A/Ramble: I can't articulate sufficient apologies for this massive cliffy. RL is a bitch. So, for those who thrive on it, I guess this is when the S/J shippiness begins. I think this will be a little longer, we'll see. Enjoy!

~ 10 ~

"Leslie!" Sam crawled towards her assistant, until half a dozen hands grabbed her and pulled her away. "Let me go!" She knew it was pointless, but she had to see. Behind them, the gate flickered and shut down before any of their attackers could pursue them. Janet had left Sam to attend to those injured by the staff-blasts and more hands grabbed Sam's vest and sleeves.

The tears began to flow but Sam had to fight it. This hadn't happened. It wasn't real.

"Sam! Stop! There's nothing you can do!" A uniform appeared between her and Leslie, blocking the view. She knew it was Darrel, but he was in the way. His arms wrapped around her and held her. She hit him, struggled against him, but it was over. Leslie was dead. The melted material of her vest and shirt still smoked and the smell of burnt flesh invaded Sam's nostrils. Never mind the burning sensation on her own back.

She wept in Darrel's arms while medical teams worked around them. He rocked her and whispered soothing nothings to her. She couldn't hear him. She could only see and hear Leslie being hit over and over in her mind. Oh God, it was awful! She wanted to be sick. In fact, the bile seemed to be climbing up her throat.

"Get me out of here," she begged as she pulled on Darrel's shirt to stop the smell from getting to her.

"We need to get you to the infirmary. You're hit," he craned his neck over his shoulder to look at the large hole in her jacket.

"I'm fine. Get me out of here," Sam repeated. She was really feeling nauseous now; it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. She tried to stand, but her legs were too weak. Thankfully, Darrel supported her and removed her from the Gateroom. In the Control Room, Jack's hands were shaking in rage. This should not have happened.

~ SJ ~

A few hours later
1312h,
Briefing room,
SGA

Two dead. Six injured. To Jack, this translated to two letters of condolence and two funerals. One at Arlington, one in Nashville. It also meant two lies. And for two families who believe their son and daughter worked on deep space radar telemetry, it meant a lifetime of uncertainty of how they lost a love one. A training accident, or one in the lab is all they would ever know.

In Jack's mind, it wasn't enough.

"I threw a grenade behind me to slow 'em down, but the Gate shut down behind us. I guess we can only hope they didn't see Earth's address," Charlie wrapped up his report. They were on their way to the city to the north, when they saw - get this - a giant ship trying to land on the pyramid. They could see humans in the city; they were being 'rounded up like cattle' as he had put it. That was when they high-tailed it back to the Gate.

"Maybe the grenade caused the Gate to shut down?" Freeman suggested, looking to Ferretti.

"Well, we'll have to confer with Doctor Carter on that when she returns to work," Jack mumbled as he caught sight of Janet Frasier out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging her entrance. "That'll be all gentlemen. Go get some rest. Dismissed."

Once the four Airmen had left, Jack waved Janet over. She was carrying a large brown paper bag at her side. Jack took in his Chief Medical Officer's appearance; she looked exhausted, but something else had disturbed her. She wouldn't hold his gaze and was clutching at the brown bag tightly.

"How are they doing?" He led her to his office, closing the door behind her and gesturing for her to take a seat. Janet practically fell into the chair and sighed.

"Let's see... Jennings may lose his right hand, Shorrock and White are still in critical condition, Delany might not last the night and Bennet has been released with first degree burns," she closed her eyes as she went through her list of patients.

"What about Carter? How's she doing?" Jack asked as he slowly sat down in his big chair. His concern for the young doctor was genuine, as one would expect from any Commanding Officer.

"Doctor Carter, Sam, is doing as well as can be expected. She's got a significant burn on her left shoulder blade. I'll let her go tomorrow with some antibiotics to prevent any infection. That's actually what I came to talk to you about."

Jack grimaced but remained silent. Janet rose - with obvious effort - and dropped the brown paper bag onto his desk. He could only watch as she pulled out a damaged tactical vest. She tossed it towards him.

"Take a look at that," Janet pointed to the ruined article. Jack looked up at her before he reached out and grabbed the vest. Dry blood rubbed off on his fingers.

"Anything in particular I'm supposed to be looking at?" Jack flipped it over and held it up between him and Janet. There was an obvious hole in the back of the vest. "It's Dawson's vest. So?"

"That true. Dawson was wearing that vest. Take a look at the name tag." Jack rearranged the vest in his hands, pulled the tag out from the inside of the collar.

'Carter, Samantha.'

A second vest landed on his desk. Melted Kevlar was exposed on the back, but it was more intact than the one in Jack's hands. As Jack shifted his gaze between the two, the facts fell into place.

"They were wearing each other's tac vests, Sir. Not only that, but the one that should have been issued to Sam, is missing one of the Kevlar inserts. Frankly, Sir, since they were both hit in similar areas of the body, if the vests were correctly distributed, Sam would be lying in that black bag in my infirmary," Janet's voice rose. Someone had screwed up and Leslie was dead because of it.

Jack knew exactly who was responsible too.

"You haven't seen Staff Sergeant Warner in your travels, have you?" Jack asked, trying to keep the twitching corner of his eye under control.

"Actually yes. He was visiting Sam in the infirmary. He's probably still there now..." Janet's eyes grew wide as she realised who was responsible for this, and the effect that had on the General. His entire demeanour went from controlled anger to obvious outrage instantly. It seemed General O'Neill was harbouring feelings for Sam. Janet hadn't quite expected that one. And with Darrel Warner in the mix, she sensed that something was going to hit the fan mighty soon.

~ SJ ~

1430h,
Base Infirmary

Having dealt with loss before, Sam was handling Leslie's quite well. She hated it. It didn't feel right to be sitting in the infirmary, talking about nothing to Darrel. Not when one of her closest friends had died this morning. Then again, she had cried and thrown up all day, and was thankful for the distraction. It was strange. Leslie was alive and fine this morning. Well, not completely fine, since she had a slight hangover. And now she was gone. God, just the thought made her want to cry again! No, she wanted the distraction. She needed it. At least until she could go home and bawl her eyes out in private.

"So, do you have any family?" she asked with a loud sniffle. She was determined to keep up conversation, and Darrel was happy to keep talking.

"Ah, one younger brother, one older sister. My brother has two kids. They're amazing; I mean, I don't have kids, so I like to spend as much time as I can with them," he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but Sam took little notice. "You?"

"I have one brother. He's got a daughter and a little boy on the way. I don't see them much. Not with work, at least. I probably should though."

"That's if the slave-driver lets you go. You hardly ever leave work. Maybe the General can't spare you," he chuckled quietly. This wasn't the first time Darrel had mentioned General O'Neill, but when he did, it wasn't in a positive manner. As far as Sam could tell, the base considered their commander to be a firm, but fair boss. He was the kind that you wouldn't really call your friend, but would trust with your life. Darrel, however, seemed to have a personal beef with the General.

"Why do you do that?" she frowned.

"Do what?"

"Talk about the General like that. I mean, yes, he's a grumpy bastard a lot of the time, but I think he's a good Commanding Officer. Why don't you like him?" she knew how defensive she sounded, but couldn't bring herself to care. In fact, Darrel's careful insults about the General were starting to bug her.

"I..." Darrel looked for the right words, "I don't... hate him. Per say. Look, let's just say, he and I have a bit of history."

"What kind of history?" Sam pressed.

"If you must know, I hold him responsible for the death of my nephew. Alright?" he growled. Sam was stunned by his abrupt change of tone and reply.

How could he hold the General responsible for the death of his nephew? As if the man himself had heard her thoughts, the General knocked on the door to her room. She and Darrel turned to him, both completely mute.

"Warner? Head on up to my office and wait for me there," the General tilted his head out the door. The General looked completely at ease, but there was a darkness in the his eyes that - honestly - scared Sam. Darrel nodded and turned back to Sam, his eyes anxious. Heck, she would feel that way too! Darrel rose from his seat on her bed and handed her the box of tissues he'd been cradling before sliding past General O'Neill. Once he was gone, Sam was left alone this Jack- No! General O'Neill. Why did she refer to him by his first name?

"How are you?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. When she met his eyes, she found only sympathy and sadness. She lowered her gaze and played with a scrunched up tissue in her lap.

"I'm fine." The General approached the bed until he was just within reaching distance. "I just... I-"

"I know."

She searched his eyes. He did understand. He was the one trusted to keep his people safe. Civilians included. He'd probably lost men in the past, and if Sam knew anything about military commanders, it was that no matter how many men you lose, it never gets easier. But it was also a sad truth that men could be replaced. The thought of anyone taking Leslie's position made her feel sick.

"I don't want another assistant," Sam shook her head. She wouldn't have another. Not yet. Leslie was her protégé. Her student. She couldn't be replaced.

"I'm not going to force another assistant on you, Sam," he held up his hand before she could go on a rant.
Sam, however, was distracted by his accidental use of her name. He noticed it too. "Just... Take a few days off. It's not your fault."

Sam nodded in acceptance. "Thanks."

"Believe me, it's no problem." There was something in his voice that Sam liked. A fondness? An understanding? Maybe, heaven forbid, a hint of affection? Something. But she liked the sound of it.

She was still completely ignorant to the fact that the General had organised to send a bomb to Abydos this afternoon. In fact, it was sitting on the ramp right now, waiting for the General to carry out the arrest of Darrel Warner for criminally negligent manslaughter. Once that matter was resolved, the bomb would go to through the Gate and hopefully take out the aliens that had attacked them.

~ SJ ~

Feedback and reviews are welcome, as always. Next chapter, our heroes argue and Jack lets some things slip :) yes, the good ole' dramatic stuff. Also working on a oneshot called 'Ramesses' while my beta is away. May throw that out unbetaed to tide you guys over.