Jack slowly inched out of the shadow of the lab door, from where he had been watching for the last few minutes. Crossing the lab on soft, sure feet, he stopped a few inches away from Sam without making a sound, and looked down at her outstretched body.

"Hey," he said, making Sam jump and bang her head against the bottom of the chair.

"Ow! Ugh, what... sir?" Sam spluttered as she flailed in a vain attempt to extract herself from under the chair.

Jack knelt, stilling Sam with a hand to her shoulder, then gently tugged and pushed until she slid completely free of the chair and helped her sit up. He cocked an eye at the angry red spot on Sam's forehead and remarked, "That's going to bruise."

"I... You... You just have to go around sneaking up on people, don't you?" Sam griped, then froze as Jack gently caressed the sore spot.

"Hey, it was just too tempting," Jack smiled, then quickly pulled away his hand when he realized what he'd done. "Well. Ahem. Anyway." He glanced about the room while patting his hands against his chest pockets for lack of anything better to do with them. "Quite a setup you've got here."

"Setup, sir?" Sam asked as she dragged herself up and hoisted her body onto the work stool.

"Yeah," Jack got up, dusted himself, and dropped down into the wheelchair. Then he sat up, lifted his butt, looked under it, and dug out the tools that were lying there. Sam quickly relieved him of them and laid them safely aside on a nearby work surface, and Jack settled back down into the wheelchair with a smug, self-satisfied smile. "Comfy," he pronounced appreciatively, bouncing himself slightly up and down in the seat. "What'd you do with the suspension? I'd kill to have a suspension like this in my car."

"I could adapt it for your car, if you want, sir," Sam offered brightly.

"Really?" Jack said, unlocking the brakes on the chair. "Well, that's very nice of you." He studied the control pad on the armrest. "There's one problem, though." He punched a button, which sent the chair careering straight backwards. Jack quickly punched another button, sighing in relief when the chair stopped just before it would have crashed into the cabinets lining the far wall. "How fast does this thing move, anyway?" he asked.

"Theoretically, it should be able to go as fast as sixty miles per hour," Sam replied.

"Sixty!" Jack exclaimed. He gingerly pressed another button, and the chair moved forward this time, returning to its former position at a much more sedate pace.

"Well, theoretically, sir." Sam shrugged. "Obviously, I haven't been able to test it at full speed down here."

"I would hope not," Jack said emphatically. "I don't want to have to arrest you for hit and run driving, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam giggled. "Sir? You were saying, about your car?"

"Ah, yes. My car." Jack slapped the armrest for emphasis. "Well, while I'd love to have you fit this suspension system on my car, that car happens to be in my garage at home. *And*..." He leaned forward, his expression turning suddenly serious. "You can't go wandering around the suburbs of Colorado Springs in a wheelchair powered by a Goa'uld energy crystal."

"Sir.. I..." Sam stammered, shocked by Jack's sudden shift in mood.

"You're getting mighty comfortable in here, Carter," Jack pressed on. "But when are you planning on getting out? Hm?"

"I..." Sam lowered her face, her lips tightening into a thin line.

"Isn't it time for your therapy session?" Jack asked gently, indicating the clock with his eyes.

Sam just huddled tighter, shoulders trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

"Look, Carter," Jack continued patiently. "You *can* walk. This..." He rubbed the chair with his hand. "You don't need this. I mean, in another twenty, thirty years, I'm going to be mightily glad you made this comfy suspension for wheelchairs, when I'm being pushed around a retirement home in diapers, but..." Jack paused, waiting while Sam guffawed, then sniffled hard, then heaved a few hard hiccups before getting herself back in control again. "But now," Jack went on. "Now, you need to at least *try* to walk. Do you understand?"

"And what..." Sam sniffled, "what if I can't?"

"If you've *tried*, and you can't," Jack said, "I'll carry you myself if we ever have to evacuate the base. But if you don't try..." Jack waited until Sam looked him in the eye. "I can't justify putting anyone else at risk because of you. You understand that, don't you, Colonel?"

"I... I'm not a colonel any more," Sam protested. "I've been discharged."

"Oh?" Jack said. "Tried that on Hammond once. He didn't let me get away with it, and I'm not letting you get away with it, either. Once a colonel in the Air Force, always a colonel in the Air Force. Discharge or not."

Sam looked at Jack wide-eyed as she took that in.

"And in any case," Jack added, "you may not be officially in the Air Force anymore, but you *are* on the SGC payroll as a civilian consultant. I made sure the papers were signed and dated so you were never off the payroll, one way or the other. And being a member of the SGC, civilian or military, carries its duties and obligations. So, as commander of this base, I'm ordering you, your first priority is to get your legs back in working order, as far as they possibly can be. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Sam whispered.

"Good," Jack said, getting up from the chair. "Here," he gestured for Sam to take the chair. "I'll come with you."