Author's notes: Italic's denotes voice heard through radio receiver

Jacob suddenly woke up feeling trapped. In his disorientation he panicked not realizing his legs were tangled in the bed sheets. As he attempted to scramble off the bed he knocked a small lamp over sending it onto the floor. The loud crash quickly brought him to his senses.

"Hopefully Sam didn't hear that," he said, sitting there staring at the mess on the floor.

"Dad!" Sam called from just outside his bedroom door.

"Oh crap!"

With a heavy sigh he slowly got to his feet, straightening his pajama bottoms.

"Dad!" she called again more urgently while knocking on the door forcing him hurry before she tried to open it.

"I'm fine," he said opening the door. "I was still half asleep when I knocked over the lamp."

She frowned at him.

"Sam, I'm fine," he insisted.

"Dad, you're not fine. You were having nightmares most of the night."

"Sam..."

"You were just screaming in your sleep again."

Jacob swallowed hard and took a step back. He honestly couldn't remember screaming. But it did explain why his throat felt scratchy. It must have been one hell of a shout.

"I think we should go back to the base and have the doctor check you and Selmak out," she said stepping into the room.

"We're fine."

"Dad, you are not fine. Selmak should have healed your injuries by now," she said pointing to some of the bruises on his ribs.

"Sam, we're fine," he said grabbing his pants and T-shirt on the way into the small bathroom for his bedroom. "Selmak will be fine. He just needs a few days to recover. Then he'll take care of me."

"Dad!" she called from outside.

"I'm listening," he sighed wearily, grateful she didn't follow him in as he started to get dressed.

While Sam continued he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He looked tired. No longer listening to Sam's words, he looked more closely at his reflection. In it he could see the dark circles under his eyes, the burn mark on his forehead, and his soft beard stubble.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked, her voice sounding much closer to the doorway.

He quickly washed and dried his face, purposely ignoring her question. However, when he pulled the towel away Sam was standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest.

"Dad, what are you hiding?" she demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered walking past her.

"Was there a woman captured with you?"

"What? No!" he said sitting on the bed and putting his boots on. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"Dad, you kept yelling for them to stop hurting her."

Refusing to look up, he continued to slowly tie the laces on his boots. He really didn't want to look at Sam. If he did he would then have to answer her questions. But even though he didn't look he could feel her glare.

It was the same feeling he used to get when he would look away and avoid answering her mother's questions. It's not that he really wanted to look away from his wife. Allison always looked beautiful to him even when they were arguing. But that was the problem, she was too beautiful which made it harder to resist. So he learned to turn away. Only Allison learned too. She would change her tactics and always had a sneaky way of getting him to answer her questions even if she couldn't get the answers out of him directly.

"I know you're not ready...but I want you to know that I'm here if you need me," she said sitting beside him.

'Just as determined as your mother...only you're not your mother,' he thought to himself as he got to his feet and put his jacket.

"Dad..."

"You're right Sam, I'm not ready," he snapped angrily but he wasn't angry with her, she was only trying to help. "I don't even know when I will be ready! And when I am, I wouldn't even know who to talk to. I'm certainly not going to talk to some damn shrink. I didn't after 'Nam and I'm not going to now!"

He didn't even know why he just mentioned Vietnam to her. The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. And the last thing he wanted to do was give any more ideas to Sam. He knew her brain was already trying to figure things out about him.

This whole Netu incident dredged up some old memories. Memories he didn't want to remember. Memories he thought had been buried.

The room suddenly felt to confining, he had to get out of there. He didn't bother waiting for Sam to respond when he hurried out of the room and made his way outside.

Standing there in the snow, Jacob suddenly hesitated. Looking back he saw Sam had not followed. He debated about going back and apologizing to her. What he did was rude and he knew that. But he couldn't tell her what happened to him on Netu. He couldn't tell her about 'Nam either. His little girl didn't need to know about such things.

And in that moment, Jacob felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. His heart ached and he was filled with such sadness. He missed Allison, almost desperately. She had been the one and only person he could ever talk to. She also had been the only person who knew him and knew what to say to him to get him to open up.

It was cold. Too cold to be lying on the snow covered ground. But Kelso waited and watched, as were his orders. Glancing at his watch he saw it was almost nine-o clock. He had been waiting for more than an hour when the front door suddenly flung open. Zooming in with his scope he saw General Carter...finally.

"Target has been spotted," he reported quietly.

"What's his heading?"

"No heading yet," he said watching as the General was pacing.

"Come on, make up your mind," he whispered to himself as the General looked indecisive about leaving or returning back to the cabin.

It took a few minutes but finally the man made up his mind.

"Target is taking the northeast trail."

"Copy that. Keep watch in case the daughter follows."

"Yes, sir."

The flames in the fireplace burned brightly and seemed to fuel Sam's frustration even more. She got up and started pacing thinking about how to help her father. There were many times she wondered if he actually knew how much of a pain in the ass he could be. This was one of those times.

Her father was a stubborn man. Fortunately for Sam, she was equally stubborn. His anger didn't bother her; she knew it wasn't directed towards her. He was just angry, probably with himself. But what he said before hurrying out of the room kept echoing in her mind.

Sam had known of his service during the Vietnam War but she never knew what he did or what happened to him, only that he was hurt when he came home. Remember back, she now realized it was never the physical pain that was bothering him.

Something happened. When combining her knowledge of the war with what happened to him on Netu didn't make it difficult for her to figure out he had been tortured in 'Nam.

Only things weren't adding up. She knew her father was mentally tough to endure torture, maybe not Goa'uld torture, but he was prepared. From him talking, or shouting, during his nightmares Sam could only assume that he wasn't alone when captured. And yet he denied anyone was with him.

Sam let out a loud heavy sigh as she rubbed her temples. She was getting a headache. All she had was assumptions. If she was going to help him, she needed to know more. So she grabbed the phone and called the one person who could possibly tell her what exactly happened to her father during the war. It was the only way.