A/N Update: I adjusted this story because, as one astute reviewer pointed out, I made a rather oblique reference to Solitudes, which has not yet happened! Thanks Cags!

Set following The Broca Divide.

Torn

Sam hissed as she ducked inside of the small cave, glad to finally be out of the driving, relentless rain. Not that the tiny space provided much in the way of shelter, but it would at least keep the direct rain off of them. With her attention focused on ducking into the small space and protecting her side, she failed to notice just how short the cave was and subsequently ran smack into her CO.

"Ooh"

"Ow! Carter!"

"Sorry Colonel, I...uh oh."

"Uh oh?" O'Neill glanced around the eight-by-five space, looking for danger. Aside from their sodden packs, they were alone in the cave. The remainder of their team were huddled in another nearby alcove, doing their best to get dry. O'Neill turned back to Carter, surprised to find her on her knees. "Carter?"

Sam winced as his tug on her shoulder pulled her side. She lifted her hand from her side, unsurprised to find it covered in blood.

"Carter! What the hell happened?" The Colonel immediately eased her pack off of her shoulders and helped her sit down, using his own body to shield her from the blowing dampness. Outside the storm raged on, accented by flashes of lightning and very loud crashes of thunder. He rummaged in his own pack for a moment before giving up in disgust and reaching into his own pocket and pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief. Without waiting for her assistance, O'Neill began tugging Carter's shirt free of her trousers and belt, his only goal to stop her bleeding.

Slightly stunned by his sudden action, Sam finally got herself together and laid a hand on the Colonel's hand, stilling his movement. "Colonel, it's okay."

"It's not okay, dammit, you're bleeding!"

"Colonel." Sam gripped his hand with hers, wincing at the blood covering her skin. "I'm fine. I just pulled my stitches, I think." She eased the handkerchief out of his hands and slipped it inside of her shirt, pressing it firmly against the still-healing knife wound in her side.

"Stitches?" Still hovering over her, O'Neill's puzzled expression overtook his concern.

"Yes, Sir. Remember? The, ah, Land of Light...Broca virus..." Sam ducked her head, still unable to look him in the eye when discussing her actions during their time under the influence of the virus that reduced almost the entire base to cave people. She cleared her throat. "Ah, anyway...Lieutenant Ellis thought that I was interested in Sergeant Sullivan and...ah..."

"Ah." O'Neill eased back onto his haunches, one hand still resting on Carter's knee. "I thought Fraiser cleared you for offworld duty?"

"She did, Colonel." Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to reposition without further pulling her stitches. "Since this was supposed to be a simple survey, we both figured..."

"Well, you figured wrong!"

"Sir?" Sam was surprised by his outburst. "It's really okay, Sir. The lower stitches weren't quite ready to come out, and I'd have been fine except for that last sprint up the hill." Sam shrugged. "Daniel went ahead of me and the branch of that tree snapped back...I slipped in the mud trying to duck and ran right into the stump." She studied her CO, trying to figure out just how angry he was. "Really, Colonel, I'm fine. Just..." she gestured to her hand and blood-soaked t-shirt and BDU overshirt.

The Colonel was silent for a long moment, studying her, his thoughts far away. It wasn't until he saw Carter shiver that he snapped out of it. "Well, what's done is done. Let's work on getting warm. You okay there for now?"

Sam struggled to sit up, reaching for her pack. "I'm good, Colonel. I can help with–"

"Oh, for cryin'–sit, dammit!" With not-so-gentle pressure, O'Neill pushed Sam back down. "I am perfectly capable of setting up camp, Carter. Your job is to sit and not bleed on anything. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

His first priority was obviously warmth, and with that in mind, O'Neill pulled out the thin space blankets that were a part of their emergency packs. He wrapped one tightly around Sam, spending more time than was probably strictly necessary making sure the ends were tucked securely behind her back, between her and the cave wall. "Okay?"

Sam opened her eyes, slightly startled to find his face so close to hers. Even in the growing darkness of the dying day, she could make out his features, could see the amber warmth in his concerned brown eyes. Sam sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent mixed so tantalizingly with her own, the aroma appealing and alluring despite the overtones of wet cotton and canvas that threatened to overpower the rest. Realizing he was still waiting for her to answer, Sam nodded, not trusting her voice.

With a final pat to her shoulder, Jack rose, then spit out an oath as his head collided with the ceiling. "Damn, but this place was built for Fraiser!"

"You okay, Colonel?"

The Colonel pulled his hand from behind his head, squinting in the rapidly dimming light. "Yeah, no blood. Unlike some Captains I could mention. Let me," he began, "get a fire going and we'll get out of our wet clothes." O'Neill paused, cocking his head at her as he realized what he'd said. "Ah, Carter...you know what I meant."

Smothering a giggle, Sam nodded. "Yes, Colonel."

A few minutes later O'Neill swore under his breath again as the small branches and twigs he'd managed to salvage from near the cave's entrance stubbornly failed to light. Finally giving up in disgust, he glanced over at his Second. "Time for plan B, Carter."

"Yes, S-sir." Sam was unable to stop teeth from chattering.

"C'mon." The Colonel pulled her pack closer and began fishing through it. He pulled out her spare BDU trousers and a new overshirt, then glanced over at her. "I'm going to assume you want to pull out the rest of your gear?"

Fighting back a blush, Carter said, "Yes, Colonel. Thanks. I'll be pretty focused here if you want to get changed. O'Neill nodded at her and turned to his own bag. There was just enough light left for Sam to watch as he made a small pile of dry clothes next to his own bag, then rose, still stooping, and began to unbutton his still sodden overshirt. She quickly focused on her own bag, but not before she caught a flash of lean, tanned shoulders and a well-muscled back outlined so distinctively by his wet t-shirt. Making her own pile, Sam carefully pushed aside the space blanket and finished the job of unbuttoning her BSU shirt that the Colonel had begun earlier. As she tried to ease it off over her shoulders, she felt another stitch pop free in her side and was unable to bite back a hiss of pain. "God."

"Carter?" O'Neill kept his back to her as he quickly pulled up his dry trousers. Hearing nothing, he half-turned, keeping his eyes averted. "Carter, if you don't answer, I'm gonna come over there."

"I...I'm...okay, Sir. Just moved wrong."

"Can I turn around?"

"Yes. I haven't really gotten that far." Sam shivered again, unable to hide the action as O'Neill turned around.

"Okay, that's it. I'm lighting the Sterno. While that's heating we'll get you changed." Putting action to his words, the Colonel quickly set up the small stove, pulling what he needed from both his and Carter's bags. He set the tiny stove up along one small wall of the cave, hoping it would be sheltered enough from the wind to stay lit. Pouring water from his canteen into the small collapsible pot, he set it atop the grid and then turned to Sam. He stepped across the small space, the dancing flame from the Sterno fuel lighting the cave with a subtle blue cast. Keeping his eyes on hers, he asked, "Ready?"

"Yes. Colonel? Maybe if you just dried and dressed the wound, I'll be good to do the rest."

"How do you figure?"

"I think it just needs stabilizing. It's not torn open too badly, not that I can tell in this light, but...some steri-strips ought to keep it from pulling more and let me be able to change."

"Fine." He glanced around. "Where's the first aid kit?"

They stared at each other for a moment before both said simultaneously, "Daniel."

"Crap."

"Yes, Sir. I'm really sor–"

"Save it, Carter." O'Neill reached for his discarded vest and keyed his mic. "Daniel!"

"Jack?"

"Are you still soggy?"

"I...what? We're trying to get a fire lit but..."

"Yeah, us too. Listen, Daniel. Are you still wet?"

"Of course I'm still wet, Jack! It's raining small animals out here!"

The Colonel threw up his hands, giving Sam an exasperated look, which she returned with a grin and a shrug of her own, wincing despite herself.

"Daniel. If you haven't changed clothes yet, can you swing by and drop off the med kit?"

"Uh...sure. Just a moment."

Tumbling rocks and muttered curses heralded Daniel's arrival at the entrance to their small cave. He stepped inside, just enough to get out of the windblown rain. Spotting Sam huddled against the far wall of the cave, he started forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Jack?"

"Daniel." The Colonel pulled the dripping med kit from Daniel's hands before turning him around and propelling him back out of the cave. "Sorry, Daniel, there just simply is not enough room here for all three of us. Call when you get home."

"Um, okay." Glancing again at Sam as he pulled his collar up, Daniel asked, "Sam? You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, Daniel. Go on." Sam's attention was focused on the first aid kit in the Colonel's hands; she was already anticipating a relief from the constant pulling at her side.

O'Neill was by her side before the sounds of Daniel's exit faded. "C'mon, Captain. It'll be easier if you stretch out."

"Yes, Sir."

The Colonel pulled another shirt out of his bag, bunching it up for use as an impromptu pillow. "Let's get this off, first, okay?" Without waiting, he gently slipped the BDU overshirt off of her shoulders. He then supported her back, taking some of the strain off of her abs as she eased down onto the floor of the cave. "Good?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam grimaced as she pulled her t-shirt up, revealing his now blood-dyed handkerchief. She pulled it up, pulling at the newly clotted wound, biting back another hiss of pain.

"Easy," murmured the Colonel, his attention focused on gently cleaning the tear, trying to clean enough blood off to allow the steri-strips to stick to her skin. "Damn, Sam. I think you actually hit the stump dead-on with your owie."

"Yeah." Sam lifted her chin, determinedly not looking at the injury. She focused instead on his face as he tended her, taking the rare opportunity to study her enigmatic CO at this close range. His hands were gentle as he bathed the wound in warm water, using his already wet and recently discarded t-shirt to do the job. Sam hissed again, this time as his hand strayed a bit too high and brushed the underside of her breast.

"Damn. Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Sam could only shake her head as she fought for control of her emotions. Get a grip, Samantha. The man is wiping blood off of you, you idiot! Despite her internal lecture, Sam couldn't help but flash back to the week before and their experience with the virus; the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her shoulders, and later...his lips on her neck as they both fell to the floor. A wave of desire flashed through her as the Colonel once again accidentally brushed his hand against the underside of her breast and this time she couldn't bite back a moan.

"Carter?" O'Neill's hands stilled and he glanced up at her face.

Sam couldn't hide the flush that suffused her skin and she struggled for control. She opened her mouth to explain, but O'Neill's voice stopped her.

"I'm sorry, Carter. I should have had Daniel do this. I didn't think about you being embarr–"

"No, Colonel, it's okay." Sam carefully sucked in a breath. "Are you...are you almost done, Sir?"

O'Neill continued to stare at her, his eyes searching hers for a long moment. Finally he nodded and finished his work on her side. "I'm about...there. That should hold at least until we get back to the SGC tomorrow."

"Sir?"

"We head back at first light, Captain."

"But..."

"No discussion." O'Neill cleaned up the remains of his repair work. "Can you manage on your own now?"

Sam sat up, gingerly testing her range of motion with her newly-taped wound. It pulled some, but with the support of the Colonel's taping and bandaging, she could manage. "I'm good, Sir. If you'll give me a few minutes..."

"Sure. I'll start on dinner."

The close quarters of their temporary shelter made it impossible for her to stay out of his way, but Sam managed to squeeze into one side of the cave and eventually wiggle into dry clothes. She breathed a sigh of relief as she eased back down against the back wall, carefully positioning herself to avoid the still blowing wind and rain.

"Better?"

"Yes, Sir. Thanks."

"No problem." O'Neill handed Sam a heavy-duty bag containing her reconstituted meal. Sam took a tentative bit, trying not to grimace. "Broccoli and chicken casserole?"

"Sorry. Must've grabbed the wrong box."

"'S okay, Sir. It's surprisingly good."

"I think your wound is making you delirious Carter."

Four hours later and the storm, instead of easing off as Sam had hoped, had actually increased in intensity. Sam shivered as she tried to sleep, her eyes wide open in the dark. She was wearing every piece of dry clothing she'd brought with her and was completely cocooned in her sleeping bag and still...she shivered again. It's not that cold, she thought.

"It's not that cold."

O'Neill's voice startled her, despite the fact that he'd spoken very softly. He'd said exactly what she'd been thinking, when she'd been thinking it. Sam gave another shiver, this time not related to the cold.

"Carter?"

"S-sir?"

"You okay?"

"Just...cold, Sir."

"I'm sorry this isn't one of our usual toasty fires." O'Neill's voice was full of regret. "Want something warm to drink? Maybe that'll help."

Sam sighed. "No, Sir. 'Cause then I'll have to get up and go to...no thanks."

"Ah." O'Neill was silent for a moment.

Sam shivered again, this time unable to stop her teeth from chattering.

"That's it." A faint shuffling sound filled the cave, almost indiscernible above the noise of the driving storm. "There's no need for you to shiver all night."

"Sir?

"Since I can't light a decent campfire here, we're gonna have to cuddle."

"Cuddle?" she squeaked.

"Just pretend I'm somebody else, Captain." O'Neill paused and then asked, "Would you, ah, rather I called Daniel over here?"

"No, Sir. It's fine. You're...fine."

"Great. Now, Captain, scoot over."

"Yes, Sir." Sam listened as he rearranged his bag and space blanket, draping the latter over both of their bodies as he slid back into his bag, now pressed against hers. She couldn't deny feeling warmer, that was for certain, and, if she was really honest with herself, she really didn't want to pretend he was anyone else.

"Better?"

This time Sam could feel his breath on her cheek and she valiantly tried to suppress another shudder, this one not the result of any cold air or burgeoning infection, she knew. "Yes, Colonel. Better."

Much better.

'Shut up,' Sam ordered the voice in her head.

They lay silently for a while, listening to the whistling of the wind outside, unconsciously pressing closer together with each flash of lighting and crash of thunder. Eventually O'Neill spoke up, his voice carrying a gentle teasing tone. "Guess this rules out the tank top, then, eh?"

"Colonel?"

"Well, you said the wound would barely leave a scar."

Sam felt his shrug against her shoulder and she closed her eyes, knowing what was coming. "Sir..."

"I'm just saying. Tearing it open probably means you'll have a scar. Which means..."

Giving up on any semblance of propriety, Sam chuckled into the darkness. "Oh, don't worry, Sir. I'm sure I'll manage to wear that tank top at least once more in my career."

"I'm counting on it, Sam."