Title: "A Deadly Legacy"

Author: Sally Reeve and Marcy

Email: reevesally@hotmail.com or emkay@buffnet.net

Rating: PG 13(for some mild language)

Classification: S/J angst, UST, friendship, some action and adventure

Spoilers: "Divide and Conquer"

Archive: SJA and Heliopolis. Anyone else, please just ask so I can find you!

Summary: Memories weren't the only things Jolinar left behind

Notes: Thanks to Sharon and Lynn for their comments.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

"A Deadly Legacy" by Sally Reeve and Marcy

Part 1

In the top ten list of all-time worst missions, Sam reflected, P7D- 783 was right up there with the best of them. Or the worst. Not that they'd been captured, had their memories wiped, been infected by an alien virus or anything like that. Quite the opposite, in fact. They'd spent three dull days hiking to some ruins that Daniel had insisted were Goa'uld, merely to find what could only be described as nothing more than a pile of rocks.

After poking around them for half a day even Daniel had been forced to admit that rocks were all they were. And so they'd started the three day hike back to the gate, with a disappointed archaeologist and a more than irritated Colonel. And then there was the rain.

P7D-783 was a wet planet. Or at least, their little corner of it was. Wet and cold. They trudged through marshland punctuated only by ugly, stunted trees that clawed their way feebly out of the marshy landscape towards the rain-sodden skies. Their roots did little to stabilize the ground, and Sam's feet had been permanently bathed in cold, stinking marsh water for the best part of five days. And she'd had enough.

"You'd think," O'Neill muttered as he sank knee deep in mud for the hundredth time that day, "if they can figure out how to send a man to the moon they could figure out how to make a damn boot that doesn't leak? I think I'm getting trench foot."

He glanced at Sam, as if expecting her to smile at his wry comment. And she would have done, if she'd had the energy. But she didn't. They'd been walking since just after dawn, her heavy pack was digging into her shoulders, her lower back ached dully, and all in all she felt as if she could curl up in her bedroll and sleep for a week. So she didn't smile, she just kept her eyes on the ground, trying to keep to the tufted grass and avoid sinking into the marsh.

Beside her she heard the Colonel mutter "Suit yourself," as he deliberately lengthened his stride and moved ahead of her to where Daniel and Teal'c were leading the way. She watched him go with a sigh, realizing that her silence had given offense. Again. It always seemed to be the way these days.

"Looks like it's getting dark," Daniel said, turning around as Jack approached him. And then, squinting out through the trees, he pointed. "That might be dry - ish."

They stopped, and Sam was grateful for the breather as she closed the gap that had grown between them. But she kept her distance, bending over to allow her back to take the weight of her pack and easing the pressure on her shoulders for a moment.

Jack glanced up at the water-logged sky, the rain dripping from the peak of his cap. "Good a place as any, I guess," he muttered at last. And without saying anything more, he headed out towards the small stand of trees Daniel had pointed out.

As Daniel followed him, Teal'c turned towards Sam with a slight look of concern on his impassive face. "Major Carter?" he asked quietly. "Are you well?"

Straightening up, Sam smiled and tried to put real feeling into the expression. "Yeah," she nodded. "Just tired, sick of this planet, and feeling the cold."

Teal'c nodded as they fell into step beside each other. "It is indeed unpleasant," he agreed. And then, after a moment he glanced at her again and said, "O'Neill does not appear to be in good humor."

Sam's smile turned dry. "You noticed, huh?"

Inclining his head in agreement he fixed her with an unusually intense look as he said, "Perhaps he too suffers from the cold?"

Pretending not to understand the veiled reference, Sam just nodded. "Perhaps," she murmured, noncommittal. But she knew Teal'c. He was a shrewd observer and, more to the point, he'd been there when all this had started. With a sigh, she thought back to the day, months earlier, when the close friendship she'd shared with the Colonel had been knocked askew.

'Because I care about her. A lot more than I'm supposed to.' From the moment he'd uttered those words things had changed, and they'd been walking on eggshells ever since. They had never discussed it of course, beyond her hurried suggestion that his confession need go no further, but nonetheless something between them had shifted profoundly. An awkward self-consciousness had forced a brittle edge into their friendship and they both felt the discomfort of their new, uneasy relationship. Instinctively they had started putting some distance between each other, both emotionally and physically. And so, where once they would have swapped friendly banter or discussed the details of their mission as they walked, now O'Neill would invariably seek out Daniel or Teal'c for company instead. And increasingly, Sam found her mind turned inwards. The emotional turmoil of Martouf's death and Jack's revelations had made her more introspective than usual and less inclined for company. Of any sort.

So the tension had grown, and continued to grow. And it was really beginning to wear her down now, making her dog-tired however much sleep she got. Even her bones seemed to drag with fatigue as she battled to deal with the stresses of the past months.

Her gloomy thoughts were interrupted by her arrival at their campsite. Daniel and Jack had already discarded their packs and the Colonel was scanning the sparse branches in an attempt to figure out how best to rig the tarp to provide the shelter they needed; they'd given up on trying to pitch a tent on the marshy ground days ago.

"Carter," he called as she dropped her pack to the ground, "you wanna give me a hand, here?"

"Yes, sir," she sighed, unable to keep the reluctance from her voice as she rubbed at her aching back. What she wouldn't give just to sit and rest for five minutes!

But her sigh had drawn another irritated glance from O'Neill. "If it's not too much effort, Major?"

Damn, but he could be cold when he chose to! "Just catching my breath, sir," she muttered, stepping over her pack to help him with the tarp.

Despite everything, they still worked together smoothly; their minds had always run along similar paths and it didn't take long for the bivouac to take form, keeping the rain off the soggy patch of ground they were to call home for the night. As Sam cinched the final rope into place she became aware of him standing at her side and glanced over. He was watching her, as he often did. But this time his eyes didn't slide away when she looked at him and he frowned, taking a hesitant step closer. When he spoke his voice was low, betraying the embarrassment he always seemed to feel when he was afraid that his feelings for her were on show. "You seem a little tired, Carter," he said quietly, one wary eye on Teal'c who was searching for dry wood nearby. "You okay?"

She nodded, his awkwardness fuelling her own discomfort. "I am tired," she told him. "But I think we all are, sir. It's been a long few days."

"Yeah, it has," he agreed, a tentative smile touching his lips. "Long and miserable."

She felt the tug of her own smile. "And wet."

"Ya think?" he asked, but his voice was indulgent, not sardonic.

"I'm smart like that," she reminded him, and he laughed. It had been too long since she'd heard him laugh, and for a moment everything was all right between them. But the moment was short-lived.

"O'Neill," Teal'c interrupted. Jack stepped away from her as if caught red-handed, his face darkening with frustration.

"What?" he snapped.

"Dry wood," Teal'c replied, holding out a small arm-full towards him.

The Colonel nodded brusquely. "Looks good," he muttered, taking the wood. "I'll get a fire started."

And without a backward glance he moved to the edge of the tarp and busied himself with the fire-making. Sam watched him with a sudden sadness, their brief moment of renewed friendship only making her regret their current problems all the more.

With a sigh, she turned to her pack and started delving for the rations she carried. But she noticed Teal'c still standing nearby and glanced up again. His face was fixed on O'Neill and a slight frown marred his brow. "He still appears cold," he said, in reply to Sam's silent question.

She nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. "He does."

***

The rain fell in a staccato patter against the tarpaulin, dripping into puddles outside their makeshift shelter. The noise was soporific and Jack felt his eyes growing heavy as he ate in silence, barely tasting the food. It was hot, that was enough, and it filled a hole. Next to him Carter toyed with her own meal, eating slowly as she stared out into the firelight which cast dancing shadows over her features, glinting dully against her hair. She was miles away, he realized as he watched her slowly chew her meal. Thinking about Martouf, he guessed, and felt a little stab of jealousy. Irritated with himself, he glared down into his own bowl; the man was dead and still he had the power to aggravate him!

"You know," Daniel commented from where he sat cross-legged under the tarpaulin, "it's amazing how good this stuff tastes after a long day trekking through the mud."

Jack looked up and shook his head in disbelief as Daniel shoveled in another mouthful. "Personally," he muttered, "I'd kill for a steak."

No one spoke and the rain continued to rattle down above them. And then, to his surprise, Carter added, "With a baked potato and sour cream."

Jack glanced over at her, but her eyes were still lost in the firelight. "Deep-fried mushrooms," he suggested, remembering her favorites. "Onion-rings."

Sam smiled. "Chocolate fudge cake."

"Ice cream?"

"Hmmm," she nodded dreamily, turning her eyes to him at last. "A cold beer!"

Jack smiled at the expression on her face and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, enjoying the unexpected warmth in her eyes, "that sounds great."

Setting his bowl down outside their little shelter, Daniel pulled his blanket up around his shoulders and chuckled. "We all know how much Sam enjoys the occasional beer, don't we?" She flicked him a puzzled glance and he grinned. "Or what was it they called that stuff on P3X- 595? Kuzo?"

"Oh please!" she protested, shaking her head but smiling despite herself. "Not that again."

Jack grinned at the memory. "Now *that* was a party!"

"I can't believe you guys still remember that!"

"Are you kidding?!"

Sam was still shaking her head, a self-conscious flush adding a sparkle to her eyes. "That was a *long* time ago," she pointed out. "I'd know better now."

Daniel nodded sagely. "Never drink the local brew." And then he flung a mischievous grin at Jack. "Or eat the local cake."

Jack grimaced, but the expression turned into a smile. "Oh I don't know," he decided, "we certainly knew how to have fun back then." He nudged Sam in the ribs, "Right, Carter?" Any reply she might have made was cut short by a sudden gasp. "Ow!" she yelped, clutching at her side and pulling away from him. "Damn it!"

Guessing that she was joking, Jack smiled warily. "Oh, come on," he said, "I hardly touched you."

"Well it hurt!" she snapped through gritted teeth, one hand still held protectively over her side.

Jack scowled. Okay, he thought, I get the message! Keep your distance, Colonel. "Sorry!" he muttered, not meaning it and not sounding like he meant it. Carter didn't reply, she just sat holding her side with her lips compressed into a tight line. Great, just great, he thought. Just when things were warming up between them, she flies off the handle because he dared to touch her. What the hell did she think he was going to do?

"You okay, Sam?" Daniel asked, peering at her through the darkness.

"Fine," she said shortly, "just a little sore."

"I barely touched her," Jack insisted irritably, pushing himself to his feet.

Sam made no reply, just turned and retreated further back under the tarp to where her bedroll lay. She winced a little as she moved, only deepening Jack's exasperation; there was no way a little nudge could cause her that much pain!

"I'll take first watch," Daniel offered, but Jack shook his head.

"You sleep," he said. "I'll watch. I'm not tired."

Daniel's glance was disbelieving, but he wisely chose not to argue and curled up under his blankets to sleep. As Jack stepped out into the rain he felt Teal'c's eyes on his back, but didn't turn around. Teal'c knew as well as he did the reason for Carter's behavior, because he'd been there. He'd heard it all.

Even now, months later, the memory of that day haunted him. And as he stomped around the perimeter of their little camp, making all the usual checks, memories surfaced like unwanted flotsam after a storm. He let them come, the familiar pain almost soothing after the new blow Carter had dealt to their already battered friendship.

The memories were sharp and vivid, playing before his eyes like an endless video loop. He was strapped into that damn chair, his eyes fixed on Carter's face as he told her - and the whole goddamn room - that he would rather die than lose her. It wasn't exactly a declaration of love, but it was close enough to scare the crap out of him. Admitting that he needed anyone didn't come easily to Jack O'Neill, and he'd felt as if Anise had turned him inside out and bared his heart to the world. But it wasn't his remembered feelings of exposure and vulnerability that haunted him now, it was the memory of Sam's face that swam before his eyes as he squelched through the rainy darkness.

Her wide eyes had squeezed shut in an expression of pity. Or disappointment. He wasn't sure which. Pity that he'd been forced to voice what was best left unsaid? Or disappointment that he had allowed his feelings for her to so cloud his professional judgement? Perhaps it was both. But either way, he'd never forget that expression. It was burned forever into his mind. As were her own words, voiced under duress.

'I knew that he should leave,' she'd said. 'That it was the only decision that made any sense.'

Carter's calm, impassive face had given nothing away as Anise had asked, 'What were you feeling?'

'Sadness,' she had replied slowly, her eyes fixed on his. 'And regret. Regret that he wouldn't leave because of his feelings for me; regret that we were both going to die.'

Sadness and regret. Two words, that was all. But they had been slowly tightening around his heart from that day forward, strangling the powerful feelings he had harbored for so long. Sadness and regret. And yet...? In that moment aboard Apophis' ship, when all the barriers between them had fallen away, he had thought he'd seen something more than regret in her eyes. But whatever her feelings, Carter had kept her words brief and her face guarded as she answered Anise's questions. Sadness and regret. Yeah well, he had a few regrets of his own. And being forced to admit to feelings he'd done a damn good job of concealing - from himself and the world - was right up there with the biggest of them.

Stooping, he tucked himself back underneath the tarp and settled for the first watch. He'd wake Carter in a few hours, as usual. He always took first, she always took second. Another one of those familiar patterns they'd slipped into so easily. But glancing over at her lying on her back, he frowned. She normally curled up on her side so that little more than her nose and a mop of hair peeked out beyond the blankets. But not tonight. Tonight she slept on her back, the arm closest to her 'wound' laying tight to her side, the other flung above her head. A voice whispered in the back of his mind that, perhaps, he really had hurt her. But he dismissed the thought immediately; it wasn't possible. It was only a friendly nudge! And this was Carter, as tough as any soldier he'd served with. No, if he'd hurt her at all the pain wasn't physical. He felt his jaw tighten at the thought that his touch could be so unwelcome, and his mood soured further.

"O'Neill?" Teal'c's voice was low, speaking from the shadows.

Jack glanced over at him. "Thought you were kel-whatever-ing?"

"I am concerned about Major Carter," Teal'c replied, ignoring his words.

Jack felt himself stiffen. 'Oh here we go,' he thought bitterly. But all he said was, "Why?"

"She has appeared tired throughout this mission," Teal'c said. "But when I have inquired, she has always insisted that she is well." He paused. "I do not believe her."

Jack frowned. He'd be lying if he hadn't noticed a certain lack of enthusiasm in her, but he could make a shrewd guess at its source. Not that he was going to point *that* out to Teal'c. If the man couldn't figure it out for himself, he didn't deserve the truth. Jack chose a half-lie instead. "She's probably a little down about Martouf," he said, his eyes turning to her once more, wondering if she was really asleep.

"You have spoken to her about his death?"

"No," Jack admitted slowly, his frown deepening. "She didn't seem to want to discuss it."

Teal'c was silent for a moment, before he said, "Sometimes it is the duty of a friend to speak difficult words."

"Yeah?" Jack replied, feeling irritable and defensive. "And sometimes it's the duty of a friend to shut the hell up."

He sensed, rather than heard, Teal'c's disapproval. But the man said no more and Jack was left with the dubious satisfaction of having managed to piss off two out of three of his team in one evening. Way to go!

***

The day dawned dull, wet and chill. Just like all the other days on P7D-783. As Daniel stirred the fire at the end of his watch, the rest of his team began to stir themselves. Teal'c, as always, merely opened his eyes and rose fluidly to his feet. He glanced out at the gray, rainy sky and a slight shiver of disgust ran across his face.

"I am glad," he said, "that today we reach the Stargate."

Daniel nodded around a yawn. "Coffee?" he asked as he tried to balance the pot on the wooden tripod Jack had rigged up the previous night.

"Did someone say coffee?" O'Neill mumbled. At least Daniel assumed it was O'Neill, as very little was visible beneath the pile of talking blankets.

"It's a close approximation," he replied, sniffing at the brew.

"As long as it's got caffeine," Jack muttered, poking his head out from beneath his bedroll. He sighed, staring out at the morning. "How can it *still* be raining?"

"Do you really want to know?" Daniel asked, glancing at him in no doubt of his answer.

Jack sat up and shook his head. "Not really." Glancing around, his eyes rested immediately on the sleeping figure at his side. "Time to get up, Carter."

No response. Which was odd, Daniel realized. Sam was usually the first one up; she always seemed to need far less sleep than the rest of them. Jack frowned a little, reached out to prod her, but changed his mind at the last moment and said, "Hey, Carter. Come on, rise and shine."

Mumbling something incoherent, she shifted in her sleep and rolled towards him. But the movement seemed to pain her and she sucked in a breath as her eyes flashed open. She groaned when she saw the daylight. "Morning already?" she croaked. "I feel like I just...." She frowned and glanced up at Jack. "You didn't wake me for my watch," she said.

He just shrugged, looking self-conscious. "Well, I knew you were still recovering from that nasty nudge in the ribs," he muttered, climbing out of his bedroll and heading out of the shelter. "Be ready to move out in fifteen," he called over his shoulder.

Daniel was still watching Sam as he crouched next to the fire, and he saw the tight expression on her pale face as her eyes followed Jack out of the tent. Then she sat up and grimaced in obvious pain. "Sam?" he asked. "Is that really bothering you? Your chest?"

She shook her head. "Probably slept funny," she muttered, raking a hand through her tangled hair. And then, changing the subject, she said, "Is that coffee?"

***

Each day on this planet, Teal'c mused, seemed longer than the last. The rain, the chill and the soggy ground were beginning to grate on even his stoic nerves. And their effect on his companions were even more pronounced.

Daniel traipsed along at his side, head bent and eyes focused on the ground in a vain attempt to avoid the marshy depths which lurked beneath the deceptively dry looking grass. He said little, absorbed by physical discomfort and weariness. Teal'c did not regret the lack of conversation. The Tau'ri talked entirely too much for his taste, and he would have found the silence restful had it not been edged with an unusual tension.

Glancing ahead, he watched as O'Neill stalked along, setting a fast pace towards the Stargate. Hostility bristled in every clipped movement, his anger unexplained and yet, to Teal'c, transparent; the Colonel's heightened feelings for Major Carter had left him sensitive to every nuance of her behavior, and he had taken her apparent injury of the previous night as a personal affront. And today the Major bore the brunt of his animosity.

Glancing over his shoulder, Teal'c couldn't help but feel a beat of anger towards O'Neill as he watched Carter struggle to keep up. The Colonel's hurt feelings had blinded him to her obvious difficulty as she trailed along behind them. Teal'c couldn't begin to imagine how O'Neill's innocent nudge could have caused her such pain, but he had no doubt that she was suffering. He had asked her several times during the course of the day whether she was well, but his inquires had always been dismissed with a smile. O'Neill had said nothing, just watched the exchanges with dark accusatory eyes. Both, Teal'c knew, were as stubborn as the other and while O'Neill refused to drop the pace, Carter refused to ask him to.

But as he watched her now she stumbled over a tuft of grass, catching herself with one hand on the ground before she fell completely. When she straightened, her face was very pale and her lips compressed tightly against obvious pain. Enough, Teal'c decided, was enough. Ahead of him, O'Neill was deliberately oblivious to her difficulties - grossly unprofessional, in Teal'c's opinion - and he was about to call the Colonel to a halt, when he noticed that Carter herself had stopped. Protocol insisted that she alert the team to the fact, but he saw her glance warily at O'Neill before obviously deciding to ignore the rules. She had stopped on a relatively dry grassy ridge and slid her pack awkwardly from her back. The way she had to twist to get it off caused her to suck in a sharp breath.

Hurriedly, she opened her pack and pulled out her med-kit, while keeping one eye on O'Neill's back as he strode resolutely ahead. Finding a small bottle she tipped a couple of pills into her hand, and popped them into her mouth as she quickly stuffed everything back into her pack. She was just reaching for her canteen when Teal'c heard an angry shout from behind him.

"Carter! What the hell are you playing at?"

She grimaced as O'Neill stalked back across the marsh towards her, and Daniel muttered, "Now what?" with a note of concern Teal'c shared.

"Carter!" O'Neill snapped again. "I asked you a goddamn question." He stopped a few feet away from her, glowering.

"I needed something from my pack, sir," she told him, meeting his glare with an expression that definitely bordered on insubordination.

"What?" he asked.

"Sir?"

"What did you need?"

Carter's jaw tightened. "Advil, sir."

"Advil." His tone was flat, disbelieving. "Don't tell me. For the ribs."

Through gritted teeth Carter said, "Yes, sir. Sorry for the delay, sir." Teal'c could see anger in the glare she flashed him, and noted the way O'Neill flinched before it.

"You're getting slack, Major," he replied, his own anger returning. "You know damn well you don't just stop without reporting."

"Yes, sir," she replied, not giving an inch.

He shook his head. "I don't know what's gotten into you recently, Carter," he growled.

"No, sir," she replied. And then, with an obvious effort not to show how much it hurt, she hefted her pack over one shoulder and swung it onto her back.

The Colonel was watching her the whole time, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Ready?" he asked, as she cinched her hip-strap tight.

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. And try to make better time," he said brusquely. "No more dawdling, Major." And with that he turned away, stalking past Daniel and Teal'c without a glance at either. With a shake of his head Daniel started walking again, but Teal'c didn't move until Sam had reached him.

"Are you well, Major Carter?" he asked quietly, falling in at her side.

His words of concern drew a smile of gratitude. "My chest hurts," she admitted. "But other than that, I'm fine."

Teal'c nodded. "I will walk with you," he decided.

"Thanks, Teal'c," she said, smiling up at his serious face. "I appreciate it."

He did not trouble her for conversation as they walked, but could not help but notice how weary she seemed. It was disturbing in the Major, who was usually so full of life and enthusiasm, and he hoped that her difficulties with O'Neill had not dampened her bright spirit. They walked in silence for more than an hour, and it was with infinite relief that they at last saw the Stargate, gray against the gray sky, looming towards them out of the murky gloom. "Thank God," Major Carter murmured to herself as she fixed her eyes on it. And, had Teal'c had a god to thank, he would have echoed her words; this was one mission he would be pleased to forget.

Ahead of him, he saw Jack glance over his shoulder and run a frustrated hand through his hair. Some contrition had apparently penetrated his angry fortress and his pace slowed enough for them to catch up. His hostility seemed to have burned itself out, and Teal'c sensed a wary humility about him as he glanced over at the Major. "Looking forward to a hot shower, Carter?" he asked as he fell in beside her.

Carter's humor, however, had not improved. She was obviously in pain, weary, and in no mood to ease any guilt the Colonel might be feeling. Teal'c was not surprised to hear the ice in her voice as she snapped a brusque, "Yes, sir." Her cold tone had the desired effect; O'Neill winced slightly, glanced over at her once more in an endeavor to catch her eye, but getting no joy he strode ahead and left her alone. Again.

By the time they stood at the base of the gate Teal'c doubted that Major Carter could have walked much further, despite her stubborn pride. And it was with obvious effort that she stumbled up the steps to the Stargate and, ignoring O'Neill's half-concerned and half- irritated glances, almost fell into the embrace of the wormhole.

The tired and bedraggled team that emerged from the Stargate must have made a rather pathetic sight in the gate-room. Hammond took one look at their dispirited faces, frowned, and said, "Debrief in one hour."

Taking off his cap and shaking the excess rain onto the ramp, the Colonel turned to Carter and said, "Ladies first?"

But the Major shook her head, still clearly in pain and with little patience for his belated attempt at generosity. "You guys can have the locker room," she told them, heading down the ramp. "I'm gonna go have Janet check out my chest."

O'Neill's sudden exasperation was evident, and Teal'c heard him mutter, "Yeah, I'll be interested to see the clinical diagnosis for a nudge in the ribs!"

Carter just ignored him and pushed angrily at the gate-room doors, letting them swing shut behind her before she could hear the rest of his witticisms.

***

Part 2

"Anyone ever tell you that you can be a real ass, Jack?" Daniel asked, as soon as the doors to the gate-room had closed.

O'Neill scowled. "You have," he replied, stomping down the ramp. "Frequently."

Daniel sighed, but wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily. "Why don't you believe her?" he called after him.

Jack didn't stop walking. "You saw," he said. "I hardly touched her."

Well that was the truth, Daniel had to admit. His friendly nudge couldn't really have caused Sam any pain. But still...? "Why would she lie?" he pressed, voicing his own question.

"How should I know?" came the cold, hard reply.

"Jack!" Daniel protested, refusing to let him walk away from the problem.

O'Neill turned, eyes flat and unrevealing. "Daniel?"

Pulling off his glasses and walking down the ramp towards him, Daniel said quietly, "We're talking about Sam, here."

"Yeah," Jack sighed. "I know."

"So...."

"So what?"

"So, Sam wouldn't lie."

Turning away, Jack pushed open the doors to the gate-room. "Things change," he said bitterly. "People change." And with that he left.

Daniel watched him go in silence, before he rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. "Teal'c," he sighed, "do you have any idea what's going on?"

Teal'c remained silent for a long moment, and at last Daniel glanced over at him. His face was troubled, and Daniel had the distinct impression that the man knew more than he was willing to tell. At length he spoke. "I believe that Major Carter is in pain," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "Me too." But whether that pain was emotional or physical, he couldn't be sure.

***

"He just nudged me in the ribs," Sam was explaining as she eased herself onto the infirmary bed. "It wasn't hard, but it just really hurt."

Standing before her, a frown creased Doctor Fraiser's brow. "Show me," she said.

Tentatively, Sam touched the side of her rib cage. "Right there," she said. Lifting her shirt to take a look Janet's cool fingers probed lightly over the painful area, but still Sam winced a little.

"That hurts?" Janet asked quietly, as she stooped to get a better look.

"Uh-huh."

"I think I'll take an x-ray, just to check," she said. And then, standing up straight, she let go of Sam's shirt and smiled, looking intently into her face. "How are you generally?" she asked, pulling her stethoscope from around her neck and placing it lightly on Sam's chest.

"Okay," Sam replied.

"Any headaches?"

"No."

"Eating and sleeping okay?"

Sam had to think for a moment. "Well," she sighed, "I guess I haven't had much of an appetite recently, but I've certainly been sleeping!"

"More than normal?" Janet asked, pulling her stethoscope back around her neck and picking up Sam's notes.

She shrugged. "I guess. I've been feeling really tired," she confessed. "Can't seem to get enough sleep."

Janet jotted something down in her notes. "How long's that been going on?" she asked. Sam didn't answer right away, and Janet's eyes peered suspiciously at her over the top of her glasses. "Sam?"

"Oh," she said at last, "a few months...."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "You didn't mention it."

"No," Sam agreed. "I think it's just stress - it doesn't feel like I've had five minutes to sit down and think since...." She trailed to a halt and ran a hand through her hair; it was getting too long, she thought absently.

"Since what?" Janet pressed.

Dropping her hand back into her lap, Sam sighed. "Since Martouf." She paused, and then in a quieter voice added, "And the whole Za'tarc testing thing."

"That was a pretty intense day," Janet agreed.

"Yeah."

A thoughtful silence grew between them until Janet got back to business. "Any other symptoms?" she asked. "Aches and pains?"

Sam considered for a moment and then said, "My lower back."

Janet just nodded, flicked down the pages on her chart and looked up with a smile. "Well, let's take a look at that chest of yours, Major," she said. "Then you can go take a shower."

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Janet, guess I should've cleaned up first."

But the doctor waved away her concern. "You just look like you could do with a long hot soak," she said.

"Oh yeah," Sam smiled again. "That sounds like a prescription I can swallow!"

***

The tension in the locker room was palpable as Jack pulled a tee- shirt over his head and tugged it down over his damp skin. On the other side of the room Teal'c closed his locker quietly, preparing to leave, while Daniel was mumbling something to himself as he tied his laces.

Carter still hadn't shown up to throw them out and claim the locker- room for herself and, glancing at his watch, Jack frowned. She would hardly have time for a shower before the debrief, and he wondered what was holding her up. She couldn't still be in the infirmary. Could she?

"I hope Sam's okay," Daniel said suddenly, as if reading Jack's thoughts.

"You know Fraiser," O'Neill said as he sat down to pull his boots on, "probably giving her an armful of shots."

"For a nudge in the ribs?"

Jack said nothing, scowling down at his laces as he tied them. Damn, he hated this. He hated the tension between them, the fact that their mutual trust had been compromised by other, more complicated feelings.

Daniel stood up. "See you in the debriefing, Jack," he said, his voice conveying a subtle disappointment.

Refusing to be drawn, Jack just nodded and said, "Yep." For a moment he thought Daniel was going to speak again, but he obviously thought better of the idea and left the room in silence. Standing up and slamming his locker shut, Jack gave a brief nod to Teal'c and headed in the same direction.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

He turned.

"Friendships are easier preserved than mended," the Jaffa said quietly.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Did you read that in a fortune cookie?" he asked, hiding his awkwardness behind the sardonic reply. Teal'c didn't deign to respond, but fixed him with a penetrating look that seemed to say 'ignore my advice at your peril.' Jack did his best to hold the intense look, but he was no match for Teal'c and blinked first. "Yeah," he sighed, frowning down at his boots. "I know. You're right."

Teal'c nodded, acknowledging Jack's capitulation, and moved toward the door in silence.

Jack stood back to let him pass, and then he was gone and Jack found himself alone. His eyes drifted automatically towards the locker opposite him as he pondered Teal'c's words. 'Carter, S.' it read on the door. Sam Carter - his friend. The idea was novel, in a way. He was used to seeing her as his colleague, as someone he could trust with his life and more. He was even getting used to the other, less professional, feelings she aroused in his heart. But friendship, pure and simple, was something he'd never really considered. Daniel was a friend; Carter was...? Carter was Carter - his anchor, his rock. His hope. Any yet, perhaps he'd become so caught up in what he *shouldn't* feel for her that he'd forgotten what he *could* feel for her? She could be his friend, even if she could never be more than that, and he could be hers. And as a friend, he figured, he owed her an apology for today.

Turning to the door he glanced at his watch and realized that he'd have to hurry or be late for the briefing. There was no time to talk to her first, but afterwards he'd talk to her and smooth things over. That's what friends did, right? Talk.

***

It felt like a luxury after six days in the mud and rain, to stand under the steaming hot water and let it wash away all the dirt and grime. Sam was already on the third attempt at cleaning her hair, and it was at last losing its gritty quality as she ran her fingers through it.

She sighed a long, happy sigh and closed her eyes as the water pummeled her; the private shower in the infirmary was another luxury she was determined to enjoy. No need to rush, plenty of time to think. Her first thought was that Colonel O'Neill wouldn't be pleased that Fraiser had excused her from the debrief, her second was that she didn't give a damn. Not after the day he'd just inflicted on her!

The Colonel had acted like a total jerk, and she'd be the first to admit it. Her feelings for him didn't blind her to the fact that the man could be as cold and unyielding as granite when he so chose, and today he'd been in top form!

In the past she'd often chuckled at his snide remarks, but his temper had never been directed towards her and she'd suddenly found it a whole lot less amusing. "Now I know how Daniel feels," she muttered aloud, letting the water seep into her mouth as she spoke and grimacing as she tasted shampoo.

She'd rarely fallen victim to the sharp edge of his tongue, and decided that she didn't like it much. And then, out of the blue, she found herself wondering if his wife had ever seen that side of him. She must have, of course. Smiling slightly, Sam shook her head at the direction her mind was travelling; Jack O'Neill, she realized, would be an incredibly difficult man to live with! "Sara must've been a saint," she told the empty shower room as she turned off the water and reached for her towel.

"Major?"

Janet's voice through the door startled her in the midst of her musing, and she felt herself flush guiltily. "I'm nearly done," she said hurriedly, forcing such confusing thoughts from her mind.

"Okay," Janet replied, but there was a note of tension in her voice that was disturbing. Sam frowned and Fraiser said, "We need to have a chat when you're done, Sam."

A chat? That sounded ominous. Her hand lightly touched her sore chest again, and she swallowed the unease rising in her throat. Something wasn't right, and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

***

Jack was torn between anger and concern as he stormed along the corridors towards the infirmary, scattering personnel in his path; they all knew *that* look. Carter hadn't been at the debrief. Fraiser had phoned Hammond and told him she was keeping her in the infirmary for tests. Tests! For what? It was a goddamn nudge in the ribs, for crying out loud. A young lieutenant hovered near the infirmary door, until Jack's scowl sent her scurrying out of his way. He slowed, but he didn't pause as he pushed open the door to Janet's office and strode inside. "Doctor," he snapped, demanding her immediate attention.

Fraiser was at her desk and glanced up at his abrupt entrance, before returning her attention to the x-rays she was studying. Before Jack could continue she said, "Come in, Colonel. You've saved me a trip."

He blinked in angry surprise. "I have?" Behind him he heard the door click shut.

Turning away from the x-rays, Fraiser looked at him with a frown on her face. "You've come to check on Major Carter?" she guessed.

"Wondering why the hell she wasn't in the debrief," he corrected sharply, fixing her with a pointed look.

But the doctor's frown only deepened and she pressed a hand momentarily to her forehead. "Take a seat, Colonel."

He was suddenly struck by the tension in Fraiser's face. She was usually coolness personified, but today she appeared to be on edge, testy. Anxious.

His anger started to dissipate. "What's going on?" he asked, her unease infecting him with a nervousness of his own as he slowly lowered himself into the chair opposite her.

With a sigh, she sat back in her seat; settling in for the long-haul he realized, and a pulse of fear fluttered in his stomach. After a moment she spoke, her voice quiet and measured. "Major Carter told me that you poked her in the chest...."

"Hey!" he objected immediately, half-rising to his feet. "I hardly touched her!"

Janet held up a hand to forestall his argument. "I know," she assured him, her quiet voice carrying over his protests. "Nonetheless, she has a fracture of her rib, right here." She pointed to the x-rays on her desk, but Jack paid no attention.

No way! He shook his head in stubborn disbelief. "Did she put you up to this?" he asked, anger returning as his confusion mixed uneasily with a deep foreboding. "Is this some kind of goddamn joke? Because I can tell you *right* now that...."

"It's no joke," Fraiser snapped, eyes blazing fiercely. "And frankly, I resent the implication. Sir."

Her rebuke deflated him, and he hung his head a little. "Sorry," he muttered, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped. Glancing up at her from beneath his eyebrows he said, "But I'm telling you, it was just a nudge. I hardly touched her. I swear."

Fraiser's anger faded as fast as his own, and she just nodded slightly at his words and said, "You wouldn't have had to, Colonel."

He frowned, not fully understanding her words. "Meaning?"

With a sigh, the doctor sat forward as she obviously searched for layman's language. "In addition to the rib fracture," she began, "the x-rays revealed an alarming degree of bone demineralization."

Jack scrubbed a worried hand through his hair. "Bone what?"

"Demineralization. They've lost a lot of calcium," she explained. "Sam's bones have become extremely brittle."

"Brittle?" he asked, still struggling with what she was telling her. He'd only seen Sam a couple of hours ago, and she'd been fine. A little tired. A little pissed off. But...demineralized? "Are you telling me," he said slowly, gathering his thoughts, "that I broke her rib?"

Fraiser nodded. "Yes, you did, but it's something called a pathologic fracture. Her bones have become so fragile that almost anything could have caused it. But..."

"Oh God," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. In his mind's eye he saw her pale face as she struggled uncomplaining to meet his punishing pace, and wondered how he'd missed the genuine pain in her eyes. "Daniel's right, I *am* an ass," he mumbled through his fingers. "Carter must hate me."

"I doubt that," the doctor said quietly, in a tone that provoked a flutter of hope amid his remorse. But her gaze slipped away from his when he glanced up and in a louder voice she said, "But, with respect sir, a little rib fracture is the least of the Major's problems."

He felt a sudden chill wash through him. "It is?"

"We need to find out what's causing the demineralization in the first place."

Jack nodded, his mind whirling. "Best guess?" he asked, hoping it wouldn't be anything too bad. Maybe she hadn't been eating right? Maybe some calcium pills...?

But Fraiser was already shaking her head. "I don't have a best guess at this point, Colonel."

"Really?" he asked, frowning.

"I need to discuss the situation with Major Carter first," she added in a softer tone. "I'm doing some blood work - we should know more tomorrow."

"I understand," he sighed. "But," he fixed her with a steady look that demanded the truth, "could it be...bad?"

She was silent for a moment, her gaze turning to the x-rays on her desk. "It's really too early to tell, sir," she said slowly, obviously reluctant to answer.

"But?" he pressed. "Potentially...?"

Fraiser sighed. "Potentially, sir, it could be bad."

He shook his head in an attempt to deny her words and stared down at his clenched fingers, slowly turning white in his lap. "Does she know?"

"You can't get a lot past Sam."

"No," he agreed. "No, you can't." He said nothing more, his thoughts turning painfully back to the way he'd treated her all day; dismissing her pain, ignoring her obvious fatigue, deliberately forcing the pace because he was angry, and confused, and hurt. He'd acted like the worst sort of parade-ground bully and he was ashamed of himself. Letting out a long, slow sigh as he looked up at her again he muttered, "I acted like a jerk today. I owe her an apology." Fraiser made no reply, but he could see agreement in her dark eyes and knew that Sam must have told her something, if not all the details. He flinched away from her gaze and quietly asked, "Can I see her?"

The doctor shook her head. "She's resting right now, Colonel."

"I won't stay long," he promised. "I just want to...."

"She's asleep," she told him firmly. "She was exhausted when she came in - had a hard day, apparently."

He winced at her tone, wondering exactly what Carter had said. Nothing that wasn't true, he was sure. Nothing that he didn't deserve. "Janet?" he pleaded quietly, dispensing with rank and hoping to appeal to her as a friend. "Please? Just five minutes?"

For an instant she wavered and he thought she might succumb. But her weakness was only momentary. "I think it would be better if you came back in the morning," she decided, her tone final. "Major Carter needs her rest, and I might have some more information about her condition by then."

Recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw, Jack knew that arguing was a waste of breath. Reluctantly he got to his feet, but couldn't resist glancing into the infirmary in the hope of catching a glimpse of Sam. He was out of luck. With a sigh he turned to leave, but at the last moment he stopped with his hand on the door. "Doc?" he asked quietly. "Will you tell her something from me?"

"Sure."

"Tell her...," he began, considering his words carefully. "Tell her that I owe her a beer," he said at last, unwilling to tread any closer to his true feelings. "Probably a lot more than one."

Behind him, Janet chuckled softly. "I'll let her know," she promised.

With a silent nod of thanks Jack left, stepping out into the corridor beyond as if it were an alien planet. The people around him seemed unreal, mere images with plastic smiles; they meant nothing to him. All he could think about was Carter. Guilt, not an unfamiliar emotion to Jack O'Neill, needled him like a thousand tiny knife wounds as he walked, unseeing through the corridors. In fact, the only thing that could distract him from his remorse was the nameless dread of what the morning might bring.

Tomorrow. He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning slowly towards his quarters. Tomorrow felt like an eternity away, and he was facing a long, dark night before the dawn.

Part 3

As Sam opened bleary eyes she glared at the medical staff whose noisy chatter at the far end of the room had woken her. Morning had come and yet she felt as if she'd only just sunk into sleep; after crashing out exhausted from the day's trek, Sam's fears had surfaced in the night and pulled her tired body into a restless wakefulness. Despite the fatigue that dragged at her, sleep had proven elusive and she'd spent the night drifting from one bad dream to another. Feeling exhausted and irritable, Sam rolled over and away from the chatting medics. Big mistake! Her weary eyes flashed open at the sharp pain in her side and she sucked in a breath. Damn, that hurt! And with the pain came the memories with which she'd spent the night wrestling; the rain, the mud, Jack's angry face. The concern in Janet's dark eyes as she told her of her mysterious condition.

A pulse of dread fluttered in Sam's stomach as she remembered that there was something wrong with her; bones didn't just turn to glass in your body. And although she wasn't a doctor, she hadn't needed the worry on Janet's face to tell her that the symptom was indicative of something serious.

With a sigh she sat up and glanced around the infirmary. Aside from the staff it was empty, so she swung her legs out of bed and headed off in search of the bathroom. By the time she returned, Janet was busy with a rather ominous tray of instruments by her bedside. She looked up as Sam approached and smiled, "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Not great," Sam admitted, eyeing the various tubes on the tray. "More tests?" she asked.

Janet nodded. "Just a couple more."

With a sigh, Sam climbed back into bed and offered her arm to Janet. Maybe to distract her from what she was doing, or maybe just to pass the time, Janet started chatting. "You had a couple of visitors last night," she said, her eyes fixed on the needle as it slid into Sam's arm.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "Daniel stopped by with Teal'c - told me to say 'hi'." She paused as she watched the slowly filling test tube. "Colonel O'Neill was here too."

Sam smiled. "Did you tell him?" she asked. "About my rib?"

"Yeah," Janet said, glancing up at her momentarily.

"And?"

"And he asked me to tell you he owes you a couple of beers."

"A couple of beers?!" she laughed. "And then some!"

A slight frown touched Janet's face as she swapped the full test tube for an empty one. "I have to say," she said slowly, "I don't think I've ever seen the Colonel looking quite so...ashamed of himself."

Sam's smile broadened. "Well *that's* something I'd like to see!"

"Yeah," Janet agreed, "it's a rare one!" Pulling the syringe slowly from Sam's arm, she smiled. "You hungry for breakfast?"

"A little," Sam shrugged. "But I can easily go to the cafeteria...."

Janet shook her head. "You're not escaping that easily, Major! I'll send in a tray."

"Janet?" Sam called as her friend turned away.

"Yeah?"

"Have you had any results yet?" she asked, her voice sounding rather small despite her best efforts at bravery.

But Janet shook her head, "Not yet," she said. "Have something to eat first, then we'll talk."

With a sigh Sam nodded, her feeling of unease only heightened by Janet's reserve.

***

Jack had given up on sleep at about five o'clock that morning. He'd felt hot and sticky, and his sheets had been twisted from hours of tossing and turning as he tried to get his mind to shut down for the night. But it had refused, and sleep had eluded him. All he could think of as he lay in the dark was that Carter was sick, and that he hadn't noticed. He claimed to be her friend, to care about her - whatever the hell *that* meant - but when she'd needed him he'd turned her away. Afraid of feeling too much, he'd acted like an unfeeling bastard and treated her injury as some kind of goddamn personal insult! The guilt had refused to give him a moment's peace until he'd angrily flicked on the light and spent the rest of the night glaring at the ceiling.

He sat now in the locker room, staring through the steam that had built up while he'd stood for a long time under the pummeling water, hoping to wash his fatigue away. But his eyes were still full of sand, and the faint nausea of sleep deprivation rose in his throat. Reaching for his watch, Jack sighed; six-fifteen. Still too early to go see Carter. Although, as impatient as he was to see her, he had no idea what to say. That had been another thing whirring through his mind all night; how to apologize. Sorry seemed inadequate - sorry that I broke your rib, sorry that I didn't believe you, sorry that you're sick, sorry that I care about you too much...? Where the hell was he supposed to start?

"Coffee," he decided, speaking the word aloud to the empty room. It was as good a place as any.

***

Leaving Janet's office, Daniel immediately spotted Sam in the infirmary. She was sitting up in bed, legs crossed, nibbling disconsolately at piece of limp toast before she gave up and pushed the full breakfast tray away. As the door to the infirmary creaked shut behind him, she glanced up and smiled. "Daniel! Hi!"

"How are you?" he asked, walking towards her. She looked pale and tired to his eyes, but he did his best to hide his concern. "You look...a little better," he said, offering her a small lie.

She smiled. "I feel fine," she lied back.

"Um, Janet said she's running some tests," he said then, nodding over his shoulder towards the doctor's office.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Me too," he agreed awkwardly. And then frowned. "How's the rib?"

"Sore," she confessed, touching it gingerly. "But Janet's keeping me dosed up with painkillers - it's okay."

Glancing at her over the top of his glasses, Daniel said, "You should have told us, you know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I?"

"You know what I mean," he said, pulling a chair up to the side of her bed and sitting down. "You should have insisted Jack ease up on you."

Sam's eyes dropped to her hands resting in her lap. "I didn't want to make a fuss."

"He was acting like a jerk, Sam," Daniel told her quietly. "You should have called him on it."

She shook her head. "I was okay," she protested, still not looking at him. Daniel frowned. He had the distinct impression that there was more to it than that; Sam wasn't one to take that sort of behavior lying down.

His frown deepened as he decided to get to the bottom of the problem. But before he could speak he was interrupted by a voice from the doorway. "He's right," it said, "I *was* acting like a jerk, and you should have called me on it."

Daniel turned to see Jack standing just inside the door, watching Sam with hesitant eyes. A slight, crooked smile touched his lips as she looked up, and he shrugged helplessly.

Shaking her head in exasperation, Sam failed to hide her answering smile. "Colonel."

Daniel stood up slowly, his eyes darting from Sam to Jack and back again. The tension was palpable, confusing in its nature, but definitely palpable. "Um, perhaps I'll just...?" he muttered as he backed away slowly.

"Good idea," Jack agreed, not moving from where he stood by the door.

"Feel better," Daniel told Sam, touching her lightly on the shoulder and wishing her luck with a smile. Jack seemed at his mercurial best, and Sam would need all the luck she could get.

Rolling her eyes in agreement with his unspoken thoughts, Sam just nodded and said, "Thanks, Daniel."

***

Standing by the door, Jack watched as Daniel gave Sam a slight squeeze on the shoulder before turning and walking away. He slowed slightly as he approached, and said, "Jack," by way of a greeting.

"Daniel," Jack nodded, his eyes still fixed on Sam.

Then the door swung shut, the room fell into silence, and they were alone. But still Jack didn't move. Sam was watching him, her eyes bright in her pale face and touched with accusation. No more than he deserved. She held her silence, watching him expectantly and he could tell she was determined not to make the first move. Well, she was right; this was his mess to fix. Running a hand through his hair, he decided to start at a tangent. "Did Fraiser tell you I owe you a beer?" he asked her.

Sam's eyes widened, apparently surprised at his words. And then she smiled again, shaking her head slightly, and said, "More than one."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Maybe a whole keg."

"Or two."

He smiled, dropping her gaze at last and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "So," he said after a moment, "how's the...rib?" He couldn't help cringing at the question; the rib he'd broken, the rib he'd refused to believe was damaged.

But Sam was gracious. "Better," she told him, without a hint of triumph.

He nodded, looking up at her again. He didn't deserve her to be so...forgiving. He needed a little anger to help assuage his guilt. "You know, Carter," he said awkwardly, "I feel terrible about the whole thing - I was totally out of line. Daniel was right; I'm a jerk."

"Maybe sometimes," she agreed, an undertone of anger surfacing in her voice. He glanced up and she added a belated, "Sir," which just made him smile.

"Maybe most of the time," he corrected her quietly, shaking his head. "Carter, if I'd known...."

"I *did* tell you," she pointed out.

Jack winced as her anger rose more forcefully. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I just..." He let out a long, slow breath and looked straight into her eyes. "I was wrong, Carter. And I'm sorry."

After a pause, she said, "I know." Her anger, such as it had been, seemed to dissipate in the face of his genuine contrition and after a moment she added, "It really wasn't your fault, sir. My bones are...."

"Demineralized. I know."

She blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Fraiser told me."

"Oh." She frowned, her lips pressed together in sudden concern. "Did she tell you anything else?" Jack looked away as she spoke, unable to meet the honest question in her eyes. "Oh God," she breathed when he made no reply, "what did she say?"

"Nothing," he assured her hurriedly, crossing the room in a couple of strides. "She didn't tell me anything. Swear to God, Carter."

As if ashamed of her sudden panic she turned away, but he refused to let her go and drew her back to him with a hesitant touch on her arm. His dark eyes fixed her with a serious look and in that instant the months of tension between them dissolved; he knew that powerful emotions burned behind his eyes and she met the look with an expression equally open. "I hate being sick," she admitted quietly, and he tightened his hold on her arm.

"Everything's going to be fine," he assured her, meaning every word. "*You're* going to be fine."

But she shook her head. "You can't make that promise, sir."

"Sure I can," he said brightly. "And I *never* break promises, Carter. That's a promise."

Sam smiled slightly and let out a sigh as she pulled her knees up under her chin. "Janet's worried," she confessed, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "She thinks it's serious."

She was watching him, trying to read the truth in his face as he considered his answer. In the end he just said, "Yeah, she does."

She looked away as he spoke, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. When they opened again, she forced a smile and said, "Thanks, sir."

"For what?"

"The truth," she said simply. And then she laughed, a dark laugh. "Daniel tried to tell me I looked better this morning!"

That made him smile, but all he said was, "You sure he didn't say you *have* looked better?"

Sam shook her head and chuckled. "Daniel's a diplomat, remember?"

"Ah," Jack nodded. "Well, I guess diplomacy never was my strong point."

"No," she agreed, meeting his eyes with a serious look. "But I've always preferred straight talking, Colonel."

He smiled at the veiled compliment, and remembered Teal'c's words during their last night on P7D-783 - 'sometimes it is the duty of a friend to speak difficult words'. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and said, "Talking - straight or otherwise - isn't something we've done a lot of, is it, Carter?"

"No," she agreed, clearly astonished that he would stray so close to the forbidden subject that lay between them. But after a moment she calmly followed his lead. "We probably should have though."

"Yeah," he nodded, somewhat encouraged. "Maybe we could....?"

"Colonel?" Janet's voice interrupted, and Jack hastily turned around.

"Doc," he said, feeling flustered. "'Morning." He ran nervous fingers through his hair, but Janet seemed oblivious to his discomfort. She was clasping a file to her chest as she walked towards them, her face set and her jaw tense.

"General Hammond would like to see you in his office right away, sir," she said, with unusual brusqueness.

Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request. "Right away?"

"Yes, sir."

With a roll of his eyes he turned to Sam. "I'll stop by later, Carter," he said, his hand brushing lightly against her arm again. "You take it easy."

But Sam didn't return his smile; her eyes were fixed anxiously on Janet and the file she was gripping so tightly.

***

The air in Hammond's office was thick with unanswered questions and the silence was tense. Daniel sat nervously in a low chair, his fingers fidgeting with the slightly frayed hem of his shirt as he waited. Next to him sat Teal'c, the large man's face impassive although the set of his jaw revealed that he was not immune from concern. Across from them both, General Hammond sat with fingers steepled, his eyes lost in thought and a slight frown creasing his wide forehead. As the silence lengthened Daniel was on the point of speaking when a sharp rap on the door made him jump.

Hammond blinked and his lips tightened. "Come in."

The door opened and Jack's head poked around it. "Sir? You asked to... Oh." He raised a surprised eyebrow upon seeing Teal'c and Daniel. But surprise soon turned to suspicion as he stepped into the room and frowned. "What's going on?"

"Take a seat, son," Hammond suggested, waving at one of the vacant chairs.

Still suspicious Jack dropped down into the chair. "What's this about?" he pressed.

Hammond frowned, tapping a finger against his desk. "Doctor Fraiser wants to talk to us," he said quietly. "About Major Carter's condition."

Jack froze, just for an instant. But Daniel saw the moment of panic that struck him, he saw the fear that flashed in his eyes before the military mask had time to fall. "I just saw her," he said in a tight, controlled voice.

"Doctor Fraiser?"

Jack shook his head slightly. "Carter." He paused before he added, "Fraiser hasn't told her anything."

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Hammond ran a worried hand across his balding head. "She's talking to her now," he said.

"What's she telling her?" Jack asked, the belligerent note in his voice doing nothing to hide his anxiety.

But Hammond had no answer for him. Shaking his head he sighed. "I don't know, Colonel," he said quietly. "Doctor Fraiser wouldn't tell me until she'd spoken to Major Carter."

Jack nodded, but his eyes closed as if he were in pain and his fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose. Daniel could almost see the tension seeping into every limb as the man turned slowly to stone. When he spoke again, his voice was small and constrained. "Doesn't look good, does it?"

"Let's wait for the Doctor," Hammond suggested, but from the bleak look on his face, Daniel suspected that he agreed with Jack's assessment.

The hands on the clock moved interminably slowly as they waited. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty minutes. Thirty. And with each minute that passed the mood in the room sank lower and lower. Daniel's nervous picking at his shirt had all but undone the hem, while Jack fidgeted constantly, glancing between his watch and the clock and the door, then getting up and pacing, before throwing himself back down into the chair and glaring at his watch again. "What's taking her so long?" he muttered under his breath and he slumped back in the chair, the foot that rested on his knee twitching nervously.

"She must have much to discuss with Major Carter," Teal'c observed, his words doing nothing to calm anyone.

Jack scowled. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Guess so."

At last footsteps could be heard approaching the office door. Hammond looked up, Daniel sat forward and Jack was on his feet by the time the quiet knock came.

"Come," Hammond replied immediately, and Janet opened the door. Her face was grim and pale as she regarded the four sets of anxious eyes that greeted her.

"Sir," she said, nodding towards the General.

"Come in, Doctor," he replied, his eyes kindly as he rose to his feet and came around his desk. "Take a seat."

Sitting down, Janet sighed, resting the file she carried on her knees. She looked drained, and Daniel felt his heart sink at the sight. There was no doubting that whatever she had to tell them, the news was not good. She wasted no time in getting to the point. With her hands clasped tightly together on her lap, she spoke quietly, her voice husky with controlled emotion. "I'm afraid that Major Carter's test results are quite disturbing," she said immediately, her eyes turning to Jack. He just watched her with a blank face, his lips compressed into a hard line. She continued. "The blood tests showed an abnormally high level of protein in Sam's blood. She's also somewhat anemic."

Daniel frowned. That didn't sound too bad. Glancing over at Jack, he saw his friend relax slightly. "Anemia?" O'Neill asked. "Doesn't sound too scary."

But Janet frowned. "It's more serious than that, sir. When I took a close look at the additional proteins in Sam's blood, it became clear that they weren't human."

"Not human?" Hammond broke in. "Then what the hell are they?"

"I believe," Janet said slowly, "that they are Goa'uld."

"Goa'uld?" Daniel repeated. "How on earth...?"

Janet started speaking before he could finish the question. "I don't know for sure, Dr. Jackson," she said, "I need to do some more tests. But my suspicion is that she's producing them herself."

"Why?" Jack asked. "How?"

The doctor shook her head. "I don't know, yet. But I'm guessing it might have something to do with hosting Jolinar - a kind of long-term side effect."

Jack scowled down at his fingers, tapping anxiously against his knee. "What tests?" he asked after a moment.

"I need to determine where the protein is coming from," she explained. "I'm going to do some scans that check liver and kidney function, as well as some additional blood tests. I'm thinking of doing a bone marrow biopsy as well, because of the anemia." And then, obviously seeing the incomprehension in Jack's face, she added, "I'll take a small sample of bone marrow from her hip to analyze."

He nodded slowly, lifting serious eyes to her face. "Analyze for what?"

"We'll know the results by the end of the day," Janet said, avoiding the question.

From the darkening expression on Jack's face, Daniel knew he was about to press the point and so jumped in to forestall a confrontation. "How's Sam doing?" he asked.

Janet smiled slightly. "You know Sam," she said. "Always puts on a brave face."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But is she...well? I mean, this protein in her blood, does it make her sick?"

"She's tired," Janet said. "She's never very forthcoming about herself, but I gather she's been feeling under the weather for a couple of months now. She put it down to stress after Martouf's death and the Za'tarc testing crisis." As she spoke, her eyes flickered towards Jack, who dropped his gaze back to his hands with an oddly tight expression on his face that Daniel didn't understand. "She's not eating well either," Janet added. "But other than that, she's okay at the moment."

"Doctor Fraiser?" Teal'c said quietly, managing to startle Daniel with his unexpected words. "Is there anything we can do to assist your diagnosis? Contact the Tok'ra perhaps?"

Janet smiled her thanks, but said, "Hold off for now. I really don't know what we're dealing with yet. I just wanted to keep you updated."

"Thank you, Doctor," Hammond said then, sitting forward at his desk. But there was a frown creasing his brow and he looked uncomfortable as he stared down at the pen he held between his fingers. After a moment he said, "I'm sorry that I have to ask this, but... Does Major Carter pose a risk to base security?"

Jack's head snapped up and there was thunder in his eyes. Hammond saw and matched the look, a restraining hand raised as he waited for the doctor's answer.

"No." The word fell like cool water on a smoldering fire.

"Hell no," Jack muttered.

General Hammond just nodded. "Good," he said. "And you'll keep us apprised of your progress, doctor?"

"Of course, sir," she replied, standing to leave.

Jack rose too, and with a glance asked Hammond if he too was dismissed. The General's brief nod was all the answer he needed and he left on Janet's heels, heading, no doubt, back to the infirmary. Turning to Teal'c with a sigh on his lips, Daniel was surprised to see his friend's eyes fixed on the open door, an expression of ineffable sadness etched into his features. Daniel pulled his glasses off and rubbed at the bridge of his nose; he suddenly had the distinct impression that he was out of the loop.

***

Multiple myeloma. Cancer of the plasma cells, buried deep in the bone marrow and screwing you up from the inside out.

Janet sighed and closed her eyes against the truth that was glaring at her through the lens of her microscope. There was no doubting it. However many times she looked, the answer was the same. Abnormal plasma cells multiplying like rats in Sam's bones, pushing out what she needed to live to make room for more of their own kind. But this was no ordinary multiple myeloma, for her cells had been somehow corrupted to produce Goa'uld proteins that were slowly killing her.

The diagnosis was made. She should feel quite proud of herself for making it so quickly. Not every doctor would have done the biopsy so soon; bone demineralization and anemia could mean many things. She deserved a pat on the back for being a damn diagnostic genius. Yeah right, sure she did. She'd gotten to the bleak truth in record time, Sam *would* be pleased.

"Damn it," she sighed, slumping back in her seat and letting her gaze drift down the infirmary to where Sam sat in bed. The Colonel was at her side, where he'd been, on and off, for most of the day. So close, and yet so far apart. He sat forward in his chair, talking about something that was making Sam smile and shake her head. But even from this distance Janet could sense the tension between them; the nervous play of Jack's fingers as he talked made it look as if he was constantly stopping himself from reaching out to touch her. Maybe he was, Janet thought. She knew how he felt about her and she hadn't needed his embarrassed confession in front of the Tok'ra woman to tell her.

But it pained her to see it now, knowing what she knew. Multiple myeloma. Nasty. Difficult to treat even in its ordinary form, but an alien cancer...? How the hell did she even start?

"At the beginning," she told herself quietly, forcing herself to keep her professional focus. And the beginning meant telling the patient. She swallowed the dread that rose in her throat at the thought. This wasn't the first time she'd broken bad news, but it was the first time she'd had to tell a friend. "Why me?" she asked herself quietly. Shaking her head against her own self-pity she reflected that perhaps a better question would be 'Why Sam?' Why would the capricious gods choose to strike down someone so young, brilliant and vibrant as Sam Carter? Janet's eyes moved back to O'Neill and she sighed again; someone so essential as Sam Carter.

Gathering her papers and her thoughts, Janet rose reluctantly to her feet. O'Neill noticed her immediately, and his anxious gaze flitted between herself and Sam. Janet's heart sank; she knew the Colonel's psychological history and found herself worrying about how he'd deal with this new loss. She stopped herself. Potential loss. Where there was life there was hope, and she knew no one as full of life and hope as Sam.

Walking slowly along the infirmary, Janet felt as if she were approaching her own execution. Her fingers were cold and there was a snake writhing in the pit of her belly. Absently she noticed a box of Kleenex on the table at Sam's bedside and thought 'Good'. Someone would probably need them.

Jack rose slowly to his feet as she drew closer, taking a step towards Sam. He was close enough to touch her now but still he resisted, although Janet noted his protective stance and knew that he wouldn't leave until he had heard all she had to say. "Doc," he said quietly, watching her with naked unease. Sam's face was calm, but pale and worried. She glanced up at the Colonel and as their eyes met his hand moved to her shoulder and stayed there. "What's the news?" he asked then, his gaze leaving Sam's face to meet hers with a silent demand for the truth.

Janet swallowed and sat down. There was never any point in beating about the bush. She fixed her eyes on Sam's face and began. "The biopsy showed that the Goa'uld proteins are being produced by abnormal plasma cells in your bone marrow," she said. "Plasma cells normally produce immunoglobulins that help defend your body against infection and disease, but in your case the plasma cells are producing Goa'uld proteins instead. Your condition is very similar to something called multiple myeloma; cancer of the plasma cells."

As soon as the 'C' word was out she saw understanding dawn in Sam's pale face. On her shoulder Jack's hand tightened, but he said nothing and Janet had no attention to spare him. Sam swallowed and asked the question Janet was expecting. "Can you treat it?"

"We can try standard multiple myeloma chemotherapy," she said slowly, "but there's no way to know if it will be effective against a cancer with a Goa'uld origin."

Sam nodded dumbly. "If it doesn't work," she asked then, her brilliant mind struggling to come to terms with what she was being told, "will I...? I mean, is it...?"

The cold fear, denial and shock in Sam's wide eyes were almost too much for Janet to bear. But she forced herself not to look away; Sam deserved more. "Multiple myeloma is a terminal condition," she said quietly.

Sam's wide eyes blinked. "How long?" she asked in a husky whisper.

"The normal progression of the untreated disease is between three and seven months." Answers. That's what she needed right now, Janet reminded herself. There were no words of sympathy that wouldn't be an insult. Answers. Straight and to the point.

A strangled sound from deep in his throat was the only thing that reminded Janet of O'Neill's presence. She glanced up and was shocked to see how pale he'd grown. Afraid that he might fall she got to her feet and pushed her chair towards him. "Sit down, Colonel," she said gently. He moved woodenly, his hand sliding from Sam's shoulder to her hand. And then their eyes met - shock and disbelief on his side were mirrored by fear and anguish on hers. The moment was poignant and private and Janet averted her eyes, finding the scene too painful to witness and afraid that her professional detachment was in danger of crumbling.

After an agonizing silence, Jack spoke in a harsh voice that laid bare his grief. "It's not gonna happen Carter."

"But...," she began.

"No," he snapped. "Everything's gonna be fine. I swear to God, Carter. This isn't how it ends."

Part 4

The empty canteen echoed with the clangs of an institutional kitchen, accentuating the absence of the cheerful chatter that usually filled the room. Daniel headed for the counter and perused the soggy sandwiches that were left over from lunch. None of them seemed appealing, so he opted for a Snickers and a bag of Doritos instead, grabbed a soda and headed back to his lab. But before he reached the door he noticed Jack sitting alone in the back corner of the room, head in hands and staring unseeing at a mug of coffee on the table in front of him. Daniel hesitated before he approached - Jack had 'leave me alone' written all over him. He drew closer cautiously, but Jack didn't move and Daniel doubted he even realized he was standing there. "Jack?" he called. "You okay?"

He stirred, a slight shifting of his hands before they fell away from his face and he glanced up. Their eyes met and Daniel shivered - Jack's face was desolate. "No," he said in a broken voice, "not really."

"What happened?" Daniel asked, lowering himself slowly into a chair opposite him; he'd never seen the man so shaken. "Is it Sam?"

Jack swallowed, pursed his lips and dropped his eyes back to his coffee. After a long silence he reluctantly nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

Daniel's heart lurched. "What?" he asked, unable to force more words through the lump in his throat.

"She, um," Jack began, clearly finding it hard to articulate the words, "she's...." He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. "Fraiser says she's got cancer."

Daniel felt as if a bowling ball had hit him in his stomach and his heart ground to a halt in shock. "Cancer?" he repeated numbly. The word sounded like a death-knell.

"Apparently," Jack replied flatly. "It's some kind of Goa'uld thing."

"Can she treat it?"

Jack shook his head. "Chemotherapy," he said. Cancer, chemotherapy; they were words from a nightmare. "She's not sure it'll work."

Daniel swallowed. "Does that mean...?" he began. But Jack cut him off.

"Yeah," he said. "That's what it means."

"I can't believe it," Daniel whispered, staring blankly at his uneaten lunch; his stomach turned at the sight. "I thought she'd seemed a little tired recently, but...." He trailed to a halt, seeing O'Neill stiffen at his words. He said nothing, but his face darkened and Daniel realized his mistake; Jack hadn't noticed. "Sam didn't say anything," he said quietly.

"No," he agreed. "She didn't. Which is why I should've...." He stopped and clamped his lips together. His head sank and he said in a quieter voice, "I should've noticed, Daniel. I should've noticed she was sick."

"You can't blame yourself," Daniel told him automatically, but the trite response only elicited an angry glare.

"Why the hell not?"

"Teal'c and I didn't notice either," he pointed out. "Neither did Janet."

"But I...," he started angrily, but cut himself short. He continued more quietly, "I'm her CO," he said tensely. "I should have noticed; she's my responsibility."

Daniel said nothing more, knowing it was hopeless to argue against Jack's guilt. Instead he said, "There must be something we can do."

Jack's head shot up and he nodded, a flash of light in his eyes. "Yeah," he agreed. "That's what I think. Someone out there has to be able to help."

"The Tok'ra?" Daniel suggested

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Well, they *are* the ones who got her into this," he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing. "Not that 'helping' us is ever on their agenda."

"It's a start."

Jack nodded, pushing his mug of cold coffee away and leaning back in his chair. "Yeah," he agreed. And then he smiled slightly, an expression of thanks Daniel realized; even the stoic Jack O'Neill needed a friend from time to time.

Getting to his feet, Daniel said, "We should go see General Hammond."

***

They spent the rest of the day sending messages to their allies and waiting for replies. Jack wasn't the most patient of men at the best of times, but today he felt as if every nerve in his body was ordering him to *act*, to do something to help Carter. Sitting around in the control room, waiting for the Tok'ra or the Tollan to deign to send a reply to their urgent appeals for assistance, was almost too much to bear. Apparently, in the end, *he* was too much for General Hammond to bear, because after the last time Jack had started hurling imprecations through the dormant Stargate the General had ordered him out of the control room and back to his quarters to get some sleep.

So it was that Jack found himself traipsing along the quiet corridors of the SGC, heading for his bed. But despite his sleep-deprived exhaustion, his feet still took him via the infirmary. He glanced at his watch and frowned; it was closer to one than twelve. Sam would be sleeping.

Jack hesitated on the threshold, knowing how his appearance at this time of night would appear. But the thought was fleeting - what the hell did it matter now? Why had it ever mattered? Pushing the door quietly open, he noticed that the light was still on in Janet's office. He crept passed silently, pausing only to nod towards the night nurse who frowned curiously at the late-night visitor. But she made no move to stop him, and he walked quietly to the far end of the infirmary where Sam lay under rumpled blankets. She was curled up tightly on her side, facing away from him. Reluctant to wake her, he paused. But he wanted to see her face, just for a moment, and so he started to move around the bed. He'd only taken a couple of quiet steps when he noticed that her shoulders were shaking. Jack strained to listen, and to his dismay he heard her quiet, choking sobs muffled into her pillow. He was at her bedside in a heartbeat, but once there he was paralyzed with indecision. Maybe he should leave her alone? Carter never cried, and he didn't want to embarrass her. But how could he leave her like this, weeping alone in the darkness?

Reaching out a tentative hand he laid it on her shoulder and whispered, "Carter?" She froze at his touch; he could feel her muscles tensing under his fingers as she held her breath and pretended to be asleep. "Hey," he said quietly, gently rubbing her shoulder, "I know you're awake."

She started breathing again, and he could feel her shoulders rise and fall in a slow rhythm. But she was silent for a long time, her breath shaking with tears as she struggled to calm herself. Jack just watched her, soothing her as he stroked her shoulders, his fingers occasionally smoothing the hair from her neck. At last she spoke, though she didn't turn towards him. "I'm scared," she whispered, her small frightened voice wrenching his heart.

"I know," he replied, easing himself onto the bed next to her, needing to be close.

But she still didn't move, and her rigid muscles felt like steel beneath his hand. "I don't want to die," she said, sucking in a deep shuddering breath. "Not like this