Awaking sometime later, Sam found she was shivering. The cold of the tile floor had seeped into her skin. She shifted to a more comfortable position and cracked one eye open, just enough to see if it were morning yet.
She blinked sleepily to clear the gum from her eyelashes, and glanced up at the clock magnet on the fridge. She groaned, closing her eyes again and considering the time. She'd only slept four hours.
"Morning."
Sam jerked at the voice that greeted her. For a second, she thought she had imagined it, like so many other things the past two sleepless days. Exhaustion and lack of nourishment were known to play tricks on the mind.
"You comfy down there?"
It wasn't a hallucination. It was humiliation. She refused to open her eyes and acknowledge the man standing in her kitchen. If she waited long enough, maybe he would disappear like the others. This wasn't have been the first time she imagined him watching over her, caring for her.
"Carter?"
Usually the only time she actually heard him speak was in her dreams. But the tone was always gentle, always loving. Not so, now. Concerned yes, but still maintaining a proper distance. Realizing he wouldn't fade away, she sighed heavily which tickled her throat and caused the coughing to resume with a vengeance.
She felt the warmth of a hand rubbing slow circles on her aching back, soothing the spasms that flitted through her. After the coughs abated, she reached blindly for the half-empty bottle of water. She felt his hand brush hers as he handed it to her.
"Here."
The whisper was so faint and tender that she didn't even recognize the owner. Rolling onto her back, she dreaded the silence, but the thought of conversing terrified her. His featherlike fingertips brushed across her forehead, checking for signs of fever. Sam forced herself not to shrink from his touch, but relaxed as he removed his hand from her brow.
Opening her eyes, she shifted her gaze between him and the clock. She hated the fact she'd just spent the past half hour ignoring his presence, but was unable to think of an apology. The cliché about honesty flitted to the surface and prompted her response.
"Sir."
"Carter, don't worry about it. You've pushed yourself too hard the past couple of weeks. It was bound to catch up with you. Why don't I help you into bed? The floor's not exactly promoting your good health."
Slipping his arms under her armpits, he folded her into his embrace. Using one hand to anchor their weight, he lifted her up onto her feet. With an arm around her waist, he guided her to her room and laid her in the bed.
He positioned her so she was propped up on a mountain of pillows and covered her in blankets. Surrounded by warmth, Sam felt the lull of sleep encompass her and closed her eyes.
Her body already numb, she pried her lids open long enough to peer at the man sitting on the bed beside her.
"Thanks, sir." She mumbled sincerely.
Granting her a brief smile, Jack whispered, "No problem, get some sleep. I'll be right here."
She returned the smile shyly and then slipped into dark oblivion.
o0o
Continues...