She jumped, caught out by his words. Since Jack had first woken up he'd said very little, and other than asking where they were, and about what had happened to him, he hadn't really questioned her on anything, so she wasn't prepared for his question.

"What?"

"Why are you here, Sam?" he asked. His voice was soft, quavering, lacking the power – or the irreverence – that was usually Jack O'Neill. But even though quiet, his voice was clear and it was the voice of someone used to command. He wanted an answer.

"I told you," she said, "you were sick and almost died. Daniel, Teal'c and I were taking turns to sit with you – and it was when I was with you that we got brought here."

"No," he shook his head slightly. "Why were you – with me?" he asked. "Why did you sit with me. We're … nothing … to .. one another."

His words pierced her heart, and she wanted to gasp in pain – but she didn't. She knew she had to be gentle with him, not upset him – but she wished he'd waited to ask until he was stronger.

"Because I'm your friend, Sir," she told him. "I l o – you're important to me."

His eyes closed at that, almost as if he was shutting her out. A few seconds later, they opened and he looked directly at her. "You could have fooled me," he said, his eyes closing immediately after he spoke. This time he didn't reopen them and was soon asleep.

She fled the room and practically ran down to the beach. Why had she thought that he would welcome her back with open arms? She'd been a fool. They had barely spoken in fifteen years, except when it had to do with work. They didn't socialize – only being thrown together at special events, like weddings and births of people close to them. Then they'd been polite, but distant.

All of the things she'd been feeling, and that she'd promised herself when he'd been on the brink of death, all the things she'd dreamed as he healed – all of them were only in her own mind. He wasn't going to act as if nothing had happened between them, as if fifteen years hadn't passed. How foolish she'd been to think he would feel the same.

She spent a long time at the beach, closely watched by the aliens, who seemed to sense her need to be alone, but were obviously keeping an eye on her. She didn't think it was nefarious, or that they wanted to control her. No – she got the distinct impression that they were worried about her, and were watching out for her.

She was pretty sure they had to be some of the nicest aliens she'd met. She just wished they could speak.

She knew it was time to return. It was getting dark and she was hungry. As she turned back towards the building and their room, she angrily wiped the tears off of her face. She'd have to make a decision – a decision to walk away, to let him go. If he didn't want her, then she wasn't about to make both of them uncomfortable by letting him see how she felt. She'd be the cool officer he'd seen for the last fifteen years – not the warm, passionate woman who had shown him how much she loved him, for such a brief time.

She decided she needed to stay in a different room. Jack needed his privacy – and she needed a quiet and private place to think, without him present. He didn't need to see how his words had hurt her. He probably hadn't intended to hurt her. And anyway, he needed to heal, not to worry about her feelings!

She met one of the aliens as she entered the building. She waved the person over, and then tried to explain, using gestures, that she'd like to move rooms.

Whoever this alien was – she didn't think she'd met him before – was very non-responsive. She started to get frustrated, when a door open and Marie walked out.

Marie approached her and her non-responsive companion. The two aliens looked at one another, until the first one smiled, gave a little bow, and left.

"I'm trying to see if I can have a new room," she told the female alien. "I could use any of these rooms, if it's okay with you."

She received the response she'd gotten used to – a tilt of the head, a smile – and eventually a look that seemed to be one of sympathy. Finally Marie reached out, took her hand, and led her into one of the empty rooms. She then looked at Sam, a question in her eyes.

"Yes, this will do perfectly – thank you!" The room looked almost identical to her previous one, except the central bed – the one Jack slept on in their – his room, was missing. It had the same window though, and that was important to her. She needed to see the outside as the beauty of nature worked as a balm to her soul.

Marie left and returned in a few minutes, her arms full of what Sam supposed were sheets. With a smile Sam nodded, took the sheets, and laid them on the bed.

The alien woman regarded her for a moment, looking sad, but then she smiled and walked to the door. Just before leaving, she placed her hand on her heart and stared momentarily at Sam. Then she was gone.

Sam didn't know quite what that meant, although she did wonder if the aliens knew that she was hurting. Her heart was broken – and it was no one's fault but her own.

She stayed away from Jack's room for the rest of the day, but knew she couldn't continue that way. They were both stuck here, and he would struggle to deal with aliens who couldn't communicate.

With a fast beating heart - and nerves that were ready to snap, she stood and walked slowly to her door. With a deep breath, and a severe talking to, she turned the knob, and stepped into the corridor. With another breath she closed her eyes and allowed the professional General Carter to take over. Jack didn't acknowledge her as a friend any more – therefore she'd be a fellow officer, nothing more.

It was rather anticlimactic when she entered his room. He was fast asleep. At least that gave her the opportunity to look at him closely.

There was no doubt he was much better. The paralysis, which had changed his face so radically, seemed to be gone, although she didn't know if that was just his face or if the rest of him had improved as well.

He'd continued to lose weight and looked more like the O'Neill she'd known, rather than the old man she'd first seen in the hospital bed in DC. His hair was still white, and stood up all over his head. It had grown long, over the weeks he'd been ill. He really needed a haircut. But then, so did she, she thought as she grabbed her hair and pulled it into a pony tail behind her.

She giggled softly, although as much from nerves as from humor. She desperately wanted to put her hands through his hair, to tame it down. If he had still been unconscious, she would have – but now he was sleeping, and the last thing either of them needed was for him to wake up with her hand in his hair.

He still looked ill – the lines deep in his face – but he was getting better. For a moment she allowed the relief to fill her. She closed her eyes and said thank you – to the aliens, to Daniel and Teal'c, to Cassie – to the universe. She had prayed he would get better, and he was. It would have been unfair to ask the universe for anything more.

"You – sleepin – there Carter?" his voice disturbed her thoughts and her eyes flew open. She grimaced slightly when she realized that her cheeks were wet. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

"Sorry Sir," she said gruffly, quickly wiping her face with her hand. She cleared her throat, embarrassed to be caught in such an emotional state. She was a General – a mature officer with years of service under her belt. "Just resting my eyes. How are you?"

"Fine," he answered automatically, although his eyes moved away from hers and he began to peruse the room. It was the first time she'd seen him this aware.

"Can I get you something to drink, or eat?" she asked. In all the days they'd been here, she hadn't once seen the aliens give him anything. She wondered if it was the mysterious machine – which was still glowing softly.

"Mmm - no, I'm fine," he answered. "So, have you figured out where are we yet?"

"No, I'm sorry. I've hiked around but there's nothing to see other than more beach and trees."

"Aaah, trees," he nodded. "What about the aliens?"

"Well, there seem to be a relatively small number of people – or aliens I guess – that are here, although I've seen a few more from time to time. I've interacted with two of them mostly – Marie and Danny."

"They have Earth names?" he said, surprised.

"No – I have no clue what their real names are. I told you – they don't talk. So I gave them names – you know, in my head. I had to refer to them by something," she told him, feeling embarrassed.

His lips quirked. "Marie? Danny?"

"Yeah," she said, feeling the beginning of her own smile. "I named her after Marie Curie – for some reason I figured she's a scientist. The other one – well, he's young – I think - and he reminded me of Daniel when I first met him."

"Mmm," he nodded. "So what else can you tell me about this place?"

Sam proceeded to give him as much information as she could, which wasn't much. She'd told him all of this before, but obviously he's still been too sick to really comprehend or remember. And the truth was, she didn't know much as most of her time here had been spent sitting with him, worrying about him, thinking about her own mistakes. She hadn't seen or heard anything that would give her any clues – but frankly, she hadn't looked that deeply.

"That's it?" he asked, frowning. "I would have thought you'd have figured out more than that, Carter. You're supposed to be the smart one."

She could feel herself getting angry at his tone and his words. He was treating her as if she was still the Captain he'd first met. How dare he judge her or what she'd done.

"Yes, I am," she said back to him, causing his eyebrows to go up. "I'm very smart. And I'm very experienced. In case you've forgotten, Sir, I'm a general too. I do know what I'm doing. However, there is nothing to find here, it's impossible to communicate with the natives and I have been a bit pre-occupied with you. Or would you rather have had me go off and find my way home and leave you here?"

He licked his lips, suddenly looking very tired. "No, of course not," he sighed. "Sorry – I'm just feeling a bit frustrated, stuck here like this. I wasn't doubting you – well, actually I was, but that's not fair. I – appreciate you sticking with me," he told her, almost as if the words had to be ripped from him. Over the years, since their break-up, he had treated her calmly and professionally, never showing an ounce of anger or resentment. But suddenly, she could feel it practically vibrating from him.

At least he knew it wasn't fair to pull it out now – his thanks, for what they were, showed that he was trying. But she knew it was going to be hard and once again she felt a wave of regret wash over her.

"Now that you're getting better, maybe we can try and figure this out together," she offered. "I don't have any supplies, so I don't think I could get too far from here but maybe there's a Gate. I can try and see if the aliens recognize it. I just need to find something to write with."

"Okay – sounds like a plan, General," he told her. "I wish I could sit up and help you. I'm getting tired of lying here like this."

"Uh – I could try and help, but I don't know what that thing," she pointed to the device, "will do."

"You haven't tried to figure it out?" he asked curiously. He didn't sound upset, just intrigued that Samantha Carter hadn't tried to look at an alien doohickey.

"It was clearly helping you," she explained. "I didn't want to futz with it and end up harming it in any way."

"I guess I can appreciate that," he told her. "So, let's see what we can figure out."

They spent the next hour, going round and round with everything – however little- they knew. Sam tried hard to think of anything the aliens had given away, but there was really nothing.

"We need to find something else to call them," she muttered at one point.

"Call them?"

"Yeah, I hate to just call them "the aliens". They must have a name."

"You could ask them," he grinned.

"Ha ha," she quipped. "Maybe you should ask them."

"I'll try, although I don't remember seeing any of them."

"No – they come in a few times a day to check on you, but I guess you've always been sleeping." She paused and regarded him for a second. "Sir, are you hungry – or thirsty?"

Ha frowned, but then shook his head. "No, not really. Why?"

"Well, we've been here for almost two weeks, and I don't think you've had anything to eat or drink since you've been here."

"You don't think?"

"Well, they could have given you something when I was out, but I've never see it. I'm surprised you're not at least thirsty."

"Maybe I'll ask for something when they come in and see me."

"I think it's dinner time now. Maybe they'll come in here with mine, and we can ask."

A few minutes later Sam was proved right, when the young alien, Danny, knocked and then entered Jack's room. He gave Sam a sweet smile, and nodded down to the plate in his hand. Her dinner had arrived.

"Uh Da – uh – Jack, ur, General O'Neill, needs some food," she told him. That got the tilted head response. She sighed and then mimed eating and pointed over to the General. It was only then that Danny even realized he was awake.

His eyes grew big and he looked quite agitated. After a quick glance at Sam, he set her plate down and practically ran out of the room.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"I think he was startled to see you awake."

Jack sighed. "It's the hair, isn't it?"

She stared at him for a second and then chuckled. "I didn't want to say anything, Sir."

"A comb, Sam, my kingdom for a comb!"

"Sorry Sir – I don't have one handy. I'll go get -"

She was interrupted when the door opened, and in walked five of the aliens. To her relief Marie and Danny were both there, as well as three others who she had rudely named Larry, Curly and Moe. It's not that they were funny, or looked at all like the characters, but they did always seem to be together. She supposed she could have come up with more heroic names – they were helping Jack, after all, but she'd gotten some humor from naming them after the Three Stooges.

All of them glided towards Jack and soon had surrounded his cot. Nobody made a sound – or at least the two humans didn't. Sam was pretty sure the aliens couldn't make a sound. They were even silent when walking.

"What are they doing, Carter?" O'Neill asked, sounding slightly freaked out. At that moment, all of the aliens had crowded around his bed, and had their hands out over his torso. Soon a glow began to emanate from his chest.

"What the hell?" O'Neill said, as his eyes tracked downward. "Carter, am I on fire?"

"Uh – no Sir. It's just – a glow. Are you okay?"

"Mmm – a little sleepy," he told her, his eyes drifting shut. Soon he was sound asleep. The aliens stepped back and, almost as one, they turned to her and smiled.

She wanted to scream. "I wish you would talk to me," she told them, almost shouting. "Smiling doesn't mean a damn thing to me. Please can we not communicate?"

Although she was positive her words conveyed nothing, it was clear the aliens could sense her turmoil. They looked at one another and for once weren't smiling, but instead all looked highly concerned.

Marie approached her and held out her hand towards Sam's chest. This time, instead of letting the alien woman touch her, she stepped back, out of reach. That caused real consternation on the part of the aliens. She could both see and feel their worry.

For a moment they obviously communicated, and then four of them retreated and exited the room, leaving only Marie.

The alien woman regarded her carefully, her face full of concern. She held out her hand – this time not approaching Sam, but simply holding it out towards her. After a few seconds, Sam tentatively lifted her hand and slowly moved it until their fingertips touched.

She felt a confusing swirl of emotions. This time she didn't feel the sense of relief and calmness she'd felt when touching the aliens in the past. This time she felt – curiosity, concern, frustration. What she couldn't figure out was whether the emotions she was feeling belonged to her, or to the other woman.

She shook her head and pulled back her hand, even more frustrated by the lack of communication than before. It was clear that the aliens were telepaths – but that didn't explain why they didn't try harder to communicate with her.

But maybe they didn't need to! Suddenly the thought came that maybe they could read her mind. Maybe they knew all they needed from her so weren't concerned with communicating.

The thought made her blood run cold, even though they'd been unfailingly kind. Still, it was creepy to feel like her mind had been an open book to them, while she knew practically nothing about them.

She retreated even further, which caused Marie to frown. It was the first time Sam had seen such an expression on any one of the aliens. She must really be upsetting the woman.

"Good," said. "Maybe now you'll understand that we're not your pets! I need some answers from you – in whatever way you can give them to me."

Marie's head tilted slowly, and then she nodded, almost as if she'd understood Sam's words. She then looked over towards Jack, who was sound asleep, and nodded again. Before Sam had a chance to move, Marie had drifted towards the sleeping man, and had placed her hand once more over his heart. It was only for a second, and then she stood back.

With a sad smile, Marie moved towards the door, stopping by Sam as she passed. She lifted her hand – again, not trying to touch the human woman, but clearly offering. After a second's hesitation, Sam reached out and laid her palm against that of Marie. This time what she felt was understanding and reassurance. She smiled, and nodded at the alien woman, who then drifted out of the room.

The door closed behind her, leaving Sam alone with O'Neill.