The plane ride back to the SGC was uneventful—which to everyone was a pleasant surprise. Colonel O’Neill, peacefully silent and calm, was strapped securely to the stretcher. His breathing was regular and steady, indicating a deep sleep. Hopefully, it would last until they got back to the SGC.

"Major Carter?" asked one of the Air Force pilots, emerging from the cockpit for the first time since they had taken off an hour ago.

Sam blinked, trying to clear her vision. She’d just managed to fall asleep. "Yes?"

"There’s a Sheriff Lane trying to get hold of you on the plane’s satellite phone. He said it’s important."

Sam quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and leapt to her feet. "What? Let me talk to him."

The co-pilot led her up toward the front of the plane where the secondary headset for the satellite phone was located. Picking up the receiver, she nodded her thanks to the man. "Sheriff Lane, has something happened?"

"Well, in the first place, you managed to disappear in the middle of the night without even alerting me," Lane said, the anger clearly evident in his voice. "And then I find out that you not only left, but you took all the equipment and evidence with you. I thought we’d had an arrangement."

"Sheriff Lane," Sam said, trying to turn her body toward the side of the plane so that her words wouldn’t carry quite as far. There was no need for everyone else to be awake just because she was. "This was an Air Force investigation and I was under orders to return with all the evidence."

"What about the other victims, Major?" Lane asked, his emphasis falling on the final word.

"Sheriff Lane, when we last spoke, I clearly indicated to you that I had been unable to find any evidence regarding other victims, so this is clearly an Air Force matter," Sam said, her voice firm, her temper rising. She knew she was tired—exhausted even—and it was affecting her normally calm judgement.

"So that’s it?"

"No, that’s not it. I did not say that I had given up looking for other victims, merely that I hadn’t uncovered anything yet. I intend to do more research into the matter when I get back to Colorado Springs, but Doctor Fraiser wanted to move the Colonel immediately. I didn’t have much time to say my round of good-byes." Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Sheriff, I apologize for not informing you of our decision to depart, but it happened very quickly. There really wasn’t time."

There was a long pause before Lane spoke again, making Sam think that she had lost the connection. "Very well, Major. Is there a number where you can be reached?"

"I assume that you’ve spoken with General Hammond before?"

"Yes. We’ve spoken several times."

"You can reach me through the General, but if I find anything, I promise to be in touch."

"Thank you, Major. I appreciate your cooperation. Sorry to bother you on your way home, but I didn’t think it could wait."

Sam closed her eyes, rubbing a hand across her face. "That’s okay, Sheriff. I’d probably have done the same thing if I were in your place. Have a good night and I’ll be in touch."

"Good night, Major."

Sam stared at the receiver in her hand for a few seconds before placing it gently back on its cradle. She sighed deeply. There was no sense in going back to sleep now, she thought. They’d be back at the SGC in less than an hour.

Looking out the window, she let her thoughts drift while she watched the moonlight reflect off the cloud tops, casting cool shadows across her face as they glided the rest of the way into Colorado Springs.

General Hammond looked at his watch for the third time in less than two minutes. It was almost 0300 and he was still awake.

Doctor Fraiser had been in touch several times that evening—both before and after her arrival at the SGC. She’d been very frank in her report regarding Colonel’s O’Neill’s condition—both physical and mental. Even though he had seen the pictures that Doctor Jackson had forwarded from Selig’s email account, her descriptions were both vivid and unnerving.

Hammond had made it a point to be present when Doctor Fraiser and the rest of the group arrived, meeting them at the elevator doors on Level 21. He needed to see for himself.

Under the thick wool blanket, Colonel O’Neill, his second-in-command had looked small. His complexion pale—ashen even—and he had a livid bruise on his chin. The blanket had been pulled over his chest, but Hammond still saw white bandages sticking out from under the covering.

Doctor Fraiser had flashed him a grim smile as they wheeled O’Neill past, with Sam and Daniel following a short distance behind, barely able to stand upright. While Teal’c was steady—and watching his other team members carefully—he had looked drawn as well. Obviously no one had gotten enough rest these past few days.

Resigned to the fact that he was awake, General Hammond had made his way back to his office to sit and wait. There wasn’t much he could do in the infirmary and besides, it was more comfortable to wait in his office.

It was four hours later and he was still awake, sitting at his desk pretending to get work done. He’d tried the sleeping thing several hours ago, but that hadn’t lasted for long.

Glancing at his watch again, he noted that only a minute had gone by.

Hammond sighed deeply before rising to his feet. Forward motion—going to the infirmary in this case—would at least seem like he was doing something.

Doctor Fraiser had placed Colonel O’Neill in one of the private rooms off of the main ward and close to her office. Walking silently through the ward, Hammond’s footfalls echoed strangely off of the concrete walls. That was one thing that never changed, he noted.

The door to O’Neill’s room was closed, but not fully, allowing him to glance in before entering. Not surprisingly, O’Neill was not alone. Hammond pushed the door the rest of the way open and he entered to find Teal’c’s eyes tracking his progress.

"Good morning, Teal’c," Hammond said, his voice quiet as he stepped up beside the bed, looking down at his friend.

O’Neill, still unconscious, didn’t look much different than he had before, although Doctor Fraiser had evidently decided that O’Neill needed a new wardrobe—a set of medical scrubs. He nearly smiled. Apparently, Fraiser was trying to make O’Neill as comfortable as possible—even down to his clothing.

"Good morning, General Hammond," Teal’c replied, inclining his head slightly toward Hammond. "Should you not be sleeping?"

Hammond smiled wearily, taking a deep breath. "Probably, Teal’c. Couldn’t sleep."

Teal’c nodded solemnly, understanding clearly evident in his dark eyes. "You are worried about O’Neill."

"Yes, I guess I am," Hammond said, turning back to gaze at O’Neill. "I can’t imagine what he went through."

"And you should not, General Hammond, for it was not pleasant. O’Neill will be greatly troubled by what he has endured."

Hammond looked up suddenly, shooting Teal’c a puzzled expression. "Why do you say that, Teal’c?"

Before answering, Teal’c took several steps to the other side of the room, away from the bed and waited for Hammond to join him before speaking. "In all my years of service, I have never seen a warrior so vulnerable as when I witnessed O’Neill’s rescue. I have seen into O’Neill’s soul and he doubts himself, he doubts his purpose and place in this life, and he struggles with his own insecurities. Wayne Nichols was able to get past O’Neill’s defenses." Teal’c paused for a moment before he continued. "Although I am assured that O’Neill will choose to fight and regain what he has lost, there is yet a great battle before him. While we may support him, O’Neill must make the journey alone if he is to move beyond these events."

Hammond nodded slowly, Teal’c’s words sinking down into his mind and into his heart. Teal’c’s words rang true. While Hammond had every confidence in Jack’s ability to bounce back from any type of adversity, this one would take time. This was far from over.

Jack O’Neill felt warm. He felt as if he was surrounded by thousands of soft clouds, held up by their silky warmth and velvety texture.

He could hear voices, quietly speaking, their words fading in and out as if from far away. Other sounds filtered in as well, but they were gone as quickly as they came gliding out of his consciousness into a sea of brilliant white light.

Soon the sounds solidified and he could make out the steady rhythm of the heart monitor beside his bed. He could feel the pulse oximeter attached to his right index finger. His feet felt like they were encased in soft material—but not socks. His forehead creased a little as he tried to concentrate, but the sensation was gossamer and fleeting.

The words slowly resolved themselves and he began to recognize the timber of the voices—two people speaking quietly nearby—Teal’c and Hammond.

He was back at the SGC.

Slowly he opened his eyes, fighting with his heavy lids. Some movement on his part must have caught Teal’c’s attention for he was beside the bed in a few seconds flat.

"O’Neill?" he asked, his voice deep and solemn.

Jack nodded slightly, blinking his eyes once. He tried to clear his throat, but he was still having a problem getting all his parts to obey his commands.

"Do you need me to retrieve Doctor Fraiser?"

Jack shook his head negatively and managed to choke out a single word. "Water."

Teal’c nodded and reached over to spoon several ice chips into Jack’s mouth. The cool wetness spread down his throat and he nearly sighed in relief.

Clearing his throat he tried to speak again. "Teal’c, what happened?"

"You are in the SGC, O’Neill."

Jack’s eyes flashed annoyance. "I can see that," he said, his voice gaining strength, but still quiet. Instead of arguing, however, Jack settled for a request. "Can you raise the bed a little?"

"Certainly, O’Neill," Teal’c replied and immediately the head of the bed started to rise until Jack was slightly elevated. At least he could see what was going on now.

"Thanks."

"You are quite welcome, O’Neill."

Hammond decided at that very moment to step up to the bed, smiling down at him with an almost fatherly expression on his face.

"How are you doing, Jack?"

"Could be better, Sir," Jack replied. "But could be worse."

"I’m not sure how you could be worse," Hammond said, his eyes unflinching in their seriousness. Hammond glanced up, meeting Teal’c’s eyes. "Can you give us a few minutes, Teal’c?"

"Certainly, General Hammond. I will use the time to check on Daniel Jackson and Major Carter." Teal’c nodded regally before walking out of the door. "I shall return shortly."

Silence fell between Jack and Hammond as Teal’c’s footfalls echoed down the hallway.

"How are you really doing, Jack?" Hammond said, pulling up one of the stools next to the bed.

Jack grimaced slightly, and Hammond’s eyes flashed in concern. "Do you need Doctor Fraiser?"

"No," Jack hissed immediately, shifting his eyes away from Hammond’s piercing gaze. "I’m okay. Sore. A little tired. Nothing I haven’t been before, General."

"From what Doctor Fraiser said, we came close to losing you. I’m allowed to be a little protective, Jack." Hammond softened the reprimand with a smile.

Jack’s eyes flashed and he could feel the anger building inside of him. He clenched his hand tightly into a fist, the knuckles turning white. "What did she tell you?"

"What she had to, Colonel. We only want what’s best for you. I want to see you back on your feet and back in the action as soon as you are ready."

Jack closed his eyes slowly and let Hammond’s words wash over him. He knew the General and Doc Fraiser meant well, but the last thing Jack wanted was to be treated like an invalid. He didn’t want their pity. He didn’t need their pity. He’d be fine. He could feel the muscles in his neck and back tensing as he tried to control his rising anger and shame.

"Don’t worry about a thing, Sir," Jack said, opening his eyes, to gaze at his commanding officer. He tried to keep his tone light, but he knew he was failing miserably. He knew the evidence was clearly written on his face. He was scared. He was ashamed of what he’d done, of what he’d had to do just to get by. "I’m going to be fine. I’ll be fit as a fiddle before you know it."

"Jack," Hammond paused, his tone kind, his hand coming to rest lightly on Jack’s arm. "You don’t have to be brave for my benefit. I know what it’s like to be left alone, helpless against an enemy who doesn’t care, who has nothing to lose. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you can take all the time you need. I’m not going to push you faster than you are able to go."

Jack shifted his eyes away again as he felt the humiliation and shame rising up, nearly engulfing his entire soul. Hammond knew. Fraiser had told him. She’d told him everything. Jack had trusted her, relied on her to be discreet. It was bad enough that his team had found him, found him hanging there like nothing more than a side of beef. He took a shuddering breath and tried to steady the rising tide of his emotions.

Why did she have to go and tell Hammond?

He couldn’t bear to meet Hammond’s eyes, to see the pity he knew was there. Jack knew that it would send him over the edge—one way or the other. "Sir, if you don’t mind," Jack said, somehow managing to keep his tone level, "I’m still a little tired and I’d like to get some rest. Apparently, Doc Fraiser’s happy juice hasn’t worn off entirely."

Whether or not Hammond saw Jack’s request as a dodge, he didn’t let on. Instead, he nodded immediately and rose to his feet. "Then I’ll leave you alone. I’m sure Teal’c will be back soon to sit with you while Major Carter and Doctor Jackson get some sleep."

Jack nodded, unable to respond. The last thing he wanted was for his team to hover and baby sit him. He didn’t need their pity.

Hammond quietly walked out of the room; the door swinging shut behind him.

Once he was gone, Jack released the breath that he’d been holding. This was so unlike him, he knew, with his emotions so close to the surface. He had to get control. He had to get himself back under control. It was the only way that Fraiser would let him go home, to finally be alone, to nurse his wounds in private, without the constant pressure of an audience.

The last thing he needed—or wanted—was an audience.