For a genius, Ian wasn't much for thinking ahead. Had he been, he might not have finished his homework quite so quickly, or used up most of the legos on that one single spaceship – impressive though it might be. Once Cassie had left with Janet (right after dinner) and Jack and Sam had vanished behind the curtain that surrounded Sam's bed to spend a little quite time with their son, Ian found himself with absolutely nothing to do and no one to do it with.

Cassie had taken the movies home with her, the TV and DVD player had been returned whence they'd come, the medical staff was down to bare bones since it was a weekend evening with no critical patients, no teams offworld that might have a medical emergency, and no reason to hang out if they didn't need to. Daniel had gone home with Sally, Teal'c was off meditating, and even Jaffer had abandoned him to spend time with Jack and Sam.

Which was all well and good for a chance to bond with Jake, but it did nothing for Ian, who sprawled in his bed and did word problems in his head to keep himself occupied for a while. The problem with that was that he'd heard all the answers before, which didn't make them very difficult. He finally gave up, and stared up at the ceiling, his good mood from the morning turning rather gloomy as his mind wandered inevitably back to the last few days. And especially the time he'd spent with Seterios.

As always, his mind had no problem showing him exactly what had happened, over and over, starting with how he'd woken to the kicking Jaffa, and finishing with a slashed throat and blood literally gushing all over him, smearing his hands and clothing with crimson. If he concentrated, he could even remember exactly how the slash had opened in the throat… which was gruesome, but something he couldn't get out of his mind.

The longer he thought about it, certain that he'd done things completely wrong, the more bleak his mood became, and the more he doubted himself. Normally self-assured and incredibly cocky, Ian did have a few issues when it came to doubting himself in situations he'd never faced before – and this definitely qualified. Not so much because of the danger he'd been in, but because of the danger his actions had undoubtedly put Sam in, and the fact that he'd killed a man to escape – and probably hadn't needed to. Even worse (in Ian's opinion) he'd done it without warning, killing Seteros without even giving the guy a chance – although he reminded himself continually that the guy was a Goa'uld. It didn't help, though. In Ian's opinion, it had been murder, plain and simple, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Finally, realizing that he wasn't doing himself any good brooding in bed, Ian decided to get up and move. Maybe a change of scenery was what he needed. Since he wasn't confined to his bed – and Fraiser wasn't there to enforce it even if he was – Ian reached for his crutches.

Maybe a midnight snack.

OOOOOOOO

Neither of them were asleep. They weren't used to having so much downtime – not with them both healthy, anyways – and they weren't using much energy sitting around all day cuddling Jacob. It wasn't difficult work – not with so many willing hands to help them – but it was, of course, important to be with the infant and develop that bond with him.

Both heard the unmistakable sound of Ian passing the bed; the thunk of his crutches was unsteady since he wasn't all that good with those things – and both of them assumed that he was heading off to the bathroom. When a good half-hour passed, though, and neither of them heard him return, Sam looked over at Jack; Jacob nestled gently against her, asleep and drooling on her neck.

"You want to go check on him?"

Jack nodded, and carefully slid out of bed. The only thing that had stopped him from going sooner was Sam being next to him, and since she'd noticed he hadn't returned too, he didn't feel guilty for abandoning her for a little bit to go make sure Ian hadn't fallen and cracked his head open or something.

"I'll be right back."

She smiled and nodded, tilting her head so he could kiss her.

OOOOOOOO

He didn't find Ian on the floor of the men's room. He didn't find him on the floor of the corridors on the way there, either. That was a relief, but added to Jack's concern about not being able to find him. There weren't really a lot of places the cadet could go, though.

Sam's lab was always open to him, but Ian only went there if Sam was there, because he always felt like he was trespassing into her personal space. Jack's office was the same way – Jack secretly hoped that Ian would sneak in there some day and do his paperwork for him – but Ian rarely went in there, either. Aside from that, there was the gym – which was off limits to Ian with his knee injured – and there was the commissary. Jack headed to the commissary.

Which was exactly where he found Ian.

The cadet was sitting at a table alone (there wasn't anyone else in the room anyways, so sitting alone was the only option he had) and was nursing a cup of coffee. Jack leaned against the door of the room, watching him for a minute and debating whether he looked like he wanted company or if he'd gone into the room to be alone. The troubled look in Ian's expression, however, was enough to decide him, and O'Neill walked over, making sure to make enough noise that he didn't startle Ian.

Sure enough, Ian looked up at him when he came up to the table.

"Hey," Jack said, his hand resting on the top of the chair he was standing in front of.

"Hi."

"Leg bothering you?"

He shook his head, looking down into his coffee.

"Conscious?"

Ian looked up, surprised, and Jack knew his guess had been correct. He knew the kid too well, and knew the circumstances of the last couple of days. Jack had a fair idea of what was bothering Ian once he'd assured himself that it wasn't the injury.

He sat down without asking for permission, and watched Ian for a long moment without saying anything, knowing that he'd start the conversation when he was ready.

"I've never killed anyone before…"

Jack nodded.

"I know."

"I don't know how to feel, Jack…" Ian said, looking up at him. "I-"

"You did what you had to do, Ian," Jack told him, meaning it. "You were in a new situation – a dangerous situation – and I don't know if you understand just how dangerous it was. You don't know how fast a Goa'uld can switch hosts. If you hadn't killed him – and quickly – the symbiote could just as easily taken you as host – or Sam."

Ian blanched at that thought, and Jack felt just as sick at the idea. But he continued, his voice steady because he knew it had to be.

"You reacted like you were trained to – like Bra'tac and Teal'c have been teaching you. And because of that you saved your life, and Sam's, and Jake's."

"It was…"

"You killed a Goa'uld, Ian," Jack interrupted. "A Goa'uld that would have killed you without blinking, and wouldn't have thought twice about torturing you – and Sam – until he had you doing what he wanted to. I for one, definitely prefer this scenario, and I'm not going to say that you should be glad he's dead, but I am glad, because I know better than you what might have happened. I'd rather it was him than you – and that was the choice, son, whether you believe it or not."

Ian was silent for a long time, but once more Jack didn't say anything, giving the boy time to think things through. That was definitely one of the disadvantages to being as smart as Ian was, Jack knew. He was always thinking – and probably couldn't have turned his brain off if he wanted to – but he was also intelligent, and Jack knew that Ian would eventually come to the realization that Jack was right.

"You mean that?" Ian finally asked, his dark eyes meeting Jack's.

O'Neill nodded.

"You can't overthink this, Ian, or it's going to drive you crazy – and worse, it'll make you hesitate next time. Which could get you killed. It's done. You're alive. Sam's alive, and the rest of us are glad for that."

Ian nodded, and Jack could see that his eyes weren't quite as troubled as they had been. That was good. O'Neill didn't mind that Ian was having trouble with what had happened; if he had taken to killing easily, that would have worried Jack. As it was, he was just showing the signs of his humanity, and there was nothing wrong with that. It was what separated them from the Goa'uld, after all.

He stood up, knowing that Ian would want to be alone.

"Sam's waiting for me, so I'd better go… but if you want to talk, you know where to find me."

Ian nodded, but didn't make any move to get up, too. He felt a bit better, but he wanted to sit and think about what Jack had told him. And he didn't want to do it in bed.

"Thanks, Jack…"

Jack nodded.

"Don't stay too late, okay? Fraiser will find out, and curb your nighttime wanderings."

Ian gave him a slight smile, and nodded again.

Jack smiled, and headed for the door. It was a conversation Nate probably should have had with his son, but since Nate wasn't there, and couldn't know the circumstances, Jack was more than willing to take his place.