Sam spent nearly an hour deep in thought after Teal’c left. His accusations hurt her deeply. It wasn’t as if she was avoiding the Colonel. He needed to rest. He needed to recover. Besides, she was working on the investigation. She was still gathering evidence.

Finally turning back to the computer, she began to methodically go through the files, the images barely causing a flicker of emotion to cross her face—but inside her mind was in turmoil.

There were four other men—all within the past three years—the last one almost a year and a half ago. They were all tortured differently, but the pain and the terror reflected in their eyes was the same.

They were the same emotions she’d seen in the Colonel’s eyes.

Shaking her head, trying to clear it of the demons that were trying to take root, she quickly copied down the pertinent information and headed for the General’s office. While Wayne had been good at keeping records providing dates and names of the victims, there was no information on the ones who ordered the killings. It was 0700 and he should be available by now, she thought, closing and locking her laboratory door. After she’d briefed the General, she’d call Sheriff Lane and they could start investigating further. With the resources available to her as a government employee with high level clearance, she might have easier access to certain records and databases. If Sheriff Lane required assistance, she was more than willing to help—especially if their efforts would help them to find Wayne Nichols.

Knocking lightly on the doorframe, Sam leaned into the General’s office. He looked up from his desk and a tired smile crossed his face. "Good morning, Major. What can I do for you?"

As she settled herself in one of his guest chairs, Hammond closed his laptop, focusing his attention on her. "Well, Sir. I’ve had the opportunity to take a closer look at Wayne Nichols’ computer and I managed to discover four other victims who were tortured and eventually murdered. I wanted to brief you before I called Sheriff Lane to pass along the information."

"Very well, Major," Hammond said, his expression closing off a little. "You can leave me a copy of your report." He paused, his eyes narrowing a bit as he examined her a little closer. "Major, when did you get the chance to do this?"

"This morning, Sir."

"This morning? When exactly was the last time you slept?"

"I only slept a little last night, Sir," Sam admitted, finding it difficult to meet his gaze. "I was having trouble sleeping so I decided to take another look at the computer. I was hoping to find something that might help lead us to Wayne Nichols."

"Major, after you give that information to Sheriff Lane, I want you to take two days leave and get some rest. You’ve been working at this for a week now and I can’t have one of my best officers burning out." As she began to protest, Hammond’s eyes hardened. "Am I understood?"

She nodded, realizing the conversation had come to an end. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now, I don’t expect to see you on base for the next two days unless you’re here to visit Colonel O’Neill. Dismissed."

Sam sat still for a minute, before rising and dropping a copy of her findings on his desk. She walked out of the door and down to her office, her mind a million miles away.

"Major Carter," Sheriff Lane was saying, "I want to thank you so much for all of your help in this matter. I wasn’t expecting you to find something this quickly."

"Neither was I, Sheriff," Sam admitted, sitting at her desk about an hour after she had spoken to General Hammond. Before she called Lane, she had had a few things to straighten out and experiments to set up and, technically, Hammond hadn’t told her she couldn’t do them. "I just hope that we’ll be able to do something with the information."

"I’m sure we will, Major and if you find anything else, please don’t hesitate to give me a call."

"I will, Sheriff." Sam agreed, nodding her head, the phone receiver pressed to her ear. "I’m going to be on leave for the next two days, but as soon as I’m back I’ll touch base with you and help you as much as I can."

"That sounds good. It’ll take me a little time to run this information through the national databases. Who knows what we might find? Thanks again."

Lane hung up, leaving Carter listening to the tones of a disconnected phone. Placing the receiver back on its cradle, she glanced around her office, trying to determine what she could get away with taking home.

But, before she left, she had to stop in to see Colonel O’Neill.

Doctor Fraiser wasn’t kidding when she said that Doctor McKenzie was on his way to see him. As well as Jack could figure, no more than thirty minutes had passed and the head shrink had managed to weasel his way into the room, settling himself down at Jack’s bedside and dodging the dagger-like looks Jack was shooting at him.

"Why don’t you make yourself at home?" Jack griped, trying to make himself a little more comfortable. One of the nurses had given him a few other pillows to help keep him propped up.

"I did, and thank you for the invitation, Colonel O’Neill," McKenzie said, his voice dry. "So, how are you doing this morning, Colonel?"

"I’d be better if you weren’t here, but seeing that I don’t have much choice in the matter…"

"Actually, Colonel, you do. We can do this now or later. Either way, it will get done."

Jack glared at McKenzie, who appeared to be nonplussed by the look. Jack sighed deeply, rolling his eyes heavenward. "If it means that I can get out of here sooner, I’ll do it now."

"Good," McKenzie said, smiling without humor. "So, how are you doing this morning, Colonel?"

"Fine. Peachy, even," Jack said his voice thick with sarcasm. This was such a waste of time it wasn’t funny. McKenzie’s constantly annoying presence, though, was better than the pity he got from everyone else. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of that thought, instead pushing it down to the back of his mind.

"You’ve been through quite an ordeal. I can’t imagine you’d be so glib about it," McKenzie said, his gaze never leaving Jack’s face.

"What do you want to know, McKenzie? Do I wish I could get my hands around this guy’s neck for what he did to me? You bet." Jack glared up at the Doctor. "I’m fine. It’s nothing I haven’t handled before."

"Yes, and about that, Colonel," McKenzie said, opening the file he carried, his finger sliding down to find the item he was looking for. "You have been tortured before and back then you refused treatment, choosing to ‘take care of it’ at home."

"And I did take care of it just like I plan to do now."

"So you admit that there’s something to take care of then?"

Jack took a deep breath, trying to steady his rising anger at the man before him. "I was merely indicating that if I did have any problems or concerns regarding this round of abuse, I would be able to handle them myself. I don’t need anyone poking their noses into my head, thank you very much."

"Well, then, Colonel," McKenzie said, rising to his feet, "I guess I’m done for now. Feel better, Colonel."

With that parting remark, McKenzie walked out of the room leaving Jack staring after him with one single thought running though his head. "That was too easy."

Janet Fraiser looked up from her files when she heard the knock on her door to find Doctor McKenzie hovering just outside. "Come in Doctor McKenzie. If you’re looking for Colonel O’Neill he’s down the hall in one of the private rooms."

"Yes, I know," McKenzie said, sitting down across from Janet. "I was just there. I asked one of the nurses and they were kind enough to point me in the right direction."

Janet tried to keep her face professional, but she was a little surprised he hadn’t stopped to speak with her first. As a professional courtesy, he usually did. "And?" She prompted when McKenzie didn’t continue.

"He appears to be his usual cantankerous self, Doctor. He’s not only showing a healthy amount of anger toward his kidnapper, which doesn’t surprise me, but he also seems to have already begun to deal with whatever other demons this incident might have brought from his past."

"So, what’s your diagnosis?" Janet asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She did have to agree that the Colonel was sounding more like himself, but his emotions were a little closer to the surface than normal—at least in her opinion.

McKenzie paused for a minute, pursing his lips a little before he answered. "As long as he improves and doesn’t show any signs of post traumatic stress disorder, he should be okay to assume light duty once his physical wounds are healed." McKenzie rose to his feet and offered Janet a wry smile. "Unless, of course, he has a breakdown before that."

Janet knew this had been coming. "Is that something you expect?"

"Well," he said, inclining his head a little in thought, "I’ve been expecting it for some time now. He’s had numerous incidents over the years, which he never really got any help for. Sooner or later something has to give, Doctor. Every man has a breaking point. I hope for his team’s sake it doesn’t happen when they’re on a mission." He paused again for several beats before he continued. "I can’t do much more for him now. O’Neill has to first acknowledge that he could use the help before anything I do could even make a dent in his armor."

A nurse had come in bringing Jack something that was supposed to resemble breakfast but didn’t even come close. He’d smiled and politely thanked her for the oatmeal and juice and after eating several spoonfuls of the bland, tasteless mush, he pushed it to the side. He was playing with his food—filling his spoon and letting it drip slowly back into the bowl, holding the spoon higher and higher each time—his mind a million miles away, when a timid knock sounded at the door.

He grumbled, wishing that everyone would just leave him alone. He started muttering to himself, "best behavior, best behavior" before he called out, his voice still a little weaker than he would like, but not bad all things considered. "Come in, already."

The door opened and Daniel poked his head in, a shy smile on his face. "Hey, Jack."

Jack managed to contain his groan, and offered a weak smile in return. "Hi, Daniel. Are you coming in or not?"

"Uh, yeah, Jack," Daniel said, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him before he stood a foot from the bed, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his BDUs. "So," Daniel started, his blue eyes looking at everything except Jack, "how are you feeling?"

"Apart from feeling like a human punching bag, just fine, Daniel," Jack said, watching the archeologist carefully, noticing the hesitation in his stance, his eyes finally coming to rest on the bruises on Daniel’s neck. Confusion crossed his expression, his forehead furrowing. "Daniel, what happened to you?"

"Well, Jack," Daniel replied, but paused, as if at a loss for words.

"Did you get in a fight or something?"

"You could say that," Daniel answered, finally meeting’s Jack’s eyes. A few seconds later, Jack could feel the blood drain out of his face as he realized what must have happened. Oh, God, that hadn’t been a dream.

Daniel stepped forward immediately, his hand closing in on Jack’s. "Are you okay? Do I need to call Janet?"

"Fine," Jack whispered, shutting his eyes. "I did that to you, didn’t I? Oh, God, I’m sorry."

He could feel Daniel shifting on his feet, but Jack refused to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see the pity he knew would be in Daniel’s. "Jack, I know it wasn’t you. You were having a nightmare or a flashback or something and I was just a convenient target. Don’t worry, I’m fine."

Jack shook his head, trying to quell the emotions that were running just beneath the surface.

Daniel continued, "Jack, I should be the one apologizing. I was the one who needs to be forgiven. If only we hadn’t argued—"

"What?" Jack said, opening his eyes and giving Daniel a blank look. Jack’s gaze locked with the younger man’s guilt-stricken blue eyes and realization slowly dawned. "Oh….that." Jack took a deep breath before continuing, trying to gather his thoughts. "No, Daniel. You have nothing to be sorry about," Jack said, surprised a little by the vehemence behind his words. "It takes two to argue and neither of us was in the mood to listen that night. I ended up doing something stupid and Wayne took advantage of the opportunity. Nothing more, nothing less. Sooner or later it was bound to happen. Wayne said that he had been assigned my case a year ago. It could have happened anytime. It wasn’t your fault."

Daniel’s expression had softened a little at Jack’s words, his eyes lightening visibly as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Are you sure, Jack? You’re not just saying…"

"Daniel," Jack said, shooting him a look. "It’s not like we never argued before, but one thing has nothing to do with the other."

Daniel glanced at him for a long moment before nodding, as if he had to convince himself that what Jack had said was right. Some things never changed, Jack thought, the corner of his mouth rising at the start of a wry grin. That quickly ended when Daniel settled himself into the tall stool and asked him the question he dreaded. "So, Jack, how are you doing, really?"

"Didn’t we do this already, Daniel?" Jack asked accusingly.

"You kind of changed the subject, actually, Jack," Daniel replied.

"Me?" Jack asked, innocence written across his face.

Daniel smiled, his body relaxing finally. "Yes, Jack. But onto another subject, when is Janet going to let you leave?"

Jack grimaced a little, wishing he could leave right now. But truth be told, his feet and his side were bothering him a little. "As soon as my feet heal and she’s happy with the progress on my one broken rib. Hopefully in a few days I’ll be home and I’ll finally get the chance to relax. I know I’ve missed countless hockey games. What day is it anyway?"

"Actually, it’s only been a week, Jack," Daniel said quietly. "It took us four days to find you. We didn’t know something was wrong until you didn’t show up for work on Monday."

Jack’s eyebrow raised at Daniel’s admission. A week. It had felt like an eternity. "Yeah, and how did you find me anyway?" Jack asked, a yawn finding its way to his mouth.

Daniel immediately rose to his feet. "If you’re tired, Jack, I can come back—"

"Daniel, sit yourself back down and start talking. I’m fine," Jack said firmly.

"Well," Daniel said, sitting down again, "if you insist..."

"I insist. Now spill your guts."

"Well, once we figured out that you had been kidnapped, we had to narrow it down to someone who would have motive. We managed to come across several names in your files that…matched." Jack’s eyes had narrowed when Daniel mentioned his files, but he let it pass. That argument was for another day. "Apparently, Stephan Selig blamed you for the deaths of his two sons—Geoffrey and Armin. He hired Wayne in an effort to get back at you."

Jack’s eyes widened at Selig’s name, before his face closed off. He remembered both deaths well. He had to. He hadn’t forgiven himself for either of them yet, even though he knew he couldn’t have done anything to prevent them.

"How did you manage to track me down?"

"We found some documentation in Selig’s home that pointed to an anonymous partner somewhere in the Northwest. Once Selig’s body was found—"

"Selig’s dead?" The pieces were all falling into place. Wayne had returned that last afternoon and he’d been different, scarier, much more frightening. That was the day that Jack had broken. At the memory, Jack turned his eyes away from Daniel’s, looking down to gaze intently at his hands.

"Yeah," Daniel nodded cautiously. "His body was found by a local Sheriff in Montana. We managed to track Wayne the rest of the way once we got there."

"God, Daniel, you did a lot of work to find me," Jack said, his mind far away as the memories continued to assault him.

Jack could feel Daniel’s concerned gaze, but he didn’t look up—he couldn’t. "We didn’t care what we had to do, Jack. We had to find you. There was no other option."

"Thank you," Jack whispered, the situation nearly overwhelming him. He let his eyes slide closed and felt Daniel’s hand on his arm. With Daniel sitting beside him, Jack allowed himself to fall asleep.

Breaking and entering was much easier when you had the key, Wayne thought, sitting comfortably in the overstuffed chair in Jack O’Neill’s living room.

The Colonel wouldn’t be back anytime soon and he needed a place to stay until he decided where he wanted to go. He’d made good time getting to Colorado Springs.

He’d stay here one more night before he moved on. O’Neill had a comfortable house for someone who wasn’t home to use it very often.

Before he left, though, he’d make sure he left a thank you note. Mamma had taught him well and mamma would be proud. Her boy had very good manners.