Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Spilled Milk

By

Denise

Jack limped into the infirmary, catching Janet's eye. She set down her chart and crossed to him, her heels clicking on the floor. "How is she?" he asked, shifting the small box from one hand to the other.

Janet glanced at the patient in the far bed. "She'll be fine colonel," she said, allaying his fears. "She really didn't absorb the discharge, rather was knocked over by it. A few bruises and a second degree burn in her hand is pretty much the extent of it," she reported.

Jack glanced at Sam and sighed quietly. Good. At first he'd thought it was serious, at least given the scuttlebutt he'd heard on the way in. 'Major Carter got electrocuted attempting to shut down the gate' was what the guard at the front gate had said. And that was enough to make him come straight down to the infirmary, not even taking time to change from the dress slacks and sports coat he was dressed in.

"That's good, Doc. Are you going to spring her soon?" He asked, wincing at the sight of his second in the hospital gown. Whatever had happened, it must have been serious enough for them to change her from her fatigues into the gown. And likely with her protesting all the way. She hated those things, she'd told him once. The open back and uncomfortable ties making it one article of clothing she did everything in her power not to have to wear.

"If I had my way, she'd stay over night for observation but…"

"When we only have one day left, why bother?" he interrupted.

"Exactly. Besides I think I'd have to tranquilize her to keep her here. I'm just waiting for the final test results then she's all yours."

Jack nodded and she walked off. He looked down at the box in his hand. Originally he'd cursed when Anna had insisted he take it with him, but now it was a welcome coincidence. He just needed one thing. Turning on his heel he left the infirmary and headed for the elevator.

Fifteen minutes later he returned, his spoils clutched in his hand. "I'll be back in a few, major." He heard the nurse say as the woman walked by him, leaving Sam alone in the infirmary.

He walked in just as she sat up, wincing a bit as she used her right hand. "How ya feeling?" he asked, reaching her bedside.

"Colonel. You're back," she said, glancing at his civilian clothes.

"Yep. Just in time to hear about you giving Siler a run for the title of Mister Sparky. How's the hand?"

"Oh. It's fine, sir. Just a little sore," she said, self-consciously tucking the bandaged appendage into her lap.

"You and electricity seem to be developing a relationship or something. You keep this up and you're gonna glow in the dark."

"I'll bear that in mind, sir," she smiled, not bothering to mention the biological, physiological and physical impossibilities of what he'd just said.

"Aah, well. Seeing as you missed lunch by being unconscious, I thought I'd bring a little something to tide you over." He set the box down and opened the lid, revealing a large piece of chocolate frosted devils food cake. He set it on the over the bed table beside a carton of milk and a fork.

She glanced at the treat and grinned. "This isn't exactly nutritionally sound."

"What's not sound? Milk, eggs, flour. Anyway, what difference is it going to make?"

"True." She shrugged, reaching for the fork. She hissed through her teeth when she forgot the burn on her right hand.

"Want me to feed you?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and picked up the fork with her left hand, neatly slicing off a bite of cake. "Mmm, this is good," she mumbled.

"I should hope. I had to fight three old ladies to get it," he lied. In reality, Anna had wanted him to take more, the bakery had messed up, sending her a larger cake then she'd ordered.

Sam smirked and reached for the milk, taking a large gulp to wash the cake down. "Did it go well?"

"Yeah." He reached in and stuck his finger in the frosting. "Nice simple ceremony. Although it seemed sorta stupid to go to a christening when…"

"When we're all gonna be dead by this time tomorrow," she finished. Sam was one of the few people on the base who knew why Jack had left, and where the cake had come from, if the 'tism' written in frosting on the piece she was eating was any indication. Anna Cromwell had made him the godfather and namesake to her new son with her second husband. Jack had been invited to the baptism but then had wanted to beg off, given the circumstances. General Hammond had insisted that he go, citing the fact that there was really nothing for him to do on the base.

"It was a nice ceremony," he shrugged.

"But it would have been nicer had you not known what was going to happen," she said.

"Oh, to be blissfully ignorant," he said, reaching for the last bite of cake. She slapped at his hand, knocking over the carton of milk. The white liquid ran across the table, soaking into her bandage before she could move. One stream of the fluid spilled off the table, splattering directly on Jack's slacks. He cursed and jumped back. "Son of a…"

"I'm sorry, sir," Sam said, looking vainly for a towel to stem the flow.

"Hell, it's not the worst thing I've ever had spilled on me," he said, shaking his foot as the milk ran down his leg and soaked into his sock.

"I can't believe I'm such a klutz…"

"I guess getting electrocuted is hell on the coordination," he said.

"Still, sir. The least I can do is get your pants cleaned or…" she stopped at his odd look. "Not," she finished, realizing that a stained pair of slacks was the least of their worries.

"You know what they say about spilled milk," he quipped. The nurse came in, bearing Sam's clothes. "Looks like you're getting released," he said as the nurse set the fatigues down on the bed, raising her eyebrows at the mess. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said, turning to leave. He paused and turned back. "Carter?"

"Yeah." Sam looked up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Glad you're ok."

"Thanks, sir."

~Fin~

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