Thank you to my kind reviewers! I so appreciate you and your comments. I apologize for the delay in writing. It's been a hard few months, but hopefully I'm back to updating regularly. Vini

Gardenias. He smelled gardenias. It took him back to his childhood, playing outside during summers at his grandparent's house. His Grandma had loved the flowers and had them planted all around their house. At the time, he hadn't cared at all about flowers – their look or smell, since he was more interested in playing, getting dirty, and generally having a grand time away from his much stricter parents.

The memories washed over him, and he felt relaxed and happy. His childhood had been magical, or at least that is how it seemed to him now. He'd been something of an imp, his grandfather had told him, but with a gleam in his eye and a candy in his pocket. But Jack had known he was loved. Yes, it had been a magical childhood.

He took a deep breath and relaxed into the pillow. The small twinge in his side made him frown briefly, but then he was transported back again to those wonderful summers, running free, without a care in the world.

Gardenias. They brought back a distant and much-loved time.

It took a few more minutes before he came back to the now. A frown slowly appeared on his forehead. His Grandma had been gone for a long time, and he didn't know anyone who had gardenias – he knew he certainly didn't. He briefly thought that maybe he should plant some, although the neighbors would probably wonder what was wrong with him.

His thoughts then returned to the present. Where was he? He concentrated on his situation, without opening his eyes. He was clearly in a bed – a very comfortable bed with a soft, thick comforter covering him. His head was on a pillow – a feather one he was sure, and he was nice and warm.

He was also very hungry and thirsty. He finally decided it was time to move, to find out more about where he was. He stretched slightly, making sure he was in one piece. There was another twinge, and he could tell he'd been injured. Fortunately, the pain wasn't bad, and he didn't feel like he had any broken bones and no bandages that he could feel.

His next step was to open his eyes. He did so slowly, at first only peeking out from between his lids. He turned his head slightly, but as far as he could tell, he was alone. He then opened his eyes fully and peered around the room.

He was in a simple bedroom, with the bed, a dresser, chair and small night table. On the wall opposite the bed was a window – open, with white curtains softly moving in the breeze. That was where the smell of gardenias was coming from, he realized.

On the table beside him was a glass, which he contemplated for a moment. He was thirsty but felt almost too relaxed to reach for it. He also needed to make sure it was safe to drink, although he hoped, based on the nice room that he was in, that he had landed in a good place.

He finally tried to push himself up, but the twinges became sharper. He had been injured, although he couldn't quite tell where or how. His memory was foggy, although he knew that was more because he refused to think about anything and instead preferred to remain in a relaxed and nostalgic mood.

"Come on O'Neill," he finally reminded himself. "Get your ass in gear!" He grunted softly as he pushed himself up and reached for the glass. It was full of what looked like water. After a careful sniff, and then a small sip, he nodded. It certainly tasted like water – really, really good water.

He drank the whole glass, sighed and put it back on the nightstand and then leaned back. Now that his thirst was slaked, he forced himself to concentrate. The memories flooded in.

"Sam," he groaned, his eyes closing in fear and anguish. He'd left her to die. He remembered everything, although most of the memories he immediately buried. The one that stuck in his mind was finding her gone. He had failed her.

"So, you're awake?" The voice scared the pants off of him. It was a testament to the fact that he was still far from well that someone had managed to open the door and enter without him noticing.

"I am," he answered cautiously.

Looking at him from the doorway was a kindly looking older man with gray hair and deep-set brown eyes. "That's good. We were beginning to worry. You've been here a while."

"How long?" Jack asked.

"Just over two weeks," the man answered. "We almost lost you, but the Doc worked hard and you're on the mend."

"Two weeks," he groaned. That meant that Sam …. "Uh – where am I?"

The man stepped into the room, grabbed the back of the single chair and pulled it up to the bed. He let out a long sigh as he sat down. "Busy day," he said. "I'm too old to spend so much time on my feet." Once he was settled, he looked steadily at the man in the bed.

Jack could see that as friendly as he looked, this man was no pushover. He was regarding Jack cautiously, although he seemed willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"My names Ethan," the man told him. "Ethan Koopman. And you?"

"Jack – Jack O'Neill."

"Well, hello Jack. This is my house – and business," Ethan told him. "I run the local mercantile and was returning from a trip to purchase goods when I found you passed out in the road. Your rouncey's were standing over you."

"Rouncey's?" Jack said, confused.

The man looked at him sharply. "Your animals," he explained. "You are not from here?"

"Uh no, sorry. We – uh – call them something different where I come from. Thank you for helping me."

"You are welcome. I could not leave a man to die in the road, but I admit I did not think you would make it back alive. You were in bad shape." Ethan looked at him curiously, obviously hoping for an explanation.

Jack nodded. "Thank you again. I didn't think I'd make it either."

Ethan regarded him closely. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Jack thought quickly. He wasn't sure what the man knew about his injuries and felt shame wash over him. He had to say something though. Ethan had saved his life.

"I was captured," he said. "Bandits – uh – bad men," he explained. "They tried to rob me and then beat me up. They kept me captive, but I finally got away."

"They did not follow you?"

"No. I – uh – took their – animals," he stuttered, trying to remember the name of the damn beasts.

"Good. There have been a series of robberies and even some murders on that road. The local authorities were planning on sending out a group to find the malefactors and arrest them. You will have to tell them where you left them."

"I don't know if I can remember," he said carefully. "I was too hurt to notice much. Uh – I was looking for my companion," he finally said. "You haven't heard of a woman being found," he asked hopefully. "I went back to find her after escaping from the men, but she was gone. She was injured and I had gone to get help. She couldn't have managed on her own."

"Your woman?" Ethan asked quickly.

"A friend," he replied. "But she is important to me. Have you heard of anyone being found?"

"I am sorry – no," the older man replied sympathetically. "I can ask around, but I have heard nothing."

"Damn," he said softly. Finally he looked at Ethan. "Thank you for helping me – and I would appreciate if you would ask if anyone has seen her." He was suddenly so very tired. He suspected that it was mostly worry – and guilt, although he was recuperating from what he'd been told was a near death experience.

"I shall bring you some food," Ethan stood suddenly. "You have lost much weight and the doctor said you need to eat to regain your strength."

"I am sorry to be a bother."

"No bother," Ethan grinned. "It makes my life less boring. Fortunately, Estella, Doc Markus' wife, was able to stay and nurse you most of the time. She's gone now that you are mending. The doctor will be back tomorrow to take a look at you. In the meantime, just rest. I will be back with food."

With that Ethan was gone and Jack was once again left alone. He was truly grateful that his host appeared so kind – and that he'd saved Jack's life. But the burning anger, fear and shame was eating him up.

After a small lunch – he couldn't eat much – he'd dozed. He was as weak as the proverbial kitten and knew he needed to regain his strength as soon as possible. He was not going to give up on Sam. As soon as he could get out of bed, he was going to look for her – and keep looking until he found her.

He lay there thinking about a plan of action. He'd been on this godforsaken planet for about 3 weeks, at least according to how long he'd been at Ethan's. By now the people back on Earth would be thinking they were lost and possibly gone forever, although he knew that Daniel and Teal'c would never stop looking for them. Of course, they had no idea where their teammates had gone. He would leave it to Sam, when he found her, to calculate the odds of them being rescued.

He wondered if there was a gate on this planet. He'd have to introduce the topic to his host as soon as possible. If there was, it could be that Sam had returned home, thinking that he was lost or dead. He could only hope that she was safe.

A soft creak of the door disturbed him, although he pretended not to notice and slowly closed his eyes, making it seem as if he was sleeping. The sound came again, and this time he glanced quickly over, peeking between his lids – to see two sets of brown eyes staring at him.

The eyes were low to the ground, and after a moment he had to bite his lips so as not to grin. Looking at him intently were two little boys. The older one couldn't have been more than about four, and his younger sibling probably about two.

They were trying to sneak in quietly, although the little one clearly didn't understand stealth, as he started to ask his brother questions in baby talk.

"Who dat?" the little one asked.

"Shhh!" his older brother hissed. "Be quiet Jankin. He's sleeping."

"Man?"

"Shhhh!" his older brother said again, sounding frantic. "If we wake him up," he whispered loudly, "Grandpa will make us sit in the corner."

"No cowner!" the younger one pouted.

The two slowly made their way to the bed and stared at the – to them – giant man in the bed. They'd been told not to disturb him, but innocent curiosity had won out. Their Grandpa had told them the man had woken up and seemed nice. They naturally wanted to see for themselves.

"How are you?" Jack asked softly. The older boy's eyes grew huge and he looked as if he was ready to run. Jankin simply stuck his thumb in his mouth and stared at Jack.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I like having company."

"You do?" the older boy asked, sounding hopeful. "You're not mad at us for waking you up?"

"You didn't," Jack told him. "I was awake. I was just resting my eyes."

The older boy nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "What's your name?" he asked.

"My name is Jack. What is yours?"

"I'm Simon. I'm four. That's my brother Jankin. He's just little. He's two."

"So, you're the big brother," Jack said, matter-of-factly. "That's a heavy responsibility."

Simon frowned, not quite sure what the man meant.

"It means you have to look after your little brother."

Simon nodded. "Sometimes it's hard. He can be naughty."

"Ays not naughty!" Jankin argued angrily. "Ays a good boy!"

"I'm sure you are," Jack agreed. "I'm sure you're both good boys."

Simon nodded, but then a frown appeared. "Sometimes we're naughty," he confessed. His grandfather had told him to always tell the truth.

"Well, sometimes I am too," the older man told him. "I think all of us are good most of the time, and sometimes naughty."

Simon nodded. "Jankin is naughty a lot," he said. "Grandpa says he's a rascal."

The Colonel couldn't help but grin. It's something he had been called as a child as well. "I see. Well, I'm sometimes a rascal too," he told Jankin. That made the little tyke grin, proud to know that the big man was like him.

"Why are you sick?" Simon asked.

"I was hurt."

"What happened?" he asked.

Jack grimaced slightly. "Uh – I got hurt when my – uh – rouncey threw me."

"He did? That must have hurt."

"It did," he agreed. "But with your grandfather's help – and the doctor's – I'm getting better fast."

"Will you play with us?" Simon wanted to know, losing interest in the man's injuries.

"Pway wif us!" Jankin repeated, jumping up and down. "Pway!"

"Well, unfortunately I can't get out of bed," he told the two boys. "Otherwise, I'd love to play with you."

"Wait!" Simon cried. He ran out the door so quickly Jack almost missed it. It left him with the little one, who continued to suck his thumb and stare at him.

He lay back and rested, curious to know what had happened to Simon. He hoped that Ethan didn't mind his – grandsons he supposed – hanging out with a stranger.

A few seconds later he heard pounding footsteps and Simon had returned, this time carrying something in his hands.

"What's that?" Jack asked.

"My book," he said. "Can you read us a story?"

Jack wasn't sure whether the book would be in English, but he held out his hand to check. A quick glance showed him he could understand it. When he examined it more closely he realized it was an anthology of what looked like children's stories.

"Okay, I can do that," he said. "Uh where - " he hadn't even finished his question when two little boys climbed up on his bed and made themselves at home lying beside him. There was a scramble as they jockeyed for position, but eventually they were still.

"Read!" Simon told him.

Jack flipped through the book until he found a story and began to read, putting as much expression into as he could. He enjoyed himself, although it almost took more energy than he had at the moment.

For the next half hour, he was able to forget everything and concentrate on the story and on the two innocent little boys beside him. He was grateful to them, but hoped their grandfather wouldn't be angry with them being here with him.

By the time the story was finished, Jankin was sound asleep, the thumb still in his mouth. Simon had cuddled up next to him and was still awake, but probably not for long.

He wasn't quite sure what to do, when he glanced up to see Ethan looking fiercely into the room. For a moment Jack wondered if his life was in danger.

"Simon!" the older man said sharply. "I told you not to bother our guest!"

Whew, Jack thought. He wasn't the one in trouble.

"I didn't bother him," Simon protested. "He liked reading to us – didn't you?" he looked at Jack pleadingly.

Jack bit his lip, but then nodded seriously. "Yes, they were very kind to keep me company," he told Ethan. "They were both polite and didn't bother me at all." He smiled slightly. "Really – it was nice," he told his host sincerely.

"If you're sure," Ethan answered. "They're both rascals and I've been trying to keep them from disturbing you, although they're both too curious for their own good. Here," he moved over to the bed. "I'll put Jankin to bed for his nap. Simon – you can come too. Mr. Jack needs his rest."

As Ethan picked up his younger grandson, Simon pushed himself to the edge of the bed and then leapt off. "Can I come back so you can read us another story?" he asked.

"Simon!" his grandfather snapped.

"Of course, I'd like that very much," Jack told him, with a wink at Ethan. "I love reading stories."

Simon looked at his grandfather as if to say "I told you so," and then ran out of the room. Ethan followed more slowly with his still sleeping grandson in his arms.

"Thank you for keeping them amused," he said. "I don't always have the time to play with them."

"Their parents?" Jack asked carefully.

"Dead," Ethan said bluntly. "My daughter and son-in-law. They were killed in an accident last year. I'm looking after them now, but some days it's hard. I have my business, which keeps me busy. I guess I should hire a nanny to look after them."

"I'm so sorry," Jack told him gently. "That must be hard."

Ethan nodded, but didn't reply, clearly still in pain from his loss. He made his way to the door and turned around. "Don't let them bother you too much. Just tell Simon to leave if he gets tiresome."

"I really don't mind," Jack told him. "I like kids and I'm getting bored just lying here."

Ethan nodded. "It won't be long before you can get up, although the Doc said you're going to have to take it easy for a while. Now rest. These two are enough to exhaust the heartiest person!"

After Ethan and his grandson's had left, Jack lay back and rested. His mind kept going from the two boys and their grandfather, to what had happened with Sam. He avoided any thoughts of his tormentors. They were dead and gone.

On that thought his eyes closed and he was soon asleep.

"