God, she hurt – everything inside the curve of her left hip throbbed. Sam needed more meds, but she wasn't about to open her eyes and ask for them. Her ovary, of all things, had tried to kill her in the field, and wasn't that humiliating enough without having to admit she was a total wimp in the face of a little pain, too? After she'd fought so damn hard?

She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but all that did was send spikes of agony all the way up to her ribs. She heard herself grunt.

Someone moved to her right, and she tried to flatten her expression so the nurse wouldn't see how much pain she was in. She obviously failed, because the voice said, "Hang in there. I'm calling the doc."

Colonel O'Neill.

So much for not humiliating herself any further. "I'm fine," she managed, not daring to open her eyes and look at him.

"Uh-huh. If I've learned anything this week, it's that that's a lie."

Was it possible to sink into the cot and disappear?

Heels clicked their way toward her and stopped entirely too close. "Colonel?" the doctor asked.

"She's hurting," he said simply.

"Captain?"

Crud. She looked up to find the doctor staring down at her.

"How bad?"

"Pretty bad," she admitted, her voice annoyingly rough and shaky.

"Okay. Just breathe for me. I can take the edge off pretty quick." Digging through a few drawers, she emerged with a vial and syringe and injected something into her patient's IV. "Give that just a few minutes."

"'Kay." Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to imagine the drug making its way into her system. And failed.

Beside her, Colonel O'Neill slipped his fingers into hers and squeezed.

She bit her cheek hard. Not from the pain. But because, of all the horrific things she'd done this week in front of the man who probably wouldn't be her CO much longer, she absolutely drew the line at crying.