The next time Ian woke, his mother was dozing in a padded chair near the side of his bed. She was covered with a fuzzy throw blanket that probably didn't come from the hospital's storage room – it just looked a little too bright and cheerful for a hospital room. He lay still, watching her sleep and not wanting to disturb her, figuring she'd had a rough day or two and needed the rest.

Without moving his head, he looked up at the clock and found that it was half past midnight. He'd only slept a few hours, but he felt a bit better – all the sleeping he was doing was definitely helping – although if anything, he ached even worse than he had. Probably because the bruises were stiffening up. And there was no way he was going to be able to work any of the stiff muscles out, because he knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of bed for a little while.

"How do you feel, son?"

He turned his head, and found that his mother had woken – probably some mom instinct that told her when he was awake had kicked in and alerted her. She was already pushing off the blanket and coming over to sit on the edge of his bed, her hand reaching out to touch his face gently. Ian was reminded of the few times when he'd been sick as a little boy, and her touch was all that had ever been needed to make him feel better. Sometimes things never changed, because he actually did feel better.

"I'm fine, mom," he told her, giving her the best smile he could. He didn't want her to worry about him. "Kind of hungry…"

Since he hadn't eaten anything solid in what seemed to be forever, it only made sense – of course, he'd been sleeping most of that time.

She smiled.

"Your father snuck you in a hamburger, but you were asleep and he ate it."

Bah.

She caught his annoyed look, and smiled – no one could read Ian better than she could.

"He's been sneaking out and getting you a fresh one every half hour or so," she told him. "It's probably just as well, because if he keeps eating them, he's going to pop right out of his clothes. – besides, I think Janet Fraiser is getting suspicious."

Ian couldn't help but smile, too, and he reached his hand out for her to take it in her own.

"You look tired, mom."

She shook her head, squeezing his hand lightly.

"I'm fine, baby. I was resting…"

She was the only one who could get away with calling him baby, too, and she knew it. Of course; she was his mother and could call him anything she wanted – because she had earned that right by changing his poopy diapers and they both knew it. Besides, he loved her and she couldn't do any wrong as far as Ian was concerned.

"Sleeping in a chair isn't the same thing as sleeping in a bed, though, and-"

He was interrupted by the door opening, and they both looked over to see Nathan walking in, a suspicious bulge under his coat and a smile on his handsome face when he saw that Ian was awake.

"Good! You're awake."

Ian nodded.

"He's been nagging me about resting," Maggie told her husband, moving so he could have the spot she'd been in.

"He's a smart kid," Nate said. "I told you that sleeping in a chair isn't as good for you as sleeping in a be-"

"Yes, I know."

She interrupted him, and Ian grinned, despite the ache from stretching those facial muscles. That was exactly what he'd been telling her, after all.

Nathan sat down on the edge of the bed and reached under his coat, pulling out a bag that smelled so god Ian's mouth immediately began to water.

"Don't let the doctors see it."

Ian took the bag in his hand and flipped it open so he could peek inside. It was a McDonald's bag, and besides the Big Mac he'd asked for earlier, there was also an order of fries – although there wasn't any ketchup. Too bad.

"Thanks, dad…"

"If you get caught with it, I had nothing to do with it…"

"Yes, sir."

He stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth, making an appreciative noise that made both parents smile.

"How do you feel?" Nathan asked.

He chewed and swallowed, and nodded.

"I'm better, dad… you guys don't need to stay here and hover. Go get some sleep…"

Nate nodded and stood up.

"That's exactly what we're going to do. I've got us a room in a hotel just down the road, and we'll be back to see you before they move you to the SGC."

Of course Nathan knew where his son was going to go – there wasn't any hiding that fact from the retired General, and there wasn't any need to. Even though he wasn't completely in the loop about what was going on there, he knew about the SGC since he'd been there, and he'd shared what little information that was needed to keep his wife from worrying about the welfare of her only son.

Ian nodded, and reached for the box that held his burger.

"Make sure mom doesn't fret all night, okay?"

"I'll do that, son."

Maggie sniffed, not at all used to her son and husband both ganging up against her like that, but she knew they were both stubborn enough that there was absolutely no reason for her to bother trying to argue. Instead, she leaned over and kissed Ian's forehead.

"We'll see you in the morning."

He nodded and watched them leave the room, then dug into his bag for another handful of fries. He wasn't really in all that much of a hurry, since he had to assume that everyone was asleep, but he did want to eat them before they were cold. Nothing tasted shittier than cold French fries.

OOOOOO

He'd finished the fries and was part way through his burger when Ian learned that he wasn't quite as intelligent as he thought he was. Not only was everyone in the hospital not asleep, but Janet Fraiser was lurking in the area, checking on her patient every half hour or so. Ian had been asleep the last time she'd been by, and he'd missed the vague warning his mother had given him about Fraiser being suspicious, and when the door to his room opened, and she walked in looking down at a chart in her hand, he had a distinctive deer in the headlights look about him. Quick as a flash – far quicker than one could imagine someone as injured as he was – he stuffed the rest of his Big Mac in his mouth, glad he'd already hidden the bag under his pillow, and gave her an innocent look.

Fraiser frowned when she looked up from the chart. She was glad to see he was still awake – she'd been told by his parents on their way out the door that he'd woken – but oh was he hiding something. Something greasy to judge by the smell of French fries that permeated the room. Add in the worst innocent look she'd ever seen in her life – and she'd seen a million of them – and she knew she'd busted him.

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at him suspiciously.