The doc flipped his chart closed with a small frown but when she looked up at him she still said, "I'm releasing you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"But, however, although..."

"But your weight is still down and I want you to try to eat right Colonel, that means protein and veggies, not pizza and beer. And speaking of beer – I can give you something to help you sleep at home, but you can't drink if you're on it, you know the drill-"

"I don't want anything to help me sleep," he said quickly, still wary of being drugged, hating how it had felt in the infirmary, even though he'd understood some of the necessity of it.

"The good news is," she continued on, "that you'll be able to leave under your own power. I see no reason to force you into allowing someone to drive you home."

He couldn't check the grin. He had to admit that she knew him well after all this time. "Thanks, doc."

"If you have too much trouble sleeping, or if things get to be... too much... you let me know. We can get you some medication to... help even things out."

The smile dropped off his face. He'd been having nightmares, even through the sedation, it was no secret. She probably thought he needed to be put on some sort of anti-something but he didn't want any of the drugs. Not any of them. "I'll be fine," he said gruffly.

"But if you aren't," she offered.

"I'll be fine," he said again, brooking no argument.

She gave him a long, solid look then nodded once and took a step back and out of his way allowing him to exit the infirmary. He made for the locker rooms where he could change quickly. He shoved himself into his street clothes with little finesse and a lot of speed and hoped against hope that none of the footsteps that were falling outside the door belonged to his teammates. He wanted to get off base without telling them he was leaving. He wasn't exactly sure why, he just wasn't up for the big goodbye. Nor was he all that excited about the possibility that one or more of them would feel compelled to follow him home to make sure he was okay. Their hearts were in the right place, he was sure, but he was ready to be alone for the first time in what felt like a very, very long time.

When he pulled up in front of his house he was surprised to find it looking normal considering how very not-normal he felt and how long he'd been gone. The grass was high, but aside from that things looked like he'd just been there, not like everything in his world had just changed. Not like he hadn't just made a life-changing decision.

His separation paperwork was practically burning a hole in his brain. Filled out in the infirmary on the very same day he'd requested it, it wasn't exactly like one just quit the military. It was a process. But the paperwork was on the General's desk and now he simply had to wait for all the pieces of the puzzle to flow down the appropriate channels. It felt... not like the right decision, exactly, but it felt like the only real decision under the circumstances.

He certainly couldn't lead. Not SG-1. Not after watching himself kill them over and over in his mind knowing that, inevitably, that is what he was bringing to them – death and destruction now that he wasn't the clear-minded commander they needed.

In the house he poured himself a stiff drink glad to not be under the influence of the doc's drugs, wary a little of the effects of the alcohol, but not wary enough not to drink it. He slouched down into the corner of the couch and sipped at his drink as he thought about what his life might look like now, no longer a member of the formidable SG-1.

He thought about Daniel first, and how the younger man was going to take the news. He wasn't going to understand Jack's decision, that was for sure. He would push and prod and poke his nose into places it didn't belong until Jack was forced to tell him things he didn't want to tell him just to get him to shut up long enough to accept the inevitable. Teal'c would be different, stoic, understanding. Carter, well, he honestly didn't know what to think about Carter. But after the way she'd been treating him before things had gone bad on this mission maybe... maybe she wouldn't be so sad to see him go.

Maybe he'd move up to the cabin. Fish a lot. Get a dog. Forget about what it felt like to watch the horrific moments of his life flash in technicolor on the backs of his eyelids, hope that one day the dreams would stop and maybe he'd be able to find some soft solace in someone again. Except... he grimaced and took a deep swig of his drink.

He thought about the way Astarte's eyes had raked over his body as he'd been prepared for her after he'd been reduced to nothing more than an object for her use. There was no softness, no solace to be had in what he had to offer anymore. After the things he had seen, after the things his mind had conjured up, he didn't deserve pleasure, didn't want to feel it really anymore anyway. So broken down and worthless that he became a thing for servicing rather than a man for loving. It was, in a way, easier that way, too. To be nothing more than a stud for service with a purpose than to have to tap into the sorts of emotions he didn't think he had access or right to anymore?

He cast his eyes around the room until he found the bottle. He'd have to get up to refill his glass, but it was worth it. Now that he'd realized, remembered, what he was? How could he have forgotten after she'd spent such a long time teaching him such a valuable lesson? Jack pushed himself up out of the corner of the couch and ambled over to the bottle, splashed some of the liquid into his glass, and turned to stare out into the incongruously bright day. He took another drink and felt the way the alcohol burned on the way down.

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

Sam was dressed to go home, car keys in hand, when the General caught her in the corridor. "Major Carter! A moment, please."

"Yes, sir," she said, spinning on her heels to face him.

He had a stack of folders in his arms. "I'm glad I caught you."

Instinctively, she reached out to take the files from him, before they were even offered to her. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"You're on your way out. Can you drop these files by to Colonel O'Neill?"

She hesitated. She hadn't seen the colonel since he'd been released the day before and he'd promptly left the base for his home. He hadn't stopped to say goodbye to any of them, they hadn't even known he'd been released until they'd gone by the infirmary to see him and discovered him gone. It was clear, to her at least, that he wanted some space. And space didn't include your subordinate officer showing up on your doorstep with work in hand – even if the base commander sent her.

But, it was the base commander asking, so, "Yes, sir," she said congenially. "I'd be happy to."

"Thank you. I could have had an airman take them over, but under the circumstances, I think a more familiar face might be better, don't you?"

She wasn't so sure, but one didn't necessarily disagree with the General. "You're probably right, sir." She shifted the stack of files in her arms. "Will he know what to do with them?"

"Yes, we've spoken. And until the paperwork is final he's still the 2IC of this base so I'm going to need him to carry on," the General said easily as if her brain wasn't whirring at a thousand miles an hour. The paperwork? What paperwork?

"Yes, sir," she said dumbly, anyway. Best not to ask, to get the information straight from the source if possible. She'd suss out what she could from the colonel, she supposed. If he was in a talking sort of mood, she would. Because he'd been so talkative lately...

In her car she mulled over what sort of paperwork the General might have been referencing. The sort of paperwork that would mean that the colonel was no longer the 2IC of the base would be separation paperwork, most likely. The colonel was leaving the Air Force? Without saying anything to any of them?

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, after what had happened to him, not that she really knew what had happened to him. He hadn't said. She hadn't asked, she berated herself. Just because he hadn't offered to talk about it didn't mean he didn't need to talk about it, she reminded herself. Though needing to talk about it and wanting to talk about it were two entirely different things and she was almost entirely sure that the colonel would never get to a place where he wanted to talk about it.

Especially not the part she'd walked in on.

Sam pulled into the colonel's driveway and sat for a moment, collecting herself. She wasn't sure what she'd say when she was confronted by him, but just handing him the files and saying goodbye didn't seem like the right approach.

Sam scooped the files up off the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. At the door, she hesitated, wondering once more exactly how she should handle her encounter with the colonel. But then, before she could knock, before she could fully prepare, the door was swinging open and she was confronted by the man himself.

He looked tired, she noted, as she ran her eyes from his down to the beer dangling between his fingers. "You looked like your hands were full," he said by way of a greeting and she realized he'd likely heard her pull up.

"Thank you, sir."

"Hammond send those?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded and took a step back, tacitly inviting her in.

"You want a beer?" he asked her, his voice rough, maybe a little surly.

"Are you leaving the Air Force?" she blurted out.

They stood there and stared at one another for long moments.

He canted his head. "How about that beer?" he finally asked again.

She took his deflection as an admittance. "You can't, sir."

"Oh, but I can."

"What are we going to do without you?" Oh god, but she sounded pathetic even to her own ears. In truth, though, the idea of the Stargate program without him seemed a little... dull.

"The program doesn't need me, Carter. You'll go on just fine."

"SG-1 needs you."

"No, you don't. You need a leader, we're a dime a dozen. SG-1 needs you. It needs Daniel. Hell, it even needs Teal'c. But guys like me? We're expendable."

"That's not true."

"How about that beer?" He deflected once more.

"Sir," she said pleadingly. It felt like her insides were being ripped out through her chest. She'd never see him again. They weren't friends the way he was friends with Daniel. If they didn't work together, that was it. She was suddenly very sure of exactly how inappropriate her feelings for him were because she wasn't really worried about the program at all. She was worried about the fact that she'd never again get to sit across the table from him in the commissary, or sit next to him around a campfire, he'd never again be the one to hug her when things got bad, she'd never touch him again. She could feel the hopelessness drain the color from her face.

"Carter, you okay?"

She didn't like the genuine concern in his voice, it sounded too much like an older version of him that had made her feel things. She thrust the files at him. "Here." They fumbled until he had them in his arms. "I should go."

A look she couldn't quite decipher flitted across his face. "Okay," he said slowly. It was clear he was prepared for more fight from her and watching her prepare to flee was confusing him.

She couldn't leave without saying one last thing, though. "I know this is about what happened on that planet. I know I don't know what happened to you, but whatever it is can't be bad enough to give up the program for. It just can't be. Look at everything you've made it through in your life. Maybe if you just talked about it-"

"It is about what happened," he cut her off acerbically. "And you have no idea what I've lived through, time and again. Talking about it isn't going to change it."

She backed up a step as if he'd physically slapped her. No, she guessed she didn't really know what he'd been through, but she'd been able to piece together some of it from things he'd told her and things Daniel had told her, and she never expected him to fling such an acid accusation at her. "Is that why you're leaving? They want you to talk to MacKenzie, don't they? You're going to throw it all away because you don't want to talk to a shrink?" She laughed derisively. "Really?"

His eyes narrowed into fine slits. "Tell me, after what you walked in on, would you want to talk about that with the base psychiatrist?"

"If I'd been... raped... on a mission, I'd have no choice," she said in as strong a voice as possible and was pretty proud of herself when she didn't trip over any of her words.

"Well, I have a choice."

"Leaving isn't much of a choice."

"But it's mine."

"Is that the only reason? Because it doesn't fit, sir. I'm sure it's embarrassing, but it's not the first time you've been drugged and..." She trailed off, remembering Kynthia.

"It's not the same thing, but no, that's not the only reason."

"You don't want to talk about any of it."

"Not with him."

Sam was momentarily flummoxed and she could see doubt pass across his face as well. Did that mean that he'd talk about it with someone who wasn't MacKenzie? Someone he trusted? "I think you're making a rash decision," she said carefully.

"You're not alone."

"Which is why the paperwork is being processed slowly and why I'm bringing you files to work on. You're on a leave of sorts, pending a more resolute decision," she determined.

"I'm not talking to MacKenzie."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, no longer feeling the urge to flee.

"How about that beer, Carter?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod, "okay."

She followed him through the dining room where he set the files down on the table, into the kitchen where he retrieved a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap off before handing it to her. Their hands brushed when he handed her the bottle and she tried not to let it affect her, but she was unsuccessful. She was hyperaware of him at the moment, probably because she was afraid this was the last time she was going to see him.

He looked at her speculatively. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

"No, sir."

"No, sir? I'm pretty sure that's never been true."

She huffed out a laugh. "I just mean, nothing in particular."

"Except me leaving."

"Except that," she acknowledged.

"I'm not dropping off the face of the planet," he said after a long minute.

Was that... was that an invitation? She knew the hope was a visible thing that spread across her face and she hated herself for it. She hated what she was letting him see in these short minutes together in his house. She felt like she was wearing her feelings for him like a neon sign. She'd done such a piss-poor job of hiding them from the people around her, though, that she wondered what made her think she could continue to hide them from the man himself.

Her only saving grace was that he'd been through so much that he likely didn't care what some poor subordinate officer thought about him. He didn't care about her before, he wasn't going to care about her now, not after what he'd been through. Maybe, maybe he wouldn't even be able to see it through the haze of everything else he had to look through. She clung to that idea, hoped against hope that perhaps she wasn't as transparent as she felt.

When she didn't say anything, he continued. "Not that you'd be obligated to..." he started uncomfortably.

"No, sir," she said, just as awkwardly. "I'd like to..."

"I thought so," he said gruffly.

She blushed. Did he have some idea of her inappropriate feelings after all? Would he take advantage of them because he needed the contact after what had happened to him? She'd never have what it took to ask. She took a long swallow of the beer then set the bottle down on the counter. Maybe it would be best if she left after all.

"I should go," she said once more.

He gave her a quizzical look, but nodded all the same giving her barely touched beer hardly a glance.

He followed her from the kitchen, through the dining room, and to the front door. As they crossed the threshold he gripped the door frame with both hands and asked her with a rough voice, "You gonna come back?"

She considered him carefully, she knew it was a big decision, she wondered if he knew how big a decision it was. There were undertones to their conversation she was acutely aware of and she wondered if he was aware of them, too. Finally, she took a deep breath and answered him. "Yes, sir."

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

Carter had only been gone long enough for the sun to go down when there was another knock at his door. He hadn't bothered with any lights since she left so he meandered through his dark home to the front door. He pulled it open without checking who was on the other side. As soon as he saw the fervent look of concern, he wished he'd checked the peephole. "Daniel."

"Jack. You didn't tell us you were leaving the base."

"It took you an entire day?"

Daniel harrumphed and shifted his weight, clearly wanting to be let in. Jack stepped back and waved him inside. "When you didn't tell us you were leaving I figured you wanted some time on your own."

"You figured right."

Daniel stopped by a lamp in the living room and clicked it on. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm your friend. I'm checking on you."

"You've checked. I'm alive."

"Jack," Daniel said, unimpressed with his churlishness.

"You couldn't have just checked with Carter? Did you really have to tag-team me?"

"Sam was here?" The shock in Daniel's voice was enough to pique Jack's interest.

"Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?"

A guarded look passed across the younger man's face. "No reason."

Jack flopped down onto the couch and scratched his jaw. "Nope, try again."

Daniel lowered himself slowly into an armchair, seemingly aware he hadn't been invited to make himself at home. Jack knew his attitude wasn't at all welcoming either. It wasn't that he was upset with Daniel, it was that he wasn't exactly jonesing for company. If he was willing to put up with Carter earlier it was probably down to the strange new fascination he had with her, the desire to touch her, the odd feelings she provoked inside him that made him feel softer towards her despite what he'd been through, despite the fact that he felt so disconnected from the people around him.

He couldn't explain it, not when he'd watched himself kill her as many times as he'd watched himself kill Daniel and Teal'c. He felt the same way about his inability to protect her now as he did about his inability to protect them, but he still felt drawn to her in a way he couldn't really explain. In any event, he felt differently about Carter than he did about Daniel and he was intensely curious as to why Daniel would be so surprised that Carter would have come by his house. It wasn't as if she'd never been there before.

Jack studied Daniel as he appeared to be waging an internal battle with himself. He decided to keep quiet and see where the fallout would take them. Finally, Daniel seemed to come to some sort of decision because he sat forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his knees and said, "Have you noticed that Sam hasn't exactly been herself lately?"

No, not really. "How lately?" he asked instead.

"Since we brought you back from Edora."

What the hell did Edora have to do with anything?

"Or maybe after your undercover mission?"

"What about the undercover mission?"

"Do you notice how tired she's looked lately?" Daniel continued on as if Jack hadn't even spoken.

Well, she had mentioned she'd been tired, but he thought she'd meant she was tired of everything they'd been going through lately. But Daniel seemed to think that maybe there was more to it. "What are you getting at?"

"Sam's been working really hard these past few months."

"We all have."

"Yes," Daniel said slowly. "Yes, we have. But... Sam... she's done things, Jack... that..." The man spoke in fits and starts and seemed generally reluctant to speak at all.

She's done things that what? She found distasteful? Like killing Astarte? Is that was Daniel was driving at? Because so far Carter hadn't said anything about Astarte, and for that Jack was grateful. He didn't want to talk about the woman, even if he was glad she was dead.

"How do you think she looks?" Daniel asked suddenly.

"Carter?"

"Yeah.

She looked fine. She looked like Carter. Young and hot and tall and blonde and whoa! Where the hell had that come from? He'd admit to giving her second glances before but since when had he begun to lump her into his physical type? He frowned.

Apparently, Daniel took that as some kind of acknowledgement, though. "So you do think she looks a little... thin, maybe?"

"Thin?" He thought back to the tel'tak when he'd grabbed her arm and remembered thinking how thin she felt. Jack shook his head to clear it. "What the hell are you driving at, Daniel?"

"Just... maybe Sam's not doing okay."

"And why wouldn't she be okay?"

"You really don't have any idea, do you?" Daniel asked incredulously.

"About what?" Jack asked with exasperation.

"Nevermind," Daniel said quickly. Too quickly.

Quickly enough that Jack was suspicious immediately that there was something going on with Carter that he should know about. "If there's something going on with the team, Daniel, I should know." It wasn't strictly true, not anymore, but old habits died hard.

"There's nothing going on with the team, Jack."

"Or with one of its members."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"But you did."

"Not really."

Jack rolled his eyes. No, not really. Just enough to leave Jack feeling curious. And irritated. "Daniel."

Daniel sighed. "Sam worked really hard to get you home from Edora. Did you ever wonder why?"

"No," he answered honestly. It was her job. It was what she did. She was Carter, for crying out loud.

"Then you wanted to bring Laira back with you."

So?

"And you really hurt her during the undercover mission. I don't know how, but you did. Do you know?"

Jack scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly struck with a strong memory of the look on her face when he flung some words at her. I haven't been acting like myself since I met you. Now I'm acting like myself. But surely she understood that he was playing a part, that he would have said things he didn't mean in order to fool them into thinking he'd gone over to the other side...

"Then, just when things might be able to get back to normal, you get stranded on another planet where you're tortured in ways we can't even imagine and she can't do anything to get us to you. Can you imagine how that must have made her feel?"

Super-Carter? Must have felt pretty powerless. But... what did all of that have to do with each other?

Then he thought about the look on her face when she stood in his house that afternoon and discovered he was leaving the SGC. And then, the look on her face when he asked her if she'd still come around and the pieces of the puzzle started to click into place.

"Are you saying Carter's got... that she..."

Daniel flopped back into his chair looking relieved. "I know I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"Have you said anything to anyone else?" Jack asked, an edge in his voice that came with the knowledge that Daniel could very well end the very promising career of a young officer if he wasn't very careful.

"What? No! Well, not since Sam explained why she couldn't talk to you about how she felt."

Jack nodded. Just as well. The last thing she needed was to end her career over some sort of crush likely born out of hero worship. She'd always looked at him a little like he was larger than life and he should have seen this coming and maybe not have engaged in what he thought was harmless flirting. It was his default setting with women, especially women he liked, even if he didn't particularly want to sleep with them. And he'd admit that he found Carter attractive even if he never went so far as to fantasize about taking things beyond teammate status with her.

Until lately when he'd had that infernal urge to touch her. But damn it. Damn it all to hell. Now there was this to deal with. She had developed what she thought were feelings for him. Which complicated matters greatly. Maybe his being away from the base was the best possible thing at the moment. Give her a little space to realize that she was just letting the events of the past few months build up whatever she was feeling until she'd confused her actual feelings for feelings for him.

Because Carter was smart. She was young, she was – dammit – beautiful, and she had a lot going for her, not the least of which was a bright and shining career ahead of her. The last thing she needed was a crush on a CO to get in her way. She might believe it to be more, but Jack, well, he'd been around the block a few more times than she had and he knew how these things played out and it was never love, it was infatuation that, once the sex had played out, led good officers into bad places more often than not. And above it all, he liked Carter. There was no way he was going to lead her down a path of no return.