Thanks a lot guys for all your reviews; I couldn't do this without some encouragement.

Thanks to - sg1jo; stargate-fan; Froggy0319; ascifigirl; chezza; Sci Fi Fan Gillian; and Ilovesg1. Glad you're all enjoying it so far.

Now on to the next chapter...

TO HAVE AND TO HOLD.

By LetitiaRichards

Previously:

Teal'c slid his arms beneath his warrior friend's limp form and scooped him up from the blood stained hard ground, then the despondent team trudged back as quickly as they could to the Stargate, and thus, home.

Chapter 2

"What happened Major?" General Hammond asked as he watched his 2IC being rushed through the door towards the infirmary. Janet Frasier was running along beside the gurney, her hands already assessing his stats, a nurse on the opposite side to her holding an oxygen mask over O'Neill's face. Time was everything, and Hammond knew the situation with his 2IC was desperate without having to be told. He saw it in the eyes of Jack's team, and in Dr. Frasier's manner.

Janet was so well versed in the obscure injuries that the SG teams returned with that she would never show any panic, she just knew the all important need to hurry while outwardly remaining calm. She was the embodiment of the consummate professional at all times, including now when her skills would be put to the test to save her friend's life. Jack O'Neill could in all honesty be labelled a friend. He was like a father to Cassie, and had proved his worth and loyalty to her and her adopted daughter too many times to count. This was one fight she was determined to win.

"We're not sure sir," Sam spoke up tearfully to the base commander, reluctant to relive the attack, but reporting the incident was her responsibility now that Jack was incapacitated. A medic pressed a dressing over the wound on her temple and she held it in place as she explained. "It was a standard 'meet n' greet' sir, at first. Then for no apparent reason the natives opened fire on Colonel O'Neill, and then attacked us with clubs. They then just walked away as if nothing had happened General. We had no indication that this would happen."

"Ah...General?" Daniel said, tentatively holding up a finger to attract the General's attention.

"Doctor Jackson?" Hammond swung his attention to the Archaeologist, who looked just as bad as the Major.

"General, I'd...em...I'd like to apologise," he began, his voice breaking slightly. "I take full responsibility for this sir. Jack advised me not to trust the locals but I ignored his warning. I'm sorry sir it's all my fault that got Jack hurt. He could have been killed, in fact...I...God, I'm worried that he could still die..."

Daniel choked on his words and his voice dried up altogether. He wrapped his arms around himself, in a self hug which screamed of his guilty inner feelings. Sam laid her free hand on his arm to reassure him they all felt for his sense of culpability, and his failure to assess the enemy under the circumstances. It could have happened anyway.

"It's alright son. Colonel O'Neill is in good hands," the General assured him gently, knowing the young man's vulnerability. He laid a reassuring hand on Daniel's shoulder, and patted him. "I don't think for one minute that he would want you to feel guilty over this Dr. Jackson. In the light of this unfortunate incident, I'll have the co-ordinates of P8X 917 locked out of the dialling computer."

"Yes General. Thank you, but..." Daniel sighed, leaving his thoughts unfinished and hung his head, still feeling morose despite the General's attempt to offer him some comfort. Jack was the best friend he'd ever had, and this was how he'd rewarded that friendship; by ignoring Jack's uncanny sixth sense in these situations which almost got him killed, that is, unless he didn't survive after all.

"Very well SG-1. Get yourselves along to the infirmary and have the staff check you over and attend to those wounds. Debriefing will be in three hours, we may know more about Colonel O'Neill's condition by then. Dismissed."

"Yes sir!" Sam saluted as best she could. The headache and the nausea making her feel like death warmed up. She ushered her bedraggled and beleaguered team-mates through to the elevator for the ride up to the infirmary.

OoOoOoOoO

Over the next week Daniel, Sam and Teal'c had taken turns at sitting by their CO's bed, watching, waitingfor him to wake up. The damage was extensive; Janet had likened the wound to one left by an old fashioned musket shot, and it had shattered a rib on entry as well as punctured the delicate lung underneath. She showed them the evidence in the round ball of shot that had caused all the harm.

Once Jack'd shown signs of coming out of his coma like state, they were assured that he could only improve. Janet had worked yet another miracle, and Jack's life was now guaranteed to continue, at least until the next life-threatening situation arose.

Sam had spent most of her time sitting by Jack's bedside lost in her thoughts. He'd been so close to dying this time; again! How many more times could he survive? She wondered. How much longer could she suffer in silence without saying something to him? Did he still feel the same way about her? It had been some time since the Zatarc incident that she could only judge that he still harboured some feelings towards her in the way he smiled for her and interactedwith her. It was in those looks that he cast her way when he thought no-one was watching. How long could they both ignore the inevitable? She didn't want to lose him. She loved him too much already. If she didn't let him know how she really felt then she would eventually spontaneously combust.

Looking at him now, his face still looked so pasty against the pale green of the infirmary linen; his once deep tan washed away with the pain and loss of blood. He'd graduated onto a nasal cannula now. After he'd woken briefly the first time, Janet had withdrawn the tube when she believed he no longer needed it, then they did away with the oxygen mask. He still spent a lot of the time sleeping but Janet had said that it was good for him; it was helping him to heal.

Sam felt a light pressure on her hand. Looking up, dragging her thoughts away from her dreams, she saw sunken brown eyes gazing sleepily at her.

She smiled with relief, and won an answering weak one back.

"Hi sir!"

"Hi," Jack croaked, his voice reluctant to work after so long.

Sam offered him some ice chips and he swallowed them with a sigh.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure Colonel," she grinned.

"I made it," he sighed, feeling more lucid and with it this time.

"Yes sir, barely," she grimaced.

"You okay?" he asked looking up at the row of neat stitches in her forehead. He well remembered the blood that had trickled downher faceback then, whenever then was.

"Yes sir, I'm fine. So are Daniel and Teal'c," she added, perceptive enough to realise that he would need to know for his own peace of mind. "They're down in the commissary."

"Ah!" he muttered. It must be break time. "What the hell hit me anyway? Felt like a cannon ball."

Sam laughed, though it was hollow by her normal standards. She picked up the metal souvenir by his bedside and showed him.

"There's your cannon ball sir. It did quite a number on you."

"Ya think?" he sighed, eyeing the inch wide black ball of shot between Sam's fingers with distaste.

Sam's focus wavered, her eyes narrowed to the heavy ball in her hand, and she couldn't stop the small sob that escaped her. She dropped it onto the bed as the memory of his ashen face that day slammed into her.

Without the shot to look at now, and the soft cry wrenched from deep inside her, Jack switched his attention back to her face again and saw the tell-tale tears hovering on her long lashes. He knew what she was thinking, and without conscious awareness he lifted his hand to wipe the moisture away.

"Hey!" he whispered softly, cupping her face. "It's okay. I'll be fineSam."

She grasped his hand against her cheek and sobbed, burying her head into his side, while he kept his hand steady; the only intimation of comfort that he could offer at the moment. He'd called her 'Sam' and it meant everything to her.

"I...I thought...I thought this time I'd lost you," she sniffed.

He smiled that little half smile that always made her toes curl, and sent shivers of affection down her spine.

"You know me. Only the good die young. So I must really be an evil old bastard to be hanging on so long," he joked.

"Never sir. You're not old and you're certainly not anevil bastard. We need you around...I...still need you..." she added hesitantly, her voice dropping to a whisper, and admitting openly that she still harboured feelings for him.

She looked into the deep dark wells of his eyes and smiled shyly.

His gaze intensified as he took in her meaning.

"Why?"

"Why? You have to ask?"

"Why would you need a broken down old war horse like me around? You could do a lot better," he told her.

"No. There is no-one better. They would have a hard time following in your footsteps. Nobody could hold a candle up to you as far as I was concerned..."

"You're wrong there. I've seen too much and done too much. I'm not perfect Carter. Don't put me on a pedestal where I don't belong," he said slowly. Breathing was still difficult and the conversation was already draining his limited energy.

"I don't want anyone else, as long as you're here, it's all I ask and it's all I want."

Jack looked away trying to put his feelings into perspective. He wanted this as much as she evidently did.

"You really want...me?"

Sam dropped her eyes. Now was the moment of truth. Would he accept her love or reject it in favour of sticking to the regulations. He'd never been one to adhere strictly to the rules, but it had all been her idea. She'd been the one who said it needn't go further. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and turned towards him again.

"Yes I do. Have done for a long time. I can't keep hiding this any longer."

Jack squeezed her hand and smiled up at her.

"If you're sure?"

Again she nodded.

"Okay. For what it's worth, you've got me," he grinned, still reeling from surprise that she would want him, Jack O'Neill, grey hair, bad knees and all.

Her smile lit the room and even if he died now, it would be with a happy smile on his face.

By this time he had worn himself out completely and his eyelids began to droop, eventually closing of their own volition as he drifted off to sleep once more.

Sam was still smiling, this timein relief from their confessions, and she felt the weight of unrequited love release her heart. She resumed her silent vigil but inside she was floating on a cloud of euphoria. He was alive, and he was hers.

TBC