Jack watched as Sam sat quietly on the edge of the infirmary bed and seemed to take in the interested looks of her teammates as Janet recounted the basics of her general health and well being. Because of the sarcophagus, they found out, she was in perfect physical health. "But," Janet was quick to point out, "after so many trips through the sarcophagus in so few days-"

"How many?" Daniel asked, softly.

"Well," Janet said, casting a glance at Sam, "we don't know exactly, but Sam can remember at least seven-" Daniel outright flinched, Teal'c's eye's narrowed, but Jack kept his reaction down to a tick of his jaw, "-trips through the device, there are bound to be withdrawal symptoms to contend with. I could keep her here to deal with them, but honestly, as she's so anxious to go home, there's no need to keep her if one of you would be willing to stay with her."

Daniel spoke up immediately. "I can do it."

Jack watched as Sam sagged with relief.

It was a good idea, letting her go home to familiar surroundings after what she'd been through. And if she was just going to have a case of the shakes and an upset stomach to contend with, then perhaps her own bedroom and bathroom was the kinder way to go.

"Good," Janet said with a curt nod. "Then here are her discharge instructions." Janet handed them over to Daniel. "The usual, with a side order of a bland diet and a couple of medications I'll call in to the pharmacy for you to pick up on your way home for nausea and the headache."

"Thanks," Daniel said as he accepted the paperwork.

Jack watched as Sam sat there much more despondently than he'd ever noticed from her before. And a certain amount of that could be chalked up to how tired she must be after her ordeal, but the rest he could only attribute to what she'd been through. And an idea started to form in the back of his mind.

"All right, gentlemen, if you'll leave her with me for a few more minutes, we can finish up and then I'll discharge her," Janet effectively dismissed them.

Jack, Daniel and Teal'c took the not-so-subtle hint and shuffled out of the infirmary and headed towards Daniel's lab.

Daniel started packing up books and paperwork he'd want to take with him to Sam's house when Jack picked up an artefact from his desk and started turning it around in his hands. "I think I should stay with Carter," Jack said thoughtfully.

Daniel didn't stop what he was doing. He just snorted. "You? Really?"

"Yes, me, really." Jack said, affronted. "Why?"

Daniel looked up and pinned Jack with his gaze. "Because. You're... you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, your bedside manner isn't exactly..."

"What?"

"You're not..."

"What?!"

"Are you sure you're the right person for the job?"

"Why not?"

"I think Daniel Jackson is concerned that your relationship with Major Carter has not yet been appropriately repaired."

Jack sighed. He knew things were strained between him and Carter and had been since his undercover operation. Hell, they had been since Edora though he wasn't entirely sure why. He knew she'd worked her ass off to do something impossible to get him home but why that pissed her off he didn't know. Maybe if he took her home they could find some time to talk and clear the air between them. Between the headaches and dry heaves, anyway.

"What she's just been through, I know better than most people," Jack pointed out gruffly. "I can talk her through it."

"But will you?"

"Yeah, of course."

Daniel shot Jack a look.

"I am capable of talking," Jack pointed out.

"She's not in a good place," Daniel obviously felt compelled to point out.

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm just saying... tread carefully."

"So you're not going to fight me on this?"

"I think... I think maybe this might be good for both of you," Daniel said, handing over Carter's discharge paperwork.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam tried not to feel anger at the situation of needing a babysitter in order to be released to her home. It was better than being held in the infirmary. But Daniel... Daniel was a talker and he was going to want to dissect everything that had happened to her and she just wasn't ready to do that.

As she changed her ragged uniform out for the civilian clothing in her locker – the clothing she'd worn to the base several days ago and that really no longer felt appropriate on her skin – she thought about the ways in which she might convince him to just shut the hell up. And none of them were very nice.

She closed her locker with more force than was probably necessary and left the locker room for the relative sanctuary of her lab. It wasn't as if she couldn't be found there, but the space was hers. Since she'd been back she'd been in the briefing room or the infirmary and she hadn't yet had an opportunity to just breathe.

She walked into her lab to find the colonel standing at her lab table his hands busy with a device he really shouldn't be handling. "That thing gives off an EM pulse that can knock you down if you touch it wrong," she warned.

He set it down quickly but carefully and then turned on his heels to face her. "You're back."

"I am," she said, walking in, trying not to be irritated that her space had been invaded. "Did you need something, sir?"

"Oh. No. I'm your ride home."

"I thought Daniel was going to-"

"He was. But I thought..." He reached up and grasped the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. "I thought I might be able to help with this." He looked up at her then, square in the eye, his dark brown eyes intense on hers.

"I'm fine, sir."

"Now, see, I don't think that's true," he said, taking one step forward.

"I will be fine," she amended.

"Yeah, you will be. And, as it happens, doctor's orders say somebody's gotta stay with you tonight and it looks like that's gonna be me."

She sighed. All things considered, if someone was going to be staying with her, she supposed the colonel wasn't a bad choice. At least he was relatively quiet, in comparison to Daniel. He took more entertainment than, say, Teal'c. And in the wake of what she'd learned about her feelings for him after Edora she wasn't sure she wanted to spend the night with him. Especially after the way he'd treated her when he'd been coming home and during his subsequent undercover mission. But she couldn't very well bring that up without having to explain herself. And she wasn't prepared to do that. So, she guessed she was going to have to sublimate her feelings and say yes to having him accompany her home.

Apparently, she dallied too long or sighed too hard because a shadow crossed his face. "If you're that upset about it, I can go get Daniel..."

"No sir," she said, "it's fine." She certainly didn't want to hurt his feelings. She frowned a little. She didn't realize she had the power to do that.

"We can go whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready now." She'd come to her lab for time and space. Not for any material thing.

"Then..." He gestured at the lab door.

She nodded and spun on her heels preceding him out of the room. They didn't talk as they made their way to the surface and signed out. In the parking lot she stopped, waiting to find out if she'd be allowed to drive herself home or if she'd be a passenger.

"C'mon," he said, gesturing to the left, "I'm parked right there."

She nodded. She should have known. She could fight. But that fell into the category of things she didn't have the energy for. She climbed into his truck and found herself marveling at the lack of pain. She knew of at least three formerly broken bones that should be screaming at her. And that was just the big stuff. There were knife wounds and pain stick burns and bruises and all should have made the motion unbearable. She grimaced.

He caught it. "You okay?"

"Fine," she bit out.

"Don't look fine."

"I'm fine," she reiterated.

He stared at his keys for a long moment. "Part of why you have someone with you is to talk about what happened."

"Can we at least get home first?" she asked with a sigh.

He cast her a sideways glance but started up the truck and pulled out of his space and set off down the mountain.

"I need to stop by my place and pick up a few things," he said as they drove along when it became clear that she wasn't going to fill the silence with idle chit-chat.

"Okay."

"It won't take long."

"That's fine."

"Did you want to stop and grab something to eat?"

"No," she said quickly. The last thing in the world she wanted was to sit in a restaurant.

"Take out?"

She quickly mentally inventoried her kitchen cabinets and refrigerator and realized that if they wanted to eat at all, which she honestly couldn't care less about, they'd probably need to get take out. "If you're hungry," she said with a shrug.

"You're not?"

"No," she said simply.

"You've gotta eat, Carter."

She just shrugged. The sun was going down. She gazed out at the sunset as he harumphed his displeasure with her despondency.

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of his house. He turned off the truck. "You wanna come in?"

"No." Which was only partially true. She liked his house. She generally liked being inside it. But considering how much she liked it, and how much she associated it with him, and how much she was trying to disassociate from him in general she figured it was best not to go in.

"Okay. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Fine."

He looked at her for a long moment and then climbed out of the cab, taking his keys with him. She knew it was to unlock the door. But the part of her that had just been tortured for several days was screaming at her that it was so she didn't run. She closed her eyes and took deep, soothing breaths. She might not be on the best of terms with this man but he'd never, ever hurt her the way that Kuk had hurt her.

True to his word he did appear a handful of minutes later with a duffel bag thrown over one shoulder. Something unbidden flopped over in her stomach at the image of him striding across his driveway to her with an overnight bag knowing he was preparing to stay with her. It was the stuff of old dreams unacknowledged. He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck before climbing back into the cab with her.

He looked over at her as he slotted the keys into the ignition. "You know what you want for dinner?"

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"And I told you, you've gotta eat."

She shrugged. "You choose."

He sighed and started the truck before looking over his shoulder and backing down the drive.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At her house he unpacked Chinese food while she made use of her shower. He was pretty sure she'd showered back at the base, too, but he understood the need so he wasn't going to say anything to her. She reappeared twenty minutes later dressed in yoga pants and an old, worn sweatshirt that had definitely seen better days but that looked like the sort of thing that was at least as psychologically comforting as physically.

"I got the coconut shrimp," he said, trying to entice her into sitting down at the kitchen island and picking up a set of chopsticks. "And the wonton soup." When she grimaced at the soup – she preferred hot-and-sour – he reminded her, "The doc said bland."

"No thank you, sir," she said, getting a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water out of the tap.

He watched her move around him in the kitchen. At least she hadn't been as short with him as she had been in the truck. He had been beginning to think she had a personal problem with him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her, again, that she had to eat, but she was contemplating the shrimp thoughtfully so he didn't want to say anything that might spook her. She reached out and snagged one of the tempura fried things covered in the creamy white sauce and lifted it to her mouth. She chewed slowly, swallowed, then reached for another.

He cleared his throat softly and asked her, "You want a plate?"

She shook her head and wandered away from the food after having eaten only those two shrimp. He supposed, though, it was better than nothing. In a flash of inspiration, he filled a coffee mug halfway with the soup, then fixed himself a plate of food. He followed her into the living room where he found her curled up in one corner of the couch.

He handed her the half cup of soup before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. She hummed in what he could only assume was approval or thanks, but she just held the warm mug to her chest.

He ate wrapped up in the silence she seemed to prefer. And when she lifted the cup to her lips to take a sip of the soup he found himself relieved.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He woke up to the sound of her retching. He didn't think it had anything to do with the two shrimp and half a mug of wonton, though. He found her bent over the toilet in her bathroom, hands flat against the floor. While she finished emptying the meager contents of her stomach, he wet two washcloths he found under the sink. One, he folded and laid over the back of her neck as she reached up and flushed the toilet. The second he handed her when she shifted to the side to sit down and lean against the wall. She used it to wipe her face.

"Sorry, sir."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "It's not the first time I've watched you boot, Carter."

"Still..."

"You feeling any better?"

She shook her head slowly as her eyes slipped closed.

"Wanna go back to bed?"

She shook her head again. "Want to brush my teeth."

He chuckled lowly and reached out a hand to help her up. She accepted it and it made his heart flip over in his chest. Because he'd wondered, for a flash, if she'd accept the gesture given the cold shoulder she'd been giving him lately.

He leaned against her counter while she brushed and found himself settling comfortably into the domesticity of watching her carry out such a personal task. It wasn't as if he'd never watched her brush her teeth before, but he'd never done it standing in her bathroom in the middle of the night with her dressed in her pajamas. He'd forgotten how comfortable he was with the finer moments two people could share and he fought a pang of longing for marriage.

He had to refrain from physically shaking himself when he realized the direction his thoughts had taken. He shouldn't be thinking of Carter in close proximity to marriage. Why was he thinking such things? Oh, he wasn't blind enough not to have noticed that she was beautiful. And he knew he counted her as as much of a friend as he was allowed to. But still, to pine for something he couldn't have because of a moment with her was... unacceptable.

He looked into the mirror to find her eyes on him. She was done brushing her teeth and her eyes were locked on him as she wiped her face with a hand towel. The look she was giving him was deep and speculative and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, especially in tandem with his little slip. His heart and brain were warring over the look he saw in her eyes. His brain told him it was nothing. His heart disagreed.

"Now back to bed?" he asked her, desperate to shake his own internal musings.

"I don't think so."

"Want to go watch some television?" He hadn't seen a clock, but his internal one was telling him it was somewhere around three. It wasn't time to be up, but he wasn't going to force someone who'd just been tortured back to the dreamland that had awoken her with the violent need to purge her stomach.

"You're not going to believe this," she said with a wry smile, "but I'm hungry."

He grinned at her. "Well, let's go see if we can find you something bland."

She lifted one elegant eyebrow. "What? You think the coconut shrimp isn't going to go over so well?"

"Major, if you want the shrimp, you can have it."

She frowned slightly. "I think I'll skip it. There might be some crackers in the cupboard."

"Let's go check it out."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When the sun was starting to rise and she was dozing on the couch, he called the base to find out if there was any pressing reason for him to be there or if he should stay with her. Unsurprisingly, the General asked him to keep an eye on Carter. SG-1 was on stand-down anyway until she was back in fighting shape. Or, Jack supposed, until it was deemed that she needed to be replaced.

But that wasn't going to happen on his watch. She was strong, and she was a fighter. She was going to make it through this even if he had to sacrifice what was left of his soul to make it happen. She wouldn't be happy giving up gate travel – even knowing the inherent risk of what had happened to her happening again.

She hadn't talked while they'd been up in the middle of the night. She'd watched an old black and white movie with him and fallen asleep just before the credits rolled. He knew she had to be tired – both physically and emotionally and he wished she'd been able to sleep through the night. But he knew the dreams she'd had – he'd had them too.

He also understood the mode of self-preservation that was causing her to not want to talk about what had happened to her. His default setting was to clam up, too. But he remembered talking about his own experiences when it had become clear that it was the price of returning to service and he remembered, also, how it had felt to finally share the burden. He'd only been able to talk about it peripherally with Sara and he wondered if Carter would view him more as help or hindrance if she needed to talk it out. Just because he'd been there didn't automatically mean she would feel comfortable talking to him.

He began to wonder if this was the best idea. If perhaps he should have let Daniel do the caring for her after all. But no, he'd have really pushed her with the talking. And Jack wasn't certain that pushing was the best method for dealing with her at the moment. No, he'd let her take her time, and come to him when she was ready. Or, go to someone else. He just needed to make sure she was aware that he was prepared to open up with her – she, better than most, knew he wasn't generally an open sort of guy. So he'd need to show her.

She must have awoken to the sound of his voice as he talked to the general because when he ventured back into the living room to hang up her cordless phone, she was blinking slowly as if trying to remembered what had brought her out to the couch.

"Morning," he said. "How're you feeling?"

She considered the question carefully before answering him. "Fine, considering."

Considering what, he didn't know. Not that there weren't a hundred reasons for her to use the caveat. Of course, it had to be a little strange to physically feel fine after what she'd been through. To not have physical proof of what had happened had to make it feel like a bad dream. And how were you supposed to deal with a bad dream? If she could see and feel herself healing, it might give her mind time to heal too. But how on earth was she supposed to deal with this when there were no physical benchmarks to show her how far she'd come?

He had to find some other way to let her soak back into life. To let her know she was moving forward. To give her the milestones she needed to feel like she was making progress. He turned a slow circle in her living room and was suddenly aware that despite the proximity to Christmas, there was not proof the holiday was coming.

"Come on, Carter," he said, suddenly clapping his hands and making her jump. "Get dressed."

"Why?" She asked slowly.

"Because, we're going to go get you a Christmas tree." It sounded like a fine idea to him.

She pulled a face. "I don't want a Christmas tree."

"It'll be good, I promise."

She looked at him like he was a little crazy, but she got up and headed back towards her bedroom anyway.