Sam was awakened in the middle of the night by a desperate need to use the bathroom. She carefully extricated herself from Jack's arms and climbed out of bed. She was quiet in the bathroom but still, when she came out, he was propped up in the bed looking confused and disheveled. She climbed back in next to him, scootched in close, and wrapped an arm around him. "Shh," she murmured, "go back to sleep."

"Where'd you go?" he mumbled, still clearly mostly asleep.

"Bathroom."

"Oh." He wrapped her up tight in his arms. "I dreamed I'd killed you again," he said sleepily, but with an edge of caution and worry in his voice.

"It's okay, I'm here," she patted his chest gently.

"I'm so glad I'm retiring."

She didn't share the sentiment, but if he was really so worried about what was going to happen to the rest of SG-1 if he was a part of it, then he definitely needed a break. And if it was a retirement-long break, then she was just going to have to get used to it, she supposed.

"Is it time to get up?" he asked her, still clearly out of it.

"No."

"How much longer?"

She peered at the clock. "Two hours."

He tightened his hold on her – she didn't think it was possible – and buried his face in her hair. She ran her hand all over him, hoping to soothe him. "You need a new CO."

"I'm sure Hammond will assign someone new to SG-1 when he's ready."

"You need someone who can watch your back. Who can protect you."

"We all protect each other," she reminded him, "it's in the job description." She yawned tiredly. "Go back to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning."

"You sleep," he said, apparently awake for the time being. He ran his hand down her back and she arched into him at the feel of his hands on her.

She drifted back off within moments.

She awoke later to the sound of the alarm going off for a brief moment and then the sound of Jack's hand hitting the offending device. She stretched languidly in his arms where he still held her tightly. "Did you ever go back to sleep?"

"No."

She tsked and pressed a kiss to his chest. He threaded his hands into her hair and directed her mouth to his for a kiss. She let him press a closed-mouth kiss to her lips, but even through the light contact she could feel the hint of desperation. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," he said, pulling her tighter to him. It felt like he'd crawl inside her if he could. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that if they'd had a sexual relationship that he'd have rolled her under him already, he was practically vibrating with tension.

His hands roved all over her body, all the parts he could reach, and she shivered as he skimmed the side of her breast, her nipple tightening up against his body where she was pressed into him. "It's okay," she murmured, "I'm here. Couldn't go back to sleep or wouldn't?"

"I don't know. Both? I couldn't kill you again, Sam."

She kissed his jaw, "It was just a dream."

"It felt real. It feels real."

"Well, feel me right here, alive." She grabbed his hand and dragged it up and over the pulse point in her neck. He breathed deeply as he felt her blood thrum through her veins. "I want you to tell me about those dreams."

"I kill you. What more is there to say?" he asked resigned, without anger or malice in his voice.

"How do you do it? What are the circumstances? Why do you do it?"

"What does it matter?"

"Because I think it does matter. And I don't think you'll stop having the dreams until we figure out why you're having them in the first place."

"It's because I know you're not safe with me."

"I've always been safe with you. So safe." She put a hand on his cheek, turned his face so she could look into his eyes.

"That's not true. Look at all the things that have happened to you on my watch."

"And look at all the times we made it home because of you."

"Luck."

"Skill," she countered. "You're a damn fine leader, Colonel O'Neill," she said softly, though it felt strange to call him by his rank while she lay in his arms.

He just shook his head. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she knew they were done with whatever heavy emotions had taken him over in the early moments of their morning and that she wasn't going to get to hear about the dreams until later, if at all. "I could really get used to waking up with you in the morning," he said sliding his hand down from her pulse point to her fingers to tangle them with his own.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Me too."

They were both startled when his cell phone rang. He frowned then disentangled his hand from hers to reach for it. She could only hear his side of the conversation. "O'Neill... yes... yes... zero seven thirty... yes... thanks, Harriman." The whole thing probably took less than a minute, but it put a deep frown on his face that reached all the way to his eyes.

"What is it?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know. Hammond wants to see me."

"Maybe your retirement has gone through."

"Would he call me in at seven thirty for that?"

She shrugged as best she could, lying down as she was.

"I don't think this is good news," he said, then carefully shifted her off of him, sat up, and swung his legs out of bed.

She maneuvered herself until she was seated next to him on the edge of the bed. "Well, how bad could it be? You're on your way out. Maybe it's just some last minute housekeeping."

"Maybe," he said and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to get in the shower."

"I'll make coffee," she said.

He nodded, got up and headed into the bathroom. She found herself a little bummed that he hadn't insisted they brush their teeth as he had the previous morning, but she figured he had a lot on his mind. She shrugged and got up to make the coffee.

She was deep in thought about what the General could possibly want with him when he appeared in the kitchen, a towel swathed around his hips, looking for the coffee she promised. She'd already made a dent in her first cup and had poured him one so it would start to cool enough he could drink it. He accepted it gratefully and took a cautious sip.

She looked at him. He had a delectable body, there was no doubt about that. He was still glistening with water droplets from his shower and his grey hair was spiky from the towel or his fingers, she wasn't sure which. Lean and tan, she wanted to put her hands on him, but she didn't dare in his current state of undress. As it was, she kept dragging her eyes away from him to try to keep from making him uncomfortable but they kept creeping back to him.

She wondered if he was trying to prove something to himself or to her by coming out of the bathroom that way. It certainly was a giant step in the direction of trusting her, not that she got the impression that he didn't, but he certainly had reason enough to be wary considering his recent experiences. So maybe it wasn't her he was trying to prove something to. Maybe it really was himself. Maybe this was his way of testing the waters, to see if he was capable of being in a room with her when he didn't have the armor of clothing but without being so vulnerable as being naked.

Hell, maybe she was reading too much into it and the man just generally walked around his house in a towel after a shower. She didn't know.

She swallowed down the last of the coffee in her cup and gave him a smile that he returned surely, easily. It made warmth spread through her insides. "I'm going to go get dressed," she told him, warning him of her impending state of undress in his bedroom.

"Okay."

They took turns getting dressed and by zero six thirty, they were both ready to go, each armed with a to-go cup of coffee in their hands.

"So, I'll see you at the mountain," she said as they stood in his driveway.

"Yeah," he said with a crooked smile. "Glad we're not going to get used to this kind of morning," he said off-handedly. But something about that made the smile slide off her face. Because all of the sudden she had a sinking feeling about what might be coming for him.

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

"Come in, have a seat," General Hammond waved Jack into his office and took his own seat.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning," the General said and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "Jack..." he paused, "this isn't the news I wanted to give you."

Jack's stomach clenched and his jaw tightened. He'd been mentally preparing himself for some sort of bad news since the phone call had come just a hair past five that morning. "This have anything to do with my retirement?" The sir wasn't even implied.

Hammond didn't seem to take offense, though. He merely nodded. "I'm sorry, but the JCS aren't accepting your request for retirement."

"Tell them it wasn't a goddamn request," Jack said, immediately incensed.

"It was decided between them and the President that you were simply too valuable to the program to let go."

"Do they know what happened to me? Do they know I'm a liability now, not an asset?"

"Yes, Jack, they do. But they disagree. With therapy, they believe that you can overcome what happened to you."

"Therapy," Jack spat. "I don't think so. What's so special about me, anyway? There's nothing I can do that any other colonel can't."

"Again, they disagree. You have the most experience traveling off-world, are respected by a several alien allies and have had the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into your brain."

"This is about the Asgard and the Ancients? Tell Thor to make a new buddy! And it's not like I have access to any of the Ancient information that they shoved into my head. It's all gone now."

"What about the Nox? And the Tollan?"

"Those are Carter's gig."

"Those races have a great deal of respect for you and the JCS doesn't want to see our connection with these races diminished in any way."

"What is their brilliant plan if I die?"

"Are you threatening your own life, Jack?" Hammond question dubiously.

"No! I just want to know how they intended to move forward if I'd died on that planet instead of being rescued. Surely there's a plan for running the SGC that doesn't include me."

"While the option to include you exists, they are exercising it."

Jack blew out a breath through pursed lips. "So now what?"

"Now we'll put you back on SG-1 and you all will resume a regular mission schedule. Once you've been cleared for active duty, of course."

"Of course. And if I'm never cleared?" He could arrange that.

"Colonel O'Neill, you will not purposely fail medical or psychological assessments, is that understood?"

"Plainly." He swallowed. Openly defying General Hammond was not something he wanted to do. He respected the man too much. To that end, he saw no way out of this and soon he'd be expected to lead his team back through the gate and likely get them killed in the process. Then it hit him. He had an ace in the hole. He couldn't go back to SG-1. "Then sir, I think I should tell you that my relationship with Major Carter has become more... personal."

The General sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Moreover, he didn't look altogether surprised by the news. "Son, don't think I'm unsympathetic to your situation. But you have to understand that I have to order you to terminate your... personal... relationship with Major Carter."

"You can't just order me to-"

"Yes, I can," he said, more gently than Jack would have thought he had in him. "And I'd hate to see you reinstated to active duty just to be court martialled," he warned, his voice low and slightly menacing.

Which meant he and Carter were going to have to mind their Ps and Qs, because the General was going to have his eye on them. "Yes, sir," Jack said, grudgingly. "Is there anything else?"

"You're to report to the infirmary for a check up and then to Doctor MacKenzie for analysis. I expect both to be seen to before lunch."

"Yes sir," Jack said, standing.

The General's face softened. "I know this isn't how you wanted things to go. And I know we're upsetting your personal life... again. But it's only for now, Jack. I'll continue to go to bat for you. If you still want out, I'll do my best to get you out."

It occurred to Jack then that the General had tried, likely tried everything in his power to keep this from happening. "Thank you, sir."

"You're dismissed."

Jack turned on his heel and exited the General's office. He had two appointments to see to and, he checked his watch, four hours to make it happen. He needed to see Sam. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks – he was going to have to break things off with Sam. He could wait, let her come home after a long day, let her fill the empty space in his house. But it seemed cruel. To both of them.

With lead in his feet he made his way to her lab. He walked in and closed the blast door. The sound made her look up from what she was doing. A smile bloomed across her face. "Hey." Then she sobered. "How'd it go?"

He pulled up a stool and sat opposite her, the lab table between them.

"My retirement has been denied. I'm being put back on SG-1."

"What?" Her face went ashen.

"I've got to be cleared for active duty first, but they're already on that. I've got to see all the docs today."

"Oh god, Jack, I'm sorry."

He thought it was probably her use of his first name because he saw the rest of it spread across her face in increments as she realized what else it meant. Tears sprang to her eyes. It took everything he had not to take her in his arms. He could only imagine how difficult this must be for her. To have wanted him for so long, to have gotten a taste of him, and now to know she'd have to give him up. He'd only known he wanted her for a short while and already he could feel dread in the pit of his own stomach.

"Oh god," she said again. "That means we can't..."

He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I told the General, but I was ordered to end it."

"You told..." She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Yeah."

"Oh god."

"So we're going to be under some scrutiny. No false moves."

She nodded tearfully. "Because I was doing such a good job before."

"Hey, he never knew."

"He wasn't looking."

"He knows we can't control how we feel. We've been ordered to end the relationship, that's all."

"That's all," she scoffed. "Right. If we don't... I I don't get control of my feelings, I'll be off the team. He'll be looking for a reason now to boot me off."

"It's still General Hammond," Jack pointed out. "He's on our side. I think he knows SG-1 is different."

She took a deep, fortifying breath and blinked until her eyes were clear. "Okay. So... okay. That's it."

Jack didn't think it was as easy as she was trying to make it sound, though. She had most certainly pulled herself up by her bootstraps, but he had a feeling there was going to be some fallout.

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

Sam wandered aimlessly around her house. Just a few nights at his place and already hers felt... wrong... somehow. She'd taken a shower and then cursed when she realized her good hairbrush was at his house. Not that she was going to go get it. Or ask him for it. Not that or any of the clothes she had left there, either, in her overnight bag. The whole damn thing could stay there, on the chair in his bedroom.

She was startled when her phone rang. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, she thought it was him. But then she thought to herself, why would he torture her that way? Unless... did he need her? She swooped over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sam," came Janet's friendly voice.

Sam deflated. "Hey, Jan."

"So I hear the gang's all back together. Or, almost, anyway."

And she abruptly started to cry. She hadn't intended to tell anyone at all what had happened between her and Jack but now that it was over and she was hurting so much it seemed like talking about it might not be so bad, if she chose her audience wisely. And besides, the General already knew, so what did she have to lose?

It took ten minutes to catch Janet up but once she had the doctor was making soft, sympathetic noises into the phone. "Oh, honey."

"Now what am I supposed to?"

Thankfully, the woman didn't point out that there was nothing to be done. "Wine?"

Sam sniffled. "I don't have any wine."

"There's a liquor store between my house and yours. I can be there in twenty," her friend offered.

Suddenly, it sounded like a great idea. "Okay."

"Okay. I'll be there soon."

Sam found her travel brush and ran it through her hair, taming it as much as possible after the finger-comb she gave it straight out of the shower. She figured Janet wouldn't care if her hair was a mess, though.

True to her word, Janet showed up twenty-two minutes after they'd hung up their phone call. Janet pulled Sam into a tight hug when she walked through the door. Sam clung to her friend, her eyes welling up with tears once again. "You know, I knew this was a problem, even when I asked," she said with a chuckle.

Luckily that caused Sam to laugh. "I thought I'd done such a good job of hiding how I felt."

"To people who didn't know you, I'm sure you did a fine job. It's not like there's a pool going around base about you and the Colonel."

Sam snorted. "Thank goodness for that."

Sam poured them both a glass of wine and they got comfortable in the living room. Or, as comfortable as she could get considering the subject matter.

"So you two... for the last week, huh?"

"Well, sort of. We sort of discovered that he was in a better mood if he woke up and I was in the house. And then he asked me to stay with him, in the bed. And so I did."

"I see."

"We weren't having sex," Sam defended. "All we've done is kiss. He's not... he can't... there's too much..."

"It's okay, I understand," Janet said gently.

"But we definitely got closer, and more than just physically."

"And now you have to go back to the way it was."

"I don't know if I can."

"If you can't, the General will have to remove you from SG-1."

"I know, and I don't want that."

"So you better figure out how to get it together," her friend said, not unkindly.

"He's going to be so much better at this than I am," she bemoaned.

"Yes," Janet agreed, "probably. Try not to let that upset you even more. He's just good at compartmentalizing his feelings."

"It's not just that. He doesn't feel for me the way I feel for him."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do," Sam said surely. "He told me so."

"What, exactly, did he tell you?"

"That he wasn't where I was, but that he had feelings for me that weren't just professional. Can't be much clearer than that."

"That's where he was in that moment. Have you talked about it since then?"

"In the one week that's passed? No, of course not."

"A lot can happen in a week," Janet pointed out.

"And a week is also a very short amount of time. Nothing could have changed."

"Perhaps."

"But it doesn't matter now, anyway, because we've been ordered not to see each other anymore. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? And I haven't even had to face the General yet."

"It'll be fine," Janet soothed. "He's a reasonable man. I'm sure he wasn't upset about your changed relationship with the Colonel. But he had no choice but to end it."

"I should have known better. He'll think I should have known better."

"I don't think that's true, Sam."

"I have a lot of respect for General Hammond," Sam said.

"And he has a lot of respect for you."

"Not anymore. Now I'm just some weak-willed woman."

"Having feelings doesn't make you weak-willed, Sam."

"I should have been able to control it."

"Look, you can beat yourself up about this if you want, but I think you're giving yourself too hard of a time. I don't think the General is going to think any less of you."

"Do you?"

"Why? Because you fell for your CO?" Janet laughed. "Of course not."

"You sounded like you disapproved."

"It wasn't that. It's that I was worried for you. You were working yourself to death and there was obviously something going on with you. I was just worried."

Sam sighed. "I should have talked to you about this a long time ago, maybe I could have gotten out of this without confessing my feelings to him."

"Well, the way you told it, Daniel's the one that let that little tid-bit fly anyway."

Sam scowled. "Don't get me started on Daniel."

"Try not to be too angry with him. He doesn't understand the military, and he's your friend. I'm sure he was just trying to do the best he thought he could do by two of his best friends."

"Well, it's a fine mess I'm in now. I think I'd have rather gone on not knowing what it felt like to..." be in his arms, kiss him, feel his arousal pressed against me.

"Yeah," Janet said, as if Sam hadn't left it all unsaid. Of course, that was the nice thing about friends. Often, they heard the things you didn't say just as loudly as the things you did.

The women sat back into the couch and sipped their wine quietly, the mood somber on the heels of Sam's almost confession. It took a while, but they finished the bottle, and when Janet left, Sam couldn't say she felt any better, but she certainly felt lighter for having shared her secret with someone.

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

Jack poured himself some whiskey and thought back over his session with MacKenzie who seemed only too happy to get Jack in his clutches. Okay, so maybe the man wasn't that bad, but Jack wasn't interested in talk therapy unless the person he was talking to was Sam.

All he'd really told the man was how he'd started a relationship with her and had to end it, but mostly he'd told him that because the man had asked if Jack was still dreaming and Jack had to admit that he was but that it wasn't as bad when Sam was around. He was pretty sure he bought her some of her own sessions with the shrink by confessing of their short-lived relationship, but it couldn't be helped, he supposed.

MacKenzie had deemed him fit for light duty, which meant work but no missions through the gate. Not until he was sleeping better, apparently. But now that he'd lost his lifeline, who knew how well that was going to go? Of course, that was the point of the therapy, he knew. To talk things out so he wouldn't have to dream them out. But he knew from experience that talking didn't make the dreams stop.

He wandered into his bedroom to see the bed perfectly made. Her handiwork that morning, rather than his. She'd made the bed while he puttered in the bathroom. He looked into the bathroom and it made him think about just the night before when she'd sat on that very counter and shaved his face. The way it had made him feel...

He caught sight of her hairbrush on the counter and it made his stomach clench for want of her. His eyes scanned his bedroom and he found her overnight bag. Like a starving man he went to it, rifled through it, like a gentleman he pushed aside the panties she'd worn the day before, and pulled out the t-shirt she'd slept in. He held it up to his face, it smelled like the two of them together.

He shouldn't torture himself this way. He didn't get to have her anymore, despite the fact that she made things easier, she wasn't an option. But he couldn't seem to turn his brain back to the time when she hadn't been something he wanted. He sat down on his bed, his tumbler of whiskey on the bedside table beside him. He dropped her t-shirt in his lap, close but not so close.

He wondered what she was doing. He picked up the phone to call her, not once, not twice, but three times, before he talked himself out of hurting her in a way he couldn't soothe. Best to make it a clean break. He'd wait until things between them were settled and then he'd get her stuff back to her. She'd be fine without it until then. He just needed to make sure she was fine with everything else.

He took another sip of his whiskey and looked at the shirt in his lap. Like a fool, he lifted it to his face once more.