Sleeper
By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com)
Thanks to the benefits of being Tok'ra, Martouf and Aldwyn were the only people from the Ne'tu expedition who were in a position to do anything besides sleep, which was what Sam, Jacob, Daniel, and Jack were doing. Teal'c was only too grateful to turn the piloting duties over to the healthy Tok'ra, taking up a position to stand watch over his friends. It had been too close, he thought, and while falling in battle with Sokar would have been a most honorable way to die, he'd much prefer the entire team – and Jacob, too, of course – live to fight another day.
Atypically, O'Neill and Jackson had shed their shirts, letting the cool, temperature-controlled interior of the ship kiss their skin, the perspiration that had saturated them long since evaporated. Even Jacob had shed the heavy covering the Tok'ra traditionally wore for the more airy undergarments, maintaining his modesty with a blanket that covered him as he slept. Major Carter was curled up beside him, her bare arms around him protectively, wearing the tank-style undershirt that was the only option the Air Force offered other than the black t-shirts they so often wore. The foursome looked like little children, exhausted after a day of playing First Prime, rather than four people who'd repeatedly saved their planet.
Satisfied that, for the time being, everyone was doing as well as could be expected, the Jaffa retreated to a corner of the cargo hold, finding a quiet place where he could perform his Kel no reem undisturbed. The return to Vorash was still a few hours away, and he'd need to replenish himself while he could. Undoubtedly, there would be much to discuss upon their return to the SGC.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The Tok'ra were very accomplished pilots, but they were no Jaffa, Daniel thought moments after the jarring awoke him. He sensed movement beside him, his companions stirring back to wakefulness along with him. Sliding on his glasses, he was pleased to see Sam sit up, smiling down on her father, who returned her show of warmth. He was thankful that she hadn't had to deal with the loss of her only surviving parent; he knew just how painful that could be, regardless of whether you were a child or an adult.
"How're you doin', kiddo?" Jake whispered.
"I'm fine, Dad," Sam responded. "What about you?"
"Selmac's better, and she's helping me now. It won't be long."
Carter sighed deeply. "Thank God. Y'know, Dad, these risky missions are going to give me a heart attack some day."
"Yeah, like your occupation is the safest in the world," he smiled, pushing himself to a sitting position. "I worry about you, out there, every second of every day, no matter where I am."
"I know, Dad. Just because I'm the child, not the parent, doesn't mean I don't worry, too."
"We're still some distance from Vorash," Martouf said from where he'd skulked up beside them, "but there's a party planned to celebrate Jacob's and Selmac's homecoming when we get there."
"You've never lived until you've partied with the Tok'ra," Jacob laughed, accepting Martouf's hand as Daniel offered one to Sam.
"I'm not sure we can handle an intoxicated Jaffa," the archeologist joked.
"Alcoholic beverages do not have an affect on me, DanielJackson," Teal'c corrected. "My symbiote prevents it."
"You can have a great party without alcohol, Teal'c," Jake laughed, taking his daughter by the hand and moving towards the ship's front window. The smiling group – Sam, Jacob, Daniel, Teal'c, Martouf, and Aldwyn – were gathered there, studying the starfield, before they noticed an absence.
Turning as one, they looked back at the pallets where they'd been sleeping . . . to see Colonel Jack O'Neill, still prone, sound asleep.
"I never realized what a sound sleeper Jack is," Jacob said as his daughter and Daniel went to wake their leader.
"Oh, my God," Sam said as she laid a hand on Jack's hand to wake him. "He's burning up," she said.
Daniel shook a shoulder simultaneously, only to be greeted by a groan. "C'mon, Jack."
Jacob returned to their sides, touching the Colonel's forehead briefly. "He's feverish." His strength having returned considerably, he ripped the cloth from around the wound in O'Neill's leg, exposing the burnt and bloody flesh. He didn't have to be a physician to see that it didn't look right. "It's badly infected," he declared. "I thought you said you'd cleaned it!" His tone toward Martouf was accusatory.
"I did, Sir," Martouf said respectfully. "Or, I did as well as I could with the limited supplies in the medical kit."
"It's not your fault, Martouf," Daniel said, looking up from where he kneeled beside his friend. "But we need to get him home to Dr. Fraiser."
"Our physicians can treat him," Aldwyn suggested over his shoulder from his seat at the console. "Much more efficiently and quickly than the doctors of the Tauri."
"I do not believe that Colonel O'Neill would choose to be treated by the Tok'ra. He does not trust them."
"Yes, but if this isn't treated quickly, he could lose his leg," Sam said, and the tone of her voice was plaintive. "Or his life."
Suddenly, the ship rocked again. "What's happening?" Jacob asked Aldwyn.
"It appears that there was damage we hadn't previously detected from the firefight," the young Tok'ra answered.
"How bad?" Sam asked, the fear in her voice palpable from her place beside the Colonel.
"Bad enough," Selmac answered from where he'd moved to look over Aldwyn's shoulder, the change from host to symbiote happening flawlessly, as the ship shook more intensely. "We're not going to make it home."
"Selana is the nearest world with a Gate. Can we make it that far?" Martouf suggested.
"I think so." Aldwyn looked doubtful, despite his words. "We'll have to continually oversee the engines if we want to be certain."
Jacob looked to his daughter, and knew there was no way he was going to expect engineering work from her at this time. "Martouf, let's head aft." He turned to address the three members of SG1. "Keep him with us, guys. We'll have him on his feet in no time."
Left alone, there was really little they could do to help their friend and leader. Jack was totally unaware of his surroundings, perspiring and feverish.
"I'd better clean the wound and change the bandage," Sam said, moving her hand from O'Neill's forehead. "Daniel, can you take over here? Keep him cool."
They switched places, Daniel taking his turn wiping the colonel's brow.
"Teal'c, stick close. I don't know what'll happen when I try to work on the wound. He could react . . . badly."
"Understood," the huge Jaffa said, carefully kneeling on the side opposite the injured leg. He could see that something was horribly wrong with the wound when Carter removed the bandage.
Soaking a piece of gauze in some alcohol, she cleaned the injury as best she could, but she'd never treated a burn before, and was at a loss even as to where the charred skin ended and the charred muscle underneath began. She wanted to gag, but swallowed it. It couldn't help the Colonel, and that had to be their priority right now.
The severity of the infection was apparent when the intense pain her ministrations had to have caused didn't arouse him. Finally, she sighed deeply, resting back on her heels. "That's all I can do. I just hope it's enough."
"He'll be okay, Sam," Daniel said, his voice reassuring.
"Indeed, Major Carter. Colonel O'Neill has been injured many times, and much worse than this, in his history."
"How do you know, Teal'c?" she asked curiously. The Colonel wasn't the type to talk about himself.
"One evening, O'Neill and I were at his house watching a hockey match."
"Game, Teal'c."
"Yes, a hockey game. During the course of the evening, he consumed several bottles of a brewed, grain-based beverage with alcoholic properties. It affected his personality, and he spoke of his time before the SGC. He participated in something the military called 'dark operations.'"
"Black ops, and I knew he was a member. He's just never talked about his experiences," Daniel stated.
"I do not believe O'Neill would want me to repeat our discussion of that evening, but I can tell you that some of his experiences were truly disturbing."
"He mentioned a little bit about that when we were in the Antarctic, too," Sam said, looking thoughtful. "I guess, if he can survive that, he should be able to hang on until we can get to the Tok'ra home world."
Jacob appeared by Jack's feet. "We'll be landing any minute. It could be a little rough, so just stay sitting." He joined them on the floor. "How is he?"
Her confidence restored, Sam answered, "He's going to be fine."
She soon doubted that any of them would be, as the ship shuddered, feeling like it was falling apart, as it touched down on the alien world. Letting out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, she sighed with relief when it finally settled.
"Martouf, dial the gate," she ordered, unconsciously taking command. When their eyes met, she added a more gentle, "please."
Without responding, Martouf, with Aldwyn hot on his heels, left the ship and sprinted the hundred feet or so to the gate.
"Can you carry him?" she asked Teal'c and Daniel as the duo reached for their stricken friend.
"It will be no difficulty," Teal's responded as they hoisted him, one on each side.
"Good thing," Jacob said, coming up behind her. "I'm okay, but I'm not *that* okay just yet."
It suddenly occurred to Sam that, in the freneticism over Jack's condition, she'd forgotten that her father was still recovering as well. "Can you make it to the gate?" she asked him.
"That I can do," he smiled, taking her hand as they followed her three teammates.
When the humans arrived at the gate, however, they were puzzled to find it still and dark.
"Why haven't you dialed the gate?" Sam demanded when she arrived to find the Tok'ra standing quietly beside the DHD.
"We tried," Aldwin said timidly. "We couldn't establish a wormhole. It could simply be that the gate's in use."
"Then try it again," she ordered, not caring if she sounded a bit harsh. The Colonel wasn't able to be the leader in this instance, and now, that responsibility fell upon her.
They all stood by as the chevrons locked into place, one at a time, only to have the growing charge fade and die when the final connection failed to bring the wormhole into being.
"Damn," Sam whispered.
"We can wait, Samantha," Martouf said reassuringly. "Even if they're evacuating, they can't have the gate engaged for long."
"The Colonel *can't* wait – he needs help now," she said, accenting the final word in her statement. She turned to where the rest of her team supported their leader. "Dial us home, Daniel. Send the signal and go ahead; have Janet waiting in the gate room for us. I'll help Teal'c with the Colonel."
Daniel made for the DHD, but before Sam could take his position under the colonel's shoulder, Aldwyn stepped into her place.
"Please, let me help." She hadn't realized until now the guilt that shone in the Tok'ra's eyes. Some part of him regretted firing that missile, no matter how much the rest of him kept saying it was necessary. She wondered momentarily if it was the host part, especially since he was no longer speaking in the odd, dual-tones of a symbiote.
"Very well," she said, uncharacteristically formal. She'd let him help, but never forget that he'd sold them out. Prematurely. Praying that she was making the right decision for O'Neill, she followed the trio through the gate, sticking unusually close behind them in case her support was needed.
Daniel hadn't entered the gate so far in front of them that there'd been time for Janet to arrive, but within moments, she and her staff were flying into the gate room.
"What happened to him?" the doctor demanded as she dropped to her knees on the ramp beside the unconscious body.
"Staff weapon blast to the knee, three days ago, left untreated for the most part," Sam provided. "More than likely severely infected."
"What kind of hellhole were you in?" Janet asked rhetorically. There was definitely not enough time to talk about it now, as she gave commands to her staff. "Get him on the gurney – gently!" She didn't need to tell them to make tracks for the infirmary. "I want all of you for a general physical at least," she added before following her patient. Aldwyn seemed about to object, but Martouf gave him a look that instantly silenced him.
It was a sad procession that moved from the embarkation room to the infirmary. The orderlies, pushing the colonel's gurney, went first, followed by Janet and Teal'c, who seemed to have taken up a guard position. Then the two Tok'ra, and lastly, Daniel, Jacob, and Sam.
As much as she wanted to be walking alongside her stricken superior, she knew her place, as temporary commander, was there, where she could keep watch over the entire group. The only person behind her was the General himself, showing concern in his own way over the condition of his 2IC.
However, that didn't prevent either Hammond or her from keeping a vigil outside of the infirmary with Jacob, Daniel and Teal'c after the medical personnel and O'Neill disappeared inside. It was almost an afterthought that they realized the other two Tok'ra were still in attendance, staying in the background as if they weren't quite sure what to do with themselves.
"Are you sure you're okay, Dad?" Sam asked her father, who was surreptitiously leaning against a wall.
"I'm fine, honey. The medicine Martouf brought helped Selmak, and now, she's helping me. Not that I won't enjoy that vacation once this is all over, mind you."
"Yeah, who knows? You might even sleep until oh-eight hundred," Carter chuckled as her father rolled his eyes, but her nervousness was evident.
"He'll be all right, honey. Jack's strong."
"It's not just the Colonel. This one was so close, Dad. This time, Apophis touched just a little too close to home."
"We've gotten him before, Sam. We'll get him again," Daniel volunteered.
"Of that, you can be assured," Teal'c added with as much of a smile as he ever showed.
Looking over Daniel's shoulder, her eyes fell on Martouf.
"You don't have to stay, you know. I'm sure Lieutenant Simmons can dial you home if you want. The Stargate's bound to be free by now."
"Actually, we already asked him to try," Martouf said with his gentle smile. "Either they're evacuating, under attack, or the gate's been destroyed entirely, there's no way to tell which. We may be here for quite some time, so if there's anything we can do . . ."
The door slid open at that point, interrupting whatever he was going to say, and Janet emerged, her expression grim.
"How's he doing?"
"What is O'Neill's status?"
"Report, Doctor."
"Is he okay?"
All their questions were asked simultaneously, as Dr. Fraiser raised her hands for silence.
"The good news is that Colonel O'Neill is stable, and his life's no longer in danger. I have him on two drips for rehydration and antibiotics, and we've inserted a nasal- gastric tube to try to supplement his nutrition."
"He was mal-nourished?" The General asked, looking to the rest of SG1.
"He shouldn't be any more than the rest of us," Sam said, confused. "He ate as much as we did."
Teal'c nodded his agreement to her statements, but it was a few moments before they realized that Daniel had remained silent. Sam and Teal'c turned simultaneously to find a guilty look on their friend's face.
"What do you know about this, Dr. Jackson," General Hammond demanded. It was no question.
"He made me promise not to tell, but he couldn't keep anything down in that place. He said it was the smell – that it reminded him of his capture in Iraq or something -- but I don't think that was it. He took a hand-device blast in the stomach shortly after our arrival, and that's got my bet. Regardless, the few times they did feed us, he ate, and then went off on his own. One time, I followed him, and caught him retching. He said that we all had enough to worry about, and if word got out, he'd be seen as a weakness. He made me promise not to tell anybody."
"Unfortunately, he's probably right," Hammond said grimly.
"And it explains a lot," Fraiser said, resuming her report. "His leg is badly infected, and his immune system doesn't seem to be as strong as it should be in helping to fight it off. His fever is through the roof, so we'll have cooling blankets on him around the clock. The antibiotics are being administered in mega-doses, but . . ."
"But what?"
"If we can't get the infection under control, it could cost the Colonel his leg."
Jaws dropped all around, the humans looked at each other in horror at the official proclamation. They all knew O'Neill well enough to know that being permanently disabled would destroy him.
"Excuse me, Samantha," said Martouf in a much calmer voice than they felt was warranted.
"What?!" Sam snapped. The Tok'ra ignored her tone, if he noticed at all.
"Do you not have a Goa'uld healing device?"
"Did," Sam said, looking at the General as crossly as an officer could without getting an official reprimand. "We were ordered to send the one we had to Area 51 for testing and examination, and once the so-called scientists took it apart, they couldn't get it back together and functioning again. I never should have let it leave the mountain," she ground out between clenched teeth.
"It's my fault, Major, and I take full responsibility," Hammond said sadly. "It was my decision."
"No, it's not, General. You only did what you thought was right," Daniel defended, ever the advocate.
"We've been on the lookout for a new one ever since, but with no luck," Sam said, adding in a whisper, "and now, the Colonel may pay for it."
"Jack's gone through more than any of you know," Hammond said, coming as close to giving away confidential information as possible without breaking regulations. "And he's made it through. Don't count him out yet."
"Can we sit with him?" Sam asked, sounding more timid than he'd ever heard her.
"Later, yes. But first, you're all past due for post- mission physicals of your own. I somehow have my doubts that you've come through this totally unscathed yourselves," Janet insisted. "Ladies first." She motioned Sam into her inner sanctum. After the two women had disappeared, Jacob sighed deeply.
"You okay?" Hammond asked his friend as the two Tok'ra and Daniel and Teal'c dispersed in pairs.
"Getting there quickly, thanks, George. You know, I oughta punch your lights out for letting these kids risk their lives over an old warhorse like me."
"Jacob, you know your daughter. Do you really think that a mere order from me would have kept her from going after you? The girl's as stubborn as you are."
"And she'd have your head if she heard you refer to her as a girl, too," Jacob smiled, seeing the truth in his friend's words.
"You'd better believe it," Hammond agreed, smiling. The grin didn't last. "Can you tell me what happened down there?"
"I can't tell you much from when they first arrived; I was pretty out of it. I almost didn't believe my ears when I heard her voice for the first time. It's hard to keep track of time, but it had to have been a whole day before anything else happened. I was actually hoping that they were going to let us go unnoticed." There was a bitter chuckle. "We should only be so lucky."
Jacob took a deep breath and went on with his narrative. "I was so weak, I couldn't lift a finger when they came. One of them had a staff weapon, and they demanded Sam accompany them. Jack . . . Colonel O'Neill stepped in front of her, refusing them with one of his remarks. It wasn't bad, something like, 'I don't think so,' but it was enough. Apophis' newly-appointed First Prime shot him in the leg without a second thought. Sam agreed to go with them to keep anybody else from getting hurt."
"Sounds like bravery above and beyond."
"It was, on all their parts. All just to save one washed up ol' General."
"More like to save a friend," Hammond corrected. "Or a loved one." He cleared his throat, unaccustomed to the sentimentality. "So Colonel O'Neill's deterioration snowballed from there?"
"Daniel wrapped it as best as he could, washed it out the next time we got water, but we knew it probably wouldn't help. Still, he seemed to be holding his own until his turn with the Blood of Sokar."
"What's that?"
"A hallucinogenic drug administered orally in liquid form. They may have used his injury to force him to drink, I'm not sure. I just know that, when he was returned, he was much worse. I was sleeping a lot, but so was he. When the chance came to escape, we grabbed it."
"How's Selmac doing?"
"She's good, but still healing us both. It's taking all of her concentration right at the moment."
"What's her medical knowledge like?"
Jacob could see where Hammond was going with the question. "Very limited. Definitely not enough to help treat Jack in any effective way." At the General's crestfallen look, he tried to elaborate. "As hard as it is for us to admit, the symbiote's ability to heal has handicapped us in a way. We've become dependent on it; medical knowledge otherwise is very limited, pretty much restricted to gadgets like the healing device you've seen. I'd dare say that Dr. Fraiser has more knowledge in helping the human body heal itself than even our best-educated Tok'ra." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry I can't be more help," he sighed tiredly.
Realizing just how exhausted his friend was, Hammond flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Jacob. Why don't we go into my office where we can sit down." Jacob looked hesitant, so he added, "don't worry. If there's news, we'll be called."
Exchanging a nod with Daniel, who knew what it meant, the two Generals left the rest of them to wait for their physicals.
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Daniel was never so glad to be done with a post-mission examination. Not that he minded spending time with Janet Fraiser, who he considered nothing if not a good friend, but it's hard to get any rest when the doctor is shoving a tongue depressor in your mouth, a needle in your butt, or a thermometer in any one of a myriad of inconvenient places she could find to stick it. All he wanted to do was sleep.
Walking past the ward where he knew Jack was lying, he thought to go in, but Jack needed strength he just didn't have to spare at the moment. Eight hours of uninterrupted slumber, that's all he was asking for, then he'd check on Jack and not leave his side until his condition was resolved, one way or another. Besides, Teal'c was sure to be parked by their CO's bed himself.
Somehow, Sam's condition or location never entered his overtired brain. When Janet had emerged and announced she was ready to give the men their exams, it hadn't occurred to any of them that the Major had not emerged.
It had taken every ounce of persuasive power in her being for Sam to convince Janet to let her see Jack instead of going right to bed for some much-needed rest. Oh, the doctor had tried every argument in her arsenal, but in the end, she couldn't begrudge her friend from seeing her Commanding officer. She hadn't heard the whole story . . . didn't know why Sam needed to see him so desperately . . . and it was just as well. The last thing she needed was a speech; she didn't feel like being cheered up just now.
And so it was that she'd spend that first night in a chair by his bedside. The nurses who checked on him periodically looked on with disapproval, but, knowing of her friendship with Dr. Fraiser, turned a blind eye to the uninvited guest.
"If you ask me," one whispered to the other, just outside earshot of the Major, "she should be sent to her quarters, or put in a bed of her own."
"Yeah," agreed another. "She really looks like hell, doesn't she?"
There was nothing to be said, so Carter remained silent. She knew they thought she hadn't heard, but she wasn't nearly as exhausted – or as oblivious – as they believed. Well, to be precise, she was as exhausted, but here or in her quarters, she wasn't about to get any sleep.
She couldn't tear her eyes from her CO's face.
He'd risked his life for her, without a second's thought. Nobody had ever offered so much of themselves for her before, or done it so blatantly. Jack was in no danger until he stepped up with a casual refusal to let the Cro- Magnons take her away to whatever Apophis had planned for her. And the worst part was, it had been for nothing. They'd taken her anyway. Tortured her to the best of their abilities while he suffered unimaginable agony back in the literal hellhole, only for him to be subjected to the same torture a short time later.
It was all because of her. The guilt hung heavy on her shoulders, bending her in supplication. If he lost his leg . . .
"Sam, what are you still doing here?!" Janet exclaimed, entering the curtained alcove. "I said fifteen minutes!"
"I just couldn't leave," she said simply. She turned her gaze toward the doctor, and the sorrow there was nearly breathtaking. "It's my fault he's here, Janet."
"Sam . . ."
"No, Janet. It's not a guilt trip, or my imagination. This could ruin his career. Hell, it could ruin his life. All because he was trying to protect me."
"And he'd be insulted if he heard you talking like this," the doctor said gruffly. She'd had enough.
"What?" Carter asked dazedly.
"Sam, you've known Colonel O'Neill for three years now. Asking him not to act when he did, to not interfere, would be like asking him not to be himself. Haven't you figured that out about him yet? It's who he is, for God's sake!"
Samantha Carter blinked her eyes, focusing once again at the man in the bed, only seeing him with different eyes this time. Janet was right, and she was a fool not to have been conscious of it before. The Colonel . . . Jack . . . it was what he was all about – those who surrounded him and what he could do for them. Perhaps, at one time, it had been different.
She remembered back to that first year together. They'd begun as four strangers, not only to each other, but to everyone around them. Loners, by choice as much as by circumstances, secluded from regular society by what they saw as discrepancies in themselves. A geeky archeologist who'd withdrawn from society after being orphaned, a warrior who'd lost his cause for fighting and was looking for another, a scientist who realized that no device could hurt her the way that a person could, and had, and Colonel Jack O'Neill, secluded from the world by self-recrimination and even self-hatred, the one who brought them all together and made them a family. Now, she knew she, at least, couldn't imagine life without them.
She was brought down to earth abruptly, realizing that, if Jack did, indeed, lose his leg, she, as well as Daniel and Teal'c, would quite likely have to get used to his being absent from their lives. And that was just simply unacceptable.
"What can I do?" she asked Janet with desperation in her voice.
Laying a hand softly on her shoulder, the doctor gave the only advice of which she could think. "You can talk to him, encourage him. Some say it helps. And, if you're so inclined, you could pray."
With that, she left Sam where she was, knowing that sending her away wouldn't be productive for either her patient or her friend.
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Somehow, in the wee hours of the morning, Major Carter had managed to doze off, her head resting on the edge of the bed. She had fallen into that in between place, where you're still asleep, but realize it, yet can't seem to pull yourself all the way to consciousness. Suddenly, there were hands on her.
"Sam. Come on, Sam, I need you to get up."
Blinking, she tried to clear her vision. Janet. It was Janet.
"Wha . . .?"
"It's been too long, and he's not getting any better. If anything, he's getting worse, and I can't wait any longer."
The implications didn't quite set in. "Where are you taking him?" she asked as they lifted Jack onto a rolling gurney.
"To surgery," Janet said amid the flurry of activity.
Suddenly, the truth of what was happening hit Carter.
"No!" She made a desperate grab for the Colonel's arm, but instead only captured the edge of the gurney. "Janet, you can't! Don't do it! We'll call the Asgard. Or maybe the Tollan!" She was babbling, and she knew it, but the desperation in her voice was sincere. Her grip on the rolling bed was like a vice.
"Sam, you've got to let go," Janet tried to reason, but meanwhile was prying her fingers from around the metal.
"No! I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I'll get on it right away! You've got to give us more time." Her voice had risen to near-hysterical, making the doctor wonder where her rational, scientific friend had gone.
Finally, she realized that reasoning with Sam wasn't going to work. Willing every ounce of strength in her body to flow through her arms, she grabbed Carter by her upper arms, shaking her hard.
"Sam, that's enough! Stop it right this second!" Another couple shakes drew the woman's eyes from Jack's body on the gurney to Janet's own. "We have to make a choice, his leg, or his life! Would you rather he dies?!"
The harsh words somehow got through, but while Carter was more rational, she still couldn't quite let go.
"He can't survive disabled; being active is who he is."
"We'll help him get through it; he'll be active again. I promise, Sam. But we have to go now."
Hesitantly, she released her grip on the bed, touching Jack's hand briefly before she backed away, nodding to Janet. She couldn't quite drag herself away completely, walking beside her CO until he disappeared behind the swinging doors of the surgical suite. Only then did the sorrow overtake her, and she fell to her knees, crying out for her friend.
"Jack!"
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"Jack!" Sam came awake with a start, sitting up abruptly, panting from her nightmare. The tears in her eyes slid down her cheeks as she took in Colonel O'Neill on the bed, still there, and still safe. For the moment, at least.
She touched his arm, and it seemed cooler than it had been, but she was afraid to leave him to go find the doctor.
"Janet!" she called, and, amazingly enough, the colonel stirred, and by the time the doctor arrived, his head was tossing back and forth on the pillow.
"Colonel O'Neill?" There was no response. "Colonel O'Neill, if you can hear me, open your eyes.
The eyelids remained closed, but both women were surprised when his lips parted.
"No, don't go."
It was so quiet, it could hardly be heard, but it gave them both such a rush of hope that they couldn't hide their grins. "We're right here, Colonel. We're not going anywhere."
"No. . . . Come back . . ." Their message wasn't getting through.
"We're not going anywhere, Colonel," Sam reassured. "Can you feel my hand on your arm? We're right here."
"Don't . . . don't leave me here . . ."
"He's not hearing us," Janet said, feeling his forehead. It's not fever delirium – he feels cool."
"Blood poisoning?" Sam questioned fearfully.
"We'll take a blood sample and check, but I doubt it. I just can't figure out how he can be hallucinating." She was obviously frustrated.
"Cromwell!" the delirious man screamed.
However, use of the word "hallucinating," plus the name of the Colonel's one-time teammate, was like a curtain being opened, allowing light into a dark room. "Oh, my God."
"What is it?"
"When we were on Ne'tu, Apophis forced us to drink this . . . stuff. Dark red liquid that the Goa'uld call the Blood of Sokar. It has hallucinogenic properties, and makes the mind very pliable. But that was back then."
"It could be that it has flashback properties, kind of like LSD. The drug takes refuge in the tissues and can come back full strength given the slightest provocation. There are other examples of it among the illegal narcotics."
"Well, trust me, this one should be illegal."
Jack was definitely suffering from just this type of reaction. He'd stopped calling out for Cromwell to come back for him, now writhing in agony at remembered war injuries as if he had them all over again. In a way, she guessed that he did.
"What can we do for him?" Sam asked just as Daniel and Teal'c entered the infirmary.
"What's happening?" Daniel asked, confused.
"It appears that Colonel O'Neill is suffering from recurring affects of the Blood of Sokar. How have you been feeling?" she asked the archeologist.
"I'm fine."
"I'm okay, too," Sam said.
"Perhaps the fever, dehydration, and weakness allowed for this reaction where it normally would not," Teal'c suggested, and Fraiser nodded.
"Makes sense. Regardless, though, we need to bring him around. All this thrashing around is going to wreak havoc on his wound."
Daniel stepped up to the bed, grasping his friend's hand. "You're safe, Jack. You made it out of Iraq."
The Colonel stopped thrashing, but still seemed to be in incredible pain, whimpering every few seconds.
"Jack, what's happening to you?" Daniel couldn't resist asking.
"Whip . . . uh! Punish . . . ment . . . uh!" He jerked each time an imagined lash fell.
"Why are they punishing you?" The archeologist spoke softly.
"The . . . woman . . . Tried . . . uh! Free her. Innocent. She can't . . . die . . . for helping me."
Daniel and Sam exchanged a look, and Daniel nodded. The circumstances of Jack's capture in Iraq, so far unknown, were being revealed. Apparently, a woman had tried to help him before he was captured – and quite possibly died for it.
Sam leaned close, hoping that her high-school acting experience would carry her through. "I'm okay. They freed me because of your courage. Everything is okay, you can relax. There will be no more beatings."
Fortunately, it seemed that her part in his delusion was appropriate; the Colonel settled back into his bed, seemingly asleep once again. But moments later, deep chocolate irises were revealed by heavy eyelids.
"Carter?" his voice was supremely weak.
"Yes, sir. We're all here."
"Jacob?" he swallowed, barely able to manage the name.
"He's okay, too. Almost back to one hundred percent."
He sighed deeply. "Good." Drifting back under, he seemed almost at peace.
Janet came forward and stuck the aural thermometer into his ear for a moment, then studied the readout, sighing herself.
"What is it?" Daniel asked.
"Fever's back up again, although not as high as it was. I'll have to take a blood test to find out whether it's the infection or the drug."
They all watched as she drew the required fluid from his arm.
SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1
"I'm presuming that the unidentified property that showed up in the tests is the Blood of Sokar. It seems to have stimulated an immune reaction in his body, hence the fever."
"Well, that makes sense," Daniel volunteered. "It's a foreign substance his body knows isn't supposed to be there, right?"
"So why don't they all have fevers?" Hammond asked, almost as if the rest of SG1 weren't there.
"I believe that it has to do with the Colonel's original injury. His body was weakened considerably, letting the substance take hold in a different way, and more thoroughly, than it would have in the others." She turned her attention to Daniel, Sam, and Martouf. "How was he immediately after his original dosing? As opposed to the rest of you."
"Everybody who was returned came back drowsy, borderline unconscious," Carter explained. "I, personally, barely remember being returned. The Colonel was completely unconscious when he was returned."
"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "He awoke briefly, long enough to give us a short update of what had been done to him, and then passed out again. He was the only one that happened to."
"I wish I could say I was surprised to hear it," Dr. Fraiser bit her bottom lip thoughtfully.
"I'm sure he didn't drink the stuff willingly either," Sam added. "Nothing short of physical torture would get him to cooperate."
"Knowing Apophis," Martouf said, speaking for the first time, "they probably inflicted injury sufficient to force O'Neill to cry out, possibly to the existing injury. It would not be out of character."
"So how does any of this help us to make the Colonel better?" Sam asked, frustrated.
"Well, the good news is that the infection in his leg has cleared up. It still has a long way to go, healing wise, but it's not a threat. Right now, the biggest concern is the fever and the fact that he's still unconscious. After the brief waking period this morning, there's been no more sign of his awaking, and the fever is weakening him."
"Could it not be simply a matter of time?" Teal'c asked. They'd almost have said he sounded hopeful.
"As much as I'd like to think so, I just can't support that theory." At their expectant looks, she sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, I can't think of anything else to do."
"Wait and hope? Is that really what you're suggesting, Doctor?" The general sounded incredulous.
"Not just that," she said, mildly defensively. "I'm going to continue the antibiotics, monitor his temperature, and try to keep him cooled off. Compresses, cooling blankets, whatever is necessary."
"If there was only a way to clear the remnants of the Blood of Sokar, then maybe he'd be fine." Sam made the suggestion tentatively. They didn't truly know that this had anything to do with the substance.
Surprisingly enough, Janet seemed to agree. "It's a strong possibility."
"Janet," Sam said with a slight shake of her head. "I'm no expert, but shouldn't his liver be filtering this out of his blood stream?"
Janet looked grim. "Yes, I would have thought so, but apparently, it's not that easy. Something in the substance bonds to cholesterol and fatty acid cells, where the spleen can't filter it out. Even dialysis can't . . ."
As her voice dropped off, her eyes lit up.
"What?"
"My tests have determined that the liver and kidneys aren't filtering the Blood of Sokar out of his blood stream, and the concentration of it, from his last blood test, shows the amount in his body isn't dissipating."
"So?" Sam glanced down at her so-pale CO, her heart sending a twinge through her chest.
"There's no guarantee, but if it's all still concentrated in his blood stream, a transfusion just might do the trick."
"Do you really think that'll work? Could it be that simple?" Daniel sounded doubtful, but there was a hint of hope there.
"I don't know," Janet said, waving over one of her nurses. "But I know that it's the only idea we've got."
She whispered orders to her staff so low that the only words Sam could make out were "type B negative," the rest being lost in the cacophony of the infirmary as her eyes were glued to Jack. This *had* to work.
"Sam!"
"What?!" Sam responded, jerking back to the present.
"I've been talking to you for the past five minutes, where did you go?" Janet asked.
"Sorry, just thinking." Sam sighed deeply. "I'm just so tired."
"Then I prescribe sleep. Right now. You've all been through too much."
"Janet . . ."
"No argument. It's going to take us awhile to set up the equipment and get the transfusions started, and you can't hang around through that. Go get some rest, and I'll call you as soon as we know anything."
"I will remain, Major Carter. I will not require Kel No Reem for several hours."
"Okay, but come get us if there are any changes," she asked, and Teal'c nodded his acquiescence. "You've got to pull him through," she added, her eyes beseeching the physician. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "We need him."
"I think you have your orders, people," General Hammond interrupted. "Move out."
There was no disputing that tone, they knew well, so the humans slowly and sadly left their CO's bedside.
"If you'll excuse me," Hammond said, but Janet interrupted.
"If you don't mind, General," Janet stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Could I have a word in private?"
Nodding a dismissal to Teal'c and the Tok'ra, he joined Janet in her office.
"Doctor, shouldn't you be seeing to you patient?"
"I know, General, but this is vital. Base stores don't have enough blood for a full transfusion on a man the Colonel's size. I'd like permission to ask those of acceptable blood types if they'd donate a pint."
"Approved, of course. But why the big secret?" The General looked unusually confused.
"I'd rather not have Sam or Daniel in here demanding that they be allowed to donate when they really need the rest instead. They're both still at less than ideal health, yet you know they'd insist on it."
"Yes, they would. You have my approval, Doctor. Contact those on base who qualify, but keep it discreet."
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh, and Doctor?"
Janet turned from where she'd been walking away from him.
"Donating is voluntary; it's not an order." He knew that Janet would handcuff somebody to get them to cooperate rather than lose a patient.
"Yes, Sir," she responded.
After checking her medical records, one at a time, she tracked down every person with a compatible or neutral blood type, and all willingly went with her to the infirmary for a brief siphoning. Janet counted herself fortunate that she had such healthy charges in her care, generally speaking.
As she suspected all along, the three remaining members of SG1 were at O'Neill's bedside the moment she began the transfusion. Daniel looked on with some puzzlement as a clear fluid ran through the IV into Jack's arm, which seemed to be the only part of him besides his head that wasn't covered in blankets. Three blood packets hung by Jack's head on IV stands, and an odd-looking machine was near his feet.
"Aren't you going to . . . ahhhh . . . hook up the blood?" he asked, motioning towards Jack's motionless hand.
"That's nutrition and antibiotics, Daniel," Janet said softly; the infirmary in general seemed to have fallen quiet. "The new blood will be given into the subclavian vein, just beneath his collar bone." She motioned to the alien-looking machine. "The old blood will be removed by this machine through the femoral artery in his thigh. Since I figured the Colonel would want me to maintain his level of modesty, I put the transfusion needles in place before I called you all."
"I'm sure he appreciates it," Sam said, her voice just slightly less steady than normal, although still a far cry from being called 'unsteady'. Nobody but her best friends would have noticed at all.
"Okay, here we go," Janet said, flipping a switch on the machine. Immediately, the tube that they now saw led beneath the blanket turned from clear to red. Blood red.
She only let it run a minute or so before she opened the flow of the new blood. Stepping back, she put her hands on her hips.
"That's all we can do for now. This could take a few hours, so I suggest you all get some rest and come back later. By then, we might have an idea of how this is working."
"Would you join me for lunch, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked, to which the archeologist nodded his agreement. Neither man included Sam in their invitation, but she didn't seem to mind.
Her teammates gone, and Janet settled into her office, Sam took the only chair beside the Colonel's bed. Studying his long, elegant fingers, she felt the almost overwhelming desire to take them into her hands, but knew she dare not. Within an hour, however, the lack of sleep was catching up to her, and keeping her eyes focused was becoming difficult. Nobody could blame her for catching forty winks, she thought to herself as she slowly lowered her forehead to rest on the mattress below O'Neill's hand. If he moved, she told herself, she would know it.
She was not aware when Janet came twice more to switch full blood packets for empty ones, nor when Daniel and Teal'c returned to the beside vigil. They didn't have the heart to wake her.
"Should we not move her somewhere more comfortable?" Teal'c questioned. "She would not need to leave the infirmary."
"Put her into the next bed?" Daniel tried to confirm. "She'd never forgive us, I don't think."
"Indeed. Her feelings for O'Neill run strong."
"Tell me something I haven't figured out," Daniel grinned, watching his friends sleep.
"How about buying a tired lady a cup of coffee, gentlemen?" the whispered voice from behind them was warm, but tired.
"I thought you'd gone home long ago," the archeologist said to Fraiser.
"I gave it all due consideration," she said.
"But Cassie . . ."
"She's on a class camp out for a few days yet." She drew closer to the bed, studying her patient. "And I didn't want to leave until he'd gotten his last unit."
"What is O'Neill's condition?" Teal'c asked, standing beside her.
"He seems to be doing much better. His last temperature reading is just slightly above normal, but the blood test results won't be back for another forty-five minutes or so."
"You look like you need that coffee while we wait," Daniel suggested, taking her by the arm. "How about if you let us keep you company?"
"Best offer I've had all day," she smiled gently.
SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1
The last packet of blood had drained and a nurse had silently disposed of it. All the remaining medical equipment had been cleared away, except for the ever- present IV of antibiotics.
But the most astounding difference since she'd fallen asleep, Sam Carter noted, what the Colonel's color. No longer pale and wan, his cheeks held a healthy, not a feverous, pink and his breathing was steady and even.
She wondered how long she'd been asleep, but decided that it couldn't have been long. No way would Janet have allowed her to spend more than an hour asleep in a chair, no matter how much she needed to.
And it was no longer a matter of to be beside him, but needing it. At least, at times like this. When he needed protecting, and overseeing. When she couldn't truly trust him to anybody else except for her teammates and Janet.
"Penny for your thoughts," came a familiar voice, weak yet warm.
She smiled at him, watching as he tried to return it. "Just thinking what some people won't do to get out of a post-mission debriefing."
His eyes captured hers, deadly serious. "Jacob?"
"He's fine, Colonel. Completely back to normal, thanks to Selmac."
Studying all the tubes and wires critically, he asked, "this is a little extreme for a burnt leg, isn't it, Carter?"
"Let's just say that there were some . . . extenuating circumstances this time."
He looked at her questioningly.
"We almost lost you, Sir."
"Did I forget to tell you about the new SG1 motto, Major?" Jack asked, a sparkle in his drooping eyes, just as Daniel and Teal'c joined them.
"We have a motto?" Daniel asked with a smirk.
"Yes, Daniel. As of right now."
"And what will this 'motto' be, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked. Sam knew that this was going to be good, and schooled herself not to laugh.
"Almost only counts with ascended beings and Jaffa grenades."
The End
Story Notes: Category: Jack hurt/comfort, Post-ep for the Devil you Know.
Thank you to my betas, Renee, Polly, and Obfusc8ter. I appreciate all you help and quick work!
Spoilers: Anything during or prior to The Devil you Know.
Feedback: Yes, please??? (Don't make me beg . . .)
Buc252@aol.com
Thank you to my betas, Renee, Polly, and Obfusc8ter. I appreciate all you help and quick work!
Spoilers: Anything during or prior to The Devil you Know.
Feedback: Yes, please??? (Don't make me beg . . .)
Buc252@aol.com
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]