Author's Note: In this chapter (and the next several), Jack begins dealing with the issues of his time with Astarte, including his sexual assault. He talks and thinks about it, sometimes in great detail. This is the last warning I'll put up because the rest of the story is about his healing process so expect mentions of his abuse from here on out.

Sam watched as his face changed and he went to a darker place. "Are you sure you want to tell me this?" she asked him. It wasn't that she didn't want to know, and it wasn't that she didn't think he needed to talk about it, she just wondered if it wasn't, perhaps, a little early in their relationship to be broaching the subject of what she knew was his sexual assault.

He shook his head. "No. But I think you deserve to know why I can't even kiss you without..."

"Pulling away?" She reached for his hand, threaded their fingers together, and gave him a squeeze. "I assume it's because you were raped."

He flinched at the word. "No. I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't want to have sex with her. And I was coerced into doing it, but the actual sex didn't...," he stopped and seemed to gather himself, "it's not the problem."

"Okay..." she said slowly, softly.

"It started with a bath," he said, his eyes clouding over as he went deep into his memory. His hand tightened around hers. "They'd been bathing me the whole time, but this time they shaved my face, apparently she wasn't a fan of beards," he said with a mirthless chuckle that made her grimace. "I've never had my face shaved before," he said idly. "It was strange, letting someone be so close to my throat with a razor." He held a trembling hand up to his throat as if staunching blood flow and she wondered what happened in his head with the idea of someone holding a razor there.

"Scary," she breathed, choosing to file away the idea of him being bathed like a child the entire time he'd been gone because it made her uncomfortable as she imagined it made him.

"Yes," he agreed. "And no. When I was sufficiently prepared," he spat the word, "they gave me these pajamas and sent me to a bedroom. It wasn't where she slept – later I found out she slept with a favored consort who..." He trailed off, leaving her wondering what it was he was going to say about the favored consort. Instead, he continued on about the bedroom. "There was a bed. She was just sitting in a corner of the room, waiting for me. She told me I could undress. She wasn't evil or bad or pushy, even. But I couldn't... there wasn't any fight left in me."

"It's okay," she said and squeezed his hand.

"Is it? I gave her what she wanted, she didn't have to force me. After a so long of seeing all the horrible things I'd seen, it was almost a relief to be in her bed. I took off my clothes and got in that bed and let her..." He trailed off again.

Sam let him. Hearing him recount what happened... God, she'd seen first hand what Astarte had done to him and she wasn't sure she wanted to know more. So she reminded him, "She drugged you."

"Yeah. Yeah, she did. The milk and honey stuff," he recalled, "it made me want to. And when it was time, it made me hard." He didn't flinch, he said it very matter of factly. It made her not blush at the idea of him being hard even when it made the pit of her stomach clench. "But it also made things not feel quite right. Or... not at all. Like, I knew she was touching me, I could feel her hands on me, but it didn't feel like it was supposed to feel."

"Did it hurt?"

"No," he said quickly, to reassure her and he squeezed her hand. "Not even the not coming, weirdly, aside from a weird sort of pressure. None of it was... bad. Except... the things she said to me, after everything I'd been through, it was impossible not to believe her with the way I wasn't feeling."

"What was she saying?"

"That," and then he faltered, licked his lips and tried again, "that pleasure wasn't for me anymore. That I was a tool."

"And you believed her?"

"After what I'd been through, I think I'd have believed anything."

"And... and you still believe her?" she asked quietly, fearful of the answer.

He turned to look her in the eye, the insecurity was written all over his face. "I know I shouldn't. But the things I saw... Sam... you have to understand, I don't feel like I deserve to feel anything good."

"Oh, Jack," she breathed.

"So when I kiss you and it turns me on, I get mad at myself for feeling that way."

"You can't help how it makes you feel. And it's... natural." And more than a little flattering, she thought, that just her kiss could turn him hard and wanting.

"I know that. But knowing it isn't enough."

"So what do you want to do about it? Would it be easier for you if we just didn't..."

He smirked at her, "No. And it sure as hell wouldn't be easier for you and we're not going to fix this that way anyhow."

"So you just want to, what? Push through it?" She could see the merit in that, she supposed, but she could also see how it was a disaster waiting to happen. But Jack O'Neill was a push through kind of guy, no reason why this would be any different.

"I guess I just want you to be patient with me."

That panicked her. "Have I not been so far? Have I pushed you? Because I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"Carter! You'll remember that both times I kissed you." The corner of his mouth curled up in a lazy half smirk.

"Well, yeah, I guess you did." She frowned a little, not sure she should bring up the man, but positive she should broach the subject of professional help. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to MacKenzie about any of this?"

He frowned comically. "I don't need MacKenzie. At most, I need you. Unless you want me to work this out by kissing him, but I guarantee you he's not going to get the same rise out of me that you are."

She swatted at him with her free hand. "Okay, okay. Point well taken even if you are being flippant about it."

He sobered. "I'm not trying to be flip. It's just... this seems to be happening... I dunno... kinda fast."

"Between us?" She questioned and waited for him to nod. "Yeah. It does. Maybe too fast."

"And I thought you deserved to know, you know, what you were getting into."

"You're afraid that you're always going to believe what she convinced you of," Sam surmised.

"Not really," he hedged, "But it could be a long time before I'm back to normal. And what do I really have to offer you?"

"Do you think, even for a moment, that this is about sex for me? That the conversation we had in your kitchen was predicated by my desire to have sex with you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "God, Carter, if you feel about me the way you say you do, then I'd hope that sex is somewhere in the mix."

She could feel herself blush. "I was always pretty careful to not let myself think that far. So far, but no farther, you know?"

"So you've never even thought about..."

She shook her head. "Do you think that's strange?"

He sighed, "I guess under the circumstances, not really. But... you're thinking about it now, right?"

"Peripherally," she admitted. At his curious look she continued, "Well, I'm not sitting here in the middle of a full blown fantasy."

"Ah. Right."

"Anyway, we've barely even kissed. We've got plenty of time before we need to worry about sex. And we've got plenty of time for you to get used to the idea of feeling arousal again before we need to worry about whether or not you feel..."

"… Pleasure."

"Right."

"So, now I guess it's a good thing that I'm retiring," he said, as he dropped her hand and slung an arm around her shoulders pulling her body into his.

"It is, if you're really interested in me... the way I'm interested in you."

"Like I said before, I'm not in the same place you are, this is a lot newer to me. But I know when I look at you I don't just see my second in command, not anymore. And... I... I remember being there and wanting to get back home. To you."

"To me?"

"Yeah. So maybe there's more going on with me than I thought there was. I've always thought you were easy on the eyes." He squeezed her into his side tighter. "But maybe there's been more all along and my brain was just catching up."

"So... we'll just take things slow."

"Slow sounds good," he said.

"And we'll see where we end up." It was really more than she'd hoped for, his easy acquiescence into moving forward with her. Especially on top of what she'd just learned about what had happened to him. But if he was willing to try to push past it, so was she. She wondered what dealing with those mental hurdles would look like in reality and whether or not she was fully prepared to deal with them. She hadn't been lying to him when she said she hadn't allowed herself to think of a sexual relationship with him. It was going to be strange not only allowing herself to think that way but to also allow herself to act that way. She knew, though, that it wouldn't be difficult, not when he made her feel the way he made her feel with simple kisses. True, they'd only shared two and they'd both been brief, but they'd both been powerful, too and she was looking forward to more... when he was ready.

She snuggled deeper into his side, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder and felt the way his arm tightened around her. "Thank you for telling me what you told me."

She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and she smiled.

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

Jack was screwing another floorboard onto his deck when he heard the telltale sound of a motorcycle in his driveway. He grinned around the screws in his mouth. He'd left her the evening before, curled up on her couch, looking impossibly young in her oversized clothing and air-dried hair, and it hadn't been easy he was exasperated to say. It had felt good to sit there with her in his arms. And the good had bled over into today and he felt, for the first time, like tackling the project that was his deck.

He continued to screw boards down while he waited for the sound of her bike to die down. When it did he took the screws out of his mouth and called out to her. "I'm around the side of the house. On the deck!"

She appeared moments later in jeans and a tank top that made him wonder first if she'd always been that thin or if she really had lost weight during all the time he'd been missing and if that moment he'd had on the tel'tak when he'd though her arm had felt thin had been true, and second what the hell she was doing riding her bike without her leathers on. He thought about saying something to her on either subject, but the bright smile on her face stopped him from either admonishment.

"Hey," she said and walked right up to him, so her shadow fell over him.

"Hey, yourself," he said and snagged her fingers tugging her down for a quick kiss that just made her smile wider and her blue eyes sparkle. He liked putting that wide smile on her face.

"You're in a good mood today," she observed.

"Holdover from yesterday. No guarantee everyday is going to be a good day, but today feels good."

"I'm glad."

"Me too."

The dreams the night before hadn't delved into the worst of the worst and he had been able to shake them off when he crawled out of bed that morning so he didn't feel it necessary to tell her about them. Especially since he really was feeling pretty damn good.

He wondered how much of that had to do with lightening his load the day before by talking to her. Or if it had anything to do with opening himself up to the possibility of a relationship with her. He wasn't naive enough to believe that a relationship was the magic cure for what ailed him, but there were things about Sam that did, undeniably, make him happy.

But she always had, even as his second in command. She'd always made him smile. She'd always made him proud. She'd always given him the sense that there was something bigger and better out beyond what he was aware of. It was that she knew so much more than he did, that she made him believe in things he couldn't understand, simply because she understood them. He trusted her. And he wasn't a man who trusted easily. SG-1 was on a short list and Sam probably topped it.

The more he thought about her the more he wondered how he ever could have thought all he had was a mild and passing attraction to her. Sure, she was gorgeous, but there was so much more to her, so much more about her and he seemed to be dialed in to all of it. Had Teal'c been right? Did he have a special bond with her that maybe he just hadn't been aware of? That maybe he'd taken for granted and been too blind to see?

"I see you're finally getting around to replacing the boards that had gone," she said gesturing at the decking.

"Almost done," he confirmed. "Two more."

"Good," she said with a sultry grin. "Because I thought maybe you'd like to go for a ride with me."

"On the bike?"

"Yeah."

He hadn't been on a motorcycle in fifteen years, and he'd never ridden behind someone. He got a sudden flash of Sam between his thighs and his hands on her waist and he realized that he wanted that. "Sounds like a good time."

Her grin turned lazy and her eyes soft. "It does."

"But I smell like a goat, so let me finish up here and grab a shower."

Playfully, she leaned down and took a deep breath of the air surrounding him. "You don't smell like a goat. You smell like you. Hot you, but you." And she looked pretty at ease with that. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks... this wasn't just any woman he was dating. This was a woman who had camped out next to him when he hadn't showered for four days. She already knew things about him that a fairly new wife wouldn't know. Maybe that was why it had been relatively easy to open up to her the day before. And maybe that was why he'd spilled his guts so thoroughly when drunk, because really, he didn't usually do that sort of thing.

"Still," he said, "a quick shower."

"Well, okay, but I kinda like it."

Something about that made him flush with embarrassment, but he wasn't sure what. And not a whole hell of a lot made him blush. Maybe it was because it seemed oddly... intimate. And intimacy wasn't something he was wholly comfortable with these days. He'd been good at intimacy at one time, but now, he wondered if it all would make him think of how he just wasn't worthy of her time and effort. He frowned and because he was looking at her he could see the moment the smile left her eyes even though it still played around her mouth.

"What?" She questioned him.

"Nothing."

"No," she said softly, slowly. "What is it? You were fine, then you weren't. What happened?"

"Just... a thought." He shook it off. He wasn't going to let his head ruin a perfectly good day. His deck was almost fixed and he had the promise of a bike ride with Sam Carter to look forward to.

"You know you can talk to me," she pressed.

"It's fine, it's not even worth talking about," he said flippantly, to prove to her that he'd put it aside.

She pushed her fingers through his sweaty hair and gave him a crooked smile. "Okay."

"Wanna hand me that board?" he asked her, pointing at a board leaning against the house. Together, they worked until the last two boards were in place and then he stood up, groaning at the change in position. "Give me ten minutes and we can hit the road."

"Sure."

He left her in the living room with the weather channel while he went and took a quick shower and redressed himself in jeans and a long sleeve shirt. It was a little hot for it, but with the wind on the ride he figured he'd be comfortable. "You ready?" He asked her as he stepped down into the living room.

She turned from where she was still standing where he left her. She gave him an appreciative once-over that left him feeling both a little proud and a little uncomfortable and he hated that there was any discomfort at all. It made him want to kill the already dead Astarte for what she'd done to him. He didn't want to have these issues. "Grab a jacket," she said cryptically. "Let's go."

Outside he was pleased to see her leather jacket thrown over the seat of her bike. He watched her put it on and zip it up even as he admired the way she looked in it, paired with the blue jeans. She handed him a helmet before she put on her own and then they were getting situated on the bike, her on first, then him, sliding into place behind her. His thighs were snug against hers, but they weren't pressed together back to chest, and for that he was glad, that might have been a little too much, to feel her ass pressed against his groin. It might have been good for a moment, but it had the potential to go bad and he didn't want that, not today. Not when his good mood was apparently precarious.

They set off out of his neighborhood and then she turned onto Pikes Peak Highway and he knew they were in for a hell of a view when they made it to the top. He'd always liked this ride in his truck, he thought it would be great on the bike and it didn't disappoint. Of course, it could have been the feel of her under his hands, the soft supple leather of her jacket against his fingertips. Or the feel of her body between his legs. Or the hum of the bike underneath him. It could have been all of it, the girl, the bike the view.

When they made it to the summit, she pulled the bike off the road and into the parking area. There were people all around, unsurprisingly, most eating lunch at picnic areas or having their pictures taken at the summit sign. It was very touristy, but he'd known it would be. The summit was, it was the drive that was the beautiful part. They wandered around for a while and then, when it was time to head back down the mountain she threw him a grin and handed him the keys to the bike.

"What's this?" he asked her.

"You've got a motorcycle license," she pointed out. "Wanna drive?"

He laughed. "Hell yeah, Carter."

He took his place on the bike and she climbed on behind him and snugged herself right up against his back. He could feel her, warm against him, and it made him tingle in all the interesting place. And then she threaded an arm around his waist and splayed her hand on his belly. He felt himself begin to grow hard. He cursed himself, just from the feel of her hand on his belly? For god's sake. Really? For a long moment he didn't do anything and then he heard her voice in his ear. "Is this okay?"

He took a deep breath and tried to reason with himself that it was good that things she did turned him on. It was good that his body was so responsive to her. That she had no idea what she'd done to him and that she wasn't about to ask him to perform so it didn't matter what had just happened to his body. And that, above all else, he was allowed to feel the way he was feeling and that it wasn't going to end in some long, drawn out experience of nothingness. "Yeah, it's okay," he finally said to her.

She tapped her fingers on his belly a couple of times in acknowledgement and then he was kick-starting the bike to life. It took a good hour and a half to make the ride down the mountain but it was a good ride. He got used to the feel of her body, began to revel in it, identified the press of her breasts against his back, especially when she'd lean forward to point something out to him. At some point she wrapped both arms around him and he leaned back into her a little and he felt the way she squeezed him a little tighter.

By the time they got back to his house he realized, "The bike ride was on purpose, wasn't it? The touching?"

"I wasn't trying to pressure you, I just thought it would be safe."

He pulled her into his arms so they were finally touching face to face. "It was."

"There were a couple of bad moments today."

He couldn't get anything past her. "Yeah."

"But you worked through them."

Instead of answering her, he dipped his head and captured her lips in a kiss. She sighed against his mouth so he opened up to her. She flicked her tongue against his, teasing him just a little but he wasn't having it. He deepened the kiss, slanting his head and grasping her head between his hands to maneuver her just the way he wanted. She moaned and the sound went directly to his groin and for the first time it didn't cause him pause. He pressed his arousal into her as he stroked her tongue with his own and reveled in the little guttural sounds she was making.

A car drove by and he realized, suddenly, that he was making out with her while standing in his driveway. He pulled away from her slowly, her eyes fluttered open. "Wow," she breathed.

So, that was what it could be like, when he wasn't running from it. Wow, indeed. "Want to come inside?"

"Yes," she said honestly. "But I'd probably better not. Or we'll do more of that and maybe we'll push things too far. Slow, remember?"

"But that went really well," he pointed out.

"Yes," she said with a sly grin, "it did."

"But you're still not coming inside, are you?"

She shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He pressed a chaste kiss to her closed lips. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes, you will," she promised.