Sam's steps slowed when she entered the infirmary. It was an all too familiar place for everyone on SG-1. How many times had they pulled each other through by sheer force of will alone within these classified walls? To think of the life-or-death struggles that happened in this very room unbeknownst to most of the world. Powerful things were tested here; strength, character, mettle, friendship. It sometimes felt as though one grew as a person by leaps and bounds every time they were able to walk away from one of those infirmary beds.

Sam looked over at the bed where Colonel O'Neill was. For a split second (before she could help it or stop it) she almost expected to see Daniel there at his bedside. So many places the linguist should be, places he had always been before, where he could be no longer.

Daniel and Jack had been close. Jack would never admit it, but Sam had seen them together too often to be fooled. In his own Jack O'Neill way the colonel had loved Daniel... they all had. Jack still secretly ached, still privately bled, for the loss of Daniel. The men had been friends, best friends, and those who knew the colonel could see that Jack was hurting for the archaeologist's absence at his side.

To many, the friendship between Jack and Daniel had been perplexing. Jack was hard-core military, Daniel had been anything but. Jack followed orders, Daniel had argued with them. Jack was a soldier, Daniel an academic. They were vastly different men, and without question butted heads their fair share, but underneath the bluster and frustration something tensile had bound them together. They had learned that each was someone the other could depend on.

Solid ground ripped away.

Even now, as Sam studied the colonel, it seemed like he was looking for his friend. He was curled on his side, staring vacantly at the empty chair near his bed where Daniel in all rights belonged. Without Daniel there Jack looked isolated and alone. He looked lost.

Sam moved toward the bed, hesitated to take Daniel's seat, then dropped on to its cold plastic and looked into the colonel's face. A sheen of sweat covered his face, fever from the withdrawal. He continued for a minute to stare through Sam absently, as if unaware she'd moved into his line of sight. With a heavy blink he moved his eyes and eventually looked up at her.

"How you holding up, Colonel?" Sam asked. She wasn't expecting an answer but held out at least the hope of one.

She didn't get one beyond a heavy, hazy stare. Janet seemed to think that this small gesture, that he would look at her, was a gift. Sam wanted more than just empty acknowledgement.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

Jack continued to stare at her blankly; he gave no indication he'd heard her question.

Since her voice didn't stir him, she tried a more direct tactic. She reached up, brushed her fingers over Jack's forehead, then combed her fingers into his gray hair. Her thumb grazed softly over his moist temple, caressing a tentative but steady rhythm against his skin.

Jack's eyes flickered. That ghost-frown returned as he watched her. Sam and Jack rarely touched, not so intimately because it tempted fate, and it seemed even in withdrawal he knew that. He reacted to the unprecedented touch. Sam considered her actions worth it to see Jack even vaguely startle and rise from his drugged bog to silently question her.

Sam offered a small, tense smile.

"Daniel?" Jack croaked, looking at her hopefully. He wasn't confused, he knew it was Sam in front of him; he was asking for Daniel.

Sam bit her lip as she shook her head. "No, sir... Daniel's not... Daniel's gone, remember?"

Jack managed a slightly deeper frown. He seemed a little confused. For a split-second, he looked like he was on the verge of arguing with her. Jack's eyes left Sam to look around the infirmary. Sam said nothing and continued to lace her fingers through Jack's hair. She gave him time and hoped she would be spared having to go into any further detail about Daniel.

Jack stopped his search, finally looked back at Sam, and she knew he knew. Still, he cast his eyes toward the ceiling once before settling his gaze on her.

Jack looked less confused than he had a moment ago.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Jack laid still under her touch (Sam forgot she was still threading her fingers through his hair), then gave a very weak, pathetic nod. "Peachy."

Sam smiled.

Jack reciprocated as best he could on reflex. It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was a relief to Sam all the same.

"Home," Jack uttered.

Sam stared at him a moment, putting together what he meant by that one word. "Janet won't let you out of her sight, you know that."

Jack just watched her. In his eyes, she could tell that he desperately wanted out of the infirmary. It had never been his favorite place to be, but the fact that not so long ago they had lost Daniel here... Sam didn't blame him, to the contrary, she understood.

Sam frowned in thought, then had an idea. She leaned closer to the colonel, Jack watching her in a fascinated stupor. "You won't be able to go home, Janet would flip out at the idea, but maybe I could convince her to cut you loose if you came home with me. She's not going to let you be alone and I'm probably the best deal you're gonna get."

Jack stared into her eyes.

"Will that work for you, sir?" It was the best she could do, and even that much might take a small miracle when Sam presented this idea to Doctor Fraiser. Few would even try to pry one of Janet's patients from her for fear of her protective wrath.

Jack's lips twitched in what was a feeble effort to smile. Sam knew Jack well enough to recognize the intent alone. She gave an encouraging smile back at him before standing to find Janet, her hand finally leaving its strange residence in Jack's hair. His eyes tracked her as she left to track down the good doctor.


Late evening found Sam behind the wheel of her silver sports car on her way home from Cheyenne Mountain. It was going to be the first time in almost a week that she'd been home and even she found herself looking forward to the comfortable change of scenery. Colonel O'Neill was in the passenger's seat beside her, quietly staring out the window. He hadn't said much when Sam came to get him in the infirmary, nor when she'd gone with him to the locker room to get his street clothes, but once in the elevator headed toward the surface he seemed to come around a little. He'd offered a few small comments, more than the single words he'd uttered in the infirmary. Sam would take every small sign of improvement she could get.

Jack trembled again and reached for the heater controls, turning the temperature up higher in the small car. Sam had let him fiddle and mess with the controls at his discretion, saying nothing. It was already nearly eighty degrees in the small confines of the car, but Sam didn't mind; she could handle a little heat if Jack was chilled.

"How'd you get this past Doc Fraiser?" Jack asked. The farther they were from the base, the more he was alone with someone with whom he felt comfortable, the more he loosened up enough to talk. He wasn't his usual sarcastic, joking self, but it was a big improvement from catatonic Jack.

"Oh, you know," Sam shrugged, "twenty bucks can buy Janet off any day of the week."

Jack's lips curved in a tight smile. The smile never made it to his eyes, but he tried. He shivered again and reached to turn up the heat another notch.

Sam smiled faintly in return as she kept her eyes on the road. Truth be told, Janet had almost flat-out refused to release Jack. Sam couldn't really fault Janet's rationale; Jack had endured far more than one person should in the span of a week, and no one would deny that right now he was sick. Janet was only swayed when Sam told her that Jack had asked to go home. To hear that Jack had spoken to someone, interacted with someone, had convinced her that maybe Jack could best recover in different surroundings.

Sam had hoped that was the truth. It did seem the longer she was alone with Jack the more he came around.

They rode in companionable silence the rest of the way to Sam's house. When they arrived Sam stopped the car and turned to look at the colonel. "Home sweet home."

Jack sat motionlessly and stared out the window at the dark house.

Sam didn't know what to do so she sat in the parked car with him a few minutes, letting him set the pace. When minutes passed and he didn't move, Sam reached over and laid her hand on his shoulder. Jack turned his head in her direction at the touch. It seemed to take him a while to register exactly what she expected.

"Come on, sir," Sam prodded gently, "let's go in."

Jack stared at her a moment before wordlessly unbuckling his seat belt and opening the car door. Sam was quickly after him and walking at his side to the front door. Jack stood by silently as she unlocked the door then gestured him in.

Once inside, Sam closed and locked her front door behind them then turned on the hall light. "I hope having something delivered for dinner is fine with you, Colonel. Janet let you off the base on the condition I watch out for you and I think that prohibits subjecting you to my cooking."

Jack gave an absent nod. "Fine."

Sam took Jack's elbow and guided him toward the living room. "Why don't you sit down and watch some TV; I'll set up the guest room and call in for some pizza."

Jack let her move him into the living room and settle him down on the couch. He made no move to change the channel when Sam turned on the television for him. Sam frowned as he absently watched the Discovery Channel but didn't linger long enough to let it plague her. She lingered just long enough to make sure he would be all right.