It wasn't there.
Jack had found a set of cat bookends in Egyptian style – from Daniel, obviously, and they didn't resemble her old cat in the least – and had ripped the entire shelf apart, but there was no letter. She had a couple of coffee mugs with cats on them, but there was nothing hidden in the cabinet, either. It wasn't with the Cheshire cat in her copy of Alice in Wonderland… or her copy of Alice in Quantumland. It wasn't anywhere on the garage shelves where she'd stored the old litter box and scratching post – in case she'd gotten another pet, he guessed. Some things had been moved and a few were missing; it was possible that Daniel or Cassandra had already taken it – whatever it was. Things would get a lot harder if that were the case, so he hoped not, but he'd looked everywhere. Everywhere except her bedroom, and he'd never been in her bedroom, so that seemed like an odd place to put it.
He didn't want to look in her bedroom. But he had to find that damned letter.
He saw it the second he flipped on the light. On her nightstand, a foot from where she'd slept, was a four by six photo frame. But it wasn't just Schrodinger; no, Daniel had snapped the picture just as the cat had jumped up on the back of the couch over Jack's shoulder and startled him. Man and cat were caught in an epic stare-off, captured for eternity. Jack vaguely remembered Daniel taking the photo but hadn't known she'd kept it. He certainly hadn't known she'd kept it by her bedside. Turning the frame carefully over in his hands, he pulled off the back.
For Jack, the neatly folded paper inside said. She'd handwritten it, and not in the blocky capital letters she used for drawings and Post-Its. He'd been looking for hours, but he hadn't been prepared to actually find it, and he sank onto the edge of the mattress, holding the frame and the letter gently in his lap. He unfolded it once, then again.
No. He couldn't read it there, in her sanctuary. On the bed he'd never even seen, much less slept in. He could read the letter – he had to – but not when he was so smothered by the feel of her. And by the loss of her. He would take it up to the cabin, maybe. Or the mountains. Anywhere but there. Folding the paper carefully, he tucked it into his wallet, reassembled the photo frame, and set it back on her nightstand. No one would know it had been touched. Content with that, he pushed to his feet and headed for the front door.
Jack had his fingers on the handle when it occurred to him that he would be leaving for the last time – that the house would be sold and he would never see it again. And that seemed… final… somehow. He wasn't prepared for that. Maybe Daniel's idea of having something of hers – anything – wasn't so crazy after all.
Blowing out a breath, he turned back inside.
~/~
The deep frown on Teal'c's face perfectly complemented his narrowed eyes. "It is too soon."
"It is not too soon." Careful of the brace that fixed her knee straight, Sam crutched a careful hundred and eighty degree turn next to her infirmary bed. "This place is overrun with people who actually need care. I just need pills."
"And if your fever returns?" he challenged.
"I'm sure you'll be the first to know," she offered, "because I'm sure you'll be checking."
"Indeed."
"After all, what a girl really wants, after two weeks of being hovered over in a crushed mess hall, is to be hovered over some more."
The alien heard the sarcasm, surely, but chose to ignore it. "Daniel Jackson will remain with you tonight. I will arrive tomorrow with groceries."
"Perfect." Her smile was radiantly false. "Make sure you overlap. Wouldn't wanna have a second to myself to take a shower." She glanced at the brace on her leg. "Bath."
"You were dead," Teal'c said simply.
Not once in the three weeks they'd been stranded had it ever occurred to her that they'd been anything but missing. She'd assumed her team was searching for her, not grieving for her, and she toddled forward on her crutches to offer him a careful, one-armed hug. "I know. I'm sorry."
"It is too soon," he repeated.
Too soon to be out of his sight again, she realized. He would certainly be spending the night on her couch if SG-1 weren't officially tasked to the recovery efforts, running vehicles back and forth between the Gate and the ship. Well, half of SG-1 was, anyway. Daniel had gotten an exemption to drive her home.
"They even gave me one with the little leg rest," Daniel said as he pulled a wheelchair backward through the curtains. "You ready?"
"I'll be fine," she promised Teal'c. "I'll see you in the morning."
Daniel took one arm and one crutch, Teal'c took the other, and they carefully helped her into the wheelchair.