She sat by Jack's – no, not Jack. She had to remember that theirs was a professional relationship, not a personal one. He'd made that very clear. So she had to think of him as General, or O'Neill, not as Jack.
She had watched him closely after the aliens left, to make sure he was okay. The strange glow coming from him had frightened her. She still didn't think the aliens were wicked, but they had been tricked before. She had let her guard down, and that's something she had been trained never to do.
Before long she saw the General take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Shortly afterward his eyes opened.
"Hey Carter," he said, sounding stronger than he had since he'd been stricken down. "What happened?"
"I don't really know, Sir," she told him. "You saw the aliens come in and – do something. You – uh – you glowed."
"I got that. Do we know what they did?"
"No. How do you feel?"
He paused for a moment, taking another deep breath. After letting it out he turned his head towards her and smiled. "Really well, actually. Better than I have in a while. I just wish I could get out of this damned bed. I am tired of lying around on my ass!"
"I don't blame you. Maybe we can ask the aliens to let you get up."
"Ask?" he said, his eyebrows raised.
"Well – gesture, draw pictures, I don't know – they do seem to understand what I want, most of the time."
"Okay, gesture away, Carter, and get me out of this bed. Oh, and some clothes would be nice."
She almost said something – drawn back to that time when they teased and flirted with one another. But she bit her tongue, knowing that now it would be inappropriate. "I'll see if I can get you one of the robes they wear."
He nodded, seeming a bit disappointed, and she wondered briefly if he had wanted her to laugh or tease. She shook her head. This whole situation was fraught with all sorts of land mines, of the emotional kind.
"Hey," he said suddenly, sounding both surprised and eager. "I'm hungry! I could kill for a pizza!"
She did laugh at that. "No pizza here, I'm afraid Sir. But as to food, I will tell you that you are in for a treat."
"I am," he looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of treat."
"Well, you remember Urgo?"
"Oh God – don't tell me he's here too!"
She wasn't quite sure what the "too" signified and hoped it didn't refer to her – but a quick look at Jack assured her he wasn't making a sarcastic comment aimed at her. With that she relaxed. "No, no – he's not here, thank God. But remember the food – how he made everything taste amazing?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Well, that's what the food here is like. It's – the best thing I've ever tasted in my life. I have no idea what most of it is, but it's absolutely delicious."
"Now you're really making me hungry, Carter. Can you go find one of those mime guys and get me some food – oh, and clothes."
"Mime guys?" She laughed. "I'll try, Sir," she said, standing up. "If I can't, I'll bring you a sheet. I think you'd look pretty good in a toga." With those parting words she headed out the door. Unfortunately she missed the look of longing that O'Neill threw at her.
After she'd gone, he rested his head back down and smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.
As Sam went in search of one of the aliens, she thought about the food. And not just the food – but everything here. She thought about the fact that the air smelled sweeter, the surroundings were vibrantly beautiful – even the feel of the materials in the sheets, clothing and towels was beyond amazing. Everything was more beautiful, more luxurious, more pleasing than anything she's encountered. She again wondered if it had to do with mind-control, or whether the tastes, smells, views and touch were just better here than anywhere they'd been before.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that the aliens couldn't speak – and possibly couldn't hear. Was it like a blind person, whose other senses became more acute? She didn't know, but thought it altogether possible. In the end, all she did know, was that this place, wherever and whatever it was, was one of the loveliest she'd ever experienced.
And the healthiest! She marveled at how well General O'Neill was doing – and how well she herself felt. She felt fitter and more energetic than she had in a long, long time. In fact, she glanced out at the water, she would really love to go swimming.
Just then she ran into one of the aliens – the woman she called Moe. She gestured to her and Moe approached, the ever-ready smile on her face.
"Okay – here goes," she muttered to herself. "Hi!" she smiled. "My friend General O'Neill," she mimed him lying down, and pointed to his room, "is hungry." She next mimed eating and then siting up and walking. "Can you get something for him to eat? Also he needs clothing." She touched her robe and pointed to it. She had no idea if the woman understood anything she said, but she did nod and – of course – smile. Moe then turned and walked away.
Sam let out a small sound of frustration. Why couldn't the damn aliens give her some paper and a pen. Then at least she could draw what she wanted. This miming (and here she laughed, thinking of O'Neill) was getting rather tiresome.
She turned and headed back to Ja – the General's room. Whatever happened, at least she'd tried.
"Well?" he asked, the moment she arrived.
"I don't know, Sir. I tried, but they're really hard to read. I sometimes get the feeling they think I'm a two-year old and they're just patting me on the head and telling me "good girl" without understanding a thing I'm trying to communicate."
"Mmm – yeah, I can see that would be frustrating. Just don't lie on the floor and throw a tantrum."
"I don't know – maybe that would be the only thing to get their attention. I wonder if Daniel could have communicated with them? You would probably have been better off with him here, rather than me."
Although she hadn't been fishing for anything – and hadn't even thought what his reaction might be, as soon as the words left her mouth she could feel the color flood her face. What could he say? Yes, I wish you were Daniel. Or did he think she was fishing for some kind of compliment. Either way, she felt horrible.
"Carter – you're one of the best officers I've ever worked with," he said sincerely. "As much as I appreciate Daniel, if I had to be stranded on a strange world somewhere, I think I'd rather be with you – I mean, with an officer with your knowledge and understanding."
"Thank you Sir," she smiled at him, in turn feeling appreciative of his comment and like she wanted to weep. She cherished that he still valued her – but he'd also made it clear, by his words, that he valued her as an officer, not as a friend.
"And you look way better in that robe than Daniel would have," he teased.
That caused her to look at him, startled. As she saw the humor in his face, she slowly grinned. "I don't know Sir – he may have looked cute. And I can hardly wait to see you!" There – that gave him his own back!
Jack chuckled and lay back and closed his eyes. He had no idea that his words, his teasing, were starting to heal the wound that was her heart.
Jack fell into a light doze, while Sam looked out the window, once more enjoying the beauty of their surroundings. She took a deep breath, also enjoying the sweet, fragrant air. She could feel her body start to relax.
Just then the door opened, and in walked three of the aliens. They each greeted her with their usual smiles, and then approached Jack's bed. She watched curiously, wondering what was going on.
"Carter?" the General's voice caught her attention.
"I don't know Sir. I think they might be here in answer to my – uh – message."
"I hope so," he muttered. He too watched them carefully, but as yet no one had done anything suspicious.
Suddenly one of them – she thought it was Curly – reached up her hand. The floating healing device (at least that's what she called it) drifted slowly down until the alien was able to grasp it. At that the three of them stood around it, and watched as Curly did something to it.
Sam couldn't figure out what that was – her vision was restricted – but even if she'd been able to see clearly, there was little to indicate what they were doing. Curly seemed to touch various of the metallic strands, moving some and – possibly – turning some off and starting others.
The whole process took about ten minutes, after which she let it go and it floated back up, over Jack's bed, giving off a slightly amber glow – different than the previous rose color which had emanated from it.
"Whoa!" the man himself said.
"Are you okay, Sir?" she rushed up to his bed and looked at him closely.
"I'm fine. Just – wow – I felt like I just-" he stopped suddenly, getting a strange look on his face. His skin was slightly flushed and his eyes darted away from hers, almost as if he was embarrassed.
"Sir?"
"Uh – just felt kind of an overall – flushing and tingling," he tried to explain. "Kind of like a – you know – uh – it felt fine," he finished lamely.
It was only then that she caught on to what he was trying to say. "You mean it felt like an or – oh!" she stopped as well and felt the same heat run rush to her face.
He realized that she'd caught on and gave her a look that was half disconcerted, half humorous. "I think I like these aliens," he muttered.
That caused her to burst out into a loud laugh, which she immediately tried to stifle. Jack looked rather pleased with himself. In turn, that caused her to giggle, which caused him to look even happier. It was the nicest moment they'd had, since coming to this place – in fact, for years.
While they'd been occupied with their brief moment of shared hilarity, the aliens had continued to stand around looking as if they were conferring with one another. Then Marie, who Sam kind of suspected of being the head scientist or doctor, stepped forward. She had a small control box, or something like it, in her hand. She pointed it at the bed on which Jack was lying.
Instantly the back of the bed started to tilt up. She kept her eye on the patient, to make sure that it wasn't too much for him after lying comatose for so long.
Other than a look of surprise, Jack didn't look as if it bothered him. In fact, he slowly began to grin.
"Yes" he said clenching his fist and giving his arm a small victory pump. "Sitting up, Carter, is not something to be taken lightly!"
"I know Sir. How are you doing?"
"Fine – fine. A little – just a teensy bit – dizzy, but I'm sure that will pass. I cannot tell you how good it is to be sitting up," he said, after the alien was done. All three of them watched him carefully, making sure he was okay.
"I think they really do care, Sir," she said softly. "Look at their expressions."
Both of the humans looked at their alien caregivers – who all looked extremely pleased and relieved. Marie glanced at Sam, and this time gave, not one of her standard smiles, but rather a full-faced, beaming grin. Sam wanted to reach out and give her a "high-five"or a hug but was pretty sure the alien wouldn't have a clue what that meant.
"Thank you," she said to the aliens. All of them faced her and gave her their usual gentle smiles. A moment later the door to the room opened, and in walked Danny.
"I think he's brought you some food, Sir," she said softly. This time he wasn't carrying it, but was wheeling it on a trolley, similar to the bedside tables in hospitals. After getting permission – unspoken – from the older aliens, he wheeled it beside Jack's bed and swung it over his lap. He then pulled off the cover on the plate – almost looking like a waiter at a ritzy French restaurant. Sam almost expected a "voila" to come from him.
Jack was looking at the food with a combination of anticipation and trepidation. There was nothing on the plate that looked at all like Earth food, although it didn't look gross. None of it was alive or looked like something humans wouldn't eat.
"It really is good, Sir, I promise," Sam assured him. Just then Danny set a glass of liquid on the tray and stood back. Now all four aliens watched closely as Jack picked up the implement he assumed was the alien's version of a fork.
"Go for it," Sam grinned.
"I feel weird Carter. They're all watching me."
"I think they just want to make sure you're okay with the food."
Jack looked up at them and gave them all a standard O'Neill glare. He then made a shooing motion with his hands. "I don't need an audience."
"I'll leave then, General," Sam said, stepping away.
"I don't mean you Carter," he said, sounding irritated. "I mean the mimes!"
Sam turned to Marie, and tried to indicate that their patient needed some privacy. After a moment she nodded and a few seconds later all of them, except her, floated to the door.
"How do they do that?" Jack asked, still sounding irritated.
"I don't know," she answered. "I've tried to see if I could see their feet, but haven't had any luck. Maybe they have wheels on their shoes."
He turned and stared at her. "You tried to see their feet?"
"Yes," she grinned.
"You are very bad, Samantha Carter. Trying to undress the natives!"
"Don't tell me you aren't just as curious," she told him.
That caused him to grin, and to finally return his attention to his plate. He didn't like the fact that the one alien – the one Sam called Marie – was still watching him, but figured it was probably so she could make sure he'd be okay. Sam was probably right that she was some kind of a doctor, so he would tolerate her presence – for now.
"Oh my God!" he said, after one bite of – whatever it was. "This is – is -"
"I know – delicious, isn't it?"
"Delicious? This is – it's – God!"
She grinned as she watched him shovel down the food. She could tell he was trying to eat more slowly, but after weeks without eating, he was probably ravenous. She grinned some more when he took a sip of what she thought was some kind of fruit juice. His expression reminded her of paintings of saints she'd seen, by the artist Goya. He had a look of almost heavenly adoration on his face.
"You were right, Sam," Jack told her. "That was – that was even better than Urgo – without him around to drive us crazy."
"I know. It's an amazing place."
Jack set down the alien "fork" and sat back, sighing in pleasure. The table was pushed out of his way by Marie, who also had a look of satisfaction on her face. She glanced up at the healing device, which continued to hum, but was now radiating the new, more vibrant color.
"I wonder what that thing does?" mused Jack, as he rested comfortably.
"I wish I knew. It's doing something different now than before – and the color is different. Maybe you're in a different stage of healing."
"Mmm," he agreed. "I feel pretty good," he said.
"How's your right side?" she asked, for the first time referring to the damage done by the stroke.
O'Neill lifted his right arm and clenched his fist. He'd been able to eat with that hand – which neither of them had even thought about. "Uh – it still feels a bit weak and stiff, but not too bad. I think with some exercise I'll be good as new."
"And your legs?" she asked.
Both of them looked down at his bare legs and watched as he first moved the left one – lifting it off the mattress, turning the ankle both ways, bending the knee. He then moved on to the right one. There was clearly a difference – he was not as flexible or as strong – but he was able to move it.
"Same thing," he answered her. "Weak, but I can move it. I think I'll soon be able to get up and move around soon. In fact, if I had some clothes I'd try it now!"
He looked at the alien woman and tried to mime that he wanted some clothes. He pointed to Sam's robe and then at himself. He used his fingers to indicate walking. She didn't reply, but simply watched him with a small smile.
Jack sighed and laid his head down on the pillow in defeat. Sam was surprised and quirked an eyebrow. "Sir?"
"She's not going to let me get dressed until I'm stronger," he said.
"She told you that?" Sam said in shock.
That caused him to frown and once more lift his head. "Told me? No – of course not. But I know that look. That's the same one Frasier used to get. They're all the same," he muttered, "power mongers!"
Sam wanted to giggle, but she was still a bit bemused. As far as she could tell, Marie hadn't given anything away at all. She hadn't even indicated that she knew what Jack was asking. Maybe he was just better at reading the aliens than she was.
That irritated her a bit, which was totally unfair. However, she did tend to agree with the alien. O'Neill had a tendency – long understood by all who knew him – of trying to push himself too hard, too soon. Unless he decided to prance around with nothing but a small cloth over his - manly bits – he was going to have to stay put.
That caused her to laugh – which drew his eyes to her.
"Whatcha laughing about Carter?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing Sir – just thinking about – ur – something else. I think the aliens are right. You need to get used to sitting before walking. And you just had a big meal. Why don't you rest and maybe they'll let you try walking later."
"I've done nothing but rest," he complained. "I need to get out and exercise."
"Soon General – soon."
In defeat, Jack closed his eyes and put his head down. He was doing so much better, thought Sam, but he still had a ways to go. She smiled at Marie, and then started in surprise when the alien handed her the bed control. She accepted it with a grin. She'd have to keep it away from the General for now.
With a nod, Marie began to glide to the door, only stopping long enough to put her hand on O'Neill's chest. She gave a swift nod and then was gone within seconds.
"Okay – now what am I going to do," Sam murmured. While O'Neill had still been so sick, she hadn't minded the lack of anything to do, but she knew she was going to quickly get bored, especially if she stuck to her decision not to spend so much time in his room. Although the day had gone well, and he'd been practically his old (pre-relationship) self with her, she didn't know how long that would last as he grew in strength.
With a sigh, she moved to the door. Maybe she'd go for a walk to clear her mind.
Just as she stepped through the door, she heard him.
"Thanks Carter." His voice carried her out, more of a spring to her step than she'd had in a long time.