THIS IS IT. This chapter contains a vivid flashback to a sexual assault. If any of the warnings listed below put you off, please protect yourselves and skip to the next chapter, which will be posted immediately. A short recap will be included at the top of Chapter 16 to catch you up. I want you to enjoy the story but not sacrifice your mental health to do it.

WARNINGS: Panic Attack; Dissociation; Rape and Sexual Assault

The next day Jack trotted down the corridor towards Banshee. Another pilot might have groaned at the prospect of yet another training run so soon after a successful kaiju fight. Not Jack. He couldn't wait to get back in the connpod, to find the drift again. Carter acted like it was old hat, but Jack couldn't get enough of it. More than that, more time in the drive seat was more time to get more familiar with Banshee and with Carter. The boots of his drive boots clanked noisily under him against the metal deck, nearly obscuring the low voices coming from ahead.

"Dammit, Sam," a dark voice growled, barely hushed. "You're my copilot."

"I'm not your anything, Jonas." Carter's voice pitched lower than Jack had ever heard it. In it, he detected a dangerous edge of anger and disgust. Instinct screamed at him to move and intercept Jonas; reason urged him to stay put. She was an elite soldier, and probably wouldn't appreciate a green copilot trying to fight her battles for her. "Get your hands off me."

All reason vanished. Jack surged into motion, stomping around the corner with his heart pounding in anticipation of a fight. Hanson stood with Carter backed into a corner, trapping her with one arm planted on the bulkhead next to her head, and his other hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. Before Jack could even call out as a distraction Carter wrenched her hand from Hanson's grip and used the drive helmet in her hand to shove past the arm trying to pen her in.

"There a problem here?" Jack demanded, even as Carter stepped into the clear. He shot Hanson a withering look but soon focused on Carter, to confirm she was okay. Her features told him nothing. The tiny sliver of transparency he'd earned since their fight together in the commissary was nowhere to be found, leaving him with nothing to interpret but rock-hard countenance and icy eyes. Jack struggled against the urge to wring Hanson's neck.

"You're late," Carter told him sharply, ignoring his query completely.

Jack's gaze flickered between her and Hanson, taking note of his former copilot's angry scowl. "Sorry about that," he responded.

"Let's go." So they were back to monosyllables. Jack slung a glare toward Hanson, who used the hesitation to plant himself between them and the hatch to the connpod. Carter barrelled through, again using her helmet as a buffer.

"I'm not finished-" Jonas hissed. He captured Carter's bicep in a bruising grip as she passed, yanking her back before she could disappear into the safety of the connpod.

"HEY!" Jack's shout echoed sharply in the corridor. Carter twisted her arm up against the weakest part of Hanson's grip, and on the way reached up and caught Jonas by the back of the neck. Before he could react she yanked him down, pulling her with him as she threw her weight behind a vicious throw. Hanson's feet left the ground as though weightless, then fell back to Earth as he landed heavily on his back on the concrete. Jonas' hard landing drove the breath from his body. Carter straightened, barely winded. No, Jack corrected, barely breathing. She froze, staring down at Hanson with a dark fire burning in her eyes that suggested she wanted to do far worse.

"You are finished," she growled. Jonas couldn't respond if he wanted to. He gasped like a fish, curled protectively on his side. When Sam didn't move, Jack was suddenly afraid that she would do something worse. Carefully, he reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Sam?" His touch brought Carter back to herself. She jerked away from his hand, turning from both of them to resume her march to the connpod. Jack trotted after her. The only sounds were that of Jonas gulping air, and the clack of their boots against the deck. This corridor was only used by Banshee's team- since they suited up in the prep lab, no one but her pilots would have reason to pass through this hall today. If Jack had been just a few minutes later…

Carter would have taken care of herself, Jack reminded himself. Just like she actually had done. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Fine." She pushed ahead to escape through the hatch first. Jack studied her from behind as he followed, and saw her breaths continue to draw in a jerky pattern. She wasn't okay.

Hesitantly, he tried again. "Are you sure you-"

"Lay off, O'Neill," Carter growled. "Before you're the one I have a problem with."

Jack froze, unprepared for the hostility suddenly directed at him. He covered it with a crooked smile as he pulled the hatch closed behind them and secured it. "Well, doesn't that just give me the warm and fuzzies."

Carter blinked, jerking slightly when his drawl hit a sour note. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Though her stony expression didn't soften in the slightest, Jack detected a hint of guilt in her eyes. "Sorry," she muttered.

An intense quiet settled around them. Somewhere below, teams continued to finish their checklists, but Bella would sleep until they chose to wake her. For the moment, it was just the two of them, the eye of the storm. Drifting with animosity between them wasn't an idea Jack wanted to entertain. None of her ire seemed to be for him, but if he pushed the issue that fact could change in an instant. Jack remembered the way Carter's mind had drawn away from his on their last drop; his greatest wish was for one day Carter feeling as though she didn't have to do that. She wasn't ready to share some things with him yet- if he continued to dig, she never would.

"Don't worry about it," he brushed it off. "What's between you and Hanson is none of my business."

Carter nodded her appreciation, but said nothing more. They each moved to their respective rigs, where Carter initiated the startup sequence. Jack paused before he stepped onto his platform. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again without a word. Jonas shouldn't have laid a hand on her. He was lucky he'd gotten away with a simple winding. She could take care of herself, and any offer of support Jack could give her would only sound condescending, so the words remained locked in his throat. Maybe she'd see it in the drift, and know that if she really wanted to kick Hanson's ass, he'd help her hide the body.

They each mounted up, locking into the interface with practiced ease. "LOCCENT, this is Banshee," Carter transmitted back to control. "Ready to initiate neural handshake." Tendo gave them the go ahead, but almost immediately they hit a roadblock.

"Ranger Carter, you are below optimal levels," Tendo gently told them. Carter gave no immediate response, until Jack spoke up.

"Carter, you gotta relax a little."

"Trying to." And she was. He could hear her deep, even breaths, and feel her attempts to clear her mind. He couldn't sense her thoughts as other pilots claimed to with their partners, but she wasn't the calm presence she'd been last time. Today she was lightning and thunder, obscured from him by heavy thunderheads.

"Yo, Tendo," Jack said, pulling attention away from Carter, "how was your date last night?"

Whether or not he saw Jack's intent to give Sam some privacy, Tendo took the bait. "Glad you asked, my man. Good food, beautiful lady… Night went smooth as silk 'til we went back to hers."

"Yeah?" Jack prompted, egging him on.

"Turns out she lives with her brother," Tendo continued, "...who was my date last week." Tendo didn't sound too torn up about it, which made Jack laugh all the harder. Through the handshake, he felt some of Carter's tumult ease as his mirth traveled through their connection.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later!" he joked.

"Nothing but truth." Tendo agreed, before pausing distractedly. "Okay, Sam, your levels are within acceptable range. Prepare to complete the neural bridge."

Jack did what Carter had recommended the day before. He closed his eyes, opened his mind, and listened for the presence he recognized as Carter's. He found her faster than the last time, but she wasn't the calm eddy he remembered. Where their contact the day before had been soft and seamless, it now rattled against Jack's senses, brittle tension rippling along her edges in waves. Her mind was a thundercloud; he could sense the sharp flashes of her ragged emotions, but they were muffled like distant thunder, the lightning obscured to blooms of light brightening their connection before quickly fading again.

Still, it seemed to be enough for Tendo, who gave them the go-ahead. "All right, lady and gent, holding strong and looking good." A voice called to Tendo in the background, pulling the technician's attention away. "Yeah, hold on… Sit tight and we'll get the bay doors open for you, Banshee." Tendo clicked off, leaving Jack and Carter to their own devices.

Jack turned to Carter, who tried very hard to ignore his gaze. When she finally turned towards him, her expression softened considerably. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "About before. I-"

"Please stand by for your pre-flight safety announcement." A voice that definitely wasn't Tendo's interrupted her over their headsets. For a moment, they couldn't place the voice; when Jack finally did, Sam's irritation flared white hot across the bridge. Jack grunted, but was right there with her. What the hell was Jonas doing on comms? He felt Sam struggle to maintain calibration against the rage that threatened to throw them out of balance. Jack made the split second decision to head Hanson off at the pass.

"As glad as I am to hear you've regained your breath, Jonas, how about you leave LOCCENT to the professionals?" he growled.

"Don't flatter yourself, O'Neill. I just stopped by to say hello to Tendo, and thought I'd wish you and Sammy a good trip."

"Don't call me that," Carter growled. Thunder punctuated each word in Jack's brain, each one threatening to spin him out of control. For the first time, his drift with Carter felt like it had with Jonas. He regretted the realization as soon as it flitted through his mind. Carter sensed it and the recrimination was instantaneous; she pulled back from him, the sudden lack of her left a vacuum behind. Jack felt himself get sucked along behind it, chasing her presence past the safe middle ground to the turbulent unknown.

Carter recoiled, gasping audibly. The sound served as all the fuel Jonas needed. His smirk was audible even through on the headset. "Looking a little shaky there guys… might want to take it easy."

"Hanson, get the hell off my comms!" Sam barked. She slammed the button that cast her voice across all open speakers in the LOCCENT booth. "TENDO!" Jack's chest began to feel heavy, only to realize that the shortness of breath was Carter's. Her thoughts swirled, making him dizzy as Jack felt himself being pulled further in, like matter to a black hole.

"Oh, come on, Sammy," Jonas goaded. "Don't be such a spoil sport."

Carter's thoughts locked on the final two words and froze. Jack's equilibrium swayed, and then he realized; they weren't frozen- they were in freefall. They hadn't dropped, they hadn't articulated the helm yet, so how did they- Jack's thoughts struggled to find up from down, but all that happened was the plummeting sensation in his gut like he'd stepped off Niagara Falls.

"Sam!" Tendo's voice faded in from far away, distorted as he grabbed the mic back from… from someone. Jack couldn't quite remember who. "Sam, you're out of alignment! Do you hear me? O'Neill!"

Carter didn't respond, and neither could Jack. The cockpit faded out around him. It was as if he was falling asleep, but instead of finding the back of his eyelids, a new scene appeared in front of him, as sharp and real as Banshee had been.

He recognized the space as a bunk, but not his own. A book lay open in his lap, held by hands that were also not his, but instantly recognizable. Sam. The memory was hers. A low voice spoke to his left, their left, and Jack felt Sam's giggle in his chest as she accepted the can of soda that was passed to her. The sound felt light and fresh, a far cry from the wry chuckles Jack himself managed to coax out of her. Their shoulder was warm, brushing someone else's in the familiar small room. Sam took another long swallow from the can before setting it on the floor beside her, her hands returning to the pages open in her lap.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Her head turned to address the man to their left, and a hand smoothly caught her by the chin. Lips pressed fiercely against hers, insistent and greedy. Alarm bubbled up Sam's throat when the unwelcome kiss deepened, a tongue pressing insistently against her lips. She planted a hand on the offender's chest and shoved hard, breaking the contact.

"What the hell was that?!" she demanded.

Jack's stomach dropped sickeningly when the features of Ranger Jonas Hanson came into focus. He sat close enough Jack could smell his cologne, his toothpaste, the product in his hair, all scents intimately familiar to Sam. The gleam in his eye, however, was foreign to both of them.

"Sam," Jonas began, "we've been dancing around this a long time, haven't we?" Jonas took Sam's hand from his chest and held it in both of his. "I know you've felt it."

Sam glanced around the room, searching for a punchline. "Is this a joke?"

"What? No, Sam, of course not. I love you." He pressed his lips to her fingers this time. "And I know you love me too. I feel it every time we enter the drift."

Sam carefully extracted her fingers, reaching for her soda. Bringing it to her lips gave her brain time to change gears, and truly register what he was trying to tell her. "Of course I love you, Jonas, but… not like that. You're my copilot, and my family. We're a team. But I've never thought of you as…"

"As what? As a boyfriend? You said it yourself Sam, we're copilots. We're better than married. Come on…" He leaned in for another kiss, only for Sam to stop him again.

"I said no, Jonas." Her voice was hard, betraying nothing of her shaking nerves. She flipped her textbook shut, and gathered her papers. "I'm going to call it a night. See you tomorrow." She stood, and the world tipped alarmingly around her. Jack felt her sudden lethargy, the blurriness she tried to blink from her eyes. "Whoa."

"Sam?" Jonas had risen now, his face concerned. "You okay?"

Sam paused, taking stock. Every time the world seemed to level, one move from her sent it tipping again. "I… I don't know. I-" Her legs shook, then gave out. Jonas caught her easily and shifted her onto the bed.

"Easy, easy," he coaxed. "It'll pass, I promise."

Sam lay there, struggling to breathe as an invisible weight pressed against her chest. She blinked to clear her vision, the motion slow and laborious. "What's happening?"

The words slurred on her lips. Jonas reached up and smoothed sweat-plastered hair from her face. "It's just a little something I thought would make tonight a bit more fun," he told her. His voice remained light and conversational, warmed by a gentle smile. Sam's mind jumped from thoughts of strokes to the realization that there was nothing natural about this at all. The fog parted under a wave of adrenaline when she recalled the can of Diet Coke, now forgotten on the deck already half-finished. Drugged.

Realization slammed into Sam like a freight train, sending adrenaline coursing through her body. She lashed out, her fist catching him square in the jaw and sending him reeling onto the mattress. Sam surged to her feet and teetered towards the door, the deck swaying under her feet. Just as her fingers brushed the wheel Jonas snagged her from behind. He blocked the elbow she sluggishly jabbed towards his face, and tucked her into a neat arm bar. Sam writhed, reaching for any part of him she could get her free hand on, but he twisted away and tightened his hold, threatening to separate her shoulder.

Sam stilled instinctively. Jack felt thoughts of duty flicker across her muddled awareness: she needed her arm to pilot. Then the imminent threat of bodily harm took precedence. She clawed at him again, but now her arm felt sluggish, and the room around her grew steadily more distant. Soon, she was all but hanging in Jonas' grip.

Jonas released her, content that she no longer posed a threat. He hefted her into a more comfortable hold and placed her back on his bunk, carefully ensuring none of her limbs dangled off the edge. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long, Sammy. To say it out loud. But drifting together, it always felt like I didn't have to. You know me better than anyone else on the planet. I can barely remember a time before you." He kissed her tenderly. "You're everything to me," he whispered.

Tears gathered in Sam's eyes. They dripped down the sides of her face, her hands too heavy to dry them herself. Jonas took care of that, using both thumbs to brush them away before stroking her hair. "My Sam. My perfect Sam. We're made for each other. That's what I wanted to tell you tonight." His fingers trailed down her neck, traveling to the topmost button on her blouse. "Let me show you."

"Jonas-" Her voice ground like sandpaper against her throat. Her head swam but every touch burned her skin, searing itself across her dwindling awareness. "Please, Jonas, stop. I don't want this-" He silenced her with another kiss.

"Shh… C'mon, Sammy. Don't be such a spoilsport. You'll enjoy it, I promise. You'll see."

Whatever he'd given her worked quickly. She couldn't so much as twitch, and in moments her voice was gone. When Hanson's fingers tangled in Sam's hair, Jack fought to pull away, to break the connection. She wouldn't want anyone to see this, let alone him. But he wasn't in control. He was stuck, unable to close his eyes while Sam's were open.

The night blurred together in an avalanche of touches, some painful, some not. Jack felt Hanson's fingertips trailing across her collarbone as he reverently removed her blouse. The blunt tugging at her hips when he fumbled with her belt. Hot tears on her cheeks, ignored by Jonas. Even hotter shame, which only compounded as the hours passed. The drug kept her limp but semi-conscious, her thoughts fuzzy as the hours passed.

Full consciousness and movement didn't return to her until the early morning. Jonas slept on the mattress next to her, exhausted. Sometime in the night he had flung an arm across her stomach before he passed out, curled possessively around even as he drifted off. His breathing was deep and even, as though having her in his bed was the most natural thing in the world.

When she was sure she could stand without collapsing, Sam carefully extricated herself from the sheets and Hanson's arm. She gathered her discarded clothes and dressed as quickly and silently as she dared. A sob bubbled up in her throat as she did so, remaining locked behind a clenched jaw. When all that was left was her boots, she carried them in hand as she crept towards the door on silent feet.

"Sammy," Jonas' voice drifted sleepily from the bed. She froze with one hand on the door lock, the other clenching around the tops of her boots. Now, the numbness began to fade, bringing new aches to the surface. A new fear locked her muscles. She was standing, but shaky. If he tried to stop her from leaving… she didn't know if she could fend him off if he came after her again.

He remained under the sheets, flush and content. "Thank you for last night. We'll have to do it again sometime."

Sam's heart hammered in her chest. Without a word, she tugged on the wheel latch, and left both him and the room behind.

"Ranger Carter!" Pentecost's voice echoed faintly around her. Jack thought for a moment that the Marshal had called to her that morning as she left Jonas' barracks, but when he blinked the corridor wobbled, then faded back into Banshee's familiar connpod. He sucked in a deep desperate breath, and almost broke into tears himself when he felt his own body respond. "Sam!" Pentecost called again, spurring Jack into action.

"SAM!" Jack echoed the Marshal's shout, tapping the code to disengage from the interface. The memory felt like it had taken hours, but the mission clock indicated only a minute had passed. He lurched when his feet hit the deck, and stumbled to where Sam still hung motionless. "Sam! Listen to me! It's over." He reached to release her straps, only for her to jolt suddenly. "Sam?"

"Get away from me," she snarled. Her hands shoved him away.

Jack immediately stepped back. Hurt clawed at his insides. He didn't know what to say, or do, except to respect her request. He understood her reaction, felt his own skin crawling under the drive suit. Deep muscles ached from the phantom pain he'd felt in her memory; he felt invisible bruises, permanently seared in his mind. The tears gathering in his eyes brimmed and spilled over as Doctor Frasier ran in with a med team, her attention focused solely on Sam. No one looked at him as he wiped at his streaming eyes, throat locked into silence. In the brief privacy, the hurt sharpened to anger, and the urge to do something overwhelmed all else. He turned on his heel and left the connpod, only one thought on his mind.