It was quiet in the infirmary, as the place tended to get in the middle of the night, even when it was filled with patients. Since there were only two injured patients, and two not so injured patients, it was even quieter, and it was one of those exceptionally rare moments when all the medical staff was out of the main room for one reason or another. Asleep in her bed, Sam and Jack were nestled together, her firmly enclosed in his strong loving arms and their baby asleep in the basinet that had been set beside the bed for him.

Down the aisle a ways, Ian was still sleeping soundly, his hand resting on Jaffer, who had his head resting on the cadet's thigh and was drooling all over the blankets as he dreamed about the same thing he usually dreamed about; food. Ian's sleep was dreamless, either because he was too tired to dream just then, or because every time his mind started to dwell on the events of the day, the lab next to him would make some noise in his sleep and it would distract the cadet just enough to keep him away from that particular subject.

In an isolation room, with guards posted outside the door – just in case of another Cato-like trick – the two injured Tok'ra were also asleep, quiet as their symbiotes dealt with the injuries they'd sustained, healing them while they slept.

A gentle light suddenly appeared in the room, behind the curtain that closed Sam, Jack and Jacob off from the rest of the world. Neither Sam or Jack saw it; Jack had his face nestled in Sam's hair, and Sam had hers buried in Jack's shoulder, but it woke Jacob, who looked at it with wide eyes that didn't really comprehend what they were seeing, yet. The light hovered over the baby, as if examining him, and then lowered just a little until it was right above his tiny forehead. There was a moment, a very brief moment, when it seemed the light was touching him, caressing him tenderly, and then it was gone. Jacob George O'Neill moved his arm just a little – almost as if reaching for it – and then lowered it.

A moment later he was asleep again, too.

OOOOOOO

Ian was instantly aware of three things when he woke up. He was hungry – really hungry. He had to go to the bathroom – really had to go. And there was a heavy weight next to him that was soft and silky and was snoring.

He opened his eyes, lifting his head from the pillow to get his bearings, and found that he was in a bed in the infirmary and that Jaffer was sleeping with him, taking up more than his share of the bed and had managed to drool all over him. Bah.

His stomach clenched, making him actually wince in pain. He was beyond hungry. It felt as if he hadn't eaten in days. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just past 5AM. Which meant that if he was going to get something to eat, he was going to have to get it himself, because there weren't all that many people running around the infirmary that time of morning, and none of them were his personal servants.

"Wake up, Chubby," he said, patting Jaffer's shoulder to get his attention.

The lab moved his head and opened an eye, looking at Ian as if to make sure he'd been talking to him.

"Yeah, you. I need up."

Jaffer snorted, but he rolled over and stretched, and then got to his feet and hopped down off the bed. Rubbing his head – and wincing when he hit the stitched area with the heel of his hand – Ian sat up as well, pushed back the blankets and rolled out of bed.

His injured knee immediately gave way and he went down with a muffled curse, only just at the last moment remembering that people – and Sam and Jacob especially – were probably sleeping close by. Jaffer was on him in an instant, whuffling him to see if he was injured, and Ian used the lab and his bed to lever himself to his feet.

The leg as incredibly sore – being whacked several times in the same spot will apparently do that to you – and he wasn't able to put any weight on it.

Well… shit. He really had to go.

Luckily for him, the sound of his body hitting the floor had alerted one of the medics, who pushed back the curtain to see what was going on. After explaining the problem, and proving that he wasn't dying – except that now he really really had to go – Ian found himself sitting on his bed just long enough for the medic to strap on a sturdy knee brace to support his leg, and hand him a pair of crutches.

Ian had just enough manners left to thank the guy, and then with Jaffer beside him, carefully walking far enough away from him that he wouldn't get tangled in the crutches and knock Ian over, he headed for the hall, walking as quietly as he could to avoid disturbing anyone. Jaffer walked as far as the door with him, and then stopped and headed back for the curtained area that was hiding his Jack. He would want breakfast soon enough, but he wanted to check on other things, first.

After a quick stop at the men's room, Ian's pace towards the commissary was a lot less desperate. He was hungry, yes, but he was also smart enough to know that hurrying would undoubtedly result in falling on his ass – or his head – and neither was appealing. Not to mention there weren't a lot of people around to help him get up if he ended up on the floor.

Indeed, the corridors were empty, and he didn't run into anyone the entire way to the commissary, where he found that room empty as well. There was one person behind the counter – a young woman who was loading the cooler with freshly made fruit salads and jello cups. She smiled when he entered the room, noticing immediately the crutches and the brace and coming around the counter to see if there was anything she could do to help him.

"What happened to you?"

Ian shrugged. He had no intention of telling her the full story, and really, she knew better than to ask for details – people in the SGC were always getting weird injuries.

"It's just bruised," he told her, flopping down into a chair and stretching the leg out in front of him.

Misty nodded, and gestured to the cooler she'd just stocked.

"Are you here for breakfast?"

"Do you have anything more filling than fruit and jello?"

"The cooks aren't in yet, but I could get you some cereal and toast…"

Which was better than fruit, as far as Ian was concerned, but it wasn't at all what he'd been hoping for.

"Thanks."

"How many slices of toast do you want?"

As hungry as he was?

"Just keep them coming…"

She gave him an odd look, but he didn't look like he was joking, so she shrugged.

"Okay…"

OOOOOOOOO

"Does Fraiser know you're out of bed?"

Jack had come into the commissary about twenty minutes after Ian – obviously after having been woken up by Jaffer, who was walking with him – and most likely taking him out for a quick run. He'd seen Ian munching on what looked like a mountain of toast, and had walked over to join him.

"I didn't know I was supposed to stay in bed."

Jack smiled, and sat down, stealing a slice of toast.

"Which is what you'll tell her if she comes in and catches you?"

Ian shrugged. It was as good an excuse as any.

"How's Sam?"

Jack smiled, realizing that the cadet was changing the subject. It was exactly what he'd have done.

"She's awake, but not ready to do much of anything."

O'Neill leaned back in his chair, his eyes only on Ian and the toast in his hand forgotten. Right up until Jaffer smoothly snagged it out of his hand when it dipped under the level of the table, making it fair game.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

He looked more awake, at least. And that was a plus.

"Good. I'd like to talk to you about what happened…"

OOOOOOOOOO

Author's Note: Before anyone asks, it wasn't Dotty….