Too Strong Part 7 of 11
Disclaimer: See Original Post
"I'm not leaving."
"General, this stress isn't good for you and I can't be convinced it's really doing Colonel Carter any benefit."
"Well, I'm no PhD, but how can you say it's not?"
"I concur with O'Neill. His presence calms Colonel Carter and allows her to think more clearly, obtaining the required rest her body needs."
Jack nodded emphatically and motioned towards Teal'c. "See?"
The three of them stood near the door of the temporary quarters, speaking in hushed tones, while Sam slept on the bed on the other side of the room. The doc's sedatives had quickly knocked out the other patients, leaving only Sam to fight her demons. And Jack would be damned to hell before he left her to do it alone – especially if he could somehow help.
"Look, whatever they did to her is obviously different than the last time. And until we know what we're dealing with, I say we do whatever works. And right now, me hanging out here works."
Doc Brightman sighed. "All right. But you have to promise me, General O'Neill, that you will get some sleep."
"Yeah, sure . . . " he said, nodding his head. "No problem."
She shook her head and left the room, the click of her heels growing faint in the hall. As soon as he thought it was safe, he yawned so big his jaw ached and he scrubbed his face with his hands.
"Do you require that I stay and provide you with companionship, O'Neill?"
"Keep me company?"
"Is that not what I said?"
"Yeah, but the way you said it . . . never mind. I'm good. Go get some sleep, Teal'c. It's been a long night."
"If there is any way I may be of assistance "
"I know."
With a bow of his head, Teal'c left as well, closing the door behind him. The room was nearly in darkness except for a soft night light that came through the cracked bathroom door connected to the quarters. It was a standard guest quarters with a full size bed and other pieces of furniture and bright paintings on the wall. A contrast to the gray painted concrete and galvanized steel vents that ran the ceiling.
Sam lay quiet in the bed now, her back to him and her body curled on itself. At some point, she had been changed into the white infirmary pajamas that looked more like kung fu outfits. Jack walked to the bed, slipping off his BDU jacket as he went, and sat down on the side furthest from her. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Fighting the lead bags on his eyes, he looked around the room to figure out where to catch a few winks that he'd still be within quick range of Carter if she woke up. Right now, the short couch along the wall was looking good. Maybe if he slouched . . .
"Jack?"
He twisted on the bed and leaned over. "I'm right here."
Sam rolled towards him, the sheets and blankets rustling with her movement. Her face was partially shadowed by the various light sources in the room, making her look almost as if she were lit by candlelight, and she focused on him.
"How are you doing?"
"I still hear them."
He turned more, bringing his legs up onto the bed so he was partially reclined, resting on his elbow. Jack watched her for a moment, and took a slow breath before speaking.
"I'm going to get you help, Sam. I'll make sure they stop."
She turned onto her side so they lay facing each other, her beneath the blankets and he on top of them. Sam folded her hands beneath her cheek and focused on some indiscernible spot somewhere around the middle of his chest.
"Stay here with me."
"I told you I would."
Her eyes darted up and her gaze met his. "I mean it, Jack. You have to stay here with me."
Jack squinted his eyes, focusing on her face in the dim light. "Why, Sam?"
"Because if you don't, they'll be right."
"Right about what?"
"That I'll kill you."
Her voice held a cold weight that chilled his skin. Whatever the voices said, whatever the Goa'uld had done to her, she was convinced of it. And Jack had no reason to doubt it.
"Shhhh," he said, smoothing his hand over her hair. "Get some sleep."
Her eyes closed almost immediately and she drew in the long, deep breath of someone just about ready to drift off into never, never land. Jack pulled at a pillow from the head of the bed and bunched it beneath his jaw so he could remain in his place, lying on his side, watching her sleep.
Some time later he managed to drift off, just after Sam's hand reached out and found his in the dark.
"Come on, Carter. Eat."
Sam sat at the head of the bed, her back against the pillow-padded oak headboard and her knees held against her chest. She rocked back and forth, her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed, and her hair mused.
Jack twisted the tines of his fork in the fettuccini on his plate. "Are you going to make me feed this to you?"
"I'm not crazy."
He shifted his attention from the rapidly cooling dinner, and looked directly into her now open eyes. Her lips pressed tightly together, and her body shook in small tremors even though a fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead.
"I don't think you're crazy."
"Like you didn't think I was crazy when I saw Orlin?"
"Carter "
"And you didn't think Jonas was crazy when he saw the trans-dimensional bugs?"
"Carter " he said again.
"Or when Daniel had Machello's Goa'uld Killers in his head?"
Jack set the fork down on the plate, giving up on getting any food into her, and pushed the dinner cart aside. He moved from his chair beside the bed to sit near her feet, resting his hand on her bent knee.
The trembling eased, but didn't stop completely.
"Jeez, Carter, I may be thick but I do get it eventually. I don't think you're crazy. I swear."
She raised one hand, holding it out to him, a strained and faint smile on her lips. "Pinky swear?"
Jack couldn't help but grin. It was possibly the first sign in two days that maybe Sam, his Sam, was still somewhere in there and could still appreciate his juvenile tendencies.
He curled his pinky finger around hers. "Pinky swear."
There was a knock at the door. Jack shouted for them to come in, and after the slide and click of the security pass in the lock, it opened and Walter stuck his head inside.
"General, we've received word that Jacob Carter and the Tok'ra Anise will be arriving together within the next five minutes. I thought you might want to be in the Gate Room when they arrived."
"No!" Sam's fingers dug into his upper arm, her other hand grabbing a fist full of tee shirt. "No!" she demanded again.
Jack waved Walter out of the room, hoping he got the message If I'm not there in five, open the Gate without me . . ..
"Sam, Anise is here to fix this. I'll just be "
"No! You promised!"
"I promised I was going to fix this."
"No!" she screamed again, and launched up to her feet. She stepped over him, hopped to the end of the bed, and jumped clear – running to the door before he even thought about reaching for her.
Jack came off the bed, rounding the end to see her plaster her body against the door and security lock. She glared at him with fiery eyes, daring him to move her.
Instead, Jack walked calmly to her. Hell, he didn't want to see - What had Janet called her? Tok'ra Spice!
"Carter, can you tell me what will happen to me if I leave?"
She shook her head violently, her body shaking. A muscle jumped along her jaw as she ground her teeth together.
"What will happen, Carter?"
"You'll die!" she spat.
Sam was shaking so hard now, she could barely stand upright. She drew sharp breaths through her nose, huffing them out her mouth with such force her cheeks billowed, and she stared at him from beneath a deeply drawn brow. He could all but see the war behind her eyes.
Jack closed the space between them and laid his hands on her cheeks, letting his fingertips lace into her hair. She whimpered softly, and her body went partially limp against the wall, her eyelids fluttering.
"Carter, look at me. Look. At. Me."
She did, and he waited until he felt the trembling ease a little and the panicked frenzy behind her eyes abated. "Sam, please. Try and tell me. Did you do something on the base?"
Her eyes immediately welled with tears and she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Yes?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Can you tell me what you did, Sam? Try . . . try and tell me what you did."
Her hands came away from the wall and she curled her fingers into his tee shirt until the material bunched in her tight fists. Tears rolled from her eyes and she breathed so hard, he was afraid she would hyperventilate. But she never looked away from his face.
Her mouth opened, her lips moved as if she tried to form words, but nothing came. Finally, she half moaned/half screamed and slammed her head back against the door.
"They won't let me!"
"Okay, okay." Jack pulled her back from the door, sliding his hand along her hair to quickly make sure she hadn't split her head open. "Sam . . . " Her eyes were closed again and she rolled her head from side to side, a low mewling sound in the back of her throat. "Sam! Look at me!"
Obediently, she blinked and again met his gaze, her eyes shining bright with tears. This was tearing her apart from the inside out. This one time, the Tok'ra damn well better come through or so help him . . .
"Sam, can you tell me . . . can anyone else get hurt? Or is it just me?"
She jerked away from him and fled to the other side of the room, flinging herself against the far wall with such force that she bounced, and slipped to the floor in a crumpled heap. Jack followed, and mindful of his knees, braces his back against the concrete and slid down to sit beside her.
"C'mere . . ."
She let him pull her against his chest and she practically crawled into his lap, burying her head against his chest as she cried. Jack smoothed her hair and rubbed his hand over the soft cotton of her infirmary suit – up and down her spine again and again.
After several minutes he heard her muffled whisper.
"What?"
"Just for you," she said against his chest. "It's just meant for you."
"Okay," he said against her crown. "Okay."
He heard the slide and click of a passkey in the lock, and the door opened to reveal Doc Brightman, Jacob Carter and Anise/Freya. Didn't anyone ever tell her leather went out in the 80's?
"What the hell?" Jacob declared, and Anise stared with wide eyes.
Sam whimpered and crawled further into his lap, drawing as much of his tee shirt around her face as she could – like a bashful child.
"Could you give us a few?"
