The Colour of Pain Chapter 4
**
Sam sighed with relief as she slumped against the back of the ladies room door. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror opposite and felt an immediate urge to throw up. It had been months since she'd last seen her reflection; she'd avoided all mirrors in the hospital and thrown out or covered all of them in her house when she'd finally returned the other night. It was no better than she remembered. She ran her fingers along the raised scar that sat on her jaw, extending almost from chin to ear on the right hand side of her face. Actually, it did seem a little better, a little less livid than she remembered but that was hardly any consolation. At least the titanium implants, which replaced her missing teeth, were indiscernible from her real ones, one less thing to feel self-conscious about. The annoying, stupid, artificial knee they'd replaced her damaged one with suddenly didn't seem so bad and thankfully the huge scar where they'd cracked her chest open was easily covered. Not that Sam intended for anyone outside of the medical profession to ever have cause to see it. She sniffed, then moved over to the sink to splash a little water on her face. No, close up, the scar looked as bad as she'd feared. She couldn't afford to break down on her first day back so drying her face on the towel on the wall, Sam took a moment to compose herself before stepping back out into the corridor.
Straight into Colonel O'Neill.
**
As O'Neill headed down the corridor, his thoughts dwelling on Carter, he heard a dull thud. Worried she'd slipped in the ladies room, he hurried back but before he actually reached the door he realised what he'd actually heard.
She's literally right on the other side of this door, probably crying.
He reached out his hand and touched it. The Colonel, one of life's natural decision-makers, procrastinated. He wanted to help her but she obviously didn't want to talk to him. She wanted to get away from him, which was why she was hiding in the damn toilet in the first place. Well, he might not be about to win the Mr Sensitivity of the Year Award but Jack O'Neill considered himself a good friend. But… She was in the ladies room. What to do?
"Never leave a man behind," he muttered under his breath, leaning against the opposite wall and settling in for a, possibly long, wait. "Or a woman," he amended.
When the Hell did they get around to building ladies rooms into this place anyway?
**
"Colonel!"
"Major!" he mimicked her surprised tone, with a teasing smile.
"I thought you'd gone on ahead…"
"Yeah, well, I'm in no hurry."
He fell into step beside her as before, slowing his usual march to suit her slower gait. He couldn't think of anything to say for the rest of the walk, so, fearing he might put his foot in it again, he said nothing at all.
**
End of chapter 4.