Archive of Our Own ^beta

i walk into the sea
and it chooses
not to drown me.
— jihyun kim, “the leaving season”

Sam wakes up and she can’t move.

Panic spikes through her, a sharp and sour wave. Not again, she thinks, heart rate ratcheting upward, breaths coming shallow and too fast. Not now, not again, she can’t —

There’s no one in the room with her, Sam realizes, finally. No one in her head with her, either. She’s alone. Her breaths start to even out as she comes back to herself, taking stock of her surroundings.

She’s lying down on something hard; not earth, not stone. Wood. She presses one hand to her forehead, wincing at the sting when her fingers brush against an open wound — a scrape, it feels like. Nothing too serious. Her whole body aches, but she doesn’t think anything’s broken. She squints her eyes open carefully, taking in her surroundings. She’s alone, which isn’t a great sign. Her clothes have been changed, which is worse. She’s wearing a dress that’s almost a robe, made of simple white fabric and tied at the chest. She can’t see any of the clothes she came in, or her gear, but she doesn’t think the wood-panelled room she’s been locked into is a cell. Light streams out from the gap between the walls and the ceiling; she could make an escape, if she could just —

Her thoughts scatter as she tries to focus, making it impossible to remember.

She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to form a picture of what happened when they came through the gate. The villagers who came to greet them were wary, but not hostile. They walked together for nearly a full day, and then they crossed a — bridge? It’s hard to remember it properly. Everything changed at the bridge. Sam remembers how fast they’d lost control of the situation as the villagers pressed in, the Colonel raising his voice and Daniel raising his to match, frantically attempting to translate enough to defuse the situation. Teal’c behind her, posture stiff and ready for a fight, and then —

Nothing. Someone hit her over the head, maybe? But when she presses her fingers to her skull she can’t feel a lump, and she doesn’t feel concussed.

Sam takes in one shallow breath, then another. In through her nose, out through her mouth, trying to ignore the way the back of her throat itches. It’s probably in her head, Janet promised when Sam brought it up. Psychosomatic. Her legs are working fine; no damage to her spine or ribs. She pushes herself upright only to regret it immediately, her vision slanting alarmingly as her head starts to spin.

She slams her eyes shut and grimaces, stomach rolling, clenching her teeth to hold back bile. It takes what feels like ages for the feeling to recede, wave after wave like she’s lost at sea. She presses her hand to the wooden wall behind her, whole body gone rigid with tension.

You have to find your team, she tells herself sharply, only every time she opens her eyes she’s at sea again, sickness burning through her like a horrible tide. There are people outside, she registers dimly, her eyes still squeezed shut. She can hear voices, getting closer. You have to stand up, she tries, then, imagining the words in the Colonel’s voice instead of her own. On your feet, Captain!

But every time she opens her eyes, her vision wavers and blurs. She can hardly hold her head up, much less stand.

What is happening to her?

Jack really doesn’t like the look of this.

As soon as they crossed the bridge everything went to hell — he barely had time to register what was happening before Carter was being dragged off ahead of them, bags pulled over his and Daniel’s heads for the rest of the journey until they arrived here, at a town square of sorts, pushed to their knees in front of a very imposing woman.

“Daniel,” he says in a low voice. Daniel’s eyes are wide and earnest, his hands out to try and placate the — Jack doesn’t actually know who this woman is. Village chief? Religious leader? She’s got a solemn face, and her mouth is set in a way that clearly communicates her unwillingness to budge. Unfortunate, because Jack isn’t going to budge either. Sure, he’s at something of a disadvantage right now, but everyone loves an underdog, right? He’s sure he can figure something out, if it comes to that. “Where are Carter and Teal’c?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Daniel spares him an irritated hiss, not even bothering to look over at Jack as he says it. Jack rolls his eyes in a deliberate show of childishness. It’s fine, he tells himself. It’s totally fine. They’ve been in worse, haven’t they?

It’s just that the timing isn’t great.

This was supposed to be an easy mission; nothing strenuous, just Carter getting back on her feet. No one’s holding it against her or anything, but Jack knows they all remember the first few days after the snake, when she wouldn’t — couldn’t — look at so much as through any of them. The frighteningly blank look on her face, so different from her usual focused curiosity and relentless optimism. As soon as it was safe to unhook her from the monitors Doc Fraiser had insisted she take a week off, and she didn’t talk to any of them the whole time she was gone. When she came back she seemed fine, though, getting right back to the projects she’d left unfinished and smiling as though nothing had ever happened.

Jack wasn’t stupid enough to push it, not even when he walked into the infirmary three days ago to find Carter and the Doc conversing in hushed whispers, a stern look on Doc Fraiser’s face and a desperate look on Carter’s. He’d turned around and left before he could make out anything they were saying; it wasn’t his business unless Fraiser let him in a professional capacity. And an hour later in the briefing room Carter had sworn up and down that she was fine, that she was ready to go back through the gate, so clearly Fraiser was fine with it. Hammond had believed her too, apparently, because he’d backed Fraiser up and given Carter the okay.

Privately, Jack hadn’t been sure, but, well. She said she could do it, and he’s not in the habit of undermining her confidence — best case scenario she’s pissed as hell, worst case scenario her faith in her own abilities is shot. So Jack kept his mouth shut about the whole thing and never asked her anything, just trusted that she knew her own limits. He ignored the chronic cough she picked up sometime during her recovery, and the way her smile sometimes seemed pasted on. She wasn’t flinching at loud noises or jumping back when someone touched her unexpectedly, Jack told himself. She was fine.

She is fine.

He just wishes he could see her now, is all. He just wants to check that she — he just wants to check. She might swear she’s made a full recovery, but not enough time has passed; she hasn’t had time to get her feet back under her properly, and to be totally honest, neither has he. He can remember it in way too much detail, how she’d screamed at him from behind bars. Her face afterward, in the infirmary, totally blank. He’d never seen her look like that — didn’t know she could. It didn’t quite fit with the way he thought of her, as much as it makes him uncomfortable to acknowledge it.

But that doesn’t matter. She’s a good soldier, he reminds himself. He trusts her as much as he trusts the rest of his team, and that’s all there is to it.

“Daniel,” he repeats, voice raising, wincing at the ache in his knees from kneeling. “Can you please just tell me what’s goin’ on here? That’s an order.”

Not that Daniel ever takes those.

“He’s saying there’s some kind of — ritual,” Daniel mutters. Jack grimaces. He doesn’t like the sound of that. “Something, I don’t know exactly — purification?”

Jack really doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Oh, for christ’s sake,” Jack snaps. “Purification? Really?”

“Not,” Daniel interjects hastily, before Jack can do something stupid like stand up and yell about it. The two men pointing spears at him don’t seem like they’d take that particularly well. “Not what you’re thinking, it’s some kind of ceremony — I think something happened when we crossed that bridge, they could sense whatever, ah. Whatever Jolinar left behind.”

Well, that’s just great.

“This a Goa’uld thing?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“Tell her we don’t give a damn about ‘purifying’ her,” Jack snaps. “If they let us go we’ll get out of their hair right now, head back to the gate and pretend none of this ever happened.”

It’s a perfectly reasonable request, which is probably why it’s never once worked. Daniel grimaces, clearly about to point that out, when one of the guys steps close to poke him; apparently, their private conversation has gone on long enough. “Ow,” Daniel mutters, before his face smoothes out and he turns back towards the woman, back to pleading and earnest in the blink of an eye.

“Ask her about Teal’c, too,” Jack reminds him. Daniel huffs out an irritated breath, his head twitching in acknowledgment.

“She says the purification ritual’s not negotiable,” he translates as the woman speaks, brow furrowing in concentration as he tries to parse out the words. “Sam touched members of their clan, so it’s necessary.”

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around, then?” Jack snaps, impatient. “Why aren’t they getting … purified?”

Daniel would be rolling his eyes if the moment weren’t so tense, probably, but he settles for a quick sidelong glance.

“It’s their custom,” he bites out slowly. “She says that as long as Sam is free of — traces, she should survive.”

“Traces of what? She should survive? And what about Teal’c?”

Daniel’s talk-and-mime routine is getting more and more efficient, Jack will give him that.

“She doesn’t know where he is, he must have gotten separated from us at the bridge,” Daniel interprets. “Her … guards, I suppose you could call them, are looking for him now.”

“Well, that’s just perfect,” Jack mutters. “Do you think he went for the gate?”

Daniel shakes his head, frowning.

“It was a long walk,” he says. “They have horses, they’d probably catch up to him.”

“Well, it’s that or he’s hanging around somewhere.”

Or he got knocked out in the scuffle, but Jack’s choosing to be optimistic. Someone’s gotta, if Carter’s not here to do it for them.

“Do you think he’s close by?”

“How would I know?”

“You better than me,” Daniel points out, which is annoying, but not wrong. Teal’c’s one of Jack’s closest friends for a lot of reasons, but a big one is that they get each other without having to say anything. That’s not really the type of relationship Daniel understands.

“If he thought he could make it to the gate he might go for backup,” Jack says. “But he’s got that Jaffa pride thing, you know. Leave no man behind.”

“It’d be easier if we knew for sure what he was doing,” Daniel says, sounding dubious.

“Well, yeah,” Jack bites out. Obviously. A lot of things would be easier if they knew for sure, but they never get that kind of security. He casts another glance around them, trying to figure out their options. The village is surrounded by forest; green, misty mountains rise up in the distance on nearly every side. The houses are small, with lots of space between them: there’s no way they could check every one. Some of them are open, villagers huddled in the doorway to watch what’s going on. It’s probably the most excitement they’ve seen in ages, Jack thinks dryly. He hopes they’re enjoying the show.

“What will they do to her?” he asks, finally, and he’s talking to Daniel but his eyes are on the woman in front of him, trying to read her blank expression as she stares down at him impassively. When she speaks to Daniel her voice is clear, ringing through the valley; Jack doesn’t know what she’s saying but he can tell she won’t change her mind.

“They’ll give her some kind of drug,” Daniel says slowly, squinting and listening very carefully. “Some kind of — I don’t know. Truth herb? And then they’ll take her to the — river, I think.”

“And then what? They’ll see if she floats?” Jack snaps, pulse rising sharply. “What is this, Salem?”

“Actually, in Salem — ”

“I don’t care,” Jack cuts him off, voice rising enough to startle the men standing guard. He raises his hands in apology, belatedly remembering he’s trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

They aren’t all men, he realizes, or at least the one closest to him definitely isn’t. Weirdly, it makes him feel a little better about not having eyes on Carter’s location. They’re less likely to have a kidnapped bride situation if women are fighting alongside the men, right?

“Just — ask if we can see her,” he says, lowering his voice and keeping it very even, his best attempt at complacent. It’s not particularly convincing, but the woman rocks backward on her heels, giving him a few more inches between the tip of her spear and his spleen. “Before they do — whatever they’re gonna do. Say we’ll cooperate if we can see her first.”

Daniel repeats what Jack said — more diplomatically, he presumes — in a combination of gestures and halting phrases, only to freeze completely when the woman responds.

“Daniel,” Jack says warningly. “What’s going on?”

“Um,” Daniel hesitates, cutting a glance to the side, barely meeting Jack’s eyes before he focuses them back on the woman, speaking to Jack without looking at him. “I think it might be too late to interfere. She says it’s started already.”

The ship rocks gently, riotous waves calming to a slow back-and-forth.

No.

Wait.

That isn’t right.

Sam isn’t on a ship. She’s — she can’t remember where she is. She feels panic rise up like bile, has to force herself to swallow it back down.

Someone’s talking to her.

Sam opens her eyes carefully to find a young woman crouched next to her, a hand on her shoulder.

“Where am I?”

Her voice comes out hoarse, like she hasn’t spoken a long time. She touches the base of her throat. How long has she been here? She has to get back to —

To where?

“Where am I?” Sam repeats, an edge to her voice. The woman only shakes her head; when she speaks, Sam can’t understand a word.

“I don’t understand,” she tries, and the woman shakes her head again. Sam coughs, and the force of it makes her head spin. “Water?” she croaks out, one hand coming up to touch her throat.

Sam doesn’t know the word the woman repeats back to her as she stands in a smooth movement, taking a few steps to let herself out of the room and leaving Sam alone. Sam blinks up at the ceiling and considers sitting upright; she needs to get up and find a way out, but the room still feels like it’s rocking, the constant swaying movement threatening her equilibrium.

The woman lets herself back into the room before Sam’s decided, kneeling in front of her and holding a glazed ceramic cup. She sets it on the floor to help Sam up, murmuring soothing words as Sam struggles against another wave of vertigo.

When Sam’s vision has settled, the woman holds out the cup. Sam accepts it carefully, bringing it to her mouth to take a sip. It isn’t water but some kind of herbal tea, mild enough that it doesn’t upset her stomach. It soothes the phantom itch at the back of her throat, a welcome relief. Sam drinks it slowly, mindful of the woman’s hands hovering at her elbows.

The woman asks her another question when she takes the cup back, setting it down on the floor again before rising to her feet once more. Sam blinks up at her blearily for a long moment until she realizes the woman wants her to stand up.

“I can try,” she says warily, before setting her hands on the wooden bench and pushing herself up. She wavers as soon as her legs straighten, but the woman grabs her elbows to keep her upright. She’s much shorter than Sam, Sam realizes. The robe they dressed her in is too small, her ankles and wrists exposed. It digs up a long-buried memory of shopping for clothes before she started eighth grade, after she shot up over the summer. She’d towered over her classmates, she remembers, too big and too awkward and tripping over everything. Her knees were bruised that whole year.

“Where am I going?” Sam tries to ask. Her head throbs now that she’s upright, a constant dizzying spin.

The woman shakes her head, nodding towards the panel that she slid open to come into the room. It opens to a stone courtyard. Sam resists, nervous to go out like this. Vulnerable, weaponless. Completely dependent on a woman a head shorter than her.

“What’s your name?” she tries, digging her feet into the wood floor as best she can. She frees one arm from the woman’s grip to touch her own chest. “Sam,” she says slowly, willing the woman to understand. “Sam,” she says again, more insistently this time.

“Sam,” the woman repeats. She mangles the vowel a little, but it’s mostly intelligible. Sam slowly moves her hand out to gesture towards the woman in a silent question, waiting.

The woman’s own hand comes up to touch her own chest.

The first time she says her name Sam can’t quite catch it, but it’s a little clearer the second time.

“Harin?” Sam repeats, unsure, relieved when the woman nods. “Harin,” she says again, smiling down at her. The woman — Harin — smiles back cautiously. Her hand reaches up to touch Sam’s hair and Sam ducks a little to let her. She can’t understand what Harin says, but she thinks she gets the meaning — it’s very different from Harin’s own long, straight black hair. Sam tries to smile at her but it wavers. She’s never been good at knowing what she should do in situations like this; she doesn’t have Daniel’s ease. Harin doesn’t seem to mind, though. She only nods, grave and accepting.

When she gestures towards the door again, this time Sam follows her out.

“Daniel,” Jack grits out. His voice is tight, ready to snap, and he’s well aware that he’s dangerously close to losing his cool. “Would you mind asking this woman one more time where Sam is? I don’t care if this ritual … whatever … has started, I want to see her.”

Daniel started sweating at some point, his hair starting to curl at his temples. It must be nerves — there’s a chill in the air, mist rolling down from the mountains. Jack’s own shirt sticks to his skin under his jacket, damp and cold. His knees have started to go numb.

“She said it’s a secret, I told you before,” Daniel says, enunciating carefully in a way that means he’s losing his temper. Jack doesn’t have it in him to feel anything but annoyed — he’s close to losing his temper, too, and he’ll cause a bigger problem than Daniel if he does.

“Can we at least stand up?” he tries, voice tight.

“If you can keep from doing anything stupid, yes,” Daniel says, after a brief exchange with the woman. Jack really needs to learn her name. He grimaces but refrains from rolling his eyes — Daniel may think he’s an idiot, but he’s aware of what’s at stake here. He isn’t doing anything stupid until he sees Carter’s fine, or until he’s got a good reason to think she isn’t.

“So what’s the deal with the ritual,” Jack says as he eases himself upright, futilely trying to rub the feeling back into his knees first. “They allow guests or what? We gonna get to see her?”

“She says we can wait and see her when she comes out,” Daniel says, after a short back and forth. “When she, ah. Emerges.”

Jack bites his tongue to keep from asking what, exactly, Carter will be emerging from; whatever answer Daniel gives him, he’s sure he won’t like it.

A man comes forward, gesturing for them to follow; he isn’t armed, which is a small relief. Jack sighs and falls into step behind him as he makes his way down one of the many winding paths. As they walk, the subdued atmosphere of the village seems to press down on them, like there’s something hidden in the mist. Like it’s acting almost as an anesthetic, which is such a crazy thought Jack wants to roll his eyes at himself. But it’s true that despite the precariousness of the situation Jack feels strangely calm, growing calmer the further they walk. Maybe that’s what keeps him from grabbing Daniel and trying to make a run for it. The trees would give them enough cover, maybe. They might be able to make it.

Jack doesn’t do it, though. Not yet. He keeps walking instead.

Outside the house Harin covers Sam’s eyes, tying a thin strip of black fabric around her head. She whispers something that sounds like myan; Sam doesn’t know what it means.

Harin links their arms so they can walk together, leading Sam more firmly than Sam would have expected, given the circumstances. Sam can hear the rustle of trees above them, the ambient living sounds of the forest.

“Where are you taking me?”

Harin shushes her; that, at least, defies the barriers of language.

By the time Harin guides her to a stop, there are no more sounds. It wasn’t a long walk, but Sam is breathing heavily from the exertion, gritting her teeth against the urge to lean over and throw up. Harin’s fingers are gentle as she removes the blindfold; Sam blinks against the sudden brightness, disoriented.

“What will you do to me?” she whispers, even though she knows it’s useless. Harin can’t understand anything Sam says. If it were Daniel in her place he’d be communicating with her by now, but languages aren’t Sam’s forte. She’s good at thinking, usually, and fighting too, but she can’t do either of those right now. Not when her legs are shaking from the effort of holding her upright, trembling like she just ran a marathon. Not when her head spins if she moves it too fast, and the cut on her forehead has begun a steady, warm throb. Sam should have tried to clean it before she left the room; she doesn’t know why she didn’t think of that before. Her thoughts are still so scattered. It’s as though everything’s been dulled, blurring dangerously at the edges.

Report, Captain.

She hears the Colonel’s voice clear as day, but when she jerks her head to look around her all she sees are trees. The sudden movement was a mistake. Her vision swoops and takes her on a nauseating spin, and her knees threaten to buckle. Harin makes a clucking sound with her tongue and takes more of Sam’s weight, guiding her to sit on a slab of rock.

When she ducks to speak her face is very serious. Sam stares at her lips as they form sounds that mean nothing to her, trying desperately to figure out what Harin is going to do next. But it’s no use: her mind won’t cooperate, and neither will her body.

A thought occurs to her with sudden clarity, rising up through the fog.

Harin didn’t drink the tea.

“Did you poison me?”

Harin shakes her head. Stupidly, Sam starts to breathe out a sigh of relief before she realizes, blearily, that doesn’t mean anything. Harin didn’t understand what she said. But before she can try and figure out how to ask again, Harin’s pressing something into her palm and closing her fingers against it — leaves of some kind. Sam stares at them with a creeping sense of dread. Harin gestures with her hand to her own mouth; it’s obvious she wants Sam to eat them.

Sam shakes her head, panicked, not caring that it makes her slope to the side. Harin reaches for her, one firm hand on Sam’s shoulder keeping her upright.

She gestures again. Hand to mouth.

Sam closes her eyes.

The leaves taste sweet.

The room they’re led to is clearly part of someone’s home; the village doesn’t seem to have any public buildings. Daniel keeps an eye on Jack as they follow the quiet man assigned to lead them there; the woman he spoke to in the courtyard was obviously too important to embark on such a task.

Inside they sit on mats in front of a low table. Daniel does his best to mimic the other man’s posture; Jack does not.

He’s visibly tense, which Daniel supposes isn’t so strange — he hates when plans go bad, and he hates it even more when the whole team isn’t accounted for. It’s killing him to just sit here while Sam’s going through — well. They don’t actually know what Sam’s going through. They don’t know where Teal’c is, either. If they hadn’t lost their weapons back at the bridge Daniel wouldn’t be opposed to going along with whatever half-assed plan Jack could come up with, but as it is they’re at a disadvantage and he’s pretty sure they’re better off playing nice. It was obvious the woman in charge — Kiran, she said her name was Kiran — wasn’t going to budge on the ritual; Daniel had been hoping to talk her into a compromise, but the longer the conversation went on, the more obvious the futility of it became. She’d reassured him of her intentions, and Daniel made the call to trust her.

He really, really hopes it was the right call.

“You think Sam’s doing okay?” he asks as the man sets cups in front of them.

“I don’t know, Daniel, you tell me,” Jack snaps, a spike of aggression in his voice. “You’re the expert on local customs.”

“I’m not the expert on these local customs,” Daniel retorts immediately, pausing to smile and nod at the man as he accepts a cup of some type of weak herbal tea. He takes a sip for politeness and then sets it back down, turning to face Jack better. “I can barely figure out their language. Are you really going to blame me for this?”

“Of course not!” Jack scowls and reaches for his own cup, taking a gulp before setting it back on the table with a little too much force, ignoring the way it rattles on the tray. “But I don’t love sitting on my ass drinking tea while a member of my team’s getting — purified. Whatever the hell that means. Makes me feel like a chump.”

Daniel takes another drink.

“I could talk to our host a little more, try to get it out of him,” he says, casually, eyes on the artwork around the room. “No, don’t — don’t look at him, Jack, for god’s sake. Can you at least try to be subtle? Just this one time?”

“I’m plenty subtle.”

“Sure,” Daniel says dryly, rolling his eyes. “As I was saying, I might be able to talk to him, get him to tell me where the ritual takes place. It’d give us some more information, at least.”

“Worth a shot,” Jack concedes. He doesn’t look particularly happy about it, but that’s not a huge surprise. Some days Daniel thinks Jack only looks happy when he gets the chance to blow something up.

There’s still time, Daniel supposes. Maybe Jack will get lucky, after all.

Teal’c crouches down below the shrubs, careful to get low enough to obscure himself from sight, watching as the small woman leads Captain Carter to the edge of the river. It’s obvious from the way Captain Carter walks that there’s something wrong; she’s leaning on the other woman heavily, as though injured.

Moreover, it is strange that Captain Carter is following her at all; she’s taller than the other woman, and no doubt stronger. She could overcome her physically if she wished. Instead Teal’c watches, confused, as she’s led to the edge of the water. The woman gestures towards it, hand reaching for something on the other side. She speaks, but Teal’c can’t understand her language; he presumes Captain Carter can’t either. She follows the woman’s instructions anyway, slowly wading into the water. It must be cold; there’s a damp chill in the air. But she doesn’t flinch as the water rises, past her ankles and then her knees, until she’s waist-deep and still moving.

“Captain Carter!”

There is no one but the small woman, Teal’c has confirmed, and she does not pose a significant enough threat to make further concealment necessary. He steps out from where he’d hidden himself and the woman stifles a scream, one hand coming up to her mouth as she takes shaking steps backward, trying to distance herself from him. It is disheartening that he affects her so strongly, but Teal’c has been met with worse.

“I mean you no harm,” he says gravely, knowing from experience that it will do little to ease her fear. He holds out his hands to try to choreograph his intentions anyway; as he predicted, the expression on her face does not change.

A sound from the river pulls his focus away from her and he turns his head sharply towards the sound only to find the river empty, water rushing relentlessly against the rocks. There is no sign of Captain Carter.

Teal’c leaves the woman where she is. The water is cold, just like he expected.

Just like Captain Carter, he does not flinch.

“She’s towards the south,” Jack says without looking at Daniel. “Opposite from the mountain.”

Daniel splutters around another mouthful of tea.

“How do you know that? I didn’t ask yet.”

So far, Daniel has mostly listened as the man described the long list of cruelties perpetuated by the old gods — the Goa’uld, he presumes, although the man gives them no name. The artifacts have all been destroyed, apparently. There are no surviving writings, no statues or images; no depictions of them at all. The village considers themselves cleansed; Sam’s arrival clearly threw a wrench in things.

“He keeps glancing in that direction,” Jack says evenly. The tea cup looks comically small in his hands when he takes a sip, nodding and smiling at the man across from them as he does it. The man dips his head in a bow. “Classic nervous tic. He’s worried we’re going to figure it out, so he can’t stop himself from looking.”

Daniel fights the urge to stare at him, shocked. It isn’t that he thinks Jack’s stupid, it’s just that Jack usually doesn’t actively volunteer that he’s not.

“What?” Jack asks deliberately casually, still not looking at him. “I pay attention sometimes.”

“I know,” Daniel answers immediately, voice a little too high-pitched to sound genuine. Jack smirks.

“We can go for it when he takes the teacups back,” he says evenly, turning his smile back towards the man across from them, offering him a little dip of his head

“Go for what? It’s too far to the treeline.”

“Not if we zig-zag. House to house.”

Daniel purses his lips together. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t have a better idea, and it’s clear Jack’s not willing to sit and wait it out any longer.

“Fine,” he agrees, mostly sure he’s going to regret it. If Jack gets more restless he’ll get reckless, though, and Daniel can’t think of anything better. “When he puts the cups back, we’ll go.”

The river is cold. Sam walks in a daze, the water rising first to her ankles, then her knees. On the other side she can see them waiting for her, Daniel and Teal’c and the Colonel, all beckoning for her to come. They hold their hands out and she walks towards them, heedless of the way the robe she’s wearing drags and pulls, weighed down like stones by the water. The rocks are slippery and cold under her bare feet but still she keeps on pressing forward, towards the sound of her own name.

“Wait,” she tries to call, but the sound catches in her throat. The scrape on her forehead stings; her feet have gone numb.

The faces have changed. It’s her father, now, and he isn’t reaching to help her. His hands are at his side, his expression flat. There’s someone behind him — a woman.

“Mom?”

But it isn’t her mother, it’s someone else. A woman she recognizes but doesn’t. A memory that isn’t her own.

The rocks under her feet give way suddenly, and freezing water fills her ears and open mouth. Sam struggles to lift her face above the water line and can only barely manage it, gasping in a single breath before the water starts to pull her back down again, heavy and insistent.

There’s a cluster of rocks in the middle of the river and she reaches for the closest one, stretching out her hand, water filling her mouth even as she chokes and coughs it back out, fighting the urge to take a breath. Her fingertips brush the edge of the rock but it’s slippery with algae, impossible to get a grip. It happens in an instant. Her hand slides down the rock and she overbalances, fingernails catching on the edge of it as she slips, unable to catch herself in time to keep her head from smashing against the rock.

She gasps against the pain, vision flickering, water burning her nose and throat, a split-second of everything at once, the sound of roaring water and a flash of light followed by darkness, and then —

Nothing.

Teal’c emerges from the river and dumps Captain Carter onto the bank, falling to his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. He leans over Captain Carter’s body as soon as he is able, holding a hand over her mouth until he feels her exhale against his palm. Her mouth is purple, certainly from the cold of the water, and a gash on her forehead is bleeding sluggishly. Her skin is pale, her hair and clothes clinging to her. Teal’c has no dry clothes to offer for warmth, and he does not anticipate the villagers offering any. It would be best to avoid them completely, he thinks; they will head for the Stargate as quickly as possible. If he can get Captain Carter back to Earth, he can return with backup to free Daniel and Colonel O’Neill.

He looks around him, observing the quiet of the trees. The woman from earlier has disappeared; Teal’c assumes to alert the village. He forces himself to his feet, Captain Carter in his arms.

She is tall, for a Tau’ri woman. She has made jokes about it in Teal’c’s presence, on occasion; when he inquired further she told him she was teased for it often when she was younger. Teal’c would not have noticed it at all, had she not brought it up. He would certainly never have considered it to be something worthy of mockery. He finds her strength to be reassuring.

O’Neill is fond of the expression, ‘if we’re lucky.’ Teal’c did not understand the phrase, at first. Is it not preferable to rely on skill and knowledge, than on mere luck?

He is reconsidering, in this moment. He has used all the skill and knowledge he has, but it remains to be seen whether they will get to the Stargate safely.

If they’re lucky, they will make it.

“You realize this is a horrible idea,” Daniel mutters, although he huddles obediently behind Jack as he says it, both of their eyes on the treeline. “We’ll never make it before they catch us. We don’t even know where we’re going.”

“You can smooth it over if they catch us,” Jack says, voice light with an ease he doesn’t really feel. His heart is thudding in his chest, his adrenaline spiked way too high. It’s embarrassing, honestly: objectively, he’s been in way worse situations. These people don’t even have guns.

They don’t either, right now, but that isn’t the point.

“I can’t just smooth it over, Jack, you know that isn’t how it works,” Daniel hisses.

“There’s that famous optimism,” Jack says distractedly, not bothering to look over at him. “Would you pipe down? It’s distracting.”

“Distracting from what?”

It’s true that the air has gone still and quiet, the villagers Jack noticed earlier all disappeared to god knows where. Inside their houses, probably, only Jack and Daniel are using those very same houses for cover right now, so that’s not filling him with optimism.

He guesses it won’t matter for much longer, anyway. They’re not too far from the trees, only a green hill sloping upward to block their path. Everything here is so goddamn green, Jack thinks sourly. If he were in a different sort of mood he’d be grateful that at least they’re not in the jungle, but right now he’s not feeling particularly grateful for anything.

“Buddy back at the house should be sounding the alarm soon.” Jack keeps his eyes on the trees as he speaks, wondering what’s waiting for them. Carter, hopefully, alive and in one piece. “Move on my mark, got it?”

Sam wakes up at sea again. She groans and tries to move, but iron bars hold her tight.

No.

That isn’t right.

Not bars, arms. A familiar grip, a familiar smell. She risks opening her eyes to find —

“Teal’c?”

Teal’c glances down at her, clearly surprised. He doesn’t stop walking.

“What happened?” Sam tries to ask, but her tongue won’t cooperate; the words come out slurred and indistinguishable. Her head is pounding in a steady rhythm. She thinks there might still be water in her ears. “Did I make it?”

“You did,” Teal’c says gravely, and then, “do not close your eyes. You have sustained a serious head injury.”

Sam tries, she really does. She stares up at the trees above them, reaching to dizzing heights. The branches are like fingers stretching upward; the leaves blur together in a green haze. Sam tries to focus, tries to count the branches, but there are too many, and they move too fast. Her eyes refuse to stay open.

The lure of the darkness is too great, in the end. Her eyelids drift closed as though pulled.

Predictably, they don’t make it far before someone sounds the alarm.

“Shit,” Jack mutters from where he’s hunched next to Daniel, both of their heads turning towards the sound in unison. Daniel had thought they were pretty well hidden, honestly. “Alright, let’s — ”

He doesn’t have time to finish that thought, though, because before he can get the rest of it out another guard comes from somewhere to their left, ignoring them completely to run down towards —

Daniel cranes his neck to follow where the guard’s headed, one hand flailing back to grab at Jack’s arm when he sees what’s going on.

“Jack,” he says urgently, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “Jack, look — ”

When they step out from the alcove they’d hidden themselves in there’s another cry — the first one hadn’t been for them at all. Daniel doesn’t pay it much attention, running towards where Teal’c just emerged from behind the tree line, Sam’s limp body in his arms.

A lot of things happen all at once. Kiran is there, suddenly, shouting at the guards to raise their spears, but they don’t seem to know where to point them — at Jack and Daniel, forced to come to a stop and put their hands up, or at Teal’c, still coming forward, face impassive.

“What happened to her? What did you do? Is she — ?”

Jack’s yelling, now, careless of the woman closest to him, the point of her spear aimed directly at his chest. Daniel isn’t even sure he knows she’s there. He’d tell Jack to calm down but his head is swimming, suddenly, his pulse a nauseating roar in his ears as he stares at the way Sam’s arm hangs down, limp. They must have changed her clothes; the robe she’s been wrapped in is soaked. He can’t see her face, tucked into Teal’c’s chest, but her hair is wet, too.

Daniel thinks he might throw up.

“Jack,” he forces out, finally, but Jack’s yelling too loudly to hear anything Daniel says. He tries to get close enough to grab him only to get stopped by a guard, the sharp point of a spear barely touching the back of his neck. “Jack!”

Daniel’s genuinely afraid Jack’s going to get himself killed at the rate he’s going; he can’t remember the last time he saw him out of control like this.

He’s about to call his name again when a cry rings out from behind Teal’c and startles them both, drawing their attention along with the guards’. Daniel turns towards the sound to find a young woman running out from behind the trees with her hands held out, watches in startled confusion as she catches up with Teal’c, finally, gasping for air but still shouting at Kiran to wait.

“ — did it,” he hears dimly, struggling to pull himself together enough to start attempting to mentally translate the words coming out of the woman’s mouth. “ — passed the — the blessing — ”

Kiran holds out a hand to her guards, assessing the young woman carefully. Her hair is long and loose, her clothing plain and white. She looks tiny, standing in front of Teal’c with her hands out as though to protect him. As though there’s anything she could do.

But —

There is something she can do, Daniel realizes, watching as the young woman keeps explaining to Kiran, speaking far too quickly for him to follow what she’s saying. Her head bows in deference halfway through, as though she’s only now remembering, but she doesn’t stop speaking. It seems to take forever for her to finish. Next to Daniel Jack’s entire body is wound tight, coiled and ready to move, and Daniel prays silently that he’ll hold still long enough for the young woman to get them out of this.

Presuming that’s what she’s doing.

He watches as she finishes speaking and immediately kneels into a full bow, forehead placed on her hands, hands resting on the ground. He can see her body trembling.

Teal’c stands behind her, towering over her, impassive, with Sam’s body lying still in his arms.

“Daniel,” Jack says, voice low. He’s regained his composure, but only barely. “Wanna clue me in, here?”

“She says the ritual was completed,” Daniel says shakily, eyes darting between the village leader and Sam’s limp body. Teal’c’s face gives nothing away. “We’re free to go.”

The back of Jack’s neck is sweating, the anger he worked himself up into earlier slowly fading to a more manageable simmer. He lowers his hands cautiously, eyes on the closest guard, making sure to keep them visible.

“Let’s get the hell outta here, then,” Jack says, moving cautiously towards Teal’c with Daniel following behind. Carter’s breathing, he’s pretty sure. Teal’c would have said something if she wasn’t. She’s breathing, he tells himself, swallowing the anger back down. It isn’t helpful anymore. She’s going to be fine. They’re going to get her home, and then they’ll all be fine.

Teal’c inclines his head in agreement, already moving towards the path that will lead them back towards the gate. Jack and Daniel fall into step alongside him, all of them still wound tight as they leave the village behind them. They’re losing light already; it would be safer to wait until morning, probably, except Jack can’t tell what kind of condition Carter’s in. If she’s got a head injury they’re better safe than sorry. Jack thinks about asking about their gear, but one glance back at the village leader’s impassive face tells him all he needs to know.

“She totally out?” he asks, nodding towards Carter.

“I believe so,” Teal’c nods. “Should we try and wake her?”

Jack hesitates, glancing back, towards where the village is already starting to fade into the distance. The village leader’s guards are standing solemnly, watching them leave, and Jack can’t resist offering them one last salute before he turns back.

“Wait til we’re out of their line of sight,” he says to Teal’c. “Then we’ll stop. I wanna get a better look at her.”

Teal’c nods again, and they start to make their way down the hill.

“Carter. Carter, c’mon. Wake up. That’s an order, Captain.”

Sam blinks her eyes open and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Her vision isn’t spinning, at least, but her head throbs in a steady ache, and she’s trembling with cold.

“What happened?”

“Teal’c says you went for a little swim.”

Oh. It’s the Colonel’s voice, she pieces together belatedly. Of course. Who else would give her an order? Not Harin, certainly. Sam struggles to keep her eyes open for real, to try and answer him properly. She should give him a status report, but she doesn’t know what her status is. She doesn’t have any idea how she got here. The last thing she remembers is — the river? No. Teal’c came after that, he was carrying her, he was —

“Are we — where are we?”

“On our way back to the gate,” the Colonel says. “I just gotta check for a concussion, alright? You hurt anywhere else?”

Sam lets him ease her upright, wincing as the pain in her head worsens. His hands are steady on her shoulders, warm against the chill from the lake.

“I can’t give you anything for it,” he murmurs apologetically as he checks her pupils, first, then tracks her eye movement with one finger. “We all lost our gear.”

“Oh, god,” Sam slurs out, pulling back from the grip he’s got on her head to try and get a better look around. She didn’t even think to ask — “Is everyone okay? Daniel?”

“Everyone but you,” the Colonel says pointedly, voice gruff. “Daniel’s just fine. Would you quit fidgeting?”

“Sorry, sir,” Sam murmurs, relieved, obediently holding her head still as he peers into her eyes, one thumb on her eyebrow to hold her steady. He draws back a little, apparently satisfied that she isn’t concussed, but keeps his other hand on her arm to hold her in place.

“You need me to check your ribs?”

“No, sir.”

“Carter,” the Colonel says, a warning in his voice as he ducks his head to meet her eyes again. Sam flushes, but holds his gaze.

“It really is just my head, sir,” she insists. “I hit it when I fell, and before that I was — ”

She trails off before she can finish, exhausted by the effort.

“Before that you were what, Carter,” the Colonel prompts, reaching down to tap at her knee. He’s only making sure she pays attention, she knows, but she feels it like a shock anyway, even through the dull haze of fatigue.

“I was — dizzy,” she reports dutifully, eyes drifting shut as she tries to remember, forcing the words out slowly. “And the woman made me eat some leaves. Before the river. I think they had — some type of hallucinogenic properties. Maybe.”

“Well, I don’t love the sound of that,” the Colonel says. He doesn’t push her for more, thankfully. “You think you can walk?”

“Maybe,” Sam hedges. The Colonel stands up first before reaching back down for her, helping her to her feet with two strong hands on her forearms. He leaves them there as Sam wavers for a moment on her feet, struggling to find balance. Her fingers wrap around his arms almost of their own accord, gripping tight as she tries her best to stay upright.

“Teal’c can probably get you again, if you need it.” His voice is quiet, and very deliberately casual. Sam winces anyway, remembering the way Teal’c carried her the way through the forest.

“I’d really rather not.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in it,” the Colonel insists, drawing his hands back slowly only to grab at her again when she takes a step and wavers, her hand flailing out for balance. He keeps his hand wrapped around her bicep after that, silently supporting her as she takes a few more shaky steps. “Remember the planet with all the weird anthills? When Daniel got bit and his face swelled up, and Teal’c had to put him in a fireman carry?”

“You made fun of him for that for months, sir,” Sam reminds him.

“Yeah, well. I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

“Good to know,” Sam says dryly. She’s smiling a little, though, which she’s sure is why he said it.

“That’s a nice outfit they’ve got you in,” the Colonel says after they’ve taken a few steps towards where Daniel and Teal’c are sitting. Sam looks down at herself and remembers what Harin dressed her in, face heating up all over again. “They really had to take your shoes?”

Sam’s feet are cold enough from the river that she can barely feel the ground, honestly, but she sees the Colonel’s point. She doesn’t know how far they made it while she was out, but presumably they’ve still got a walk ahead of them.

“Here,” the Colonel says, gesturing towards the ground close to where Teal’c’s sitting. “Sit for a sec.”

He has to help her down, Teal’c’s hand reaching out at the last minute to make sure she doesn’t fall, which is humiliating. As soon as he’s sure she’s situated the Colonel squats down to sit next to her, one leg stretched in front of him as he starts unlacing one of his boots.

“Sir?”

“Don’t say anything,” he says gruffly, tugging off his boot first, then his sock, before he stuffs his bare foot back in. “Seriously. Don’t bring this up again. Ever.”

Sam’s not exactly following, still a little dazed. She watches silently as he does the same thing with the other foot, then takes a deep breath like he’s preparing for something.

“Alright, Carter,” he says, gesturing towards her, and Sam realizes, with a sinking sensation, what he’s about to do.

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, sir,” she tries, but from the look on his face, he’s not going to budge. Sam wrinkles her nose. When she glances over, Daniel’s watching with an amused expression, mouth twitching as he fights to keep it straight. Sam has to bite back the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

Her feet are numb enough that she can’t really feel it when the Colonel slides the socks on, which is probably for the best. The socks are probably sweaty, a thought she regrets almost immediately.

“Better?” the Colonel asks as he pushes himself back to his feet, wincing at a crack in his left knee. He offers his hand again; next to her Teal’c has stood up too, clearly readying himself in case she can’t make it back up. It’s sheer obstinacy that gets her upright, her determination to make it back without Teal’c’s help forcing her to stand on her own two feet.

Daniel comes over silently, shrugging off his jacket and wordlessly draping it over her shoulders, following it up with a brief one-armed hug before he pulls back. Sam smiles at him, grateful.

“Alright, kids,” the Colonel says. “It’s go time.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, probably as much for Sam’s benefit as for his own.

“You good?” he asks quietly before they start walking, nudging her elbow with his own.

Not really. Sam’s forehead is throbbing steadily and her legs still feel shaky; her feet have recovered just enough feeling to start aching. She nods her head anyway, taking in a deep breath.

“I’m good,” she says, offering another smile. “Let’s go.”

They’ve barely made it half an hour, but Sam’s clearly struggling. Daniel cuts a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, wincing at the pale set of her face. Jack should have just ordered her to let Teal’c carry her. Under any other circumstances he would have, probably, but.

Daniel’s pretty sure he’s not the only one still thinking about how dead behind the eyes Sam had looked just a few weeks ago, lying in the infirmary and refusing to look at any of them properly. She’s in bad shape now, sure, but it’s a relief that she’s being stubborn about it, glaring at Daniel when she catches him staring. He offers her an apologetic smile before looking away, focusing on the ground in front of him so he can warn her if there’s a dip.

It’s a clear walk to the gate, at least, and mostly downhill, even if it is longer than Daniel would like. The grass stretches out on either side of them, the woods looming at the edge of his vision. Mountains tower in the distance all around them, shadowed in the dim evening light.

Sam catches him looking at her again, and this time he doesn’t look away.

“Do you need to rest?” he asks quietly.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, but Daniel can see the way she’s trembling. On her other side, Teal’c has moved in closer until he’s got one hand around her arm, helping hold her up; Sam’s obviously pretending she hasn’t noticed it.

Jack’s a little ahead of them, but when he realizes they haven’t caught up he turns back to look. His eyes flick up and down, taking in Sam’s appearance before he jerks them away and focuses on Daniel instead, his brief flash of concern clearing so fast you’d never even know it was there.

“We all good?” he asks evenly. He’s still looking at Daniel as he says it, even though they all know who he’s really addressing.

“We’re fine, sir,” Sam answers immediately, cutting Daniel off before he can answer to the contrary.

“I think Sam’s tired,” Daniel says anyway, and Jack makes a face. He obviously would have gone along with Sam’s assessment of the situation, regardless of his concern, but now that Daniel’s said something he has to address it.

“We’ve got about an hour to the gate,” Jack says, finally. “Give or take.”

“I will assist Captain Carter.”

Teal’c’s voice is firm, no room for debate. He’s already basically holding Sam up anyway, so it’s not like she can really do much. She makes a face but nods, letting Teal’c take a little more of her weight.

That seems good enough for Jack — he nods and turns forward, continuing his steady walk towards their destination. Daniel isn’t tired but he keeps his own steps slower than usual, keeping pace with Sam and Teal’c instead of pushing ahead to walk alongside Jack.

Now that they’re moving again Sam doesn’t bother to call him out on it, all her energy focused on keeping herself moving.

“We’re almost there,” Daniel says, not sure if he’s talking to himself or to her.

They’re almost there.

SG-1 stumbles back through the gate six hours past their check-in time; enough time has passed for General Hammond to be slightly concerned, but not enough for him to have done anything about it.

Daniel comes through first, missing his jacket and pack but mostly fine, looking back over his shoulders for the others. When the other three make it through they’re looking significantly worse for wear — Captain Carter’s missing her uniform, dressed in some kind of robe, one arm wrapped around Teal’c’s shoulders as he helps keep her upright. Colonel O’Neill follows the two of them, mouth pressed together in a grim line.

“Welcome back,” Hammond calls out. “We need a med team down here?”

“I can make it,” Carter gasps out. She really doesn’t look good: her face has gone pale and bloodless, a gash visible on her forehead. Upon closer inspection, she’s in her socked feet.

She’s walking on her own two feet, though, mostly, Teal’c a steadying presence at her side.

“Alright,” Hammond says slowly, taking a step back as the four of them make their way down off the ramp. “The two of you head straight to the infirmary, you hear? That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Carter says, offering him a thin smile. Teal’c merely inclines his head in a solemn nod. Hammond watches them leave before a movement in the corner of his eye distracts him, and he turns back towards the other two.

“Not so fast,” Hammond says, reaching to touch O’Neill’s arm before he can slink off to the locker room. Behind him Daniel slips out, obviously relieved to be exempted. O’Neill makes a face in his direction, but schools his expression into something more professional as he turns back to Hammond. “Meet me in my office once you’re cleaned up, Colonel. I just need a quick debrief.”

“The locals were friendly when we first met ‘em,” Jack explains tiredly to General Hammond, seated across from him in his office. There are fresh blisters on both of his feet thanks to his two-hour hike sans socks; his eyes are burning with fatigue but he makes steady eye contact as he gives the General his requested recap. “Perfectly willing to take us back to their village, nothing strange at all. I guess that was how they managed to get the jump on us.”

“Was it planned from the start?”

The General’s frowning in concern, hanging onto Jack’s every word. An overreaction, honestly, considering they came back through the gate with three out of four team members unharmed. Hammond’s welcomed them home in far worse shape, all things considered, but apparently Carter’s bizarre appearance, combined with their missed check-in, was enough of a cause for concern to warrant an immediate debrief.

“Nah,” he answers, shaking his head. “Something happened — there was a bridge. As soon as we crossed it they attacked us, dragged Carter off and tied up me and Daniel.”

“And Teal’c?”

“Not sure. I guess he must have followed Carter; he was carrying her when we found him.”

“And you don’t know what, exactly, happened on that bridge?”

Jack shakes his head.

“Carter got kinda — she stopped, like she heard something. Maybe she did, I don’t know. As soon as it happened they were on us, I never got to ask her what it was.”

Hammond nods slowly, taking that in, but before he’s had a chance to speak there’s a knock at the door. He sighs, one hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Come in,” he calls, and the door swings open to reveal Doc Fraiser, holding a file to her chest.

“You asked for Sam’s bloodwork, sir?”

Hammond gestures for her to come in.

“Everything looks pretty straightforward, honestly,” Fraiser says, setting out an open file on the desk. Jack leans forward and pretends to look at the printout inside, as though everyone in the room isn’t well aware he has no idea what any of the lab results mean. “She was exposed to a number of toxins, none of them fatal. Side effects probably included dizziness, hallucinations, maybe some physical symptoms such as shakiness and tingling in the hands and feet. Her body had already metabolized the worst of it by the time she got to the infirmary, so it’s hard to know. I can ask when she wakes up, but unless she experienced a severe reaction before she got here, I don’t think it’s urgent.”

“She was out of it when Teal’c brought her back,” Jack recalls. “But she woke up on the way to the gate, walked the rest of the way. She was talking fine, seemed like herself.”

Fraiser nods slowly.

“That’s good to hear,” she says.

Jack taps one finger against the surface of the desk, debating whether or not to ask the question on his mind.

“They said it was some kind of purification ceremony,” he says, finally, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Daniel thought it was because she’d been snaked, like maybe they were trying to get whatever was left out of her. Could you see anything like that?”

Fraiser’s lips press together as she considers it.

“Some of the substances could have been intended to interact differently with her physiology,” she says slowly, one finger pressed against the paper inside the file. “But the markers in her blood are still showing up the same as they did before she left, if that’s what you’re asking. Whatever happened didn’t change that.”

Jack nods, leaning back in his chair.

“Good to know,” he says turning towards Hammond expectantly, only to find the General’s brow furrowed as he processes Fraiser’s words.

“When can we expect a report from Captain Carter?” he asks, finally. “I don’t like not knowing ‘whatever happened,’ and it sounds like she’s the only one who can clarify.”

Fraiser shrugs, shaking her head.

“When she wakes up she should be able to give a preliminary report, sir,” she says. “She was disoriented when she came in, but capable of speech. I don’t anticipate any setbacks.”

“And you don’t think….” Hammond presses a hand to his mouth, uncharacteristically hesitant to finish his question. Jack’s pretty sure he knows why. He wishes, suddenly and vividly, that he wasn’t in the room. “You don’t think it was a mistake, sending Captain Carter on the mission so soon after — ?”

It’s embarrassing, Jack things. Two grown men — military men — and they still can’t talk about what happened properly. He glares at Doc Fraiser like it’s her fault as he waits for her response. As always, she’s more graceful than him: she meets his gaze levelly, one eyebrow raised, before she turns towards Hammond to answer him.

“I think it was a simple case of bad luck, sir,” she says evenly. “I signed off on Captain Carter’s physical and mental health based on the facts in front of me, and I stand by that decision. I have complete faith that she’ll recover without any complications.”

It doesn’t really directly answer Hammond’s question, but Jack guesses he wouldn’t know how to answer that, either.

“I agree with the Doc,” he says into the heavy silence, offering Fraiser his best attempt at a friendly smile. “There’s no reason to get hung up on it.”

The best way to make something into the truth is to refuse to acknowledge any other possibilities, Jack’s found. When he turns his smile towards General Hammond there’s only a hint of an edge to it. Hammond stares at him for a long moment, almost long enough to make him waver, before he nods, slowly, and stands. Jack and the Doc push their chairs back and follow suit.

“Let me know if the situation changes,” Hammond says to Fraiser. He doesn’t say anything to Jack, just gives him a clap on the shoulder before he leaves the room.

“Well,” Fraiser says in the silence that follows. “I’m heading back to the infirmary, then. I’ll let you know, too, I assume?”

“Nah,” Jack says, doing his best attempt at casual. “I’ll follow you, hang out for a bit. It’s better if Carter sees a familiar face when she wakes up.”

Fraiser raises an eyebrow at that, but thankfully keeps her opinions to herself as Jack follows her out of the room, trailing behind her as she heads towards the infirmary. He’s giving something away, he’s pretty sure; generally he avoids the Doc’s domain at all costs.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t care.

Sam wakes up and everything’s still. She keeps her eyes closed a moment longer, wary, but the seasick rocking has disappeared. She can’t hear rushing water or the sound of trees, only a steady beeping and the low murmur of voices.

“Captain Carter.”

Her eyes snap open at the sound of the Colonel’s voice. She looks over to find him in a chair pulled up next to her bed, elbows on his knees and a serious expression on his face.

“How — ?”

Sam’s question trails off before she can finish it. She knows how, she realizes. Teal’c had to help her through the gate. If she weren’t so tired she’d blush; as it is, she closes her eyes and breathes through the embarrassment.

“You went on quite the adventure.”

The Colonel’s voice is very measured. Sam used to think that was a sign that he didn’t really care, she remembers. It used to bother her so much.

It doesn’t, anymore. She’s starting to realize it’s a sign that he cares a lot.

“Sorry, sir,” she murmurs, forcing her eyes back open. She’s very tired. Her ears ache somewhere deep inside, like maybe they didn’t get all the river water out.

“Sorry for what, Carter?” He sounds exasperated, and possibly like he isn’t actually expecting her to answer. It feels rude not to say anything, though, no matter how exhausted she feels.

“I don’t — ”

Again, she can’t quite make it to the end of the thought, brain muddy and slow, like part of her’s still trapped on that planet. Like she’s underwater still. She thinks of how she trailed behind Harin in the woods, helpless; how she waded into the water all on her own. It feels like it happened to someone else, which is a feeling she’d fervently hoped never to experience again.

“Is Harin okay?” she asks, both genuinely curious and hoping for a diversion.

“Who?”

“The woman who was with me,” Sam clarifies. She can’t remember if Harin came back with Teal’c or not — it’s all too blurry. Mostly she just remembers feeling seasick. “She — she was kind.”

“Teal’c said she made you wade into a river.”

Sam grimaces. She doesn’t really have a good response for that. Harin didn’t make her, exactly, but she doesn’t know how to explain that she waded into the river all on her own. She doesn’t think she’d want to, even if she could.

The Colonel clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Daniel thinks what they did to you might have been intended as an, uh. Desnaking procedure,” he offers into the silence. “Whatever they gave you, it might have … I don’t know. Interacted, somehow, with whatever the snake left in your blood.”

Sam stares at his face, thrown into shadow by the dim infirmary light. What he said could probably mean something, she thinks dimly. They could use it against the Goa’uld, maybe. But Sam’s too tired to think any further than that, or to say it out loud. It must be late, she realizes. She didn’t think to ask.

“She was brave, then,” is all she says, tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling, marvelling when her vision doesn’t tilt at all. “If she thought I was a Goa’uld.”

“She looked fine when we left,” the Colonel offers, clearly realizing he never actually answered her question. “I think she did help you, actually. Daniel said she told the other villagers you were, ah. ‘Pure.’”

“Oh.”

Sam doesn’t know how she feels about that. She doesn’t ever want to go back to that planet, but she’d like Harin to know she’s grateful.

Maybe Harin knew. Maybe she could tell, somehow.

Sam hopes so.

“It must be late,” she says, instead of trying to figure out a way to express the complicated feelings inside of her. The Colonel isn’t the right person for that, she tells herself, only when she tries to think of who that person might be, she finds she comes up blank.

Janet seems like the obvious choice. They started out as friends by default, the two highest ranking women — two of the only women, depressingly enough — on the base, but it turned out they got along better than Sam would have expected. She’s wary around other women, usually. She never really had many friends growing up, and starting in high school it got worse. But Janet’s become more than a work friend, not just a coworker but someone Sam really trusts.

She still couldn’t talk to her about Jolinar. How could she? It isn’t something Janet could ever understand. It isn’t something Sam really understands. And even if she could talk to Janet, Janet isn’t just her friend, she’s her doctor, too. She’s the one who signed off on Sam’s return to active duty; she could take it back if she thought there was a good enough reason.

She wanted to just put it behind her, to get back to work as soon as possible, but as soon as she tried — this happened. Surely Janet’s having seconds thoughts. Maybe General Hammond is, too.

Sam sighs, closing her eyes.

“You’re supposed to be resting, you know.”

The Colonel’s familiar drawl pulls her out of her thoughts. Sam reluctantly opens her eyes again to look over at him, surprised to find he looks concerned, not annoyed.

“Looks like you were thinking pretty hard just now,” he comments mildly. Sam offers a thin smile, but finds she can’t manage much more than that. If she can’t talk to Janet, what on Earth could she possibly find to say to the Colonel? He’s not exactly the touchy-feely type, to say the least.

“You said what you took made you hallucinate,” the Colonel continues. His voice tilts up at the end, just enough to make it almost a question.

Sam makes a face before she can stop herself. She doesn’t want to think about it.

“Only a little,” she hedges, and he raises an eyebrow. She flushes. “It made me feel — strange. Not myself.”

It’s more than she wanted to admit; she knows the Colonel will think of what happened with Jolinar right away. Is already thinking of Jolinar, probably. He’s a smart man, she’s come to realize, sharper than he likes to let on. He chooses his words for a reason.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. His eyes are dark, but she doesn’t look away.

“Carter,” he says, low. “Didn’t I just tell you to stop apologizing?”

“Not — ” Sam breaks off to take in a slow breath, trying to organize her thoughts into something coherent. “It felt like before. With Jolinar. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I feel like I should have — ”

“You should have done what?” Jack’s voice isn’t belligerent, or chastising. He sounds almost — gentle. It’s strange. “You were drugged, hallucinating. It’s just like you said. You weren’t yourself.”

Sam lets out a strangled laugh.

“That keeps happening, doesn’t it?” she asks before she can stop it, eyes back on the infirmary ceiling. There’s a water stain on one of the panels; she focuses on it as she speaks. “Not being myself.”

The silence between them stretches. If she looks over she wonders what she’d see. She wonders if she’s made him uncomfortable. He’s probably been uncomfortable this whole time. This isn’t what either of them are good at.

But Sam trusts him. Not just in the field, but here. She trusts that he won’t use this against her.

“You are yourself,” the Colonel says, finally, after a heavy moment of silence. The words themselves don’t mean much, but when she turns towards him the way he’s looking at her makes her breath catch. His eyes are dark and sure and she gives him a jerky nod, mouth pressing together against a wave of emotion. “You’re you. And I’m not gonna think less of you because Teal’c had to fish you out of a river, if that’s what you’re worried about. He won’t either. I’ll get him to come say so, if you need it.”

“I don’t,” Sam says immediately, and it’s true. Weirdly, she wasn’t actually worried about Teal’c.

Just the Colonel. It’s different with the Colonel, in a way Sam doesn’t usually like to acknowledge but is hard to avoid, now, in the hushed quiet in the infirmary.

“He’ll probably come anyway,” the Colonel says, shrugging. “He’ll want to see you’re okay.”

The simplicity of it nearly brings a lump to Sam’s throat; she has to swallow hard to keep it down. She smiles at the Colonel in agreement, leaning back against the pillow.

“I’d like that,” Sam says softly.

He nods, like it’s settled, and then he doesn’t say anything at all. Sam waits for him to get up from the chair but he doesn’t do that either, just leans forward until his elbows rest on his knees, gaze on his own hands, like he’s settling in for the long haul.

“You can go if you need to,” Sam whispers, and he looks back up.

“I know,” he says. “I don’t.”

“Okay,” Sam answers, a little baffled. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy again, despite her best efforts. He notices, fighting a smile at the way she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. Her throat doesn’t itch anymore, she realizes dimly. She hasn’t thought about it at all since she woke up.

“Just sleep, Carter,” he says, not ungently. “Get some rest, before Teal’c gets in here tomorrow morning. You know how early that guy gets up.”

It’s Sam’s turn to smile.

“Sure thing, sir,” she agrees, eyes drifting shut. She thinks he says something else, then, but she can’t quite make out what it is.

She’s already half-asleep.