Jack left Teal'c's room with no idea of where to go. He was starving, but the sheer number of people in the commissary who might try to talk to him was a deterrent. All this talking was draining, no less because of the emotional content of the discussion for him. Perhaps a nap was in order. He headed for his quarters.

"General! General! Can I speak to you for a minute?" Felger was at the other end of the corridor with an eager expression on his face. Jack walked right past his quarters, around the corner, and made for the elevator at full speed. By the time the doors opened, Felger was hot on his heels. Jack dove through the door as it opened, mashing all the buttons repeatedly. He smiled in relief as the doors slid shut before the scientist could reach them.

"Hi, Sir."

Jack hung his head in defeat. This was a fate worse than Felger. "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no."

"General? Are you okay?"

"No, Carter. I am not okay. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no."

"Sir, do we need to go to the infirmary?" Sam reached out and punched the appropriate button, and the elevator came to a grinding halt.

Jack groaned. Now he knew not only was the staff on base conspiring against him, but the base itself was in on it, too. His chanting grew louder and more desperate.

"Guess that was one button too many," Carter said, noting the panel that was lit up like a Christmas tree from O'Neill's frenzy to evade Felger. She reached for the phone. "Hello, this is Lt. Colonel Carter... Yes... Really? That's very kind... Thank you, I'll keep that in mind... No..."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jack snapped as he snatched the receiver. "Shut up and listen. This is General O'Neill. Colonel Carter and I are trapped in the elevator between levels 28 and 29. You will, with no unnecessary conversation on the matter, get off your ass and go find someone to get us the hell out of here. Is that understood?" Jack slammed down the receiver and resumed his repetition with annoyance.

"That was a little harsh, Sir, don't you think?"

"No no no no NO no no no no."

"I'm sure they'll have us out in no time, General, but in the meantime, that could really get annoying."

"It helps me stop talking. No no no no no no no."

"Ahh, I see. You're infected, but talking is like torture for you. Hmm. Interesting! You know, if Dr. Brightman finds a cure, this virus could well become the most important advance to come out of the SGC. Imagine the applications! Interrogations would become a thing of the past. There'd be no danger of the type of thing that happened at Abu Ghraib. You just release the virus on the suspect and wait for them to spill their guts. There don't appear to be any serious side effects. This could be revolutionary. I wonder if it would work on the Goa'uld. Generally, the symbiote is immune to viruses, but you never know. I wonder how we could test that."

"Carter!" His voice brought her train of thought to a halt. "You are babbling."

"I resent that, Sir. Babbling would imply that I was unaware of what I was saying, or unable to stick to a topic. I know precisely what I'm saying, and I would think it would be of interest to you."

Jack studied her carefully. "You're right, Carter. The Goa'uld are a safe topic. Tell me your theories about how we might test it."

"A safe topic? As opposed to what? Oh! You don't want to talk about you and me. Or is it 'you and I'? You're actually better with grammar than I am. I never think about whether I end sentences with prepositions. Why do you try to hide your intelligence, Sir? That's the one thing I've never understood about you."

"The one thing?" Jack blurted.

Sam looked as thoughtful as someone babbling could manage. "Yes, I think so. I understand you pretty well. You were a big puzzle to me at first, but you know how I react to a puzzle. I just have to keep at it until I have it solved. I think that's why I first..." Sam gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth, in hopes he wouldn't hear the rest of the sentence she couldn't help but say. Removing her hand when she finished, she added, "I think I'm infected, Sir."

"What was your first clue?"

"This is terrible."

"Tell me about it. I was trying to find a place to hide when we got stuck here."

"Hide?"

"From anyone else who wanted to talk about you."

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed as Jack resumed chanting. "Does that really help?"

Jack nodded his head in the affirmative, even while he chanted, "No no no no no no no." Sam joined in the chanting. After a few minutes, Jack asked, "Carter, could you try to synchronize your no's with mine? You're throwing me off."

"You have no rhythm to your chant. How am I supposed to keep up?"

"Hey! I have rhythm. I just like to vary it a little. Break up the monotony."

"All the same..."

"Maybe we could try using the tune to a song. Do you know the theme to Love Boat?"

Sam nodded. "You start."

"No NO noooo, no-no no-NO-no no-no-no-noooo." After three rousing choruses of Love Boat, Sam caught Jack's eye and the giggling began.

"Hey, no giggling! No no no no no no no no..."

Sam swiped at her eyes. "I can't help it. You must see the humor in this situation."

"No no no no - NO I don't - no no no no no..." he replied, setting Sam off again. He glared at her intently, consciously trying that non-verbal communication technique Teal'c had brought to his attention.

"Why do you hate it so much when I laugh?" Sam asked, trying to pull herself together.

"Who said that?"

"You always order me to stop."

"Not because I hate it. I love your laugh." Jack rolled his eyes at his own weakness. "Carter, you have to stop asking me questions. I am not responsible for what I say right now."

"You aren't responsible?" There was a very dangerous twinkle in Sam's eye. "Sir, what happened during the time loop?"

"Oh, no, you don't! I've been taken advantage of enough today. No! No no no no no. Alright, I kissed you. But I resigned first!"

"That's all? You just kissed me? I thought it had to be something worse than that, the way you wouldn't stop smirking at me for days."

"Yeah, but it was one hell of a dramatic kiss. Right there in the control room, in front of God, General Hammond, and all those witnesses. I went for maximum effect. It was hysterical. You would have loved it."

"Hysterical? Kissing me was funny?" She didn't know whether to be baffled or affronted.

"The shock value! The sputtering General. The astounded onlookers. Yeah, it was funny. It was great, too. You..." It was Jack's turn to clamp his hand over his mouth. "Damn you, Carter. That wasn't fair. Now you have to tell me something in return."

"No no no no no no..." she chanted in reply.

"Carter, I order you to 'fess up to something embarrassing."

"You can't order me to do that!"

"I just did!"

"Fine. I've kissed you, too."

Carter almost started laughing again as he scrunched up his face in confusion. "How is that possible?"

"Sometimes when you're unconscious in the infirmary, I kiss your forehead and tell you to snap out of it. It's become something of a superstition for me."

"Really!"

"Well, it worked the first time."

"I think I feel faint. I may slip into unconsciousness."

"Very funny, Sir."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Jack realized Teal'c was definitely right about that communication thing. Turning away, they both resumed the chant.

"What the hell is taking so long?" Jack muttered amidst a flurry of no's.

"I'm sure they're doing their best," Carter replied, interrupting her chant.

Jack looked at his watch. "I could be watching the Simpsons right now."

"You'd be watching CNN."

Jack looked at her in surprise. "Are you and Daniel spying on me?"

Sam shrugged. "We're just more observant than you give us credit for."

"You just ended as sentence with a preposition."

"Sorry."

"I do watch the Simpsons."

"I know. Actually, I've grown to like the show myself."

"You watch it? What else don't I know about you?"

"That's a dangerous question, Sir. You wouldn't be trying to take advantage of my condition, would you?"

"No no no no no no no no no."

Except for the monosyllabic recitation, silence prevailed for several minutes. Jack paced, fidgeted, stewed, and sighed. "Carter, I can't take it anymore. I have to talk to you."

Sam looked at him with apprehension. She was just as nervous about opening doors that couldn't be closed again as he could possibly be. She wondered if she should try to stop him. She opened her mouth, but too late.

Jack took a deep breath and began speaking rapidly. "The Simpsons has really gone down hill in the last three years. I don't enjoy it nearly as much as I used to, but I'm glad the earlier seasons are coming out on DVD. I look after the old lady next door and her cats, and I pay a neighborhood kid to look in on them when I'm not around. I really wish you would give hockey a chance. I'm possibly the only person on the planet in possession of a Y-chromosome who does not like The Godfather Trilogy. Even Daniel likes it, for cryin' out loud. I do subscribe to Mad Magazine, but I also subscribe to Smithsonian, National Geographic, Newsweek, and Popular Mechanics -- and I read them all, too. My parents used to call me Jacky-boy, which made me absolutely nuts. Iguanas make my skin crawl. I'm actually growing to like the desk job -- how sick is that? And Walter really is like Radar O'Reilly."

"Sir, why are you telling me all this?"

"The chanting just isn't working for me anymore. And..." He paused, fighting against the words and losing. "I want you to know me."

Sam's expression was direct and meaningful as she replied, "I know you."

Jack returned the look, the full weight of its implication exchanged.

"My brother Mark used to call me Samzilla," she began, "because everywhere I went I left things in pieces. I used to call him Marky de Sade, because -- well, that's self-explanatory really. I couldn't get a date in high school, I think all the boys were scared of me. I lie about not being able to cook so I don't have to. After my mother died, I did most of the cooking, and I'm just tired of it. If you force me to take downtime, I end up watching Lifetime movies, painting my nails, and eating ice cream, which is why I hate to do it -- bad for my figure. Oh, and Teal'c got me completely hooked on this ridiculous show -- it's called What Not to Wear."

"I watch it."

"You're kidding!"

"And the British version, too."

"There's an American version?"

"Come over and watch." He knew he should regret the words, but he couldn't.

Sam's expression became serious. "When you were in stasis after the Ancient knowledge took you over, I used to sleep in your quarters sometimes."

"When you were stranded on Prometheus, I did the same."

"I hallucinated you, in this great blue shirt. We kissed."

"Wish I could've been there for that."

"I was happier as Thera."

"I was happier as Jonah. I'm too old for you."

"You're not."

"Since you took over SG-1, I've learned to pray again."

They could hear the noise of the repair crew just outside. "We'll have you out in a minute, Sir," someone called.

Jack grabbed Sam by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Don't get married."

He released her and she slipped her hand reassuringly into his. "Yes, Sir."

With one eye on the door, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. As the doors slid open, they separated. "I know you," he whispered.

Sam smiled and whispered back. "I know you, too."