Author's Note: Things are starting to get a little more uncomfortable now and I know some of you have noticed. This chapter is worse. It was worse to write. It was worse to edit. I imagine it'll be worse to read. But stick with me, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Many thanks to all who take time out of your busy days to read. I know you have lots of things you can do with your time and I'm honored you'll share some of that time with me.

"I can't seem to shower often enough to not feel…"

"Feel what, Sam?"

"Used up. Maybe. Dirty? That sounds so cliché."

"There is a reason things become cliché."

"Does that mean you think I am?"

"Dirty?"

Sam just nods.

"No. I don't think that."

"Do you think other people think that?"

"Which other people?"

"Any of the other people. People on base."

"I think anyone who matters doesn't think you're dirty."

"I should have fought harder."

"You didn't fight the Jaffa?"

"I did. At first. When I could."

"So there came a point in time when you couldn't fight anymore? Physically?"

"I was strung up. From shackles. You know, around my wrists? They hung me there. After a while my arms and shoulders hurt pretty badly."

"And it would get hard to breathe," Natalie supplies.

"Yeah. After a while."

"How long?"

"It would take a while. My toes could touch the floor."

Natalie tries to suppress a gasp. It's one thing to know a person sitting in front of you was tortured. It's quite another to have a very clear picture painted.

"Sam, you fought while you could, right?"

Sam seems to consider the question for an inordinate amount of time and finally settles on, "Yes."

"And what would have happened if you'd fought harder? Longer?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, I think you do."

"Natalie—"

"No, Sam. I want you to say it out loud. What would have happened if you'd fought that Jaffa longer than you did?"

"I think he'd have killed me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack finds himself sitting on the dewy ground in Carter's back yard during another ill-advised Carter-sitting session. Unfortunately, on this night she seems compelled to talk and so far she's said a lot of things that make him damned uncomfortable.

"It's my fault, a lot of it," she finally says in a way that makes his heart break just a little.

"No, Carter. None of it was your fault."

"I mean what happened to me while I was in the cell."

"Me too."

"Sir, please."

"Please nothing, Carter. It. Wasn't. Your. Fault. Period. Not a single bit of it."

"What do you think would have happened to me if I'd have fought harder? Do you still think he'd have—"

"Raped you?" Jack grinds out. All these weeks he's resisted saying that word but she's come to bandying it about in a way that makes him so uncomfortable his only choice is to throw it back at her. "You think he'd have not raped you if you'd have fought him harder? Jesus Christ, Carter."

"I don't know. Maybe it would have happened fewer times."

"And maybe you'd be dead."

"Better dead than this."

He sucks in a breath. "Please don't say things like that," he says on a shaky exhale.

"Even if it's true? I've never known you to shy away from truth, sir."

"There's nothing true about you being better off dead."

She starts to open her mouth to speak but he's so angry he can't listen to whatever she's about to say so he gets up and storms into her house making sure to slam the door behind him.

A couple hours later he's pretending to be asleep on the couch when she comes in. She stops in the living room and he can feel her penetrating gaze.

"I'm better off dead than being a woman nobody can ever touch."

And finally he gets it. He waits until she's about to cross the threshold between the living room and the hallway. "You're not dirty, Sam. And there's nothing anybody could ever do to you to make you undesirable."

Her breath catches audibly and he suddenly wonders if he's gone too far. But damn it, some things just need to be said. He can practically feel her weighing the ramifications of her responses and doesn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved when her only answer is, "Thank you, sir."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Daniel."

Daniel looks up from the photographs of ancient text SG-4 brought back from their last mission and is shocked to see Sam fidgeting in his doorway. "Sam."

"Can I…" she gestures helplessly into his office.

He sits back in his chair and wonders if Jack is going to kick his ass if he admits her without a chaperone. "Does anyone know you're here?"

She tilts her head with curiosity. "No?"

"I'm not supposed to be alone with you."

She blushes.

He pushes his glasses further up on his nose.

And they're at an impasse.

"Can I come in anyway?" she finally asks.

"Yeah," he says nervously. "Sure. You wanna sit? Just shove that stuff onto the floor."

She moves to do just that.

"Carefully!" he squeaks. "I'll do it. I'll do it." And suddenly he's rushing around his desk and rescuing stacks of books and papers from a desperate crash onto the concrete floor.

"I wasn't actually going to shove them," she says.

He looks up in shock. There's a smile playing about her mouth. Some sparkle is in her eyes. And he can't stop himself from gathering her into a crushing hug. She stiffens slightly in his arms, but she doesn't balk. "God," he exhales reverently, "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you, too," she says into his shoulder. "I'm really sorry."

He chuckles. "I think that phrase is taboo, Sam."

She leans back in his embrace and punches him in the shoulder lightly. "I'm trying to apologize here."

"You don't have anything to apologize for. If anything I should apo—"

"Stop," she says with a laugh. "Let's just call those words off limits for the time being, okay?"

"Yeah," he says before pulling her tight against his chest again.

They must stand that way for several minutes, but he's loathe to let her go. Besides, he gets the impression she's got something on her mind. He'll wait her out. He's good at that. And then, when she does speak, she gouges out his heart.

"How can you touch me? Knowing what was done to me?"

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. "Is that what this is about?" He tightens his arms around her.

"Aren't you worried you'll get…"

"Get what?"

"I'm…"

"You're…"

She pulls back from him and places a warm palm on his cheek and meets his eye with a strength he didn't know she had repossessed. "Aren't you worried I'm contagious?"

"Sam, last time I heard, torture wasn't catching."

"Do you think I'm ruined now?"

"Oh, Sam. You're so far above being ruined."

He tries not to cry, but he's not sure how anybody could not cry when faced with that look in her eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Why me?" she finally gets up the nerve to ask Teal'c.

"I do not understand the question, Major Carter."

"There were thousands of Vontani women on that planet. Women who had been groomed all their lives to serve Votan. Women who would have found honor in that duty. So, why me?"

"You are a rare and precious find, Major Carter. Even Votan would be drawn to that."

"I'm not so rare and precious anymore," she says with what she hopes is a careless shrug. She's pretty sure she's not fooling any of the guys at this point. And despite all the positive feedback she can't quite bring herself to believe them.

"You believe you are…what is the phrase the Tau'ri use in this situation? Damaged merchandise?"

She can't help a tiny grin. "Damaged goods, Teal'c."

He reaches out a gentle hand to lift her eyes to his. "Do you believe you are damaged goods, Major Carter?"

She shrugs and tries to turn her face away but he presses his large warm palm from temple to jaw and holds her gaze. His dark eyes penetrate into her soul and she can't help the rush of tears or the sob that bursts forth from her chest. "Yes."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Perhaps something should be done about Major Carter," Teal'c decrees over crappy frozen yogurt in the commissary.

Jack rolls his eyes. "About what, precisely, Teal'c?"

"She seems to think we find her substandard."

"I don't think she's feeling substandard," Daniel says wryly.

"She doesn't feel pretty," Jack says around a mouthful.

"Uh, that's simplifying the issue, don't you think, Jack."

Jack just shrugs.

"I'm not sure Sam's the sort of woman who's ever felt pretty."

Jack scoffs. "Carter? No way."

"She's not exactly a girly girl," Daniel points out.

"Sure she is. She's got all those flow-y…things," he gesticulates.

"Skirts?"

"Yeah. With, you know," he rolls a hand through the air, "flowers and stuff on 'em."

"Um, okay. Jack, you're fired."

"From what?"

"Making Sam feel pretty duty."

"I didn't know that department was hiring," he mutters.

"The problem is not that Major Carter doubts her looks. I believe she knows she is beautiful, Daniel Jackson."

Jack's eyes fly to Teal'c's face. Huh. He didn't know the big guy noticed things like that.

Daniel starts to object but Jack interjects, "Eh, he's right."

"You're the one who said she doesn't feel pretty," Daniel points out less than helpfully.

"I may have oversimplified matters a little."

"You think?"

"Major Carter feels unclean due to the way she was used by the Jaffa. Do Tau'ri women find intercourse unpalatable?"

"They do when it's forced on 'em, Teal'c. Jeez." Jack shoves his frozen yogurt away in disgust. "What, women like to be raped on Chulak?"

"I was merely making a point, O'Neill."

"Oh." Jack takes a few breaths and tries to simmer down.

"I don't think Sam had an abundant sex life before…"

"Do we really need to speculate on Carter's sex life, guys?"

"Sorry, Jack."

"Hey, you don't think she was a…"

"A what?" Jack asks when it becomes apparent Daniel isn't going to continue.

"You know…inexperienced."

"Oh for crying out loud!" Jack exclaims. "She's in her thirties. She was engaged. Don't try to romanticize this, Daniel. She had a full and active sex life before all this happened and she'll have one again. One day."

"Since when are you so comfortable talking about sex?"

"Since when wasn't I?"

"I don't know. I guess I just always assumed…"

"Daniel, I'm well past forty. I was married. I've had sex. This isn't exactly a taboo subject.

"Well, maybe you should talk to Sam then."

Oh, for crying out loud. Yep. He walked right into that one.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Look, I was nominated for this. But if you don't feel comfortable talking to me about it, I understand." It took him two weeks to work up the courage to say those words but he's glad he finally did. Except, Sam's looking at him like he's got two heads.

"Nominated for what?"

Oh. Damn. Apparently he skipped the important part. How, precisely, to ease into this? "Okay, it's come to our attention that you're feeling a little less than…"

"Less than…"

He rolls his eyes then soldiers on. "Desirable. Less than desirable these days."

She flushes a brilliant pink and he feels a little bad for embarrassing her. "Would you rather talk to Natalie about this?" Maybe she'd rather talk to a woman. He doesn't know. But he figures sometimes years of friendship trump even a female perspective.

"I'd rather not talk about this at all," she counters.

"Okay. Yeah. I get that."

She looks relieved.

"But I think we should talk about it anyway."

She sighs. "Really, sir?"

"Really."

"Don't you think this is a little…inappropriate?"

"Sam, you're the one that brought it up," he says on an aggrieved sigh.

"I did not."

"Maybe not directly. But you've mentioned feeling untouchable. How, precisely, were we meant to take that?"

"I don't know!" she huffs. "In a non-sexual way."

"But what happened to you was sexual."

"And sometimes it was just garden variety torture, sir," she spits.

"But I'm guessing it's not the beatings that have you feeling like you're…what's the word you used with Daniel? Contagious?"

She groans. "That's not exactly what I meant. I'm not…I don't have…"

"I know, Carter. I see your med evals."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Because just because your physicals are coming back clean doesn't mean your…mentals…are."

She chuckles. "I'm not sure that's actually a thing."

"Oh, I can assure you it is."

"Sir…"

"You're desirable, Sam. What they did to you…it didn't change that. It couldn't. You're more than just that one part of you that was physically violated."

"I was mentally violated, too," she finally says even after he's sure she doesn't have anything to say.

"I don't doubt that." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I know that," he amends. "I've been there. You think I didn't question what I could offer my wife after spending weeks with all manner of hell shoved up my ass? When something like that can cause a physical reaction any man would try to deny?"

She looks at him, shocked, he's sure, that he'd share something so personal. "You know how hard it was to make love to my wife after some Iraqi bastard was able to make me come by doing things to me I'd never want in a million years?"

She almost reaches for him but detours to pick imaginary lint of a throw pillow. "I can't imagine what that must have been like."

"Yeah, you can. Because it happened to you."

"Not like that. I didn't…I never…"

"Say it out loud, Sam."

"I never got any pleasure out of what they did to me."

"I'm not saying you did. I didn't get any pleasure out of what they did to me either. But they physiological reactions don't always stop."

"Sometimes they thought I was enjoying it," she says meekly.

He nods. "Yeah."

"But I didn't. I swear, I didn't." She looks at him like she's so lost and he thinks she probably is.

"I know."

"How could you know?"

"Because I believe what you're telling me. And you're not dirty, Sam. Not at all. Even if had happened a hundred more times than it did."

"Sometimes when he'd beat me…"

His heart clenches as fat tears roll down her cheeks. "Sometimes it would hurt so bad you'd wish he'd just fuck you instead."

Her eyes slip closed and she bites her lip. "I begged him."