Debriefing from a foothold situation involving the majority of the base personnel, including the base commander, is an hours long process about as comfortable as getting a root canal and a colonoscopy both at the same time without anesthesia. At least, Jack thinks it must be that uncomfortable, maybe worse. It would be helpful if he and the General could stop sharing glances ranging from sheepish to outright mortified, but every time he looks up at Sam or Doc Frasier he feels a fresh bloom of shame from his stomach to his chest.

Academically, he understands that they had been controlled by a chemical agent to which only Teal'c and the women had been immune. Only there aren't that many women stationed at the SGC, which Jack thinks must have added insult to injury when they not only had to fight their own people, but also had to do it with so small a number because they are so poorly represented in their workplace.

If anyone feels worse than Jack or the General, it's got to be Daniel, who had been coerced into sex with Hathor and actually seeded the larval Goa'ulds, which Jack thinks is the most disgusting thing he can imagine. He absent mindedly presses his hand against his stomach where his own assault had been focused; the absence of a Jaffa pouch is one more reason to be grateful for Sam and the Doc, as if he didn't have enough already. Without them leading the charge, even Teal'c wouldn't have been able to mitigate the damage done by Hathor.

After hours of debriefing, no small part of which is focused on heaps of repeated thanks and praise to Sam especially, they are finally released. Jack can't bring himself to go home, so he goes to the local cafe he knows she likes as much as he does and orders their usuals to go. He doesn't call to ask if it's okay to stop by because he's afraid she'll say no.

"Hey," he says, smiling softly when she opens the door. He holds up the bag of takeout between them, eyes focused on hers and transmitting a silent plea. "I hope you don't mind, but I was hoping I could start what I gather is a deservedly long road of Please-Carter-Forgive-Me-For-Being-A-Feckless-Moron-ing by bringing you dinner?"

"Did you bring me my salad?"

"With extra spinach just like you like it because you're a weirdo."

She grins and scoots aside to make room for his entry. "Calling me a weirdo is an awfully strange way to start your forgiveness journey, Sir."

"I am a feckless moron, for sure, but asking for extra spinach means you're a weirdo."

"Or Popeye."

"You don't think Popeye is kind of a weirdo, Carter?"

Her head tips down as she tries to conceal her laugh, and he lets her keep that secret. He pulls dinner out of the paper bag and folds it neatly to add to the stack he knows she keeps in a drawer for later use. He drops into the stool next to hers and scoots closer to the island counter, elbow bumping hers. She offers wine and he accepts, delighted it's not the garbage Daniel likes. They plate food and adjust napkins on laps. She steals a fry from his plate; he steals a couple croutons from hers.

"So, Carter," he says, turning his head to look at her and smiling almost shyly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all that. You and the other women."

"It wasn't your fault, Sir."

He bites a fry and nods, chewing it slowly and thinking about how to express his next thought. "I know but also I don't know. It's all a little weird and shitty."

"Yeah I get it."

"All the same, I'm particularly sorry for some of the things I said to you. Even under the influence of whatever it was, I remember enough of it to know I was a dismissive asshole."

"Sir, it's-"

"Carter," Jack gently raises his hand and waves it against her words then lowers it to wrap lightly around her wrist. He's not sure why he does this, but it feels warm and like they can connect better if he touches her. He blinks a few times before meeting her eyes with his and speaking in a softer than before voice. "Carter, I know you're used to it because that's the deeply unfortunate reality of a lot of the Air Force, but I don't want to be the guy doing it. I want to be the guy calling it out."

"I hear you, Sir; I really do, but you were drugged. This conversation is great, and I appreciate how you're feeling and what you're saying, but it doesn't change that you and the other guys were drugged and that there are only a couple dozen women who work on base, and half of them weren't even there."

He nods.

She puts her hand over his around her wrist. "If you want to help make a difference, then use your position and power to hire more women. There are plenty of them out there who are qualified for the work."

Jack smiles a real smile for the first time since Hathor showed up. "You're right, Carter." He feels her squeeze his hand and it does something weird to his stomach he'll have to unpack later. "How about on Monday we go through some of the personnel files sitting on my desk and you help me find the right women for the job, uh, jobs?"

"Really, Sir?"

"Hell yes, Carter. Unless you don't want to, but I would really appreciate your input."

"I- I'd be glad to help."

"Good, that's good." He takes a bite of his sandwich and watches her watching him. They've been doing this a lot lately. Watching each other. His eyes drop back to his plate as he swallows. "Big day for you today, cracking the General on the head and now correctly calling me out."

"I can't believe I hit him!"

"And you're gonna get an award for it!"

Sam giggles around her fork full of salad and he joins her and reaches for his wine.

"You deserve it and more. Cheers, Carter."

"Cheers, Sir," she says.