To put everyone out of their misery, Hansen is gone. Dead, deceased, pushin' up daisies:)

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"Welcome back, SG-1," said General Hammond. "What happened?"

The returning group shared looks. "Umm…let's just say some divine intervention was needed," Colonel O'Neill said slowly.

General Hammond frowned. "What does that mean?" he asked, studying their faces. When they looked at one another again, he shook his head. "Never mind," he sighed. "Briefing at 0800 tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," agreed Colonel O'Neill, who led the way out of the gateroom.

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After they checked out in the infirmary, the team went to hit the showers. Carter, as usual, waited until the men of her team were done. She figured it was fair, that there were more male members, so the quicker they all went, the sooner she could. Besides, she loved long, hot showers.

But the waiting left her time to brood. Captain Carter felt like such a monster by the time Colonel O'Neill came out from the showers that she wanted to throw up.

"Hey, Carter, what's wrong?" he asked, frowning. She was leaning against the lockers, not facing him. But it wasn't her locker; it was Hansen's.

Colonel O'Neill peered over her shoulder and realized immediately what was wrong. "Carter – Sam, talk to me."

Carter's lips trembled as she spoke: "I keep looking at his name. I'm trying…I'm trying to convince myself I shouldn't be feeling this way. I shouldn't! I shouldn't!" She wheeled around, tears penetrating the corners of her eyes. "That bastard deserved what he got and more! So why do I feel so…bad?"

O'Neill pulled her into a hug. "It's because you care," he said simply. "I'm no Daniel so I'm not good at explaining this crap, but people – sickos – like Hansen don't care. They don't feel love. They're not compassionate. You…you can feel all that, Carter. It's people like you that make this country, this world even, worth fighting for: the ones that enjoy life and love living. Not because they're the president of the psycho club."

Captain Carter snorted. "Love living, enjoy life? Look at me! I've completely screwed up my life –"

Colonel O'Neill pulled back sharply and pulled her head by the cheek to face him. He had a glare on his face as he said, "Listen to me, Carter. You made a mistake. One mistake, wanting to make a good thing work. It didn't go as planned. You packed up and moved on."

"Yeah, and we ended up at the same base," she muttered. "Someone has to be playing a cruel joke on me. First I love him, then I fear him, then I hate him, and now I'm guilty? No matter what I do or feel I'm wrong!"

"What are you guilty about?" he asked, gently leading her to sit on the bench. He sat beside her, giving her enough space to breathe, but staying close enough for her to feel safe, secure.

She was silent for a moment. "I was going to kill him," she said quietly.

"On the planet? Yeah, you told me."

"No. When I got that Broca virus. I…I was going to kill him. After I tortured and raped him. I was going to pay back everything he'd done to me." Carter couldn't look him in the eyes; she looked down and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. "I was hunting him down when I found you in the locker room. God, Colonel, I was going to destroy him!"

She sobbed now, unable to hold it back any longer. Her body was racked with silent sobs as her tears fell. The Colonel's arms wrapped her in a cocoon of comfort, a comfort she felt she didn't deserve.

After a long while, when her tears subsided, he spoke softly, "I was going to kill myself."

Carter's head shot up. "Sir!" she said incredulously, her own predicament momentarily forgotten.

"Someone…someone close to me died, by my gun. They found it and accidentally shot themselves with it. I…I drove him to the hospital as quickly as I could, and the doctors did everything they could for him, but he just couldn't make it. He didn't deserve to die, not like that, not because of me," O'Neill finished.

"Who?" she asked. "Sir…"

"A…a person I loved," he said. It was obvious he wouldn't specify further. Carter leaned into his touch, breathing in his cleanness and his silent, protective strength. Maybe some of that strength would melt into her. She would need it.