Author's Note: Language alert!

OOOOOOOO

"What's wrong with you?"

Ian looked up at his father, and couldn't help himself.

"None of your fucking business."

He knew even as he said it that Nate didn't deserve the attitude; he'd come a long way just to check on him and it wasn't his fault Hammond was pissed at him and Fraiser was keeping him overnight in the infirmary for no fucking reason at all. He just didn't care just then. He knew Fraiser knew there was nothing wrong with him, and Hammond probably knew, too. He was just pissed at Ian, and allowing Fraiser to take that out on him. How fucking unfair was that?

Nate scowled.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Did someone say something that-"

"Dad…" Ian cut him off before he could really start to pry. His mother could get away with it, but Ian didn't feel like opening up to Nate. For that matter, he didn't feel like opening up to his mother, either. "Just let it drop, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

Nate's scowl grew thunderous, but before he could say anything – and probably the wrong thing – Janet was at the bedside as well.

"How's everything going over here?"

Ian gave her an incredulous look that was laced with fury and disgust, and he rolled off the bed and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Janet looked at Nate, who looked ready to go after him, and shook her head.

"He must have heard I was keeping him overnight."

Ah. Yes, that would be a reason for him to be mad, Nate decided. And it would explain the dirty look Ian had given Fraiser before he'd left. But he couldn't help but think that Ian had seemed far angrier than just that situation would warrant.

"Maybe…"

Fraiser smiled, not looking at all offended by being the recipient of the look.

"He'll get over it by morning, and I'll talk to him then."

"I had hoped to talk to him…"

She shrugged.

"I could send an orderly after him…"

Nate scowled. He knew better than Janet Fraiser did just how closed off his son would be just then. Sending someone looking for him would just make things worse.

"Ian left?"

They both turned and saw Jack had walked up to them while they'd been talking; his gaze on the door Ian had left through.

"Oh yeah."

Jack shrugged. He knew that no matter how angry Ian was, he wouldn't leave the base now that he knew he was expected to stay there overnight. He turned to Nate.

"You have a place to stay tonight?"

"I was going to stay with Ian… but I think I'll mooch a spare room from George, now, and just come back and talk to him in the morning when he's in a better mood."

"You could stay with us."

"Is Jake sleeping through the night?"

Jack smiled.

"Sometimes."

"I'll mooch a room off George. That way I don't have to change diapers."

"Suit yourself."

"I always do." He turned to Fraiser. "When will you have the last of your test results in?"

She shrugged.

"Hopefully tomorrow."

"Will you be back here in the morning?"

It would be Sunday, after all, and Nate knew that she'd want a day off that week – but he was also pretty sure she was used to working odd hours. Especially now that he knew what was going on around the base.

Janet nodded. She'd also make it a point to bring Cassie – who'd almost certainly want to come anyways. Janet wasn't above using whatever advantage she could get, and had she known she was going to need her, she would have called Cassie down that evening, even though the girl had spent the night at a friend's house.

"I'm going to go talk to George, then," Nate said, looking at Jack. "If I don't see you tonight, I'll most likely see you in the morning."

Jack nodded.

"We'll be here."

Nate left the infirmary, then, and Jack looked at Janet.

"Where'd Ian go?"

She shrugged.

"No clue, sir, but he's angry…"

"Yeah…"

He'd known that when Ian had left the briefing, and had hoped to have a chance to talk to him about it. Now, though, he'd have to go hunt him up, and there was really no guarantee that he'd actually talk to Jack. Or anyone else for that matter. Well… almost anyone else.

"I'm going to go find Sam, doc," Jack said, giving her a tight smile. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, sir."

OOOOOOOOOO

Ian hadn't really known where he was going to go when he'd left the infirmary. He'd just known that he had to leave. Before he said something to Fraiser that would piss her off completely and ruin what progress they'd made in the past months getting to know each other a little better. Jesus, they'd even started getting along – more or less – and then she'd gone and pulled a fucking stunt like this! Keeping him in the infirmary over night was a load of shit, and Ian knew it. There wasn't anything wrong with him – nothing she would have been able to do anything about anyways – and she was good enough a doctor to know it.

It was times like this when he wished he had his own office, because a place of his own was exactly what he needed just then. His only options were to go to Sam's lab – and he wasn't in any state of mind to work with the delicate diagnostic equipment they were using just then – or he could go to the gym. Even though he was fairly well flagged, as angry as he was, the gym was looking better and better the more he thought about it, and he changed direction before he even realized it.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the heavy bag, beating the shit out of the thing and taking out all his anger and frustration on it.

Fucking Hammond. If Ian had half the brains everyone thought he did, he'd go to Hammond's office and tell him to stick his SGC up his ass. Telling him off like that – in front of everyone – had been such a line of bullshit. All Ian had been doing was trying to keep from bothering anyone else with his problems, and what thanks did he get for that? None. Instead he gets stuck in the infirmary instead of being allowed to go home, and what he'd really wanted was a shower, a big meal and a chance to get some sleep without having doctors looming over him every minute.

He took another swipe at the heavy bag, feeling the muscles in his arms starting to burn and his hands – which should have been wrapped – start to ache a bit. He didn't care, though.

He couldn't quit the SGC, of course. Even though he'd already be making a shitload of money anywhere else doing R&D. Money wasn't everything – it wasn't really anything to Ian, who had always had everything he wanted – and he was pretty sure by now that he didn't want to do R&D for any of the big name companies. Which were the only ones that would be able to afford allowing him to do whatever he wanted with engines and drives. He'd made promises, and he wouldn't back out of them. Even the promise to Alexander to keep an eye on Jack and help him whenever he could to keep him from stressing too much over the things around him.

Of course, look what had happened when he tried to keep Jack from stressing, Ian thought angrily, punching the bag several times in quick succession with a series of right hand jabs while he left held it in place. Sweat was dripping off him now, but he ignored it. He'd tried to keep from stressing anyone – hadn't even mentioned the Trust guys to anyone involved with the SGC – and instead of thanking him for the effort, Hammond had chewed him out. Maybe not up one side and down the other, but Ian knew a reprimand when he heard one, and it had been one. So much for being any help to those around him.

He was falling into quite the pity pool, he knew, but he couldn't help it just then, even though he hated himself for it. He was angry, and frustrated, and so fucking tired that he felt like he'd drop the minute he stopped hitting the heavy bag. He should have just become a hermit or something, he thought. Then he wouldn't have to worry about trying to –

"Ian?"

The voice behind him startled him so badly he actually missed the heavy bag with his next punch, but he managed to keep from tripping himself up and his momentum turned him enough that he could whirl and see who had spoken without looking like he'd been too startled – he hoped.

It was Sam.