"'Cereal, spoiled milk and beer are not groceries'."

Jaffer looked over at Jack from the passenger side of the truck, and O'Neill grinned at the look his dog gave him.

"What? I didn't say it, I'm just repeating it."

Jaffer snorted, and stuck his head out the window once more, his nostrils flaring as he caught whatever interesting scents were going on around him while O'Neill drove off the base and to the grocery store. While Jaffer smelled things, Jack was going over his grocery list in his head, deciding what he wanted to attempt to cook, what she'd even want, and debating what would be easiest. Easy was always better than hard, as far as he was concerned. He pulled into the parking lot and stopped the truck.

"You stay put," He told Jaffer. The grocery store was one of the few places he couldn't bring his dog, and they both knew it. Although he was tempted, since he hated leaving Jaffer in the truck. He did take him out of the front of the cab and let him jump up into the bed so he could watch the coming and goings of people around him. "I'll be right back."

He bought tons of food. More food than he'd ever have bought just for himself and Jaffer. Jack was an 'order out and relax' kind of guy most of the time. (Except for summer barbeques, of course) This meant pizza and other take out foods, not casseroles and home cooked meals, but even if he didn't actually follow that pyramid guide thing, he was aware of good nutrition, and knew that he'd better have real food on hand for Sam to eat. Pizza was good, but not so great when you were sick.

He bought meat, bread, vegetables, all sorts of homey foods that were guaranteed to fill his fridge and cupboards with things that even Fraiser would call 'groceries'. Then he loaded it up into the back of his truck, pulled Jaffer's attention away from the little girl he was flirting with in the car next to his, and headed for home – stopping on the way for burgers and fries.

..................

That night he called the base pretty much once an hour, checking with the medical staff on duty to make sure Sam was okay. He was told – every time he called – that yes, she was resting easily, and no, she wasn't suffering any side effects of the medication, and yes, she'd probably be fine to take home in the morning – provided Janet Fraiser said it was okay. Yes, they'd call if something came up, but no, they didn't expect that anything would. Sam was fine, and sleeping peacefully. Really.

With the phone in one hand, and Jaffer tucked firmly and warmly against his other side with his head resting on Jack's thigh, O'Neill lay in bed and watched bad movies all night, wishing Sam were with him, and wanting to hear her voice.

Not that he couldn't sleep alone – well, if you counted a 75-pound lab sprawled next to you sleeping alone. Sam wasn't over at his house every night, after all, but he was worried about her, and when he worried, he didn't sleep. There was no point in it, after all. He'd just fret about her while he was sleeping, and he wouldn't get any rest, anyways. He wasn't apprehensive enough that he had to go rushing down to the base to be at her side – he was pretty sure that would bring down Janet's wrath, and Carter wasn't hurt badly enough to risk that – just enough that he lost a little sleep. And he lost sleep a lot, so one night was hardly going to kill him.

...............

Janet was there when O'Neill walked into the infirmary early the next morning, and she greeted him with a scowl. Which Jack caught immediately, of course.

"Relax, Doc. We're just here to collect Sam and go home."

She, of course, was scowling down at the dog next to him, who had strutted into her infirmary as if he owned the place.

"Did you sleep last night?" Fraiser missed very little when it came to the people she was responsible for keeping healthy.

"Of course I did."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because I'm lying."

"Colonel..."

"Doc..."

"Keep him off my beds."

"Can I take Sam home?"

"Have you had breakfast?"

"I had coffee."

"Go get some breakfast. Major Carter hasn't eaten yet, and isn't ready to be discharged." It was still early, after all. Sam wasn't even awake.

"How long?" Meaning 'how long do I have to wait?'

"Until she's ready. Go eat, Colonel, and take him with you." She pointed at Jaffer, who'd walked over to the curtained off area that Sam's bed was behind, and had stuck his nose around it, looking up at the bed as if debating whether to jump up and check on his patient or not.

"Can I see her?"

"When she's awake and ready to go."

He scowled.

"Go. Now."

"Come on, Jaffer." The black lab was at his side, instantly, and Fraiser wished silently that she could control the big dog as easily as Jack did. Wouldn't that just make her life so much easier?

"Don't come back until I page you."

"How long will that be?"

"Just go eat, Colonel," Fraiser said, a little irritated, but a little amused, as well. She wondered if he had any idea how enjoyable it was to watch him nag about Sam Carter. He was always so self-possessed when it came to military things; missions were a breeze, and ambushes and traps were no problem, but when it came to someone he cared about – in this case Sam – he was so... different. Almost as much of a mother hen as Fraiser herself was. And far more uncertain than he liked them to know. Which is why he was always so difficult with her.

"You'll page me?"

"Yes."

"Can't we just wait here?"

"No."

Jack sighed, and left, with Jaffer beside him. She was always so difficult!

Fraiser waited to make sure he wasn't going to come back and argue some more, then went to wake up Carter and get her ready to start the day.