Ian slept through Mother's Day completely. Unconcerned about a present for his mother – since it had already been sent off and had been given to her that morning by his dad – he slept without that nagging sense of worry that something hadn't been taken care of. And although he had no answers to the dilemma of the secrets given away, he couldn't bring himself to worry about them enough to keep himself from sleeping well. It wasn't until several hours after midnight that he finally opened his eyes, and when he did, the infirmary was quiet and the lights were all dim, telling him without him having to really consider it that it was far later in the day than it had been the last time he'd woken.

Jaffer was gone – no big surprise there since a tired glance over at the bed that had held Jack proved it to be empty – but sometime in the night Jack (the dog) had entered the infirmary and decided that Ian's bed looked comfortable, and the yellow lab was sprawled beside him, snoring lightly.

The small ICU room he was in was empty, and Jack was the only one that heard Ian groan when he tried to sit up, pain lancing through his chest and belly from his badly battered ribs. He gave up, gasping, and stared at the ceiling for a minute, while Jack snuffled his neck and cheek, worried about the noises of pain that had woke him.

"Easy, big dog," Ian said, bringing his hand up to keep the lab from licking his face – which would be the next step, he knew. "I don't suppose you could go get me a glass of water?"

It had been said in jest – Jack and Jaffer would fetch many things, and cans of pop or bottles of beer were only a few – but a glass of water was a bit much to hope for. However, Jack sat up on the bed, looked down at Ian and started barking. It was a difference between Jaffer and Jack, because Jaffer rarely barked, and Jack was as vocal as they came. The noise didn't materialize a glass of water, but it did gain the attention of a couple of medics, and that was the next best thing, Ian supposed.

"Awake finally, I see…"

Which had to be the most redundant thing Ian had heard in quite a while. However, he wasn't in the mood to mention that. Instead he just nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit."

The medic gave him a smile, and checked the monitors.

"Well, you had a rough few days, Cadet."

Ian ignored that – again, it was redundant.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

"Of course."

The other medic went to get the water – and to call Janet Fraiser, who had left orders that she was to be contacted if he woke up that evening, no matter what time. Ian looked at the monitors as well, but he didn't know exactly what he was looking for.

"What's wrong with me?"

"A couple of broken ribs, a bump on the head… you'll be fine."

Unless of course Hammond or Jack killed him. Ian didn't say that, though. Instead he closed his eyes, too tired to really engage in any kind of conversation.

"Don't go back to sleep."

"I'm not."

He was, though. He didn't even make it long enough to get his glass of water. Before the medic returned, he was once more asleep.

OOOOOOOOO

When he woke up again, Janet Frasier was hovering over him, her hand running along his ribs, probing gently for signs of any kind of problems. It was the pain of that examination that woke him, and she gave him an apologetic smile when he winced as he opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ian. Just hang on another minute, I'm almost done…"

He was alone in his bed, now, but Sam was sitting on the bed that Jack had been in, watching as Janet examined Ian. He turned to her, feeling sick and achy.

"What time is it?"

She didn't even look at her watch.

"About 11:30, Monday morning."

"Monday?"

She nodded.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

"You have a fever," Janet told him as she started bandaging his ribs once more. "How do you really feel?"

Ian frowned.

"Sore and tired."

"Sick?"

Now that she mentioned it, his stomach was queasy – which was a pain in the ass, because he really wanted something to eat, and knew he wouldn't be able to hold it down.

"A little."

"Is that normal?" Sam asked, concerned.

"It's not that unusual," Janet told her. "He'll be fine, now that he's awake and we can keep track of his progress." She looked at Ian. "Are you hungry?"

He hesitated, and then shook his head. As much as ribs hurt, the last thing he wanted was to heave.

"We'll get you a slice of toast or something," Janet told him, as if she understood. "It'll stay down even if you're not feeling all that great, and you really do need to eat something."

She moved towards the door, gesturing for one of the corpsmen to come over so she could give him instructions, and Sam moved over to sit carefully on Ian's bed.

"You look better," she said, giving him a look that Ian couldn't even start to decipher.

"How was your Mother's day?"

He didn't want to discuss his health.

Sam smiled, and held out her hand.

"Look what Jack got me," she said, not at all fooled. "It's a mother's ring. One stone for me, one stone for Jake, and space for any more children that might come along."

Ian took her hand and looked at the ring dutifully. Jewelry wasn't something he was ever all that impressed with, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her that.

"It's nice."

She nodded.

"I think so."

There was a quiet moment between the two of then, and Sam reached out and ran her fingers along his cheek.

"General Hammond wants to talk with you…"

He nodded. That didn't surprise him.

"I figured he would."

"Are you up for it now?" She asked. "We can do it later…"

He shrugged.

"Whenever, Sam."

He wasn't looking forward to it, and he didn't see any sign of the help that Alexander had promised him, but there was no sense putting it off any longer than necessary.

"I'll go get him," she said, getting up. She stopped, though, and looked down at him. "Don't worry, okay?"

Easier said than done. Ian didn't say that, though. He just nodded and watched as Sam left the room.

Yeah, he was screwed.