A/N: So many reviews already! Thanks guys! Totally bolstered me for my interview this morning. Here's the second part of the update! Hope you guys like it!

Enjoy!

Almost a month after she woke up, Jack showed up at the hospital one morning—after a rare night at home to shower, sleep, and catch up with Charlie—to find Samantha's bed empty, with two nurses and a doctor hovering warily nearby, their gazes locked on the corner hidden by the bed.

"What's going on—" he rounded the bed, and discovered Samantha huddled in the niche, one leg drawn up to her chest; her other, injured leg splayed out awkwardly in front of her, the bandages already tinged pink where they peeked out below the edge of her thin hospital gown.

Her eyes were wild, and obviously scared out of her mind. Immediately, Jack turned to the staff.

"Give me a few minutes with her," he urged softly, keeping his voice low.

"Sir, she—"

"You're scaring her," he cut in. This guy wasn't one of the usual docs. The usual docs knew better than to argue with him by now—he always got her calm. "You don't have to go far, but as long as you're in here it'll be that much harder to calm her down."

"You think you can get through to her?"

Jack hesitated. He wanted to say yes—the past week or so, her recognition of him had been spotty at best, but she was definitely not as wary of him as she'd first been. It was as if they'd established a baseline of trust that remained constant, despite her lapses in memory. And he was counting on that trust to help her now.

"We'll have to see," he said finally. "Just give me five minutes, okay? If I haven't gotten anywhere, then we can try something else."

After a moment, the doctor nodded. "Five minutes," he agreed. With a nod to the door, he led the nurses out, leaving Jack alone with his charge.

Jack turned back to his charge, to find her staring wide-eyed and wary. He took a step towards her, but froze when she shrank away from him. Instead, he crouched, bringing himself down to her level despite the pain in his knees.

"Samantha," he said softly. "Samantha, do you know who I am?"

Her eyes darted to him for a split second before looking away again. She didn't answer, and in the silence he couldn't help but take in the dark circles under her eyes, and the still-red skin that trailed down from her hairline, reminding him of the wound that lay hidden there.

"Samantha, you're safe. No one here is going to hurt you—"

"No," she whispered, pressing her hand to her temple.

Jack remained patient. "Samantha, do you know who I am?" He'd seen a spark of familiarity, he was sure of it, and when she almost answered him, her brow furrowing as she looked at him again, he knew she did know him. "Do you recognize me?"

She hesitated, but then finally nodded warily. Jack smiled in triumph.

"But you don't remember my name?"

Her head shook no.

"That's okay," he told her. "My name is Jack O'Neill. I'm your friend. You have a head injury that's affected your memory, but I've been here to help you though this. You can trust me."

She finally held his gaze for more than an instant, and strangely enough, it looked like she did trust him.

"You wanna tell me why we're down here?" he asked gently.

"They're trying to kill me," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Jack paused. It wasn't the first time she'd claimed as such. "What makes you say that?"

"They're gonna to kill me and cut my head open," she continued, clenching her eyes shut. "They want my brain, to slice it into pieces. That's all they want. They're gonna kill me—"

"Hey," Jack interrupted, his voice hardening just enough to catch her attention. "Enough of that."

Her rambling ceased, and she looked at him fearfully. But he saw her arm brace her ribs, and knew her injuries were giving her trouble. He had to get her back on the bed before the doc decided to just sedate her anyway.

"Does your chest hurt?" he asked. After a moment, she nodded. "You'd feel better if you got back on the bed. The doc could give you some meds—"

"No!" Her exclamation aggravated her still-healing ribs even more, and she winced at the sudden pain. No doubt it sparked a headache on top of all that too. "No," she repeated, this time a whisper.

"Okay," he said gently, lifting his hands placatingly.

He hesitated for a moment, then lowered himself onto the floor, sitting as close to her as he dared. In the end, he leaned against the side of the hospital bed, relaxing as much as he could in an effort to soothe her.

Blue eyes regarded him warily—not quite distrustful, but neither was she certain he wouldn't try something. He smirked lightly. "We got five minutes," he told her. "That's as much time as I could wrangle from Doogie Howser over there."

The reference was lost on her, apparently. She stared at him blankly.

"You know, you'd think the docs would have their act together by now. We've been here long enough that they should know the drill. It's not like they're the ones with the memory loss or anything."

His rambling was rewarded with an arched brow. Heartened, he continued.

"But this one isn't your usual doctor. Your regular guys really know what they're doing. They're good. Real good. And I don't praise the medical profession often, so that's saying something. As a general rule, I think they're all trigger happy needle pushers, but these guys are top notch. Really."

He kept a close eye on her as he spoke, and was pleased when he saw her relax marginally. It was subtle, and her pain still had her visibly stiff, but he saw an opening, and he took it.

"They have this thing, this oath… They call it a Hippocratic Oath—you heard of it? There's a whole big ceremony involved, but the bottom line is, they promise to do no harm. To their patients, or anyone else." He met her gaze for a long moment. "So, you can trust them, you know."

Samantha's eyes narrowed, glancing towards the door in agitation. She pulled herself farther into her corner, grimacing even as Jack eased off.

"Hey, it's okay, we still got…" He glance at his watch. "Three minutes." Her gaze returned to him, but the tension remained. "And, even if you can't trust them—which is fine, of course. Can't fault you for doing something I've been guilty of, many, many times… But even then, you can—y'know…"

His voice trailed off.

"Trust me."

She froze for a fraction of a heartbeat, and her wide eyes filled with tears. He'd caught her by surprise, and apparently, it was what she'd needed to hear. She didn't melt into his arms—or even move towards him in the slightest—but her features crumpled into a sob as she covered her face with her left hand.

Spontaneous tears weren't exactly unusual at this point, but his heart went out to her anyway—as it always did. But before he could even try to comfort her, her hand brushed against the thick bandage protecting the deep scrape that acted as the only visible evidence of her head trauma. Apparently, she hadn't realized it was there up until then, because a split second later her fingers began tearing at the bandage, scrabbling for purchase against the surgical tape anchoring the gauze.

Tape edged the dressing with careful precision, in anticipation of that very reaction. This wasn't the first time she'd tried to pull off the bandage before, and the tape gave Jack time to grip her by the wrist, gently, but with enough forcefulness to draw her hand away from the still-healing wound.

"Samantha, stop."

Her hand curled into a fist, and her arm pulled against his hold, but she didn't lash out at him. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, and tears trailed down her cheeks. Jack hesitated for only a second before carefully wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

She resisted barely an instant before she relaxed, exhaustion and emotion working together to tear down the fragile walls she'd tried to throw up between them. Her hand gripped his shirt tightly, and she buried her face in his shoulder, leaning into him with what little strength she had left. And he was unable to do anything but hold her.

His hand reflexively stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words he hadn't had reason to use since Charlie grew out of his childhood nightmares. Somehow, it worked—she eventually quieted, leaving her heavy and fatigued in his arms. A furtive glance at his watch told him that he was overdue; hopefully one of the nurses had stepped in to give him more time.

"Samantha…"

And muffled mumble answered him.

"What d'you say we get you back on the bed, huh? My knees aren't what they used to be." Maybe if he turned it back on himself, she'd be more amenable.

"No," she said, pushing weakly against him. "No drugs."

Jack paused, his mind working towards a happy medium. Finally, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

"Samantha," he said, his voice warm. "If I promise to stay with you, and make sure none of the docs try anything… will you agree to get back on the bed?"

Bloodshot blue eyes looked up at him, weighing his offer carefully. After a long moment, she spoke. "No drugs."

Jack nodded. "No drugs," he agreed. He held out his hand, ready to help her up. But when she only stared at it, he felt a moment of panic. Had she forgotten him already? "Samantha?"

"You didn't promise."

The blunt reminder took him by surprise. But he was glad to hear it, congested and mournful though it was. She was still there. And if all she was waiting for was his word, then she still did trust him.

That was good.

"I promise I won't let them hurt you," he vowed. He smiled reassuringly. "And no drugs until you say so."

This time, when he extended his hand to her, there was only a brief moment of hesitation before she gingerly took it, allowing him to pull himself flush to her side to provide the most support for her. With painstaking care, he got her to his feet, and gently helped her to the bed.

As soon as she lay down she curled up on her side and pressed her arm to her ribs once more. Her eyes closed against the pain, and Jack nodded to the doctor before he sat down next to her. Wordlessly he took her hand and her fingers curled tightly around his.

"It's okay," he whispered, his thumb tracing light circles across the back of her hand, as had become his habit in the preceding weeks. "They just need to reattach some of the monitors, okay?"

She nodded minutely, but her eyes still clenched shut as the doctor's hands reached around her, deftly hooking her back up to the machines. When he finished, Jack motioned for him to leave. Turning back, he saw that her eyes were still closed, and her features were slack.

A rush of alarm flushed through his system and he tried to keep himself calm as he leaned forward. "Samantha?" When she didn't respond, he cupped her cheek gently. "Samantha…"

Her brow furrowed, and a soft murmuring question issued from her lips. A flutter of blue appeared briefly before she started to slip back into sleep.

"Samantha, are you all right?"

Her eyes opened again, her exhaustion immediately evident. "Tired…" she breathed.

Jack sighed in relief. "You can sleep," he told her gently. Sleep was good, he reminded himself.

Her fingers tightened on his. "Please… stay?"

"Absolutely," he assured her. His thumb gently smoothed across her cheek. "I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

Deep down, he knew it wouldn't matter if he would be or not. He might be there, but she wouldn't be. Not this Samantha, not the woman who heard him now. She'd be blank again, and she wouldn't know him. He would reintroduce himself, tell her her own name— and maybe she'd trust him, maybe she wouldn't.

But he'd be there, he told himself as she drifted off again. Every step of the way he would be right there with her. He had to be, and not because he'd been ordered to. No, he'd be there for an entirely different reason.

He'd be there because he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.