Jack was sitting on the edge of his bunk, his head in his hands, wearing nothing but pair of shorts when there was a light knock on the door to the cabin. He looked over at Daniel to see if he'd knocked. Since Daniel was sitting on his own bed, wearing as little as Jack was and staring into his bag as though hoping something clean would jump out at him, Jack decided that it wasn't Daniel at the door. He turned to the door, wincing at the movement, and reached out with his left hand, but couldn't quite reach the knob without moving further. And he really didn't want to move. He dropped his hand.

"Who is it?"

"It's probably the nurse," Daniel said, looking up from his bag. "Come to see if you've managed to drown yourself in the shower."

Jack scowled.

"It's Sam." Came Carter's voice from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

She did, opening the door slowly and peeking in. She smiled when she saw they were both upright, but couldn't hide the wince when she saw O'Neill. He looked worse than ever. A bruise was forming deep and purple on his side along his ribs – probably where he'd impacted Daniel's body. There was also another one – almost black it was so deep – that ran along his inner thigh of his right leg. That one had to be the one from the rope, Sam decided. The cast on his right arm went from just below his elbow all the way to his hand, and covered most of that as well, except for his thumb.

Jack saw the wince and scowled.

"Stop that."

"Sorry, Sir."

She looked over at Daniel, who was equally battered looking. His bare chest revealed bruising similar to Jack's and a beauty was forming on his forehead above his left eye where a white bandage covered the cut he'd had stitched up. The cast on his wrist had been replaced with a new one, and Sam decided the old one had probably been damaged in the accident. Or they'd removed it to do more x-rays. Either way, he looked as battered as Jack. Sam smiled. They looked worse from a week at camp than they'd ever looked on most missions.

"Laughing at us will get you nowhere." Daniel told her, darkly.

"Sorry, Daniel. How do you guys feel?" She entered the cabin and closed the door behind her, walking over to get a better look at the bruise on Daniel's forehead.

"Just ducky," Jack said. And Daniel nodded agreement.

"The kids are eating dinner right now. Kim said you guy weren't hungry?"

"Nope."

"I'm not."

"Are you feeling up to watching the evening activity?"

"What is it?"

"Do we have to do anything?"

"Square dancing. And no, you don't have to participate, but I think it'd be nice if you were there. The guys are pretty worried about you."

"Square dancing?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously. "You're joking."

"Oh, no." Sam smiled and went over to sit next to him on his bed, although she was careful not to touch him. "It's on the schedule."

"I'm not dancing."

"Me either."

They both sounded so petulant, Sam thought. She wondered if it were the medications they were on. They weren't normally quite this bad. Well... yeah, Jack was, but not Daniel. Maybe Jack had hit him hard enough to rub off on him? Or maybe it was the medicine. That was probably it.

"You don't have to dance. Come on, you'll enjoy yourselves."

They both gave her looks that quite plainly said they figured otherwise.

"I can't find anything to wear," Daniel said.

"You need to wear jeans and button up shirts," Sam told them. "Western style." She stood up and went over to Daniel's bag and rifled through it for a minute, then pulled out a pair of neatly folded jeans and a shirt that was probably clean. It didn't smell, anyways. Setting them on the bed, she looked over at Jack, who was bent over and looking into his own bag, but not making much effort to find anything in it.

"Are you guys okay?" Sam asked.

Jack looked up at her, and nodded. Then went back to looking in his bag.

"Sir?"

He looked back up at her.

"Unzip it. You'll be able to see what's in it a lot easier that way."

Jack looked down at the bag again, and then nodded. "I knew that."

"Need help?" She asked Daniel.

"Maybe with my shirt. I'm not sure I can get..." He was trying to put his cast through the sleeve of the shirt Sam had picked out, and Carter undid the button at the bottom to make it a little easier. Then she helped him get his other arm into the other sleeve and buttoned the shirt for him. With the shirt on, at least some of the bruises were hidden.

"Need help with the pants?"

"No. I got it."

Daniel picked them up in his left hand and unfolded them with a little flip of his wrist and tried to slip his foot into them. Without bending his knee to bring his foot anywhere close to the opening.

"You know, cowboys at square dances wore shorts." He told her, giving up and tossing the jeans on the floor. "I'm an archeologist. I know these things."

Carter smiled, picked them up and helped him get his feet into the legs.

"Stand up, Daniel, and I'll help you with the buttons. Just don't expect me to do this every day, okay?"

Moving slowly, Daniel did as she was told and stood up. Sam slid his jeans up and fastened them for him, smiling to see herself in such a role. No one would ever believe this.

"Sit back down, now." He didn't look all that steady, and sitting down was better than falling down. He did as she told him, and Carter turned her attention to Jack, who was still staring at his bag. Which was still closed. Sam sighed, wondering how much medication the two were on.