August, 1997

Sam knew it had been a bad day when she woke up in the infirmary, her head and stomach throbbing. Trying to sit up proved to be a bad plan, but she managed to turn her head and find Doctor Fraiser hovering over another bed. "Doctor?"

The petite woman looked over and smiled at her. "Welcome back, Captain. It's nice to see so many normal people around again."

"I don't... um..."

"You were infected with the same disease as SG-3, Captain, from the planet of the Touched," she explained. "We found a cure, but it was pretty heavy duty stuff, so I had to wait a little longer to give it to you due to your stomach injury."

"Stomach injury?" Sam's fingers automatically searched the area and found a large lump – gauze, most likely.

"Yep," the doctor answered with a wicked grin. "Your roommate got a little bitchy and shanked you. It was very Prison Girls Gone Wild."

"Yeah? Make sure you tell me her name so I can scratch her eyes out later," Sam kidded, trying once again to roll to sitting.

She expected the other woman to protest; instead, she helped. "Doctor Jackson went back to the planet to collect blood samples for a cure, but he was taken by the Touched. The rescue mission is in two hours – it's taking a bit of time to parse out the doses. If you're up to it, Colonel O'Neill requested you."

Colonel O'Neill. Images flashed before her eyes unbidden – a cut-off tank top, no bra... grabbing him... "Holy Hannah," she gasped.

Fraiser immediately caught her chin to look in her eyes. "What? Pain?"

"No. No, I just, um, remembered..."

"Jumping your CO's bones in the locker room?" she asked dryly.

Sam shrank a little. "Oh, God. That really happened?" She was attracted to the man, sure, but she'd never intended to actually do anything about it. Her cover was completely blown. Crap.

"Don't worry, Captain," Fraiser said, as if reading her mind. "I told him that you were crazy and that primitive women always went after the man in charge, so you're off the hook. Oh, and because he'll never tell you this – then he beat up Doctor Jackson out of jealousy. Over you."

He had? Well, that was kind of heartwarming, actually.

Wait a second... "Is Daniel okay?"

"Just a busted lip," she confirmed. "Let's just say it's been an interesting few days down here. And that I have enough blackmail on some people to last years."

Sam swallowed hard. This was bad. Very bad. Very, very-

"I'm kidding," the doctor pressed.

"Oh. Good."

"Lighten up, Captain. Disaster has once again been averted. I'll have one of the nurses come check you out."

"Hey, uh, Doctor?" Sam asked to keep the other woman from leaving. She hadn't planned on actually getting injured and ending up in the infirmary to ask, but since she was here...

"Yes?"

God, this was hard. When had she become a complete and total social misfit? "We should, um, do lunch sometime. Just us girls."

The other woman smiled. "Sure."

~/~ ~/~

Sam imagined there was a lot of apologizing going on at the SGC that week, and she'd spent the whole rescue mission planning hers. She'd... assaulted the man, and that deserved something, right?

And yet, she couldn't help but remember that Colonel O'Neill hadn't actually rejected her. He'd done the honorable thing, sure, in dragging her to the infirmary, but when she thought about it...

"Don't you want me?"

"Well, no, not like this..."

She'd spent hours thinking about that, and she could only take it to mean that there was some other way in which he did want her. It just didn't involve physical pain and a cut-off tank top with no bra in a semi-public place. Under alien influence.

Oh, she was never going to be able to watch his six again, knowing that, for fear that she might actually get caught watching his six.

She silently thanked God that Jonas was on another planet, because he had a jealous streak a mile wide. Had he been on Earth, the colonel's fight with Daniel likely would have been a fight with Jonas, instead, and the injuries would have been far more severe on both sides.

"Uh, sir?" she asked as they headed back toward the Gate, having decided that she was too embarrassed/horny/teenage-girl-with-crush to have this conversation in anything but a semi-public place.

"Yeah?"

"About my earlier behavior?" she said. "I wasn't really myself; I-"

"Oh, Carter, I don't even remember your earlier behavior," he answered offhandedly.

"You don't?"

"No. I was infected too, remember?"

"Right! Good, I... I'm glad." Well, that was good. No, that was great. She could remember – the way his lips felt on hers, his hips pressed into hers; not that any of it was good for her sanity, just her fantasies – and not be completely mortified. That was perfect, actually.

"By the way, how's the wound?" he went on casually.

"Wound?" Had he actually hurt her? She didn't remember that part.

"I understand you got stabbed in the stomach, or some-"

"Oh, yeah, that." Her animalistic chick fight – right. "That was nothing. With any luck, there won't even be a scar."

"Well, good. I was concerned."

Finally, she was starting to see that warm side of his – the one Daniel had sworn up and down existed. There was a sweet man in there, and it made her smile. "You were?"

"Sure!" he insisted. "If it doesn't heal properly, you'll never wear that sweet little tank top number again."

Shocked, she trailed to a halt, letting the procession slowly pass her by. So he did remember. Crap. So much for being sweet on the inside.

She stared after him for a moment; he walked with more than his usual swagger, and she knew it was for her benefit. And boy, was it nice to look at.

And then, suddenly, it occurred to her that she'd been wrong about something. "Not like this" had clearly not been referring to the braless tank top combo. With a grin, she hurried after her team, wondering if there was any way she could get that shirt back (discreetly) from her new friend on the medical staff.