The soft hum of the infirmary echoed through the sterile, brightly lit room. Sam Carter lay in the bed, the usual bustling activity of the base seeming distant and muffled to her. Her right arm and leg were encased in casts, her ribs wrapped tightly, and her skull—though healing—still felt like a constant pressure in her head. The brain swelling had finally subsided, but the weight of it lingered in her thoughts, thick and clouded. She could barely keep her eyes open, drugged and sluggish from the painkillers and sedatives they'd been giving her.
Dr. Janet Fraiser stood at her bedside, holding a small plastic cup of liquid, studying her for a moment. Sam's eyelids fluttered, a slight wince crossing her face as she tried to turn her head. A soft cough rattled from her chest, but she quickly stifled it, her pale face scrunching in pain.
"Sam, honey, you need to let yourself cough if it hurts that much," Janet said gently, her voice calm and soft as she set the cup down on the tray table beside the bed.
Speaking was hard. As if the words had been put in a bowl and shaken up before being poured into her brain. "Hurts … too much," Sam finally managed to press out, the words slurring on her lips.
Each breath rasped in her lungs and her tongue and throat felt as dry as a desert despite the ice chips Janet had given her to suck on. Though she barely understood why, Sam remembered Janet telling her something of a feeding tube and IV.
"Do you want to try drinking some water?" The way Janet carded through her damp hair felt good and Sam let her eyes flutter closed. Pain echoed distantly in her limps but the bed felt like it was made of clouds. If she bit into her blanket, would it taste like cotton candy? Part of Sam was sure of it.
"You still with me?" The doctor had shifted, checking on the machines and her voice had grown terser.
"Yes, sir," Sam mumbled. She frowned. Sir? No, that wasn't right. "Mom." No that wasn't right either. She focused, trying to pronounce the word. "Numb. No! Ma'am. Sorry. Words make … no sense."
"That's alright, Captain. I promise I won't write you up." Though she smiled, the way Janet caressed Sam's hand made Sam shift her head, wincing. She blinked through the fog and saw the spike her heartrate painted on the monitors.
"Don't look up, Captain," the doctor admonished, shifting to push back the machines monitoring everything. "It puts strain on your neck and we're trying to give you a chance to heal."
"Water?" Only now did the earlier words catch up.
"We can try. Let me adjust your bed."
Discontented, Sam groaned when the whirring of the bed vibrated under her body, shaking up her bones. Her cloud was too loud. "Stop!"
"You're already up. Any pain?"
Listening inside herself, Sam only found more marshmallows. She hummed a negative and worked her mouth. "Water?" Sam blinked slowly, too drugged to really focus on Janet's face. Her right hand twitched slightly, trying to raise itself from the covers, but the effort was too much. She let it fall back.
"Let's take this one small step at a time," Janet said, sitting beside the bed, her hand resting lightly on Sam's good arm. "I'm right here. Okay?"
Trusting her friend, Sam tried to catch Janet's eye but she seemed to glide off her face every time. Instead, she gave a small nod. Every movement took more energy than she had to give.
The rim of a plastic cup touched Sam's lips. "Just a sip, Sam. If it's too much, we'll stop immediately."
Sam hesitated, her breath shallow, before she managed to open her mouth slightly. She took a tentative sip, but the liquid barely touched her tongue before she choked. She was drowning! Her throat tightened, and her chest seized in another painful cough. A whistle lodged in her throat with each intake of breath and she bent over it, only to have a firm grip halt her. Spluttering, Sam squeezed her eyes shut.
"Why a waterfall?" she wheezed out, glaring at the shape that was her mom. No, not her mom. Ma'am. The Doctor.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." The cup vanished and warm hands slipped into Sam's hair, quickly adjusting her head, supporting her through the cough. "Breathe. I've got you."
Eyes watering, Sam's body trembling from the effort of holding back the pain. Heat flushed her face from the exertion, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to regain control.
"I… I can't…" Sam's voice was thin, trembling.
"You don't have to do it all at once, Sam," Janet reassured, her gaze slipping sideways to the beeping behind Sam's bed. "Just breathe. Focus on your breathing, okay?"
After a few seconds, Sam's breathing began to slow, the violent coughs subsiding to softer, more manageable breaths. The doctor waited until Sam's pulse had returned to a steady rhythm before she reached for the cup again, holding it close but not offering it just yet.
"Captain Carter, I need you to take a deep breath for me," Janet instructed, her voice soothing. "Nice and easy. In through your nose… and out through your mouth. Slowly."
The air felt good and Sam obeyed though everything felt sluggish. Sweat clung to her skin and itched. Coughing should be forbidden. Since when was it this exhausting? For a moment, Sam mourned the poor owls who had to cough up the indigested remnants of their meals.
"Did I … get the bones out?"
"The bones?" Janet watched her carefully, checking the monitor again, then waiting until Sam seemed a bit more stable.
Likely she made no sense at all. Morphin was amazing and Sam was sure now it would taste of cotton candy. She ran her tongue over her teeth. Sweet cotton candy.
"Better?"
The question had Sam open her eyes. When had she closed them?
She managed a faint smile, though it was more of a grimace. "Yeah. Just… feels weird."
"It's going to take time," Janet said with a soft chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "You're healing. You've been through a lot. Your body just needs a little time to remember how to do the simple things."
For a long moment, the two friends sat in quiet solidarity. Sam's breath had finally settled, her pulse was steady. After a long while, Janet carefully lifted the cup to Sam's lips once more, offering the liquid with a gentle, encouraging smile. "One more try, okay? Small sip. Just a little."
Fear lodged itself firmly in Sam's chest and she struggled for the shaken-up words. Why was everything taking so long? It shouldn't be this way!
"Just… please," Sam whispered, her voice hoarse, "I don't want… I don't want to choke."
"You're not going to choke, Sam." Janet's voice was gentle but firm. "I've got you."
Carefully, Janet picked up the cup, her eyes scanning Sam's face for any sign of distress. She noticed the slight tremor in Sam's lips, the way her breathing was shallow.
Sam gave her a slight nod, her hand twitching as if to reach out but falling short. She opened her mouth, this time taking the smallest sip. Her face registered the faintest of winces, but she didn't choke this time. Janet smiled softly, a small triumph for the moment.
"It's okay," Janet murmured. "You're doing great. I'm proud of you."
As the liquid passed smoothly, Janet knew this was just the first step. But for Sam—this was enough. Just one sip at a time. One day at a time.
Quietly, Janet stood beside Sam's bed, her fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, a rhythmic backdrop to the faint hum of the infirmary. Footsteps shuffled softly outside the door, and Janet glanced toward the sound, her eyes landing on the familiar figures of Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c entering the room.
Her gaze flickered briefly to the empty chair in the corner—Mark Carter's chair. He had been absolutely dedicated, coming by every single day to sit with Sam for hours on end, talking softly to her even when she couldn't respond. Yet, somehow, he always seemed to miss the moments she woke up. It was uncanny, as though fate had conspired to ensure he'd be away grabbing coffee or stepping out for a phone call when her eyes fluttered open.
Janet thought fondly of the man who reminded her far more of Sam than she had initially expected, based on Sam's conversations about him. Mark's quick wit, his fierce loyalty, and the way he softened when he spoke of his sister—all of it resonated with the Sam Janet knew and loved. She couldn't help but wonder how long Mark could keep this up. He had a wife, kids, and a job waiting for him back home. Yet, despite whatever arguments they might have had in the past, his daily presence spoke volumes about how important Sam was to him.
It was the first time the team had seen Sam awake since the accident. When she'd regained consciousness earlier, confusion had clouded her awareness, leaving her disoriented and distant. Now, though still groggy and heavily medicated, her gaze followed their movements with a bit more clarity.
The Colonel, predictably, led the way, his casual confidence apparent in every step. Yet, something gentler flickered in his eyes as they rested on Sam. "Well, well, well," he quipped, his trademark grin lighting up his face. "Look who's finally up and about. Sam Carter, fully functional and undoubtedly ready to kick my ass again."
A slow blink was Sam's only response, her lips twitching faintly in an attempt at a smile. Her effort fell short, the weight of her injuries and the haze of medication dragging her back into foggy confusion. Across the room, Janet observed closely, noting the subtle scrunch of Sam's face—a fleeting expression of discomfort as she tried to process Jack's words.
"Yeah, well," O'Neill continued, his tone light, "I've been doing some sleuthing around here, trying to track down your missing shoe."
Sam's brows furrowed, confusion lining her face. She blinked again, her throat constricting slightly, and Janet could see her trying to understand.
Jack grinned wider, taking a few steps closer. "I mean, I really tried to find it, Carter. Scoured the place. But no luck. Your left shoe's still MIA. The last time you woke up, you were very concerned about that shoe. And—" he leaned in closer with a raised finger, "—there was also a spoon. Ringing any bells?"
Sam's frown deepened, though she didn't have the energy to respond. It was clear the joke wasn't connecting for her, her mind still a few steps behind. Her brows knitted tighter, the joke clearly lost on her. Janet noticed Sam's throat tighten, a faint swallow betraying her frustration as she fought to keep up. Her hand moved weakly, an unsteady attempt to lift it toward Jack, though the effort lacked strength. The hand fell back onto the bed with a soft sigh of defeat.
Undeterred, O'Neill pressed on, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The shoe and the spoon, Carter. Totally vanished. Like, poof. Into the void." His words hung in the air, playful yet tinged with something softer, a warmth that betrayed his concern.
"Carter?" Jack asked, his tone changing to something a little softer, more serious. "Don't worry," Jack said, leaning back slightly, sensing that his attempt at humour wasn't quite landing. "It's just—well, you were really into the whole shoe-and-spoon mystery last time. I think we're all glad you're back, even if you've forgotten all about your shoe quest."
When Sam shifted, Janet's attention settled on her. It was heartbreakingly clear she couldn't quite keep up. Her eyes flickered between the three men, trying to follow the conversation but unable to keep up with the rapid-fire jokes.
"Let's ease up on her," Janet said softly, glancing at her patient with concern. "She doesn't remember, Colonel. And frankly, with the amount of morphin in her system, I would be surprised if she did. Let's not agitate her, shall we?"
The faintest movement drew Janet's attention as Sam turned her head toward her. Confusion still clouded her face, and her lips parted as though she wanted to say something. A shallow exhale escaped instead, her effort faltering as her body stiffened, straining to connect thought to speech.
"I… I'm…" Sam whispered, but the sentence didn't go anywhere. Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she seemed to struggle with what she wanted to say.
The silence sat with no one wanting to interrupt Sam's quietening words until Teal'c spoke up, his steady voice filling the room. "Indeed, Colonel. A change in topic may be prudent. Captain Carter's recovery is a lengthy process, and such conversations are best saved for when she is fully recovered."
Adjusting Sam's blanket with practised care, Janet brushed Sam's bangs from her forehead and checked her temperature with the back of her hand. Unnecessarily, but sometimes Janet couldn't quite help herself, especially with Sam being not only her patient but also her friend. "She had her first taste of liquids today," she shared, her tone a blend of pride and encouragement. "No IV, no feeding tube. Just a real drink."
"Water tastes … surprisingly good," Sam managed softly, her voice barely audible but coherent enough to spark delighted chuckles from the others.
Eager to keep the mood light, Daniel shifted the subject. "So, speaking of food—has anyone heard from SG-3 about their little… gastrointestinal incident last week?"
Immediately, the Colonel caught on, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, don't even get me started. I'll never look at another burrito the same way again."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "The burrito incident was… unfortunate."
"That's an understatement, Teal'c," Jack said with a grin. "They've been downing Pepto like it's water for a week. I thought we'd have to send them back through the Gate to find a new planet with better food options."
The conversation shifted into a lighthearted recounting of SG-3's ill-fated food choices and the unfortunate stomach issues that had plagued them for days. Sam's breathing grew a little deeper, and her head sagged toward the pillow, the exhaustion from her injuries and the drugs finally catching up to her.
As the banter continued, Janet found herself smiling faintly at the easy camaraderie between the team members. It was a relief to see Sam surrounded by the people who cared for her. She could tell that the team was doing their best to keep things normal for Sam, even if she wasn't quite able to participate in the conversation just yet.
After a few more moments, Teal'c, ever the perceptive one, broke the silence in his usual way. "Captain Carter no longer resides under the waking," he said, his tone gentle yet filled with a quiet understanding. "She rests now."
Janet glanced down at Sam, noticing her steady breathing, the peaceful look on her face as sleep finally overtook her. The team fell silent for a moment, letting the quiet fill the room.
Letting out a sigh. "Yeah, she's out. Guess we'll have to save the rest of the real fun for later, huh? But hey, at least I got no new missions to hunt down missing shoes. That's a bonus in my books. She seemed much more … less insane?"
"The brain swelling has receeded and while she is still on morphin, we were able to lower her dosage. Even though she is no longer a host, her body seems to react differently to some of our medication than she ought. The dosages we had to apply to ease her pain were much higher than they would be for an ordinary human."
"The naquadah in her blood," Teal'c acknowledged, his hands folded behind his back. "I know of no other Tau'ri who has been a former host. However I suspect changes in physiology should be expected."
"Indeed," Janet grinned as she picked up on Teal'c favourite phrase.
"Well, seems you found the right dosage then, Doc," O'Neill quipped. "We'll leave you to it, Doc. She's in good hands."
"Thanks," Janet said softly, offering them a small smile. "I've got her.
Please review!
Originally, I had wanted to bring Sam and Mel back together fairly quickly. However I did my research on the amount and gravity of Sam's injuries and it is just impossible for them to let Sam go home on her own after just a week. Hence her longer stay in the infirmary. I also researched PTSD quite a bit and want to bring that in and that led me to so many other things and characters whom I don't want to just drop. Therefore, this story will likely turn out far longer than I had originally planned and it might yet be a while before Sam and Mel meet again. I know, I'm upset too and I hope you will stick with me and enjoy the journey nonetheless.