Author's Note: Small spoilers for Abyss. I forgot about them.

Chapter Nine

Jack got himself ready for bed with difficulty. Dressed in the sweatpants and Air Force T-shirt he usually wore to bed, he made his way along the wall. He rubbed his sore hand. Janet had wrapped it up for him. When he had injured his hand, he had relished the pain with the thought that he deserved much worse.

As he settled under the covers, he tried to ignore the ache that had been in his heart since he had effectively ended his relationship with Sam. Thinking about the way her hand had felt in his, the connection she had provided with the world he couldn't see, he felt alone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed those thoughts away. Cliché though it was, Jack had to concede: it was going to be a long night.

Gold walls; pillared corridors; melodramatic throne rooms; the bright light of that dreaded Goa'uld machine, the sarcophagus: Jack shivered at the sight of them.

Baal studied him through narrow eyes. "What was the Tok'ra's mission here?" he demanded, the knife in his hand pointed unerringly at Jack chest, gravity pulling it toward his helpless victim.

Jack winced, and Atê brushed her coal black hair back over her shoulder with one pale hand, her other fingering a zatn'kitel. "We have new ways of learning what we want. You will perhaps find them more appealing." The Goa'uld laughed, sending another shiver down Jack's spine. "They are not as crude as those of our counterparts."

Arming the Zat, she walked up to him. "I find this way most effective." Pointing it directly in his face, she fired it, sending a searing pain through his eyes with the blinding flash.

Sam sat curled up in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes mirror images of his own seven years ago when his son had died: it was the look of someone who didn't have the will to live anymore.

Jack knew immediately it was his fault.

He awoke in a cold sweat, fumbling around in the dark for a light. He stopped, belatedly realizing it wouldn't have helped even if he could find the light. He was shaking all over, trying to clear the image of Sam's sky blue eyes bereft of emotion from his mind.

Is that what will happen? Did I hurt her that much? Jack thought despondently.

Don't flatter yourself, O'Neill. She'll get over you, easy, he rebuked himself halfheartedly.

He couldn't help but wonder if Daniel was right; maybe she would be able to forgive him.

Jack stared into the darkness for a moment. Either way, he decided at last, he owed it to her to apologize.

Jack woke up to someone knocking on his door. Grumbling under his breath, he stepped onto the cold floor and padded around the room, following the wall to the door.

Opening it, he did his best to glare at the person on the other side without being able to look at them. "What do you want?"

"Hello, Colonel," Janet Fraiser's voice came back cheerfully.

"Doc, no one has any right to be that cheerful this early in the morning," he complained, jabbing two fingers in her general direction.

"Colonel, it's 1100 hours," she replied, infuriatingly grabbing onto his fingers and bringing them down and to the right to—Jack assumed—point at her.

"What? Oh, for crying out loud! Can't see the clock."

"Even if you could, Sir, it wouldn't help; there isn't a clock in here. You'll find you sleep later since there's no light to wake you up. Though, that's a problem for anyone in the mountain." Janet handed him something. "It's a watch. If you press the button, it tells you the time. I've got some other things for you, Sir, but you'll probably want to get dressed first."

Jack fingered the watch dejectedly. "Yeah, come back in fi—" He had been going to say five minutes, but it took him longer now. "You know, better make it ten."

"Yes, Sir."

Jack had declined the offer for clothes from his house, he was perfectly comfortable in BDU's, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to tell which piece of clothing was which. He had discovered shaving was a big problem that had taken him the first few days to do without cutting himself. As it turned out, it took him over twenty minutes, according to Janet's gift.

Janet knocked on his door fifteen minutes later than Jack had suggested.

"Thanks, Doc," Jack said sarcastically. "Your faith in my abilities is touching."

"Can I come in?" Janet asked, ignoring his jeering as always.

"Sure." She stepped past him, her heels clicking against the floor. He closed the door and made his way around the room toward the pile of furniture. "Pull out a chair."

Janet's heels sounded again followed by the feet of a chair against the concrete floor. "You're serious," Janet said as she realized the truth of his statement. There were more sounds as she yanked on the chair to disentangle it from the pile.

"I'm always serious," Jack quipped.

After a few more minutes of noise, she took his hand and put it on a chair. "Here. Mine's right in front of it."

Janet's heels told Jack she was walking across the room as he sat down. More heel-clicking brought her back. She handed him a book. "That is a book on how to read Braille."

"A book on how to read Braille?" Jack asked incredulously.

"And if you hold this over a book it will read the words to you," Janet continued as if he had never spoken.

"Shouldn't that have been the other way 'round?" Janet didn't answer, but her heels clicked some more. "What do I need to know Braille for if I have this?" Jack continued, holding up the book-reading device.

"You don't want to have to carry that with you everywhere, Sir."

"To bad everyone doesn't wear high heels; it'd be easier to tell when people are coming," Jack commented wryly as Janet walked toward him again.

Janet sucked in her breath in a way that gave Jack the impression she had been going to say something but couldn't think of anything to say. "Colonel," she said warningly instead. "Here. I'll take you to someone who can show you how to use it properly tomorrow," she said, handing him a long, thin cane.

Jack ran his fingers over it. It was metal, aluminum probably, and could be folded. "They have schools for this sort of thing?" he sneered.

"You'll be able to go home in a few days," Janet said, her heels clacking again. She was heading for the door, Jack decided.

He pushed aside his bravado for a second. "Thanks, Janet."

As Jack sat alone in his room, his mind started to drift toward Sam, the memory of his dream superimposed on his thoughts of her.

Finally, he stood up and found his way to a wall. Hoping he hadn't disoriented himself, he started heading toward the door. He hadn't and he found the door where it should've been.

"Colonel O'Neill? Can I help you with anything?" the airman asked helpfully.

"Elevator," Jack said, begrudgingly accepting the man's help.

"Very good, Sir." The airman took his arm and Jack was infinitely glad that this particular corridor was usually empty.

Scowling, Jack wished all sorts of ill will on the Goa'uld; unfortunately, he couldn't help the SGC deliver it because of what the Goa'uld had done to him. The airman stopped. Jack shook off his hand.

"What level, Sir?"

"Sub-level 19."

"Yes, Sir." The elevator started and Jack ignored the airman, a feat that wasn't difficult since he couldn't see him—that is, until the other man spoke, "Going to Major Carter's lab, Sir?"

"No, Dr. Felger's." Jack fought to keep the grin off his face at the flabbergasted noises the airman was making. He tried not to think about not being able to see his face.

"W-Why, Sir?" the airman asked at last.

"I'm going to have him explain to me the…instabilities of the space-time continuum and the effect it has on hyperspace window generators," Jack deadpanned.

"But, Sir, you—Did you say the space-time continuum?" Just then, the doors to the elevator opened.

"Thank you, airman. You're dismissed," Jack said as he stepped out of the elevator.

"But, Sir—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Jack held up his hands, not turning around. "Don't worry; I won't let them court-martial you for losing your charge."

"My—Court-martial, Sir?" the airman gasped.

Jack ignored him, smirking to himself, and started down the hall.

The idea in and of itself sounded simple, but Jack was standing in the middle of nowhere with no way of telling how far he had gotten or if he was about to bang into Sam's door instead of walk through it. And this hall was occupied; he could hear the muffled voices echoing down the hall along with footsteps and the noise of machinery.

He hated being blind, hated it with a vengeance. His blindness made him helpless, and helplessness was not a state he enjoyed. Under the circumstances, he wished he knew how to use Janet's stick.

Determined to do this, he moved slowly to his right, stretching out his hand to find the wall. It was farther away than he had originally guessed. Using it as a guide, he started forward, feeling a little less like he was floundering in the dark, which he was.

As he moved along, he would occasionally reach an open doorway and have to find the other side, moving his hand through the empty air, hoping he didn't look too ridiculous. After about twenty minutes of floundering, a strong hand took his arm.

"Do you need assistance, O'Neill?" It was Teal'c.

"Oh, hi, Teal'c. Do I looklike I need assistance?" Jack replied.

"Indeed you do."

"Well, I…alright, fine, you've convinced me, I do," he admitted as if Teal'c had gone to great lengths to persuade him. "I'm trying to get to Carter's lab."

"Did Doctor Fraiser not post airmen to escort you?"

"She did, but they drive me crazy. Look, just point me in the right direction and give me a push."

"I do not believe that would be adequate, O'Neill."

Jack shot him a look that said, "Ya think?" or at least tried to. "Carter's lab, Teal'c," Jack said, reluctantly offering the Jaffa his arm.

Teal'c didn't take it, but instead put his hand on Jack's shoulder and lead him that way. Jack wasn't sure which he liked better; both were rather degrading. They reached Sam's lab a few minutes later and Teal'c said he would be back.

Sam's thoughts were similarly straying from the work in front of her to the disabled ex-colonel in a room six floors below her. As much as she tried not to, she couldn't help thinking that maybe Daniel was right. Jack had been known to say things he didn't mean before. Maybe he just hadn't realized the implications of his retirement yet. She knew it was wishful thinking, but she hated to think she had been wrong about Jack.

There was a knock on her door that startled her. "Come in," she called.

The door opened and Jack took some careful steps inside. Speak of the devil.

"Carter?" Jack asked searchingly.

"Over here, Sir." Sam got up and took his arm, leading him to a stool.

"Carter…" Jack said warningly.

"Sorry. Jack," Sam corrected herself. Jack's hands moved over the seat before he sat down. Sam pulled her stool around to sit in front of him. "Did you come all that way…by yourself?" Sam winced a little at the way that sounded. She wondered why she cared, but as she watched him struggle without his sight, it was hard to stay mad at him.

If Jack was bothered by her question, he didn't let it show. "Nah, Teal'c met me halfway and insisted on…" He searched for a different word, but finally gave up and settled on the one he had thought of originally: "…assisting."

"Ah," Sam said. If you're not here to apologize, let me work, Sam thought in his direction, but she didn't really mean it.

"Whatcha doin'?" Jack asked causally, but Sam could feel the tension in the room.

"I'm running a simulation on the uses of naquadria in…" Sam launched into a detailed description of the tests she was running. About halfway through, she remembered who it was she was talking to. She glanced at Jack as she continued. He was just sitting there on the stool, staring directly ahead, running a finger along the edge of Sam's work surface. The look in his eyes caught her attention, causing her to falter slightly. He had an almost…dreamy look in his eyes, and Sam wondered what it was that had caused it.

When she reached the end of her explanation, she was surprised that he hadn't said anything. His eyes didn't glaze over; he didn't raise his hands in protest; he didn't try to stop her, or even look confused.

His expression cleared suddenly, and he jerked his head slightly as if he only just realized she had stopped. His face hardened a bit, and he gave the usual reaction.

"That's—" He blew out a breath. "—great, Carter." There was an awkward silence. Jack moved his hand over the counter. "Sam," he said, his tone sincere—one she barely ever heard.

Sam's spirits soared. Is he apologizing?

"I wanted to—" His fidgety fingers came in contact with one of Sam's scanners. It was a rectangular box, about six inches long and an inch high. He cut off mid-sentence and, picking it up, he started fiddling with it. "So, this is what you do all day." Jack's voice changed back to its usual edge-of-sarcasm tone.

"Sir?" Sam frowned. Her anger flared, mixed with confusion. I guess not. What the heck is he getting at?

"I didn't even realize you had one of these."

"Of course, I do—"

"Don't worry; I won't tell Hammond. I've been playing Nintendo Game Boy instead of working, for years." Jack delivered the punch line of his corny joke straight faced.

Sam broke into a grin despite herself. It did kind of look like a Nintendo Game Boy, and she could never help smiling at Jack's jokes, no matter how bad. Smiling seemed to banish the tension as she momentarily forgot everything that had happened during the past few days.

"Are you…smiling?" Jack asked tentatively, in a tone she had never heard before. He looked pained, and Sam had to wonder if his emotional barriers were weaker for his lack of sight.

"Yes…" she replied, confused. Her smile turned into a bemused frown.

Jack lay the scanner down again. "Could I…" He didn't finish his hesitant sentence. His hand moved off the counter to flail toward her. She caught it. Sam watched in bewilderment as Jack slowly moved his hand from hers, up her arm.

As he reached her shoulder, she wondered whether or not she should be worried, what with the way he had treated her. She was trained in military combat, but he had that same training; plus, he had been in Special Forces and was stronger than she was. Despite those thoughts, she really didn't feel like she was in any danger.

Her breath quickened as he moved his hand up her neck. "Jack?" she breathed.

He ran his fingers up into her hair, and then brought them down to brush over her forehead, her nose. Her eyes fluttered closed. She trembled at the feelings he was invoking in her. His thumb caressed her cheek, and then he let it trace her jaw. His fingertips moved gently to outline her mouth and touch her lips. "Smile," he whispered, and suddenly she realized what he was doing. He couldn't see her smile, but he wanted to, and so he was trying to feel it instead.

She forced a smile on her lips. Her heart was pounding—

Jack pulled his fingers back; the realization of what he had been doing crossed his etched features and widened his coffee-brown eyes. He stood up suddenly, turning his back on her.

"I'm sorry," was all he muttered as he made his way as quickly as possible out the door, leaving Sam more confused than ever.

Author's Note: Two more chapters left, folks! Opinions, thoughts, criticisms?