A/N: Okay, I'm posting this chapter a day earlier than I'd planned to because I'm feeling kind of unmotivated about my writing today... and I'm always hoping that posting will give me a fresh dose of motivation. Not sure if that will really happen or not, but it's worth a try!

Anyhow, don't worry... I'm not about to leave this story unfinished or anything. And for anyone who's wondering if I might have forgotten my promise of J/S comfort, that's definitely not the case. It's coming soon! Promise!

Oh, and reviews are a great form of motivation, so please do send me one! ;-) Plus, they make me happy... and that can't be a bad thing, right? lol

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed past chapters! You guys are great!

And now, on with the story...

Chapter 6:

Partly to work out some of her frustration and partly to keep herself busy, Sam decided to clean her house. For most of the afternoon she vacuumed and dusted, washed and scrubbed, until she finally gave up, exhausted. She flopped out on the couch for a while, allowing herself to rest but not to the point of falling asleep.

What in the world was she going to do for another whole week? She had to find some way to keep herself busy, some way to keep her mind occupied so there wouldn't be time for unpleasant thoughts.

What she needed was a distraction. And preferably one that would last for several days.

Struck with an idea, Sam sat up and grabbed the phone. A visit to Mark and the kids. That would be perfect. She hadn't seen them in ages and getting away from home for a while seemed like a very attractive option to Sam. So she dialed her brother's number, her mood improving even as she waited for someone to pick up on the other end. It was a great idea. A great solution.

Unfortunately, that opinion didn't last long. In less than ten minutes, Sam had hung up the phone and flopped back out on the couch, deflated. It turned out that both kids were sick with a particularly nasty stomach bug at the moment and Mark didn't foresee them recovering for several days. And while catching the stomach flu might very well qualify as distracting, it wasn't quite what Sam had in mind.

So... back to square one.

Not wanting to spend any more time lying around doing nothing, even if she was exhausted, Sam forced herself to get up off the couch. She considered going for a run, but there was still one sore spot on her left foot and she decided that she should probably give it another day or two to heal before submitting it to the stress and impact it would receive during a run. But a walk, on the other hand, she was sure she could handle.

So grabbing her keys and a light jacket, Sam went out her front door and crossed the street to the park. She walked for nearly an hour before turning toward home. The fresh air felt good. Really good. And it even helped to clear her mind a bit. In fact, she was feeling the best that she had the whole day.

Until she passed the playground.

The scene was innocent enough -- two young mothers watching their toddlers as they played together in the grass. Nothing unusual about it at all. But Sam felt her heart rate increase at the sight, and all because one of the mothers was holding a camera, taking pictures of the kids as they laughed and played.

Sam picked up her pace, trying to remain calm even though she was desperate to get away.

Just don't have another flashback, Sam told herself. Not here. Not now.

Luckily, it didn't seem like that was going to happen. But she still felt panicky. And angry. Angry at herself for overreacting so extremely to such a normal and unthreatening thing.

So much for feeling good.

She fought off the urge to run, instead just walking briskly until she reached home. She quickly unlocked the front door and as soon as she was inside, she shut it behind her and leaned against it.

What the hell was happening to her? Wasn't she ever going to get over this? Wasn't she ever going to get back to normal?

Just the other day she had been so sure that she was going to be fine in no time. But she suddenly felt like she didn't know anything anymore. And she suddenly felt very, very alone.

Sinking down to sit on the floor, Sam closed her eyes. She was filled with the urge to call Colonel O'Neill, but what was she supposed to say?

"Ah, sorry for bothering you, sir, but I was feeling lonely... not to mention I'm a total basket case."

Yeah, right. I don't think so.

She sighed.

Pull yourself together, Sam.

She rubbed her hands roughly down her face and pushed herself to her feet.

You just need to pull yourself together.

She went into the bathroom and stood over the sink, turning on the tap and letting the water run cold. Then she cupped her hands and splashed her face with the icy water. As she shut off the water and grabbed a towel, a knock at her front door made her jump. She quickly wiped the remaining water from her face, silently cursing her racing heart, and started for the door.

As she made her way down the front hall, she heard Colonel O'Neill's familiar voice calling from the front porch.

"Carter?"

She hesitated, suddenly filled with an odd mixture of relief and apprehension. She wanted him here, didn't she? It had only been a few minutes ago that she'd been tempted to call him, after all. But at the same time, now that he was here, she didn't want to face him. She was just barely keeping herself together at the moment and more than anything, she didn't want to fall apart in front of him.

He knocked again.

Shaking off her hesitation, Sam moved forward and turned the lock.

She opened the door and there he was, standing on her front porch with his hands in his pockets, looking completely at ease. Again, Sam felt a confused rush of relief and anxiety, but she tried her best to push the feelings aside.

"Sir? What are you doing here?"

"Well, you know, I was in the neighbourhood..." He gestured vaguely toward the street. "And I just thought I'd… drop by."

Sure, just in the neighbourhood. Sam wasn't buying that for a second.

"The answer is I'm fine and I don't want to talk about it," she stated flatly, deciding to get right to the real reason he was there.

He looked puzzled. "Did I ask a question?"

"You didn't have to."

"Ah." He gave her another confused look.

There was a pause and then Colonel O'Neill tried to look past her into the house. "Got a hot date in there, Carter?"

She glared at him. "No."

"Then can I come in?"

Sam didn't move, nor did she answer. She was still wrestling with conflicting emotions.

The Colonel raised his eyebrows at her silence. "What if I promise not to bring up The Subject?" He put an emphasis on the last two words, making it clear what he was referring to.

Again, Sam didn't say anything. She had a sneaking suspicion that he might be trying to trick her in some way, but at the same time she really didn't want to be on her own any longer. Having some company around would be good. His company would be good.

Finally making up her mind, she stood back and opened the door fully.

Colonel O'Neill grinned at the gesture. "Sweet."

And with that, he stepped inside.

TBC…