung over one shoulder, "I know what the food's like here, so I bought some lunch. If you're hungry."
"Sweet," he nodded.
Sam smiled and motioned towards the door. "Shall we go?"
"Sure." Reaching over the back of the chair, Jack picked up his leather jacket. And then stopped, holding it in his hand wondering how exactly he was going to put it on. After a moment of hesitation, Sam wordlessly took it from his hand and held it for him. He bit back the sigh of irritation he felt at her having to help him, knowing that it was irrational and that Sam didn't deserve to hear it. Instead he muttered another, "Thanks, Carter," as she gently settled his jacket over his shoulders.
"I hope you like tuna," was her only comment as they headed slowly towards the door.
Jack just smiled, so grateful for her unspoken assistance that words eluded him for once.
***
The air felt refreshingly cold as Sam stepped out of the over-heated hospital and into the grounds, and she pulled her jacket more closely around her. But the sun on her face was still warm, defying the approach of winter. At her side Jack walked slowly, and despite the fact that they were only a few minutes from his room he was already slightly breathless. But she masked her concern with a smile as she held the door for him; having been in more-or-less the same situation a couple of times, she knew how frustrating it was to be so weak. And having your friends fussing over you like over-protective mother hens certainly didn't help.
Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath as soon as he was outside. "Now this is better," he observed quietly. "I hate hospitals."
"I know," Sam replied, letting the door swing shut behind them and casting about for the nearest bench. There was one close by, under a tree and bathed in the early fall sunlight. "Let's go sit down," she said, resisting the impulse to take his arm and guide him towards the bench.
Jack glanced at her with a curious smile. "I'm not about to fall over," he assured her.
She shrugged. "I know, but I'm starving and I want to eat."
He grinned, and she doubted that he bought her bluff. But she thought he appreciated the attempt. "Okay," he said, "if you're hungry...."
Their progress over the grassy lawn was slow and silent. And when they reached the bench, Jack sat down with obvious relief and let out a long breath. "You know the expression about feeling as weak as a kitten?" he sighed.
"Been there, done that," Sam nodded. And then, unable to stop herself she asked, "How are you feeling?"
Jack considered the question carefully, his dark eyes shrewd. "Okay," he replied, entirely non-committal.
Sam knew whitewash when she heard it. "Really," she pressed. "Does your...arm hurt?"
He was still watching her, assessing her. "Really?"
She nodded.
"Actually," he confessed, "my *hand* still hurts."
Sam nodded again, cringing at the gnawing sense of guilt the conversation provoked, but doing her best to ignore it. "Phantom pain," she said. "Janet told me about it. Apparently it can carry on for years."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's comforting."
"Sorry," she mumbled, wincing. Good one Sam. Open mouth, insert foot....
"It's okay," Jack assured her, pulling his jacket a little closer around him. "It's not that bad. Considering." He flashed her a small smile, laced with an unusual uncertainty. "So how are *you*?" he asked. "I haven't seen much of you since I've been here."
"I'm fine," she assured him immediately, feeling awkward with the question. "I, um.... I'm sorry I haven't visited much. I've been....."
"Busy?" Jack suggested dubiously.
"Yeah," she nodded, glad of the excuse. "You wouldn't believe how much there is to do, even though SG-1's on stand-down until the General finds a...." Oh crap. She hadn't meant to bring *that* up. She swallowed the rest of her words, but it was too late.
Jack's face tightened a little as he finished her sentence. "...a replacement for me?"
Running a hand through her hair, Sam shifted so that she was facing him fully. She really hadn't wanted to talk about this today, but she wasn't about to lie to him either. "Um, well, actually," she said, smiling nervously, "General Hammond's offered me the command of SG-1. So the replacement is sort of for me - a Captain, probably."
Jack just stared at her for a moment and she held her breath, watching his face intently as she waited for his reaction. And then suddenly he grinned, a broad, genuine grin. "George gave you SG-1, Carter? Cool." He chucked, "I bet there are a few pissed-off Colonels out there!"
"It's not the first time I've had to deal with a little professional jealousy, sir," Sam assured him, swelling proudly at his obvious approval. "I can handle it." God, she wondered, when had his approbation come to mean so much to her?
"I don't doubt it," Jack nodded. "So is this a promotion too?" he asked, still grinning. "Should I be saluting?"
It was Sam's turn to laugh slightly. "No, sir, no promotion. Well, not straight away. The General wants to see how things go for a while. You know, give me some time to earn my wings so to speak."
"You'll do great, Carter," he told her, suddenly serious. "Hell, you've been ready for your own command for a long time."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Sure," he shrugged. "I guess I was being a little selfish keeping you with us in SG-1."
"No," Sam replied, equally serious. "I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else, sir."
He smiled, and she caught her breath at the affection she saw in the expression. "I know," he said quietly, his eyes dancing brightly. "I just wish I could be there to see you in action, Carter."
"Me too," she replied, holding his gaze and reveling in its warmth. "I'm going to miss you, sir." The words were out almost without thought, and as she saw his eyes widen slightly she felt a blush steal over her cheeks.
After a moment, Jack said, "I was, um, kind of hoping that we'd stay in touch."
"Of course," Sam replied hurriedly. "I mean just because we're not working together doesn't mean that we can't...see each other...if we want. You know, as friends."
He blinked, looked abruptly away and started fiddling with his jacket, tugging it over his injured arm. "As friends," he repeated quietly. "Is that what you want?"
It was as if the world went silent. The birds stopped singing, the distant roar of traffic stilled, and all Sam could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and the rapid thudding of her heartbeat. Her eyes were riveted on Jack, watching him pick nervously at a button on his jacket as he stared down at his booted feet. "Well, considering the situation," she said, her voice loud in the sudden silence, "I think it would be for the best."
He looked up then and stared at her, his face creasing into a confused frown. The expression tugged at Sam's resolve as she watched his eyes dip towards her throat and then widen in obvious shock; he'd noticed that her necklace was gone. "Why?" he asked, the hurt stark in his voice. She was about to try and answer him, but he carried on speaking, his words spilling awkwardly from his lips. "I mean, I can see how a... a one-armed retired guy isn't exactly everyone's idea of the perfect man, but I thought that we...."
"Whoa," Sam interrupted, stunned by his words. "I'm not talking about your hand. Do you think I'd care about that?" She paused, trying to reign in the sudden flash of anger. How could he even think such a thing?
But Jack was undaunted. "I don't know," he replied. His face was tight, and his eyes glinted darkly as he fixed her with a powerful, scrutinizing gaze. "I've been trying to figure out why you've been avoiding me," he said tensely. "That seemed like the obvious answer."
Sam stared at him. "I can't believe you think I'd be that shallow," she told him, hurt and angered by the accusation. "After everything we've been through the last four years...."
"Well, maybe I was wondering - after everything we've been through the last four years - why the hell you haven't bothered to come and see me more than a couple of times!" He scowled, his eyebrows drawing low over his eyes as he glared down at the bench. "I'm sorry," he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. "I was just...." Lifting his head, he fixed her with a hot, angry look, "So, you gonna tell me why you've been avoiding me, Carter?"
She held his intense gaze for as long as she could before she looked away. Taking a deep breath she screwed up her courage and said, "Because of Sara."
She didn't see Jack's reaction, but she heard the utter astonishment in his voice when he said, "Sara?"
Sam sighed awkwardly, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "Because of how you feel about her...."
"Okay," Jack said abruptly, "you've lost me. Sara? What the hell are you talking about?" He paused for a moment and then said, "Sara and I barely see each other. She only came here yesterday because you called her."
Sam was a little disconcerted by his unambiguous answer, but forced herself to look at him as she said, "I only called her because you asked me to, sir. Because you said you had to see her and made me promise to call her."
Jack stared at her for a long moment, before turning around and gazing out over the lawn. "I'm sorry I put you in that position," he said quietly. "But, Carter, I thought you knew how I feel about you."
"So did I," Sam replied, sounding more waspish than she'd have liked. "But Sara was the one you wanted. I can't ignore that."
He nodded slightly, but it was an angry gesture and she could see the tension building in his neck. "So, what...?" he began, his voice rough-edged. "Do you think I was lying to you when I...." His jaw clamped shut for a moment, and he swallowed hard. "What the hell do you think happened between us last year? Do you think I'm the kind of guy who'd do that if I...." He pressed his hand over his eyes and muttered, "Christ, Carter."
Unprepared for this reaction, Sam was at a loss. "I don't think you lied," she said carefully. "I just think...maybe you didn't realize how much you still care about Sara."
"So you think I'm stupid?" he growled.
"I didn't say that."
"Then what?"
"I don't know!" she snapped. "All I know is that when you were sick, you were calling for Sara and not me. Just like you did in Antarctica."
He turned, eyes widening slightly. "Antarctica?"
"When we were sent there through the second gate?"
"I remember," he muttered irritably. And then he paused, eyeing her curiously. "I asked for Sara?"
Sam nodded, "You called her name."
"Oh." He was silent for a long time, his face thoughtful. "That was over three years ago, Carter," he said at last. "A lot's changed since then."
"You still want Sara," Sam said quietly, doing her best to sound dignified. "That hasn't changed."
But Jack was shaking his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "No, you don't understand, Carter. It's not like that anymore. I don't...." He sighed, looking over at her. "Our marriage died with our son, Carter. There's no going back."
Sam didn't doubt the honesty of his words, or the truth of them. But they did nothing to comfort her. "Look," she said, leaning forward on the bench, resting her arms on her knees, "you made it pretty clear on '850 that you still...care a lot about Sara. And this might sound selfish, but I won't be second best. I can't accept that. So, I think it would be best if...."
"Carter," Jack growled with the full weight of command in his voice, "shut up."
She did as she was ordered instinctively, and by the time she realized that he couldn't give her orders anymore it was too late. He was already talking.
"I don't remember what I said back on the planet," he said, capturing her eyes with his. "But you're right that I was thinking about Sara, and I did want to talk to her." Sam felt her heart clench, but kept her face impassive as she waited for him to continue. Taking a deep breath Jack looked away, obviously struggling with what was to come, and Sam braced herself for the worst. "That Thursday," he said, very quietly, "was Charlie's birthday. He would have been fifteen." Shock jolted through her. Charlie? She hadn't expected that. "Every year," he continued, "on his birthday, Sara and I visit his grave together. It's the one day of the year we see each other, and it just...," he closed his eyes and pressed his hand over them, "it feels right to be there as a family. Just that one day. And this year, I wasn't there. I was stuck on that damn planet. And I didn't want her to think I'd forgotten, or had something more important to do, because *nothing* was more important than being there. Nothing."
Sam felt tears prick the back of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I had no idea. I thought...." She shook her head. It didn't matter what she'd thought, she'd been wrong, totally wrong. Charlie's birthday? "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would it have changed the decision you made about staying on '850?" he asked, keeping his eyes averted.
Sam considered the question, and was forced to answer, "Yes, maybe. Probably."
Jack nodded. "Now you know why I didn't tell you," he said, still staring out across the lawn. "Duty first, right?" Sam was silent, at a loss for words. As it always had, Jack's duty had come first - and this time, duty had exacted a high price. The silence between them was ended when Jack cleared his throat, "Look, Sam," he said, "you know that I'm not big on words. I never seem to say the right thing at the right time, but I just...I want you to know that, despite how difficult it's been between us all year, my feelings for you haven't changed." He turned to her then in trepidation. "But if yours have...? Just tell me Sam, do we still have something here...?"
She stared him, her stomach suddenly alive with butterflies as she realized that Sara no longer loomed over them. The path was clear. For the first time in their long and complicated relationship, nothing stood between them. She could reach out and touch him, and no one could tell her it was wrong. The freedom almost made her giddy, even as it terrified her. "Yes," she said at last, realizing that her silence had stretched too long. "I think we do, Jack."
The delight and relief that spread across his face was almost boyish. "Really?" he asked, sounding breathless again as he grinned at her.
"Oh yeah," she smiled back, her heart tripping as she began to lose herself in his heated gaze. In the distance a car door slammed shut and she heard someone bark an order. The noise hit her like cold water, and made her abruptly aware that she was sitting in the middle of a military hospital, gazing ardently into the eyes of the man who, just a few days ago, had been her CO.
Jack suddenly appeared equally unsure and his grin turned nervous. "So," he said slowly, "now that we've cleared that up...."
"So," she agreed awkwardly, "now what?"
Still grinning, Jack shook his head. "I have no idea. Maybe I should ask for your number?"
"I can't exactly see us on a date," Sam said, chuckling at the silliness of the idea. They'd faced death, and worse, together; the ritual of dating seemed banal to the point of absurdity.
"No," Jack agreed. And then all of a sudden his grin turned sly and his eyes glittered enthusiastically. "But we could go...fishing."
Sam was forced to laugh. "Fishing! Of course. That's perfect."
He raised an eyebrow. "So is that a yes?"
She reached over and took his hand in hers, relishing the feel of his fingers as they closed tightly around hers. "Definitely a yes." And then she laughed again, "Oh, you have *no* idea how often I've wanted to say that!"
"If it's as often as I wanted to hear it, then I think I have a clue," he replied, watching her with a look of wonder in his eyes. "I was beginning to think I never would." Then he tugged slightly on her hand. "Come here, Carter."
Feeling suddenly, inexplicably shy, Sam edged a little closer on the bench. "This is going to take some getting used to," she decided, smiling self-consciously.
"Yeah," he agreed, disentangling his hand from hers and reaching up to lightly touch her face, "it is."
Sam smiled as his gentle touch ignited fireworks in her heart, but she was serious when she said, "I mean it - this isn't going to be easy, you know. Going from our working relationship into something...totally different."
"I know," he assured her as his hand toyed with the hair at her temple. "But I'm sure we'll work it out."
"I'm just saying," she breathed, finding herself helplessly leaning into his hand. God, she'd wanted this for so long! "I'm just saying that...." His fingers ran through her hair and curled around the back of her neck, "I'm just saying that we should probably be prepared for some difficult...."
"Sam?" he interrupted softly.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and let me kiss you."
Sam just had time to murmur an inappropriate, "Yes, sir," before their lips met and the world started tilting riotously beneath her. The potent combination of need, passion, and tenderness threatened to wash her away entirely as she leaned into him, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder, careful to avoid his injured arm. And just when she was beginning to imagine that the kiss would never end... Jack pulled abruptly away.
"Whoa," he breathed, his hand going to his head. "Wow, Carter."
"Jack?" she asked, concerned by the sudden pallor in his face. "Are you okay?"
But he was chuckling to himself. "Just a little lightheaded," he assured her. And then, with a wicked grin he added, "I guess I'm not meant to get my blood pumping that fast just yet!"
"You want me to get Janet?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
"No," he assured her, reaching for her hand. "Just give me a minute." He smiled again, "So, do you always have this affect on guys?"
She grinned and shook her head. "You're the first."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "I like the sound of that," he said, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze.
Settling herself next to him Sam smiled and closed her eyes, letting the warm fall sunshine play across her face. This emotional roller coaster she was on didn't seem to be showing any sign of slowing down, but she was too happy to care. And although this was undoubtedly a high point, and she knew there'd be many dips along the way, she was content for the moment to simply enjoy the ride. "So," she said, edging closer to Jack until they sat shoulder to shoulder, their clasped hands resting in her lap, "tell me about your cabin. Teal'c says there aren't any fish."
"There aren't," Jack confessed. "But it's still a great place to *go* fishing."
Sam smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. "Tell me," she encouraged him, "tell me why you love it so much."
He chuckled. "How long have you got?"
"As long as it takes," she replied, looking up and smiling warmly into his eyes. "I brought lunch, remember?"
His answering grin left her breathless as he said, "In that case let's start with the lake, because at sunset it really is the most beautiful place in the world...."
***
From her office, Janet had a nice view over the hospital grounds. And she smiled at the sight before her. O'Neill and Sam sat close together, their hands discreetly clasped, talking. They'd been there for almost two hours, and didn't show any sign of moving. She was somewhat concerned about Jack, but decided to wait a little longer before insisting that he rest.
She had no idea what they were discussing, but from the quiet smiles on both their faces she guessed that Sam wouldn't be brooding over her coffee for a while. A polite tap on her door drew her eyes from the window, and she turned away. "Come in," she called.
Teal'c opened the door and gave her a formal nod as he stepped inside. "I apologize for the interruption, Doctor Fraiser," he said quietly, "but I have come to visit Colonel O'Neill and he is not in his room."
"Ah, no," Janet nodded, smiling at the man. "He's talking to Sam."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Major Carter is here?"
"Yeah," Janet grinned and motioned towards the window. "They're outside."
Teal'c's gaze rose to the window and after a moment's silent observation he said, "I do not believe I will join them."
"Probably wise," Janet agreed. "Would you like a coffee or something? I could do with a break."
Teal'c inclined his head politely. "That would be pleasurable," he told her. And then, as she reached into her desk drawer for her purse, he added, "Doctor Fraiser, when I was on P3T-850, I believed that I sensed the approach of tragedy, of the end of things."
Janet's eyes widened a little in surprise and she said, "I had a bad feeling about it myself, Teal'c. A sort of foreboding."
"Exactly so," he agreed. "And in one sense, I was correct. SG-1 will no longer be as it was, and for that I am sorry. Colonel O'Neill will be missed."
Janet smiled, closing her drawer and walking around the desk. "Somehow I think we'll be seeing a lot of him at the SGC, officially or otherwise. I can't see him taking up golf quite yet."
"Indeed," Teal'c nodded, "however his days on SG-1 are at an end. Of that there is no doubt. But it seems," he added, glancing once more out of the window, "that this event merely heralds the end of one chapter and the beginning of another."
Janet grinned at him. "Philosophy, Teal'c?"
He shrugged. "Merely an observation."
"Well," she said, pulling open her office door and holding it for him, "for what it's worth, I think you're right." She looked once more at her friends, sitting together outside. They were laughing now and Sam's head rested lightly against Jack's shoulder, still laughing as he looped his arm around her and pulled her close. Janet couldn't help but chuckle a little herself, "Oh, I think this is just the beginning, Teal'c," she said happily. "Just the beginning."
***
The cabin was warm in the late afternoon sunshine; a fire crackled in the grate while outside the snow glittered brightly on the heavily laden trees. Sam sat curled up in the deep armchair, while Jack lay sprawled across the sofa, his long legs dangling over the edge as he dozed.
She watched him fondly for a while, toyed idly with the idea of joining him on the sofa, but then remembered that she had work to do and reached down for the stack of Christmas cards lying on the floor nearby. Picking up the top one, she pulled out the half-finished letter it contained and grabbed the pen and her paperback from the coffee table.
Settling herself to continue writing, Sam skimmed over what she'd written so far, tapped the pen thoughtfully against her cheek for a minute, and then carried on. "Having just re-read what I've written so far, Lou," she wrote, "I can see you thinking that a pensioner with a missing hand isn't exactly much to write home about." She smiled slowly, glancing over at Jack again, her eyes misting with memories too personal to include in any letter, and then added, "But I'm enclosing this picture of him, so you can see that Jack's not exactly your average retiree! Actually, I happen to think he's pretty damn gorgeous - he has the most wonderful eyes. You can't really see them in the photo, but up close and personal they really hit you. Wow.
But I digress. I was telling you about the little misunderstanding about his ex-wife. Well, once we'd sorted that out, there was nothing stopping us from doing what we'd spent the best part of three years trying *not* to do. Suddenly, there was nothing in the way anymore. No rules, no regulations. No duty. We could just be ourselves, be together. You'd think it would be easy, wouldn't you? But you'd be wrong. It's incredibly difficult.
The thing is, you can't just go from being someone's CO, or second-in- command, to being their lover (I guess that's the right word). It just doesn't work. Not that we don't get on, not that the attraction isn't still totally compulsive, but it's just so hard to get out of old habits.
For a start, Jack still calls me Carter half the time. And sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I drop the occasional "Sir". Which annoys the hell out of me, and amuses the hell out of Jack! And that's just the tip of the ice-burg. Take the other week, for example. We had a fight. Not the first - in fact, we've been disagreeing on and off for the last four years or so, only *then* I had to bite my tongue and now I don't. But this was definitely the first time we had a fight in a grocery store.
Jack was complaining about something - I can't remember what. Oh, wait, I know, he wanted to get back to see the game. Of course. Anyway, I was dithering at the ice-cream section - as you know, ice- cream is a subject close to my heart - when suddenly from behind me I hear, "For crying out loud, Major, just choose the damn ice-cream. We're getting the hell out of here."
The refrigerator door was open, my hand was on a random ice-cream selection, and I heard myself say "Yes, sir," before I even realized what he'd done. And what I was doing. And then I lost it. I shoved the ice cream at his chest, forcing him to either hold it or drop it, and snapped, "My name is Samantha. Not Major, not Carter. Samantha. And I don't take orders from you anymore, *Jack*."
And then I stormed out and left him smiling awkwardly at a small group of old women and moms with toddlers. He had the good grace to look a little sheepish when he emerged half and hour later with the groceries, and I had the good grace to feel a little guilty as I watched him struggling to manage it all with just the one hand. And so we made up. Which was nice. Very nice, actually. But the point is the whole military thing still makes life difficult for us sometimes. I guess you can't work with someone like that, as intensely as we did, and expect it just to disappear overnight. Sometimes, when I look at him, I still see my CO and feel a little, I don't know, awkward, I suppose. Does that make any sense?
Of course, that's not the only problem we've had to overcome. It's been difficult for Jack to adapt to his new life; he hasn't talked about it much yet, but I know he misses the action. And he worries when I'm away. I don't blame him. We're used to watching each other's backs, and it feels strange not to have him with me. But I know it would be a hundred times harder to be the one waiting at home. He's coping though, better than I would be in his position. I know he finds it difficult sometimes, but he's tough. He'll get through it. In fact, he cheered up a lot last week when General Hammond called to discuss employing him in some kind of civilian advisory capacity, once he's fully recovered. Jack's got a lot of knowledge and, let's call them 'contacts', that we can't afford to lose. So, even if he can't be in the heat of the action anymore, he'll still have a role and that means a lot to him. He's a man who needs to be needed.
His hand is a problem though. For both of us. Jack feels self- conscious, and I feel guilty. And that held us back for a while. He wouldn't let me anywhere near his arm at first, and that only made me feel worse. I was afraid that he really did blame me for what had happened (a long story I won't bore you with) but it turned out that he was just embarrassed. I can understand, because I know how I'd feel if it was me. It's a pretty radical change to his body image. And although Jack's far from vain he was always quite proud of his physical competence, so he's found it difficult to have to relearn how to do some quite basic things - how do you cut a steak when you only have one hand, for example? Or put toothpaste on a toothbrush? I can't tell you the number of times I've heard him muttering curses in the kitchen or bathroom, but I've learned to leave well alone. The last thing he wants is my help. But, boy, do I pity his occupational therapist. The woman must have the patience of a saint!
Anyway, like I said, that held us back for a while. So it wasn't until we came up here to his cabin, a couple of weeks ago, that we slept together again. In fact, we've taken our whole relationship pretty slowly. Mostly because Jack's still recovering physically, but also, I think, because we were both worried about it living up to the first time, over a year ago."
As she wrote, Sam's mind drifted back to the first night they'd spent together at the cabin. It had been so different from the night they'd shared at Jack's house, a year before, that the two could hardly be compared. Then, the joy and pain had been almost equally mixed, and their lovemaking had been bittersweet in every way, a product of forbidden feelings overwhelming their good judgment. But this time.... This time there'd been no urgency, no guilt, and no silent parting the following morning. This time there'd been a sense of beginning, not ending, and an awareness that their slow, languorous exploration of each other was only the start of a journey that would take a lifetime to complete. And, most importantly, it was a celebration of feelings now openly acknowledged and shared with their friends, not something to be hidden shamefully from the world.
And as she thought back to that intense, starlit night she'd spent in Jack's arms a year ago, and compared it with the sun-dappled hours they'd spent making love over the last two weeks, she knew that there was no comparison. As wonderful as that night had been, she wouldn't want to be there again. This was so much nicer. Actually sleeping together, as opposed to just 'sleeping' together. Waking-up together, talking, and just being together felt so right. And yet so new that it still seemed like a luxury to be alone with him and to not feel guilty about her feelings.
"Of course," she continued to write, "there was no reason to worry. Everything was perfect. And now we're just enjoying spending some time alone together, and I figure we both deserve it. We're at his cabin until the New Year, and it's wonderful."
Sam found herself squinting as she wrote the last words and realized that the light outside was fading. Putting her letter aside, she gazed out of the window and saw long blue shadows falling over the snow as the sun sank behind the trees. She sighed happily and watched as the sky deepened from azure toward black, while the firelight danced merrily in the fireplace, casting wild leaping shadows over the walls of the cabin. She couldn't imagine anywhere in the world, in *any* world, she'd rather be right now. "Perfect," she breathed as the first bright stars appeared in the night sky, "just perfect."
***
Whispered words roused Jack from sleep. Blinking, he was disoriented for a moment as he found himself almost in darkness and couldn't remember if it was morning or night. And then he saw the firelight glinting on Sam's golden hair, as she sat curled up in the armchair gazing out into the night, and his memories clicked into place. It was afternoon, well, evening now by the looks of things. They'd had lunch, built a fire, chatted for a while and then he'd just stretched out and closed his eyes for five minutes.... He sighed, and Sam turned around.
"Hey," she smiled. "Good nap?"
He groaned and shook his head to clear it. "What time is it?"
"Just after five," she told him.
He let his head sink back into the cushions. "I can't believe I fell asleep again!"
Sam smiled her beautiful smile. "It's good for you, Jack," she reminded him. "It's what you're meant to be doing. You're recovering, remember?"
"Is that what it's called?" he asked, sitting up and swinging his legs onto the floor. His hand - or rather, his arm - throbbed with the movement, but he ignored it. "I feel like I miss half of every day," he complained.
"I know," she said, uncurling her legs and moving over to join him on the sofa. "Janet said it would take a while." She smiled again, and snuggled closer until he looped his arm around her shoulders and she sighed contentedly. "Besides," she murmured, resting her head against his chest, "you had a late night." The firelight danced across her face, but her eyes were dancing with a heat of their own as she glanced up at him and grinned.
Her smile was contagious and conjured up delicious memories of the previous night as he lost himself happily in her enchanting gaze. And then suddenly it hit him, like a thunderbolt of self- revelation, 'I can't live without her. I can't live without that face, that smile, those bright, captivating eyes. She means everything to me.' Impulsively he tightened his hold on her, and wondered how the hell he'd survived the long, cold years without her in his arms. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Sam suddenly looked curious.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied, bending down and touching his lips to her forehead.
"A secret?"
"It's nothing," he assured her, but her curiosity had been piqued and he knew from long experience that Carter rarely let anything go once she was intrigued.
She sat up a little, still close, but far enough away that she could study his face. "Tell me," she insisted.
"I was just thinking," he began slowly.
"Wow," she nodded, feigning astonishment. "Really?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You looking for trouble, Carter?"
"No," she smiled, and then reflexively added, "and don't call me Carter."
He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer. "Sorry. Samantha." He'd tried to explain how 'Carter' had long since become a nickname in his mind, but she refused to accept it. 'You sound like you're talking to my Dad', she'd protested, and so he tried his best to call her Sam, or Samantha. But sometimes he forgot. And other times he just did it to get a rise out of her. But not this evening, this evening he just wanted to hold her, and love her.
Obviously sharing his mellow mood, Sam allowed herself be pulled back into his embrace and slipped an arm around him as she murmured, "So, what were you thinking about?"
He paused for a moment, before saying. "You, actually."
She stilled in his arms, but he could tell that she was smiling. "Really?"
"I was thinking," he said slowly, "that this time last year I'd have given my right arm to be here with you, like this."
He felt, rather than heard her chuckle, but her voice had an emotional tremor to it as she quietly asked, "Was it worth it?"
For a long time he didn't answer, thinking about how his life had changed and would continue to change. He'd lost a lot - his career, his purpose, to a large degree. He'd be lying if he said the thought of all that he'd lost didn't anger him. Or that the undefined nature of his future didn't frighten him. He was adrift for the first time in his life, without purpose or direction. And yet amid the confusion and the loss shone a single light, its brilliance penetrating the darkness and bringing him comfort and hope. Sam. The love that they could at last express was more than a silver lining; it was a golden halo that tinted everything with its warmth and wonder. But was it worth it? He repeated Sam's question in his mind even as he relished the feel of her in his arms and breathed in the scent of her hair so close to his face. Was it worth it? He sighed, pulling her closer. "I think it will be," he said at last, softening his words with a gentle kiss.
Sam nodded, her head moving slightly against his chest. "It's going to be okay," she told him, seeming to understand his unvoiced feelings. "*You're* going to be okay."
He smiled, screwing his eyes shut against the sudden feeling of bereavement that so often accompanied thoughts of his former life. But her words comforted him and he clung to them, trusting her now as he had countless time in the field. "Whatever you say, Carter," he murmured. "I believe you."
"Then believe this," she said quietly, looking up at him with a smile, "I love you, Jack. And we'll get through this together."
Together. Damn, it unnerved him how much he needed her right now. "I hope so," he said, his voice husky with emotion, "because I sure as hell won't get through it without you."
"You won't have to, Jack," she assured him firmly. "However tough it gets, I'll be right beside you. I promise."
"Just like always, huh?" he smiled.
"Just like always," she agreed, snuggling up against him again. "And don't you forget it."
As if he could! Holding her tightly once more, he let her warmth - both physical and emotional - seep into him and ease the pain inside. He knew that she was right, that with her by his side he would survive the earthquake that had shattered the foundations of his life. He loved her, he'd loved her for a long time, and together they could overcome whatever fate threw in their path. Because together, as they'd proved countless times, he and Carter could accomplish anything. Even this.
***
EPILOGUE
The seasons turned; winter thawed into spring, spring burst into summer, and summer chilled into fall. Another year passed.
Sara O'Neill sat in the passenger seat of her car, flowers resting on her knee, and watched as a truck pulled slowly into the empty parking lot.
"Is that him?" Anthony asked quietly.
"Yes," Sara nodded. The truck stopped opposite their car and the passenger door opened. But it wasn't Jack who jumped out. It was a woman. Tall, long-legged and blond, her short hair was tousled and sunglasses hid her eyes as she pulled a black leather jacket on over her sweater. She almost looked familiar to Sara, but from where she had no idea.
Then the driver's door opened and Jack emerged, glanced over towards her car and reached into his truck for the flowers he'd brought. As he walked around the hood towards the woman they exchanged a few words, she nodded and reached out to briefly touch his hand. Not just friends then, Sara realized with a ridiculous sense of jealousy.
A hand touched her knee. "Okay, hon?"
She smiled. "Yeah. It's always difficult," she told him.
"I know," he nodded. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" There was a sweet sincerity in his gray eyes that touched her, and she covered his hand with her own.
"No, this is something Jack and I need to do alone." I hope, she added silently as she glanced over at the woman Jack had brought with him. But as he started to walk slowly towards her car, she was relieved to see that the woman stayed with the truck, watching him through her dark glasses. Good, Sara thought. And then took a deep breath and reached for the door. "We probably won't be long," she said quietly.
"Take as long as you need," Anthony told her, with a smile that warmed her heart.
The air was cold as Sara stepped out of the car, and she pulled her coat more closely around her. But the sun was bright, inappropriately so on such a somber day.
"Hi," Jack said as they met, pulling off his sunglasses and smiling his familiar, and still appealing, smile.
"Hi," she replied, looking him over and noticing with a sudden shock the prosthetic hand that poked out from beneath his jacket. She'd almost forgotten. "How are you?"
"Good," he nodded.
And she had to admit he looked it; tanned, relaxed, confident. "You look well," she told him. "Retirement seems to suit you."
He smiled broadly. "It does," he agreed. "Mostly."
Glancing over his shoulder, Sara saw the woman he'd brought with him start to wander off in the opposite direction and turned back to Jack with a question in her eyes. "A friend of yours?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "That's Sam. She's...I mean we're...." He rolled his eyes and laughed a little, "Whatever it's called these days. We're together."
"I figured," Sara said, watching as Sam ambled back towards the truck, her blond hair glinting in the afternoon sunshine. Slim figure, smooth skin, a confident swagger in her walk; she was beautiful and Sara felt another irrational pang of jealousy. "She looks...," she hesitated over her choice of word, "she looks...young."
Jack chuckled slightly. "Young?" he repeated self-consciously. "Well, I guess she is a little young-ger."
"Have I met her?" Sara asked then, wondering why the woman seemed familiar.
Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said, surprising her. "You saw her at the hospital last year."
Sara frowned. She didn't remember meeting anyone at the hospital, aside from a Major Somebody. Her eyebrows rose. "That's Major...?"
"Carter," he nodded. "Yeah. Well," he smiled with affectionate pride, "Lieutenant Colonel now."
"Does that mean you have to salute her?" Sara joked. "Almost," he admitted. "Give her time."
Sara glanced over at the young woman again, and shook her head. "It's a pretty impressive achievement for a woman to get that far. Even these days."
"She's a pretty impressive woman," Jack replied seriously. "And she worked damn hard to get where she is."
"So you guys served together?" Sara asked, remembering her conversation with Major Carter.
"For four years."
Four years. She did the math with some relief; it hadn't been during their marriage, at least. Glancing once more at the confident looking young woman, she couldn't help the slightly barbed jibe: "I guess she knows what she's getting into then?"
"With me?" Jack asked. "Yeah. She has a pretty good idea."
Sara gave him a wry smile. "Brave as well as beautiful."
Jack didn't reply immediately, but looked a little crestfallen. After a moment he quietly said, "It wasn't that bad, was it? You and me?"
"No," Sara assured him, surprised by the openness of his words. The Jack she knew would never have asked such a thing. "No, it was mostly great, Jack."
"Yeah," he agreed, smiling again. "It was, wasn't it?"
She nodded and turned a little, indicating the path they should take. "Shall we?"
"Sure," he agreed and they started to walk together in silence.
Sara watched him as they went. In many ways he looked the same as he'd always done, although his hair was much grayer and there were a few more lines around his eyes. But there was definitely a difference. Not so much in how he looked, but in how he acted. He seemed less closed off, more relaxed. More accessible. Some of the armor he had habitually worn seemed to have melted away. "So," she asked, curious, "what do you do with yourself these days?"
He glanced over at her as they strolled, and shrugged, "This and that."
"Are you working at all?"
He dropped her gaze and his face suddenly took on that evasive look she remembered so well from their marriage. "Not officially," he told her. "But they let me 'advise' from time to time - if I can help." He shook his head ruefully, "To be honest, it's usually when Sam's off-...," he faltered and she suspected that he'd almost slipped up. "When Sam's off on a mission," he finished with an apologetic smile that acknowledged the lie, or the half-truth, or whatever it was he'd told her. "I can't stand just waiting around at home," he explained, "so I usually head into the base and 'advise' for a couple of days until she's back."
Sara smiled at the irony of the situation. "So I guess now you know how it feels," she said.
"How what feels?"
"The waiting."
Their gazes locked for a moment and she saw a sudden understanding flash deep in his eyes. "I guess I do," he nodded in realization. And then he added, more quietly, "You had it tough, Sara. I don't think I ever really appreciated that. There's nothing worse than waiting for the phone to ring, and praying that it doesn't." The fall breeze tugged at his short hair as he spoke, and he shrugged his jacket a little closer around him as he watched her with dark, serious eyes.
"I know," she agreed, surprised by the intensity of feeling she sensed in him. Tipping her head to one side, she said, "You've changed, you know."
Jack nodded. "It's been a long six years," he said. "I've seen a lot, done a lot - gotten to know myself pretty well. And Sam has...." He stopped and just smiled, obviously shy about singing the woman's praises, for which Sara was grateful.
Still watching him, she was suddenly struck by a flood of old feelings. The light in his eyes, the smile playing around the corners of his lips, he looked very much like the man she had fallen in love with so long ago. And the sight fed the regrets she would always carry in her heart, "Do you ever think," she asked quietly, "about how things would have been if we hadn't lost Charlie?"
Jack turned away, his head dipping so that he was staring at the ground as they slowed to a halt. "I used to," he said quietly, "all the time. I almost drove myself crazy thinking about it. Which was when I realized that I just had to concentrate on what I had, and not on what I'd lost." He turned back to her, his face somber, "But sometimes I still wonder where we'd be if it hadn't happened. All of us, I mean, not just Charlie."
A breeze picked up and rustled through the flowers that she held, making her shiver. "It would have been a different life," she said, staring down at the fluttering petals.
"It's hard to imagine," Jack replied quietly.
'Not so hard,' she thought to herself, although she didn't say it out loud. Instead she asked, "Are you happy, Jack?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question, but Jack didn't flinch.
He paused for a long-time, gazing up over the cemetery and out towards the mountains. But at last, and almost reluctantly, he said, "There's not a day goes by that I don't think of Charlie, and miss him, and regret what we lost." He sighed, raking his hand through his short hair, "But, yes I am happy, Sara. I wasn't, not for a long time, and I don't know if I deserve to be, but I am happy." He looked at her seriously, "Are you?"
"Most of the time," she told him honestly. "But sometimes I just wish...." Tears filled her eyes and she clamped her mouth shut against the familiar pain. Jack said nothing, just watched her with sympathy and something warmer - a remembrance of love, perhaps. "Sometimes," she whispered, trying again, "I miss him so badly. I just want to hold him again, touch his hair...see his smile...." Tears came and she didn't bother to try and stop them as they fell onto the flowers she held. Even now, the grief had a power to overwhelm her in a heartbeat when she thought of the little boy she'd never see grow up. Charlie. Her baby. She stifled a sob, and was just reaching into her pocket for the packet of Kleenex she'd wisely brought along, when she was astonished to feel Jack's arms circle her and pull her into his embrace.
"I know," he whispered in a voice brimming with emotion as he held her gently. His prosthetic hand felt strange against the small of her back, but the fingers that rested on her shoulder squeezed her gently. "I know Sara, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She was stunned. Never once had he done this. Not once in those god- awful days after Charlie's death, or even at the funeral, or any time since. Not once had he cried, or held her, or offered her anything. He'd been so trapped behind his wall of self-recrimination and guilt that he'd been unable to either give or receive comfort. But now...? It was astonishing. God, if he'd been like this then!
Sara pulled away slightly and looked up into his face, searching for what had changed him. Tears shimmered in his eyes as he looked down at her, which was extraordinary in itself; in ten years of marriage she'd never seen him cry. But there was something beneath the tears that surprised her even more, and it looked very much like peace. Jack O'Neill was at peace with himself. She wondered if the years alone could have wrought such a miracle, but knew in her heart that it had more to do with Sam Carter. She could almost see the woman in his eyes, and felt another stab of envy. Sam had done what Sara could not - she had brought him peace.
"Come on," Jack said gently, keeping one arm loosely around her shoulders. "Let's go talk to Charlie." She nodded mutely, still too emotional for speech, and let him lead her from the path towards the small headstone that symbolized all that they had lost.
***
The evening shadows were gathering, but the last of the afternoon's sunshine still lingered on the porch. From the kitchen, Sam could see Jack still sitting there, gazing silently out towards the trees. He'd been there a couple of hours, and she'd given him his space; the morning had been difficult and Jack had been quiet and pensive ever since they'd returned home from the cemetery. Turning, Sam reached for a couple of mugs and poured the coffee, stirring the cream in slowly as she watched him for a moment longer.
"Time to talk," she told herself quietly, picked up the mugs and headed for the porch. As she stepped outside the coffee started steaming in the cool air, and Jack turned at the sound of the door swinging shut behind her.
He smiled and said, "Hey. Where've you been?"
"Just doing some work," she told him, coming to sit next to him on the wooden bench. "Here," she said, offering him the mug. He took it from her in silence, but his eyes smiled a thank you. "So," she said quietly, "how are you?"
"Okay," he nodded, almost sounding surprised.
"Okay?" Sam was dubious, and eyed him over the rim of her mug as he continued to gaze out towards the trees.
"It felt different this time," he told her thoughtfully.
Taking a sip of her coffee, Sam waited for him to explain, but when it became apparent that he wasn't going to, she gently prompted him. "Different how?"
"I don't know," he sighed, turning towards her with a little shrug. "Usually I feel wound so tight it's like I'm gonna explode or something, but this time....?" He paused, clearly searching for the right words. "Even Sara said I seemed different. It's not that I don't feel the same when I think about what happened to Charlie, and how I could have prevented it, but it's like.... It's like it's in the past now, when before I was trapped in the moment." He stopped, and frowned. "Does that make any sense?"
"Yes," Sam assured him. "It does. It sounds like you're moving on."
"That's it," he agreed, nodding. "That's exactly it."
Over the year they'd been together, Sam had become familiar with the ways in which Jack hid his emotions, denied them to himself, or buried them so deep he barely knew they were there. But today, sitting in the last of the day's sunshine, she knew that he was speaking the truth; she saw loss and sadness in his eyes, but the emotions were tempered with an unusual peacefulness. It really did seem as though he was moving on, and the knowledge brought her a profound, yet poignant, happiness.
Taking a sip of her coffee her eyes came to rest on the table next to him, and she saw that it was covered with pieces of paper. Curious, she reached out and picked one up, turning it over in her hand. To her surprise, she saw that it was from a realtor, and that it contained a picture of a large house, with the details described beneath. "Thinking of moving?" she asked Jack, in some surprise that he hadn't mentioned the idea.
"Oh," he said, taking it from her hand with a sheepish smile. "Well...kinda."
Her surprise grew stronger. "Why?"
He shrugged, glancing at her sideways as he sipped his coffee. "I thought maybe I needed more space."
"You have three bedrooms already!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah," he nodded, "but the house is kinda filling up." His eyes were on her again, "You have a lot of...stuff."
Sam's eyes widened, slightly hurt. "Hey," she said, "if I'm in your way...?"
"No!" he said, hurriedly. "That's not what I meant. I meant...I mean, I thought that...." He frowned. "When was the last time you actually *slept* at your apartment, Sam?"
Suddenly she understood, and her heart did a little back-flip as she realized what he'd been thinking. "Slept?" she repeated, her mind oddly blank. "I have no idea." And then, unable to keep the question to herself, she said, "Jack, are you suggesting that we buy a house together?"
He shrugged a little, as if considering the idea, and said, "Yeah. Looks that way."
Her eyes widened again. "Oh."
"So," he said, and she could see that his nonchalance was feigned, "what do you think?"
She blinked. "About the house? Or about moving in together?"
He smiled then, a slow smile that set his eyes alight. "Come on Sam," he chided gently, "we've already moved in together. We could fit what's left in your apartment on the back of your bike."
She had to smile at the image. "Not the house plants," she pointed out, although the thrust of his argument was valid; her apartment had long-since ceased being her home.
"Well," he said, nodding seriously, "the house plants are an issue. Just another reason for getting somewhere bigger...."
Taking the paper from his hand, she looked more closely at the details. The price was somewhat steep, but the house was fantastic. "Is that a pool?" she asked, peering at the picture.
"Only a small one," Jack replied. "But the views are incredible," he added with enthusiasm.
"You've been out there?"
"Yeah," he nodded, the hesitant smile back on his face. "Just to see where it was. I didn't see inside the house."
Glancing at the address, Sam said, "It's up in the mountains?"
"Makes for a short commute to work."
"We'd get snowed in."
"It's not that high-up," he assured her. And then, with a more confident grin, added, "Not that getting snowed in with you would be such a bad thing."
Sam chuckled and glanced up from the paper. "Buying a house together, huh?"
"Too much?" he asked, his previous bravado falling away to reveal the core of uncertainty within.
But Sam shook her head. "Not too much," she assured him, "but...I like your house already. We don't have to move."
Jack was watching her seriously, and then he nodded slowly and said, "You like my house?"
"Sure," she agreed.
"*My* house?" he repeated, emphasizing the point.
She paused for a moment, and then smiled. "I see."
"It would be nice to have 'our' house," he said, taking hold of her hand. "Don't you think?"
"I guess it would," she agreed, squeezing his fingers. And then she grinned. "Wow. I've never bought a house before."
"Oh, it's easy," he assured her. "I'll help you through the tricky bits."
Sam flung him a disparaging look, but was too excited by the idea to rise to his bait. "Do you think we can afford this?" she asked, glancing down at the price.
"Sure," Jack agreed. "Once I sell this place. And anyway, I figure we'd need at least four or five bedrooms."
"For two of us?"
"Well, one would be a study - for you," he said. "Somewhere to put all that...stuff."
She smiled, thinking of the piles of books currently stacked in one of Jack's spare rooms. "Okay," she agreed. And then, with a grin, she said, "I'm assuming we'll share a bedroom, so that makes two...?"
"One's a guest room and then if we ever...." He stopped abruptly and looked away. Sam had the distinct impression that he'd said too much.
"Ever what?" she prompted quietly.
Jack shook his head at her question. "Now's probably not the right time," he muttered, but Sam cut him off.
"Yes it is," she said, edging closer so that their clasped hands rested in her lap. "Go on."
Still keeping his gaze fixed on the trees he said, "I was just thinking that we wouldn't have to move again if we...." He cleared his throat awkwardly, before hesitantly continuing, "If we ever considered having...kids."
Despite herself, Sam was surprised and her eyes widened as she said, "Kids?"
She paused and Jack nodded, still gazing out into the evening sky. "You ever thought about it?" he asked quietly.
"I guess I have," she admitted. "I mean, I think I would like kids, one day."
Jack turned to face her then, his eyes lit with a gentle smile. "One day," he echoed. "Yeah."
But Sam frowned slightly, unsure as she glanced down at their clasped fingers. "I wasn't sure if you'd want another child," she said quietly, "after Charlie."
His hand tightened around hers, and he pulled her closer. "For a long time I didn't think I would," he said. "I mean, a kid's not like a dog - when you lose one you can't just go out and get a new one."
"Exactly," Sam agreed, looking back up into his eyes. "So what changed?"
Jack shrugged a little. "You, I guess. Being with you. It just made me realize that if I had another child it would be because of what we have, you and I, and nothing to do with Charlie."
Sam nodded, a little overwhelmed by the conversation. Kids? They weren't even living together. Well, not officially. But kids...?
"I'm not saying right away or anything," he told her then, as if guessing the path of her thoughts. "I just wondered what you thought about the idea, in the long-term."
She smiled at that. "I like the idea," she said slowly. "And I like the idea that you think we have a long-term."
"You know I do," he chided her gently, reaching up and tracing his finger along the golden chain she always wore around her neck. "Eternal love and loyalty, remember?"
Covering his fingers with her hand, she smiled and said, "I remember. But that was before you knew that I squeezed the toothpaste from the middle of the tube."
His smile turned wry and he grimaced. "Good point, Major."
"Still," she continued, ignoring his deliberate use of her rank, and the wrong one at that, "if I can live with the fact that you're incapable of loading the dishwasher the right way...."
"Ah," he said, holding up his hand to halt her. "That's because there *is* no 'right' way to load a dishwasher!"
Sam rolled her eyes, but couldn't repress her chuckle. "Of course there is. Ignorance is no defense in law."
"There's a law, now?"
She smiled, shaking her head. "So...?" she said smiling into his eyes, wondering exactly what they'd decided.
"So," he agreed, his humor being replaced with a sudden intensity. "House first?"
"House first," she agreed happily. "And then?"
He smiled, pulling her into his arms and kissing her on the top of the head. "And then," he said, "we start a whole new adventure, Sam."
"So I guess this is just the beginning, then?" she sighed contentedly, gazing out at the sunset. "The start of a new chapter?"
"Of a whole new book," Jack corrected her.
Sam grinned, tightening her hold on him. "You know, I always read the last page of a book first."
"Yeah? So you know how this one turns out?"
"Happily," she assured him, snuggling closer. "Very happily."
Sam could feel his quiet laughter reverberate in his chest as he held her, and she sighed happily, basking in the warmth of their friendship. For the first time in her life she was truly happy, an emotion made perfect by the knowledge that she shared it with Jack; their years of service and sacrifice were at last being generously rewarded. She smiled as she considered the idea that perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, the cosmic balance was somehow being restored; the good-guys were actually getting what they deserved for once. And it was somehow fitting that they found their reward, not in the fame and adulation of others, but in the simple pleasure of sharing their lives and finding solace in each other's arms.
It was, she mused, the perfect ending.
And the perfect beginning.
~END~
Story Notes: Notes: Although this story works as a stand-alone piece, it also forms the third and final part of my "Crossing the Line" and "Holding the Line" series. If you would like to read either of these you can find them at my website: http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/
Thanks: As always, to Marcy for beta reading. And also to Erika and Lynn for their very helpful comments. Cheers, guys!
Email: reevesally@hotmail.com
Warning: SEVERE Jack whumping! You have been warned...
Spoilers: None
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis. Anyone else, please let me know so I can find you.
Thanks: As always, to Marcy for beta reading. And also to Erika and Lynn for their very helpful comments. Cheers, guys!
Email: reevesally@hotmail.com
Warning: SEVERE Jack whumping! You have been warned...
Spoilers: None
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis. Anyone else, please let me know so I can find you.
End Notes: Thanks for reading! Feedback is always read and appreciated at reevesally@hotmail.com
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 ]