Carter came back to awareness slowly, her body still aching from the earlier assault. At least, she thought, she was no longer on that cold, hard floor.

But further thought didn't yield anything else – at least, nothing good. The soft surface she was laying on seemed to be a bed – that was bad. Worse, her hands were tightly locked above her head, so low to the mattress that she could hardly move her upper body. And she was cold – she was clearly no longer wearing her BDUs, but something much skimpier and… silky?

No, this was not good at all. Compounded with the fact that she was both gagged and blindfolded, she struggled with the only conclusion she could seem to find – that life was about to get a lot worse.

At least she seemed to be alone, she thought, and immediately started trying to free herself, rubbing her arm against the side of her face in an attempt to pull off the blindfold. She couldn't manage to touch the locking mechanism to try to break it, and the bars of the headboard seemed pretty solid, but she'd be damned if she wouldn't at least try.

~/~

~/~

~/~

Hours later, her wrists bruised and mangled but nothing accomplished, a soft click brought Carter to a complete halt.

"Right through here," Sileem said in his most gracious voice. "I believe I have exactly what you're looking for."

Every muscle in Sam's body tensed. She took a deep breath and channeled every second of military training she'd ever had, preparing herself for the next few minutes.

She was hyper-aware, her other senses kicking into high gear with her loss of sight. Footsteps sounded again, then another click, then a set of footsteps headed away. But there was a presence here still here; she could feel it.

What was he doing, just standing there? And why did her heart have to beat so loudly?

Something hit the floor. A foot fell, then another. She was lying on the left side of a large bed, she knew, and the man was swiftly approaching to her left. He said something, but she blocked it out, listening instead to the sounds and echoes in the room. He was getting closer… closer…

Sam lashed out violently, swinging her right leg across herself and into the room. The solid contact and ensuing grunt of pain did nothing to ease her panic – this man was big, and sturdy. She kept kicking, trying to drive him back and away, but a hand soon grabbed and twisted one ankle, rendering that leg useless. However skilled she was, he was better – and he'd already had the upper hand. She screamed into her gag a moment later as his weight covered her lower body, completely preventing further attacks.

No, no, no, no…..

Panicked tears streamed into her blindfold as she struggled in vain, trying desperately to wrench her arms free, to rid herself of her attacker. Blood dripped down her hands as she yanked again and again at the metal restraints.

The weight moved up her torso and settled fully on top of her, a hand coming up to grab her arms and stop her struggles.

With the other hand, her attacker tore off the blindfold.

Jack.

For the first time, his voice came into focus. "Carter!" he yelled, mere inches from her face. "Stop!"

Flooded with relief, Sam sank obediently into the bed.

"For cryin' out loud, Carter, didn't you hear me talking to you?" he asked, annoyed, as he slid off the side of the bed and pulled the access card he'd been given from his pocket to release her hands. "That first kick really-"

He stopped short as Sam's hands came free and, in one fluid motion, she sat up, yanked out the gag, and wrapped her arms as tightly as possible around his waist. He watched her for a moment, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, and realized for the first time how terrified she must have been. It made him wonder – again – what had happened to her in the time it had taken him to find her.

"It's okay, Carter," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. "Everything's gonna be okay now."

"I thought…" she gasped, then suddenly pulled back and punched him hard in the chest. "You scared the crap out of me, sir!"

He couldn't help but chuckle at the outburst. Classic, classic Carter.

~/~

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~/~

Nearly half an hour passed before Carter calmed enough to start asking questions. The amount of blood from her hands had surprised her a bit, and the colonel had gently cleaned the wounds and wrapped them in towel strips from the attached bathroom.

Unfortunately, Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of said bathroom… and wasn't particularly happy about the scrappy red lingerie she was wearing. The top wasn't indecent, Jack supposed, though it sure knew how to lift and separate, but the skirt was… well, it was kind of the skirt that wasn't. It was no more than a few inches long, and even with Carter standing, it didn't really hide the lacy underwear. With her laying down… well, that was why he'd stood in the doorway for so long.

Jack sure didn't mind, but Carter had promptly run to the bed and covered her lower half with the sheet. Damn.

"Sir… why aren't we leaving?" she finally asked. "I mean, beam me up, Scotty. Any time."

"Uh… well…. That's kind of a problem, Carter."

"What?"

Oh, she was angry. Jack grabbed the briefcase he had brought in and quickly shoved a tablet PC at her. "They tell me there's some sort of… field… thing… blocking this place, and they can't get the Asgard beam to work. They thought you could maybe help figure it out."

Two hours later, Sam shut the tablet and handed it back to them. "Take them that. Maybe it'll help."

"Okay." He shoved the tablet back in the briefcase and set it by the door, but didn't leave.

"Um… sir? Bye," she prompted.

He shook his head.

"What do you mean, no? The sooner they get that data, the sooner I can get the hell out of here! Sir," she added belatedly.

"Right. But Carter… I didn't exactly tell the guy that I knew you and was plotting your escape."

"So?"

"So… you do know what kind of place this is, right?"

Her teeth clenched. "So?" she growled.

"So…" He checked his watch. "I paid a helluva lot more money than three hours would merit. He expects me to stay all night. And if I don't… well, that might not reflect the best on you. And I don't really want to think about what that might mean in his head."

Defeated, her head fell to her chest. When she looked up, he could see the tears threatening. "I want to go home," she said softly.

"Carter, I want that, too," he answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "But there is an upside. As long as I'm here, you're safe."

After a long moment, she nodded.

"Good," he said. "Then you should get some sleep. I can't imagine it's been particularly restful around here."

He had a point, she thought. Sam slid down into the covers, grateful at least that the bed was fairly comfortable. Jack flipped off the light and settled slowly, painfully, onto the floor at her bedside.

"Sir?" she asked, rolling over to look at him.

"Yeah, Carter."

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping, Carter."

"On the floor?"

"Yeah, Carter."

"Why?" It wasn't like they'd never shared close quarters before.

"Because I'm trying to be a gentleman, Carter," he grumbled, getting annoyed.

"Um, sir?"

"Yeah, Carter." Yep, he was officially annoyed.

"Well, first off… it seems dumb to sleep on a wood floor when there's a bed and a pillow."

He was silent a long time, his face hard to read in the dim light. "I didn't want to crowd you," he said softly after a moment. "You've probably been… crowded… enough."

She smiled at that. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, there was a sweet, sweet man in there. "Okay, but second… if Sileem should walk in and see you on the floor, I would think that would make him fairly suspicious. And that also might not work out well for me."

Jack sat straight up, his face level with hers. "If that bastard should walk in, period, I'll kill him. But if you insist." With that, he pulled himself to his feet and vaulted over her, landing with a bounce on the other side of the bed. Yanking off his boots and his shirt, he snuggled eagerly under the covers. "Night, Carter."

"Night, sir."

~/~

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~/~

Jack wanted to get out of bed. This mattress wasn't nearly as comfortable as his – although, he imagined, comfort wasn't really its purpose – but his back was complaining and one leg was asleep. He really, really wanted to get out of bed.

But there was a small problem. Carter was sprawled on top of him, fast asleep, her head on his shoulder and one arm thrown across his chest. Nothing in the world could make him move. Try as she had to hide it, he knew she hadn't been sleeping well since long before they left Earth.

He lay there, watching her in the pale light from the window for what seemed like hours before she finally stirred. She mumbled a little in her sleep and shifted, running her hand down his chest to his stomach. He bit back a groan, but couldn't stop how the muscles tensed under her hand.

And then, as if someone had flipped a switch, she remembered where she was and started awake, whipping her face up to his. "Hey, easy," he said, putting a gentle hand on her arm.

She blinked. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you were dead to the world. You needed it, Carter."

Dragging a hand across her face, she rolled away from him and sat up. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Don't worry about it. But now that you're up, I'm gonna head back to Prometheus. If that's okay."

The idea of him leaving roused a panic deep inside her, but she shoved it down. He had to. "Uh, yeah," she said, feigning more enthusiasm than she felt.

"Carter," he said softly, drawing her eyes to his. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He rolled out of bed and redressed himself, then limped toward the door.

"Sir?"

"Leg's asleep, Carter; it's nothing."

"That's not what I meant, sir."

"Yeah? What's up?" He turned around and tried not to start in surprise that she had gotten out of bed and was standing next to him, lingerie and all.

"It's just that… he'll never believe I just gave in."

"I know," he answered, not sure what she was getting at.

"He'll be pretty suspicious if I'm no different than yesterday."

Understanding started to dawn, and he didn't like it. "Your hands," he insisted.

She shook her head. "I did that to myself."

"Yeah, well, that'll have to do."

"Sir… you know damn well that I shouldn't have escaped last night mark-free."

"What the hell do you want me to do, Carter?" he asked, exasperated.

"Hit me."

The request was simple, but it sent Jack reeling. "No!"

"Sir, you have to."

"No. I won't. I… I can't."

She touched his cheek. "Please, sir. It has to look real, or you may never make it back."

"Ah, dammit…"

Bracing herself against the wall, she grabbed his hand. "Make it count – I don't want to do this twice."

"I don't want to do it at all!" he growled, but steeled himself. He closed his eyes for a long, long moment, dreading what he was about to do, then whipped a hand across her face.

Sam grunted at the impact and gingerly touched her face. Her upper lip was split, her nose bleeding. "Good."

Now Jack was the one supporting himself with the wall, not looking at her. "Don't ever ask me to do that again," he whispered. He hated himself. "I'll be back."

When she looked up, he was gone. Sam retreated into the quickly into the bathroom and tore the bandages off her wrists before climbing into the tub. Swiftly, she broke the waistband of the underwear and put several tears in the rest of her clothes, then turned their sorry excuse for a shower on cold and sat in it.

By the time the woman came for her, she looked like hell.