Title: No Words

Author: Gail R. Delaney RmceWrtr@hotmail.com

Rating: PG -13

Pairing: Sam/Jack Jack/Daniel friendship hint of Daniel/Janet

Summary: No words are necessary between them

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, Jack, Sam, Teal'c ... none of them. I just have a muse that won't be quiet until I get this down 'on paper'. Then maybe she'll let me get back to my manuscript. I don't write these for money, just my own satisfaction

Genre: Romance/Drama

Timeline: Um... I don't have a specific time frame in mind, ie: before this episode, after that one... etc... But probably a later year... So, let's say Season 7

Feedback: Absolutely!

Archives: At my site, www.gaildelaney.com, ff.net. SJD, yes. Anywhere else, just ask. I'll probably say yes... just want to know where.

Jack stood in the doorway of Sam's lab, his shoulder against the jamb and his hands in the pockets of his BDU's, silently watching her as she hunched over yet another one of her doohickeys. He smiled as he heard her mumbling to herself, reasoning out whatever problem had her stumped. She moved around the edge of her table, staring at the spherical metal object they had recently retrieved from P2X-yada yada yada.

"I know there's something in there, but how in heck do I get to it?" she mumbled, flipping a bit of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Play knock knock?"

Sam jumped, and Jack grinned in satisfaction. He loved it when she jumped like that. She shot him a 'cut that out' glance, but he caught the glimmer of a smile she was doing her damndest to hide.

"Open says me?"

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to work, sir."

Jack shrugged and pushed off the jamb, walking into the room. He stood on the other side of the table from her and looked down at the silver alien device. "Did Daniel have any luck translating the..." he swirled his finger above the thing.

"Symbols? No. He took pictures and is trying to decipher them in his lab. I told him I'd work on getting it open."

"How do you know it opens?"

Sam came around to his side of the table and adjusted her big magnifying glass over the thing. When she leaned over to check the alignment, her shoulder brushed his chest, and he clamped down his jaw to hide any reaction. Wouldn't do to blush for the cameras. Then again.. they filmed in black and white...

"If you look here, sir, you can see the finest hairline split in the metal. It's amazing craftsmanship."

Jack looked through the magnifier, seeing the split. "Cool."

"It would be cool if I could open it."

Jack took a step back and leaned into the edge of the counter behind him. Sam went back to her examining and poking, and he watched with his arms crossed over his chest. She seemed to forget he was there for several minutes, which was fine. He liked to watch her work – could almost see the wheels turning in her head. After several minutes, she looked up.

"Was there something you needed, sir?"


She stared for several moments, then looked down again. "Okay. Well, would you like to help?"

"What can I do?" *Anything to avoid the stack of paperwork on his desk*

Sam picked up a tool that looked suspiciously like one of Frasier's scalpels and held it against the crack in the device. "I want to apply some pressure here, so if you can hold it st—"

The sphere popped open like the back of a ladybug, and dozens of tiny dart- like objects flew out. Sam screamed, and Jack reacted.

He yanked her back from the table, pushing himself between her and the array. But he realized the action was too late. Sam flailed her arms, trying to brush the darts from the front of her tee shirt and from her arms.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Colonel!"

Jack grabbed her shoulders, trying to hold her still for just a moment. He saw the miniscule projectiles dissolve on her clothes, turning into sizzling masses that quickly ate at the material.

"It's burning!" Sam cried, terror in her voice.

He swept her into his arms and ran from the lab, nearly bowling over an airman in the hall. Running fast on a rush of adrenaline, Jack sprinted to the locker room, trying hard the whole time to keep hold of a frantically twisting Major. Bursting into the locker room, he startled three more airmen but didn't really care.

"Out!" he shouted. "Get the hell out!"

He ran past them to the empty gang shower.

Sam screamed again, swatting at her throat and face. Fully clothed, Jack threw on the nearest shower and warm water pummeled them. He turned her into the stream, and Sam gasped, the water hitting her face. Red welts were forming on her neck and face, and Jack used his hands to try and wash away any remains of the burning darts. Sam was near frantic – thrashing and digging at her clothes that now plastered to her under the water.

"Oh, God!" she shouted again. "Jack! Jack!"

Panic thumped against the inside of his own chest, but he squelched it... focusing only on Sam and whatever he had to do. He grasped the bottom of her tee shirt, and with one firm yank, pulled it free of her pants and off over her head. With a quick shrug, he tossed aside the heavy green jacket he had been wearing, now saturated with water, and pulled off his tee shirt to use it as a washcloth, wiping at her face and arms.

"Sam?" he said loudly, trying to get her focus on him. "Is it still burning? Sam?"

She stopped suddenly, her hands in mid-air between them. Water sluiced over her hair and down her face. Jack dropped the soaked tee shirt and gripped her arms when her body swayed. His heart stopped when she slowly lifted her chin and looked up at him, unblinking even as the shower ran in her eyes.


Her eyes rolled back and her eyelids fluttered shut as her body went limp.

"Damn it," Jack cursed as he caught her, pulling her against him.

"Colonel O'Neill, what the *hell* is going on here?" came General Hammond's voice as it grew nearer through the locker room. He rounded the corner into the shower, a security guard on his heels. "I've just had two airmen report to me that - get Doctor Frasier here. NOW!"

The airman disappeared, his boots echoing away across the concrete floor. Jack could only stand beneath the steaming shower spray, Sam held against his chest. He glanced at General Hammond, his mind only vaguely registering the shock and concern on the man's face, then looked down at Sam. Her head rested against his arm, her chin tipped back with her lips parted. The only color in her face was the red welts left behind by the alien attack. Water ran over them, but Jack didn't dare move until the doc told him to. He pulled her closer until their cheeks met and he could feel the slight shift of her body, letting him know she still took a breath. Through the miasma of adrenaline, his mind registered the fact that he had nearly stripped her to stop the attack. Closing his eyes, he held her closer and turned to shield her from the curious eyes of base personnel.

Jack stood there until Janet Frasier pried Sam's body from his arms.


"Here, Jack."

Daniel held out the dry clothes he had retrieved from Jack's locker. Jack sat on one of the long benches in the locker room, his body hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his fingers clasped together behind his neck. His damp hair stuck out from his scalp in mussed array. Drops of water still dotted his back and shoulders.

"Jack," Daniel said again.

Jack sat up and took the black tee shirt from the clothes and pulled it over his head, not taking the time to dry off first. Daniel stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest as Jack silently stood and changed his wet clothes for dry ones. Daniel had known Jack O'Neill long enough to know when not to push. Jack's jaw was set hard, his eyes steeled as he sat again and undid the laces of his saturated boots. He didn't flinch when Jack chucked the boot across the room and it slammed against the bank of metal lockers. Anyone who knew Jack could have seen the outburst of pent up energy a mile away.

What could he say? *She'll be fine, Jack* They didn't know that. Not yet. He couldn't ask what Jack knew. Jack was in no frame of mind to discuss it, which was clear.

When the alarms had sounded and the call for the medical team to report to the locker room, Daniel had immediately been on his feet. It could just have easily been a random airman that had slipped in the shower... but he couldn't have taken the chance that it wasn't. He remembered now the gut- wrenching shock that hit him when he rounded the corner to see two med- techs setting a limp Sam on a gurney. Soaking wet and half-clothed, she look pale. Too pale. Except for the red welts on her face and upper body.

He had stepped back to let them pass, taking Sam to the infirmary. Then he saw General Hammond step away from the entrance to the shower and saw Jack come out. Soaking wet himself, and stripped to the waist, he had leaned into the tile wall and pressed his forehead against his raised arm.

General Hammond told him what he knew... He found Jack and Sam in the shower, Sam unconscious... and that was about all.

And now it was just him and Jack.

In the years since joining SG-1, Daniel had learned to live with... but not necessarily agree with ... the military mindset. He understood the need for order and structure when people's lives were on the line. But there were just some things he would never get.

Like why it was so damn wrong for Jack O'Neill and Samantha Carter to love each other.

He had read the rules of conduct forbidding unprofessional relationships between officers in the same line of command. They were there to avoid the appearance of favoritism that could negatively effect morale... and as Jack would say... yada yada yada.

If anyone asked him... and Daniel silently admitted no one ever would... watching the two of them deny and cover the feelings that were so obvious to anyone that knew them – that cared about both of them - *that* was a morale killer.

Jack laced his dry boots and stood, his body language screaming that he was ready to punch in a locker door or ring someone's neck. Daniel hoped no unsuspecting airman walked in right now... for his own safety. He waited silently, his shoulders braced back against the lockers behind him, for Jack to speak.

His friend ran a hand over his face, ruffled his short-cut silver hair, then slammed his fist into the lockers. The sound ricocheted through the empty space. Daniel raised his head and looked at Jack, wishing he knew what to do other than be there.

"Who created that... thing?" Jack finally demanded.

Daniel squinted his eyes. "Thing, Jack?"

"That sphere thing Carter was working on."

Awareness shifted over Daniel's skin and he stood straighter. "Is that what... that did ..." he couldn't form the question, but motioned towards the shower.

Jack nodded, bracing his palms against the locker in front of him, he leaned in, staring down at the floor. Daniel swallowed, and figured he was taking his own life into his hands, but had to ask.

"What happened, Jack?"

"Tiny little dart... things... flew out of it. Went all over her. She said they were burning." He waved a hand towards the shower that seemed to be the reference point for the whole conversation. "It's the only thing I could think of."

"You did the right thing."

Jack slammed the heel of his hand into the locker, leaving a dent this time. How much abuse was one government-issue locker supposed to take? "Figure out who made it." He stepped back and stormed towards the door. "Then I'm gonna kick their ass."


Dr. Janet Frasier slowly pulled on the syringe plunger, drawing another vile of blood from Sam's arm. She looked to the face of her friend, watching from some reaction as she removed the needle, but none came. Sam was still and pale, her chest barely rising with each breath. A clear oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth.

She removed the vile from the syringe and handed it to the med-tech that stood behind her. After one final glance at Sam's readings, she turned to face the gallery of friends who waited for news.

General Hammond had just come into the infirmary, standing near the door beside Teal'c, who silently waited in his characteristic fashion. Daniel stood along the wall, his hands pushed into his pockets, deep furrows creasing his brow. Their gazes met, and he gave her a small smile. Silent encouragement. Strength unspoken.

Beside Daniel sat Colonel Jack O'Neill, his legs apart and his elbows on his knees, his head bowed low. When she turned, he looked up, his expression tight and waiting.

"What can you tell us, Doctor?" General Hammond asked.

Janet sighed and put her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. "Not much, General. I believe it's a biological weapon of some kind. It's moving through her entire system through her blood stream, but no antibiotic or other drug I've tried has halted its progress."

"It was absorbed through the skin?"

She nodded. "Yes. I believe it could have been much worse if Colonel O'Neill hadn't acted so quickly." Janet looked to the Colonel, hoping her words might give him some relief, but saw no change in his face. "By the time I could have gotten there, and brought her back here for decontamination, it might have been too late."

Daniel moved to put his hand on Jack's shoulder, but seemed to rethink it at the last moment, putting it back in his pocket. Janet understood his frustration. It was times like these she didn't like being a doctor... unable to help... unable to offer words of encouragement.

Jack sat up with a jerk. "Why didn't they... it... attack me, too? I was right there. It got on my clothes."

Janet shrugged. "I don't know. Unless the poison is attracted to a specific genetic marker. Something in Sam's system that wouldn't be in yours."

"Like what?" Daniel asked.

"I'm just speculating here. But even though human DNA is similar in all of us to some extent, there are differences. It could be female versus male. For all I know it could be the genetic marker that gave her blue eyes instead of brown."

Jack leaned forward again, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. Then Janet saw Daniel shift, stand straighter, and his eyes squinted as if something had just come to him.


Jack looked up at Daniel. "What?" he asked.

Daniel raised a hand, pointing to some in descript point. "I don't' know. I'll be right back." Then he took off out of the infirmary.

"Let's home Dr. Jackson is on to something," General Hammond said. "Keep me informed, Dr. Frasier."

"Of course," she said as the General turned to leave.


Daniel sprinted into his office and grabbed from his desk the photos he had taken of the alien device, pushing his glasses higher on his nose to look them over again. The thrill of a new discovery rushed in his veins... but the possibility that he might have the answer to helping Sam... or at least a start... made his heart beat faster.

He moved to his bookshelf and scanned the bindings of the old books, pulling one from near the top. Frantically, he thumbed through the crackling pages until he found what he needed. Mumbling to himself, he compared the drawings in the book to the pictures.

"Yes!" he shouted to the empty room and took off again to the infirmary.

Both Janet and Jack looked up when he burst into the room, out of breath. "I've got it."

Jack stood and Janet stepped forward. "What is it, Daniel?" she asked.

"Naquida. The Naquida in Sam's blood. The device is a weapon against the Goa'uld. I figured out the translation. Assassin of the Oppressor. It's designed to attack any physical body with the presence of Naquida in their blood."

"Are you sure?" Janet asked.

"Pretty sure. Yeah."

Jack pulled off his jacket and tossed it in the chair he had just been in. "Only one way to find out. Teal'c..."

Janet seemed to understand, and retrieved two new syringes.


The SGC had fallen silent. It was quickly approaching 2300, and Doc Frasier was in her lab running whatever experiments she needed to fix Sam. Jack sat on the empty bed beside hers, his feet braced on the side with an elbow on one knee and his fist against his temple. Watching her sleep.

Teal'c had left several hours before, and Daniel was back in his office hoping to find something more on the Goa'uld killer.

So help the sons of bitches that made it if it ended up being a Carter killer, too.

He bit down on his jaw, grinding his frustration in his teeth.

Sam stirred, her head rolling on the pillow. Jack stood and moved to the side of her bed, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him. Their gazes connected, but then panic took over her expression. She tried to lift her arms to pull at the oxygen mask.

"Hang on, hang on," Jack said, pushing her hands back down so she didn't accidentally pull out the IV's the doctor had stuck into her. He pulled the mask away from her mouth and slipped it back over her head.

She sucked in a deep breath, but it sounded shallow and rattled in her chest. Sam's fingers curled around his wrist and her lips moved as she tried to speak.

"Don't talk, Carter. I'll go get Doc Frasier."

Sam shook her head. He saw her lips form his name. Jack leaned forward, bracing his arm against the tilted head of the bed. Instinctively, he brushed his fingers along her forehead, but drew back at the heat emanating from her skin.

"B-burning..." Sam said in a forced whisper. "J-jack... burning..."

Then her entire body bucked, spasms shooting through. Her head tilted back and she flailed on the bed. Jack grabbed her shoulders, trying to keep her from falling to the floor.

"Doc! Doc!" he shouted. "Somebody!"

In moments, Janet Frasier and two of her techs were beside him but Jack didn't release her. Sam convulsed violently, a deep moan rumbling through her.

"Do something!"

"I think I found something that might work, but I haven't tested it yet."

"Do it!"

"Colonel, I haven't tested it. It could kill her."

"She might die if you *don't* use it!"

He stared at the petite doctor, trying to still hold Sam down, and after a few seconds, Janet nodded. She moved to the IV thing in the back of Sam's hand and shot the contents of a syringe directly into her blood stream.

"I have no idea how long it will take for this to work."

Sam's body stilled, and she slumped onto the mattress. Jagged breaths forced her chest to rise and fall. But Jack kept his hands on her arms. He heard more people come into the infirmary.

"What happened?" came Daniel's voice behind him.

"Sam went into convulsions," Doctor Frasier said as she flipped her stethyscope off her neck to press the business end over Sam's heart. She continued to talk as she checked Sam's vitals. "I gave her something... I don't know if it will work."

Jack stared at Sam's face. Her skin was deathly white against the flushed pink of her cheeks. He shook his head.

"That was just too damn easy."

As if in response, her back arched and her arms shot out away from her body. Her neck bent back so far Jack thought it would snap.

"Lay the bed down! Lay the bed down!" Janet ordered.

One of the techs hit the release on the side of the bed and it collapsed back with a clank. Jack tried to hold her, but his position was awkward, and the more she twisted the harder it became.

"Damn it to hell," he cursed and swung his leg up onto the narrow bed, shifting to straddle Sam's body.

"Get me 10 cc's of Diprivan, now!" Janet shouted, moving to Sam's head to try and keep her from slamming into the side rails.

Another tech appeared with a needle in hand and jabbed it directly into Sam's arm. Jack fought to keep his balance over her, holding her arms firm but trying not to hurt her. She bucked so hard beneath him he thought she'd toss him, or having him singing soprano. He felt the heat of her body, and a fine sheen of sweat covered her, making his hold slick.

After what felt like an eternity, the convulsions diminished until she slumped limp on the mattress. Monitors beeped and wailed warnings, and the heavy breathing of everyone in the room drowned out most other sound. Jack rocked back onto his knees, keeping his weight off her, yet not yet releasing her arms.

Doctor Frasier did her thing... checking this and reading that... and finally looked up at him. "Her heart rate has slowed, her blood pressure is still high but dropping. We won't know what damage has been done for awhile."

Jack let go of Sam's arms and braced them on his thighs, dropping his head forward with his eyes closed.


*Five Days Later*

"Thank you for driving me, Janet."

"No problem, Sam. I would rather do it than see you try to drive yourself. You're not strong enough yet."

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"You sure you want me to just drop you off? You don't want me to wait?"

She shook her head. "No. I'll be fine."


Sam opened the car door and slowly climbed out of Janet's small import. Her legs were wobbly, and her arms protested at the effort needed to shut the door. But she hid it behind a smile, and Janet pulled away with a wave and a nod. With a deep sigh, Sam turned and walked towards the house at the end of the stone driveway. By the time she took the three front steps, she was near exhaustion, but knocked on the door.

It opened within moments, and Jack stood in the doorway.

"Carter? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Janet dropped me off."

"I didn't know she was letting you out today. I would have—"

"I know. Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course."

Jack stepped aside and she walked into his front hall. The inside of the house was dim, the sun having set just a quarter of an hour before. She heard him close the door and felt him move closer to her. Close but not close enough for contact.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Very tired."

"Come. Sit. Beer?"

"In a minute. Sir... I ... I came to thank you," she said, looking up at him.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

"I remember it all. Even through the fever, I can remember everything."

His gaze dropped to somewhere around her chin and his lips parted a second before he spoke. "Oh."

Sam swallowed, feeling a different heat rush her cheeks than the one caused by the fever. His close proximity, and her memories, warmed her. Now, several days later, she looked back on what he did and couldn't deny the sensations that swirled in her stomach. The hot water sluicing over them – his hands on her body – pulling off her shirt – in any other situation, it would have been a moment fantasies were made of.

She jumped when his fingertips touched her arm, just beneath the hem of her short sleeves. Sam looked down at the deep purple and faded yellow imprints that circled her arm.

"Ah, christ..." Jack mumbled.

She lifted her chin to look into his face again. "It's all right, sir. I remember that part, too. You were protecting me from myself."

He dropped his hand away and stomped into the kitchen. "In my book, protecting a woman and leaving bruises on her body doesn't go together."

Sam walked to the entryway of the kitchen, resting her hand on the countertop just inside the door. An anchor to lean on. "Sir, don't do that."

He didn't answer, just opened his refrigerator and retrieved a carton of juice. Without looking at her again, he poured her a glass and set it beside her. She wondered what had happened to the beer.


"Drink up, Carter. OJ is good for you."


He finally looked at her, meeting her gaze. Sam held his stare and took the two steps around the corner of the counter to reach him. Jack watched her, his eyes never wavering until she reached up to touch his cheek. She was walking a fine line, and she knew it, but she had things she needed to say.

"I'll never forget what you did."

"I'm your CO. Can't be losing a good member of my team."

She heard the words, but his dark eyes said more. More than either of them could put into words. More than they knew they were allowed. With silent agreement, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his body. He pulled her close, his embrace drawing her to him. Jack bent his head and pressed his face against the curve of her throat, and she felt him draw in a long, deep breath.

No words were necessary.