Title: Recovery

Author: Malinne

Email: malinne@sbcglobal.net

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Sam is confronted with a poor prognosis for the Colonel's recovery.

Spoilers: The Lost City

Classification: Sam & Jack. H/C, romance

Archive: SJ-NC17, SJD- yes

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

Cold gray walls…and the glare of fluorescent lighting overhead—that was such an appropriate analogy for her world. Her existence was gray, devoid of all life and color. She felt the cold deep in her being, like the cold she had felt when they lay dying in Antarctica years ago—like the cold she had felt two months ago when he was frozen in the chamber of the Ancients.

Sam Carter stood, shoulders slumped and head cocked slightly to the side, biting her lip to fight back the tears that were forming in her eyes. Before her lay the nearly lifeless body of the Colonel, her Colonel…her Jack. They had managed to `defrost' him using goa'uld cryogenic technology, but he had not awakened. The Tok'ra, who had come to help, had left when their attempts to use the healing device had failed to revive him. The physicians at the SGC just shook their heads when asked about him.

It was obvious to anyone who could see, but especially to someone who cared so much, that his body was deteriorating--wasting away little by little. Had his mind done the same? Were the synapses that guided the skilled soldier and generated those infamous O'Neill witticisms fried by the Ancients technology? Was this empty husk all that was left of Jack O'Neill? Evidently that was what the doctors thought. The neurologist who had been called in, the same one who had seen Jonas a few years earlier, just mumbled nonsense about `persistent vegetative state'.

"Excuse me, Major" she heard from behind her, and turned to see a nurse with a basin full of warm water and several towels and washcloths draped over her arm. "It's time for the Colonel's bath."

Sam stepped aside, turning her head to discreetly wipe away the tears. The nurse sat the basin on the bedside table and turned to shut the door. Just as Sam was stepping out of the way, Dr. Warner called to the nurse, "Linda, that will have to wait. I need your help. SG-3 is returning with some minor injuries."

Linda turned to pick up the basin and take it with her, but Sam laid a hand on her arm. "Leave it. Please, let me do it for you." The nurse smiled and nodded; then left closing the door behind her.

Sam walked up to the bedside and looked down on the face before her. Wrinkled and scarred by life, even in his comatose state it showed a hint of his boyish charm. She half expected his eyes to open and the corners of his mouth to curl into a smile, as he asked, "Whatcha doin, Carter?" But they didn't.

She sat in the chair, taking his hand in hers as she had done so many times since he had been returned to them. Unconsciously, she smoothed her fingers over his knuckles and the back of his hand. "Col…Jack. The nurse is busy. I'm going to bathe you today."

She had never given a sponge bath before, but she had certainly been the recipient of enough that she knew the drill. Sam slowly folded his covers back to the foot of the bed; then took the soft warm bath blanket and spread it over his gowned body. She couldn't help notice the muscles in his legs. He had never had bulky muscles like Teal'c, but they had always been lean and well defined. For now, the physical therapy was keeping him flexible, but it would do nothing to maintain his muscle tone—passive exercise just won't do that for you.

She reached behind his neck to undo his gown, pausing to look again at his face. God! She would give her right arm…both arms, for him to open those big brown eyes and smile at her. She caressed her fingertips down the side of his face and across his lips. They were dry. Sam picked up the lip balm on the table and used her finger to smooth some across his lips…lingering on the fullest point of his lower lip. Without conscious thought, she leaned closer and kissed him lightly on the lips. A liberty she would have never taken under normal circumstances, but one she had dreamt of so many times.

His lips were warm and soft, just what she had expected to find if she had ever had the opportunity to kiss her Colonel, but she was shocked by the lifelessness. Sam stood and pulled his gown down his shoulders and over his chest leaving it bunched beneath the blanket at his waist. She dipped the washcloth into the basin of warm water and bath solution, squeezing out the excess and then turning to wash Jack's face, being careful to keep the solution from his eyes. His face was covered with the stubble of his beard. The nurses were using an electric razor to shave him daily. She knew how he felt about electric razors. She would go to his locker later and get his razor—a real razor with blades, and shave him herself.

Taking a towel, she blotted the moisture from his face. His skin blanched beneath the pressure of the towel; then pinked back up immediately when the towel was moved away. Sam used the washcloth in his short silver hair, brushing his hair with her fingertips when she was finished. She traced her fingers from his temple to his cheek. So warm…he looked like he was sleeping. Oh why…goddamn it! Why wouldn't he wake up?

She rinsed the cloth and moved on to his chest and abdomen—both marked with numerous scars. Relics of a lifetime of service to his country—his planet. Sam let her fingers play with the damp hair of his chest, tracing abstract patterns through it, before finally placing her open hand, palm down over his heart. Lub-dub, lub-dub. lub-dub. She could feel it--steady and strong. She placed her other hand over her breast, searching for the feel of her heartbeat. Tears sprang back into her eyes when she felt the two beats synchronize. "Please, Jack…oh, please!" she whispered.

Damn it! It just wasn't fair. She had waited…secretly hoping that someday…she was sure he felt the same way. But now…she'd never know what it was like to lie naked with him in the sweet afterglow of lovemaking. She'd never know the bliss of lying chest-to-chest, his weight pressing her into the mattress, skin soaked with perspiration and sheets soaked with body fluids, sharing one heartbeat with this man—the man she loved so much.

Her hand smoothed across his belly…still flat and firm. She chuckled, remembering his response when she had looked at his belly once before. "Crunches, Captain. Crunches!" he had quipped with a self- satisfied grin. Picking up a clean washcloth, she began to wash his lower abdomen. She pushed the blanket a bit lower; being sure she kept him covered to protect his modesty. She smiled. Probably no one would ever describe Jack O'Neill as modest, but he was. They had shared cells when imprisoned off world—cells with limited or no toilet facilities, but he always gave her privacy and always expected the same in return. She had thought it sweet of him. The cynical old war dog was really very kind and considerate.

She blushed slightly when she saw the sheet over his groin stir. She knew this was only a normal reaction. It had happened once before, years ago, as she and Janet stood talking at his bedside while he lay unconscious from an injury. Janet had told her it happened with comatose patients.

She stopped bathing his lower belly to avoid stimulating him further. But the blanket continued to lift, tenting impressively until a purple head popped from beneath and the blanket slid down the shaft of his erection, fully exposing him to her view. Sam sucked in her breath as a gush of fluids soaked her panties. She lifted her hand from his belly and moved to touch it, but jerked her hand back. "Damn it, Carter!" she scolded herself. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Suddenly, it hit her. This might be her one opportunity…her only opportunity to make love to him. Though he would be inabsentia –this was most likely the first and the last chance she would ever have to be with Jack O'Neill. Thoughts…doubts flooded her head, as did line after line of self-recrimination, but in the end her need to know this man won out. For once, Samantha Carter was listening to her heart instead of her head.

Stepping back, she locked the door to his room and wedged the chair beneath the knob to further assure privacy. She stripped off all of her clothing and approached the bed. Taking a syringe, she removed his bladder catheter to alleviate any obstacles. Then, tentatively she reached out to touch the head of his hard penis. It was soft and warm, throbbing and bouncing with the pounding force of his blood coursing into it. Sam traced her fingers down the shaft; then stepped closer to the bed, using her other hand to massage his scrotum. He grew harder in her hand. Brushing the last of her doubts aside, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. Gripping his penis, she guided it to her wet opening and slowly settled her weight onto his length.

Sam gasped and cried out softly, overwhelmed at the sensation of being stretched and filled by him…overcome by the thought of finally— finally being joined so intimately with him. She began to move, lifting her pelvis as she rocked against him. She pick up his hand with hers, and pressed it to her bare breast, using his open palm to rub across her sensitive nipple as she continued to move. Soon, the pressure was building in her pelvis. Her skin was flushed and damp, as was his. She stifled moans of pleasure that couldn't be overcome by the sight of him still lying motionless beneath her.

She rotated her hips and rubbed her clitoris hard against his pubic bone as she felt her orgasm begin to spin out from where they were joined, through her upper abdomen and down her thighs. As her internal muscles clamped around him, she felt the hot splash of his fluids—Jack had come too…splashing his seed deep inside her and leaving her senses reeling.

As she spiraled back down into herself, she sat staring at this face, savoring the last moments of this--their only time together. If she hadn't known better she would have sworn the corners of his mouth were upturned. Sam lifted his hands and held them on her thighs, closing her eyes and imagining him holding her there. She jerked her eyes open, afraid someone had intruded into the room, when she felt fingers squeeze her legs.

Jack O'Neill lay, blinking and bleary eyed beneath her, the grin now very evident on his face. He slid his hands to her arms and pulled her forward to lie on his chest, wrapping his arms weakly around her.

Sam lay quietly, as tears ran from her cheek to drop onto his. She smiled as she felt it—his heart beating against her naked breast… beating in unison with her own. "I love you." She whispered, as she lowered her head to his shoulder.

***