It hurt her to see him so vulnerable. Carter held Jack while he sobbed, murmuring soothing sounds in his ear as he clung to her like a small child who'd just woken from a nightmare. She pulled away from him long enough to get him under the covers with her, not wanting him to catch a chill, but then gathered him back into her arms once more and tucked his head under her chin.

"What happened, Jack?" She murmured softly, rubbing his back with one hand and holding him tight with the other. He didn't answer. He didn't have the breath to answer. And he didn't want to tell her, anyways.

Sam didn't press him. She would eventually find out, she was sure, and she wasn't about to do anything to further upset him that night. He was already a mess, and she wasn't in any condition herself to try and force it out of him. Instead, she simply gave him what he seemed to need most. She held him tightly; reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. Even though she wasn't exactly sure what was wrong.

He fell asleep in her arms, and Carter leaned back into the pillows that she'd used to prop herself up, pulling Jack down with her and resting his head on her shoulder. He muttered something in his sleep, but she didn't understand it and he didn't repeat it, instead falling into a deeper sleep. Sam dried his cheeks with her hand, and then ran her fingers through his hair lightly, more to calm herself than to soothe him, since he was already asleep. She took much longer to drift off, her mind filled with a jumble of emotions that she hadn't even begun to sort out, all of them centered on the man she was holding so carefully in her arms.

It was late morning when Jack finally woke up. He woke slowly, unsure of where he was until he realized that he was in Carter's arms. He remembered the dream from the night before, and the resulting crying jag, and wondered how the hell he was going to explain that to Carter. He wasn't sorry it happened, though. He just wondered how he'd managed to sink into such a funk so quickly.

He sat up, reluctantly removing himself from her protective embrace. Carter woke up as soon he started to move, and her hand held him tightly for another moment until she realized he was awake and moving into a different position.

"Colonel?" Her voice was a whisper, and her eyes were filled with concern for him. Probably wondering if he was going to start bawling again, Jack thought privately. He didn't say anything, though. He just leaned over and kissed her cheek gently, then moved off the bed and left the room. He wasn't ready for any questions. He felt wrung out.

Carter almost felt hurt by his silence, but she knew it wasn't directed at her this time. She knew he'd kissed her to make sure that she knew he wasn't angry, or upset, and she could let him go without a word because of that silent guarantee. She stretched, trying to decide just how tired she still was, and whether she wanted to go back to sleep or not. She deserved a little extra sleep, she decided, and she drew the blankets up to her chin, rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

O'Neill took a shower and shaved, dressed in a pair of sweats and then went into his bedroom and picked up all the bedding that had been strewn about during the night. He debated going back to bed, but didn't feel like it. He was worn out, but he didn't want to sleep another day away. His stomach growled, surprising him, and Jack wandered out into the kitchen to make breakfast.

He made enough for two, even though Carter hadn't made an appearance and O'Neill had a feeling she'd gone back to sleep. He dished up a plate of eggs and bacon for himself, and one for her then carried the tray back to her room, unwilling to eat alone. For that matter, he didn't feel like being alone at all. He just hoped Carter would forgive him for being the world's biggest jerk.

"Carter?"

He set the tray down and stretched out on the guest bed next to her, although he was on the blankets and she was under them.

"Carter?" She murmured something, but didn't open her eyes. Jack shrugged silently to himself and reached over her, taking his plate of breakfast of the tray. Setting it between himself and Carter, he started eating hungrily.

She woke while he was still eating, and looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing, Colonel?"

"Eating breakfast," he answered, showing her the piece of bacon he had in his hand.

"You're getting crumbs in my bed."

"I brought you some."

She sat up, and looked around. He was wearing a pair of sweats and nothing else, and there was a plate of eggs and bacon sitting on a tray next to her.

"Thanks."

"They're probably cold. I tried to wake you up."

"That's okay, I've had worse." She took her plate and started eating. O'Neill finished his, set his plate on the floor to keep it out of the way, and stretched out next to her once more, resting his head on the pillow close to her, but not so close that he was in her way.

"Rough night, huh?" Sam said softly, watching him as she ate.

He nodded silently, but didn't say anything.

"You need to talk?"

He shook his head, and stopped himself from saying something that might have come out snappish. Instead he rested his hand on her leg for a moment, as if to remind himself that he wasn't going to try and drive her away.

"I don't want to talk about it, Carter." He told her softly. He closed his eyes, feeling the hurt and depression that had plagued him all week well up inside him. "I can't."

She didn't press. He'd closed his eyes, but Sam knew that he wasn't shutting her out this time. If that had been his intention, he'd have left her room. He'd talk when he was ready, and she'd support him as much as he'd let her until then.