She was 'resting quietly' according to the doc. Watching her, O'Neill thought the description was off on both counts. He knew from firsthand experience withdrawal from sarcophagus addiction was not a stroll in the park. But, even if he hadn't, he would have known from her tossing and turning and groans and cries. He clenched his teeth against the bitter anger welling up in him for her sake. Seeing her body shake from the need for the sarcophagus while her mind was trapped in endless nightmares of torture and death, he knew he should have killed Baal before escaping from his fortress all those months ago. He should have pinned him to the wall and plunged a dagger through his heart or poured acid down his throat or done any one of the myriad fun ways to murder Baal had taught him. Instead, he'd fled like a whipped dog and just been happy to find himself alive and free from the monster. And now, Carter was paying the price over and over again for his failure to put an end to the Goa'uld while he had the chance.
This was his doing. He couldn't stand to sit by and watch it, but neither could he leave her to face it alone. So he sat quietly by her side and willed it to pass quickly though of all people he knew that was impossible. Finally, though, her thrashing stilled, and he knew the worst was over. What she'd endured alone on the planet God only knew, but mercifully, she'd been out for the duration since they'd found her. Shock, loss of blood, severe dehydration, near-starvation, and surgical anesthetic and pain meds had seen to that. He allowed the good doctor to convince him to get some rest and cried with relief it was finally over when the door to his on-base quarters shut behind him.
She'd cried out in horror and dread when she woke up in the sarcophagus the first time, cursed loudly and angrily the second time, wildly and violently fought against its confines the third time, and wept in desperation and despair the fourth. After that, she'd lost track. The ceaseless waves of pain, death, and awakening ran together in a numbing circle without hope of relief.
The pain and the dying were difficult enough; waking to find out it was all just going to start over again was unbearable. And then waiting alone in their cell for him to be returned, pale and tormented...she'd come close to begging him to end it for her, but she couldn't add to his burden in that way. Besides, Baal was probably monitoring them and would have time to revive her. It would be just one more death they'd both be forced to live with again and again. So she had bitten her lips against the pleading words she wanted to say and instead had clung to him, drawing what strength she could from a man no more able to continue to endure than she was herself.
Until, it had come to her even through the sarcophagus-induced daze how to keep the sarcophagus from fully operating, and, finally, she had a way to stop this madness they were trapped in. And she had. She knew she had. She'd escaped the confines of the sarcophagus, found the colonel, and they'd gotten away. She remembered that...it had happened. So why was she so afraid to open her eyes and see where it was she'd awakened? It couldn't be the sarcophagus again, it couldn't. Please.
Slowly, full of fear and trepidation, she worked her eyes open. And found herself in the infirmary. It was such an unexpected thing that Sam lay blinking up at the ceiling for several moments listening to the beeps and hums of the monitors over her head and the IVAC machine at her side before she believed it. Not the sarcophagus. Home. Where the colonel had promised he'd get her. She cautiously moved her head to the side, afraid to find he wasn't there. Afraid that somehow she'd made it and he hadn't.
The space where he usually parked his chair beside the bed when one of them was injured was empty. She blinked at it as though if she could only get her eyes to focus clearly, he'd materialize with a cocky grin and the yoyo he played with whiling away the time waiting for a downed teammate to awaken. But, it didn't help. He wasn't there.
Janet filled the empty space, leaning over her with concern evident in her eyes.
"Sam," she said tentatively, "how are you?"
Sam swallowed before answering, "Ok...I think."
Janet smiled with relief and ordered a nearby nurse to notify General Hammond the major was awake. Then turning back to Sam, she said, "Good. You gave us quite a scare. I think you're past the worst of the withdrawal symptoms from the sarcophagus now, but don't be thinking you're climbing out of that bed anytime soon. It's going to take a while to get back your strength. You lost an incredible amount of blood and had emergency surgery to boot."
Sam nodded her understanding. She desperately wanted to ask after the colonel, but the words stuck in her throat. She'd kept her promise. She had held on. He'd gone to find help, and he must have found it or she wouldn't be here. But, then, where was he? She turned her head slowly to the other side, struggling against the nausea and weakness washing through her. Daniel and Teal'c grinned at her happily with the relief obvious in their faces. She held up her hand and Daniel gripped it reassuringly. Teal'c placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and she mutely blinked back tears.
"Hey," Janet told her softly, "you're ok. You're going to be fine...it's just going to take some time. I know what happened out there was hard...no one expects you to just jump back into things. You'll get there, I promise."
Sam nodded weakly, and Janet rewarded her with a smile. "I promised the colonel if he got some rest, I'd call him if you woke up...shall I?"
Relief coursing through her, she nodded again. He was alive then. Alive and home and back on his feet. She couldn't ask for more though there was more she would always want.
"Maybe then he can quit haunting my infirmary!" Janet said, turning away to make the call.
"He's been a bit difficult," Daniel unnecessarily explained with a shrug.
"Surely not," she rasped out.
He hadn't expected the awkwardness of the situation. If he ever decided they wouldn't make it home, they'd have a lot to talk about he'd told her, but in the end there hadn't been any words at all to say. They'd clung together for dear life and wished for death and now it was over. He'd thought he'd saunter in, give her a casual grin, and it would be "Sir" and "Carter", and they'd muddle through the remaining nightmares of what they'd been through and, in due time, they'd walk through the Gate together like nothing had ever happened.
He'd warned Hammond years ago, he was afraid the day would come when he'd be unable to trust his judgment as far as she was concerned. He'd promised the general if that day came he'd step down from commanding the team and not take the chance of losing one of his people over his inability to remain objective and professional. He'd thought he'd been there a time or two before, but always she'd held the line, and he'd found the strength to pull back to a safe distance or, at least, convince himself he had.
And, until he'd walked into the infirmary and seen her, he'd thought they'd make it through this time, as well...but now he was afraid he had only been fooling himself. He didn't think he was strong enough to pull back to a safe and sure distance, and she didn't look capable of holding the line, or anything else, this time.
An expectant hush surrounded them, waiting to be broken. But, there was nothing he could say...not now. Time would tell what would come from all of this. Later, when they both felt stronger and could see clearly past this nightmare to weigh the consequences and ramifications of all the things he couldn't talk about because he was at a loss for words.
There hadn't been any when they were trapped in Baal's cell though he'd promised her there would be, and there weren't any now here in front of Daniel, Teal'c, the General, Janet, and half the nursing staff. There wouldn't have been any even if they were talking privately over a beer in his own living room, because he could never express the fear, guilt, and terror he'd felt while she had been at the mercy of Baal or left forgotten and alone to die on an unknown planet. Nor tell her of his relief and joy at finding her alive on that planet and now to see her out of imminent danger. And, if there weren't enough words in all the world for those emotions, how could there ever be enough to tell her what lay even deeper behind them?
"Hey, Carter," he finally said into the silence, "you're looking pretty good for a human dart board."
"Thank you, Sir," she answered, "You, too."
Their words, Daniel thought, were on the inane side, but he knew that hardly mattered. As usual, when it came to Jack and Sam, it wasn't the words that counted, but the conversation going on beneath the banter. Their words didn't say much, but that other conversation spoke volumes...in a language too full of twists and turns and nuances for him to ever follow. There was a communication, or a connection, between his two teammates that was obvious to see and yet impossible to pin down-even for a trained linguist. And maybe even they didn't totally understand what it was they were saying...goodness knew he frequently found he had no idea exactly what his own conversations, verbal and otherwise, with Jack meant.
It didn't matter though, he thought. Whatever the messages passing between the two of them, one thing was clear: they were going to be all right. Those around them chuckled softly while the awkwardness of the moment faded into the happy chatter of those who had waited and searched and prayed for their missing comrades and now rejoiced at their return.