"Sam. Sam!"

Sam slowly opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again. So bright, she thought dimly. And why did she feel like she was floating?

"Sam, please wake up." Janet's voice dimly filtered into her consciousness.

With an effort, Sam opened her eyes once more, blinking against the light. "Janet," she rasped. It had been a little while since she'd used her voice.

"Sam, we don't have much time," Janet urged as she leaned in more closely. Sam was starting to identify and recognize the surroundings. They'd made it back to an SGC observation room. She turned her head - and was surprised to see Colonel O'Neill in his own hospital bed. What...

Before she could give voice to her thought, Janet continued. "Sam, the Tok'ra are here. They've got two symbiotes they need hosts for because they have valuable information to deliver. They'll heal you and Colonel O'Neill and leave for other hosts as soon the High Council can find them. They've said they'll leave you even if they can't find other hosts. This is the only way we can save you, but since you're conscious, I need your consent to do this."

Sam's head felt a little fuzzy right now, but she grasped the situation. She wasn't at all thrilled about experiencing another blending - her memories of being taken over by Jolinar weren't exactly pleasant - but she'd take it over her death and the loss of apparently vital intel. However, there was a problem.

"The Colonel," she began, coughing before she could continue. "Has he agreed to do this?"

Janet shook her head, her brown eyes looking on with concern. "He's slipped into a coma, Sam. It looks like we'll have to make this decision for him. It's lucky for you that you have naquadah in your bloodstream. We think it's the only reason you're not as bad off as he is - yet."

He'd hate this. Sam knew darn well her C.O. would wake up ready to chew out everyone who'd been remotely responsible for allowing the Tok'ra to make him a "snakehead." But she couldn't lose him. Not this soon after losing Daniel. Not ever, a small voice whispered in her head.

However, as much as she wanted to simply allow Janet to save him, she had to at least try to give him the choice. If I could just make him understand how important this is... maybe he won't lose it on us.

"Try to wake him up so I can ask him," Sam rasped. This was important, and she stared at Janet intently in the hope that she would understand.

Janet pursed her lips for a moment. Sam knew the doctor's personal and professional creed insisted that she get her patient's consent wherever possible. Slowly, Janet nodded. "I'll try, Sam." She turned to a nurse in the room, giving her quiet instructions.

The nurse injected Colonel O'Neill with something. Epinephrine, maybe? Whatever it was, it didn't have the Colonel's eyes opening.

"Wheel me closer, Janet," Sam urged. With help from the nurse, Janet complied with the request as quickly as she could.

Situated next to his bedside, Sam called on what energy remained in her body to speak to him. "Colonel! Colonel O'Neill, can you hear me?"

He didn't open his eyes. Sam held her breath for a moment. Please, Sir.

"Carter?" he asked, just barely blinking his eyes open as he turned his head in her direction.

Sam let out her breath with a sigh of relief. "Sir, we don't have much time."

Jack felt like his brain was melting.

Gah, why couldn't I just die a nice, normal death?

In his more realistic wonderings, he'd pictured himself getting taken out by a bullet or a staff blast. Clean. Quick. A brief burst of pain followed by... nothing, he assumed.

In his fantasies, of course, he hoped he'd be an old man - retired and comfortably ensconced in his cabin. His ideal death would be slipping away in his chair on his pier just like that old man in Grumpier Old Men.

Death by ancient virus just wasn't on his bingo card.

The hardest part of all this, however, was looking over at an obviously ill Samantha Carter and knowing she'd be following him in this one way trip through hell. Jack could see the feverish sheen on her face and the exhaustion in her expression.

He still loved her. He had buried those feelings deep down so they could each do their jobs, but it still simmered within. Kinda like this fever, he thought. Then he grimaced. Not exactly the best comparison there.

"Colonel," she repeated.

He blinked at her, letting her know he was still with her. At least for now. "Yeah, Carter?"

"The Tok'ra have two symbiotes that can heal us."

He couldn't help the face he made, and he saw her wince in sympathy.

"Sir, I know you don't want that," she began, her blue eyes pleading. "But they're going to leave us as soon as we are healed and the Tok'ra have made an attempt at a search for new hosts. It won't be forever."

Jack closed his eyes a moment before giving her the answer he knew she didn't want but must have expected. "Not a chance in hell, Carter. Those snakes are not taking me over."

"Sir," she urged. Damn, it was hard to resist her when she sounded this emotional. "These two symbiotes have vital intel about the Goa'uld. We'd be helping the Tok'ra and ourselves if we could get it. And it would save us."

That was the only advantage Jack could see in this scenario - it would save Carter. She deserved to live. She needed to live. She was far too valuable for the Air Force to lose, and he himself couldn't bear the thought of her no longer existing, even if he wasn't here to see her.

He, on the other hand, was expendable. Another casualty of war. Heck, it was just a matter of time for him anyway.

"You do it, Sam," he ordered even as his voice softened. "I can't."

Carter's eyes shone with tears as she stared at him. But she did not let them fall. He knew they were both leaving a lot unsaid and undone here.

"Do we have your consent, then, Sam?" Doc Fraiser asked gently. Jack took in her kind expression as she squeezed Carter's hand. At least Carter will be taken care of when I'm gone.

Sam stared at him a bit longer. Then - she shook her head?

Carter?!?

"No, Janet," she said firmly in a lower tone. "If the Colonel won't, I won't either."

Damn. Carter had played her ace in the hole.

He could sacrifice himself any day. He couldn't do that with her.

"Carter, you've got to," he rasped out. He could already feel himself slipping away. Whatever had woken him up wouldn't keep him up much longer.

"And why don't you have to, Sir?" she challenged, her insubordinate tone surprising.

Jack stared at her. For a moment, it was as if he were once again staring at her through a force field, desperate to find a way to save her from the mess they'd run into at the speed of light. He'd have done anything to save her that day.

Two years later... nothing had really changed at all.

"I'll do it," he agreed defeatedly. "As long as you do it, too."

He watched as Carter nodded. 'Bout time.

The world went black again.