Sam sat on her sofa, propping her bare feet on the conveniently located coffee table. She leaned back in the cushions, her breath hissing a bit as the bruises on her back loudly announced their presence. She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep calming breath as she waited for the pain to recede. Guess it was time for some more Tylenol. And it looked like she'd definitely be sleeping on her stomach for a few days. She hated to sleep on her stomach. It always gave her a crick in her neck.

She picked up the remote and started channel surfing as Schroedinger jumped up on the sofa and curled up next to her, his loud purring and the kneading of his paws telling her someone was glad she'd made it home. At first she had been annoyed at the stray that seemed to have come with the apartment, but it was nice to have someone waiting for her. Even if he was pushy and shed.

Course, if what happened in P3X593 was any indication of how the galaxy worked, her latest trip through the gate might well be her last.

None of what happened had been her fault. She knew that. They all knew that. But if women were nothing but 'trade goods' in the eyes of alien worlds...heck even she couldn't justify having a female on a field team. Exploring the galaxy was tough enough without her team mates having to argue that she was an equal, or worst of all, having to rescue her every mission.

Surely she'd be permitted to stay at the SGC. It was her program that allowed them to compensate for stellar drift and use the gate. That should count for something. Maybe she could dissect alien tech, assuming they found any. Or maybe Master Sgt. Davis could use a hand in the control room. Heck, she'd even...

Her musings were broken by the ringing of the door bell.

"Damn it," she cursed quietly as she levered herself up, dislodging the orange tabby with an indignant swish of his long tail. 'If this is some sales man I am not going to be responsible for my actions,' she thought as she padded to the door and pulled it open, remembering too late she should have at least looked through the peep hole.

She felt her jaw drop at the sight of a rather uneasy looking Jack O'Neill standing in the hallway. "Colonel O'Neill sir. Is something wrong?" Sam stuttered out, wondering what could have her CO visiting her at home. Unless of course he wanted to tell her something away from the grapevine of the base. That was probably it. He was going to tell her she was off SG-1. All in the interests of eliminating intergalactic misunderstandings she was sure.

"All things considered, Samantha. If we have to come back here, it might be a better idea if we brought an all male team. No offense."

"No. Nothing's wrong. Mind if I come in Captain?" he asked, the uncertainty she'd seen on his face creeping into his voice as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Geez, he looked so uncomfortable you'd think she was standing there in a negligee instead of the sweat pants and old T-shirt she was wearing.

"Aah. Sure. Come on in," she said, pulling the door open wider and motioning towards her living room with her left hand. He walked past her and she pushed the door shut, taking a deep breath. Buck up Sam. Put on that soldier face. Just listen to the man and let him leave. Don't prove him right by losing your temper. Remember what dad said, Captains don't cry. Or lecture their CO's on the unfairness of the universe. Maybe if you prove him wrong you can still get on a science team.

Sam walked into her living room. Colonel O'Neill was standing there stiffly, like he was waiting for something to blow up in his face. A man with twenty years of military experience, who'd faced down a whole room full of Jaffa and he was uneasy in her living room?

"Please, make yourself at home sir. Would you like something to drink? I've got some pop, if you like diet that is, or I think I have a couple of beers," she offered politely, though in reality, she wanted to urge him to just spit it out and go away.

"Beer's good," he replied, shrugging off his jacket and taking a seat in her arm chair.

"I'll be right back." Sam walked into her small kitchen and pulled two bottles of beer out of the fridge. She paused, then replaced one of the beers and exchanged it for a diet soda.
Considering the upcoming topic, the last thing she needed was to have control of her temper impaired by alcohol. She could drown her sorrows after he left.

She twisted off the cap of the beer, flipped it onto the counter and returned to the living room. She handed it to the colonel and reclaimed her spot on the sofa, curling one leg under herself, careful not to lean back.

He took a drink as she popped the top of her soda and also took a sip. They sat there for a moment as the silence stretched, starting to get uncomfortable.

"So?" she said.

"So."

"You were in the neighborhood or do you always make housecalls sir?" 'Well that was a little too smart ass,' she chided herself. Then again, he wasn't going to be her CO too much longer so what did it matter.

"No. I...aah...I was just wondering if you're OK?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, genuinely confused. What did he think? She was a shrinking violet who got the vapors every time she got kidnapped? Then again she'd never been kidnapped before. The whole mission reminded her of a bad romance novel.

"I saw Warner's report," he said quietly.

"Oh," Sam answered, looking down at her pop can. She should have expected this. The CMO would have to report things like that to him. She just hadn't expected him to actually read it. In the eyes of her last CO, if you weren't gushing blood or missing body parts, you were fine.

"Yeah. Oh. Carter, why didn't you say anything?" he asked, puzzled.

"I could still complete the mission. It wasn't necessary," she said, not quite meeting his gaze, rather puzzled by the turn of the conversation. Concern wasn't something she was used to. If it WAS concern. Turghan beating her was another excuse to have her off the team. He sure hadn't whumped on any of the guys.

"Wasn't?...Carter that...refugee from a bad gladiator movie beat you, bad enough to leave some rather impressive bruises according to Warner and you didn't say a thing," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice.

"Like I said sir," Sam replied evenly. "What ever injuries I may have had didn't interfere with my ability to do my job and therefore weren't worth mentioning. Anyway, I've had worse," she said dismissively, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Not getting a response, she glanced over to her CO who was looking at her, a serious expression on his face.

"That...really doesn't make me feel better," he said quietly. "Look Carter, I don't know what kind of CO's you've had in the past, but I don't keep score. And I sure as hell am not going to look down on some one, or think less of them cause they're hurt. I'm getting the idea we're going to be eligible for hazard pay more times than not. The last thing I need is one of you pulling a John Wayne on me. I don't want to hear about every hang nail but I do need to know if you're injured."

Sam opened her mouth to protest, then shut it as he raised his hand.

"Aah...before you give me that 'look', Daniel and Teal'c are getting the same lecture," he said, recognizing a kind of prickly pride in the woman. The kind that spoke of years of fighting the chauvinism of fellow officers. It was a kind of pride he'd been accused of having a time or two, though for different reasons than her.

"Yes sir," she said quietly, silently wondering if the edict applied to him also and trying to figure out just where this was going. It sure didn't sound like she was getting kicked off the team.

"You know. I think I was retired too long. I must be getting rusty."

"Sir?"

"There was a day when my radar would have went off and I would have known that kid was up to no good."

Sam shook her head. "Colonel, you had no way of knowing what Abu had planned..."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that I allowed us to get split up. I broke rule number one. No one, male or female, should be left alone in an unfamiliar situation. It's asking for trouble."

"Sir, I've been pretty much looking after myself since I was 16. And anyway, nothing would have happened if I hadn't have tried to escape and got caught."

"You tried to escape?"

"I stole a horse and almost made it but some perimeter guard saw me," she admitted wryly.

"Why didn't you just wait? You had to know we would come after you. If for no other reason than it looks really bad to lose my 2IC on a routine survey mission."

Sam choked back a tiny grin. "I...I didn't WANT to be rescued like some stupid damsel in distress. I...guess I wanted to prove to you all I could take care of myself."

"You pretty much proved that when you beat Turghan. Which was an incredibly STUPID thing to do by the way. You should have let Teal'c handle him."

Sam shook her head. "No sir. I had to do it. You know, for the rest of his life, Turghan will be the warlord who owes his life to a woman. That's going to be a hell of a lot harder to live down than getting beat by a Jaffa." Jack sensed there was more behind her need to beat the warlord. But he also knew now was not the time to push it.

He sensed he had plenty to learn about his captain, that she hid a lot behind her military facade.

That's OK. So did he.

He also saw in her an eerie reflection of himself, oh 10 years ago or so. Private life was just that. PRIVATE. He'd bet she allowed very few people in. And if he wanted to be one of those people, he needed to back off and wait for an invitation. Though there was no rule saying he couldn't take the first step.

He drained the last of the beer, sat the empty bottle on the table, and got to his feet.

"Well, I've intruded on enough of your down time. I oughta to go."

Sam got to her feet as he slipped his jacket back on and pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket. He scrawled a few words on it and held it out to her. "It's my number and address," he explained as she took the paper from him. "If we're gonna be working together, I figure there might be some day when you'll need to get a hold of me. And it'd probably take a small act of congress to get out of someone on the base."

"Thanks," Sam said, recognizing the gesture of friendship. The silent acknowledgment that she was a member of the team. His team.

She followed the colonel to the door. He stopped and turned. "You're really OK?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes sir. I'll be fine."

"Sweet. Then I'll see you back at the base in a couple days. I think we have a mission on Friday."

"I'll be there sir. And thanks."

"Anytime captain," he said as he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

Sam threw the dead bolt and went back into the living room. She curled up on the couch, pulling the afghan off the back across her legs. Now that the stranger was gone, Schroedinger came out of hiding and reclaimed his place at her side. "Well Schroedinger, looks like we're going to have to find someone to look after you while I'm off on other planets," she said with a smile.

The cat let out a tiny meow and stretched up one paw to bat at her hand stroking his fur.

"Easy boy. Tell you what, you be a good cat and I'll see if I can't sneak you through the gate someday. Schroedinger, the Intergalactic Feline. How does that sound?" she teased as he resumed his purring, lulling his mistress into sleep.

~fin~

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