(A Few Days Later)

Late afternoon the next day, Captain Carter was called to Colonel O'Neill's office. Confused and worried – What is it now? Did someone tell him I jumped Hansen in the elevator or something? – she hurried to get there.

Captain Carter stood outside his office door a couple minutes later. Gathering her courage – what little of it she seemed to have – she knocked.

"Come in."

She opened the door and stepped inside. Colonel O'Neill was sitting behind his desk, leaning back in the chair and fiddling with a paperweight. He motioned for her to further enter the room and she did so.

"Oh, and close the door."

Captain Carter's suspicious nature was barely contained now. Images of Hansen demanding her body now assaulted her, only with Colonel O'Neill in his place. Carter shuddered, and told herself firmly that Colonel O'Neill would never do any such thing, and it was ridiculous to even think it.

She closed the door and turned. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked cautiously.

He stood and watched her for a moment before speaking. When he did speak, he made fists out of his hands and gestured at her, letting them fall limp at his sides when he said, "Please tell me what's wrong."

He was asking, not ordering? "Sir?"

"We have a mission tomorrow, Carter. You've been walking around like a zombie. I've had several comments from people about you."

Does no one mind their own damned business anymore? she wondered, irritably and incredulously.

"I can't speak for anyone else, but I don't feel like I've been walking around like the undead."

Liar, liar, her conscience taunted.

"Bull," Colonel O'Neill dismissed with a wave of his hand. "And furthermore, if the bags under your eyes get any bigger I'll be able to move in. I'm giving you another chance to tell me what's going on before I tell Hammond we have to postpone the mission."

"For what reason, sir?" she asked, alarmed.

"Because my 2IC is unfit for duty," he said, his darkening eyes telling Captain Carter there was no question in his mind that she wasn't, or wouldn't be very, very soon. And in all honesty, she knew he was right.

Carter sighed. "I'm not going to like this, and neither are you," she told him. "You might want to sit down, sir."

Colonel O'Neill considered her a moment, then sat as she suggested. "That bad?" he asked, motioning for her to do the same.

She sat. "No. Worse." She took a deep breath and tried to keep eye contact when she began her sorry tale, but her eyes wandered the moment she started. They rested on a picture of an F-16 hanging on the wall behind him. "He beat me, sir."

"Say again?"

"He beat me. It was years ago, but it's something I'll never forget and always regret. I was a doormat, letting him track his boots all over me. He was charming and sweet at first, but he got brutal and merciless as days went on."

Colonel O'Neill seemed to know right where this was heading. "Why didn't you just leave him, Carter?" His voice was soft but incredulous, and disappointed. She winced; she didn't want his pity.

"I thought it was fair. I was stupid, newly graduated. I didn't have a clue about the world, or relationships. I thought that, by letting him do what he wanted at night, I would get my charming, sweet, funny boyfriend, and eventually, fiancé, the rest of the time," she said, feeling so humiliated it stung and sickened her. This was the last conversation she'd ever wanted to have with this man, her CO, and someone she respected immensely.

Captain Carter looked at him to see he'd closed his eyes. "You agreed to marry him?" he said flatly.

"Stupidly, yes."

"What happened?" Obviously she hadn't married him, or she'd be sitting there as Captain Hansen, looking a hell of a lot worse.

"It lasted for months, and only got worse. He wasn't just wild and careless at night, he…he was drunk and violent all the time. Whenever we both had free time, you could bet he would come to my apartment, and whatever I was doing, I had to stop."

She didn't have to tell him what she had to stop for. He nodded slowly.

Strangely, Captain Carter felt somewhat encouraged. Continuing wasn't as painful as it was before. "Eventually, I got tired of it. I would hear my coworkers talk about what they were getting their wives for their anniversary or what they and their girlfriends were doing for his/her birthday. I started missing going out with him, the good man he'd been."

"So…one night you said no?"

She laughed bitterly. "I got as far as half a sentence before he took me. We argued afterwards, and that was when he beat me. I was knocked out. I woke up late in the afternoon the next day, my phone and cell and pager ringing wildly with half a dozen messages each. I…he…"

Colonel O'Neill tapped on the desk slowly, thoughtfully. "He raped you," he said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Captain Carter nodded shamefully. "That's when reality finally came to call. I knew my relationship with him wasn't normal; it was wrong. I asked for a transfer to D.C. and got it. My friends and coworkers volunteered to help pack. On my way to the airport, I stopped at his house and left the ring on the doorstep."

"He didn't try to stop you?"

Carter laughed again. "I was too scared to confront him, so I waited until he was sent on another mission before I executed my plans. He was never told where I was going; my friends and my commanding officer had refused to tell him. I called them later to let them know I got there okay, and to thank them. That's pretty much where the story ends; the rest, as they say, is history. I rebuilt my life and was introduced to the Stargate. That, and Steve, was probably the only thing that kept me sane through the nightmares."

Colonel O'Neill was silent for a moment. "That's what's been going on for the past few days? Nightmares?"

Carter nodded. "The same every time," she said bitterly. "Just like in D.C. Go to sleep, have the nightmares, wake up at 0220. Like life's got a cruel game for me, those nightmares being as regular and on-time as when to get up for work."

Things were silent for a few more minutes. Colonel O'Neill fiddled with his paperweight again, obviously at loss for what to say, and Carter stared at the poster of the F-16 on the wall some more, not quite believing that she just spilled her greatest regret to her CO – who she barely knew – when she couldn't bring herself to tell her dad or brother about it.

Finally, Carter's nerves got the best of her. "Oh, just tell me you're going to have me reassigned and get done with it, sir," she said with all the air of a person about to be struck down.

His eyes shot to hers in surprise. "Carter," he said firmly, "if there's anything I'm not going to do, it's have you reassigned. The SGC needs that giant brain of yours."

That's right, I'm one giant brain, no heart or feelings, she thought heatedly, saying nothing because she knew it wasn't meant to offend her.

"Carter, tell me you can handle Hansen being here."

Captain Carter looked at him with sad eyes. "Oh, I can handle him here; it's easy to avoid someone." She swallowed hard.

"But?" he prompted.

"The nightmares," she whispered.

Colonel O'Neill didn't even blink; he nodded, rose, and walked around his desk to sit in the seat beside hers. "Hey," he said softly, so softly it tore her gaze from his wall, and placed it securely on him. He held out his hand, and she shakily placed hers on his. He squeezed it gently, and the touching gesture pricked at her heart, bringing tears threatening to cascade.

"Now, I'm crap at touchy-feely stuff, but there's no reason why I can't be here for you. My team is important to me, and I wouldn't order my worst enemy to see a shrink," he offered her a goofy smile, and she choked on her laugh, wiping her eyes to stop tears from falling. "Hey, c'mere," he said, scooting his chair closer to hers. He pulled her into a hug, guiding her head to his shoulder. The act touched her so deeply that the tears did come, washing his shirt and neck.

A few minutes later, she stopped crying, her tears ending with a sniffle and a sigh. She suddenly realized she didn't want to leave his strong, safe embrace. Also realizing the ridiculous nature of her desire – she prided herself for not needing a man – she tugged back slightly, and he let her ease away.

"Better?" he asked.

She smiled. "Better."