Mark paced the living room of Sam's house, phone pressed tightly to his ear. The house was quiet, save for the muffled hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. He had barely registered the drive back here, the strange camaraderie between Sam's teammates still replaying in his mind. Now, in the solitude of her home, the weight of everything he'd seen—her frail form in the hospital bed, the bruises, the tubes—felt unbearable.

The call connected, and Beth's voice, groggy but warm, greeted him. "Mark? It's so early. Are you okay?"

Two a.m. The numbers shone at Mark when he looked at his digital watch. Time had rushed past him. Only a moment ago, he'd been checking Abby's soccer bag halfway across the country on an early friday afternoon, looking forward to spend the weekend with his family. Now, he sat in a cold, empty house whose owner battled for her life. Mark exhaled a shaky breath. "Hey. Yeah, I just… I needed to hear your voice." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat.

"Mark." Beth's tone softened, and he could hear the concern immediately. "How's Sam? Any change?"

He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "No. She's in a coma. The doctors are doing everything they can, but they can't tell me if—" He broke off, swallowing hard. "They can't promise she'll wake up."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

Standing still felt like torture. Simmering anger at noone and nothing, a distraction of the tears threatening him, had Mark search for a lightswitch. He blinked and looked around.

Sam's living room was large. Book shelves lined one side to literally noones surprise A comfy if saggy looking couch stood in the center of the room, oriented to face the door leading to the small entrance way and the large TV next to it. Ethan and Abby would love this thing, yet why Sam had splurged on it, Mark couldn't fathom. His sister barely watched TV, far too busy with her sciency stuff.

A framed photo of Sam in uniform caught his eye, her face radiating confidence and pride. It sat on a sideboard against a wall, right next to the hooks holding a bag with Sam's dress blues straight from the drycleaner and a light rain jacket. Several pictures scattered over the sideboard. He hadn't known she was so sentimental and stepped closer.

Next to it was one of him, Sam, and their father—smiling but stiff, a little too posed. Then another: Sam with her team. He recognized Dr. Jackson and Colonel O'Neill from the ride over, but there was also a tall black man with a strange tattoo on his forehead.

His voice was distant as he remembered the phone he clutched to his ear, "I saw her today, Beth. She looked so… small. Like she could disappear if I looked away for too long." He gritted his teeth, fighting the tremor in his voice. "The doctors showed me the X-rays. The breaks, the fractures—it's a miracle she's even alive."

Beth stayed quiet, letting him speak.

One of the pictures caught his eye: Sam, laughing, her arms wrapped around a young girl cuddling a puppy. Cassie. His thumb brushed the edge of the frame as he studied their joyful expressions. "And then there's this," he muttered, his voice low.

"What?" Beth asked gently.

Mark hesitated, his hand brushing against the corner of the photo frame. "Beth," he said suddenly, "did you know Sam has a kid?"

"What?" Beth's voice sharpened, jolting fully awake. "What are you talking about?"

"Cassie," he said. "Her name's Cassie. She's … well, I suppose she is only Sam's goddaughter. But Jackson, he said if she could have, Sam would have adopted her. A friend did instead and apparently Cassie and Sam are close."

It had been the one thing he'd been able to think about on the car ride to Sam's home. The one thing that would not make him break into tears in the same car as the Colonel and Dr Jackson.

Apparently, Dr Fraiser had adopted Cassie instead though neither man knew if she'd told her daughter of Sam's fate yet. But she likely would, seeing as she was the base doctor who'd been transferred to check on Sam's condition at the Memorial Hospital and she would have to work the next day. O'Neill had muttered something of taking Cassie and the dog to the park to keep her mind off things.

Beth was silent for a moment, processing. "And you had no idea?"

"No," Mark admitted, his voice low and raw. "Not a damn clue."

"I'm sorry." Beth's voice softened further. "But at least it sounds like she has people who care about her."

"Yeah," Mark bit out, his voice sharp. "They do. They know everything about her. And you know what's worse?" He laughed bitterly. "They know everything about me too."

"What do you mean?"

Looking at the pictures was too much. Snapshots of so many moments he'd never suspected. And worst of all, that one picture of him, Sam and Dad all together, all tense as they posed for the camera, lovingly joining this myriad of important moment. "On the way to the hospital, Colonel O'Neill started talking about the kids. By name. And not just their names, Beth—he knew about Abby's soccer game, about the snow castle Sam built with Ethan. Stories Sam told them. About us."

On the side of the phone, he could hear Beth shift, stifling a yawn. "She told them about you?"

"She talked about us," Mark said, his chest trembling with something between anger and shame. "She told them about her niece and nephew like she was proud of them. Like she was proud of me. Even the fight we had—" He clenched his jaw. "She told them about that too, but not in the way I expected. Not bitter or angry. Just… like it was something that happened."

Beth was quiet for a moment before asking, "And you?"

Mark closed his eyes, the answer already heavy on his chest. "I can't remember the last time I mentioned her to anyone at work. Or even in passing. I don't tell stories about her. I barely talk about her at all." He sank onto the couch, his head in his hands. The only time he'd mention her at all was when it came to make a disparaging remark on the armed forces in general, he realised. "God, Beth, what kind of brother does that make me?"

"Mark," Beth said firmly, cutting through the haze of guilt. "You're being too hard on yourself."

"Am I?" he asked bitterly. "I've spent years shutting her out. She's been proud of me this whole time, and I've been… what? Embarrassed? Too stubborn to admit I was wrong?"

"No," Beth said. "You were hurt. And you didn't know how to handle it. But that doesn't mean it's too late to fix things."

Mark shook his head, staring down at the coffee table. Coffee rings stained the surface and one large empty mug painted with the stupid sunflower Abby had drawn on absolutely everything sat there as the culprit as if to mock him. "She's lying in a hospital bed. She might never wake up. How do I fix that?"

"You're there," Beth said softly. "That's how you start. You're there now, Mark, and that matters more than you think."

Picking up the mug, Mark carried it into the kitchen. He needed to clean this up. This and the marks on the table. "I just wish I'd done it sooner."

"I know," she said, her voice warm with understanding. "But she's always been strong, hasn't she? Strong enough to fight. You just have to believe in her. The same way she clearly believes in you."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He closed his eyes, letting them sink in. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, you're right."

"You're her brother, Mark.," Beth said gently. "That bond doesn't go away, no matter how much time has passed."

Even though she couldn't see him, Mark nodded. He stayed on the line with her a little longer, her steady presence keeping him grounded. When the call finally ended, he set the phone down and the exhaustion finally caught up with him. Mark didn't bother with looking for fresh linens. Hell, he didn't even know if Sam had a guest bedroom and part of him really didn't want to rifle through her stuff only to get himself situated. Instead, he grabbed the knitted blanket sprawled on the couch and stretched out on it, shoving a pillow under his head. Despite everything, he fell asleep within moments.

Monday morning dawned with a muted gray light that filtered through the ICU windows, casting long shadows across the sterile room. Daniel sat beside Sam's hospital bed, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together as though in prayer. He hadn't slept much since that briefing on Friday, when they'd first gotten the call—Sam's motorcycle accident, the emergency surgery to fix the internal bleeding, the broken bones, the skull fracture, the need to relieve the pressure on her brain, and then the crushing news on Saturday that another operation was necessary.

The sight of her now, pale and motionless beneath the hospital blankets, filled him with a sickening mix of relief and dread. She was alive, breathing on her own since yesterday, but the monitors and the bandages and casts told the story of how close they'd come to losing her. On her right side, they'd shaved her head, marking two surgeries on her brain. Stillness held her in a jarring contrast to the confident, brilliant woman who had been laughing with them just days ago.

Across the bed, Teal'c stood in his usual silent vigil, his arms held behind his back and his dark eyes watchful. He was still as a statue, but Daniel knew better. As any of them, Teal'c had been as shaken by the accident. For over twenty hours, Teal'c had gated from one planet to the next in search for Jacob Carter, but the Tok'Ra operative had remained elusive on whatever undercover-mission he was currently on. Finally Hammond recalled him.

"Did the police find anything?" Daniel asked suddenly, his voice rough from the hours of silence they'd shared.

Teal'c's gaze shifted from Sam to Daniel, and he shook his head. "I have received no further updates."

Pinching his forehead, Daniel exhaled sharply. The story had been sickening enough the first time he'd heard it—Sam on her motorcycle, heading home after a late evening, and the car that came speeding around the corner too fast, slamming into her without even slowing. She'd never had a chance to react. Worse, Daniel had been there that night, at the bar. Him and Mike and they'd left Sam there. Of course it wouldn't have changed anything if they'd stayed with her but maybe she would have left sooner or maybe … Daniel grit his teeth.

"They just left her there," Daniel muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to push away the images that had haunted him since friday morning. "I don't understand how anyone could just—"

With its familiar low hum, Teal'c's voice cut through Daniel's spiraling thoughts. "Those who act without honor are often without remorse."

He turned his gaze back to her, focusing on her hand where it lay motionless on the blanket. The same hand that had been so animated in the lab, sketching out equations, or gripping a P90 during a mission. Now it was still, fragile.

Then, suddenly, it wasn't.

His heart skipped in Daniel's chest as he caught a flicker of movement. Her fingers twitched—barely perceptible, but unmistakable. He blinked, afraid his tired mind was playing tricks on him, but it happened again.

"Teal'c," he said, his voice urgent but low.

At his call, the jaffa's attention snapped back to Sam. He stepped closer, his sharp gaze fixed on her hand as it twitched a third time. The two men exchanged a look, a glimmer of hope passing between them in the heavy stillness of the room.

"Captain Carter? Can you hear us?" Teal'c leaned in, his dark timber a gentle hum in the room. Carefully reaching past the cables, his large hand clasped Sam's fingers peaking from the cast encasing her entire right arm. "Captain Carter?"

Sam stirred, features tightening and Daniel leapt to his feet, swallowing hard. Against the blanket, Sam's fingers curled slightly as though testing the ability to move. Her eyes, swollen and bruised, fluttered open just a fraction, revealing slivers of blue. Her heart rate monitor beeped faster, betraying the panic that must surge through her.

Sam's breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling more rapidly as she processed the unfamiliar setting. Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, she seemed too overwhelmed to comprehend where she was.

"Captain Carter," Teal'c said, his tone as steady as ever, "it is I, Teal'c, and Daniel Jackson. You are in the hospital. You were in an accident, but you are safe now. The doctors are doing all they can for you."

Slowly, her breathing steadied, and her eyes shifted towards Teal'c.

"Hi," she croaked, her voice barely a whisper, but it was there. It was her. Daniel gripped the bed, suddenly feeling as if his legs might give out under him.

The big jaffa nodded, a rare soft smile touching his usually stoic face. "Colonel O'Neill will be most displeased that he has missed the occasion of your awakening."

Pale lips twitched into the faintest ghost of a smile, her eyes closing again, exhausted by the simple effort. "Where'd … Where'd ya leave … him?"

"General Hammond required his presence. He is due to visit you later today."

A sliver of a hum escaped Sam, her chin dropping as if pulling her back into sleep. But her her shoulders flexed and her left hand twitched again, searching for something to grasp. Readily, Daniel slipped his own hand between her fingers, careful not to disturb the IV lines running from her arm.

"Hey, Sam," he said, his voice quieter than usual. She squeezed his hand, weak but unmistakable, and Daniel's throat tightened. Trying to lighten the moment, he managed a small grin. "If you didn't want to tell me what happened, you didn't have to go to the lengths of getting yourself hospitalized."

Sam's brow furrowed slightly, a fleeting shadow of confusion crossing her face. She swallowed, her lips parting, and Daniel leaned in closer, unsure what she was trying to say. Then, she spoke again, her voice faint but clear enough.

"Melanie?"

Daniel's stomach flipped. The bartender had never introduced herself by name but it was by far no leap to understand she must be Melanie. And apparently she'd told Sam her name.

He hadn't thought of it. Not this way. All his circling thoughts of that night had involved him and Mike staying for longer, offering her a ride, of Sam leaving with them and as such missing the car that hit her. But they hadn't stayed and Sam hadn't left with them. Because she had wanted to continue flirting with the bartender. With Melanie. They'd spend time together after him and Mike had left.

Damn it.

How long was that ago? Three days? It had been on Thursday night and it was Monday morning now. Melanie had not heard from Sam since Thursday. Maybe they had even made plans for the weekend and of course Sam had not shown for those. Daniel's chest tightened. Gods! He still remembered Sam's flushed cheeks and her easy laughter with the bartender. Sam had been happy. Nervous maybe, but with a hopeful grin and damn it, she deserved it. Even now he heard her hope in that single word!

He glanced quickly at Teal'c, who remained calm and impassive, unaware of the significance of the name. A rush of concern flashed through Daniel. Drugged and disoriented, Sam barely knew where she was. If she said something that might out herself, it could complicate everything. Especially if O'Neill had been here instead of Teal'c.

"It's okay, Sam," Daniel said softly. He squeezed her hand, hoping to calm her. "You're safe. We're here. You don't have to worry about anything right now."

Leaning in, Teal'c fixed his gaze on Sam. "You are among friends, Captain Carter. Rest now."

Slowly, Sam blinked once more before fatigue overwhelmed , her breathing slowed until it settled in the steady rhythm of sleep.

Despite her hand falling limp in his, Daniel held onto it, giving her one more reaffirming squeeze and stroking his thumb over her knuckles. His throat seemed tight and yet, he could swear he could breathe more freely.

"She woke up," Daniel whispered, a cautious relief blooming in his chest. "That's got to be a good sign, right?"

Nodding, Teal'c's gaze remained on Sam's bruised face. "Indeed. Her strength is returning."

"I hope so," Daniel murmured, anxiety lacing his words. "I was so scared she wasn't going to make it."

Barely a minute after Sam drifted off, a nurse stepped in for her routine check-up on her patient. When Daniel informed her Sam had woken up briefly, she immediately checked on Sam's vital signs, jotting info on Sam's patient record. Continuing to write, she asked a few questions: How long had Sam been awake, had she spoken, had she followed them with her eyes, had she responded to other stimuli, that sort of things. Once they'd answered her questions, they were asked to exit the room.

"She woke up?" Janet Fraiser halted just before the door, smiling widely, still holding the pager that had informed her.

"She has indeed. She has responded to sound, sight and touch and even spoke with us."

"That is wonderful news!" Janet smiled. "I'll check on her but that is a really good sign."

Daniel gave a small nod of acknowledgment, but his mind was elsewhere. As they walked down the sterile corridor toward the exit, Daniel found himself thinking of the bar from a few nights ago.

He glanced at Teal'c striding through the entrance and towards the parking lot next to him. A thought hit him. What did the Jaffa think of relationships between people of the same sex? It wasn't something Daniel had ever asked, though, in hindsight, he found it curious that the subject hadn't come up before. They had talked about Earth's cultures, Teal'c had shared stories about the Jaffa way of life, and yet... Daniel had no idea how Teal'c would react if he knew about Sam's feelings for Melanie.

Sharp as ever, Teal'c caught the change in Daniel's demeanour.

"You are troubled, Daniel Jackson," he observed, his deep voice filling the quiet room. He tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I just hope Sam will be alright," Daniel repeated, swallowing the guilt for lying to his teammate. But this wasn't his story to tell.

The car moved steadily down the road, the engine's hum blending into the background noise of swirling thoughts. Beside him, the passenger sat quietly, the usual stoic demeanor revealing little, though the earlier conversation clearly lingered in the air between them. As the vehicle eased into the base's parking lot, a calm but understanding gaze met his.

"Thank you for the ride," came the deep, measured voice, accompanied by a respectful dip of the head.

"Yeah, no problem," was the quick reply, followed by a brief hesitation. "Actually... I need to head somewhere else. There's something I need to check on."

The jaffa tilted his head, posture as upright as ever. "Do you require assistance?"

A quick shake of the head and a forced smile followed. "No, it's fine. Just something personal. I'll catch you later."

The frown deepened slightly, concern clear in the lingering gaze. "Very well. But should you need anything, you need only ask."

"Thanks," came the reply, tinged with guilt. "I'll see you soon."

Please review!

So apparently more story needed to be told. Melanie is mentioned here and I guess you can guess where to Daniel will head next?