#2: 1x03 Emancipation Additional Scene

Thank you to my wonderful beta! Her ideas and editing skills absolutely made this one-shot add-on better.

I always believed that Sam would have accepted a beating in place of the woman when her escape attempt failed. With it being so early in the series, she would likely hide the evidence of the beating from her teammates especially from Jack. This is my take on what could have happened in an extended scene after they returned to Earth.

Sam angled the handheld mirror in an attempt to get a better view of her back; blanching when she finally caught a good look at the angry red welts marring her pale skin. Turghan had wielded the whip with practiced ease, making sure each strike inflicted the most damage possible through her dress. Fifteen. He had struck her fifteen times; the final five lashes actually breaking through the material and into her skin.

Dr. Fraiser had been appalled when she first saw the damage; Janet's composure breaking once as she had tended to the wounds before giving Sam some ointment to help reduce the sting. Sam insisted she was well enough to go home after expressing in no uncertain terms that she did not want to stay on the base to recuperate. She was given medical leave to go home when she was finally released from the infirmary. Unfortunately, neither she nor Janet had thought about how Sam would apply the medicine to her own back now that she was home.

No matter how hard she tried, Sam couldn't reach the painful welts.

A knock at her front door had a frustrated Sam grumbling to herself as she pulled a robe on and knotted the tie. Shuffling to the door, she checked the peephole and was surprised to see her commanding officer on the other side.

"Colonel O'Neill?" She cocked her head as she opened the door. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"I came to check on you," he said, looking a bit uncomfortable. "To see how you were holding up."

"I'm fine, sir," she said automatically.

"Cut it out, Carter," Jack sighed heavily, any vestiges of his discomfort vanishing as he looked her up and down. "Doc Fraiser ordered you on leave for five days. That's not fine."

"It's nothing, sir," Sam shifted uneasily. "Really," she added at his dubious look.

"The Doc wouldn't tell me much, except that you needed time to heal," Jack pushed. "I need—I mean I'd like—Look, can I just come in?"

"Of course," Sam practically jumped back, mentally kicking herself for not inviting him in already. When your CO paid you a visit, the least you could do is be polite. She decided to blame the painkillers for her rudeness. "Sorry, sir," she stood at attention as he entered, "I guess I'm a little groggy from the meds."

"See, meds and being fine also do not go together," Jack grumbled. "For the love of—at ease, Carter," he rolled his eyes at her posture, grabbed her arm, and led her over to the couch. He gently pushed her down before sitting in a chair across from her.

"Carter, are you okay?" He asked, his voice taking on a soft tone.

"I said I'm fine," Sam parroted her earlier response, but didn't meet his gaze. Truth be told, the fabric of her robe hurt like hell against the welts.

"Carter—Sam," Jack sighed and waited until she finally looked at him. "Are you okay?"

What he was trying to ask finally clicked into place.

"Turghan didn't—well he tried, but—I wasn't. He didn't hurt me that way," she finally said, jumping to her feet. She grimaced as her sudden movement caused the robe to pull roughly across her raw skin. She couldn't hold back the whimper as white-hot pain slashed across her back.

Jack surged to his feet and grasped her upper arms to steady her. "He did something else to hurt you," he said gently. "What did he do?"

Sam's bravado crumbled at his softly spoken words. Her good little soldier armor melted away. She was tired of pretending to be strong. Screw the ramifications. If her CO lost confidence in her abilities because she showed weakness, so be it.

"He whipped me after I tried to escape," she told him, without emotion, facing away from him. "He was going to whip the other woman for my actions, so I demanded he whip me instead. I received double the punishment."

"That son of a bitch," Jack's eyes turned murderous. "You should have killed the bastard."

Sam barked out a sarcastic laugh, "I know. But that's not who we are."

"Still—" Jack trailed off. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sam was about to say no, that she simply needed to be alone and rest, but she stopped. She'd already let him see that she wasn't as strong as she pretended to be, why not let him all the way in. He was likely already planning to request her transfer, the least he could do was help her tend her wounds before unceremoniously kicking her off his team.

"Actually, there is," she said defeatedly, "I can't reach the wounds on my back. Janet gave me some ointment. Would you mind?"

"Of course," Jack answered immediately, waiting for her as she retrieved the medicine from the bathroom.

"Here," she handed him a jar containing a medicinal-smelling, sticky paste, then, turning her back to him, slipped the robe off her shoulders to just below her waist. She clutched tightly to the front of the robe. Her head hung low in embarrassment.

Jack stopped breathing as he saw angry red welts crisscrossing the smooth paleness of her back. There were several long welts, and five had sliced into her, puckering the delicate skin. Bruises had already started to form, the black and blue offsetting the deep red lines.

"Fucking bastard," he muttered through clenched teeth, but his words made Sam stiffen.

"It's ugly, I know," she said woodenly.

"Nothing about you could ever be ugly," he replied before he could stop himself. "I'm—"

"Let me know when you start," she said before he could apologize for crossing the line with his comment. "The ointment stings a bit."

"Okay," he said, scooping a small amount onto his fingers and hovering them over her skin. "Here goes."

As his fingers glided over the first welt, Sam's breath hissed out, her back muscles clenching involuntarily at the pain. Leaning forward, Jack blew a stream of air across the damaged skin, using the wetness of the ointment to produce a cool sensation on her back.

"Oh, that's good," she sighed, eyes closed at the relief she was feeling with his ministrations, earning a small smile from him. He proceeded to apply the ointment and blow on the remaining welts, trying to ignore how her skin felt beneath his fingertips. The last thing she needed now, he thought, was her CO having inappropriate thoughts about her.

"All done," he said, twisting the lid back onto the jar.

Sam turned around, her robe still off her shoulders, her hands clutching the material together across her chest.

"Thank you, sir," she said, her cheeks blushing slightly. From pain or embarrassment, Jack didn't know, but he couldn't help noticing how deep blue her eyes had turned. And how her hair curled around her ears haphazardly. Knock it off, O'Neill, he chided himself.

"You're a member of my team," he replied. "It's my job to keep you safe. I failed to do that on the planet, it's the least I can do to help you now."

"What happened on Simarka wasn't your fault, sir" Sam replied, pulling her robe tighter around her.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he said gruffly. "Especially, when I knew how they felt about you being a woman."

"I'm not some weakling that needs your protection," she bristled. "I may be a woman, but I'm a soldier first."

"That's not what I meant," Jack shook his head. He was bungling this badly. "You being a woman is beside the point; no one on the team should be left alone off-world. I don't let Daniel wander off alone, I shouldn't have left you alone in that tent. You're an excellent soldier, Carter, but I put you in a dangerous position unnecessarily. If you want to report my actions, I'll hand deliver it to Hammond myself."

"Report you?" Sam blew out a large breath. "You made a mistake, sir, and if I recall, I didn't protest being left alone. If I had even an inkling of being in danger, I would have spoken up."

"You're letting me off the hook pretty easily, Carter," Jack huffed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, sir," Sam shrugged and sat gingerly on the couch, not letting her back touch the cushions.

"Is there anything else you need?" Jack asked, placing the jar of ointment onto the counter.

"No, sir, I'm fine. I mean it this time," she added at his raised eyebrow. "My back feels much better. I'll be five by five in a couple of days."

"Here's my personal cell," he grabbed a pen and jotted the number onto a piece of mail laying on the counter. "You are under orders to call me if you need anything. Anything," he reiterated, walking over to stand in front of her. "Day or night, Carter. I'm serious."

"Understood, sir," she smiled lightly, then started to get up.

"Uh!" He held up a hand. "Stay put, I'll let myself out."

"Thank you, sir," she said gratefully.

"Anything." He said again.

"Anything, sir," she grinned at his serious expression.

"And, Carter."

"Yes, sir?"

"Hurry up and get well; I don't want Hammond trying to assign another scientist to my team. You're a damn fine soldier and the best scientist we've got. Besides," he winked, "you're starting to grow on me."