See Chapter One for full disclaimer and author's notes.

Chapter Fourteen

Word of Sam's capture and subsequent escape had spread rapidly throughout the SGC and now that she was well on her way to recovery, the tale of what had happened on -035 was quickly becoming a full blown SG-1 legend. In a command like the SGC, 'hero' was a term not often used when describing one of their own, but Sam and SG-1 came as close to it as anyone on base.

As Daniel entered the commissary to refill his coffee mug, the hushed conversations that reached his ears were more often than not concerned with Sam. The gossip was something he had come to expect, even if he wasn't all that comfortable with being the subject of it. But this time it was different, the tone of the talk held more awe than normal. SG-1's escapades often bordered on the fantastic, but it was somewhat unusual that a member of the team found themselves captured alone, having to rely solely on his or her own grit and determination to escape.

This time, rather than being embarrassed, Daniel found himself feeling more than a little bit proud of Sam and her ability to get herself out of a harrowing situation on her own. He had always known Sam was a survivor, but what he hadn't realized was just how much her toughness had inspired other members of the SGC. When he overheard one table describing her as a 'kick ass officer with a spine of solid titanium', he found himself silently agreeing wholeheartedly.

It had been two days since Sam had finally awakened from her fever and the Doc had agreed to let her go home later that afternoon. While she seemed fine, Daniel couldn't help but worry that she was being allowed to leave too soon. Knowing that Sam would accuse him of being a mother hen, Daniel had kept his reservations to himself. It wasn't as though Sam was alone any longer, after all. He suspected that Jack would be on hand should she need anything.

Walking back toward his lab, Daniel found his mind wandering back over the last few days, wondering if perhaps they had all been more profoundly affected than they had been willing to admit. He had struggled with his own guilt over leaving Sam behind, his rational mind, knowing it had been the right thing to do at the time, warring with the emotional part of him that had grieved over the decision. He knew he wasn't alone. Jack and Teal'c had both been typically tight lipped anytime he had attempted to bring up the subject, but they had both been unusually quiet in general.

Jack had buried himself in his work, taking time out only to visit Sam in the infirmary or spend a couple of minutes scarfing down a meal from the dining hall. Daniel was pretty sure he hadn't left the base for more than a few hours in the last four or five days. Not that the archaeologist blamed him. If their roles had been reversed, and it was someone he loved, he wouldn't have wanted to leave either.

Teal'c had been nearly as bad. When he wasn't spending time going over the strike plans and training schedule with Jack and Colonel Reynolds, he was most often working out in the base gym or meditating in his quarters. Daniel hadn't seen Teal'c meditate so much since Shau'nak had died, and had been looking for an excuse to call the big Jaffa on it.

But so far his not so subtle inquiries had been firmly but politely deflected. He knew that if he was carrying around this much guilt, Teal'c was likely feeling it even more so. The former First Prime had spent his lifetime living by a code that didn't allow for leaving comrades behind during battle. An action he had been forced into by circumstances well out of his control, to be sure, but that fact likely made it even harder to live with.

It wasn't as though they hadn't had to make difficult decisions in the past; decisions that could have easily resulted in their deaths several times over. But over time, they had come to be more than just a team. Perhaps more than family, their friendship and common experiences binding them closer than blood, and this time one of them had nearly been sacrificed. All for the greater good.

Greater good. Daniel thought. What a load of shit. The 'greater good' doesn't mean squat if you have to give up your soul for it.

Glancing down at his watch, Daniel noted the time and began packing up for the evening. He had promised Sam he would give her a hand packing up her laptop and a few other things from her lab to take home with her. With a week convalescent leave, Sam wanted to have something to keep her occupied while she recovered at home. Daniel suspected neither Jack nor the Doc knew anything about the work going home with her, but he wasn't about to clue them in. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, he reasoned.

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Sam leaned her head against the cool window of Jack's truck, the side streets of Colorado Springs a blur running past in the dusky evening light. She was relieved to be out of the infirmary and out of the mountain, breathing fresh air again for the first time in too many days. But her injuries and illness had left her feeling weaker than she could ever remember. Just the walk from the infirmary to the parking lot had left her shaking with fatigue.

Jack had been quietly supportive, taking her arm once they had cleared security and were away from the facility. He knew how important image could be, especially for those in command positions; if their roles had been reversed he would have wanted to make it out of the building under his own steam and gave Sam the same courtesy.

Once in the truck and on their way out of the main gates, Jack had reached out to lay a hand on Sam's leg, the simple gesture wasn't lost on her. Jack O'Neill had never been an overly touchy person, but over the last few days he had seemed to take any excuse to touch her, not that she minded. The tangible sensation of Jack's hand as it stroked her leg gave Sam a feeling of safety and security that she was finding it hard to go without.

Sam groggily realized she must have fallen asleep at some point during the drive when she opened her eyes and realized they had stopped moving.

"Hey, we there already?"

"Yep. Door to door service, ma'am," Jack said nonchalantly as he exited the cab and made his way around the truck just as Sam was stepping out and onto the sidewalk. Her knees went to water as soon as she moved to stand up and Sam leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes for a moment as the world spun crazily around her. Jack snaked an arm around hers, keeping her steady as the dizziness receded. Opening her eyes, Sam met Jack's concerned gaze.

"I'm okay. Too much enforced rest lately. Doctor Brightman said to expect it."

"Uh huh. Well, let's get you inside and into bed."

When Sam's eyebrows rose, Jack caught the expression and realized what he'd said.

"That's not what I meant. Not that I don't….well… but not right now, at least. I mean… ah hell."

Sam chuckled at his flustered speech and decided to let Jack off the hook. "I know. Besides, I think doing anything more exiting than stretching out on the couch and watching TV right now just might kill me."

That stopped Jack cold and he gripped her arm tightly in response. "Don't."

"What? What did I…?"

"Not even as a joke, Sam."

Sam studied him, taking in the serious set to his mouth and the grave look in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. It's just….the whole thing seems so surreal. Like it happened to someone else," Sam stopped and blew out a breath. "I guess I'm not making a lot of sense."

"No, you're making perfect sense. I just …just, please. Don't." Jack eased his rigid grip on Sam's arm, sliding his hand up to encircle her shoulders and pull her into a gentle embrace. Sam allowed herself to sink into his arms, feeling the warmth and strength in them as she turned to rest her head on his shoulder, her nose pressed into his neck.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

"Nothin' to be sorry for. C'mon. Let's get you inside before the neighbors start talking."

Sam nodded wearily, pulling away slightly to fish her keys out of her pocket and hand them over. Jack reached around her to grab her duffle out from the rear seat, then moved his free arm to wrap securely around Sam's waist as they made their way up the walk.

Flipping on the foyer lights, Jack steered Sam toward the living room, easing her down onto the sofa before dropping her duffle on the floor next to her. Sam leaned over, attempting to untie her shoes, wincing as the burn on her leg pulled painfully.

"Here, let me," Jack said, sitting down and pulling her legs up and onto his lap. Easing her shoes off, he set about massaging the soles of her feet gently, feeling the tension flow out of them as he worked.

Sam sighed blissfully. "You're hired."

"Really?"

Sam chuckled warmly. "Oh yeah, definitely. You interested?"

"Sure. If I've got this to fall back on, I won't need that 'General' gig anymore."

"Well, job's yours for as long as you want it."

"Sweet." Jack replied, a genuine grin splitting his face. "As long as I want it, huh?"

"Ya sure you betcha."

Jack smirked at the expression. "Good to know I've got job security."

Sam smiled, leaning her head back onto the arm of the couch and allowing her eyes to drift closed. They sat, Sam dozing lightly, Jack rubbing her feet as the evening worn on, painting the room in the orange glow of sunset. Jack was tempted to pick Sam up and put her to bed, but she needed to eat at least as much as she needed sleep and so he eased himself out from under her legs and headed for the kitchen.

He had been over for dinner a handful of times in the last few weeks and felt sure he could find his way around Sam's kitchen well enough to find something that would work for dinner. Opening cupboards, Jack pulled out a package of pasta and a jar of Vodka marinara sauce he knew to be one of Sam's favorites and set about preparing the meal.

Sam woke to the smell garlic and pasta sauce and pulled her eyes open. The short nap had done her some good and she felt a bit steadier than she had when she had first arrived at home. Sitting up gingerly, her abused body stiff and sore, Sam put her feet down and slowly stood. Her vision tunneled slightly, but cleared after a few moments and she made her way toward the kitchen.

The sight of Jack O'Neill in her kitchen standing over a pot of boiling water, a pasta fork in one hand and a beer in the other was one Sam never thought to see as long as she lived. It brought a smile to her face.

"Hey, there. Whatcha doin'?"

Jack whipped his head around, looking like a boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Hey. Didn't mean to wake you. I ah…thought dinner might be a good idea. You hungry?"

"Actually, I think I am. Smells great in here," Sam said as she pulled up a nearby barstool and lowered herself onto it, wincing slightly.

Jack noted the look. " 'Bout time for more happy pills?"

Sam grimaced at the thought. "I really hate taking those things. Makes me feel… fuzzy. Like I'm a step off from everyone else."

"Yeah, don't much like 'em myself," Jack sympathized. "Well, how about we get some dinner into you first, see how you feel after that?"

"Deal."

Jack pulled down two plates, portioning out the pasta and sauce and toasted garlic bread onto each, placing one in front of Sam and sitting down next to her.

She took a bite, savoring the flavor. "Mmm. This is really good. One of my favorites."

Jack stole a glance at her. "Yeah. I know."

Sam smiled. "Thank you."

"Anytime, ma'am. Anytime."

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Sam managed to make it until nearly 9 pm before finally deciding she needed to give in to her still healing body and head off to bed.

"You don't have to stay here, really. I'm fine. Go ahead on home. I'll be okay on my own."

Jack squinted his eyes, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He hadn't wanted to admit to Sam that he'd been almost completely unable to sleep unless it was when she was nearby. The acknowledgment seemed too much like admitting a weakness, but it was the truth. He didn't think he'd be able to rest even in his own bed right now unless Sam was right there with him.

Sam watched the play of emotions run across Jack's face and was surprised to discover she could read them almost as well as her father's, another man who's feelings were well hidden unless you knew where to look.

"You're still not sleeping are you?"

Jack was incredulous. "Exactly how do you do that anyway?"

"Years of practice reading someone a lot better at hiding things than you are. Come on, the bed's big enough for both of us."

Now it was Jack's turn to raise a suggestive eyebrow.

"You know what I meant. Don't pretend you didn't. Just for sleeping. Maybe this way we both can get some sleep."

Jack studied her, the fatigue that left dark bruises beneath her eyes, the weary set of her shoulders, and realized she was probably right. "Okay, but no funny business."

Sam smirked before pushing herself slowly to her feet and leading the way down the hall toward her bedroom. Pulling open a drawer in her bureau, she produced a t-shirt and pair of shorts she was reasonably sure would fit Jack and extended them toward him.

"Carter, do I want to know where these came from?"

"Don't worry, they're Dad's. I keep some stuff here for him for when he… well, when he used to be able to visit."

"Ah, well then, if it's good enough for Dad." Jack smiled, heading into the bathroom to change. By the time he had finished a few minutes later and re-entered the bedroom Sam was already in bed and seemed to be asleep. Carefully climbing in next to her, Jack reached over and turned out the light on the bedside table, then rolled over onto his side to simply look at her.

The moonlight spilled in through the sheer curtains at the windows, lighting Sam from behind in an ethereal glow that took his breath away. Jack reached out to caress her cheek with the palm of his hand, reveling in the softness of her skin that seemed in such sharp contrast to the toughness of her spirit. Leaning in closer he placed a light kiss on her lips and Sam stirred slightly at the contact, opening her eyes.

"G'wan back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Sam simply looked at him for a moment before leaning in to return his kiss, at first lightly but then deepening it to become more passionate, his lips parting slightly to admit her questing tongue.

After several moments of increasing intensity, Jack reluctantly broke away, "I don't think you're going to be able to go much farther here."

Sam sighed deeply, resting her forehead on Jack's. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"What?"

" 'Sorry'. You've got nothing to be sorry for. Don't worry, this'll still be here when you're ready for it."

Sam nodded silently, easing herself back onto her pillow. Jack reached out to stroke her face and Sam closed her eyes, leaning into the soothing touch.

"Thank you, Sam."

Opening her eyes she could see the tenderness reflected back through the warm brown pools of Jack's gaze. "What for?"

"Keeping your promise."

Sam paused for a moment, grasping for the meaning behind Jack's cryptic statement, then suddenly remembered the dinner conversation weeks before.

"Always," She replied simply, as Jack rolled over onto his back, opening his arms for her. Sam immediately snuggled closer, pillowing her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his chest, sinking into the warm embrace of sleep.

TBC...