Finally giving up, Sam shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position without moving around too much and gave in to the need to go over what little information she had to go on.  It was dishearteningly little.   When Sam felt her throat close up in panic, she forced herself to go through her memories of the events on the transport, searching desperately for some tiny yet possibly crucial detail that she might have overlooked.

But there was nothing, at least nothing that Sam could pinpoint as being important.  She remembered small details, nuances of speech and movement, smells and sounds.  But none of it shed any further light on Janet's predicament.  It was maddening.

Sam wondered if Jolinar had known anything about this planet, these people, or the Goa'uld who had taken Janet.  Not that she could readily access them, she thought bitterly.  While the Tok'ra memories buried in her subconscious were a source of discomfort for her, they had proven useful at times.

The planet and the people maybe, she thought, forcing her mind away from the uneasy feelings the thought of Jolinar evoked.  But without a name for the Goa'uld who had Janet Sam had no hope of finding anything useful in Jolinar's memories.

In frustration, she slammed her hand down against the mattress, ignoring the burst of pain that flared through her side.  She couldn't stand the thought of simply lying here doing nothing, filling in the time before Cassie's visit with nothing but worry.

A nurse must've heard the noise.  She poked her head around the curtain and gave Sam a sympathetic smile before stepping around the curtain.

"Could you send someone to my lab to get my laptop for me?" she asked hopefully.  Maybe if she did some work, read through the mission reports, that would help.

But she wasn't particularly surprised when the nurse shook her head slightly.  "Doctor Warner said you might ask for work, but he wants you to rest.  Would you like me to bring you something to help you sleep?"

"How about something to read instead?" she asked.  It was tempting to escape into medicated oblivion.  But it wouldn't really change anything, and it might make her too groggy for Cassie's visit.

"How about you get some rest," the nurse countered.  "Doctor Warner was quite clear about that."

Sam sighed in frustration again, realizing that she'd clearly lost this round.  "Fine," she said, not bothering to hide her frustration.  If the nurse took offense, she didn't show it.  Sam wished someone, anyone, would stop by and keep her company until Cassie arrived.  Hell, she'd even settle for another one of those maddeningly regular exams.  Every three hours, like clockwork, in went the thermometer, down went the covers, as gentle fingers examined the drainage bag from her wound, and carefully checked that the dressing was still in place.  At least it was something to do, she thought grimly.

But no sign of anyone.  Sam listened as the nurse who had just checked on her walked quietly back to the duty station at the end of the ward.

With a sigh, Sam settled her head more deeply into the pillows and began counting the beeps issuing from the heart monitor to which she was still attached.  Maybe if she were lucky it would lull her to sleep for a few minutes.

After a few moments, she added counting the beeps with counting the holes in the acoustic tile overhead.  She thought maybe she could save some time and effort by calling Daniel.  If anyone knew how many holes were in the tiles, it would be Daniel.  He spent more time in the infirmary than anyone else did.  Janet had once said…

She lost count.

God, she was going to go insane.

Screw this, she thought, shifting so she could brace one arm beneath her.  She couldn't just lie here and worry, she told herself.  She had to do something.  No matter how much moving hurt her.  And god help anyone who tried to stop her from getting up.  If she could just get to her lab, start going over the mission reports, there might be something that would help.

Unable to stifle a small cry as the slight movement caused indescribable pain to ripple through her side.  Sam quickly bit down on her lower lip and grimly continued to raise herself up off the mattress.  The bullet had gone through her lower back, but she'd still be able to walk.

That made her pause.  As much as she wanted to be up and out, Sam didn't relish the thought of being scraped off the floor by Warner and the nurse.  Given the agony in her side, and the way her body was simply not cooperating with her intentions Sam knew the scenario she'd just outlined was a distinct possibility.

Still, she managed to push herself into a sitting position, and was getting ready to move one leg over the side of the bed to the floor when her commanding officer's voice caused her to freeze.  "Major Carter, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"  Guiltily, she turned her head, to find General Hammond, Cassie hovering timidly behind him, and Doctor Warner glaring at her.

Before she could say anything, Warner turned and touched Cassie gently on the shoulder.  "Could you wait down at the nurse's station for a moment?" he asked.  With one final glance at her, Cassie nodded slowly and left.

Warner was pissed, she could tell.  His cheeks were splotchy and purple and his lips were compressed into a tight white line as he moved to her side.  His touch was firm but gentle as he helped her lie back down.  "You're very lucky, Major," he said after spending a moment checking her wounded side.  "You could've opened this wound up again and caused all sorts of problems."  He looked up, catching and holding her gaze.  "Am I going to have to restrain you?" he asked, his tone indicating that he meant business.  Though he'd sent Cassie away from the area, he kept his voice pitched low anyway.  Sam was well aware that the ward was small enough that the girl would hear everything if they spoke in normal tones.  She was grateful to him for having the presence of mind not to reprimand her in front of Cassie, but she suspected by his and General Hammond's expressions that that had far less to do with her and much more to do with the teenager.

"Sorry," she rasped, still wracked with pain from her attempt to move.  Meekly, she allowed Warner to lift the covers and tuck them around her waist.  It was a strangely paternal gesture, not entirely in character for the portly doctor.

"Hopefully, your attempted expedition made you realize that I wasn't kidding about the bed rest," Warner continued.  "That projectile did a lot of damage, Major.  You came very close to dying.  You're going to have to get it through your head that recovery isn't going to happen overnight.  Rest is the first stage.  Then there's physical therapy…"

"All right, Doctor," Hammond interrupted.  Sam glanced gratefully over at her superior.  While Warner didn't have much of a bedside manner, he wasn't telling her anything she hadn't already figured out for herself.  It was just that at the moment, she didn't need to hear it.  Didn't want to hear it, she thought, if she was truthful with herself.  Janet needed her now, and she didn't want to hear about physical therapy that would likely keep her from returning to active duty for weeks, possibly longer.

"Can she have a visitor?" Hammond asked.

"Yes," Sam said quickly.  Warner appraised her carefully, and she could tell from the expression in his eyes that he was going to say no.  "Please," she whispered.

Warner searched her face carefully for several moments longer, then nodded.  "I take it that's a no to the restraints?" he asked lightly.  His good humor hadn't entirely returned, Sam could tell, but at least he was trying.

"Absolutely," she said.  "Model patient here, scout's honor."  No doubt everyone on base would hold her to this, especially Warner.  She'd have to try and cooperate as much as possible.

Warner turned and nodded to Hammond.  "I'll go fetch Major Carter's visitor."

"Thank you, Doctor," Hammond said.  He shifted a chair so that it sat next to Sam's bedside, just as Warner ushered Cassie around the curtain.  Both men quickly excused themselves, leaving the two alone.

Sam took a moment to study Cassie, really study her.  The girl looked like she hadn't slept in days.  There were dark smudges beneath her eyes, and she wore that lost, guarded expression Sam remembered from when they'd rescued her form Hanka.  Janet had done so much for Cassie to make her feel safe and loved, and now all of that might've been destroyed.  For a moment that thought was more than Sam could bear.

"C'mere," she said as Cassie started to take a seat.

She hesitated.  "Doctor Warner said I shouldn't--"

Sam shook her head and lifted her arms.  "Just be careful, OK?" she whispered.

That was all the reassurance Cassie seemed to need.  She stepped forward and gingerly embraced Sam.  Sam could feel she was shaking.  "Hey, hey," she said, trying not wince as she lifted one arm to cup the back of Cassie's head.  "It's OK," she said.  "It's OK, I promise.  I'm going to be fine.”

After a time the storm started to subside, and Sam felt Cassie begin to relax against her.  "Cass--" she began, as the weight against her chest began to increase just enough to cause pain.  Instantly, the girl was on her feet, brushing angrily at her eyes.  "It's OK," Sam said, trying to catch her hand to reassure her that she was fine.

"Stop saying that," Cassie said.  The venom in her voice took Sam by surprise.  "It's not OK."

With a sigh, Sam closed her eyes.  She didn't know what else to say at the moment; the reassurances were as much for her as for Cassie, but they were just platitudes.

"Janet's dead, isn't she?" Cassie asked suddenly, as if she needed to blurt the words out before she lost her nerve.  "She's dead, and everyone's afraid to tell me."

"No!" Sam said explosively before she could stop herself.  "No, Cass, she's not dead.  She's not dead."

She might as well be, a nasty little voice in the back of her head said.

She repeated the phrase more for her own benefit than Cassie’s, though her words were having the desired effect on the girl.   “She’s not,’ Cassie asked hesitantly, uncertainly.  Sam watched hope flare to life in the teenager’s eyes.

“No,” Sam said, shaking her head to emphasize her words.  “But…”  She didn’t want to destroy that momentary hope, but Cassie deserved to know the truth.

“But what?” Cassie asked slowly.  Sam suddenly had the impression that they were reading from some script, that they were saying some pre-ordained lines, despite the fact that she hadn’t rehearsed this conversation in her head in the hours prior to Cassie’s arrive.

“But,” Sam began, then looked away, unable to meet Cassie’s gaze.  There was no way around it but to tell her the truth, and to tell her quickly.  Nothing she said would make the truth easier to hear, but Sam knew she had to tell Cassie everything she knew about what had happened to her foster mother.  “But, she’s become a host.”

Not quite the whole truth, Sam thought.  She hadn’t quite been able to say precisely what had happened, but she knew she’d given Cassie enough information.  The girl was silent for several seconds, and Sam finally hazarded a glance in her direction.  “Cass?” she asked quietly, unable to read the teenager.

“A host?” Cassie asked.  “You mean she’s a Goa’uld?”

“We’re not sure who it is,” Sam began lamely, reaching out to take Cassie’s hand.  She knew exactly what Cassie was thinking; the Goa’uld had destroyed her world, her parents, and now, a Goa’uld had taken away her foster mother.  Short of murdering her, Sam was hard pressed to figure out what more the Goa’uld could do to the girl to cause her more pain.

“She’s a Goa’uld?” Cassie repeated.

“Listen to me,” Sam said, lifting one hand and touching Cassie lightly on the chin.  “We’re going to get her back.”

Cassie stared blankly at her for a moment.  “How?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.  “You said you didn’t know who it was.  You don’t know where to look.”

“That’s true,” Sam said, taking a moment to speak carefully rather than lash out sharply.  “But we’re going to do everything we can to find her, use every resource.  The Tok’ra will help.”  She didn’t know for a fact that the Tok’ra would help, but she decided then and there that her father would, or there would be hell to pay.

“Look at me.”  Resisting the urge to touch Cassie, Sam waited patiently for the girl to lift her eyes from the fixed point in space at which she was staring.  “You know me and you know Janet, and you know everyone here.  There’s a way to fix this, we’ll find it.”  She desperately needed Cassie to have faith in her, she realized as she spoke, willing the girl to believe her words.

It didn’t work.  Cassie’s face had assumed that same, lost, shuttered look she’d worn when Sam had first met her, and she could sense the teenager emotionally pulling away from her.

“Cass…”  The name came out as a rasp, as Sam desperately tried to keep the defeat out of her voice.  Everyone, *everyone* at the SGC was doing everything they could to bring Janet back.  Sam knew this, both intellectually and emotionally.  Yet the doubt, the raw loss in Cassie’s eyes drove that knowledge out of her mind until only she was standing between the teenager and total despair, and she was failing miserably.

“You’ll see,” Sam continued, blundering along as she tried to reassure Cassie.  Janet would’ve handled this so much better, she thought bitterly.  “I’m going to be back on my feet in no time.  And the minute I am, I’m going to be right back out there, and I won’t give up until I find her.”

She opened her mouth to say more, to continue saying whatever reassurances Cassie needed to hear, but the expressioin on the girl’s face made the words die on her lips before she could speak them.

Cassie’s stoney expression had turned to abject horror for the briefest of moments, before she tried to hide it.  Too late, Sam realized.  She’d seen it, and in a flash of insight she realized what had caused it.  She had caused it, however inadvertantly.  Cassie had just lost the most important person in the world to her, and had come close to losing Sam herself.  And here she was talking about going back out, putting herself into harm’s way.

Stupidly, she’d thought *that* was what Cassie needed to hear, that witnessing Sam’s determination and dedication would give her hope and strength.  Instead, Sam was dumbstruck to realize it was the absolute worst thing she could say.

Or do.

General Hammond had been right, she realized, sinking a little deeper into the pillows as the weight of her realization seemed to press down on her. Sam knew Cassie well enough to know she hadn’t voiced any of her fears or concerns aloud.  General Hammond had just known, and understood.  And that’s why he’d asked her to consider taking a desk assignment rather than returning to the field.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Sam told herself.  Her lover was in danger.  She was obligated to cross hell itself to rescue her.  With no thought to her own welfare or safety.

What she’d forgotten about was Cassie.  She’d forgotten that Cassie needed her, relied on her.  She’d forgotten that Cassie’s welfare and safety were at stake.

Janet had tried to tell her as much, in soft words, in shouts, in tears, but she’d refused to listen.