He woke up at the alarm and looked around the room, reminding himself where he was and why he was there. Each day started with this mental rehearsing of the fact that he had given up everything he knew in this universe and his self-affirmation that it had absolutely been the right thing to do. This had helped Jonas deal with the daily reminder of the pain that had been caused by Dr. Jackson's untimely death and his feeling that somehow, the SG-1 team still blamed him for that.

While the other members of SG-1 had at least acknowledged his sacrifice, they had not warmed up to him right away. Janet Fraiser, on the other hand, had been warm and welcoming, putting him at ease right away and assuring him that everything would work out as it should.

Morning had also been easier to deal with on a day like today; he looked forward to the mission briefings because she would be there. She always sat next to him in these meetings, demure and beautiful, the consummate professional.

He realized that her position as the Chief Medical Officer and her taking care of him in that role probably contributed to his feelings for her, but then, he'd seen her in another light, and he knew that he had loved her since that night in the infirmary.

He had had to go there upon coming through the gate with the naquadriah when he had left Kelowna. She had suggested that he be confined to the infirmary overnight for observation before she released him to whatever tasks SGC might find for him; she had been concerned about the radiation level that he himself might have been exposed to and she wanted to keep an eye on him.

It had been late at night and something had woken him up. He had looked across the room; watching her as she sat down heavily on one of the few empty beds, and pulled her auburn hair loose from the small, severe bun she sometimes kept it in.

He had risen quietly and gone over to the end of the bed she was sitting on. He had been immediately struck by the softness that her face had, but his thoughts shifted to one of concern as she began to sob quietly.

"Doc? Are you okay?" he had asked her softly.

She had been startled at the sound of his voice; jumping down off the bed she had immediately begun wiping her eyes, trying to regain her composure. He had smiled at her then, and she had stopped, seeming somehow to trust him with her raw emotions in that one moment.

She had smiled through her tears at him, and he had been amazed at the beauty he noticed in her at that very moment.

"Can I help?" he had asked in his quiet tone of voice. He knew that it was unlikely she would trust him with whatever it might be, but he had felt compelled to offer.

He'd seen the look in her eyes and realized that Janet herself hadn't been sure why, but he knew that something about his manner spoke to her instincts. Somehow, she had felt safe revealing this side of herself to him.

She sat back down on the bed, defeatedly. He sat down next to her.

"It's just that, sometimes, I get so tired of watching these young men and women coming through here, some of them multiple times. It's heartbreaking to see them struggling back from a staff blast or a zat gun shot, or an alien virus or an infinite number of other injuries when they should be out living life, having fun, raising families, anything but this" she had said with a note of anguish in her voice.

"Sometimes, I just don't know how I'm going to handle it all; I get so scared that I won't be able to help them, that I won't know how to cure whatever they might come across out there," she said helplessly, with a wave of her hand in the general direction of the gateroom. The feelings were coming fast and furious now, tumbling out. She had looked at him then, fresh tears in her eyes.

He had smiled at her again, a big warm smile. "You're doing the best you can for them and that's all anyone can ask," he'd said gently. "And from what I can see, your best is the best they'll ever get," he'd added with another one of his infectious smiles.

She had smiled back at him then, a warm, trusting smile, revealing a true, inner beauty to him.

"Thank you, Jonas," she had said quietly; then she had looked past him at the clock.

"Oh, my, it's late! You should really try to get some sleep," she'd said to him in her doctor tone of voice, jumping down off the bed, the moment of her raw humanity having passed.

He smiled at her, glad to see that she had regained herself. "Yes ma'am," he'd replied, getting up and heading back to his own military style infirmary bed.

Most mornings, he realized, it was this memory that sustained him, that got him out of bed, dressed and ready for the day.

He walked into the briefing room; she and General Hammond were always the first two people to these meetings and he was usually third. The other SG- 1 team members teased him about his eagerness for these briefings; he would smile to himself knowing that it was seeing her that helped fuel his enthusiasm.

She and General Hammond were chatting amongst themselves as he entered; they looked up at him. He smiled his usual, toothy grin.

"Good morning General Hammond, Dr. Fraiser," he greeted them.

"Good morning Jonas," General Hammond greeted him respectfully. The young man's easy charm and enthusiasm for this work, not to mention what he had sacrificed had put him in George Hammond's good graces, though he was careful not to let too many people know this.

"Jonas," Janet Fraiser greeted him, with a smile and a slight nod of her head. He slid into the seat next to hers. It was going to be another good day.