A mental state, usually caused by intense religious experience, sexual pleasure, or drugs, in which somebody is so dominated by an emotion that self-control and sometimes consciousness are lost
It happened a lot. Especially when he thought she was going to die. *Especially* then. He couldn't think of anything other than that one word.
He lost his self-control. He couldn't just be her commanding officer, and let her be his second in command. When she was lying there on a bed with tubes coming out of her body at every orifice, her artificial breathing the only reassurance that she wasn't completely gone, not yet. Not yet.
He could sit and watch her, fiddle with *whatever* to make it look like he was in control when really his insides were melting, pulling, tightening, breaking. Watching her... breathe, he knew Hammond knew he had no chance of getting the younger man out of the chair. He knew he could allow the younger man to show how much Major Sam Carter really meant to him. And Jack appreciated Hammond for that.
His sense of time vanished, his sense of reality vanished. Everything just left him. Everyone let him be, knowing that he would simply brush off their attempts to talk, to get him to eat or drink. And he appreciated them all for that.
It was at times like this when he realised - even if he only acknowledged it for a mere moment - that she was like a drug: leaving him wanting more. And when the time came when it was impossible for him to have more, he flipped, lost control, lost two fries and was no longer a full happy meal. He realised that Sam Carter was his drug. His ecstasy.
And he needed her.