Chapter 9

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Jack came awake slowly, little things filtering into his consciousness and making themselves known as his awareness returned. He heard snatches of a softly-spoken conversation nearby but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Then another voice...Sam's voice, he realized...that voice was closer. Sam. Sam's here. Sam's okay. Jack felt himself drift off again, but was pulled back as something warm settled against his leg and hip, then a heavier weight rested on his thigh. As he, inch by inch, began to climb out of the soft cotton of sleep he realized that his hand was full. That his fingers were...oh. Sam's hand. Sam's fingers. Those fingers slowly loosened their grip and fell away and Jack found that he missed that connection. It was time to do something about that, he decided.

With a deep breath he pushed through the last of the fog clouding his brain and carefully opened his eyes. Fabric all around him, but it was white, not green. Not a tent, he decided. Curtains. White curtains. Infirmary. Okay, we're home. But.... He looked around slowly, trying to find...ah.

There she lay, her arm extended along the bed, her head half on her own shoulder and half resting against his thigh. Her blonde hair was tousled, as if she'd just awakened. Or, in this case, just gone to sleep. Almost of it's own accord his hand rose and pushed aside those unruly wisps of hair. She was close enough that he, without conscious thought, ran his fingers through the silken blonde hair and then down her face, his thumb lingering first on her cheek and then lower, on her lips. Just as he was realizing that this was not the best place in which to indulge himself her eyelids fluttered and then opened. Jack's breath caught at the naked emotions in her gaze as she realized he was awake.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi, yourself," he answered, his voice as soft as hers. All thoughts of being back under the microscope of the SGC fled as he lay there, captured by her gaze. For once neither of them were looking away. Raising barriers. He simply stared at her, willing her to see how he felt, hoping she'd understand what he was trying to say but couldn't say aloud. Not here. Not now. He thought his heart would stop when she slowly closed her eyes and turned her face into his hand, placing a gentle kiss there. He tightened his grip slightly, warningly, running his thumb up and over her cheek again, his fingers sliding back through her hair. "Sam?" He couldn't help it. His gaze flicked from hers to up and around the room.

Sam shook her head slightly and leaned close. "It's okay. We're in one of the Iso rooms. And...I just...needed to."

"But...the observation—"

"Sir..." Sam slid to the edge of her char, bringing her face closer to his. "Jack. It's okay. The doc's got the curtains pulled. The deck and the cameras...both blocked."

She stayed where she was, her eyes on his, while he took in what she was saying. She was giving him time, he knew. Time to wake up. Time to get his bearings again. Jack took another deep breath as he tried to push himself fully awake. He watched as Carter shifted beside him, giving him a gentle smile and taking his hand in hers again. Something she'd said earlier finally registered in his still slightly muddled mind. "You...you called me Jack." He gave her a weak smile. "You never call me Jack, even when I ask you to." He looked around the room again. "Am I dying?" His question though light, carried an undertone of uncertainty.

"No. You're getting better. We both are." She offered him a tired smile, evidence of their recent illness still clearly on her face.

"Then why now? Why not...when I asked?"

Sam, her fingers absently playing with his, shrugged. "I think we both know why...Sir."

Her voice echoed the sadness that tugged at his heart. She was better at maintaining that necessary distance between them. Well, he thought as she continued rolling his fingers between her own. Usually. He decided that he wasn't going to call attention to their hand-holding, he was enjoying it too much. He instead sighed and nodded, turning his face again toward the ceiling. "We do."

Sam seemed to suddenly realize what she was doing and would have pulled away if not for Jack refusing to release her grip. Giving up, she slid her hand back, nestling palm-to-palm and threading her fingers through his. "So...Sir. We've been pretty sick, I guess."

"Ya think?" Jack scrubbed at his face with his other hand. Then, careful not to dislodge Carter's grip from his, he reached over and raised the bed until he was sitting mostly upright. "How long."

"Two weeks."

"Two wee– you're kidding."

"No, Sir. I'm not."

"How'd...what'd we have? How long have we been back? How'd we get back? And...well, for cryin' out loud, Carter, how the hell did we get...whatever it was we got?"

Grimacing, Sam shook her head and answered his questions in order. "Bacterial meningitis. I don't know, I'd guess pretty much the entire time, and...your guess is as good as mine. McGill says that we're on antibiotics and doing better. As for how we got it...she said someone from Cassie's school had it."

"Cassie? She all right?" He blinked again. "Who's McGill?" Jack looked around again. "What about Daniel. Teal'c?"

Again Sam tackled his questions in order. "McGill is the relief doctor. Janet must be home with Cassie, so I'm guessing she's okay. I haven't seen Daniel or Teal'c yet, but I don't know much more, I just woke up too, you know."

"But..." Jack struggled to remember. "If it was someone from Cass's school, how did we end up sick? And, I'm not a genius or anything, but isn't meningitis something you get when you're a kid?"

Again Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Sir. We'll have to wait for Janet, or the other doctor." She stopped for a moment, her gaze suddenly far away. "I wonder..."

"What, Carter?" Sam let out a low groan and Jack tried to ignore what that sound did to his insides. Instead he concentrated on her words.

"Cass's birthday. I helped Janet, remember? I...one of the kids, I guess she's the little sister of Cassie's friend Kate? Anyway, when she was leaving I remember she gave me a smacking huge kiss."

"On the lips? Kid spit? Ew, Carter."

Sam grinned at him, her eyes lighting with humor. "Well, sure. Why not?"

"Lucky kid," Jack muttered, then frowned. His forehead furrowed as he though back to the events following that birthday. P-something or other. Guy tryin' to bring back his dead wife. That damned time loop. That...amazingly great...time loop.

Uh oh.

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