Chapter 4

Sam's eyes snapped open to darkness. That wasn't right. It wasn't the blackness of night that she'd often experienced off-world; there were lights all around her. The soft glow of a computer screen, the harsh red of the power button on the medical equipment, and the faint rhythmic bearing of her heart on the monitor. She was in the infirmary at the SGC. She'd recognize it anywhere.

Sitting up and glancing around, Sam realized she must have dozed off. That was alright, she supposed. Dr. Brightman had all but ordered her to get some rest after giving her the lab results. The woman seemed nice enough. She'd certainly been kind when Sam had all but freaked out during the pelvic exam, but Sam really missed Janet.

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Janet would have known what to do. Okay maybe not exactly, Sam admitted to herself, but she would have known what to say to make this entire horrific situation seem just a little bit okay.

Damn pregnancy hormones, Sam cursed as she felt tears start to fall, then stopped. Pregnancy hormones. Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck. This was a fucking bear of a situation.

Bombarded by her own emotions and thoughts, which prevented a restful sleep, Sam decided to get out of bed. She searched around until she found a pair of medical slippers like the ones she always wore when stuck in the infirmary and slipped them on. Dr. Brightman had told her she wasn't confined, but she was expected to stay the night in the infirmary, so her vitals could be checked periodically. Based on the quietness and her own internal clock, Sam guessed it was around 0100. It wouldn't hurt to take a walk, she rationalized. She had to get out and do something while her brain tried to process everything that had happened.

She scribbled a note on some paper she found lying on the desk in the corner of the room and dropped it onto the bed. There. She clearly wasn't trying to sneak out of the infirmary, she simply needed some space.

Sam managed to make it to the hallway outside the infirmary without being seen by any of the night staff. It wasn't her fault they didn't look up as she slipped quietly behind them while they worked.

Having no destination in mind, Sam simply walked at her normal brisk pace and allowed her mind to finally think about what had happened. She'd been violated. Damn. It sucked to say it, but it was the truth. She'd been forcibly strapped down and thoroughly examined. Despite the total ick factor of it, the whole experience had been eerily similar to the horrific trip to the gynecologist when she'd been sixteen and they'd insisted on testing her for endometriosis. That doctor had also rammed a thin clear tube into—her brain cut off. No sense in dredging up that particular memory. It had been traumatic enough that no one had told her what was happening. At least the Kisqua had the decency to explain exactly what they were doing to her. No, correction. To them.

Jack. He'd been there, too. He'd seen everything. Hell, the Kisqua hadn't exactly been gentle when they'd extracted what they'd needed from him. He'd refused; fought like hell when he realized what they intended to do; again when he'd realized what they'd intended to do to her.

That look of abject horror on his face, the way his panicked eyes had locked onto hers when he realized what the Kisqua had done was seared into her brain.

Looking up, Sam realized that she'd somehow wandered to the elevators. She shrugged and punched the call button. She wanted a change of clothes anyway, she reasoned, so she might as well swing by her quarters. It was only four floors down on level 25, nowhere near the gate room.

When the doors re-opened, Sam started walking toward her door. This level was always pretty quiet, especially at night. It housed the senior officer's quarters, as well as the base commander's.

She wondered briefly who was in the commander's quarters. Jack had been hesitant to move all of his stuff over at first until Daniel and Teal'c had done it for him one night when they'd been sidelined. Ever since then it'd been a tossup whether he'd used them or not. But considering General Hammond was on site, it was a pretty safe bet to assume Jack had given those back to his superior officer.

Sam frowned. She'd somehow walked past her quarters and was standing in front of Jack's old ones. In all their years serving together, she'd found herself here a handful of times, always after a mission gone wrong. Certainly after Nirrti had screwed with her DNA—another violation she'd endured. Also after Adrian Conrad and more recently Fifth. It had become almost like a coping mechanism. After a traumatic experience, she'd knock on his door and they'd talk. Usually in the commissary or on their way back to the infirmary. But it would always soothe her, nonetheless. Jack always had a way of grounding her as she worked her way back. She always wondered how she would cope without his calming presence. Because she really needed it right now.

Except, this time, did she have the right? Jack had been through the ringer on this one, too. Could she really ask him to help her deal with this new trauma when he was surely dealing with his own?

Before she could make up her mind, the door opened and she was suddenly staring into a pair of surprised blue eyes.

"General Hammond!" Sam squeaked as the last person she expected to see stared down at her with wide eyes.

"Sam?" He appraised her gently, reaching out a hand to steady her when she stepped backward too fast.

"I went for a walk, sir," she said stupidly, cursing herself. "To clear my head."

"Does the infirmary staff know you're gone?"

"I left a note, sir," she replied, earning herself an arched eyebrow. She thought he was going to order her to return at once, but he suddenly let out a chuckle.

"What can I do for you Colonel?" Hammond asked, completely ignoring the fact that she'd obviously snuck out. It wouldn't be the first time a member of SG-1 escaped the infirmary and given the circumstances, he couldn't blame her.

"There isn't anything I—" Sam snapped her lips shut. Actually there was something she needed to talk to him about. Now was as good a time as any. "May I steal a moment of your time, sir?" She asked instead.

"You may steal several moments," Hammond stepped back and invited her in, assuming this needed to be a conversation conducted in private.

"Thank you, sir," Sam nodded gratefully and entered the room.

She was struck by how much this room still reminded her of Jack, even though General Hammond was currently occupying it. It was fairly stark, most of his stuff having been moved to the commander's quarters; however, there was still a picture of SG-1 on the nightstand and his collection of Simpson's figurines on the bookcase. She'd made it a habit of buying one for him every Christmas and birthday. Even after continuing the tradition for the last seven years, he still didn't have all the characters.

"Colonel?" Hammond said her rank gently, drawing her attention.

"Sir, I'd like to make an official report regarding General O'Neill's behavior on the planet," she stated plainly, lest there be any doubt about her intention.

Hammond nodded once, assuming the neutral mask she'd come to expect from the seasoned General.

"General O'Neill's behavior and integrity was beyond reproach, sir." She felt her bottom lip tremble, but she locked it away and continued. "He did everything in his power to stop the events that occurred, and at great personal risk to his own health and safety. I formally request that no charges, misconduct or otherwise, be brought against him on my behalf, sir."

"Report accepted, Colonel," Hammond said immediately. "At ease."

He appraised her carefully. He hadn't expected her to say anything different, but there was something in her eyes that made him pause. "Off the record, Sam," he used her first name to force her out of the rigid command structure she always insisted on. "Jack didn't go into much detail regarding his experiences with the Kisqua. Knowing the man as I do, and his specific feelings regarding," he paused as her eyes widened slightly, "his team. Should I assume that his experience was similar to yours?"

Sam knew immediately what he was asking without outright asking it. Had Jack also been assaulted? It was something every officer would be hesitant to admit without explicit reason. She couldn't hide her own assault, given the circumstances, but Jack would try to gloss over his, likely in an attempt to protect her from any potential fallout. He'd done similar things before. But this time, General Hammond needed to understand what had happened, and was asking her to trust him, off the record, and presumably to keep them both safe.

"Yes, sir," Sam answered and received his sharp nod of acceptance. Jack had been as much a victim as her.

They stood silently for a moment, until General Hammond spoke again. "Was there anything else you needed, Colonel?" His tone was soft, unassuming as he sought to give her time.

"No, sir," she shook her head. Not unless he had a time machine.

"Then allow me to walk you back to the infirmary," he offered.

"If it's alright with you, sir," Sam asked hesitantly, "I'd like to walk for a bit longer to help clear my mind."

"Of course," Hammond nodded in understanding, a shadow of concern crossing his face before it disappeared. He wanted to offer her support but was hesitant to do anything that might make her uncomfortable. "Just make sure you find your way back to the infirmary," he said instead.

"Yes, sir," she replied with a sigh and exited the way she'd entered.